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nicoline1998enilocin · 7 months

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Baby fever

PAIRING | Husband!Young!Tony Stark x Wife!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 3.7K

SUMMARY | You and Tony have three beautiful children, but since your youngest son is growing up faster than either of you would like, Tony's baby fever is kicking into high gear. He can't get enough of seeing you pregnant, and he's making it his goal to have it happen again. There's enough room in the house for one more, after all.

RATING | Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS | Established relationship, nicknames (Sunshine, My Love, Baby, Handsome), tooth-rotting fluff combined with toe-curling smut.

SMUT | Porn with a bit of plot, D/S undertones, Sub!Tony is heavily featured throughout the story, breeding/pregnancy kink, lactation kink, drinking of breastmilk (sexual), daddy kink, mommy kink, begging, teasing, hair pulling, nipple play, nipple piercings, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, aftercare.

A/N | This amazing fic is completely inspired by the lovely @ccbsrmsf1, who has helped me come up with the idea and supported me every step of the way! Carol, this is for you, and I sincerely hope you will enjoy it! I love you, and I cannot thank you enough for being in my life 💜

EVENTS Masterlist | @fluffbruary Fluffbruary '24 | Wish Masterlist | @sweetspicybingo Sweethearts | Nice ass

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | AU Masterlist

Since you found Tony's old football jersey from your college days, you have been plotting a plan to wear it in the hopes of getting a reaction out of your husband. Today is perfect for that, as you're visiting your Mom in California, and she offered to take all three of your wonderful kids to Disneyland with her fiancé, Jackson.

"You two can stay home and have some alone time; you deserve it, Buttercup. You've been working so hard, and now that you're finally able to see him after he's been gone for filming, you should make up for some of the lost time," Virginia told you with a wink, and even though you were a little embarrassed at first, you also know she's right.

With three kids, it's proving to be rather challenging to have some time to yourselves and be intimate, so this is the perfect solution. That's how you find yourself standing in the bathroom in your Mom's house, wearing only your glasses and Tony's dark blue football jersey. The fabric reaches down to your knees, and your nipple piercings show through the fabric for a bit of a teasing touch.

With one last deep breath, you walk to the kitchen, where Tony has just finished the dishes from the lunch he prepared for you earlier. He turns around at the sound of your footsteps on the tiled flooring, but before he can say anything, he is greeted by you, clothed as if you walked right out of one of his wet dreams.

"Fuck, Sunshine, you sure know how to surprise your man," Tony growls as he walks over to where you're standing. As he takes in your form, he can already feel himself growing hard inside his sweatpants, which doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"I thought we could have some fun on the couch, My Love. The kids are with Mom and Jackson, so we have this all to ourselves," you whisper in his ear as you pull him closer by his shirt, his breath hitching as his now hard and sensitive cock makes contact with your soft belly.

"Who am I to say no when my beautiful wife looks like she walked out of my dreams?" Tony answers, his voice dropping an octave as lust fills it. Your hands glide under his shirt, pulling it over his head before discarding it.

Before you move on to anything else, you let your long nails rake over his sensitive nipples, a moan escaping from Tony's slack lips as you smirk up at him.

"Always so sensitive for me," you tell him before standing on your toes and taking his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down softly as he moans again. His long, dark lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he took in the pleasure.

"Good boy," you whisper against his mouth, his bottom lip lightly swelling, making him look even more beautiful than he already was. You kiss his tattoo softly as he lets his hands glide into your hair to ground himself gently.

"Let's move this to the couch, Sunshine," Tony tells you with a slight New York drawl, pleasure already taking over his brain. As you proceed to push him to the couch, you can feel yourself getting more and more wet with every step you two take. As soon as his legs hit the couch, he lets himself fall, spreading his thighs to give his achingly hard cock some room as it strains against the fabric.

Your legs are placed on each side of him, the jersey riding up dangerously high as you take your place. Your ass and pussy are barely covered when you sit, Tony's hands rubbing your thighs as he takes in the sight in front of him.

"You're so fucking gorgeous like this, Sunshine, 'm very lucky with you as my wife," he whispers before capturing your lips with his and taking the lead, effectively taking back any domination you had over him. You moan into his mouth as he slips in his tongue, his fingers digging into the inked flesh on your thighs.

As he glides his hands up your thighs and under his jersey, he finds the bare globes of your butt, kneading them softly as you start to move your hips to get a little friction, the fabric of his sweatpants relieving the burning ache of pleasure between your thighs.

"Can you look at me for a moment, Sunshine? I've got something important to tell you," Tony whispers in your ear, and that's when you realize your eyes have slipped shut. When you open them, you look into his dark brown eyes. As he takes a deep breath, you can't help but think about how beautiful he looks, and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

"I know we've been talking about adding a fourth baby to our family, and I can't stop thinking about it. How perfect would it be if we had a small girl who would look just like you? I can't stop thinking about it, you with your perfect, round belly as I drink from these amazing tits of yours before you make me a Daddy again," Tony says, another gush of arousal leaking out as you soak Tony's pants even further.

"Please, Sunshine, will you give me another baby? Let me fill you up with my cum until you're beautifully round for me as you carry our daughter?" he asks as he nuzzles his nose against your throat, your head tipping back to give him even more access.

"Yes, My Love, please! I want all your delicious cum inside me, and I want to make another baby with you; I would love to add another name to his amazing tattoo of yours," you tell him, your fingertips gliding softly over the ink proudly displayed on the firm plane of muscle. The sun, moon, and stars look beautiful; your kid's names make it perfect.

And with those words, it's officially decided: you and Tony will add another baby to your family. Whether it will be your Little Prince or Princess, it doesn't matter because you both know they will be loved deeply. And before it's time to find out, you can have all the fun in the world when you're making your newest addition.

"Let's get the jersey off, hm? I want to touch my girl the way she deserves," Tony says, and you nod, lifting your arms in response to his question. During all this, you never stopped rutting your hips over his cock, his release almost there as he lifted the fabric.

"That's it, Sunshine, you make Daddy feel good," he tells you with a breathy voice. As soon as the fabric is over your pierced breasts, making them spill out and bounce before him, he loses every ounce of self-control. Groaning loudly as he cums in his pants like a teenager, a deep red blush covers his cheeks and neck as he rides out his orgasm under you.

"Ah, did you cum already, Baby? What do you think? Do you want Mommy to clean up her sweet, blushing boy?" you purr in his ear, and he nods as you slide off his lap and take your place between his legs. Your fingers hook around the fabric of his sweatpants before tugging them down, revealing the sticky mess he created not even a few minutes ago.

His cock is lying soft between his thighs, but it's by no means small, and you're already drooling at the sight. He whimpers softly as you take hold of his sensitive member, your tongue licking clean every single inch of him.

"M-Mommy, please, wanna drink," Tony whispers, and you smile before getting up, taking your place on his lap again. Tony has always enjoyed drinking your breastmilk now that you’re breastfeeding your son Paxton, and it’s something you both highly enjoy each time he does, whether it’s in a sexual manner or just to calm his mind.

"Yeah? Do you want to drink from Mommy? Go ahead, Baby, take what you want." As soon as the words have left your lips, he's latched onto your breast, suckling heavily until the first spurts of your breastmilk hit his tongue, and he sighs contently as his brain calms down at the feeling of the pierced nipple in his mouth.

Your head falls back as Tony drinks from you, and you can't resist sliding your bare pussy over his thigh, the friction feeling delicious together with the feeling of your husband drinking from you. Soft moans leave your lips as you brace yourself with your hands in his hair, pulling it as you can feel your orgasm creeping closer.

Tony seemingly gets the hint as he flexes his thigh muscles, and with only a few more thrusts over his thigh, you're falling apart with a chant of his name. He groaned before letting go of your one breast, only to quickly latch onto the other, which he drank happily from as you rode out your orgasm.

"That's it, my sweet boy, keep drinking from Mommy," you tell him as you guide him to sit with his back against the couch, his mouth never leaving your nipple as he sucks to get more of the precious milk he loves so much. You let yourself recover from your orgasm as he does, just enjoying the intimate moment with your husband right now.

By the time he's finished, he is also fully hard again, your hand wrapped around his cock as you jerk him gently, earning yourself soft moans and whimpers from him that have your pussy dripping within no time.

On days like these, when Tony's letting you take the lead, you're feeling a power you've rarely felt, and you love using him for nothing but your pleasure. And he loves being your human fucktoy, too.

"Do you want to make Mommy feel good with this delicious cock of yours? Want to fill me up with your cum to give me a baby?" you ask Tony, and he nods with a dopey smile on his face, eyes glazed over as they're looking at you from underneath his long, dark lashes.

"Please, Mommy, wanna fill you up," he whispers, his hand gliding over his chest to his cock, grabbing the base as you get in position on top of him. As much as you and Tony love missionary, moments like these make you like cowgirl even more. Riding Tony to his orgasm as you can play with his nipples, pull his hair, or have him do the most unthinkable of things to you have you clenching already, and he's not even inside you yet.

The moment you sink onto his cock, you can feel every single vein on it, the stretch giving a positive burn as it feels like you're being split open. When he's soft, he's already big, but when he's hard? You can barely take all of him in your mouth, and the stretch of your pussy is always something you have to take your time with. He doesn't tell you that he'll feed you his monster of a cock for nothing, after all.

"Oh, fuck! Such a perfect cock for me, Baby, splitting me open so well! Can feel you in my belly," you whisper when you're fully seated, his balls pressing against your ass while you adjust to his size. Moans are tumbling from both your lips, and Tony can't stop digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips, a pussydrunk look on his face.

"S-so tight, Mommy, such a tight pussy for me to love," he tells you after pulling you closer, the warm metal of your piercings a stark contrast against the rest of your flesh. His face is nuzzled in your neck as he breathes in your scent, and you pepper soft kisses on his hair and neck.

C'mere, sweet boy, give Mommy a kiss," you tell him, and he obediently lifts his head, meeting your lips with his in a heated, passionate moment that has his head reeling in no time. Your tongue slips into his mouth effortlessly, dancing with his in a loving, sensual way while his hands are wrapped loosely around your waist, yours tangled in his soft locks.

When you pull away, you put your forehead against his, and you feel his cock throb inside you as you make small, teasing grinds against him. As he looks up at you with sweet, puppylike eyes, your heart flutters, and warmth spreads through your chest at the sight. You're very fortunate to have fallen in love with Tony, and it brings a smile to your face.

"What's funny?" he asks as he pecks your lips, and you place your hands on his cheeks, rubbing them softly with your thumbs.

"Nothin'. I was thinking how lucky I am to be married to you and have our three beautiful Munchkins. You saved me and supported me to become the best version of myself after everything that happened, and I love you more than I could ever tell you," you whisper, trying to fight back the tears as you think back to everything that had happened before you had the chance to meet him.

"I'm the lucky one, Sunshine, got a beautiful wife-" he says as his hands wander over your inked body, fingers trailing carefully over the tattoo you got in his honor. "-and three beautiful babies too. 'M the luckiest man on earth," he tells you with such a sweet, soft voice that you can't help yourself as the tears spill over and Tony quickly wipes them away.

"I love you, Tony," you whisper as you pull him close, needing to feel him for a moment. He happily pulls you against his chest; his face nuzzled in your neck while you place kisses on his shoulder. The moment feels perfect, and you're allowing yourself to bask in the love shared between you two.

After a while, Tony's starting to feel a little restless as he tries to rut his hips up into you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your sweet spot each time. You allow him to do his thing as you let him go, and before you know it, he's flipped you over onto the couch, your back now feeling the soft fabric while Tony pounds into you at an unrelenting pace, making you see stars.

"Fuck, that's it! Fuck a baby into me, Daddy, I'm close!" you tell him, and with a shout of his name, you cum, clenching down on his cock as he keeps fucking, his orgasm nearing too. In an effort to ground yourself as he’s bringing you to your high, you take your nails over his back, and it only intensifies the pleasure he feels the deep stinging of your nails scratching his back. A loud groan escapes him before his pace gets sloppy, and you know he’s close.

"That's it, Sunshine, take it, take all my cum! Got so much for you- balls are so fucking heavy all for you," Tony pants out, his pace faltering as he spills every last drop of his cum inside you before carefully pulling out of you.

"I love you so, so much, My Love. Thank you for being the best husband I could have ever asked for," you whisper to his freckled skin, and he hums in response as he's coming down from his high. This was a much-needed moment for the two of you, and you're very grateful for every last second of it.

The two of you took the good part of an hour to bask in the glory of what you two did as you whispered sweet nothings to each other and exchanged a sea of kisses and soft touches. Now it's time for a much-needed shower, as you're covered in dried-up sweat, cum, and arousal, and you're starting to feel a little sticky everywhere.

"C'mon, My Love! Let's hop in the shower, and after, we can watch a movie on the couch," you tell Tony, and he agrees as he gets up from the couch, though his legs still feel like they're made out of jelly. As he falls back onto the couch, you can't help but chuckle at the sight and take a moment to take in the sight in front of you.

Tony's seated on the couch with his eyes looking at you intently, his cream-colored skin slightly flushed from the exertion you have put him through. His broad shoulders, the chest hair trailing down to his toned abs, and his happy trail all led to his delicious cock. If he weren't already entirely spent, you would have happily spent more time on your knees worshipping it, but instead, you reach out your hand to help him again.

"You like what you see, Sunshine?" Tony says shyly, and you feel a heat roaring up inside you. There's nothing you love more than when Tony's shy side comes out, making him look even cuter. It's something all your kids have, too, and it's a trait you adore about them.

"Always do, Handsome," you tell him as you pull him up, finally making your way to the shower. You both take your time washing each other's bodies, and Tony can't help but pay some extra attention to your nipples, rolling and tugging carefully on the barbells adorning them to coax more moans out of you.

"Let's get you settled on the bed, My Love - you've been such a good boy for Mommy that you deserve a back massage," you tell him, and he can feel his cock jump at your words. The sight of you being pregnant shoots through his mind again, and he has to use every ounce of self-control not to bend you over the bed and take you right then and there.

When he's lying on his stomach on the bed, you go and straddle his thighs right beneath his butt before dripping some of your favorite massage oil onto his muscled back. With a soft hum, you start massaging it in, starting at his shoulders as you rub out the knots there.

"God, how did I get so fucking lucky?! Got a beautiful wife with a body to die for, an amazing personality, and great at massaging? I must have won the jackpot with you, Sunshine," he grumbles as you work out every last knot in his back, relaxing him completely as every bit of tension melts under your skilled fingertips.

"I'm lucky too, you know; I get to see the nice ass you have back here every single day," you tell him with a playful smack on his butt cheek, a deep chuckle escaping from his chest that has your butterflies go crazy. Even after a few years of marriage and over a decade of being together, he still makes you feel like you did the first time you met him.

When the massage is finished, both of you get dressed in matching grey lounge outfits, with 'Mr. Stark' and 'Mrs. Stark' embroidered on them, together with your wedding date. Both of you wear your glasses to finish it off, and now it's time to relax until everyone comes home.

As you watch a few movies together on the couch, you're constantly cuddling, kissing, or having a little make-out session between feeding each other various sorts of fruit until your belly starts to rumble around dinner time, and it's time for the two of you to order some take-out. Before they all went out the door, Virginia slipped Tony some money for dinner, and even though you two could easily afford it yourselves, she wanted to take care of you on your relaxing day.

"Pizza?" "Pizza!" you answered, and before you knew it, you were seated in Tony's lap while watching the fourth Harry Potter movie and munching on the pepperoni pizza Tony ordered. The only thing that could make your evening even better was seeing your Munchkins again; luckily you don't have to wait long for that to happen.

Around 8:30 PM, you hear some stumbling. Hudson and Orion are running into the living room, practically lunging themselves onto the couch where you and Tony are cuddling as the fifth Harry Potter movie is just starting.

"Hi, my sweet Munchkins. Did you have fun with Nanna and Jackson today?" Tony asks as he pulls Orion onto his lap for a big hug. Hudson is already curling against your side for his fill of cuddles.

"We did! We went on all the rides, and Gramps bought all three of us a stuffie to bring back," Hudson told both of you, and your gaze shot to Jackson, your Mom's fiancé, as you fought back the tears. This is the first time you heard them call him anything other than Jackson, which genuinely warms your heart.

"Yeah, see? I got Mickey Mouse, Orion got Minnie Mouse, and Paxton got Winnie the Pooh because it matches his sweater," he continues as he shows off his new stuffed animal.

"And have you said thank you to Gramps yet?" you ask them, to which they nodded profusely.

"Good, now you two can prepare for bed because you've had a long day today. I'll be with you to tuck you into bed in 10 minutes, okay?" you tell them, and they nod before getting up and going to the room they're sharing, both ready to go to sleep shortly after.

"And now it's time for some cuddles with my Little One," you sigh happily as you take Paxton from your Mom. He's asleep as you place a soft kiss on his cheek, reveling in the cuteness that is your youngest son. He looks exactly like Tony, making your heart flutter whenever you see it. Now, all you need is a little girl who looks like you and the entire set will be complete.

"How did he do today?" Tony asks as he straightens out Paxton's little sweater.

"Oh, he did amazing! He was delighted to meet some of the characters; he ate like a champ and slept perfectly during nap time as the twins were playing on one of the playgrounds. None of them caused us any trouble at all," Virginia tells you both, and you rest your head on Tony's shoulder as you take in the sight of your son.

It's clear to everyone that the baby fever has officially kicked into full gear for both of you, and there's nothing you have ever wished for more. One more baby will complete your family, and you can't wait to meet them when they're here one day.

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wildlife4life · 8 months

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Seven (+) Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the always lovely @disasterbuckdiaz @wikiangela @daffi-990 @tizniz @hippolotamus @diazsdimples and @theotherbuckley Thank you all so much! Looking forward to your future works!

Alright ya'll, today is Championship Sunday and I am a bundle of nerves. As a slight work off from all that, here is more NFL Buck, feature Christopher's POV. (All previous NFL Buck posts can be found here)

Carrying around a big secret is hard. Lying to his new friends, to his teachers, to his dad's co-workers is annoying. Christopher misses his friends and family back in Texas. He wants Buck to officially be his dad and stop lying to the whole world about being a kid free bachelor. He is scared for his dad, every time he leaves for a shift. His body is always betraying him, his new doctor brought up the possibility of another surgery, his muscles ache, and puberty is creeping in, changing him in not so fun ways. And on days like today, it is all just too much. So Christopher got angry and like his father, he lashes out. "I don't want a stupid tutor!" He snapped at his dad, who is holding Christopher's latest math test. A freaking C-. He didn't fail. Heck, it isn't even a D. But his dad and Buck, had high expectations that Christopher always failed to meet. Dad shakes his head, "Christopher this is the second low test score this month. You're barely passing math with a C." "You're acting like I'm failing! And I'm not!" Chris shouts back. "Do not raise your voice." His dad says firmly, his features crinkling with anger. Christopher huffs and plops back down in his seat, without a single retort. Dad's shoulder's drop and the burgeoning anger dissipates, replaced with soft concern, "Look, kid. We all need help every now and then. Asking for it, does not make you a failure. And its just one class. One tutor, an hour or so a couple times a week after school. Just until you feel you have a better grasp on math. Okay?" No it was not okay. An afterschool tutor meant one more person to lie too, more time taken away from friends and fun activities, and another reminder that he isn't normal. "I don't need help! I don't need a fucking tutor! And I don't need your high ass expectations that I can never meet!" Christopher flings his arm out, and shoves a decorative bowl filled with random bobbles to the floor, shattering it. Ah shit. Christopher knows he's gone too far, but he doesn't want to back down. He can't. The fury that's been building under his skin since waking up late this morning, can no longer be contained and is bursting out of him directly towards his dad. "Using Buck's money won't fix this! Fix me! And I'm only at this stupid private school because of him!" Chris won't give his dad a chance to intervene, not yet. Not when he's been holding back so much since Buck informed them of the Houston Texans wanting to trade him, "I was doing great in math at my school in Houston! Then once again Buck chose football over us! You chose Buck over me! You two never think about me! I'm failing because of you!" None of it was true. Christopher knew that, not so very deep down, but he is hurting and he needed someone to hurt too. He needed someone to understand and help take the pain away. Too bad he went at it in the most unhealthiest of ways and attacked one of two people who would do absolutely anything and everything to do exactly that. The man doesn't even flinch. Instead, his face goes flat and cold. No emotion to be found. Christopher immediately shrinks in on himself. Yea he went way too far. "Go to your room." His dad demands in level voice tight with too many emotions. Fuck. He is so grounded.

Chris is a teen having a bad day and had to break a bowl at some point. Its canon to do so. Hope you all enjoyed!

Tagging (no pressure): @jesuisici33 @devirnis @exhuastedpigeon @lover-of-mine @spotsandsocks @aroeddiediaz @cal-daisies-and-briars @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @rainbow-nerdss @loserdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @try-set-me-on-fire @bekkachaos @eddiescowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @athenagranted @evanbegins @elvensorceress @malewifediaz @911onabc @911-on-abc @hoodie-buck @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @watchyourbuck @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @glorious-spoon @buddierights @prosperdemeter2 @lemonzestywrites @gayedmundodiaz @transboybuckley

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1mnobodywhoareyou · 5 months

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Happy birthday week! How about "maybe they're long distance and send them a whole package of their favorite things" with willex? ;D

The band drags themselves and their luggage into the lobby, grateful to finally have the opportunity to spend a few nights in proper beds with proper showers and surrounded by proper walls. They love tour life, but the difficulties of living in a bus for weeks on end were severely undersold.

Luke walks over to the counter to check them in: two double rooms so everyone can have their own bed.

“Is one of you Alex Mercer?” the front desk attendant asks after confirming the reservation.

“Alex?” Luke calls back to where the group had decided to stand out of the way.

“Hm?”

Luke nods him toward the front desk. “Apparently you’re needed.”

Alex walks over to join Luke, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m Alex.”

The attendant gives him a bored look, “Cool, something came in for you the other day. Can I see some ID?”

Alex’s confusion deepens. He exchanges an uncertain look with Luke.

Luke shrugs as he finishes signing the paperwork and accepts the keys from the clerk.

Alex digs his wallet out and presents his ID. The clerk barely glances at it, just long enough to confirm Alex’s name, before leaving through a door behind them.

They return with a box and place it on the desk in front of Alex. “Here you go. Enjoy your stay.”

“Thanks,” Alex says as he checks their name tag, the confused expression never leaving his face, “Naomi. Do you know where this came from?”

He’s met with a shrug, “There was just a note on the reservation. That’s all I know, sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he murmurs. “Thanks again.”

Alex picks up the box, giving it a gentle shake, before following Luke back to the others.

They greet him with curious expressions of their own but nobody says anything as they accept their keys and room numbers from Luke: Reggie and Luke in one room, Julie and Alex in the other.

Alex and Julie had determined long ago that they were never rooming with the others if they had the choice. Luke doesn’t sleep and Reggie talks - whether he’s awake or not. Sure, Alex snores but Julie can handle earplugs if she needs them. It’s the lesser of available evils.

Julie and Reggie had loaded up a cart while Luke and Alex were occupied so Alex’s arms are free to carry his new box as they make their way to the elevator.

“Who’s it from?” Julie asks once the door closes behind them.

“Dunno.”

“There’s no return address?”

“Oh,” Alex says softly. He hadn’t thought to look and glances at the label, narrowing his eyes in suspicion as he reads it. “Willie.”

Luke hums in understanding, “That makes sense.”

“But why?”

“Really?” Reggie asks as if it’s obvious.

“What?”

“Dude. You really don’t know what tomorrow is?”

“Tomorrow?” Alex takes a moment to think. They’d stopped being able to effectively track time a long time ago and he doesn’t honestly know tomorrow from yesterday most of the time.

Julie starts laughing as soon as she figures it out. “Oh, of course!”

“Can somebody please fill me in?!” Alex whines.

“Alex, I know you’re tired. But really?” Reggie teases. “To forget your own birthday?” He tuts disappointedly.

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh no?” Luke echoes as their elevator stops on their floor, dinging their arrival.

“Really? It’s Willie,” Alex reminds him as they file out into the hall. He holds the box up, “We’re opening this in your room.”

“Ours?!” Reggie squeaks. “Why?”

“If whatever’s in here explodes, I don’t want to deal with it.”

“Dude, he’s your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I’m with Alex on this,” Julie chimes in. “Keep the chaos in the chaos room.”

Luke groans, “Fine. But if there’s anything embarrassing in there, I get full rights to-”

“Yeah, yeah fine,” Alex interrupts. “You can make fun, whatever.”

Luke and Reggie whoop exaggeratedly only to be shushed by Alex and Julie. They pull up to their adjoining rooms and unload the cart, dumping their stuff just inside of their respective doors.

“I’ll take the cart back and then we can see what Alex’s beau sent,” Julie offers.

“Can’t he open the box first?” Reggie pleads.

Julie exchanges a look with Alex, silently asking him what he wants. He nods his approval and Julie agrees with a laugh. “Of course your birthday gift requires a proper audience.”

“It’s Willie!” Reggie reminds her. “I don’t want to miss out on whatever he’s got planned.”

“And Alex started it, insisting that it needs to be opened here,” Luke adds.

Alex rolls his eyes but walks toward the table in their room, setting the parcel on it. He looks down at the tape job and then around the room. Luke presents him with a pocketknife.

“Why do you… Never mind, I do not want to know,” Alex starts to ask before changing his mind and accepting the blade.

“It’s for my guitar strings, smartass.”

“Right and you just… always have it with you?”

“How have we been friends for this long and you not know this?”

“Guys! Present!” Reggie interrupts them excitedly.

Alex sighs and starts slicing at tape, of which there is much more than necessary. Alex can’t quite decide if Willie was just worried about box failure or if he intentionally wrapped it like this as a prank. Neither option does much to assuage his anxiety about what he’s about to experience.

He finishes working through the tape, taking a deep breath as he sets the knife down on the table.

“It can’t possibly be that bad,” Reggie tries to assure him.

Alex turns on Reggie with a glare. “It. is. Willie.”

“And you love him and he loves you and blah blah blah, would you open it already?”

Alex closes his eyes as he takes another deep breath. He lifts the flaps of the box. When nothing happens, he cracks open one eye. And then the other. He slowly lets out the breath he’d been holding as he digs through the bubble wrap and packing paper.

His confusion returns as he starts removing items, one at a time, under the watchful eye of his friends.

First is Willie’s tie-dye crop top. He absolutely does not smell it in front of his bandmates. But absolutely considers doing so in the privacy of his own room later. Mostly his room. He’ll figure it out.

Then there’s a pair of hotdog socks that cause Luke to snort and Alex to roll his eyes. He’ll never live down almost dying on street food but at least it’s entertaining for everyone else.

Two cans of Cactus Cooler that Willie knows he hates. And absolutely could have exploded due to being shipped across the country but luckily didn’t.

Luke immediately grabs both cans, “I love this stuff!”

Alex grimaces, “You can have it, man.”

There are some bags of his favourite candy and hiding underneath everything is a mini, unreasonably soft stuffed dragon and a short letter. Alex blushes as he quickly skims it before stuffing it into his pocket before any of the others can get their hands on it.

To remind you of home, Willie had written. Well, that explains the cans of citrus soda. Alex can’t help the smile that stretches across his face. Willie might be a prankster and constantly keeping Alex on his toes, but his sweet streak undercuts all of it. And all of those sides are what Alex loves about him.

“Oh, lovesick Alex has taken over,” Reggie teases.

Alex responds by sticking his tongue out and gathering his gifts, except the cans of soda, and retreating to his and Julie’s room.

If he diverges from his usual style for their show the next night, sporting Willie’s top and his new socks, well, he can deal with the talk. It’s worth it if he can feel like his boyfriend isn’t on the other side of the country for even just one night.

And if maybe he has a new drumkit mascot for the rest of the tour, well, nobody else needs to know that at all.

birthday prompts

#thank you!#hope you like it :D #i did NOT succeed in keeping this one under 1k 😅#willex #prompt fill #answered ask #nobodys fics #jatp #julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #willie no last name

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promptisgiftexchange · 4 months

Text

We have reached the conclusion of the 2024 Promptis Gift Exchange and I want to thank each and every one of you. Whether you were a participant, or simply along for the ride to read the wonderful stories and view the exceptional artwork, thank you for helping to make this gift exchange the joyful event that it was.

To all of our talented participants, you have gone above and beyond and have contributed so much incredible Promptis content for your gift recipients, and for this exchange. Thank you for all of your hard work and for being a part of this event. You are what made it so special and I’m so happy for you to finally be able to share your work with the community as yourselves.

At this time, all of our wonderful creators are now free to post your stories/artwork under your own name anywhere else that you desire. You may also choose to update the posting date of your Ao3 post at this point so that your contribution appears as a new work under your own name.

If anyone is aware of any stories that were written in response to art from our exchange or more artwork that was created in response to any other stories in the exchange, please let me know by sending me a link or by pinging me at @promptis-gift.bsky.social on Bluesky, @promptis_gift on Twitter, or @promptisgiftexchange on Tumblr so I can give it a boost. Likewise, if any of you have plans to write or draw anything as a response to the gift you received, I would love to be made aware of them once they are completed so I can promote it as well.

I would also like to give a special shout out and thank you to @ffxv_zine_news on Twitter. Your retweeting and support of the Promptis Gift Exchange (especially considering the fact that I wasn’t tagging your account while I was promoting individual works over the course of the last two months) did not go unnoticed. Thank you for your support and promotion of the individual stories and pieces of artwork that our participants worked so hard on, and for all of the wonderful things that you do everyday for our FFXV community as a whole.

Another huge and heartfelt thank you goes out to our wonderful Pinch-hitters: Firechocobro, InNovaFertAnimus, and QueenHomeSlice, as well as yet another enormous thanks to Charmms and SalamanderSocks for their willingness and ability to switch posting dates with participants who ran into unexpected problems. You guys are the best and I appreciate everything you’ve done!

Once again, thank you to everyone who has been a part of the 2024 Promptis Gift Exchange. This year has been our largest exchange to date and I can't tell you how thrilled I am to have had such an amazingly successful fourth round. It has been a fantastic two months, filled with tons of excitement, and amazing Promptis fanworks! All of that is thanks to all of you!

I hope to see you all again next year for our fifth round. Please continue to follow us for more information that will come out later this year on the 2025 Promptis Gift Exchange. In the meantime, if you are not already a member of the Promptis Discord Server I would like to take this opportunity to invite you to join us for year round Promptis fun. Anyone who loves Promptis is welcome to join us. It's a great place to chat with nice people about Promptis, share fanworks that you love, and we also have fun in-server events like a Monthly Challenge. I have included the invitation link to the server below.

Promptis Server- https://discord.gg/Xfw4jQWQ28

Masterlist and Creator Reveals

Without further ado, here are the reveals for the Promptis Gift Exchange 2024. You can find the reveals detailed in the following places:

Google Docs- (organized by the type of fanwork) https://docs.google.com/document/d/1fb2FN4HVNODkTkybFpyV1fwXQ6GpYsCvf_EcfFgJEig/edit?usp=sharing

You can also, as always, locate the entire collection on Ao3- https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Promptis_Gift_Exchange_2024/profile

#promptis gift exchange #Promptis #Noctis/Prompto #Noctis Lucis Caelum #Prompto Argentum #ffxv #final fantasy xv #creator reveals

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miru667 · 1 year

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Hi again, Miru! Sorry to bother, im always so curious. I've got two questions: 1. Do you think Onceler AU askblogs could still do well in this day and age? Im still seeing some of them alive but they gain very little traction most of the time, barely enough to even keep going. 2. What does lerkimpails mean? Keep seeing it a lot, no idea what it refers to. Thank you for your time and have a wonderful day!! :D

Hi! Don't be sorry! Around 2014-2015 the regular fandom tags like #onceler and #the lorax started getting filled more and more with outside people hating on the fandom, so the fandom agreed on using more discreet tags so that we could see things without having to sift through all the negativity. You can see all the alternate tags here: https://swaggermimint.tumblr.com/post/110118338700/we-need-new-tags

Not all of them are relevant anymore obviously, but as you can see, #lerkimpails is a tag for anything related to askblogs. Over time though and with so many new people joining the fandom, awareness of those tags got lost, but I'm sure some people still use them and/or follow them today.

As for your first question, I am wondering...what is your definition of "doing well"? Do you need 100 notes per post to consider it "enough traction to keep going"? Or maybe you can be satisfied enough just enjoying something with your friends..? If you're only making an askblog expecting to get attention then in my opinion I think you'd be setting yourself up for disappointment... When I worked on my first Audrey askblog in 2012-2013, all her posts back then had an average of only 2-8 likes and 0 reblogs, and half the time I had to send anon asks to her blog myself, but I kept going because I was just so excited to put my ideas and headcanons out there for those 2-8 people, and I still consider it one of the most fun times I've ever had in the fandom. So it all really depends on your perspective and mindset! If you're passionate about something, you will naturally keep going, and the right people will find you and support you.

That all said, if there's an askblog you want to see more of, and if you have the time and energy to do so, you could be brave and engage with them! Send them asks, share them with your friends, tell the mod you like their oc etc, I'm sure everyone agrees it can really make someone's day.

#miruask #etsulovesonceler #i feel like this past year my irl stresses have left me more exhausted than ever so i don't have the energy to engage as much as i used to #but it's nice to see others still doing it! ;v;#i hope your day is wonderful too

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moodymelanist · 2 years

Text

there are two ways we can do this (i know which would be more fun)

Happy day 4 of @sjmromanceweek, everyone! Venturing a little outside my comfort zone with this one and I hope you enjoy<3

shoutout to @c-e-d-dreamer for the title and @creativepromptsforwriting for the prompt!

Summary: Eris and Azriel are traveling for work, but the hotel they’re staying in has a mixup with their rooms, and they’re forced to share a bed.

Read on AO3 here!

♡♡♡♡♡ Eris

“There’s no way that’s possible,” Eris said.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Azriel said at the same time.

Eris and Azriel worked for the same consulting firm — Night Industries — and had been forced to travel together for the project they’d been working on for half a year. It had been bad enough dealing with Azriel’s snark mostly through a computer screen, but dealing with the other man had been a true test of Eris’ patience. He was huge, he was even ruder in person, and who the fuck needed that many muscles in the first place?

Whatever. Eris had very much been looking forward to decompressing in their very much separate hotel rooms, but through some kind of mistake, it appeared the hotel had placed them in the same room.

“I’m very sorry, sirs,” the man working the front desk replied. His name tag read Kallon, and he did not sound very sorry. “There’s been a mix-up with the booking, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“I will give you a hundred dollars to make this go away,” Eris offered, ignoring the dirty look Azriel threw his way.

“I can’t accept that,” Kallon responded, bored. “But even if I could, there aren’t any other rooms available. There’s a convention going on—”

“Five hundred,” Eris interrupted, more than ready to be done with this conversation. He wasn’t above flaunting his wealth to get what he wanted, and what he really wanted was to be away from Azriel’s brooding presence.

Kallon’s hands continued moving across the keyboard as if he hadn’t said anything at all. “Like I was saying, you’ll be staying in room 902. Breakfast starts at 8, and you have full access to all our amenities. Here are your keys.”

“Thank you, Kallon,” Azriel told him. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” Kallon chirped back with a self-satisfied smirk.

Eris scowled at Azriel, but took the other hotel key anyway. If he couldn’t get a night’s peace, at least he could take a nice shower and relax in the hotel bed while pretending Azriel wasn’t there.

“You know, it costs nothing to be kind,” Azriel said once they were in the elevator. Eris saw the way Azriel was smirking and braced himself for the incoming dig. “But I’m glad you think I’m worth at least five hundred dollars.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Velasquez.” Eris leaned against the elevator walls and resolutely ignored the way Azriel filled out his dark blue suit. “The only reason I offered that much is because money isn’t a concern.”

Azriel snorted. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Vanserra.”

They didn’t speak again until they reached the hotel room, and Eris sped up so he could be the one to open the door. Azriel snorted from behind him, but Eris didn’t care what that smug bastard thought about his admittedly-petty antics. As long as Eris came out on top, anything Azriel had to say about it didn’t matter.

The room was gorgeous as usual, and Eris was pleased to see they’d been placed in one of the suites. The second he stepped into the bedroom, though, any goodwill he’d managed to build up in the last thirty seconds disappeared as he realized there was only one bed.

Granted, it was a king sized bed, but it was only one bed. For two grown men to share.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Eris exclaimed at the sight. He let go of his rolling suitcase and turned on his heel, fully intending on marching back down to the front desk to complain even though he knew it wouldn’t accomplish anything, but Azriel’s body stopped him from leaving the room. “Are you seeing this?”

“I see it,” Azriel replied coolly. He looked down the few inches that separated them and raised a dark eyebrow. “Are you really going to go complain about it?”

“Yes,” Eris hissed, ignoring the incredulous look on Azriel’s face. “This is absurd—”

“Yeah, but it’s damn near midnight,” Azriel cut him off without missing a beat. Eris scowled at the interruption but allowed him to keep talking anyway. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been ready to get out of this suit for hours. We can get it fixed in the morning.”

“But—” Eris spluttered, still riled up.

“Eris,” Azriel said seriously. Azriel so rarely said Eris’ actual name that it made it more difficult than Eris cared to admit to stay focused. “Just take a shower and get in the fucking bed. We’re grown men. We can handle sharing for one night.”

“I’m going down to complain first thing tomorrow morning,” Eris grumbled. He turned and reached for his suitcase, bringing it over to the right side of the bed. “And I’m complaining to Rhysand about this.”

“Don’t tell me you’re that mad about having someone in your bed,” Azriel responded, his tone turning slightly mocking. “I know it’s rare for you, but surely it’s happened before.”

Eris contemplated throwing one of his very expensive shoes at Azriel’s head, but he didn’t think it was worth scuffing the leather. “Of course it’s happened before. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Granted, it had been a while since Eris had let someone warm his bed, but Azriel didn’t need to know that. He decided to retreat to the bathroom before Azriel could come up with another way to insult him, detaching his briefcase from his carry on and rolling the tiny suitcase into the bathroom with him rather than waste time digging through it for his toiletries.

Once he was safely behind a locked door, Eris took his time in the bathroom just to be a dick. The shower was huge and the hot water was endless, and by the time he finally emerged in a cloud of steam, a muscle in Azriel’s jaw was working overtime.

“Took you long enough,” Azriel muttered. He’d loosened his tie and taken off his jacket altogether, and Eris had to force himself to look away from the borderline obscene way he was leaning back in his chair. God, didn’t he realize how he looked, sitting there with his legs spread wide enough for someone to crawl in between them?

“It’s been a long day,” Eris said cheerfully, forcing himself to pay attention to the conversation instead of letting his mind wander further. “I earned it.”

Azriel’s expression suggested he exactly what he’d thought Eris earned, but he just rolled his eyes before disappearing into the bathroom. He took just as long as Eris had, if not longer, and Eris used the opportunity of the empty room to get himself situated. He hung up his clothes for tomorrow, organized his nightstand just the way he wanted it, and even went to fill up the ice bucket so his water would be cold.

When Azriel came out of the bathroom, Eris was doing his best to appear nonchalant while he relaxed against the headboard. He definitely didn’t notice the way Azriel’s thin undershirt clung to all that golden-brown skin, and he certainly didn’t take another look at the way the other man’s thighs flexed underneath his loose shorts.

“Let’s just go to bed,” Eris said shortly before Azriel could. Azriel thankfully just nodded, and after a few minutes of Azriel shifting around his side of the room, he motioned for Eris to turn off the lamp.

Eris shifted under the covers while Azriel did the same, the two of them laying in complete silence for a few minutes. Eris felt like his mind was traveling at a million miles per hour between all the things he had to get done tomorrow and the way he was sharing a bed with someone he honestly didn’t know very well outside of their limited, albeit snarky, interactions.

“Stop moving,” Azriel growled from his side of the bed.

Eris stopped his fidgeting, stunned into compliance for a few moments before he regained his composure. “Fuck you, I have a lot on my mind.”

“I’m trying to sleep,” Azriel snapped. “I don’t care what’s on your mind. Stop fucking moving around so much before I make you.”

“What are you going to do?” Eris snapped right back. Even though he could feel those hazel eyes on him, it was much easier to be bold with the lights off. “Cuddle me into submission?”

To Eris’ complete shock, that’s exactly what Azriel did. Eris cursed under his breath the entire time, but that didn’t stop those ridiculously muscled arms from reaching out and physically dragging him to the other side of the bed. Eris let out a completely undignified noise at being manhandled so easily, but Azriel either didn’t hear it or didn’t care.

“Was that so hard?” Azriel practically purred into Eris’ ear.

Eris could think of something that was going to be hard if Azriel kept this routine up, but he thankfully had the presence of mind not to embarrass himself further. “No.”

“That’s what I thought.” Azriel tightened his grip across Eris’ waist, his hips grinding into Eris’ ass as he tried to make himself more comfortable. At least, that was the only reasonable explanation for what Azriel was doing. “Stop thinking so loud.”

“I’m trying,” Eris ground out, “but it’s a little hard with your dick on my ass like that.”

Azriel just chuckled lowly, the sound doing way more for Eris than he cared to admit. “Sounds like you’d rather it be somewhere else.”

“I never said that—” Eris stammered out, his face burning. Azriel was ridiculous, that was absolutely not what Eris was intending, and he was just trying to rile Eris up as per usual. “What are you even—”

“You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?” Azriel interrupted Eris’ protests. “You can’t decide whether you want to hit me or fuck me. It’s adorable.”

“That’s idiotic,” Eris snapped, ignoring the low chuckle Azriel issued in response. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“I don’t?” Azriel asked. He sounded like he was enjoying this way too much. “Tell me to stop, then.”

Eris choked on his next breath as the hand Azriel had wrapped around his waist began a slow descent toward the waistband of Eris’ pajama pants. “Azriel.”

“Eris,” Azriel replied, teasing. His hand slowed as he played with the waistband of Eris’ pants, fingers dipping shallowly underneath. “If you don’t want this, tell me to stop.”

Eris did no such thing, and if anyone noticed Azriel walking funny the next morning, they were at least too polite to say anything about it.

#sjmromanceweek2023 #acotar #acosf #azris #eris vanserra #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #moodymelanistwrites #there was only one bed #modern au #⭐️

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giggly-squiggily · 1 year

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Heyyy idk if you're ok with this request, but you're free to decline it if you don't want to do it🫶

Can u do lee gen and ler ryusui? Their dynamic in the ep "Dr. Stone: Ryusui" was so chaotic i loved it, but again if you don't want to do it that's perfectly fine with me🫶🫶

Ooo, the boys!!! I adore Ryusui so much- he is an absolute dork and deserves the world! Him and Gen have such a fun dynamic! I've gotcha covered, anon! :)

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps)

@myreygn, @skribblz (tagging you because Gen :D)

“Ha HA! The horizon! I desire it all!” Ryusui spread his arms out wide, wind swiping at his hair and clothes as he took it all in. “I want the world, and the world wants me!”

“Sure, awesome- mind stepping back from the edge there, Sailor? I don’t think the world wants you encased in it just yet.” Gen reached out from behind, hands coming to the other’s sides to pull him back. In the distance, he swore he heard tin whistles. “Come on before you take a dirt nap-”

“Ahehehe!”

Gen blinked, startled. Ryusui had twisted away, elbows to his sides and eyes wide in shock. When it wore off, the sailor cleared his throat, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“H-Ha ha! Thank you, Gen! A sailor’s nothing without a crew to back him up, and it’s thanks to your quick thinking I’m still standing!” He nodded, trying to hide the small tremor in his voice with a hearty laugh. The mentalist only carried on watching him, tilting his head.

“Of course, though- tell me, Ryusui. What was that just now?”

“What was what?” Spoken too fast.

“That noise you made. It sounded rather interesting, no?” Gen started to smile, walking a step forward. “Are you hurt?”

“Ha-no. No, I'm not hurt.” Ryusui took a step back, further away from the edge. “Not hurt at all!”

“Then perhaps you’re sore? I’m fairly good at massages.” Gen raised his hands, curling his fingers. The sight made Ryusui straighten, eyes widening and cheeks rivaling his clothes. “You can ask Senku-chan when we get back; he’ll tell you.”

“I-I knew it! You two have something going on!” Ryusui backed away further, slowly down the path they took to get up here.

“Oh, sailor boy- our thing’s been common knowledge since day one.” Gen smirked, unfazed by Ryusui’s attempts of diversion. “Everyone knows. Just like how everyone knows about you and Tsukasa.”

“W-What?” Ryusui seemed stunned by this, face on fire. This was Gen’s moment to strike! He darted over, quickly grabbing Ryusui’s sides and squeezing. “AH! Ahehahhahahahaha! G-Gehehhehehn wahhahhhahhait!”

“Hehe, I knew it! I’ve grabbed Senku-chan there enough times to know what a ticklish reaction is! And you sir- are stupid ticklish!” Gen laughed gleefully as Ryusui twisted about, giggling like a child. Feeling bold, Gen stepped closer, moving his hands further around to his belly-

“Gohohohhohootcha!” Ryusui twisted at the last minute, grabbing onto Gen’s waist.

The reaction was instantaneous. Gen arched with a loud shriek, trying in vain to wiggle away from the sailor’s vengeful fingers. “Whahahahit- whahahahit wahahhahait, Ryuhuhuhuhuhuhuusuuhuuhuhuhiihihi!”

“Ha-HA! Just when you thought you had me! You’re a sneaky guy, aren't cha Gen? Can’t say I’m not impressed.” Ryusui snickered as he gently massaged the spot between Gen’s lower ribs and waist, earning a fresh squeal and hands attacking him-pulling at the back of his coat and banging against his shoulders. “Come now- you know you’re gonna need to do more than that to beat me-hehehheheehhe!”

“Ooohohohoho?” The hands attacking his back returned to his sides, drilling into his ribs and making Ryusui double over in mirth. “Whahahhahat abohohohout behehheahhahting youohohohu?”

If the sailor had a retort, it was lost in his howls of mirth. Instead, his hands carried on seeking out all of Gen’s own tickle spots, the results fruitful. It wasn’t long before the two were having an all out tickle war, their loud squeals and cackles filling the space surrounding them.

Alas though- Gen underestimated challenging someone like Ryusui to war. The man was the self proclaimed “Greediest man on earth”- and he made sure that was known as he swept a foot under the mentalist’s leg, dropping him harmlessly into the grass below and going for his belly. “HA-HA! Take this! I desire your laughter, and I shall get it!” Ryusui snapped his fingers for added effect, ducking his arm down quickly before Gen could prod him there. “Now take this!”

“AHEHHEHEHE! REHEHHEHEYUHUHUUHSUI, PLHEEHHHEASE!” Gen shrieked, arching with a loud titter beneath the sailor. He had lost this fight. “OHOHOHOKAY! OOHOHOHOKAY, STAHHAHAHP YOU WIHIIHIHIHN!”

The sailor did as requested, hooting in victory. Gen groaned softly, too tired to move, even when Ryusui all but collapsed across him. “Ehhhehe…ehhehe..tuuhuhhuckered yoursheheehlf out, dihiihidn’t you?”

“Ha…hahaha…A sahahhahailor…dohohosen’t get tiihihired…” Ryusui tried to get up, but the best he could do was roll onto his back, lying side by side with the Mentalist. “Hehe…hehee…I hahaven’t done that in a long time.”

“Have a tickle fight?” Gen looked at him curiously. Though- he supposed that made sense. He himself hadn’t really had this many tickle fights until he met Senku and humanity fell into the stone age.

“Yeah. I missed it, the whole…tickling thing. Heh, saying it outloud’s kinda embarrassing, now that I think about it.” Ryusui laughed softly, something vulnerable creeping into his expression that made Gen pause, choosing his words carefully.

“I don’t think it’s embarrassing. I think…a lot of us from our time miss things like that. Intimacy. Goofing about. Back in the modern times, we’d get so busy with our day to day lives that we push down those parts of us.” Gen thought once more of his own life- cameras and photos, book signings and state presence. “I know for me, I hadn’t realized just how badly I wanted someone to just hold my hand until the Stone Age came and there was nothing to distract me from it. Sure, we’ve got the Kingdom of Science keeping us busy, but when the days end and the quiet sets in…” Gen shrugged, turning to Ryusui. “Whatever form it may be- there’s nothing wrong with craving touch.”

Ryusui hummed in thought, considering. Then he smiled. Not his usual “Ryusui the Greedy” smile, but something soft and genuine- something so achingly real Gen wondered just how Tsukasa stayed standing whenever the sailor smiled at him like that. “Thanks, Gen. I appreciate it.”

Gen grinned, nodding. Just then, Senku’s bright green head appeared above them, upside down in their vision.

“Found you two. I heard yelling and got worried.” Judging by the smirk he was wearing, he clearly wasn’t anymore. “What got you two giggling like a couple of school girls?”

“Why, Senku-chan. Some things are better shown than told.” Gen grinned, winking at Ryusui as a new idea set in motion. “Shall we give him a demo, Ryusui?”

“Ha-HA! Sounds like a plan, Gen!” Ryusui snapped his fingers, rolling to his feet with ease. “Come, Senku- let us hear those laughs we desire…”

“What? Oh- Oh, nohoho. No, that’s alright- I’ll take your word for it!” Senku backed up a few steps before taking off, running towards the village with Gen and Ryusui hot on his trail.

Thanks for reading!

#dr stone #tickle #tickle fic #asagiri gen #ryusui nanami #senku ishigami #sengen #ryusaka #fluff #the boys being dorks again #because they can :D

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outtoshatter · 11 months

Text

20 Questions for fic Writers!

finally getting to the tag games i've been forgetting! thanks for the tag @sugareey-makes-stuff this looks so cute and fun!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Just 93....for now! I have a secret little goal to hit 100 before the end of the year but realistically that probably won't happen.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,864,258! I'd like to hit 2mil eventually :D

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Teen Wolf for now! Although I've been trying to get myself to be inspired by others, it's just not happening. Although i finally finished watching Superstore the other day and intensely plotted out a fic that would fill in some missing stuff that was bugging me. but I likely won't do that lmao

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Haaa Son of the Sheriff [Teen Wolf, G, 3k words] Nature of the Beast [Teen Wolf, M, 56k] No Mercy [Teen Wolf, M, 64k] Love Don't Lie [Teen Wolf, T, 2k] Ride with me [Teen Wolf, T, 4k]

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! almost always. sometimes I don't know what to say but I try to respond anyway. I didn't before, at first because when I joined ao3 the authors' whose works I commented on didn't respond so I just thought that was the culture, and then occasionally now because I'm just...very drained from pulling the story out of my head. MOSTLY though I genuinely love talking about my stories with people, especially when they have questions about my worlds; I put a ton of thought and care into my worlds and LOVE when people are interested!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ah...hmm. I don't know! i always aim for happy endings, they bring me the most joy in writing. Uhhh maybe Pulling Strings? It's more open than angsty, buuuut it is less outright happy than my other fics!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

HAPPIEST. That's so hard!! Because see above, all happy endings. I'll say an even tie between The Next Chapter and Fractured Starlight, just going by most recently picked fics!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

klfjsalkfslka I don't know that i'd call it outright hate. but i've gotten some WILD comments before. That were unquestionably FUCKING rude. But i don't know if it counts as hate. I have an entire folder i have named Hall of Shame of some of the worst offenders. It's gotten less bad now that I've archive locked all my fics, which made it so much more fun to post. I think the worst was either the several-paragraphs long, two part comment about how the reader was disappointed in me (??) and just a bunch of other rudeness, OR the person who, after I deleted their comment that pissed me off, pasted their comment back in with a bitchy little addition to let me know they felt entitled to leaving rude stuff on my fic. so i deleted it again c:

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't write a lot of it! Definitely not PWP. Just emotion-focused sex scenes if it happens and works for the rest of my plot! it's just not as fun as action scenes for me most of the time c:

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I'm hesitant to call it stolen but someone did ask me permission to translate my fic, and I granted it, but they did not link me to it, or even post it on ao3, which bothered me. but i found it. and. they had translated it, sure, but they'd also changed it from a sterek fic....to a Derek x Peter fic. which was. a weird thing to do. that was not what we had agreed upon so i just messaged them mainly asking like. for why.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

LOL. Yes! 4 on ao3, and two out there...on other sites. that was annoying D< I am flattered people wanted to translate my fics! I now have a blanket statement on my profile for this sort of thing, including that I want translations only on ao3, and not posted elsewhere because of...well. #11 lol

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No :c I'd like to try! But i have so many to-write fics!! I have some vague plans for a fic with @dappledawndrawn but like. my list. it's so long. (Also add in my fears that I'd be overbearing or something and i will procrastinate this forever.)

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I'd have to say sterek lmaooo. I have others I like and even love a whole lot I just haven't become obsessed with finding out how to fit those other ships in a whole bunch of other worlds like I have with sterek. Maybe one day! Mostly they're book ships hahaha

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh man. ;-; the third of my fairy tale series. I started it like 3 times but could never get it right! i had it all planned out and everything it just would not work. So annoying.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Worldbuilding for sure. Plotting, foreshadowing. Building the tale itself i guess? And action oh man am I obsessed with writing action and I am good at it. I love building worlds, blowing things up, and telling the tale of why, taking the reader on the twisty, interesting, exciting journey to the satisfying conclusion.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Personally, I think I need to work on my descriptions of characters, and tbh I have trouble writing emotional scenes! I'm working on it though.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before! Looking back, I was annoyed at myself xD I mostly now stick to just writing it as regular dialogue, then "-in [x language]" afterward. I don't have anything against it I suppose, but usually it's not really important to the plot to have a single line in a different language than the rest of the fic (special cases happen) so I just don't hahaha

19. First fandom you wrote for?

e.e This question always happens on these things lkfdsalkfjdskaf SIIIGH it was Maximum Ride. c,:

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I am ever proud of Are You Ready? it's my baby, my love, I am so so proud of it and how my writing improved just trying to do justice to that story. So.

Thanks for the tag! Tagging @raisesomehale @rosieposiepuddingnpie @2dents @cephalog0d @halevetica @tkwritesdumbassassins @evanesdust and anyone else who might want to play who i didn't tag lfkjdslakjfs sorry

#tag games #writing #gia talks #sterek #ahhhh

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lilyoffandoms · 1 year

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Blades Drabble (Mal x Daenarya & Tyril x Maiele)

For @storyofmychoices. Thank you for participating this month and for being such an amazing positive voice within our fandom. Be sure to check out her writing here.

Warning & A/N: None at all other than Daenarya and Maiele’s favorite pastime, watching Mal find new ways to antagonize Tyril.

“Is he…?” Maiele trailed off as he watched the scene unfold before them.

“Um, yeah,” Daenarya said as she stood fixated on the same scene beside Maiele.

“He knows that…,” he trailed off again with a glance in Daenarya’s direction

“Yeah, he knows,” Daenarya smiled and shook her head.

“And he knows that Tyril?” he didn’t need to complete the question.

“Yep,” she answered with a smirk thrown in Maiele’s direction. “Delicious isn’t it?”

“Definitely! I’ll get us drinks,” Maiele grinned and scurried off, returning moments later with two glasses in hand.

He sat beside Daenarya on the couch and clinked his glass to her own.

“You’re running out of time,” Maiele called to Mal who continued his work along the far wall filled with family portraits from Tyril’s childrhood.

“This will fun. When does Tyril get home?” Daenarya asked.

“Any minute now, I expect.”

As if on cue they heard Tyril open the front door and walk towards the sound of the two friends laughter. Mal scampered off the chair and, unable to move it back in time, threw himself into it and tried to look nonchalant as Tyril walked into the room.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he leaned in and gave Maiele a quick kiss.

“By what? Thirty seconds?” Mal teased and drew Tyril’s attention.

“Mistake,” Daenarya giggled.

“Why do you have a paint brush in your hand?” Tyril asked as Daenarya and Maiele roared with laughter.

Tyril glanced at the wall behind Mal and his eyes narrowed.

“D- did you?” he stuttered angrily and gestured to the paintings on the wall.

“It wasn’t me?” Mal grinned as he professed innocence.

“And just who was it, then?”

“The kids?”

“You mean the children playing outside that I greeted on my way in? Those children? Or do you mean, you? Because you are the by far the biggest child here.”

Daenarya snorted at that and drew Tyril’s attention back to the two on the couch. Both freezing with the biggest grins on their faces.

“And you two! You just what? Let him deface everyone of my family?”

“No,” Maiele broke back into giggles.

“You know we can’t stop him once he sets his mind to something,” Daenarya explained through her own giggles.

“Plus, it isn’t every member of your family. Just one in particular,” Maiele pointed out.

Tyril turned back to the wall and saw that Maiele spoke the truth. Each and every painting had only one person with a black mustache and it was Tyril.

He snatched the paint pot from the shelf and the paintbrush from Mal’s hand as Mal bolted from the room with Tyril close behind him.

“Oh this just got better,” Daenarya said as the two followed quickly behind.

——————————

All Choices Tag: @peonierose @aallotarenunelma @inlocusmads

#choiceswriterappreciation2023 #week 4 #mal x daenarya #tyril x maiele #choices blades #my drabble #i like to live dangerously and so do not edit forgive my mistakes #i’m posting this one early because i can and why not #already accidentally posted one so might as well for real post another

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dovithedarklord · 10 months

Text

Age of Monsters - Chapter Seven

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

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Author's Note

Leona and the small team reflect on the past over a drink. And this is the last calm moment before the storm.

Hello!

I don't have a separate trigger warning for this chapter. There is only a pleasant conversation going on to make the past clearer :D

Have fun!

I.M.L. - Infected mammalian lifeform.

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Seven

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I stroll through the maze of the base with springy steps, and my lightness is further enhanced by the fact that during the night, I finally managed to make up for all the minutes of sleep I missed so far, which was topped by doing nothing for the rest of the day. Thanks to my beauty sleep and long relaxation, the vitality seems to have found its way back into my body, and it almost feels strange to finally exist without pain, injuries, and tension within the walls of this god-forsaken establishment. Of course, it’s also undeniable that such a healthy glow graced my face after escaping the clutches of death, which would've been difficult to achieve with other means. And while at first I thought that my exciting little adventure yesterday would at least haunt me a bit, I was positively disappointed in my own subconscious, because it didn’t entertain me with any horrific images in my dreams. After my favorite masked Hunter and I rolled back between the safe walls of the base, I was convinced that even though I had experienced or committed certain types of violence, and I was by no means an angel, I lived with the suspicion that my struggle for survival would leave a deeper mark on me. But nothing else remained after the incident, only the sparks of my enlightenment, which still glow vividly in my mind even now, on my way to Price's office.

The revelations that came with my newfound wisdom were only solidified when I saw the reception committee made up of my two cheerleader boys after our arrival, who welcomed my dirty, bloody, and most of all, worn-out person with the right amount of shock and concern. And from the mixture of surprise and worry on their faces, the warmth in my rough little soul, which I had tried to forget before with every fiber of my being, was renewed. And as MacTavish, cursing in a voice distorted by his strong accent, observed my state that was light years away from pleasant, and as Garrick firmly assured me that they would not torture me to death the next day, it was once again confirmed in me, that it was a good idea to come back and stay with this team.

As I turn into one of the corridors swimming in the light of the setting sun, my destination appears in front of me, to which I received a rather mysterious invitation from the captain during the morning, who didn't bother to explain his intentions as to why he would like to disrupt my day off. Of course, I have a hunch that he's curious about the details of my outing with Riley, and I'm almost glad he called me to have a chitchat, because, despite my revelations, I still have questions that I'd like to ask him. I'd like to believe that my entire field trip was just a figment of the masked Hunter's brain, and that he was behind the plan just by himself, but what kind of superior would Price be if such mischievous things could happen without his knowledge? And the realistic side of my brain demands to know the reason why the bearded man thought it was a good idea to send me into the wilderness for a survival game. Of course, my soul was filled with motivation to selfishly soak up the kindness potentially directed at me and to behave in a slightly nicer way from now on, but I didn’t become a saint overnight, and I didn't forget that I owed this new experience to some kind of agreement.

I knock on the door of Price's office when I arrive and stop in front of it, and when I hear a loud "Come in!" filter through, I wrap my fingers around the doorhandle and open the entrance to the Hunter's cave. And as my eyes take in the picture unfolding in front of me, my eyebrows rise in interest from the small group waiting for me in the room. The Hunters glance at me almost simultaneously as my arrival interrupts them from whatever they were doing in their rather intimate solitude around Price's huge table. And suddenly I have the sneaking suspicion that I've fallen into something that I'm not sure I want to have anything to do with. Especially if I was pulled away from the joys of my already rare me-time due to some work-related nonsense.

"Woods!" MacTavish springs up from his place next to Price's table with intense enthusiasm, and with a huge smile on his face, he beckons me in, inviting me inside. I am no longer surprised by the man's raging energy, but now it somehow irritates me less than when he conveys the same image toward my suffering person from the side of some training site. "Our little survivor has arrived!" The man states, emphasizing my brand new status, and the irrational glee that dominates his features dispels the suspicion that arose in me at the sight of the team.

"I hope I didn't drag myself this far for a meeting, because if I did, I'll stab someone." I note seriously, but I'm not able to get rid of the slight impudence in my voice, because the eager cheerfulness emanating from the Scottish man inevitably transfers to me. And as I step inside and close the door behind me, and my eyes continue to wander to the glasses resting on the table, I'm starting to realize that luckily, I didn't show up in this lovely late afternoon hour for the torture I assumed would take place. And the speculation arises in me that maybe, just maybe, this small gathering was organized in my honor.

At my statement, the faces of the Hunters present also light up with amusement, and it does not escape my attention, as I examine them more closely, that, unlike usual, they have now all put on strangely average clothes. Gone is the usual little hat from Price's head, and none of my little torturers have their tactical vests on, which they normally throw on at every opportunity. And because of this, the atmosphere of the whole office gradually becomes more informal, and I am suddenly glad that my day will truly only be about accumulating pleasures.

"Maybe another time." Says Price with a reassuring smile on his face, and as he pulls out a bottle, presumably full of whiskey, from one of the bottomless drawers of his desk, my mood suddenly notably improves. "Now we're celebrating!" He announces easily, and in order to support his intention, he unscrews the cap of the pre-conjured bottle to pour the golden liquid into the glasses situated on the table with practiced movements, which elicit voices of agreement from his other little companions. This is probably one of the rare occasions when they can take a little break from their strict daily life as a Hunter, so it's no wonder that the sight of booze can bring out such heat from his buddies.

"Aye, that's right! Now that you're finally on the mend, we have to celebrate that you came back in one piece!" MacTavish gives his reasoning of the motive for the small party, still grinning, and then quickly reaches for the glass he's chosen for himself, with at least as much vehemence as if he hadn't enjoyed such delicacies in a long time. Which is probably the case, but I can't decide whether it's the alcohol or the promise of celebration that gets him so excited.

"Since we can't leave the base now, we brought the pub here!" Garrick explains, eagerly taking one of the glasses full of alcohol from the middle of the table, which looks temptingly real and presumably doesn't cause blindness. And I understand his zeal, because it's really rare when someone gets hold of anything other than shit made in the basement from pills and who knows what chemicals, and puts their greedy little hand on a drink left over from the memories of the old days. This further reinforces my intuition that today's little assembly is a significant event, because even if Price might have obtained the whiskey as a reward for one of his heroic deeds, it's still a rare delicacy that you don't just guzzle out of boredom. And because of this, for some reason, that fuzzy tingling feeling fills my stomach in a disturbing way once more, which starts to annoy me to the extreme with its completely unjustified appearances, since it weakens the success of maintaining my collected and relaxed image.

"It's very kind of you, to sacrifice your office for something like this, captain." I look up at the aforementioned person, who, accompanied by a suggestive smile, chooses a victim from among the glasses left in the middle of the table, and for a moment I realize that there's a nicely poured drink left not only for me, but also for a surprise person as well. Of course, this starts a very unpleasant sinister feeling in me as to who else they would like to invite to this charming event. And since my battery for tolerating social interactions hasn't really recovered from yesterday's stressful experiences, I'm rather reluctant to accept the idea of hanging out with someone other than the little team present.

"You've gone through an unusual ordeal. It's fitting to toast with a good whiskey." Price interrupts my increasingly suspicious observations, and he grabs one of the glasses with ease and holds it out to me, so that he can provide me with the celebratory refreshment. I accept the drink intended for me with perhaps more enthusiasm than necessary, and as its full-bodied, bitter aroma reaches my nose, I forget about my annoyance for a moment. Of course, this doesn't last long, because I become quite aware of the fact that the captain just has let me know rather mischievously that he had a very active hand in my little tour.

"That’s true. Now all I'm interested in is whose brilliant idea it was in the first place." I share my doubts with the people present, with a rather indifferent expression on my face, because I want them to believe that despite the fact that I almost kicked the bucket in that fucking forest, I'm such a badass that it won't leave a lasting mark on me. Which is true to some extent, but the new me who came to life while running for my life and beating the mutant to a pulp, and who was capable of doing anything to stay alive, won’t disappear into the shadows of the past anytime soon. And because of this, the whole situation will live vividly in my mind for a while.

My concerns hit my new drinking buddies unexpectedly, and as their eyes meet for a moment, it is already quite clear to me that, albeit to a different degree, each of them had an involvement in the organization of my outing. I plop down on one of the chairs, suppressing the barrage of insults on the tip of my tongue, because even though I'm aware that testing my loyalty was a completely logical step on their part, it still doesn't alleviate the disappointment that somehow, and rather inexplicably rears its head in me. Since it means, the rational voice was right when it whispered to me that the trust shown to me was as fragile as a fancy Chinese porcelain vase.

"Perhaps you should ask him this question." The captain points towards the entrance of his office with his head, and his face has such a suspicious expression that it doesn't make me calmer at all.

But before I could delve into the eyeballing of the Hunters', and before I could start further questioning, I'm interrupted by the opening of the door, and I, forgetting about my gloom, turn towards the person incoming. The tall figure appears on the threshold, whom it would be difficult to mistake for anyone else, and for a moment it is difficult for me to understand why he turns up to such a cheerful occasion. But then, as he enters the scene of the small private party and the door closes behind him, I realize that Riley has also decided to pay his respects at the small gathering, which could even count as an honor if I consider how much time he wanted to spend in my vicinity outside of training. But the details of yesterday afternoon's intermezzo in front of the hut reflexively pop up in me again, which sufficiently overturns the confidence I felt until now. Up to a point, I had effectively forgotten about the situation caused by my little trap, which had developed between us in the intimacy of nature's soft lap, but now, as my gaze meets the man's dark eyes, the unexpectedly discovered foreign feeling jumps in my stomach once more, and I want to disappear from here with immeasurable desire, and at the same time pick up the thread of his harassment again.

"I don't have to ask him, it's clear why he did it." I pull myself together, taking on my seriousness again, pointing my finger at the newly arrived masked man, who only glances at Price with interest at my remark. "He considered me a risk, so he decided to get rid of me."

"Simon did express his concerns." The captain agrees with me, and there is a hint of urgency in his voice, which suggests that he wants to conduct this conversation as calmly as possible. And for me, this only confirms the assumption that is slowly starting to take shape in my head regarding the antecedents. It was Riley who, after assessing my behavior towards him, decided to present his observations and his nice little idea to his captain to solve the problem. Based on the kind words he occasionally addressed to me during the moments we spent together, and in light of my behavior, I am not even surprised about this. And I already came to terms with this and the motivation I felt to refute his assumptions, while I was wandering in the forest. I'm more interested in how Price reacted to this whole mess, because it would help my soul a lot if he tried to stop his masked friend's plan from happening with at least a nasty look. Then I won't have to drink to suppress my anger.

"Don't sugarcoat it, Price." Riley interjects, who walks up to the table with comfortable steps, and grabs the last remaining glass from there with his gloved hand. And he takes his seat in the chair opposite me with such casual calmness that I have never had the pleasure of observing before. "It would have been pointless to keep someone here who doesn't want to stay." The man repeats the same reasoning he gave me before the whole impossible mission, and the matter-of-factness and indifference in his deep voice is no less cutting now. And I have to remind myself for a minute, that I'm no longer standing in front of the pile of trees towering over me, and whatever he assumed at the beginning, by sitting here, I've already proven somewhat the opposite.

"He didn't trust whether you would work together with us in the long term, but I didn't agree with him." Price continues his side of the story, and I only reward this statement with a cynical look, because I’m sure he didn't tell anyone anything new with this. Because if I knew that my long-term plans didn't necessarily want to be realized here, then they were certainly aware of that. "That's why the forest came into the picture."

"It didn't even cross your mind that I might perhaps, I don't know... die?" I ask, boldly planting the edge of my sarcasm in my voice, because this question justifiably emerges in me, which I doubt they didn't count on. They also were conscious of exactly where they would send me to see the scenery, and I don't think that they wouldn't have calculated into the adventure that I might end up as a mutant dinner. I'd rather not even ponder on what they would have done if I had taken Riley's advice and vanished into thin air as much as my opportunities would have let me. And Price still gave his thumbs up to the mission, which made me uncertain about the genuineness of his kindness towards me. And that upsets me much more than the experience itself.

"It was a dangerous idea, I admit. But I knew you'd be able to do it." Declares Price, and at this announcement, the annoyance I felt for a moment eases, because the man's beard-framed mouth stretches into a smile that takes my breath away for a moment. "I was sure you'd survive and come back." He carries on, and suddenly I can't decide how to react to his revelation. But I don't even have to worry about that, because he gets around the table with deliberate steps, and when he arrives next to me, he smoothes one of his big hands on my shoulder with gentle determination. "After all, you already belong here." The man gives his final justification as easily as if he had stated the most self-evident fact in the world, even though I understand the weight of what he is saying full well.

And as his fingers squeeze my shoulder softly for a moment, I grasp without further explanation what his message is to me. Even though he accepted Riley's deadly plan to find out about my intentions, it still caresses my calculating little self that, contrary to my suspicions, he was hoping all along I wouldn't prove the masked Hunter's hypotheses right. And I quickly swallow the suffocating emotions down my dry throat, because even though my soul is affected by the confusing mass of feelings caused by the whole situation, I would still rather fold a scarf around my neck from my own legs than get all sentimental.

"I haven't fully forgiven you for all this shit, just so you know." I state quickly, and as the reproach returns to my features again, Price, accompanied by a soft laugh, gently pats my back, and then returns to his appointed place behind the table. It’s remarkable how efficiently the Hunter can smooth over rather serious situations, and I suspect that years and routine are behind this exceptional ability. "I still have the smell of mutant intestines in my nose." I pull the corners of my mouth in disgust, because although the wild boar-like creature rearranged by my two beautiful hands did not affect me, the smell that remained in my nose after my whole scouting mission in the forest, even more so. Because it stayed there even after the sixth shower, effectively throwing me back under that fucking stack of trees.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it in time!" MacTavish reassures me helpfully, at least as calmly as if he hadn't just exactly outlined that I will have the opportunity to see what I experienced up close plenty of times in the future. And based on his tone, this can really be a very ordinary occurrence to him, which could be similar to when someone begins each morning with a coffee and a cigarette in order to get their biorhythm working. How practical it can be to become desensitized to bloodshed.

"I don't know if I want to get used to it." I flash my eyes at the man with the mohawk, who is just casually sipping his drink instead of taking my comment to heart. Of course, I know that I have not only proven that I am reliable and a good girl, but that I am also capable of surviving in the field, which means that I won't be able to avoid these adventures from now on. So I warmly recommend them to be more useful as human shields.

"It gets easier with every mission, don't worry." Garrick explains with real sympathy in his voice, and his features are dominated by such bloody seriousness that it becomes evident, that he really is just trying to alleviate my uncertainty with his good-natured affirmations. "After a while, you don't even pay attention to the guts and the blood."

"I can't fathom how could I survive without this wonderful experience up until now." I grumble, and the cynical eyeroll I do as I take a sip of my whiskey is instinctive, and I hope that the beneficial numbness of the alcohol will moderate the irritation emerging in me. And as it travels down my throat and into my stomach, it leaves behind a far more intense and pleasant warmth than the booze bought in the colony was ever capable of. I wonder what I left all those credits for during my evenings spent hunting. What a robbery. Luckily, it wasn’t my main goal to drink myself under the table.

"By the way." Garrick interrupts my musing, and his dark eyes are filled with genuine curiosity as he leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "How have you managed to bypass the system so far? I heard it's impossible to cheat on the screenings." The Hunter asks his clever little question, and with this perhaps formulates one of the big mysteries that may have occupied his and his small team's brains, because after hearing his observation, all eyes are turning to me in sync. And I don't blame them for this, because their interest is legitimate, since it's truly almost impossible to get around the system. Almost. But if there's one thing I've learned in my life so far, it's that nothing man-made is foolproof.

"Only for those who don't know how to work their way around it." I note mysteriously, and a sly smile twists on my lips at the confusion on the Hunters' expression. No matter how much we may have buried the hatchet, it seems that my little inclination towards evilness won’t just disappear from me, which, knowing the origin of the little trial I experienced the other day, I do not even try to calm down.

"And how did you do it?" Riley breaks the silence, and I only cautiously raise my bright eyes to scan his features emerging from under the balaclava. The area that the black textile allows to show to the world is microscopic, but even this small surface is enough for me to be able to analyze him, since I have been pursuing this hobby for weeks. Underneath the blurred dark paint, his face is motionless, and there's unflinching attention hiding in his gaze, which inexplicably creates the urge in me to cooperate with him a bit more willingly, since he directs his focus on me without any hostile intent for the first time.

"I have a personal involvement in the subject, so I had enough inside information to be able to deceive the recruiters." I submit to the persistent examination and curious looks with a tired sigh, recalling the little operation I carried out during my school years, with which I laid the foundation for my future hide and seek. "I was lucky because I was thirteen when my abilities manifested, much earlier than what would be typical. It would've been impossible not to notice the change." I continue, and the morning flashes vividly in my mind, when I woke up drenched in sweat and disorientated, and saw my pretty little teeth and my even more beautiful eyes in the mirror for the first time."That's why I stole the credits from one of my classmates and bought some under-the-counter contact lenses and veneers. And the rest was even simpler. It wasn't the first time I had seen the test, I knew what parameters they were looking at and where the samples were stored. So, after the screening, I went to the school infirmary and exchanged my blood and urine samples with that of a random stranger. I knew the test would only show a match to the Healer DNA parameters, so I wasn't afraid of getting caught." I outline the events, and a kind of resigned calm settles in my voice, which belies the panic that overcame me at the time.

It would be impossible to erase the morning from my mind, when the recruiters sent by the government showed up to do their routine test on the young fourteen-year-olds to see if they would get lucky and find a Healer among them. We already knew weeks in advance when the big day would be, and in a morbid way to me, everyone was waiting for it with such fucking excitement, as if they were bringing one of the fabulous gifts that can be won at legal gambling to the little hole they called school. But while even I would have erupted in frenzied joy for ten thousand food stamps, or even for an ID card providing unlimited medical care, the fact that I could join and act as a battery for a bunch of strangers didn't excite me too much. And since my dedication to my own interests was already working stronger in me, I carried out my small campaign with thorough planning. I even surprised myself with how talented I was at forcing myself to stay calm, when one of the ladies in uniform ushered me into a hastily assembled booth in one of the classrooms. Although my pulse pushed my body to the brink of fainting, and the remnants of my pathetic breakfast were in my throat waiting to return to the outside world with each heartbeat.

Perhaps my biggest luck during my little plan was that the whole system was designed by a bunch of presumptuous dilettantes. Since the Healers who carried the mutation in themselves manifested spontaneously at the time of the appearance of the virus, when forty-six years ago they discovered the DNA test that would unmistakenly show the status of the Heale, they didn’t bother to conduct tests among the adult population of the time. So all I had to do was to look for a civilian who, based on their age, belonged to this pleasantly insignificant and neglected group, and so I could be sure that I was exchanging my sweet little samples for brand new and completely unknown material. And after that, getting into the school, which had no security system of any kind, and switching a few vials from among the samples left behind, was child's play. Mainly in light of the fact, that the exposure of my Extreme nature was a much more pressing fear in me than the slap on the wrist I would have received for the burglary. And my success couldn't be spoiled even by the fact that I waited sleeplessly for weeks for the enforcers to show up and drag me away.

My little speech is greeted by stunned silence for a minute, and I can almost hear the gears turning in their brains as they try to process what they heard. Although I suspect that they have already performed much wilder and riskier magic tricks than this. And compared to that, my confession can only be a cute moment in a children's story.

"Where did you get the blood and urine samples from?" Garrick breaks his quietness and frowns with a mixture of shock and disgust, as he takes a sip from his glass to digest what he heard, and I only note his dismay with an amused snort. Which I only find funny because it's quite comical to hear this indignity coming from someone whose job description includes wading knee-deep in mutant remains.

"I bought them from a hobo. You'd be surprised what a person can do for a food stamp." I remark while curling a suspicious smile at the corner of my mouth, cleverly holding back on the fact that I also stole the mentioned food stamps from an unfortunate fellow student. They seem to guess the origin of the goods used in the business, because Price just holds his glass to his mouth with a frown, his expression also telling me that, in addition to my many little naughty deeds, the fact that I am a thief does not even reach his threshold of irritation. And this is truly a lesser crime than the fact that my little hands were already involved in uglier things. And it's a greater shame that there is such harmony in the colonies that anyone would sell even their own mother if they could get more food, drugs or real alcohol, or even extra privileges. Of course, I can't complain, since it is precisely this miserable imperfection that has benefited me so far.

"How did you know so much about the test?" The captain asks the question that seems more important, and he fishes out a cigar from the drawer of his desk with easy movements, so that when he starts puffing merrily, he can turn back his undivided attention to me again. His blue eyes scan my face curiously, which leads me to conclude that the files probably only contained reliable data about my adulthood. No wonder, because from Laswell's point of view, only my current state and my crimes as an adult mattered.

"As I said, I have personal involvement in the subject." I confirm my previously mentioned little statement, and even though not a single cell of my heart wants to recall the haunting images trapped in the past, for some reason I have the irrational feeling that if I was lured into such an intimate party, I shouldn't keep silent about these long-forgotten trivia. "My mother was a Healer and my father was a researcher who worked with Hunters and Healers. I've been exposed to information since I can remember. Together they tried to experiment with a medicine that could replace the power of the Healers. That's why they dealt with the topic quite in-depth." I elaborate, and forcefully keep the coldness of objectivity in my voice, because I don't feel the slightest need to start lamenting on the past now. "But since it wouldn't be profitable for the government if the leash of the Hunters were out of their hands, they didn't finance the research sufficiently. Unfortunately, breakthroughs still cannot be achieved without resources." I point out the obvious easily, and they only reward my suggestion with a rather gloomy look, and from this, I know that it's not the first time that this idea crossed their minds either.

Therefore, I don't have to explain my hints any further for them to know what I mean, because they can experience first-hand how badly the system ties their hands. It's also quite unpleasant that they become the property of the colonies and their governments from the first moment they crawled out of their mothers, since as Hunters they are not even lucky enough to live a somewhat normal childhood, because everyone knows what the future profession of babies with glowing red eyes will be. But perhaps it’s really sad that they will never really have the opportunity to break away from the authorities, because the government provides them with what they wouldn’t be able to keep their sanity without. As long as the screening, registration, and employment of the Healers are in the hands of the governments, they are the only ones who can order their little helpers alongside the Hunters. And if a Hunter were to get a drug that would eliminate this parasitic relationship, then what would stop the little heroes from biting the hand that feeds them but also holds their leash? There is nothing more dangerous than giving the possibility of free self-determination into the hands of a person who can tear out someone's esophagus with their bare hands and fold it into a bow.

"What happened to them?" MacTavish suddenly speaks with a serious expression on his face that rarely appears, and which suggests that he might already know the answer, but he trusts that I would refute it. Although this question is not in the least unexpected, it strays into much more uncomfortable territory, and even I don't know whether it’s only because of my stubborn hatred or the pain living in the hidden corners of my head that I am affected by his unsuspecting interest so sensitively. And I hate the way a tiny little muscle twitches on my face, something that might not be noticed by anyone else, but their eyes are much more attentive than that, and as soon as Garrick's dark eyebrows run together and he draws a worried frown on his forehead, I curse the fucking hole in my skull where these memories are lurking.

"My mother died because the Hunter she regenerated didn't let her finish the fun in time." I answer after a moment of suffocating hesitation, and I don't like the surprised pity that appears on the Scottish man's face after my confession. "And my father, unable to bear the disappearance of the love of his life, stole a car and drove to the red zone himself." I share the fun relics of my childhood with them, and I direct my eyes to the golden whiskey in my glass instead, trying not to let the pain in my voice take even a single molecule of space, because the ache begins to pulsate dully in my chest again at the mention of the past. "The car was found a week later, and considering the circumstances, it was probably attacked by a mutant, which he obviously did not survive."

And as soon as this last cute little fluff leaves my mouth, I can experience how deeply my melodrama made an impression on them. My eyes carefully rise from my glass again, and as I quickly look around the room, I wish I had remained silent. Because I dislike the way my stomach clenches unpleasantly from what I read on their faces. The way Price's features are somber as he leans forward on the table clutching his cigar, or the way the disbelief in Garrick's gaze meets MacTavish's eyes glittering with shock as he turns to face him, or as Riley's body goes still for a blink of an eye, releases emotions in me that I don't want to feel it in the slightest.

I'd be lying if I said all this ridiculous family drama didn't entertain me with creative nightmares for years, but time has, if not erased, transformed the pain into far more effective tools. Because this bitter chain of events pointed to important facts. After my mother's death and the circumstances surrounding it removed the veil of naivety from my eyes, a very legitimate and strong determination arose in me to not end up in the same way as her. And the fact that my father didn't even see my existence as sufficient motivation to not want to be turned into confetti by monsters, showed me that the only person in this cruel world I would ever be important enough to was me. These were the first teachings that I managed to acquire through the lessons of life, and perhaps I am grateful for this priceless knowledge, since they made me who I am. And it may be true that there are many more negatives in my little soul than good, but they undoubtedly guided me toward my goals and survival with great effectiveness. That's why it makes me angry that even though I don't need anyone's pity, the idea that, thanks to my little tear-jerking story, they might see the reason behind my actions so far evokes that idiotic gentle tenderness in me. Not that this changes the fact that the crimes I have committed are still reprehensible.

"Well, let's not dwell on my sob story anymore, because everyone has a similar tale. That's just how it goes around here, isn't it?" I start rambling again, because I don't want to tolerate this melancholy anymore when I'm here to finally relax. I pour the contents of my glass down my throat with a few brave sips, hoping that the effects of the alcohol will finally catch up and erase the images buried in the past flashing in my head. "Let's talk about how this team was formed instead. As far as I know, it's quite rare for a European colony to let trained Hunters transfer to an American one."

Changing the subject provokes a rather sharp reaction from the small team, and this immediately raises the question in me as to what kind of territory I am straying into with my little quizzing. And as soon as I see the angry expression that crosses Price's face, I understand that my assumption is not far from reality. Whatever had happened to bring their fates so closely intertwined had made quite a deep impression on all of them.

"Luckily we had help." Price takes his cigar between his lips, voicing his little explanation with a dubiously easy tone, and I find it interesting that he wants to put on a mysterious act right now, when it's his turn to tell the dirty and painful little secrets.

"Laswell?" I mention the woman's name, but even without it, I know that the boss of the base is the one who can get involved in such deals with impunity. Laswell is like a phantom, sometimes she appears, sometimes she disappears, but after each time she shows up, she brings information with a shady origin and leaves behind a myriad of tasks. Undoubtedly, the woman works efficiently, but it’s difficult for me to understand how exactly she manages to get such goods, whether it’s information, weapons, blood, or my procurement. And because of this, the seemingly harmless lady immediately gets a much more dangerous classification in my mind.

"Kate went through hell with us, so there was no need to convince her to help." The bearded man shares this little crumb with me, still shrouding the real answer to my previous question in cryptic darkness. And although I can conclude from the sudden heavy atmosphere in the room that perhaps I am truly trying to poke a wound that still hasn't healed yet, the desire for knowledge in me doesn't let me back down.

"Don't leave me hanging, I've pulled out the skeletons, now it’s your turn." I continue to insist, conjuring a rather unsightly expression on my face, trusting that the mention of my miserable childhood is convenient enough to expect the same honesty from them. Secretly, of course, I hope that I will gain some additional useful insight, because even though I don't want to run away with passion anymore, uncertainty and the lack of knowledge are still not among my favorite states.

"It won't be a happy story." Warns Price, and his mouth stretches into a bitter smile that is completely foreign to him. And I start to wonder how traumatic the experience must have been, which led them to this point, if even the always calm, determined, and above all, self-confident Hunter's face twists into such a broken expression. And I almost feel guilty, as curiosity settles in my brain like an itch that won't stop. Almost.

"Very few have that, Captain." I remind the man, because although everyone can pretend that life in the colonies is full of sunshine and rainbows, since no one is in direct danger of monsters, this little thing does not negate the fact that everyone lives there struggling with some kind of misery. They are either starving, or sick, or all forms of their freedom are restricted for the protection and greater good of the colony.

Finally, Price leans back in his chair accompanied by a humorless sigh, and before he would start his little evening tale, he sends a respectable amount of whiskey down his throat, and I follow the movement with tense attention. I can only observe from my periphery how the other three Hunters keep their eyes on their leader, shrouded in silence, and an unusual troubled aura appears even on Riley's part, which soon begins to emanate from all of them.

"I was serving in Colony no. 9 when I met the boys 8 years ago. We were all members of a government liquidation unit, in separate teams, but under one management." Price starts the origin story, and his voice is once again filled with resolve. The name of the colony doesn't ring a single bell, and that makes me all the more confused, because if such a big fuckery happened, which shakes these battle-hardened men out of their composure, then it surely would have been all over the news. "We served in Great Britain's largest colony, and at the time I thought it was an honor. I think we all did." For a moment, he looks around at his companions, who only agree with the captain's statement with a small, but still grim nod.

"I've wanted to serve there since I was a kid, you can imagine how fired up I was when I got in right after basic training! I met the captain on my first mission. He saved me before a mutant could kill me." Garrick suddenly interrupts the thread of Price's tale, and I'm surprised by the sincere admiration with which he directs his gaze to the bearded Hunter. And suddenly, the image of the barely out from Hunter School, snotty eighteen-year-old flashes into my mind, who throws himself into the excitement of the unit with sparkling eyes, ready for action, and runs towards danger, as the reckless fools in that age usually do. The vision brings a faint smile to my face because I find the mental picture of the barely-out-of-puberty Garrick honestly sweet.

"Don't exaggerate, Gaz. You could've handled it on your own." Price glances at the mentioned, with a cheeky, but appreciative smile on his face, and that gives him the vibe of paternal love once again, with which he often turns to the younger man. The dynamic between the two is truly heartwarming and sickeningly sweet, but even my dark soul softens at their interactions. "Ghost and Soap joined the unit a bit later, but I was lucky enough to see what they're capable of even before that." He points to the two Hunters with his glass, thus confirming my earlier hypothesis that they've indeed known each other longer than I originally would have thought.

"Good old days." MacTavish comments with unusual brevity, and as his bright eyes shift to his glass, I get the feeling for the umpteenth time that they were involved in some sizeable shit back then, which even to this day can conjure up such an upset expression on the face of one of their most carefree members.

"The life of the unit wasn’t very eventful, as far as it was possible. But then Makarov came..." Price proceeds with the story, and at the mention of the unknown name, the unmistakable wrinkles of hatred and anger appear on the faces of each Hunter, almost at the same time, and I just study their reaction in bewilderment. But despite my surprise, I realize that we have arrived at the catalyst of the entire chain of events.

"Makarov?" I repeat the rather Russian-sounding name, and it does not escape my attention how instinctively the captain's jaw tightens after I bring up the foreign villain again. But I don't need to know who this faceless stranger is to recognize that he must be a serious asshole if he managed to sneak so deeply into the minds of every member of Unit 141.

"Leader of a Russian separatist group. At the time, he was famous for getting his hand on any weapon that his customers could pay for." Explains the Hunter, gathering strength to continue with another sip. And in me, just the phrase of the separatist group triggers a plethora of assumptions, which help to define who this anonymous criminal might be. Although these small illegally operating congregations, completely separate from the colonies, have been making life difficult for everyone for years alongside the mutant threat, this is the first time I've heard of someone who dealt with such dangerous businesses. However, this is mostly the fault of the news providers, since they only report information that doesn't cause undue panic among the already agitated population. "This is exactly what made Colony no. 9 a target. At that time, they were developing a powerful ballistic missile that would've been able to destroy nests with great precision, without causing the slightest collateral damage. It would've been a simple, clean method."

"Oh, missiles. They were really in high demand once. It's a shame these bastards are smarter now." I muse, and the set of data I viewed during the years spent in the lab flashes before my eyes, where these mischievous little rockets appeared quite often. And they never brought lasting success, or mostly nothing.

When the virus appeared, what hit humanity the most unexpectedly was the fact that suddenly thousands of mindless and bloodthirsty mutant monsters swarmed into all and any inhabited areas they could get into. The phenomenon was unexplainable, but it reached all corners of the world within a few days, and the leaders of the most powerful countries at the time had no chance to react to the threat in time. And dropping one nuclear bomb was enough for them to know, that while the explosion kills the fucking beasts, the radiation doesn't stop them and only reduces the precious resources for humans instead. The short latency of the virus and the fact that the mutation happened in a matter of hours was hazardous enough, but there was no way to wipe them out without massive collateral damage. Fortunately, the Hunters appeared, who were immune to the bite, and with their newfound superpowers, they were so effective at tearing the monsters apart that came into their path that, together with the military, they were able to push them out of the areas where the colonies are located today. Then, a good ten years after the breakout, several specimens gathered into hordes once again, made nests, and carried on with their idyllic little lives. Governments were quite disturbed by the fact that their previous purely aggressive behavior had been replaced by somewhat organized habits, but when these creatures, distorted beyond recognition, began to breed with each other, it created a whole new set of concerns. After all, in this way, they not only infected their other animal companions through their bites, but also gave birth to new offsprings, which were already stronger than their parents. This is how the lovely little missiles came into the picture, which at first successfully exterminated the nests, but then after a while these fuckers started predicting the arrival of the rockets somehow, presumably with the help of their super-sensitive hearing. By the time the package hit its target, they had already escaped. Over the years, they experimented with various missiles, but sooner or later the stunt always failed. And making these toys was a very expensive pastime with limited resources, so most colonies gave up on fabricating them altogether.

"Well, it was an interesting enough development for Makarov to notice." Price notes, running his hand along his beard with a nervous sigh. "And when he arrived, he brought such chaos with him that no one was prepared for." He brings up the climax of the tale, and just at the mention of it, the miserable expression takes over his features that I've never seen on the man before, and this sufficiently sobers me up as well. "He lured the I.M.L.s out with sound alarms, from a nest we didn't even know about. He led them all the way to the colony, where he blasted a hole in the wall and let those bastards do their thing. And they did." The Hunter's voice fills with that helpless rage that no doubt reflects what he must have felt when all hell broke loose. And everything I wanted to say stuck in my throat, because when I remember how efficiently that damned whistling, diabolical structure directed that mutant piggy towards me in the forest, angry and ready to rampage, then it’s not difficult to imagine in what condition that nest of mutants could have broken into the colony.

"Everyone was ordered out to the city, but we didn't stand a chance. I've never seen so many I.M.L.s in one place. It was like the first breakout." MacTavish joins in, and the cavalcade of emotions caused by the recalled memories sweeps over his face with noticeable grimness. "They were everywhere in 10 minutes. They killed everything in their path."

And the Scottish man doesn't need to go into detail for me to realize what horrors he must have seen there. Even history books only talked about the massacres that took place when the virus appeared in a censored form, and the fate of Colony no. 9 could've been very similar to this. And the image inevitably appears in my head, as hundreds of enraged beasts flood the streets of the peaceful city, tearing apart, killing, and devouring everything and everyone in their way. Women, men, old and young, these creatures don't differentiate between two delicious morsels, they degrade anyone into an unrecognizable bloody mess without discrimination. And this picture is so vivid in my mind that I am finally overcome by the mournful mood that has been present in the Hunters since the beginning of the story.

"Then, when the authorities saw how hopeless the situation was, we were instructed to leave the colony together with the important officials." Price goes on, and his statement deepens my shock, because even though I'm a mean bastard, even I'm not so terribly heartless. Even if the decision itself was an inhuman but logical step. "There was no room for opposition, we received an order, and our hands were tied." The Hunter recalls, and my eyes instinctively find his fingers clenching around his glass. "So, all the Hunters and soldiers left everything behind and evacuated."

"Then one of the fuckin' missiles was detonated." MacTavish snaps, and his anger deepens his accent further, which makes his entire exasperated outburst even more harshly emphasized. The resentment that rages in him even now is justified, and I don't blame him for the hatred reviving in his eyes. "The entire colony was destroyed." He adds, but the outcome was quite obvious from the moment he mentioned that damn rocket. And this confession puts the graveness of the tale in a completely different light, and it suddenly becomes painfully clear to me what kind of trauma happened to them, which later forged the small team together.

"We were pulled out because it was more important to protect the lives of the bloody government members." Garrick spits with pure loathing, and his face twists with the mixture of hatred and anger, and this is the first time I see the Hunter filled with such fury. "But no one cared about the many innocents who were killed by the I.M.L.s or the missile." He says, looking at his glass, and suddenly I understand what he meant during our little recharge session that took place in the gym, when he said that he knows what it's like to let shit happen. And I don't like the pain that rips through my chest when I see the man's hopeless rage. According to this, I wasn’t wrong when I assumed that there were bitter experiences behind his good intentions. And now, for the first time, it bothers me that I was right.

"The authorities were glad that Makarov didn’t succeeded, because that would've meant a much greater danger later on." The captain continues to unfold the events, and to vent his frustration, he raises his cigar to his mouth again, hoping that the tobacco will calm his nerves, I suspect. "I met Kate in the temporary refugee camp. I had known her before, but back then she was also among those who miraculously escaped. We agreed that our hands are tied under government leadership, and this needs to change. I didn't care if I had to get my hands dirty if I could keep the innocents clean. So Kate offered me to join her, and she helped me set up a private unit. She entrusted me to recruit who I see fit."

"It wasn't even a question we'd join after what happened." Garrick agrees, giving his comrades a meaningful look, who nod in agreement at his testimony. And I do not doubt that this experience brought them closer. Thus, it makes sense why this unit embarks on adventures that are far more dangerous than necessary, and for the first time, I don't even have a sarcastic remark about their heroism. Because I understand that they are fueled by the motivation to overcome the helplessness they had to deal with, and I can empathize with this sentimentality. In light of this, Riley's hostile behavior also becomes quite rational, because, in the eyes of someone who was driven by this trauma to protect the colony unconditionally, my callous and selfish indulgence may have been an even bloodier crime than I had previously suspected. And I'm not happy about the way this feeling gives room to an incipient sense of guilt in the hidden corners of my soul.

"What happened to Makarov?" I voice the obvious question instead, thereby beneficially suppressing the useless negative emotions that arose in me, since the mention of the unfamiliar villain promises to be a much more pleasant topic.

"That bastard hasn't been found since." Riley joins the conversation for the first time since his arrival, and the murderous temper in his eyes warns even me to be careful, even though his anger is not directed at me now. "But if he survived, we'll find him sooner or later." The man promises ominously, probably expressing the thoughts of the others as well. Because, as I take a look at the Hunters, one by one, a rock-solid determination similar to that of the masked man sits on their faces.

"It wasn't a happy story, indeed." I finally break their gloom, attempting to turn the meeting, which started out lighthearted, back to its original direction after the rather interesting trip down memory lane. Recalling so many bad experiences for one evening is more than enough, because statistically, the trauma per person in this neon-lit office is now well beyond the limits of the healthy range.

"You were right that everyone has a similar sad story." Price refers to my apt remark I made earlier, thereby confirming the fact that in this filthy cesspool that the world has become, no one gets even close to a happy ending. "That's exactly why we need all the help. So that nothing like this can happen again, if it's up to us." He nods his head towards me, and I don't have to mobilize a single molecule of my intellect to know what a significant hint the captain is giving me.

He doesn't need to spell out that I am also included in this "all help" group, because by now it has become quite obvious what kind of thrills I am invited to by being accepted as a member of the team. And now my first instinctive thought is not about escaping from the task in creative ways, but instead, I just conjure a sassy grin on my face, fueled by my newly found inspiration.

"Luckily you managed to get your hand on a real first-class Extreme Healer." I emphasize the useful presence of my humble person as I place my glass on the table and encourage Price to refill it.

"We can thank Kate for that too." The man pulls a brazen little smile on his face, that draws small lines around his eyes, and cooperates with my silent request for booze without any resistance. He fills my glass, and then the whiskey bottle goes around again to give those present the divine liquid. But before I can enjoy the pleasant tingle of alcohol again, MacTavish jumps up with renewed enthusiasm and holds his glass high, drawing everyone's attention to himself.

"Let's drink to Laswell!" The Hunter suggests cheerfully, and then he turns his gaze to me in a tenth of a second, in which the well-known mischievous light flashes, establishing my displeasure in advance. "And to Woods, the sly viper!" He shouts with complete approval to his statement, and although my eyebrows shoot up with indignation upon hearing his nickname, I am still unable to keep my contempt for long. After all, considering how I usually attack suddenly and ambush my victims, he managed to come up with a rather fitting name.

We all stand up almost in sync to comply with MacTavish's initiative, and as our glasses clink together, my scan the Hunters, finally, for the first time in my life, I feel that maybe it really won't be so horrible to work my guts out as part of a unit. Because even if not all members are overjoyed at my presence, I am sure that they are more happy that I am here than I can imagine. And this only strengthens my determination to fight tooth and nail to stay here.

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