#I feel like I box Courier into one end where I like to see him in pain and then Cutthroat on the other where I like to see him cause pain

[sulumuns-dootah]

WHB demons as drama on Czech/Slovak YouTube

A/N: I am full of random ideas, but this one might take the cake so far :D (Also wtf, did yellow text option disappear from desktop?)

    ༺☆༻

Bimet - A creator whose fanbase are solely children, tells a fan that his merch is not expensive, it's just that the kid doesn't have enough money

Paimon & Eligos - A very dramatic end of relationship between two influencers who had a drama/exposé podcast together (It's still kinda ongoing and boy is it chotic)

Orias - A 23y.o. guy who dated a 13y.o. and his excuse was that he feels like he's mentally still 13, too (or smth like that)

Agares - A politician whose whole thing was that he's part of the young generation™  got exposed for SAing multiple women and a video of him degrading one of them became a meme ("You're totally r*tarded, but totally. And I'm naked, totally...*camera pans down but cuts off before u see the peen*) - Also, don't worry, he's behind bars now

Beelzebub - A guy, who as a kid got super famous for "Going to play with rocks" while cooking reality show was filming some b rolls of the chef. As an adult, the guy got in with a group of creators for children and started giving out their phone numbers for money.

Bephegor- The same creator that insulted his fan, released an action figure of himself, but the quality was really bad and when one streamer got his, the figure was in pieces (the box was very beat up too - he described it as if the courier took out all his agression on it)

Satan - Still staying with the same creator: He filmed himself going wayyy over the speed limit and filmed himself doing it like it's soemthing cool. (Reminder: fanbase full of kids)

Stolas - A guy whose online persona is being a psycho challenged a guy who made reactions to his content to a fight in ring. Psycho dude got disqualified because he kept breaking the rules

Lucifer & Michael - Months after a breakup, a guy releases a diss track on his ex and she responded with one too (hers is better banger imo)

Foras - A girl, secretly managed by her father(?) makes videos about dogs. A video where she borderline drowns her two chihuahuas in a tub went viral and even made it to the news (While fact checking the dog breed I even found her tumblr T-T)

Gamigin - Does anyone remember that Misha kid who sang about Minecraft, League of Legends and Pokémon Go? Yeah, that kid's czech ^^ (Also apparently he still makes music)

[summercourtship]

About the Kiss Drabble!!!

Can i ask for Vulpes Inculta? If yes can you do number 14?

14 - A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished

Of course you can ask for Vulpes!! Generally, I’ll accept requests for any character I’ve written before. And I’m like… super excited to write him more, especially in an objectively sillier context than my actual vulpes x courier fic.  This ended up being slightly longer than the drabble length I had said but that’s okay lmao, I had a SCENARIO (it's like 1200 words). Anyway I love like... companion!vulpes scenarios/fics.

KISS DRABBLE PROMPTS

Vulpes was watching you struggle to climb over a fence, his arms crossed and eyebrows raised. He’d suggested multiple times that the two of you kept moving, although you knew that his motivation was to try and subtly corral you towards Cottonwood Cove without you noticing. You’d been successfully avoiding his attempts to get you to visit Caesar, but you could feel his patience wearing thin with every passing day that you continued to dodge his request. He just didn’t seem to understand why you didn’t want to visit the man whose entire ideology said that your only purpose in life was to have children.  

With a huff you swung your leg over the top of the not-particularly-tall fence, pulling yourself onto the other side before dropping onto the ground. 

“I think it would have been easier for you to try to find a hole.” He remarked. You waved your hand dismissively behind you, not bothering to look back at him. 

“That would take up too much time, I just want to check out these boxes.” You began walking to a gutted pre-war van not a few yards from the fence, with what was clearly an abandoned camp in front of it. The remains of a fire, an old bedroll, some crates, and a few ominous bloodstains sat in the shadow of the van, waiting for you to loot them. 

“So you said.” You ignored his comment, instead crouching by one of the crates and pulling out a bobby pin to try and open it. 

You had barely bent over when a force pushed you down, using the shift in your balance to easily knock you to the ground. You yelped, more from surprise than any pain, scrambling to pull out your weapon. But your assailant had the advantage over you and kicked it from your hand as soon as you had grabbed it. Distantly, you registered Vulpes cursing, though you were preoccupied with the woman above you. 

It appeared that a raider had been hiding in the van and decided to take the opportunity you presented. Luckily she was only carrying a rusty pipe as a weapon, which you were able to wrap your hands around and try to pull from her grasp. 

Then, as she yanked the pipe back from your hold, she sputtered and choked, looking down to where Vulpes was now pressing his ripper into her gut. You barely managed to roll away before she collapsed, dead. 

Shocked, you looked from the corpse to Vulpes. You didn’t even have it in you to make a snarky remark about how you could’ve handled her yourself. Instead, you could only muster a small laugh. “You saved me.”

He put the ripper away and the desert was silent without it's mechanical whirring.

“Caesar wants to see you.” He shifted slightly, almost uncomfortable as he looked down at you. “He would be disappointed if I let you die. Especially to a lowlife like that.” 

You stared at him for a moment longer before sighing and standing, brushing the dirt off of your pants. You grabbed your gun from where it had landed when the raider kicked it, placing it back at your side. “Well. I guess we should find somewhere to sleep, right?” 

Vulpes scaled the fence easily, landing on the other side in the matter of seconds. He turned back to look at you through the fence, frowning. “You cannot avoid Caesar forever.” 

“Once I have an actual reason to go down that way, I’ll pop by for a visit.” You began to climb again, the process slightly easier now that you had done it once. You could see him watching you, rolling his eyes. 

“You’ve been saying that for almost two weeks.” 

“And I haven’t had a reason to go down that way.” You dropped down from the fence. “You don’t have to travel with me.”

“I was told to bring you to Caesar.” 

“Then we’ll go on my time.” It was a conversation you’d had at least three times with him already, and it always played out the same. 

You walked with him, letting him lead the way (slightly) as you fiddled with your pip-boy and tried to grapple with your thoughts. Vulpes had killed someone for you. And even if his only motivation for doing so was because of Caesar, he still deemed your survival more important than anything.

Despite your desire to, you didn't dare sneak a look at him, sure that he would be able to feel your stare on his skin.

You only realized he had stopped walking when you almost ran into him. He was looking at you, expectantly, and you struggled to figure out what he had said before giving up and asking him to repeat himself. 

“Will this do?” He gestured behind him to a small shack. You nodded, pulling your gun and approaching. Once you had ensured that the inside was clear of any creatures or humans, you let yourself sit on the single dusty cot. Leaning back, you rested your head against the wall, letting your eyes shut. 

You could hear Vulpes moving around, placing his things down and investigating the cupboards and lockers, before his footsteps came to a stop. Then the cot dipped beside you. Startled, you opened your eyes to see him sitting in the exact same position as you, his head turned towards you. 

“I don’t like you-” You began, only to frown when he interrupted you.

“I’ve heard much worse.” 

“I’m not done.” You sighed, closing your eyes again. “I don’t like you, but I wanted to say thank you for saving me earlier.” 

“Like I said, it was for Caesar.”

“Oh really?” You opened your eyes again, leaning to look at him only to find him facing forward. He had a nice profile, you supposed, with strong features. 

“Yes, profligate.” He turned to look at you again, that same expression of annoyance that seemed to be on his face a lot when it came to you replaced by something that you weren’t able to discern. His eyes briefly looked down to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. But you’d seen it.  

And then you leaned forward, acting faster than your thoughts which were screaming at you that this was a bad idea, crashing your lips onto his. For a moment, he tensed and seemed like he was going to pull away from you before he pushed back against your lips, returning the kiss with a desperation you hadn’t expected. His hands rose to hold the sides of your head, threading through your hair to dip your face backwards as he shifted to practically drink you in.  

Maybe you would regret this when you parted, maybe you wouldn’t. You knew that this would have consequences- there was no way you made out with one of Caesar’s closest men and didn’t pay for it later. But right now, with his hands in your hair and your tongue swiping against his lips, begging for entrance, you couldn’t care less. 

You shifted, moving so you straddled his waist to deepen the kiss even further, opening your mouth and inviting him in. His tongue flicked against yours, pulling a whimper from your throat that you would certainly deny later. He groaned in response, moving his hands from where they’d landed on the sides of your face to wrap around your back, pulling you closer to him until your chest was pressed entirely against his. Your hands gripping his head, and you momentarily mourned the fact that his hair wasn’t long enough for you to pull or really grab onto. 

With a final gasp, you parted to catch your breath, panting. Despite no longer kissing, you stayed within a few inches of him as you breathed each other in, sitting in silence for a moment before he spoke.   

“Will you let me take you to Caesar now?”

“No.”

[catierambles]

Public Relations Ch.14

Pairing: Clark Kent/Superman x Charlotte Danvers (OFC)

WC 1355

Warnings: Eh?

@kingliam2019 , @greensleeves888 , @peaches1958 , @brattymum96 , @ouroboros113 , @summersong69 , @henryownsme

Charlotte printed out the article once it was released and framed it, hanging it up in the workshop. The main focus had been on her cars and restoration projects, but they had mentioned what she does with those she doesn’t have room for anymore, as well as some puff lines about her and Clark’s interactions. The terms “down to earth” and “genuine” were featured and Clark hoped it would quiet the naysayers claiming that he was only with her for her money.

She was in the study when he got done having a swim in the pool, sitting at her computer with WoW on the monitor.

“What’s that?” He asked, moving his head at the box wrapped in plain brown paper sitting on the desk next to her, his hands holding onto the towel around the back of his neck.

“No idea, just got here via courier.”

“Who’s it from?”

“There’s no return address.” Charlotte said and he perked a brow at it, going over to her desk and picking it up, weighing it in his hands. It was slightly heavy and he focused his vision, looking inside.

“It’s just a box.” He said and she looked at him.

“A box within a box?” She asked and he nodded. “It’s not going to blow up if I open it, will it?”

“I don’t see any wires or anything that could be a detonator. It’s literally just a box.”

“Well that’s weird and kinda boring.” She said, “Not that I want to get blown up, mind you.” He set it back down again with a shrug, relaxing his vision.

“You hungry?”

“I could eat.” She said and he leaned over, kissing the top of her head, making her smile.

“I’ll make us some food.” He said, “Any preference?”

“Not really.” She said, shaking her head. “You know I’ll eat just about anything.”

“I’ll be back up in a bit.” He said and she made an acknowledging sound, turning her attention back to the computer.

Clark was just about done with the sandwiches he was making when a shiver ran down his spine, the hair on his arms standing on end and a feeling of dread settled in his gut.  A scream, her scream, ripped through the air, filled with pain and he was out of the kitchen in a blink, racing up the stairs and to the study.

She was in front of her desk, suspended about a foot in the air, held in some kind of field, her hands clenched out at her sides as another scream tore from her lips. He tried to go to her, to grab her, get her away from whatever it was that was holding her, but he couldn’t get close to her, some kind of barrier keeping him away. He pushed at it, his teeth and jaw clenched, but it held strong and he was suddenly thrown back as a blinding flash of light filled the room.

Clark picked his head up from the floor where he had landed across the room, the light fading and he saw Charlotte lying on the floor so very still and it didn’t look like she was breathing.

“Charlie…” He scrambled towards her, pulling her into his arms and cradling her gently. Holding her up, he put his ear to her chest, but the sound of her heart was so faint that he almost didn’t hear it. “Baby,” He brushed her hair away from her face, “Stay with me, sweetheart, stay with me.” Looking up at the desk, he saw the cube as it collapsed back down again, a golden glow fading from within.

Bruce paced slightly as Clark sat in one of the chairs in the command center beneath Wayne Manor, Charlotte laying on a bed hooked to monitors in the med bay. He didn’t know who else to bring her to, as this wasn’t a normal circumstance, and he didn’t know what exactly had happened to her.

“Victor is looking at the cube.” Bruce said and he nodded, “It’s gone dormant again, no energy signals coming from it that he can tell.”

“It was definitely emitting some kind energy.” Clark said, “I saw it. I felt it when I tried to get to her.”

“She’s alive, Clark.” Bruce said, “Focus on that.”

“We know who sent it?”

“I found the customer's copy of the manifest from the courier service in her study after we got her settled and Victor and I went to get the cube.” Bruce said, “Tracked it to a shell company, more a front than anything else.”

“Owned by who?” Clark asked, but he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

“LexCorp.” Bruce said and Clark’s jaw clenched.

“She had a meeting with Lex Luthor months ago. According to her, he said a whole lot of nothing and she ended up walking out.” Clark said.

“Luthor is a narcissistic egomaniac.” Bruce said, “He probably didn’t like that.”

“So what the hell did he send her?” Clark asked, looking up at him. “What is that thing?”

“Why don’t we ask the man himself?”

Clark walked past the receptionist at her desk outside of the office, ignoring as she told him that Lex Luthor wasn’t seeing any visitors and pushed into the office, crossing the room quickly throwing the large desk out of his way, Lex jumping up from his seat and backing against the wall, holding up a small can with a spray nozzle.

“Unless you want a face full of aerosol kryptonite, I would think very carefully about what you’re going to do next if I were you.” Lex said.

“What is it?” Clark ground out, “What did you send her?”

“Did it activate?” He asked, his eyes lighting up, “Oh, please tell me it activated. Then again, you wouldn’t be here looking to rip my lungs out if it hadn’t.”

“What. Is. It?” He asked again.

“Is she still alive?”

“You wouldn’t be if she wasn’t.” Clark said, feeling his eyes start to heat.

“Eh eh.” Lex said, his finger tensing on the nozzle. “Settle down.”

“Lex,” Bruce said, “Answer the man’s question. What did you send her?”

“I’m calling it the Creation Matrix.” He said, “Catchy, right? As far as I can tell, it has the power to rewrite a person’s genetic code, kick them forward in evolution.”

“Why?” Clark asked, “Why did you send it to her? Because she walked out of your damn meeting?”

“Oh, please.” Lex said, rolling his eyes, “That meeting was just a way for me to get her DNA. As polite as she is, she didn’t refuse the glass of water that was offered. Once I had that, I started testing. You see, it only reacts to certain people, not everyone. She wasn’t the first person I tried, but when I synthesized and replicated her DNA strand, it reacted to it, started doing all kinds of interesting things. Opening up, glowing. So I looked into her family. Her dad is dead, she doesn’t have any brothers or sisters, no aunts or uncles. I thought maybe her mom made her special, but it didn’t react to her so I disposed of her.”

“You disposed of her?” Clark asked.

“I did you and Charlotte a favor, trust me. I approached her on the pretense of starting a smear campaign against the lovely Ms. Danvers, seeing as she cut the purse strings.” Lex said, “Meredith was all too happy to agree, bitter as she was, but it wasn’t her genetic code that the Matrix reacted to, so I didn’t need her anymore.” Lex said, “And like I said, her dad’s dead and cremated so I couldn’t try him.”

“You said it rewrote a person’s genetic code.” Bruce said, “Rewrote it how?”

“I don’t know.” Lex said, “Isn’t that exciting?”

“If she dies,” Clark said, “If that thing kills her. You’re going to need more than that little spray can to stop me.”

“I will be very disappointed if she dies.” Lex said.

“I don’t care how you would feel.” Clark said and turned, walking away from him and out of the office.

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Fictober '20 Prompt No. 9 — "Will you look at this?"

Category: Original WIP: Darkspace Portent Rating: M Timeline: I haven't the foggiest idea. CW: Adult situations?? Sexual scenarios?? Naughty implications??? Word Count: 937 Additional Notes: another past birthday piece, so. you know.

***

"Will you look at this?"

Thrive stepped closer to Warren, who ran a fingertip over the deep purple splotch near the base of his throat as if it needed to be pointed out. One of a few; two climbing up toward another smaller and lighter one right below his ear. Thrive smirked. "Yes?"

Warren's lips tightened into a straight line. "Well? You gonna get rid of it?"

"I don't know," Thrive sighed, trailing his own fingers up the path of bruises until he reached Warren's ear, which he tugged once before sliding his middle finger back down to his collar. "…I'm rather proud of them."

A light shudder rolled over Warren and he cleared his throat. "Yeah, well…pride or not, I'm never gonna hear the end of it from anyone if I don't get rid of these."

"Do they hurt?"

"Well, I mean, they're a little sore. I'm surprised you didn't give me a stroke doing all of that."

Thrive's eyes narrowed. "I think I did."

"Oh, look at you!" Warren exclaimed, turning away from him to straighten the comforter on his bed. "Cheeky fucker! You are forbidden from hanging around Guetry ever again."

"I suppose he'll be more devastated than I."

Warren snorted, slapping the pillows into shape. "Guess I'll just have to…I dunno, wear a higher form suit collar? What do I do?"

"There may be a bruise alleviant in the med fac." Thrive typed on the keys of the comm panel by the door. "I can't guarantee that, and even if there is, there's only so much it can do topically."

"Great. Between seeing this in the mirror every day and smelling you all over the place, it's gonna be an excruciating time with you at home while I'm still here."

Thrive turned on his heel to impress a bewildered expression upon the moment. "…You're aroused by scent?"

"Uh…yeah? I thought you knew that." Warren paused twisting a pillow case back onto its pillow. "It's…it's not just me. It's a common human trait. I could've sworn I told you that."

"You're aroused by my scent?"

"Thrive. My god. Since, like, the first fucking day I met you, dude."

After a curious quirk of the eyebrow, Thrive nodded absently and disappeared into the corridor when the door swished open for him.

The following week, long after Thrive returned to Tournaltis, Warren received a package from a courier that he brought to his quarters, addressed to him from Thrive with a hand-written note scrawled on scrap paper.

Let me know if and when you need a replacement. — O.

Warren picked open the wrapped gift within the package, careful not to jostle it too much as he didn't know what the small cube contained, much less what it could do if he dropped it on accident.

He removed from the box a small strip of unassuming fabric that had been folded twice. Muted brown and not very comforting to the touch, coarse, though malleable and a bit stretchy. He turned it over a few times in his hand, trying to place where he'd seen that particular material before.

On instinct he brought it up to his face and was slammed with an unmistakable onslaught of wildly different feelings ranging from assuaged to excitement to home. Warren collapsed onto the bed like his feet had been swept out from under him.

"Jesus," he laughed, recognition dawning on him as he rubbed the fabric between his fingers again. It was a length of material from the lounging sofa in Thrive's office at the capital house. The same lounging sofa where Thrive would sleep on those rare occasions he needed to and didn't feel like being too far from work.

Warren held the fabric against his face again, feeling a bit odd but closing his eyes to the scent anyway. All of it then triggered an effect Thrive possibly didn't anticipate—Warren suddenly missed him more than he'd ever missed him before. Usually he could get by being distracted by his jobs and knowing he could run into him again at any time or go back to Tournaltis whenever he'd like, but now, sitting alone in his room with Thrive's smell and no Thrive...

"God, E.T.," Warren murmured against a wave of ache in his chest. He dropped the fabric onto the bed and grabbed his personal comm from the end table.

Not even two seconds after he put the call through, Thrive's face slid into view on the screen, his office lit by the falling Tournaltis sun acting as his backdrop. His attention honed in somewhere off-camera though he appeared to be alone as well. "I assume this means you received my care package."

"Care package, huh," Warren grunted, quickly moving to the door panel and locking himself inside. "Look, I have a question for you and you're probably gonna think it's really absurd—"

Thrive turned darkened and knowing eyes right into the camera. "I'm privy to more than you think, th'saiya."

Warren released a short, sharp breath. "You know I love you so fucking much, right?"

Thrive turned his focus back to the screen on his desk. "Prove it."

Hours later, when Warren regained feeling in his limbs and got cleaned up and wriggled under the covers, he pulled the sofa fabric off the end table and waved it at his comm screen. "This was the best thing you've ever given me, babe."

"Charge your device," Thrive said. "…I miss you, too, Warren."

They both slept that night, worlds away, yet Warren's heart felt just as full as it would've been if they were in the same bed.

[hellostarfleet]

hello i finished new vegas

wall of text thoughts. under read more bc sooooo many.

was kind of wishing by the end i'd known how much the game rewards rly picking and choosing what to make your stats... i didn't really appreciate this until i went from like 45 in energy weapons like this feels fine to 75 and was like I AM A PLASMA GOD!!!! so noted for next run (i did end with 100 in science and energy weapons I GOTTA be nosy and hack every terminal i see. or my courier will die.)

rly thought this about hour 5 but i wasn't expecting the legion to be so cartoonishly evil actually i knew they were bad but like. lol. CMON GUYS PUT SOMETHING BACK ON THE SHELF FOR OTHER BAD GUY FACTIONS... instead of the vipers/jackals/powder gangers/fiends just kind of being. free karma estate. (in retrospect i don't rly understand the point of karma as a system because after like level 5 i never even dipped to neutral karma. my courier was an angel. an angel who stole every cap, stimpak, box of ammo, and piece of scrap metal she could find from everyone and anyone in the greater mojave area. and killed. SO MANY PEOPLE.)

was kind of expecting the hoover dam battle to be like... bigger???? like just having more guys around. more chaotic. actually have a reason to go down into the hoover dam sublevels that they. built and modeled but i had no plot reason to go into and did wander into the first time i was there (mostly i was like "how much does this look like the real hoover dam" and then realized i don't really remember enough about the particulars of the interior to judge that kdjhdkdhdkj).

also maybe im just too much of a bioware kid but i also think it was kinda weird to not have all the little guys you recruited there but shrug. (also i wanted to see the superfortress. WHERE IS IT) anyway i did independent ending bc OBVIOUSLY the ncr has problems and OBVIOUSLY my courier could do better. i mean she has already almost single handedly solved every personnel and supply chain issue the NCR was having. she will definitely TOTALLYYYY set up some sort of council of local factions as soon as she's done having some portion of the securitrons clean up all the fucking rubble laying around in freeside bc it's bothering me. WHY HASN'T ANYONE EVER SO MUCH AS SWEPT MCCARRAN AIRPORT TERMINAL. i bet everyone would be slightly less miserable if you could walk down the street without the threat of tripping on rubble and impaling yourself on rebar. sorry what. you want local governance. citizen. pick up that can. then we'll talk.

anyway idk handwaving not storming through the legate's camp to the main part of the fort to get caesar with the securitrons was kind of weird. i wanna kill. which means i also apparently i missed my chance in life to kill vulpes. SAD. but i got to order yes man to throw a guy off the hoover dam. AND HE DID. so that ruled. (the duality of courier: last week she saved your president from assassination. this week she went hmm. i see. and tossed your top general off a dam.) also im sure yes man installing some updates to become more assertive will definitely not cause any issues. it's fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!!

ANYWAY despite all that i had a good time as evidenced by finishing it in the time i did oops. i had a good time. i actually didn't realize this game had a companion system i just thought it had a collection of pathetic men. which it does. but also i love having companions (although did get kind of tripped up on only being allowed to have one humanoid companion and one ed-e/rex. it was always ed-e btw bc rex was like continually under my feet im sorry boy.) i also travelled with boone for like 20 hours so it took me a while to realize like any other companion talks a lot more since im pretty sure stringing more than 3-5 words together causes him physical pain. i love that there's a scene for if you do give veronica a dress!!! i am still thinking about how hard arcade dissed me the first time i asked if he wanted to travel with my courier!!!!! i also asked if it could wait when i got his quest and he was like no actually im gonna keep talking and like. lmao. STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT THE ENCLAVE DOES I FEEL LIKE THE ANSWER IS JUST "GO PLAY FALLOUT 3"??? kind of like how visiting jacobstown was just "go play fallout 1 & or 2"

misc briefer thoughts ig:

WHY IS THERE A SNOWGLOBE IN SARAH'S VAULT 21 ROOM. HASN'T SHE LOST ENOUGH TO MR. HOUSE. i did not sell this snowglobe. please clap bc $$$.

loved exploring the vaults in that i hated exploring the vaults man. i think vault 11 wins for most fucked up and vault 34 wins for most times i thought "i fucking hate this" while i was there (but that's a personal problem bc feral ghouls. ueueuueueueueueue cries in a corner while arcade and ed-e shoot everything. nice moral dilemma at the end though. i saved the groundwater but oof. oughf.)

why do the options with dealing with the great khans suck so much lmaooo.... shoving ncr soldiers up against the wall for being like HA we showed theM CHASED THEM RIGHT OUT!! like girl no i told them to leave bc UR COMMANDING OFFICER SAID SHE'D USE THEM FOR CANON FODDER IF THEY ALLIED WITH THE NCR

also honestly same for all the dialogue about neslon bc sorry WHOOOOO kicked the legion out. bc it wasn't you guys it was boone and i doing a sidequest and then just going fuck it kill them all actually -

ok but speaking of NCR guys sorry to the misfits bc i did not have enough explosives to teach u how to explosives and then u all deserted and were hung. skill issue but sorry but skill issue -

because i had done all the vaults i. did finish most of the brotherhood quests ig and honestly was probably going to leave them alone except then i triggered veronica's quest and they wiped out that followers station so. hot take maybe you guys shouldn't have had like three terminals of kill everyone dead. also maybe don't preface yay we can leave again with thoughts on going at it with the ncr again imMEDIATELY what is wrong with you guys.

i feel like some other run im gonna go all in on punching and sneaking that sounds fun. or lead pipe run. i hope primm appreciated me liberating their big hotel in town and didn't think too hard about the piles of guys beat to death with a lead pipe.

the powder gangers and guys in vault 19 rly didn't do anything to me but if it will get me better epilogue slides. well i did get this gauss rifle too late in the game to really use it (ENERGY WEAPON SNIPER RIFLE. IDEAL WEAPON!!!)

i can't believe i have to pay $5 to experience mormons. actually is it even specifically mormon bible thumping or am i just assuming bc it's utah. anyway im gonna do it. but. lmao. (i was also surprised how much man on fire stuff was mentioned in the game proper since it is apparently dlc.)

is the ideal dlc order release order btw

[hisredhysteria]

Blood in the Water.

[18+ MDNI]

Note: I guess this weekend is dedicated to Cutthroat...? This writing is what I was working on for myself as my (now late) birthday gift, so it's self indulgent. Since I post the wildest stuff anyways though, I thought maybe someone else wouldn't mind reading this. Even if it's 10 years from now....if you're reading this and my blog still exists in 10 years hi omg- I should add it's in my usual style so I kept the reader vague, it's not that kind of self-indulgent fic—

TW: There is no 'real smut' but it gets suggestive. blood, knives, implied murder or NSFW (depends how you choose to see it I guess... I chose to see it as murder and you may be able to tell by the way I wrote it, but rereading it....I could see how it might be taken in another way.) The reader is being threatened by a knife, so I will not call it knife play. However, I will warn that it sounds like that. So then I'd have to say noncon just in case.

Summary: You decide to take a bath ...and how dare you take one without Cutthroat.

Rainy days were when most nightmare inducing incidents at least threatened to occur. From soaking wet shoes to moist humid skin, frizzy and matted hair would seem so small by comparison. They were a day like any other however, even if it meant they were a little bit different.

An arm snaked around your waist while the two of you slept, it was all the comfort you could have hoped to ever ask for. Something that Cutthroat couldn't easily deny you of, it was just another luxury that came along with the innocent title marking you as his.

A precious angel.

Tugged in so close tonight that if he pressed into you a little further, your organs would simply pop from your mouth and sides, an unkind sickness bubbled from the whispering heat. It was delightfully suffocating, yet another thing you could rarely hope to bear. Sweat built, sticky through your clothes as the fire like warmth of his body pushed so far into your back. Breaking away from his iron like grasp was impossible, could you have even asked?

You laid with your head to the pillow, parting your lips for just another painful breath. Letting in a heavy inhale that must have caused him to stir, you shut your eyes tight with anticipation for the worst.

"Cutthroat..." Your throat unexpectedly sore, still happened to work.

"Hm..~?" A sleepy voice hummed back to you, his grasp only provoked to be at its strongest. Loosening to explore your body for just a second, you felt his bandaged hand sneak its way underneath the hem of your shirt. Lifting it, almost. With the expectation for his hand to slide across your stomach, or even just lay bare flat, it instead desperately grabbed at the waist of your shorts. It had been as if Cutthroat only knew what you were about to ask him. Sinking in your own ill feeling though, you had to bring yourself to do this.

"I'm not feeling too well... Can I go to the bathroom...?"

Silence never sat long around the Murderer, it wasn't something he preferred. His hands only tightened now, like he'd refuse to set you free.

"..But...the sun's not up yet.. If you go now, the bed will get cold...." Cutthroat's half-asleep voice whispered back in dismay, his own breath still hotter than his body against you.

"I'll be quick, I promise."

A barely audible gasp and you knew he just had to be smiling. How pretty the word promise was leaving your lovely, innocent lips. Begrudgingly still in his own right, Cutthroat allowed his hand to release and slip from your body. A growing ache only worsening as he did so.

"You really promise you won't be long...?" He asked, testing your honesty for himself.

"Of course."

A careful eye peeked open nonetheless at your words, Cutthroat wouldn't hold himself back from watching to make sure that you'd make it to the door okay. As you worked to stand up, the dizziness encountered from both heat and lack of eating that night hit you all at once and you stumbled to reach balance. Your body was sick with temperature, but it was kind enough to barely manage without plummeting straight to the floor.

Your hips bumped into the doorframe, and that was when you realized, this quick trip to the bathroom wasn't going to be as short as you swore with a promise. Head spinning to accompany your hazy vision, you placed a hand to it like there was some way your neck wasn't holding it in place quite right. Your hand wouldn't manage to hold it in place either though, and the only thing you could do was support yourself on the walls of the hall as you reached the bathroom at long last.

You slapped the dim light bulb on and wasted no time to click the door locked behind you. Hardly able to stop yourself from collapsing to the floor inside, you felt your eyes flutter like they did when you went in and out of a peaceful rest. A sigh left your lips before you'd allow your legs to rest on the cold ledge of the bathtub, so devious and white. Relief washing over you, a wandering glance couldn't be helped. Your eyes surveyed a shine, so beautiful the blinding glint to each handle bar of the tub happened to be. Swallowing hard at the knot in your stomach, your head grew with pressure as saliva slid down your throat.

"I know I said I'd be quick.." You murmured to yourself, predicting that any late appearance back to the bed next to Cutthroat would have been troublesome. "But, the worst he could do is follow me in here..."

Your thoughts weighed bricks as you fought with the idea of twisting the handles and pushing the tubs sprout down to fill a warm bath for yourself. If Cutthroat was asleep again, you could get away with it. But if he'd been awake, hearing the water run through the pipes was sure to elicit some sort of response. Be it good or bad.

Against your better judgement, a hand made contact with cool metal, so clean you could catch your reflection in it as if it'd been a mirror. Rotating it carefully at first, water drizzled from the faucet. Waiting a second, then just a few more, when Cutthroat didn't come to throw the door open, you figured yourself to be safe. A little farther this time, you turned the handle and a loud waterfall unlike any other began to spill into the empty tub. Watching it fill for a second after the sound enveloped the air, you stood to your shaky legs and slipped your clothes off. Moist with sweat soaking through from your skins rising temperature, the feeling was nearly abysmal.

Your shirt came off first, lifting it up then feeling hair fall flat back to your neck as the bottom came over your head. Next, your shorts. Slipping a finger into the hem that rested against your body, you tugged them down and off your legs, stepping out as you did so. Last were your remaining undergarments, so familiar to you that you might as well have forgotten you'd ever put them on to begin with.

Setting a foot into the waters surface, you sat opposite to the faucet, still hurrying to pour it's warm liquid into the bathtub. You'd been dangerously lightheaded, and with fear of the world swirling just a little faster, you let this bath be only a warm one.

Eventually it came time where the racing water filled so close to the brim from your distracted attention that you could ignore it no longer. Leaning in, your hand forced itself to turn each nozzle and beckon the water to a halt. A few more drizzles like rain starting to cry, small drops fell into the tub before it ceased to a complete stop. Finished with no interruptions, your hand drew back the long shower curtains to ensure an illusion of safety.

Relaxing now wasn't any word used to describe how your tense body felt leaning back against the slippery porcelain. Nonetheless, it was only slightly better than having to bear another tight hug from Cutthroat. Shifting lightly, you fluttered your eyes shut and drowned in the unpleasant feeling of your head pounding with ache. The pressure at your temples was unforgiving, almost as much as how uncomfortable you were being forced to endure your bodies own agony. A soft whimper emitting from your lips, your heart would begin to do a routine as creaks in the walls became too close for comfort.

"It's just your imagination.." You whispered, your own attempts to console yourself being very hard to prove successful. Tingles shot down your spine, a foreign feeling for the warm water that surrounded you. Something felt a little amiss, but to point your finger at it was a little too real. So real, that perhaps this imagination of yours was a dream. A nightmare your weary body went through when you began to doze off like a sleepy child.

In and out of your dazed like state, wind whistled through the cracks of the bathroom window hardly ajar behind it's curtains. An echo bounced through your ears, harsher and more deafening the longer you left it to linger. As if a ghost was trying to break down the walls and tell you something, your eyes ripped back open at a bang slapping against a hard surface. An observation dropped with horror unmatched as you forgot any aches and pains to glare through the translucent shower curtains. The bathroom door flat against the wall Cutthroat threw it against, you shivered.

"Oh...that was easier than I thought..." He noted, peeking inside the small room to catch your frame hidden behind see through curtains. How rude it was of you not to invite him, and how much ruder it was to have not invited him to a party this thrilling.

Eyeing your disregarded clothing sprawled across the bathroom rug, Cutthroat's interest only piqued. His lips pursed softly, bending down now to glance at you through the mere plastic sheet you felt a deceitful safety behind.

"Can I join~?" He hummed, forgetting any promises you made to make it back to the bed in a timely manner. Had he found you doing just about anything other than sitting in the water of a bath right now, surely he'd have been just a little more hurt.

A treacherous route to take—permitting him to submerge within the same water as you—your glance only shifted and your shoulders barely shrugged. It wasn't as though you weren't sure if he could join, it was that you weren't too sure if he should join. Nevertheless, what would happen if you tested him with the refusal of a simple no? Perhaps a long winded explanation could further deter him as he grew impatient with boredom.

"I don't mind..."

"Ah-! Good choice..! I knew my angel wouldn't...~"

It was all you had to say because in the end, a "no" would have never worked on Cutthroat to begin with.

Watching his taller frame further enter the bathroom and close the door, a sense of feeling trapped threw you off. Your mouth acted like it was ready to ask him why he felt the need to shut it, even when he often liked to leave it how it was when he opened it. You shut your mouth however, and figured he had a reason.

Half expecting him to pull the curtains back and indulge within this experience fully clothed, Cutthroat wasn't going to waste an opportunity to feel closer to his angel than he already was. Fumbling with the buttons on his white pajama top with you still avoiding eye contact, he gave a frustrated hum like they held a grudge against his fingers.

"Come on.... I can't do it..." He fussed, narrowing his eyes as he looked down at the buttons. Smug soon there after as he remembered who he was in the room with. "...But maybe my angels touch can do the trick?"

An obvious scheme to get closer to you, a trick that you left to fly straight over your dizzy head for the moment. You being the angel he spoke about, Cutthroat's hand pulled back the shower curtain as he politely peeked into the small enclosure you had for yourself.

"Come closer then.." You answered his request too kindly, watching his lovely features light up with an excitement enough to make your heart pound faster. Reeling the curtains to the side, he knelt down to the edge of the tub, allowing you an easier reach. Doing so, you'd expect your eyes to have met his at least once or twice with a tension building awkwardness. Oddly enough though, his entranced eyes were fixated on something above your head, like you had birds circling above you at all times.

Working down the buttons and stumbling across a few with a shaky and sick hand, eventually when you got halfway down, something loud and ear piercing slammed against the floor.

"Oh no, there goes my knife...." Your partner blinked, seemingly upset for the edge to become duller from a blunt impact against its blade. If he hadn't expected that, then what exactly was the knife doing up his pajama shirt in the first place..?

"Cutthroat.." You whispered, his eyes widening at the sweet tone you hit him with. "Put it on the sink."

The instructions weren't a surprise, at least not to yourself. Though, Cutthroat wouldn't let something so out of place for him happen.

"Can't I leave it on the bathtub side instead..?" He whined back, a compromise he'd hope was acceptable to you. Especially given that it was where he'd place it if you hadn't caught him with it.

Apprehensive, you agreed with a small, "fine" seeing as the look on his face wasn't something to easily argue with.

Grabbing the knife as you finished unbuttoning his top, he placed it on the very edge of the tub next to you. Shampoo bottles and every other kind of body cleansing container laid by it.

"There." You flashed him a weak smile, watching him straighten up and slip the top off each of his arms. Letting it fall to the floor on top of your own clothing, he wasted little time with his own pants and undergarments as well. Hard not to catch his eye or let him clue in on the fact that you were even threatening to look towards his bare body, Cutthroat's foot broke the equilibrium of the peaceful bath water.

An "ah..~", left his pleased lips as the surface made contact with pale skin. On the opposite side he chose to sit of you, legs close to your own. Almost like they fit into a puzzle, the stance was so intimate that his own cheeks would dust themselves in an arousing pink. Eyes filled to their maximum with your glowing beauty, a mischievous glint at the sight of you was something Cutthroat didn't dare to hide. A fool would have thought he'd sit so still with you in the tub across from him because that's exactly what he didn't do.

"Where are the bubbles..?" He asked, scanning around as his finger swirled itself amongst the clearness. Daring to dip in a whole hand and watch it drain from his grasp and back into the tub, Cutthroat shot you a suddenly bored glare.

"Isn't water its prettiest when it's clear?" You challenged, leaning your leg against his own when your body finally decided to loosen up.

Enlightened perhaps, his eyebrow cocked down at the water, then your leg touching his. He couldn't find himself to argue with your truthful observation as his own leg pressed further into yours in response.

"Huh, I suppose it is then..."

Again, your eyes shut and your back gently pushed itself into the end side of the tub. Feeling safer with every moment passed where Cutthroat didn't initiate anything, the sound of a bottle popping and releasing pent up air caused you to jump. In the split second after, your consent wasn't necessary as a hand began to rub at the skin of your leg. One eye opening to see what you were feeling, Cutthroat had been lathering soap into you with just his bare hand.

How strange.

His touch wasn't the most delicate, but it wasn't at all an unpleasant feeling. At least, your heart wouldn't tell you that was so.

"Wouldn't a wash cloth be more sanitary...?" You asked, blinking down at his hand. Eyes widening at the soaking bandages he seemed to refuse taking off even in the tub, you frowned. Sighing too, you leaned back up and put out an empty hand like you'd been waiting for him to place something in it.

"Hm, why the hand?" Stopping the lathering of soap across your sensitive skin, Cutthroat most nearly seemed confused by the gesture you had yet to explain.

"Your arm will chafe underneath your bandages if you don't take them off in the water. I thought I told you that..."

Still, his eyes looked at you. It would have been ignored had anyone else brought this up to him, but because it was someone as special to him as you were, he set his arm into your hand and waited for you to pull at the wet cloth hiding his skin. Again to add, he was impatient. Had it taken a stranger to work this long on him, Cutthroat would have already pulled away. However, he was nearly entranced by the way your fingers slipped between the crevices and worked to rip the bandages off of him entirely.

"Feel better?" You asked, discarding the soggy mess of entanglements to the tubs side temporarily. Glaring at his hand and lifting it up as if he'd never seen what it looked like underneath, his vision skewed from it's focus to center on something above your head again. If a small gasp was any indication that he'd been seeing something you couldn't, then perhaps each one should have alarmed you further.

"What is it..?" Unaware, of what swirled on top of you, you questioned him. His hand dropped and enchantment fell upon him at your presence. If... it hadn't done so already.

"Can I come closer?" He asked, a smile on his lips for he'd already started to lean in without your permission.

Flustered, your back pushed further into the white porcelain behind you. Not hard enough to disturb your body, but just hard enough so that you were no longer comfortable. Opening your mouth to speak, the sound of water shifting and spilling back into itself filled the air as Cutthroat moved into a position to accommodate his intentions. Pulling your legs in and allowing him more room to move as he pleased, you really were absolutely no help to your own pending fate.

His own legs now pressed into yours as if they weren't close enough to you previously, you were most nearly being straddled in place underneath his wet body. Streaming water dripping back into the tub from Cutthroat's stance, you got quite the front row seat of just everything he had to offer. If you hadn't been so fearful that he'd sink you by your shoulders and drown you into the tub, appreciating him would have been more possible.

"What are you doing?" You asked, so late that not even a tardy slip should have been able to excuse this.

"..Getting closer...I can't touch you when you're so far..."

It was an interesting thing for the Murderer to say, given that in a tub meant for one, you were already as many as two. His excuse to come closer wasn't too uninvited, despite all your uneasiness. Your heart would hate to inform you though, that his lips were tracing the skin of your neck.

Unsure of how to feel from the closeness at which he came, you couldn't miss the screeching sound of a knife being slid across the ledge of the tub he set it on. To help himself now was his pleasure, and with you beneath him there was little chance for your escape.

Sicker than before, a horrific feeling set at the deathly cold blade. Skimming across the skin of your collarbone, his hot breath whispered love with it.

"You'll finally belong to me now.."

Eyes growing wide at the unfair statement, you felt your legs begin to shake.

"I what ...?" You whispered back, tilting from the blades end. His motive remaining almost unclear.

For the sharp blade now beginning to tease your wet skin, pain would eventually destroy reality. Slowly sliding the tip of his dagger into your desperate body, soft moaning cries became music to his ears. In love to the point of madness, Cutthroat took careful time to not split any veins. You had to last as long as he could drag it out, and where the time between life and death could have been your chance, you simply missed it from a presumed lustful dance.

Now how selfish was it of him to watch your blood splutter like paint across the porcelain white? How much more fair was the way he watched his own fingers smear it like thin syrup into a print with the wall behind you? The surface of bath water unbalanced, crimson rocked within it, back and forth to its sides.

[silcoseye]

Volatile: P5: Vaulting Ambition

info: "It's been years since Silco, Vander and (Y/N) split up. When Silco searches for his old friend again, asking them to help him teach a child he had recently taken in their 'explosive' craft, their feelings for him are reignited. The question remains if he burns for them just as bright as they do."

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

thanks for continuing to read this fic even if I make huge breaks between chapters ;-; it's a lot of work heheh. One of my close friends did offer to edit for me but I'm too much of a perfectionist and would still want to go through it in case i wanted to add anything else. i have 3 more chapters planned and perhaps some inbetweens if i feel like it/am given suggestions. all i can say is I'm hoping you enjoy this one and I'm so excited to start work on ch 6!! enjoy simps <3

warnings: gender-neutral reader, starts soft, turns to angst, negative self image/self doubt and self depreciation- reader having a negative mindset, mentions of death, mentions of police brutality, violence, knives, cliffhanger ending hahaha.... plz forgive me

5792 words

When you arrived home from 'The Last Drop' you blinked in confusion as a courier set a parcel down in front of your door and rang the bell. Quickly moving to them, your keys jingling in hand, you let them know you lived there and took the box from them, bringing it into your home and locking your door behind you. Curiously, you set your bag down, hand skimming over your neatly written name and address on the brown paper wrapping it- in Silco's writing. You kneeled on the floor in front of your coffee table, tearing the paper apart and finding a smooth box inside, as well as your letter in neat handwriting. Silco's again.

I'll see you later today. Enjoy the gift. That's is all it said, and your eyes widened as you lifted the lid off the box, eyes scanning over the very fancy clothing inside. You pulled it out delicately, eyes darting over the article. It wasn't something that reminded you of Piltover's fashion; the patterns were neatly stitched together yet mismatched, but the red and black colour scheme with hints of gold along the seems and details stuck out to you. Silco's colours. You recoiled slightly, dropping it self-consciously back in the box and sitting back on your haunches.

What was this? Why was he giving you gifts, being so nice to you? It was very unlike him. He had told you he would get you anything you wanted and required- all you had asked him for so far was to help you with your job of educating Jinx: equipment once it got damaged from frequent use; chemical refills and top-ups; notebooks; metal and metal parts. Nothing personal.  Maybe this was his way of saying he was impatient in waiting for your request? Maybe he was subtly claiming you as his own...

What was this all for? Having your own feelings for him reciprocated this much was alien. And his dubious intentions muddled your mind even more.  It almost pushed you over the edge, made you want to cower away and hide from him. Millions of questions flooded your brain at once, but the main one that struck out was: Where in the stars was he going to take you?

You looked back at the clothing in the box that had been recklessly placed back. Gingerly, you reached a hand to stroke the material as if it were a skittish cat. Smooth, expensive, strange- unfamiliar. Should you just tell him you can't go tonight? Something else came up? You realised you had a project left unfinished that couldn't wait? You got distracted? The latter seemed more plausible but he'd likely just find you in your home and persuade you to follow him anyway. There really was no use in hiding.

To be true, you did want to see him today, but this outfit... He must have spent good money on it. It would be a shame if you never wore it... Would it even fit? How did he even know your measurements?  You should likely just give it back to him, if you end up going later today. Or at another time? Or not at all? Should you eat before you go- if you go? Oh stars, was it another restaurant? Would this one be full of people? Would they all stare at the two of you?  You didn't even know what you'd order. What if you picked something so foreign and disgusting you couldn't eat it and embarrass yourself? What if your nerves made you too anxious and nauseous to eat? Would he be concerned?

You felt the urge to just crumple to the floor and weep until you noticed another note that you missed. Perhaps it was hidden in the clothing and had fallen out as you picked it up. This was also written in Silco's handwriting. You read:

Stop stressing and wear it. Don't even think about returning it. I'm really looking forward to seeing you.

You felt your face flush with warmth, your cheeks filling with crimson and a small squeak slipping out of your lips- you quickly pressed your hands to your face to hide. You lay back on the floor, clutching the note against your chest. Stars Silco was...

"Mindreader," You muttered to yourself, feeling the edges of your lips turning up in a smile.

Fine.

If he wanted to see you so badly, you just had to put on your bravest face and ignore your rapid heartbeat. Slowly raising yourself from the floor, you picked up the box. Making a quick detour to the kitchen, you ate a snack and went to get ready, doing your usual skincare routine and brushing your teeth. You laid out the outfit on your bed and smoothed it down, inspecting it once again. With a nervous sigh, you picked it up, holding it against your body and glancing in the mirror. The measurements appeared correct. Perhaps this outfit would fit... And not look too bad.

In fact, it was possible you looked amazing. You shamelessly raked your eyes over your body and smiled in satisfaction. Silco did always have good taste and was well dressed, you shouldn't expect anything less really. You sat down to finish getting ready- styling your hair, putting on makeup that you deemed necessary. Soon, it was time for you to leave.

You had your reservations about walking through the streets of Zaun in such expensive clothing- without the terrifying reputation Silco built for himself over the years, you were just a person in a fancy outfit. You prayed to the stars above no one would stop you or rob you of the keys and the pouch of coins you carried in the fairly deep pockets.

The doors of the empty 'Last Drop' swung shut behind you as you looked around the almost empty establishment. The bartender was the only one there, meticulously cleaning glasses. He was unfamiliar to you- a replacement you guessed. You wondered what had happened to the previous bartender- had they done something wrong?

"Hey," You called his attention, startling the boy so much he almost clumsily dropped the glass. You winced as you stopped infront of the bar, hands finding your pockets and fingers grazing over the cool metal and soft pouch, "You're new here, aren't you?" You asked, and he nodded,

"J-Just training," He said, "Did you want something uhm- I can get you ah..." he didn't finish the sentence, words dying on his tongue as he just stared at you. Tilting your head to the side you waited a moment for him to finish, collect himself, but the boy just stared. Realising the silence was now certainly uncomfortable, you spoke up,

"Where's Silco?" you bluntly asked the shocked boy. He shakily pointed to the stairs, and you nodded easily stepping over the staff blockade,

"Y-You look great!" Your head spun to look at the boy, who seemed to cower slightly away from your curious gaze. With a small smile, you nodded, thanked him, and resumed your journey upstairs, hands smoothing over the outfit in a small proud smile.

You tapped your knuckles to the door gently and pushed it open at the tired 'come in' you heard from within. The smell of smoke hit you first; the room was cloudy, full of it. A lit cigar, perched between Silco's thin lips, was the source, the end burning bright orange as he inhaled, his form partially obscured. More smoke emanated from his mouth, and as you focused on his eyes, you watched his posture straighten, leaning against the back of the chair. His lips tugged themselves into a small satisfied smile behind the curtain of smoke as you shut the door behind yourself and put your arms out, turning from side to side as you crossed the room in a strange but playful dance, showing off the outfit. You came to a halt a few feet before his desk, arms falling to your sides and sliding up to find the pockets,

"Well well... I won't lie, I am surprised you put it on," his smile widened ever so slightly at your mock glare, "Don't blame me," He said, taking a final inhale of the cigar and dropping it into his ashtray, decorated by Jinx, "I know your nature is to reject any nice gift given to you. I'm glad you are wearing it though. You look good," Your own smile widened at the compliment, and you hoped he thought the blush dusting your cheeks was from the makeup and not your foolish happiness,

"Thanks for adding the pockets," You responded, trying to be smooth and confident, moving your exposed thumbs slightly and glancing down at them, "They were the main selling point to this whole outfit," You told him, eliciting a hum and gentle chuckle. He ran a hand over his hair, a few strands falling onto his forehead from where they were originally styled,

"Have you seen the inside ones?" you looked at him confused, "The pockets on the inside," He restated,

"There are pockets inside?" you gaped, making him shake his head slightly with an amused chuckle,

"My dear, you'd think I'd outfit you in a custom piece with no place for you to conceal a weapon?" He raised a brow, and you blinked, taken aback by his use of the term of endearment, "I may have this small luxury now, but I'm very aware the streets of Zaun are still violent," He chastised, standing and rounding the desk. He stopped in front of you, holding your gaze for a moment.

Suddenly, you became very distracted by the feeling of his hands against your front, undoing the buttons and holding one side of the outfit, showing you the empty pockets. You blinked, admiring his long fingers and relishing in the feeling of them pressing against you. Your heartbeat pounded loudly in your chest and quickly filled your ears almost in anticipation. With a dry swallow, you nodded in recognition and turned to meet his gaze. Searching his bi-coloured eyes for a moment, you found them unreadable- even his human one. If there was an emotion in them, it was one so foreign to you, you couldn't interpret it. With a nervous laugh, you tilted your head and broke the intense eye contact, before giving him a pleasant smile,

"Thanks for showing me. Without you, I wouldn't know they were... there" You said, still cheerful, even in your low tone, "Thank you again- it's a beautiful outfit and I don't know why you'd even get it for me ah-" You couldn't stop rambling suddenly, "How did you know my measurements?" You asked curiously, "It fits perfectly which-"

"Are they here, are they here!?" Jinx's excited voice cut you off as she practically bounced into the room, grinning eagerly, "They are!! We can go now, Dad!" She ran to Silco and grabbed his hand, tugging him towards the door, innocently ignorant of your close proximity together. You beamed at her excitement; clearly, she had also been invited along, and you really didn't mind. Silco's form barely moved as she stopped trying to drag him after her, and instead, she turned to look between the two of you curiously, "Silco, you said we could go once they got here. They are here. Can we go?" She whined impatiently, and you noticed she was clutching a small bag that rattled with marker noises, and that she was hugging the notebook you had gifted her close to her chest with one hand. You glanced to the man next to you with a smile, meeting his pained and apologetic look,

"(Y/N)," He began, but you shook your head, taking a step towards the door of the office,

"I have no issues with her coming along," You said calmly, "Wherever we're going sounds exciting, Jinx," You said, and her wide grin returned as she eagerly grabbed your hand, pulling you along. Willingly you followed her, Silco trailing after you and pausing to lock the door.

Once you were outside in the streets, you quickly recognised he was taking you through the back lanes. Even in daylight, you wouldn't dare go through these areas of the undercity. The one time you had tried to take a shortcut on a day Silco had asked you to come in, you lost count of how many times you had almost been pickpocketed and counted your blessings when you saw a quick flash of a knife almost cut you. You darted into the bar, breathing heavily and only slightly late, but knew enough to not go this way.

Clearly, Silco didn't share the same fears as you. He didn't need to. You watched at how calmly he walked, taking measured, confident strides, shoulders proudly raised as he eyed his daughter eagerly running ahead of him, The lanes were almost empty, and those who were there kept to themselves and didn't dare bother the three of you,

"Marcus got to me eventually," He sighed deeply, breaking the silence between you. He cast a sidelong glance your way, and perhaps he admired you, his gaze lingering slightly on your body in this outfit, "It was like you said, (Y/N). A random accident before the perpetrators got away," He let out a deep sigh, "No witnesses," he said, pausing in his short speech,

"At least you're here now," You said, trying to pull him back to you as you saw him rapidly sinking in to his thoughts. His head lifted, red and black eye glancing at you quickly,

"Right... Yes," He said, "Here now," He muttered, and you let yourself walk closer to him, shoulder brushing against his,

"Did he say anything else worth mentioning?" You asked, trying to change the topic,

"They'll lead an investigation but it won't be successful. I had any obvious evidence removed or fabricated to lead them away," You nodded your head slightly, "He informed me my bartender had been helping himself to the product when he thought no one was around," He sighed deeply,

"So you hired a scrawny kid to poor drinks?" You asked, and he sighed,

"He was the only one available and qualified... Surprisingly," He said, "He got some extra training under the impression he would be helping. He is. But this job won't allow him to slack off," He spoke,

"You're teaching him a lesson?" You asked amused, and he glanced at you,

"If that's how you want to think of it, then yes," He said, and you hummed, nodding,

"Teacher Silco," You mused, glancing at him with a small smile,

"My dear, I believe you are the better teacher between the two of us," He said, and his gaze once again drifted to Jinx, giving you a moment to yourself, heartbeat racing at the intimate moment.

"So why are we here?" You asked after a while of just walking. You were now in another abandoned building, not the same one that led down to the aquarium lab, but a different one, that felt familiar to you. Now, you were gently holding on to Jinx's hand as the girl stood between you and her father, regarding him with her own curious confusion. He had been quiet for the most part- mostly talking and humouring Jinx with whatever she wanted to hear, Silco occasionally responding with his usual short answers to any questions you asked him,

"I wanted to show you something... Do you remember this place?" He asked. At your shake of the head, you observed as he approached a door, "I thought maybe there was a chance you would remember this place," he spoke to you. He didn't sound disappointed. Glancing over his shoulder and meeting your gaze for a short moment, he spoke again, elaborating "It was dark when we came here first... Years ago now" He mumbled, the door opening.

For a moment you were blinded, moving a hand to shield your eyes from the bright white light that flooded your vision, and illuminated the dilapidated building you were standing in. Slowly blinking, you let yourself adjust to the light and then moved your hand out of the way.

The sky before you was a pale blue, and large white clouds lazily danced along its surface in a circular fashion. The air was addictively clean, rushing in and replacing all the toxic chemicals that your lungs had grown used to, lapping it up like a starved creature, causing you to almost gasp, trying to get enough of this pure oxygen. Your eyes prickled with tears of joy, a smile gracing your lips. Feeling so elated, you hardly recognised Jinx's hand slipping from yours, or her eager footsteps as she ran outside towards the brightness.

Who knew the sky was just as beautiful in the day as she was at night?

"Would you care to join us, (Y/N)?" His smooth voice coaxed you to break your gaze away from the outside world and step into it. He was standing outside now, pausing halfway in, halfway out and outstretching a hand out for you to take. Fearlessly, you let the tear slip down your cheek, meeting him in the doorway as you still marvelled at the real world as your hand slid into his comfortably. The naturally beautiful one. The world you deserved. You barely registered a feather-like touch skimming your cheek, and briefly, you turned your head to catch Silco's eye as he whipped the tear from your cheek, "Don't cry," He said softly, and you felt like melting.

He took a step forward, offering you his arm that you gladly looped your own into, and off you went. The stroll by the river was quiet at first, the sounds of a gentle breeze rustling through the grass, the birds chirping their songs occupying your senses and filling you with joy. Jinx ran a little ahead of you again but kept glancing back and excitedly asking about the different flowers, and bugs she would see in the tall grass nearby,

"Oh, what's this?" she gaped, stopping to point a hand at a peculiar, white plant that resembled a tuft of fur. Unhooking your arm from Silco's you moved to her, crouching next to her,

"Those are called dandelions," you told her, pointing to a bright yellow flower amongst the dark green grass, "That's what they start like,"

"How'd it get so fluffy?" She asked, her eyes widening as you reached for the white puff, breaking the stem, and moving it closer to her,

"If you look closely, this fluff is just super thin fibres that allow it to travel in the wind. And at the bottom- this brown bit- this is a seed," You explained, "So when it flies away, the seed gets planted and there are more dandelions," Her eyes were wide with awe and happiness, "We can blow it out together?" you offered,

"Like the birthday cake?" you nodded,

"Mhm- and you also get to make a wish here," You said, smiling wider at her excitement,

"A special plant candle!?" She asked eagerly, and you nodded at her childish antics, "Ok ok, give me a second I need to think of a good wish," She squeezed her eyes tightly, moving her arms excitedly, unable to keep still. Patiently and expectantly, you watched her, "OK got it," She suddenly said, looking at you excitedly, "Do you have yours (Y/N)?"

"Yeah! Ready?" You counted her down and together blew the puffs away into the grass, both watching in silence as they floated away in small bursts, some landing in the thick grass before you and some disappearing further away,

"What did you wish (Y/N)? Did it come true?" she asked eagerly, grabbing your arm,

"I wished for Sevika to be nicer," you smiled playfully, to which Jinx squeaked,

"But now it won't come true... Oh," She giggled, glancing around, "I wanna find more," She said, "I wanna know the limit to these wishes," she said, determined,

"There's a few just over here," Silco's voice interrupted your wholesome exchange, and you were thankful you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, unbothered by this distraction "Just a little further this way," he urged, and you returned to your spot next to him, arm going back to his. You thought of anything to talk to him, but for the first time in a while, you drew a blank. There was something so beautiful about the world surrounding you, it took your breath straight from your lungs and wouldn't let you speak. Desperately, you racked your brain for anything to say, "Go on, (Y/N)," He said with an amused smile, making you look at him confusedly, "Clearly you're curious about something," He elaborated, "What are you thinking?" He asked,

"What's going on? Why are we here?" You asked after another moment,

"I told you already it was a surprise," he reminded,

"This isn't the surprise yet?" You gestured with your free hand to the world around you, eyes wide,

"It's part of it. Stay patient, dear," You blushed again, but nodded, glancing at Jinx and telling her not to pick up the yellow dandelions as they were poisonous. After a few moments of walking, you turned up at an old building,

"Is..." your eyes scanned the building, "It's not," Your smile grew as he nodded, "It is?" You asked for confirmation, happily grinning, "Oh my stars- I thought surely it'd be broken down by now," You said, moving  eagerly towards the building,

"What is it?" Jinx asked, following after you,

"When I was a little older than you are now, Silco brought me here... It's where I saw the stars for the first time... The opening closer to here must have flooded by now, considering you didn't take that passageway," Turning to see Silco's small smile and confirming nod, "But I vaguely remember this..." You pushed open the door, letting it creak, and revealing the interior was empty. There was a large hole in the house, crashing through the roof, first and accumulating leftover rubble in the living room area. This strange window let through the last moments of sunlight before dawn, and you were quickly drawn to the reds, oranges and pinks rapidly filling the sky and subsequent room, "Oh wow..." You whispered to yourself and heard Jinx stopping next to you. It was beautiful. You hadn't wanted to cry tears of joy- you were close to. The feeling of your eyes stinging gently forced you to blink quickly as you marvelled at the view,

"Come here," Silco caught your attention, having snuck in behind you and sat on a bench that had roughly been made of a few wooden boards salvaged from the wreck you were standing in front of. Silco was bathed in the bright oranges and reds of a polluted sky, the light making his features appear sharper and more handsome. As you didn't move quick enough, he tilted his head, involuntarily giving you better access to stare at his neck and jawline, "Do you want your surprise?" He asked,

"This still isn't the surprise?" You asked in shock, your tone and wide eyes made him laugh loudly. And when you heard him snort softly between laughs, your heart fluttered warmly, making you giggle softly to yourself. Jinx turned to look at you with a confused expression, probably very confused as to why her nearly emotionless father was suddenly so expressive,

"Course it's not," He said, smiling at you, "You think all I can offer for you is an old building?" He said, shaking his head, and glancing over as Jinx moved out of view to doodle on the walls of the house, already marked by fading spraypaint with the markers she brought,

"You also bought me this?" you said, putting your arms out to gesture to the outfit, "What's all this for?" You asked in confusion, dropping your hands back down. He simply watched you, a small smile set on his lips. This lighting, the bright orange of a setting sky, illuminated him in such a strange yet handsome way. He looked utterly relaxed, leant back against the backboard of the bench and shamelessly looking at the outfit on your body. You felt yourself blushing and

"It's for you," He said, "It's always for you," He said, "I bought you back to the places that I knew made you happiest... You're still clinging to the past somehow, aren't you? You want things to always be this way" he read you like a book, and you felt your lips part slightly in a shock, "I keep telling you I can make you happier now. I'll give you whatever you want,"

"Why..." You breathed "For what?" you asked. He remained quiet for a moment, studying you, waiting for his words to sink in. He sighed then,

"Why can't you accept what's given to you?" he asked with a small sigh, "Must you always ask so many questions?" He asked, eyes flicking to the sky before you,

"Isn't it necessary when you don't give me straightforward answers?" You responded, gazing at him, "Why do you care for me so much, Silco? I thought 'emotions are a distraction.' That's what you always said, isn't it?" His eyes looked back at you, searching your face. His expression was serious but otherwise unreadable as he remained quiet for a moment

"Did you ever see Vander? After what happened?" He asked curiously, the topic of your surprise seemingly forgotten. As you looked off to the side, thinking about your answer, he spoke again, "Did you do anything for him?" He asked softly. Anyone else likely would have missed the hint of sadness that clung to those words,

"He was... different," You started, "The day after, he found me in our home. He was cold. He told me you died and if you'd been here. I lied and told him no. I didn't tell him I helped you. I was scared he'd-" you shook your head, dismissing those thoughts and continuing on, "He just said it didn't matter anymore. You were gone," your voice was low, sadness clear in your tone, "The violence with topsiders would be gone too. He then told me I had two options: I could either let those ideas die with you... Or I could join him,"

"And you didn't?" He finished for you, dual coloured eyes boring into you expectantly. His features flooded with relief as you nodded your head,

"To tell you the truth, I didn't want to live in a world without you, Silco," you said bravely, "I've always hated Piltover and been loyal to Zaun. I honestly didn't know what to do with myself once you were gone," You explained, "Vander directed me to the mines. He said my talents wouldn't be useful anywhere else" You said sadly, "And that's where you found me,"

"He was wrong," Silco remarked next to you. You heard the slight ruffle of clothes and felt his cold hand as it rested against the back of the bench, brushing against the exposed skin of your neck, "Your talents were never useless," He muttered. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from shivering at his cool touch but refused to look at him,

"Right. They're useful to Jinx now," You sighed, and remained quiet, hoping he would speak. When he didn't, you turned to look at him, regarding him, "May I ask you something?"

"Always," he sighed, watching you with an intense, unreadable gaze,

"Why are you asking me to teach Jinx how to make the bombs?" You noticed the slight roll in his eyes as you bought up the topic yet again. Opening his mouth to answer, revealing jagged, almost fang-like teeth, you quickly interrupted, "Do not give me some bullshit about her safety again," Your answer shocked him enough to widen those bicoloured eyes and shut his mouth, "I need to know the whole truth," You said. Met with his silence, you impatiently brought your hands together, clenching your fingers to stop them from shaking, "You aren't... Using her for any of your plans regarding Piltover, are you?" You didn't meet his gaze. You looked off to the side,

"(Y/N)," He warned, and you swore you could feel his glare burning into your skull, "To even insinuate I would willingly want to put my daughter in the face of danger-"

"Why are you teaching her then?" You asked with a frown,

"Safety-"

"The Silco I knew always had ulterior motives," You accused, "The Silco I knew didn't care for safety, or how many people got hurt as long as he got the results he needed. I doubt you spent time with me solely because you enjoyed my company all those years," You scoffed, true emotions that had been dormant for years finally bubbling up, "Is this it? Did you only want me to teach her what you couldn't? Or did you hope you could make her into a weapon- Silco!" You yelped in surprise as he stood up quickly, raking a hand through his hair. His posture was no longer relaxed but incredibly tensed, angry,

"I don't know who has been filling you with these thoughts or why you're even thinking like this," He said lowly, and you noticed how his hands shook as he clenched and unclenched them, "But these lies and fabrications stop here," He declared, turning to face you and glaring, his lean figure illuminated almost menacingly by the setting red sun,

"I'm simply curious," You said defiantly, standing to meet him, squinting in the light, "Silco, it's been almost a year since you came and reunited with me again. I've been thinking about this for a while now; I'm not influenced by anyone but myself" You said, moving to stand opposite him so you could see his face clearly. The sunlight was rapidly disappearing now, and his stern features were bathed in a fading orange glow, "But- and you call me ungrateful all you want- I realised that you could have come and seen me at any point," You sighed deeply, shoulders slumping in defeat, "At any point, you could have found me in those mines, had you wanted to. You. Yourself. With no other need for it than seeing me, a person who I genuinely thought you cared for. Once you realised I was only something you could use to benefit your 'cause', you found me and gave me no option. And I was so blind because it was you. My... My..." You struggled for words, and let out a frustrated groan, "Stars!! Silco, I thought perhaps you cared for me just a little bit.  I was wrong. It's abundantly clear you only care for Zaun and nothing else, and it has always been this way!" You said coldly, quickly moving for the exit to the house, "This is the last time I let my feelings run so rampant. Don't look for me again. I don't want to see you," Glancing in the direction of where you had last seen the blue-haired girl, you eyed her pink, unfinished drawing, "Jinx knows everything I could ever possibly teach her too... Her lessons are finished. Have a good evening," You muttered as you exited, not daring to look back a final time at his red and blue mismatched eyes.

Swiftly walking down into the streets again, you let your tears slip down your cheeks reluctantly. You'd already cried over Silco enough in your youth. How foolish had you been to think he had changed at all in the near-decade you hadn't seen him. All he ever did was use those around him until they weren't useful to his cause anymore.

And how dare you think so highly of him when you were a mere afterthought for him? It was clear he was just buying into your affections to stay and teach his daughter how to be violent- no doubt for his personal uses later on. Always scheming, always planning. Void of all humanity. That's who Silco was. That's who he was always destined to be.

It was selfish of you to think the years would change him. You grew up with him; you watched his vaulting ambition in hopes of one day ruling Zaun propel him into power alongside Vander, their stubborn and violent natures becoming overbearing and overpowering. Until the betrayal. He slunk down into the sewers, shutting you out, and plotting his revenge. Now he had it all. And he had lost you. How easily would he replace you now that-

"Hey!" You were snapped out of your thoughts, swiftly turning to stare at a group of enforcers you had passed by unknowingly, too occupied by your racing thoughts, trying to quickly hide your tear-stained face as they approached, heavy footsteps menacingly stopped before you, followed by the heavy exhale of air through their masks, "What are you doing here?" One of them asked, voice muffled by the contraption on their mouth. You glanced between the three of them who suddenly crowded around you,

"I'm going home," You said, desperately trying not to let the shakiness in your voice show. You clenched your fists, and glared at them, "So leave me alone,"

"Home, eh?" The amusement in their voice told you clearly they didn't believe you, "Down here? In the slums? Pretty thing like you shouldn't be down here by yourself," They said, and you felt like pray around hungry dogs. You felt a hand brush against the neat outfit's shoulders, touching your hair as one of them circled behind you, blocking you from running from them. Shit,

"I- A friend gave this to me these-" you stuttered nervously,

"So the clothes' are stolen?" You gasped as one grabbed you by the front, pulling you closer to their metal-clad face to inspect your fearful expression,

"No, I promise-" You attempted, but barely got a word in,

"Shut it," Harshly they threw you down to the ground, making you wince as you placed a hand down to try and brace yourself, pain shooting down your arm, "Search them to make sure they don't have anything else that shouldn't belong to them," Feeling their invasive hands on you, you fought back, wishing you had something to protect yourself with. You wished you knew about those concealed pockets sooner. You wished you weren't an idiot who left their knife at home and went on a stroll in the most dangerous areas of Zaun. You wished Silco was with you.

Gasping, you felt them cutting into the expensive material with daggers of their own, roughly searching your pockets. Pulling, ripping and grabbing at you, then barking orders you cowered away from as you moved too much. Somehow, you worried more for what Silco would say about you not taking good care of this outfit more than the cuts rapidly flooding them with red.

Your sharp cries filled the near-empty alley as you were beaten for every wrong movement and violently searched. Anyone who had been lurking in the shadows quickly left, offering you no help. Your attempts at fighting back proved futile, met with kicks, punches and slashes of a sharp knife. You attempted to hold the suggestion of clothing covering your bloody and bruising skin for as long as you could, and you eventually succumbed to their violence, mind floating off into a swarm of blue and red, then black.

[everlasting-stories]

To Feel Again [M]

Genre: light angst, romance

Warnings[!]: smut, penetration, creampie, unprotected sex, mentions of adult toys

Pairing: Doyoung x Reader

Words: 4.4k / One-shot

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Valentine's Day: the day of roses and hearts and chocolates and romantic candlelit dinners. When people proposed marriage and professed undying love.

You sighed, staring unseeing into your bowl of cornflakes as they succumbed to their milky grave and turned to soggy goop. Funny how a date on a calendar could open the pit of despair that lived somewhere near your stomach. It had to be near your stomach. You've been reasonably hungry until you've noticed the date and the pit opened. Your hunger had fallen into it, and the memories and pain rose out of it.

There was a time when this day had been wonderful. Life had been wonderful, you didn't need Valentine's Day, but you celebrated it with reverence and, sometimes, wild abandon.

You knew what love was, what it felt like to love a man and how it felt to lose him. You remembered what he'd said that last morning, how he'd kissed you; how the sun had lit his face as he smiled, promising he'd be back. You also remembered the police, how the sun seemed to dim as they told you the phrases out of courtesy. They were sorry for your loss. They will let you know of details as soon as the investigation on the accident comes to an end.

Since that time, Valentine's Day had passed unheralded, unheeded and uncelebrated. You knew you were a joke of the office - entering thirties soon and never been fucked, that's what they said. The borning woman who had no idea what fun was, wouldn't have known what to do with a man if by some miracle you did catch the attention of one. They were wrong, of course. Not that it was any of their business; it certainly didn't affect your ability to do your job.

If you chose to act and dress your age and spend your evenings quietly, rather than as mutton dressed as lamb in some gaudy nightclub, surely that was your right?

You sighed again, getting up from the table, taking your cereal bowl and dumping the gloop down the sink. A bleak day of petty jibes and pitying looks lay ahead. At least you knew what to expect this year.

Last year had been your first Valentine's Day with this particular company and, therefore, your first with this particular bunch of malicious people - your fellow employees. As front counter receptionist, you were the company's first "public face" and some of your co-workers had decided it didn't look good if that face wasn't surrounded by gifts from admirers on this day.

When the first bunch of anonymous flowers had arrived, you've been flustered, flattered and flabbergasted that anyone would send you flowers. You had hurriedly cleared a space on the counter for them, proudly displaying them, fussing with them to show them off at their best and make them visible from the greatest distance. You kept touching them, moving them slightly, reaffirming they were really there. Your heart sang; someone had noticed you. Maybe he was too shy to reveal himself; maybe he was married and couldn't: your mind was alive with questions, trying to solve the mystery of their origin. You were all in all happy.

Then a large box of chocolates arrived, closely followed by more flowers. By lunchtime, these had been joined by a little plush cherub, two red plush love hearts, a pair of earrings, three more bunches of flowers, four assorted boxes of chocolates and a large jar of candy hearts. They all carried the same anonymous message. And you knew then and there what is the catch behind this.

By the end of the day there were nine flower arrangements, ten boxes of chocolates, three cherubs, the two red love hearts, three teddy bears, two jars of candy, the earrings and a gift box containing four pairs of edible undies. Just before the close of business the final humiliation came - a fantastically wrapped see through box containing an inflatable male doll with vibrating tongue, a massive purple vibrating dildo and a copy of the Sex for The Beginners book.

You had to stay at your post until the last visitor or client left. But the rest of the staff was already heading out of the building. Some boggled at your desk, some snickered, a couple made loud crass comments and a very few had appeared horrified at the pile of stuff surrounding yourself. The building had almost emptied before that last visitor departed. You were sure that, too, was a set-up, particularly when you saw it was the client that had been visiting quite frequently lately.

Myungsoo ushered the man to the street and turned back to you as you gathered your coat and handbag, ready to escape.

"Gee, you're a popular girl. Who would have thought?" He reached your counter and began collecting up the flowers, grinning madly. "Let me help you with all that."

Before you could say a word, he bundled all the flowers, chocolates and assorted other items into your arms. You could barely see where you were going. Myungsoo put his arm around your back and shepherded you out the door, peeking at the vibrator in its transparent box. "There you go, sweetheart. Looks like you're definitely gonna get some action tonight." He turned smartly away, laughing as he rapidly put distance between the two of you.

You obviously had thrown the whole lot in the nearest dumpster and hurried to the relative sanctuary of your car before breaking down and sobbing, burying your head in your hands to hide from prying eyes of curious passer-bys.

Standing at your kitchen sink, you wondered what they'd pull this year. It couldn't be worse, could it? You sighed again and then abruptly shook your head, standing straighter. To hell with it - you were not going to let them get to you today.

It had already begun when you arrived. A bouquet of irises sat at the front of the counter. You were tempted to throw them straight in the garbage, but decided they were too pretty, too unusual. So they stayed. Curiosity got the better of you as you looked at the card, expecting it to say something sappy and insincere, as last year's cards had.

"You are worth far more than they will ever realise. Hear the flowers."

You pondered the card. Hear the flowers?

What on earth did that mean? You raised an eyebrow as you settled into your post: at least it seemed this year would be more intriguing than last. During quiet moments throughout the morning, you'd pick up the card, reread the cryptic message and study the beautiful bouquet, but its secret was never revealed.

No gifts arrived for you, no more flowers. You were relieved, but it only served to deepen the mystery of the flowers. As your lunch hour approached, other staff began filtering out of their offices to take a break. They all noticed the irises. Several of the women stopped and commented on their beauty. No one laughed.

As always, you left the building for lunch. You would usually grab a sandwich somewhere and do a bit of window shopping. Anything to get away for an hour - if you stayed in the office, someone always "needed" you for something.

When you returned, a neatly typed page was on your desk: "The meaning of flowers". One line was highlighted in blue: "Iris: Have Faith. Don't Give Up On Hope." A single purple violet was pinned to the page. You scanned the page to find "Violet (Purple): You occupy my thoughts". You put the page to one side, but still in view, unsure whether to laugh at it and throw it along with the flowers away before the punch line or wait it out. This was definitely a far more sophisticated assault than last year.

Throughout the afternoon a steady procession of couriers arrived, carrying flowers and gifts. You nervously watched each one approach your counter, only to breathe a sigh of relief as the teddy bears and hearts, the chocolates and flowers were all destined for other souls.

At 4:30PM a man approached your station: nothing unusual in that; everyone that came to see someone had to check in with you. What was unusual was that he actually saw you as a fellow human, not a robot programmed to take names and give directions. He smiled at you, a real smile that reached his eyes and warmed your heart. Something familiar in his eyes...

"Good afternoon. My name is Kim Doyoung. I have an appointment to speak to Choi Myungsoo. Would you mind letting him know I am here, please?"

Quickly, you dialled Myungsoo's extension, giving him the information. Myungsoo, as usual was brusque to the point of rude, telling you to "entertain the idiot 'till I'm ready for him - he's not supposed to be here for another 15 minutes".

You were tempted to tell the polite gentleman exactly what Myungsoo had said, but instead used your tact and diplomacy (that was why you were hired after all) to tell him that "Mr. Choi is a little delayed. He will be available in a few minutes."

With that being said, you offered him a seat.

Again he smiled. "Those are beautiful flowers," he said, nodding towards the iris bouquet. "A discerning choice for a lovely lady."

You lowered your eyes, feeling the heat rise in your face, knowing you were blushing.

His voice softened and became much quieter. "You don't remember me, do you?" Your eyes flew to his face, confused. Were you supposed to know this charming man?

"I had an appointment here at the same time, on this day last year. I was waiting outside for a taxi when you left. That was uncalled for, the whole situation that happened - mean and heartless and exactly what I would expect of Myungsoo and his friends. I deal with them only because I must. They offer a service unparalleled in this town."

He leaned across the counter, his voice so low only you could hear. "How they manage it, I cannot tell. They are pig swill and don't know a pearl when confronted with one." Doyoung paused, seeming to weigh up his next statement, then leaned closer to you. "Did you hear the flowers?"

Your eyes again flew to his face, your mouth falling open a little. "You sent them?"

"I did. And the violet. I had hoped to counter whatever crass display they had planned this year. Would you possibly consider spending the evening with me?" His face was eager, hopeful. "A nice dinner?"

You were stunned, flattered, amazed - but also wary. This was Myungsoo's client. He could easily have been put up to this. You studied his face closely, seeking any hint of a lurking cad. His face fell. "But, of course, you have other plans. I apologise for embarrassing you." He moved away and sat, abashed, on one of the hideous lounge chairs to await his appointment.

You studied this man. He didn't seem to fit the mould of Myungsoo's usual cohorts. For one thing he was unerringly polite. He was also good looking, very, very good looking, without being outstanding or flashy. He was also much closer to your age than Myungsoo's and had an air of quiet confidence, like he had nothing to prove to anyone and nothing to fear from them either. You looked at the flowers. Could Myungsoo have possibly thought of something this elegant? You didn't think so. You took a deep breath: to hell with it.

"Mr. Kim?" He looked up. "What time would you like to pick me up?"

In your bedroom, staring at the clothes hanging limply in your closet, the cool bravado that had claimed you as you agreed to the date vanished. In its place indecision, doubt and outright terror took hold. It seemed painfully obvious to you now, away from the office and that lovely man, that it was all another twisted joke, something for the office beautiful people to laugh at during tomorrow's coffee breaks. Why did you say yes? Your wardrobe was woefully inadequate. It was years since you'd been out with a man; you were bound to make a fool of yourself, even if it wasn't a set-up.

At that thought your heart jumped and lurched. The possibility that Mr. Kim - no, Doyoung; this was a date not a business appointment - was sincere in his wish to take you out only heightened your confusion and indecision.

Finally, in desperation and the realisation that if you didn't decide soon, you'd still be in your underwear when he arrived; you chose a chanel-knee length cremé skirt and baby pink cashmere sweater, topped off with knee length boots. The heels were quite high, but you remembered him being tall, so that wouldn't be an issue, as long as you didn't fall over in them.

You were saved from an overcritical examination in the mirror. You had just completed applying your makeup when Doyoung arrived. You grabbed your coat and quickly walked out the door, before you had time to rethink and back out.

"You look lovely," Doyoung said, smiling down at you. Feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks; you weren't used to receiving compliments, particularly from someone like him. You mumbled a shy thanks as he helped you put on your coat and led you to his car.

Sitting in the car as he drove, you were able to study the mysterious man that is Kim Doyoung. He was extremely handsome, not in the classical sense, but he certainly was far from a plain looking man - a man at peace with himself. He knew who he was and was content with that; he knew what he wanted and how to get it; and what was beyond his capabilities and lost no sleep over it. He obviously managed quite well; his car was expensive but not too flashy.

The restaurant he took you too was a quiet small place, away from the standard eat-and-entertain strip. It was intimate without claustrophobia; the decor was elegant without being overbearing; the lighting low but not dim; the service attentive without being intrusive. The food you could not describe - later, you barely remembered what you had eaten beyond it being "nice" - your attention was totally taken by Doyoung.

He was gallant and charming; helping you with your coat and holding your chair for you at the intimate table for two tucked away in a corner. Doyoung quietly suggested items on the menu he thought you might like. It was obvious he'd been here before, was a regular, but usually without company. His choice of wine was perfect to go with the excellent food as you enjoyed each other's company.

And you talked.

You learned a lot about him. Doyoung was 34, older than you had thought; he had been engaged, but his fiancé decided to break off the engagement for simply falling out of love. He had had a series of short term relationships that had petered out and, for the past several years, had lived a solitary life, rarely going out with women. He didn't work as such; his livelihood came from investments, which explained him being a client of the company you worked in. Myungsoo may be a jerk, but he was the one of the best investment brokers around.

He had been attracted to you the first time he met you, a year ago, but had been intimidated by the evidence of all your admirers. When he realised it was all a cruel joke played by his adviser and the other brokers, he was mortified. He had seriously considered changing brokers, going to another organisation but that would have meant he had no chance of meeting you again. So he stayed. He had been in your office on three occasions since then, and each time had seen your quiet, unflappable charm and how your talent and lovely nature were either ignored or taken for granted by those around you. He was determined to gain your attention, but without the office cricus freaks being able to use it against you, hence the mystery flower delivery this morning.

You found yourself opening up to Doyoung. He seemed sincerely interested in hearing what you had to say, hanging on your every word. It was a liberating and wonderfully powerful feeling. You weren't used to being the centre of anyone's attention. You told him of your pride at the independence since the loss of your lover, all those years ago. You were happy in your little home, content with your work, rarely coming to the attention of the office jokers.

It was over coffee that you admitted to Doyoung something you haven't admitted to yourself: your life was lonely and you missed the affection of another person. You missed the companionship of sharing your life with someone.

Immediately after the words had left your lips you regretted them. You have given away too much of yourself, been too forward. You lowered your eyes, not wanting to see the closed expression you knew would be on his face, so you didn't see the fleeting look of pain, quickly followed by understanding and hope.

However, you did feel his hand close over yours and squeeze lightly. You looked up into a face of gentle eyes and soft smile. "Would you like to take a walk with me," he said quietly. "I think it's time we leave - they want to close the restaurant anyway."

You looked around yourself noticing that you two were the only people other than staff left in the restaurant, and many of the lights were dimmed. You gasped in wonder - you had no idea you've been there so long. "Yes, a walk would be lovely."

Doyoung ushered you along the street and across a small, neat park to a promenade along the riverbank. It was enough lit to feel safe and you walked along arm in arm. You felt his arm snake around your waist hugging you closer to him, and you snuggled against him, your arm around his back. The moon was up, the stars were out and the night was peaceful and clear.

Your heart was singing and your eyes sparkled. You've been right to take this gamble. He was sincere, and it was wonderful. But the night was late, and it was rather cold.

You shivered. Doyoung felt it immediately and turned off the promenade proposing to head back toward the street where he had left the car. "I'd better take you home. It wouldn't be much of a date if you ended up ill."

At your door, Doyoung formally thanked you for a lovely evening and asked if he could see you again. You smiled and surprised yourself only a little by reaching up and kissing him lightly on the lips before saying: "Would you like to come in for a nightcap?"

Doyoung blinked, looking mildly bemused for a moment before studying your face. "Are you sure?"

Oh, most definitely, you were sure. You have thought of nothing else since you two have left the river. He looked right, he felt right, and he smelt right. You wanted him but was sure he'd never make a move. He was too much of a gentleman to ever force the issue.

You took his hand and led him into your home, kicking the door closed with your foot, shutting out the rest of the world with its mean people and ugly attitudes. You reached up to kiss him again. This time he lowered his head to yours, cradling your face in his hands as he returned the kiss. The lips met and parted, allowing the tongues to join and caress each other. His hands moved down from your face to caress your body, yours moving up from his hips. Both of you parted, searching each other's faces for confirmation of your desires.

"I think we're on the same page," you said. "Why don't you leave your coat on the couch? Do you want the nightcap now, or after the tour?"

"I'll put a hold on the nightcap," Doyoung answered, reading the desire in your eyes and knowing it was mirrored in his while stripping off the coat.

"Right."

You took his hand again. "This is the lounge. There," you pointed to the right, "is the kitchen and dining room. This way," pulling him down the hall, "is the second bedroom, the bathroom and," dragging him through a doorway, "here is the main bedroom."

"Very nice," he said, looking around, trying not to focus on the bed.

Suddenly shy, you both looked at anything but each other, awkward in a lack of intimate knowledge of each other. Doyoung tentatively reached out a hand to you, aiming to caress your breast, veering off at the last moment to your shoulder, but still lightly brushing your breast with his fingertips. Your gasped breath emboldened him and he reached his other hand, caressing your other breast lightly as you shivered under his touch and sighed.

Your own hands went to his chest, running down the front of his shirt and back up, then beginning to undo the buttons, pulling the shirt from his trousers and teasing his bare skin with your fingers.

Doyoung pulled his shirt off and then raised the sweater over your head and off the arms, moving in to kiss you as his hands went around your back to undo the clasps of a bra and returned to cup your breasts. The sensation on your breasts as he caressed and pinched the nipples sent a sharp message straight between your legs. You could feel yourself becoming moist and shuddered under his touch; breath becoming uneven.

Pushing him away you removed the skirt, letting it pool at your feet while looking into his eyes. Doyoung took the hint and began unbuckling his belt, then grinned foolishly and sat beside you to take off his socks, sneaking kisses of your neck and shoulders as he did so. You both stood again, slightly apart. He dropped his trousers and you could see his briefs pushed out of shape by his erection, the fabric straining.

Doyoung stepped up, taking you in his arms, kissing down your neck and across the collarbone, his hands lowering to your hips, sliding under the elastic and beginning to tug your panties down. Your own hands flew to the top of his briefs. Together, you pulled down the underwear, stepping out of them and standing naked before each other. Again Doyoung moved first, holding you and gently pushing backwards onto the bed, following after you onto it.

He ran one hand down the body of yours, teasing and tickling the beginning of your womanhood and beyond, teasing you with his fingers, tickling across your mound and easing around your damp centre. You moaned as he explored, your hips twisting and twitching. It had been so long since another man had touched you there. It felt amazing, wonderful, but achingly short of what you needed. You could feel his hardness against your thigh. Reaching down, you took his cock into your hand. It was hot, hard and pulsed under your touch. Doyoung groaned and his hips jerked convulsively. You kissed him hard and whispered fiercely, "Please, it's been too long. I need you, now."

"For me too, far too long," Doyoung gasped back, rolling you onto your back and positioning himself before gently splitting your lips and sliding steadily but firmly into you. Your moans were prominent in the air as he stretched and filled you right, not stopping his steady thrust until he was wholly inside you, your warm walls gripping him tightly. Your eyes met and locked as you lay still, immersed in the feeling of each other's body.

Being warm, wet and a safe haven, you were engulfing his cock. Doyoung was filling you with his hard heat, owning your body completely. You fit each other perfectly; you could see it in each other's eyes. You belonged together.

As great as this feeling was, you needed more. Doyoung slowly withdrew, till only the very tip split you. Both groaning as he pushed back in, again slowly feeling each other with delectable inch. Slowly in and out, in and out, revelling in the feeling of each other's bodies, gradually building up speed as your need increased.

You could feel the fire building, the tension increasing as sensation on sensation smashed into you with each thrust, your body twitching, your hips writhing. Still it built; higher, tighter, fiercer. Your entire being was wrapped around Doyoung's cock as it pumped in and out of you. You could hear him grunting with each thrust, feel his body trembling as he got closer to his climax. His speed increased and you breath got caught in your throat, your back arched, legs went stiff as you began to twitch when the white light exploded through you, spreading warmth and scattering your senses.

You felt, from far away but deep within you, Doyoung losing his rhythm before coming, pumping wildly into you, grunting and thrusting hard one last time as he shot deep inside you feeling spent but overly fulfilled.

Your hand was making lazy circles on Doyoung's chest as you lay, curled against his side with a head on his shoulder. You weren't sure how you've come to be in this position, but it felt so right and he smelled so good.

You were at peace while drifting off to sleep.

Waking up without feeling body by your side, you immediately felt the loss. Doyoung wasn't there. Your heart dropped, the pit near your stomach threatened to open and engulf it. Sensing the tears coming up, you accidentally feel something on your side with a hand.

He wasn't there. But there was a note.

"I am so sorry. I hate to leave you, knowing you will wake alone. There is something I must do."

You had just finished reading when the phone rang, disturbing your thoughts. Grudgingly, you moved to answer it. "Hello."

"Wish I was still beside you."

Your heart flipped again. The pit dissolved so you could breathe again before whispering, "Doyoung."

"Y/N. Tell me, what are you planning for breakfast?"

"Uhm. Coffee? Maybe some toast. Why?"

"Don't move. I'm on my way. With breakfast. And it's better than toast."

You lay back in bed, listening to the dial tone after he hung up. Surprised, you smile softly. You must remember to thank Myungsoo for introducing them.

If this is how you will feel loved and feel free to love again, you have no complaints.

Your new chapter is about to begin and hopefully, it will last for a very long time with a man named Kim Doyoung.

[nightingaelic]

FNV Companions react to being re-united with the Courier after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam (NCR Best Ending)

TW: Blood, gore

As the screams of men, metal and guns petered out, movement on the Hoover Dam slowed. The sun was low, red as the ground beneath it, and the heat rising from the concrete and hundreds of gun barrels gave the area a faint shimmer. Most of the Legion lay dead or dying, their last gasps covered by the sounds of NCR soldiers calling to each other, looking for friends or officers or just reassurance that what had happened was true.

Victory.

Arcade Gannon: Though plenty of the NCR heavy troopers were popping off their helmets as the battle came to a close, Arcade kept his on out of fear someone would recognize him. The Brotherhood of Steel attendees appeared to be of the same mind, so he did his best to linger between the two groups and hoped both would assume he had arrived with the other.

Someone slapped the side of his metal-encased arm, and he looked down to find the courier beaming up at him, gasping like they had just run a marathon. "Hey, Six," Arcade said, surprised. "I thought General Oliver would've packed you on a flight to Shady Sands by now."

"Not yet. How're you holding up in there?" the courier asked breathlessly. "Looks like it'd be an oven under the sun."

"Oh, it is," Arcade assured them. "But it also stopped a few bullets and a machete or two, so no complaints here."

The courier bent over and put their hands on their knees. "I saw Daisy... saw her chopper off with the others after the fighting stopped. Oliver's confused as all hell, he doesn't know who they are, where they came from or where they went, but he's got bigger problems to deal with right now than chasing them down."

They looked up with a grin. "Thanks. Tell them all I said hi."

Arcade laughed. "Will do. And thank you."

"For what, dragging you and your only surviving family into this?"

"Well, yeah." Arcade looked down sheepishly. "Fortune favors the bold."

The courier nodded. "Fortis fortuna adiuvat."

"You remembered?"

"Of course I did." They gestured at the broken and scattered weapons and men of Caesar's Legion that lay around them. "After today, we're running low on people who know how to speak Latin."

Craig Boone: Though the other NCR snipers around him packed up their gear and headed toward the dam, Boone stayed put with his rifle until the courier made their way up the rocks to his position. They waved when they spotted him, and he put up a hand of greeting as well.

"And it's over," they said, plopping down to take a seat next to him and dangle their legs over the drop-off.

"Yep."

"Was that you who got that shot in and made Lanius drop his sword?"

Boone smiled. "Mm-hmm."

They smiled back. "Thanks."

The two of them sat together in silence, watching the activity below. Boone's smile grew and grew, wider than it had in years.

"Do you want to go down and join in?" the courier asked, when a group of NCR soldiers started putting broken defenses and wooden Legion weapons into a pile to burn.

Boone straightened his sunglasses and looked toward the horizon. "Yeah. I do."

Lily Bowen: "Pumpkin!" Lily bellowed when she spotted the courier across the dam, leaning on the concrete barrier next to the edge. She pushed her way past several surprised NCR troops, who yelped and jumped out of her path. "Pumpkin, are you alright?"

"Lily." The courier was pale, nursing a jagged wound on their arm. "I'm okay, Lily. I just need..."

Lily barred anyone else from approaching them as they rooted around in their pack. Finally, they extracted a stimpak and jabbed it into their arm, hissing as the medicine found its way into their bloodstream.

Lily inspected the cut carefully. Aside from its ragged appearance and the blood surrounding it, the wound was clean. The stimpak was working its magic, and the redness seeping out was already slowing. "Is that better, dearie?" she asked.

"Much." The courier sighed and leaned back against the concrete. "Legate Lanius had a sword. Not as... as big as yours, but big enough to slice me up when I got too close."

"You rest, pumpkin." Lily sat down on the barrier next to them, careful to hold her hat on in the breeze. "The fight is over now. Leo is quiet again."

"Mmmm-hm." The courier nodded sagely, before turning to face the steep drop below to the bottom of the dam. "We did it."

"How do you feel?"

The courier opened their mouth to answer, but instead threw up over the barrier and into the crevasse below. Lily carefully patted them on the back and produced a box of gum drops from her overalls pocket. "Here. For your breath, dearie."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Courier!" Raul pushed his sombrero back with the tip of his revolver, scanning the battlefield atop the dam. "Six, dónde estás?"

An injured NCR soldier looked up from the curb he was sitting on. "What's a ghoul doing here? He's not with us, is he?"

"Chinga tu madre," Raul swore, pausing his search. "You see the courier anywhere around here?"

"Raul!"

He turned back to the devastated landscape and there they were, jogging through the mess of bodies, shell casings and busted concrete. Raul laughed and spread his arms in relief, in welcome. The courier dropped their gun and threw themselves into his embrace, ignoring the blood and dust that covered his costume. Truthfully, they were just as covered in the battle's detritus as he was.

"I lost you so quickly," they breathed hard in his ear. "No wonder... no wonder they call you the ghost vaquero."

"Mij@." Raul embraced them tightly, then held them at arm's length to inspect them. "You had me worried. I thought I was the one who was going to have to track down twelve mariachi bands to play at your funeral."

The courier grinned. "Still want your medal?"

"Think the NCR'll give me one?"

They made a face at that. "If they wanna give me one, they'll have to give you one, too. Come on. I want to see the look on General Oliver's face when I tell him that you did just as much work here as me."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: A lone NCR trooper stood by the nearest flag pole, hoisting a scrap of fabric high above the scene. Cass could make out the two-headed bear emblazoned upon it, and something in her heart rose. She was still standing there, watching the red star whip in the breeze atop the dam, when the courier made their way over to her.

"Cap for your thoughts?" they asked.

For a moment, Cass tried to find the words for that feeling inside her. When she failed, she turned away from the flag. "Nah. Nothing you don't already know. What next, Six?"

The courier scratched their head and looked around. "Clean-up. Round up the Legion boys who are still kicking, grab everything that isn't nailed down before anyone else does, and pull this place back into some kinda shape."

"And then?"

"And then we drink." The courier pulled out their canteen and offered it to Cass. "But here's a little something for right now. Go on, keep it."

Cass drank deeply. Whiskey, just the way she liked it. "The NCR did good today."

Her traveling companion smiled. "We did good today."

"Mmm, not yet." Cass waved them off. "Don't lump me in with the bear before the work's all done. Ask me later, we'll see how I feel."

"Way I see it, if you had any actual qualms about this, you wouldn't have come," the courier replied with a chuckle. "But I'm damn glad you did."

They'd walked off toward the NCR top brass before Cass could answer, but she let the wind take the words anyway, small as they were. "Me too."

Veronica Santangelo: As soon as the courier was finished speaking to General Oliver, Veronica pulled them away and unearthed a handkerchief from inside her robes to wipe away the worst of the gore from their face. "Eugh. Is this... did somebody explode on you?"

"Hard to say." The courier pulled out their own bandanna and began wiping Veronica's face down in return. "How do you feel?"

Veronica laughed and accepted the help. "Honestly? I'm not sure what my parents would think of me fighting for the NCR, but for New Vegas it seemed like this was the best chance at stability. I don't regret it, if that's what you're asking."

The courier gestured at the Brotherhood of Steel Knights and Paladins that were milling about next to and among the NCR soldiers. "Your family doesn't seem to regret it either."

"Yeah." Veronica brightened somewhat. "They actually came. That ought to show both the Elders and the NCR that this, this is possible."

She watched her brothers and sisters from afar, making awkward introductions and conversation with the defenders of the dam and even comparing power armor pieces with the NCR heavy troopers. She smiled faintly.

The courier followed her gaze. "Did you want to join them?"

"No." Veronica looked down at her power glove, flexing the joints as if lost in thought. "No, that's okay."

ED-E: The courier found ED-E stuck beneath a collapsed barricade, where it had been knocked during the fighting by a lucky Legion swipe. They pulled the eyebot out and dusted it off. "You okay, buddy?"

ED-E beeped its reassurance and pulled itself from the courier's grasp, shaking in midair to dislodge any remaining debris. It did one final loop-de-loop to lose a large splinter before blasting its triumphant music at top volume.

Surprised, the courier laughed. "That's right. We did it. We won."

Rex: The chaos around Rex began to fade into the background, overwhelmed by the scent that clung to the courier at his side. A rush of endorphins, dopamine, a whiff of serotonin- Rex didn't know the words, but he knew what they meant when mixed together in that way. Relief. Happy relief.

The cyberdog yawned, signaling his own stress, and looked up at the courier. They noticed his movement and dropped down to his level immediately, running their hands through the ruff of fur around his neck and inspecting his mechanical parts carefully. "Good dog. Good boy. We did good today, you and me."

Under their touch, Rex relaxed. He opened his mouth to pant. It had been a long, hot day.

[inkformyblood]

stay interested (in what comes back)

Day 01 Clan of Three for @dincobbweek Summary: Cobb never expected to hear from the Mandalorian after he leaves, but then the first letter arrives... The first letter arrives a few days after Mando and the kid leaves, and it sits unopened on Cobb’s shelf for several days before he can bring himself to open it. 

The courier — a young woman named Tai with a constellation of freckles across her cheeks and forehead and close-cropped black hair — presses it into his hands with a knowing grin. Her clothes are worn from the speeder ride around Tatooine, sand clinging to them so that she appears to be part of the desert made flesh. 

“If you want to send anything back,” she says, pausing in her swaying walk back to her bike, turning to look over her shoulder towards him. “Just leave it in the usual box. I’ll be back round in two weeks.” 

She grins and Cobb catches sight of a new banner tied around her waist: a striped cloth in browns and golds and undeniably Tusken, but it tears the breath from his lungs before he can respond. She hops back onto her bike and is gone.

Everywhere he turns, he is reminded of Mando and the kid, and just when he had pushed the other man from his mind with practised unnerving ease, the letter arrived.

The material is well-made, smooth to the touch except for the small crumpled swell in the centre, and the seal is neat but plain. Cobb brushes his fingers over the markings — a smaller line that flares out into a small peak with a notched end next to a hooked line — and places the letter down, willing his thoughts to turn away from it.

But it remains like a stone digging into the soft skin in the arch of his foot or a shard caught in his teeth.

So Cobb opens it, after one trip too many past it, his gaze locking onto it and the burning curiosity courses through him again.

A crumpled picture on pale brown paper spills out, the edges ragged and torn, and Cobb recognises it as the unmarked side of a help wanted notice. They are common enough in Tatooine that Cobb flips it to the other side to inspect the details before allowing himself to take in the hand-drawn picture.

It was one of theirs, he realises, smoothing out the creases that distort Mos Pelgo’s desperate plea for help. Why had he chosen this? Cobb was well versed in backhanded insults and thinly veiled threats. He had learned to be. The scars that span his back and thighs still ache with the memory of the burning whip and each one is a testament to what he survived.

Mando didn’t strike him as that sort of man. Cobb had seen the way he had curved towards the kid, always half stretched out to brush fingertips across his skull as if he was caught in orbit. Cobb liked to think he was a good judge of character and even when Mando had bared his metaphorical teeth at him, Cobb knew he was a good man.

So, he reasons that the paper was likely convenient rather than a reminder of a debt owed, and flips it back over. A huge white shape dominates the right-hand side of the page broken up by the jagged edges of what Cobb realises are teeth. Next to it are two crudely drawn stick figures, one broader and grey but clearly wearing a helmet with a T shaped visor and the other taller and shakily drawn, featureless except for a red triangle at its throat. Next to the two is a smaller circle in green with two triangles for ears inside a floating grey circle.

It’s the three of them, and a Kraft dragon.

Cobb smooths it out as best he can, his heart twisting and constricting in his chest, threatening to choke him. The other item in the letter is smaller. It rolls when Cobb fumbles while drawing it from the envelope, slipping through his fingers and clattering onto the floor. He drops to his knees, cursing his own uncooperative hands and the protest of his knees, the sharp flare of pain dulling to an ache that would haunt him for a few days.

The ring is cool to the touch and is perfectly sized for his thumb. Cobb doesn’t let his thoughts linger on that, focusing on the careful engraving of segmented bone upon bone instead of the remembered press of Mando’s hand in his, surprisingly warm given the chill of the night air, the slight hesitancy as if expecting Cobb to pull away from him.

He slips it onto his thumb, tacks the picture up on the main wall in his section of the house, and returns to work. A letter detailing their efforts and professing his thanks, along with all the unmarked scrap paper he can find and pencils scavenged from the passing traders that the school doesn't need anymore finds its way into the courier dropbox and is away before Cobb can talk himself out of it.

He just hopes he has made the right choice. 

The arrival of a second picture — the same lopsided circle-shaped child drawn in greens and browns and two stick figures, one grey and one brown with red at its throat beneath a sky that burst with all the colours of a fistfight — confirms he was right. The note that comes with it is brief but Cobb traces his fingers over the hesitant letters. Thank you. 

⁂

The shadow at the end of Cobb’s hallway shifts as he steps closer, his blaster held ready by his side. “Wasn’t sure you’d be coming here, Mando. Glad to see I was wrong.”

Mando’s laugh sounds wrong, too sharp at the edges and echoing slightly. Cobb takes another step closer, his gaze dropping to search the lighter shadows by the other man’s feet, looking for the huddle of fabric and large eyes of the kid. 

“He had to go back to his people.” Mando sounds broken, his voice flat, and Cobb knows that feeling only too well. It draws you down, down into its depths, until you can’t remember what it felt like to believe in something or to care about another person. He steps closer despite himself, one hand stretching out to try and offer what comfort he could when he stops. 

Dark curls, close cropped and unevenly cut, greet Cobb’s gaze, brushing against the edge of Mando’s beskar, his helmet held loosely in one hand. His heart lodges in his throat, remembering the way Mando had recoiled when Cobb had taken off the helmet of the borrowed armour, his hope dying in an instant. 

“I’m guessing a lot has happened since your last letter.” Cobb doesn’t look at Mando further, navigating with the edges of his vision, sliding his feet across the floor as he hooks his arm around Mando’s waist. The man freezes before curling into him with a wounded noise ripping from his throat. “Come on and sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“Didn’t know where else to go.” Mando sighs, his feet leaden, but he goes where Cobb leads. His skin was as cold as his beskar, gritty with sand that rasped against Cobb’s palm. “Knew it would be safe here.”

“Ain’t that a good endorsement,” Cobb murmurs, trying to ignore the swell of emotion the words created in his chest. The gap in letters had troubled him more than he wanted to admit and Tai had taken to stopping by his house first on her rounds so he wouldn’t waste more time waiting for her, only to be disappointed once again.

“It’s true.” Mando turns to watch him, and Cobb keeps his gaze fixed forward. The other man is shorter than him, folding into the curve of his chest as if he had been made to fit there, and he catches a glimpse of dark eyes before they move into his bedroom and Mando’s gaze snaps to the wall. “Oh.”

He sways, no longer leaning on Cobb for support, but clinging to him like a lifeline, and Cobb chances smoothing a hand along the curve of his hip, leaning down to blindly knock his temple to the other man’s. “You will see your kid again, Mando. He loves you.”

“He talked about you too.” Mando’s words rumble through him, his voice cracking and breaking. “Always drawing you. We were going to come back before— before—”

“He’s a sweet kid. Takes after his daddy, I reckon.”

Mando laughs at that, a helpless exhalation, and Cobb chuckles along with him. 

“Now, go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning,” Cobb continues, nudging Mando towards the bed. It is unmade, the blankets twisted too high, exposing the pale sheet beneath, but he doesn’t have time to reconsider it as Mando falls onto it as if his strings were cut. 

“Skywalker took my child,” Mando mutters into the sheets and Cobb freezes, old familiarity washing over him, his thoughts turning towards an old datapad stored in a small chest in the corner and the contact details hidden within. 

“Sleep, Mando. It’ll do you some good.” Cobb waits until the man’s breath levels out, falling into the deep easy rhythm of sleep before turning to inspect the wall. The most recent picture from the child catches his eye — the figure of Cobb and Mando on either side of the kid, their hands overlapping, beneath Tatooine's twin suns — and his hands curl into fitsts. He knows what he has to do. 

The datapad hums as it turns on, the screen cracked and blurred, but Cobb navigates through it easily, old memories coming back to him. 

‘Skywalker? Been a while, but did you just pick up a Mandalorian’s kid and not leave any contact details?’

The reply is quick, and Cobb squints at the screen, his mouth moving soundlessly as he reads through the misspellings and laughs to himself when he finishes. Three days travel away, and Mando would see his son again. Three days of Cobb living with the man he was hopelessly in love with as he helped him restore the balance to his family. This was going to be difficult, but, hopefully, easier than killing the dragon. 

[sleepysailorghost]

There are a lot of reasons why it's better for Boone to walk behind the Courier.

Tactically, it doesn't hurt. He's trained as a sniper, and ED-E alerts them of any dangers ahead of them. The Courier can dispatch any enemies with their six guns, plasma rifle, or cowboy repeater. What they don't take down, he takes out with his rifle.

At least part of it is an attempt to assuage the guilt he feels. He had seen the Courier injured before, but he didn't think he would have to see them nearly die. In hindsight, he probably should have-he was cursed, after all.

The Courier had told him he wasn't cursed. That no one was punishing him. He didn't know if he believed that yet.

He didn't hear anything when the Courier had slipped down the cliff. He agonized over that day-wondering if he had heard something and just ignored it. A shuffling of rocks, a scream or shout. But there had been nothing.

He had just kept walking, the Courier's chirping little robot at his side. Even he didn't know when he had noticed the Courier's absence.

When he had finally found them, it had nearly been too late. All his field medical training seemed to go out the window when he saw the Courier laying broken in the ravine. He had used so many stimpacks on them, they nearly died of stim sickness.

But they didn't. Hard to kill, or something. He tried to pull away after that, tried to piss off the Courier so they'd hate him.

They didn't hate him.

Maybe they just didn't know how.

The Courier drags him all over the Mojave and he follows and watches their back.

He doesn't know how that became how he feels now. He's never been good with emotions anyway.

It isn't something he knows how to handle, so he decides to ignore it. He doesn't want it. The Courier is his friend, not Carla. And for him, it was only ever Carla.

Watching the Courier's back desn't keep them from being taken from him, not any more than it prevents them from getting into trouble. He was behind them when they were knocked out and taken away.

But he was there when they returned and he helped them put their peices back together. It would be easier to just let both of them fall apart. It would be easier to deprieve themselves simply because it's too much work to do anything else. Too much work to eat or drink.

Instead, he makes an effort. It isn't easy, but he isn't alone. In time, they grow to being two individuals who want to live. They always were a bunch of problem solvers.

Once, after he and Arcade had convinced the Courier it was safe to rest for a time, Arcade had said something to him.

"It's rotten work, taking care of them."

"Not if it's them. Not to me."

Arcade smirked at them like he had won something in this exchange. Boone ignored him. Whatever Arcade thought that admission-that he cared about the Courier-proved meant nothing.

He was just trying to keep his friend alive.

The Courier has gone to meet someone from their past. They've gone somewhere he can not follow, just as they had been kidnapped away to the Sierra Madre, abducted to the Big MT. Only, this time he's chosen not to follow.

Whatever the Courier finds-if it ends up being the home they had forgotten-he'd rather they didn't have to worry about him.

When the Courier does return, they run to him and grab him in a hug faster than he can react. They burrow into his chest in a way that would have been intrusive if it was anyone but them.

"I misssed you!" they mumble into his armor. "You won't believe-"

But before they can finish, their little robot is beeping so frantically to get their attention. The Courier's arms drop and they take a step back from him, seemingly embarrassed by their affections.

As the Courier and ED-E engage in a conversation Boone can only half understand, he looks out into the desert to compose himself. That's when he sees it first. A glint of something out in the sands.

Initially, he has no idea what it could be. His eyesight's sharp, but not that sharp. It doesn't look like Legion, so he doesn't shoot it.

The Courier is so proud of their new name. It's taken from an Old World battle, and someone had given it to them.

Boone thinks its a mouthful. It takes some time for him to adjust. He had been so used to refering to them as Six or just Courier. Eventually, he decides to just shorten it to Tie.

It's not because he's stupid, no matter what Arcade says. Antietam just takes too long to say.

The name wasn't the only thing Tie had brought back with them. Their bounty-hunter attire is retired in favor of a blue duster with an Old World flag on the back. It certainly makes them stand out against the Mojave.

The Glint he had sighted back in Novac didn't disappear. It followed them. Boone is fairly certain it's a person, but he can't gage their intent or why they are following them. He's fairly certain it's non-hostile-they had plenty of opportunities to kill both of them.

New Vegas looms large in front of them. There's business to be settled here, he knows, but it isn't his.

Instead of tracking down the man who stole their life and shot them in the head, Tie seems happy enough to serve as errand runner for Freeside.

Maybe that's why they had originally became a courier. The reason why doesn't matter much to them any more.

No matter how silly or monotonous a job seems, Tie is willing to complete it. They do a day's work for the Van Graff's and Boone can't help but stand a little closer to them after the attempted bombing.

The King certainly appreciates their work. He tells them as much, bringing Antietam to his room to discuss some task or another The King sent them out on.

He sits down on his stupid bed-what kind of a bed is that-and insists the Courier do the same. Boone stays standing, frowning a mile a minute.

"Darlin', could ya ask your soldier boy to wait outside a minute? I think we oughta have a discussion without an audience."

Boone has seen Antietam face hoards of Legion assassains without fear. He's seen them struggle to recover after whatever they saw in the Sierra Madre. Right now, he doesn't think that they want to be left alone with The King.

"Body guards work better if they're in the same room." Boone says, and leaves it at that.

"I guess, if the Courier trust ya that's enough for me." The King looks him sharply in the eye.

"Thank you." Tie says, but Boone knows that was for him. If his blood wasn't full of rage, he might be smilling right now.

When they return to their room at the Wrangler-not without Beautrice and Old Ben trying to offer their services to Antietam-the Courier says "You're not a body guard. You know that, right?"

"You didn't want to be alone with him." Boone says in response.

"T-That's not-I didn't want to be seperated from you."

"Huh."

And then they pretend that conversation didn't happen. They go to sleep, and their room at the Wrangler only has the one bed. It's not all that awkward, and Boone was just thankful that Tie wanted to sleep. in the morning, they get up and head off on some other grand adventure.

This time, it's investigating what's wrong with the water at the NCR Sharecropper farms. The Glint darts closer to them than it normally strays.

Close enough for Boone to get a decent look at it. It's a man. He moves a little like a Legion man, but he doesn't look like one of Caesar's. His duster is the same as the one Tie brought back back from the Divide.

Tie never had told him too much about the Divide. He sort of expected that. They didn't speak about the Sierra Madre or the Big MT, or even about their trip to Zion unless he asked.

Small talk has never been his strong suit. Arcade, the nosy guy, would be much better at getting this sort of stuff from them.

"Your duster's new." He says casually.

"Yeah. Ulysses gave it to me." They respond.

"Ulysses...What's that guy like?" He asks.

Antietam thought for a moment and then answered.

"He's the strongest man I've ever met. Eyes like a hawk, really skilled in hunting and tracking."

Boone hugged his riffle a little tighter. It was a massive weapon, one lovingly assembled by Tie. He puzzles over that, and then decides that was what he meant. Antietam had lovingly assembled the Anti-Material Rifle for him, handing over dozens of caps to the Gun Runners for peices and parts for it. Any time he started to run low on ammo, Tie handed him another box of .50. They didn't have to, but he always appreciated it.

"Huh." Strongest man they've ever met, huh? An incrediably stupid idea forms in his head. "Hey, Tie, do you think I can carry you?"

"W-What? Don't be stupid-I'm carrying a bunch of gear right now."

"I could do it. Who do you think carried you out of the ravine?" He answered defensively.

"I'm not saying you couldn't do it. I'm saying you shouldn't." Tie settled their beret, and then fixed their pin in their hair. It glinted a little in the sun. "Who are you trying to show off for? There's no one around."

They were heading into a vault. Boone hated vaults.

Dwellers themselves were alright, but if there was a vault where people worked together and Vault-Tec didn't shoot them in the foot by drugging them or something, it wasn't in the Mojave. Boone still thought about the spore-creatures.

This vault isn't any different from other vaults. It's partially flooded, and Tie's geiger counter keeps on beeping.

"Alrright, I'm going to dive down now." Tie says as they stand over a flooded section of the vault. They loved water, always seemed so transfixed and mystified by large bodies of water. Only, they didn't seem to like being in the water all that much. Boone had asked once, and the Courier had just said "Have you ever been buried alive?" and left it at that.

Antietam is not very good at swimming. It's not all that surprising-most bodies of water are too tainted for swimming.

They strip down to their underclothes, all lanky limbs and scars on show. Handing their beret and duster to Boone and removing their boots, they strap on their rebreather. The spurrs of their boots clack against the ground as they wade into the flooded chamber.

He hates waiting for the Courier to reemerge. Anything could go wrong and they would be unable to defend themselves. Eyes on the water, watching for any disturbance, he thinks about something else.

He hasn't seen The Glint since they entered the Vault. Maybe it didn't follow them down here. He'll bring it up when the Courier resurfaces. It should be any second now, but that doesn't stiffle the feeling that they've been down there too long.

Shit. Maybe they ran into an issue with their rebreather. He knew that was a peice of junk. He drops TIe's clothing and is frantically taking off his boots when the Courier rises from the water.

"Christ, Tie. Don't scare me like that."

Antietam drops a handful of ammo on the vault flooring.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to. I found a lock box at the bottom, but I knew I couldn't get it back up to the surface so I popped the lock. " The Courier wrings a little water out of their hair. "Should have done this part last, huh? I'm soaked through."

It's when they leave Vault 34, sick with rads, that he brings up The Glint. He's looking directly at The Glint.

"Do you see that? Do you ever feel like something is watching you?"

"Yeah? I got you, don't I?"

"That's not what I meant."

As Arcade treats their radiation sickness, Boone watches for The Glint.

It was better if he did this alone, he reasoned. He felt uneasy leaving the Courier, especially while they were sleeping, but he knew that there was little threat of anything getting into their room at the Wrangler.

He was facing the real threat: whoever was following them. That, and however sore Tie was going to be if they woke up and found him missing.

The Glint was on the roof of a building adjacent to the Wrangler. His focus on his quarry is stedfast. The Glint doesn't move.

The Glint turns out to be a man, as he had thought. The man isn't anyone he recognizes, but he recognizes the duster the man is shrouded in.

This must be Ulysses, he thinks, although his evidence is shallow at best. Ulysses-if this is him-is sleeping with a hunter's awareness. The Mojave night is warm, and Boone walks away from that roof.

He isn't sneaking. If the man wakes, he wakes. He's fairly sure that Ulysses is no enemy of the Courier, not with how fondly they had spoke of him.

A few days later, the Courier leaves without warning. Leaves of their own volition-not abducted-this time. Comes back in an Old World suit, eyes red from crying. Before he or Arcade could ask what's wrong or why they left, Antietam is pulling the researcher into a hug, muttering some story.

Arcade removes the Courier, holding them at arm's length.

"Hold on, I can't understand you when you're muttering like that. You did what?"

The Courier can't meet Arcade's eyes and is definitely avoiding Boone's gaze.

"I said, I went to go settle things with Benny."

"Ah, yes. The man who shot you in the head. Well, he doesn't appear to have finished the job. You aren't hurt, right?"

"No, it didn't come to that. I'm alright." They find something fascinating in the dirt of their nails. "Reputation might have taken a hit though."

"What did you do, Antietam?" Arcade was something like the Courier's brother, and he often had reason to be concerned for them.

"Tried to seduce Benny."

Arcade looks at Antietam for a second, like he's sure he's heard wrong.

"Sorry, run that by me again?"

"I tried to seduce Benny."

Arcade inhales deeply, and then sighs. He rakes a hand over his face.

"Why? Where did you even get that idea?"

"I thought it was the best way to get him alone! I wasn't going to do anything!" They still aren't looking Arcade in the eye-too afraid to see disappointment. "It didn't work anyway."

"What were you going to do? Talk to him? He tried to kill you!" Arcade says. And then he snaps. "It's your life anyway. Just don't come crying to me when you make a mess of it. Although it seems you already have."

Boone does not say anything. He just doesn't know what to say. This was not a situation he had ever anticipated. He's mainly just shocked by the Courier's actions, and by the blinding fury of his own jealousy. That's probably a thread, but he's doing his best to not pull at it.

"Arcade.." Antietam tries, but Arcade responds with a quick. "Just go to bed, Courier. We'll talk in the morning."

Dejectedly, the Courier climbs into the Wrangler's lone bed and tries to sleep.

"Trying to seduce the man who shot them in the head. What will they think of next?" Arcade mutters , more to himself than to Boone. "It's late. You can take the floor."

In the morning, Antietam wakes up in bed with their brother and their fight the prior evening seems less severe. They get up, get dressed and head over to Mick and Ralph's for odds and ends. New Vegas was a grand place, sure, but it wasn't somewhere Antietam could live. All the lights hurt their head, for one.

Another gift from Benny, packaged in lead wrapping paper. As the Courier steps out they are accosted by Vulpes Inculta. He isn't dressed as he was as a Nipton, but the Courier's reflexes take over and they draw their sixgun.

"Patience, Courier." He says, and then bestows the Mark of Caesar upon them. Antietam instantly feels worse for it, craving a bath if only to wash this man off of them.

The Wrangler doesn't have such amenities, but it does have Boone and Arcade. Two of their favorite people, and the support Antietam happens to need at the moment.

Already, a plan is forming in their head. Barely a step outside of the Wrangler, blood pooling at their feet, they turn and reenter the building.

James Garret tries to get their attention-maybe for work, maybe because he heard of Benny's rejection. It doesn't matter to them at the moment. With the mark burning a hole in their hand, they climb the stairs to their room.

"Antietam, your hands are looking rather empty. Did you forget your caps or something?" Arcade says, smiling at the Courier.

Antietam doesn't say anything, walking up to the table and dropping the medallion. Arcade examines it, eyes wide.

"I got the Mark of Caesar."

"How? Why?"

"They just gave it to me because they're impressed with my work."

"You have killed a fair number of their men."

"Yeah, we're a bunch of problem solvers."Boone chimes in.

"Yeah, we are. Anyway, that's not all. They invited me up there-to their fortress-so I can meet with Caesar." Antietam was smirking. Pointing a finger at Boone, they asked him. "Say, what do you think about wiping out the Legion's Fort, huh?"

"I'd say we're outnumbered." Boone responded, a grin growing on his face despite their very apparent outnumberedness.

"But we've got the element of surprise?"

"Sure, we'd have to be something awfully stupid to try and attack the fort with three men." Arcade added.

"We can probably stop by McCarran on the way, see if Col. Hsu can spare any men for the attack. First recon hasn't left for Forlorn Hope yet, yeah?"

"You head out to McCarran and they'll keep you there all day. "

"I can run errands for Hsu if it gets us men." Antietam responded. "I took care of their messenger, so we should be have some time."

The Courier stretched, and then got to work preparing for their trek across the Mojave and their upcoming battle with the Legion.

It was stupid, and he had a million other things to do, but Boone had an idea. He looked over at Antietam, who was currently comparing different side arms. They put Cram-Opener to the side. Really, they weren't much of a melee or unnarmed fighter, but Little Buster had been something like a friend to the Courier.

"Tie?" He asked, and they looked over at him, putting down their weapons. "Remember how I said I could pick you up?"

"Yeah, but I-"

"You aren't carrying any gear right now." He stepped forward, pulled his friend into a secure hold. It wasn't all that difficult, even if he and Antietam were about the same height. "Told you I could do it."

"Yes, you're looking exceptionally virile." Arcade said, narrowing his eyes at the duo. "Put Antietam down so they can get packed."

Boone rolled his eyes, but put Antietam down.

It was a fast enough walk to Camp McCarran. Hsu, for once, didn't have a grocer's list of errands for them. He was mostly surprised to see them.

Antietam explained their situation and their plan to attack the fort.

"The mark of Caesar? You never cease to surprise, Courier." Col. Hsu never referred to the Courier by name. For what reason, Boone didn't know and didn't really care. "Regardless, we can't spare the men. We just diverted some of our forces to Bittersprings, and the First Recon left for Camp Forlorn Hope this morning. Even if we could, we shouldn't place military troops in the hands of a civilian."

The Courier had fought and seized Nelson from the Legion. Had the NCR forgotten that? But the Courier bites their tongue.

"Yes, I suppose that would be the case. I guess we'll have to take care of Caesar ourselves, huh? Alright, I'll be back to collect the bounty on that-there is a bounty, right?"

"I'm sure we can rustle up something." Hsu said, although it was evident from his tone that he did not think he would see the Courier again. "Goodbye, Courier. Thank you for everything."

"So that was a bust." Arcade said as they exited McCarran.

"It was a long shot anyway. Couple of hours walk to the fort." Antietam said, settling their bag on their shoulder. They had dressed for a fight, assassain suit concealed by their duster, beret on their head, and Arcade's pin in their hair. "Yeah, I recon it's probably about several hundred men against the three of us. Uh, that's the thing. Y'all don't have to go with me. It's likely that we would die or worse and I-"

"And what, leave you to take on the Legion by yourself? I'm going with you, and if we go down, we'll take as many of them with us as we can." Boone said. In a quieter voice, he added "And if you get captured..."

His voice trailed off, but they both knew. Arcade was walking ahead of them a little. Antietam nodded, a consent to things that were too awful to say aloud.

"I'll do the same for you." Either that, or die fighting like hell to get him out. "It might not come to a direct confrontation. I've got a couple packs of C4. Could lay those around the camp, set 'em off. I have some stealth-boys too, if you wanna try that."

"How much?"

"A dozen packs of C4, and 4 stealthboys. Not exactly a surplus. Could stop and get mines too. Didn't think to bring any."

As they walked, he scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of trouble. He knew Ulysses was following them, but he didn't anticipate any fight with him.

All the confusion and jealousy of the prior night had been forgotten in the wake of the Courier's plan to attack the Fort. It certainly had been a wild day.

They reach the Fort via the Cottonwood Cove waterway. Arcade elects to stay behind at the Cove and to send reinforcements if they don't return in time.

But miraculously, they survive. Caesar is dead, and the Courier is victorious. It's almost certainly the heat of the battle getting to his head, but Boone wants to kiss Antietam. Badly.

He settles for picking the Courier up and spinning around. They're both laughing, a rich thing in the air between them, half drunk on victory.

Someone's voice cuts through their reverie.

"Say, wouldn't you let a guy loose, baby? At least before you start macking on each other?"

Shit, had they forgotten someone? He thought they had cleared the camp. Weapons drawn, they quickly find the speaker. It's a man in a checkered suit.

"Oh, if it isn't my baby! Come to rescue me, huh?" Despite the heavy bruising on his face, he smirks and it's almost half charming. "Told them you'd come for me. Just couldn't get enough of me?"

"I didn't know you had left Vegas." Tie says quickly, shutting him down. The man's face fell.

"So what was all that then? Business as usual?"

"Just about, yeah."

"Tie, you know this man?" Boone asked.

"Not really. This is Benny, y'know the one who shot me in the head. What are you doing here, actually?"'

"You gonna untie me if I tell you? What kind of a name is Tie anyway?"

"A good one." They said, feeling their energy level begin to wane as they spoke with Benny. They just didn't make guides on how to speak with your would-be murderer who you tried and failed to seduce. "I'll think about it. Why are you here?"

"Those bullets must have scrambled your egg pretty good." Benny said. "What's it look like? I got captured sneaking into the fort."

"You want me to take care of this guy for you?" Boone said.

"No?"

"Oh, come on, baby! You can't still be sore at me."

"Where's the platinum chip?"

"Caesar's got it. Or had it, considering he's probably worm food now. Baby, you don't know what-"

"Stop calling Tie your baby." Boone snapped.

"Bye, Benny." Antietam pulled a switchblade from their pocket and slashed his restraints.

"You're letting him go?"

"I don't care any more. Let's get the chip and loot and then head back to McCarran."

"What kind of bounty do you think Hsu rustled up?"

"None, probably. Still, we killed Caesar. Won't end the Legion, but it's a blow for sure."

"Sounds like what Ulysses would say. C'mon, let's get back to Arcade before he calls for the cavalry."

ED-E beeped cheerfully, and Boone smiled a little. Just a little.

As they walked through the river, Antietam stopped and then wrapped their arms around him.

"Thanks. For everything, y'know?"

"Yeah, sure, Tie."

Wounded and tired, they made their way back.

[thefancyspin]

#2 and #17 for Ballum

[bed sharing + sex then love. sort of, there's no sex and they're on their way to love haha]

There has to be a joke here, somewhere. There has to be some very funny and avoidable reason why Ben not only had to join Callum on this trip but has also been put in a motel room with him where there’s only one bed.

It’s a set up. A butcher or baker or candlestick maker is going to walk through the door any minute, he’s sure.

“I’ll just take the couch,” Callum mumbles, throwing his bag on the floor and collapsing into the sofa cushions. It’s already late, and they’re surviving on roadside food and caffeine, and this day is just the worst. Ben’s had enough.

“You’re seven foot twenty two, you can’t sleep on the couch.”

“Alright, you take it,” he says with an arm thrown over his eyes, but he doesn’t move.

Ben’s too tired to argue. He storms off to the bathroom to have a shower, hoping he can wash off the smell, and the grime, and the tension. Ben’s been in a lot of awkward spots in his life, but being stuck in a car for a whole day with a man you had a one night stand with. That’s new.

It might not be so bad if it was just a fun night, and they’d amicably moved on.

Except no. Ben had to go and sleep with the only gay man in Walford that wasn’t out of the closet, and Callum had to go and get engaged to his girlfriend to try and prove something to himself.

“Shower’s free,” he says when he emerges in a cloud of steam, just a towel wrapped around his waist. He doesn’t miss the way Callum looks over, then quickly looks away - a blush creeping up his neck. How’s being straight working out for you, Ben thinks bitterly, but he gets no joy from it.

That’s the problem with Callum Highway. He cheats on his girlfriend, and lives a life of lies, and yet … and yet he’s the most decent bloke Ben’s ever met. He’s funny, and kind, and gorgeous, and … Ben can’t stop thinking about their one night together.

He can’t get over the bastard.

“We can share the bed,” Ben says later when they’re both fully dressed and Callum looks a little less like he wants to curl up and disappear.

“Ben.”

“I don’t mean for funny business, geez. I just mean, it’s big enough.”

“I’m fine,” Callum grumbles, pulling a blanket down from the cupboard and stomping back to the couch to lie down. Ben just rolls his eyes, switching the lamp off to bathe the room in darkness.

It makes him think of that night they shared. Darkness, quiet, just the heavy presence of each other. It had been a few weeks now, but the memories were vivid. Callum’s desperation, his eagerness, the sound he made when Ben fell to his knees in front of him.

It had been so heady, so electric. Ben had been with his fair share of men, and one night stands, but he hadn’t felt anything like that for a long time. Callum was different.

“Would you just get up here?” Ben gripes in the middle of the night, sick of hearing Callum grunt and moan every time he tried to roll over.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not, just get in the bed. I’m not gonna touch ya.”

There’s silence for a moment, or two, until Ben finally hears Callum’s sigh of defeat and the sound of him padding across the room. The bed dips when he gets in, and Ben lets the smell and the closeness and the fantasy wash over him for just a moment. What it might have been like, if Ben weren’t so unlucky in love.

Then he’s sleeping.

*

“Ben.”

The sound of Callum’s quiet voice wakes him, but when Ben opens his eyes, it’s still dark outside. He grumbles and turns over, only able to make out the blueish black haze of Callum’s outline. “What?”

“Just seeing if you was awake.”

“I am now.”

“Sorry.”

“S’alright. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Callum says, but Ben knows it’s a lie. He’s probably gotten accustomed to those now, every time he sees Callum put an arm around Whitney, every time he hears Callum tell her he loves her. Sure he does, yeah, but not the way she wants him to. “Had a bad dream.”

“You alright?”

“I donno. Just needed … wanted to make sure I wasn’t alone, I guess. It’s daft.”

“It ain’t,” Ben tells him honestly, bringing a hand up to scrub at his dry, tired face. It’s not too cold a night, really, considering the pathetic excuse for heating this motel has. Maybe it’s just the closeness of Callum, keeping him warm. “I know what you mean, I’ve been there.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure, after my ex died especially. I’d dream about it and then wake up alone. It weren’t easy.”

“No.” Callum pauses. “I’m really sorry that happened to you.”

Ben can’t help but smile. There he goes again being genuine, and kind. “Thanks. What about you? Dreams about combat?”

“No, uh … not really.”

“You get those though?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Callum tells him, moving to lie on his back. “Had to do a bit of counselling for those but, y’know. I'm not sure anything makes ‘em go away.”

“Just takes time. You’ll get there.”

Ben can see Callum’s face turn towards him. “You think?”

“I mean, I’m not a veteran, so I don’t wanna speak out of turn. But I’ve seen a lot, been through a lot.”

“You don’t have to be a soldier to have trauma.”

“Yeah.”

Ben lies down again, too, feeling their shoulders and legs brush and moving over a little to give Callum space. It’s funny how often they settle into these moments of comfort, even when the rest of their relationship is so tense.

They could argue in Coker’s one morning about Ben’s inappropriate flirting, and then be sitting at the bar in the Vic that afternoon just sharing a secret smile.

It can be so easy.

“You ever think about that night?” Ben asks, honestly expecting Callum to get upset with him, insist on going back to the couch. Callum doesn’t. He says,

“All the time,” quietly, into the night.

Somehow, at some point, their hands end up tangled together as they sleep.

*

When they get back to Walford it’s late afternoon, some sun still left in the sky. Ben helps Callum unpack the car, bringing boxes in to where Jay’s sitting at his desk.

“Go alright, then?”

“Yeah, fine,” Callum tells him, giving Ben a significant look.

“Courier extraordinaires,” Ben says, going to perch on the side of Jay’s desk as Callum deals with the rest of the stuff. He stays there and annoys Jay for another five minutes, trying to make plans for a beer later, or dinner, but eventually he realises he has to let it go.

The day’s over. The trip’s done.

“I’m off,” he tells Callum as he’s leaving, a stupid little wave like they didn’t share a moment, like things aren’t a hundred times more charged between them now then they ever were

“Oh, right, uh,” Callum says, looking at the box he’s holding and then looking up the stairs. “You wanna come up for a minute, I just have to …”

“Uh, sure.”

Ben follows him up, Callum shouldering through the door that’s already been opened and dumping his things on the table. When he turns he wipes his hands on his thighs, nervous, and says,

“Thank you, for … for last night.”

“What’d I do?”

“You just … you kept me calm. You didn’t … I donno. It just meant a lot to me that you were there. As a friend.”

“A friend, right,” Ben says with a little huff, moving to turn and leave. “Well, you’re welcome, I mean. You can always talk to me if you want.”

“Wait,” Callum reaches for him, grasping at Ben’s forearm to keep him close. “I just … you made me think of that night, when you said I see you. Cause … cause that’s how it is with you. I feel so seen, so known. And it scares me Ben.”

“I know.”

“I mean … I don’t even tell Whit about my dreams. Or about … nothing. When I’m with you it’s like all the pieces are coming together.”

Ben doesn’t know if he’s taking a lead that isn’t being offered, but he lunges at Callum anyway, a hand on his collar and his face as he kisses him again. Again and again and finally.

It’s just as desperate as it was that night, all friction and fraught. Callum ends up against table and Ben pushes in between his legs as close as he can get and it’s messy, it’s stupid, someone could walk in any minute.

“Wait, wait,” Callum gasps, pawing at Ben’s chest to keep a little distance. “I can’t do things like this I have to … I need to talk to Whit.”

Ben blinks up at him, hardly able to believe what he's hearing. “You’re gonna … you want to make a go of this?”

“Course I do, I mean, do you?”

“Yes, yeah, absolutely, I want that.”

“Okay," Callum grins. "So.”

“Okay. So." Ben teases, and then he's pressing his mouth against Callum's again before peeling himself away. He's never felt so bereft. "You’ll call me later, yeah?”

“I’ll call you soon,” Callum promises, and Ben knows it's the truth, and he also knows it won't be soon enough.

Before, he was missing something that was never his.

Now he can dream of what it might become.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Introducing My Fallout OCs!

OMGGGG y’all, I can’t. I’ve apparently reached over 200 of you fantabulous followers and I am so ecstatic! I honestly don’t even know if this is considered a milestone or anything, but I was super psyched, so I'm doing something about it, dang it!

Also, just a heads up on me right now, I just started school again, so my posting miiiiiiight be a bit sporadic every now and then, but I’m determined to still try and get a few posts out every week, so we’ll see how that goes. I’m also pretty backed up on requests at the moment, I’m still accepting them for the time being, but I may turn off my asks if I’m finding difficulty getting to everyone.  

Anyways, I know I don’t ever really talk about my Fallout Original Characters, but I’m thinking of doing some stuff with them in the future, so this seemed like a good place to start  🤷‍♀️ So, here they are! One from each of the 3 FO games I write for. If ya’ll want to send in any asks about these folks, please feel free to do so! 

(Art for these peeps is pending potentially as well).

My Lone Wanderer: Hope

Appearance: 

- Basically like a black-haired, blue eyed Sarah Connor (y’know, from Terminator), she’s got a small frame, but is an absolute beast. She loves to change up her hair, but prefers the iron maiden, unladylike, or rude ridge styles and will often dye it bright-ass colors, cuz why not? She’s pretty pale considering the vault background and the fact she is constantly wearing full body combat or leather armor when she’s outdoors, and she has a few piercings she actually got before leaving the vault. 

What’s in a Name: 

- “Hope” was the name that her parents chose for her before she was even born, but she can’t stand it, she just tends to see it as a cruel joke in the world they live in. She instead goes by Effie (short for Ephialtes, cuz she’s edgy and dramatic and read too much in school). Hope tends not to tell anyone her real name, and if she does, you’d best not use it to refer to her, unless you like being enslaved. The only one who could ever get away with it is Jericho and a select few people from the vault (Stanley, and her father, but she’s still not happy about it.)

Sexuality: 

- Pansexual

Main Companion: 

- Jericho

Relationship(s): 

- She has a sort of “friends with benefits” type situation going with Jericho, but it ends up getting... complicated, and turning somewhat into a relationship.

Bestie(s):

- Even though he’s her boss, Hope likes to hang out with Eulogy when she’s in Paradise Falls. When she was in the vault, she spent a lot of time with Stanley, and was pretty close with Butch, Wally, and Paul as well. 

Fam Dam: 

- James and Catherine are/were her parents (obviously). But she also considered Stanley to be a sort of uncle to her. 

Karma: 

- Oh, the worst. She’s honestly awful. She steals, she murders, she enslaves, she blows up settlements, all of it. She’s got a lot of things she needs to work out...

Faction of Choice: 

- The Slavers of Paradise Falls. (Yeah... she sucks.) The Brotherhood and the Outcasts just never really struck her fancy, and her and Jericho found it was easy to make bank with the slavers. Hope also is a friend to Allistair Tenpenny and Mister Burke... and not the folks in Megaton. Cuz they’re all not really alive.

Vault Occupation: 

- Engineer

Fun Fact!:  

- Hope is really bad with empathy, and absolutely needs to experience something for herself before she can make any sort of judgement on it, or other people who have had that same experience.

My Courier Six: Sage

Appearence: 

- Sage doesn’t really consider herself very “flashy” in comparison to most folks in NV. She’s got shoulder length brown hair (blast back or clean cut style) and brownish-hazel eyes. She’s pretty damn tan (Mojave, you know) and doesn’t have many scars, but the ones on the right side of her forehead clearly indicate where she was shot in the head (thanks, Benny). She and Boone tend to twin quite a bit, with matching red berets and sunglasses.

What’s in a Name: 

- The poor girl has no clue what her real name was before she was shot, but she saw a box of labelled herbs in Doc Mitchell’s house when she was recovering from her headwounds and decided she liked the name “Sage.”

Sexuality: 

- Bisexual

Main Companion: 

- Craig Boone

Relationship: 

- Also Boone :) it’s a pretty darn slow-burn romance with lots of bumps along the way, but their love always seems to prevail. (Gross and sappy, I know)

Bestie(s): 

- Arcade, plus Rex, and ED-E. Also Victor and Doc Mitchell.

Fam Dam: 

- No clue, unfortunately. She eventually tries to find out something about her past and her family, if she has any, but she’s got a few things to deal with first (hint, one rhymes with pleaser’s fleegion).

Karma: 

- She may make mistakes along the way, but Sage really does try her best to be as good as possible. 

Faction of Choice: 

- Mr. House and the Followers of the Apocalypse. Would like to get rid of House, but can't bring herself to become responsible for everything once he's gone. She considers herself his personal empathy and tries to assist with the goings on of the Mojave even after the battle of hoover dam. Fucking wiped out everyone in the Legion. Her and Boone are a force to be reckoned with. And she never really cared much for the Brotherhood since she had such little interaction with them. She has a good relationship with Freeside and most of the settlements/other towns as well.

Previous Occupation: 

- Courier? She has no idea what else. But she’s oddly really good with medicine 🤔

Fun Fact!: 

- She supports Mr. House for a number of reasons, but one of the biggest is that she doesn't want to lose Victor. He saved her, and she considers the securitron to be her oldest friend (besides Doc Mitchell). She knows it's a little selfish, but she can't bring herself to put an end to him after he pulled her from her own grave and helped bring her back from the brink of death.

My Sole Survivor: Jolene Arvanidis-Ryan

Appearence: 

- She’s got auburn hair she usually keeps cut short (clean cut) or in a bun, green eyes, pale skin with a good amount of freckles and has exceptionally straight teeth (braces suck, but you know.) When traveling with Cait, people tend to think they’re related. Jolene tends to wear a black beret and, if she has the time and resources, she likes cat eye style eyeliner. 

What’s in a Name: 

- Her first name runs in the family... plus her dad really liked Dolly Parton, so that helped cement the first name for him. Nate’s last name was Arvanidis, and she tends to use that as her last name exclusively, she rarely reveals her maiden name (Ryan) to anyone. 

Sexuality: 

- Straight

Main Companion: 

- Paladin Danse

Relationship: 

- It takes a long time (post BB), but she ends up being with Danse. 

Bestie(s): 

- MacCready and Cait

Fam Dam:  

- Pre-war, her father was a carpenter and her mother was a major in the US military, she had no siblings and was very close with her father since her mom was often away on deployment. 

Karma: 

- Decent. Tries her best to do what’s “right,” but she sometimes has a hard time determining what that is. Is good at following orders, even if she doesn’t always agree with them (BB is the exception in this case).

Faction of Choice: 

- Brotherhood of Steel, at least until BB, then she tends to focus more on the Minutemen, but still stays by the BOS’s side when it comes to taking down the Institute. Despite her loyalty to the BOS, she always regrets what she did to the Railroad, and how she ended things with the Institute, and she holds quite a bit of resentment towards Elder Maxson for ordering her to pull the trigger that ended her son’s life, and the other lives within the Institute. 

Previous Occupation (Pre-War): 

- She was a Gunnery Sergeant in the US Military. (Trying to follow in her mother’s footsteps).

Fun Fact!: 

- She hates killing feral ghouls, but keeps it under wraps since she tends to travel with MacCready and Danse the most. After that random encounter where she found herself murdering her own neighbors, she can’t bring herself to look into the eyes of any feral ghouls she has to kill. 

Bonus! Fun Fact!:  

- She started out as my sort of "throw away" playthrough where I wanted to do a BOS run, just out of curiosity, but she ended up being my main playthrough… probably because Danse is just the best and I can't get enough of that tin can thesaur-ass.

[palbabor-writes]

So, uh, I got excited with this ask

Anonymous said:

so what if, and I’m just spitballin’ here, you wrote a little something for Tomura, a jealous!reader x Tomura, perhaps? Ik there probably wouldn’t be an actual situation where somebody would try to steal him away or anything but just a little something on the reader seeing something that wasn’t what it looked like and Shiggy kind of reassuring her in his own special way? 😌 pls &thank you sm in advance, but you of course absolutely don’t have to write it if you don’t want to (: love your work!

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x Gen!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, angst, jealous feelings, mentions of past relationship and heavy petting, mm, imma say it’s rated T, for the teens and upper betweens

Word Count: 4387

Notes: Lol. I’m pretty sure this was meant to be like, a drabble or head cannon in your mind nonnie. Me, being me, I stretched it out into a freaking fic. I can’t shut uppppp sometimes. First time trying for a Gen!Reader, so hopefully it’s a thumbs up. Not beta edited, so any mistakes are mine, and mine alone.

“O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.” ― William Shakespeare, Othello

It’s been two months, two freaking months and you’ve hardly gotten two texts strung together, let alone a call, from Tomura. 

While he’s never been what anyone would call a frequent texter, your last message has sat, unread, on his phone for the last 3 days. You know he’s busy, you know he said he’s got shit to take care of, but you can’t help the angry pit of worry that simmers in your gut. He could at least tell you something. Like, hey, I’ll be out of touch for a few days, talk soon. Is that too much to ask? 

Apparently it is.

The two of you have always been a quiet item. Most of the League knows, or at least, heavily, heavily suspects. It’s not like you tried to keep it a secret, it’s just the way you both are. Besides, you usually liked how the arrangement worked.

You’d met him through your job. You worked with Giran as a courier of sorts. Sometimes you’d lug shipments back and forth, sometimes you’d make deliveries. It was one of these deliveries that introduced you to Tomura. He was quiet, sulking toward the back of the bar, but you’d managed to strike up a conversation with him as Compress double checked his requested items. 

He was waspish, sharp. At first, you worried that your questions had only managed to pissed him off. But then, just as you started to chat with another guy in the bar, a snarky fellow, who was covered in some serious, serious burns, Tomura tugs your attention back to him with a pointed question. 

“Can you tell Giran that you’re only one who’s permitted to transport the deliveries to the bar?”

That one query had started a landslide. 

You were summoned to the hideout frequently, practically on the daily after that. Giran just shook his head and asked you not to fall too deep. You didn’t know what he meant then. Two months later you understood his meaning perfectly. 

How could you not fall head over heels for this guy? Fuck, he was so desperate, so wanting, so fucking needy for you. God, you missed it now that you didn’t have it. After the Kamino incident, he’d called on you even more and you loved that you could help him. He honestly seemed, in his own, gruff way, appreciative. 

But, then he’d said he needed to leave the city. 

At first, your contact with each other had maintained some semblance of normalcy. You would text and he would reply. You could call and he would answer. Often, he sounded tired, strained, but every once in a while you could pull a laugh from him and all would feel right with the world. 

Now? 

Now nothing feels right and the only link you have to him is Dabi. He’s the only person in the League that’s responding to your emails or texts. Even Giran isn’t answering anything. That’s not normal either because Giran always, always answers. What the fuck is going on?

It’s starting to feel like you’ll never know. This is mainly due to the fact that Dabi is a shitty, shitty font of information. At first, you’d eagerly taken his calls and texts. In lieu of a tip, you asked him about this mission Tomura was on. He fed you vague, flippant, answers. 

“Tch, this again? I already told you, they’re all fighting this giant. It’s some pet of the doctors.”

“And like I said the last, oh, I don’t know, twelve times, giant makes no sense to me. Can you expand on that a little bit? Like, what the hell does that mean? They’re fighting a fucking giant. Is that supposed to be some kinda bizarro hint? Cuz’ it sounds like you’re giving me shoddy information to get me off your back,” you snap, placing your foot on his box of requested medical kit supplies. 

Dabi practically keeps you on standby now. The guy has gotten more aggressive in the last month, and the heavy price his fire quirk extorts on his body meant he needs a steady flow of burn cream, meds, stitches and pain relievers.

“Fuck, look, I don’t know how else to explain that fucker. I didn’t give a shit about boss man’s little mission to tame him, so the doctor and I worked out something else for me to do. I’m not around those guys right now, I’ve got other things I’m working on. Now give me my shit and get out of my face. Ask Toga about your little fuck buddy, I could give two shits about his well being.” 

“Why follow him if you hate him so much?” God, this asshole is such a prick.

Dabi considers you for a long moment, his vibrant blue eyes lingering on your scowling face. “He’s a means to an end. I’m just here to see this society fall to its knees. Boss wants the same thing, so, for now, this arrangement works for both of us. Now, if I have to ask you to give me my fucking shit one more time, I’m gonna’ singe you where you stand.” 

Sucking your teeth, you kick the box toward him and turn on your heel, slamming his door behind you. If he’s not going to be useful to you, why be useful to him? We’ll see how he likes it when you accidentally miss some of his shipment deadlines. 

You pace out into the night, shrugging your jacket up on your shoulders. If they’re so far out, if they’re fighting something that sounds like an impossibility, why not ask you to bring them some supplies? Why haven’t they reached out to you? 

As you wait for your train, you pull your phone from your pocket, your cold fingers resting against the glass. There’s a missed call from another contact, but no other notifications. You swipe over to your messages from Tomura. Your last text sits, still unopened, unread, uncared for, in his box. It’s not fair, you think, sliding your phone back and pressing your hands into the meager warmth of your pockets.

Tomura used to confide in you and you felt close to him. And not just in a physical sense. At first, the relationship between the two of you was just that, something that eased an itch. But you kept asking him things, liking the soft tone his voice could take on when he lost some of that anger. 

Then, he started to wordlessly ask you to stay a little longer, his arms wrapping around your bare form, holding you against his warmth. It was nice. It was so, so satisfying and now it’s gone. Is this his way of moving on from you? You would have thought that he would have said something. He’s never struck you as someone who hides from a confrontation. So why the radio silence? 

Another week passes and Dabi keeps calling. He’s practically got your entire schedule blacked out now with deliveries, upcoming shipments and transports. What. The. Fuck. It’s gotten so frustrating that you’ve started to waffle on picking up his calls, sending him straight to voicemail. 

“What kinda courier leaves their fucking name on their voicemail? Stop ignoring my calls, (Y/N).”

Yeah, he’s a real charmer. At least he answers your messages though. It’s better than nothing, you keep telling yourself, trying to ignore the gnawing, munching feeling of bitterness that keeps rising. Yeah, Dabi’s gotten to be such a constant in your life that your phone keeps recommending him as a new favorite. 

Would you like to add the contact: Dabi, to your favorites list? No, no you would not.

Then, suddenly, out of the blue, Dabi’s not answering you either. Your first, gut instinct, tells you that he’s likely annoyed with your spotty replies or he’s busy with...”Dabi things”. He’s always reminding you about the oh, so important “Dabi things”. ‘Don’t pester me with your shit, (Y/N). I’ve got something big I’m working on.’ 

But now? Fuck, now you’d kill to hear from him. 

There’s absolutely nothing. No response from Toga, Compress, Spinner, Dabi and most important of all, Tomura. 

He’d finally read your text. After two whole days had passed from the sent time stamp, he’d read it, and then opted to not respond. It stung. You can still feel that tightening emotion of dread, of abject hurt, that had radiated from your chest when you saw that he’d finally looked at your message and then just decided you weren’t worth his time. 

Yeah, after seeing that, the last few days have been nothing but a full tilt boogie of emotions for you. 

This must be a planned thing. Why else would they all coordinate their ghosting. He must have wanted to leave you behind and now, this distance has made it possible. 

He’s been changing a lot lately. 

Even before he left for this, whatever it was, he’d grown in confidence and skill. Fuck, he’d taken on a Yakuza boss and won. He’s becoming a leader, a competent force to be reckoned with. He doesn’t need you to bounce ideas off of anymore. A courier picked up at the start of his career isn’t a necessary piece to add to his collection. 

Yeah, chances are, he’s moved on. He’s out of your reach now and you can’t help the thoughts that rise in the back of your mind. What if he’s found someone else? What if he just got bored with you? Did you put too much thought into this relationship? Well, that question has kinda answered itself. You put way too much into this. You had planned for things, hoped for…

Your phone rings and the noise startles you out of your head. You fumble for your vibrating device and lift the screen up before swiping to answer the call. Oh, it’s Toga. Fingers shaking, you lift the phone to your ear and are so happy to hear her babbling voice. 

She tells you that she’s been meaning to call you, but, gosh, everything has gotten in the way. Plus, she took a bad hit in a fight. Oh, she’s ok, but it’s been a crazy week for her. 

As she chatters about some random series of events that you can’t string together, you let out a long sigh. That coiling that’s been building in your stomach loosens and you’ve never been so relieved in your life. There’s still a chance. Maybe he hasn’t decided to leave you in the dust. Maybe...whoops, Toga asked you something. 

“Deka City? No, I’ve never been there.”

“Oh good, well, I wouldn’t try and go now. Tomura sorta, mmm, crumbled it to bits.”

“What?”

“Oooh, and we’re part of a bigger group now…”

She tells you about something called Gigamantia and their new connections. Apparently, Tomura’s made another step up in the world. Now he’s leading something called Meta Liberation? What is that? It sounds kinda familiar, but where have you heard it?

Toga is winding down her conversation, her voice smoothing out. She promises she’ll answer your other texts soon and emails you a set of coordinates, saying they’ll see you there and clicks off. 

You lower your phone to your lap, biting back the grin that won’t stop spreading across your face. Ok, so, maybe you’re not as abandoned as you thought. Maybe they, no, maybe he still needs you.

******

You found the building alright. It was impossible to miss. This place is massive, fit for an army. The security is tight, so tight that you’d even been screened by a guard at the door. Once they confirm that you are who you say you are, and you know who you say you know, you’re permitted entrance.

Who are all these people?

As you enter the “meeting room,” which is really a space that looks like a concert area, complete with a well lit stage, you’re pressed into the mass of bodies. There must be hundreds of people here and there’s some hulking creature, dozing in the corner. 

Is this that giant Dabi mentioned? You totally thought he was making that shit up. And, wait, wait, is that a pro hero a few spaces away? What is this? Where is the League?

The overhead lights dim and your attention is drawn back to the sage. People are bustling around the elevated area and a plush chair is placed in the center. Looks like the show is about to start. 

A loud, booming voice announces the arrival of a man called Redestro. He must be that long faced guy in the motorized chair and, oh, there he is. 

He walks up slowly, it looks like he’s leaning on something, but you can’t see clearly. The crowd shifts around you and an inordinately tall man is blocking your view. Huffing out a sigh, you try to maneuver yourself to a better vantage place.

He’s seated now, his long legs spread out in front of him. Fuck, he looks both wonderful and terrible, at the same time. Wonderful because it’s Tomura, terrible because he’s covered in bandages and he’s got a brace on his leg. What happened to him? 

Your eyes can’t stop roving over him, trying to drink in everything. He looks like he’s on edge, his fingers clutching at a small slip of paper, as his good leg jiggles against the chair. Why...ah, he’s being introduced. Wait. He’s being introduced as the leader of the Paranormal Liberation Front? So...so all these people...this entire organization...is his to command? 

He clears his throat and you hear his voice for the first time in months. He’s halting at first, but as he continues his speech his tone deepens, strengthens, losing that early hesitation. He sounds good, powerful and confident. 

You tear your eyes away from him and give the crowd a quick glance. They’re enraptured. A few paces away you can hear people whispering to each other, their voices low, awed. 

“He took down Redestro…”

“He’s so young.”

“He’s kinda...I don’t know...handsome.”

“You’re right, he looks regal.”

That coiling, trembling feeling is making a strong comeback. It’s an ugly return and it makes your flesh prickle and cool. He’s left you in the lurch for months and now he’s become some sort of leader, of an entire, what is this...a cult? An organization? An army? How the fuck, would you know? No one, least of all Tomura, has told you anything, about any of this. 

When the address and introductions (the League had made a, uh, flashy entrance) are over, someone comes up and taps you on your shoulder. It’s another one of those security guards. She says you’ve been requested, the League wants to see you. 

She takes you past the stage and down a long hallway. It’s quiet back here and the silence doesn’t soothe your frayed nerves. You’re pointed to a large set of doors and you bite your lip before pushing them open.

Another large room greets you. This one is filled with plush couches, elegantly carved tables and multiple chairs. There’s so much to look at, you don’t even see them at first. No, you hear him before you see him. He’s talking with a tall woman, who is writing down what he dictates, her pen moving rapidly across her paper.

Fuck, you’ve missed his voice. 

It’s quiet now, a little hoarse from his speech and you want to step closer. He’s standing next to some large windows, his back turned to you. He hasn’t even noticed you. What were you thinking? He’s this...God, leader now. What are you? Just a nobody he met when he was still pounding the pavement, looking for anyone who could help their cause, their mission. There’s nothing for you here, he’s…

“(Y/N).” 

Your eyes snap up to his. Tomura has turned, one arm braced heavily on his crutch, and is looking right at you. His eyes are hooded, dark, you can’t get a read on him from here. You want to step closer, but that sickening feeling is falling, like a stone, into your gut. Despite your turbulent emotions, you can’t stop staring at him.

The thick bandages are off and his hair is longer, the white strands hang close to his collarbone now, gleaming and pearlescent. He looks, damn, he looks tired and...what’s that? There’s something dark on his hand, it’s black and it covers three of his fingers. Why is he wearing that half glove, oh, oh no. It’s not a glove you realize, horrified, it's a prosthetic. He’s lost some of his fingers. 

“It took you long enough, come here, (Y/N).” 

His voice has dropped an octave, lingering in that distant tone that he would use when he dragged his lips across your neck, rumbling and murmuring against your skin. He knew that you liked that, he knew that it would make you so desperate for him, your hands pawing at his shoulders, pulling... 

No. He’s ignored you for weeks, no, months. You’re not about to just fall to pieces at his feet, crawling and begging for him to want you. Your eyes latch onto his and you minutely shake your head at his request, fingers squeezing into your palms. 

The woman, noting the tension that’s suddenly entered the room, looks between the two of you, and abruptly makes herself scarce, her heels tapping against the floor as she walks to the door. Once you hear it close behind her you unstick your mouth, your tongue heavy against your teeth.

“Who was that?” you ask, your voice croaking, thick with disuse. You can’t help the question. It tumbles from your mouth before you can stop it. You’d meant to ask him something else, but the query just, pops out, angry and trembling. 

“I don’t know. One of Redestro’s cronies. Why-” His face scrunches abruptly and a wince of pain passes of his features. “Why does it matter?” He finishes, his hand gripping a little tighter against his cane.

“You didn’t have to send for me, you know. It looks like you’ve upgraded everything else, why not me too?”

A scowl echoes across his lips. “What-”

You won’t let him finish his question, you can’t stand it anymore. You also can’t seem to stop. All of the emotions, the anger, the betrayal, the fucking, God, jealous thoughts that you’d slip into, alone in your cold bed. No, you’re not going to back down.

“You didn’t call, you didn’t text, and when you did, finally, manage to remember that I exist, the texts were so far and few between...fuck, sending a letter would have been faster. The only link I had to you was Dabi-”

“What?” He snaps, repeating his question, his red eyes, flashing, gleaming, glaring. “What does he have to do with anything?” His face is set in a deep snarl, his scar lifting along his white teeth. His fingers coil into his crutch, one digit arched away, and he begins the long journey to where you’re stubbornly standing. 

You watch him on bated breath. The sheer excitement of his renewed presence is making you shake. The warring feelings that are rising inside you are too much. It’s too much, it’s, oh...he’s right in front of you now.

“Answer me, (Y/N). What the fuck does Dabi have to do with anything?” 

You gulp. Tomura has never, ever liked you interacting with Dabi. It was that first subtle flirtation between you and the flame user that had set Tomura off in the first place. He had barely given you a second glance that first time you met him, but once your attention wandered over to Dabi, suddenly he was all ears. That animosity grew as time wore on. 

If anything, Dabi took advantage of it. He liked to press you, corner you, it was one of the many things you disliked about him. He was a selfish ass, only manipulating things for his own, twisted amusement. 

It’s a low blow for you to land on Tomura, to play up his own jealousies, but turnabout is fair play, right? 

“He’s the only person I could reach. You want to know who my phone keeps asking me to favorite now? Fucking Dabi. I kept asking him about you, about what was going on, but he never knew.

So, then I tried reaching out to you, directly. But then you decided to conveniently lose my fucking number, or something. You didn’t answer a single thing after that last text I sent you, what, two weeks ago? You didn't call. You didn’t even act like I exist, it-”

“I told you it would be a while.”

“Yeah, a while doesn’t typically mean two months. And how do you come back to me? With a broken leg and, fuck, three missing fingers? What is going on Tomura? You’re a different person now. Do you even want me anymore? You don’t have to ghost me. You could have just told me that you were moving onto bigger and better things. 

Congratulations, by the way. You’re the leader of a cult. Now, you can cut off all those lousy loose ends, like me-”

“You’re jealous.”

His voice has dipped into that low octave again, rasping, deep, and oh, fuck. You sputter at his assessment, your hands clenching into your pants. You need something to tether you, to keep you from reaching for him. You’re angry, remember? He’s left you, all alone, so alone and... 

He’s shifted to lean into you, the warmth of him rolling over you in waves. You can hear his breathing, if you move a little bit closer you could feel it, too. He knows what he’s doing. He’s used this tactic on you before. It’s very effective. His crutch taps him nearer. He’s practically flush against your heaving chest and your eyes flick up to his. 

The red is dark, tempered, and that swirling agitation has left him. He looks…

No, no, he left you for months, he can’t look at you like that. You shake your head, your eyes wincing shut, blocking him from view.

“I’m not...I-I’m not jealous, I was just-”

“Come here, (Y/N). Don’t make me ask you again.”

His new, half prosthetic hand reaches for your neck and traces over your trembling throat, ghosting over you, forcing you to press toward him. Once he’s satisfied you’re not going to reject his touch, he lets the digits tap onto you, gently, slowly, like he’s coaxing you out of your temper. The contrast of cool metal and warm skin makes you gasp, your eyes fluttering open. 

He’s curved over your lips, his white hair drifting softly around your face. Unthinkingly, unquestioningly, you reach for him. Your fingers lace into the silken tendrils and he lets a slow exhale wash over your face. His verdant eyes are so close. They’re fixated on yours, refusing to let you slip from his gaze again. 

You can’t breathe. There’s something else you want to scold him for, but...but his lips are so close. His nose bumps against yours and you bite your lower lip. He’s so warm. He smells nice too. It’s a rich smell, earthy, thick with some enticing aroma that’s all him. It floods your senses and you’re downing, distracted and lost. 

Tomura’s won this little stand-off because you reach for him first. Your fingertips urge him to you, one thumb dragging a familiar trail across the mole on his chin. His lips are chapped, rough, but oh, oh you’ve missed this. 

He lets you lead him, your lips pressing and lifting, planting feather light caresses against him. Your tongue swipes across his lower lip and he groans. It’s a husky, broken sound and it makes you yank at his clothes. His new suit crumples under your hands. You’d almost feel bad, if he hadn’t been such a neglectful ass to you. You’re nipping at him now, your kisses losing that sweet vulnerability.

Tomura approves of this frantic pace and one arm cages against your back, lifting you closer and dragging you against his front. His crutch clatters to the floor, but neither of you have the wherewithal to care. 

Besides, you think happily, you can be his crutch now.

He’s biting and sucking, his teeth drifting from your trembling lips and pressing into your pulse. One particularly hard nip has you arching into him, a gasping whimper on your lips. His tongue laves over the hurt, lulling the nip. 

Your hips instinctually lean into the his and you moan when you feel the hardness that is waiting for you there. Tomura presses back, dipping his nose into the juncture of your shoulder, his lips distractedly kissing against your skin. Your fingers trace down his front again and one hand goes lower still, running along his pants until you find what you’re searching for. 

He growls when you apply just the right amount of pressure and he’s pulling your lips back to his, demanding more. You’re skirting your other hand to the clasp of his belt when someone barges in the door.

Gasping, you start to pull away, trying to turn, but Tomura holds you to him, lifting his chin until it’s resting against your shoulder. He’s glaring out at whomever the fuck is standing in the doorway, but his fingertips are moving against you, pressing and soothing down your fevered skin.

“Hey boss- ah…” Dabi is brought up short by the sight that greets him and you can hear the sneer that he must have thrown Tomura’s way. 

Tomura, for his part, is quiet, content to silently stare down the man who stupidly interrupted him. He turns his head a fraction of an inch, but it’s enough room for him to drag his rough lips against your neck. You quake at the stimulation and hear Dabi let out a barking laugh.

“Ew, well this is fucking disgusting. Looks like the two of you can go back to fucking normal, eh (Y/N)? You and boss man can bone and get all that pent up insecurity out of your-”

“Get the fuck out,” you and Tomura say in unison.

You hear another scoffing chuckle and then the door slams shut.

Notes: The Dabi bits miiiight be in there because I finally got my belated birthday present of his Banpresto figure in today ԅ(≖◡≖ԅ)  

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx​, @yixxes​, @ghstmthr​, @evesmores​

*I think that’s everyone for now. If you wanna be added to a list just drop me a line & I’ll get you on the Google Doc: Shigaraki works, Dabi works, Hawks works, BNHA works, All works...works, works. There’s likely more to come, but that’s what I got for now. k byeeee.

[helloyesthisisdado]

dado goi thoughts

hello all dado follower since dado has hit the mile stone dado will be revealing his thoughts on all the goi that he can find on that one page on scipnet yes.

pls do not ask dado how he got on scipnet.

es see pee foundation: dado does not like the es see pee as they love to steal fine dado product and or threaten dado over email. alex ya va university: dado personally not interreact with them but has tried to sell the fine horses to them as he think they would like the high power horse. i think they could be good dado friends. ambrose restaurant: dado since change opinion on them and think they r wonderful place to eat at, great food for dado and is now business partner of dado. anderson robot: dado has tried and tried to work with them but they always say "mr dado u r so unprofessional at the robot" even though dado make fine robot like tsar roomba. they r not very nice. are we cool yet: dado does not know how to feel about the are we cool ppl as many of them hate dado but some do not hate dado. the are we cool ppl sometimes prank dado and dado does not like that. the black queen: dado wishes to not talk about the black queen as they do not like dado for some reason, dado does not know why. chaos insurgency: ppl who are better then the es see pee and dado like to pay them to go hit ppl, but still sometime steal dado product but dado is forgiving man and they do good job, dado like them. chicago ghost: dado once made a cigar for chicago ghosts and dado think "hmmm chicago ghost very cool" but then dado watch ghostbusters and dado no longer like them. church of broken god or something: dado is very on edge with religions especially the crazy cult kind of ppl but these guys are very friendly towards dado and do not mind him, dado will sometimes fund their crazy ongoings. the church of the second high tooth: dado does not like the cults. dado: idk why dado on goi list but dado like himself. u trust dado. dr wondertaintment (tee em): dado love the dr wondertaintment (tee em) and dado strives to be like them with all whimsy (tee em) and fun, but dado is not good at making the toy sometimes so he leave that to them. favourite dado partner. the factory: dado number one enemy as dado hate the factory and wish dado could punch them into the sky with dado boxing glove. dado wishes they suffer for long time. five church: dado does not like cult as he stated before and this no exception but dado find it funny how they worship the starfish like the patrick star from spunch bob. maybe they r funny ppl. gamers against weed: dado think the fact they r against weed is good thing as dado does not like devil lettuce, so dado support them but when dado try to enter chat room it fill dado pc with the weed so dado think the es see pee is attack them, they r cool ppl. global occult coal miners: just as bad as es see pee if not worse as they actively want dado heads, very bad and dado does not like it when they raid warehouse or threaten dado customer. do not threaten dado customer. dado stillnot consider them number one enemy. gru-p: dado had run in with gru-p when he make product for the russian but other then that no bad quarrels with the gru-p, dado hasnt heard from them for while though. circus of quiet ppl: dado is mortal enemy of circus as they ruined his moon fort and forced him to fight the spaceman in fisticuff (which dado won) dado wishes to not intrude on their business though. maybe could repair relationship. the horizon something (dado forgot): dado does not attempt to speak with them and wishes not to. ijamea: mmm dado love jam, very tasty. manna charity foundation: dado loves support charity like the good businessmen who r rich should, donate many product and money to them as anonymoose, very good ppl dado support. martian cottage and grimdark: dado does not know how to feel about them as they tried to hack dado, steal his product but also willing to work with dado??? dado have many bad experience though so he is 50/50 on them. nobody: dado cannot read into nobody as they are nobody. oria: who? oneiroi collection: helped dado with his dream marketing which is very good at selling the product to higher entity, dado like them as they r helpful for dado to further market in dream. pattern screamers:

dadafuiasfhiafhnidhfajkbfajgbgadgasjkgbahdgbgjkabgjlalgbadghlalgah srry hamster on keyboard. prometheus lab: dado similar to them, maybe dado even worked for them before is where dado got his keyboard from as well, dado miss them sometimes. sharkic cults: dado hate cults and dado hates sharks, dado does not like them at all. snake hands: dado feel bad for the walking library ppl with the snake hands and wish he could help them cure snake hands but dado is banned from library like what the? dado is try to help them and they treat him poorly. the shark punching centre: dado supports their cause 101% as dado hates sharks and sharko, dado donates 10% of his money made to them so they can punch sharks and sometimes dado will punch sharks. great people. uiu: hahahahah wizard police cannot touch mighty dado business, dado still hate them though as they will actively look for dado product that have been sold and take them away!!! wilson wildlife solution: very great ppl, take care of the horses (dado offer to replace before) and very kind ppl. dado wishes he could meet the tim wilson man in person but dado is very busy all the time. dado like them. three moon ppl: dado tries to avoid at all cost and they could spell end to dado business! very bad ppl, dado do not like, hate them alot. █████ industrial: dado pity them as they try to take the easy way out, big hole left in market and dado sometimes will try fill it in but he is not good at filling them in. dado wishes he could help. atf: evilest company run by evilest man (except factory) wishes to abuse customer base, does not respect customer either. dado does not like the atf. atari arcadia: dado think the arcade making and the game making is a very good idea for the business venture and maybe dado should reach out to them?? dado will try later, possibly good business partner. deer college: dado funds them in return dado get to help with school food menu full of yummy dado food, also dado will sometime teach the class there and is like "i am dado i teach u the magic pill and stuff" nice place to be. daevites: dado does not like the evil cult. eric: dado see alot of his younger self in eric so dado sometime reach out to him in time of the need and will offer help and maybe even the free dado product (wow) and also offer him support on his own things. just girl things: dado once tried break into market but did not agree with founder of just girl things so dado cut the ties and never talk to them again, does not like dado either. light courier enterprise: make the good product that dado like to keep and also spread a good message, very truthful and good ppl. lord blackwood: one of dado good friend who will share the tale that inspire dado to make a product, also look after robert mitchell when dado cannot. parawatch: the dado arg did not go over well, dado apologies to parawatch.net. not on good terms with dado either, will not come back. saturn deer planet guy: dado will sometime talk to them but dado is like "u r so evil and mean, dado is not like the evil and mean ppl" so dado block them. scarlet king: dado is not on good terms with red king man, dado try sell to him before and all he did was try and kill dado so dado will not try again. totleighsoft: dado once tried to invest in them but all they did was scream hazard at dado so dado gave up. dado glad he did not invest as they make the bad product. the going to hell ppl who made the puppy machine: also dado enemy, dado does not like or understand the product they make and wishes they go bankrupt or something soon. ok that is all goi dado can think of, dado hope u like his list and thoughts on the matter.

[kisskissbanggang]

Death Warmed Up

[<15Min Read/~4K Words - Coffee Shop Au - Felix x Neutral Death!Reader - Fluff, Minor Angst - Dogs, Death, Coffee]

[Originally slated for the skzwriternet Cozy Collab, but here it is! Hope you enjoy.]

Nets: @skzwriternet​ @kwritersworld​

Masterlist | Feedback

You stared at the assignment you had found on your desk. This was late… by two years?

The notion was fully ludicrous. Even with a file like this, there was no way that it could reasonably have been delayed by two whole years. Then again, the idea of getting saddled with an interesting case intrigued you. It sort of felt fancy — important, even — to see this in your inbox when you sat at your desk. You flicked through the file again. Felix Lee, 21 years old: living on Borrowed Time since he was 19.

You hadn’t been an Arbiter very long, and you mulled over just how little Borrowed Time you’d really seen since your appointment. There was the tiny old grandmother — Jane, you thought her name was — a matriarch of her household and a staple of her community, but even then her Arbiter, Bill, could only find her a year from scraping together everything he could. He had told you all that when he did finally meet her at the end, he was in tears along with all her family, and she was the only one smiling. The fact that this kid could be afforded two years was a feat in and of itself, to a point that you were morbidly curious who the previous Arbiters were. The most recent was Jisung, a surprising name to find. Jisung was nice, he liked to maintain how he looked when he died in the mid-nineties, nose ring and flannel and all… and he currently worked as a first-level Arbiter, watching day-to-day activities between humans and the world around them. When you got transferred into the department you’d had no idea that he used to be up on this level. The previous Arbiter’s name was Chan: a name you didn’t recognize and had never heard around the office. Whatever had happened, you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to get distracted by excuses. You needed to see for yourself.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

It was a surprisingly balmy autumn afternoon when you finally found the cafe. Even with all the extra instincts and wherewithal you were afforded by your position, you still had to search around for the little coffee bar, a humble cubby hidden away in an alley off a side street in the bustling city. Some trees lined the sidewalk outside and the orange leaves managed to drift on by, and there was a young man sweeping them off the stoop of the cafe before he turned to go back inside. You opened your portfolio and pulled out your file again. You examined it closely. Could that have been him? The guy now cleaning up behind the bar? There was no way that was him. You stepped closer down the alley.

Thankfully, even if the young man in the window did look up, he wouldn’t see you in this plane you were currently occupying. Your body was only as real as your conscious willed it considering you were already dead, and right now you were perfectly content watching the barista bustling about behind the counter. A little old man with smart half-moon glasses waved from where he sat in his cracked leather armchair by a tall bookshelf, getting his attention.

“Felix, dear, could you top me off?”

Well, there, then. This was the guy.

He didn’t seem so special.

Felix didn’t look like his picture. That was your first hint. The photo was always a snapshot of the client at the time the referral was made to Arbitration, and he looked much worse for wear a couple years ago, laying in a hospital bed and hooked up to a spiderweb of tubes. Here, now, Felix stood tall and healthy, slim but fit under his apron, a modest but present definition in his arms showing through the rolled sleeves of his shirt as he set about making a new drink for the tottering old man. A spray of freckles adorned his dainty nose and rested among the golden glow of his cheeks, and he even had a little satisfied smile curling at his lip as he got the foam just right on the old man’s coffee.

You still didn’t see what all the fuss was about.

A dog ran up to Felix behind the counter, a panting golden retriever asking for pats, and your heart begrudgingly melted. In fact, there were even more dogs you hadn’t noticed. A small scotty rested at the feet of the old man. A tiny chihuahua slept in a basket on the counter that barely roused as Felix stepped over to add the drink to the man’s tab. A sleek sheepdog sat up from behind the counter to let him by, and a basset hound raised its head from where it sat in another chair when Felix set the warm cup on a small table by his elderly customer. Felix pet the dogs in a round and wiped up a string of drool from the basset with the corner of his apron before he returned to the counter and washed his hands.

Fine, so Felix was good with dogs.

But being good with dogs didn’t automatically mean you were entitled to Borrowed Time.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

You returned with gusto the next day, ready to confront this supposedly difficult client. Your getup was simple, fully materialized now and dressed as a package courier. This form was common when working on this plane, even popular with other people in your department like Jisung, the previous Arbiter, who actually did use to deliver packages back before he died. It made sense in getting a feel for who a client really was. This was a blue collar worker that people were used to seeing and seeing through, and could really show who a person could be, given the right situation. And you really wanted to see who Felix could be.

You strolled into the cafe, large box in hand with a clipboard sitting on top and a pen tucked behind your ear. Felix perked up when you let it thunk onto the counter, the weight taking care of the poignancy.

“Delivery,” you boredly greeted. “Can you sign for this?”

“Er,” Felix stared — at you, the box, and back at you, “what is it? I wasn’t expecting anything.”

You laughed out loud as you held out your pen to him. “I don’t know, I’m just delivering it. Can you sign for this, please?”

Felix bit at his lip before he grabbed the proffered pen and signed, and you looked amused as you stood and watched him slice open the box with a pair of scissors from under the counter. What surprised you was that this old trick — this misdelivered box of assorted mugs and pens — only made Felix laugh.

“I didn’t order these!”

“That’s too bad,” you shrugged sympathetically. Admittedly, his smooth and deep voice was pleasantly unexpected, catching you off guard. “They’re addressed here and you signed for them.”

Felix’s eyes widened as he plucked out a piece of paper. “There’s an invoice?! With a balance on it?!”

But he still only laughed. You were a bit stumped.

“I guess I’ll pay this before I return it,” Felix shrugged. “I’d hate for someone to get a late bill on a mistake like this.”

You were puzzled, to say the least, as you turned to leave, but then Felix stopped you.

“Hey!” He called. “I feel bad that you had to come all the way here just for this to not be mine. Can’t I at least get you a drink on the house? Do you like dogs?”

The most astounding thing of all was you felt yourself heat up at his offer. This was well and truly bizarre, but you needed to check this out as well. There had to be fine print. You should’ve looked closer at the file.

You dumbly nodded as Felix gladly directed you over to a seat at the bar by his register. When he asked what you liked and you added a dumb shrug to your list of unintended responses, he shrugged in return and said he’d love to surprise you, then. Felix ground some beans down to a dense powder, pressed it into a puck, and pulled a couple espresso shots. You found yourself intrigued, having never seen or paid any attention to someone doing this by hand before. He steamed a small pitcher of milk until a modest head of creamy foam sat on top and carefully poured it in the center of the shots. He proudly slid the cup over to you on a saucer.

“A flat white,” he humbly presented. You silently nodded your gratitude and tried it. This was utterly confounding. The same misdelivery stunt got a shoe thrown at you by a client a few years back. You had to put the cup down as soon as you tried a sip.

“Is everything alright?” Felix worriedly asked. The fluffy lab originally sleeping on the rug in the center of the cafe got up to check on you, his wet nose leaving a slight print on your uniform pants.

“Er, yeah,” you gulped down the hot drink on your lips, “this is just really good. Are you sure I can’t pay you?”

Felix raised a hand to deny you. “Wouldn’t dream of accepting it. I’m sure you’ve been working hard all day anyway.”

“Sure have,” you stiffly lied. “Well, I can at least tip you.”

You conjured a wallet with a sizable bill inside, more than enough to cover the coffee as you quickly downed the modestly sized beverage. Felix beamed as you waved goodbye.

Fine.

So Felix was nice. So Felix was really nice. Felix was really nice, and kind, and he made good coffee.

But you’d have to try anyway. There was something in him that could convince you that he wasn’t 100% good, even though that shouldn’t have been a reason from the beginning.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

You returned two nights later, but you didn’t enter the small side street. Instead, you paced in front of your parked bike out on the sidewalk, over and over again, working up the nerve. After a while, though, you knew it was time. You would goad Felix into dropping the act, into showing who he really was under all the sugar and sunshine. After making sure the sizeable package was sitting precariously on your handlebars to match the one on the back of your bike, you revved the little engine as Felix swept the stoop for the night. You barreled down the street, apparently unable to see much in front of you beyond the shoddy headlight. This was fine. This was easy. You’d done this before, and a saint of an old schoolteacher beat the snot out of you with their cane for it a while back. Felix noticed you at the last second, eyes widening comically as you reflexively honked.

You couldn’t do it.

Your finger barely squeezed the brake, but the front axle jackknifed and sent you ass over elbows onto the pavement.

Everything went white for a second and you definitely did not miss being alive in this moment, because this invariably sucked. And now Felix was there.

“It’s you!” Felix gasped and immediately offered you a hand up. “You scared the daylights out of me!”

“Uh,” you stammered and groaned, “I can say the same.” You could not wait to leave this plane and not feel the pain radiating in your hip and back. But right now, Felix was already pulling you into the cafe and fretting.

“Are you in a rush? You should at least sit down a moment.”

You sighed and let Felix seat you in a comfy chair by a heater in the small cafe, only lit by warm lamps at this time of night. The basset hound watching from a basket on the low windowsill came to sit at your feet as Felix hurriedly set about making you a hot cup of tea. He rushed over, light on his feet and pushing the warm mug into your hands. You nearly spat as you looked closer at the ceramic cup. “Is this—?”

“From that box you brought me the other day? Sure is.” Felix let the force of his belly laugh carry him into a chair beside you. “The funniest thing, really. I tried calling the phone number on that invoice and only got busy tones, and I tried looking up the business and only found dead websites. I figured I could always use pens and mugs, so now I have a supply and a funny story.”

You could crumple into dust, honestly. You set the mug on the little table by your chair, albeit a tad roughly. “I’m so sorry,” you shook your head, “but what is your deal? You’re literally the happiest person I ever met.”

Felix’s eyes pointed sharp into you. There it was.

But he wasn’t angry. He seemed embarrassed.

“Well,” he sighed, even still attempting to maintain his persistent smile, “it’s a long and tired story. I was really sick a couple years ago and I pulled through when no one thought I could.”

“I’m sorry—” you meekly interjected, but it was too late. The shine in Felix’s eye finally dulled, if only a little. You’d cracked him.

“It’s fine,” Felix reassured you. He gently patted your knee before he got back up to his feet. “You go ahead and enjoy your tea. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Of course, yeah,” you babbled as you got up and followed him anyhow, “I’m just glad I didn’t hit you.” You set the mug on the bar and sat down as he walked behind the register. The chihuahua in his basket drowsily got up and walked into your hand for pets.

“I was going to say the same,” Felix nodded tiredly with a worn smile. “It’s happened before. I guess I should put some lights up outside. A cute delivery boy almost ran me over with his bike about a year ago, too.”

“Delivery boy?” You asked starkly. Felix caught your look before falling right back into stride. His grin seemed to get its warmth back.

“Yeah,” he nodded amusedly. “He had an adorable nose ring, I remember I was terrified I almost ripped it out when he helped me up.”

Felix looked confused at the very least as you choked on your tea.

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered out. “You know I — it’s weird that — I just remembered I need to be somewhere. Thank you again, for everything.” You dug out entirely too much money for the tea and clapped it down onto the counter before grabbing your things and sprinting out the door.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

Jisung looked caught as you slapped Felix’s file on his desk. “Hi,” he squeaked as you towered over him.

“What happened when you tried to crack him?”

The young Arbiter let his head drop back with a hard sigh. “You got the file? I knew he couldn’t last long.”

“You only gave him another year, you had to know this was coming.”

“He was just so—? He’s so nice, and genuine, and warm?” Jisung blathered on as he sat back up and flipped through the file. “He was never the same since what Chan did. He was the most amazing turnaround I’d ever seen.”

“So you gave him a year—“

“I didn’t.” Jisung shook his head. “Look closer at the file. I put him back in the queue for Reassessment.”

“What do you mean you—“

“Look,” Jisung insisted. He grabbed your sleeve and dragged you down the hall. “I put him back in Reassessment and was lucky to only get demoted. After what Chan did, I couldn’t bring myself to do more.”

“What are you showing me?”

“Here.”

Jisung shook out his hands and you found yourself standing beside him in a graveyard. This was a pleasant enough place to end up. The grass was neatly trimmed and there were trees and benches to sit on. The orange and red leaves scattered around looked like confetti, a graceful celebration at the end of life. Jisung stood between two headstones.

“I made the mistake of looking at what Chan did, except Felix’s family wasn’t gone yet when he had the file. They were on their way out, though. He saw that they were leaving soon, and Felix would be alone with his grandfather at his cafe. His grandfather would be all alone after losing all of them, and that would be after everything Felix would go through, getting sick and getting better and learning to live again. Chan saw a horrible ending to an awful story and put a stop to it, and he got banished for it.”

“That’s not fair though,” you shook your head, “no matter how much you or he wanted it.”

“But look at him!” Jisung reeled. “That decision made one of the brightest humans I’ve ever seen. When I put him back to Reassessment, I just spent time around him before I was called back. I suggest you do the same, no matter what you choose. I hope this helped.”

Jisung haughtily folded his arms before he vanished. You finally looked more closely at the headstones. Those years were much too close together. Your heart hung low in your gut.

◇─◇──◇──🍂──◇──◇─◇

Felix grinned wide when you returned to the cafe. He immediately set about making you a drink.

“I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

“You were?”

This was feeling familiar, like you were home or at a friend’s house, while you sat yourself in an easy chair and let the panting sheepdog sit between your feet so you could scratch under her chin.

“Yeah!” Felix brightly called over. “Because you asked why I’m like this, I sort of only gave you half an answer.”

“I’m sorry again,” you lamented.

“It’s fine,” Felix said adamantly as he set a warm mug in your hands. He gestured grandly before sitting down. “A latte. Now, I only gave you half an answer. The fact of the matter is that I spent a good while tied to tubes and machines with nothing to do and no choice in the matter. Now, all this time later, I’m just happy to be here, because I know the day after could be any day now.”

“The day after?”

Felix nodded. “When you come away from something like that, later it just feels like a day. One big day, or week, or whatever is tangible, but it definitely wasn’t forever. It feels like one big day to me. This, in the grand scheme of things, is the day after that, but the day after this, when everything actually does end— I’m expecting it. And I’m not scared, but I’m going to be enjoy my time here as much as I can.”

“You’re not scared?”

“Not anymore,” Felix shook his head in determination. “I had to cope with my own loss like everyone else was getting ready to cope with losing me. I didn’t get to have that luxury of not expecting it anymore, because I know what it looks like and I know what’s coming. To do anything else would be a disservice, so I’d rather walk into it with a clear mind and a full life.”

You thought of Bill and Jane, how she was the only one not crying at the end. It was hard to place exactly how you felt, sipping your coffee made with loving hands in this small cafe full of an inordinate amount of golden afternoon sunlight for being so hidden away from the main road. Felix fit here — cosmically, almost, in the least dramatic way you could muster.

“I’m really glad you feel that way,” you said, hoping that the added sincerity hidden behind the sentiment was felt.

The shimmer in Felix’s eyes told you it was. “I am, too. And I’m especially glad you’re back, because I like seeing you around. I don’t think I’ve given away this many free drinks since that delivery boy last year.”

“I like seeing you, too, Felix.” You finally admitted it, and it was true, even more so as Felix’s shining smile grew even more. You did like seeing Felix, and you would continue to see Felix as much as you were able, all the way to the end.