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nerdanel01 · 1 year ago

Note

Here's an ask about Agnes and Emmrich that I hope leads to a slutty little drabble: we know Agnes has fantasized about Emmrich, but is the reverse also true? What would that look like for Emmrich? When would it have happened in their relationship: before or after she left? How awful did he feel about it?

*laughs nervously* the short answer is… a lot?? And in the most Catholic way possible??? 4k+ below the cut very NSFW

9:48 Dragon

Though he would never admit it to Agnes, the truth of it was, Emmrich found the opera to be just fine. Catching a performance with Agnes was a lovely way to spend an evening, but by no means did that make Emmrich himself any kind of aficionado. It was Agnes’ avid interest that first brought him to the theatre, and Agnes’ continued fervor that kept him coming back: he went, not to see a performance, but to see her —so engaged, so happy.

This opera, in particular, he was finding impossible to enjoy. Agnes had practically begged him to take her to The Marriage of Figaro, and by the title alone, Emmrich had thought it would be innocuous enough. Another light, romantic comedie, like the Donizetti works of which she was so fond.

It was most definitely not that. If the opera was humorous, Emmrich found it to be a dark, almost sadistic kind of humor. The plot centered around the titular servant Figaro and his bride-to-be, Susanna… and their escalating attempts to prevent the master of the house, Count Almaviva, from asserting his droite de seigneur. Emmrich could not fathom how it was that Agnes could so breathlessly throw herself into a plot that all too well reflected what little he knew to be true of her own conception; of the cruelty and the violent torments Agnes’ mother had suffered at the hands of her father. And yet, she seemed unperturbed.

As if that were not bad enough, he could not help but feel (irrationally, of course) that the entire premise of the opera was pointing an accusing finger directly at him. Agnes was not his servant, of course—she was far more than that—but he could not help but feel that his longing for her shared a similar, lecherous undertone to Almaviva’s licentious pursuit of Susanna. Certainly he held professional power over Agnes, as the Count did Susanna; the fact that he was often reluctant to wield it did not wish that fact away. And just like the Count, his advantage of age he held over Agnes was… considerable.

And so, by the second act of the opera, Emmrich had more or less mentally checked out of the performance entirely. Pleasant as the music may have been (when it was not pulsing, throbbing, thrumming with anxiety; imminent danger; repressed sexual desire) Emmrich found his eyes wandering across the theatre: at the orchestra playing below, at the audience seated at the level of the stage, at the wide balconies where even in the dim performance light he could make out figures packed in the seats. He had never been a particularly devout man, but sometimes, when the mood was just right, being in the opera house reminded him of the most peaceful moments he’d ever spent in a Chantry. He would give Agnes that: there was something special about all these people—strangers—gathered in the dark, assembled in the worship of a great piece of art. It was peaceful, to look upon all those dark faces. Something almost holy about it.

Which made what Emmrich saw next all the more upsetting.

As the adolescent servant Cherubino took to the stage, preparing to sing his invented love song for the Countess Almaviva (with whom, Emmrich had gathered, he was hopelessly infatuated), movement drew his eye to the theatre box opposite his, on the lefthand side of the stage.

At first Emmrich blinked, resisting the impulse to shake his head—surely he was seeing things? Were they—? They couldn’t be—! And yet, they were: cozied up in a balcony box all to themselves, a young woman had snuck her hand into her companion’s lap and, by the white flash of her arm in the dim light, Emmrich could tell she was pumping that hand up and down quite enthusiastically. Though her date had taken care to conceal his lap from view by fanning his performance program wide across his legs, it was all too clear exactly what was going on from the open-mouthed, slack expression on his face and the way he was tilting his head back against the chair.

This late in life there was not much that could still shock him, but Emmrich’s jaw fully dropped. At first he merely sat there, stunned, staring… before his senses returned to him, and he snapped his eyes (wide with disbelief) back to the action on the stage, thoughts an absolute whirl. What should he do? Agnes’ attention was fixed on the stage, deeply engrossed by the drama unfolding (though he still could not really understand why); he did not want to draw her focus to the absolutely debased act that was happening just across the room. Should he excuse himself? Rise from the box and alert one of the theatre’s ushers? Was this even something they were trained to deal with?

Perhaps they had stopped; perhaps he had imagined it. But when Emmrich let his eyes slide, as innocuously as he could manage, back to the opposite box, he saw not only that their public affair failed come to a conclusion, but that the man had thrown his arm around the woman’s shoulders, and was rather obscenely squeezing at her breast over her bodice.

´Andraste have mercy!’

Never in his life had he witnessed such indecency, and as one of the most senior members of the Mourn Watch, his presence had been requested at some extremely indecent parties hosted by the noble class. His face was burning with shock and embarrassment. Trying to get ahold of himself—hoping that if he ignored it for long enough, they would cease or (Maker’s breath!) reach the natural conclusion of such affairs and settle down. He turned back to the stage, watching over Agnes’ shoulder at the scene playing out in the Countess’ bedroom, the teenage Cherubino, all hot-blooded and virile, singing at center stage:

“You women who know what love is, Look and tell me if it is within my heart?”

Truly, they were no better than teenagers, those two nobles in flagrante delicto across the theater. Certainly if he, Emmrich, had endured the past three years of his increasingly inescapable (and increasingly inappropriate) desire for Agnes, they should have been able to keep their hands off of each other for three hours.

And yet, as if summoned, he felt the tickle of those depraved imaginings in the back of his mind. He watched the stage at Agnes’ side, over her shoulder; his eyes slid away from Cherubino to trace the delicate black lace of the blouse she wore over her bodice—the woven pattern of the fabric offering a rare, tantalizing glimpse at the bare skin of her shoulder, her collarbone, her neck… the tops of her breasts, straining against her bodice as she took in the aria with ecstatic, rapt attention.

“Let me tell you what I am feeling: It is new to me, and I cannot understand it. I feel affection, I am full of desire, A desire both delightful and miserable…”

He wanted to brush tenderly at the lock of raven-black hair that had escaped her chignon, curled and coiled charmingly tight by the summer humidity. He wanted to lean in close, to breathe hot against her neck, to take the lobe of her ear between his teeth.

“I sigh and lament without wanting to…”

Intrusive thoughts of what it would be like to pull off his dress gloves, to put his hand on her knee. To draw, slowly, inch by inch, her skirts up over her leg, revealing calves clothed in deliciously sheer stockings, the clips and straps of the garters that kept those stockings secure… to round his hand around her knee, for fingertips to creep past the band of her stockings and along the soft skin of her thigh…

“I tremble and I throb without knowing why…”

…and climb higher. To find her swollen? Wet, already? Slick with anticipation at the promise of his touch—

—and at once, the sudden, mortifying tightness in his trousers brought Emmrich back to reality. He pulled the inside of his cheek between top and bottom teeth and bit down hard, trying to anchor himself with the pain and will away his arousal. Agnes, thank the blessed Andraste herself, kept her eyes glued to her opera glasses; she did not turn to see, and so he did not have to excuse, the flush across his cheeks and his ears, nor the far more conspicuous evidence of arousal tenting his trousers.

He did not know what would be worse: if Agnes assumed, rightly, that it was her own presence that had pitched him into the throes of desire, or if she assumed, wrongly, that it had something to do with Cherubino, a woman in men’s clothes playing as an innocent, virgin, teenage boy on the stage below them.

“Though I find peace neither day nor night, Still, I cannot get enough of the feeling.”

Inconspicuously, taking a queue from the deviant across the theatre, Emmrich laid his paper program over his lap. Focused his eyes on his hands. Picked idly at his nails, willing away his desire.

Knowing pettily, venomously, that if he happened to encounter the couple in the opposite box on his way out of the theatre that evening, he would do everything in his power to trip them on their way down the opera house steps.

But of course, in the sudden throng of activity as the curtain fell and the theatre emptied, the offending exhibitionists were nowhere to be seen. Probably gratifying themselves further in the powder room, Emmrich thought with disgust (and though he would never admit it to himself, even under pain of torture or death: envy.)

He wanted nothing more than to get back to the Necropolis, to put the evening and the terribly obvious handjob and horny little Cherubino behind him. But when Agnes threaded her arm through his and tugged him towards the champagne bar, he was as incapable as ever of refusing her—though he almost certainly should have. Though he knew it was ill-advised, he tried (and failed) to put the memory behind him with drink. By the time he had finished his second glass, Agnes was still sipping politely at her first.

But all the drink in the world could not break the spell of her beauty. In the walk from the opera to the bar, more tendrils of hair had shook loose from her bun, and the flyaways curled like tender pea shoots around her head. He loved her most like this, he thought, when the facade of perfection and rigor and discipline she worked so hard to maintain began to fall away. His eyes lingered too long on the crimson print her lips had left on her apricot-colored coupe glass.

Desperate to shake himself out of it, Emmrich confided in her, at last: “Nessa, you will not believe what I witnessed at the theatre tonight.”

She lifted her glass to her mouth, and her bright grey eyes met his, full of curiosity and innocence. “What?”

But he was not even sure how to politely say it. He licked his lips, a wry, disbelieving grin tugging at his mouth as he told her at last, “A noblewoman in one of the balcony boxes opposite ours… manually stimulating her companion under the cover of his paper program during the second act.”

Agnes’ eyes widened; she set her coupe down forcefully enough for the glass to clink on the table top, covering her mouth politely as she coughed up the drink she had accidentally inhaled in surprise.

“You saw what?”

A lovely, delicious color was rising in her cheeks, red to match the stain on her lips.

“Should I repeat myself?” he asked, full of dry humor. “Believe me, I was not sure myself, but when he started groping her over her dress that more or less quelled any lingering doubts I had in my mind.”

Agnes lifted her glass to her mouth once more, her eyes boring holes into the table before her. Whispered, lowly, “Andraste have mercy.”

“That’s exactly what I thought!” Emmrich said, pleased to see her scandalized, to have his own reaction to what had transpired mirrored and confirmed. “I mean, really. It would have been perfectly easy for them to step deeper into the recesses of the box, into the cover of darkness where no one could see them. But did they? No, and I do not believe for a minute that is because concealing themselves did not occur to them. I think they wanted to be exposed. To be witnessed, to be seen.”

But as he continued to speak, Agnes’ blush receded. She watched him, too keenly, over the rim of her glass; she was neither as outraged nor as scandalized as Emmrich wanted her to be. Needed her to be, to draw a line: to stand in firm opposition to the Agnes he had all too readily conjured in his mind: the fictive siren that would gasp at his touch, that would part her legs all too willingly for his hand, without regard for the risk, without a care for who might see them.

“It bothered you quite a lot, didn’t it?” was all she asked him, softly, probingly, when at last he had finished his tirade.

He blinked at her a couple of times. His fingertips found the stem of his third glass of champagne, and he spun it back and forth between forefinger and thumb. “Well—yes,” he managed, at last. A terrible, traitorous heat rising in his cheeks, in his ears. “Did it—does it not bother you?”

Agnes only shrugged and offered him an indifferent smile. “I did not see it,” she said, at last, “engrossed as I was in the music. I am sorry, however, that you found it so distracting.”

“You think it was merely distracting?” Emmrich prompted, in a state of disbelief. “Not… not shameful—nor disrespectful? To the performers, to the rest of the audience?”

The blush had returned to her cheeks. With a nervous smile, she confessed, quietly, “Perhaps I am not as disciplined as you.” She was not looking at him now, staring into the fizzing depths of her coupe glass. “Perhaps… I understand how easy it is, to be suddenly overcome. By the music, by… by desire.”

Obscene scenarios clamored for attention in Emmrich’s mind. An arched back, a cry of pleasure—how beautiful she would look, how desperately he wanted to see her overcome, to be the one responsible for bringing forth such pleasure and desire within her—!

Without looking at him, Agnes lifted the glass to her mouth and drained the rest of it in a single sip. Placing the coupe down with something like a grimace, she raised her hand, motioning for the waiter to bring her another. As soon as he did, she took a second generous gulp.

“But enough of that,” Agnes said at last, reasserting her control over herself, redirecting the conversation. “What did you think of the music?” she asked, then teased him: “The parts of it you were not too distracted to pay attention to, that is.”

The music? She was just going to drop that explosively erotic phrase into the conversation, and then she wanted to talk about the music? Emmrich fumbled for something intelligent to say. “I thought the basso who sang Figaro had a very fine voice.”

“Oh, did he not?” Agnes effused; and then she was off, chatting a million miles an hour about everything she knew about that particular Rivaini singer, his training, the roles he had performed in other venues, the lyrical quality of his singing. Emmrich nursed his champagne, happy to simply listen to her as he fought to subdue the heat in his face.

By the time they returned to the Necropolis at last it was late, the halls silent. Agnes had held his arm the whole way back—not, he feared, out of affection for him, but out of concern that he had drank too much, that without her support he might stumble and fall. He had drank too much, which was both embarrassing and most unbecoming. Worse still, the drink had done nothing to dispel the ludicrous fever those idiots in the opera had set in his blood; it had only fanned the flames. When they had reached the door to his bedroom, Emmrich had stopped for a moment, hovered awkwardly in front of Agnes as he debated, then decided against, pressing a grateful kiss to her brow. He did not think, in his current temperament, he could manage to keep it appropriately chaste.

Indeed, as soon as the door had closed behind him and he was left to his privacy, all the intrusive thoughts he had fought in the theatre and the in the bar and on the long walk home returned to him, tormenting him: the light rasp of his nails along the inside of her thigh; the fine hair of her legs standing on end in the wake of those touches; the damp warmth of her smallclothes as he’d push them aside; her anxious little whisper, aroused, anticipatory, cautious: “Emmrich, your nails…” and how he might respond, lips brushing against her ear, “I will be most careful with you.” Throbbing and freezing and burning like poor Cherubino, like a young man a quarter of his age as he imagined her wetness, the slickness of her beneath his fingertips as he circled her bud—

(There was nothing for it now but to see it through. Only one way to truly relieve himself, to exorcise the thoughts that haunted him so at last he could rest. Hastily, inarticulate drunken fingers stumbling over buttons, he unfastened his trousers and dropped onto the edge of his bed.)

—her parted lips, the little hitches in her breath, the pleasure sounds she would try to stifle as (carefully, so carefully, true to his word) he would slip middle-and-forefinger deep into her hot wet heat—

(Ragged edge to his breath like torn parchment as he closes his hand around himself and begins to stroke. Delicious tightness in his core, feet arching against the floor.)

—placing a kiss on her neck. Breathing hotly against her ear. Agnes’ hands trembling, her opera glasses shaking in her hands as her satisfaction builds, mounts; a keening cry; the way her back would snap, her hips driving his fingers into her, grinding against the palm of his hand—her cunt tightening reflexively around him—

(Free hand white-knuckling, twisted in his bedsheets. A gasp and low groan as fist tightens over the slick head of his arousal. It’s rotten, it’s foul, it’s wrong in a thousand ways to imagine her this way—but it feels much too good to stop.)

—would she follow him back after? Rise before the curtain had fully fallen, before the applause had concluded, racing with him back to the Necropolis, creeping into his room? The blush of her face in the champagne bar: “Perhaps I know how easily it is to be overcome by desire.” To hold her in his arms, to kiss her in this room—! Loose the buttons on her blouse and slide the lace past her bare shoulder, bare neck, bare clavicle… lifting her skirts, sinking into her—

(“Hha—ahh! Nessa—!”)

—with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her hands clawing across his back for purchase, enveloped in the smell of her, by her warmth… here, in the privacy of the bedchamber, where she would not have to hide her pleasure sounds but could pitch his name upon them like a storm-tossed ship, scream it as she reached the height of her pleasure—

Tension in his body snapping white-hot, shooting sparks through his limbs and coiling in his core, Emmrich held the back of his hand firmly against his mouth to stifle his own obscene, satisfied groan as he spilled into his hand. He came so hard it left his toes curling; thighs shaking; short of breath.

The next day, he did not arrive at their study until nearly noon.

He had woken hungover, head pounding, light-sensitive. But that discomfort was nothing compared to the agonizing guilt and shame that washed over him when he recalled the events of the night prior. Why couldn’t he have minded his own business? He should not have let what he saw in the theater get under his skin; it was inconceivable to him in the sober light of morning that he had thought telling Agnes about it was a good idea. Had he really used the words ‘manually stimulating’? How uncomfortable had he made her? He recalled how quickly Agnes had changed the conversation, cringed at how long he had lingered over it. Fighting through the hangover to shower and shave did nothing to cleanse the pervasive filthiness he felt.

He could not remember the last time he had attended Chantry service—but some habits were difficult to break. Seeking even the slightest reprieve of absolution, he left the Necropolis shortly after dawn, heading towards the Chantry in Nevarra City. But even among the incense and the singing Mothers, he could not escape from his regret, the Canticle of Threnodies echoing among the vaulted ceiling in accusation:

Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting. You have brought Sin to Heaven And doom upon all the world.

He had something beautiful—a partner to stand by him, to protect and care for him—and he was going to spoil it, desecrate it as thoroughly as the Tevinter Magisters of old had corrupted the Golden City of the Maker. Every lurid imagining he indulged in, he knew, brought him closer and closer to doing irreparable harm to the thing in his life most precious to him.

When at last he returned to the Necropolis, Agnes was already in the study, waiting for him. The smell of lavender oil was thick in the air; she must have spent the morning cleaning, a task which he had repeatedly told her she need not take upon herself, and one to which she repeatedly insisted upon undertaking nevertheless. Now she stood at one of the tables with Wilfred at her side, watching him with scrutiny as he clumsily tried to grind down some fresh herbs, his bony hands struggling with the mortar and pestle.

She looked up at him the minute he entered, her bright eyes full of anticipation—and was that a hint of concern?

“Where were you?”

Beaten down by his excessive drinking and shame alike, Emmrich did not have the willpower within him to lie. “In Nevarra City. I attended Chantry services this morning.”

Agnes smiled, like it was a joke. “No, really, where were you? You missed breakfast. I was not sure you’d want to eat after last night, but I saved you a bit of toast, just in case.”

Emmrich took a deep breath, following the slender line of her arm to the table near the hearth, where four slices of toast were stacked on a plate beside an artful dollop of jam and a pat of butter. Though his stomach still felt wretched, he knew eating would probably help. “Chantry services, really,” he repeated, again, in answer to her question, his tone resigned. He walked to the table, tore a slice of toast in half and lifted it to his mouth without bothering with the ornamentation of butter or jam—he did not think his stomach could endure the grease nor the sweetness. “Thank you, dear, for saving me something to eat.”

“Seriously?” Agnes asked. Emmrich did not have to look up to know the look of incredulous disbelief on her face. It was plain by the tone of her voice.

Emmrich chewed through the dry toast, swallowed. His stomach gave a discontented growl, awakening at the prospect of food. “Quite seriously,” he answered at last. “Though I am far from the most devout among the Mourn Watch, old habits are difficult to shake. Every once in a while, it’s like an itch that needs to be scratched.” Not that the debasement and self-flagellation he frequently associated with Chantry service had done him any particular good this morning.

Agnes gave a low huff of amusement. Without needing to be asked—knowing, as she knew him so well, that the toast would go down easier with a bit of tea to help it—she crossed the room, cast iron teapot in hand, and bent before the heart to suspend it over the fire.

“So did it?” she teased him. “Scratch your itch?”

With her back turned to him, she did not see the ugly grimace he made, the way his lips curled into a frustrated scowl at his own lack of discipline. Nor did she see, blessedly, the way his eyes were fixed upon her: her narrow waist, the pert swell of her backside as she bent over the fire.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Emmrich said, tearing his eyes away to stare at his toast. “Not this time.” He recalled to himself the verse from Threnodies, repeated it in his mind, beating himself against it until it obliterated the image of her (legs spread, back arched) that had begun to resurface in his mind:

Those who had once been mage-lords, The brightest of their age, Were no longer men, but monsters.

#emmrich volkarin #emmrook #lost my mind for a minute there but it's all good

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itsohh · 8 months ago

Text

Despite Part 3

A/N: Female reader, it's the first Christmas that the team of you have spent together. All of S.T.A.R.S find themselves stuck together for the Christmas office party. Not everything is bad though when your Captain manages to sneak away with you for a not-so-professional change of pace.

Warnings: None

Word count: 2189

AO3 Masterlist Part 2 Part 4

"I hate you don't you get that? I despise you. I despise everything you've become.”

“I told you I wasn't going to get anyone gifts.” You huffed when Chris put an arm around you. There was a light pout on his face.

“Aw come on, I knew Wesker wouldn't but I had really held out that you would break.” Chris pointed to your Captain who leaned against the wall watching. Jill stifled a laugh across from you while the rest of your team seemed rather amused.

Bravo team had joined the festivities. In fact, there had been a decent amount of organization to the ‘party’ and you assumed most of it had been due to them. “First you don’t bring your partners and now no gifts? Come on Doc.” Frost whined and for a moment your body froze up.

“Hey man-” Chris started to get defensive on your behalf and turned to the man. He had listened to your words and taken them to heart.

“Look just because you consider your fleshlight your partner doesn't mean I consider whatever I fuck to be mine.” You joked but had a hardened look behind your eyes. One that told the man to drop the subject.

“Ooohhh.” The group laughed and the tense atmosphere died up.

A sigh left your mouth and you folded your arms. “I had wanted to leave the surprise until later but I left a twelve-pack in each of your lockers. That or bourbon or wine.”

A cheer erupted from the group and Chris wrapped his arm around your shoulder for a side hug. “I had wanted to tell you when you weren't at risk of it being confiscated but since you pushed the issue..”

All eyes went to Wesker in anticipation.

“I appreciate the bottle, Doctor. It would be best if it stayed sealed until I got home.” The thinly covered threat dispelled the thought of anything being confiscated and the group cheered.

“We were just teasing but thanks.” Chris removed his arm from your shoulder and went to the ‘Santa sack’ he had dubbed. In reality, it was a large duffle bag with tinsel wrapped around it. The thing wasn't even red.

“This one we all came together to get you. Even Wesker pitched in on this. Actually to be honest he paid for the entire thing we just had input on it.” He explained.

Your eyes flashed from the group to the man who silently stared at you from behind his glasses. “The Captains doing gifts?” Brad asked.

“I believe this one to be of value at work, unlike the rest.”

What you expected to be a small box turned out to be something rather different when Chris pulled out a long-wrapped box that had taken up the entire base of the bag. No wonder he had left it till last.

“We didn't really exactly know what to get you that you would like so we opted for something practical.” Jill smiled.

Chris put it on the desk next to you and you hopped off it. You pulled out the dagger from your boot and gently ran the blade over the wrapping seem and cut into the brown cardboard box that encase it. All eyes were on you as you pulled the top off like a sarcophagus. There remained a black case that encased the item. A clip at the front kept it closed and you slid your thumb over it before you pressed it open.

“Holy shit.” You gasped as you opened the box. A few of the operators left their spots to peak up behind you.

“Damn. Looks better in person.” Barry praised and you gaped at the gun.

“I've never seen a gun like- is this an anti-material rifle?” You turned your eyes to Chris who grinned next to your desk.

“Uh-huh. Custom Barrett M95, Barry and Wesker had our friends at Kendo mix it up.”

Slowly you started to assemble it and right away you could feel the difference. Not only was appearance different but so was the weight.

“It's so light.” Void of any ammo, you aimed it towards the windows and pulled the bolt action back. It glid under your touch and you grinned.

The appearance had been modified just like the Samurai you had received. It had the STARS logo on it. Not only did it have ‘S.T.A.R.S. Rpd Special Team’ engraved but it also had the gun's specific name engraved on it.

“Prescription.” You read out with a snort. “Really?”

“We didn't name it but Joe did know that it was for a doctor.” Chris directed for you to look under the base of the handle where you saw your full title and name.

“Shit. Damn, I don't know what to say, this is the nicest gift I've gotten.” You laughed and pushed away the tear that swelled in the corner of your eye.

“Ahhh Doc!” Joseph jumped up and you were sandwiched between him and Chris in a hug.

“I don't even know when I'll be able to use it.” You laughed, while marksmanship was in your range of expertise it was primarily your medical degree that saw the most amount of use.

“Which is why it's a gift, feel free to use it as you see fit,” Wesker spoke up and the two men broke from you. “Legally, of course.” His lips curled and it seemed only you noticed.

“Of course.” You grinned.

“See, office parties aren't that bad,” Joseph said and you lightly punched the man on his shoulder.

“No, office parties still suck but this gun doesn't.” You started to disassemble it and place it back in its case.

A man approached the group of you from the hallway and poked his head in. “Hey, we got a delivery of like fifteen pizzas at reception.” He wore the standard RPD uniform and you read the name ‘Elliot Edward’ on his uniform.

Immediately Christ and Joseph jumped to action and Barry reluctantly started to follow the pair. You on the other hand closed up the gun case and left it on your desk. You would get it when you went home. The distraction of pizza was the perfect escape to remove yourself from the group and make your way outside on the roof.

There the cool afternoon breeze met your skin and you found your way to the railing. Your jacket kept your arms warm while your stocking kept your legs from freezing. The mini skirt you wore certainly didn't help.

The loud creak of the roof door alerted you to someone's presence. That specific door was admittedly one of your favourites, no one could sneak up on you due to the sound. Its heavy weight made it slow to open which gave you plenty of time to react. At first, you thought it might have been Jill, she was never one for parties either but a familiar presence soon made themselves known when they settled next to you.

“Captain.”

“Doctor.”

Silence settled between the pair of you and Wesker settled in. Unlike you, he didn't look over the railing but turned around and leaned his back against it with his arms folded. “Thanks for the gun. I hope you didn't use your personal funds for it.”

“I promise you the budget took care of it which is why its appearance is related to the team.”

“Good, I know how expensive those things are and I would have died if you used your own money.”

“You don't like people spending money on you?”

“Mmm, I don't think I deserve it. Besides I make more than the rest of the squad, money's not an issue for me.”

“And how do you know that?”

“A girl never reveals her secrets, Captain Wesker.” Your head turned to smile cheekily at the man, admittedly you were a little surprised to see him looking directly at you.

Even though you wanted to pull yourself from that look on his face, you refused to do so and subconsciously wet your lips. “I've seen the original Barrett M95, that one there is heavily and specifically modified.” You prompted him.

“The team had their own input but I was heavily involved in its modifications.”

“I couldn't tell all of them off the bat without comparing the original but you certainly know your guns.”

“I had it made to fit you.” His words had you pause and your lips parted.

“I know it's in my file that I'm a marksman but how did you know I enjoy it so much? How did you know I prefer bolt action?”

“I've seen you at the range, you gravitate to manual guns during practice.”

“I know semi-automatic and automatic guns are more versatile but I like that bolt actions very rarely jam. Take care of them and they will take care of you.” You explained.

“I know.” You knew that he was an observant man but this was more than you expected, you couldn't even recall him watching you at the range.

“Thank you, Albert. It really means a lot.” Your voice was a whisper and you were pretty sure that was the first time you had ever spoken his name towards him.

Slowly he unfolded his arms and his hand reached for your face. Still, those sunglasses hid most of his thoughts but ever so gently his hand settled on your face. Subconsciously you leaned into his touch and his thumb brushed over your bottom lip.

“This isn't very professional is it?” You whispered but didn't move away from his touch.

“No, it's not.”

“We probably shouldn't… do anything.” You swallowed and placed a hand on his chest but didn't push away.

“I am your Captain after all.”

“The power imbalance between us could be problematic in the future.”

Wesker leaned in towards you but stopped just before your lips met. There was maybe a millimetre between the pair of you and when he spoke they only just had enough room not to brush against yours.

“But you know how to keep your private life and work life separate don't you?”

You closed the gap between the pair of you and your lips finally connected with his. The koss was slow, testing the waters between the pair of you. The hand on your cheek slipped behind your neck as your hand balled the fabric from his shirt.

Wesker's lips were soft and warm against yours, so inviting that they shut up all the logical parts of your brain that told you why exactly getting into something with your boss was a bad idea.

The man leaned into you and you felt his other arm wrap around your back where he pushed you against him. The experimental kiss between the pair of you deepened and hastened as it became more comfortable between the pair of you.

You were the one to break it reluctantly to regain your breath as you stared at the man. The light aftertaste of bourbon on your lips remained and you cocked a brow at the man, you recognized the smooth flavour.

“I thought you said you kept the bottle sealed.”

“I said it would be best if it stayed sealed. Not that it was.”

The technicality had you laugh quietly against him, still so close, your lips barely apart from each other. “You didn't do this because of its influence are you?” Doubt crept into your mind and you looked away from him. Albert demanded your attention and gently directed your face to look back at him.

“Most certainly not. A glass in the afternoon before all of that downstairs was exactly what I needed. For someone who doesn't drink, you have good tastes.”

“Only the best for my Captain.”

“I'm not your Captain right now.” His lips met yours once again at his initiation. Again the kiss was slow, careful but not because you were fragile. It was like he was taking his time with you, savouring every moment.

A sudden whine of the roof door made you jump slightly in his arms, its delayed opening gave you the time for the pair of you to step back to a professional distance and you were silently glad that you weren't wearing lipstick.

The pair of you looked at each other, silently communicating when Chris popped out. “Hey, that's where you two went. I knew I'd find Doc here but I'm surprised you haven't headed home Cap.”

Albert's reply wasn't immediate. “There was a matter I wished to discuss with the Doctor.”

“Something important? I can leave if you like.” Chris raised a brow and you shook your head.

“No need, it's something we can discuss later at another time. I'll come down with you now.” You spared a glance at your Captain and headed towards the door. When you reached it you briefly looked over your shoulder to see that Albert had started to follow you and Chris, his eyes on you. Heavy and determined, you couldn’t see through his glasses but you knew, you knew he wasn’t finished with you. Things had only just begun.

#albert wesker x reader #albert wesker #resident evil x reader #re x reader #wesker x reader

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puppysirie0-0 · 1 year ago

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"You're Really Gonna Make Me Beg?'

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy and You are assigned on an assassination assignment together. Billy is cold to You until he learns about you at a bar after the mission. Then the night takes an interesting after leaving the bar.

Warnings: Not a whole lot lol. Smut, Hand Kink, Innocence Kink ig (Reader has never cum before), Exhibitionism Kink (they fuck on the wall of a random building outside), Riding, Blowjob, Cunnilingus, Bathtub Sex, Kinda a Lil Bit Fluffy, Dom!Billy x Sub!Reader, Pet Names Baby and Doll

Minors DNI

“Nice to meet you! The Name is y/n y/l/n!” I say to the man I had just been assigned to do a kill with. I hold out my hand for him to shake before he just eyes it and replies.

“Billy Russo.” He says with the most straight face I’ve ever seen. His lips in a paper thin straight line.

“Well, do you have all your equipment?” I ask, noticing that he obviously doesn’t want to get to know each other.

“What kind of assassin do you think I am?” He asks, before asking me the same.

“I could ask you the same thing, as soon as I said hi, you seemed to decide that you didn’t like me. So let’s just get this done with so I can get back to my other recreational activities.” I say before picking up my gear and walking away to get into the car.

∾ ▩ °º❤️º° ▩ ∾

We drive to the stake-out location and it’s tense. He is obviously upset about something, but who knows what crawled up his ass and died. You set up on the roof and start assembling your sniper. You preferred snipers, they gave better accuracy and you just needed one shot to take someone down.

You can feel his eyes boring into you as you finish adjusting your position so you can see out the scope of your rifle. He finally starts setting up his own assault rifle. And you resist the urge to watch the man work. He’s methodical and fluid with his movement and god did you think that was hot. Your mind started to drift off to what else those fingers could do before you stopped yourself, “no, this is strictly professional y/n.”

∾ ▩ °º❤️º° ▩ ∾

It took a whole 37 hours before your first target arrived. You didn’t ask your boss much about the two assassinations you were meant to carry out. You just memorized their faces and skimmed over the information in the files. You learned that knowing too much about a target makes it harder to pull your trigger. But then the second arrives as well. This was a pleasant surprise, a simple double kill. You tap Billy’s shoulder before you whisper, “It’s both of them, we could probably take the kill with one shot if we got the angle right.”

He listens as you explain where you need to adjust yourself so you can get the perfect shot. “Okay, am I taking the shot or are you?” he replies.

“You will, your rifle has a better scope and this needs to be precise if we’re taking out the two of them with one shot.” You say back.

You watch as the targets converse, obviously arguing about something. Amidst their argument they finally align just how you had wanted. “Now Billy, take the shot now,” You say.

You watch as Billy silently takes the shot and the bodies fall to the ground. You quickly pack up your equipment as Billy just sits there. You start carrying your equipment down the stairs to clean the area and move their bodies.

∾ ▩ °º❤️º° ▩ ∾

The bodies are buried a couple miles away in a deep grave to make sure they aren’t found any time soon. Once you clean yourself up, you turn to Billy before asking, “I saw a bar a couple miles back near the stake-out area, you want to grab a drink?”

He stares at you for a minute, it feels cold and you swear you shiver, “Why not, I have nothing to go running back to.”

Once you arrive at the bar, you walk in and address the bartender, “Two Whiskeys, Neat, Please,” you say.

You sit down in a booth near the far corner and Billy slides into the seat beside you. You get drinks and start sipping it silently before Billy asks, “Did you see the looks on their faces once they heard the shot?”

You’re surprised that he even talked to you, but you reply nonetheless, “I mean kind of. One of them seemed horrified, 90% sure he legitimately shat himself. But the second, he almost seemed like he wanted it. Like we were about to grant a secret wish that he’d had, y’know?”

He looks at you, as if he didn’t think you’d pay that close attention before, saying,”I didn’t notice anything with the second one. But I do agree with what you said about the first one, he did seem to have shat himself,”he says before chuckling to himself.

You sit in a couple more seconds of awkward silence, while you keep staring at him. “His face, his soft-looking lips, the light stubble of his cheek that you can almost imagine between your thighs- STOP. Y/n this is not professional, but lord forgive me- ugh,” You think before shaking your head in frustration.

You can feel him watching you, you know he noticed you little stolen glances. But he stays silent before asking, “Is there a specific kill that you remember specifically more than others?”

Again, you’re shocked he’s talking to you but again you answer him, “Yes, actually. There was once this big drug tycoon I was assigned to take out. But then once I had disposed of him, I was told to kill the family as well. And the one I remember is his 4 year-old daughter, Clara. I broke into the home, shot the mom and watched as her child sobbed over her. Then I shot the toddler point blank. Her face haunts me, every time I try to sleep at night. Anytime I try to relax her face pops back up in my head.”

“What did you do after?” He asks you, before taking another sip of his drink.

You feel the tears well up in your eyes with the memory of the child, so you down the rest of your drink before answering him. “I cleaned the house and staged it as a break-in robbery gone wrong. Then I wept over them for maybe 20 minutes. Then I reported back to Rawlins and then headed home. Once I was home, I showered and curled up in a ball on my bed and wept some more. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat or drink. I couldn’t do anything, I was practically dysfunctional for the week after that.”

You signal to the bartender for a refill on your whiskey before Billy asks another question, “Why do you think he asked you to do it, Rawlins that is?”

You sigh before you go collect your drinks. You then walk back over to the booth where Billy is before answering him yet again. “He told me that it was so that quote-on-quote no one would miss him, now that he was gone. And that’s how I tried to justify it, but over the years I now think it was just some fucked-up way to make me prove my loyalty to him. I was young and longing for validation, and I was able to get it from Rawlins, but I don’t enjoy it now. It makes me feel dirty, like every kill is leaving another mark or scar on my soul. And I know that one day I’m going to wear too thin and I’ll shatter like glass hitting the ground.”

“What did you do to try and relieve yourself,” he asks before lightly smirking, realizing how dirty that almost sounded.

I side eye him before continuing, “I actually used to make paper flowers as a sort of ode to the ones I had killed. But after Clara, I wasn’t able to anymore. Any time I try to now, my hands start shaking and I start sobbing.”

“Okay, a few more questions and then you can ask me some,” he says smiling lightly. The smile is pretty and you can’t help admiring him but he pulls you out of your mind as he asks, “How old were you when that happened?”

“I was 20, I had started in the army at 17 and left at 20. Rawlins recruited me not too shortly after and one of my first assignments was to kill Clara and her family.”

“Okay, now I have one more,” he says softly.

“Let em rip, I guess,” I state.

“Okay, final question, What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t followed orders? What do you think would have happened to Clara if you hadn’t killed her and her mother?”

“You take another sip of your whiskey before looking back at him, “That’s technically two questions but okay. I probably would have been killed and she would have grown up to have no father. She seemed like a kind girl with good parents despite what her father did. And she seemed to have a love for bunnies. I feel like she probably ended up being a vet or having her own farm one day to feed her love for animals. Married a man that treated her like a princess. Probably would have grown old watching her grandchildren play in her yard as she grew old with a man that she had loved for the last 65 years.”

“So you would have ended up dead if you had denied Rawlins’ orders. If you could go back, would you and not kill her. Would you trade your life for hers?” Billy asks before sipping his drink.

“I thought the last one was the final question,” I say with a chuckle. ”Well, absolutely. 1000% I would trade my life for hers. She had a great life ahead of her, she would bring more good to the world than her father brought bad. I have been far from treated like a princess my whole life and my poor home life made my experience non-ideal. I have never had or brought anything but pain into the world. She had a wonderful life ahead of her while I still have a tormenting one.”

He seems to listen intently as I answer all of his questions. After a few seconds he says, “I’m gonna grab the next round of drinks and then it’s your turn.”

∾ ▩ °º❤️º° ▩ ∾

I asked him the same questions he asked me. And I listened as he told me about how he was abandoned as a child making him carry a degree of resentment towards his mother. As he talked about his best friend and army buddy Frank Castle. Noticing the light in his eye as he described Frank as his brother and only family.

While he was talking to you, you continued admiring him. He was deserving of Frank’s nickname for him, Pretty Boy. You kept swapping from looking him in the eye and looking back down to his lips. Hypnotized by the simple action of him licking his lips as he continued speaking. He made you feel safe as you talked. He made you want to be held by him, like he would comfort you sweetly as you pour your heart and soul out for him. Like he would wipe away your tears and make you feel loved for the first time.

You continued speaking for about 2 more rounds of drinks before he asked something else, “Hey, can I ask you an unusual request?”

“Sure?” you reply, wondering what it might be.

“Okay follow me,” He quickly places some bills on the bar before holding out his to you for you to take.

“Where might we be going exactly,” you ask as you take his hand, but he doesn’t answer.

He doesn't say a word as he leads you out into the darkened street. It's quieter out here and there is no one to be seen except for the two of you. He stops suddenly and turns to look at you. He then steps closer.

You stared into his eyes longingly, trying not to keep glancing down at his lips but you can't help it.

He stares into your eyes for a moment longer, then leans in and pulls you close, his breath warm against your lips.

Your lips meet and you put more passion into the kiss. He slips his tongue into your mouth as you lean in close to him.

You begin to wrap your arms around him. You melt into his embrace, pushing up closer against him as you continue to return his passion. Your hands begin to run through his hair and hold him tighter against you.

His hands drift lower as they reach the top of your shirt, beginning to trace their way beneath.

You feel his hands go under your shirt as you grip him from the roots of his hair and pull him closer by his belt loop.

As you grip him by his pants, you feel his hands running all the way to the edge of your bra. He grips one of your breasts with one hand while the other roams freely over your frame. You feel his hand trail back down to your waist, tracing the edge of your panties with his index finger.

Your hands are shaking slightly as you unfastened his belt. You can feel him shiver lightly as the tension builds between you both.

"Are you gonna fuck me baby? please baby" you whine against his lips as you unzip his pants

“I just might,” he says smiling down at you.

“You’re really gonna make me beg?” You ask

“I kind of want you to, yeah,” He says, slightly laughing.

“Fuck Me Pretty Please Sir, I’ll be a good girl,” You beg, sticking out your lip in a fake, overdramatic pout.

He pulls you closer and with a grin on his lips and leans close to your ear before saying, with a tease in his voice, "Is that an order?"

"Do you want it to be?" you whisper back teasingly.

“No, sir doesn’t take orders. Though I am contemplating carrying it out anyway,” he says grinning.

"Well Sergeant, you may not want to take orders, but can I make a request maybe?" You ask

"I'm listening, soldier," His voice is soft and teasing. It's as if he likes when you call him "Sergeant."

"What if you fucked me right now, right here until I couldn't walk. And then you took me back to your hotel room and fucked me some more. Then you held me in your arms after we were done and we fell asleep together. What if you did that for me...Sergeant?" You say with a sly smile

“I don’t know, if I took requests and orders from subordinates, what kind of sergeant would I be? Although I can’t say I’m not tempted.” He says grinning

“You would be a good one, at least in my opinion. Especially when your subordinates ask you for such a sensitive request.” You say fake pouting at his response.

"I think it's a very specific request," he continues teasing back, his grin growing wider. "I think maybe someone is just trying to get around the rules.”

"How about you follow through with it, Sir. You'd be a good Sergeant if you did…Sir" You slowly unzip his pants as you talk.

His smile is growing wider as you unzip his pants. He watches as you slowly tease him. "And if I do, how would you show your appreciation?"

“Maybe an oral...presentation," you say lowering down to my knees

He watches as you lower yourself onto your knees in front of him. His smile widens even more as he stares down at you. "And what else would you be willing to give?"

"Maybe a taste of dessert and then a multi round event" you say before kissing down his stomach.

"And just how many rounds to this event are we talking about?" he murmurs with a chuckle in his voice. As you keep kissing down his stomach, his hands begin to run through your hair and grip it tighter at the roots.

"As many as you want, Sergeant" you say grinning. You slowly pull down his briefs and grip his cock before stroking it.

You slip it into your mouth as you bob up and down. He groans lowly before gripping your hair tighter, controlling your movements. You slowly take more and more of him into your mouth before you’re deepthroating him.

His cock was big, like bigger than you’d ever seen. You had only had sex once before, and relied mostly on your toys and porn, but wow he was generously endowed.

He grips your hair guiding your inexperienced mouth to bring him the pleasure you so desired to give him. You choke slightly as he comes down your throat, cursing under his breath before bringing you back up to kiss him.

He can taste himself on your tongue as he kisses you roughly. You moan into the kiss as you feel him slowly pull down your jeans and panties. He traces your cunt with his finger as he says, “Aww, so wet f’me baby. And to pair it with such a tight little cunt is sinful.”

“All for you Billy, all for you,” you say breathless as he starts pumping his ring and index finger into you.

Your skin prickles with the thought of being out on the street like this. Anybody could see you propped up against this building. Your cunt clenches at the thought as Billy pumps faster in and out, adding his thumb rubbing your clit to the equation. You feel a pit in your stomach, it is unfamiliar to you as you shift at the new feeling. “Billy, my tummy feels funny,” you babble at him.

“What do you mean bunny?” He asks, obviously a little confused at your statement.

“I feel like there’s a pit in there, almost like a knot to be untied,” you say, still not knowing what it was.

“Oh baby,” he coos, “that means you’re gonna cum.” He says softly, smiling down at you.

You look at him dazed, both from what he said and what you now know was your impending orgasm. He brings his mouth to your neck, kissing softly of your collarbone and sucking marks down on the previously “empty” skin. You whimper in his ear as you feel your orgasm start to come crashing down on you.

“Come for me baby, It’s okay, let go baby,” Billy coos into your neck as you continue to whine and whimper.

You finally let go and all you feel is bliss. You’d never felt anything like this before. You feel light as a feather and like your skin prickles. You feel Billy still slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you as he eases you down from your orgasm. You look at him with half-lidded eyes as you feel his hand wrap around your neck to pull you into a kiss.

You whimper a little as he ceases his fingers movements, still sensitive from your orgasm. You feel him rub his tip up and down your slit before sliding into your tight cunt. The stretch blissfully burns once Billy is fully inside you. He experimentally rocks his hips back and forth, eliciting a moan from your mouth. “God this cunt’s like a vice, gripping so good baby,” Billy moans in your ear.

He slowly starts bucking up into you. You can feel the brick of the building behind you scraping the skin of your back but you don’t care. You’ve never had sex like this before, this was borderline, no this WAS euphoric.

He starts circling your clit as he continues pumping in and out of you. You feel a now familiar knot in your stomach slowly tying itself again. His thrusts become erratic and you feel his cock twitch inside you as his movements on your clit become more hurried.

You practically scream before Billy slaps a hand over your mouth as you come. “Gotta be quiet baby, you can’t be allerting someone of our current predicament now can we,” he teases at you. But you can’t even focus, there are stars swimming in your vision and your brain feels fuzzy. ‘

“Can I come inside you baby? Please baby I really need to come,” Billy pleads.

“Go ahead Billy, oh please Billy come inside of me,” you moan. You didn’t even care that you had met the man less than 48 hours ago. He was fucking you too good to even care in the first place.

He thrusts into you a few more times before he spills his spend into you. You feel him continue fucking his cum into you before he slows to a stop inside you. “God, that was, that was wow.” Billy says breathlessly.

“Agreed,” you reply, your brain not being able to formulate more than that.

He slowly pulls out of you and sets you on the ground on uneasy legs. You catch yourself on the wall behind you as Billy adjusts himself back into his pants. He pulls you into his arms after fixing your bottoms. He lifts you bridal style and carries you down the street to where your car was.

∾ ▩ °º❤️º° ▩ ∾

When you arrive at the hotel, you try to stumble out of the car on your own but you almost fall flat on your ass. Billy thankfully catches you before you hit the pavement and helps you up to your shared room on wobbly legs. Once you’re in the room Billy presses you against the door and kisses you again.

You pull him closer by the back of his neck, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. He lifts you up again and you wrap your legs around his waist before he carries you to the bed. He unceremoniously throws you on the bed before he pulls away from you.

“Have you never come before this?” He asks as he kisses down your body, reaching under your shirt to lift it over your head.

“No sir,” you reply sheepishly. You lift your head and he pulls your shirt over it.

“Aww, baby’s never come. So no one’s ever gone down on you before?” He asks, cooing at you slightly.

“Nuh uh,” you say, shaking your head.

“He slowly kisses down your stomach before unbuttoning your pants again. He taps you on the thigh, signaling you to lift your hips. You slightly raise them before he peels both your bottoms down in a swift movement. He throws them aside in some corner of the room to be found later.

He continues kissing down your stomach, inching closer to your cunt. You can feel it pulsing with arousal. He lowers head to your cunt before looking up at you through hooded eyes before licking a long stripe up your cunt.

Your hands fly to his hair as he continues his actions. Slowly adding his index and middle finger into the mix again. He expertly sucks on your clit as he eats you out. His nose nudges your clit when his mouth joins his fingers.

You feel another knot building in you as you grips his hair at the roots. Your moans and whimpers bounce off the room, echoing in your ears. The knot bursts once he curls his finger slightly inside you. You swear your soul left your body, you could look back down on yourself.

When you come back to, you hear a bath running and a warm washcloth gently cleaning your legs. You open your eyes and look up to see Billy cleaning you up. You shift a little and Billy looks back up at you and says, “Look who's awake again.”

He chuckles a little as he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. He sets you in the tub before stripping and settling in behind you. You turn around and straddle him before pulling him into another lengthy kiss. God, you haven’t been this horny for years. You’re so sensitive but my god were you ready for another round.

You grab his cock and slowly guide it back into you. You feel so full but it feels so good too. You rock your hips back and forth as Billy groans against your lips. You pull away from him for a breath and he returns his face to the crook of your neck. You moan breathlessly as he sucks new marks on top of the old ones.

“Oh you’re such a good girl, baby,” He groans, “I would fuck you all day if I could.”

“Why can’t you,” you ask, ”I mean, I don’t see why we couldn’t continue whatever this is. I would open if you are.”

“I would love that baby,” he says breathlessly against your collarbone.

He grips your hips, guiding you up and down on his cock. You grind down on his hips as he sheathes you on his cock. You feel like you might split in two as he fucks up into you. You ride him slowly as the warm water swishes around you.

You feel delighted as he stares up at you, like you’re a piece of art. Your head rolls back in tandem with your eyes, he was utter bliss. The intimacy of riding him slowly in the bath was so delicate. You felt so fragile in that moment, as if his gaze could shatter if it lingered too long.

He quickened the rolls of your hips, his hands gripping harder at your hips. He grounds you down further so your clit is stimulated as well. “I’m gonna come Billy, please I’ve been a good girl,” you whine as you feel yourself on the precipice of tipping over.

“Hold on baby, I wanna come at the same time baby,” he groans in your ear as he bucks up into you faster and faster. “Now baby, you can let go now,” he whispers to you as you feel him twitch inside of you.

You feel like you’re floating as you feel yourself collapse onto Billy. He strokes your back lovingly as he stays inside of you, comforting you after your high. God, you felt like you were in heaven.

∾ ▩ °º❤️º° ▩ ∾

You didn’t remember much more after your 6th orgasm, but you wake up feeling Billy’s arm cradling you. “Mornin’ doll,” he says to you when he notices you’re awake.

He gets up and starts getting dressed before signaling for you to do the same. You wobble on your legs before you collapse onto the floor. You wince a little when you hit the floor and Billy comes around the bed to pick you off the floor, “Sorry about that, forgot the effects of last night.”

You chuckle at his comment as you steady yourself using his shoulders, his hands on your waist keeping you up-right. He sets you back in bed before asking if you wanted room service.

He orders pancakes, bacon, and orange juice. When it arrives he crawls into bed with you and helps feed you your breakfast. Once the two of you are finished eating, he helps you redress. Billy helps you back downstairs to your car while you stumble out of the hotel you had stayed in. Now all you had to do was hide this from Rawlins when you checked in with him for the assignment.

∾ ▩ °º❤️º° ▩ ∾

“How are we going to distract Rawlins from the fact that my legs don’t work?” You ask Billy as he drives towards your checkpoint, hand on your thigh, lightly squeezing it.

“I suppose you stay close to the car and use it for support? It would be obvious if I was holding you up and you would fall on your ass again if you tried to support yourself,” He tells you simply.

Once you reach the checkpoint, your legs weren’t non-functional, but they were still far from functional. You mostly stayed at the hood of the car as Billy got out and led Rawlins close to the car so the pair of you could complete the check-in. You can feel Rawlins’ eyes on you as you lean on the car for support, however, if he caught on he didn’t say anything.

Once you finish the check in and Rawlins is back in his car driving away, Billy asks, “So, where might your pretty little head live? Or do you want to go back to my penthouse?”

You chuckle a little before you answer, “I wouldn’t mind seeing your place, although I do think Rawlins figured out what we did. It felt like he shot daggers at me.”

Billy laughs before, responding with a simple, “probably,” before starting the car.

∾ ▩ °º❤️º° ▩ ∾

A/N

Hope you guys liked the story! I do have to admit, I have never actually cum before either lol. Would love for someone to change that fact but tragically nobody has. Anyways, Have a great night, my request and messages are always open. Love Y'all, Mwah!

#billy russo smut #billy russo x reader #billy russo x reader smut #he's the loml #Ugh I'd let him choke me

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miltonsamuel · 3 months ago

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First Aid Kits in BC: Building the Right Kit for Your Home or Car

A well-stocked first aid kit is an essential safety tool, whether you're at home, on the road, or exploring BC’s great outdoors. Having the right supplies can make all the difference in an emergency. This guide will help you build the best first aid kit in BC, tailored to your needs.

Why You Need a First Aid Kit

Emergencies can happen anywhere, from minor cuts and burns to more serious injuries. A first aid kit helps you act fast and properly, stopping problems from getting worse before professional help comes.

Key Benefits:

Immediate care for minor injuries

Prevention of infections and complications

Preparedness for unexpected emergencies

First Aid Kit Checklist for Different Situations

Each environment requires a slightly different set of first aid supplies. Below are essential items for home, car, and outdoor adventure kits.

1. Home First Aid Kit

A home kit should be well-stocked for common household injuries like cuts, burns, and allergic reactions.

Essential Items:

Adhesive bandages (various sizes)—for minor cuts and scrapes

Sterile gauze pads and adhesive tape—for larger wounds

Antiseptic wipes & hydrogen peroxide: To clean wounds

Antibiotic ointment helps prevent infections

Burn cream or gel: Treats minor burns

Tweezers & scissors: For removing splinters or cutting bandages

Digital thermometer: Monitors fever

Instant cold packs reduce swelling from sprains or bumps

Pain relievers (acetaminophen, ibuprofen): for headaches, fever, or pain relief

Antihistamines: Treats allergic reactions

CPR face shield & gloves protects against contamination during CPR

Emergency contact numbers include local emergency services and poison control

2. Car First Aid Kit

A car kit should prepare you for roadside emergencies, including minor injuries and delays in remote areas.

Essential Items (in addition to the Home Kit):

Emergency blanket: Provides warmth in cold conditions

Triangular bandages for immobilizing injuries

Tourniquet: In case of severe bleeding

Reflective safety vest & flashlight—for nighttime visibility

Whistle: Helps signal for help

Bottled water and non-perishable snacks—in case of being stranded

Duct tape: multi-use emergency tool

3. Outdoor Adventure First Aid Kit

If you’re hiking, camping, or exploring BC’s backcountry, you’ll need a lightweight but comprehensive kit tailored to outdoor risks.

Essential Items (in addition to the car kit):

Moleskin & blister pads prevents and treats blisters

Emergency bivvy sack: Provides shelter if stranded

Water purification tablets ensure safe drinking water

Snake bite kit: for treating bites in remote areas

Tick removal tool removes ticks safely

Electrolyte tablets prevent dehydration

Bear spray essential for wilderness safety

Maintaining Your First Aid Kit

Once your kit is stocked, it’s important to maintain it properly.

Check expiration dates on medications and ointments.

Restock used supplies immediately.

Store in a waterproof container to protect items from moisture and damage.

Review emergency contacts periodically to keep them up to date.

Where to Buy First Aid Kits in BC

You can purchase pre-assembled first aid kits at:

Pharmacies (Shoppers Drug Mart, London Drugs)

Outdoor stores (MEC, Canadian Tire)

Online retailers (Amazon, Red Cross Canada)

For those looking for a customized first aid kit, consider assembling one based on this checklist to match your specific needs.

Final Thoughts

Being prepared with a first aid kit ensures you can handle minor injuries and emergencies wherever you are. Whether at home, in your car, or out in BC’s wilderness, a well-stocked kit can provide peace of mind and potentially save lives. Check your kit regularly, update supplies, and stay ready for any situation.

#first aid

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darl-ingfics · 10 months ago

Note

Hello! I loved your Jin fic so much! Would you be willing to write a fic about Jungkookie with a cold? Thank you for sharing your works💕

I'm so glad you liked my last BTS fic! Hopefully this one lives up to your expectations!

Under the Weather

Fandom: BTS

Sickie: Jungkook

Caregiver(s): BTS (a little bit of everyone)

Word Count: 1,480

“We’ve had such a lovely time with you tonight, despite the weather!” Namjoon called over the rain that had, mercifully, started easing up when their ending ment began. He was holding one of the black umbrellas the staff had provided. Of course they couldn’t use them while performing, but this was just talking, and even though they were already soaked through, there was something comforting about escaping the feeling of raindrops hitting his head.

“Maybe in spite of the weather?” Seokjin asked, sharing his umbrella with Jimin, (they’d only found four).

“Perhaps because of the weather?!” Hoseok exclaimed, slipping out from under the umbrella he shared with Jungkook and spinning around in a circle, arms open to the clouds. The crowd roared with laughter.

“I think we’ve weathered this storm pretty well, right?” Seokjin replied, totally enjoying the game.

“And when next we meet, we can decide whether or not it was worth it,” Hoseok played along.

“Hopefully not under the weather,” Jimin added, gesturing towards the sky as the rain began to pour down a bit more heavily.

“Iiit-schew!” Jungkook stumbled back, nearly dropping the umbrella from the force the sneeze. Hoseok and Taehyung immediately started laughing while the maknae looked sheepishly over at Jimin, sending a deadpan glare in his direction. “Sorry!” A yell of ‘don’t get sick!’ rang out from the audience, and Jungkook immediately shook one hand at them, scrambling to right the umbrella with the other. “I’m fine, I’m fine! Bad timing!”

Hoseok rejoined Jungkook under the umbrella. The minute the two made eye contact, they burst out laughing again. They continued to shake with giggles until Hoseok latched onto Jungkook, hugging him from behind, chin resting on the maknae’s shoulder as they listened to the rest of the members’ speeches.

Namjoon narrowed his eyes. There was something about the way that Hoseok was holding onto Jungkook. He had his arms looped around Junkook’s waist, giving off the appearance of leaning on the younger man, but in reality… Hoseok had his feet flat on the stage, while Jungkook’s knees were bent ever so slightly. Hoseok was holding Jungkook up. Which meant… Oh. OH.

Their goodbyes took another ten minutes. As soon as they got off stage, careful not slip on the rain-slicked steps, they were met with applause from their stage crew and towels from the managers. Once they were all off the steps, mics handed dutifully to the sound crew, the group bowed to the team assembled before them.

“Thank you everyone!” Namjoon exclaimed for the group. “We could not have survived tonight without you all. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You guys did FANTASTIC!” their manager said, looking them each in the eye as the rest of the crew dispersed to get things cleaned and packed up. “Get out of those clothes quick; you must be absolutely freezing. Cars will be here in twenty.”

A chorus of “Thanks, hyung!” followed the manager as he dashed off to complete his duties for the evening. Namjoon huddled his members together. “Real quick, then let’s rip these clothes off…”

“Oh, Joonie, right here? How scandalous!” Hoseok joked, hand to his chest. Taehyung shoved him playfully, earning a nod from Namjoon.

“Anyway. I’m so proud of us. We haven’t performed in rain like that in a while, and we handled it like professionals. Now let’s go home and eat!” He put his hand in the middle, and everyone followed suit. “Bangtan, Bangtan, Bangbangtan!”

As everyone began to back away, the leader grabbed Jungkook’s arm. “Hey Kookie, you good? I noticed Hobi holding onto you out there.”

Jungkook nodded. “I’m okay.” He immediately lurched to the side, hands steepled over his face, with a desperate string of sneezes, “Heh-idschiew! It'schiew! Hii’shoo! Heh- heh, aw fuck, HA-aktschew!” Namjoon’s heart broke in that instant. He could feel the rest of the members freezing too, helplessly watching their maknae fall apart.

“Oh baby,” Taehyung muttered, rubbing his friend’s back as Hoseok appeared at his side with tissues. Where he’d found them, no one knew.

“Bless you, bud,” Namjoon said, suspicion beyond piqued at this point. “Did you actually get sick from the rain, Kook?”

The youngest member shook his head. “No, I was sick when I woke up this morning.”

Namjoon’s eyes went wide and Seokjin gasped, “JUNGKOOK! Why didn’t you say something?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Cause I’m an adult and can take care of myself?” He sniffled, a sweatshirt-covered hand swiping at his nose, making him look a bit more like a child than he realized. “I’ve been taking meds all day. And drinking water. All the things you’ve taught me.”

“Well… still,” Seokjin huffed, arms crossing over his chest. “You can tell us when you’re not feeling well.”

“No, cause then you’d all baby me all day…”

“I thought you loved that, though,” Jimin cooed, pinching Jungkook’s cheeks even as the younger man whined at him not too.

“Okay, sometimes I like the attention,” Jungkook amended, finally succeeding in getting Jimin off of him. The older man settled for a back hug, similar to Hoseok while on stage. “But not when we’re performing! That stresses me out!” He coughed into his fist, leaned away from Jimin.

“Okay, okay, message received. We’re being that exactly kind of overbearing he doesn’t want.” Yoongi snapped his fingers, shifting the attention to himself. “Everyone go change before the rest of us get sick too.” He snapped specifically at Jungkook. “And you wash your hands before you touch anything.”

“Better idea: touch all of Yoongi’s things first,” Taehyung added, earning him a slap on the neck from Yoongi. Jimin felt Jungkook laugh as Yoongi continued to chase after Taehyung. He also felt the younger man shivering.

The older vocalist pressed a kiss to Jungkook’s neck. “Come on, babe. Let’s get you warmed up.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jungkook stumbled into the van, not caring which one, and collapsed face down into the first lap he found, which happened to be Seokjin’s. Did he feel better after putting on dry clothes? No, no he did not. But perhaps that had more to do with the preceding three hours in rain, intense dancing, and the fact that the Dayquil was half an hour overdue.

Jungkook didn’t realize he’d likely said parts of this rant out loud until Seokjin laughed, brushing his hand through the younger man’s wet hair. “What are we going to do with you?” he asked.

“We’re gonna go home, take the hottest shower known to man, and then you and your immune system of steel, and anyone else who wants to join, are going to cuddle with me and we’re going to watch movies,” Junkook answered simply, leaving no room for argument.

“Oh, assertive are we?” Hoseok joked from the backseat. His elbows were leaning on the back of the middle row, which meant he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, which Seokjin would have to address as soon as they started moving.

“Hyung, I just performed in the rain for three hours with a cold. Talking hurts, I can’t breathe through my nose, and I’m willingly consenting to staying in bed and not doing anything. I think I can be a little assertive,” Junkook said in reply, sounding terribly pathetic. The puppy eyes looking up through his lashes were certainly pitiful enough to melt Jin’s heart.

“I know, baby, I’m just teasing you.” Hoseok reach forward to pat Jungkook’s cheek, his fingers lingering tenderly for a moment.

“That’s his job,” Seokjin added, earning a smile from the maknae. The driver announced that they had the all clear to leave. Jin nodded, shifting so his back was resting properly against the seat. “Alright, Kook, you gotta sit up and put a seatbelt on. You too, Hobi.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Hoseok added a salute as a flourish to his statement before sliding back into his seat. Jungkook hoisted himself into a sitting position, claiming the middle sit next to Seokjin and melting into his side as soon as his seatbelt was on.

“You know I was going to do it anyway.”

“Huh?” Jungkook scrubbed at his nose with his sleeve, sniffling as he glanced up at Seokjin for clarification.

“Cuddle you and watch movies until you feel better.”

“Yeah,” the maknae replied sleepily, settling back against Jin’s shoulder, his eyes slipping closed.

“Cause I’ll do anything you ask me to.”

“Um-hm.”

“Really. You wouldn’t even have to ask, I’d just do it anyway.”

“Okay.”

“I think you aren’t taking this seriously.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Seokjin said, pecking a soft kiss to his friend’s (thankfully cool) forehead as the car pulled away from the venue, getting them one step closer to home.

“And I love you both three,” Hoseok added from the backseat. Seokjin turned just enough to see him, smiling softly at the rapper already beaming him.

#bts sickfic #bts sick #kpop sickfic #kpop sick #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #sickie jungkook #caretaker BTS #darlingfics #requests

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ceceliabarnes43 · 29 days ago

Text

Time After Time- Eight

Chapter 8

107th Infantry Regiment

1943

The midday sun cast long shadows across the open range, heat shimmering in waves off the packed earth. The sky above stretched wide and cloudless, blindingly blue, while the air clung thick to the skin, dry and stifling, heaving with the scent of gunpowder and sweat. The sharp crack of rifle fire echoes in steady rhythm, a chorus of discipline and determination that pulsed across the training field.

Dust kicked up with every step, clinging to the boots and coating uniforms in a fine layer of grit. Targets stood tall in the distance, marked with fresh holes, some clustered tight in the center, others scattered from nervous hands. The recruits, their brows furrowed and arms tense, moved through warm up motions with rigid focus. But tension hummed beneath the surface, not just from the drills of the unforgiving sun.

Delilah Jackson moved among them like a ghost in steel toed boots, silent, watchful, precise. Her uniform was crisp despite the sweat at her collar, though her coat had been discarded due to the heat, revealing oil smudged forearms and taut muscle from months of command. Her dark braid was pulled tight swaying with each purposeful step, and her gaze was sharp enough to slice steel. She didn't need to raise her voice, her pretense alone demanded obedience.

As she drew closer the men assembled together, standing tall ready at attention. And beside them, he stood.

Bucky Barnes in fitted training gear, sleeves pushed to his elbows, arms crossed, hair tucked under his cap. He looked maddeningly handsome, a little too smug for someone trying to keep things professional. His eyes found hers the moment she stepped into view.

His mouth tugged up in a knowing smile, subtle but devastating.

“Good morning,” she said, voice even, posture sharp. “For those of you I’ve yet to meet, I’m Commander Jackson. You’ll address me as such. I’ve reviewed all of your files, congratulations, you’ve made it into hell.”

A low chuckle from one of the older soldiers. Delilah didn’t even flinch.

“Your training will be rigorous, grueling, and if you don’t listen, dangerous. You follow orders, you’ll earn your place. You speak out of turn,” her eyes flicked briefly to one man from the previous day who had since learned not to test her, “you’ll be picking gravel out of your teeth.”

She paced slowly in front of them, hands behind her back.

Bucky, standing tall at the end of the row, watched her like she was the sun rising. He said nothing, just listened, his face unreadable save for that slight smirk he couldn’t quite hide. His eyes danced with admiration, like he’d never wanted anyone more than he did while watching her own every inch of her command.

But Delilah didn’t glance at him once. Not during her speech. Not during roll call. Not even when she called out commands and led the men through warmups, her voice loud and clear across the yard.

She was a vision, powerful and unbothered. And Bucky was trying very, very hard not to stare too long.

But every so often their eyes would meet, brief, electric flashes that made her breath catch and his smirk widen.

And they’d both look away too quickly.

There was a moment when he jogged past her during laps, close enough for his hand to nearly brush hers. She didn’t flinch, but he caught the twitch in her lips, the smile she tried not to give him. His own chest puffed with pride.

Play it cool, Barnes. Don’t mess this up.

After the third round of push-ups, Bucky settled on the grass with the rest of the men, sweat beading on his neck, breathing hard. Delilah stood a few paces away, barking orders, her boots kicking up dust.

“She’s brutal,” one soldier muttered near Bucky. “Don’t expect her to go easy on you just cause you’re a Sergeant”

Bucky smirked, not looking at him. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Delilah caught the words but didn’t react. Instead, she turned and called out for drills to resume. But her heart did a somersault she wasn’t proud of.

As the sun climbed higher, the field buzzed with movement and commands. Tension lingered between her and Bucky like a slow-building storm, something only they could feel, tightly leashed under layers of discipline.

But every time she looked his way, he was already watching.

The sound of gunfire cracked in steady intervals as the recruits fired round after round, smoke curling from the barrels. Targets stood in the distance, some with clean, precise hits. Others not so much.

Delilah stalked between the men like a ghost in pressed uniform, silent, watchful, merciless. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, dark smudges across her forearms from chalk and oil, her dark braid swinging behind her as she moved.

“Shoulders up, McCarthy. You're not bracing a fishing rod, it's a rifle, not a trout.” McCarthy swallowed hard and adjusted his stance immediately, cheeks reddening beneath the weight of her gaze.

She stopped behind another soldier. “Palmer, that’s your fourth round that missed.” Her voice dropped an octave, quiet but unmistakably stern. Adjust your grip or I’ll adjust it for you.” There was no sarcasm in her tone, just promise.

A few men straightened when she passed. Some dared a glance. Others didnt breathe until she moved on. They learned quickly that Delilah Jackson had no favorites, she didn't flinch, she didn’t waiver. She was fair yet unforgiving. And her standards were carved into the granite, there was no room for mistakes.

And then there was Barnes.

He stood at the far end of the line, as if someone had placed him there on purpose to torment her. Delilah’s pulse kicked the moment her eyes landed on him. Bucky’s stance was perfect, rifle raised, feet planted, jaw set. His body was relaxed but ready, the picture of confidence and control. His sleeves were shoved high up his forearms, muscles taut and gleaming from sweat in the sunlight, a maddening reminder of the man he was beneath the uniform. And when he fired off a round it hit dead-center. Utterly flawless.

Of course it did.

But she wasn’t about to let him get away with smug perfection.

She approached slowly, her boots crunching in the dirt stopping just behind him. “Sergeant Barnes,” Delilah said, coming up behind Bucky.

He didn't flinch, but the corner of his mouth twitched, he’d been waiting for her.

“You’re holding it wrong.” She added, letting just enough amusement color her voice to draw his attention.

Bucky turned his head slightly, his profile sharp and unfairly handsome. “Am I now?”

“You are,” she said, voice stern but eyes dancing. She stepped forward so she was just behind his shoulder, though the top of her cap only came up to his mid back. “Shift your back foot, you're putting too much weight forward. You’re throwing off your center of gravity.”

Bucky's brows were arched and a playful smirk danced across his lips. “Didn't realize you were watching me that closely.”

“I watch everyone, Sergeant,” She replied, but her breath caught slightly when her fingers brushed his arm.

She reached around, guiding his shoulder gently with one hand while nudging his boot with her own. Her fingers settled at his upper back, lightly pressing down. The heat between them surged. Her hands might have moved with purpose, but there was no denying the second too long she let them linger. The feel of him, so solid and warm and familiar, sank beneath her fingernails like an echo she didn’t realize how much she had missed.

“There,” she murmured near his ear, her voice a soft contrast to the harshness of the range. “Proper stance. Wouldn’t want the Sergeant embarrassing himself.”

Bucky turned his head just enough that his lips hovered near her temple. “If you keep whispering sweet nothings in my ear like that, doll,” He said, voice low and dripping with playful hear. “they’re gonna forget we’re out here to shoot.”

Her breath hitched before she caught it, and she forced herself to straighten. She cleared her throat, the sharp and commanding edge returning to her voice. “I’m not whispering anything, Sergeant. I’m giving instructions.”

“Oh, sure. Very instructional,” Bucky replied, raising the rifle again with a glint in his eye. “Your hands on my chest really clarified things.”

She narrowed her eyes, but there was a traitorous smile threatening the corners of her mouth. She hated how easy it was for him. How a single look, a single word, could make her forget where they were, who they were now. “Ten more rounds, Barnes. If I see one miss the center, you’ll be polishing every rifle on base.”

He grinned, welcoming the challenge. “Yes, Commander.”

He fired. Dead center. Again.

She didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting, just spun on her heel and moved on to the next recruit but not before she saw the smug glint in his eyes. As she moved down the line, her heartbeat still thumped against her ribs in double time. The other soldiers faded into noise, background players in the slow, simmering standoff between two people who had danced this dance before.

A dance of stolen glances and unspoken things. Of unfinished stories and hands that knew each other like second skin.

She stopped beside a young recruit and corrected his grip, but her mind wasn’t there. It was back at the end of the line, with James Barnes and that crooked, devastating smirk. With the way his voice had dropped when he called her doll. With the heat of his breath on her temple and the memory of how his lips had tasted just hours before.

God help her, it was going to be a long day.

Hell, it was going to be a long damn week.

And she wasn’t sure how long they would be able to keep playing it cool.

****

By the time the sun dipped low over the training fields, long shadows casted across the dirt as Delilah blew the final whistle.

“Fall out!” Her voice rang clear, sharp as the crack of gunfire.

Boots shuffled, some with relief, others dragging from exhaustion. The air smelled of sweat, grit, and metal. Dust clung to their skin like a second layer, uniforms were streaked with mud from the optical course she had run them through-twice.

Delilah stood at the head of the formation, arms behind her back and expression unreadable. The soldiers watched her with the kind of focus earned only through respect, and a little fear.

“Not bad,” She said, tone clipped but honest. “Some of you managed to stay on your feet today.”

A ripple of laughter rolled through the units, and the corners of her mouth twitched. “You all are dismissed, go eat.”

The men before her broke with collective relief, chattering igniting immediately, inside jokes, friendly jabs, shoulder bumps. Delilah gave a few nods, a couple brief remarks to individuals, but mostly stayed quiet as they dispersed towards the mess hall. She took a slower pace, stretching out a sore shoulder, rotating it with a grimace that faded as quickly as it came.

From across the field, near the edge of a barracks post, Bucky watched her. There was something about the way she was able to shift gears. A fire in her command, then a flicker of something lighter in the aftermath. It wasn’t softness, not exactly, but a looseness, like she gave herself permission to relax only after she knew everyone else was squared away.

She clapped one of the younger privates on the shoulder as he passed, muttering something that made him grin and stumble off red faced. Then she let out a tired breath and finally turned toward the mess hall herself, rolling up her sleeves as she went.

Bucky didn’t follow right away. He stood there a moment watching the dust settle where she’d stood. He told himself it was just curiosity. But even he didn't believe that anymore.

****

The mess hall smelled like burnt coffee and overcooked stew. Fluorescent lights flickered above, casting a harsh glare over the long rows of dented metal tables. Soldiers lined up their trays, boots scraping against the worn concrete floor, voices murmuring over each other in low, tired tones. Outside, night was officially starting to fall, the horizon soaked in dark amber, but inside the mess, the world remained stiff and colorless.

Delilah stood near the front of the chow line, arms crossed watching the food ladled with a slosh into trays. Her uniform clung with the day's sweat, the edges of her sleeves stained with dirt from the afternoon drills. She hadn’t eaten since before sunrise.

Behind her a couple of soldiers traded quiet jokes. One of the privates, Thompson, leaned over and whispered something to Milner that made the other snort into his elbow. Delilah glanced back, narrowing her eyes just enough to draw a sheepish look from both of them.

“Something funny?” She asked, voice dry but teasing.

Thompson held up his hands, “Just admiring the, um, texture of the potatoes commander”

“Oh is that what we're calling it now?”

A ripple of laughter spread down the line. A few heads turned, even the mess hall staff paused in their robotic scooping. Delilah's smirk flickered as she grabbed a tray and moved forward.

Milner stepped aside, gesturing grandly. “After you, Commander. Wouldn’t want to disrespect a lady.”

Delilah raised a brow. “Good. Because I’d hate to remind you I outrank you and run faster.”

That earned more laughter. Not the polite kind either, real, easy amusement that spread like warmth in the chill hall. It wasn’t often she allowed herself moments like these, but after a long day of bruised egos and barked commands, she could afford a sliver of ease.

She found herself sitting in the corner, back to the wall, eyes toward the door. It was a habit, a leftover need for awareness that hadn’t dulled with time. She let her tray clatter down and sat, flexing her sore fingers around the metal fork. The stew looked like it had already been digested once.

A few of the younger recruits gathered around her table. “Ma’am, permission to sit?” One of them asked, clutching his tray like it might vanish.

Delilah tilted her head. “Of course.”

The kid grinned, sliding in beside her. Milner followed, and soon the once quiet corner was filled with grinning soldiers. Elbows nudged each other and stories started. Delilah leaned back with her arms folded and let the chaos swirl, just enough to feel human again.

From across the room, James Barnes watched it all. She looked different under the mess hall lights. Softer. That military edge dulled by the shadows that hugged her jawline and the way her eyes moved with careful calculation. Even exhausted, she looked like something out of one of those dreams that still came to him in the quiet hours.

He sat with his own group, though his tray remained mostly untouched. The men around him chatted, griping about the food or speculating on the next set of orders, but Bucky wasn’t listening. His eyes never left the woman in the corner.

She laughed at something one of her fellow soldiers said, actually laughed, and the sound lifted across the rowdy mess hall like smoke curling toward a fire alarm. It didn't belong here, not in a place like this. It was too clean. Too alive.

It stopped him cold.

She was different when she laughed like that. The edge dulled a little bit. That sharp, polished exterior melted into something warmer, something that made his chest ache.

Delilah reached across the table to flick a grasp at Milner, who pretended to be horrified. She leaned into the table as another soldier shared a story, her hand curling under her chin as she listened with intent, a grin tugging at her pink painted lips. Bucky didn't even try to hide it, he watched her like he was remembering how to breathe.

The Sergeant beside him nudged him with a stale roll, “You staring?”

Bucky didn't look away, “Just admiring.”

“Oh,” The other Sergeant teased, grinning as he followed Bucky’s eyeline to a laughing Commander. “I’ll admire with you then.”

Bucky elbowed the man beside him, the roll in his hand clattering to the floor. “Shut up, Wilkerson.” His smile betrayed him though just as Delilah finally looked up and caught his gaze from across the room.

She didn’t react at first, just raised her brow, calm as ever. Bucky lifted his cup in a half-salute. Like he was toasting her. Letting her know he saw her. Then, like a subtle secret just between them, she let her lips curl upward in a slow, knowing smile.

But it was over as quickly as the moment had happened, she was rolling her eyes, turning back to her meal as she dove back into conversation.

Bucky stood, slow and easy, the scrape of his chair pulling her attention once more. He grabbed his tray, gave her a subtle nod, and walked out into the hall into the crisp air of nightfall. Delilah watched the door swing shut behind him.

Her fingers brushed the edge of her locket, just once.

With a small murmur of ‘excuse me’ she found herself rising from her chair herself. Following Bucky’s leave of absence.

****

Dellilah stepped onto the porch of her cabin, the wood creaking faintly under her boots. The evening chill had settled in, clinging to the air like whisper of the winter to come. Her muscles ached pleasantly from the days training, her hair pulled back messily, a few smears of dirt cleaning to her cheek. It had been a hard day but a good one.

She was reaching for the door handle when-

“Hey.” A voice, low, familiar, and dangerous in all the right ways called out. Before she could turn strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her clean off the ground.

“James!” She scolded, caught between surprise and delight as he spun her once, her heeled feet dangling above the wooden steps. He held her steady, nose brushing her temple as a soft laugh escaped her throat.

“I told you, I’m already an outcast with the barracks,” She said between gasps, “I don’t need rumors spreading that I’m sleeping with my Sergeant.”

“Are they rumors if they’re true?” He muttered into the curve of her neck, lips grazing the soft skin.

She smacked his shoulder in mock offense. “James Buchanan Barnes, that was a different world. “

Bucky grinned, setting her down gently, his gloved hands still lingering at her hips. “Relax, doll. I’m here on official business,” He said with exaggerated seriousness, straightening his collar. “Gotta inspect the commander's quarters. Make sure they’re suitable for such a fine lady.” He gently took her hand pressing a lingering kiss to the pulse of her wrist.

Delilah rolled her eyes, but she didn't stop him as he followed her inside. “You’re a dog, Barnes.”

Her cabin was modest, but warm. A small desk stacked with files and reports and a single book on the nightstand with the title ‘The Hobbit’ in big bolded letters.

“Nice place,” He murmured, slipping his gloves off and setting them on the table. “Private. Quiet. Very inspectable.”

Lila raised an eyebrow, “You done yet?”

“Almost,” Bucky smirked, then glanced over at her. “You gonna offer your favorite soldier some coffee or what?”

They fell into easy conversation, voices soft under the dim light. Lila began to brew some coffee for Bucky who was making himself comfortable in her chair with his legs stretched out, watching her like he was trying to soak her in.

“So,” she said eventually, sliding a mug across the table towards him. “Why did you never write?”

Bucky’s fingers curled around the mug, he didn't answer right away.

“And why,” she added, a little softer now, “did you leave that morning before I woke?”

He exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “Lila…”

“I’m not mad,” she stated quickly, though her voice trembled slightly. “Just wondering.”

“I didnt want it to hurt worse,” he finally admitted. “Saying goodbye to your face? That would’ve wrecked me. I figured if I left before you opened your eyes, maybe you’d forget it all felt so real.”

She swallowed hard. “But it was real, James.”

“I know,” His voice broke a little. “That’s what scared me.”

There was a long pause. Then she walked over and sat on the edge beside him.

“You’re not allowed to do that again,” She whispered.

“I won’t.”

Their hands found each other, fingers weaving like muscle memory. He brought hers to his lips, kissing her knuckles one by one.

“I missed you every damn day,” he said. “And not just the idea of you. I missed you, Lila. The way you argue when you’re tired. The way you hum when you’re focused. The way you never let me brood for too long before calling me out.”

He glanced down at her, expression raw in his icy blue eyes. “Some nights out there, I’d close my eyes and swear I could still feel you next to me, only to wake up to cold dirt and silence. Leaving you that morning tore something out of me. I kept looking over my shoulder for days like a damn fool, thinking you might be behind me.”

He shook his head slightly, his voice roughening. “We only had a couple nights out beforehand and then that last amazing night,” He squeezed her hand tighter and her cheeks flushed as memories of their last night danced inside her mind. ‘It shouldn’t have meant so much so fast, but it did Lila. But time doesn’t when it's the right person. I knew it even then, walking away from that, from you, was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Delilah's eyes glistened but he wasn’t done yet. Here he was before her, pouring every last month of unspoken words into this moment. Making up for lost time and the lack of written letters.

“You better have missed me,” She whispered, reaching out a delicate hand to brush his cheek. “Because I missed you in ways I didn't think were possible.”

He smiled, tired and tender. “That note I left,” he said softly. “I carry your heart with me, always.” Her hand went to her chest, over the locket, over the place that had ached every morning he wasn't there.

In that tiny, quiet room tucked away on base, they sat there for a long time. No uniforms, no titles, just Lila and James, letting the world fall away again until it was only them.

Bucky made himself at home, his uniform jacket now discarded and draped over the back of her chair, boots resting beside the door. Outside, the wind stirred the trees, but inside time had slowed. Delilah tucked her legs beneath her on the bed sipping from her coffee while Bucky now leaned lazily against the frame, watching her with that boyish half smile that made her forget every harsh word she'd endured that week.

He tilted his head, eyes warm, “So, Commander Jackson.” His tone was teasing now, yet still gentle. “How has training been? How have the men treated you?”

Delilah's smirk dropped a little, replaced by a flicker of exhaustion she rarely showed anyone. “It’s been a lot,” She admitted, tracing her thumb around the rim of her mug. “The older ones, the ones who’ve been here a while, they’ve learned to follow orders, even if they don’t like them coming from a woman.”

She met his gaze. “But the new recruits? Your unit?” Her lips pressed together. “They’ve been difficult. Lots of remarks, stares, testing boundaries. You saw it.”

His jaw ticked, eyes narrowing at the memory.

“I’m used to holding my own,” she added quickly “but I’d be lying if I said it didn't get under my skin sometimes.”

Bucky set his cup down with a soft clink, “You’ve always had more fight in you than anyone I know.”

She gave him a small, grateful smile, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “What about you?” She asked, shifting a little closer. “Where have you been Sergeant Barnes? What mission had you gone off to with no letter, no word?” Her voice was teasing but his eyes dropped for a second, gathering his thoughts.

“It wasn't anything glamorous,” he said finally. “Reconnaissance mostly. Out in the mountains, moving town from town. Cold, long, quiet. Some nights I’d sit by the fire and wonder if you were thinking about me as much as I did you.”

Delilah's eyes softened, “I did. Every day.”

“I had to keep telling myself that,” he said, reaching across to brush her hand once more. They sat in silence for a moment, just looking at one another, a shared relief passing between them like an unspoken promise. Despite the ticking clock of war, they had each other again.

“You know,” Bucky said with a crooked grin, reaching out to tug her closer. “I never pictured my first night back would be this good.”

Delilah smiled, “That’s because you didn't picture yourself sneaking into the Commanders cabin trying not to get caught.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss against her jaw. “Worth the risk.”

The hour had grown late, the candle Delilah had lit earlier now reduced to a low, flickering stub. The quiet hum of the base had settled into silence outside her window, as Bucky and Lila sat on the edge of her bed, knees lightly touching. But her eyes kept flickering to the clock, the tightness in her chest had nothing to do with nerves this time.

“You know you can stay,” she said softly, turning to look at the man beside her who sighed, tipping his head back.

“I know” he muttered, “doesn’t mean I like it.”

“I don’t either,” she admitted, rising from the bed to stand in front of him. Her fingers found the hem of his sleeve, gently fidgeting with it. “It's just…if someone saw you leaving here in the morning…”

”It would be hell for you,” He cut her off, his tone more serious now. “I get it Lila, the last thing I want is to screw this up for you.”

Delilah could only manage a nod, anything else might betray how much she hated sending him away.

Bucky stood, bushing a kiss to her forehead first though his lips lingered there for a second longer than necessary before he cupped her face with both hands. His hands were rough and calloused against her soft skin but they spread warmth all throughout her body. His eyes were scanning her face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

“You’re the strongest person I know,” He said quietly. “But I‘ll still knock anyone flat who so much as looks at you wrong.”

She laughed even as she blinked fast. “Go,” she whispered, nudging him towards the door. “Before I change my mind.”

He opened the door and paused, casting one last look at her over his shoulder. “Goodnight, Commander.”

“Goodnight, Sergeant,” She said with a smile that felt too small for how full her chest was.

The door clicked shut behind him, yet Delilah stood still, her hand resting on the handle. Then, with a soft, breathless sigh, she leaned her back against the door and pressed her palm flat over her fluttering heart. The smallest, girly giggle escaping her lips. She didn't let herself get like this, not ever. But James Buchanan Barnes had a way of making her feel like she was still a school girl back in London.

He was here.

The weight of that joy settled somewhere deep in her chest, keeping her warm even after the room grew colder without him in it. She moved to her small vanity, brushing out her hair absently, but her thoughts weren’t on her reflection. They were on the man who had just bid her goodnight. That crooked smile. The way he said her name like it was something sweet. As Delilah climbed into bed, the blankets cool at first but not unpleasant, she rolled onto her side, fingers toying with the locket.

For the first time in a long time, sleep found her easily.

****

End Chapter Eight

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sngl-led-auto-lights · 23 days ago

Text

Why does one side of my car's headlights always blow out?

Recurring failure of a headlight on only one side of your car typically signals an isolated electrical, environmental, or mechanical issue affecting that specific circuit. Here’s a step-by-step guide to diagnose and fix the problem:

Common Causes & Solutions Vibration Damage (Most Common)

Why: Rough roads or engine vibrations fatigue the filament in halogen bulbs. The side closer to the engine (e.g., driver’s side in LHD cars) often fails first.

Fix:

Install vibration-resistant bulbs (e.g., Philips XtremeVision, SNGL).

Add anti-vibration pads to the headlight assembly. Moisture Intrusion

Why: A cracked lens, bad seal, or missing dust cap lets condensation corrode contacts or cause thermal shock.

Fix:

Inspect for cracks/haze; reseal with butyl tape or replace the housing.

Use silica gel packs inside the headlight to absorb moisture. Poor Ground Connection

Why: Corroded/loose ground wires cause voltage fluctuations, overheating the bulb.

Fix:

Locate the ground point (near headlight or on chassis).

Clean corrosion with a wire brush, apply dielectric grease, and tighten. Voltage Spikes or Drops

Why: A failing alternator, bad voltage regulator, or weak battery sends uneven power.

Test: Use a multimeter to check voltage at the bulb socket (engine running):

Normal: 13.5–14.5V.

Problem: <12V (wiring issue) or >15V (alternator failure). Damaged Socket or Wiring

Why: Melted/burnt sockets or frayed wires restrict current flow, causing overheating.

Fix:

Replace the socket/harness.

Apply dielectric grease to contacts to prevent corrosion. Faulty Relay or Switch

Why: A failing headlight relay can send erratic power to one side.

Test: Swap the left/right relays (if separate) to see if the problem moves.

Diagnostic Checklist Swap the Bulbs

Move the "good" bulb to the problematic side. If it blows, the bulb isn’t at fault. Check Voltage at the Socket

Test with a multimeter while the headlight is on (ideal: 12–14.5V). Inspect for Moisture

Look for condensation, water droplets, or green corrosion on contacts. Examine the Fuse

Some cars have separate fuses per side; replace even if it looks intact.

Prevention Tips Always replace bulbs in pairs to ensure even performance.

Upgrade to LEDs: More vibration/voltage-tolerant (ensure CANBUS compatibility).

Install a relay harness: Bypasses factory wiring for stable power (e.g., Putco 240008).

Avoid touching halogen bulbs: Skin oils create hotspots that shorten lifespan.

When to See a Mechanic If basic fixes fail, suspect: A short circuit in the wiring harness.

Faulty body control module (BCM).

Parasitic drain overloading the circuit.

⚠️ Ignoring this can lead to:

Repeated bulb replacements ($).

Electrical fires from overheated wires.

Failed safety inspections.

Pro Tip: For recurring issues, a $50 professional electrical diagnostic can save hundreds in guesswork. Most problems stem from grounding faults or voltage irregularities—address these first! 🔧🔦

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hausofmamadas · 10 months ago

Text

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies

Part 2

⁂

Pairing: Danny Lyon x Kathy Cross

Word count: ≈ 4K

TWs: Allusions to infidelity, love triangles, flirting, angst. (ꔘ) indicates this comes directly from dialogue in the movie.

But whatever it is, it feels important. Like you’d regret it slipping through your fingers. So important, you don’t wanna blink. Cause when you open your eyes again it’ll be gone. Picking up right after part one (read -> here to catch up), at the bar the same night, Danny loses focus on the meeting when he gets a surprise visit from Kathy.

⁂ The ash on his joint’s nearly a half inch long when Cal’s hand waves in front of Danny’s face, knocking it off to scatter onto the barroom floor.

“Earth to Danny, come in Danny.”

“What? Oh, sorry.”

Not only has Danny barely taken a puff of his joint but Frankie was long gone, replaced in front of him now by Cal who’s made his way over from the pool tables to ask for a drag, a request to which Danny has been apparently nonverbal. Yup, too lost in the soup upstairs and now he’s second-guessing this joint he hasn’t even really smoked. Maybe he is more toasted than he thought.

“Need me to take that bud off your hands, bud?” An impeccably-timed Cal speaks to these fears. “Looks like you might’ve had one too many.”

Handing the joint over to Cal gladly, Danny cracks a smile, a real one, “Sure thing, gramps,” because for all his oddities Cal’s the only one of them that feels real and not like a character in a dream he can never fully remember. Besides Kath. “Say, remind me again, what time’s curfew? Don’t wanna be late for supper after all.”

“Well, now,” Cal tips a hat that’s not there, affecting the voice of an old southern grandpaw, “I’d certainly say by sundown, sonny.”

“The fuck’re you two doofs on about?” Brucie, characteristically cranky, looks up from his newspaper, face all pinched like he’s not here for their shenanigans. Which is funny considering the general company he keeps. If shenanigans were an occupation, every one of them including Danny would be bonafide professionals.

Cal leans over to pat him on the shoulder, “Now, now, Brucie, this is a family matter,” before taking his seat at one of the tables.

“Just my fuckin luck.” Brucie rolls his eyes like it’s just Cal being Cal, which it is, “Coupla comedians over here,” and tosses his newspaper on the bar before swiveling his stool around to address the group assembled at the tables. “Alright, alright, ladies. Pipe down, meetin’ll start in about five minutes.”

Danny snags a few crowd photos while everyone’s distracted. These usually turn out to be his favorite, catching people when they think no one’s looking because usually no one is. Scanning the room for another shot, Danny can’t help but shake his head at all the non club-affiliated patrons packed at the front of the bar by the pool tables because he’s yet to figure out why some of the meetings are conducted during business hours. This is made even more baffling given some of their other meetings were held off-hours when the Stoplight was closed and there was less noise. So it seemed no one was opposed to the idea. Why not just have them all then?

Danny grabs his pencil from where it perpetually sits behind his ear and a little notepad from his vest pocket, jotting down to ask Brucie or Kathy, the two most likely to give him a reliable answer, about it later.

“S’at my name I see you writin there? What could you be writin about silly ‘ole me, I wonder?”

“Oh shi– uh, he– hiya, Kath,” Danny jumps right out his shoes, practically three feet in the air, his voice almost as high. “I, uh, didn’t think you’d be comin tonight.”

“Yeah, well my car’s busted, so’s I had to get Benny to pick me up from work and he said he could only do it if we stopped here first ‘fore goin home.”

Danny offers his sincerest condolences with a nod and shrug.

“Boy, I am glad yer here though, I’m tellin ya,” she says, grabbing a piece of gum from her purse and popping it in her mouth. “Nice to have someone’a talk to ‘sides just dese wahoos.”

“Oh yeah? Well, uh,” searching the congregation through the cigarette smoke that’s filling the fiberglass shields around the fluorescents so it looks like everyone’s moving in a tank of dusty water, Danny spots a sleek crop of honey blonde hair seated up front and off to the side, “what about Benny?”

She waves her hand. “Please. You know better ‘an anybody, dat boy don’t talk. And I love him to death but he’s a wahoo, same’s any of ‘em. But hey, who says you can’t love a wahoo.”

“Not me,” Danny agrees, smirking privately to himself, as was the custom these days any time he talked to Kathy about well, pretty much anything. Given so many opportunities to practice, he’s become well-versed in trying not to look like he’s enjoying himself as much as he is. See, it’d be a problem if it was a problem. But it’s not. Not at all.

Bringing his camera up to snap a picture of the group gathered around Johnny, he can’t help but chuckle at how it looks like a scattered Sunday night mass if mass was held in the smokestack of a hay bale on fire. A hay bale with billiard tables and a jukebox.

Kathy leans over wanting in on the joke, “What’s so funny over dere?”

“Ah, it’s noth– it’s ju– well, it’s hard to explain.”

“Sheesh.” She shoots him a look that would’ve been withering were it not for the smile on her lips and in her eyes. “You been hangin ‘round Benny too much. I swear one’a these days, you’ll go quiet on me yet.”

“C’mon, you know I’d never,” Danny says, smiling so much he’s struggling to line his eye back up with the viewfinder.

“Oh, does’at mean you’re like me, then, huh? Not enough, whats’a word–” She snaps her fingers in an attempt to summon it, which she does. “Discipline. Not enough discipline to be dat stoic.”

“It’s not that so much as,” he flashes a cheeky grin, “I’m just not cut out for that kinda commitment.”

“Y’know,” Kathy crosses her arms, shakes her head, and just to have something to do, starts kicking the leg of the unoccupied barstool in front of her. “I used to think you Brooklyn boys were aaall trouble. Just– y’know, on account of all’sa movies I seen, right. Buncha meatheads, mobsters, criminals n’ such. But you Danny Lyon, you’re just a doll, aren’t ya?”

“Am I?” The blood’s warming his cheeks already and he falls back on some well-worn sarcasm to save face. “Well, don’t go blowin my cover or these guys’ll boot me out on the street and I’ll have nothing to show for the last six months.”

Smiling, she drags her thumb and her forefinger across her lips, locks and throws away the key.

Danny turns his attention back to the meeting that’s started, trying to make like he’s been industriously picking out shots and listening. Not that it mattered if he wasn’t. His club membership was little more than ceremonial, a kid’s costume. Sure, he had colors now and his own bike, a junker Cal chopped together because he got sick of Danny piggy backing on his all the time. He joked about it when he gifted it to Danny. Much as it’s been a treat chauffeurin you around, if we do it much longer people’ll start to think we’re going steady. Now, I’m all for broadening your horizons but I’d hate to be the one to compromise your journalistic integrity, y’know, being with a respectable lady like myself.

But neither of those things made him integral to the day-to-day goings on of the club. Although tonight they’re talking about whether to approve the formation of a St. Louis chapter, so it’s more than the usual shop talk, even if the answer is a likely yes since Johnny’d already given the go-ahead to Milwaukee last year. Kathy had told him a guy named Fat Jack, or Big Jack, or Big Fat Jack(ꔘ) had to battle it out with Johnny for that one. Whether that’d be the price of admission for St. Louis remained to be seen.

“Say, I gotta question.” Kathy makes a move to claim Danny’s undivided attention again, the subject of an apparent tug-of-war between herself and the club. “I been wonderin, how d’you know when to take the picture?”

She’s yet to win that war on the Benny front but she’s well ahead on this one, what with Danny all-too-happily taking the bait. “Hm? What d’you mean?”

“Y’know like how d’ya know what’s gonna make a good photo? And do they all come out lookin how they look when you’re peekin,” Kathy points her index finger, retracting and extending it a few times at the viewfinder, “through that thing, er what?”

The camera in his hands comes down slow with the steadiness of an elevator dropping from floor to floor and he fidgets with the camera strap like he’s uncomfortable with the question. He might be. There’s something intimate about it. What’s more though is he doesn’t have a great answer. There’s no easy way to summarize what he’s devoted the last seven-some-odd years perfecting. The even more embarrassing part is that he’s never really given it a lot of thought. Not conscious thought, at least. He just sorta knows. But that seems like a cop out somehow and he doesn’t want to give her that kind of answer. Because nothing’s worse than questions met with answers that don’t really answer anything at all.

“Heck, I didn’t expect that to be such a stumper.”

“Oh–?” Danny snaps to, summoning a gentle smile to reassure her the dead air response isn’t because he’s bent out of shape about it. “Oh, no. I don’t– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to– it’s just, to tell you the truth, it’s not something I think about.”

“Well now,” she elbows him lightly, “I find that hard to believe.”

“I guess– well, do you mean in a technical sense, as in how do I frame a shot? Or how do I find something I wanna take a picture of in the first place?”

“Mmm, the second one,” Kathy chuckles. “I think.”

Thumbing the advance lever, Danny’s gaze is now stuck on all the club members seated in front of them, “Hmm, well–” trying to find a way to break down what’s been, for all these years, as good as muscle memory. “I guess it’s a gut feeling more than anything. Like if you’ve ever been in the middle of somethin– the thick of a scene, and then stopped a second to look around, right?”

Eyes narrowed like she’s thinking intently on what he’s saying, Kathy bobs her head up and down.

“And something about it– doesn’t even have to be anything grand, y’know. Might just be, you like the lighting. Or the gestures people are makin, having a conversation. Or the look on someone’s face when they’re concentratin on something. But whatever it is, it feels important. Like you’d regret it slipping through your fingers. So important, you don’t wanna blink. Cause when you open your eyes again it’ll be gone. Not gone gone, y’know, just arranged a little different than it was, right. Cause the moment’s different. And you wish you could sustain it somehow, bottle it like a ship so you can see it any time you want. What it feels, looks like, sounds like. I guess– well yeah, anyway.” Danny’s voice drifts off with the smoke and the bar chatter and the music from the jukebox. “When I get to feelin like that, that’s how I know.”

“Wow.” The word tumbles out slow and for a second, it rings out like she’s the only person speaking in the whole bar before getting swallowed back up in the cacophony. “Seems like a lot for somethin you claim ya never thought about.”

Danny’s mouth twists off to the side in a self-effacing smirk and he hangs his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well alright then, Mr. Poet, so what’s so special ‘bout all’a this,” Kathy sidles up closer to him, gesturing in front of them, hand limp at the end of her wrist like she can’t be bothered. “What could be so important here?”

Head swiveling from Kathy, to the meeting, then back to Kathy, Danny gets an idea. He ducks, lifting the camera strap over his neck and hands it to her. She meets this with a blank look like he’s just presented her a dead fish.

“C’mon, set your bag down,” Danny laughs. “I’ll show ya.”

There’s a reserved smile as she uncrosses her arms, slides her purse off her shoulder, flopping it on the table next to them, and holds her hands out to accept the camera with some hesitation. “How’m I gonna know if I’m holdin it right? I don’t wanna drop it. Then you’ll really have a reason to not talk to me.”

“Well, you’re in luck cause,” Danny holds the strap open like he’s awarding her an Olympic medal, “that’s what this is for.”

She grabs the camera to keep it from swinging too much as he guides the strap over her head and lays it gently around her neck. “Gosh, this is heavier’n it looks.” Once it’s on, she starts pulling her hair out from underneath it.

Danny shrugs, “Guess I’m used to it,” helping to smooth the collar of her denim jacket that’s gotten flipped up, thanks to the weight of the camera. Then he turns back to the group, waving her over to stand in front of him. “Alright, so what feels important about this. Or I dunno, what I like, I guess, is–”

Kathy keeps glancing back at him over her shoulder as she steps in front, hanging on every word like she might miss something crucial.

“–is the lighting here.” From behind her, Danny gestures at the camera. “Go ahead, take a look. See how smoky this part of the bar is, how it’s accumulating under the hoods of the fixtures, reflectin the light? But then all the space in between is real dark, right. S’cool, I was thinkin it looked like a buncha little lightning storms over everyone’s heads.”

“Oh yeah,” he can hear the smile in her voice, “lookit that. Could be like lil’ lighthouses, them.”

“Go ahead, take a couple.”

“What, me?” She’s incredulous and he could kick and drag himself across the pavement on the street right outside for thinking it’s as adorable as it is. “Didn’t you just take some?”

“Sure, but people have shifted around in their chairs, the smoke’s hangin a little differently now. Could be your shot’s better than mine. Go for it.”

“Huh, alright. So what do I do. Press this here, den?” Her finger taps the shutter button.

“Yup, press that and then–“ he reaches over her shoulder to place her thumb on the advance lever, “pull this. Yeah, press, then pull. Just like that.”

Stifling a giggle of pure joy so as not to disrupt the meeting, she nabs a few photos, “Say, this is a gas. I see why you wanna do this all’a time,” before breaking away to note with some skepticism, “the chattin, though. Y’know, with the microphone an’ tape deck ya cart around practically half yer size. That, not so much.”

“Really?” Danny says, sticking his hands in the pockets of his vest because without a camera, he doesn’t really know what to do with them. “See, I would’ve thought that’d be your favorite part.”

“Oh? Why’s dat?”

“Cause you sure like talkin.”

Conceding with a wry smile to cushion the blow of the accompanying eyeroll, she turns back to snap a couple more.

At the front of the assembly Benny tips his chair to lean on the back legs, his head hanging over the top rail, cigarette dangling from his mouth, looking bored yet untroubled in his boredom, when he spots Kathy with the camera.

“Please tell me you’re gonna get–”

A click sound answers Danny’s question before he can finish asking as Kathy pulls the lever to take another one. “Aaaaalready on it, Mr. Lyon. Dontcha worry.”

There’s no possible way he can hear them over the noise, but Benny, in a stroke of luck or genius or divine intervention, winks at Kath, baiting her to take another one because he knows it’ll make for a better shot. This time Danny doesn’t even have to open his mouth because Kathy’s finger beats him to the punch. Click.

“See. Told ya, yours could turn out better than mine.”

Kathy turns back around, face lit with a smile so bright, one he’s not sure he’s seen since in months, not since their first interview at the laundromat. “Boy, you weren’t kiddin none, I’ll tell ya,” she says, pulling the strap over her head to return the camera tentatively like she might be sad to part with it. “Hey, maybe one’a these days I’ll have yer job, huh?”

“Look at you,” Danny accepts the camera, as she passes it back with one hand and smoothes her hair with the other, “masterminding my retirement. If I were any wiser, I might think you were tryin to get rid of me. And after all that back-n-forth about me not talkin to ya.”

Her eyes get real wide. “Oh, I don’t think so, mister.” Even as she’s laughing while she says it, she’s also gripping Danny’s arm, holding him in place before he might get the chance to dissolve before her, float right up to the ceiling fans, and diffuse into the air completely. “I take it back, ya hear me, I take it back!”

But he’s got her on the hook now, “You sure?” so he keeps going, “I mean, I know where the door is, I can always just–” skipping his index and middle fingers to the front of the bar, a sneak preview of his supposed exit.

“So help me,” hand on her hip, Kathy wags her finger at him, eyebrows halfway up her forehead, “Dann– Daniel Llll-Louis Lyon, if you go anywhere–”

“Louis??” Danny starts cracking up so hard, he nearly drops the camera. “Who’s Louis?? That’s not even my middle name!”

She smiles, all cat that caught the canary. “Oh, I know. But it sounds scarier, don’t it? Y’know put the fear’a God in ya. An’ all that.”

Still laughing, “Sure,” Danny mimes the sign of the cross, shoulders shaking on every beat of Father, Son, Holy Ghost. “Put the fear of I-don’t-know-what, anyway.”

The sound of chair legs screeching across the checkered tile floor marks the end of the meeting and Danny hasn’t been paying a lick of attention. He'll have to ask Cal about the club’s verdict on St. Louis later, or else eavesdrop on Brucie and Johnny in one of their many little barside confabs of mumbles and grumbles. When Benny starts making his way back to them slowly, taking his time as he stops to shake a couple guys’ hands, loans a cigarette to another who’d run out, Danny starts to sweat, suddenly all too aware that Kathy’s hand has slid down his forearm and is holding his wrist now.

“Heya, Kath?”

“Huh?” she says, absently, smiling at Benny from across the room.

“You uh– you out to take hostages, here? Or—?”

“What’s ‘at, now?”

Danny gestures at his wrist with an index finger.

“Oh lord, I’m sorry.” She shakes her head and drops her hand, taking a step back toward the table where she’d set down her purse. “Silly me.”

His eyes dart over to Benny to see if he’d noticed the exchange but he’s too busy dodging a conversational trap with Cockroach, gearing up, no doubt, to regale him with some loony story. Probably waxing poetic about bugs. The tension in Danny’s shoulders melts away as he sighs pure relief. By the time Benny makes it over to them, Kathy’s got her purse back on her shoulder and her hands in her pockets like she and Danny are less than strangers, just making small talk.

A tender kiss lands on her cheek as Benny slings an arm over her shoulder. “So? The kid’s teachin’ camera classes now?”

It should bother Danny, Benny calling him ‘kid’ given the two of them are pretty close in age. But for some reason, coming from Benny he doesn’t mind. “Wasn’t much teachin to speak of. You won’t believe the coupla ace photos she took.”

Benny’s brows scrunch together like he’s already forgotten his own role in staging the perfect shot.

“Yeah, she’s regular Cam-Jam over here. Caught two of you when you were leaning back in the chair. I’d put money on ‘em bein the best of this roll.”

“Beg yer parden? Cam-Jam? Don’t go pokin fun at me just cause yer envious’a my natural talent.”

Danny laughs. “Nonono, it’s a compliment. Means you’re jammy with the camera. I used to get called it back in college. It’s kinda like, uh— what d’ya call— beginner’s luck. Only your luck don’t run out.”

“Hear that, babe.” Benny kisses Kathy on the nose and she giggles, playfully swatting him away, an exchange so tender and sweet it actually smarts. “Think he’s sayin you got ‘the eye.’”

“Yeah.” Danny lights up with recognition. “Exactly right.”

“Ah, so yer sayin I gotta future in this business of yers. Well okay, whats’a next lesson, Mr. Poet-Professor-Danny?”

“Hmm. I’ll have to go over the curriculum and get back to ya on that.”

Fishing around for a cigarette in his jacket pocket, Benny’s got that far away look in his eye like they’ve already lost him. Which makes it all the more surprising when he opts to prolong the conversation by asking Danny, “So, St. Louis?”

“Uh, yeah.” Having found the cigarette but looking lost for his lighter, Danny flicks his own out to light Benny’s smoke, remarking cautiously, “So Johnny’s gonna do like they did with Milwaukee.”

It’s statement enough to sound like an answer to the question but question enough that Benny still has to confirm. Danny wouldn’t have to ask Cal what happened in the meeting after all.

“Mm-hm. Probly go the same way but–” Benny looks over, blowing a funnel of smoke in the direction of Johnny. “They got heart to show first. So, you in?”

“Goin down this weekend?”

Benny nods.

“Mm, guess it depends.”

“What,” arm still over her shoulder, Benny uses it to give Kathy a little jostle, “need Ms. Cam-Jam to help with your book report?”

“Nah, it’s more, I was actually wonderin—”

Brows scrunched again, the closest Benny ever comes to looking confused is just Marlon Brando.

“—how likely you are to put your fist through another car window,” Danny says, grinning.

Rolling her eyes, Kathy pops the gum in her mouth with manifest disapproval.

“Mm,” Benny appraises the odds, ignoring all five-feet, four-inches of reproach brewing right next to him, “likely as any other day.”

“In that case, ‘course I’m in.”

“Oh not you too, Danny.” Kathy smacks him in the shoulder before crossing her arms. “You know he don’t need any more encouragement, getting inna trouble. I thought you were s’posed t’be the grown up in the room.”

Benny’s quick to Danny’s defense. “S’okay, hun. I’ll have him back in time for camera class.”

So Danny tacks on, “Yeah, and I’ll have him back in one piece for– I dunno, detention.”

Looking at both of them like she could bonk their heads together right there, Kathy just sighs. “I’ll say, if this isn’t the most cracked school I ever heard of, lemme tell ya.”

“Hey,” hit with some kind of revelation, Benny snaps to, almost animated - or animated as Benny gets, “how long’s it take to make the pictures… y’know, pictures?”

“Not long. I’ll probably develop these when I get home tonight, maybe tomorrow mornin. Why?”

“Next time you stop by the house, bring the ones our girl here took.”

“If they turn out to be any good,” Kathy mumbles, blushing.

“I don’t need to develop ‘em to know they’re good. I mean, there’s always a chance the film got overexposed or I s’pose I could fuck up developin them. But, barring major snafus, those ones’ll be printworthy.”

“Yeah? I hope so. Aright, c’mon Benny, take me home. My feet’re achin somethin awful n’ I been lookin forward all day to dat pint of mint chocolate chip we got inna freezer.”

Eyes cast off in the direction of the door, Benny plants a kiss of compliance on her forehead. And with that, the two take their leave, delayed only by Kathy’s turning back every so often to toss a few fretful glances Danny’s way. It’s strange, the look she’s got on her face as she disappears out the front doors of the Stoplight.

The more he’s thinking about it, the more he feels the rope tangled around his heart gets pulled taut by the eighty-pound anchor in his stomach. A feeling not unlike being crushed by a boa constrictor.

Yeah. Miss you too, Kath.

It’d be a problem if it was a problem. But it’s not. Not at all.

═

taglist: @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @ashlingiswriting, @tofuwildcard, @cositapreciosa, @axreliono, @bellinitini, @complete-nonsequitur, @when-did-this-become-difficult, @ladygoatee (tagged everyone I previewed this to in wc but no pressure to read bc I know not everyone is in this fandom)

#bikeriders #the bikeriders #kathy cross x danny lyon #kathy cross #danny lyon #bikeriders fanfic #jodie comer #mike faist

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jxtina-86 · 9 months ago

Text

Strong

There's a nursery to be built, promises to be made. Promises that I'll be damned if I break. RomanReigns/Alexia. See here for the rest of the series/order to read.

Warning: Language/Hints of smut

Rating: MA

Italics = flashback

Because we need each other We believe in one another I know we're going to uncover What's sleepin' in our soul Acquiesce, Oasis

I lean against the doorframe and watch as Lex slowly packs away the final pile of baby clothes. All that remains is the white chest of drawers and the boxes of furniture left to be assembled. The room still carries the air of fresh paint, despite the windows being flung open for the past few days. Three walls are now coated in a pale grey, the fourth covered in grey and white chevron wallpaper – the shade matched by Lex's expert eye and carefully applied by a professional, despite my own willingness to undertake the task myself. Although that was before I realised how difficult it would be to match each sheet to the next in order to keep the pattern in line.

I did win the task of painting though. Mainly because Lex had been banned from undertaking any such job by Dr Ash, who'd looked aghast at the suggestion that she'd be putting together the nursery together single-handedly in my absence. Turns out Pregnant Lex is feistier and more determined than ever.

“All the tools are here,” Lex turns to me, pointing at the box on the floor. “And please read the instructions before you put together the crib because I don't want to come back to find that half the screws are missing because you just guessed or something.”

“Would I do that?”

She raise an eyebrow. “You put up a shelf last week that fell down after twenty-four hours because you didn't follow the instructions.”

I push off the doorframe and step towards her, taking the bag of clothes from her hands and pulling her into my arms instead. “I promise to read the instructions. And not to let Seth near the power drill. Or let Dean near a hammer. Happy?”

She scowls. “I'm being a total control-freak aren't I?”

“Wouldn't have it any other way, baby girl.” I lean down and press my lips to her forehead, my hand curling over her waist and across her ever expanding belly.

“I just feel so useless,” she murmurs against my chest, her own hand coming down to rest on her bump as well. “I told you we were jinxed by calling this one Pumpkin. Why didn't we stick with Blueberry?”

I chuckle. “And I told you we grow 'em big in my family.”

“Yeah, don't I know it.” She rocks against me. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten. They'll be here soon.”

She nods, stifling back a yawn. “I swear I'm going to fall asleep in the middle of my pedicure. They turn that chair massager on and I'm a goner.” She pokes her belly. “All because someone decided that 3am was the perfect time to start practicing somersaults.”

“Why didn't you wake me?” Guilt and frustration washes over me. Guilt because I slept through whilst she was awake. Frustration that I missed out on seeing our baby move, the actions becoming more and more visible every time. Actions that I've witnessed once or twice in real life, but mostly on video with Lex's giggles in the background.

“You were tired,” she shrugs.

“You know I wouldn't have minded.”

“I know,” she smiles up at me. “Next time. I promise.”

I lean down and kiss her softly, groaning as I hear the doorbell sound. “Perfect timing as ever.”

Lex grins. “Like that was going to turn into anything else.” She winks at me, pulling back to head towards the door.

I watch her go, my head titling to the side as I take her in from behind. Her body is fuller than ever, but in the best way possible. She might complain about her swollen ankles and feet, the puffiness around her cheeks, the stretch marks working their way over her belly, how her bellybutton has gone from innie to outie, but to me she is more gorgeous than ever. There's more of her to love and hold, my hands stretching over her belly whilst I nuzzle at her neck and whisper how much I adore her and how incredible she is. I sound like a walking cliché, but I don't care. I may be on the road, working hard to provide for the three of us, but that's nothing compared to what she has done over the last eight months, growing and nurturing our baby inside her.

I promised her that I would still love every inch of her no matter what and I make sure that I do just that every time I come home. Even if recently, that's just been through kisses and hugs because Pumpkin has become so big that it's difficult to anything else. Not that I am complaining, no way. I'd rather spend an evening with Lex snuggled against me on the couch, than put her through any discomfort just to get my rocks off. Although sometimes she surprises me, like this morning when she joined me in the shower, leaning against me with a lazy grin on her face as her soapy hand grazed against mine.

“You coming?” Lex calls out to me from the stairs and I quickly follow her, reaching the bottom as she opens the front door.

“Are you sure you're not having twins?” Siobhan exclaims as she pulls Lex into a hug.

“Nope, just those Reigns genes doing wonders,” Lex shoots me a grin over her shoulder. “Pumpkin's getting the cardio in already, gonna come out of me already crawling knowing my luck.”

“Gotta start 'em young,” Seth chuckles as he too hugs Lex before reaching out to bump my fist. “Hey man, Dean and Becca are just pulling up outside.”

“Thanks again,” I tell him. “Appreciate it.”

He waves my thanks away. “Whatever. But you're paying us with beers later, right?”

“Of course, bro.”

“Take it we've got strict instructions from the boss?”

“I heard that, Rollins,” Lex pipes up, but Seth is saved by Becca coming through the door, closely followed by Dean, who nods at us over their heads.

“You're not allowed near the power drill,” I tell Seth, who scowls. “Hey, don't look at me man, I don't make the rules!”

“We've known that for a while, dude,” Dean chuckles as he claps me on the back. “You okay?”

“Yeah, man. You?”

Dean nods distractedly and I inwardly smirk as I watch him eying up Becca's hand on Lex's stomach.

“Not you as well,” Seth groans, causing Dean's eyes to cut to him.

“What?”

Seth cocks an eyebrow. “The misty-eyed look, bro.”

“You're one to talk.”

Seth opens his mouth to retaliate, but Siobhan pipes up instead. “So, how long do you need us to keep Lex out of here? A couple of hours long enough for you to read instructions, ignore them, mess up, start again and finally finish?”

“Such lack of faith,” Seth shakes his head. “We are completely capable of putting together a crib and shelving unit.”

“Considering past experience...”

“That wardrobe's still looking good though?” Dean points out.

“You never told them huh?” Lex raises an eyebrow at me.

“Told us what?” Dean queries.

“The wardrobe door fell off about a month after you put it together,” I confess with a smirk as Dean and Seth frown.

“Wow, way to crush 'em,” Becca giggles before reaching out to rub Dean's arm soothingly. “Just maybe make sure those screws are extra tight on the crib, yeah?”

“You not gonna stick up for me?” Seth asks Siobhan, who shakes her head.

“Nope. The day we put together that TV unit will haunt me forever. I had to wrestle the tools away from you before you caused a fatality.” She glances around with a grin. “And now that we've successfully bruised all your egos, maybe we should go?”

Lex steps towards me, reaching for her purse on the table behind. I take the opportunity to pull her into my side as she passes.

“We got this, don't worry,” I tell her. “Just enjoy today.”

“Hard to enjoy when I'm imagining every worst case scenario of you three with tools and flatpack furniture.” But her tone is light and she's smiling softly when she looks up at me. “Thanks,” she murmurs quietly. “I know it means a lot... For you to do this.”

She leans up to kiss me, her breath warm on my cheek and then my lips. I fight hard not to linger, but I can't help myself, my arms wrapping around her for a second longer than necessary. Her bump presses against me, her giggle soft against my lips as I shake my head when she tries to draw back. But her hands grasp mine and pull them apart. She looks up at me with a knowing smile.

Goodbyes have never been our thing. No matter for how short or how long.

Hello is where we're good.

My hands feel clammy as I walk up the narrow stairs, my suitcase scraping loudly against the wall, the bag on my back feeling awkward and heavy. I feel like I'm in high-school all over again, walking up the stairs to pick up some girl for a date, my tongue thick in my mouth, my mind blank of anything coherent.

Only this isn't high-school.

And it's not a date per se. In fact, I'm not sure what this is. I haven't been sure of anything since I first saw her. I do my best to keep things as normal as possible. The last city we met up in, I tried to keep us away from the hotel for as long as possible. I took her out for dinner, the conversation easier than I imagined and I found myself wanting it to last longer. So we walked around afterwards, her hand slipping into mine the second we left the restaurant, her body brushing against mine at any given opportunity until eventually, I couldn't help myself and I pulled her hard against me, my mouth claiming hers. I'm still so desperate to prove that I can be the ultimate gentleman, but the second her body is pressed against mine, reminding me of all the delicious ways it dips and curves and how incredible it feels in my hands, I can't help myself. I want to feel all of her on me. I want to taste every inch of her. I wrap her around me, groaning as her legs grip my waist tightly, her fingers digging into my hair as I splay my own hands across her back, down to her waist, her ass as I slide her up and down my dick with ease.

And when I have her like that, the only gentleman thing I can do is make sure that it's ladies first.

I round the final curve of the stairs and pause. Setting my suitcase down with a thump that echoes around the hallway, I wipe my hand on my jeans. I'm about to knock when I hear the lock click and the door slowly opens. My heart pounds furiously, my mouth going dry as Lex appears, her long dark hair pulled into a loose braid that hangs over one shoulder, her fingers plucking at the loose end as she bites her lip. She leans against the doorframe, one bare leg crossed over the other, the hem of her black silk robe resting mid-thigh, the matching belt cinching in her waist, the neckline plunging to reveal the swell of her breasts.

“Hey,” Lex breathes and my gaze flickers up to her face again. She smirks and I can feel my face flush.

“You look amazing,” I blurt out before I can stop myself, my need to have her so painfully obvious in the rasp and roughness of my voice.

“Thanks,” she smiles. “You look good too.”

She steps back to let me in, her hand brushing over mine as she takes the handle of my suitcase and wheels it inside to set by the door. As I turn to close the door, I can already feel her hands on my shoulders, easing the straps of my backpack away and setting it on top of my case. I exhale slowly, as I roll my head forward to release the tension in my neck.

“Better?” she asks, her hands sliding down my back.

“Yes.” I turn back to face her, but my gaze is drawn to the room behind her. Normally, I would never pay much attention to our surroundings, one hotel room is the same as another as far as I'm concerned. But today is different.

Today I'm stood in her lounge, taking in the couch strewn with cushions and blankets, the coffee table covered in magazines and papers, flowers in jars on the window sill, pictures of friends and family decking the walls. The kitchen lies to the right, the refrigerator door completely covered in old postcards, take-out menus and polaroid snaps and on the counter next to it, I spy an empty glass of wine and wonder if she is just as nervous as I am about being in her personal space.

“Sorry, it's a bit of a mess,” Lex murmurs.

I shrug, my arm automatically moving to around her shoulders, pulling her against my side. Wisps of hair tickle my hand as I lower my other to slip my fingers under her chin and slowly rock her head back so she looks up at me. “Don't apologise. And anyway, I didn't come here to see your apartment.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

I chuckle. “Ain't not use in playing innocent with me, Lex. Not when you're all dolled up this...”

“Dolled up like what?” she shoots back as she unwraps herself from my arm. She turns to face me, but takes a step back so she's out of arm's reach. “I wear this all the time...”

“Then how comes I've never seen it?”

“Maybe because you're so damn impatient every time we get behind closed doors?”

“I'd say you're as bad as me.”

To her credit, she blushes but she's quick to correct herself, the coolness never leaving her voice. “But this time, we've got all the time in the world.”

“True.”

“We've got time to appreciate all the little things...”

“Lex, you know full well there ain't anything little about me,” I grin as I take a step towards you.

She giggles. “Oh, I know that, big guy,” her eyes pointedly drop to my crotch before they drag up slowly, roving over my arms and chest before settling back on my face. “And now I've got all the time in the world to make sure I cover every inch...”

I swallow thickly as I watch her hands drop to her waist, her fingers slowly untying the knot. “Yeah?”

“But it's all in the details,” she tells me. “Like how you bite your lip when I trace your tattoo with my fingers... Or how your eyes squeeze shut when I lick from your hip down to your thigh... All those little things...”

I take a step towards her, my hand reaching out to slide around her waist. Only this time, I feel bare skin, the silk slipping back to reveal...

“Fuck, Lex...” I groan as I take in the blood-red lace that covers her breasts, the panties in the same colour that hug her hips.

“All in the details,” she smirks against my lips.

“Stop dicking around and pass me the damn drill!”

“No fucking way, bro. If Lex said you can't using the drill, then I'm not gonna argue.”

I chuckle to myself as I make my way upstairs, beers in hand.

“Scared of Lex, Ambrose?”

“Fuck you, man. I ain't scared of shit.” There's a brief pause. “Just don't fancy pissing off a pregnant lady.”

“Wise man,” I tell him as I round the corner into the almost completed nursery. “And you,” I turn to Seth. “Should know better.”

He huffs as I pass him a beer. “So what's the point of me being here if I can't actually do anything.”

“Hold shit together, pretty boy, whilst the real men do the work,” Dean grins as he accepts his own beer.

“Real men, huh?” Seth scowls. “How's that crib coming along?”

I flip him a finger in return. “Just fine.”

“Yeah, Lex'll be real impressed with the progress you've made.”

I look at the corner of the room, where it's taken me around an hour to construct the base of the damn thing. The instructions are already well-thumbed, the staples holding them together starting to loosen from the amount of times I've gone back and forth through them trying to make some sense of the diagrams.

“Fuck you,” I mutter under my breath, causing both of them to chuckle.

“We're nearly done anyway,” Dean nudges Seth to move his hand that's blocking one of the screw holes on the shelving unit. “We can give you a hand.”

“No, it's cool. I got this.”

“Why are you so determined to do that shit on your own?” Seth asks.

“I promised Lex.”

“She's not going to know if you let us help though.”

“Not the point.” I take a swig of beer and pick up the instructions again.

“Leave it,” I hear Dean mutter and then louder: “Becca said that Shiv was gonna stay down here for a bit with you guys.”

“Yeah,” I reply distractedly. “Just in case I'm not here when it all happens.”

“You know Lex sent her a pregnancy book to read,” Seth says. “Have you seen those things? Jesus.”

“Hang on, so if you're not here, Shiv is gonna be with Lex throughout the entire thing?” Dean asks.

“Pretty much. I mean,” I frown at the instructions and then reach for what I think is the correct piece of wood. “It's not like I don't want to be here...” I trail off.

I don't like thinking about it. I don't like the idea that I'm going to miss the birth of my first child. I don't like the idea of Lex going through this without me. I have every faith that Siobhan will make a great birthing partner for Lex, but it's not the same. Lex and I have discussed this many times over the last few weeks, but it still doesn't make it any easier.

“Surely the company understand though, right?” Seth says quietly.

“Sure. I get a couple of days extra off to be with her and the baby, but it's just not so easy to predict when. It's only a few weeks till her due date. It could happen next week or it could happen two weeks after the due date.”

“Sure, sure...” I can hear him chewing his lip. “Pretty shit though if you were to miss it.”

“Yeah,” I exhale. “Missed so much already. Classes, check ups. Oh and this...” I stand and tug my phone out of my pocket and thumb through it. “Lex filmed this the other week.”

I hand the phone over to Dean, who hits play. I turn back to the task in hand as I hear the sound of rustling coming from the phone and then Lex's voice: “Look who says hello...”

“Holy crap,” Dean breathes. “I didn't think you could actually see them moving.”

“Yeah, that was the first time you could actually see it. I mean, it's happened again when I've been here. But I just... I dunno. I wanted to be there for the first time. Not watching it on a recording, a few hours after because I've been driving or something.”

“I doubt Lex will let you miss out on anything though, bro,” Seth hands me back the phone over my shoulder. “Your phone is always kicking up a storm with texts and photos from her. Pun intended,” he chuckles.

I crack a smile of my own. “I know. But the birth is different.”

“I hope you're not suggesting my girlfriend films your wife giving birth.”

“What? No!” I cast a scowl behind me. “I missed out on being there right at the beginning, when Lex found out. I don't want it to be the same at the end.”

“Sure, I mean, you guys don't know what you're having either right?”

I don't answer Seth, faking interest in the next step of the instructions, hoping he doesn't notice.

“Yeah, I wouldn't like to find out over the phone or something,” Dean agrees with him. “Dude, you'll be there.” He reassures me. “You'll make it. Even if it's not for the beginning, you'll be there for the end.”

I grunt in response, desperate to pull all my thoughts back to here and now, where I can control what does and doesn't happen.

Because that's the worst thought of all. Being completely and utterly helpless, whilst Lex goes through pain that I can't even begin to imagine. I can't bear the thought of watching her suffer, no matter how amazing the end result will be. And if things go wrong... I shudder at the thought.

I don't want to admit to Lex that I feel like this. Every time we talk about it, I can sense she's holding something back and I wonder if she thinks the same of me. But this what Lex does. She buries away her fears, because she wants to show me she's strong. She's determined not to crack, not to show how vulnerable she can be.

My phone starts to ring just as I exit the rental office, keys in hand. I grin as I see Lex's name flash up on screen.

“Hey, I'm just about to get in the car.”

“Ro... About that...” she pauses. “I'm just going to be honest with you.”

“Okay...”

“These next few days aren't really a good time for me.”

I frown. “Something come up with work? That's cool, Lex. I can occupy myself during the day if that's what you're worried about.”

“No... It's not work. It's me.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine...”

“So...”

There's another pause.

“I'm on my period, Ro.”

I chuckle and I can almost see the scowl forming on her face. “What's so funny?”

“Lex, you don't have to cancel on us just because of that.”

She snorts. “If you think there is a slightest chance–”

“What? No, Lex. C'mon, what do you take me for?” I reach the car and unlock the trunk.

“Then why would you want to still see me?”

“Why do you think, Lex?”

She pauses and I can hear chewing her lip. “I don't know.”

“Yeah, you do.” I load in my suitcase and carry-on and slam the trunk shut. “I'll give you a few hours to figure it out. Do you want me to pick you up anything on my way?”

“Ro, seriously. You don't have to come out here.”

“I know I don't, but I want to,” I tell her as I climb into the driver's seat.

“I have no make-up on, my hair is a mess and I'm in oldest, dirtiest sweats.”

“Perfect.”

“I'm not moving from the couch all weekend.”

“You're really not saying anything that's putting me off, Lex. You gotta try harder than that,” I grin.

She sighs. “You really want to spend an entire weekend with me, when there is absolutely zero-chance of getting any?”

“Yes.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Then let me convince you otherwise.” I start the engine. “You didn't answer me earlier. Do you want me to pick anything up?”

“No,” she sighs again. “Let me know if you come to your senses.”

“Not a chance.”

A few hours later, I'm climbing the now all-too familiar stairs to her apartment. When I get there, the door is on the latch and I push it open tentatively. “Lex?”

“Told you, I wasn't going to move from the couch.”

“Fine, fine.” I make my way inside, placing my bags by the door as usual before stepping over to the couch where Lex is splayed out. I reach out and brush my fingers across her temple before leaning down to kiss her. “You okay?”

“I guess. Still don't know why you're here though.”

“Isn't that what boyfriends do?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Boyfriend?”

“Why not?”

She doesn't answer me, just shrugs.

I shift her legs off the couch and sit down, reaching to pull her up and against me. She whines softly, but lets me anyway, her hair, which is bundled up into a haphazard bun, tickling my cheek as she nestles against me.

“So you really don't know why I'm here?”

She's silent.

“I care about you, Lex. I know this all started out as a bit of a fun, something casual, but I think we both know it's a bit more than that now. I like hanging out with you, just being with you, watching TV, walking around the city whether that's here or Tampa or somewhere else entirely. I like doing stupid shit with you, like playing video games or going bowling or to the movies and just messing around just so I can touch you and kiss you and just be normal people getting to know each other. You make me laugh, Lex. You make me think about things I believe and what you believe and I like just shootin' the breeze with you. And sure, we have absolutely first-class sex as well,” I pinch her side softly and she squirms against me with a small giggle. “But that ain't just what this is anymore. The sex, I mean. It's that and everything else in between.”

“And today?”

I shrug. “I just wanted to see you. I haven't seen you in two weeks. And as much as I love seeing you all dolled up, you are just as beautiful in sweats and nothing else.” I lean down and brush my lips against her temple. “And if all you want to do is curl up on the couch and watch TV and sleep and eat, then I am more than happy to keep you company for that.”

Her eyes flicker up to meet mine. “You're too good to be true sometimes.”

“But all that is the truth, Lex.”

She chews her lip. “I... I guess I just didn't want to admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That I feel that way too... Like I really did want you to come here today, but I was afraid that if I didn't tell you, you'd have been disappointed”

“I never turn up here expecting anything other than to just see you.”

“The times where you've kissed me hello and it's immediately escalated into so much more says otherwise.”

“I think we're both guilty when it comes to that, don't you think?” I whisper, feeling her shiver in my arms.

“Touche.”

I chuckle and lean back against the couch. “So, what are you watching?”

“See, now you're really going to regret coming here...” she grins back at me as she reaches for the remote.

But she couldn't be more wrong. As she settles back against me, I couldn't think of anywhere else I'd rather be than right here.

“You really finished that all by yourself?” Lex's voice is incredulous as we stand in front of the finished crib.

“Of course,” I tell her. “I mean, the guys held some of it together for me so I could get the screws in properly, but apart from that...”

She eyes me suspiciously. “Seriously?”

“We weren't allowed to do anything other than hold shit,” Seth pipes up from behind me. “We even filmed him for posterity's sake.”

“And so we don't get blamed if it collapses in a few months,” chimes in Dean.

Seth hands Lex his phone and she watches it with a raised eyebrow. “I'm impressed.”

“Full of surprises, right?” I grin at her.

She moves closer, passing the phone back to Seth before wrapping her arms around me. “Always have been, big guy.”

I lean down to kiss her and she smiles against my lips. The floor creaks as Dean and Seth make their way back out and downstairs and I'm about to follow when Lex stops me.

“Thank you for doing this. I know it meant a lot to you, but it means a lot to me too that you wanted to do it.”

“Anything for you and Pumpkin,” I tell her, my hand dropping to rub at her bump.

“It feels weird.”

“What does?”

“This.” She gestures around the room. “This is only going to be empty for a few more weeks. And like dinner tonight, it'll be the last time we're all together just the six of us. That's not weird to you?”

“I'd say surreal.”

She chuckles. “That's just a fancy word for weird.” Her hand slips into mine and she pulls me towards the door. “It's just... Did you think a year ago or even two years ago that this would be happening?”

“Sure,” I smile down at her. “I told you our time would come.”

“Maybe I should I have more faith in you,” she nudges me softly as we make our way downstairs.

“I've been saying that for years and you finally figure out that I'm right,” I tease back.

We enter the kitchen to find Becca and Siobhan unpacking cartons of take-out, Dean and Seth already helping themselves. Siobhan passes us both plates and there is a few minutes of commotion and laughter as we all load up our plates and grab drinks before taking a seat at the table.

Lex shifts her chair closer to mine, one hand slipping under the table to rub at my thigh as she picks at her food. I slip my arm around her shoulders and watch her lips twitch into a smile.

“So that's you guys all prepared right?” Becca asks after a few quiet moments.

“As we'll ever be,” I squeeze Lex's shoulder.

“What about names?” Becca asks. “You've both been incredibly secretive about that.”

Lex glances up at me. “Yeah, we've got that sorted.”

“Yeah,” I smile back, my heart beating faster as I think of the name we settled on a few weeks back. A name that we've now started to refer to Pumpkin in private.

“Oh man, you guys are such a tease,” Siobhan groans. “We've taken bets though.”

“Bets? On what?” Lex asks.

“Boy or girl, name, weight and due date.”

Lex glances up at me with a smirk. “And we weren't included because...?”

“Well, you know the names you've chosen.”

“Sure, but we don't know if it's a boy or girl...”

I'm trying my best not to laugh at Lex's poker face as she reasons with Siobhan.

“Okay, fine. You gotta write it down though – we all have. No-one knows each others answers.”

“Perfect,” Lex looks up at me again and winks.

“No offence, Lex, but don't you have kind of an unfair advantage when it comes to the weight?” Dean frowns.

“Excuse me, Ambrose?”

Dean's face flushes. “Well, you've had scans and shit, don't they tell you how much the baby's gonna weigh?”

“Perhaps but I think it's only fair seen as you've all been staring at my bump and trying to guess how much weight I've put on.”

“I think you'll find I've been quite nice in my estimate,” Dean pouts.

“You asked me how much a baby normally weighs and then you looked horrified when I told you,” Becca laughs. “For Lex's sake, I hope that you asked that before rather than after you wrote down your guess.”

Siobhan gets up and walks over to the refrigerator to tear off a piece of paper from the notepad. She hands it over to Lex with a pen.

I watch as Lex writes down the sex, weight and due date. “Really?” I ask her as I see the date. “You better hope that's not the date. I'm on the other side of the country that week.”

“Just our luck then.” She folds the paper in half and hands it back to Siobhan.

“Don't worry,” Siobhan tells me. “I've read the book and everything. Totally prepared.”

“You were all pale after you read the labour chapter,” Seth comments, ducking his head as Siobhan's hand rises to clip him.

“Oh, great,” Lex says dryly. “You'll be just like Ro then. They showed us a video in the class and all the first-timers looked scared shitless.”

“You included,” I remind her.

“Well, excuse me for being slightly anxious about the prospect of squeezing this out of me,” she squeezes my thigh. “You'll be fine, Shiv,” she reassures. “Just hold my hand and tell me to keep breathing.”

“That's the bit I'm worried about,” Siobhan grimaces. “Losing my hand.”

I pull Lex closer to me. “You'll both be fine, I'll get there. I'll be there.”

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” Lex asks as I pull back the sheets on my side of the bed. She's propped up against a mountain of pillows, her shirt rolled up to just beneath her breasts as she rubs moisturiser onto her bump.

“What's that?”

“You said you'd be there. For the birth.”

“Of course I meant it.”

“And if you don't, are you going to ever forgive yourself for missing it?”

“Lex, I'll be there.”

“Ro...” she pauses in her actions and turns her face towards me as I roll onto my side. “Be realistic. Despite your assertions that I'm wrong, you never keep your phone with you at shows. Once you've warmed up and changed into your gear, it gets buried under all your crap in your bag. And even if that doesn't happen, there'll be at least a couple of hours when you won't have it with you because you'll be doing meet and greets or meetings with Steph and Hunter or in the ring itself. But that's okay. You can't always have your phone with you in those situations.”

“But someone else can. I can leave my phone with Dean or Seth, any number of people and they can get a message to me.” I move closer, my hand resting over hers. “This isn't the first baby born to a wrestler, baby girl. There are ton of guys who've been through this and they made it.”

“But some didn't.”

“Sure, but I'm not going to let that happen.”

“But what if it does? Ro, c'mon, be realistic. Say you get the message from Shiv an hour after she calls. You bust your gut to get to the airport, there's traffic, there's a flight delay. You've got a show in Seattle a week before my due date. That's a five hour flight. Obviously, the labour could go on for hours, but what if something happens and they have to take me into surgery?”

“I'll be there.”

“You're not listening to me,” Lex says irritably. “What if that happens? What if, for reasons that neither of us can predict, you don't make it in time, are you going to let that hang over you forever?”

“I think the chances are highly–”

“Roman!”

I look up at her and see her face starting to crumple. “Hey... Baby girl...”

“For fuck's sake! Have you any idea how hard it is to sit here and listen to you tell me that it'll be okay and that you'll be there when all I can think of is all the situations where you don't make it and I'm there in fucking surgery, panicking because the one person I want to be there with me at that moment is stuck in traffic or in an airport on the other side of the country or even in a plane where no-one can get hold of him to tell him what's going on?”

I scramble to sit up, pulling her into my arms as tears start to spill down her face. “Hey... Lex, ssh... Don't do this to yourself. C'mon, breathe. Don't cry...”

“I can't help it,” she mumbles into my chest. “It's all I keep thinking about when you're not here. I keep thinking what if it happens now. What then? What am I going to do? Siobhan doesn't move down here for another week, what if it happens then?”

“You know what you do,” I tell her. “You call Dr Ash and tell her what's happening. And then you call a cab or an ambulance, whatever she suggests and then you call me once you're on your way and I will stay on that phone for as long as possible.”

“What if I can't get hold of you?”

“Then you call Seth or Dean and one of them will find me or get someone else to find me.” I work my fingers through her hair gently. “We've talked about this, Lex. We have a plan, right?”

“Things can still go wrong. What if–”

I press my lips to her head. “Someone will let me know Lex. Someone will find me and I'll be on a plane or in a car as soon as I can. The most important thing is that you get to hospital where they can look after you and the baby. That's all you've gotta worry about, just making sure that you and Pumpkin are in safe hands.”

“I don't want you to miss it,” she murmurs. “I want you there, Ro.”

“Hey,” I rock her back so I can see her face. “You know it's gonna take a damn act of God to stop me from being there, right?” I cup her face in my heads, my thumbs brushing across her tear-stained cheeks. I kiss her softly, easing her back onto her pillows before plucking the moisturiser from beside her.

Her fingers stroke through my hair lazily as I pour a small amount of moisturiser onto my fingers and slowly work it into the taut skin of her belly. I lean down further, my lips brushing across the stretch marks that curve up from under the bump.

“Anyway, me and Pumpkin have a deal.”

“A deal?” Lex asks dubiously.

“Yup, no appearances until Daddy's in the room.”

She giggles and then sniffs. “I'm still going to worry, Ro.”

“I know you will.”

I glance up to see her smile down at me. I kiss her bump again, breathing in the scent of cocoa butter. There's no point telling her I feel the same, no need to confirm her worst fears by saying they're mine as well. There have been many times over the years where Lex has been my rock, my anchor, my never-ending source of strength. And now it's my turn to do the same for her.

Even thought, ultimately, she's the strongest out of the two of us.

I roll over and switch on the bedside light, rubbing my eyes at the brightness.

I can't sleep. I've been in bed for almost an hour, just tossing and turning, my mind racing, adrenaline still pumping through me despite the three hour car journey from the last town to here. Not even the hot shower could soothe me, not even jerking off to the thought of Lex could calm me.

Reaching out for my phone, I flick through Twitter and then Instagram and my emails for a few minutes and then pause. My mind races through the calculations and I realise that calling her is not an option. Fuck.

I could really do with hearing her voice right now. Even just for a minute or two. She has this way of relaxing me, making me forget my aches and pains, the long days, the weeks that go by where we can only communicate via our cellphones. I mean, I'd give anything to have her in bed beside me right now, just to feel her in my arms, to be able to run my fingers through her hair, to be able to kiss her and hold her. That's all I want right now. That's all I need.

I miss her.

The sensation wraps around my spine, taking a strangle-like hold and I'm so engrossed in the feeling that my eyes go out of focus and I realise too late that Lex's name and face are flashing up on my screen. I'm a second too late in answering and I curse loudly as I hit re-dial instead.

“I woke you up,” she greets me. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.”

“No, it's fine. I couldn't sleep.”

“Long day?” She pauses. “Stupid question.”

I grin up at the ceiling. “S'okay. It was alright, I guess. Just still pumped up.”

“I caught the end of the show. I was out at a late dinner, but made it back to my hotel room in time.”

A warm glow washes over me. “I didn't know you did that.”

“Did what?”

“Try and watch my matches when you're away.”

There's a rustle of sheets in the background. “I like watching you, but... Oh, never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

“I...”

“Lex...”

“I like watching you, but then, I dunno... I feel a bit down.”

I frown. “Why?”

“I dunno. I guess...” she pauses. “I guess I just miss you.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

I can't help but chuckle.

“I know, silly right?” she sighs.”Ignore me, it's late, I'm tired.”

“I wasn't laughing at you,” I tell her. “I swear. It's just funny because...Well, just before you called I was thinking the same about you.”

“You're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I miss you, Lex,” I tell her softly, slowly. “I really do.”

There's a long silence.

“I feel...” she starts and then stops.

“Go on,” I encourage gently.

“I feel bad for admitting it though.”

“Why?”

“I knew what I was getting into and I feel like I'm guilt-tripping you if I say I miss you, because there's nothing either of us can do to change any of this.”

“Don't feel bad about it. None of this is your choice.”

A wry laugh echoes down the phone. “It is though, Roman. I made a choice the second I gave you my number. You didn't push me into this, I chose this too. I knew what this meant and I feel silly for thinking that it would be easy to switch off and on.”

“You don't have to hide away from me, Lex. It's okay to tell me how you feel and if you miss me, you miss me. You can't help that.”

“I know. I just thought, I dunno... I just thought I was stronger than this.”

“Just because you miss me, doesn't make you weak,” I tell her gently.

“But it's not fair on you.”

“And you don't have to be strong for me,” I continue. “But I like that you want to be. I like that about you, Lex. I like how you care.”

She's quiet for a moment, her voice small and vulnerable when she speaks again. “Sometimes I feel like I've lost control, like I shouldn't be telling you all this.”

I shake my head. “It's who you are, Lex. I told you, you don't have to hide from me.”

She pauses. “Do ever feel like that? Like you've lost control?”

“With you,” I tell her. “Always.”

Five weeks later

I make my way down the corridor, back to the locker room. The place is alive with technicians and production staff all packing up to make a quick getaway to the next town. All I want is a long shower before Dean and I hit the road ourselves.

I push open the door and head inside, grateful for some peace and quiet. I slump onto the bench and close my eyes for a second, listening to my heart pound hard and fast. Cracking open one eye and then the other, I roll my neck slowly and then reach for my bag. Digging around, I curse as I realise I left my phone here, rather than handing it over to Seth or Dean like I always promised Lex I would.

I press the home button and my blood goes cold.

Siobhan

Missed call (10)

Voice mail (1)

I swipe frantically at the voice mail, entering my PIN wrong on the first and second attempt, cursing loudly.

And then:

“Shit, Roman, why aren't you picking up your damn phone? Look, Lex is in labour. Call me. Oh and get your ass back here. Now.”

Fin x

#roman reigns fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe fanfiction #roman reigns #roman reigns imagine #romanreigns #roman reigns smut

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p5x-theories · 2 months ago

Text

Mayumi’s Confidant

(last updated 5/4/25!)

This post documents the fully filled-in information on Mayumi Hashimoto gained through progressing her Confidant! It contains things that could be considered spoilers for her Confidant, as part of the information is a summary of its story.

Mayumi is available in the afternoon most days, when it isn’t rainy. Her Confidant is tied to the Proficiency social stat, and level 17 Proficiency is required to fully complete it.

Favorite Presents

(An asterisk (*) marks the special presents added with (and unlocked through) Miyu Sahara’s Confidant, which are liked by all Confidants currently in the game.)

AMN005’s First Album The first album of the legendary female idol group AMN005 has collectible value.

Noise-Canceling Headphones Headphones that can effectively block external sound. Useful for when you want to be alone and quiet, as well as for people who don't like to be disturbed by others.

Rose Bath Gift Box This charming rose-scented bath gift box helps relax and nourish the skin all over your body.

Big Head Plush This large plush consisting of only a head is perfect for holding in your arms.

Cartoon-Shaped Pillow This round pillow in the shape of a popular cartoon character is very popular among girls because of its cuteness.

Limited-Edition Keychain* This keychain has a unique shape, and is well-made, but there weren’t many of it produced. It has a certain collector’s value.

Bulk Snacks Value Pack* A combo pack containing a variety of traditional snacks that will remind people of the taste of childhood.

Advanced Essential Oil Combination* A value-for-money set of essential oils, with multiple functions to help you relax your mind and body.

Chestnut Cake* Fragrant chestnut cake with mild sweetness to suit most people’s tastes.

Musical Snow Globe* A snow globe that plays music, and can be shaken gently to make snow fall inside.

Desktop Incense Machine* A household incense machine that is small in size, so it can be placed anywhere.

Nostalgic Cartoon Badge A badge from a set based on classic children’s cartoon characters. Not many were produced, so it’s difficult to complete the set.

Racing Magazine A very professional racing magazine, divided into two sections: vehicle information and race commentary.

Classic Martial Arts Competition Collection This is a collector's edition set of recordings of major classic martial arts competitions, a must-have for any collection.

Featherman Team Figurine Set A combo pack of model figurines based on the extremely popular Phoenix Ranger Featherman series.

Self-Assembled Model Car This model car from a well-known model brand has become legendary, due to its high-difficulty assembly and gorgeous end result.

Personal Information

(Her information was unchanged in Version 4.0)

Birthday: December 16th Blood Type: O Age: High school second-year Profession: High school student, video channel host Height: 168cm Weight: Trade secret Favorite Food: Curry rice, pancakes Interests: Watching racing events Features: I can remember the results of the world's three major car races over the past 40 years

Story

Character Details A girl who is passionate about racing, and has an eye-catching appearance. She is working hard to promote the fun of racing to more people...

Personal Data 1 I met a girl with a highlight in her hair at the arcade, and she seemed to have very good racing game skills. She enthusiastically invited me to play a game with her, and gave me tips when I got stuck, helping me experience the fun of racing. After exchanging contact information, I parted ways with this girl named Mayumi...

Personal Data 2 I ran into Mayumi again, and she invited me to a nearby car racing-themed cafe. Later, we chatted on the streets of Akihabara, and she told me about her love of car racing since childhood, her experience of being verbally bullied by her peers, and her dream of making more people fall in love with racing. As she talked, her beautiful appearance caught the attention of many passers-by, who stopped and watched her. In the end, she decided to become a race queen to promote the fun of racing.

Personal Data 3 Mayumi and I went to a burger joint to discuss how she could become a race queen. She did her homework, and learned that it's an extremely difficult industry, but her best option seems to be to apply for an audition with a modeling agency. But can she really get the job she actually wants from there? As she worried about it, she got inspiration from two students at the table next to ours, and decided to start her own video channel to build a personal portfolio and help spread knowledge about car racing.

Personal Data 4 Last time, we decided to film videos to help start her channel, so I filmed Mayumi in front of the arcade for her first video. She seemed a little unsure at first, but soon introduced herself to everyone smoothly. Later, we found a place to edit the video, and uploaded it on the internet. I naturally became her first "fan", and helped her film some more videos of her playing the claw machine. I wonder if she will become famous?

Personal Data 5 Mayumi has uploaded several videos now, but the results aren't looking great. It seems that the audience so far has only cared about her looks, or were more interested in the claw machines, and had no interest in racing. While we were thinking up countermeasures, we discovered that the racing game in the arcade had a new track. We also realized that if we filmed her playing on the new track, wouldn't that kill three birds with one stone? We immediately did that! After filming the video, we parted with anticipation...

Personal Data 6 Finally, Mayumi's subscribers have exceeded 200! People are also starting to pay attention to racing because of her. When we were about to start filming, she suddenly discovered a famous racing mascot in one of the claw machines: "Tokisa"! In pursuit of her dream prize, she spent a lot of money, and finally got one, but then looked worried... It turns out that she's been earning money to save up for the next famous race being held, since she wants to watch it in person. We agreed to continue working hard to run her channel, and strive to achieve her goal as soon as possible!

Personal Data 7 Before I knew it, Mayumi hit 1,000 subscribers. We went to a restaurant to celebrate, during which she looked unusually tired- it turns out that not only has she overworked herself trying to make money, but she's also become a bit discouraged by negative comments from people online. From the comments' content, she knew they must really be her classmates that bully her... I quickly cheered her up, and a smile finally appeared on her face again. Before we parted, we went to the arcade to play the claw machines for a while...

Personal Data 8 It's been a while since I played a racing game with Mayumi, so we played one in the arcade. She told me that her fanbase has continued to grow lately, and her parents were secretly also helping save up money for the race, so the three of them got great seats, and are going together. She sincerely thanked me for my company, and said that if it weren't for me, she might not have been able to get to today. Then, she half-jokingly tested me to see if I had any feelings for her...

Personal Data 9 Mayumi is back after watching the race, and enthusiastically told me all about it. This time her video was so popular it topped the charts, so we decided to celebrate again. As a result, we ran into the classmates that bully her. They started to speak rudely and slander her dreams... But Mayumi remained calm, and instead left them speechless. I feel very happy to see how much she's changed.

Personal Data 10 Finally, Mayumi attended an agency audition, and successfully passed the test. There's more good news: her channel hit 10,000 subscribers! She said happily that it feels like the world is running more smoothly now. At this rate, she'll definitely become a race queen, and help even more people fall in love with racing. I also feel a strong bond with her, and have decided to stay by her side until the day she realizes her dream.

Voice Lines

Japanese VA: Ruriko Aoki | Chinese VA: kiyo

(As I can only add up to ten audio files per post, I’ll only include the Japanese lines below! Feel free to ask for the Chinese ones, though.)

I'm Mayumi Hashimoto. From the arcade in Akihabara, yeah? Meet up with me again sometime.

Ya see, I can be pretty eye-catching when I walk down the street... But that can be both good and bad, yeah?

Now that I've decided to become a race queen, I won't stop. For me, I think that's my ultimate goal.

Claw machines? I was just playing them to kill time, but somehow I got pretty good. But I can't play 'em too much, I don't wanna get kicked out of the arcade for being too good.

If I'm the driver, you're my coach, huh? With you here, I can step on the gas, no hesitation. You'll keep working with me going forward, yeah?

I can't be a race car driver, but having a dream totally unrelated to racing? I can't do it. That's one thing I'll never budge on.

Running a video channel brings a lot of feelings with it, huh. Accomplishment, support from your fans, stuff like that. You wanna appear on camera in my next video? It's totally fun.

Confidant-Specific Bonuses

Rank 1 Arcade Frequent Customer: Increases the chance of winning plushies in the small-size claw machines.

Rank 3 Watch the Timing!: Increases the chance of winning plushies in the medium-size claw machines.

Rank 9 This is the Hidden Interface: New items added to the claw machine store.

Rank 13 This is the Result of Practice, Too: Increases the chance of winning plushies in the small-size claw machines.

Rank 17 Don't Let Go: Increases the chance of winning plushies in the medium-size claw machines.

#character info #turbo #game content #open beta #translations

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