#Keep yer flames to yer self

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

03 — MY COMPASS, MY TRANSPORT

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

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“I have nothing else to live for.”

It’s a truth. A deep, earnest one – and it’s the only option you have.

Without Graves, without your Shadows, you have nothing. No income, no family, no support. You're left with the clothes on your body and the shoes in which you stand, with no hope of finding your footing.

In the darkness, the only light shines from the headlights of the truck, and the red of the radio. It’s silenced, of course, but it serves as a beacon of something between you all.

“I don’t – I have no other choice,” you say, voice trembling. You would not break in front of them, but you could feel yourself cracking; porcelain underneath a harsh grip. Turning yourself so you’re completely facing the two, your expression turns desperate. “I want to help you both, and I want to save Phi– Graves.”

You correct yourself at the final moment, wary of your slip up.

“Save ‘im? From what? Feckin’ charges for war crimes? Getting his ass handed to ‘im?” Soap chokes out, incredulous, eyes wide where they meet yours. He winces when he moves forward too quick, straining his arm.

“He’s…” You look down at your hands, merely watching for a moment as they close into a fist and open again. Blood crusts underneath your fingernails. “He’s all I have. I’m sure he just needs a wake up call, someone to snap him out of it.”

“He tried to kill us,” Ghost speaks up, matter-of-fact, but quiet. As if at any moment, his words will wake up the entire city. If there were any civilians left in it, you supposed. Your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“...And I had to kill some of my men.”

It’s a confession of sin. Like poison on your tongue, yet at the same time, an anecdote to an evil in your veins. You’d killed your men. You’d… done that.

You still haven’t quite allowed yourself to realise it, not yet.

But if it’s enough to keep you alive right now, so be it. You hadn’t gotten this far just to give up over something as inconsequential as pride.

“Ye will tell us everything you know about ‘im. And’ll help us until we figure out what to do. We’re our own bosses now, Sweetheart,” Soap commands, that fucking nickname of his seeming to stick. You don’t dispute it – not right now, not when this is quite literally life or death.

“I promise,” you say, resolute and stern. There was no time for self-pity or wallowing, only time for action and conviction – something you had in spades. “I’m yours for as long as you need me.”

You hadn’t known how true those words would be – not then, and not for a good while. But they were a prophecy, if such a thing could at all be possible for a woman like you.

Soap and Ghost share a look; a brief, yet important one, before Ghost gives the Scot a short nod. Soap turns once more to you, his face betraying the answer of their silent agreement.

“...So?” You suggest, impatient considering the consequences of the next few moments. 

Bringing a hand up to stroke at his stubbled chin, Soap makes an act of pretending to ponder – and it succeeds in stoking the flames at your core, fury burning through you like a liquor-soaked rope.

“I dunno, lass,” he says on a sigh, his ocean eyes betraying a mischief in their depths. “Yer kinda mean to me.”

You might choke him.

Actually, check that, you will choke him. He’s impossible – an arsehole to the nth degree – somehow worse than Ghost in his… foolishness? Was that the right word? Or just straight frustrating-ness?

Seeming to sense your thinning patience, Soap’s hand falls from his jaw with a mirthful smirk, proud of himself. 

“If ye say pretty please, ye can join our lil’ duo.” He finishes the statement off with a wink, and you don’t realise that your hands have curled into fists until the sharp pain of nails digging into your palms force you to resort back to your senses.

You let out a slow, loud breath. 

Neither of them move a muscle, except for the twitch of Soap’s dimple. You hate that you recognise such a small movement, but you easily blame it on the fact that it’s a drilled-in mentality.

“...Please,” you acquiesce, however quiet. 

Ghost’s eyebrow raises. How you’re aware of that, considering his mask, is a props to him. 

“That’s not what he asked for.” His voice is a low, husky thing, and the title of guard dog suddenly doesn’t sound so incorrect.

With your teeth gritted and cheeks straining, you mutter out, “Pretty please.”

Soap’s responding smile is nothing short of beaming, and you almost immediately wish that you could take those words back. Was death really so bad? Would it even be a mercy, compared to deciding to share a threadbare camaraderie with these weirdos?

Too bad time control isn’t exactly a well-researched military weapon.

“Let’s go then,” Ghost slaps his gloved hand against the steering wheel, before looking one last time towards you with purpose, “Sweetheart.”

Soap laughs.

You get out and slam the door in his face.

“Och! You feckin’ bastard, lass,” you hear him screech, before the door opens once more and Soap hops out, fuming.

Turning away, you fall behind Ghost, and quickly take a look around at the vast, empty area that is barren suburbia. Not before responding, however.

“Next time you get shot, I’m not taking care of your ass,” you threaten. “And I’m giving the rest of my sweets to Mr. Melodramatic.”

Soap’s returning mock gasp is, in all fairness, pretty comedic. “You have more sweets? Gimme those and ye lovely bedside manners ‘nd I’ll get a cavity!”

Your returning glare could cut steel. “Keep that up, and you’ll end up with bigger issues than a cavity.”

“I think ye are already the bigger issue,” Soap snaps back, but it’s not inherently malicious. It’s… borderline playful, and that sudden thought has you internally slapping yourself.

“Both of ya – quiet,” Ghost warns.

You both shut up immediately.

With wary steps, the three of you go to step up towards the front door, when Ghost swings out a hand, stopping the lot of you in your tracks. The night doesn’t allow for any of you to see well, but he must’ve picked up something that you hadn’t.

The thought is an immediately terrifying one.

“Pressure plates,” Soap murmurs under his breath, eyeing the square linoleum tile. “Nice catch, Lt.”

Ghost doesn’t respond, instead motioning for you to follow him towards a glassless window. Gravel crunches underneath your light footfalls, easily heard in the deathly quiet, as you move to swing your leg over the access point and drop to the floor inside.

Landing with a soft thud, you go to unfurl from your crouching position, before a loud warning shout from Ghost has you freezing.

Flinching where you stand, your eyes dart to where Ghost has flung one of his daggers, the sharp metal splintering a wooden beam further into the dark room. Realising that Soap sits at your flank, you shift your gaze to spot a red light focused in on his forehead – between his eyes.

“¿Quien esta ahi?” An unfamiliar, accented voice calls out from behind the beam. You could slap yourself for being so careless, in not realising that someone else was in here before Ghost had saved your arses. 

“Rodolfo!” Soap calls out, relief flooding his tone as he rights his position, shoulders back.

A man peeks out from behind the wood, eyes wide and slightly panicked, before they soften at the sight of the two men behind you. “Soap! Ghost! You’re alive!”

Stepping out from around the beam, he reaches for Ghost’s dagger, pulling it away from where it had dug into the oak with undeniable ease. His appearance is striking, with a set jaw and gentle features – he’s quite pretty, but not at all in a way that you find yourself attracted to the man.

“Affirmative,” Ghost responds, accepting the knife back when the man – Rodolfo – hands it to him hilt-first.

“Good to see you, amigos,” Rodolfo smiles, before his appraisal sets on you, confusion sparking in his deep brown eyes. He looks to the two men at your side for an explanation, hesitant in the way he does so.

“This is…” Soap trails off, before coming to a realisation. “Feckin’ hell. I never even asked for yer name, Sweetheart.”

Rodolfo blinks. Once, twice, before his eyebrows furrow and his mouth settles into an uncomfortable grimace.

You shoot a glare Soap’s way, before gifting Rodolfo a polite, yet stilted, smile. Extending your hand, you give him your name, and then your official title.

“Colonel? Graves’ colonel?” Rodolfo repeats back, utterly taken aback by such an introduction. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, quickly hissing to Soap in unamused Spanish, “¿Has perdido la cabeza?”

“I saved his life,” you interrupt, before any verbal sparring begins. “And I’m on your team. I don’t agree with what Graves is doing – and I’m sorry for what he’s already done. But I want to help you. I swear.”

Rodolfo regards you for a moment, his internal walls still heavily locked in place. But he seems… softer, now, in a way. More understanding, maybe, less hesitant as he slowly appraises you, inspecting you under his critical analysis.

The silence stretches, before the soldier raises his hands placatingly, the left side of his mouth twitching into a smooth smirk. “No accusations from me, Corazón,” he reassures, the pet name sliding from his full lips like butter over warm toast.

“Aye, none of tha’,” Soap warns, and Rodolfo’s amusement deepens. Whatever the Scot is about to say next is abruptly stopped by Ghost’s booming demand from behind you both.

“Anyone outside of these walls is now considered a hostile – we’re a team now. This happened under my watch, and I’d bloody well do good to fix it.” His posture is stiff, hand unconsciously flexing around the blade strapped to his belt as he delivers the order. It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak in one shot.

You figure he’s stopped speaking, when suddenly his heavy gaze is on you, any ounce of solidarity snuffed out like a match’s flame. “You fuck up once, Sweetheart, and I won’t hesitate when I shoot ya dead.”

It’s as good of a compromise as you’re going to get from the hulking Lieutenant, but you weren’t made Colonel for your talents in stepping down.

“You forget that I outrank you,” you challenge, chin raised and eyes flinty. “And that I saved your mutt.”

“We don’t have a feckin’ dog,” Soap starts, but when he sees the way Ghost side eyes him, and how you give him an unimpressed look, his jaw drops. “Ye bastard! Shoulda killed ya –”

Rodolfo’s hand wraps around Soap’s forearm, the grumbling man twisting in his hold, but not putting up anything close to a fight. “She’s just stirring you up, hermano,” Rodolfo placates, his large eyes meeting yours with a hint of respect in them. It has you straightening your spine, and your resolve.

“We sort this out as equals,” you state, folding your arms over your chest and bucking your hip. Ghost doesn’t, for a single second, shift your mutual eye contact. “And you will all tell me what the fuck’s going on – and what we’re doing.”

“Alejandro,” Ghost quips, sharp and to the point. Finally, you think, his near-black eyes drift to Rodolfo. “We need him back.”

“He’s the only other lad we can trust out there,” Soap adds, his pout easing slightly. Rodolfo finally drops his hand, clapping it hard against the petulant man’s shoulder with a firm nod.

“Already got a head start, hermanos,” he gestures for the three of you to follow him further into the room, before his calculating eyes glance back at you, “y hermana.”

It’s an unknown, entirely different feeling that erupts inside of your chest at the inclusion. Rodolfo was clearly the most soft spoken man of the three, but he had an intelligence to him that you couldn’t wait to unpack. And he trusted you. Or so you had gathered, anyway.

However.

First things first.

“...Where’s Alejandro? I thought he was Mexican Special Forces?” It was, admittedly, a unique kind of embarrassing – how out of the loop you felt, considering you were a colonel under Graves’ command. You’d heard the man’s name before, but it was usually just paired with barracks gossip and warnings to steer clear. Some joke about how the only one who could kill Alejandro, was the soldier himself.

Moving along with Rodolfo, you’re surprised when it’s Soap who supplies you the answer.

“Your fuckwit of a Commander’s got ‘im,” he curses, the words grating and harsh. Deserved, of course it was deserved, yet it was still odd hearing such disrespect for the man of whom you’d idolised for so long.

Of whom you’d given everything.

Switching a light on, Rodolfo stops in front of a large table, a map laid out across the top of it. Your eyes go wide at the intricacies – focusing as the man leans over and presses a finger towards a highlighted spot, watching the three of you where you stand on the other side. Dust floats near the source of the lamp, and the scent of grime hits you a moment later, a familiar thing.

“Graves is holding him here,” Rodolfo explains, his previously mischievous expression settling into a firm, military-grade frown.

“His own personal black site prison,” Soap scoffs, subconsciously flexing his fingers around the straps of his vest. His focus is utterly devoted to the map in front of him, but his anxiety shows itself through the tiniest of movements.

Rubbing his spare hand down his face, Rodolfo lets out a long, strewn-out sigh. “My men are locked in there, too.”

“Then let’s get them back,” you supply with a small shrug when all eyes shoot your direction.

“That’s obvious, lass,” Soap says, lacking any hint of his previous vitriol when he looks around the room. “How we get ‘em back is the question.”

“By breaking in,” Ghost answers, the retort as simple as breathing.

If you weren’t so receptive to body movements, to the smallest of expressions, you’d’ve missed it. Even then, you doubted that anyone could miss how Soap’s eyes soften when he looks to his Lieutenant, how his breath softly hitches in his throat.

You want to claw out your eyes with a rusty spoon.

By the look on Rodolfo’s face, he feels much the same – until he catches you staring, and then his face twists into something much more cryptic. Like a man trying to solve a puzzle without all of the pieces, being forced to jam spares into spots that just won’t fit.

“We need weapons,” you startle out, the words surprising even yourself. You don’t go back on them, don’t even think to. “If we want to stand a fighting chance – we need firepower.”

“Who said you’re with us?” Ghost questions snarkily, but when you go to reply, you find that Rodolfo’s moved to the corner of the room, switching on even more lights, displaying a wrought iron door.

Sliding it open, you feel like a kid on Christmas morning as you take note of the supplies within.

Rodolfo shrugs, but the small, smug grin on his face doesn’t dispel. “It’s well-stocked. This is Ale we’re talking about.”

The affectionate nickname is something you store away for later. ‘Well-stocked’ is certainly an understatement – guns of all types line the walls within the room, all types of bombs and grenades along with it.

“Alright,” Ghost huffs out, the closest to appreciative that a man like him can get.

Soap is much more upfront about his joy. “My man!” He laughs, his dimples etched into his features like the light spattering of freckles over his upper cheeks and nose bridge. “We’re gonna need new wheels. Preferably up-armoured.”

Digging into his pocket, Rodolfo pulls out a set of keys, tossing them over to Ghost with relaxed shoulders. Turning, shock must be evident on all of you, because Rodolfo lets out a low chuckle. “Your wish is my command, hermanos y hermana.”

To the far end of the room, within the adjoined stables, is a fully-armoured forward drive of some sort – sleek and black and fucking perfect.

“Alejandro thought of everything,” Ghost admires, and when you look to him, you swear that you can see a hint of hope shining in his darkened eyes. Your heart skips a beat on its own accord, and you’re absorbed by the all-consuming want to pull it out of your chest with your bare hands, just so it never does such a thing again.

“Yeah, he did,” Soap whistles, before turning back around to face your small band of misfits. With a determined grin, he says as if it’s an afterthought, “Let’s go get ‘im.”

With a stern resolve and an even sterner disposition, you walk alongside your newfound teammates, and get ready for the most difficult mission of your military career.

*

When you’d, stupidly, recklessly, decided to play good guy and helps out the 141 and Los Vaqueros, you hadn’t taken into account how you’d be at the bottom of the totem pole.

While the three men you were working alongside were all considerably close, you were an outsider. At that, an outsider who had, only a few hours ago, decided to swap sides from enemy to ally.

Being paired with Ghost is, arguably, the most gut-wrenching job in your life. By the time that Rodolfo finds Alejandro through the CCTV system, you’re nearly entirely covered in dried blood, and your head thumps with a headache.

Not a headache from war – a headache from the fucking twat with a shitty DIY job for a military get-up.

“You’re seriously the worst,” you grit out, wiping off a bit of Shadow blood that’s been sprayed on your cheek. “I seriously can’t fucking believe that any one of your mates can tolerate you.”

“Who needs ‘mates’ when I have my boys?” Ghost quips back, wiping off his bloody dagger onto his vest, before slotting it back into its rightful position on his belt. His ability to blend into the night, even with the prison lights on, is uncanny – the only tell the white of his stitched-in skull.

You mock a disgusted sound, sticking out your tongue. “You sound like a fuckboy.”

“A what?” And, although it sounds nothing like a choke, you’re sure that it’s an instinctual question.

The sound of a helicopter up ahead has the two of you pausing in your tracks, feud coming to a quick halt. Looking up, you struggle to see the vehicle in the black of night, but you manage to spot the slowly circling heli above the prison.

“Ghost, Sweetheart, what’s yer status?” Soap’s voice trickles in through your comms. Ghost glances at you, before he answers on your behalf, ever the control-freak.

“Comin’ your way.”

Falling into step side-by-side, you focus on the wet gravel underneath your feet, avoiding making any communication with the man to your right.

“Copy. We’re on the move,” Soap replies, before Rodolfo cuts in.

“Heads up on the helo,” he warns. You find that you much prefer him over the other two – in fact, under any other circumstance, you could see the two of you becoming good friends. Maybe, if everything goes well, that could be a possibility – a positive in your world of negatives.

“Don’t think we’re in his line of sight,” you respond, double-checking your route and the helicopter's position in the sky. Rodolfo had warned you all, debriefing in the drive here, that helicopters would likely show up at some point.

Minutes pass, with small comms between the lot of you, when you finally spot the familiar figures belonging to the other half of your precarious team. 

Soap and Rodolfo stand at the entrance, before the two turn at the sound of your and Ghost’s footsteps. They both seem to visibly loosen their stiff shoulders, seeing you both uninjured – and if you do the same, you pray that no one notices.

“The door’s locked,” Soap informs you all, gesturing to the steel entrance5.

With a small hum, Rodolfo reaches for the pack on his vest. “We’ll need to breach it,” he explains, but before he can grab a charger, Ghost raises a hand to stop him.

“No, Rudy –” And that is a nickname that you’ll be using later, “Knock.”

Rodolfo seems apprehensive, but he agrees anyway, giving all three of you separate glances. “On me…”

All of you getting into readying positions, Rodolfo knocks on the door, the sound echoing loud enough to have your blood pounding in your ears.

A moment later, a Shadow – one you don’t recall having met – pushes open the door and moves to step outside. However, Rodolfo and Ghost are quick to neutralise him, softly dropping his body to the floor.

Pushing through the entrance, everyone except for you shoot a Shadow dead – clearing the room in less than twenty seconds. It’s impressive, how smoothly run the operation is, considering the lack of proper authority or guidance.

You’re the first to spot some more Shadows moving your way, down the stairs – calling it out. “More Shadows from the second floor – watch out!”

This time, you find yourself the cause of two men falling to the ground, blood pooling underneath their lifeless bodies. Your team doesn't give you time to second guess, to mourn, before they’re encouraging you to follow them up the stairs.

“Ale’s up here, let’s go!” Rodolfo urges, his voice bordering on a kind of desperation reminiscent of a boy enlisting for the first time.

Like expected, Alejandro’s cell is down the hall, sat to the far right. Two Shadows guard the steel door, but Soap and Rodolfo are quick to light them up, successfully clearing the entire two floors. You’re ashamed of how relieved you feel, being gifted the small mercies of not having to kill your previous subordinates, unless necessary.

You feel, more than see, Ghost’s heavy gaze on you. When you look back up from the gun in your hands, however, he’s turned completely away – and if you were a less accurate person, you’d have thought you were imagining things.

“There’s Alejandro’s cell.” Stopping at the steel door, Rodolfo adjusts his grip on the gun, before giving you an encouraging jerk of his head. “Open it up, me and Soap will cover you.”

Another small mercy, you think, as Ghost reaches into his backpack and pulls out a set of bolt cutters, regarding you stiffly. “When I pop this lock, you push in,” he directs you curtly, and you bite back a retort. You knew the process like the back of your hand – you had no need for an explanation.

The ‘especially from him’ goes unsaid.

With precise, practised movements, Ghost positions the bolt cutters, and pushes open the door.

As soon as you take one step into the cell, a large hand wraps around the back of your neck, slamming your face into the concrete wall, a blinding pain shooting through your retinas. Letting out a small yelp, your chest rattles as your hands wildly raise in an imitation of surrender.

“Alejandro! Let go of ‘er! It’s us!” Soap calls out, and you swallow unhealthy amounts of air. That hit had taken more out of you than you’d expected – and your harsh breaths were making that incredibly apparent.

The grip on the scruff of your neck slackens when Rodolfo shoots off in quickfire Spanish, “Coronel, relájate, cabron, somos nosotros.”

Your cheek aches and your head pounds as the hand removes itself entirely, allowing for you to take in lungfuls of oxygen.

“Soap, Ghost!” Alejandro bursts out, and as you rise to your feet unsteadily, you watch as he thumps both of them on the back of their shoulders, before turning to Rodolfo with an expression that could only be described as longing. “...Rudy.”

“Didn’t think we’d leave ya, did ye?” Soap chuckles, oblivious to the thread of tension between the two men. 

Whatever silent conversation had occured between the two enforcers is quickly cut as Alejandro accepts the shake of Soap’s hand, a feral grin wide on his features. “What took you so long, pendejos?”

“A traitor with an attitude is what,” Ghost inputs, and really, how much self control can a Lieutenant lack? Wiping at your cheek, you let your hand fall once more to your side as you meet Alejandro’s inquisitive gaze head-on.

“I’m Graves’ previous colonel,” you extend your hand, “And I’m your best bet at getting your base back.”

You expect suspicion, uproar, maybe – or at least questioning, similar to that of Rodolfo’s.

Instead, all you’re met with is Alejandro’s manic smile sharpening, and a slap on the back of your own. Ruffling your hair, he uses his free hand to accept the gun Rodolfo’s extending towards him, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Sounds good, hermana. Welcome to how real men fight.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re

[roosterr]

murphy's law

a/n: ive had this idea in my head for a while so i decided to dump it out of my brain for all of you to enjoy. somewhat inspired by lunarvicar's amazing wonderful fic to the flame i really love her writing so check it out yo also i haven't written anything in years so cut me some slack :')

pairing: captain john price x gn!reader

summary: when a simple mission goes south, you get left behind in the confusion. you just can't seem to catch a break.

no use of y/n, callsign is 'vantage'

no physical description, but reader is (very) vaguely implied to be shorter than price

warnings: descriptions of injury (nothing too graphic), canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, minor character death, i don't know how the military works lmao, lots of swearing bc i can't help myself

word count: 8.6k

read it on ao3 here

✹✹✹

it was a straightforward mission; in and out, grab what you need, and you'd be home in time for dinner. nothing you hadn't handled before.

ghost and price were on overwatch; the lieutenant was positioned with his rifle on a rooftop across the street, whilst the captain stayed in the suv with a laptop to keep an eye on the surveillance cameras around the exterior of the building.

you'd had your eyes on this intel for months now, biding your time and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. your opening had finally arrived, and with all that time spent planning, it was going so well.

that should have been the first red flag.

the second, more apparent, warning sign was that anything you found as you, gaz, and soap swept the building was either something you already knew, or irrelevant. how was that possible? the location of this facility was a heavily guarded secret, you'd fought tooth and nail to find it; why spend so much effort hiding something which had such little value?

you'd ventured to the second floor, up the damp stairwell and further into the eerily quiet building. there must be something worth hiding here, you just had to find it. you certainly weren't planning on going home empty handed.

you paused your movement into the dark, staring down the empty corridor through the sights of your gun. you felt your stomach turn, and swallow down the sick taste of bile in your throat. for everything you'd done to get here…

it was going so… well.

bringing your hand to the radio on your chest, you don't bother to calm the shake in your voice before speaking.

"does this feel off to anyone–"

you're cut off by price's shouting, a twinge of panic in his voice you aren't used to hearing from him.

"fuck– it's an ambush! get out of there, now!"

you're about to respond, when you hear gunshots from below you. soap and gaz were downstairs, where the hostiles were pouring into the building, and you were on your own upstairs.

the shots from ghost's rifle make your ears ring, even from across the street.

"vantage, get yer arse down here, there's too many of 'em!" soap's yelling brings you out of your haze, and you can't find the energy to respond as you take off running, back to the stairs you came up. "shit– man down! gaz is hit! they're coming up, vantage!"

you just about register what he said when the door to the stairway bursts open only a few metres ahead of you. diving into the nearest open room, you narrowly avoid a bullet to the gut, and slam the door shut behind you.

shit. fuck. fucking shit.

you counted at least four hostiles up here, and with gaz injured, soap would most likely be dragging him back to the suv you all arrived in, where price was waiting, which meant…

you really were alone.

well, ghost was out there, but he was a man of self preservation. he wouldn't risk coming in here to save you. not when you were this fucked.

your chest felt tight, now, and you could hear the enemies shouting on the other side of the wall. come on, you plead with yourself, do something!

snapping your head to look around the room you'd trapped yourself in, your eyes linger on the filing cabinets lining the wall next to you. you can drag them over here, barricade the door. 

prolong your survival, or delay the inevitable.

you hadn't noticed how hard your nails were digging into your palms until you went to grip the cabinet. the half-moon divots stung against the cool metal as you heaved it in front of the door.

now the hostiles are outside, rattling the wall with their attempts to kick the door down.

you drag another one, for safe measure. you pray they'll be heavy enough.

through the blood rushing in your ears, you can just about make out price's voice.

"vantage, answer me dammit! what is your bloody status!"

"i'm good– i'm good," you manage to get out between pants, never once taking your eyes off the door. willing your heartbeat to slow down. "not injured, just– stuck in a room upstairs."

"that doesn't sound good to me."

it all went quiet when he spoke to you. at first you thought it was just because your focus had shifted– because it was him– but it really was quiet now.

"yeah, i… they're– wait, they're not at the door anymore, they…"

hold on.

what?

"ghost, you got eyes? what's happenin' over there?" there's a sense of urgency to your captain's voice, and for a single selfish moment, you think he might be worried for you beyond that of a just soldier. your frenzied mind lingers on that thought.

the gruff voice of ghost brings you back to reality,

"they're setting charges– vantage, you need to find a way out."

charges. explosives.

all you can muster is a half-hearted, "shit…"

deep down, you know that isn't going to happen. you wouldn't have time to run down the stairs, and even if you did you'd only be walking right into their bullets. there's nothing they can do to help. and you think, deep down, they know that too.

this is it, then, you think to yourself, am i really going to die like this?

and for another fleeting moment, you're filled with regret that you would never get to see john's face again. all the stolen glances, lingering touches, inside jokes; none of it would ever amount to anything. would he remember you? would he even come back for your dog tags?

the tightness is back in your heart, but it's different this time.

your eyes still don't leave the door as your back hits the wall. the faint moonlight gives the room a soft glow, serene, and your heart sinks further into your stomach.

the moonlight;

the window, the outside.

not an ideal escape route, but these were hardly ideal circumstances.

you didn't waste a second with hesitation and backed up for a running start. you thank every deity you can think of that you always insisted on wearing a helmet.

this was going to hurt, but it was better than the alternative.

"van, you have to get out, please!" you're not even sure who's talking in your ear anymore, but you know who you want it to be.

for him, you think to yourself, i have to make it back to him.

with a deep breath, you take off into a sprint, tucking your head into your elbow and diving shoulder first through the glass.

as you free fall out the second storey window, you think you hear john calling your name, your real name, and you think you feel a flutter in your chest. it was almost peaceful.

and then you hit the ground.

with a thump and a sickening crack, you rolled unceremoniously and ended up on your side, in the snowy alleyway behind the building you were just trapped in; the building that was about to be demolished. your elbow muffled your pained cry.

right, explosives, the reason you jumped to begin with.

your teammates are still going berserk in your ear, yelling at each other or you or both, but you can't bring yourself to respond. you could answer them once you were a safe distance away– and when you could breathe without heaving. as you stand, swaying on your feet, you feel your ribs shift in a way they definitely aren't supposed to, filling you once again with the innate urge to vomit.

but you swallow that down; it'll have to wait, you need to get as far away as possible, now.

your hands braced your broken ribs– and you notice, then, that your shoulder is killing you too– as you stumble down another alley, leading away from the building. you slip and almost fall on the untouched snow, but somehow manage to catch yourself. in the back of your mind, you notice you lost your rifle at some point. you'd have to survive with just your pistol.

for a moment, you almost felt that you'd gotten away, that you'd made the perfect escape.

of course, it was too perfect.

the charges finally went off. you were thrown forward, and despite your helmet, everything went black.

✹✹✹

your ribs flared with agony at the ragged breath you took, blinking your eyes open as consciousness returned to you. darkness swarmed your vision, contrasting the pure white of the snow that was slowly freezing your extremities, and you fought with every bit of self-restraint you had not to cry. your eyes stung anyway.

how long were you out? you were still in the alley, and you hadn't been found by anyone yet, so it couldn't have been long. i need to move, is the only thought swirling in your head. with what little strength you could muster, you rolled yourself onto your back to look at the ruins behind you.

dust filled the air and coated everything in sight, obscuring your vision almost fully; but what you could make out, was the lights from your enemy's guns as they swept the rubble.

looking for you, presumably.

shit shit shit.

you had god knows how many broken ribs, your shoulder was fucked, and now your vision was swimming, and to top it all off you could barely hear yourself think over the violent ringing in your ears. this night just kept getting better and better.

it took everything in you not to scream at the agony as you dragged yourself behind a fallen dumpster, sitting up against the cold brick of the building behind you in an attempt to catch your breath.

in. out. in. out.

in.

out.

every move had your bones creaking in protest, the longer you sat here the more you felt every little cut and bruise and shard of glass littering your body. the dust in the air tickled your throat and threatened to make you cough up a lung, spots in your vision danced like fireflies, luring you back into the clutches of sleep.

no… i can't rest yet, you urged yourself to fight your drooping eyelids, i have to get back to the suv… they're waiting… for me…

the crunch of debris under heavy boots snaps you back to the present.

someone was approaching.

the optimist in you wanted to believe it was price, coming to rescue you. but you couldn't take that chance. your hand grips the pistol on your hip, drawing it out slowly to make as little noise as possible.

the shadowed figure came stumbling into view. your arm straightened to aim at their unprotected head, eyes wide and breathing laboured.

the man– the boy– locked eyes with you, flinging himself backwards to the wall opposite you with his hands held high.

your expression hardened. he was your enemy. his uniform made that clear. for a moment, neither of you moved, you weren't even sure if he was breathing anymore. like two wild animals, locked in a staredown, each of you waiting for the other to make the first move. which one of you was the hunter, and which one was the prey?

shooting him will draw his comrades over here. sparing him means he can call them over himself. a lose-lose.

lost in your internal debate as you stare at him, you vaguely notice his hand lowering to his belt, and in a moment of panic, your heart clenches in time with your finger to deliver a shot right between his eyes.

his body slid down the wall, a perfect mirror of your own as the life fades from his expression.

shit. again.

his friends must’ve heard that. with renewed, adrenaline fueled vigour, you scramble across the alley, and begin rifling through the packs on his chest and belt.

a twinge of guilt fills you as you notice his empty holsters. he wasn't even armed.

shaking your head, you find what you're looking for; a morphine shot. at least, that's what it looked like, the words on the label were swimming with the concussion you surely had. it would have to do.

you take the syringe carefully, and stick the end into the muscle of your thigh, through a rip in your pants you hadn't noticed before, and inject the solution. it would take a minute to kick in, but hopefully the painkiller would help you at least make it back to the suv where your team was waiting.

where price was waiting. god you hoped they were okay, him especially, though he was probably in the least danger of you all. what you wouldn't give to have stayed in the car with him.

pocketing the empty syringe, you spare another glance at the boy's face. his wide, lifeless eyes. the pack he was reaching for. the same one you found the morphine in.

he… was going to help you. and you'd killed him.

oh god. the realisation has your stomach turning for the third time that day.

you pressed his eyes shut and pushed yourself to stand. as you trudge your way to the far end of the alley, you keep your eyes forward. there wasn't time to linger.

with a deep breath, you steel yourself and begin to make your way through the cold, abandoned streets of the small town. the suv wasn't far, only a couple blocks away. it wouldn't take you long to get there, even with your injuries.

somewhere in the distance, you could hear terrified screaming, presumably the residents who were forced awake by the sound of the explosion.

now that the ringing had died down, you realise that you hadn't heard your teammates in a while. absent-mindedly, you bring a hand up to press the comms, and you almost start talking before you feel the plastic crunch under your fingers.

"oh for fucks sake."

of fucking course your radio was broken. it must have been crushed when you were flung forward by the explosion.

brilliant.

whatever, the suv would be in your sight soon anyway, you don't need it.

the cover of night made it significantly easier to hobble through the streets unseen, thanks to your all black gear. the enemy were still hovering around the destroyed building, but at least that meant they thought you were buried under there. hopefully they would stay distracted long enough for you to make it back.

god, fuck, you really couldn't wait to get back to base. you desperately needed a shower hot enough to melt your skin to scrub off all the dirt and blood from your body. the morphine had started to kick in now, but you still felt your ribs shift unnaturally with every heavy step. you'd definitely need a few weeks off to recover from this one, and you’d probably get an earful from the captain. you’d kill to hear his voice right now, even if he was yelling at you for being an idiot.

only a little further. then you’d be back with the safety of your team, with this godforsaken place in the rear view mirror. with the promise of being able to rest, your limbs seemed to grow heavier as the exhaustion finally made its way into your bones.

except, when you turn the final corner, you freeze, an ice-cold dread sweeping through your veins.

the car was gone.

it wasn’t there.

they weren’t there.

there was a stretch of tarmac that fresh snow just beginning to fall had yet to cover, tire-tracks that showed the u-turn the suv had done, blood on the snow from– you assume– gaz, empty bullet casings from the fight they put up.

but no suv.

no teammates.

no john.

no. no, no no no. they couldn’t have left you. that wasn’t how you did things in the 141. it was no man left behind, you knew that. maybe they’re just circling the area, you rationalised, desperately trying to calm your ragged breathing, yeah, they went to look for me. they wouldn’t leave me behind.

but they weren't here.

and as you followed the tire-tracks down the street, they didn’t go back into the town. they made a straight line, directly to the dirt track leading into the wilderness, clear as day in the snow. back the way you had all gotten here earlier that night.

your knees dampen from the snow, the painkiller in your system keeping you from feeling the impact. when did you fall over? there was no attempt to stop the searing hot tears this time as they ran through the dirt caked to your face. your throat constricted, lifting a hand to your mouth to muffle your hyperventilating.

they were gone.

long gone, without you.

they really had left you behind.

a mumble from somewhere to your left interrupts your breakdown. grief morphs into blinding rage for a split second; can i get a fucking break? you swing your arm still holding the pistol to point at whoever was watching you, twisting your abdomen in a way that has you gritting your teeth.

a woman, clutching her young son, shielding his eyes and ears from you.

you lower your gun. that’s not a mistake you’ll make twice. catching her eyes, you gesture for her to be quiet, which is quickly met with her frantic nodding.

it reminds you, you’re still not safe here. you were supposed to be, but hey, it looks like plans change. no man left behind– what a load of horseshit. you push yourself onto shaky legs, you only had a few hours until the morphine wore off, and you needed to be out of here before that happened. as fast as you could possibly muster, you begin to stumble towards the dirt track that disappears into the treeline, following the slowly disappearing tire-tracks.

✹✹✹

you managed to make it into the woods faster than you expected, and you found a fallen tree slightly off the path to take shelter behind while you licked your wounds. literal and metaphorical.

this was unbelievable. how could they leave you like that? if they’d only taken the time to do a quick lap of the building, they would’ve found you laying face down in the snow, and this whole mess could have been avoided. where were they off to in such a hurry anyway? it’s not like you guys had found anything sensitive. 

oh, wait. gaz was shot. that had briefly slipped your mind. perhaps you were being a little selfish by getting so worked up by this, but then again, for all they knew you could have been in the same condition– or worse. they…

your breath hitched. and not from your injuries.

they thought you were dead. that would make sense, in the chaos of everything, and amidst your panic, you didn’t really do a good job keeping up with answering your comms. still though, you were definitely going to rip them all a new one when you got back; or maybe it would be the other way around.

either way, you couldn’t sit here and dwell on it all night. you needed to make it to the safehouse before they flew back to base. if you missed them this time, you really were well and truly fucked.

✹✹✹

"i've gotta be at least half-way by now," you lament, flopping down against another tree with a grunt in an attempt to calm the burning in your legs and chest. the morphine had worn off about a few hours ago, and you were finally feeling all the bleeding wounds you'd ignored before. nothing lethal, you hoped, aside from your shoulder, ribs, and splitting headache, it was mostly just a lot of glass in your skin.

when you left the town, it must have been just past midnight, and at this pace it would be well after morning before you made it back. you could just about see the first signs of dawn poking through the cloud layer.

the snow had gotten heavier, casting a haze over the horizon, but it hadn't escalated into a storm yet. even under all your gear, the cold was starting to bite at your limbs. your lack of gloves was a decision you were coming to regret; if you lost any fingers because of this you really were going to kill price.

"fuck, he thinks i'm dead…" you groan as you stare up at the sky. snowflakes catch in your eyelashes and threaten to freeze the tears as they well up in your eyes. was he as distraught as you currently were, you wonder? was he even moved at all, or were you just another soldier, just more paperwork he had to fill out?

being in love with your captain was so, so difficult. a mistake, most would say, and you used to tell yourself the same thing. but after knowing him, seeing the vulnerable parts of him he keeps closely guarded, you can't bring yourself to care. seeing his expression when you gifted him the cigars you bought for him, learning his favourite drink when you all went out after missions, trading stories over paperwork in his office late at night. even after everything you've been through together, you know, in your heart, he doesn't feel the same; he's your superior, you're his sergeant, and he is nothing if not an honest man. it can never work between you two. but despite it all, the only regret you have as you sit bleeding in the snow, is that you never told him how you felt.

please, don't leave me here… 

in the back of your mind, you know they wouldn't go home without at least id-ing your body, but you were so shaken by the ongoing near death experience that your train of thought wasn't making much sense anymore.

the distant whirr of a helicopter snapped you back to reality. maybe it was… no, the 141 didn't have a helicopter here, which could only mean it was a hostile one. fucking fantastic. where you were slumped was right at the edge of the road, with very little cover from above. you needed to move further off the path, under the protection of the forest canopy.

with a laboured grunt, you pulled yourself back onto your feet, using the tree behind you as a crutch until you could catch your breath again. the helicopter was getting nearer now, close enough that you could almost make out the spotlight through the falling snow.

a brief jog was all you could manage to get away from the road. the snow wasn't deep enough to leave tracks that would be noticeable from the air, not through the shade of darkness. you still as the helicopter passes overhead. there's no change in its course, and you huff a breath of relief. at least you wouldn't have to try and outrun a chopper.

you watch the helicopter's silhouette fade into the night sky. there was nothing to do but carry on. you needed to get to the safehouse.

this was going to be a long night.

✹✹✹

hours, it had been hours since you first set off, so long in fact that it was essentially daytime. the sun hadn't fully risen, casting the world in a dim light that was just dark enough to keep you tripping over roots and holes in the ground.

the snow had let up a while ago, but the overcast clouds had stayed, the perfect match to your steadily declining mood. you thought you felt like shit earlier? if only you could have predicted how much worse it would get. you were acclimated to the pain by now, it reduced to a constant throbbing where your bones were broken. perhaps the icy temperature around you was numbing your injuries; it was either that or the shock.

ahead, you recognised a set of worn tire-tracks making a hard turn through a gap in the forest. there was no way of knowing it was the right way, but a spark of optimism ignites in your chest. maybe you were finally getting close. you just had to pray that your sense of direction was good enough to be leading you in the right direction.

you were right on top of the tracks now, and upon closer inspection, the pattern of the treads might just match the ones on the suv; you've had to fix that damn car so many times you'd know it in your sleep. they were messy, the snow making it hard to pick out, but you needed the hope right now.

this had to be them.

you go to continue down the clear path, to follow where your team had gone, but your luck just doesn't improve.

the mud slides under your foot, catching your ankle and toppling you in your attempt to struggle through. the breath is forced from your lungs as you impact the ground. you cry out through gritted teeth, feeling the strain of your muscles twisting far further than they're supposed to.

pain strikes through your ankle like lightning. drawing a breath is almost impossible from the pressure of your ribs. as you fight to sit up, the mud fights to drag you back down like quicksand.

fuck. another injury to slow you down.

muddy snow covers you from head to toe, the stabbing pain in your shoulder coming back in full force.

was that a car? the low rumbling from the direction you came from drew your attention, and you faintly see beams of headlights through the darkness. you momentarily forgot about your injuries, a frenzied panic making your blood run cold. another patrol. i need to go.

then, as you struggle to get up and out of sight, you feel a concerning pop from your kneecap, and you don't even have to look to know it's dislocated.

but there was no time to check the damage, you had to hide, now, or the truck would reach you and you'd have a lot more problems on your hands. you scramble onto your hands and knees, and yank your ankle free of the wet mud, practically throwing yourself behind the undergrowth just in time for the truck to round the bend.

your ribs are displaced again, injecting fresh pain into the shuddering breath you took, on top of your newly twisted ankle and dislocated kneecap bent uncomfortably beneath you.

it's a miracle you were able to keep quiet as the vehicle passed by.

by some stroke of luck, or just divine stupidity, your enemies drive straight past the space in the trees and your hiding spot. the headlights cast ominous shadows as they cruise by, but they didn't see you.

struggling to your feet once again, this time you give the muddy path a wide berth as you make your way deeper into the forest.

✹✹✹

one foot in front of the other. dragging your injured leg behind you. cradling your broken ribs.

just keep going.

limping through the mud took every resource your body had left, the effort of keeping upright was almost more than you could take.

how much longer could you possibly go, before you can't get back up again?

you couldn't lose hope.

ahead of you, a break in the sea of trees.

just one foot in front of the other. that's all you need. it's all you can do.

closer, stepping out into the open, squinting against the sun.

against the pale light of the morning sky, you see a dark shape. a building? you couldn't tell, you could only pray it was the warehouse you'd been longing for.

one foot in front of the other.

closer still, despite the bone-deep exhaustion in every limb. you could make it out now, the rusted metal siding and fresh tire-tracks in the mud. you were right there.

you taste the salt before you realise you're crying. 

almost,

somewhere between the agony, you hear yourself think,

still too early to celebrate.

your heart stutters. they were here, they had to be.

they had to be.

one foot in front of the other.

closer again, you focus on the keypad beside the door. your ankle twists uncomfortably as it drags along the gravel.

the handle became your crutch as you mustered the energy to lift your arm to enter the code.

seeing double, vision swaying as the edges fade.

a distant beep. a red light turning to green.

the handle turns under your weight, and the door swings open.

you find the floor coming up fast.

voices are all around you.

you give in to unconsciousness.

✹✹✹

the distinct hospital smell is what rouses you from your deep, dreamless sleep. hands prod at your busted ribs, drawing a scratchy groan from your dry throat. you grab the wrist of whoever is there as you fight to open your eyes.

"sergeant vantage?" they call out to you, and you realise with a disappointed sigh that it's the medic and not your captain. you open your eyes fully and see her standing above you with a clipboard in one hand. apart from her, you're alone in the medical wing. she notices you looking around, and looks down at the clipboard as she continues,  "glad to see you finally awake. your teammate gaz got off pretty lucky, the bullet went clean through his leg. you on the other hand, i'm impressed you made it back at all."

your ankle is in a boot and elevated on some pillows, and you can feel your knee is tightly bandaged under the blankets. an ache starts to form in your shoulder at the effort of holding your arm up.

"vantage, i need you to let go of my wrist." she says, and after an awkward pause you free her from your hold.

"sorry doc…" you mumble, bringing both hands up to your face and observing the tiny cuts littering your skin. you let them flop down to your sides again, but the aching doesn't subside.

"how are you feeling?" she breaks the momentary quiet, setting her clipboard down on the table next to your bed, "want me to get you anything?"

"i'd kill for some water…" you wheeze, the dehydration was catching up to you.

"alright, i'll be right back," the doctor affirms, making her way to the door. she turns back to look you in the eyes with a stern expression before she leaves, "please don't go anywhere."

and with that, the door clicks shut and you're left truly alone with your thoughts again.

your bones creak as you push yourself to sit up, your movements sluggish still with exhaustion, and you're reminded of just how badly you were hurt. everything aches, and it feels as though you'd been asleep for years.

gaz was okay, that's a relief. a little insulting that he got shot and was still in better condition than you, but whatever.

you look around the room for something, anything, to take your mind off the pain, and your eyes eventually land on the table beside you. a few cards sat on top, all with some variation of get well soon on the front, along with a small vase of flowers. you pick up the card closest to you and open it to read the scratchy handwriting inside.

'i swear you could survive a nuke, you're like a cockroach! get better soon, lots of love, soap! xxxxx'

what a charmer soap was. you chuckle at his lighthearted message, he always did try to keep your spirits up in times like these. as you place the card back where it was, your gaze is drawn to the empty chair next to your bed. there was a thin blanket folded over the back, probably left by whoever was last sitting there.

your mind begins to wander; how long were you out? your teammates clearly visited, does that mean price did too? you feel your stomach flutter at the thought of him worrying for you, watching over you as you recover. and if he fell asleep at your bedside? the heart monitor might call the doctor back if this train of thought continues. but then again, you doubted he'd be that forward, he would most likely be buried in paperwork like he usually is after a mission. and the mission you just came back from would require more paperwork than most.

because they… left you behind. that's right. you had to walk yourself back to the safehouse on all your injuries. who knows how long you were walking for but it must have been at least ten hours, considering the sun had risen by the time you got there. the butterflies were swiftly melted by the hot anger rising within you.

you were going to give him a piece of your mind, just like you promised.

all thoughts of the pain you were feeling are out of your head as you fling the blanket off your lower body. you grip your injured leg and lift it over the edge of the bed, swinging your other leg to plant both feet on the floor.

just as you were about to pull yourself up to stand, the door opens again and the medic walks in with your water bottle in her hand. she stops, an icy look in her eyes as she observes what you're doing.

you look back at her, debating whether you should give it up and lay back down, but your anger quickly wins over. the heart monitor picks up again as you work yourself up.

"i swear to god, if you don't sit back down right now," she makes her way over, setting the water down on the table you were using as a crutch. you meet her eyes indignantly, and go to step around her anyway. "no! you need to rest!" the doc puts her hands on your shoulders, and she stops your movement embarrassingly easily.

"fuck that," you croak, your voice still hoarse, "where's captain shithead? i need a word."

she maneuvers you back into sitting on the edge of the bed, and hands you the water. you keep your sour expression, but still drink half the bottle in one go.

"i assume you mean captain price? he's in his office, hasn't come out since you all got back." she takes the bottle from you when you're done, setting it down again, before moving to take the iv out of your arm. if she feels your glare, she doesn't acknowledge it. "whatever it is, it can wait."

"yeah right, i got a few strong words for him, and he is gonna hear 'em."

the doc hesitates as she works.

"i don't know exactly what happened out there, but i think you should know… that he hasn't visited you," she speaks softly, watching your angry expression fall. "your other teammates did, i even saw ghost sneaking out of here one night, but you didn't hear that from me."

silence overcame the small room again as her words sunk in. he left you for dead, and now he was avoiding you? even ghost visited you, and you'd barely had a single conversation with him. your heart feels tight again, the same way it did when you were trapped in that building.

"how long was i out?" your voice is low, almost a whisper.

"two days."

you should have listened to all the people who told you loving him was a bad idea. you'd almost died, and he still didn't visit you? that stung. god, you haven't even been awake an hour and you already want to throw up.

i guess i really don't mean that much to him, huh?

you think back to the night before the mission, when you'd sat with john while he did paperwork. at first, he tried to convince you to get some sleep, 

"you wanna be well rested, love."

but you stayed anyway, saying that you'd just sleep on the flight. you would rather spend your nights of insomnia with him anyway.

the two of you had talked for hours that night, about anything that came to mind. it was the early hours of the morning when you finally retreated back to your own quarters. he'd insisted on seeing you back, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night and your room was in the next building over. the way he'd lingered by your door as you said goodnight, you really thought he was going to kiss you then. but he didn't, and you went to sleep with a heavy feeling of disappointment that persevered into the next day.

"i'm sorry vantage." the medic sets something down on the end of the bed, and you turn to look. a pile of your clothes. "i know how you soldiers are, you're gonna get up as soon as i leave no matter what i say, so i'd rather you not walk around in a hospital gown."

she was right.

"...thanks, doc."

despite the overwhelming pain in your heart, you were still about to rip into price.

✹✹✹

you limp out of the infirmary after dressing yourself as quickly as your injuries would allow, which is to say, not very fast. thankfully there weren't any stairs between here and your captain's office, you definitely wouldn't be able to make it up them with your crutch.

the sun was already setting, a pink hue filling the sky as you pushed open the doors of the medical wing. you tried to think as little as possible as you made your way steadily across the courtyard. it would only upset you, and you desperately wanted to be pissed at him. you wouldn't– couldn't– let price see how hurt you were, he probably didn't care anyway. he was just your captain, after all, realistically there was no reason for you to be this upset.

but you were, and the few people you encountered in the corridors could see it written on your face, staying well out of your way as you shuffled past them.

as you stared at the closed door of john's office, your anger wavered. despite the ache in your heart, you considered for a moment that perhaps you were being dramatic. he was your captain, you were just one of his soldiers. it made perfect sense that he'd prioritise the lives of three others over yours alone.

it was his job, and he did it well.

you love john, of course you do, and that's why you're so affected by that fact. maybe you were letting your selfishness get the better of you. honestly, you didn't have a real reason to believe he felt the same way about you. everyone on task force 141 was close, that's the way things are, you couldn't confidently say he treated you differently.

but he was smart. he had to know how you felt, had at least had to know that you don't go out of your way for your other teammates as much as you do for him.

then again, even ghost had visited you while you were out, and you considered yourself much closer to price than him. so maybe he hated you now, he'd finally gotten tired of your poor decision making skills. it was the reason you were in this situation to begin with.

you were just about to abandon the idea of laying into him when price's voice sounded through the door.

"whoever's standin' out there, hurry up and come in, or piss off." he sounded exhausted, his tone blunt with annoyance. it wasn't unusual for him to get like that, especially whilst buried in mind-numbingly boring paperwork, but you could feel something else under the surface of his sharp tone.

well, there goes your last chance to run. you took a moment to steel yourself, to remember that you were in fact angry at him, and open the door with the harshest look you can muster.

he didn't look up as you let the door close behind you, keeping his nose buried in whatever report he was currently scribbling on. his hat was discarded on the desk next to him, and the hand in his hair was keeping it the messiest you'd ever seen it. you breathe in deeply through your nose.

"oh you'd love to get rid of me that easily, wouldn't you?" you spit, coming to stand in the middle of the room.

john's head snaps forward at the sound of your voice, the hand in his hair dropping to his desk, allowing you to finally get a good look at him. his eyes were wide and tired, you could tell the bags under them were darker than the last time you'd looked him in the face.

"vantage…" he spoke with something almost like disbelief, like he couldn't fathom that you were really in front of him. the hard lines of his face soften as his eyes meet yours, and then even further when his gaze falls to your crutch and boot.

fuck, how were you supposed to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that? you channel every ounce of bottled up frustration you have before his blue eyes consume you.

"well unfortunately, i am still alive. not that you give a shit; you got a restraining order on the infirmary or something?"

he murmurs your name– your real name, and as he rises to stand, his eyes don't leave yours for a second.

fuuuuuck.

"what? you leave me for dead, now the cats got your tongue?" you hiss at him, but you can feel the venom leaving your words with every second. the way his expression falls ever so slightly has you regretting what you were saying. you came in here needing to hurt him the way he hurt you, but you were quickly losing your nerve.

"don't do that…" he was almost pleading, as he made his way around his desk to stand in front of you, his piles of paperwork long forgotten. he goes to grasp your elbow, but you pull back before he can touch you. 

"sorry if you've already filled out my death certificate, i'd hate to cause you any more headaches." there was little fight left in your voice now, as you stared each other down in the middle of his office.

in the pause, john screws his eyes shut, turning his head to the side, before fixing you with a hard stare.

"don't. you know i would never've left you if i had any other choice!" it's not anger when he raises his voice, it's desperation; trying to convince himself as well as you. he takes another step towards you, toe to toe now as you lock eyes.

"do i know that? because from where i'm standing, it looks like you couldn't get far enough away from me," you can't help the way your voice cracks, nor can you disguise the hurt when you continue, "even fucking ghost visited me, but not you…"

another beat of silence.

"i couldn't…" john mumbled, eyes showing his mind was somewhere else. your chest tightened; every trace of anger was gone, replaced with the heartache you'd gotten so familiar with when it came to him.

"correct me if i'm wrong, but i really thought you cared." you try to take a step back, put some distance between the two of you, but he grabs your upper arm– successfully this time– to stop you going anywhere. it takes an impressive amount of restraint not to melt at his touch.

"of course i fuckin' care!" he growls, tugging you marginally closer.

your eyes hardened again; of course he did, just not in the way you wanted him to.

you jab your finger into his chest as you speak, your expression sour. "well you could've fooled–"

he grabs your hand as he cuts you off, and you can see the muscles in his jaw clenching, his face turning sharp again.

"bloody hell, just shut up! it killed me to leave without you, y'know that? if it weren't for simon i would've sent 'em back without me! i waited, as long as i could," he wasn't shouting, but you went quiet as if he was, any retaliation you thought of dying on your tongue. john let out a heavy sigh before he continued, "but you didn't come. you were stuck in that building, and then when it went up in fuckin' smoke, what was i supposed to think? i– we called out to you so many times, but you never responded."

the silence between you was heavy. deep down, you had already assumed everything he was telling you, but to actually hear it from his mouth had you choking up in his grasp.

"i…" you tried to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn't come. despite your best efforts, the tears welling up in your eyes were close to spilling over as your gaze fell to the floor.

john sighed again, softer this time, and using the hand on your arm he brought you into his chest, letting go of your hand with his other and wrapping it securely around your back.

you rest your cheek against his chest, bringing your own arms up around his torso, and revelled in the feeling of his embrace. listening to his elevated heartbeat, you wondered if he could feel just how hard yours was beating too.

"when you came crashin' through that door the next mornin', alive, i swear i've never been so relieved. but then you wouldn't wake up, and you were covered in so much blood… i…" his voice breaks, actually breaks, and you try to lift your head to look at him, but his hand on your arm moves up and presses into the back of your head, holding you tight against him. "...i was fuckin' terrified, love." he whispered.

"... why didn't you visit me?" the question you'd been meaning to ask all along, the real reason you had been upset at him.

you feel him press his lips into the top of your head, gently rocking you both where you stand. the crutch falls from your arm, but neither of you make any move to retrieve it.

"i couldn't. i couldn't face you, layin' in that hospital bed, hooked up to all them machines… knowin' it was my fault…"

"Hey, you know it wasn’t…" you murmur with disapproval; as much as you hate to admit it, you dug yourself into that hole.

"fuck, i'm– so fucking sorry love,"

"don't apologise… please, you did what you had to," you lift your head, and you can look him in the face again. his eyes were slightly red; if your heartstrings were pulled anymore they'd surely break. "plus, i was never really mad at you anyway."

he huffs out a small chuckle, his breath fanning over your face, the crease in his brow melting away as your eyes meet, "well ain't that a relief?"

"i thought you were pissed at me, and that's why you didn't visit…" you clear your throat and avoid his gaze, "i mean, i did lock myself in a building full of hostiles… not my finest moment,"

"no. as stupid as you are sometimes, i could never be angry at you." 

"that is a relief."

a quiet overcomes the two of you, standing in eachothers arms as the evening sun casts the room in an orange glow. you wanted to stay like this for the rest of time, but it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the voice in the back of your head that said this was inappropriate. the way he was talking, holding you, had your hopes high, just like that night before the mission. the one where you went to bed disappointed. it didn't help that you were expecting the let-down now, if anything it only made your heart sink even lower.

you notice that, exactly like you, john was staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. you tilt your head, wordlessly urging him to tell you what's going on. he sighs, scanning the multitude of cuts and scrapes that litter your face, "i promise you, i will never let anything like that happen again, alright?"

"i believe you." you smile softly, and you do; of course you do, you'd trust him with your life. it wasn't something you'd admit out loud, but you would do just about anything if he asked you to.

"i swear, i'm not lettin' you outta my sight." the look on his face has you squirming is his grasp, under the intense gaze he pinned you with.

"alright, i get it," you chuckle, your face heating up at the implication. this was doing nothing for the enormous crush you were harbouring. shuffling backwards slightly, you put enough space between you that you can comfortably rest your hands on his chest.

"i don't think you do, love," you feel his chest rumble as he speaks, and his gaze becomes serious, "i coulda' lost you. i thought i did. fuck, when soap and gaz came outta there without you? i thought my heart'd stopped… i just– i…"

it was rare to see your captain so lost for words. you feel his heart beat faster under your fingertips, the distant look in his eyes giving away the internal debate he was surely having.

"john?"

"if i'm out of order, say the word and we can forget all about this, but vantage…" his voice was low, and you felt your cheeks heat up to a boiling point as he cradled your face with one hand and leaned in closer, chest to chest again. the anticipation and the proximity might just make you sick. "you mean the world to me, i don't know what i'd do with myself if i lost you."

was that… what you thought it was? it sounded an awful lot like a confession, and you really really wanted it to be, but… was it too good to be true?

the lack of a response from you had john pulling back with an uncharacteristic cough that radiated embarrassment. he let go of your face, hovering next to your cheek as if he couldn't bear to let go, and you frown at the absence of his warmth.

"just ignore me, i shouldn't've–" he begins to back-pedel, going to move away from you before you cut him off.

"no!" you exclaim, with a bit more panic than you intended, and grasp his shirt in your fists to keep him close. "i get it, i really do. i- i care about you too, probably a lot more than a teammate should." your face heats up at the admission, and he lights up with surprise. "i think i always have."

slowly, he moves his hand back to its place cupping your jaw, searching your eyes for any signs that he was misinterpreting your response. when he found none, he smiled at you so genuinely you doubted anyone had ever been so sincere towards you.

"yeah?" he murmurs, the slight disbelief gone from his expression but still present in his voice.

"yes, john," you mirror his tone, bringing a hand up to hold the back of his neck. his skin burned hot under your touch.

"well thank god for that," his voice is barely a whisper now, as he draws your lips closer to his. the air separating you felt thick enough to be cut.

you let your eyes fall closed, and with a small burst of confidence, you lean forward and close the final distance between the two of you. he kisses you so tenderly, with so much emotion, it makes your head spin. you sigh into him, tilting your head and pressing yourself impossibly closer, revelling in the feeling of being in his arms at last. all your many months of pining had led up to this moment, and you felt like your heart might just burst. regretfully, you find yourself needing to break away for air, and to your delight he follows your lips as you pull back.

"maybe i should get injured more often, if this is what i get," you breathe, a dazed smile on your face as both your eyes flutter open, and his chest rumbles under your hand with a deep chuckle.

"you better not; i'll have your head if you do, love."

✹✹✹

[anin13]

Shumori chapter 9

TW: Diabolik Lovers, swiss idol ideation and self hate, survivor's guilt.

Once upon a time there was a railroad line

On the road to hell there was a railroad track; if you ride that train till the end of the line, where the sun don't shine and it's always shady

It's there you'll find...

-You won't even acknowledge me, not even in this! It's not your little world and me simply existing in it!

-...Anything but him, please!

-We both wish it had been YOU instead!

...That it was simply a matter of time.

Before anything else could happen, before he could stop the fire lamp from falling on Edgar's face, Shu found himself back at a white place. With a phonograph, to play the tunes he no longer heard. His music book, the pages crossed by black crayon and doodles of dogs and cats. A pillow to sleep the sorrows away, a half eaten apple and a puppy he knew all too well.

...Waiting for something to happen?

There was a door that cast a faint shadow. He could use it to get out into that strange dream world he'd met Laito and the others in a lucid dream. He didn't have the will this time. He just wanted to stay here, away from everything, away from himself if possible.

Destiny is not something you can escape, no matter how much you let sunlight blind you to it; the vampire king's firstborn...

You've been coming here to shut the world out for as long as you can remember.

...It's been centuries.

But in the last weeks there is something off here you can't put your finger on. There is a chandelier, hanging from the ceiling, wherever that is. In it are 6 candles, only two with colored flame, one yellow one green. They clash with everything else here, don't they? You have no idea why it's here. There is no need for light.

-Heyyyy... -an exhasperated half-growl echoed from afar, muffled- How long do you plan to drag this on?

That was a voice from outside. It sounded familiar in tone.

Shu half-opened his eyelids to come back to the real world and saw the starry sky, trees, stone structures and a tall, grown man instead of the child he'd somehow expected.

Yuma put a hand on the blond vampire's forehead. It felt cold, and he felt dumb; of course, Shu was an undead!

Shu's brow was furrowed in confusion. What was he doing?

Oh, right. Humans check for fever like that.

Yuma might still have moments in which he thinks he's human. Shu found it funny when he retracted the hand, embarrassed; he seemed to remember feeling for signs of life in him was pointless. He was easy to read as ever.

Yuma recovered fast,

-You somehow feel asleep on a stone cold bench in a garden! -he announced- You have a good skill right there, you'd be able to rest if you lived in the streets!

-...You came.

-I had to! -Yuma blurted out despite himself- ...And there was nothing else to do. -he added, almost casually- What did that apple mean? You just met me and you haven't investigated nuthin' 'bout me.

Shu almost smiled and sat up,

-It means it's time to give you back, like a lost boy.

Shu started walking toward the entrance, and Yuma frowned like a kid who had just been denied dinner.

-Hey, I forgot where I live! ...Wait, yer not going anywhere! -Yuma caught up and grabbed Shu by the back of his sweater,

-Stop that, -Shu dragged- it'll ruin my sweater...

Yuma pushed him against the nearest wall and pinned him there,

-You can't keep pretending you know nothing. I am trapped in empty memories, suddenly I meet ya people and I start having this strange thing where I can't even remember my own name. -Yuma pushed harder and grit his teeth- One last time before I snap. Do you people have anything to do with this?!

-Maybe. How should I know? -a calm Shu averted his eyes- Lately I am trapped in the opposite problem, I remember too much, particularly every time I want to rest.

Yuma lightened the pressure on Shu's chest. Surprisingly, this wasn't some evil bastard plotting the Mukami family's demise. He'd gotten an inkling, but this hidden sincerity confirmed it.

-Yuma Mukami, right? -Shu looked at his face again, looking for any changes he could barely notice; only small new scars and long lost freckles- Be glad there is no memory or fate to torment you.

Yuma opened his mouth to retort but Shu suddenly freed his left hand and pulled Yuma's clothes off his shoulder. A big burn scar crossed it.

-I see... -Shu tried to keep a neutral tone but failed- how did you get these?

Yuma jumped backward and pushed Shu's arms away. He was now officially creeped out.

-What the HELL? Are ya tryin' somethin' funny? You damn perverted aristocrats...

-Don't flatter yourself. -Shu retorted in a very well practiced dismissive tone- You have broad skin marks. What happened?

Yuma couldn't just bring himself to run into the forest again and leave this uncomfortable conversation. This was his only clue, and probably only means to return to his family.

Whoever they were.

The apathetic guy really didn't seem like a bad one. He looked sad rather than aroused or anything like that, now he'd stopped talking to observe; maybe Kou's story had come into his mind as the other guy tampered with his clothes; nobody ever checked your skin out of nowhere under normal circumstances.

This was anything but a normal circumstance.

There was nothing normal about either of the vampires involved.

-I... don't know, I've had them since I can remember. I can't remember anything before I was 13. They could be a clue about what happened but I have no idea what made them.

Shu met Edgar when he was 11; he wondered, again, what he had lived during those times, and how come he ended up a vampire.

Yuma saw the unspecified questions swimming in his eyes,

-I only remember I used to live in the streets with Boss, our gang leader, and other boys. -he sighed and approached Shu again- When they got killed I ended up in an orphanage. I met the others in a room they used to lock up problematic kids in.

Shu laughed a bit. It was only natural!

-We tried to run away and they shot us. I don't remember much after that other than making a deal with a massive guy with long white hair in a room red and hot as an oven.

-Our benefactor claimed to feel bad for us, and made an offer we couldn't refuse. -Yuma looked up, recalling Karl-Heinz's exact words- A second chance at life, if we helped him. I wasn't even sure if I was imagining shit.

Shu knew what this "benefactor" had offered.

-Sounds unfair, offering anything like that to a child in the brink of death.

-Che. -Yuma scoffed- I already spoke enough, are you gonna spill the beans, or what?

-You want to get back to your house, that's all I called you here for. I have no beans to spill, but something strange is indeed happening. My dreams are funny these days, but I'm sure yours aren't. -Shu pointed to the entrance and walked on under the windy night sky, beckoning Yuma- Come on in.

Yuma was confused, weird dreams were normal, weren't they? He was probably lying, too, but he'd get nothing out of beating him, either way, and he was tired and hungry.

-Why are you helping me? We've been nuthin' but trouble for you guys! -Yuma's voice started raising- We kidnapped your personal snack!!

Shu smiled again,

-I don't care, she's not my snack, and I'm sure you won't kill her.

-How would ya know that?!

-You... don't seem like a bad guy.

Shu muttered Edgar's words from the past about himself slowly, hoping, praying something might spark a remembrance in Yuma, but on the other hand, begging for it not to be the case; Yuma had been through enough.

Yuma fell silent, surprised, and as he recovered the ability to speak,

-HAH?

-So we're going to call your brother who kindly gave me his phone at school.

-Ruki WHAT? -it was Yuma's turn to laugh; that was impossible.

-...Something about his priorities being the brothers, or whatever. I didn't care enough to remember.

Yuma couldn't help but feeling a bit happy Ruki was willing to risk the mission for him, but wondered if some kind of punishment awaited once he got back...

Yui was dressing up after school, as she was finally going on a normal high school girl kind of outing! Almost normal, but it was okay- She was so excited! She couldn't help but feel embarrassed about how easy and with how little she could be presuaded to spend time with the Mukami brothers despite them having kidnapped her.

Granted, nobody in the Sakamaki family, not even Subaru, had ever gone to any trendy places nor tried to hang out with her pretending to be humans with her without causing a ruckus. It had normally only been walks around places that were open at night. Very late at night.

Yui felt a little sad but a little happy.

There was a knock on the door.

-Eve... may I... come in?

-Azusa! Yes, of course!

Azusa looked a bit shy,

-Hey Eve... Ruki won't be joining us today... he says Yuma... is at the Sakamaki's house...

-Is he okay?

-Yes, that Shu guy... found him somehow... he is not their... hostage.

Yui was confused. But at least now Azusa wouldn't be worried; his brothers might have been horrible, but Azusa was kind of sweet! Hopefully Subaru would like him as his friend someday too.

Another thought crossed her head, why was she wanting to be friends with Azusa? He had kidnapped her! And so had Kou!

-A-anyway, Azusa, too bad Ruki can't join but I'll be happy to hang out with you and Kou!

-I am happy too... to spend time with... our Eve. We will have... a great time!

Azusa smiled and left the room, not before pocketing Yui's nail clipper for dubious purposes, since Ruki had confiscated several sharp items from him lately.

Kou Mukami was still at school; of course he remembered he had kind of a date with the Masokitty he'd better not miss if he wanted to lure her more into him.

But it was his turn to return some bullcrap teacher stuff to the library and clean up the classroom by himself, on account of a little bit of glitter escaping the outfit he'd smuggled out of the idol agency to wear at school.

What true fashion lover wouldn't have taken that chance???? Either way, he was nearly done and trendy places would close later today, as it was Friday.

He had finished mopping the floor for the 4th time when he decided it was enough and cursed Karl for not giving him illusionism magic to simply hide the damned sparkles. So irritating and unfair.

On his way to the library, something felt off. Everyone was supposed to be gone, but he felt a presence. It felt sinister but familiar. The presence wasn't alone, but he couldn't make out the neutral presence from the sinister one.

Creepy. He'd do this fast.

As his footsteps echoed faster up the stairs and into the library halls full of dusty books he finally heard a page turn behind some shelves that made the space look labyrinthic in the slumber.

A bit nervous, he turned the corner and found Laito Sakamaki sitting on a chair with his legs crossed on a desk, casually reading an ominous-looking book. He was surrounded by two floating green flames that gave his eyes a look as if they were lanterns, a bit like his name.

Kou tried to tiptoe away from this unwelcome sight; he'd already seen the guy in a weird dream and didn't need this.

Too late. A giggle followed him.

And Laito appeared in front of him.

-AAAAH!

-So you are a screamer I.R.L. too -he smiled and showed two pointy fangs- You are a vampire too, no need to be afraid. And it's a full moon!

SHIT. And who the HELL called irl I.R.L. in real life????? Only if you were a vampire who hasn't quite caught up with the times...

There was no reason for Kou to be afraid, so he simply said something about having something to do and turned around.

-Ah, too bad. Your plans have been cancelled. -Laito proclaimed as green glowing chain barriers slithered over all possible exits- You see, it's a full moon, and my patience is short. I won't be satisfied easily...

No fucking way. Kou ran.

-Why are you so afraid? -Laito's voice followed him with an audibly raised eyebrow- I just want answers!

Kou stopped running. The book Laito was holding was about dreams; the sensation he had in his bowels got replaced by a different kind of cringing spasm. This was embarrassing; his history had caught up with him again. Kou raised his palms in surrender,

-Hey, if you simply wanna talk there is no need to put scary stuff on the door, is there?

Laito smiled ominously,

-They wouldn't bother you if you didn't want to leave... I know eeevery trick in the book! -he slowly approached Kou like a cobra would a mouse- I have had many, many people try to avoid my questions lately, and I'm not going to be left talking to myself tonight as well.

-What..? -Kou sort of could relate, but seriously, the magic chains were disturbing! He'd have to convince Laito to calm down, despite the fake calm demeanor he tried to exude. His eye told him it was as fake as the wigs in the TV studio. They were so fake yet so well done they looked uncanny.

He sat down on a chair in front of a library desk and invited Laito to sit down in the opposite chair. There was no way out of this; the Masokitty would have to hang out with just Ruki and Azusa.

Who knows, maybe Kou's absence made her heart grow fonder!

Reiji woke up with a headache after dreaming of having a shouting match with Shu on a railroad track. He should have maybe just exploded the mine he was inside of in the dream to have woken up less mentally sore.

Somebody was entering the mansion. He looked down the balcony. It was simply that good-for-nothing. Wait. Someone followed. The tall Mukami guy. What in tarnation?

He'd see what was happening from afar. This was fishy.

-Your brother's in his way to pick you up, better not make it too scandalous...

Reiji facepalmed. Why would that be scandalous?

-Ya sure have a house full of useless trinkets, what the hell do you have that broken phone for if you can just..?

-We never bothered to throw it away...

-Not even the guy who seems to have his shit together? I don't know him well but he looks like a real clean freak!

Reiji felt some pride and some nervousness. That guy had detected so much in so little time? He was glad the turmoil underneath wasn't so obvious.

Shu laughed at the guys's jokes. This guy looked very familiar but he couldn't put his finger on why. Shu had an almost loving look on him.

As if he'd found his person after a long time. Reiji cringed.

The doorbell rang and Ruki took Yuma with him after declaring Shu a decent man (WHAT) and thanking him.

He didn't feel like having that oaf hostage or anything but there was no reason to fraternize with thieves. Much less make their team whole again! Incomprehensible.

-Hey Reiji, what are you glaring at so intensely? -Kanato emerged from the bathroom, startling Reiji

-Never mind. It really is not my business why they stole that woman, either way, it's Subaru's girl, Subaru's case.

-Are you thinking how Shu making a friend is irritating?

-I am not interested in befriending terrorists, Kanato... but I am intrigued who the tall guy is. Have we met him before?

-No, I'd never seen him, and Teddy says he'd rather not meet him again.

Reiji was left wondering and rummaging his memories as Shu felt, for a few minutes, as he said goodbye to Ruki and Yuma, like the false human he had pretended to be for Edgar so long ago: happy?

-Eve... Kou said he's caught in school stuff tonight... so it's just the 2 of us... tonight... like a date, if you want!

Azusa's smile was very convincing and Yui really wanted to give in to make him happy, and she felt comfortable with him but she would be strong; she'd never do Subaru dirty like that!

-Ehh, yes, Azusa, a friend-date is a nice outing too!

-I'm very happy, Eve! Where do you wanna go first?

Yuma was relieved to be sitting on the soft limousine seat next to Ruki, heading home and sipping blood his brother had stolen from the hospital especially for him about a week ago. Ruki had anticipated some form of starvation and Yuma was grateful.

-Hey Ruki... -Yuma couldn't get something out of his head- what do you think could have made the shape of the scars I have on my shoulder?

----

This chapter is short-ish because i am very sleepy :D but more soon!

[lorellaishc]

Those who Help Themselves

((Daily Writing Challenge May 2023, Day 5, Miracle/Tension, @daily-writing-challenge , CW: None))

The fiery explosion rang out amidst the chaos of battle as Lorellai threw her self away from an incoming fireblast, rolling up to her feet just in time to see the Shadowflame elemental unleash a torrent of the cursed flame at her. Even as she tried to move away, a flash of steel appeared before her as Quelatha and Frejas dove in, Quelatha raising a magic-breaking shield from her runeblade to deflect the blast while Frejas hammered her weapon on her shield, getting the the monster's eyes away from the girl.

"Back on yer feet, or else I'm callin' yer ma to take ye home!" the woman yelled, before turning back to the firey beast, bashing her shield against the elemental's armor and forcing it back. Lorellai could only nod as she gathered up her spear and tried to get back in position. The elemental was like nothing she'd faced in the isles before, even when fighting the Primalists in the Vault of the Incarnates. It was all she could do to avoid the blasts of shadowflame that flew around the room, trying to find openings to attack. People were shouting, Fatalion was trying to hit it with a piece of the wall she'd ripped out, Rokishan and Banagann where yelling for everyone to stay close enough for them to protect, the chaos of the fight was making her head swim.

A memory came to mind, unbidden, from back in Ironforge. She'd been asking her parents about their adventures, and how they always managed to triumph.

Darlain had smiled. "Faith, lass. Faith in the Light, but also faith in our friends, and your Father, and myself. Faith that we were fighting for what was right and good, and that we weren't doing it alone. That's where miracles come from."

"Aye, faith is important." her father had agreed. "But there's also bein' clever. Many times we triumphed because someone caught something that could turn th' tide, if acted on quickly. Keepin' yer eyes open, and acting when you see an opening, that's how yeh beat th' baddies!"

Lorellai blinked, and looked around. Faith in her friends, keeping her eyes open, but what could she- Her inner monologue was cut off by a battle cry as Fatalion was backhanded by the elemental, flying into the chamber's stone roof, before the massive dracthyr planted herself in the stone and hurled herself straight back at the beast, leaving behind a large crack in the roof. "Wait, that's it! FATE! FASTBALL" she yelled, grabbing a detpack off her belt and pointing at the roof Fate had just damaged. For all her battlerage, Fatalion was an incredible soldier, and instantly picked up what Lorellai wanted, swooping around the elemental to grab the dwarf. With a full double spin, Fate hurled Lorellai up towards the roof. Lorellai fired her chainhook, impaling the stone near the damaged section to pull herself in, and hit hard. Shaking her head clear, she hit the big red button with her nose and slapped the pack onto the cracking roof, adhering it with the glue pack. She let her chain extend, swinging down, and landing just outside the kill zone. "Get it over here!" she hollered, and felt wind blow past her as two of the other evokers swept forward, scooping up Quelatha and Frejas, dragging them back towards Lorellai, incurring the fury of the enraged shadowflame. It surged towards them as the detpack blew, shattering the roof and bringing tons of stone down on the creature. It roared in rage as the worked stone smashed down on it, damaging its armor and smothering part of its flame. Thus weakened, the team dove in, mages shifting the flow of time to speed everyone's attacks and put the monster down for good.

Well and truly spent, Lorellai flopped down on her butt, unable to contain her smile even as Stroganoff bounded over to give her happy hornswog licks and others patted her on the back for her quick thinking.

Faith, and open eyes. It was just like they'd said.

((Big thanks to @commanderbragh, @mremaknu, @rastiladelnore, @dwyndel, @darbiebot and @itsadile, and the whole raid gang for inspiring this piece, and helping with their dialogue where appropriate))

[rt2417]

[Hymn of Serata on the Requiem Night] Chapter 1

Bradley: Even at a feast, yer still a damn miserable son of a bitch.

Directory ✧ Next →

Location: Forest

Lennox: Kenja-sama's handkerchief, it's quite to hard to find, isn't it.

Akira: Yes. I thought I dropped it while I was walking around this area earlier, but…

I feel a little sorry for having you keep me company for so long.

Lennox: Please do not worry about it. After all, everyone loses things sometimes.

Together with Lennox, who encouraged me, we advance further into the gloomy forest.

As the chilly night wind passes us by, Lennox suddenly lifts his head.

Akira: What’s the matter, Lennox; did you perhaps find something?

Lennox: No, I thought I heard a sound. Like the sound of a bell…

Akira: It’s true! It’s coming from deep in the thicket over there, don’t you think?

Lennox: Someone may possibly be out here. Still, it’s already quite late…

Akira: You’re right… Why don’t we take a little look around?

Mixed in with our footsteps as we tread on the grass, the sound of the bell is long and thin, and continues to echo on as if trying to lure someone in.

After a bit of walking, a sweet aroma suddenly tickles my nose.

Akira: (Smells nice…)

As if enticed by the aroma, I look ahead past Lennox’s broad back.

In a clearing with few trees, a bonfire's flames flicker. Standing quietly in front of it, is a figure cloaked in black.

Faust: ……

Lennox: Faust-sama?

Faust: Kenja and Lennox… As expected, there was a hint of your presence.

In a place like this, what is it that you want?

Akira: No…

Faust speaks quietly, as he always does, but I suddenly find myself at a loss for words.

The flickering flames contrast against the moonlight; his beautiful profile looks pale and somewhat otherworldly amidst it all.

Lennox: …Faust-sama. In addition to you, was there anyone else here?

There’s empty liquor bottles, almost as if someone was having a banquet.

Akira: Ah, it’s true. The bonfire is surrounded by plenty of alcohol and fruit. There’s also corolla flowers lined up…

Faust: No… I’ve been alone the entire time.

The moon is clearly visible tonight. I thought I’d have a drink by myself while gazing up at it.

Akira: Eh…?

It feels a bit unexpected to hear those words come from Faust.

Even as Faust speaks with a light casual tone, a hint of self-deprecation flickers on his face, as he slowly looks upward.

Up in the night sky, the enormous Great Calamity looms above, threatening to engulf us.

Faust: Looking up at the moon… makes me feel uncomfortable, like I have an ache in the depths of my heart.

That’s why, with this as a side dish, I thought I’d direct a complaint or two toward the Calamity.

That’s it, there’s no more to it.

Lennox: ……

Bradley: Hmph. If that’s what yer havin’ as a side dish, it’ll only make the booze taste like shit.

Even at a feast, yer still a damn miserable son of a bitch.

Akira: ……!

I turn around at the sound of the familiar voice coming from behind us. Faust also gazes deep into the forest, where it originates from.

Lennox: Bradley… Could it be, you were blown away by a sneeze again?

Bradley: Well, that’s about the gist of it. ’M not very happy ’bout it.

Bradley says this nonchalantly, as he steps out of the woods with ease.

Bradley: Y’all got a depressing look on yer faces. I can get why you feel such resentment, though.

I was hurt too, but the eastern curse worker was almost killed by that damn moon.

Faust: That’s right. However, ultimately I didn’t end up dying.

Faust mumbles as he casts his eyes downward, then he abruptly fumbles with his sleeve to retrieve something.

Faust: Come to think of it, I picked this up earlier. Is it yours?

Akira: Oh, my handkerchief…! Thank you so much, I was searching for this.

Lennox: I’m glad you were able to successfully find it.

Akira: Yes! Lennox you too, thanks so much for keeping me company while searching for it.

Faust: In that case, if you’ve finished with your business you shouldn’t linger for long. Please head back to the Wizard Manor as soon as possible…

Bradley: Huh, there’s some good booze ‘ere.

Interrupting Faust, Bradley steps forward before the bonfire. He quickly crouches down to judge the bottles of alcohol lined up.

Faust: Oi, don’t go rummaging. There’s no liquor here for thieves.

Bradley: It’s good, ain’t it? If ya went to the extent to pull all this out, it’ll be hard to bring it back. I’ll lend a helpin’ hand.

Akira: Ah… Well, I’ll help you tidy up too. I think we’re all about finished for the day.

While saying this, I reach for the items scattered around me. Then, Faust’s sharp voice rings out.

Faust: Stop, don’t touch that!

Akira: Ah, I’m sorry…!

In response to the unexpected menacing look, my shoulders jumped. Faust looks taken aback, his words muddled.

Faust: Apologies… I didn’t mean to frighten you. It’s just that you shouldn’t carelessly touch a wizard’s tools like that.

Particularly when it comes to things that a curse worker like me handles.

Lennox: …Here, let me help.

The night wind is getting colder, so please head back first, Kenja-sama and Bradley. We’ll return soon.

As he speaks, a strong cold wind blows between the two of us. Bradley scratches the tip of his nose and grumbles.

Bradley: Shit, that was close. Hell, I don’t wanna be sent flyin’ again.

C’mon, Kenja. The bar at the Wizard Manor is a way better place to drink booze in than this shithole. Come ‘n get a drink with me.

Akira: O-Of course. Well then, I’ll take your word for it… Faust, Lennox. Good night, I’ll see you tomorrow.

Faust: Ah. Good night.

Lennox: Have a good night.

As we exchange salutations, Bradley, with one hand in his pocket, magically pulls out his broom.

He yanks me on by the scruff of my neck, and once I settle behind him with my legs crossed, we’re immediately lifted off the ground.

As the wind blows, I can faintly hear the sound of the bell from somewhere beneath us.

Location: Manor

And so, a few days later we’re presented with an unexpected request.

Arthur: Pure white hands creeping through the sky?

Cock Robin: Yes… It seems to be an anomaly happening in a village on the outskirts of the Central Country.

Once night falls, I was told that multiple hands emerge and creep all throughout the area.

Riquet: Are you saying that there’s no face or body, that it’s just hands?

Akira: That’s rather unsettling. It’s almost like a different sort of scary than ghosts and the like.

Rustica: When it comes to only having hands, we need to think over how to communicate with them. Rather than idle chit chat, perhaps we should use music.

Rutile: Hm, that sounds lovely! Even if you only have fingers, you can still play the piano and pluck strings.

Cain: It would surely help if they like music, wouldn’t it. Actually, what’s the situation like in the village itself?

The people gathered around to listen to the request are Rutile, Rustica, Cock Robin-san, and myself. The Central Wizards are also among us.

Cock Robin-san was originally looking for the Central Wizards and me, however, seeing Rutile and Rustica in the dining hall, he also asked them to help.

Cock Robin: It seems that the residents are so frightened by the strange sight that they’ve withdrawn into their homes.

Furthermore, some residents have even left the village after rumors spread that it was a curse of sorts…

Oz: So, the hands are just wandering about then. What’s the actual harm?

Cock Robin: Um, well… According to reports sometimes they just merely float about, but other times they draw near private homes and livestock pens.

I heard that some villagers and livestock were grabbed by the shoulders and were nearly dragged straight into darkness, and such…

Cain: That’s a rather vague report.

Cock Robin: Sorry, the contents of the report were a bit ambiguous in certain places…

Arthur: Judging from his penmanship, he may have been in a state of distraught. He must’ve been frightened, but still somehow managed to send us a letter.

Rutile: In addition, it seems that the time when the anomalies began to occur was… It says that it was after the Great Calamity came.

Riquet: I see. In that case, it’s our turn.

Cain: Yeah, we should go check it out in person. It’s most likely an after effect of the Calamity. Is that alright with you, Kenja-sama?

Akira: Yes, of course. Please, allow me to accompany you all in this investigation.

Arthur: If that’s the case, we should promptly discuss a date as soon as possible.

Since this is a Central Country affair, the participants will be Cain, Riquet… and myself. I’ll keep my identity concealed though.

Rustica: Then let me also accompany you. The wandering hands may possibly be looking for a potential dance partner.

Even for me, it’s not every day that I get the chance to have someone other than myself take my hand.

Rutile: I’m coming too! Since we just had the pleasure of talking together, I would be happy to help in any way I can.

Arthur: Thank you. It'll be reassuring having the both of you. Oz-sama, what about you?

Akira: (Ah, right… Arthur is worried about Oz’s wounds from the Calamity, since the anomaly occurs at night.)

Oz gives a slight nod toward Arthur’s concerned look. Then slowly, he looks me in the eyes.

Oz: …There are others who are more qualified for this than I am.

Oz: When it comes to curses, there’s someone whose specialty lies in them.

Directory ✧ Next →

[sleepy-roo]

.:Begone, nuisance:.

My dragon boi from 2019. He still has his horn chin, I forgot to draw it in this pic. As you can tell he’s not a very welcoming guy. He’s quite a self centered, intelligent, sassy prick. His hair and hair tuffs are made of flames, I like to image they flare up intensely when he gets really angry. Like Hades’ from Disney’s Hercules. His teeth and claws are so sharp they can cut through yer skin like paper. I like to imagine he also likes to make potions. It’s one of the things he actually enjoys doing and keeps him on his toes, or claws, lol. I’ll make him a proper ref sheet someday.

Reupload from Insta. Originally posted Sept. 14, 2020.

[ninjadeathblade]

Moulin Rouge Discotrain AU (part fourty one)

Summary: Now that they're together, Conductor and Grooves are slowly settling in with their love for one another. Both have strong feelings for one another but don't always know how to express it.

Beginning | Previous | Next

Warnings: None

Word count: 585

Author's notes: Sorry for the long break, I've been working on Febuwhump. Anyway, here's another part for the AU.

Conductor yawned and scrubbed a hand across his face, trying to stay awake as he flicked through different possible poster options.

There were obvious options, such as featuring the entire main cast or ones that were simply him and Grooves as Satine and Christian.

Either way, the photo shoots were set for tomorrow as both a making-of and for advertising.

A pair of flippers landed on his shoulders. “You shouldn't be up still. It's late.”

Conductor shifted one hand to hold the flipper on his opposite shoulder, using the other hand to continue sorting through papers. “Five more minutes.”

Grooves sighed behind him, resting his chin atop the owl's head. “That's what you said half an hour ago, angel.”

Conductor paused, hands stilling over the papers. “Has it been that long?”

“I wasn't going to let you work yourself to death so I finished my book, which took half an hour, and then decided that maybe some handsome owl I know might want to not tire himself out,” Grooves replied with a huff.

Conductor clicked off the light at the table, standing and stretching. “Sure am lucky I've got such a pretty penguin lookin’ out for me.”

Grooves smiled softly, blue eyes creasing slightly behind his plainer glasses.

Conductor swallowed back a yawn before continuing. “Besides, I'm not that tired.”

Grooves rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly as he started to walk to his room. “You are just so intent on keeping your image sometimes, Conductor.”

“Says DJ Grooves,” Conductor retorted, quickly following his partner.

Both birds changed out of their day clothes before laying down in the bed, Conductor staring up at the ceiling fan.

“Grooves?”

The penguin shifted beside him. “You're meant to be sleeping, diamond.”

“Grooves, would yer still love me if I were a worm?”

The owl rolled onto his side, trying not to laugh at his boyfriend's unamused look. “Peck, Connie, can't this wait until the morning?”

The owl let out a mock gasp. “Are you sayin’ you wouldn't love me if I were a worm?”

Grooves let out a put-upon sigh before answering. “Yes, I would love you if you were a worm, although I don't even know how you're old-fashioned brain knows about that trend. Now can we please get some sleep.”

“Alright. Night sweetheart.”

“Night angel.”

Conductor couldn't fall asleep though, despite his exhaustion.

There was something off, he couldn't tell what it was.

But the flames inside of him somehow both felt weaker and stronger than ever.

“It's nothing, you're fine,” Conductor whispered to himself in the near silence.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that it was something, that he wasn't fine, that something was going to go wrong now he was allowing himself more freedom with his power.

What if he accidentally started a fire?

What if he got the urge to step into flames?

What if he burnt someone?

What if he hurt Grooves-

The owl flinched away from the penguin as his partner shifted closer.

With a dejected sigh, he slipped out of the bed, walking into the living room and curling up on the sofa.

He wasn't going to let Grooves get hurt, he'd already done who knows how much to the penguin's self image.

All those years of berating, of belittling the person he now valued the most.

Something twisted in his chest and his temperature flared.

Conductor clamped down on his thoughts and feelings.

He could do that much.

He could spare Grooves the danger of being burned.

[coffee-in-veins]

Day 3: Dark Woods

an entry for darkest prompts promptober 2022

previous days: 1, 2

now available on ao3 too

Dark ADJECTIVE - (of a period or situation) characterized by great unhappiness or unpleasantness; deeply pessimistic; (of an expression) angry; with little or no light; hidden from knowledge; mysterious.

* * *

To say that the catch was a meagre one would be a generous understatement. Frankly, the fact that their exhausted group managed to find water that their self-proclaimed expert deemed clear enough to cook with had been a small miracle in itself. Arranging the camp and getting some more or less clean firewood took the remainder of the evening and their strength, but at least the pot was bubbling merrily and the meat sizzled on the sharpened sticks. However, only one person out of the four seemed to be able to find cheer in it and hummed some quiet tune while hustling over the food.

"Remind me why are we in this Lightless endeavour, would you kindly?" Reynauld sighed, closing the versebook. The sunlight dimmed, and while the coals were more than hot enough to cook, reading in such poor conditions only strained his eyes, ill-suited for nighttime, and added to his mounting irritation.

" 'cause someone lost our map n' a quick week-long stroll ended up lasting," Dismas looked away from the campfire and checked a string of twine with knots. "Twelve days by now? Wow. Count us lucky, bastards."

"Thirteen," Alhazred crowed from the safety of his notes. How the hell he managed to read those in near darkness remained a mystery no one was eager enough to prod. Definitely not the crusader, that was for sure. "You were out of the sorrows of this expedition for a day, remember?"

"Ah, yeah, how could I forget 'bout meeting the business side o' the treebranch club," the highwayman grinned, patting still bruised concave of his thin stomach, but a gauntlet-covered hand stopped his movement.

"Let it heal," Rey insisted, pale lips pressed into a tight line. Now that he indeed had the displeasure of seeing the insides of his... dearest companion, he could swear before the Light All-Merciful that he could live the remainder of his life without witnessing those - or the black magics which pushed them back into the twitching almost-cadaver which was his closest... friend - ever again.

Much like the cause of this situation, based on the gloomy, sullen glances he gave Josephine from time to time. The antiquarian squinted right back at him and made a statement of keeping her bent knife close at any given moment. Not that the devoted follower of the Forgiving Light would stab a woman who clearly was no match for him, but Reynauld would be lying if he said that the temptation wasn't there. Or that he wasn't enjoying entertaining this possibility.

...he'd say an additional Hail the Flame once they were back in Hamlet for his impure thoughts.

The failed cadaver in question seemed to be the only cheery man in this madness.

"Aw, c'mon, it ain't too bad!" Dismas poked the campfire with a charred stick and rotated the meat. "Roadkill cuisine has a cult following."

"Of whom, exactly?" Josephine asked, her bracelets jingling melodically although her jerking away from the fire was filled with open disgust. "Vagabonds, dregs and--"

"n' now ye, my dear," Dismas assured her, scarred lips stretched in a sarcastic grin. "They might not smell o' saffron, but lemme tell ya, rabid gnashers are delicacy o' their own league. The trick is separatin' the head n' making sure ye roast them nice n' e'en on all sides till a nice crunchy crust forms--"

"I swear, I'm not letting you cook anything for us anymore," Josephine hissed because yelling in the Weald was a moronic idea for anyone valuing their lifespan. "Next time you bring in a bloated mushroom scratcher corpse and call it a feast!"

The jab's only response was snickering:

"Spoken by someone who clearly has no idea how t' cook those. Look, 'tis no learning Latin, ye start with gutting the parts which look too much like a human face for yer delicate stomach..."

The antiquarian dry heaved, pressing her hands to her ears. This finally made Alhazred lower his notes and shake his head in equal disgust and fascination:

"My friend, as much as it pains my scholar mind to see these samples of arcane craft destroyed in such a barbaric manner, I find your total lack of self-preservation regarding acquiring food during expeditions most fascinating. Is there anything in this cursed land you haven't tried turning into escalope and ingesting?"

Dismas huffed, leaning in to stir the pottage in an attempt to buy himself some time. Rey shifted, deciding that this exact moment was good enough to hide the versebook in his backpack, and, once he was sure he caught the highwayman's slightly panicked gaze, he quickly and discreetly mouthed "cooked and eaten". This translation allowed the rogue to relax again, and face the scholar without the nagging anxiety of making an ass of himself. It was a good thing, after all, to have a friend with high education who could translate high society gibberish into normal words for him.

"Why, gargoyles, of course, my good academic fella! Most of the adventurers are past their primes, see, with gentler teeth, n' I just can't seem t' find a mallet big enough t' tenderise those dusty loins into a nice juicy steak," the absurdity of the statement made both occultist and the knight chuckle, and even Josephine huffed a disagreeing giggle, thus proving once again that his dark humour was still capable of keeping knives sheathed and spirits high. The highwayman grinned triumphantly, returning to preparing their questionable food.

When he was absolutely sure that no one paid him any more attention, Dismas gave a cautious glance to the scattering of unblinking red eyes just outside the campfire's flickering light. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice those just yet, so the rogue hurried with adding a bit more firewood to the campfire and yet another ridiculous recipe straight out of any sane cook's nightmare.

They just had to outlast the dark...

[tristayranambrosio]

Things Forgotten and Reforged Part 2

Trist had never been a Tavern-Bard. He’d played at a Cabaret and even then half the time he was playing Host and Call-boy for the nobles who thought they were slumming it in the Row when they were really being pampered by a former noble who -actually- wanted to do some good for those less fortunate, Nestor had adopted him after all in all but writing He and Palehoof were what passed as parents though far too late to instill any confidence in the Wayward Youth that seduced widows and widowers for a bed to sleep in when under the Cabaret Tables didn’t cut it…

So when he awkwardly attempted to step into the recluse he was overwhelmed by the warring dins of the space. Dozens upon dozens of too sweaty and drunken patrons yelling so loud the noble colleague of his was being drowned out entirely from the entry.

While he no longer needed the cloak to keep from being arrested here in Stormwind, Trist knew enough that his distinctive hair would surely alert those in the crowd that knew him and on this mission he truly did not wish to draw attention to himself, or get distracted. He often dismissed the notions that he was some household name, that his presence meant anything, but if he was being entirely honest, his anonymity was a thing of the past. The name he’d always hoped to make for himself -had- been made, and there were likely even pictures in the paper of what everyone’s familiar Pink Haired bard and Blue Haired Fiancé had gotten up to at a beachside. How they’d both taken a familiar celebrity as a lover that they both seemed just as wrapped around as one another. That wasn’t new. People making the assumptions they did in gossip that just because Trist was spending time with someone they were automatically sleeping together… though in fairness in this case…

That wasn’t important, his wandering mind and kindling flames with a certain Starman he’d pined after for years was -not- why he’d come to the Blue Recluse.

He squeezed his way past the press of bodies at the bar to get a better look at the modest stage that the Bard played on. He was a middle aged fellow, well fed and would have been nicely dressed if it wasn’t a few years out of fashion. He leaned back on a new seat that had been given to him after the last braw that had broken out had claimed his old one for a casualty. Trist strode over and dropped a few gold pieces into the Bard’s hat sitting at his feet which made the man’s brows raise.

The performer leaned in and asked, “That’d be a tip fit for a man lookin for more than a song, friend.”

Trist chuckled, “Just a few answers.”

“Yer not a guard are ye?” The large man narrowed his eyes.

“Gods, no they’d never take the likes of me. Been arrested too many times myself.” It was true. More often than not in attempts to stop bullies from being their lovely selves to people.

“Ask away mister ‘hood’ indoors with yer deep pockets.”

“Did you play here when the Lady of the Violet Hour hosted?” Trist asked unphased.

“Once or twice, she’s closed up didn’ ye hear? Was in the papers. Father’s ill.” The musician kept playing and tried to read Trist’s face under the shade of the hood and the dim of the space itself, “Yer also not ‘er type, no time for the void elven folks, Addy’s a good girl.”

“I’m sure she is.” Trist agreed wishing he could be his charming self, but looking as shady as he did certainly was doing him no favors, “I’m actually asking about if… any of the old Violet Hour’s… tables or chairs are still about.”

“Hrumph, not much of the Hour survived the bloody black-flame -death- that was visited on the place and the Park. And since they’ve closed up, there's no reason to keep any of it about.” The Bard was clearly losing interest.

“Y-yes but I was hoping that maybe -something- was left.”

“Ye can go digging through trash if ye want boy but there’s not but ash and broken things left of the Hour, well that and the People, the lot of the staff and the Lady ‘erself.”

“Trash, fine, where?”

That made the Musician do a double take, “Yer an odd duck tossin small fortunes about and askin to dig through trash.”

Trist shrugged, “What can i say, I’m feeling Nostalgic, thanks for the time, Your ‘E’ is a bit out of tune.”

The Bard went red faced for a moment looking like he’d let Trist have a piece of his mind but when he plucked a check on the string, sure enough… Fuming the musician turned one of the lute pegs cursing rich men and their ears. Trist grimaced a bit as he made his way through the busy space slipping away towards the back.

Eventually, hiding in plain sight, Trist made it to the back alley behind the Recluse startling two servers who had clearly come out for a smoke and a bicker, they dropped their cigars and ground their ashes under boots before hurrying in assuming they’d been caught at something they shouldn’t have been, leaving Trist alone with a pile of waterlogged shipping pallets and broken barrels.

Anyone else would have seen it as a dead end but Trist carefully sorted through it all. He found an old Barrel that had lost a fight with an axe and retrieved the patch that bore the violet hour’s brand… and sighed, it wasn’t exactly what he’d been looking for but it was something.

Just as he turned to retreat he saw a large oddly shaped board, it was stained and smelled of mold having been in the back under a gutter, but with a push he was able to push was turned out to be an old Sign off the brick walls it had been tucked against and behind the dumpster set to be emptied some time never.

‘The Violet Hour’ The sign read in what once had been a vivid gold leafed paint that had been stripped and scrapped for what was considered valuable, the purple paint of the field the words were on had bubbled and peeled on its own but as he read the sign that detailed the specials for meals from day to day his eyes lit with delight reading near the bottom, ‘Live music Performed by Ithilios Starstrider & gues-’ The words had been cracked off and burnt but Trist’s smile was impossible to shake now.

He carefully knelt beside the sign and with great reverence and care, so as not to risk destroying already rotting wood, to extract The name off the sign retrieving the panel it was carved into.

Trist tucked the salvaged sign close to his chest just as rain started to patter on his hood and a few displeased strays and denizens skittered down the Alley. Taking their que, the beaming bard humming his way down the cobbles and puddles walked through the rain to his next stop.

[enjomo-arch]

(  flame  command  ━  prompted  :  ace )   //    [  ♠ @feufist  ]

" okay. here's the problem. we're stealing two things. " ( young!ace to older!ace? )

taking  care  of  kids  was  one  hell  of  a  task.  sometimes  it  came  naturally  to  him,  when  he  wasn't  forced  to  do  it  by  fate  which  this  time,  for  some  strange  reason,  allowed  him  to  experience  something  he  hadn't  even  ace  dreamed  of  in  the  deepest  recesses  of  his  subconscious.  maybe  even  better,  considering  he  was  the  adult  here  and  now  the  tall  body  of  the  fire  fist  sank  down  into  a  casual  crouch  to  be  on  the  level  with  his  ...  younger  self.  

but  if  he  had  to  choose  to  babysit  some  kid  it  certainly  wouldn't  be  his  old  self.  considering  what  an  ace  he  was  during  his  tough  childhood  whose  memories  even  now  could  keep  him  awake  at  night,  making  his  heart  clench  uncomfortably.  

it  was  a  challenge,  but  ace  wouldn't  have  been  himself  if  he  hadn't  put  his  hands  in  even  the  worst  of  trouble.  he  should  have  been  in  charge,  but  after  all,  he  was  a  pirate,  and  he  knew  what  he  was  capable  of  anyway.  grinning,  with the  stupid  smirk  for  which  he  should  have  gotten  a  pipe  in  his  face  he  placated  the  younger  boy  before  his  pointy  finger  poked  the  very  middle  of  the  child's  forehead,  pushing  him  back. 

❝  nah,  you're  gonna  steal  these  goodies  for  me  'cause  yer  rat  sized.  no  one  will  notice  you  when  you  go  inside.  i'll  take  care  of  the  distraction  so  you  don't  mess  anythin'  up.  ❞  at  worst  everything  will  go  wrong  and  they'll  have  to  run  away.  could  the  kids  even  go  to  jail  ?

[pearlsartblog2019]

Monster Verse AU: part one

SPG: Monster Verse AU : Part one:

Notes: Don't own SPG… all of those lovelies belong to the bennetts and co. I just do strange things in stories with the characters for fun. 

Don’t own Sprocket She belongs to the very awesome: spg-fanbot-cousins.tumblr.com Pearl Is my own creation for this and several other stories. Also NOTE: This is set in the 1950s yes Rabbit is a guy at this point due to it being WAAAAAY before either buns or rabbit transitioned. In the stories set in modern times rabbit will be a girl. Thanks for the read On to the show. 

     Black lips pulled into a charming smile and kissed the cheek of the Lil human female he had just been with. 

She looked very happy and satisfied and would no doubt think the two bruises she would find on her neck in the morning nothing more than a hickey from a  

handsome stranger in the cause way of the club he had been singing at. 

"Thank you very much my dear," the deep baritone told her, "Now you should go home and sleep. Its been a very long night no?"

She smiled dreamily at him like so many of them he had met in the past and nodded. Then almost floated away into the night that already smelled of rain. 

He smirked a lil and slightly rolled his glowing emerald eyes.  Fascinating lil creatures these females.  He knew most of his kind, most of the other Lords viewed them as nothing more than food. But in his long life he had never been able to make that association.  Yes he needed their blood, but he had never been needlessly cruel to get it. Either that was just his nature, or perhaps that he was on the Fringe of his breed due to his more Mecha nature.  Either way, he'd always liked human females and always would. 

He was about to head out into the rain when he heard something from the ally way. Two people talking and being angry about something.

"Did you see it!" one of them snapped, "We got its parents but we been chasing this one all the way across the pond... and tonight YOU LOSE IT..!!"

The other person made a sound of disgust, "Well it's about to die any how! we ought to just leave and say its dead!"

Lightning crashed over head and the skies opened up to dump a flood down onto the dark streets below. The two creeps in the ally way glared up at the clouds for a moment and finally gave up.

"If it's out here, " One of them waved at  hand at the back alleys, "It'll freeze to death tonight... our work’s done."

"Good point, " The second one paused and looked around "are you sure this is a good idea coming here? They rest of the hunters said that this is The Silver Lord's turf, and he doesn't take kindly to people like us."

The first man scoffed, "Silver Lord is a myth.. nothing like that really exists.  Seven foot silver vampire lord in a fedora.. dont be stupid."

He almost, ALMOST, thought to correct the two men on the errors of their thought process right then and there. But from what the pair of them were saying, there was someone or something out there in the night that needed help. He aborhed violence unless he had no other choice, so he gave the backs of the evil men one final glare and headed in the direction they had indicated.

Sadly when he walked deeper into the ally there was almost nothing there but some plies of card board and what looked like a lump of rags in one corner. He was about to walk away and try some other place when the lump he’d looked at a moment ago .. moved. 

a few seconds later he had carefully moved some of the trash out of his way and discovered something amazing. 

what looked like a naga tail.. dull metallic and filthy from months if not years of having to live in back alleyways and on the edges of even Monster Society. 

Finally the rest of the debris was cleared away and what he saw amazed him. She was a mech breed of monster, like himself and his various siblings. A RIDICULOUSLY YOUNG naga female, with long curly brown hair. Tiny not taking her tail into account, compared to his seven feet.  Freezing cold, half dead, and  utterly alone. 

For a moment he SERIOUSLY considered going back on his Vow of being tolerant of humans for a bit, if only to give the people that had done this to a CHILD the ass beating they deserved. But decided better of it  seeing as how getting the little one some place warm and dry was more important. 

A few seconds later the two of them had disappeared into the night and headed back to the manor. The wizards would welcome the little one with open arms he knew, his family would be more than happy to take care of her, and she had already slithered her way into his heart, of that much he was sure. He just hoped he would be able to help her and that she was not too badly hurt. 

The next evening:

She was on something warm and soft and could feel the end of her tail stuck out into cooler air beyond whatever the warm thing she was cuddled up in was. She knew she HAD to be dreaming as she'd not slept in side someplace dry and warm for several years. 

Sprocket was determined to stay asleep a lil longer and enjoy the dream as much as she possibly could before she woke back up on the hard cold streets of whatever city they had chased her too this time. 

She pulled the fluffy dream pillow down over her eyes and really did not want to move out of where she was. Maybe this time she was dead and was in heaven. It certainly FELT like heaven compared to the life she had lived since she fell of that stupid boat. 

She heard a VERY deep voice laugh a bit next to her some place. 

"you can come out little one," It told her, "I don't ....bite."

She could hear the grin in the deep voice and for a moment enjoyed the warmth. Then it clicked that someone was talking to her, and she switched from content to panic mode in about 2 seconds flat.

She snarled, hissed, and crash dove out of the bed to flatten herself against the nearest corner. They had her, the two people that had killed her father and chased her across the country had her and now they were going to kill her.  She was damned sure however not going to give in without one hell of a fight. 

She glared at the tall figure across the bed from her and hissed again, bareing her fags and flashing the rings in her eyes to let them know she had every intention of defending her self. 

Everything was still horridly blurry and she couldn't make out much about the person standing in front of her other than he was INSANELY tall. 

"GET BACK!!"  She literally snapped at him, "I SAID GET BACK!!"

"calm down," the deep voiced man told her, "I promise I won't hurt you. Please relax... your ..."

Sprocket was having none of that and was not letting these people who had  hurt her so badly, get even close to her any more. She struck out at him only to get one of the biggest shocks of her short life.

He caught her.  Ridiculously strong hands caught both her arms and held her perfectly still with a grip like titanium.  Not hurting, or squeezing, just keeping her still. She got a good look at him and could only stare as the emerald eyes set in the angular silver face flashed bright red and he answered her hiss with one of his own. In the process  displaying his own set of fangs,  that made hers look like butter knives by comparison. 

"calm DOWN," He told her again, "Your with your own kind Lil one. Your safe."

One look at this person and she knew what he was. A vampire,  a vampire lord to be exact from the size and shape of his fangs. Someone ridiculously powerful that if they told her she was safe from the hunters, She was safe from the hunters. It took about another ten seconds and then Sprocket went completely limp in the Lord's arms and began sobbing. 

"Im Sorry SIR!!" she continued, "I didn't know.. I.. they were... They killed..."

"Easy," He held her very gently, "Its alright lil one, you've been through hell but your safe now. Your going to be staying with us from now on. This is going to be your new home."

Blue slitted eyes looked up from her hands into the ones that had changed back to emerald green. He had such a kind face, so much compassion in his voice that only made her cry harder. 

After a bit she finally was calm enough and he let her go back onto her bed, fluffing the blanket up and making sure it was around her shoulders and tail. 

"What's your name ?" The lord asked her gently.

"Sprocket," She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, "I... I don't have a last name.."

He smiled, "That's Alright. My name is The Spine and I am sorry that happened to you. I  usually don't let that kind of scum into my city."

"They were following me," She looked down and played with the blanket hem a bit, "They killed my pappa... and chased me.. off the boat and all across the country.. "

Spine's handsome face twisted into a frown for a moment and then he spoke to her again

"Well they can't chase you anymore, " He folded his arms, "And if they come to this house looking for trouble they are in for quite the surprise..’ he grinned. 

"Say again?" She blinked at him.

He got an even more  impish grin on his face, "would you like to see what I mean?"

Confused she nodded and when he held out his arms for her she slithered into them. Two steps into the hallway she suddenly knew exactly what he was talking about. 

A giant, a dryad and a drider were all down at the other end of the halway, having a very loud conversation about what was going on and if they were going to barge into the room and demand 'big brother' Show off the lil naga he'd found. 

Behind them a Kitsune grinned and twitched all of his tails at   the conversation face full of mischief and fun ( note: This is WAAAAAAAAY before rabbit/bunny transitioned folks.. she will be a girl in the stories set in modern times.. this is in the late 40's/early 50s) And next to him a pink succubus balanced on the railing putting in her two cents from time to time. 

Sprocket turned her head as a Vampire Lady, and two wizards one on either side of her, walked past them. 

The sudden relief she felt at being in a house full of others like her almost made her want to faint. When she saw that they had been noticed and the Dryad was leading the charge. 

"Head's up," Spine told her just in time as the stampede made it to them. 

The next   hour was spent on introductions and details about how she had gotten there. As well as generally being welcomed into the family by everyone with great enthusiasm. 

The other vampire lady came to see how the commotion was, bringing the dark haired wizard with her and smiling cus according to her "Twas about time Spine had a family."

She could tell he was resisting the urge to say something foul and had to smile at that. By the time it was all over she felt completely happy and  utterly exhausted in a way that she hadn't felt since the moment those hunters shoved her off the boat. 

She was back in her bed room now curled up on the wonderfully fluffy bed under the soft blanket tip of her tail twitching in happiness and contentment. Spine had gone to take the dishes from the stuff he had made for her. He called it Hot Coco, and it tasted like chocolate with a healthy dash of type O as well. So she was also enjoying a full stomach for the first time in a LONG time. When Spine reappeared to check on her one last time before the sun came up.

"will you be alright? I can stay today if you like?"

"No im good Daddy i..." She slapped her hand over her mouth, "Im sorry Sir.. you just...you remind me..."

"Of your father?" he asked.

She nodded and despite all of the happiness she felt that day, the old sadness at her parents having been taken from her started to creep back.  Until, that is, a pair of strong silver arms pulled her into a paternal hug. 

"I'm honored Lil Sprocket, " She looked up and saw him smile, "If that's what you want, I would be so honored to be your family..." 

Fresh tears, this time of happiness spilled down her cheeks, and she hugged onto him right then and stayed that way  through the rest of the day.

[itsdanii]

Because I’m an angst-addicted ball of misery, is it okay if I request drabbles of Fuckboy!Atsumu and Fuckboy!Oikawa being the crush of the reader but she knows of how they treat other girls and doesn’t want to end up heart broken and since she’s shy and introverted, the boys barely know her aside from her being a classmate?

She tries to keep a simple distance away from them until said boys randomly show an interest in her and they start showing her attention, love, and treating her better than the girls they messed with until after a few weeks she overhears from them or their teammates that it’s out of pity/they were bored because Y/N seemed easy to mess with.

Y/N doesn’t let them know she overheard them, instead a switch is flipped and she’s emotionless around them and avoids them. When they ask why she’s like that, she simply says “I won’t let you hurt me like the others.” She basically treats them like they don’t exist (she’s friendly to everyone but them) and said f!boys regret it and bust their asses to fix everything between them (I read how you felt about full angst, so the reader just blocked their number, social media’s, and treat them like the plague until they prove that they truly love her or regret messing with her :) )

Hey, bub. Sorry for the slight delay! I hope you don't mind me making slight adjustments about the plot for my comfort 🥺 And uh... this drabble turned out to be a oneshot because I got carried away. I only did Atsumu's part which went over 3k+ works 👁️👄👁️ Anyway, I hope that you still like it. Have a good day, stay safe and hydrated! ♥️

Karma's a b*tch

genre: angst to fluff

warning/s: rude behavior (resolved), cursing, self doubt and insecurity(?), do message me if I missed any

a/n: please do read the warnings before you proceed. warnings have been put there for a reason

ft. fboy!atsumu miya, f!reader

never play with a girl's feelings. wanna know why? just read the title.

You stared at the back of Atsumu's head dreamily, your elbows propped on your desk as you basically ignored the world around you.

Contrary to the belief that noisy students always sat on the back, Atsumu and his twin were actually seated in front. Despite being in the middle of a class discussion, the two kept on chattering as if the teacher didn't exist. The teacher basically gave up already trying to shut them up since they never listened anyway.

You knew that she could've just sent them to detention but of course, who would do that to the miya twins? People almost worshipped them and your teacher wasn't excluded. Everytime she entered the room, you noticed how she would always cast a glance at the Miya twins and smile "politely."

The two, of course, took advantage of it. If it meant being able to get away with their noise by just simply smirking at the teacher in front of them, they'd do it. They already did anyways. They never did anything more than that though, and for some reason you were thankful that they never crossed that line.

You jolted up slightly when the bell suddenly rang, a loud yelp slipping past your lips out of shock. With your eyes widening like saucers, you felt your cheeks heating up when majority of your classmates turned their head towards your direction, some having a grin on their faces while the others having a look of displease.

However, their stare didn't matter as much as a specific person's did. A pair of brownish eyes stared at you intensely, his gaze so intense it was enough to make you almost squirm in your seat.

Feeling your heart rate picking up along with the shiver running down your spine, you looked down at your lap, successfully cutting your eye contact with Miya Atsumu - the guy you secretly liked despite being hailed as your school's certified f!ckboy.

"Make sure to finish all your requirements this upcoming weekend. You're all seniors so I have high expectations on your outputs, understood?"

With a series of "Yes, ma'am," the class was dismissed.

The room was filled with different noises - subgroups gossiping with each other, the footsteps of students hurrying their way out, the rustling of papers, clanking of chairs and the voices of the class representatives reminding the assigned people to clean properly.

It was lively, for them at least.

As for you, you preferred being alone. No, you weren't some weird nerd kid who acted as if they hated the world. Instead, you preferred categorizing yourself as one of those people who were naturally shy and introverted.

You don't really like crowds nor socializing. You've always opted on sitting by the corner, just enjoying the calmness silence brings you.

Grabbing your books from your desk, you stood up and made your way to the door, head casted a little downwards to avoid making eye contact with people, knowing that doing so will result to interactions, and who has time for interactions anyway? Certainly not you.

With the lack of paying attention, you failed to notice someone who was rushing their way out. Like a cliche movie, your body collided with them, the impact causing you to stumble backwards, loosening your grip on your books as they fell on the floor.

Luckily, the person behind you managed to catch you on time, their hand gripping the small of your back to keep your bum from meeting the floor.

"Whoa, there. Ya alright, princess?" spoke the familiar voice just behind your ear, his breath against your skin giving you small goosebumps.

Instantly, you jerked away. Turning around to face him, you bowed down while muttering continuous apologies. "Miya! I didn't mean to bump into you, I.. I swear. I was just walking out and then somebody j-"

Chuckling, Atsumu placed a hand on top of your head, giving your hair a small ruffle which eventually made you look up at him. "Calm down, I ain't mad at ya. No need to be so flustered."

With a stiff nod, you mumbled a small "Okay," before bending down to pick your books off the floor. You didn't fail to notice how your hands were trembling and you silently prayed to whoever diety was watching over you that Atsumu won't notice it.

"Yer y/n, right?" Atsumu asked as he bent down as well, one hand clutching your book as he let his finger trace over the name written on it. "A pretty name fer a pretty face like yers."

You wouldn't be surprised if he'd ask if you were doing okay because by now, you were a hundred percent sure that your face must be looking like a red tomato. "Thanks I guess," you said, giving him a shy smile before taking the book from his hand.

The small encounter was cut off by someone calling for Atsumu's name. Turning your head to the direction of the noise, you noticed Osamu walking towards you with a small frown on his face, one hand gripping the strap of his bag as he went on how they're going to have to run extra laps again if they ever got late for practice.

Atsumu only chuckled at Osamu before turning his focus back on you. With a cheeky smile, he booped the tip of your noise fondly. "Guess I'll see ya around, pretty thing. Careful not to stumble again, alright? Don't want another man catchin' ya."

With that, Atsumu went on his merry way, turning around one more time to send you a wink, chuckling as you gave him a slow wave before his figure disappeared from your vision as a mere dot.

"See ya later..." you whispered on thin air, lips unconsciously curling up as you stared at the direction he went off to. Once you snapped out of your daze, you bit your lip to stop yourself from squealing like a school girl in love.

Well, technically, you were a school girl in love, right?

That night, as you laid on your bed staring at your ceiling full of glow in the dark stars, you thought that maybe it wasn't so bad making conversations with people every once in a while.

-

The days went by pretty quickly.

At first, you thought that everything will be back to normal. After all, you never tried associating yourself with people. Your high school life was basically nothing but waking up early for school then going back home after class and then repeat.

However, something was strange. In fact, it was very strange. Not only were people trying to befriend you but the one and only Atsumu Miya was actually making an effort to talk to you, and to say that you were confused would be an understatement.

He basically didn't pay attention nor spared you a glance before, until that day you bumped into him.

You knew that it wasn't a good practice to judge someone based on what other people say but he wouldn't be called as your school's f!ckboy for nothing. He'd change his girlfriend almost every week as if he's only changing clothes, cruelly dump those who did not meet his certain standards and doesn't care even if a girl cries infront of him. Those are exactly why you tried not associating yourself with him nor his twin.

But there was something about Atsumu Miya that kept on drawing you in. You didn't know if it was his annoying piss colored hair, intense gaze, or the aura surrounding him. You couldn't help but wonder how someone like him, the exact type of person you swore you hated, managed to keep you attracted like a moth on to a flame.

It was weird.

And yet you loved it.

"Ya know y/n, ya kinda wound me," Atsumu said, plopping himself down beside you on the cafeteria.

With your hand clutching the chopsticks mid-air, you surveyed your area, noting how some heads, specifically the Inrizaki VBC's, turned to your direction. "Sorry, what do you mean?" you muttered as soon as your eyes met Atsumu's.

"I literally thought we're already friends when I saved yer ass from falling backwards," Atsumu answered before stuffing his mouth with an Onigiri, no doubt made by Osamu.

Placing your chopsticks down, you wiped your lips with some napkin before speaking up. "I'm sorry for asking this but... what's with the sudden interest, Miya?"

You were aware of how snappy you sounded, but in reality, it was your own defense mechanism acting up. Just how were you supposed to ignore him when it's he himself who kept on clinging to you?

"Hm, what do ya mean? Is it so hard to believe that I'm trying to befriend ya?" Atsumu tilted his head a bit to the side, his lips curling up into a smirk. "Why not try givin' me a chance, princess? That isn't so much to ask for."

You organized your now empty bento, placing it on the side before focusing your whole attention to the man in front of you. "I've seen how you treated girls before," you said with a low voice, averting your gaze from him to avoid melting into a puddle.

Damn stupid feelings.

"I see..." Atsumu said with a slow nod. "Then I guess that makes it more of a challenge."

Your eyebrows immediately furrowed upon hearing that, your curiosity spiking up at what his words meant. "Challenge? What do you mean?"

Instead of answering you, Atsumu just stood up, his bento in hand with the side of his lips curled up. "I'll see ya around, princess."

With that, you were left alone in your table, eyes still trained on Atsumu as he made his way back to the Inarizaki VBC's table. You watched as most of his friends chuckled while patting his back, some even sending a glance towards your direction.

Deciding that pondering over it would only be a waste of time, you stood up and made your way back to your classroom, failing to notice a grey haired Miya watching you.

-

You let out a small squeak as someone behind you reached for the same book you've been trying to get for almost 5 minutes now. Tilting your head back a little, you were met with an upside down vision of Miya Atsumu's face.

With your arms still raised in the air, you spun around to face him, your back flush against the bookshelf keeping you basically trapped. "Miya," you mumbled while looking up at him, one hand fisting the side of your skirt to release some pressure.

"Here," he simply said while handing you the book, obviously holding back from laughing at your flustered expression. "Don't worry, I ain't gonna try anythin' that would make ya uncomfortable. I was just passin' by and saw you strugglin'."

"And he even tucked my hair behind my ear!"

"He did that?" your cousin spoke from beside you.

Both of you were seated on top of your bed, legs crissed crossed as you gossiped about your interactions with Miya Atsumu.

For the past few weeks, you've been having encounters with Atsumu - in the cafeteria, in the library and even outside of school where he claimed that he was out to buy some ingredients for Osamu and only managed to bump into you "coincidentally". Name it and he'll be there.

With these constant encounters stirring up your feelings, you had to resort on calling your cousin for some girl time in order to save your sanity. Luckily, your parents had no objection. They were even happy that you were actually trying to open up to other people. It was only your cousin but according to your parents, "A small step is still a step."

Plopping your back on your bed, you grunted as you placed both of your hands on your cheeks. "Mhm. I just don't get it you know? He's basically this popular guy that plays volleyball, has a group of girls swarming over him and has the face and body that looks like it's been sculpted by God himself, and yet he's wasting his time on me."

You looked at your cousin with a small pout, one hand reaching out to poke her thigh. "Am I just overthinking things?"

With a breathy chuckle, your cousin laid down beside you. "Maybe? I can't really say for sure since I don't know this Miya guy except your description of him, but what I think is that you should give him a chance."

Hearing that, you laid on your side to face her, elbows propped up against the mattress as you rested your cheek on your palm. "Aila, have you been listening to me? He is a f! ckboy. Dangerous, treats girls like shit, and undeniably sexy. What if his sudden interest is only a one time thing? What if he's just messing with me?"

"And what if he isn't?" Upon hearing no reply, your cousin took your silence as her cue to continue. "What if people just labeled him as this so called 'f!ckboy' because that's what they perceive him to be? What if inside him is just someone who's vulnerable, trying to protect themselves from getting hurt by people so they end up hurting others first to save themselves from the pain? What if he's just waiting for someone who wanted to really know him, the real him? Would you really deprive him of that opportunity just because of what you hear from other people?"

"I... I don't know.."

"Miya isn't here to defend himself and I'm not trying to defend him, but don't you think you should at least give him the benefit of the doubt?" Aila smiled as she settled herself on a comfortable position. "Give him a chance, y/n. Everyone deserves to get one. It's up to him to prove whether he's worth the chance he was given."

You sighed deeply, letting her words sink in as you also shifted yourself on a comfortable position, raising your comforter up until it reaches just below your chin. "Then what happens if he isn't worth the chance he's given?"

With a hum, your cousin just shrugged. "Then you either forgive him and let it go or... give him the finger and tell him 'f!ck you' for messing with your feelings," she said with a short giggle.

"It's something only you in the future can decide. Goodnight, y/n."

With a thankful smile, you turned the lamp off as you whispered, "Mh, goodnight, Aila."

-

"Let's be friends," you said as you slammed a box of onigiri in front of Atsumu, a smacking sound resonating in the air making the rest of the boys look at your direction.

Even the sound of balls whooshing in the air stopped, replaced by the sound of them dropping suddenly on the gym's floor.

With his lips parted, Atsumu shifted his gaze from the onigiri, Osamu, Suna and you. "Ah..." he muttered as if he was just as shocked as you for having the guts to come inside the gym in the middle of their training.

Feeling your cheeks heating up out of embarrassment due to his lack of response, you looked down and started to fiddle with you fingers. "You said you wanted to be my friend and I kept on keeping my distance from you so I thought you might appreciate those onigiri as my peace offering." You scratched the back of your head before giving him an awkward smile. "A-anyway, that's all! I'll see you around, Miya!"

Atsumi could only watch you as you dashed out of the gym. Snapping out of his daze, he looked down at the box of Onigiri, smiling unconsciously as he noticed the sticky note posted on top with "Good luck on your practice, Miya! :))" written on it.

"Interestin'," Atsumu whispered before standing up, Kita's voice filling the air as he called the team back for practice.

-

It's safe to say that after that embarrassing moment, you became friends with Atsumu. You even became close with his twin because they were always with each other. It wasn't long then when the usual duo became three - Atsumu, Osamu, and you.

It was hard to adjust at first. Your female classmates would always glare at you and spout out some nasty remarks but the twins were always there to defend you. In fact, you even met the whole team and hanged out with them when you didn't have some academic tasks to finish.

It was fun, and you were thankful for your cousin who gave you the advise of giving Atsumu a chance.

But there was a downside on the situation.

Your feelings which you kept hidden for a long time was only growing day by day, and you were afraid that it was slowly showing signs.

How?

Everytime Atsumu was near, your heart would beat so fast that you felt like you just finished a 4 kilometer run. Your hands would become clammy, breath would hitch, and face would heat up whenever he teases you, and don't even forget to add that one time you literally froze when you spun around, only to come face to face with him - nose almost touching, lips ghosting against each other with only an inch keeping you apart.

You were playing a dangerous game and yet you had no intention of stopping, not knowing that it wasn't only you who had a secret.

Because Atsumu Miya was also playing a game - something much more dangerous than yours.

-

"Where's 'Tsumu?" you asked as you peeked your head inside the gym.

Kita, who was about to walk out, gave you a smile before opening the door wider for you to come in. "Atsumu's in the storage room. The twins made a mess again so I told them to go clean up before we start practice."

"Typical," you said with a short giggle. "Anyway, I'm just going to drop off Atsumu's hoodie that I borrowed last week. I'll watch over them while you do your business."

"That would be great. Thank you so much, y/n-san. Call me if something happens," Kita said, giving you a small nod before leaving.

As you entered the empty gym, you grimaced upon seeing something that looks like spilled milk on the floor. With a shake of your head, you made your way near the storage room sneakily in attempts of scaring Atsumu.

However, as you got closer, you heard two familiar voices. It was Atsumu's and Osamu's voice, and basing from the way they were speaking, it seemed as if they were in the middle of an argument.

"The fuck did ya say?" It was Osamu.

"I said I was only playin' with her. I mean, she's so easy, don't ya think? It basically only took me a couple of weeks and she came runnin' to me with that box of Onigiri, claimin' she wanted to be friends," Atsumu said, followed by a chuckle. "As if I didn't notice the way she acted around me. I'm telling ya, that girl is in love with me."

"And so, what if she is? That's not an excuse for ya to play with her feelings, dipshit."

Hearing Atsumu huff, you slightly backed away from the door, only to freeze when you heard his next words.

"Y/n is nothin' but a toy to me, somethin' I can dispose of when I got bored."

Biting your lower lip, you clenched the handle of the paperbag you were holding before running out with tears streaming down your face.

You ran as fast as you could, ignoring the worried looks you're getting from the people you were passing by. Even Kita was shocked to see you yet he didn't bother calling out, thinking that you might be needing some alone time for yourself.

You skipped class.

Throughout your whole Highschool life, this was the first time you skipped your class and it was a bummer that the reason was Atsumu Miya.

Stirring your strawberry milkshake from a nearby cafe, you thought about Atsumu's words, another batch of tears streaming down your face as you realized how pathetic you were for believing that he isn't what others say.

Maybe your cousin was wrong.

Atsumu Miya wasn't worth the chance he was given, because he only proved that once a f!ckboy, always a f!ckboy.

-

You blocked Atsumu's social media accounts.

In fact, you even blocked and deleted his number to stop getting in contact with him.

Even in person, you didn't bother paying him any attention unlike before. You stopped coming to their practices, stopped giving him food and stopped talking to him.

You basically acted as if he didn't exist.

It was hard because you knew that your heart belonged to him, but you had to endure it. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction for playing with you. You know your worth and there's no way you're going to let some f*ckboy ruin you.

"Y/n, would ya stop?!" Atsumu said as he grabbed your wrist, effectively stopping you from walking away from him any further.

"Get your hands off me, Miya. I don't wanna talk to you." You struggled against his hold, trying to take your hand back, only to fail when he tightened his grip.

"The hell's yer problem? What's with the sudden attitude? Yer basically ignorin' me and I don't have any idea what I did. Just tell me what I did wrong instead of actin' like a little brat." Letting go of your wrist, Atsumu groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair out of frustration. "I.. I don't like this."

You laughed, eyes squinting as you let out a fit of giggles before pointing at him. "You don't like this? Why not, Miya? I'm just a toy for you, right? So, I don't really get why you don't like this. Is it because you're not bored of me yet so you're not willing to dispose of me?" Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at him with a serious expression. "Well, I'm sorry to say this but I'm not going to let you hurt me like the others. I'm not a plaything nor am I desperate like those girls pining over you. Have fun looking for a new toy. You're not worth playing with anyway."

That being said, you turned your back on Atsumu, ignoring the whispers that suddenly filled the hallway as the students parted some space for you, leaving Atsumu with his lips parted and feet frozen on the ground.

Serves you right, Miya.

-

Atsumu felt hollow.

With every passing day that you're ignoring him, conversing with people whom you never bothered associating yourself with before, the more he regret taking advantage of your feelings.

It was only supposed to be a game, nothing but a pass time and yet why did it felt like something was missing?

"I wasn't supposed to care," Atsumu said desperately while clutching his head in his hands, elbows propped on the table as he opened up to his twin. "F!ck...I think I like her, 'Samu."

"No shit, idiot," Osamu answered without taking his eyes off the stove. "I told ya several times to stop messin' with people's feelings and did ya ever listen? No. That's what ya get for bein' stupid."

Groaning, Atsumu rested his cheek against the table, facing Osamu's back. "Help me."

Slowing down from stirring the pot, Osamu looked at Atsumu through his shoulder. "Why would I do that?"

"Well, I'm yer twin. Aren't ya supposed to help me? Plus... y/n acts fine around ya." Atsumu sighed before sitting up properly. "I won't bother ya fer a week if ya help me out. I already did everythin' I could. Flowers, chocolates, even payin' attention in class just to impress them! Nothin' worked."

Osamu chuckled at the desperation and frustration in Atsumu's voice. "Deal." He turned the stove off, covering the pot before making his way to Atsumu. Sitting down, he crossed his arms over his chest while staring at the brokenhearted Miya. "Y/n is actually kind. Well, not until that moment she found out about yer stupidity. Have ya tried showin' her that yer willin' to change?"

Atsumu nodded. "I did. I even gave her the usual things girls like."

"I asked if ya showed her that yer willin' to change, not tried winnin' over her through bribery." When Atsumu didn't respond, Osamu let out a 'tsk' before continuing, "Just stop botherin' her and prove that ya regret what ya did."

"Easier said than done," Atsumu grumbled which earned him a smack on the head.

"Will ya stop bein' a sad boy already? I have a plan."

-

Its been two weeks.

Two weeks of no Miya Atsumu trying to apologize. Two weeks of no Miya Atsumu following you like a lost puppy while holding either chocolates or flowers.

Instead, what you were getting were these random post it notes on your locker, your desk, everywhere. Wherever you go, there would be random post it notes with various messages. Some contained cheesy quotations, the others short apology letters.

And despite how mad you were at Atsumu, you wouldn't be able to deny how cute the act was. Not only did he gave you space but also exerted an effort of silently letting you know that he'd be willing to wait for you.

You noticed how he stopped acting like a boss in class, opting to jot down notes instead of chattering with Osamu like usual. You also noticed how he stopped having a random girl beside him during breaks. Everytime you would pass by, no longer would he try to block your way and flick your forehead, but instead give you a hopeful smile before proceeding on his way wordlessly.

But what made you realize that he indeed regret what he did was that one time.

You were walking back to your classroom after forgetting your umbrella. The sound of the heavy rain tapping on the ground resonated on the empty hallways, the cold wind making you shiver as it whooshed in the air.

Wrapping your arms tightly around you, you entered your classroom, eyes widening as you saw Atsumu trying to fit something on the space below your desk while mumbling something.

Clearing your throat, you noticed Atsumu jolting up slightly before turning around to face your direction.

He smiled sheepily before scratching his nape. "I know it's yer birthday tomorrow so I was tryin' to fit this here. I guess there's no point hidin' it already since ya caught me anyway." Sighing, Atsumu picked up the fox stuffie and handed it to you. "Happy Birthday, y/n. I know yer still mad at me and ya probably hate me but I still wanted to give ya a present."

You stared at the fox in your hand, your fingers poking the fluffiness of the material as you fought back the urge to smile. "Thanks," you answered with a dismissive tone.

For a split second, it was silent, and you were aware of the intensity of Atsumu's gaze burning on your forehead, yet you refused to look up, knowing that once you did, you won't be able to hold yourself back and might just forgive him there and then.

"I like ya, I really do. I know I messed up big time fer taking advantage of ya and I'm sorry fer that. It was stupid and childish of me to think that the people around me are nothing but mere toys fer me to play with. I regret hurtin' yer feelings and I'll be willin' to wait until ya forgive me. Just know that I won't stop until ya do."

Hearing something rustling, you looked up and noticed Atsumu taking off his jacket. Within a few steps, he was already infront of you, draping his jacket over your figure. "I'll see ya around, princess. Don't get sick, alright?" Smiling, Atsumu gave your cheek a small pinch before heading out.

You were left in the empty classroom with nothing but the fox stuffie serving as your company. Atsumu's scent was swirling around you from the jacket you were given and at that moment, you haven't notice the single tear sliding down your cheek.

Because of all people, you never expected for Atsumu Miya to be the first one to greet you without having to remind them.

He was the first person you knew outside of your household to ever remember your birthday.

You hugged the stuffie close to your chest, burrying your face on top of its head as you let the comfort it brings envelope you.

-

You stared at the empty space infront, your head swirling as you thought of the possible reasons why Atsumu haven't been in class for three days now.

It's currently your last subject and throughout the whole day, you've been doing nothing but wonder where he was. You haven't asked Osamu about it yet since he was excused from the class due to the preparations for the upcoming match.

And so, the moment your class was dismissed, you rushed your way out, making your trip to the gym. You were thankful that they were in the middle of a water break so you had the chance to call out Osamu's name without having to worry about Kita.

"Y/n?" Osamu's eyebrow shot up upon seeing you. Suddenly, a knowing smile made its way to his lips. Standing up, he walked over to you. "He's sick," he said without even waiting for you to say something.

"Oh.." you muttered, shifting from one foot to another nervously before tugging at the hem of Osamu's jersey. "Do you... uhm, do you think it would be alright if I visit him after your practice? I wanna see if he's doin' alright."

"Alright. I think 'Tsumu would appreciate that. Why don't ya sit on the bench and wait a little for us to finish practice then ya can visit our house after?"

Upon hearing that, your face instantly lit up. You smiled at Osamu as you nodded.

Osamu only chuckled at you and fondly ruffled your hair, a habit he and Atsumu shared.

You waited patiently, and it wasn't long then when their practice finally finished. After Osamu took a shower, you both went on your way to their residence.

As you entered their house, Atsumu's voice immediately met your ears.

"'Samu! Cook me somethin', I'm starvin!"

You looked at Osamu who only shrugged as if he was already used to it. You took your shoes off and wore the slippers you were given before placing your bag on the couch.

"Our room is on the right. Go ahead and talk to him." Osamu said as he pointed on the door at the end of the hallway.

With a nod, you slowly made your way to their room, knocking softly before sliding your way in.

The first thing that greeted you were the mess of opened junk foods on the floor. Roaming your eyes around, you grimaced at the sight of empty water bottles littered around along with the volleyball laying on the ground.

Averting your eyes away from the trash, you looked at Atsumu whose back was facing you, his shoulder raising up and down evenly, indicating that he must be asleep.

Carefully, you walked claser and sat on the edge of his bed, your hand immediately feeling his forehead. "You're burning up," you mumbled, brushing his hair away from his face.

Suddenly, Atsumu's hand gripped your wrist, his eyebrows furrowed as he squinted his eyes. "Am I dreamin' or are ya a ghost?" he asked with a raspy voice.

"I'm not a ghost, 'Tsumu. I'm really here."

You watched as Atsumu slowly nodded before letting go of your wrist. "What're ya doin' here? I thought ya were still mad at me." Sitting up, Atsumu held the comforter close to him as he shivered.

"I heard you were sick. I'm no longer mad at you. I guess I'm still upset but I just can't hold a grudge against you forever, can I? That's not something I can do," you said with a shake of your head. "I really like you, you know? Despite your title of being a f!ckboy, I still fell for you. You were the first person I tried opening up to aside from my cousin. It's just a bummer that you ended up taking advantage of that vulnerability."

You felt Atsumu reaching out for you, his hand enveloping yours as he gave it a small squeeze. "I know, and I'm sorry. I really am."

"And if I give you another chance, will you prove me that you deserve it?" you asked as you looked at him, "I'm still hurt about what happened so I hope that if I give you this chance, you won't waste it."

"Yes. God, yes," Atsumu answered breathlessly, "I promise it won't happen again and I'll try to be better."

Suddenly, Atsumu wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you on his lap as he settled his head on the side of your neck. "Thank you," he mumbled repeatedly against your skin, his arms tightening around you as if he was afraid of letting go.

And he never did.

Indeed, there was something about Miya Atsumu that kept drawing you in, and despite the bumps and dangers that came along your way, you didn't withraw.

Because as you closed the last page of your photo album eight years from then, you realized how right your cousin was alll along.

Atsumu Miya was worth the chance he was given, and he proved it to you every single day, sealing it with the diamond ring now resting on your left hand.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♥️

[beann-e]

Haikyu! Characters With A Shy Manager

Inarizaki Boys With A Shy Manager

tw” joke about ‘offing’ ones self & also overbearing parents

Read Part One Here

osamu

-osamu is someone who’s laidback and doesn’t show his anger much except for when his brother pisses him off and right now Atsumu was nearing the edge of his brothers patience

“ I don’t care what you do as long as your happy “

“ if thats what you want to do then who are we to stop you “

your eyes traveled as you watched osamus mouth quirk up in a small smile before turning into a frown at his brothers face

His body ignoring him and looking to you awaiting your answer his eyes speaking as if your words could change his decision

“ uh I— I don’- “

“ who cares what yer think “ atsumus voice came out in a yell as he turned to his brother

“ are you stupid why would you leave all of this — why would you throw all of this away “ he moved to point to everything in the gym and the balls that sat idle after a match theyd just played and won

“ this can provide for a family — life after high school ‘samu and you want to “

his face came up in confusion “ and you want to leave it all for a restaurant how — why— why would that make sense to you — it’s stupid “

you felt your body go slack as your face dropped into a pout at atsumu’s claims . Throughout all the times you’d seen them argue this had to be the biggest one you’d ever seen take place in front of the team.

You felt horrible your mouth wanted to open to try to protect osamu seeing as he was the only one who put effort into trying to speak with you.

Ever since you joined the team no one could really understand why you were so quiet except for osamu who would sit next to you during breaks and lunches that he’d share his food with you after you finished the bento box he’d made you

your heart tore as you watched him look to the ground ‘ just say something ‘samu please if this is what you want then tell him — it’s your life ‘

“ have you ever stopped and thought about how this may just be what you want ‘tsumu “

atsumus yells stopped as he heard his brothers voice and head pop up to target him

“ maybe this isn’t something I feel my talents are best used for “

he stood with his eyebrows furrowed in determination “ I like food — it makes me happy just like volley’ makes you so — I don’t care if it’s hard and not as easy as volleyball is for me right now —I want to do what my minds telling me to do “

he huffed “ and that’s to cook and open my own restaurant“

he moved to walk over to his brother to get closer with both his words and body “ and don’t you ever yell at them like that again you probably made them piss their pants “

he calmed himself down as he looked his brother in the eyes “ if your nice now “ he huffed out putting his arms into a hold across his chest “ maybe I might just give you a free meal when I open my restaurant “

Everyone’s body turned in shock and fear when they looked behind them to see your body shaking mouth being ripped open with a calming laugh as you clutched at you stomach

Everything seemed to slow in the gym as osamu watched your body ripple with the loud laugh that came out. Wondering how you’d held it inside for so long seeing as this was the first time anyone heard you laugh

“ y-y/n why — why are you laughing “

“ how can you laugh at a time like this we’re fighting“ Atsumus voice had calmed down in a state of panic at your new behavior

“ because osuma said you not gonna get any food“ you smiled “ and I know right now you don’t care but I bet when you get older and you see his amazing restaurant with a long line in front your gonna wish you’d sucked it up in this moment so you can take that free plate “

osamus mouth itched as his wide eyes squeezed shut at your bright smile his mouth opening before he could stop himself “ if you believe in me so much please believe I could keep you fed if you date me “

your body froze as everyone now turned in fear from you to osamu

“ Will I get rice for lunch everyday “ you giggled

“ i’ll make you anything you want out of rice if that’s what you like — i’ll even make you a wedding ring out of rice “

you laughed as you shook your head in a yes form “ as long as the foods included and you never give up on your dreams — no matter who believes in them “

your voice was soft “ then yes i’ll date you osamu “

you watched as he smiled widely sticking his tounge out at his brother “ oh now it’s really fuck what you think ‘tsumu— cause your the one who told me food wouldn’t be enough to get them to date me— I should’ve just made them the cake like I wanted and asked ‘em out “

The team all stood in shock as Arans mouth opened and closed before he spoke again “ u-uh how did that even make sense— what just happened “

sunas body relaxed against the wall as he spoke soft and quiet “ osumas quit volley’ to be a chef, y/n believes in him so their dating, and “ he pointed to atsumu

“ and once again Atsumu looks stupid “

Atsumu

-he’s not one who would necessarily get along with someone shy nor do I see him being able to. The way he acts may go two ways it may make the person comfortable or it may just irritate them and make them even more anxious

-I don’t think he’s one to see the signs , he would probably take your uncomfortable laughter as him making you laugh and tell the whole team he finally broke you and got you to laugh

“ atsumu “

The setter called as he threw up a new set for his brother in the two on two practice match. His hand hitting the ball hard in a spike as he won his team the final point

Your body dropping as you immediately knew what was coming “ y/n-san did you see that “

“ y-yes atsumu-senpai “

“ it was cool wasnt it “ he said as he moved towards you

“ y-yes “

he smirked as he slid his hands in his pocket looking down on you as he came to a stop in front of your body “ well when your just a great player like me things like that come easy so you don’t have to worry if I hurt myself or not “

he looked away from you and to the floor but eyes darting up to look at you again quickly “ because I didn’t so yeah — don’t think I did “

you smiled softly trying to think of a way out of this “ I-I didn’t think so “

“ yeah see you know someone like me would never get injured —I have to be a great role model to my sweet little first year“

he patted your head as he sat down next to you feet out in front of him “ don’t go turning into one of my annoying fan girls ok y/n “

“ I won’t “

“ ah you don’t mean that “ he bumped you softly “ you love me—so your loves gonna blind you you’ll see “

“ oh “

“ see you do — and I love you too “

“ dude they dont even like talking to you “

“ oh shut yer trap yes they do their in love with me we’re destined to be together “

“ yeah in death — that’s what your gonna do ‘tsumu yer gonna make them off theirselves by hearing yer loud mouth every single time you win a match “

“ y/n you love me right “

your body flamed as you let out an uncomfortable laugh moving over on the bench “ they look —their laughing because it’s true “

his body stopped “ wait “

you felt as the wheels were turning in his head —a bit slow but they were turning

his voice coming out in mumbles “ if their laughing— and i’m talking— and now their laughing after I spoke —-l”

he yelled “ I MADE Y/N-SAN LAUGH “

he screamed in happiness smile huge “ I made them laugh guys “

he jolted up jumping when he stood before racing over to the group that all turned to look at him “ their laughing guys I — I did it their laughing their laug—“

your eyes darted to the floor as atsumu fell head first into the floor his voice coming out in a whine as he shook coming up to grab his nose in pain before reaching down to rub his ankle that he felt was thumping like crazy

“ y-you lied you did hurt yourself “

he moved to run his hand across the back of his neck “ well when you say hurt what do you me—“

your laugh came out in short giggles as you tried to hide it not wanting to give him the satisfaction of making you laugh your head turning to the side as you gave up and laughed into the air

Your giggles sounding like a song atsumu always wanted to play through his headphones when he would walk to school

His body thinking before his mind as he stood up and ran again towards the team “ Guys their — I did it again and you all saw — i’m amazing “

he fell forward again but this time just lying there as he mumbled into the ground

“ their totally in love with me — I made ‘em laugh not once but twice in a row —I got a real shot now“

Aran

-I don’t know much about him because I haven’t finished haikyu! I just know what i’ve gathered from short clips or from what i’ve seen already in the seasons & read in manga but he’s very open minded

-whenever he’s around you he’s always quick to snap and stop someone from telling you that you aren’t allowed to do something because it’s “ not logical “

Your body moved slowly to the gyms exit as you felt a hand come down over your shoulder

“ walk ‘ya home ? “

you looked up face stoic in a slight yes at Arans question

since you’d joined the team as manager you had yet to connect with the other boys only really speaking to Aran and helping him out when he needed it

He came to like being around you because you were a change of pace from his usual one dealing with the twins antics. So it wasn’t that hard to hear him asking to walk you home for the past few nights when practice ran too long

he sighed as he looked down at you “ you never really speak but I feel like your face talks for you “

you looked to the ground as he laughed “ get it because your always stoic —and your face shows noth—ok“

he looked away not hearing your laugh or seeing a smile deciding to cough the atmosphere away “ ok yeah get it “

it wasn’t that you didn’t want to laugh you just couldnt your parents dug into you anytime you went home. Theyd have your head if you didn’t focus only on your studies so, it was hard for you to talk or even be around other people when it wasn’t for class it made you anxious and you weren’t sure how to interact

People took this as you being shy and you weren’t going to explain that you wanted to talk but just didn’t know how

He let his hand fall from your shoulder as the walk soon came to a close him leaving you to walk up to the stairs to your home

“ you may go “ you said softly as he shook his head with a big smile on his face

“ nope not until I know your in your house safely “

you nodded your head as you took a deep breath the door opening before your hand could meet the lock your fathers voice knocking you on your butt

“ who is this — who is he y/n “

“ I-I “

“ I heard more than your voice out here and came to the door “

“ were you waiting up for me “

“ yes you didn’t come home after school today “

“ oh I— there was a math meet i’m sorry “ your father looked away in disgust as you lied

“ your lying to me I called your school and they said you quit mathletes to be a manager of some volleyball club “

you gulped “ I um “

“ why would you do something stupid like that it can’t help you in the future — with your studies “

“ because I um — I like “

you shut yourself up just nodding your head as your father beat into you “ so dumb I thought I raised you correctly it doesn’t matter what you want to do or what’s fun you do what makes you smart and whats logical you do not hold feeli—“

“ I think their happy “ Aran smiled at the scene in front of him “ I think they enjoy being our manager very much “

“ and who told you to spea-“

“ my heart — it guides a person to make decisions ones like I just made — and ones that you made — you want the best for your daughter right “

you fathers actions faltered as Aran continued to press into him “ If you want the best than you have to realize y/n Is tired and she’s not used to friendly interaction — she’s very out of place and uncomfortable around people because she’s only used to school work“

he shook his head in concern “ is this what you want for your child — for your kid to only know how to talk about school and not have a moment where their not spending it thinking about math equations and growing overworked “

“ well I— “

“ on our volleyball team we work ourselves hard yes— but we’ve also become great friends through this hard work we’re happy doing what we do because our hearts led us to do it not our parents “

he looked to you and back to your father as he stood looking up from the bottom of the stairs “ so I ask that you let your child stay on the volleyball team since their heart brought them there to sign up for the job one tuesday afternoon at 3:30 in our gym during our second winning match of the season “

your dad nodded his head in shock as he whispered out an ok

Aran smiling and leaving after waving to you with a short see you tomorrow

Your dad holding the house door open for you as he walked over whispering out to you “ you better marry that boy “ he smiled as he moved through the house

“ he remembered every detail about when he first met you “

[flowerinyourcare]

MahoSute Lyrics - The Hermit And The Loudmouth 🕯🔫

Blue text - Faust 🕯

Green text - Bradley 🔫

Spoken word is indicated by the dash at the start ( - ).

Some stage directions added in for context.

As always, I recommend listening to the song while reading!

EDIT: THIS IS GENERALLY INACCURATE NOW, PLEASE TAKE THE EXACT LINES WITH A GRAIN OF SALT ;w;

🔫 「Only rookies overthink some good ol’ violence.」

🕯 「Violence?」

- Ahha.

- In the end, there was nothing I could do.

- To protect anyone... or save anyone.

I survived, and yet all I can do

Is drown in my memories

It’s like a dream I had

In the distant past, when times were good;

A dream that I used to believe in.

A peaceful world,

With no complications -

All we had to do was march onward as one.

In the distant past,

I trusted my comrades,

And I still believed.

But all that awaited me was despair and disaster.

Sparked these flames of resentment

That can never be extinguished.

I failed.

What else can I do?

All that remains is to curse -

My former friend,

Human beings,

And the whole world.

- Sure. Whatever you say.

- I dunno what you got against them, or against me, but I don’t care.

- Boo hoo - you got betrayed. Big fuckin' deal!

- Try living in the North for a bit, then we’ll talk.

- Don't speak as if you know me.

- I know that yer overthinkin' it!

Big deal, ya got a grudge -

Is that your excuse for bein' so bitter?

In the North, we know there’s only one way to get over it -

Ya feel better once you’ve killed the guy.

- I can’t.

- He died a long time ago.

That’s why this has become my life;

A flame of resentment that can never be extinguished...

Go on, keep that shit up.

You won’t get very far.

If you wanna survive up North, you gotta remember -

Only idiots pass up the chance for some good ol’ revenge.

- Revenge?

[Bradley summons his gun]

- Ahaha!

Humans

Their soldiers

To them all,

We’re the same.

No matter what ya do, to them we’re all just monsters!

So I’ll act like a beast -

Rampage, have some fun!

Humans

Their soldiers

To them all,

We’re the same.

They don’t care who you are -

Or how pathetic you act.

[Bradley levels gun at Faust's head; Faust hits it away and they stare at each other.]

- Thought at least that might change yer mind.

[Bradley leaves]

- That man and his self-centered, contemptuous persona.

- Go ahead, Sage - see how long you can stomach his selfishness.

- Well...

- I suppose that wouldn't make him too different from me, then.

--

TN:

- was bradley hoping his worldview would reassure faust, or was he hoping threatening faust's life would give him some desire to keep living? who's to say....

- apologies for incorrect TL, bradley talks very quickly and casually so its hard to parse :') did my best to keep it accurate in spirit!

EDIT: THIS IS GENERALLY INACCURATE NOW, PLEASE TAKE THE EXACT LINES WITH A GRAIN OF SALT ;w;

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

I see that hatesex scene isn't over so I'm gonna finish it, aye?

Begging. Begging. You'd already begged earlier, dammit, and you sure wouldn't do it again! But given Sal was... Well.

Smirking, you rolled your hips up into hers, thrusting the strap into her once more. Sal made a surprised noise on top of you, her hands grabbing hold of the pillow next to your head.

"What's... This supposed ter be, eh?"

"Making you come again, obviously."

And you knew... With her grinding, you'd come as well.

"Heh..."

When she leaned in to have her voice ghost right over your ear, you already suspected your plan was doomed to fail.

"... wanted to get off of me grindin' on yeh? Nah. You'll come if yer beg. Not anyhow else."

And with a fluid movement, Sal pulled herself off of the strap, but pinned your arms with a tentacle, and smirked down as she moved up your body... Until she was kneeling above your chest. Another tentacle undid the harness of the strap and pulled it off of you, placing it on the far end of the bed, leaving your core exposed to the air, without a chance to get friction as another tentacle joined the first to keep your legs spread apart.

No amount of squirming would help you, now. And judging by Sal's smirk, that was entirely planned. Oh, this little-

"How pretty yeh look. So frustrated..."

Her voice almost gentle as she dragged a finger down your cheek. A finger that you moved in to snap at, taking it between your teeth and glaring at Sal as you teased over the tip with your tongue. But instead of having much the desired effect, her smirk only widened, her eyes darkening as she toyed with your tongue.

"That's jus' like it."

And as if that wasn't enough, alone that husky, praiseful comment and her expression got you even wetter under her, and you hated it.

"If yer wanna make me come again so badly... Use that pretty lil' tongue of yers."

She grabbed your chin, fingers softly stroking your face as she licked her lips.

"Aye?"

"Fuck you, Sal."

"Ah, yer were the one wantin' to fuck me again."

You scoffed, but whatever reply you had was drowned by Sal's core moving above your face. Fine. If she wanted it like that, you'd give it to her. You'd make her scream.

And oh, she was wet. Still coated in her juices from the strap, but as you licked up her thigh, parted her folds with your tongue and flicked it over her clit, she moaned as if she hadn't just fucked herself on it.

"Look what a mess you are."

You whispered, and Sal growled, looking down on you with half-lidded eyes. As always... Her taste, her look... She was addictive. Eating her out was likely among the favorite things you could do to her in bed... Especially given how she reacted to your tongue.

"Let my hands go."

She did, surprisingly. You grabbed her hips tightly and pulled her down on your face, closing your eyes as you dived in with all the passion you had. Trying to distract yourself from the burning heat between your legs by taking care of hers.

And oh, how she moaned! The moment you took her with your tongue, licked her overstimulated core with a mixture of softness and passion, Sal's back arched downwards as she held onto the headboard, her face turned downward for you to look at. Eyes tightly closed, lips parted in her moans, cheeks flushed, sharp teeth glinting. Her arms flexed as she held on tighter feeling your tongue flick against her clit before sucking on it. Or slide into her, a shiver going through her body.

You wanted to say something, praise her, but you couldn't. Too addictive was her taste, too good the way you saw her unravel for you. Good. She deserved to be just as much of a mess as she left you in. She deserved to think back on this and get wet again. Just like you did.

The surge of feral, hateful passion you felt at that made you speed up your tongue on her, made her cry out and buck down into you. You felt the heat between your own legs dripping onto the sheets and only focused harder, panting into her, clawing into her hips as you held yourself as close as you could. Leaving her no escape, not that she wanted one.

"Now."

You growled into her, and Sal came. Filled your mouth with her essence, left marks on the headboard as her body shuddered on yours under the force of ecstasy, panting heavily again and letting herself fall to the side next to you, shivering under the aftershocks while you smugly smiled and licked your face clean.

Wrecked. Spent. The best way she could look.

As her eyes opened again, you smirked at her.

"Enjoyed yourself?"

"Fuck yeh."

The yellow glow focused more, and with a groan, Sal pushed herself up and slid to lie down between your legs, humming appreciatively as she dragged a finger through the juices coating your thighs and shot a bolt of heat right between your legs.

"Look who's a mess now, aye?"

"Fuck me."

"Ah, yer think? Not like that, lil slut."

And with a smirk, her tongue darted out to lick a stripe up your thigh before she bit you there, tentacles forcing your legs to keep still as they slid further up on them, pressing against your inner thighs.

"If yer want this. Beg."

More tentacles encased your arms, holding you spread out while Sal lavished your thighs and hips with attention. Licking. Biting. Kissing. Building the need higher and higher, until you were almost bursting at the seams, squirming under her, tears in your eyes from the frustration. Oh, how you fucking hated her.

"Please."

KJFKDGHFKJG.. LIKE.. FUCK.. THAT IS SO FUCKING HOT, DEAR 😩😩😩😩 SJDHFLKJH ... JUST.. AHEM.. ALRIGHT.. HERE WE FUCKING GO..

“Aye… tha’s better. So pretty when yer beggin’ fer me.”

“Fuck y-.. Ah-!”

You felt your whole body ignite in a way that it never had before as you felt the very tip of Sal’s long tongue skating up the center of your core. It was a feeling that drove you crazy with need - insane with desire - knowing that due to the length and sharpness of her teeth, that it would be all you’d ever be able to feel of it. But oh, how it made you so fucking wet.. how it took the already building fire within you and set it on ‘engulf’. Only making you want it more - to feel her delicious tongue deep within your swollen core. She licked over it again oh so gently, just enough to tease the ever living fuck out of you. Your body pulling against the tentacles that held you in place as it was driven to a whole new level of desire.

“Tastes even better straigh’ from the source.”

She chuckled, watching the deep flush across your body grow even deeper, knowing she was driving you absolutely crazy with need. Your core slick with want.. desire.. hate.. every single emotion that you felt towards her dripping from you unhindered. Spilling out onto the dark blue of Sal’s bedsheets - soaking them straight through.

“Fuck, Sal! Do I need to beg again??”

“Aye.. wudn’t hurt.”

Glowing spheres shrinking to slits as she gave you a smug smirk. And gods, how you hated how much she was enjoying this, how she knew exactly how to make you want her more than anyone you had ever wanted in your life. The hate you felt for her spilling over you, washing in you in a flame what deemed almost impossible to extinguish. You moaned out again, feeling the tip of her tongue ghost over your clit before her fingers followed suit, bucking against your restraints as she topped it off with the slickness of a single tentacle teasing over your entrance. FUCK, you were overcome with need.. with an absolute carnal desire.. almost willing to do anything for her to just completely fucking wreck you - to leave you as nothing more than a breathless shell of your former self.

“Fuck! Sal! Please!”

‘Heh.. Yer sucha needy lil’ slut.”

A sharp curse from your lips as a second tentacle shared in the teasing, one firmly pressed against your clit as the other traced from the top of your dripping slit and down to your ass, causing a lightning bolt of pleasure to shoot straight through you. Your body practically vibrating with nothing more than the sheer and utter anticipation of feeling any part of her inside of you. The appendages around your legs spreading them even further, exposing every last inch of your swollen core as it begged to be touched.. to be fucked.. to be destroyed in a way that Sal, and only Sal, could achieve.

“Don’ think I ever seen yer so wet before, love.”

“Oh, fuck you, Sal.”

She chuckled in a way that was dark and husky, and it only drove your hate for her even more.

“An’ here I thought yer were wantin’ me to fuck yeh.”

She didn’t even give you a chance to respond, watching her with eyes half lidded as she twisted the two tentacles teasing your core together with flawless precision. Her finernails digging into the tops of your thighs, delving out the most delicious pain as she finally slid her appendages deep inside you with a firm thrust. A profound gasp from your lips as a third slithered across your ass, toying with it.

“Mmh.. fuck, Sal… more.. please..”

“Aye… gettin’ pretty good at tha’ beggin’, love.”

You wanted to scream.. to lean up and tell her to ‘Fuck off”, but the exquisite pressure that was building in your core with each masterful thrust of her tentacles left you momentarily speechless.. left you compliant and obedient and every last bit of exactly what she wanted from you. And she fucking knew it.

She moved slowly over your body, licking and nipping at your heated flesh as she picked up the pace of the appendages that so perfectly stuffed your dripping core. Filling your body with a surprised heat at the soft kisses she left over your previous marks. Chuckling as you whimpered - as she slapped and teased over the opening to your ass - knowing just how badly you wanted her to fill it.

“Aye.. not this time…. think yeh had enough of tha’ fer now.”

“Shouldn’t.. fuck.. shouldn’t I be the one who decides that?”

“Heh.. not when I’m the one fuckin’ yeh.”

Gods, fuck.. everytime you thought you couldn’t possibly hate her even more, she proved you wrong - stirring it even further. The tentacles in your core moving to a relentless speed as the one playing with your ass continued to tease and toy with it - matching the sublimely perfect rhythm of her appendages. Both merciless... both enough on their own to make you fervent with desire. Your legs trembling as she held them apart, as she fucked you harder and harder. Giving you everything you wanted, while denying you just the same. A wave of pleasure so heated it threatened to set your very essence on fire - to ignite the smooth fabric below you and everything in its path.

“Come fer me, slut.”

“Ah-! Fuck!”

There was no point in even trying to hold back, to stop the white hot pleasure that spilled relentlessly over your body - unyielding in every way. Eyes rolling back in your head as you felt your peak wash over you, again and again until you screamed out her name so many times that it imprinted itself into the heated space between you. Every last bit of desire spilling from your core as she kept her pace, smirking with each shudder that fell from your nearly breathless body.

Sliding her tentacles slowly out of you, a look of pure satisfaction painted across her features as she leaned back - eyes drinking you in.

“Ne'er seen yeh look more beautiful either.”

“I… fucking.. hate you.”

“Aye… so you keep sayin’, love.”

You closed your eyes, allowing your erratic breath and your racing heart a moment to settle before even attempting to find your clothes. A slight hum of confusion in your throat as you felt Sal’s presence move up next to you, pulling you closer to her.

“Hm? Sal? What’s this?”

“Aye.. aftercare.. hush.”

You were too exhausted to argue - entirely too spent to stop her from pulling you flush against her. The length of her melting into you as she held you close without so much of a boundary between you. You didn’t even think to stop and wonder why.. to ask yourself if her fingers had seemed to trace over you in a much gentler fashion... if her kisses were no longer chaste or heated, but only found your skin softly as they kissed over it. You had lost track of how long you remained there - at how many stars were left shining in the sky, when you had finally started the long trek back to the village.

sjdfhljkdshgljfhg... fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.. that made me... entirely too fucking thirsty.. fuck.. Thank you, dear... I hope this reply leaves you just as thirsty as yours did me, fuck... dkljfldkfhl 🤤🤤😩😩😩💦💦💦💦💦💦

[thatwritingho]

Kloktober Day 20- Use an OC/Self-insert

As much as I would have liked to come up with something new for this, I simply don't have the energy, so I picked a couple scenes I already have written from an upcoming Dethwedding chapter! Couldn't decide if I wanted to post the bit with Seth or the one with Amber, so I went with both!

⚠️Content warning for a very brief, non detailed mention of a past s*icide attempt⚠️

"C'n I bum a smoke?"

Olive tensed, but handed off the pack and lighter to Seth as he leaned against the wall next to her. Inhaling a long drag, he stuffed the lighter sloppily into the cardboard, which wasn't quite empty enough to fit, irritation pricking at her as he handed back the bent pack.

"Thanks."

"Mmhm."

The dude was drunk. His face was flushed, eyes unfocused, hair tousled as he leaned heavily against the wall for support to keep from swaying, damp spot on his sweater vest from a spilled drink.

"Ya c'n come in, yanno. Don't hafta stay oot here'n da cold 'n shit. Jes' cuz yer a bodyguard doctor 'er whatever don't mean ya can't party too."

Olive grinned at his rambling, his heavy accent, and shrugged, "I'm good, thank you though. Strip clubs aren't my thing."

Seth furrowed his brow, the information seeming to not compute.

"What, ya don't like chicks?"

"Didn't say that."

"Den why?"

"Don't like people."

Seth puffed up at that, posture turning defensive.

"What, ya think yer better'n us? Jest cuz yer, fuckin'... workin' fer fuckin' Dethklok?"

Olive snorted and rolled her eyes as Seth stumbled over to stand in front of her, leaning down to try to catch her eyes.

"Dude, you're trashed. Calm down. I just don't like crowds."

Seth calmed immediately, stumbling a bit before leaning his shoulder heavily on the wall next to her, close enough she could feel the heat from his breath, her nose scrunching at the smell of cheap cologne and booze radiating from him.

"Oh. Yeah. Yah doo seem kinda shy."

Olive bristled, narrowing her eyes, "I'm not shy. Just, you know, introverted."

"Innit dat da same thing?"

"No."

"Oh. Okee. 'f yuh say so."

Seth was looking hard at her, but Olive remained gazing forward, doing her best to ignore his probing stare until she couldn't stand it any longer.

"You need something, man?"

"...Pickles likes you."

"Yeah? Duh. Of course, we're frien-"

"No, babe, no. He likes yew."

Olive rolled her eyes, dropping the butt to the ground and stamping it out with her heel.

"Uh huh. Sure. Whatever."

"No, seriously! I'm his fuckin' brother, I c'n tell. He always gets dose fuckin'... goo goo eyes when he looks at a chick he likes. Always has."

Olive snorted dismissively again, but couldn't help the smile tugging up her lips at his insistence.

"You're reading too much into it."

"Nah, babe, 'm naht," Seth seemed to just now remember he was smoking, looking at the half burned cigarette with a start before sucking in a deep drag, "...yew like him?"

"We're not having this conversation."

"Ah, c'mahn. I fuckin' guarantee he's gonna ask ya to fuckin' marry him, so dat makes us, like, basically siblings, right? Ya c'n tell me."

Olive rolled her eyes with a grin, giggling at his ridiculous suggestion.

"Dude, you're so far off base, it's, like, almost not even funny."

"Nah, I'm naht. Whatever. Yah ain't gotta say it, I c'n tell."

"Sure, man. Whatever you want to believe."

Silence settled over them as Seth finished off his cigarette, still staring at her, and Olive shifted uncomfortably.

"Can you, like, look at something else?"

"Why?"

"Because you're making me uncomfortable."

Seth cocked his head and blinked, but turned to lean his back to the wall, eyes now trained forward.

"Sahrry."

"It's fine."

Silence settled over them, and Olive shook out another smoke, wordlessly offering one to Seth, who took it with a grunt of thanks.

"I like ya."

"Huh?"

Seth fumbled with the lighter, struggling to get the flame to stay long enough for him to inhale.

"Yanno. Pickles seems fuckin' happy er whatever when yer around. Kinda reminds me a' me 'n Amber."

Olive didn't know what to say, instead breathing in a deep inhale to give herself something to focus on. She prayed he couldn't see her blush in the dimly lit parking lot.

"I think yer good fer him. Better'n that last chick he was with, fer sure. Fuckin', Tara, 'er whatever. Real fuckin' bitch, really fucked him up. But yew…" Seth was in front of her again, pointing at her with a dumb grin on his face, "...I like yew. Yer cool."

"...um, thanks, I guess. But we're not-"

Seth sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, interrupting her protest.

"Look. I know how he is. Fuckin, scared a' relationships 'n shit. But I swear he likes ya. Like, a lot."

"Whatever you say, man."

"...don't break his heart, ok? C'n ya prahmise me dat?"

Olive blinked at him with wide eyes, "...what?"

"Yanno. I don't wanna have to go visit him in another fuckin' hospital like after Tara left him," Seth sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, voice dropping to nearly a whisper, "don' wanna have to fuckin'... bury my little brother, yanno."

Shaking his head, he took one last drag of his cigarette, dropping the butt to the ground, not bothering to tamp it out.

"I don't think yer a bad girl 'er nuthin, but… Jus... jus tell me yer naht gonna hurt him."

"...I won't hurt him. I promise."

"Good. Good. Okee. Yeah. I- I'm gonna go, go get a lap dance."

Seth began to stumble back towards the door, but paused, turning back to her, "Don't, don't tell him I said none a dis, okee? He don't like when I meddle in his life."

"Ok."

Seth grinned big, giving her a thumbs up, "Thanks. Yer fuckin golden, babe."

Olive couldn't help but snort, rolling her eyes as he stumbled back inside.

*******************************************

"Hey."

The brunette took a few moments before looking up from her phone, raising a brow at the girl sliding into the seat across from her.

"...hey."

"Mind if I sit with you for a minute?"

"...sure."

Amber gave the doctor/bodyguard hybrid of her now borther-in-law an appraising look, not knowing what could have prompted the woman to seek her out. This was, afterall, the first person to come talk to her at her own wedding reception.

Hardly any of Amber's own family had shown, most of them still living back in Hanoi and unable(or just unwilling) to make the trip. And Seth's family, well... To say they disapproved of him marrying her would be an understatement. To them, she was just the forgiener stripper Seth happened to knock up, and they all saw her as unworthy to marry into their perfect little average midwestern family.

Olive gestured to the bride's phone with her eyes.

"Am I interrupting?"

Amber glanced down to the screen. No new messages. She shook her head.

"Ok. Cool."

An awkward silence settled over the pair, and Amber watched as the girl fidgeted in her seat, awkwardness rolling off her in waves. When no new messages came through, Amber decided to break the ice a bit, venturing a compliment.

"Nice necklace."

"Oh, thank you," subconsciously, Olive's eyes flicked to Pickles as she gently touched the string of dark pearls. Empty beer and liquor bottles littered the table surrounding him, and he lay slouched over, head down. Frowning, she fiddled with the beads, chest tightening. She should get back to him soon.

Amber followed her gaze and grinned knowingly as she saw the worry in the other woman's eyes. Nodding in the redhead's direction, the bride questioned, "He get it for you?"

Olive's eyes widened comically, and Amber grinned wider, lowering her phone and sitting up fully, interest piqued.

"I… well, I mean, yeah, but-"

Amber raised a brow, "But what? He either gave it to you or he didn’t."

Olive swallowed, tongue ring scraping the back of her teeth, knowing exactly what Amber was assuming.

"Yeah."

"Hm, thought so," phone finally vibrating, Amber typed a quick reply, then turned her attention back to the conversation at hand, "so you two a thing?"

Cheeks reddening, Olive shook her head, downing a large gulp of champagne, "No. We're not. We're just, well, I mean, he's my boss-"

"So you're fucking."

It wasn't a question.

Olive gaped, mouth opening and closing, face coloring further as she struggled for a response.

Amber rolled her eyes, "That's a yes," attention drawn back to her phone, she typed another response as Olive sat there awkwardly, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone in the room.

"Don't have to act like I just shouted it from the rooftops. I already knew."

Blinking in confusion, Olive furrowed her brow, "How?"

"...I'm married to his brother."

"Oh. Right," Olive blinked, shaking her head a little, taking another sip of champagne, "I, um, didn't think they talked much."

Amber shrugged, "They don't. Seth wanted to fuck you, but he thought you were a lesbian, so he asked Pickles first."

"I- sorry, what?"

"Yeah, I know. I told him you were obviously bi, but he didn’t believe me," Amber winked, "He doesn't know about the lemon bars."

Olive grinned, "So then you're… ok with that?"

"We're in an open relationship, yes."

"Ah," nodding, relief washed over Olive. It was always nice to meet someone else who was polyam. Made her feel like less of a freak. But even so… the brother's relationship was strained at best, and the last thing she wanted was to cause more of a rift. Not that she and Pickles were together, but… 

But it would still make him uncomfortable. Her mind wandered to their previous night's conversation, Pickles lamenting his brother always being the one acknowledged, the one everyone accepted, the one who received all the love and affection from their parents, while Pickles was left an outcast and a bane in his own family. And her sleeping with Seth? Well… even if it was far from the truth, it wouldn't be a stretch to assume Pickles' would see that as a betrayal, as her choosing his brother over him, as her attempting to compare him to Seth.

It would hurt him. 

And Olive never wanted to hurt him.

"No offense to you or Seth, but I really shouldn't…"

Amber waved her hand dismissively, responding to another text, "None taken. Don't worry about it. Pickles already shot that down anyway."

"Huh?" Olive scrunched her nose lightly, and Amber smiled at the sight. 

Seth wasn't wrong. What a cutie.

"When Seth asked, Pickles threatened to kill him. Cut his dick off with a chainsaw and shove it down his throat or something like that. It was kind of a dead giveaway that there's something going on."

Olive bit her lip, trying to contain the smile threatening to take over her face, butterflies in her stomach acting up at the thought of Pickles being protective over her.

Amber grinned knowingly as Olive sat there with her barely contained glee, propping her chin in her hand as she eyed the other woman, taking in her pretty face and round cheeks and dark eyes, letting her gaze wander to the small amount of cleavage exposed from her slouched posture.

"You know, Seth isn't the only one interested…"

Olive looked like a deer in the headlights at that, and Amber gave her a coy smile.

"Don't give me an answer now. No rush. But maybe someday?"

Olive flushed, but nodded, flattered by the attention.

Amber was really, really hot.

"Yeah. Maybe," tucking a stray curl that had been tickling her cheek behind her ear, Olive grew warm under Amber's heavy gaze, shifting lightly in her seat, "um, I should really get back…"

Amber hummed, nodding her head in the drummer's direction, "Yeah, go make sure he doesn’t pass out, or drown in his own vomit or anything."

Olive gave a humorless laugh, standing, and smiled at Amber, "It was nice talking to you. And, um, congratulations and all that."

"Yeah, thanks," Amber gave another wink, endlessly amused at how easy it was to make this girl blush, "See you around, sweetheart."

"Yeah, see ya."

Olive took a couple steps, then stopped, turning back to Amber.

"Oh, I almost forgot."

Digging around in her bag for a second, Olive pulled forth an envelope made of thick, sturdy paper, sliding it over the table to the bride. 

Amber raised a manicured brow. 

"Your wedding gift from Dethklok. You're real one."

"...which implies a fake one?"

Olive shurgged, smoothly coming up with a lie.

"...they didn't want to make a big scene, you know, give you guys a big, expensive present and make all the other guests feel bad in comparison. The one in the box is just a decoy."

Amber gave her a look, not really believing that Dethklok of all people wouldn't want to make a scene, though she supposed it possible.

"...is that so?"

"Yeah."

Amber hummed, suspicious, flipping the envelope back and forth, before glancing back to the woman across from her. 

"Mind if I..?"

"Go ahead."

Olive smiled to herself as the contents of the card spilled to the table, Amber's eyes widening at the plane tickets and brochure.

Fiji. She never dreamed she could ever go somewhere so beautiful.

"Hope you don't have honeymoon plans yet."

Amber blinked, unfolding the brochure with hesitance, like she was expecting it to be a trick, for Olive to say "sike!" and pull it away at any moment.

Olive's heart broke a little at the implication.

"No, we… we don't."

"Good. It's all expenses paid, all arrangements are already in place. There will be staff at the beach house to attend to anything you need."

"I- thank you."

Olive grinned and winked, "No need to thank me, I'm just the messenger. It was nice talking to you."

"Yeah. You too."

Amber observed as Olive turned and strided over to her new brother-in-law, gently rubbing over his shoulders to rouse him, scooting her chair close to his as he righted himself, fixing his awful dread combover that had fallen out of place. The dude looked rough, with bags under his red eyes, a drunkard's flush over his nose and cheeks. Hopefully his little nap would help him sober up faster. They spoke softly to each other for a minute, seemingly lost in their own little bubble, and then both rose, Olive slipping her arm through Pickles' own, allowing him to lean on her as she lead him stumbling outside.

They were cute together, strangely enough. Amber wondered, idly, when Pickles would grow the balls to ask her out.

Maybe she'd make a bet out of it with Seth. 

Speaking of…

Amber glanced down again to the tickets in her hands, smile growing wide.

Where the hell was her dumbass husband?