#got busy messin with other things for a second

[live-on-air]

Working on this some more

[dckweed]

tiktok made me do it!gf vs tf 141 boys

You’ve seen the prank all over TikTok—sending song lyrics to your boyfriend over text and seeing how long it takes before he either catches on or panics.

But with your boyfriend? It goes exactly as expected.

(forgot to post this morning)

warnings: elisions to smut, ass smacking, borderline angry bfs.

Captain Price – "talk is cheap”

(Song: Take It On The Run – REO Speedwagon)

You: Heard it from a friend who heard it from another you been messin’ around.

John’s reply comes immediately.

John: …Pardon?

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh.

You: They say you got a boyfriendo, you’re up late every night.

John: Who the hell is “they” and why are they about to get a lesson in not spreading shite about me?

You: Talkin’ about you and it don’t seem right.

John: What the fuck?

You: But I know the neighborhood and talk is cheap.

You stare at your phone, waiting for a reply. Instead, you hear the distant sound of boots stomping down the hall, as if coming from his office not too far away.

You barely have a second to react before Price throws the door open, his expression deadly serious.

"What the fuck is this about?" he demands, holding up his phone.

You freeze. "Uhh…"

He squints at you, chest heaving. "Sweetheart. Tell me this is some kind of joke before I start making some phone calls."

You burst out laughing.

"*Oh my God, babe, it’s a song!"

His eyes narrow. "A song?"

You nod, still wheezing. "REO Speedwagon! Take It On The Run! It’s a prank!"

Silence.

Then—Price lets out the deepest sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ, woman. I thought I was about to go interrogate the whole bloody street."

You snort. "I love that your first instinct was to fight everyone."

Price gives you a look. "You really wanna test my patience right now?"

You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You’re so hot when you’re all protective."

He sighs again but kisses you anyway. "Damn woman’s gonna kill me someday."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick – "are we fighting?”

(Song: One More Night – Maroon 5)

You were bored, okay? the man left you to go on a run, he’d been gone for nearly an hour by now and you missed him..so what better to do than your favorite pass time of getting on his nerves? There was something your followers had been asking for since the last video you posted with him, and to you, it looked like the perfect opportunity has arisen..

You: You and I go hard at each other like we’re going to war.

Gaz: …What?

You: You and I go rough, we keep throwing things and slamming the door.

Gaz: Babe???

You: You and I get so damn dysfunctional, we stopped keeping score.

Silence. Then—

Gaz is calling…

You ignore it. Stay strong.

Gaz: Answer the phone.

Gaz: Right now.

Gaz: BABY.

You: I know I said it a million times…

Gaz: Said WHAT a million times?!?

Then—suddenly, the door to your bedroom bursts open.

Gaz stands in the doorway, wide-eyed and panting. "Are you okay?!"

You stare. "Kyle."

"Baby, what the fuck is going on? Are we fighting? Did I do something? Why are we—*" He stops mid-rant as he sees your phone screen—still on the text chat.

His face drops. "Oh my fucking God."

You lose it, falling onto the bed in hysterics.

"You absolute menace," he groans, rubbing his temples. "I just ran through the entire fucking neighborhood like an idiot."

You wipe away tears of laughter. "I love you so much."

He groans again, flopping onto the bed beside you. "You’re lucky I love you, too."

Simon "Ghost" Riley – “cryptic bullshit”

(Song: Love You Like A Woman – Lana Del Rey)

Simon had been gone all day, off at the base doing routine trainings and whatever else it is that he did (he never really told you his exact job description), he hadn’t texted you since breakfast and you assumed he was busy, but, you couldn’t resist screwing with him a little bit, you knew it wasn’t nice of you, but you truly enjoyed keeping him on his toes..

You: Talk to me in poems and songs.

Ghost: …What?

You: Don't make me be bittersweet.

Ghost: Sweetheart, what the fuck are you talking about?

You: Let me love you like a woman.

Ghost: …

You: Let me hold you like a baby.

Ghost: …

You: Let me shine like a diamond.

Silence.

Then—

Ghost is CALLING…

You ignore it, which admittedly isn’t your smartest move in the grand scheme of things..

Ghost: Answer the fucking phone.

You: Let me be who I’m meant to be.

Ghost: WHERE ARE YOU?

You: Talk to me in songs-

No response, you figure he’s gone back to work, that he’ll respond later. It doesn’t cross your mind that he could be making the ten minute drive home until you hear tires screeching as they come to a stop.

Through the curtains you can see the silhouette of the truck, of him jumping out and rushing to the porch. The front door swings open so violently that it nearly comes off the hinges.

Ghost stands in the doorway, all 6’4” of him, broad-shouldered and seething. His skull mask is pushed up onto his head, revealing his sharp, exasperated glare.

He crosses his arms, staring you down. "Talk to me in poems and songs? What the hell kinda cryptic bullshit is that?"

You crack up, practically folding in half in the armchair you’re perched on. "Oh my God, Simon, it was a prank! Song lyrics! Lana Del Rey!"

Ghost blinks. "You pranked me?"

"Yes!"

A muscle in his jaw twitches. "You had me thinking you were having some sort of existential breakdown and ignoring my calls for LANA DEL FUCKIN’ REY?!"

You wheeze, clutching your stomach. "You should’ve seen your face!"

"You should see yours when I’m done with you," he mutters, already closing the door behind him.

You blink. "What?"

His fingers flex. "Oh, sweetheart, you wanted my attention, didn’t you?*"

Your stomach drops. "Simon, wait—"

Too late.

Ghost lunges, sweeping you up effortlessly and tossing you onto the couch.

Your squeal is drowned out by his low, amused chuckle. "Let’s see how poetic you’re feelin’ after I’m through with you, love."

(Lesson learned: never mess with Ghost unless you’re prepared for consequences.)

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish – "in the club doin a murder"

(Song: Gorgeous – Taylor Swift)

You had just come back from girls night, tipsy and craving your favorite persons attention, though he’s nowhere to be seen as you toss your bag onto the empty couch, the tv was playing what looked like an old football match, and there were a couple of beer bottles littered on the coffee table..stumbling to the bedroom you toss yourself lazily onto the bed, half on, half off, ass pointed towards the door as you swipe your phone open, pulling up your message thread, you felt like fucking with him a little.

You: You should take it as a compliment, that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk.

Soap: EXCUSE ME??

You: And I got a boyfriend, he’s older than us.

Soap: WHAT FUCKIN BOYFRIEND?!

You: He's in the club doing, I don’t know what.

Soap: I’M ABOUT TO BE IN THE CLUB DOIN’ A MURDER, WHO THE FUCK—

You: You’re so gorgeous!

Soap: YER DAMN RIGHT I AM, BUT WHO THE FUCK IS THIS BOYFRIEND YER TALKIN’ ABOUT?!

You: I can't say anything to your face.

Soap: WELL YE BETTER FUCKIN START BECAUSE I AM TWO SECONDS FROM LOSIN’ IT.

You: ‘Cause look at your face.

Soap: STOP TRYIN’ TO BUTTER ME UP AND ANSWER ME, WOMAN.

Then—

Soap is CALLING…

You ignore it, pouting because you were in the middle of typing something and he interrupted.

Soap: ANSWER. THE. PHONE.

Soap: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YE?

Soap: YER ACTIN’ SHADY AS FUCK, LASS, I SWEAR—

His little bubbles go away and you start typing again, wondering if he was checking your location so he could come whisk you away. Before you can even finish typing another response, you hear the thunderous stomp of boots approaching. He mustve been down in the basement..

Then—BANG.

The door slams open.

Soap stands there, looking red-faced and furious, chest heaving like he just ran to find you. His hands are braced on the doorframe, like he’s physically holding himself back from shaking the answers out of you.

"What the fuck is this?!" he demands, holding up his phone.

You burst into laughter, barely able to breathe. "Oh my God, Johnny, it’s song lyrics!"

His eye twitches. "Song lyrics."

"Taylor Swift, babe! It was a prank—"

Soap lets out the most dramatic groan, dropping his phone onto the table as he scrubs his hands down his face. "*Ye mean to tell me I just sprinted through the fuckin’ house for TAYLOR SWIFT?”

"I’m so sorry—"

"Yer not," he accuses, glaring at you. "Ye knew I’d lose my fuckin’ mind over that shite!" He stalks towards you, you’re still half off of the bed, ass facing him.

You wipe away tears of laughter. "Aww, you got all jealous and protective. That’s kinda hot, Johnny."

He glares at you, and you don’t see his hand raise until he’s swinging it down, landing on your ass with a thwack. “Wanted to fuck around and find out, hm? Well, there’s plenty more where that came from, lass."

Your eyes sparkle. "Promise?" You wiggle your ass playfully, sly smile on your face..

Soap’s expression shifts—his jaw clenches, his blue eyes darkening just slightly.

You don’t have time to react before he lunges, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you over onto your back like a sack of potatoes, spreading your legs as he notches himself between them, the skirt of your too mini for his liking dress riding up to your waist.

"JOHNNY—!"

"Ye wanted my attention, lass? Well, ye fuckin’ got it now."

(Turns out, pranking your highly emotional, dramatic Scotsman has consequences.)

[cheshireliam]

"Me and You, Always" Story Event: Silvio Ricci Chapter 2

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Emma: Could you close your eyes for a moment? 

Silvio: Ya really think I’d fall for such a classic trap?

(Bet she’s gonna hug me and call it a present… or is it a kiss?)

I could practically see where this was headed, and mentally went on high alert. 

Emma: What do you mean “trap”... please, just trust me. 

Silvio: Put a hand on yer chest and think about it. How many damn times have ya tricked me already? 

Emma: … So is that a no? 

Silvio: …

Silvio: … Tch. 

(Damn it all… I’m playin’ right into this woman’s hands again.) 

Despite being fully aware of what could happen, I let out a resigned sigh and closed my eyes.

Emma: Fufu… alright, here I come. 

(I knew it’d be this kinda thing.) 

I braced myself to remain completely unfazed, regardless what sort of “attack” she launched on me. 

I heard footsteps crunching on the sand as Emma approached— and something light was placed on my lap.

Emma: Alright, you can open your eyes now. 

I opened my eyes and looked down to see a neatly folded handkerchief embroidered with little seashells. 

It was clearly made by Emma herself.

(She always pulls this kinda stuff when I’m bein’ suspicious of her…) 

Silvio: Ya did a good job on this. 

When I took her hand and looked up, her soft lips brushed against my cheek.

The summer heat surged through my body like a tidal wave the second I processed what just happened. 

Silvio: Y-Ya little… ya actually did it. 

Emma: I wasn't planning to be cheeky, but you were being so overly guarded, I couldn't help myself. 

Silvio: I wasn’t guarded.

Emma: Wahh!? 

(I totally let my guard down.) 

Busy flashing me that triumphant grin, Emma barely had time to react before I grabbed her head and messed with her hair. 

But then I remembered I still had the handkerchief in my other hand and eased up so I wouldn't crumple it.

(Almost wrecked the thing.)

Emma seemed to notice the way I softened my grip and her expression grew tender. 

Emma: Do you like it?

Silvio: This? Yeah.

Emma: The kiss was the main gift.

Silvio: … Ya havin’ fun messin’ with me, ain’t ya? 

Emma: Not at all. It’s just… it makes me really happy to know you were thinking about me today too. 

Silvio: Just so ya know, yer face’s bright red too. 

Emma: …! You noticed… 

(This woman’s got me completely off balance… why the hell am I feelin’ all lighthearted too?)

Even though it ticked me off and my brows remained furrowed for a moment… 

The sound of her laughter mixed with the crashing waves loosened my guard a little too much, and before I knew it, a genuine laugh slipped from my lips too. 

…

Emma: Mmm, today’s the perfect day for a picnic!

The heat and humidity of summer was over, and now the gentle autumn breeze made the air refreshingly cool. 

Even as we walked through the forest of red trees preparing themselves for winter, my head was full of question marks. 

Silvio: If it’s a picnic ya want, there’s plenty of better spots in Benitoite for it.

Silvio: Why’d we have to hike through a forest with ground rough enough to trip up half the women in the kingdom…? 

Emma: Because this feels more like a real adventure. 

(Knew it. She’s still high off those damn adventure stories.) 

The most popular adventure story in Benitoite was the Voyages of The Continent’s Biggest Tycoon, a fictional memoir written based on a real person and heavily dramatized by the author. 

There was no doubt Emma had read one of the embellished parts — the one where the tycoon landed on an island and trekked through the wilderness, and she was now trying to recreate that experience. 

(But… is that really all?) 

(Doesn’t feel like the kinda thing she’d go outta her way to keep secret.)

Emma: Oh! Master! 

Silvio: I said I ain’t yer master. What now? 

Emma: I spotted a cave over there.

Silvio: Don’t even thinking ‘bout it. We ain’t geared up for explorin’ caves. 

Emma: I know. But the first rule of setting up camp is to find a spot that shields you from the elements, so…

She turned to face me with a smile brighter than the sunlight spilling through the trees. 

Emma: Just watch. 

…

As soon as we stepped into the cave, Emma started setting up a simple campsite. 

She was surprisingly confident, there was no fumbling or hesitation in her movements. Although there was still a little bit of roughness in her execution, she clearly knew what she was doing. 

(... She’s actually usin’ what she learned from that summer cookout.)

Only the campsite was fully set up, Emma pulled a book out of the bag she had slung over her shoulder.

Emma: I want to try cooking a wild vegetable soup today. 

Silvio: Ya seriously brought a guidebook to mountain greens with ya?

(I was thinkin’ her bag looked heavy…) 

Despite my offers to carry it instead, Emma stubbornly held onto her bag the whole way. 

Turns out it contained more than just that book; it had gloves, shears, all sorts of equipment for gathering wild plants. 

Emma: I’ve been wanting to try it at least once ever since autumn. 

Emma: I did feel bad for asking you to come along, but…

Emma: I figured you’d be mad if I’d gone alone. 

Silvio: Ya ain’t wrong ‘bout that. I’ll give ya credit. 

Emma’s lips curled into a proud smile when I placed a hand on her head.

Silvio: I don’t hate stuff like this, so quit worryin’ ‘bout me. 

Silvio: But… 

(‘Bout time I asked her.)

Just as Emma looked like she was ready to dash out of the cave in search of ingredients, I grabbed her and pulled her toward me��� 

[to-the-stars8]

Reviving Love

Jason Todd x Reader Chapters AO3

Chapter 12

The kiss was short and sweet, but Jason felt every bit of it. He felt the softness and warmth of your lips, took in how your breath smelled like fresh mint, and heard your soft sigh once you parted. It had been the first time Jason had been kissed since he returned and he hadn’t realized how badly he needed the physical contact. His body had an immediate reaction, feeling hotter while desiring to kiss you more. You had turned away though, getting ready to eat the food that he had made. 

“Wait,” Jason said, but when you turned toward him all that he was going to say had left his mind. You didn’t need any words, as you leaned forward again, placing a hand on his cheek as you did, to kiss him. Jason whimpered, leaning forward to make it more intimate, but you pulled away. 

You kept your lips close, though, and every time he tried to connect the two of you again, you teasingly pulled away. “Slow down,” You whispered. “I don’t want you to do something you’ll be unsure of later.”

He hated that you were right. Turning, Jason looked down at his plate. The food suddenly didn’t seem good to him, the only thing he felt like having on his tongue now was you. Instead, he altered between taking small bites and watching you take delight in his cooking. 

“Where’d you learn how to cook?” You asked. “Your grandpa?”

Jason nodded. “Yup. Whenever I got mad or anxious, he’d take me into the kitchen and tell me to cook. It kept my hands busy, and I’ve been doing it ever since.”

“Maybe we could teach each other a thing or two? I mean with cooking, of course,” You said, putting your hand on his thigh. 

Jason glanced down at your hand, his thoughts going straight to the gutter for a split second, before looking up to meet your eyes. “About cooking. Sure.”

When you started to take your hand away, Jason quickly took it back, giving it a light squeeze as he did. “I have something to ask you.”

You seemed surprised, but willing to listen. For that, Jason was thankful. He tried to remember Dick’s words, “Just ask her, what’s the worst she could say?” You could say no, but Jason tried not to think about that. You kissed him, went on dates with him, and even respected his boundaries—that had to count toward something. 

Yet, there was one tiny hitch in his little plan that he was trying with all his might to ignore: you didn’t know who he really was. You didn’t know that he was Jason Todd, your boyfriend from high school came back from the dead. Fuck, he momentarily thought, how the hell was he going to play this off?

Breathing in, Jason made him forget everything but one single question, “Do you wanna be…I don’t know how to say this because it sounds so fucking juvenile, but…ah, shit.” 

Jason sat back in his chair, pissed at himself for not finding the words, and let go of your hand. Giggling, you took his hand again, and said, “Yes, I would like to be your girlfriend, Jason.” 

He looked back up at you, surprised, and blurted out, “You messin’ with me?” 

“Not unless you’re messin’ with me,” you said, grinning. 

Jason shook his head squeezing your hand. “No. Never.” 

“I’m glad to hear it, but there is something I would like to do now that we’re officially exclusive.” 

“Yeah, and what’s that,” Jason asked, amused. 

You smiled, scooting your chair closer to your plate, and picked up your fork. “To eat some of the food that’s getting cold.” 

“Only because you’re my girlfriend.” 

It felt good to say that out loud. You were his girlfriend again.

———

Jason held your hand as he walked you home, feeling as though he was walking on air. All felt right with the world; he hadn’t remembered the last time he felt this sensation. It was a mixture of relaxation and goodness. 

He hoped the feeling would never end. 

When the two of you approached your apartment door, you pulled Jason closer in hopes he would kiss you again. He did, and it was sweet and chaste. 

“I’ll see you soon?” You asked shyly. 

Jason nodded. “Of course.”

“Good, one more kiss for the road.” You pressed your lips against his. 

Jason found kissing you getting easier every time your lips made contact. It was a much simpler act than he thought it to be, though private. And, when you went inside, he watched until your retreating figure was gone. 

Taking out his phone, Jason started to dial his brother’s number to tell him all that had happened that evening.

[jayke0]

Cowboys and Angels

Pairing: Jake Lockley x fem reader

Summary: The infamous outlaw, Jake Lockley, decides to spend the night with you.

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: reader is a prostitute, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, exhibitionism, multiple orgasms, minor angst at the end, mentions of other men being assholes, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 3,420

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

......................…………………………………………….

“What's a fine lady like you doin’ in a place like this?”

Yeah, like you haven't heard that before. Despite the way your eye literally twitches at that phrase, you take in a deep breath and turn towards the gravelly voice that beckoned you from the bar… pleasantly surprised with the picture in front of you.

An obvious gunslinger, what with the rifle and multiple rows of ammo hanging loosely over his shoulder, but, he's not as beat up as the others. Sure he's got some scars and wrinkles, jesus, he's got to be in his mid 30s at least, but his facial features are symmetrical, /handsome/ even. His brow is heavy, and it makes his eyelids sit half open, long lashes covering the rest of his brown eyes. The black moustache fits his look perfectly, sitting above a pair of red lips, hell, even the stubble that usually makes your skin crawl looks good on him.

It's like a breath of fresh air for you, and to be honest you're surprised the other girls hadn't pounced on him first.

“Waitin’ for a man like you to come along, mister,” you answer playfully, leaning against the bar so that your hip sticks out. Your dress is long, but it dips perfectly at the chest, and the cinched waist of your corset shows off your beautiful curves.

The gunman notices your pose, making a quick not-so-subtle glance up and down your form before that pretty, lidded gaze lands on your face again.

“Is that so? Well, you're lucky I can be ya prince charmin’ then, ain't ya?” He takes a final swig of his drink, though it seems he'd only just started, since you can barely smell the alcohol on his clothes as you move closer to him. You twist your body and rest your elbows on the bar, sticking your ass out a bit instead.

“Prince charmin’? Now I don't know about that, mister. You ain't the first cowboy to come in here and tell me I'm ‘too good for this place’.”

It's always amusing to you, seeing how much that comment seems to make the others falter, but as his smirk tilts to a soft frown, you almost feel bad for shooting down his shot… and possibly losing yourself a decent client.

“Oh– I'm just jokin’ around, sir,” you place your hands on his jacket, fixing his collar. “Pay no heed to my silly words.”

The grin that cracks across the man's face has your face heating up.

“I know, little lady, I'm just messin’ with ya too.” His eyes scan over you again, dragging his gaze up your body till he meets your eyes, tilting his hat up to look at you properly.

The way he looks at you makes your skin thrum. It's a dark gaze, but one that reads comfort to you, it feels like you could get lost in his eyes for hours, as if you're some vampire's victim being drawn in before being mercilessly devoured.

“Well… you certainly had me there, cowboy.” You giggle a little, mostly to break the tension between you that's coiling in your chest and making the room feel warmer than normal. A strong arm snakes around your waist, and you feel his fingers sprawl across your back, pulling you closer to him and his dangerous gaze.

His words break your thoughts. “I was only askin’ ‘cause I've been ‘round these parts quite a bit, and I ain't ever seen you, pretty.”

“I started a couple weeks ago, actually.”

“Ah…” you watch as his thoughts seem to trail off for a second; is he contemplating what he should say? It's not exactly like he's trying to court you, this is a business after all, and you're more than used to handling the distasteful things that have been thrown at you.

Finally, his words start again. “Guess I had better get ya warmed up then, hadn't I? Though, I doubt you've been strugglin’ for clientele.” He gestures around the dismal saloon at the other men, all in varying states of intoxication. His observation makes you giggle properly this time, but your brain lingers on what he meant by the first part. Despite your uncertainty in his words, you agree to his proposal, feeling his fingers graze the thread of your corset through the dress.

“I think you should, Mr…?”

“Lockley, but ya can call me Jake.” He says as he gets up and fixes his holster, placing a coin on the bar before gesturing towards you. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

Why do you feel nervous? He has to literally take your hand before you actually switch into autopilot and lead him upstairs to the reserved rooms. Maybe it's the pressure of pleasing an older man? No, you've done that before. It's a thought that gnaws away at the back of your brain and evidently makes the gunslinger concerned.

“You doin’ ok? I didn't frighten ya, did I?” He sounds apologetic as he closes the door behind you both with a loud creak.

“No... no, I'm sorry! Forgive me, my head's been a little all over the place recently, nothin’ for you to worry about, mister.” You lie and shake your hands wildly, before you start undoing the top buttons of your dress.

He swoops in before you can finish undoing the second one, taking your hands and removing them from the fabric.

“I do things a little differently, if that's alright with you, miss.” You feel his calloused fingers glide over the pulse on your wrists, moving up before intertwining them with yours, “I don't just take, I make it so ya give ya'self to me.” The tone he uses feels smooth on your brain, it seeps into your ears and soothes the worries you'd had beforehand, his deep gaze only adding to that soft feeling in your chest, and the slowly growing need between your legs.

“Alright, Mr Lockley.” Your smile is genuine, one that makes the man break into a smile himself.

“ ‘Atta girl.”

His grip loosens on your hand so he can slide his own down your body and over your sides, until it eventually comes to rest on the small of your back, pushing you further into the heat of his body as he engages you in a kiss.

It's a nice feeling, having a man that actually knows how to kiss, so nice that you feel yourself getting lost in the bitter taste of his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck to get impossibly closer to him. His stubble scratches your chin as you drink in his taste and become intoxicated with just the simple feel of his body. Maybe it's because he's attractive, or maybe it's because he's so gentle with you, but either way you find yourself wanting more of him; more of his lips, more of his hands.

The gunslinger breaks the kiss, making you whine softly under your breath.

“Patience, little lady. I'll give ya exactly whatcha’ want.” You feel his lips curl into a smirk, one that makes you roll your eyes playfully.

“Forgive me, mister Lockley, but usually I'm bent over the bed by now with my drawers at my ankles.” You challenge, looking into his brown eyes as your fingers trace the soft, tattered scarf donning his neck.

“Well excuse me for tryna’ treat ya like a lady–.” He says before swiftly scooping you up and pressing you against the wall. It makes a gasp leave your lips, and your legs automatically wrap around his thick waist. “Next time I won't be so nice.” The way his lips brush yours teasingly makes your pussy clench, his words lingering on your lips like the faint taste of whiskey on his.

Using one arm to keep you suspended against the wall, his other travels up underneath your skirt and over your soft thighs. His fingers tease under the cotton of your drawers that fit snugly around your thighs, dragging his rough fingertips further and further up to draw a soft gasp from you.

“Ya ever had a man touch ya like this? appreciate ya like this?”

You shake your head and instinctively suck in your bottom lip to chew on while you try to close your legs, but he just pries them open again, looking at you with that damn lidded gaze that's making your cunt clench.

“Well, there's a first for everythin’, ain't there?” His breath is hot on your lips and sends ripples of shivers through your body, your breathing shaking just as much as your thighs.

He's just centimeters away from your pussy lips before he recognises the feel of his own jeans against his hands, so he does the only reasonable thing and lifts your skirt completely, astounded by the sight.

“My my…” He huffs with a chuckle, sounding surprised. There is your cunt, on full show through a hole in your drawers, one that'd been purposely crafted for your exact line of work. Your slick glistens in the dim light, and Jake can't help but run his fingers through your already wet folds, drawing a soft moan from your pretty lips.

“In all my years, I ain't ever seen that. You've certainly made my night, darlin’.” He purrs to you, voice as smooth as silk. “You ever talk?” He asks, that mild concern returning from earlier.

“They usually don't like it when I talk.”

“Yeah? Well I do,” he leans forward and nips your neck underneath your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth briefly. “I like hearin’ the noises ya make for me.”

Shit, that makes you actually moan, pressing down on where his fingers still linger atop your lips. They slide perfectly between given your arousal, and you grind your clit down in his fingers with a sigh. “Please, Jake, stop teasin’... I ain't ever wanted to be taken so badly in all my goddamn life.”

“But the teasin’ is the fun part.”

You can now feel the outline of his cock pressing against your thigh through his washed out jeans, and fuck does it feel big. You want him to pull it out right now just so you can look at it, but your thoughts are halted when you feel his fingers press against your needy hole. He circles it, matching the movements with his thumb on your clit. It feels way too good, especially when both of his thick digits slide inside you and stretch you open. Your jaw drops at the sensation as he starts fingering your cunt, massaging that sweet spot inside you that has you gripping his shoulders.

“No, Jake don't– dammit, don't do this to me–.”

“You can take it, there's a good girl.”

His praise only has your head swooning more and your chest pressing tightly towards his as you rock your hips towards his thumb. Each time he catches your clit it sends a wave of pleasure through your body to your toes, making you whine needily against his ear.

“Such pretty noises you've got, ain't ya? I wanna hear ‘em all night.”

Your orgasm crests quicker than you can tell him, and you teeter on that edge for what feels like eternity until finally you feel his thumb circle your clit one last time, and you come crashing down on his fingers, moaning out his name loud enough for the next room to hear. You rest your forehead on the man's shoulder, amazed by how easily his fingers drove one of the best orgasms of your life out of you.

“Wanna see ya do that again, darlin’, please lemme see ya make that face again?” Jake asks, his own words now breathier than before as he already starts working his belt and jeans open.

You give a shaky nod and pull your head from his shoulder. You try to ignore the ache already settling in your muscles from pressing yourself against the wall, too focused on the rugged man in front of you and the instrument that is ultimately going to split you in half. He goes to slide under your skirt instantly, but you tap his shoulder. “Oh, ya wanna see it first huh?” He grins proudly and lifts your dress enough to reveal his throbbing cock.

Fuck it's thick, and the way it's throbbing makes your mouth salivate, the tip already glistening with precum that he spreads over himself with his free hand.

“I dunno if I can take it, sir.”

“You can take it, don't ya worry that pretty little head about it. Just feel it, ok?”

You nod in response; it's funny really, you have no reason to trust this man, but after he's given you a great orgasm, it only makes sense that he knows more about the female anatomy than any other cowboy.

The fat tip runs up and down through your soaking folds, getting nice and lubed up before he starts to press against your hole. Your brows knit together in concentration as his tip slides in with a satisfying ‘pop’, a soft grunt leaving Jake's lips.

“That's good, girl, just stay niiiice and relaxed,” he groans. He rests one hand on the wall beside your head as his body inches closer to you and his cock sinks deeper inside your cunt, stretching it deliciously to an almost aching point. Finally, he bottoms out, and you can't help the way your walls flutter with how full he makes you feel.

“Ya ever had a cock this big, miss?”

You shake your head quickly with a whimper and your eyes screwed shut, but he grabs your chin and makes you look deep into the fiery pits of his own stare, “I asked ya a question, little lady.”

His voice is still soft, but there's a slightly threatening tone underneath, one that makes your cunt clench. “No mister, I ain't.”

“Mhm, good, means I get to carve my shape into ya then.”

The wail you let out is a result of both his words, and the way he pulls back just to snap his hips back into you again. It feels like it blinds you for a second, the feeling getting stronger as he begins a deep pace.

“Christ almighty–.” You feel like you're going to tear his shirt with the way your nails are dragging against the dark fabric already. Shotgun shells and trinkets rattle with each of his harsh thrusts, all mixing together with the beautiful sounds of both your moans and the slapping of sweaty skin.

“Godammit girl, I ain't ever had a cunt this tight before.” Jake's words are mostly grunts at this point, emphasised with thrusts that only seem to get harder and faster.

You can feel your back scraping against the wooden walls, but all you care about right now is the cock of the dirty old cowboy that's filling and fucking your cunt better than you could've ever imagined. It sends waves through your body each time his tip butts that soft spot inside you that has your pussy drooling over his length.

The people next door are sure to hear you, hell, the whole saloon can probably hear you, what with the floorboards creaking under Jake's boots and your hips slamming against the wall… not to mention your noises. Shit, you're sure your voice is going to hurt tomorrow, your thoughts only solidifying when you feel his calloused thumb return to your neglected clit.

“That's a good girl, keep makin’ those noises, show everyone how good Mr Jake Lockley makes you feel.” He's speaking through gritted teeth, eyes boring into your expression as you tilt your head back and wail again.

“Bet you'd love to have this cowboy take ya cunt every night, wouldn't ya?”

God, the white hot pleasure is coursing through your veins, making your muscles tighten and your thighs clamp shut around his waist. Your mouth and throat feel dry from all your moaning and gasping. You're on the edge again, cunt clenching around his cock in a vice grip, you just need that final push.

“Yeah, squeeze my cock like that, shit, girl. Ya gonna cum? Cum all over my fat cock, pretty.”

You feel like you're falling when it finally hits you, your body is swept with wave after wave of hot pleasure that makes you spasm and throw your head back against the hard wood… or at least what would be hard wood, if Jake hadn't put his hand there to save your precious head.

You feel like you're going to melt into him as he continues to fuck your needy cunt. He wraps both arms around you this time and drags you a little further down the wall so your pussy is at the perfect angle for him. It only takes him a few more thrusts like that before he coming undone with a loud, deep moan, hips stuttering as he fucks his spend into you.

The cowboy keeps you cradled in his arms like that for a bit, chest heaving like yours as you both slowly come down. You're the first to open your eyes, and you're glad you do, because the sight is gorgeous. His black curls are sticking to his forehead, nostrils flaring with each breath out as his eyes flutter a little. It's then that you realise his hat must've been thrown off in the process, either on purpose or by accident.

Finally, the man opens his eyes too and meets your gaze. It's soft and deep, one that makes your heart flutter and a smile tug your lips, despite your efforts to hide it. He carefully lifts you off of his softening cock and places you on the ground, holding you up until your legs stop shaking.

“Ya good?”

“Wonderful, actually.”

His smile spreads across his face as he reaches down to pick his jeans back up, his belt clicking while he does it up.

“How much ya want?”

Those words suddenly hit you like a bucket of cold water. For half an hour, you got to pretend like everything was good in the world, but his words simply bring you crashing back down to reality.

Jake's too busy sifting through his notes to notice the look on your face, the look of disappointment and distaste.

“I don't need money. I need to see you again.”

That instantly makes the outlaw freeze up, as if he's run into this scenario before.

“Oh, darlin’.” A frown now dons his perfect lips. He reaches forward and rests his hands on your shoulders, thumbs brushing your neck. “Ya know I can't do that. I'm sure you've seen my face before, if not ‘round here, then on wanted posters.” The sound of paper crinkling gives you a reason to avert his gaze. “Take this, ok? It's the least I can do for givin’ me a great night.”

You feel his lips graze yours then, the feeling making your breath hitch as loneliness sinks into your gut and stales your bones.

“Maybe I'll see ya around again, sweetheart.” He picks up his hat and dusts it off, placing it atop his curls before he tips it to you.

“G'night, miss.”

He's gone before you can even fathom a response. You're left in the silence of that creaky old room, wind whistling in through the cracked window and making your whole body suddenly feel cold. You feel numb as you sit on the bed and examine the money he'd given you, mindlessly folding and unfolding the notes as you imagine him already setting off on his horse, never to be seen again.

It's only then that you notice a scrap of paper mixed up in the notes. Your fingers trace the outline of it as you unfold it, and you realise it's an advert for a gunsmith, the same one that was scrawled in small lettering over his holster and ammo sash: his favourite gunsmith. Had he done it on purpose? Slipped in a golden ticket to your next meeting point? He certainly was shuffling around with those notes for a while.

It makes you want to jump for joy, a small glimmer of hope shining through the overcast clouds that'd been plaguing you since you can remember, your knight in shining armour; or at least… knight in washed out denim. You tuck it into the waistband of your drawers with a soft but excited sigh, before going to clean yourself up and head home, with something for you to finally look forward to.

...........................................................................

Tagging people 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @minigirl87 @marisferasiop @red-hydra @summonthesoups @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose @strangerhands @admiralackbarssugarbaby

[livesincerely]

After your new fic this morning (which was so funny and cute, I screamed!) I’ve completed a reread of all your old fics and just had to say how obsessed I still am with take a shot. Do you have any updates or snippets you could share for it? Love your works so much!

Yes, actually!!! I’ve been working (slowly 😅) on the next chapter and on mapping out the back half of the fic, and I’m hoping to have some time to write this weekend, so hopefully there’s an update coming soon

00000

“And… yeah,” Jack finishes lamely, running a hand through his hair. “That’s the story.”

Maggie lets out a thoughtful hum, twiddling her pencil between her fingers.

“So?” Jack asks after several long seconds pass. “What'd ya think I should do?”

“Are you sure there’s anything to do?” Maggie offers.

At first, Jack can only stare at her—that’s how baffled he is at this suggestion.

“O’ course there is!” Jack says. “I can’t jus’ not do anythin’!”

“But if you don’t know what’s wrong, and if no one’s willing, or able to tell you…” She trails off with a shrug. “I think the only thing you can do right now is let it go. Give him the space he’s asking for and hope that he’ll let you know if he needs you.”

“He needs me now,” Jack insists. “You ain’t seen him but you can tell it jus’ lookin’ at him—he’s miserable, Mags. He’s keepin’ everythin’ bottle up and it’s eatin’ him up inside.”

“You said he’s confided in some of your other friends, right?” Maggie points out. “So he isn’t suffering alone, he’s got people to lean on.”

But Davey always leans on me, Jack can’t help but think, mulishly. Why’s now gotta be any different?

“He’s my best friend,” he says instead, and it comes out shorter than he means it to. “I jus’ feel like I should be doin’ somethin’ to help him.”

“Something like what?” Maggie prompts gently, her blue eyes wide and earnest.

“I dunno,” he says, starting to get a little frustrated. “Jus’, somethin’.” He lets out a long breath. “‘M not tryin’ ta crowd him, honest, I’m not, but it’s been weeks and things aren’t gettin’ better, they’re only gettin’ worse an’—“

He remembers Davey’s tears. Remembers Davey’s eyes.

“An’ there’s gotta be somethin’ I can do,” he finishes quietly. “There’s gotta be.”

…

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Jack asks, something vicious wrapping taught around his chest.

“Enjoying the view,” Race says sardonically, leaping down from the fire escape. “What’d’ya think, dumbass?”

“You better not be messin’ with him, Race,” Jack warns. “‘Cause if I find out you’ve been pullin’ any of the shit you been pullin’ on me with Davey, I swear ta God I’m gonna—“

“Slow your roll, Jack,” Race interrupts, tucking his thumbs in his pockets. “I ain’t done nothin’ ta Davey.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ playing around, Racetrack,” Jack says, stepping closer. “Leave him alone.”

“What are you, his knight in shining armor?” Racetrack asks with a scoff, but there’s something hiding behind his eyes, like a secret he’s keeping close to his chest. “Last I checked, Davey can speak for himself.”

“He needs space,” Jack insists.

“Yeah, from you, maybe,” Racetrack responds harshly.

It’s like the breath’s been punched out of him.

“Is… Is that what he said?” Jack asks numbly, the words settling like talc on his tongue, thick enough to choke on. “Did he say that he didn’t…?”

Racetrack hesitates, and that hurts just as bad but in a different kind of way—another round of blows against an already bruised stretch of skin.

“Nah,” Race finally says. “He didn’t say that.”

“Then, what—“

“It ain’t none of your fucking business,” Race says firmly. “If he wants ta tell ya about it, he will. But until then, maybe you should take the hint and back off.”

“An’, what, you’re the exception to the rule?” Jack wonders bitterly, shoulders sagging.

“Well, I am pretty exceptional,” Race says, lifting his chin.

“You swear he’s okay?” Jack asks, a little desperately. “You swear you’re watchin’ his back?”

“You ain’t the only one that’s worried about him,” Race says, quiet and serious. “I’m helpin’ him as much as he’s lettin’ me.”

Jack rakes a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he mutters, defeated. “Fine.”

[tsukishumai]

pairing: miya osamu x gn!reader genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn word count: 3.2k summary: In which Osamu finds that the stranger lurking outside his store window has a connection to his restaurant that he could have never expected.

Osamu remembers every single face that has walked through the doors of Onigiri Miya since the day they’ve opened. He has yet to hire another worker, manning all stations of his business himself. The rush hours always provided him with a bit of a heavy work load, but Osamu has learned a lot about diligence and patience. Business had been good enough; traffic was steady throughout the day, and he had his fair share of regulars whose orders he had already memorized.

The stuffy, salt-and-pepper haired man in the pressed three-piece suit always ordered two umeboshi onigiri and a medium iced green tea. The kind old woman that ran the shop across the street would come in for his salted salmon, and if he had extra, Osamu would throw in an extra tuna mayo. She’d always smile and give him a pat on the shoulder, her eyes crinkling in a way that reminded Osamu of his grandmother.

It was when the shopkeeper had slowly walked out of his establishment and back to her own that Osamu noticed you standing a few feet away from his storefront. You had been wearing a face mask, but Osamu could see that you were staring at his sign. Your eyes squinted at the block letters that looked down at you, before they trailed down to land directly on Osamu. You seemed a little startled at the fact that his eyes were already staring at you, but you were standing outside his restaurant, weren’t you?

Before he could lift a hand to wave you in, you quickly turned and walked away.

Every few days, either during the dinner or lunch rush, Osamu would catch a glimpse of you outside of his restaurant. You’d stare at his sign for a few seconds; maybe glance at the menu board that stood a few feet away from his entrance, or look at the pictures of his full menu taped to the restaurant window. he would see the way you studied each item, yet you always walked the opposite direction.

It bothered Osamu. Why didn’t you want to come in? Did his menu look boring? Was his sign uninviting? Is his decoration too traditional? Should he have made it look a little more modern? He grumbled to himself about it each time you peeked in, and walked away. Why do you bother coming so often if you didn’t want to try his food? Osamu huffed.

It wasn’t until four weeks later, when Osamu had posted three brand new flavors on his menu board that you finally deemed his restaurant worthy enough to step in.

You had stopped by a little bit later than usual today, the dinner rush had come and gone, and the only ones left in the restaurant were you and Osamu. He stood patiently waiting behind his counter, desperately trying to look busy and as if he hasn’t been waiting for this moment for weeks. 

He waited until you were close enough to his counter to say his greetings. You nodded at him in acknowledgment, taking a seat at the bar in front of him. He handed you a menu, and your eyes roved over the words as if they hadn’t done so dozens of times prior. 

“Can I get ya anything to drink?” He asked, and you took off the baseball cap you had been wearing, setting it down on the counter beside you. Your finger hooks along the ear loop of your face mask and Osamu realizes he’s seeing your face for the first time. You place the piece of cloth in your pocket, and Osamu fights the heat across his cheeks. 

“Just water,” you said, and Osamu was quick to set a fresh glass down in front of you. 

“What’ll it be?” He asked after a few moments, adjusting the bill of his hat and settling his hand on his hip. 

You hum a little, tapping your finger against your lips before you reply. “I’ll have the combo #2 with the gyoza.” 

Osamu nodded, “What two flavors onigiri would you like?” 

“For the first one, I’ll have your most popular flavor,” you say, before closing the menu and handing it back to him, “I’ll let you choose the second one.” 

Osamu raised an eyebrow at your odd request, but nods anyway, putting the menu away and walking back to give his hands a quick wash. 

He begins to gather his ingredients when he noticed you take out a notepad and a pen from your bag, placing it on the counter in front of your water. 

“So,” he says, starting the process of making his number one seller (salted salmon), “What was it?” 

“Excuse me?” You asked, pausing the drink that was half way to your lips. “What was what?”

“Well, ya stood outside for weeks, so I gotta know,” Osamu said, placing the delicate filling into the ball of rice he was kneading in his palm, “What made ya decide to finally come in?” 

You tightened your lips, awkwardly setting the cup back down on the counter and placing a palm on your forehead. 

“I was that obvious?”

“Were ya trying not to be?” He laughed, looking at you expectantly. 

“It was the flavors on your board,” you finally replied, leaning back in your seat, “There was one that my grandfather used to make.”

Osamu smiled to himself, wrapping his first finished onigiri in the seaweed he had roasted earlier that day, placing it gently on a serving platter and moving over to make the next rice ball. 

“That’s a coincidence,” Osamu said, “Your grandfather must have had great taste.”

“He used to own a restaurant,” you blurted out, and Osamu hummed. 

“You’re kidding,” he said, “Whereabouts?”

You nibbled on your bottom lip, shifting your eyes side to side as if debating on whether you wanted to divulge him in your greatest secret. Eventually, you leaned forward, resting your elbow on the counter and placing your chin in your palm. “Actually, it was this one.”

Osamu’s fingers froze. “Ya don’t mean—?”

You nodded excitedly. Osamu lets out a scoff. “Now you’re just messin’ with me.”

“No, I swear!” A bright smile erupted across your cheeks as you jumped a little in your seat, “My grandparents used to own this restaurant.”

“I thought this was a boutique before I bought it?” Osamu questioned, putting his final touches on the second rice ball. 

“It was,” you agreed, taking a sip from your water, “They owned this place until I was in high school, and sold it before they retired somewhere in the mountains. It’s been a few different stores since, but this is the first time it’s become a restaurant again. I was pretty surprised when I first saw it.”

Osamu felt an odd sensation of pride began to brew in his chest, shown in the way he sprinkled his sesame seeds a little extra forcefully. 

“Well,” he said, placing the plate of two perfect onigiri right on the counter in front of you, “I hope I do this place some justice.” 

You smiled, and Osamu found himself smiling with you. He pointed out the shake on the left, and the surprise flavor on the right. You nodded, intrigued, picking up the onigiri lying on the left side. 

Osamu makes the gyoza while you take your first bite, nearly pumping his fist in victory when he sees you close your eyes in satisfaction, the tension he didn’t even know you carried slowly melting from your shoulders. He sees you quickly jot down comments on the notepad next to you, and Osamu tries to peek at what you wrote when he gives you the gyoza. 

“Ya jottin’ down comments about my food?” He joked, and you jumped a little at his voice, “Got any suggestions, then?”

You smile sheepishly, “It’s just a little hobby of mine.”

He nods, grabbing a towel and wiping down the counter that he had just used. “Well, ya let me know if ya need anything else.” 

“It’s just you working tonight?” You ask, grabbing your chopsticks and picking up a piece of gyoza. 

“It’s just me every night,” he chuckled. 

Your eyes widened as you chewed on your food, swallowing with a loud gulp. 

“Doesn’t that get exhausting?” You ask, quickly jotting down your notes before diverting your attention back to him. 

Osamu just shrugged. “I poured my everything into something I didn’t love half as much as cooking. This is just how I know how to do things.” 

You tilted your head to the side, “What did you do before this?”

Osamu takes a deep breath as he lifts his hat up a little bit to ruffle his fingers through his hair. He flips the cap around and puts it on backwards, his vision no longer half covered by the bill of his hat and he can now look at you fully. He almost wants to laugh because no one has ever asked him that version of this question before. It was always, ‘What are you going to be doing after volleyball?’

He hated the fact that any answer other than ‘I’m going to play professionally’ was deemed a shame, or a waste. For Osamu, he didn’t want to waste another second not pursuing his passion.

So it was refreshing to tell you about volleyball as if it was just a footnote in his food journey; something that he had done prior to finally recognizing his actual potential.

You gawked at him in disbelief, “Volleyball? Were you even any good?”

Osamu actually recoiled in offense, “I’ll have ya know I was on a team that went to nationals three years in a row.”

You raised your eyebrows appreciatively, and Osamu straightened a little.

“So why food?” You question him again, and Osamu wonders if you’re always this inquisitive. He’s answered this question hundreds of times, swore up and down that he would shoot the next person that even dared to say ‘Why food?’ in front of him. Yet for some reason, he felt more than happy to divulge you. 

“Because food is more than just something ya eat when you’re hungry. It’s coming back from a long trip, and it’s the warmth that spreads through your body when ya eat your mom’s cooking for the first time. That taste of victory that spreads across your tongue when ya go out for a meal with your pals after a game. The sensation of closing your eyes in satisfaction when ya take a bite out of a fresh onigiri after a long day,” you pause your scribbles at that moment, looking up to shoot him a playful glare. Osamu chuckled and continued, “It’s laughter shared around the table, and memories made over a plate that makes food more than just nourishment for our body, but also for our soul.” 

Osamu feels his cheeks heat up as he finishes his speech, embarrassment beginning to sink in at the end of his long tangent. You looked at him with a soft look on your face as you finished the last bite of your first onigiri, and dusted your fingers from any stray grains of rice.

“Words to live by,” you commented, lifting your glass of water up in agreement before tilting it back for a drink.

He let out a breath of relief that lasted only a second when he saw you reach over to pick up the onigiri with toppings he picked out for you. He held his breath as you took a bite, not expecting to see your eyes widen so fast, snapping your head down to the innocent rice ball that now sported a bite mark.

“Shio kombu cheese?” you say hurriedly, holding the onigiri closer to your face.

Osamu steps forward, “Do ya like it?”

You take another bite, chewing slowly, savoring the flavors as they melded in your mouth, and your eyes nearly begin to water.

“I never thought someone other than my grandfather would be weird enough to come up with this,” you laughed, scarfing down the rice ball in less than two seconds. “Yet here it is.”

“It’s not weird,” he defended, “It’s refined.”

You laugh as you dive into a story from your childhood spent sitting in this exact restaurant. Osamu listens intently as you recount how many different failed recipes your grandfather had forced you to ty and review, helping him decide what to put on the menu, or which combinations would bring in the businessmen that always seemed to just walk passed the restaurant.

He tells you of the tantrum his brother threw when he told him he was quitting volleyball, but still, Atsumu was his first sale. You pester him about his secret ingredient, and give him an incredulous look when he says it’s the rice. (“My old volleyball captain is a rice farmer.” “… what an interesting volleyball team.”)

The furniture was different, and the lay out was unfamiliar, but the atmosphere around Osamu’s counter had brought you right back into your childhood, reminding you of all the reasons why you loved what you did in the first place.

Long after your plates had been emptied, and the hour hand on the clock had extended way passed closing time, you finally paid for your meal, stood up from your seat and prepared to take your leave.

“Thank you for the meal, and the conversation,” you lean forward to read his name tag, “Miya-san.”

“Osamu,” he corrects, and raises an eyebrow at you.

You tell him your name, and Osamu repeats it in his mind over and over again.

“Come back soon,” he calls out his usual greeting as you walked out the door, but it felt different when he said it to you.

“I will,” you smile, waving a hand before stepping into the night, leaving Osamu with a dizzy head and fluttering stomach.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

In the following weeks since his late night encounter with you, Onigiri Miya had ceased to be a simple stop along someone’s route to work, or an afterthought on the way home.

One could imagine Osamu’s surprise when he arrived an hour and half before he was due to open, and already a line began to form down the sidewalk. He thought, perhaps it was a fluke, or maybe there was some sort of business convention in town nearby – something to explain the sudden spike in popularity.

Yet day after day, the crowds of people came to him by the dozens, climbing over each other to get a taste of his cooking. He couldn’t stop to wonder how long this was going to last, barely having the time to stop and give himself a break.

He finally realizes it’s not merely coincidence when the lines get longer, yet the faces he sees stay the same. Osamu remembers every single face that walks through the doors of Onigiri Miya, and it’s the ones that he sees over and over that truly give his restaurant its meaning. 

The last customer of the dinner rush left thirty minutes ago when Osamu’s phone rang.

“‘llo,” he greets, sandwiching the phone between his ear and shoulder as he sweeps the floor, thinking about how he needed to start looking for someone to hire.

“Hey, asshole,” the voice of his twin comes through loud and clear, “When were ya gonna tell me ya invited that food blogger to your restaurant? And how the hell did ya get them to like your garbage cooking?”

Osamu stops in confusion, grabbing the phone and holding it up himself. “Did ya finally get hit in the head a little too hard at practice? What the hell are ya talking about?”

Atsumu curses at Osamu, telling him to hold on a second as he sends him the link.

Osamu pulls the phone away from his ear for a second, quickly pressing on the blue url that popped up from Atsumu’s chat bubble.

It took a second for it to load, but when it did, Osamu’s jaw dropped

ONIGIRI MIYA IS AN ONIGIRI MUST HAVE by L/N Y/N

Beneath the obnoxious title was a photo of his sign, shining brightly against the wooden panels of his building, looking very much like a beacon for those searching for the perfect plate.

“Your shop is all over the internet and I had to find out about it on my news feed?! What the hell kinda brother are ya...”

Atsumu’s voice faded into the background as Osamu read the flattering words you had written about his restaurant. You complimented the decoration he had been insecure about, and he chuckled at the way you had described the fluffiness of his rice. He was captivated by your use of prose, painting the perfect picture of exactly everything he wanted his food to convey.

It wasn’t until he got to the last paragraph when he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

Though the years have passed, and the season have changed, the sentimentality of this particular shop had never lost its meaning for me. For the first time in years, I felt the soul of my grandfather, the curator of my inspiration and passion, all around the atmosphere of what is now Onigiri Miya. I have every faith that the new owner has already done him justice.

“Excuse me, are you still open?”

Osamu tore his eyes away from the screen, the very author of the only review that will ever matter to him stood a mere few feet away from his counter.

“Call you later, Tsumu,” he said hurriedly.

“Hey, wh—“

Osamu slips his phone back into his pocket, turning his attention back to you. You had a cheeky smile on your face as you waited patiently.

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya,” he says dryly, and you laugh at his tone.

“Should you be on your phone while you’re on the clock?” You joke as you settle in the same seat you occupied the last time you paid him a visit.

“I don’t know,” Osamu crosses his arms, “Should ya be writing articles about people without telling em?”

You winced a little at his words, holding your hands up in surrender. “You saw it then?”

Osamu nodded.

You looked to the side, rubbing the side of your arm. “Did you like what I wrote?”

Osamu smiled, uncrossing his arms and walking to the back to wash his hands. You watch him curiously as he walked back to you, and pointed to a spot on the wall directly to your right.

“That’s where I’m gonna put it,” he said, “when I print it out and frame it.”

You laughed at the seriousness of his face, and he smirked in satisfaction.

You ordered the combo #2 with a side of gyoza, letting Osamu pick the two flavors. You mentioned how you tried to visit a couple of times, but the line was always so far out the door. He realizes that he has you to thank for that, and you blush deeply when he sincerely tells you so.

“So,” you say as you munch on the honey garlic pork onigiri he prepared, “Aren’t you glad you did this instead of boring, old volleyball?”

Osamu nearly chokes at the insult. “Volleyball is not boring.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat, “Let me take you to a game some time. We can eat something other than rice balls.”

You look up from the half eaten onigiri at the chef who made it so carefully, looking so bashful and nervous you couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah. I would love that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

thank you for reading! reblogs are highly appreciated <33

[mimiseda]

Title: Just Messin’

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ship: Jake Park x Reader

Genre: Fluff. A lot of it.

Words: 2,696

Note: Created for @sirpeanutthethird Happy Birthday 🎉🎁

. . . .

“Mm..” You’re awake, but your eyes stay closed in hopes of falling back to sleep.

Disoriented as your mind may be, you figured the time may be around four to five in the morning. For some reason, your body is trained to wake up around this time. A good assumption may be from getting ready for your classes at the University you attend. Except.. you don’t have any classes today, until tomorrow that is, which just so happens to be your birthday. Shame it has to be on the day you have school, but you’ll accept that today is your day to kick back and slack off. Hopefully along with your boyfriend, Jake.

Speaking of..

You open your eyes to a dark room, dimly lit by a warm lamp on his side. The first thing you notice is how close you are to him, that and the way he’s holding you. He’s got one arm under you and the other around your shoulder. His palm is cradling the back of your head, feeling a tiny bit ticklish since his fingertips skimmed lightly against your scalp. You don’t mind though, it’s always a good thing to wake up next to someone you love. Others may see his way of snuggling you this close as clingy, but you think you’re just as clingy as he is.

With what little space you have, you lift your head to kiss the flat of his chin. Jake’s breathing stuttered and his body shivered at such a small act of affection. Is he still asleep? Curious, you scoot back to try and get a better look at him. However, every time you move, his hold on you gets suspiciously tighter.

“Uh-“ He doesn’t want to let you go it seems. Time to look at other options instead. Shuffling from your side to your stomach, you try to wiggle out of the sleeping man’s arms into freedom. You only got about halfway down his torso, until he suddenly grabbed you by your underarms and moved you back to where you started. There, you see that the mischievous man is awake. The tiredness on his face did not match his playful attitude.

“You were awake this entire time?” You yell, but quietly.

“Why are you up so late?” Jake completely disregards your question and resumes cuddling you again.

“I just woke up.. what time is it?”

“I dunno. But I’m going back to sleep.”

“Well.” You squirm against his hold again. “I’m gonna check the time. Lemme go.”

“Nope.” Jake says in a heartbeat. “Not gonna sleep without you.”

“I’m gonna be back! .. After I get some water too.”

“You’ll take too long.”

You smile a little. He’s so needy. “I won’t, silly. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Hmm.” His dark brown eyes examine your face. For a lie, you think. Or maybe he’s just considering freeing you from his heinous clutches.

And to your surprise, he actually lets you go. “Then by all means.” Jake covers himself with the blanket you two shared. Taking more than usual for him. You briefly wonder why, but don’t question as you pull away.

As soon as the covers are off of you though, you immediately feel cold air creeping up on your skin.

It’s so unexpected, you cross your arms and shiver down to your core. Why isn’t any source of heat on? Or more alternatively, why is the cold air on? Once you stood up, your feet felt icy even against the carpet floor. “Cold?” You turn to Jake at the sound of his sleepy voice. He’s wearing a smirk that he tried his best to hide.

“Y-yeah.” You look around the room, unsure if you even wanted to go through the cold for just a glass of water.

“Then come lay down with me.” You thought about his offer for a few seconds. Getting back in bed doesn’t seem like a-

Hold up.

Something’s not adding up.

You turn to Jake again, seeing the smirk on his face a little wider than before.

No-

No he did not. “Jake, did you tamper with the thermostat?”

“.. Maybe I did.”

You pout at him. “Whyy?” Shaking your head, you crawl back in bed to avoid freezing to death. “What’s the point??”

“Because I want to.” A very cheeky Jake helps himself and wraps his arms around you again. “And it gets too hot.” You sigh and cave in to the warmth he graciously gave you; wrapping your legs around his, your arms around his torso, and head leaning on his chest again. “This has never been a problem before.” You mumble.

“Well it’s a problem now.” Jake simultaneously pecks your forehead and cheeks, sweet-kissing your annoyance away. He can’t have you mad at him, if he plans to cuddle you into your dreams.

You groan, feeling your face tingling with acceptance at his unapologetic affection. Oh well.. “Jake?”

“Mmhm?”

“I’ll stay in bed, if you get me some water.” You look up at him and smile again. If he wants things to go his way, then he’ll have to do some of your bidding.

Jake hums delightfully at your request though, then readies himself to get up. “That’s a fair trade.”

. . .

The hall is empty.

Except for one.

Jake strolls down the corridor, paper in hand as he tries to read from it. He’s having a hard time making sense of any of it. It’s like his professor compiled the most complex words in the dictionary and shamelessly typed them on this paper. Every time Jake passed by a trash can, he highly considered crumbling up and tossing the worksheet in there. He wanted to forget about the damn thing entirely.

It isn’t a very responsible thing to do though, he thought to himself. He made it this far without anyone criticizing him. Much. He’s probably tired, or maybe he’s just-

Thump, thump, skeeeeet

The hell?

Jake comes to an abrupt stop and turns around, hearing someone running behind him. Last he checked, no one really visits this specific hall. For why? He doesn’t really know, but he assumed it may be because the classes here are rather.. insignificant compared to other courses, although Jake took one of them. This hall contained extracurricular activities that rarely anyone attended: like sewing, graphic design, and just outside of this wing lies a golf court. The students in this school are just like him, learning about the money and the business world to make their parents proud.

“Uh.. hello?” Jake calls out, unable to see who ran. The corridor is narrow, the only way for the person to pass him is if they went into one of the classrooms. That, or in front of him where there’s a turn on his left. All of the classes had their doors shut with barely any noises sounding from them, so it shouldn’t be hard to find the clown, if they toy with him again. Jake looks around one last time, the trash bins, the potted plants, pillars and a few decorations that covered the hall with colorful pride for the University.

He sees no one and turns around to walk again, slowly this time.

The hall is empty.

Except for two, now.

Jake only got so far as five, careful steps until he hears those running footsteps again. He turns, concerned, but done with this. “Alright, you wanna fuck around?” He folds the paper six times and stuffs it into his pocket. With his mind made up, he began to search the hall for any signs of a human being other than him. Any hints of clothing, hair, or even breathing will be useful to him. He’ll deliberately hunt down whoever’s responsible.

.

Your legs ache from kneeling down the trash can too long, but it’s sooo worth it. Suppressing your laughter is way more important right now, especially when you’re hiding from Jake.

Initially, you wanted to find him and have a normal conversation with him, especially since you haven’t seen him since morning. You know he usually comes to this side of the University to either attend one of his classes or study, since it’s almost completely silent. Yes, you being there could mean being a distraction to him.. But all that jazz is thrown out the window once you’ve decided to mess with him for a bit.

So here you are, hiding with a few beads in hand you gathered from an art class in this wing. You won’t throw any at Jake of course, but you’ll use them to bamboozle the ever living hell out of him. You wonder if your boyfriend will eventually think he’s crazy. Perhaps he’ll call you, scared of a ghost and needing you by his side. Although you’ve never seen him scared before, you’re still interested in how this goofy session will turn out. For both you and Jake.

While he looks around for you, you hide behind anything that could obscure you from his vision. He gets closer, hotter. Jake searches a spot where a pillar stands with a big potted plant in front of it. The one you moved, looking out of place. As soon as he turns his back on you, your heart raced with a bit of adrenaline. The thought of Jake finding and catching you made you feel too many rushed feelings at once.

An idea lights in your head to confuse him more. Quickly and quietly before he moves again, you take three beads in your hand and toss them down the corridor. The little noises alerts Jake. He snaps his attention behind him, leaving his current spot to check out where the beads are coming from. You giggle for a split second, then go silent.

Jake reaches the end of the hall, where it turns left towards other classrooms. Once he disappears, you stand up from your hiding place to follow him. You’re not done just yet, you’ll stop at one more throw of beads, then reveal yourself to him as the villain of such tomfoolery.

With your playfulness intact, you kept walking until you reached the end. You see shadows in the light, one unmoving and the other picking up something from the ground. Jake. You hold your breath for a moment, waiting until he moves away from you again. You watch his shadow examine something in his hand, probably the beads you threw. Then, he stands up and disappears along with his shadow.

You start breathing again, relieved that he didn’t walk back to the corridor you’re in. Calming down a little, you move to follow Jake again. You kept going, no longer hearing his footsteps, but you’re determined to find him anyway in this one-way place. When you reached a turn on your right, you leaned against the wall and peeked out from the corner.

“Ah!” You half gasped and squealed like a bird.

Instead of seeing another hall with doors, water fountains, and decorations; maybe Jake walking down the area as well..

He’s right in front of you.

Before you could do anything but chuckle nervously, Jake grabs you by your waist and holds you against the wall. All of the annoyance you previously saw on him is replaced by a slight, mischievous look. “You thought I wouldn’t catch you, huh?”

You bit your lower lip, especially once his hands moved to a much more sensitive spot of your body. It’s hard to push aside your excitement to speak. “H-how’d you know I was- Eee!!” Jake’s fingertips wiggles at your ticklish spot, not too soft or harsh, just enough to get you laughing in front of him. You drop everything, the beads in your hand fall to the ground. “S-st-stop! We’ll get in trouble!”

“Guess you didn’t think about that before throwing those beads.” Jake continues his tickle-fest, following your movements as you try to get away from his hands.

“Okay! Okaay! I-I’m sorry! I’m- oh!!” It was set. It was only a matter of time before you two done something to get you both even more in trouble. Jake accidentally bumped you against a wall, which had artwork of the University’s mascot taped to it. The tape fell and the paper tore a little, creating a sound that echoed the empty hallway. You and Jake stared at each other in shock. It wasn’t until the sound of a doorknob brought him back to his senses. He grabbed your wrist and hurried both of you out of there, before you two got caught.

“Sorry Jake..!” You whisper loud enough for him to hear.

“Shh..” He shushes you, guiding you away from the “crime” scene and towards the more quiet areas of the wing. You two reached the lockers, where only a few of them are occupied. Jake comes to a stop, still holding your wrist as he catches his breath. He eventually chuckles, so light and happy it becomes contagious. You clasped a hand over your mouth, snickering into your palm.

“It wasn’t your fault, it was mine.” Jake says, clearing his throat and needing water from all of that childishness.

You shrug. “I came here to just talk to you, but.. Mm, I dunno what came over me, heh.” You exhale your final, heavy breath. It’s a little hot in here now, but you feel invigorated around your boyfriend.

“I can see that.” He smiles, and you smile too. “I’m glad you’re here, don’t worry. I got something for you too.”

Your eyes widen. “For me? What is it?”

Jake holds up a hand and fishes in his pockets for something. First, he pulls out the folded paper from before, looking at it in sheer disgust. You snort at his reaction and conclude that it may be school work of some kind. About three seconds passes until he pulls something from another pocket: a small, baby blue box. Satisfied, Jake puts the folded paper away, completely forgetting about it. “Here. I made it for you.”

You look at the small box with deep interest. Grabbing it, you held it close and opened it with pure curiosity. There, you see a bracelet, shining in what light the area gave. It’s made of silver, crafted with tiny charms of favorite animals and your favorite colors. One charm resembled food you loved to eat. You couldn’t help but gaze at it in awe, it’s easy to tell how much care and thought was put into it.

“Happy Birthday.” Jake cheers quietly, but fondly. You look up at him, heart swelling with the loving look he gave you.

“Thank you! You made this??” Gently, you pull the bracelet from it’s little home. Jake takes the box from you, appearing sheepish as you immediately clip the piece of jewelry around your wrist. It fits perfectly.

“Yeah. You like it?” He rubs the back of his neck. Truth be told, one of his classes teaches fashion and the history of such. Jake never thought he’d be interested in them, but as it turns out, he’s skilled with his hands at not only outdoorsy activities. He loves crafting and creating things in general.

You blink. Looking at him as if he asked a dumb question. “I love it! Look at it!” You twirl your wrist around, watching the cute charms sway. It’s so adorable, and the fact that it’s made by him makes it a million times better. You’ll cherish this, the jewelry and this moment you have with him. “How long did it take you?” You ask, walking closer to him to hug him tight.

“A week and some change.” Jake pulls you in, hugging you back. “Getting the materials was another thing, but I got them just time for you.” You unconsciously swoon over his words. It’s always nice, having someone think about you so kindly, when you have no idea. Reaching up to his face, you kiss his lips a few times.

“Thank you so much..” Another kiss you two shared. “I love you.” Then another. Jake is a bit flustered at your immense display of affection, but he’s happy nonetheless.

“I love you too. Happy Birthday.”

[buckybarnesdollface]

Traditions: Chapter 2

Summary: Some old Christmas traditions lead to new traditions.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, female reader

           I knew even before I opened my eyes that I wasn’t waking up in my bed. My head was pillowed on something solid and warm, and I blinked open my eyes to see that I was stretched out on the couch and my head was resting on Bucky’s stomach. Sometime during our late-night conversation, I must have dozed off, as had Bucky, but not before he’d draped the blanket from the back of the couch over me. He had slumped against the couch cushions, legs outstretched and feet resting on the ottoman. A warm hand rested lightly on my hip over the blanket, and my own hand – embarrassingly – was gripping his thigh.

           Horrified, I tried to extract myself from this awkward position without waking Bucky, but my efforts were in vain – With a soft sigh and a shift of his body, Bucky’s hand squeezed my hip lightly, sending a jolt through my body.

           “Mornin', doll,” his voice rumbled from above me, still thick with sleep. “Guess neither of us made it to our beds.”

           I pushed myself up off of him, leaning back into the couch cushions and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Bucky was watching me with his bottom lip tugged between his teeth, eyes still heavy with sleep, and I felt my stomach do a flip. I dropped my gaze to my hands and cleared my throat before speaking.

           “When…when did I fall asleep?”

           “Around quarter after three. We were talking and the next thing I looked down and you were asleep.” He grinned ruefully. “You looked so cozy all snuggled up against me; I didn’t want to wake you by moving you, so I covered you with the blanket and let you sleep. I guess I must have dozed off not long after that.”

           My cheeks were flaming by this point. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “That couldn’t have been very comfortable for you –”

           Bucky cut me off. “Actually, I slept great,” he said. “Falling asleep next to a warm fire and a Christmas tree, with a pretty dame curled up against me? What more could a guy want?” He waggled his eyebrows at me playfully, and my eyes widened before narrowing at him.

           “Asshole,” I grumbled, swatting at his chest. He laughed and shook his head.

           “I’m only messin’ with ya, (Y/N),” he chuckled. “For the record, though, it wasn’t the worst sleep I’ve ever had. In fact, it was probably one of the better ones. It was peaceful; no nightmares.”

           At this I couldn’t help but smile. “Good,” I murmured. “Now c’mon, I need coffee. Maybe we can sneak some of those molasses cookies, too.”

           But there would be no sneaking anything. Both my parents and Katie and Jeremy were all in the kitchen when Bucky and I shuffled our way in. My cheeks were on fire and I ducked my head. Even Bucky was blushing as four pairs of eyes landed on us.

           “Finally decided to get up, huh?” my dad taunted.

           “We fell asleep talking,” I grumbled. Jeremy and Katie snickered and I shot them a glare.

           “You never could resist sneaking downstairs to fall asleep by the tree,” my mom said. “Your father and I used to have to carry you back up to your bed.” She handed mugs of coffee to both Bucky and I, and although her smile was warm her hazel eyes sparkled with something more. I frowned and lifted the mug to my lips.

           “Busy day today,” my dad said. “Make sure you’re ready to leave by three-thirty.”

           As was tradition, we were going to my grandparents’ place for Christmas Eve dinner. We spent the rest of the morning watching Home Alone, and then I disappeared upstairs to shower and get ready.

           An hour later, I had tamed my curls, put on a full face of makeup and donned a black-and-red dress. I checked the mirror and touched up my red lipstick before stepping out into the hall and colliding with a really large, really solid body.

           “Sorry!” I squeaked at the same time that one warm and one cool hand steadied me. I looked up to see Bucky regarding me with his lips slightly quirked up.

           “You should watch where you’re going, doll,” he teased as his hands released my arms. “If you’re not careful you’ll end up hurting yourself.”

           I glared at him half-heartedly. “I didn’t expect to run into a goddamn brick wall coming out of my room,” I quipped. “What are you doing outside my door?”

           Bucky blushed. “I was waiting for you,” he said. “I, uh…”

           He trailed off, and he didn’t have to finish for me to understand what he was getting at. He was nervous about meeting my grandparents and my aunts and uncles. I gave him an encouraging smile and took his hand into mine.

           “So far everyone in my family loves you; it’ll be fine,” I assured him, and then I grinned. “Plus, I’m pretty sure my grandmother is making lasagna.”

           Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean the lasagna? The stuff you always bragged to the team about?”

           “The one and only.”

           “I hope she’s made lots, then,” Bucky said, patting his stomach. “I can eat a crazy amount of lasagna.”

           “Don’t worry,” I teased, “I already warned everyone to prepare; I told them that a supersoldier’s appetite is like a dog with the munchies.”

           Bucky gave me an indignant look. “Way to make me look good,” he said wryly, and I shrugged.

           “It’s the truth. Between you and Steve, it’s amazing there’s even any food left in the compound for the rest of us. And don’t even get me started on how much it must cost Tony when the team orders takeout –”

           “Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Bucky snorted, dragging me towards the stairs. I grinned mischievously at him, a grin he returned with sparkling eyes.

           The minute we stepped into my grandparents’ house it was a flurry of hugs and a chorus of “How have you been?”, as well as a multitude of other questions and exclamations from family members, many of whom I hadn’t seen since last Christmas. As Katie, Jeremy and I got caught up with everyone and my parents went to help my grandparents prepare dinner and get everyone drinks, Bucky stood awkwardly in the doorway of the porch. Finally, my aunt Maureen noticed him over my shoulder and she arched a perfectly-shaped eyebrow.

           “And who is this handsome young man?” she asked, and I had to stifle a snort because even though Bucky looked young enough to be her son, he was actually old enough to be her grandfather. I could tell Bucky knew what I was thinking from the way his dark eyebrows pulled together only slightly at me, but he plastered on a smile as I tugged him forward.

           “This is Bucky,” I announced, one hand resting on his arm to hopefully help ease the nerves I knew he still felt. “He’s a friend from work.”

           “Ah,” my grandfather said on his way by after having grabbed a beer from the fridge. “It’s about time you brought a boyfriend to meet us. I was beginning to wonder if I’d live to see it.”

           My cheeks flushed crimson, and I immediately let go of Bucky’s arm as I shook my head vigorously. “No, he’s not my boyfriend,” I stuttered. “He’s a friend from work. He didn’t have plans for Christmas so I invited him to spend it with us.”

           I couldn’t bring myself to look at Bucky. My grandfather huffed before taking his beer to the sitting room, and Maureen leaned in to whisper, “You’d do good to make him more than a friend, he’s very good-looking.”

           By now I was sure I was the colour of a tomato. Without having to look I knew Bucky was trying and failing at concealing a smirk – His supersoldier ears would have picked up Maureen’s comments with ease.

           Needing a drink, I ducked past everyone and poured myself a glass of wine. After Maureen had finished fawning over Bucky and grilling him with questions, he migrated over to the corner of the kitchen I had chosen to nurse my drink.

           “Your aunt is…” he started, and I cut him off.

           “She’s only my aunt by marriage,” I corrected. “She’s my uncle’s second wife.” I took a swig of my wine. “But yes, she can be hard to take in more than small doses.”

           “I was going to say talkative.”

           I snorted. “That’s an understatement.” I lifted my glass. “Do you want a drink? We have plenty; there’s never a shortage of booze in this family.”

           “You know alcohol does nothing to me, right?” Bucky said, one eyebrow cocked, and I shrugged.

           “You could still have one in the spirit of the season. Beer or wine?”

           Bucky rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched at the corners. “Beer,” he finally said, and I grabbed one from the fridge. He murmured a “thanks” as he popped the cap off with a flick of his thumb and lifted the bottle to his lips. I waited for him to swallow before I spoke, tracing my fingers over the rim of my wine glass.

           “I’m sorry about my grandfather,” I mumbled, and Bucky snorted.

           “Don’t be,” he told me. “That was kind of savage, though. I get the impression it’s a subject that he brings up a lot?”

           I frowned, downing the rest of my wine. “Every family gathering,” I muttered. “It’s always ‘why are you still single’ or ‘when are you going to get a boyfriend’. Both Katie and Jeremy have brought home people; my grandparents probably think there’s something wrong with me.”

           “What, there’s not?” Bucky taunted, and when I glared at him, he laughed.

           “Shut up.”

           “I’m only kidding, (Y/N).” He cocked his head at me thoughtfully. “Is there any particular reason you haven’t brought anyone home before, though?”

           I shrugged, my cheeks pink. “I dunno. There was just never anyone I liked enough to bring home, I guess,” I said, and Bucky nodded.

           “Well,” he said after a minute, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Of all the things I’ve ever been called, your boyfriend certainly isn’t the worst.”

           My stomach did a flip, and I couldn’t conceal my grin as I poured myself another glass of wine. “C’mon,” I chuckled, nudging him towards the sitting room. “Let’s go socialize before any rumours start.”

           It was an evening full of good food and good company. My family, god bless them, welcomed Bucky as if he were one of their own – They included him in conversations, were genuinely interested in learning about him without breaching subjects that would make him uncomfortable, and by the time dessert was served it was as if he had been a part of our Christmas dinners for years. I saw a side of Bucky that I rarely saw except with Steve; he was carefree and charming and the happiest I’d seen him around a group of people he hardly knew.

           Right now, he was in the middle of animatedly telling a story about him and Steve back in the thirties to my family. I had heard the story a few times already, but it had always been told from Steve’s perspective with Bucky offering a couple of details to fill in the blanks – To hear Bucky tell it was something else entirely. I sat next to him, my chin resting on my knuckles and a smile quirking my lips up as I watched him speak.

           “And so we ended up having to ride in the back of a freezer truck all the way from Rockaway Beach back to Brooklyn because we blew our train money on hot dogs,” he exclaimed, earning him a chorus of laughter from around the table. My dad cocked an eyebrow.

           “You spent all the money you had on hot dogs?” he asked incredulously, and Bucky’s grin was mischievous. I couldn’t help but grin myself, knowing this part of the story all too well.

           “Not exactly,” he replied. “As Steve often likes to remind me, I blew three dollars on some silly carnival game trying to win a stuffed bear for a girl I never saw again.”

           The men at the table all nodded as if in understanding, and the women shook their heads and chuckled.

           “So, what does three dollars back in the thirties equal nowadays?” my grandfather asked out of curiosity. Bucky’s cheekiness faltered, and I smirked; this was my favourite part of the story.      

           “Around fifty-six dollars,” he mumbled sheepishly, and the table howled with laughter. Bucky hung his head in mock embarrassment, but the corners of his lips twitched.

           The coffee percolator dinged from the kitchen, signalling the coffee was ready. My grandmother was about to get up but I shook my head and stood first. “I’ll get it,” I offered, but she looked uncertain.

           “You can’t carry it all in by yourself,” she protested, but then Bucky was standing as well.

           “I’ll help her,” he said, and I shot him a grateful smile of thanks as he followed me out to the kitchen.

           “Can you bring the sugar and cream in?” I asked, gesturing to the small china dishes on the kitchen table before pulling some mugs out of the cupboard and setting them on the table for Bucky to get when he came back. I grabbed the coffee pot and a trivet to take to the dining room, but as I rounded the corner I nearly collided with Bucky. His hands reached out to steady me before I could spill the scalding coffee all over the both of us.

           “Easy there, doll,” Bucky chuckled, and I blushed.

           “Sorry,” I mumbled, and he was just about to step out of the way to let me through when my grandfather spoke up.

           “No you don’t, not so fast,” he said. “It’s bad luck not to kiss under the mistletoe.”

           Confusion wrinkled my brow, and both mine and Bucky’s gazes drifted up. Sure enough, hung from the top of the doorframe was a small cluster of green leaves and red berries, tied together with a shiny red bow. I groaned inwardly and rolled my eyes, shaking my head.

           “Nope, not doing that,” I said quickly. “No one else has kissed under this tonight, so neither are we.”

           “Your grandfather and I did just before dinner,” my grandmother exclaimed, and I pursed my lips.

           “C’mon, (Y/N); you know we don’t break Christmas traditions in this family,” my uncle taunted, grinning wickedly. Fighting the urge to once again roll my eyes, I looked nervously at Bucky. He only shrugged, as if to say, “Let’s just do it so they’ll stop harassing us.”

           “Fine,” I finally sighed, and Bucky’s eyes widened just a fraction before he leaned in and pressed a barely-there peck to my mouth. When he straightened, I cleared my throat and was just about to move past him when three separate voices “boo”-ed us from the table.

           “You call that a kiss?” Katie snorted, and I shot her the deadliest glare I could muster. She only smirked in response.

           “Katie’s right,” my grandfather said. “A man that would spend that much money trying to impress a girl surely knows how to kiss one.”

           I opened my mouth to protest, positive my grandfather had crossed a line, but before any sound could come out Bucky’s hands were on my waist as he gathered me to him, covering my mouth with his.

           The first thing I noticed was that Bucky’s lips were softer than I had expected, like velvet moving against my own lips. He tasted like apple pie and gingerbread, and I could feel my eyes drifting closed as I fell into the kiss. His hands tightened just the slightest bit on my waist, causing my heart rate to pick up, and the next thing I knew I could feel the handle of the coffee pot slipping from my fingers and I jerked back from Bucky, tightening the grip on the handle before I’d have to clean up coffee and broken glass off the hardwood floor.

           “The mugs,” I mumbled, brought back to reality. My cheeks and chest were burning and I couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, least of all Bucky’s.

           “Right, the mugs,” Bucky mumbled, ducking into the kitchen.

           I could feel everyone’s eyes on Bucky and I for the remainder of dinner. When it came time to go back to my parents’ place, I was relieved.

           My grandmother stopped me on my way out the door. “You know,” she said, “according to the Germans, if you kiss someone under the mistletoe it means you’re bound to end up living a long and happy life together.”

           My cheeks were red and my stomach did a flip. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Gram,” I mumbled, and her eyes sparkled as she closed the door behind me.

           Back at home, everyone settled down in the living room to relax and get comfortable after stuffing themselves with food at dinner. I had just poured myself a glass of eggnog and was about to join them when Bucky’s hand circled lightly around my wrist.

           “Can we talk for a minute?” he asked, and my heart hammered against my ribcage as my gaze involuntarily flickered to his lips. I had no idea what was wrong with me; Bucky was my friend. I wasn’t supposed to want him to kiss me. I cursed my grandparents and their damned mistletoe.

           “Um, yeah,” I finally said weakly. Bucky released my wrist to run a hand through his hair.

           “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and my brow furrowed.

           “What the hell are you sorry about?” I asked. “I’m the one who should be apologizing; my family was way out of line…”

           To my surprise Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “They meant well. I just…” He trailed off, face sheepish. “I’m scared that maybe I crossed a line.”

           My eyes widened. “Buck, no,” I assured him quickly. “I was a little caught off-guard, that’s all.”

           Bucky gave me a rueful smile. “That’s your grandfather’s fault. I, uh…I may have let my pride get the better of me. I’m sorry.”

           I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped my lips, and Bucky cocked a dark eyebrow at me as his mouth quirked up on one side.

           “What’s so funny, doll?”

           “Just that apparently even supersoldiers feel the need to prove their masculinity,” I teased. Bucky’s cheeks were tinted pink, but he shrugged.

           “Couldn’t let everyone think I didn’t know what I was doing.”

           “Trust me, Buck; anyone that takes one look at you will not doubt your capability for even a second.”

           Bucky gave me a hesitant smile. “So you’re alright?” he asked, and I nodded.

           “Of all the things that have ever happened to me,” I told him, “that certainly wasn’t the worst.”

           The answering smile he gave me was adorable, a mix between smug and shy, and his blue eyes sparkled. I jerked my head towards the living room.

           “Come on,” I urged. “I have a surprise for you.”

           Once Bucky was settled into his place on the loveseat, I pulled a book from the bookshelf and sat down in the armchair across from him. My dad turned off the TV, and Bucky’s brow creased as he regarded me with confusion. I winked playfully at him before opening the book to the first page.

           “Marley was dead, to begin with,” I read. “There is no doubt whatever about that.”

           I looked up to see Bucky’s face light up, and I grinned before turning my attention back to the book.

           Once I’d read the entire story, everyone decided it was time to go to bed. As I was sliding the book back onto the shelf, Bucky set a hand on my arm. I turned around to find him looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

           “Did you do that for me?” he asked softly, and I shrugged nonchalantly.

           “Just because you’re spending Christmas with my family doesn’t mean it can’t reflect your family’s Christmas as well,” I replied. “I know how much it meant to you, and when I mentioned it to my family, they thought it was a great idea.” I bit my lip. “You liked it? It wasn’t…presumptuous, or weird?”

           The next thing I knew I was being pulled into a hug. “It was perfect,” Bucky murmured as he pulled away from me. “Thank you, (Y/N). Truly.”

           I gave him a cheerful smile. “You’re welcome. Now let’s get to bed or Santa won’t stop here.”

           Try as I might, though, I couldn’t fall asleep. My mind was wide awake, replaying what had happened after dinner on a loop. The way Bucky’s hands had been so sure when pulling me to him, and the way his velvet lips had worked me into a dizzy haze right in front of an entire room of my family…

           I let out a huff of frustration. Bucky and I were friends. I’d never had more than platonic feelings for him, not until…Well, until I’d brought him home to spend Christmas with me. Maybe that was all it was, though; Christmas to me had always been the most romantic time of year, and I had always spent it alone. Maybe having Bucky here with me made me feel less lonely, and the feelings would go away once the holidays were over.

           That did nothing, however, to quell the ache I had right now to feel those lips on me again.

           “Fuck,” I groaned, louder than I’d intended, and then I rolled over dramatically and aggressively fluffed my pillows to try and get comfortable. I had barely settled when a soft knock sounded on my door.

           I sat up, hesitating. “Come in,” I finally said, and the door creaked open slowly to reveal Bucky, clad in gray sweatpants and a tight black t-shirt. His frame filled the doorway, and I could see in the soft light of the Christmas lights my mother had strung in the window that his brow was furrowed.

           “I…I heard you groan,” he told me, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I came to check if you were okay.”

           When he lifted his arm his shirt rode up, exposing a sliver of skin and those perfectly-crafted abs of his. My tongue darted out to wet my lips involuntarily and I could feel the blood rise in my cheeks.

           “I, uh…I can’t sleep,” I mumbled, and Bucky shook his head.

           “Me, either.”

           I frowned. “Is it your family again? Bucky, if I upset you with that story –”

           “No, doll, it’s nothing like that,” he said quickly. All of a sudden, a sheepish grin spread across his face. “I was…I was actually thinking about how I’d actually let your grandfather goad me on like that earlier.”

           “Bucky…” My blush deepened and I shook my head. “We already went over this; you don’t have to explain yourself.”

           “Oh, but I think I do.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “Can I come in?”

           “Yes,” I said weakly, before my brain knew what I was doing. Bucky stepped into the room and closed the door quietly behind him before coming to hesitantly sit on the edge of my mattress. I sat up straighter and pulled my legs in to give him more room, all the while my heart pounding so hard against my ribs I was sure he could hear it. He licked his lips before continuing, and I couldn’t help that my gaze was drawn to his mouth, where it lingered until he spoke.

           “When your grandfather made that comment,” he said, “it was…it was like a switch had been flipped inside of me. Ever since you brought me home to meet your family all I’d wanted was for them to accept me as a human being, as someone normal and functioning and someone they wanted to have around during their Christmas celebrations, but…” He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “The more time I spent around you and your family, and got to know the (Y/N) that grew up in this house, the more I realized that I not only wanted them to like me, but I wanted them to like me for you.”

           Bucky was looking at me from under the thick fringe of his eyelashes, nerves etched into his features. I blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat had gone dry and it came out raspy.

           “What…what are you saying, Buck?”

           “I’m saying,” he murmured, “that when your grandfather challenged me to kiss you it spurred something inside of me. All of a sudden, I had the urge to prove to them, to you and to myself that I was good enough for you. He offered me a chance to stake my claim on you, and I seized it all too eagerly.” Bucky shook his head, cheeks tinted pink. “No, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean to make it sound like you’re mine to take, you aren’t property –”

           But he didn’t get to finish his sentence, because I was on my knees and pressing a finger to his lips to silence him. His eyes widened, but I wasn’t about to let him continue until I had some questions answered.

           “You…Were you trying to get my family’s approval?” I breathed in disbelief. Cheeks ruddy, Bucky nodded, but I continued before he could even open his mouth. “So that kiss…That wasn’t just because of the mistletoe?”

           “No,” Bucky murmured, voice soft but firm. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since you took my hand on the plane and told me not to worry about everyone staring at me.”

           My insides melted, and I bit my lip. “Why didn’t you?” I whispered, and he gave me a small smile.

           “It would have drawn even more attention to me,” he chuckled, and then he cast his eyes downward. “And I…We were going to be spending the next week together with your parents, and I didn’t want them to hate me.”

           My brow furrowed. “Hate you? Why the hell would they hate you?”

           “Because I was either going to be the guy that came on to you on the plane and ruined your Christmas vacation by making it awkward, or I was going to be the guy that your parents would never approve of because of all the horrible things I’ve done.”

           Bucky’s eyes were swimming with sadness, and I felt a lump form in my throat, angry at the world for making such a kind, selfless, beautiful man hate himself so much that he believed other people should hate him too. Narrowing my eyes, I crawled across the bed until I was kneeling in front of him. I took his chin between my fingers and thumb, his stubble scratchy against my fingertips, and directed his eyes to mine.

           “Bucky Barnes,” I said in an even voice, “are you trying to tell me that you don’t think you’re good enough for me?”

           “I’m not,” he mumbled. “You come from a world of family dinners and unconditional love and ridiculously cheesy and charming holiday traditions. And I…” He swallowed hard and pulled away from my grasp to avert his eyes. “I come from a world of murder and torture and fear. We aren’t the same, (Y/N). And I can’t keep pretending we are.”

           Well, this was certainly not how I’d pictured this conversation going. I glared at him. “Why do you have to pretend?” I demanded. “That kiss sure as hell wasn’t pretend. For the love of god, Buck, would you let yourself be happy for once? You don’t come from all that tragedy; you came from a family with the same values as mine. Just because it was a long time ago doesn’t make it any less true.” I allowed him a small smile. “And for the record, my family adores you. They think you’re charming and kind and a delight to be around. They’re all very happy you’re spending Christmas with us.”

           Bucky lifted his head, hope flickering in his blue eyes. “And you…?” he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

           I decided to take the plunge. I licked my lips, eyes holding his as I spoke. “Well,” I murmured, my voice husky, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss since it happened, if I’m being honest. It’s what kept me awake, thinking about how I wished my entire family hadn’t been watching so we could have kept going…”

           I trailed off, watching the heavy rise and fall of Bucky’s chest with every breath he took. There was conflict in his eyes.

           “(Y/N)…”

           My name was a groan on his lips, and it sent a shiver down my spine and heat straight to my core. He needed this and I needed him. And soon, before I exploded.

           “Stake your claim on me, James,” I whispered. “Take me, make me yours. Please.” I took his hands and set them on my waist, where they’d been hours before. “Let me show you that I belong to you and only you.”

           A low growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest, and his fingers tightened on my waist. He tugged me with ease into his lap, my legs straddling his, and though his eyes were dark when he looked up at me, they were also soft.

           “Do you really want this?” he murmured quietly, and I reached up to take his face between my hands.

           “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life.”

           That was all the confirmation Bucky needed. He captured my lips in his and it was as if someone had tossed oil onto the already-blazing fire inside me. My hands drifted from his face to tangle in his hair, pulling myself closer to him as our mouths fought for dominance. As the kiss deepened, I wondered why I had gone so long without kissing him; it was like up until now I had been breathing through a filter, and now that his lips were on mine, he was breathing life into me in pure, unfiltered quantities until my head was spinning with the onslaught.

           “Bucky,” I gasped, pulling away for oxygen. Bucky ducked his head to nuzzle it against my throat, peppering soft kisses along the delicate skin there. I tilted my head back to allow him better access, and the kisses became sloppier and open-mouthed as he made his way down to my breastbone.

           “Promise I’m gonna make you feel so good, doll,” he murmured into my skin. “Gonna worship you like the goddess you are.”

           His words had me trembling in his arms as a fresh wave of heat shot right to my core. I would have never pegged Bucky as the vocal type in bed, but the deep, husky timbre of his voice had me as aroused as his hands and lips did.

           “Too many clothes,” I mumbled, my hands sliding underneath Bucky’s t-shirt so my fingertips could dance along the hard wall of muscle. His breath hitched, and then he was pulling the t-shirt over his head with one hand while the other hand yanked at the hem of my own t-shirt. I lifted my arms, and then we were both bare from the waist up. Bucky’s eyes darkened and his tongue darted out to wet his lips as his gaze landed on my breasts. In any other circumstance, I would have felt self-conscious under such scrutiny, but Bucky was regarding me with such rapt reverence that the way his eyes drank me in only added to the arousal between my thighs.

           When his hands gripped the bare flesh of my waist electricity shot through me, and when his hot mouth enveloped one of my nipples and tugged it gently between his teeth my back arched into him and I let out an obscene moan.

           Bucky’s mouth immediately released me, and he pulled back. His lips were set in a frown but his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “As much as I love hearing those pretty little sounds spill from your lips,” he murmured, “you have to be quiet, doll, or this will be over before it even starts. Can’t have your parents knowing I’m about to ruin their little girl for every other man while under their roof.”

           “Fuck, Bucky,” I groaned softly, aching to have some of the pressure between my thighs relieved.

           “That’s the plan, doll,” he taunted. “You just gotta be patient.”

           A wicked grin flashed across his face, and I huffed in annoyance.

           “Dammit, Bucky, if you don’t touch me right now, I’m gonna have to take care of things myself.”

           To my satisfaction, Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise. His jaw tightened and he licked his lips before his hands on my waist tightened. “As much as I’d like to see that,” he murmured, “I promised to take good care of you. And I intend to keep that promise.”

           The next thing I knew I was flat on my back on the mattress and Bucky was yanking my pants and underwear down my legs and tossing them somewhere across the room, leaving me completely bare to him. He grinned up at me from between my legs and my breath caught in my throat. Looking as wrecked as I already felt, he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

           He began planting open-mouthed kisses on the insides of my thighs that quickly turned into biting and sucking. I knew there would be marks there come morning, but I would wear them proudly; a reminder that I was his and that he was about to give me the best night of my life.

           When his mouth finally made its way to my aching heat, I had to bite my lip hard to keep from crying out. As his tongue swiped along my folds my hips bucked up into him and he chuckled against me as his arms wound around my hips to hold me firmly to the mattress.

           “Easy, doll; awfully eager, aren’t you?” he teased, his voice languid as he skimmed his nose along my skin. My breaths were coming out short and shallow and I pressed my head back into the pillows, squeezing my eyes shut.

           “Please, Buck,” I begged shamelessly. I could feel him grin against my thigh, and then his lips wrapped around my clit and sucked hard, and it took everything in me not to scream out his name as my back arched away from my mattress. My fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair, pulling him closer, and he growled into me. The vibrations, as well as the purely primal sound it made coming from deep in his throat, had me keening and dripping with need.

           Bucky’s mouth worked over me like he was a man starved. The more his tongue and lips licked and sucked, the tighter the coil in my belly got as I writhed beneath him. When I finally reached my peak, my mouth fell open in a silent scream and my grip on Bucky’s hair tightened, nails scraping against his scalp. He brought me down from my high with gentle kisses, and then his arms loosened from around my hips so he could slide up my body and press his lips to mine. I could taste myself on his tongue.

           “Jesus Christ…” I breathed, trying to recover after what he had just done to me. Bucky’s grin was sinful and his eyes sparkled.

           “It’s Bucky, actually,” he said lightly. “Although if I still had my long hair, I could see how you could be mistaken.”

           “Oh, shut up,” I grumbled, and then I was up and pushing him onto his back. He stared up at me with wide, startled eyes as I climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. I leaned in to kiss him hard, and then pulled away to kiss the hollow of his throat as my fingertips trailed down the hot skin of his torso. My lips soon followed, and then I was peppering kisses just above the low-hanging waistband of his sweatpants. The gray cotton material was tented, doing nothing to hide how aroused he was.

           “What do we have here, soldier?” I said teasingly, fingers slowly peeling back the waistband. I peered up to see him watching me, hungry eyes unblinking as his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. When his cock sprang free from its confines, I couldn’t help but lick my lips – Oh, this was going to be fun.

           I took his length into my hand, revelling in the velvety-smooth, hot feel of it, solid and practically throbbing against my palm. I gave it a couple of experimental pumps and Bucky let out a soft groan.

           “(Y/N)…”

           “Quiet, soldier, remember?” I taunted. Bucky’s eyes flashed, and then with a wicked smirk I leaned in to lick a stripe up along his length. A low hiss passed through his clenched teeth, and when I took him as far into my mouth as I could I could see the muscle in his jaw twitch as his eyes blazed like blue fire.

           “Fuck, baby girl, that feels so good,” he grunted out as my head bobbed up and down along his length. I hollowed out my cheeks and sucked hard, one hand wrapped around what I couldn’t fit in my mouth and the other on his thigh, nails digging into solid muscle. Bucky cursed under his breath, and then to my confusion his hand traced along my jaw before sliding under my chin to pull me away from him.

           “What –” I started, but he cut me off.

           “As amazing as that felt, doll, when I come I wanna be inside you.”

           His words had me dripping with anticipation, and I let out a soft whimper as he pulled me up his body until I was once again straddling his hips. I shifted, sliding my soaked folds along his throbbing length and we both let out quiet groans. Unable to wait any longer, I reached behind me and took him in my hand, lining him up with my entrance.

           Bucky’s hands on my hips tugged me down until he was fully sheathed in my wet heat. I fell forward, hands planted on his chest to support myself, and squeezed my eyes shut as I adjusted to how he stretched my walls in ways I’d never been stretched out before. I rolled my hips into his experimentally, and Bucky’s hands tightened on my flesh.

           Using my hands on him as leverage, I began to rock myself against him, feeling the way his cock deliciously dragged against every square millimetre of my insides. We quickly fell into a rhythm, him thrusting up to meet me every time I slid down. My nails scratched jagged red lines into his chest as his fingers dug bruises into my hips, our breaths coming out ragged as we fought to keep any noises that could alert the rest of the household to our actions from spilling out of our lips.

           It didn’t take long for the coil to once again tighten in my belly. Bucky’s thrusts were sharp and precise, hitting all the right spots, and his hands had begun to roam over my body, kneading the soft flesh of my curves.

           “Buck, I’m…” I started, but was rendered breathless when all of a sudden Bucky had flipped us over so I was on my back and he was on top of me, his length still firmly sheathed in my heat. This position provided a new angle, and my legs wrapped around Bucky’s waist as he bent down to kiss me roughly.

           “I’ve got you, baby girl,” he rasped, nuzzling his face into the juncture between my neck and shoulder as he drove into me relentlessly. My nails raked down his back, the other hand carding though his hair and holding him to me. I was close, so close, and he knew it. “It’s okay, doll, I’ve got you,” he murmured, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to my throat. “Let go, I’ll take care of you. Let go for me, baby girl.”

           That did it. I could feel my walls fluttering around Bucky’s length as he drew my second orgasm of the night out of me. I couldn’t stop the quiet gasp that escaped my lips as the coil in me snapped, and my own climax must have brought on Bucky’s because I could feel him throbbing, hot and hard against my fluttering walls, and then his seed was coating my insides as he stilled over me with a muffled grunt.

           Being the first to break out of the post-orgasm haze, Bucky lifted his head from my shoulder and gave me a soft, lingering kiss. I hummed contentedly, hugging him close to me, and he chuckled before scooping his arms around me and shifting our bodies so I was snuggled against him and the blankets were pulled around us.

           “Well, you certainly made sure this would be a Christmas to remember,” Bucky murmured, brushing a damp lock of hair from my face. I giggled, and then turned my head to press my lips to his chest as my fingertips brushed along his abdomen.

           “What can I say, I always keep good on my word.” I yawned, unable to fight off the exhaustion I felt. “You wore me out, soldier,” I mumbled, and a quiet laugh rumbled from his chest.

           “Get some sleep, doll,” he murmured. “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

           I hugged myself closer to him. “You’ll stay with me?”

           A soft kiss on the crown of my head, and arms circling protectively around me. “Wouldn’t dream of going anywhere, doll.”

                    I woke up early the next morning. The sun had barely begun to light up the sky, and snowflakes drifted lazily outside the window. Bucky was warm and solid behind me, and when I stretched out my body languidly his vibranium hand slid across my belly and down, parting my thighs to ghost feather-light touches over my still-sensitive sex.

           “Merry Christmas, doll,” he murmured, lips against the delicate skin behind my ear as his cool fingers swept lightly through my already-gathering wetness. I let out a quiet whine and pressed back into him, his body fitting along the length of mine and his erection hard against my backside. I wiggled my hips teasingly and felt him twitch.

           “Mmm, Merry Christmas,” I hummed, and then spread my legs further so he could slide into me. We made love, slow and sensual, as the snow fell outside and the sky lightened, and when we both came undone at the same time Bucky’s name fell from my lips in a whispered prayer. We stayed that way a couple of minutes, spooning and still joined together, until we agreed that everyone else would soon be getting up to open presents.

           We already had coffee brewed by the time everyone else came downstairs. My dad donned his Santa hat and then we all gathered around the Christmas tree to open the gifts.

           “To (Y/N), from James,” my dad said, handing me a box wrapped in shiny red paper with a green bow. I shot Bucky an inquiring look as I took the box from my dad but he only shrugged, a twinkle in his eyes as he drained the last of his coffee.

           Curious, I carefully tore away the wrapping paper to reveal a copy of Sherlock Holmes, the cover cracked and the pages yellowed with age. I looked up at Bucky, eyes wide.

           “Is this…?” I started to say, and he nodded, beaming.

           “A first edition,” he finished, and then his smile turned sheepish. “I know how much you love books and you love antiques, and Wanda told me Sherlock Holmes was your favourite…”

           “Bucky, it’s perfect,” I breathed sincerely, feeling tears in the corners of my eyes. “I love it. Thank you.”

           Bucky seemed pleased with himself. “Anything for you, doll,” he murmured, and I blushed.

           After all the gifts had been unwrapped and the floor was littered with wrapping paper and bows, everyone migrated to the fireplace to see what was in their stockings. I hung back, and grinned when Bucky’s eyes landed on the one labelled “Bucky” and he shot me a confused look.

           “I didn’t hang a stocking,” he said, brow furrowed, and I shrugged.

           “Just look inside.”

           He did as I said, and when he pulled out an orange and a tin of chocolates the most brilliant smile lit up his face. His eyes were brimming with emotion as he lifted them to meet mine.

           “(Y/N)…” he whispered, and then he was gathering me into his arms and hugging me tightly. When we pulled apart his eyes shone. “Thank you,” he said, “for everything. If it weren’t for you, I would still be alone at the compound and would have missed out on the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

           My heart swelled, and I reached up to cup his warm face in my hands, my thumbs tracing his cheekbones. “Guess you’ll just have to spend every Christmas here with me,” I told him, and he grinned.

           “Sounds like a plan to me, doll.”

[princessjungeun]

Hi! I hope you're doing well :) Can I request a Heejin x Reader scenario where reader spends the New Year celebration with LOONA and everyone knows they both have a crush on each other so they try to set them together for a new year's kiss?❤️

Cherry Chapstick: Heejin x Reader

when heejin invited you to celebrate new year’s eve with her at the loona dorm you lowkey panicked. you’ve been there before on multiple occasions and you happened to be friends with some of the girls as well. the problem was that it was new years. any other holiday would have been fine but new years....everyone knows about the infamous new years kiss. and that kiss was the only thing that was bugging you.

see, you liked heejin a lot, you have for a long time but you’re very convinced it’s unrequited. despite the fact that hyunjin told you that heejin liked you too, it was still hard for you to believe. you had even tried to make yourself un-like her by distancing yourself from her.

but that fell through last night when she told you to your face that she knew you were trying to push her away. heejin was the first for you made since you moved from north carolina to south korea for your mother’s job. she was close to you and she didn’t want to lose that. but since heejin wasn’t one to force you to explain yourself, only asking a simple yes or no question:

do you hate me or something?

you were quick to tell her no which prompted her to invite you to the dorm so you could celebrate new year’s with the girls.

all of that leading up to now. you paced around your bedroom trying to figure out what to do. heejin told you to be there at 8 and it was already 6. most people would think that’s plenty of time but they couldn’t be more wrong.

styling your hair alone would take an hour, then picking out your outfit, eating before you go, walking there, and probably getting distracted on the way. all of those leave you with 10 more minutes of standing around before you’d be late.

without wanting to waste too much time you scrolled through your phone looking for a hairstyle. it didn’t take long to find a simple yet cute one, two braids into a high puff. simple enough.

like you expected doing your hair took an hour, although yes the styling part was quick. you somehow allowed yourself to not comb your hair for four days, which lead to a very not fun detangling process. all is well now though because you looked fantastic, the curls are all types of popping.

you got overwhelmed choosing an outfit and ultimately decided on a sweatshirt and black jeans. just as you were putting on your coat your grandmother stopped you, “where you goin lookin all prettied up pum’kin?”

you replied “heejin’s. remember i told you about it last night...you said yes.”

your grandmother onced you over “put on anotha’ layer, you finna get a cold baby cakes...n change ya shoes too.”

checking your phone you saw it was already 7:45 heejin’s dorm is a 20 minute walk away, 15 if you’re fast.

you whined “momma i’m gonna be late, i’ll only be outside for 15 minutes i won’t get sick.”

she came back from around the corner, a scarf, ear muffs, gloves, and your pair of tims in her hand. “see dats what ya ancestors said bout dem diseases n look what happened.”

you sighed deeply “momma-“ she narrowed her eyes at you and just like that you were on the floor changing your shoes.

when you were done you stood up and asked “alright can i go now?”

the older woman asked playfully “tryna leave me so soon?”

you quickly replied “n-no of course not momma i just-“

she laughed and told you “i’m just messin’ wit ya baby doll, go on now. have fun for me aight?”

you hugged her and placed a kiss on her cheek before running out the door.

it started snowing right as you were approaching the dorm building, you thanked lord that it didn’t happen sooner or your hair would have gotten messed up.

you texted heejin that you were outside and she quickly came and got you, leading you up to their dorm.

when you got upstairs the girls were all scattered around the dorm. haseul and kahei were still hanging decorations while gowon was playing on her switch. hyejoo and hyunjin were arguing over some game that they were playing on a laptop. yerim and yeojin were singing their hearts out in karaoke while jungeun was literally rolling on the floor laughing with jiwoo about god knows what. jinsoul was spaced out staring at a wall while sooyoung went to find her headphones to tune out everyone else.

heejin didn’t even get a chance to ask what you wanted to do because yeojin immediately grabbed you to sing a song on the karaoke machine.

the one perk about you being an american was the fact that you were quick to school the girls on all of the classic movies. from mean girls to clueless to white chicks, they’d seen them all. which is exactly why yeojin had no problem singing A Thousand Miles with you in english.

heejin could only laugh from the side as the two of you intentionally butchered the song. she watched as you went by each member to check out what they were doing as well. her heart eyes didn’t go unnoticed either, especially by hyunjin and haseul.

you’d excused yourself to the restroom and that was the time for all of the girls to grill heejin. each of them admitted they saw the way she watched you, they knew she liked you. heejin caved and admitted it to them all, but quickly following up with “but don’t do anything to embarrass me...please. i don’t want to mess up what we have.”

the girls all agreed, but because all they promised was to not embarrass her, they still managed to devise a plan to get you two together.

you returned from the bathroom, all of their eyes went to you and the room fell silent. your furrowed your brow “w-what? did i do something?”

yerim replied quickly “no no of course not! you just...uh”

jiwoo jumped in “you just look so gorgeous! all of us were stunned by your beautiful.”

you felt your cheeks heat up as your ears felt like they were burning red. hyunjin laughed “awwww she’s bLUSHINGGGG!”

heejin slapped her arm and hissed, “stop that!” before pulling you off to the side, back so the two of you were watching the television.

the two of you stayed side by side for the entire night, her arm looped in yours. by now it was 11:30 and the countdown was nearing.

you personally noticed how all the girls would start to mumble, then suddenly stop when you looked at them. not wanting to assume you just brushed it off, telling yourself it was “work stuff” even though you knew damn well it wasn’t anything work related.

both you and heejin were mindlessly scrolling through your phones, she was sitting next to you, half of her body already on your lap with your arm wrapped around her shoulder, holding her close to you.

“i’m bored let’s play a game!” haseul got everyone’s attention from the middle of the room. the rest of the girls agreed, you and heejin included.

“let’s do truth or dare.” hyunjin stated with a small smirk. everyone nodded immediately agreeing with her on the game.

you already knew it was a set up, but you also wanted to see how it played out so you didn’t say anything.

the the time fifteen minutes had passed, hyejoo danced all of Kiss Later, jinsoul ran down the street in her infamous lemon pants, sooyoung and jiwoo swapped clothes, and chaewon successfully made microwave popcorn (it was sooyoung’s dare to allow her to do it without supervision).

it was now your turn and you were starting to regret not telling the girls that you were onto them.

“alright...y/n truth or dare.” sooyoung asked with a smile.

you replied “truth.”

sooyoung laughed and said “is it true that you have a giant crush on heejin?”

your eyes widened and you switched to english quickly, hoping the foreigner card will get you out of this one, “i don’t understand the question...sorry.”

all of the girls excluding heejin and haseul booed you playfully, teasing you lightly sue to the blush on your face.

“alright that’s enough.” haseul quieted her members down so heejin could go next. the leader also got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of water.

“heejinnie truth or dare?” hyunjin wiggled her eyebrows dramatically.

“truth.” heejin answered without hesitation.

“oop sorry nope that’s not an option. you close dare by default settings.” hyunjin smiled.

heejin quickly whined “wha- she cant do that can she do that? haseul unnie! she cheated.”

haseul came back with her glass of water, a fake confused look on her face “sorry i wasn’t here i can’t do anything about it. sorry heekie.”

heejin mumbled “you all suck...” she took a deep breath before asking “fine what do you want me to do?”

hyunjin along with everyone else looked at each other before saying in unison, “kiss y/n at midnight.”

the two of you immediately froze in place, your face went pale as panic coursed through your veins. did she actually find out? who told? maybe hyunjin was right?

before you could decline you felt heejin dragging you to her bedroom, all of the girls giggling and squealing as you left.

you say on her bed, your feet dangling off the edge as heejin laid on her back, her head in your lap.

“sorry...they can be a little- you know how they are.” she spoke softly as she reached for your hand, playing with your fingers as she talked.

you replied “it’s cool...my friends back home were the same way- really i’m not upset or anything.”

a thick silence fell over the two of you as you stared blankly at the window and heejin looked up at you.

she asked “so...?”

you replied “so what?” you laughed a little at the end, humming a second of the song before focusing back on the conversation.

heejin responded “d-do you actually...like me?”

you looked at your feet, “yeah...i do. but it doesn’t matter.”

heejin sat up “why?”

you replied “for starters i cant really speak korean, your job wouldn’t allow me to even be with you, and even if we did the media would tear me apart for being black and you for being queer, you’re busy and i’d just hold you down. i don’t wanna do that to you...”

heejin frowned and opened her arms for you, “why would you say that?”

you mumbled into her chest “cause it’s true.”

heejin pulled you closer and said “you’re wrong...all of it. you’re wrong. your korean improves every single day. my dating ban ended three months ago, i’d protect you from anyone and you know that. plus i couldn’t care less about what they think, half of the group is queer too. if anything you push me to do better.”

you mumbled “really?”

she hummed “mhm”

you brought your hand up to heejin’s running your finger over the prominent tendons in her hand. softly you asked her “do you like me though?”

she let her voice deepen, “of course” she rasped out gently with a smirk creeping onto her face.

pushing her gently you mumbled “you’re such a tease, stop it.”

she lifted your chin with her finger and asked “what if i don’t hmm?”

your breath hitched in your chest for a minute before you replied “then i’ll have to....”

your eyes flickered to the digital clock across the room, 11:55:00 it read.

“you’ll have to what? hmm? cat got your tongue?” she pushed her face closer to yours, biting her lip lightly as her gaze narrowed, her eyes crawling up and down your body.

you let her push you back against the wall behind you gently. her face was centimeters from yours, you stuttered “h-heekie”

heejin ran her pointer finger underneath your chin lightly, “yes princess?”

your mind was cloudy, your couldn’t think about anything but the girl in front of you. words simply were not coming out of your mouth no matter how hard you tried. the best you were able to get out was, “i-”

she asked gently “is this okay baby?”

you resorted to body language instead, snaking and arm around her waist and holding her hand.

heejin held your face in one hand, her thumb tracing your jawline, “tell me yes or no pretty girl.”

you nodded and choked out “y-yes. yes.”

her eyes looked at the clock once more, only two seconds to midnight. she smiled as lifted your chin so her lips met yours.

the second you two pulled away she told you, “happy new year y/n.”

you were still thinking about the feeling of her lips on yours, the way she held you close, and how all of her emo were put into one simple kiss. without thinking you mumbled “your lips taste like cherry chapstick....”

[watusichris]

Rock Gunfight in the Antipodes

Listening today to the hot new Grown Up Wrong! comp by Sydney’s Lipstick Killers, whose lone officially released single was produced by Deniz Tek of Radio Birdman, it occurred to me that my old Music Aficionado faux faceoff between Australia’s pioneering bands of the ‘70s (all of which I dearly love) has disappeared into the online ether. It’s time to bring it back.

**********

By Chris Morris

The mid- to late ‘70s were fertile days for rock ‘n’ roll in Australia. Here and there across the vast but not terribly populous island continent, fires were started by several attitude-filled bands bent on doing things their own damn way. They all managed to make their way off the island, but if they hit the American consciousness, it was for little more than a nanosecond during their heyday.

Who were the truest Rock Wizards of Oz? For this Down Under face-off, I’ve selected three contenders: the Saints, Radio Birdman, and the Scientists. All of them had fairly slim discographies; ironically, the act probably least known in the U.S., the Scientists, recorded most prolifically, with their core line-up producing several magnificent albums and singles during a productive four-year stretch in the early ‘80s. But none of these bands ever stayed together long enough to make a deep impression among the Yanks.

So where’s the Birthday Party, you ask? There are a few things to consider. First of all, though the band and its precursor unit the Boys Next Door were in business from 1976 on, they didn’t release their first LP until 1980. Also, Nick Cave is well known enough that more (king) ink needn’t be spilled on him. Finally, I still resent the fact that Cave stole PJ Harvey away from me, so it’s personal.

On with the showdown…

HIT ME LIKE A DEATH RAY, BABY

The Saints, founded 1974 in Brisbane

The prime movers of the Saints were a pair of literal outsiders: vocalist Chris Bailey, born in Kenya to Irish parents, and guitarist Ed Kuepper, raised in Germany. Thus the otherness of their work is no surprise.

With schoolmate Ivor Hay – who over time would play drums, bass, and piano with them – the pair founded a combo originally known as Kid Galahad and the Eternals (borrowing their handle from a 1962 Elvis Presley picture), but they swiftly renamed themselves the Saints and began playing in their hometown on the northeast coast of Australia.

Listening to their records, which were made in something of a cultural vacuum, it’s difficult to get a handle on where the Saints’ distinctive, aggressive sound came from. To be sure they were aware of such homegrown precursors from the ‘60s as the Master’s Apprentices and the Missing Links (whose 1965 single they covered on their debut album). It’s safe to assume they were conversant with the Velvet Underground, the Stooges, and Lenny Kaye’s 1972 garage rock compilation Nuggets. Yet they bred something utterly their own in the ocean air of Brisbane.

With Hay on drums and Kym Bradshaw on bass, Bailey and Kuepper mounted noisy local gigs that swiftly attracted the antipathy of the local constabulary; they wound up turning their own digs into a club to play shows. In 1976, they recorded and issued a self-financed single featuring two originals, “(I’m) Stranded” and “No Time.” These dire, ferocious songs were distinguished by venomous lyrics, unprecedented velocity, and guitar playing by Kuepper that sounded like a (literal) iron curtain being attacked with a chainsaw.

The record died locally, but a copy of its U.K. issue found its way into the hands of a critic at the English music weekly Sounds, which declared it the single of the week. This accolade got the attention of EMI Records, which signed the band and financed the recording of an album, also titled I’m Stranded, in a fast two-day Brisbane session.

The album, which was ultimately released in the U.S. by Sire Records, blew the ears off anyone who heard it, and it landed with a bang in England, where punk rock was lifting off in all its fury in early 1977. It was hurtling, powerful stuff that stood apart from punk in several crucial ways: While some of the songs were clipped and demonic in the standard manner, the Saints proved they could take their time on expansive numbers like the almost Dylanesque “Messin’ With the Kid” and the sprawling, hellriding “Nights in Venice.” And one has to wonder how British p-rockers took to their perverted take on Elvis’ squishy “Kissin’ Cousins.”

Made by musicians who never considered themselves “punks,” and who in fact abhorred the label, (I’m) Stranded is nevertheless one of the definitive statements in the genre, and it has maintained its force to this day.

Settling in England for the duration, the Saints decided to throw a curveball. One could not find a more profoundly alienated album than Eternally Yours (1978), a series of yowling protests, twisted prophecies, and savage put-downs, including the snarling second version of the single “This Perfect Day.” But, though the record was loud and for the most part swift, the group applied the brakes to their sound somewhat, and a couple of songs, including the caustic album opener “Know Your Product,” were dressed by a soul-styled horn section. Punk loyalists ran for cover.

By the time Prehistoric Sounds was issued in late ’78, the dejected Bailey and Kuepper were moving in different directions, and you can hear it in the grooves. The record is slow, almost listless at times, and its logy originals are complemented by incongruous Otis Redding and Aretha Franklin covers with none of the energy of earlier Saints soul-blasts. It is an album primarily for loyalists, and by then there were few in that number.

Kuepper exited the band on the heels of the third album’s release and returned to Australia, where he enjoyed a long career as leader of the Laughing Clowns; Bailey continued to perform under the Saints mantle with a shifting lineup that at last count numbered more than 30 players over the course of 37 years

Bailey and Kuepper reunited for one-off gigs in 2001 (at the ARIA awards ceremony) and 2007 (at Australia’s Queensland Music Festival).

THERE’S GONNA BE A NEW RACE

Radio Birdman, founded 1974 in Sydney

People who toss the “punk” handle around often throw Radio Birdman into the mix, but the sextet from Australia’s Southeast Coast may be best referred as the world’s youngest proto-punk band.

Its mastermind was guitarist, songwriter, and producer Deniz Tek, a native of Ann Arbor, Michigan, who emigrated to Sydney in 1971 to study medicine. As a teen, he got a chance to witness Detroit’s most explosive pre-punk bands – the MC5, the Stooges, and the Rationals; he would later wind up collaborating with important members of all those groups.

After apprenticing with and getting bounced from a Sydney band called TV Jones, Tek formed Radio Birdman (its name a corruption of a lyric from the Stooges’ “1970”) with singer Rob Younger; the lineup ultimately solidified with the addition of guitarist (and sometime keyboardist) Chris Masuak, bassist Warwick Gilbert, drummer Ron Keeley, and (on and off and then on again) keyboardist Pip Hoyle.

Rapidly acquiring a fan base made up of some of Sydney’s lowest elements, including members of the local Hell’s Angels, Radio Birdman ultimately took over a bar, re-dubbed (in honor of the Stooges, of course) the Oxford Funhouse, as their base of operations. The band’s severe Tek-designed band logo emanated fascist-style vibes for some; at a co-billed appearance in Sydney, the Saints’ Chris Bailey remarked from the stage, “We’d like to thank the local members of Hitler Youth for their stage props.”

Despite much antipathy and some attendant violence, the band maintained a loyal local following, and in 1976 it issued a strong four-song EP, Burn My Eye, via local studio-cum-independent label Trafalgar. This was succeeded the following year by a full-length debut album, Radios Appear.

Anyone looking for something resembling punk will likely be disappointed by that collection. The band wears its all-American hard rock/proto-punk influences on its dirty sleeve. Radios Appear is dedicated to the Stooges (whose “No Fun” was the lead-off track on the Aussie issue of the LP), and a song co-written by Tek and Stooges guitarist Ron Asheton, “Hit Them Again,” was cut during sessions for the record. Tek pays deep homage to MC5 guitarist Wayne Kramer with his playing, and blatantly cops a signature lick from the 5’s “Looking at You” at one juncture. The album title was lifted from a Blue Öyster Cult lyric, and the Tek-Masuak guitar-bashing bows to their multi-axe sound. Finally, in both Younger’s sometimes Morrisonian vocalizing and Hoyle’s Ray Manzarek-like ornamentation, homage to the Doors in paid in full. Given that Sydney is a beach town, there’s even a frisson of surf music in the mix.

Bursting with power-packed originals like the apocalyptic “Descent into the Maestrom,” youth-in-revolt anthem “New Race,” the cryptic, insinuating “Man with the Golden Helmet,” and Tek’s autobiographical “Murder City Nights,” Radios Appear was a power-packed set that established Radio Birdman as Oz’s leading rock light.

However, renown did not equal success in Antipodean terms. In 1978, the band cut its second album, Living Eyes, at Rockfield Studio in Wales; it was a solid effort that included remakes of three Burn My Eye numbers (including the wonderful Tek memoir “I-94,” about the Michigan interstate) and excellent new originals like “Hanging On,” “Crying Sun,” and “Alone in the End Zone.” But, with success seemingly within their grasp, Sire Records – their American label, and the Saints’ as well – switched distribution and cut their roster, leaving their new work without a home. Within months of this catastrophe, Radio Birdman disbanded.

The principals scattered, to Younger’s New Christs and Tek and Hoyle’s the Visitors; Tek, Younger, and Warwick Gilbert later joined MC5 drummer Dennis Thompson and the Stooges’ Ron Asheton in the one-off New Race. Tek also later recorded with Wayne Kramer and Scott Morgan of Ann Arbor’s Rationals in Dodge Main.

Radio Birdman’s original lineup reunited for a 1996 tour; in August 2006 – after four of the original sextet regrouped to record a potent new album, Zeno Beach – the band played its first American date ever, at Los Angeles’ Wiltern Theater. Your correspondent was there, and it was freakin’ incredible.

IN MY HEART THERE’S A PLACE CALLED SWAMPLAND

The Scientists, founded 1978 in Perth

Among the important Aussie bands of the ‘70s, the Scientists were among the first to be directly influenced by the punk explosion in New York.

As guitarist-singer-songwriter Kim Salmon – the lone constant in the Scientists’ lineup during their existence – wrote in 1975, “Reading about a far-off place called CBGB in NYC and its leather-clad denizens, all with names like Johnny Thunders, Richard Hell, and Joey Ramone, got me thinking…I immediately went searching for Punk Rock. What I found were The Modern Lovers and The New York Dolls albums.”

Salmon first dabbled in the new sound with a band bearing the delightfully punk name the Cheap Nasties. Cobbled together in Perth – the Western provincial capital of Australia – from members of such local acts as the Exterminators, the Victims, and Salmon’s the Invaders -- the early Scientists were as derivative as one might imagine. Their early songs, heard on their self-titled LP (the so-called “Pink Album”) and an early single and EP, sport original songs authored by Salmon and drummer-lyricist James Baker, the backbone of shifting Scientific crews through 1980. The tunes range from straight-up Dolls/Heartbreakers rips (“Frantic Romantic,” “Pissed On Another Planet,” “High Noon”) to buzzing romantic pop-punk in a Buzzcocks vein (“That Girl,” “She Said She Loves Me”).

Not terribly promising stuff, but, after the departure of Baker for the Hoodoo Gurus in 1981 and a brief stint in a trio called Louie Louie, Salmon assembled a new Scientists who would prevail for nearly four years. That outfit – Salmon, guitarist Tony Thewlis, bassist Boris Sujdovic, and drummer Brett Rixton – promptly relocated to Sydney and started making the noise they are noted for.

By that time, Salmon had begun cocking an ear to the Birthday Party (and no doubt paid careful attention to the sordid noise on the Melbourne group’s 1982 album Junkyard), had discovered the miasmic voodoo of the Cramps, and started grooving to the dissonant, slide guitar-dominated racket of Captain Beefheart and his Magic Band. In short order, he would also absorb the bluesy downhome assault of Los Angeles’ roots-punk outfit the Gun Club.

The Sydney-based Scientists hooked up with indie label Au Go Go, which issued a devastating run of careening, mossy records by the band in 1982-83 – the vertiginous singles “This is My Happy Hour”/“Swampland” and the corrosive “We Had Love” (backed by a faithful cover of Beefheart’s “Clear Spot”), and the heart-stopping mini-album Blood Red River, which bore the churning “Set It On Fire,” “Revhead,” and “Burnout.” Others were essaying a similar style, but the Aussie youngsters were beating their elders at their own game.

Eying the big time, the band moved to London in 1984. Some opportunities presented themselves initially: The band got European tour slots with the Gun Club and early Goth act Sisters of Mercy. But their deal with Au Go Go fell apart acrimoniously; while they made a pair of fog-bound albums, You Get What You Deserve (1985) and The Human Jukebox (1987) for Karbon Records (and a set of re-recorded songs, Weird Love, was issued in the U.S. by Big Time Records), they scraped by in Britain.

Defections from the ranks commenced in ’85, and by early 1987 the depleted Salmon used money from a housing settlement to move back to Australia, where he founded a new band, the Surrealists.

Still valued among the cognoscenti, Salmon, Thewlis, Sujdovic, and latter-day drummer Leanne Chock appeared, at the invitation of Seattle’s Mudhoney, at London’s All Tomorrow’s Parties Festival in 2006. Earlier this year, Chicago-based archival label the Numero Group issued a comprehensive four-disc box of the band’s original recordings.

So, at the end of the day, who is the all-time champeen of ‘70s Oz rock?

Scoring on points, the Saints are tops for Being Punk First with additional wins in the Pure Noise and Weltzschmerz categories, Radio Birdman takes the Technical Ability and Old-School Attitude slots, and the Scientists prevail in the Loud Young Snot and Grunge Thug division.

And the championship belt goes to…the Saints!

Of course, that could all change tomorrow, but that’s rock ‘n’ roll for ya.

[sternbagel]

Inspired by the wonderful OC lore that @charlotte-balfours-garden​ wrote and posted, I decided to finish this piece that’s been sitting in my drafts for months about my own RDR OC, visual references here!

Note: This takes place in canon, Chapter 3, and while everyone calls her Alberta Taylor at this point, it’s not her real name, just something she’s been going by for years because of something in her past. Professionally, she’s a bounty hunter, but has dabbled in other things. 

Read This First

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, at least the one thing today that hasn’t been surprising is Arthur finding Al has dragged a chair over to his tent to read, one leg propped up on the chest at the end of his cot. Sometimes she’ll set up there to get ample shade from the sun, and according to her, the chest is the perfect foot rest height. 

“Afternoon, Arthur,” she greets lazily as she turns the page.

“Miss Taylor. Comfortable?”

“Sure.” She cuts her eyes up at him from under the brim of her hat, seemingly just to give him a greeting glance and smile, but when she spots the shiny new accessory pinned to his vest, her head raises higher. “You steal that off a dead lawman or somethin’?”

And it begins, Arthur thinks with a snort. “No, Dutch—” he waves an arm in the direction he came from, though Dutch has long ago left that area—“got us ingratiated with the local sheriff, so now we’re honorary deputies.”

“Was Sheriff Gray drunk?” 

That’s surprising. They only met the sheriff yesterday, and he’s not sure the full story of their encounter has been relayed to the rest of camp, just the orders not to cause any trouble. “How’d you know his name?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes that most likely, it was Hosea. Those two are close. 

She answers with a cavalier shrug before he can say anything. “I’ve been here before. Once. Didn’t stay long.”

Arthur takes the bait she leaves out. “Why not?”

“Well, it’s Lemoyne. I don’t spend very long here if I can help it. But first time I got to Rhodes lookin’ for bounty posters, Sheriff Gray was puking in the bushes. Somehow he managed to get out that they do all the bounty hunting themselves. No reason to go back.”

“Well, that’s pretty much how I found him when I went lookin’ for Dutch and Bill.”

“Figures,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Not that I really care, but where is Bill? Didn’t see him come back with y’all. Still with the Sheriff, ingratiating himself?” She looks thoughtful for a moment. “I didn’t get that impression off him, but I wasn—”

Arthur holds up a hand and shakes his own head with a smirk. “No, no, the Grays around here don’t seem… his type. Matter of fact, I should probably warn Bill to just play it cool—“

“What, drunk, dumb, and ignorant ain’t Bill’s type? What about that guy we saw him chattin’ up at that saloon in Armadillo?”

“That ain’t what I mean,” he snorts.

“I know.” Al flashes a playful smirk. “I’m just messin’.”

“Well, anyway, no, he’s off hidin’ some wagon full o’ moonshine we stole off some bootleggers under the Sheriff’s orders. Hosea’ll know what to do with it.”

“Moonshine?” This seems to pique her interest, again to Arthur’s surprise. “You know who you stole it off of?”

“Yes…” Arthur’s eyebrows knit together. He slowly lumbers over to his table, laying down the deputy badge and watching her carefully. Al’s expression is calm, but it’s a thin enough veneer that he sees the curiosity building by the second. “What’s it to you?”

“Curious.”

“Yeah.”

The book in her lap finally closes. “I used to run with some moonshiners not too long ago.”

“Alberta Taylor. Well, I never took you for a bootlegger.”

She throws an arm over the back of her chair and lets her head fall back, exposing more of her neck. It’s then that Arthur notices she’s not wearing her usual green neckerchief. Or her green jacket. She must be really burning up to be in just her workshirt and jeans. “Not every professional bounty hunter is a staunch upholder of the law, Arthur Morgan,” she says matter-of-factly with a lift of her brow.

“I never said that. Didn’t mean it neither. I mean, look who you fell in with, I know better. I just ain’t seen you drink much moonshine.”

“Sure. Always been more of a beer and tequila woman.”

He plops down on his cot and lights a cigarette. “Then what you doin’ runnin’ with moonshiners?”

“Tell me who you stole the liquor off of first, cowboy.”

Arthur concedes. Al is stubborn. “The Braithwaites. And those fellers that run around here with those yellow bandanas. Sadie and I ran into ‘em a few days ago. Uh—”

“Lemoyne Raiders?” She sneers. “I’d hoped someone had snuffed ‘em out by now. Hijo de putas.”

He takes a long drag of the cigarette before answering. “Yeah, that’s them. You’ve had some run-ins with ‘em, huh?”

“Like I said, just the once. Three of them stopped me on my way into Rhodes. Brought ‘em into town, dead, which is when I met Sheriff Gray. They didn’t have any bounties on ‘em, so all I got outta one of his deputies was five dollars. I know they weren’t even worth that much, but he coulda paid me more,” she grumbles. Her light Cuban accent comes out more the lower her voice goes.

“Sounds about right. Least ya got paid somethin’.”

“I guess.” She picks at the spine of her book for a moment. “Wasn’t long after that I met a… moonshiner legend, so to say, through a mutual friend. Though friend seems to be pushing it.”

He gets the sense she’s not fully sour on the “friend,” so his shoulders shake in amusement. 

“He was a lot like Uncle, actually.”

“Lord.” Arthur snickers, smoke billowing out of his mouth. 

“Yeah. Not as lazy. Probably younger, but who knows.”

“I reckon Uncle ain’t as old as he wants folks to think. Besides just bein’ too lazy, it’s probably why he don’t trim his beard.”

Al laughs, rougher than usual until she coughs and clears it up. “Damn humidity.”

“Tell me about it,” Arthur agrees, leaning forward and propping one elbow up on his knee. “So, this… moonshiner legend.”

“Ever heard the name Maggie Fike?”

The name isn’t familiar, but it isn’t unfamiliar either. “Don’t think so,” he settles on. 

“Well, she’s been mostly out this way rather than out where y’all been running around. Revenue Agents caught up to her a couple years back, tried burning her alive. Didn’t work, but gave her a nasty scar and bad eye. Almost puts Marston to shame. Almost,” she adds with a grin as he walks between Arthur and Strauss’ tents.

“Take a look in the mirror, Miss Taylor,” he grumbles back. Then he chucks a cigarette butt at a chuckling Arthur. “You too, Morgan.”

John disappears around the side of the tent as Arthur brushes off the butt. “Cranky cause he ain’t had his midday nap.”

“Pick better material.”

Al chuckles and presses the palm of her hand on her hat, affixing it more securely to her head. “Anyway…”

“Anyway…” Arthur sighs lightly. “You said she survived?”

“Yeah, went into hiding for a while. Somehow got a hold of my ‘friend’, who then asked me for help gettin’ her business back on its feet. Easy work at first. Finding a good location for the shack, gettin’ her some supplies, that stuff.” She waves a hand around. “Most folks don’t pay much mind to a bounty hunter buyin’ supplies in bulk like I was or destroying illegal stills. Sometimes I brought in the other moonshiners to the local town to collect on a bounty. Made for a better cover for what I was really doing.”

“Takin’ out the competition.” Arthur chuckles. 

“Exactly. Then came—”

“What the hell are you two talkin’ about anyway?”

Al puts her hand back on her hat before tipping her head back, almost touching the back of the chair, and looks at John, upside down. Arthur leans forward more to get his own look and the rangy outlaw, who’s circled back around to the other side of his wagon. 

“And what the hell is that?” John asks. He’s looking directly at the badge on Arthur’s table, disgust etched into his features. As if it’s some rotting, maggot infested carcass Arthur’s using for decoration.

Arthur sighs and briefly explains again.

“So this is just another excuse for you to play dress-up, eh? Guess I need to tell Hosea you’re itchin’ to go scammin’ with him again.”

“You do that, it’ll be your pecker in the stew pot next meal.”

Al’s crossed her arms over her chest and is watching them with barely contained amusement. “Playing dress-up? I don’t think I’ve seen that side of you yet, Arthur.”

“And you won’t,” he growls. “Only reason Hosea takes me on those jobs is because he knows I hate it. Just once I’d like him to take Marston instead.”

“You sure about that?” Al studies John as if she’s a talent agent in the big city. “Doesn’t he like to avoid mayhem on those jobs?”

John snorts indignantly. “Yeah, well, I’d like to see you try and follow Hosea’s lead. I swear even he don’t know what he’s doin’ half the time.”

“But it works.” Her eyebrows raise pointedly. 

“But it works,” John concedes. 

“Well, next time you go, let me know. I’d love to watch y’all work.”

“Whatever,” John grumbles as he waves her off and saunters away. Apparently he’s given up on butting into their conversation.

“I ain’t pullin’ that type of job with Hosea again. What we had set up in Blackwater, sure, but not...” Arthur wags a finger in the air, then unfurls the rest of his fingers and waves his hand once before letting it fall back in his lap. “Not that. The girls and Trelawny are much better’n me anyway. Safer that way.”

Al shrugs. “I won’t argue that.”

“So, back to what you was sayin’?” Arthur’s not willing to let the moonshiner story drop. It’s not often she lets down her walls and tells stories of her past that don’t directly involve some bounty she’s nabbed. He knows what happened to her family, but that had been a moment he wasn’t meant to see, and neither of them have ever brought it up again.

“So after we get a shack set up, she gets word of where this old buddy of hers is, go rescue him so he can make our moonshine. Not long after that, her nephew’s gettin’ moved from Sisika, so I go rescue him.”

Arthur pulls the cigarette from his lips and folds his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wagon. “Just you against a bunch of lawmen?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Morgan,” she drawls, lolling her head to the side.

“Suppose I shouldn’t be,” he chuckles.

“No, actually, I had a couple friends with me, cashed in on some favors. I’m not stupid or reckless enough to take on an armed prison transport.”

Arthur just shrugs. “Woulda believed you either way.”

“You’re too trusting,” she remarks. There’s a teasing lilt to her voice, but her eyes sparkle with something else. 

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“Well, we bring them back to the shack, get the business up and running. Enact some revenge on a rival of hers in the meantime, I get to kill the agent who tried to burn her. Spent about a year with them. I didn’t do a lot of the actual running of moonshine, one of those friends who helped me break out Maggie’s nephew, Lem, did most of that. I focused on taking out the competition, clearing out Revenue Agent roadblocks when we were sure we couldn’t sneak past them. The real dirty work. But I didn’t mind, kept me moving, out of the government’s crosshairs enough that I could keep killin’ those damn agents.”

Arthur cocks his head curiously. But she isn’t done talking, so he lets her continue, holding onto his question for now.

“Couple months before I ran into y’all, I told them I’d have to leave. I’d spent so much time in this area, couldn’t… Needed to get out and go back out west. See some old friends, see some open country. They reckoned they’d be fine without me, but threw them the name of another friend I knew’d be able to help them, pick up my slack.”

“So… you think they’re still runnin’ that shine?”

“No reason not to. Never heard anything about her being captured. Got a letter from them while I was in Blackwater, actually. They’re doin’ well.” She gives a fond, reminiscent smile. “That friend is working with Maggie now, too. Dunno how she stands him, but…”

“Good. Since we’re over this way, you plannin’ on seein’ ‘em?”

“They’re north, Roanoke Ridge territory. Might, if I feel safe leavin’ you fools by yourself for more than a week.”

Arthur chuckles and shakes his head. “I reckon we can survive without ya for that long.”

“With all the trouble you been causing lately? I don’t think so, Mr. Morgan.” Al fans herself with her book, smirking at Arthur pointedly.

“I actually got another question for ya,” he diverts.

“Shoot.”

“I been thinkin’ about this since you got here, but now, knowin’ how much you seem to hate the Revenue Agents, how come you’re a bounty hunter, takin’ payouts from the government, but runnin’ with a bunch’a outlaws? After a year of runnin’ shine, that is.”

A simple shrug is her reply, and the pause is so long Arthur isn’t sure she’ll actually give him an explanation, until, “You have your code, I have mine.”

“Huh,” he grunts. They watch each other casually for a long moment, then he asks, “You gonna explain?”

He can see her weigh her options, and eventually she relents. “You know…” Her expression immediately tells him what she means: her past, what happened to her. 

“Yeah,” he offers quietly.

“Well, nobody’s born a seasoned gunslinger. When I first started bounty hunting, I had to take the easier targets. Most big pay days, or the jobs that are good start for those of us that’re green, they’re people who rob banks with a pen, rich people doing rich people crimes. They’re soft, easy, and all it really takes to catch them is knowing the land better and being tougher than city folk. Which ain’t hard at all. So, until I could stand on my own, those were the only kinds I took. Then I started goin’ after the bastards I really wanted to. People like the Johnson Brothers.”

She nearly spits the name. Arthur feels the sting in her soul.

“I never take those soft bounties anymore,” she continues after a deep breath, seeming more like herself again with every word. “Unless I need a break. But it’s been a while since I have.”

“Been a while since you took a bounty at all.”

She must notice the question in his voice. Not judgement, but question. “No. You’ve been kicking up too much fuss. Wouldn’t be smart for me to be seen around town here more than once or twice.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. While it is mostly true, it’s about all he’s going to get out of her, but he knows the real reason why. Even if she won’t admit it to herself. “Got me there, Al.”

“Not hard to do, Arthur.”

[second-chance-stray]

(Split Ends) RP Log: Cravs, Riylli, and Rising revisit Baldur in Limsa Lominsa.

Cravendy Hound - After entrusting Baldur, the ill-fated boy, to the healers based in Limsa Lominsa, the trio decided to head back to the company...at Crav's insistence, really. Every extra second spent in the maritime city was a second too much. And so, after taking the aetheryte home, we find the three on the company lawn.

Riylli Aliapoh lets out a stretch as they arrive, a bit groggy from the teleporting. "It's a shame you missed it Cravs, Rising ran in while I was castin' one of my spells and I knocked her a clean 20 fulms in the air!" She said, grinning with a bit too much pride. She then seemed to remember Rising was still there. "...By the way, you okay?"

Rising Lotus was patched up after their encounter as well, her right arm was coating in bandages, along with some other patches along the exposed skin of her body. She winced with each step, the healers picking all the needles from her form and now leaving her body to do the rest of the healer. She merely grumbled as Riylli spoke to her, putting her weight on her spear to take some of it off her leg.

Cravendy Hound: "Magic and melee don't mix, Riylli. But, er, 'ow are ye 'oldin' up, Risin'? That injury ye got looked somethin' fierce."

Riylli Aliapoh rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, taking that as a 'no'. She turned back to Cravs, deciding to ignore the issue like a mature adult. "So... Y'wanna tell us what that was all about? Why're you goin' so far to help this guy's kid?"

Rising Lotus: "...I'll be fine. Kinda a feel like layin' down." she glanced at Riylli, nodding afterwards "Aye. I'm curious 'bout that too."

Cravendy Hound: "I'm still confused 'ow a cactaur of all things made it to La Noscea. Could be a freak accident, but somethin' about it doesn't sit right with me." She sighs in thought, brow knitted and bothered. "....Ah. Uh. I guess I owe ye all an explanation."

Riylli Aliapoh plopped herself down on the step, ready for a story

Cravendy Hound: "Oi, get up! I-I'm not gonna bore ye with all the details," Cravs stammers. "Look. I made a promise to the kid's father. 'is dyin' wish was to see his son grow strong, with his own strength."

Riylli Aliapoh tilted her head. "...Y'know... It aint really his own strength if we had to step in to help... You sure you should be meddlin' like this? I mean, it was just a little cactus thing"

Rising Lotus "...Someone might not want that. I remember the merchant mentionin' somethin' 'bout some folk not carin' for him or his family or somethin'." she shrugs, wincing in pain afterwards "...also cactuar are from Thanalan, don't know how one would of gotten there."

Cravendy Hound nods to Riylli. "I agree, and originally, I just wanted to see if 'e was doin' okay. But this cactaur business...I think someone /else/ is meddlin' with 'im. And if we meddle to remove the meddler, then it'll cancel out, right?"

Riylli Aliapoh 's ears perked up in interest. "Y'mean someone left that cactus out there to take the kid out? Who exactly was this kid's sire? Why's he got so many enemies that would go so far as to try and kill his kid after he's already gone?"

Cravendy Hound shifts in place, heat under the collar. Unusually, she speaks slowly and thoughtfully, as if the wrong word could set off a mine. "Kid's father was a pirate captain, but one with...'onor, I suppose. Steal from the rich, give to the poor. Which lead 'im to rob from the same, powerful set of targets."

Cravendy Hound: "If ye got raided by Captain Thorne, ye didn't -just- lose yer shite. It was a kind of...a mark. A blow to yer pride, and that didn't sit well the rich."

Riylli Aliapoh thinks about this for a moment. "...So if we know who the targets are, why don't we just hop over an' kick their teeth in? Bet that'd gettem to stop messin' with the kid!"

Rising Lotus huffs, closing her eyes tightly for a few moments before glaring at Cravs. "...So what's gonna happen when these powerful targets  learn we're helpin' the kid? Last thing I need is to be marked like the boy, or if they learn we work for Heartwood an' create problems for the others."

Cravendy Hound: "That's step one. Gotta find who's still got it out for the kid, out of a handful of options." She then turns to Rising. "As long as we don't do anythin' illegal we should be alright. And we can threaten to expose 'ow they torment a kid to keep them from doin' anything to us."

Cravendy Hound: "Nothin' illegal, alright? That means even if they're an ass, we can't just kick their teeth in." Cravs lectures to Riylli.

Riylli Aliapoh frowned. "It aint illegal if they're a bad guy! And ain’t kickin' teeth in how pirates settle their differences anyroad?"

Rising Lotus tried to give Cravs a skeptical look, but just ended up grimacing from the shift of posture, then just looked exhausted. "That ain't how it work if you're rich. Can get away with anythin'."

Cravendy Hound: "That's not 'ow the law works! And while that may be 'ow we settle problems on water, on land...under the Admiral's stink eye, we'd probably cause more trouble doin' that."

Cravendy Hound: "The rich still 'ave their pride. I'm thinkin' if word got out that the bugger pesters a goddamn child for 'is late father's legacy, it'd be enough to twist their arm."

Riylli Aliapoh looked to Rising, then to Cravs, and then up to the sky as she let out an exasperated sigh. "...Y'see? This is exactly why we Miqo'te got our own rules..." She grumbled, before finally looking back down. "Fine! We'll do it your way! But if any of 'em tries to swing at me it's fair game, yeah?"

Rising Lotus grumbled, pretty much done with the day. "Well in the case it does go tits up, we can handle ourselves much better than that boy I 'spose."

Cravendy Hound nods. What an exhausting day. "...well. Ye look like ye could use two days worth of sleep, Risin'. That's all I 'ad to say."

Riylli Aliapoh hops to her feet and dusts off her pants. "Alright! Just gimme a shout whenever you get a lead or whatever. Always happy to lend my skills to a good cause!" She flashes Cravs a grin, and very pointedly tries not to look over to the wounded Rising

Rising Lotus "...Aye. You know how to reach us. Though we ought to expect somethin' worse than a cactuar next time." she sighed and started making her way toward the door.

(Cravendy Hound) seems a good place to timeskip to next scene? any last posts and then :P )) (Rising Lotus) I'm good!)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Timeskip ready! (Cravendy Hound) AAAHH that outfit!!! )) (Cravendy Hound) the blade harness xD )) (Rising Lotus) Oh yeah I don't think you've seen her in it yet!)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (No fair, its so hard to get glams for Riylli ;-; (Cravendy Hound) it looks extremely good )) (Cravendy Hound) *timeskips in same outfit* xD )) (Cravendy Hound) HERE we can at least start in the company so it doesn't feel like, literally seconds after xD )) (Rising Lotus) Guess we'll have to have a fashion montage for Riylli at some point)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Yknow what, its totally canon that RIylli only has one set of clothes (Cravendy Hound) ahahaha )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Oh, I DO actually have a glamour change! (Rising Lotus) so pick out something new then we can figure out how she got it!)) (Riylli Aliapoh) (alakazam (Rising Lotus) mask (Cravendy Hound) fjkdslf just the gloves?! )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Theyre bandages ^o^ Shes been practicing the fire spell! (Rising Lotus) Damn I thought you were just going to throw that mask on xD))

Cravendy Hound - A week later, Cravs has reached out to Riylli and Rising for company (or maybe help?) again. It's related to the business in Limsa Lominsa, and she's wearing her disguise dress again. Oh boy.

Rising Lotus was eyeing the bandages wrapped around Riylli's hands. "...How's that fire spell going?"

Riylli Aliapoh grins to Rising. "It's goin' well! I got the basic formula down, just gotta work on intensity and duration!" She beams proudly, giving Rising a bandaged thumbs up.

Cravendy Hound: "That...looks painful."

Riylli Aliapoh gives a mock bow. "You gotta suffer for art y'know"

Rising Lotus couldn't help but smirk at Riylli's enthusiasm. "...We'll get it down before you touch anythin' we fish up..or the lava." she turned her attention to Cravs, holding back a snicker at seeing her dolled up again. "You find out more 'bout the boy then?"

Cravendy Hound: "Seems ye got some more sufferin' to do then," Cravs notes in a bright tone.

Cravendy Hound: "Right, the Baldur business - I narrowed it down to a couple of names. But that's as far as I can go gatherin' information out 'ere. Thought it'd be more efficient to ask the kid 'imself. Which means." Cravs gestures to her outfit. "I'll need some escorts to talk for me once we're in Limsa again."

Riylli Aliapoh was clearly enjoying the attention, but quieted down to let Cravs speak. "Why not just talk to the kid as Cravs? If he's lost his sire, it... might be nice for him to know he's still got people close to him out there..."

Rising Lotus "Hmm...'spose maybe she doesn't want him to turn her in for the gil? If he really needs to be supportin' him an' his mom anyway." she shrugged. "Doesn't look like the type to sell out someone who's helpin' him though."

Cravendy Hound went as white as a sheet at the suggestion. "A-ah, that's...Uhh, we've got, um. A misunderstandin' between us. If 'e knew it was me, 'e'd flip out for sure. Trust me, it's easier this way." Cravs clears her throat and then hurries out before Riylli or Rising can ask further.

Cravendy Hound - The trip over is pretty awkward. If the subject was brought up again, Cravs would simply pick up the pace and pretend not to hear. And, once the trio were in Limsa, her lips were sealed, clarification frustratingly out of reach. That said, she was definitely walking somewhere with purpose.

Rising Lotus gave up askin' fairly quick, she knew she wouldn't get anywhere at the moment. She'd pry it out of her later though, one way or another. "So... you know what he'll be up to today? Or you jus' hopin' we run into him?"

Riylli Aliapoh wouldn't bring it up again, at the very least smart enough to see Cravs didn't want to talk about it. Instead, she would offer fun facts of things she had learned so far in her research. "...So, did you guys know that a forge runs hotter than lava?"

Cravendy Hound mimes holding something heavy and swinging it around. And to Riylli's fact, she gives the miqo'te a doubting look. Really?

Riylli Aliapoh nods. "Yeah! Turns out lava is only like... half as hot as your average blacksmith forge! It aint even hot enough to melt iron! Makes my job easier, but it's kinda disappointin' y'know?"

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Thank you for subscribing to Lava Facts)

Cravendy Hound desperately wants to ask if that's how Riylli has been testing her fire shield spell - by dunking her hands in a forge. Cravs moves her hands around as if dipping them in something.

Riylli Aliapoh tilts her head, unable to figure out the mimicry. "Can't you like... at least whisper or somethin' when were alone? Surely they don't got ears everywhere?"

Cravendy Hound looks around and finds it acceptably empty. "Did ye dunk yer 'ands in the forge to test yer spell?!" She whisper-yells.

Rising Lotus narrowed her eyes at Cravs "...So he's... carrying somethin'.. then puttin' it in the oven?" she seemed to be combining the conversations. Then Cravs actually spoke. "Oohh you're talkin' 'bout that. I hope you didn't do that, use a fire or somethin' first Riylli."

Riylli Aliapoh blinks at her. "What? You crazy? What if the spell failed?" She said, shaking her head. "Nah, I've been usin' a campfire! Got a problem with the magic runnin' out too fast though..." She muttered, rubbing her poor cooked hands

Cravendy Hound stifles back laughter, and pats Riylli on the back. There there.

Rising Lotus: "I can get ya some cream for that. Know a gobbie that makes some quality stuff. Don't worry it works too, used it after gettin' a nasty burn from some giant bug sparyin' me with gunk."

Riylli Aliapoh grumbles and glares up at Cravs at the treatment, but lets it slide since she couldn't tell if it was meant to be mocking or not. "...That'd be great, thanks. I don't gotta pay for it, right?"

Cravendy Hound: "Bug....gunk? Bug gunk...That sounds. Hm." Cravs raises a brow at Rising but doesn't say more.

Rising Lotus "Well I ought to considerin' how you made me a pin cushion on our last outin' together." she snickered a bit, the first time she cracked a joke about it. "But nah, he owes me one anyhow. Next time I'm up there I'll grab ya some." she gave Riylli a firm pat on the back.

Riylli Aliapoh grumbled again, but couldn't really argue back. "...Thanks." She muttered, not exactly enthused about all this back-patting she was receiving

Cravendy Hound had earlier given Rising a notepad with names written in it. One of them, hopefully, belonged to the person who was harassing the kid. Her heels clicking on the docks, Cravs would eventually lead the little crew to a dusty corner of Limsa where the kid (B) was presently practicing his form with the ax.

Cravendy Hound - The heavy ax is far too big for the kid. Every swing pulls him comically forward with the weapon. He stops his 'practice' and looks up at the approaching trio with a wide smile. "I remember you two! You helped me with that monster the other day."

(Cravendy Hound) more back pats )) (Cravendy Hound) i demand more )) (Rising Lotus) I feel like Riylli and Rising would have back pats that would eventually devolve into a hitting contest)) (Cravendy Hound) actually cravs and rising would have to squat down to pat Riylli's back ahah - otherwise it'd be a head pat )) (Riylli Aliapoh) (Cravs and Rising know it's too dangerous to headpat Riylli, they'd probably get bit (Cravendy Hound) sometimes my tall friends would use my head as an arm rest.....annoyed me, and yet I can see Cravs doing that to Riylli lmao )) (Rising Lotus) I've done that to my shorter friends before xD))

Riylli Aliapoh perked up as she got recognized by the kid, offering him a friendly wave. "Hey! How are you holdin' up after all them needles?"

Rising Lotus watches the boy fling himself with his strikes, smirking with every swing.  "Aye that was us." she eyed up his weapon for a few moments. "You ought to get somethin' a bit lighter by the way, gonna leave yourself open if you take too long liftin' your weapon."

Cravendy Hound - The kid bashfully itches the tip of his nose. "I'm doing fine, thanks to you all...Woke up on the softest bed I've ever been on in my life, healing expenses all covered." Baldur's eyes drift over to Cravs, and then back to Riylli and Rising. "Oh, I plan to! I'm just using this old thing because it was the only thing I could afford. Once I earn enough, I'll buy a better one...after everything else, haha."

Cravendy Hound turns away, avoiding eye contact. It's overkill given that she's wearing a mask.

Rising Lotus eyed Cravendy, she had to pay for the needle removal out of her pocket. "...well I'm sure them healers were excited for the chance to de-needle someone. Don't see many cactuar over here after all, bit strange." she nodded as he brought up upgrading his armor and weapon. "A good set of armor is jus' as important as a good weapon, smart thinkin'."

Riylli Aliapoh nudged Rising with her foot to try and bring her back to the task at hand, snatching the list out of her hands. "Hey, so... Were kinda lookin' into something, think you might be able to help us out? You know any of the names on this list?"

Cravendy Hound - Baldur nods enthusiastically, dreads bouncing on top of his head. Admiration for Rising and Riylli is practically gushing from every inch of the kid. "So that was a cactaur? I've never seen one before."

Cravendy Hound - Baldur snaps into attention. "Oh, right away! I'd be thrilled to help you two out. Let's see..." He takes the list and scans it. "Only this last one. Mindred Rot. She's who I go to if I need a loan."

Rising Lotus "Aye, I grew up 'round them, used to hit them with sticks then ru-" she glanced at Riylli as she bumped her and had the list snatched away.

(Cravendy Hound) dfsd hit them with sticks and run???? chaos child )) (Rising Lotus) She didn (Rising Lotus) didn't have toys or anything xD Played with bugs and lizards and cactuars))

Riylli Aliapoh raised her eyebrow at the name. "...'Mindred Rot'? Well that's a bad guy name if I've ever heard one." She said, nodding along until she remembered Cravs' full name. "Er... Right, anyroad, what's she like? If she lends you money she can't be that bad, right?"

(Riylli Aliapoh) (Poor riylli about to learn the horrors of capitalism)

Cravendy Hound - Baldur smiles as he hands the list back to Riylli. "Oh, yeah, her name's pretty rotten. But in some ways...she looks after me. No one else'll give my family loans."

Rising Lotus "You need to get out of the woods more..." she shook her head at Riylli's comment. She hummed at Baldur's words about the woman. "Hmm, how generous of her."

Riylli Aliapoh wrinkled her nose. "Honestly I'd rather get out of the woods less... How in the world do you lot handle that salt in the air?"

Cravendy Hound - Baldur's gaze wanders to Rising's axe, and then to Riylli's staff. "So, you two must be adventurers, huh? You think you could teach me a thing or two? Punch better, smarter, harder? Oh, and! I didn't mean to be rude." He turns to Cravs. "Who's your friend?"

Rising Lotus Grinned, giving him a nod. "Aye! Do a lot of guard an' merc work. Takin' me all over, mostly back an' forth between Idyllshire an' places though. This one is still gettin' her footin' for it though." she snickered a bit as she eyed Riylli. "Oh, an' that's Singin' Gull. She's uh...a great singer an' has to save her voice most the time. We're guardin' her on her...singing journey?"

Riylli Aliapoh puffed her chest out. "Yup! Name's Riylli, Warrior of Earth!" she declared proudly, possibly forgetting Cravs and Rising were in earshot. "I'm a master of earth magic, but I'm sure I could give you some tips! Oh, and this is..." She trails off, staring at Cravs as her mind blanks on what her alias was. Thankfully Rising was there to have her back, though the Roegadyn still earned herself a glare from her little comment

Cravendy Hound 's frown twitches slightly. Singing Gull the Singer. Really? But she goes along with it anyway.

Cravendy Hound - Baldur's mouth forms an 'o' in awe. "Idyllshire? Never even heard of the place. Sounds cool though...And magic? How would I even start?" He turns back for a second to rest his rusty axe against a crate, and then hops right back into the conversation. "Like, just think really hard and magic happens? Hrrrghhhh.."

Riylli Aliapoh shook her head at the kid. "Nah, it aint that simple. It's more like... Y'know how you can move your fingers with your mind? You basically do that, but you move your aether about instead, and get THAT aether to move the aether OUTSIDE of you, and... Honestly I might not remember all the lessons, it's kinda just a reflex at this point. But you shouldn't be wastin' your talents on magic anyroad! You're a highlander right? You're gonna have plenty of muscle when you grow up, you should use-

Riylli Aliapoh -that instead!"

Rising Lotus could talk for hours about Idyllshire, but she resisted and tried to steer the conversation back on topic, which of course meant giving Riylli a light smack to the arm to get her to focus up. "Anyway, you know were we could find this Rot lady? Gull here is lookin' for gil for her next performance an' were hopin' to find some donations."

Cravendy Hound - Baldur is trying so hard to follow Riylli's explanation, but it leaves the poor kid's brain all tangled. "Huh, what? Huh? Uhh, oh, you want to meet Miss Rot? She's usually really busy so I have to schedule in advance. But I can ask if she's free to meet you all next time."

Riylli Aliapoh sighs. "Y'mean we gotta come all the way out here again..? Fine, I guess... Not like we can just go kick the doors down and demand to talk to her after all..." She muttered, offering a small glare to Cravs out of the corner of her eye

Rising Lotus cleared her throat, glaring at Riylli as she glared at Cravs "We'd appreciate that, jus' say that..uh..an up an' comin' singer is lookin' for fundin'. " she gave Baldur a nod, hoping that selling Cravs like that would make her the perfect target for a loan shark.

Cravendy Hound looks similarly annoyed, but shakes her head no to Riylli. It's not like they could go in there with wild accusations anyway - seemed worth strategizing over first.

Cravendy Hound - With the night fast approaching, Cravs motions with her hand to signal her intention to head home. Without bothering to wave goodbye to Baldur, she walks on ahead.

Rising Lotus watches Crav hurry away. "Uh sorry..." she put her hand to her mouth to muffle her words "Sort of a diva that one. Good luck out there lad!" she gave him a thumbs up before hurrying after 'Singing Gull'.

Riylli Aliapoh sighed once for not being allowed to rampage mindlessly, then once more as Cravs walked away without saying bye to the kid. She offers Baldur a wave. "You keep practicin' okay? We'll come by and see you again later, and maybe I'll share some of my adventurin' secrets with you!"

Cravendy Hound is a good distance ahead. As she passes by a stranger, there's some kind of odd collision that ends up tripping Cravs. Her mask drops off and rolls a few ilms forward as the stranger awkwardly, but quickly, makes their escape without even a sorry.

Cravendy Hound scrambles to recover the headware and fasten it back on. By the time Riylli and Rising have caught up, she's still kneeled over on the floor, troubled.

Riylli Aliapoh pretty much has to run to keep up with Cravs' long-legged walking, blinking in confusion as she notices her state. "H-Hey, you alright?"

Rising Lotus hurries to catch up to Cravs, quickly stepping in front of her to shield her face as she glanced around. "Aye..did you know that man or somethin'?"

Cravendy Hound: "I'm fine. Rattled is all." She whispers as she wobbles back up and takes a deep breath. ".....no, I didn't recognize them."

Rising Lotus looked around at the few bystanders eyeing the scene. "Maybe it'd be best to get out of here...before there's a chance to cause more of a scene." she said the last part in a whisper. Last thing they needed was the yellow jackets upon them.

Riylli Aliapoh raises her arm up seemingly to try to comfort her, only to hesitate and lower it back down. "...Let's talk outside of the city, all this salt is starting to make me sick..." She says, awkwardly attempting to give Cravs an out

Cravendy Hound: "...Right. No point in worrying about it now. Let's just get out of 'ere." She mutters.

[satananon]

I figured that since @ibelongtowrath is always sharing so much, that I would try my hand at appeasing you all.  So I hope that you all enjoy.  

    Satan flipped the pages of his book and let out a resounding sigh.  He looked over to the bed beside him where Rebecca sat, engrossed in a makeup tutorial on her DDD.  He couldn’t help but smile as he appreciated the look of concentration on her face. 

    Reluctantly, he pulled his attention from her face and shut his book, reaching over to lay it on his bedside table.  He sat up, turning to face her and cleared his throat.  

     “Kitten, I was wondering if you would let me steal you attentions for a bit?” 

    Rebecca looked up from her phone and smiled, “Oh, Daddy you know that you can steal my attention whenever you want.”  She sat her DDD aside and looked at him expectantly.  “What’s up?”  

  “I was hoping I could tell you about this dream I had last night.  I keep replaying it in my mind and I thought that you might find it amusing,” he responded, waving a hand loftily.    “Ooohh was it a sexy dream?” she inquired, her voice bearing just a hint of a sultry tone.  

   “ No, you insatiable thing,” he leaned over and kissed her nose, “it was not a sexy dream.  Now if you are prepared to listen, I will regale you with my tale.”  

    Rebecca nodded and settled into a cross-legged position, elbows propped on her knees, and her chin resting on her hands. “Okay, I’m ready, lemme have it.”

Shaking his head in amusement, he closed his eyes, thinking back to the dream…..

“So there I was, at my desk, working through a stack of manuscripts that Solomon had provided me, my genius mind deciphering the mysteries at an amazing pace…” 

Becca snorted from her position across the bed and Satan opened his eyes shooting her a warning look. 

   “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Keep going, please.”

“Anyways….  So I was burning through the manuscripts with amazing speed, one right after the other; but with the excitement of my success, I had forgotten to be cautious.  Old manuscripts can be a bit tricky; you never know when a disgruntled sorcerer might decide to leave a curse for the next reader.  So, I reach forward grabbing the next in the stack where there is a blinding light that flashed before my eyes and pain ripped through my body.  

    When the light cleared I found myself staring up at my desk.  My first thought was that I had strumbled upon some kind of shrinking curse, that is until I saw something out of the corner of my eye.  

    What I had seen had been a large brown and black striped tail.  It was in that minute, I realized that I had been turned into a cat.”

   Rebecca let out a surprised gasp of surprise, quickly covering her mouth to stifle the laughter that quickly followed.  “So you mean to tell me that you got turned into a cat?’, she inquired her voice ripe with glee.  “You were actually literally, Cat Daddy.”  She began to roar with laughter then, her body folding in half as she buried her face in the bed.  “Oh this just keeps getting better and better.  Sorry, continue please.  I am dying to see where this goes.” 

    “So there I was, turned into a cat by a cursed manuscript.  Obviously my first reaction was to panic.  I ran as fast as I could toward the mirror, but being unaccustomed to having paws, I found that I was tripping head over tiny little cat paws, landing my flat on my face.  Once I reached the mirror, I took in my appearance.  It was obvious by the silky chocolate fur and adorable white socked feet that I could be nothing other than a purebred Birman.  

    As I admired the sheen of my coat, I felt my nerves begin to calm.  The chances of the curse being permanent were slim and I decided that it would be a missed opportunity to not take full advantage of the situation at hand.

   It was about that moment that I heard a key in the lock and the door begin to open.  I darted across the room, positioning myself to run out the door, when I noticed that it was you entering the room.”

   “Awww I was in your cat dream?”, Rebecca gushed, as she playful pushed at his shoulder.

   “Yes, Kitten, you were in my cat dream,” he answered unable to keep the smile from his face.  

  “As you pushed your way into the room, I heard you calling out to me.  I let out a loud meow in response and you looked down at me with love obviously shining in your eyes....”

   “Obviously.” 

   “Yes, obviously, Kitten. What kind of monster doesn’t look at a cat with love.”

“.... love obviously shining in your eyes as saw me sitting before you. You reached down and scratched my ears; it was quite pleasant actually, it made me purr which seemed to please you.  I could have stayed there all day, enjoying having you dote upon me, but being unsure how long I had before the curse was up, I knew I had to make quick work. 

    I moved quickly, slipping between your legs and darting out the door and down the hall.”  

“Oh I see how it is.  There was I was showering you with love and you just abandon me, Rebecca pouted, warranting an eye roll from Satan.

    “As I moved down the hallway, my literal cat-like stealth helping me evade the eyes of anyone who passed; I found myself standing in front of Mammon’s door.  It was cracked just enough for me to slide through.  I looked around the room, for research purposes obviously, and that is when I saw something that made my feline blood boil.

    Sitting on his couch, exposed to the harsh dry air of a room that has not been perfectly curated to a temperature to prevent decomposition, was my prized signed copy of The Codex Leicester, Leonardo da Vinci.  Naturally, I was livid.  There was no way that I would have lent him a book of such historical value.  He would have had to take it from my room himself; most likely after looking up it’s worth online.”  

“How much is that book worth?”, Rebecca interjected. 

“In terms of human currency…”, Satan counted on his fingers as he wordlessly mouthed his calculations, “I believe with the current exchange rates, it would be worth somewhere along the lines of $30.8 million USD.”

“You have a book work 30 million dollars?!”, she gasped, eyes wide.

“Yes, Kitten, but that is not the point right now, I am trying to tell you about my cat adventures...”

“How is a book worth 30 mil…..” 

“AS I WAS SAYING….” 

“The book as sitting there, on his couch, unprotected, probably deteriorating by the second and I was absolutely livid.  I knew that in cat form there was no way that I could get it back to my room without causing additional damage.  I knew that I would have to retrieve the book from him later but I could not just walk away without teaching him a lesson.      Luckily for me, one of his designer leather jackets was draped across the chair in the corner of the room.  I jumped nimbly into the chair, grasping the leather in my mouth, I yanked the jacket from the back of the chair, teeth leaving blatant puncture marks.  I position it into a nest, making sure to bite it in several places; he wouldn’t want to leave the marks uneven.  Then I threw myself down into the nest rubbing myself against it.    If I am being honest, I got a bit lost in the sensation.  It was very comfortable.  I was just laying there, purring and shedding all over the jacket when I heard the door push the rest of the way open.

    ‘Oy!  What the hell you think you are doing, you stupid cat!  Get off my jacket,’ he yelled at me from behind his stupid yellow sunglasses.

 A shoe whizzed through the air, missing me by inches.  That scummy brother of mine was attempting to hit a poor defenseless little cat!  I was angry again, unable to believe that even he would stoop that low.  My hackles rose and I began to hiss at him.

   ‘Don’t think ya are gonna scare me off like that!  Get out of my room!  Satan probably snuck ya in didn’t he?  He should have kept you locked up; I am gonna feed ya to Beel for messin’ up my favorite jacket,’ he was growling at this point, like even a cat would be scared of him, I mean really.

   He rushed towards me, another shoe in hand, and raised it up, preparing to smack me with it.   I hissed again and darted around him, jacket in my mouth, and headed for the door.  

  ‘Get back here ya bag of fur!  Gimme back my jacket!’

I made my way into the hall, jacket still snug between my teeth, and surveyed my options.  Mammon was close on my tail and I needed an escape plan.  It was then that Levi turned the corner and I knew what I had to do. 

    Taking off as fast as I could, I charged Levi, releasing my claws and scaling him in seconds flat. 

   Then Levi cried out, “Woooooaah, what is happening, I can’t see anything, why is there so much fur.”  The jacket had fallen over his eyes as I took my attack position on his head; hissing and clawing at Mammon as he pushed closer.    “Just hold ya self still, Levi, I am gonna take care of this furry little pest.”  He said this to Levi as he raised his shoe again to hit me. Being the intellectually superior being that I am, I saw the move coming and just as he went to hit me, I left into the air straight over his head.  As I landed gracefully on the floor, I turned to watch as Mammon hit Levi on the head with the shoe, just as the jacket I had been holding fell to the ground.   As I watched Levi’s demon form appear, I decided that this was a good moment to make my escape and leave them to their own business.  

    “Poor Levi, what did he do to deserve to be left like that, Daddy?” Becca pouted, obviously invested in the story at this point.

“It’s called collateral damage, Kitten.  Levi is a strong demon, don’t let his Otaku ways fool you; he can hold his own.”

“I continued down the hall, smug from my victory over Mammon, when I entered the common room to find Belphegor sleeping on the couch.  He and I had not had much interaction since our tiff over you and I was still feeling a bit sore over the whole situation.    I walked over to the couch and sat on the floor, looking up at him.  He was fast asleep and did not even notice that I was there.  This was the puurfect opportunity to take my revenge.”

“Stop laughing at me Rebecca, that was funny and you know it.” 

“I sat up tall, drew a deep breath into my cat lungs and let out the loudest most mourn cat yowl I possibly could.  Much to my dismay, Belpheghor did not even budge.  So I pushed my face right up against his and yowled again.    “What the actual fuck?” Belphie sat up, looking startled to find a cat staring up at him.  I just flashed him the smuggest look I could with a cat face and meowed loudly again.  He glared at me before rolling over and throwing his pillow over his head.    Not being one to be ignored, I jumped up on the pillow, making sure to push it uncomfortably into his face before I jumped up on the back of the couch and looked down at him.  He threw the pillow to the side and glared up at me, his eyes filled with irritation.  

    ‘What is your problem cat?! Better yet why the hell are you here?’ he snapped at me.  I meowed at him in return, my tail swinging behind me.  That is when he decided to try and push me off the couch.  Though I could have easily landed on my feet, I decided to strike quickly and bite him.  

   He yelled out in pain, ‘Ow, you little shit, what the actual fuck was that for?!’

   He pulled back to hit me and I made a break for it.  I was getting pretty good at the escaping thing.  I made sure to let out another loud meow as I ran, letting him know that I considered this victory was mine.  

    “You bit him!?”

     “He harassed my mate,” Satan retorted defensively.

      “I think maybe biting him was a little dramatic, Daddy,” Rebecca countered.  

“I am not dramatic.”

“I was back in the hallway, running for my life, the murder cow somewhere behind me. I looked around, trying to find my bearings, when I realized exactly where I was.  I was in the hallway leading to Lucifer’s room.  Fate was indeed smiling down on me in that moment.  I had found my way to the very place I wanted to be.

   As I reached Lucifer’s door, I found it was closed and I could not open it with my adorable little cat paws.  I had to find a way to get him to open the door before one of the three brothers I had encountered so far found me and sealed my fate.  

   I noticed then a vase, position on a pedestal across the hall from the room.  I crouched down on my haunches, and took a running start and lept, hitting the vase squarely with the weight of my body.  It fell with an astounding crash.  

   I rushed back across the hall, pressing my self against the wall as Lucifer threw his door open.  

“What is going on out here?”, he asked in his stupid peacock squawk.  That is when he noticed the broken vase and got his feathers in a ruffle.  As much as I wanted to stay and watch his irritation, I knew that I had a greater calling.  

   I slipped into Lucifer’s room just as the door fell closed.  What I saw once I entered could only be described as hideous.  I don’t know where Lucifer learned about style, but it was obvious that he had none.  Red and black.  Asmo would have had lost his lunch.    I decided there was only one option.  I had to wreck everything.  I jumped up on Lucifer’s desk and began to shove piles of paperwork onto the floor, delighting as the papers floated through the air.  It was amusing in fact, I lost myself and started chasing one of them.    Next, I had to kill the hideous curtains.  Asmo would have wanted them to die.  I ran and jumped shredding them as my claws ran down the length of them.  I tried to pull them down, as well, but they were secured pretty well, which frustrated me.  So I decided to go into Lucifer’s closets to rub against all of his clothes, covering them in cat hair and relieve myself in his favorite shoes.”

“YOU DID NOT PEE IN HIS SHOES!”

“I did so.”

“And you call me a naughty kitten!”

“So as I exited the closet, the bed seemed like the obvious next choice.  I jumped up on the bed and began to scratch at all of the pillows, extracting features as I went.  Feather pillows, our course the peacock had feather pillows.    It was when I began to shred his bedspread that I started to feel odd.  My limbs aching and head spinning a bit.  I stopped for a moment, resting my head on the bed, willing the spinning to stop.

   The sound of the door opening jarred me from my rest and I found myself looking at a wide eyed Lucifer, staring at the state of his room.  I sat up on the bed, feeling very satisfied and let out a proud meow; but when the sound left my mouth, it wasn’t quite as it had been before.    Lucifer wheeled on me, fury in his eyes, ‘Satan, what the hell are you doing naked in my bed?!  And why the fuck are you covered in feathers!?’

   I knew that in that moment, calm was the best way to mess with Lucifer’s head.  So, I stood from the bed, brushing the feathers from my hair and body, and began to walk towards the door, chin held high.  Lucifer was gaping at me as I approached him, not quite sure what was happening.   As I reached him, I stopped, looked him dead in the eyes and said, “Fuck you, Lucifer.”  Then I made my way out of the room and that is when I woke up.”

   Rebecca sat silently for a moment, absorbing the story that he had just told her.  “So you turned into a cat.”

“Yes, I thought that was clear,” he replied a bit confused.

“And your first response was to torture your brothers?”, she inquired calmly.

“No.  My first thought was to torture Lucifer; the rest just happened organically.”

    That was the point where Rebecca could no longer hold her laughter in.  Tears began to stream down her face as laughter wracked through her body.  

   “That was the funniest thing that I have ever heard!” she gasped as she tried to regain her composure. You were so petty!!  I love it.”  

  “I am glad that you are amused, Kitten, “ he said with a smug smile, “I also enjoyed it.  It had me in a good mood all day.”  

    There was a loud knock then and they both looked towards the door.  

    “Satan!”  Lucifer’s voice bellowed loud enough for his voice to be heard through the thick wood. “Where is the cat, Satan? You know the house rule.  Don’t try to deny it! Something peed in my shoes.”

  Satan and Rebecca turned towards each other, both of their eyes filled with surprise before they both erupted into peals of laughter. 

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Four: War (Gladiolus x Reader) Chapter Seven

Gladio and (Y/n) headed to Tostwell Grill, which was tucked away in the corner of the marketplace. They sat down at one of the tables and looked over the menu. It was small and only two dishes were being served.

Once reading the ingredients for each of the dishes, the Horseman's brows knitted together. "Neither one of these are breakfast foods. One's a stew and the other's skewers."

"You discriminating against food now?" Gladio asked.

"No..."

"Then pick one."

War told the man tending to their table what she wanted followed by Gladio. While waiting for their meals, the girl crossed her legs and arms as she focused on the shield across from her. "So, what did you want to ask about the nightmare?"

"Oh, right." Gladio recollects what he saw in the nightmare the night before. "After you're killed, water floods the throne room. What's with that?"

"As you're aware, I was also able to call upon the Astrals after earning their favor. Before Gaius could claim Vanaheim for Niflheim, I used my dying breath to summon Leviathan. My final wish was for her to drown the entire kingdom to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. That is the reason why Vanaheim now lies at the bottom of the ocean."

"Damn..." The brute mumbled.

"Was there anything else?" She asked.

"No, only the water was new."

Their food arrived. (Y/n) savored the stew while Gladio ravished the skewers. Halfway through cleaning his plate, he asked, "So, exactly how long has it been since you've ate?"

She lowered her spoon. "You trying to figure out exactly how old I am?"

Gladio picked up on her playful tone and chuckled. "Someone's getting better at messin' around. But in all seriousness, no."

"It's been almost eight months now since my last meal," she confessed. "My sisters and I might not need to eat, but we throw these huge feasts whenever it's one of our birthdays. It's more for fun than satisfaction."

"A huge feasts with the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Sounds interesting."

"It's just a normal feast. There's nothing special about it," War stated.

"To you it might not be, but it does to me," Gladio replied. "Sitting at a table with immortals sounds like a helluva feast."

(Y/n) took another spoonful of stew, enjoying the flavor. She noticed Gladio staring at her and lowered her spoon. "Why're you staring at me?"

"Tryna figure somethin' out," he answered.

"And what's that?"

"Who that guy you were talkin' to yesterday was."

"Guy...?" War muttered. "You mean at the outlook?"

"Yeah. You seemed awfully close. Don't tell me you found a boyfriend."

Her eye twitches. "...Are you serious? Did you just hear what came out of your mouth and how ridiculous it sounded? Or do I need to repeat it myself?" She pushed the bowl of stew away. "For your information, that "guy" yesterday was the daemon king himself. He's not my "boyfriend." He happens to be the powerful immortal that resurrected me."

"Well, that explains the horns..." Gladio murmured.

"Haven't you been listening to me? I told you I don't trust mortals." She stood up, anger bubbling inside her veins. "Besides, my personal affairs are none of your business even if I have shared some small details here and there." War left the eatery in order to keep her calm.

Gladio quickly paid the bill and followed after her. He caught up with the Horseman and walked beside her. "Y'know, not all mortals are like Gaius."

(Y/n) stopped in the middle of the marketplace. "I'm well aware of that. You and the others have proven that, but I still have trust issues. The one job I gave you is to show that there is someone on Eos I can trust. Or do I need to find another mortal?"

"Trust me, I can do it," he confidently claimed. "Just wait and see, firecracker."

War pulled up her hood, hiding her face from the shield. "I'm counting on you, Gladio."

The brute was able to catch a glimpse of the smile she was trying to conceal. He wanted to tease her, but decided not to anger her.

The duo walked around Lestallum for a little while, chatting about various topics. Gladio was able to learn a little more about (Y/n) and vice versa. Their conversation was sidetracked when they were soon joined by a bubbly Prompto. The blonde excitedly told them how he ran into Famine and she spent some time with him.

At hearing the news, Gladio glances towards War. "You and your sisters are everywhere."

"We are just trying to do our job," she replied. "These monsters are not easy to find as they are much more intelligent than daemons or normal beasts."

"Guess you wouldn't be having so much trouble if they were, right?" Prompto asked.

"I would be back in the Inner Sanctum by now if they were pretty dumb. Sadly, they're not."

"Well, now you've got us to help you," Gladio stated.

"Oh, I don't think so. It's best you and the others stay as far away from these monstrosities as possible. They're here on Eos because they crave the blood of humans. You all would be a feast for the bunyips and the dullahan."

"I'd rather not be eaten alive by one of those things..." Prompto muttered.

The trio returned to the Leville to check on Ignis and Noctis. Once doing that, they discussed their next plan. Deciding to rest just a little longer, they would remain in Lestallum for the time being.

<-------------<<<<<

Several days later, Gladio told everyone what was on his mind. After having some time to think it over, he wanted to escort his sister to Cape Caem. They left the Leville and headed to the gas station located on the main road. Iris, who was kind enough to fill the Regalia's tank, was waiting for them. When she counted how many people there were, a worried expression appeared on her face. "There's six of us and only five seat."

"Don't worry. (Y/n)'s got a ride," Gladio said, gesturing to the redhead.

Iris looked toward the Horseman. "Are you sure you don't want to ride with us? I can always sit on Gladdy's lap."

"No, it's fine. You all go on ahead. I'll catch up with you in a short bit," she responded. The five climb into the car and depart from Lestallum.

(Y/n) called upon Ares, the flaming steed appearing from a thicket of fog. She promptly mounted his back and entangled her fingers in his mane. The flames danced around her hands, the heat causing her no injury. "C'mon, Ares, let's catch up." The horse neighed, taking off down the road.

Within a few seconds, she caught up with the Regalia. Although she was familiar with the way to Cape Caem, she wanted to stay with the others in case they needed her. Ares ran alongside the car, easily keeping pace with it. Due to the wind whistling in her ears, she couldn't hear what the others were talking about. However, she did catch Iris staring at her in astonishment. The young Amicitia wasn't aware of her status as Horseman until now. From the grin she saw on Gladio's face, she figured he was telling his sister all the details.

(Y/n) reverted her attention back to the road ahead. She kept her eyes forward, making sure Ares kept his distance from the car to avoid an accident. However, her attention was diverted when they were halfway to Old Lestallum. The rancid scent of decaying flesh and the tinge of iron she assumed was from blood reached her nose. Eyes narrowing, she looked around in a desperate attempt to locate the source of the odor. Since it was nearly noon, it was impossible a daemon could emanate such a stench. She also knew no beast indigenous to Eos smelt in such a manner.

Suddenly, Ignis slammed on brakes. Ares followed suit, slowing down and stopping beside the vehicle. War wondered what was the problem until she saw it. Her eyes widen before narrowing into a glare when recognizing the creature blocking the road. "The dullahan..."

"A wh-what?" Prompto swallowed in fear.

"A headless horseman," she simplified.

"Didn't know you had a creepy, headless brother," Gladio teased.

She ignored the shield, her (e/c) eyes glued to the dullahan. It didn't move towards them, but it was wielding its spine as if it was ready to attack. It whipped its spine like a whip, its horse neighing in response. While examining the monster's appearance, she noticed something was missing. "Where's its head?"

"Didn't you just say it was a headless horseman?" Noctis retorted.

"I did, but dullahans always travel with their heads. Something feels off..."

Prompto couldn't tear his fearful gaze away from the menacing creature. "I-Is it really a big deal that it doesn't have its head with it?"

"Without the head, I can't kill it," War stated.

"What will your plan of attack be, (Y/n)?" Ignis inquired.

"This thing has killed and I can smell the corpses. I will keep it occupied and pray to the Astrals I'll be able to find the head," she proclaimed. "You focus on escaping."

"You're not seriously gonna fight that thing all by yourself, are you?" Gladio asked in disbelief.

"Yes, I am." She summoned a bow, a single arrow materializing from the crimson crystal shards. Firing the arrow, she targeted the dullahan's steed. The monster used its spine whip to deflect the arrow with ease. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, War materialized another arrow and nocked it. At the same time, she dug her heels into Ares' sides to urge him forward. She released the arrow and it impaled the dullahan's chest plate. Seeing she had its full attention when it charged towards her, she shouted for Ignis to drive away. The advisor didn't hesitate and drove off.

The dullahan used its whip to try and grab the Horseman. However, Ares manages to dodge and protect his rider. (Y/n) thanked him before commanding him to run away from the main road. The horse did as she commanded, running away from the main road. The monster followed on its own black, hazy steed. Knowing the dullahan was nothing without its horse, she knew fighting it on-foot was out of the question unless it willingly abandoned its steed.

"C'mon, you bastard," (Y/n) hissed, glaring over her shoulder at the dullahan. Ares led them to a large, open area where there was enough room to ride around. The Horseman switched out her bow for a pair of daggers as she and the monster faced off. Urging her steed to charge directly at it, she yelled his name and he took off. Pushing herself into a crouching position on Ares' back, she waited for the perfect opportunity to attack.

The dullahan charged forward, meeting the Horseman and her steed halfway. It used its whip to swipe at the redhead, but it missed its mark when she dodged the attack and leapt onto the dullahan. She tackled it off its horse and buried one of her daggers into its chest plate.

"Where's your damn head, you bastard?" She growled, jamming her second dagger into its shoulder. A black substance dribbled from its wounds, cascading down its body. Once it dropped onto the grass, the luscious green turned into a decaying brown.

The dullahan chuckled demonically. It grabbed its whip and targeted the redhead. It pierced her side deeply, causing her to shriek in pain. She promptly summoned a javelin and plunged it through the monster's abdomen, pinning it to the ground. Shakily, she pushed herself off the dullahan and got to her feet. Yanking the tip of the spine whip out of her body, she tossed it aside. Blood soaked her left side and dripped to the ground.

Before War could strike again, the dullahan ripped the javelin out of its abdomen and stood up. It stood up and summoned its horse. It made a quick escape, but (Y/n) immediately took chase. She pressed a hand against her wound, knowing it would take more time to heal since the monsters from the Inner Sanctum were more powerful than an average daemon or beast. Following the monster, she fought against the wooziness she felt from the blood loss and focused on her target. "Show me where you've hidden your head, you bastard..."

<-------------<<<<<

A couple days later after their infiltration of Fort Vaullery and exploring Malmalam Ticket, the royal retinue and Iris were now resting at Kellebram Haven. Prompto was showing Iris the many photos he's taken since she's joined them. After looking through his new pictures, the blonde came across a picture he took of (Y/n) when they first met.

"Oh, it's (Y/n)!" Iris cheered. "Do you have any more pictures of her?"

"I've got tons!" Prompto flipped through various more photos before coming across more with the Horseman as the main subject. Most of them were of her fighting or chatting with Gladio.

Noticing the pattern, the girl asked, "Wait, does Gladdy get along with (Y/n)?"

"I guess you could say that," he answered.

Flipping to the next picture, Iris gaped in amazement when she saw (Y/n) wielding an array of weapons. "Oh, wow! She's so cool!"

Noctis, who'd been playing King's Knight on his phone, looked up at hearing Iris praise the Horseman. "Y'know, we haven't seen her in a while."

Prompto lowered his camera with a concerned expression. "It's been two days. Shouldn't she be back by now?"

"She's immortal. How much trouble could she possibly be in?" Gladio remarked. "Besides, she mentioned she couldn't kill that thing unless she found the head. She's probably looking for it as we speak."

"Or she's in trouble," he replied.

"I hope she's okay," Iris mumbled. "I still owe her for getting me, Jarred, and Talcott out of the city."

"Maybe we should check on her," Prompto suggested. "You've got that orb she gave you, right, big guy? Summon her!"

"And possibly fuck up her entire mission?" The brute scoffed. "I don't think so. I'll be the headless one if that happened."

"Maybe you could try after dinner?" Iris asked.

Gladio wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was worried about (Y/n). He'd already been tempted to summon her. However, he fought the urge knowing she was trying to focus on the dullahan. But now seeing he wasn't the only one concerned about her, his temptation returned and he wouldn't be able to stave it off this time. "Fine, I'll try after dinner."

Ignis was already ahead of the group. He'd been working on dinner for the past fifteen minutes and it was almost done. Once the food was done, he passed out plates to everyone. They ate the delicious meal around the fire as the chill of night crept around them. The sound of daemons soon filled the dark void of the night. Their shrill cries caused an uneasiness to wash over the group.

Iris lifted her head, gazing out into the darkness. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that. I don't understand how you all can ignore it."

"It took a while, but now we all sleep through it," Noctis said.

"It still freaks me out from time to time," Prompto confessed. He put his plate down and nearly jumped out of his seat when an earsplitting shout came from a daemon close by. "Okay, that one definitely freaked me out."

"It was quite unusual," Ignis stated.

"Our daemon reflector isn't here at the moment," Gladio said.

"Daemon reflector?" Iris parroted.

"(Y/n)," he replied. "Most daemons are afraid of her. Whenever she's around, nights are quieter and it's easier to fall asleep."

"Now that you mention it..." Iris mumbled. "No daemons attacked us the night we were heading to Lestallum. I thought we were just lucky."

"At least she's not a daemon magnet," Noctis commented. "Not sure how I'd feel about that..."

"I'd welcome it. It'd give us more opportunities to train," Gladio said. "It'd also make our hunts easier. Speaking of hunts, you said (Y/n) took down that naga without touching it, blondie."

"Oh, yeah!" Prompto cheered as he remembered witnessing the daemon turn into a pile of ash. "I don't know what exactly happened, but it's like (Y/n) just stared into its eyes and it turned to stone. Then it disintegrated into a pile of ash."

"That sounds...scary," Iris said.

"I was freaked out, but it was kinda cool to watch."

"I wonder what she did," the young Amacitia hummed in curiosity.

"Not sure. She hasn't said," Gladio explained. He fished the summoning orb out of his pocket, remembering what he promised to do after they finished dinner. He muttered her name and saw the orb gleam slightly. After some time, he learned that faint glimmer of light meant it worked.

Looking around the haven, he searched for War. The others followed suit and Iris was the first to spot the Horseman a short distance away. "There she is!"

Everyone glanced in the direction the girl was staring and saw the redhead slowly approaching the haven. Gladio noticed something was wrong while watching her stumble forward. Her form was hunched over and she was having difficulty standing on her own two legs. He stood from his seat, putting the orb back into his pocket. "(Y/n)?"

War didn't answer his call as she dragged her body towards the haven. Her hand was pressed against her side in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. Her vision was splotchy and she was barely conscious. She managed to lift her head when hearing someone approach. Seeing it was Gladio, she tried to speak. "Sorry..." she mumbled weakly as her legs gave our underneath her. Her vision turned to black as she fell unconscious.

[meowdymista]

An Interestin’ Fella in the Swamp

Word Count: 1454

Warnings: Swearing, mention of rape

Notes: I feel like there’s more to Bill than we see in the game, and this is to fix that

Masterlist

***

Finally. Bill was wondering when he would show his face in camp again. Taking a swig from the beer bottle, he watches Arthur dismount out the corner of his eye. He’s fussing over his horse, feeding it sugar cubes from the palm of his hand as he pats the thick sturdy neck.

“How can a man - a real man, ah mean - truly express his passion wi’ such delicate creatures?” Mac had slurred one night. Bill remembers the heat of the whisky in his cheeks as he drank in the gleam of red in the Scot’s stubble. “Ah’ve never understood the appeal.”

“Me neither,” he had replied, surprised by his own sincerity. “Them boys gettin’ distracted… it’s unprofessional. There ain’t time for love in this game. All you can hope for is one good fuck, y’know? When it takes me, I want to be able to lose myself in it. I want to fucking fuck, for fuck’s sake! Not worryin’ about messin’ her hair, or whether or not she’s gonna slap me afterwards.”

Mac had looked up at him then with heavy lidded eyes. “Ye ever fucked a man, Williamson?”

Tossing his bottle aside, Bill strolls up to the campfire where Arthur is helping himself to a bowl of stew. The only other man in camp with a temper like his own (besides Micah, of course) - he doesn’t understand how he’s never put it together before.  Women have always looked so small - so comically fragile - besides his thick build and broad shoulders. 

“Bill,” he greets with a nod.

Bill suppresses a smirk. Better practice my name, cowpoke, ‘cause I’ll have you screaming it tonight. He shakes himself mentally. No, he tells himself. Keep to the facts.

“I met an interesting fella in the swamp,” he says coyly, “Real interestin’.”

“Did you?”

Mac had known plenty of interesting fellas - years of discreet probing had paid off with connections to previous finds. The more Bill had tested the waters, the better he learned how to maneuver through them, and with Mac he had been able to spin a web of various “interesting fellas” across various states. Of course the web wasn’t made to spread this far west, but an introduction with that Alden in Rhodes proved fruitful. With a couple of helpful hints, Bill had found himself out in the Bayou, accepting the dinner offered by a fella called Sonny.

“Ain’t this a fine place? An interesting place, the best of places. Is it land, or is it water? Can’t make up its mind, no siree… I can’t make up my mind about things neither.”

“Sure! He seemed to know all about you!”

Arthur doesn’t react. His skills of discreet probing have been gathering dust since that first night with Mac, but he’s already started the ball rolling. He can’t walk away.

“I mean -” He clears his throat. “-all about you.”

“Get outta HERE.”

He chuckles quietly, holding his hands up in mock surrender, ready with his smooth speech about how men gotta do what they gotta do, but a second look at the man is a punch to the gut. His eyes are cold grey steel - and the look is all too familiar.

He hasn’t seen such venom in months except in the wake of Micah’s taunts. It is barely bridled fury - the last warning before the bull is released from the pen to wreak havoc. They were the eyes of man scorned - a hetero on the defence.

Bill drops his arms to his sides and walks away. He braces himself, but no hit lands. He’s grateful for that at least... but also disappointed. A fist fight was his favourite way to get the blood pumping, especially when it was to decide who would dominate. Fellers around here were too submissive.

“I’m peculiar. Folks always say so.”

Well, interesting fellas always were peculiar in some way. “Queer”. Didn’t that mean strange?

“You wanna- you wanna play with Sonny? I like playin’.”

He risks a look back over his shoulder. The tin bowl lies face down, it’s contents splattered over the grass. Arthur is nowhere to be seen.

“I’ve always wanted a friend like you… and I can tell you want a friend like me... ain’t that so?”

Taking up guard duty, he keeps a cigarette between his teeth until dusk. When Javier turns up to take over, he can’t help but ask - “Hey, you seen Arthur?”

“Why? What shit you started now?”

“Who said I started shit?” he snaps.

“Tilly said he didn’t look too happy when she saw him earlier. Karen said he almost sent Mary-Beth flying he marched off so fast.”

“Why’s that my fault?”

“They said he was fine ‘til he spoke with you.”

“What hae ye said tae Mac, Williamson?” Davey grabbed him by the lapels and shook him. “Ye talkin’ shite aboot us?”

“What are you talkin’ about?” he growled, shoving the younger brother off him.

“Th’ two o’ ye hae bin actin’ weird ever since ye got back fae scoutin’ New Austin! Dunnae lie!” The infamous vein was popping in his neck. Other members of the gang stopped their chores to see who picked the latest fight with the honey badger brothers - and not for the first time, found Bill on the receiving end.

“I don’t know what you mean.” His heart fluttered nervously in his chest as he caught the eyes of onlookers. He couldn’t lose this gang - the tribe of Van der Linde’s meant more to him than his life ever had. He could live with the taunts of being slow and dimwitted, but not this. Not something so fresh and vulnerable as the truth. “Davey,” he added quietly. “I would never talk shit about neither you Callender boys. Anything I have to say, I’ll say to your faces-”

“What secret are you sharin’ then, Williamson? Cuz we never keep anythin’ fae t’other.”

After digging around camp, he finally finds Arthur resting on the shore, twitching the fishing rod and cursing the lack of bites. Suddenly, he picks up a large stone and lobs it into the water, his throw too dull to skip it as it plops under the surface with a large splash.

“Ar-Arthur?”

His head snaps around, blue eyes still blazing as he scoffs. “Bill.”

“Arthur, I’m- I’m real sorry.”

“What for now?” he grunts, reeling in the line impatiently.

“About Sonny. The feller in the swamp?"

“You know a momma gator eats her babies? My momma never ate no baby…  Your momma ever ate a baby?”

“He was…" Bill forces a laugh, trying to reduce the tension in his shoulders, before sighing heavily. "I'm sorry. It was none of my business. I didn't expect you to… to take it like you did. An' for that I'm real sorry."

"How else was I s'posed to take it?"

"Shit, Morgan, I don't know!"

"Just how the hell you meet that creep anyway?" he demands, turning to face him as he puts his rod away.

"Same way as you! I was just passin' by-"

"Same way as me?" He scoffs again, spitting over his shoulder. "Yer a damn liar, Williamson. How'd you meet him? Really?"

"What? I can't speak to strangers now?"

Arthur's eyes flash. "If you met him the same way I did, you'd have a lump the size of an egg under your hat."

He doesn't know what to say to that. The sad, embarrassed shake of his head tells him there wasn't a reply worth making. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I didn't know that he'd- I thought that you'd- that it was-"

"I know what you thought." He sighs heavily, turning to watch the sun set under the water. "At least I'm alive, I s'pose. Better'n bein' found by you.”

“I’m gonna go back, teach him a lesson for messin’ with yer when you didn’t- well. When you wasn’t-”

“I already fed him to the gators,” states Arthur, his mouth twisting like the words taste sour on his tongue. “I… I can’t say I regret it. Maybe I was too hasty-”

“He was a strange one, Morgan. No one will miss him.”

“Yeah, well, it also didn’t feel enough.” The glint in his eye is simmering now. Not an infuriated bull but a snake sizing up its victim - and then he takes a deep breath. “I shoulda taken him up to the Skinners, but they’d’ve recruited the bastard most likely...”

“I ain’t gonna say nothin’ to no one. ‘Bout all this?” Arthur nods in agreement. “An’... I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about… y’know.”

“I know. I know, Bill.” A weight lifts off his chest as the blond pats his shoulder on his way past. “Ain’t nobody’s business but ours. Stay safe, Williamson.”