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astroboots · 1 year

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Don't they know it's the end of the world

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Summary: There are many things Joel would like to forget, you hope you're not one of them.

Rating: Explicit. I just want to fuck old man Joel.

Content: hurt/comfort, explicit sex-town, cowgirl position yee-ha, post-apocalyptic angst and jazz. Mentions of death, blood and gore, but the real warning all along was emotionally unavailable men.

Word Count: 3.5k

Astroboot’s Masterlist

The thing that nobody warned you about living in a post-apocalyptic world (to use the dramatic phrase) is that when the world as you know it has ended. When an unprecedented catastrophe transforms the very fabric of your reality. In the midst of abandoned cities, dilapidated high-rise buildings overrun with moss and ivy, and rusted cars forsaken on the highway. This horrific new world of unending horrors, at some point, with enough days gone by, becomes common place.

After the first and second year, you're no longer bothered by the constant aches and how everything hurts, everywhere all the time. The new bruises that spring up overnight to replace old healing, because sleeping on concrete and dirt will do that to you, isn't as overwhelming. You barely mind the constant blunt ache in your lower back from unloading crates anymore. Or the way your feet are always blistering and covered in callouses that crack and split and bleed. It's all background noise.

After the third and the fourth, you're no longer dry-heaving at the burnt metallic smell of charred flesh and human hair that reminds you of melted and burnt plastic when they're tossed into fire. Your sense of smell dull to it.

After the fifth year you think that hollow feeling in your chest of missing home, is no longer a constant. At most it comes to you in glimpses. Because sure, there are a million and one things you still miss. The sweetness of cereal soaked in milk. The lingering smell of peonies from your shampoo after a steaming shower. The way your cat used you as a headrest while watching TV.

You miss cupcakes. You miss the cinema. You miss pumpkin lattes. You miss the forest ground covered in auburn leaves in the fall. You miss your mom. You miss--

You miss a lot of things. Small little things, and you remember each one of them despite the years that passes.

But the mind adapts. It doesn't consume you with a hollowness that makes you burst into tears at any given moment anymore. Humans are nifty like that. Our brains rewire to accept the new realities and life just goes on somehow.

You accept the military surveillance. Of men in vests and gear, wearing blank expressions, with rifles slung across their shoulders like it were backpacks, ready to use them at the slightest provocation if you so much as dared to cough in their presence.

You get used to cracking jokes about priests walking into bars, while burying your dead, not because you're unfeeling, or not understanding of the graveness of what you're doing, but because the human mind cannot be relentlessly scared and sad and depressed and unhappy without reprieve.

Instead like much else, that seems horrific and world-ending at first, it becomes background noise.

---

"Uno," you announce as you drop the last card in the pile of red, blue and green cards in front of him.

Joel scowls, that furrowed wrinkle between his brow carves deep with displeasure.

"You're cheating. I've never played this game where stacking is allowed. The correct rule is no stacking."

This again. You scoff. This topic of conversation comes up every now and then (everytime he loses in fact) because the two of you has solely been relyng on your memory to reconstruct the rules given that the manual to the pack of cards were lost long ago.

"I'm not having this argument with you again Joel, I've told you. The rules allow stacking, you're misremembering it."

You shake your head at him and smile. He doesn't smile back. He never really does. Instead he folds his arms across his wide chest, leaning back as he appraises you with skepticism.

"What if you've forgotten the rules?"

"I don't forget things, I'm not you" you say lightheartedly.

He's already passed out when you let yourself in through the front door tonight.

It's a sparse apartment, like all the other accommodations in the area. The mismatched dining chairs and fold up table is not much to look at, but there are still hints of the family who had made this place their home before they had to leave it. The feminine touch of flowery rose wallpapers. Scribbled markers of their children's height year by year. The claw-marks of a dog by the front door.

If Joel left tomorrow, you don't think it would tell much of a story of him or the life you lead together. The only thing that's his besides the radio and music catalog is the blue butterfly sticker that sparkles on the window.

And even with that, you don't quite know what story it is meant to tell or why he'd put it up. You only know it wasn't there when he moved it because it appeared out of nowhere after Tommy left. It clashes with the rest of the decor. Something that belongs to a young girl's bedroom and not a grumpy former veteran addicted to painkillers. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put one plus one together and deduce it's something of sentimental value to him.

It's always confounded you, because that is so unlike the man you know.

Unlike you, Joel forgets. He makes it his mission to forget. Expired opioids from god knows how long, you're surprised they don't crumble into dust when they're exposed into open air.

There are horrors in his memories that Joel wants wiped clean, and he doesn't care if the good memories go with them, as long as he doesn't have to look at them in the broad daylight.

You never said anything about it, don't pry and you don't ask questions. You don't ask him for anything period. You just let him be and take him as he is. You suspect that that's why he's allowed himself to keep you around for so long.

The room is dimly illuminated from the night light has been left on for you, and you try to be quiet as you make your way to him on the bed. He's lying curled up on his side, back turned to you.

Broad shouldered as he is, with a build that reminds you of a bear at times, in this position, there's something vulnerable about him right now that's reserved for your eyes only. His face is no longer tense, against the amber hue that bathes the room. The specks of grey and white in his beard, soft to the touch.

He's half-dragged into consciousness as you dip your knee into the mattress, as he lifts the tattered, moth-eaten quilt and makes space for you.

Reaching behind you, you kill the light. Then you wrap your one arm over his waist, tucking one leg between his thick and firmer ones. He sighs into his pillow and leans into your touch.

There are things that you know Joel wants to forget, you would like to believe that this won't become one of them.

"Are you awake?" he murmurs against the nape of your neck. His voice is gravelly and worn with sleep.

You open your eyes and the world greets you with darkness. It's too early to be awake at this ungodly time.

His chest is pressed up against your back, warm and firm, and you hum in reply. "Barely."

You nuzzle into the scratchy linen of your pillow, inhaling deeply to relax back into sleep. But Joel isn't turning back around. He's still behind you, almost hovering above you as if he wants to tell you for something, but doesn't.

You raise yourself slightly, reaching over the nightstand to flicker on the small lamp there.

Turning back towards him, you observe him for a moment. The slight sheen of sweat pooled in the hollow of his throat. His eyes wide and alarmed, hands closed into a tight fist into the sheets. His whole body is wired for a fight, even though he's just woken up and it's dead quiet in the still of the night without a threat.

"Did you have a nightmare?" you finally ask.

His jaw tightens at your question, which is as good of an indicator as any that he doesn't want to answer. Also a good indicator that he did have one.

You sigh, reaching your hand back to trail the soft hairs at the back of his neck. Flattening the curly ends with your fingers, and trying to comb it down in a gesture to soothe him the way others used to do for you in a different life and another world. It's a mistake.

He flinches at the touch, and stiffens awkwardly in front of you. Like he's trying to decide what's the right next course of action. To apologize or to turn back around and pretend he didn't do what he just did.

You frown at him, but say nothing. You give him the time to find his words.

"Can we just--" he starts, but his words trail off, eyes barely meeting yours. Silently pleading for you to know what he's asking for so he doesn't have to put them into words.

Joel doesn't really do softness. Doesn't accept comfort. Doesn't trust it.

But there are things that he wants, because he's only human after all. A touch, a warm body to lose himself in, a human connection. It's what everyone of us wants.

But he can't ask for it. Can't say it.

The moment he puts words it, he would have to name it. What this thing is, between the two you that you have. Where at the end of the day you return to his apartment. Where you sleep in his bed. Where he worries if you don't.

If he asks you for this, then he can't pretend there's nothing there anymore.

So you don't say anything. You don't needle him into finishing his sentence. Don't ask him what he means. You don't ask him for anything. Instead you nod.

His face shifts, the stiff crease between his brows smooths in relief and he scoots forward, chest draped flush against your back. He's already hard, the familiar thick girth pressed to your tailbone, like it's trying to carve a permanent dent into you.

"Is it okay?" he asks again, rolling his hips and the newfound pressure against his denim-covered cock has him breaking off with a gasp.

"Yeah Joel. Yes it's okay."

His fingers come to the hemline of your jeans, as he roughly shoves at it in the dark. It catches at the dip of your hips, and you can hear the gruff impatience of the man from behind, as he yanks it down further. As if sheer brutal strength is going to be the solution in here, the way it is outside these walls.

You lift up your hips to help him, long enough for him to slide the jeans off your legs and you can kick them to the floor. Vaguely you try to estimate the distance to where they landed. Because that's where you'll have to pick them up in the early morning before he gets up. But that doesn't matter right now.

There's a scuffle behind you of rustling denim and the metallic clink of a buckle being undone. You reach back with your hand against the softness of his belly, down the sparse trail of fine coarse hairs until you can wrap your hand around his hardened cock.

He shudders in relief. A soft sigh into the back of your neck as he grinds against your back, demanding more. You indulge him, swiping your thumb in a circle over the head of him. There's a sharp intake of breath from him, similar to the sound he makes after taking a swig of shitty whiskey that burns his lungs too sharply.

The indication that it's too much, and therefore just right, because it's only then that it's a relief. An escape from the current reality.

You squeeze down again, fingers wrapped firm around the thickness of his girth not allowing him any reprieve, and he thanks you not in words, but with the way he bares his throat as his head throws back in ecstasy.

For Joel, the old world never ended. Never left. He's still trapped in it. His existence now is a purgatory. He treats it like he's just sitting in a waiting room, as the days and years go by. Everything and everyone in it are transitory. Nothing in the room matters.

His hand shoots out, sliding down the bare skin of your stomach and wedges underneath your panties. One broad thumbs presses down on your clit perfunctory, and still it feels so good. Sharp heat licks your spine at the touch, and your eyes flutter close as you lean back into him.

It's brusque, the way Joel's hand comes to your thighs and spread you open for him. Unrestrained the way his fingers parts your slick folds to collect the wetness he finds there, pressing into you and curls with a familiarity when he knows he's reached that perfect spot that makes your vision whiten. Rough in much the same way he is in every other part of his life.

"Fuck, get up here," he orders gruffly.

You roll over and he wastes no time to roughly grip onto your hipbones and dragging you up his body.

Bracing your arms on his firm chest to steady yourself, you settle yourself with your knees pressed into the sides of his ribs. They're dipped into the worn-out mattress and you think you can feel the springs of the bottom of the bed dig into your kneecaps.

It's a bit uncomfortable, but you don't mind. Because you get to straddle him this way. Get to see all of him, underneath you, on display. His bare skin made golden and soft by the dim light of the night lamp.

He doesn't look like the movie-stars of old. But Joel is handsome. There's no doubt about that.

Despite his rough masculine features, there are details that don't quite match up. His lips are plump and soft, inviting. A deep crease in the curve of his bottom lip that is just begging to be kissed.

Even with the significant grey in his thick hair, and the white in his beard, the weathered look suits him well. As does the fine lines on his forehead, and the ones around his eyes.

Smile lines, an old friend of yours had called them. Does that mean he used to smile? You imagine how he must've looked like in those days. Not constantly frowning or scowling. But smiling so hard that it would make his eyes crinkles. How beautiful and carefree he must've been.

In front of you, there's no trace of that man. His jaw is set, grinding his teeth, with gritted impatience as his hands grips onto your waist and pull you forward, towards and over his cock, positioning you right where he wants you.

His hand reaches behind you, and even though you can't see it from this angle, you've seen it plenty times before to know how good his cock looks fisted in his hand, as he uses your slick, still wet on his fingers to spread it over the length of him. Then you feel it, the fat tip of him nudging against your entrance as he slowly slips inside.

A heady anticipation fills you. It shakes the core of you until it makes your thighs tremor visibly as you straddle him.

Joel is rough. He is unrestrained and brusque, but he is not unkind. Or at least you'd like to think, not to you. He steadies you, one hand still on your hip, the other a flat palm against your lower belly, as he slowly lifts his hips as you sink down on him in unison.

The first thrust always knocks your breath away. Pleasure that warms you inside out in a way that standing in a fire fails to. It fills you anr nourishes.

You drop down the rest of the way until he's as deep as he goes, until he hisses sharply again, in that tell-tale sign that it's, too much and just right.

Your chest glows with pride, and you grind down against him to elicit another noise, this time a chocked grunt that's not nearly as satisfying. But the buzzing warmth that spikes your veins more than makes up for it.

You stay there for a moment, savoring the pleasure that simmers along your spine, until Joel opens his eyes, his fingers digging a bit deeper into the plump flesh of your thighs.

"Fuck," he grumbles, "please move."

You don't deny him, you never do. Not with this, not with anything. Rising on your knees, you feel his cock drag inside you and close your eyes at the sensation until only the tip of him rests inside you. It's a slow, dragged out pace. One that Joel doesn't seem to have any patience for.

His hand around your hip wraps firm and he pushes down at the same time as you can feel him thrust upwards, until he's buried as deep as he goes.

Fuck, you feel like you can't breathe. Didn't know you could fit so much of him.

Your eyes fly open, to the sight of him, thick brows knitted in pleasure. He looks gorgeous like this. Lost in pleasure, no longer buried in a grave of regrets he can never climb out of. Mouth parted as he gasps out at the feel of you wrapped around him. You stare at his spit swollen lips and all you can think of is how you want to kiss this man. Press your lips to his and feel the full weight of intimacy of this shared moment with his arms wrapped around you.

You anchor your arms on his chest, leaning down closer to his face, hovering above his lips and it's like he can sense you. His eyes flutters open as he meets your gaze.

You wonder what it is he sees in your eyes. If the want and depth of your feelings for him are so plain to see. Because he looks at you like he's terrified.

You don't kiss him.

You drop down your hips again, as far as he goes, and his eyes squeezes shut again, both of you choosing to forget what preceded it. An unrestrained moan rips out of him and to your ears, and though he's not saying any words, it's almost like he's thanking you for forgetting.

You ride him and it's rough and there is no rhythm. He meets you with every thrust, deep and fast, like he's racing for the end.

The hand on your belly, pushes down firmer, and the pressure does something to you. The simmer of pleasure turns to an inescapable heat. It climbs up your veins and invades your ribs with it.

You come around his cock and the pleasure is punishing, a slam to your ribs that squeezes down on your very lungs. It flattens your vision, until you're disorientated with it and you nearly fall off. But Joel doesn't stop. Continues to fuck up and into you. Harsh and reckless thrusts.

Pleasure is written over every line of his face, teeth gritted as he keeps his eyes closed to you. You feel him swell thicker in you, and you know he's almost there.

With a harsh hiss, his hand on your waist, lifts you up and off of him. His freed hand comes to his cock and wraps around it. Swollen and glistening with your wetness, as he fists himself with frantic strokes.

The chords of his neck strains, and then he comes. Line after line after line of his release, coating your stomach with the warmth of him.

You're both breathing hard and fast, made louder by the silence of the room at this hour.

Joel doesn't say anything and neither do you. Instead you reach over to the nightstand to kill the light, enveloping you both in the familiar darkness.

You lay back down against the mattress and roll to your side. There's rustling noise besides you and then Joel's hand comes to your stomach, cleaning up the mess he made of you with a corner of the sheets.

---

You wake up before dawn breaks. When it's no longer dark but the sun has not had time to rise above the skyline.

Dipping your foot onto the grimy wooden floor, you walk towards the very spot your jeans had been tossed aside last night, and put them on, as quietly as you can so as not to wake Joel.

You cast one last look at him where he's lying in the same position you found him when you'd let yourself in last night. On his side, curled up, vulnerable.

Then you gently pad across the length of the living room and let yourself out of the apartment, closing the door slowly until it gently clicks.

Someday, when this version of the world is over and one of you leaves. You hope that you get to miss him.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #cici writes

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seungmoonandstars · 4 months

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Kim Seungmin/gn!reader

wc: ~660

rating: fluff -`♡´- (some words of encouragement from Minnie, for anon)

comments: thank you for the request! this was kinda therapeutic for me to write as well

You were asleep. Somehow, even with the unnecessary amount of noise coming from the party downstairs, and all of the coffee you consumed today, you fell asleep.

It’s not even that you dozed off—the problem is you missed Seungmin’s phone call. That was probably the only free time he had for the night, and you missed him. The sting of tears is already making your face prickle, your cheeks hot, your throat tight.

This is not the worst thing in the world, and you’ll probably talk to him tomorrow, but you’re home right now, and it’s New Year’s Eve, and you want nothing more than to spend it with him. But you’re stuck at home, and you’re stuck with people you do not want to be around. And somehow, spending the new year with them is even worse than your regular home visits.

Missing the call was just the cherry on top. It’s been a rough few days without him around.

You pull up the last message he sent—a very cute selfie. He doesn't look like he's dressed for stage yet, but that's probably where is now…on stage. The message after that just says “are they holding you hostage?”

And a voicemail! Seungmin never leaves you voicemails. He leaves very long text messages, sometimes voice messages. Never actual voicemails. You put your earbuds in and open it.

Before you hear him, you hear a few distant, familiar voices in the background. And then he starts…

Hi, hi. I’m sorry I’m missing you, wherever you are. Hopefully they aren’t keeping you away from your phone just to be mean. Or maybe you fell asleep…you don’t do very good on planes. But if you fell asleep, I hope you feel better and well rested. And don’t be upset that you missed my call, because I know you are. We’ll talk soon.

There are a few beats of silence on his end, but you can hear him very faintly talking to someone else. And then another voice pops up…

Hellooooo YN

It’s the unmistakable voice of Felix. You can hear his giggle taper off as he walks away.

Okay sorry I’m back. Anyway…I’m sure it feels like the holiday will last forever, but it won’t. You’ll get through it, and then you can get back to me where you belong. But you slept at least! That killed some time. Take the rest of the day hour to hour…that’s what you tell me when I’m having a bad day. And then when tomorrow comes, just think, you’re a whole day closer to coming back. Taking your own advice is tough sometimes, though.

He takes another breath, clears his throat. You pause it for a moment to open up the message thread. You look at his selfie again, then type a quick message.

“I was asleep, but I’m listening to your voicemail now. Please call again as soon as you can 🤍”

Taking anyone’s advice is hard, actually. Sometimes it seems easier just to sit and be sad. But don’t do that! That just makes the time drag. I’ll send you a selfie as soon as I finish. And then you send me one after you listen. Okay? A smiling one.

You laugh at that. Seungmin rarely smiles for you in his selfies. He looks brooding and serious, or he’s sipping his coffee. Sometimes he makes a kissy face—that’s close enough to a smile. That’s what you’ll send him.

I should go before I get cut off or take up the rest of your voicemail storage. Until we talk again, you’re strong and wonderful and special. And you’re my favorite person.

You hear Felix pipe up again in the background...

you’re my favorite person, too!

…get your own favorite person, yongbok…

I will talk to you soon. Bye. Bye bye my love.

You roll onto your back and listen again.

#kim seungmin #skz seungmin #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x you #kim seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin fluff #requests

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megumimania · 3 months

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A BIRTHDAY — suguru geto

summary: geto’s birthday doesn’t come without a period of reflection.

content/warnings: geto x black fem reader, set a couple years after hidden inventory arc, established relationship, semi angsty, suggestive, italics are used to signify past conversations,am i late to the party yes but who cares! i fought tooth and nail for this not to have a happu ending

“so what do you say?” suguru’s hand reached out for yours with a charming smile that made it hard for you to say no to. “i’d say that this is the most insane idea you’ve ever had, but im in.”

you really don’t know why you took up his offer that day.

yes, you could argue that you were foolish. caught up in the fantasy of running away from all your responsibilities as a sorcerer or maybe it was because you were curious to see how his plan of eradicating all the non sorcerers in japan would play out.

the sounds of birdsong resounded throughout the grand estate. acting as background noise whilst you laid against one of the pillars out back as you lit up a cigarette—a habit that you picked up in high school. a time in your life that ended just as quickly as it began.

however that didn’t stop you from reminiscing about the memories. never did you indulge in them for too long though, afraid that you would be clinging on to a life that was no longer yours.

besides you lived a different life now.

you were older and now responsible for two adorable little girls mimiko and nanako. they were your entire world and you made sure they knew of that spoiling them rotten with a bunch of toys and cute outfits.

aside from the girls, you and suguru’s relationship was pretty rocky to say the least—years of built up emotions and unspoken words drove a wedge between you both. for you it grew harder and harder to turn a blind eye to what he was doing.

the constant killing of non sorcerers and consuming of curses changed him as a whole. his goals became more lofty and vague rather than being practical and tangible.this often lead to hushed arguments between you both that caused you both to bring your ideologies into focus, making you question if losing everything was worth it at all.

“don’t you think this is all getting out of hand?” you asked one night, wrapping up your hair for bed. too tired to even start an argument.

“it’s extreme yes but it’s necessary.” he replied with a chilling coldness that was unlike him. it was obvious he’d thought this was the absolute truth and you couldn’t convince him otherwise.

he was too far gone.

“necessary? are you hearing yourself?” you felt your blood run cold. the man you once knew now stood before you a stranger.

“i understand it may not be to your tastes but this is the only way.” he replied curtly, signalling the end of the conversation.

he never apologised. leaving you both in the constant cycle of fighting, fucking and making up with each other. some days you’d be playing happy families, taking the girls to school or the park which made you forget about all the chaos that loomed around you.

other days were spent meeting with potential clients who sought out geto as a last resort; using up most of their life savings or last pay-check in hopes that master geto could cure them of their ails or bad luck. you pitied them the most. they were usually the elderly who rarely never made it out alive unless they paid on time.

with a man like suguru the carnage bled into all avenues of his life; his blood splatters in the hallway, the blood on the walls, even on his robes. the metallic scent of blood still lingered when he buried himself in you. no matter how many times you scrubbed yourself clean, you still felt tainted by him.

however you couldn’t dwell on these thoughts for any longer, you had a birthday to celebrate.

you stubbed out the remainders of your cigarette and headed back inside, plastering a false smile on your face as you greeted the kitchen staff. you were presented with suguru’s cake—a rich chocolate cake that had the girls scribbly hand writing in red icing making you smile.

you and the girls carried the cake and his gifts to his room being sure to knock thrice. he opened the door his usual neat top knot now spilling across his shoulders, his robes quite disheveled—yet he still looked handsome as ever.

“happy birthday papa geto!” the girls said in unison holding out their gifts for him to take. suguru’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at them, taking the gifts and setting them down on his desk.

he locked eyes with the cake and you saw a glimpse of his former self peeking through. “you did all this for me?” he looked at the girls with disbelief, feigning surprise knowing damn well he heard you and the girls causing a ruckus in the kitchen.

“yes we did papa do you like it?” nanako the more outspoken of the duo asks but nonetheless their eyes sparkle in anticipation, eagerly waiting for their dad’s approval. suguru lifts them up into his arms and looks at them with such a rare softness that they only got to see.

“i love it more than anything girls, thank you.” he peppered the girls faces with kisses making them break out into a fit of giggles as they tried to break free from his grasp.

it was a picturesque sight of domesticity that you wanted to capture and relive over and over again until it was ingrained into your mind. until you could live and breathe this moment again.

once he blew the candles and the tendrils of smoke dissipated into the morning sun. mimiko was eager to ask what he wished for but in true suguru fashion he was tight lipped about it, standing firm even after all their pestering.

mimiko and nanako eventually gave up and left to play outside, their burning curiosity fizzling out. you and suguru were left alone and it seemed like the celebratory mood died as soon the girls left the room.

“what did you wish for?” you asked into the echo chamber of the bedroom. the silence was driving you mad. “you.” he replied not missing a beat as he inched closer to you. the way he said it with such conviction almost fooled you into believing him.

your treacherous heart betrayed you once again exposing how much you missed him, how much you needed him.

“you already have me.” you said matter of factly, clearing your throat as if it would quell the conflicting feelings of desire and resentment you had towards him.

suguru picked up on your conflicting wave of emotions and paused. “sorry.” he muttered before continuing “I shouldn’t have—I should go.”

and just like that the axis between you both tilted from growing tension to mild tolerance .

you wondered if you should’ve just caved in and enjoyed the fleeting moment of pleasure he offered, knowing how good his touch felt but you knew it was for the best not to fall for it again.

maybe one day you’ll both come to an agreement that this was no longer working. but you were just fine with dancing around the topic until one of you finally had the guts to end things.

#vina writes: jjk #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #getou x reader #geto x black reader #geto jjk #geto x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk geto #geto suguru #jjk angst #jjk x reader

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ken-dom · 3 months

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Bite My Lip 'Til You Break It

Driver (solo) with mentioned Driver x gn!reader

1.2k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Driver tries to keep control after you move in next door and a made for TV romance movie catches his attention.

∘₊✧ Author's notes: That one Driver coded pic I've cheekily slipped into this fic header that says 'after kissing for 3 seconds' ... it's basically that but make the kissing imaginary. Thank you K for reading my complete nonsense first draft and still sticking around to the end! Title taken from THE DRIVER by Måneskin.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, fantasizing, kissing kink, cumming untouched, mention of blood/injury, hinted stalker Driver, sleepy Driver

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Driver had blocked the low murmur of the television set out of his field of awareness. He was focussed entirely on the car part sitting before him in the centre of the little kitchen table, and aside from the dull glow of the TV, the only other light source in his small apartment was the lamp directly above where his hands were working, delicate and careful, as though the carburetor was alive and could feel his touch.

Focussed entirely, that was, aside from one nagging thought rattling around somewhere in the back of his otherwise calm mind.

Actually, it was more of a memory than a thought, but it was evolving rapidly, and if he didn’t manage to keep that storm at bay for at least a little while, he wouldn’t be able to focus on his car at all.

His jeans already felt too tight, but he pressed on through the familiar sensation, not giving in. Because if he gave in now, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself next time either. Or the time after. No. He needed to keep control.

But you, and the gentle kiss you’d planted on his cheek yesterday as a thank you for him helping manoeuvre a new coffee table into your apartment, were taking over his every waking thought.

By now, the simple fantasy of kissing you on the lips he’d dreamed up the very first time he noticed you on your moving in day, had evolved into a featurette he would play on repeat in his mind.

It went something like this; snaking an arm around your waist, pulling you close, pressing his lips to yours as you turned weak in his strong arms, hearing you moan for him…

The moan was the thing that made his blood boil the most.

It was totally fabricated, of course — he’d never actually heard you moan. But it sounded exactly like you in his imagination and it made his breath catch in his chest each time he got to that part. Sometimes, if he was feeling frivolous, you’d moan his name too, but he usually considered that a step too far.

And right now, he couldn’t get into it. He knew it would end in a long drive that did absolutely nothing to sate his desires, and finish up in him trying to listen though the wall in hopes he might just hear you moan for real before finally letting his urges consume him.

But it wasn’t always that easy, and he knew it.

Right now, he was doing an admirable job of holding those urges off, though. Aside from the ache between his thighs, but he wasn’t paying it any mind, so perhaps it would calm and leave him be. He did have control over this.

He did.

Just as the thought occurred to him he could do with something far more distracting than tinkering with the worn valves of this carburetor to keep thoughts of you at bay for a while, his ears pricked up.

The background noise of the movie he wasn’t paying attention to seemed to change pace.

It was some mid romance movie, unknown actors in a made for TV production, that just happened to be next in the listings when he switched the set on earlier and never switched it back off again.

In honesty, he’d forgotten it was playing, until this shift in atmosphere caught his attention. The main two characters, who he guessed would have been through various cliché obstacles and dramatic misunderstandings in the last hour, were inches away from one another’s face, breathing heavily, and without realising, Driver began to breathe heavily too.

He dropped the torque screwdriver, his fingers aching at how tight his grip had become, and placed both his palms flat on the cool surface of the table. The cold against his flesh reminded him of how tired he was, that you were probably asleep by now, and he wondered if he would be able to sleep at all.

They were kissing now, the couple on the screen, humming against one another’s lips, and Driver held back a hungry little hum of his own.

Hands began to tangle in hair, their passion palpable in the way the scene was shot, the score, the actors who were perfectly believable…

His fingers twitched. He’d like to do that. He’d like to push his hands into your hair, and have you scraping your fingertips against his scalp. It sounded so all-encompassing, so intimate, and he shuddered.

He could feel his cock throbbing against its denim confines, feel the slick precum leaking in short, mildly relieving pumps from the tip. He knew it would be soaking through his jeans, too, making a mess, but he didn’t care. He wondered whether you would be put off by that if you were here, kissing him properly. Maybe one day he would find out, and the thought didn’t do a thing to soothe the fire raging in his lower belly.

Driver’s eyes widened at the characters on screen as one lifted the other, legs around waists, lips travelling down to ghost over throats, laughing and sighing and touching.

His fingers clamped onto the edge of the table as he watched the short scene, completely and utterly captivated, knuckles turning white under the pressure of his grip.

He swallowed down a desperate moan, but he couldn’t stop his breath coming in short, heavy pants. He knew he sounded lewd, breathing so heavily just sitting here alone, but there was no one else’s breath for his to mingle with, and so he had to put up with the sound and simply imagine he could feel you whispering how hot you were for him in his ear.

He bit down hard on his lip at that, trying not to lose control completely, yet wishing it was you biting him, wishing you would make him bleed with unbridled passion for his kiss. Splatter some blood on his clothes to wet them a little more. His lip curled at the thought. Fuck, it was kind of hot.

And then they pulled away from one another, foreheads pressed together, and without warning, the romantic end to the character’s affections was the final nail in the coffin, tipping Driver completely over the edge into hot-blooded bliss.

His hips involuntarily bucked, and the table he was gripping shook, and his underwear was swiftly filled with a thick helping of hot, creamy cum. One hand shot up from the table so he could bite down on his fist, a single tear leaking from one eye as he tried his damnedest not to cry out your name and wake you through the wall.

It would be so delicious if you did hear him call out your name, and you came over to see what was wrong, catching him all hot and bothered, and then slowly leaning into him, and-

That was a fantasy for another time.

The friction of fabric against his sensitive cock wasn’t quite enough to satisfy him completely, but it was enough to see him through the unintentional peak, and the surprise of his spontaneous orgasm was exciting enough to heighten the sensation into something relieving rather than frustrating.

A whimper so quiet it was almost inaudible escaped his throat and the TV movie blurred into nothingness again as the tame love scene came to an end. Driver took himself off to the bathroom to clean up before taking his seat back at the kitchen table, and picking up that torque screwdriver again, with gently trembling hands and a slightly pleasure-addled mind.

Perhaps he should go to bed. He could finish this in the morning.

#not s f w 💀#driver x reader #drive 2011 #drive (2011)#ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling #drive fic #driver x reader fic #drive smut #driver smut #driver x you #driver x y/n #driver x reader smut #ryan gosling x y/n #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling smut #ken-dom writes

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halfway-happyyy · 2 years

Text

begin again (rooster bradshaw)

AN: rooster still struggles with the death of his parents from time to time, and though he could turn to a multitude of people to get him through- he chooses you (his ex-flame). no warnings, only soft feelings ahead.

reader's call sign: sass

pairing: rooster bradshaw x female reader

Penny Benjamin's name flashes across the screen of your vibrating cell phone, rousing you from an otherwise heavy slumber and you answer it, frowning at the late hour.

“Penny, is everything alright?”

Because everyone knows that bad news has a terrible habit of following two-AM phone calls.

Penny hesitates on the other end while someone in the background hollers something. “Everything's fine, Sass. I'm sorry for waking you, but would you mind swinging over here to pick Rooster up?”

You blanch at the question. “He’s back on American soil?”

“Oh, he sure is.” She confirms.

Swinging your feet over the side of the bed, you ask, “What about Mav?”

Penny sighs heavily. “Maverick is currently as indisposed as Rooster is.”

“Penny, m’darlin’! Is that her? May I talk to her?”

Penny pulls the phone from her ear to hiss something at someone in the background and then she’s back a second later to tell you that he’s asking for you personally.

Lucky me.

“Yeah Penny- give me twenty minutes.”

In the short amount of time that it takes to drive to the Hard Deck you nearly turn back twice; the last words you ever uttered to Rooster play on like a broken record in your mind and causes unease to prick at you. You’re about to make a final run for it when the familiar neon sign catches your eye through the early morning light and it’s entirely too late now. Parking your car, you notice that the bar is closed for the evening, and you glance around in mild confusion. You are mere seconds from calling Penny back when you spot three lone figures standing on the beach a couple yards away. Drawing nearer, you notice both Penny and Maverick with their arms around Rooster’s impossibly broad shoulders- and they’re telling him something, but you lose their words to the white noise of the waves breaking on the shore before you.

“Hi guys.” You announce your presence and Maverick turns to face you, his smile wide and begrudgingly infectious.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. It’s good to see you, Sass.”

Penny turns to you, her expression grateful. “Thank you for coming, Sass.”

“Bit of a rowdy night for a Wednesday, huh?”

Penny tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and nods her head, her sky-blue orbs glitter brilliantly in the low morning light. “It sure was.” She pecks Rooster’s cheek goodbye and tugs on the sleeve of Maverick’s worn leather jacket. “Hate to cut a party early Mav, but eight o’clock comes fast.”

Maverick guffaws and thumps Rooster on the back twice. “You owe me a beer, kid.” He ruffles a palm through the mop of Rooster’s unruly auburn hair- something about the gesture tells you it’s a remnant from his childhood, and it makes you smile. “You remember what I told you, hm?”

Rooster nods, once.

“Thanks again for coming, Sass. I’m sorry for waking you.” Penny whispers as she walks past.

“It’s no problem, really. I had just closed my eyes.”

She caresses a warm palm to your cheek, her gaze knowing. “His plane hit the tarmac a week ago and he hasn’t stopped talking about you since.”

You watch them retreat from sight and sidle up next to Rooster. “So. This is how I find out you’re stateside?”

He sways a little on the spot, a byproduct of the alcohol consumed, no doubt. “You made your position about our future communication adamantly clear the last time we spoke.”

You certainly can’t begrudge him that because it’s true. “And yet here we are.”

“Here we are.” His soft, wrecked voice echoes.

Silence settles like fine dust between the pair of you, and despite everything that transpired in the past, you cannot deny that you missed him with every fiber of your being. A multitude of questions dance just shy of your reach- Where have you been? And- Why did you listen when I told you never to call again? But all you can manage is a quiet, “Talk to me, Rooster.”

“It’s his birthday today.” He murmurs. His gaze is distant- lost to the vast ocean before him. “He would have been sixty.” His admission weighs heavier than you thought it might, and your arms ache to hold him. “Is it fucked up that I come here sometimes to feel closer to him?”

You shake your head. “Grief is a fickle thing, Rooster. You do what you can to cope. No one can fault you for that.”

“I miss them so much.”

His despair is suddenly palpable; it washes over you like warm rain and all you can do is be near to him. “The grief means that there’s love, Rooster. It means that there is so much unexpressed love still. And it’ll stay with you- it’s supposed to stay with you. But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing.” A tear slips from his closed eye and cascades down his flushed cheek, and you reach up to brush it away with the pad of your thumb. “Let’s get you home, hm?”

Rooster relents and stumbles through the sand to your car. The ride is silent, your eyelids heavy with the weight of interrupted sleep. “Will you wait around a little while?” Rooster asks, upon arrival. And because you’ve always had a particularly hard time with saying no to him, you smile softly and nod your head.

“Sure, Rooster.”

It’s been six months since you’ve been inside of his house and stepping into the front hallway brings the memories back in roiling waves.

Rooster taking you up against the wall after an evening out at a military gala, the kitchen where scrambled eggs and bacon were made on Sunday mornings. The living room where he used to slow dance with you to Otis Redding. The photographs adorning the walls that the two of you purchased together.

“May I put a record on?” The hour is late and wearing on, but you’re not sure when you’ll get this opportunity again, so you take full advantage of it.

“Of course.” Rooster murmurs.

Making your way over to the record player beneath the bay window, you search through the case next to you until you find the one that you want. Slipping Giant from Buddy Holly out of its cover, you place it into the player, position the needle, and step back. It takes a few moments before the riff to Love Is Strange sounds through the speakers and transports the otherwise quiet room to the late sixties.

“A good choice.” Rooster approves from the doorway.

“It’s nostalgic for me.” You shrug.

“Me too.” He pushes himself from the doorframe to walk over to you. “May I?” He asks, in reference to a dance.

“You may.”

He takes you into his arms, and the achingly familiar feeling they bring you is so intense, you have no choice but to drop your chin to his shoulder blade to keep from sighing in utter satisfaction. He sways slowly with you on the spot, his large warm hands cradle the small of your back- and they hold you like you’re the most fragile thing in the universe. Like if he’s not careful, you’ll shatter into a million magnificent pieces before his eyes.

“Most of my memories are thread bare, but when I listen to music like this, I can still see them together.” He clears his throat. “He’d put on a record- like you just did, and he’d dance her around the living room until it ended. And the next night, they’d do it all over again.”

The needle ticks and the record finishes and your eyelids threaten close of their own volition when Rooster leads you by the hand to his bedroom down the hall. He makes no move to remove your clothing, and sleep is so heavy on your mind that you fall into bed without another thought. He sidles in beside you, brushes the hair back from your ear and says, “I never got to thank you before I left.”

“Thank me for what?” You mumble, sleepily.

Rooster traces a fingertip down the bridge of your nose. “I packed ice around my heart after my parents passed. I got scared of making homes out of people, but you made me feel less afraid about it all, and I’ll always be grateful to you for that.” His fingertips trace the outline of your lips, and you can’t help but smile into the touch. “And if tomorrow comes and you’re still here, I’ll tell you everything, Sass.”

“You're drunk, Rooster.” You whisper.

And everyone knows that drunk words mean nothing when the morning light touches them.

Yet six am arrives and sunshine beams through a crack in his curtains, and the very first words out of that wonderfully gravelly voice of his are- “I meant every single word I said earlier.”

And as you watch a slow, sleepy smile bloom across his face- happiness warms inside of you like sunlight through a stained glass window.

#he must get the lonelies something awful sometimes #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #rooster bradshaw imagines #rooster bradshaw fluff #fluff #writing

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josephquinnswhore · 1 year

Text

Baby Blues

Pairing: Frankie Morales x female reader.

Summary: Frankie comes home late to find you struggling and wants to make it up to you.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: postpartum depression. completely self indulgent.

It felt irrational, the resentment you felt for Frankie, his freedom to be able to just leave the house whenever he wanted, catch up with his friends and have a night away from the never ending duties you were overwhelmed with.

Realistically 3 hours wasn’t a long time, especially for Frankie, when he met up with the guys he was normally gone a lot longer, you would’ve felt grateful if you weren’t so tired and withdrawn. Unfortunately for Frankie you weren’t in the mood for anything to do with him when he got home. Everything he did annoyed you; the way he closed the door, kicked his boots off and stumbled in the darkness into the table that made a horrible screeching noise across the wooden floor. Your baby had been crying on and off for a few hours, constantly wanting to be held, nursed and rocked, long story short you were fucking exhausted. You needed help, you had rang Frankie a few times and left a voice message which he never replied to, typically.

When he walked behind you to try and slide his arms around your waist you snapped, angry tears falling down your cheeks, rage consuming you faster than a forest fire, your fussy baby wailing at your sudden movement. You groaned in frustration and gave Frankie a stern look through your tears, his face and the room illuminated a light yellow hue from your babies nightlight. You didn’t miss the frown that wrinkles his face as you pull away from him, confused by the tears and rejection.

“Let me take him baby.” In your unreasonable state, you scoff, rolling your eyes as you away gently to rock the baby back to sleep. “Don’t bother Frankie, I got it, like always. I don’t need your help.” You couldn’t ignore the way your heartstrings were stretched out at the way Frankie’s face dropped, a sadness that etched onto his face made you feel a pang of guilt in your chest.

“Is this because I went out? Baby I asked, I made sure before I left that it was okay.” You set your baby down in his bassinet, patting his bum a few times before tuning on his nighttime music, the sweet lullaby caused your own eyelids to droop as you exit the room, shutting the door. “It’s not that you left, frankie! You didn’t pick up the phone, I rang and left messages. I needed you and you just, weren’t there.”

Frankie took two steps forward and stretched his arms around your neck, pulling you into him and his warmth, his fleece flannel was soft on your skin, hot tears wetting the material. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby.” His hands are running up and down your back, tracing mindless shapes in hopes to calm you down from your overwhelmed state. “Go to bed baby, I’ll take it from here.” You bit your lip and shake your head no, feeling guilty for snapping at him. “I’m sorry for getting so mad I just-“ frankie presses a soft kiss to your lips, one that lasts barely seconds but lingers afterwards. “Don’t finish that sentence, you don’t deserve to carry this weight alone, go to bed baby.”

“Okay, I love you.” You mumble tiredly, voice croaking from the breakdown you just endured. You tread to bed and the softness of the mattress swallows you, your limbs ache ceasing once your head hits the pillow, pulling the covers over you as the fan gently whirrs in the background, the cool air on your face lulls you to sleep within the minute.

When you wake up, it’s by your own accord, not from a baby screaming, frankie showering or your alarm blaring, you wake up naturally feeling refreshed and body free from pain, your mind clear and spirit refreshed. You stretch for a few seconds, groaning at how good it feels before walking into your sons room, his bassinet was empty, but it was well made and folded semi-neatly. His pacifier and teddy sitting nicely in the corner.

Down the hall, the living room was spotless, it had been mopped, vacuumed and the appliances had been wiped down, there were two baskets on the lounge, one folded neatly of a mix of your own and Frankie’s clothes, the other being of your sons, smelling like fresh lavender.

The kitchen made you gasp, the dishes were washed and packed away, bottles had been washed, sanitised and prepped. Frankie had even made breakfast, well-brunch, considering the time you read on the microwave reads 11:28am.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” You question, voice clear but soft towards him. He smiles as he makes you a plate of your favourite breakfast foods, he’s wearing your baby carrier and your son is propped up with his face against Frankie’s chest. “You deserved it baby, after all you do for us. It was hard..” you sit down across from him at the dining table, waiting for him to continue, “I didn’t realise how hard it was, how much it takes out of you to do all these things. You do them everyday too, you know. I’m sorry I’ve been taking you for granted.” Your son coos in his sleep, the gentle vibration of Frankie’s chest as he speaks comforts the baby.

Your hand reaches over the food to place it on top of Frankie’s, “we have to do this together baby otherwise we won’t make it, it’s too hard for either of us to do alone, can I count on you?” Frankie’s thumb is caressing your hand, dark circles mark his under eyes and his wrinkles more prominent as each minute passes that he’s awake, his hair prodding in every direction from running his hair through it. “I promise you can baby, we’re in this together.” You sigh in relief at Frankie’s confession, glad to see some real progress in him wanting to be more involved in the harder parts of being a parent.

“I love you Frankie. Go get some rest hun, I’ll take him.” Frankie looks at you as he struggles to keep his eyelids from closing, “are you sure?” You huff and roll your eyes playfully, “go before you fall asleep at the table and crush out baby,” you assure, unclipping the carrier from the back and at his waist, cradling your son in your arms, he groans quietly as he readjusts in your arms. Frankie kisses your forehead and heads straight for the lounge, knowing he won’t make it to the bedroom without passing out from exhaustion. You have to give it to him; for his first all nighter he did amazing; it impressed you.

You hoped it would be the first of many. Seeing Frankie be so good at being a dad almost made you want another baby, almost.

#frankie #frankie morales #Francesco morales #frankie morales x reader #dad Frankie morales #post partum depression #triple frontier #pedropascal #pedro pascal

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justagirlthatlovedtoread · 7 months

Text

Jonah Hauer King fanfiction:

No warnings, just a little fluff, and mentions of burning buildings

Jonah observed as his university campus was completely consumed by flames. The fire was flowing out of the building through several holes, giving the impression that a fire-breathing dragon was inside the house, puffing away vicariously. The roof, doors, and windows were all on fire. Jonah observed numerous firefighters attempting to put out the fire as the flames flared bright red and amber, nearly a livid purple.

In no time, the flames had spread to the rest of the building. It was a great sight for the crowds, (who were kept back by their professors), lined up one behind the other, in the fire assembly area.

But even throughout all this hecticness, there was only one thing playing on his mind, knocking him sick to his stomach- y/n.

Where is she?

Is she okay?

Did she make it out on time?

What about their dogs?

His eyes dart frantically around him, the sounds of his friends talking to him blend in with the background noises and the sound of crackling fire.

"Are you okay man?" Alec asks with a hand on his shoulder?

He was certain that everyone in the room could hear his brain spinning and his heart racing at hundreds of thousands of miles per hour against his chest. It almost sounded like thunder on a stormy night.

And just when he thought his heart would burst, he caught a glimpse of a beautiful girl in the distance—better yet, it was his beautiful girl.

Y/n.

"Y/n" he calls, wided eyed, in a desperate, rushed voice.

"Babygirl, I was so worried about you" pulling her closer with his large hands and bringing her into a tight hug as he reached her from the other side of the building.

"Yeah?" Looping her arms around his body, letting his hands go under her shirt to rub her hips and bury his face into her neck.

His body vibrates in response to her words on his chest, sending butterflies through his entire body. Fluttering butterflies, that never seem to end.

He leans closer to her to help maintain his balance, as the hairs on his chest spring up and his legs start to give in.

"I'm fine, I promise, I just couldn't leave them behind", looking down at the two dogs that had become the best of friends.

"I know", he smiles as they both lean down to pet their dogs and then turns to face his and her friends, who are all giving each other perplexed looks.

They were unaware of the intimacy between the two.

Sneaking around wasn't their intention- It's simply how events transpired and how the pages of their story turned out.

Jonah and y/n met in their second year of their doctors residency, when they both coincidentally tried to sneak their dogs into the "on call room" instead of leaving them at home, all alone.

Jonah claims that their meeting was fate because, after all, no one would have given the two of them together a second thought given that he was a well-liked and well-known guy, where as Y/N prefers to keep her circle small.

They began by exchanging numbers and pulling the disappearing act on each of their friends on breaks, to hang out with each other and walk their dogs in secret; away from campus grounds so no professors would find out that they'd been sneaking their dogs into their place of education.

Y/n was hesitant at first, given his social status, but slowly started to let him knock her walls down. And with time, she eventually learnt that Jonah was not the ordinary popular guy you'd usually see around. Instead, he was a beautiful, brown headed, friendly giant with a pure heart and a lot of love to give.

They fell for each other hard.

Jonah broke out of his trance when heard and saw a guy with a medical box by his side. The name tag on his uniform, reading 'Captain Bobby Nash'.

"I'm sorry son, we need to get her checked out, she inhaled a lot of smoke"

Jonah looked at her worryingly, looking between her and the paramedics that have just arrived on scene.

"It's okay, don't worry about me.

Here, take our dogs. I think we have more things to worry about" nodding her head a few times towards the professor who's currently got a mixture of relief and rage in his eyes when he notices the two dogs now standing by Jonah's side.

"Shit".

"Let's go now please" Bobby says, admiring the couple.

Their friends watch Jonah as he talks to his professor and y/n disappears once again.

They attempt to listen in but are unable to hear anything, understanding that their friends are likely in serious trouble. However, after a few minutes, when they see Jonah shaking his hand, and the professor leaning down to pat the dogs on the head, they have a gut feeling everything's going to be alright.

Jonah is pulled to the side by dogs, towards the paramedics assessing Y/N.

"Woah buddy, easy there" a guy with a quiff type hair style and birth mark on his forehead says when the dogs come up from behind him, startling him and his friend Eddie, who stands next to him.

The paramedic gives Jonah a blanket, which he wraps around himself and his girlfriend before kissing the top of her head.

"Are you okay baby, everything good?"

"Yes" she turns her neck towards him and smiles.

"Good, we should probably get the dogs checked out too" gently stroking her cheek.

"I've already checked them out, Dexter is fine, but Bella burnt her paw but I've cleaned it and I'll make sure it doesn't get infected"

He murmurs, "My perfect little vet," against her lips and then kisses her.

"Let's go yeah?"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah's hands caresses and squeezes her thighs, smoothing up her sides and her arms. His index finger hooks under her chin as he pulls her impossibly closer. his eyes are locked on hers, and he's staring into her eyes whilst biting his lip.

Her heart flutters and the butterflies in both of their stomachs are constant. Her cheeks are all hot and she's tripping over her words as she tries to focus, but his gorgeous eyes have her hooked, reeling her in and never letting her go.

"I love you" he confesses.

"Hmm?" Tilting her head as the corner of her lips turn upwards and her pupils dilate further.

"I said I love you", kissing her lips.

"I love you too Jonah".

He smiles as he kisses her lips again- harder this time, then her cheek, her other cheek, her forehead, the tip of her nose, and her chin.

He's smiling against her skin as he watches her fall back onto the bed, inside their perfect little beach house they bought last summer, to escape from reality and be eachothers company.

The two dogs wake them up in the morning and nuzzle them to get out of bed whilst they are still tangled in the sheets and entwined in each other's arms.

They might not have a place to finish their degree programme anymore, but their professor assured that a new rule would be in place after they had rebuilt. Because they help with anxiety and despair and promote good health, dogs are permitted on campus.

The end??!!

Note: Please leave a like/comment if you wish, this is my first ever fanfic that I've done in a while, so please be nice! And thankyou @megalony for your help, your kindness is everything.

#jonahhauerkingfics #jonah hauer king #jonah hauer king fanfiction #jonah hauer king x you #jonah hauer king x smut #jonah hauer king smut #jonah hauer king x reader #jonah hauer king x y/n #ariel x eric #prince eric

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toxic-ship-tournament · 1 year

Text

ROUND 3 / POLL 2

Matejka x Darling Nikki (@outpost-31 & @rhaaclaws) vs Esmerelda Poofenplotz x Alice Luoja (@cantdanceflynn)

who makes up your ship?:

Matejka (he/him) [by @outpost-31] and Darling Nikki (she/they) [by @rhaaclaws]

why does your ship deserve to be considered the most toxic?:

Darling Nikki and Matejka met in 1524, after Nikki's mother's death, and got into a duel- proposed by Matejka- at the price of Nikki's soul. She ended up winning the fight, and was turned into a vampire. They stayed together afterwards due to both being immortal, and have known each other closely since then. The reason why we think they deserve to win is their extreme codependence: Matejka is extremely attached to Nikki, because she looks like his dead wife Esmé, whom he's still in love with. Nikki takes advantage of him and roleplays as Esmé during sex. This unhealthy attachment to Nikki began consuming his life, so they got into a fight and split up for nearly 100 years. This caused the both of them to become incredibly suicidal, as they'd known each other for 4 centuries at this point, and they barely knew how to live without each other. Even missing each other so dearly, their relationship has the tendency to be very unhealthy. Once, Nikki insulted Matejka's dead wife as a joke, and he almost dragged them out to the sun in an attempt to kill them. Another time, she tried to eat Matejka (due to being a cannibal), but thought his black blood was disgusting. They know each other like no one else does, but still have layer of distrust. Nikki doesn't even know Esmé's name. Altogether, their bond is an incredibly complex one due to the nature of their immortality, but their unhealthy overreliance on each other has nearly ruined both their lives.

ship tags/playlists/pinterest boards?:

Ship name: Red Flags And Long Nights Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4GJDQdhpDITspMvp9c99m9?si=29599a8e944946a3

****

who makes up your ship?:

Esmeralda Poofenplotz(Canon Phineas and Ferb character(although I draw her differently from canon)) and Alice Luoja(Background character turned Phineas and Ferb oc)

why does your ship deserve to be considered the most toxic?:

THEY BASICALLY STARTED OUT AS TWO DUMBASS TOXIC AF TEENAGERS GOING TO EVIL SCIENCE HIGH SCHOOL TOGETHER AND BEING THE TERRORS OF THE SCHOOL(POOFENPLOTZ BC SHES BIG ON BEAUTY AND WOULD BASICALLY DESTROY EVERYONE'S SELF ESTEEM AND ALICE BC. SHES WILLING TO KILL ANYONE WHO RLY FUCKS W HER), AND WHILE THEY ORIGINALLY HAD A RIVALRY IT GOT A LIL TOO HOMOEROTIC VERY QUICKLY AND THEY DON'T RLY KNOW HOW BUT THEY ENDED UP DATING. THEY ENDED UP, SURPRISE SURPRISE, RUINING EACH OTHER EVEN FURTHER THEN THE TWO OF THEM WERE ALREADY TRAUMATIZED!!!! A TYPICAL INTERACTION BETWEEN EM PRETTY MUCH WENT ALONG THE LINES OF POOFENPLOTZ POKING FUN AT SOMETHING ABOUT ALICES BODY OR PERSONALITY SHE KNEW WOULD TICK ALICE OFF("YOU KNOW, I'M NOT SAYING YOU NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT, BUT THROWING UP YOUR LUNCH LATER COULDN'T HURT"), ALICE GETTING PISSED OFF AND PULLING A KNIFE ON HER("YOU KNOW, MAYBE THIS TIME I'LL CHOP OFF YOUR TONGUE, STOP THAT HORRIBLE NOISE YOU CALL A VOICE"), AND THEN SOMETHING WOULD HAPPEN OR ONE OF THEM WOULD FUMBLE OR FLIRT AND THEY'D JUST GO BACK TO NORMAL BANTER AND TERRORIZING PEOPLE. THEY DID CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER, AND WHATEVER THEY WERE EXPERIENCING CERTAINLY FIT SOMEWHERE WITHIN THE STRANGE AND NEBULOUS RANGE OF ROMANTIC LOVE, LIKE THEY DEFINITELY LIKED EACH OTHER, THEY WERE JUST TOXIC AS SHIT AND HAVING THEIR BEHAVIORS EXPANDED UPON OR REINFORCED BY THEIR ENVIRONMENT. EVENTUALLY ALICES OBSESSION W GODHOOD AND HER IDEA OF PERFECTION (ONE THAT HAD ALWAYS BEEN THERE, EVEN IF POOFENPLOTZ MADE IT MORE PHYSICAL) ENDED UP DRIVING THE TWO APART, WITH HOW HORRIBLE ALICES DECLINE WAS, AND POOFENPLOTZ ENDED UP BASICALLY LEAVING AND IGNORING HER AS A DESPERATE ATTEMPT TO SNAP HER OUT OF HER DECLINE BUT ONLY PULLED HER FURTHER IN. AS IT STANDS NOW IN THE PRESENT, THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS A COMPLICATED SPIRAL OF "POOFENPLOTZ ACTUALLY HEALED AND REALIZED HOW AWFUL SHE WAS BEING AND WHILE SHE STILL HAD A DEGREE IN EVIL SCIENCE SHE HAD TO USE SO SHE MIGHT AS WELL GET A JOB DOING THAT, SHES ALSO RLY TRYING TO FIGURE OUT EVERYTHING W THE CAST AND HELP THEM, ESPECIALLY MILLIE AND PINKY, WHILE ALSO DEALING W " WHOOPS YOUR EX IS BACK IN TOWN AND SHES NOW BEEN RESPONSIBLE FOR MORE DEATHS THEN MOST FULL ON TERRORISM COMBINED, BUT SHE IS ALSO STILL KINDA HOT SO *NONCOMMITTAL HAND GESTURE*, YA KNOW?", MEANWHILE ALICE IS "OH RIGHT. SHE QUALIFIES FOR LOVEMUFFIN TOO. IM ALLOWED TO DENY ON HER ON TERMS OF HER BEING MY EX, RIGHT? BUT ALSO IM STILL GONNA INVITE HER TO OUR MEETINGS AND ALSO OFFER TO LET HER " LEAD" THE CULT IVE MADE THAT CONSISTS BASICALLY JUST OF MY VERY ABUSED OWN SON AND A VERY ABUSED TEENAGER WITH ME BC IF I CAN CHANGE HER MIND I CAN CHANGE ANYONES!"

ship tags/playlists/pinterest boards?:

Esmeralice, https://m.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLnP0Xop8gS5VdFNCP4Uetvq2pM5A9NZTe <- BAD PLAYLIST BY MY STANDARDS OF USUALLY A HUNDRED SONGS AT LEAST BUT ITLL DO FOR NOW

#matejka x darling nikki #alice x esmerelda #outpost 31 #rhaaclaws #cantdanceflynn #toxic ship tournament

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evilvvithin · 1 year

Text

Get To Know Each Other

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!reader (civil)

Notes: This man consumed my whole life and I felt the need to write something for him. Wanted to sit down and write some short smut because the thirst for him is unreal, but somehow kept writing and kept writing and ended up with this.

Contains: dom!ghost, sex, grinding, cod violence, blood, death, size kink, raw unprotected sex. Read at your own risk

Summary: Ghost saves you and decides to take care of your injuries by himself. Despite him being so intimidating, you are more than eager to get to know him better. So is he.

Words: 4,411

AO3

"Where are they?!"

The man yelled out again making the words cut into your ears. You've heard this question too many times in the past few minutes to count it. Squeezing your eyes together, you tried to not think about all the gunshots and heavy footsteps present around you. About the dead bodies that were alive and breathing not so long ago. About the blood, slowly covering the whole floor. The blood of his victims and your own.

"Don't make me do it!"

More gunshots in the background. You shivered and shot your eyes open when you felt something cold pulling your chin up.

"So," the man soothed his voice to the point it was almost comical, holding your chin up by the tip of his gun. "Are you going to tell me, or?"

You saw his jaw clenching as you remained silent from fear.

"I know you know, so tell me! Now!" He gripped your chin roughly with his hand, forcing you to stare into his eyes.

You wish you knew so you could answer him and hopefully he'd let you be. Let me be, just like that, you had to chuckle at that in your mind. Your jaw was going numb from his grip.

"I-"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I don't… know…"

He groaned and threw away your head, standing up. The force he used almost made you lose balance and you wished you never gonna see what he's really capable of while getting the information he wants.

"Take her back," he barked out at his men, who immediately dragged you to the other room and closed the doors. You heard the man's muffled voice, not able to make out any words at all. Your head started to buzz as the adrenaline was pouring into every corner of your body.

Struggling against the handcuffs, they cut right into your skin and you let out a painful hiss. You crawled closer towards the doors to check if they noticed anything.

"It might be just a coincidence, sir. Did we confirm who the phone belongs to?" one of the other men said.

You tried to loosen the handcuffs again.

"This is one of his knives, soldier. He was clearly here." His voice was getting more and more annoyed. "The knife, the name? It's right here on her phone. Don't tell me it's not connected, I know when something is connected and I'm the one giving orders. Is it clear?"

"Yes sir!"

The voices went silent and you held in breath, laying motionless. You felt the taste of blood on your lip as you've bit it too much at this point. How am I connected to this bullshit?

The feeling of hopelessness was slowly changing into anger. This was a mistake, they had no right to treat you like this. You didn't know anything they wanted to hear so why did they keep trying? You wanted it to end already, no matter how. You heard buzzing static noise.

"Copy," the man replied.

All of them went to the room you were in and kicked open the doors.

"Your last chance," their leader said with a silent deep voice.

His men were grabbing you and pulling up to make you stand. You could stand, but you refused to. It's not like they had any issue just keeping you up by holding your arms. The man, clenching a knife in his hand, stepped right up to you, making you back your head away.It must be one of the knives they found, the ones from that guy called Ghost.

He slid the knife's tip down from your cheek to your collarbone and you felt your skin burning under the cold steel.

"Sharp, aren't they?" He scoffed. "Who do they belong to?"

"Ghost."

He blinked and smiled widely, "that wasn't so hard, was it?" His smile looked like his jaw was deformed from being beaten.

I only knew because I overheard your conversation before, you wanted to say but the words stayed only in your head as all men jumped at the static noise of their walkie-talkie. The voice trying to come through sounded urgent, but was breaking badly.

"Graves… dead… position… defeat…. Ghost… "

The noise went silent.

"What was it? They got him?" One of the men holding you asked.

His eyebrows furrowed.

"Soldier, repeat–"

"Do you copy? Repeat!"

He didn't have a chance to finish his order as a large shadow jumped at him from behind through the door frame, locking him in place and placing a knife on his throw. The man on your right moaned faintly and dropped to the ground dead, knife sticking out of his eye. It all happened so fast you didn't even see the knife being thrown. The second man on your left gasped and moved behind you, using you as a shield.

"Repeat what, Graves?" The shadow said with a low voice, almost whispering.

Hearing his voice sent shivers down your spine. So you are Graves, you pathetic – you scoffed in your mind seeing him turn into a little lamb in wolf's mouth.

"Ghost," Graves let out a sigh and smirked. "I thought I won't see you again, buddy."

"Say it again and your head will be rolling in the dirt," Ghost calmly replied.

"Ghost, did you find him?" The voice coming out of his headphones was muffled but you could still hear it clear enough.

"Affirmative."

Holding Graves tightly, he stepped forward and the light revealed his skull mask. Ghost… run through your mind. It was all clearer now. Ghost's eyes met with yours for a second as he scanned you from head to toes before boring his eyes into the man holding you.

"Let her go."

Graves shook his head and the man kept holding you. You felt he was hesitant, not holding you so strongly and confidently as before. Was he scared of not listening to Graves' orders? Or was he just scared of Ghost? Ghost tightened his grip on graves.

"Who is she? What were you doing with her?"

Graves' lips parted in what seemed like realization, but quickly turned back into a smirk that has been sitting on his face the whole time.

"We were just… playing."

You almost wanted to jump on him for his arrogant face and voice. Ghost's eyes focused on your injured leg, the clothes kept soaking with new fresh blood. You couldn't see much of him, but you clearly saw his eyebrows furrow and eyes tighten with anger. You heard more muffled noises coming from his headphones but he seemed to be ignoring them. Without hesitation, he sliced Graves' throat in a single powerful move. Gargling on blood, his motionless body fell to the floor with thud. You were too numbed to react to that, you were just glad he couldn't cause any more harm. To anyone.

"Bastard," Ghost whispered to himself while cleaning the bloody blade.

The man behind you squeezed your arms when Ghost moved towards you as if he wanted you to protect him and you let out a painful moan. Your arms must've been bruised more than you thought.

"W-we can make a deal, man," he poked the tip of his rifle into your back. "Right?"

Ghost remained silent, staring into the man's soul. He was naturally intimidating, the skull mask was only adding to it. He swapped the handle of his knife for the blade slowly, holding it in his fist.

"I-I didn't want to join this mess, but… you have to understand that Graves-"

The man's voice was cut mid sentence and he collapsed down to the floor with a knife in the middle of his face. Just like his mate. It happened so quickly once again, you only saw how Ghost leaned forward and the guy was dead. Without the man holding you in place, you felt you were losing balance. Your whole body was sore, you knew you couldn't keep yourself up for a long time. Ghost knew it and jumped towards you, wrapping your arm around his shoulder for support which made him have to hunch forward a lot. Even with knowing he's on your side, you were still scared of him in some way. The way he killed the soldiers and managed to sneak inside? You were scared but he also gave you a feeling of safety and calmness.

"Over here," his deep voice filled your ears.

You sat down on some half destroyed chair, silencing your grunts of pain as you felt every single move you've made.

"Soap, copy," Ghost grabbed his microphone, staring at your wounded leg and already blueish arms.

Soap? What kind of name is soap? You chuckled in your head.

"We have one injured here, she'll need some care."

His eyes locked with yours. He remained quiet for a while, listening to what Soap had to say, before letting out a long sigh. Your eyelids were heavier and heavier, slowly closing. I must've lost a lot of blood , was your last thought before you passed out.

Soft moan escaped your lips feeling the painful pressure on your wounded leg. The pain helped you gain consciousness quickly. Ghost was kneeling above you, holding his knife between teeth and wrapping your wound with some fabric. You noticed his naked tattooed forearm and realized he must’ve cut his sleeve to stop the bleeding. With another pressure he put on your leg, you gasped for air not wanting to make too much noise.

“Stay with me love, will you?” Ghost said and finished wrapping your leg.

Your teeth gritted together with pain, you only nodded in reply. Does he normally call people love? Any other man you’d told to not call you that, but for some reason you didn’t mind him calling you that. Afterall, not like it mattered in the current situation.

“There’s no medic nearby, won’t be for a while. We need to move and wait for this whole situation to calm down. I’ll be taking care of you till then.”

His earphones buzzed with noise.

“Copy. Ghost out.” He turned them off.

His voice was steadily deep and emotionless.Everytime he said anything, you felt like you wanted to drown in the tone of his voice and just fall asleep.

After packing some stuff and cleaning the blades of his knives he collected back from the dead soldiers, he pulled you up and supported you while you tried to walk, which didn’t go as well as he thought. Your leg felt like it wasn’t yours anymore, it was extremely weak. Hearing nearby gunshots outside raising in intensity, Ghost cursed to himself and scooped you up, rushing away from their source.

“Thank you,” you murmured and let your head rest on his chest.

“You’ll thank me later. Now stay with me, stay awake,” he whispered with a softer voice. “That’s an order!”

“Copy,” you smiled.

Sun shining right into your face woke you up. You yawned and slowly stretched your whole body as much as you could before turning your face away from the blinding light and opening your eyes. You were laying on a dirty, messy bed and this behemoth of a man was sitting in a chair next to you, collapsed forward with his head resting on your stomach. Ghost… ran through your mind and you immediately looked at your leg. Your pants were stiff from all the dried blood, but when you pressed your hand against the wound, it barely hurt. The bruises on your arms weren’t as visible as before. Looking at Ghost again, you noticed both of his arms were sleeveless now. Words couldn’t explain how grateful you were. And curious.

“Hmm, mmhhm!” You coughed, but he didn’t react at all.

Is the mask glued to his face? You thought. He even sleeps in it. That’s my chance. Grabbing the edges of his mask, you started to pull it up gently. As soon as you moved the mask a little, his hand grabbed your wrist rather rough.

“Stop,” he mumbled sleepily.

Realizing where his head is, he quickly stood up and cleared his throat, pretending nothing ever happened.

“I’m sorry, you were sleeping and - “ you broke the silence.

“I was making sure you don’t die while you were unconscious.”

“Unconscious? For how long?”

“Two days only.”

Only.

Observing your surroundings, you sat up on the bed and wanted to check how your leg is. Ghost looked at you, ready to prevent any fall. At least that’s what you believed he was doing.

“Where are we?” You asked while hopping around the small, dirty room.

He sat down in the chair again and sighed.

“Random empty house outside the city. This was the nearest, safest place I’ve found when the situation got… unpredictably bad.”

Thinking back about everything you went through, you remembered Grave’s questions.

“Are you Riley?” Your voice shaked.

You felt his eyes at the back of your neck, piercing into you.

“Graves was asking me about it, he thought I’m somehow related. That’s why he… ‘interrogated’ me, instead of straight killing me like the others.” You broke the silence after a while.

“Are you Riley?” Ghost smirked under his mask.

His voice seemed lighter than usual, softer. You turned to him.Did he just-

“No, I’m not. They thought it’s my surname because they found someone else’s phone in my pocket. I grabbed it off some dead body before, to call for help.”

“Brave one,” he nodded.

You jumped back to the bed and collapsed down on it. Your leg was definitely better, but not good enough to walk for a longer period of time.

“What’s the plan now?”

“Can’t leave now, for sure,” he pointed at your leg. “Get more rest, it’s gonna be dark soon.”

You blinked at him. I just woke up with the sun shining into my face? Must’ve been late afternoon then.

“I will get some rest, too. With one eye open of course, don’t worry,” he added to not make you feel uneasy.

You weren’t worried at all, you felt you were untouchable with this big, skull man. Nothing could ever happen to you as long as you were near him.

“And the others?” You asked.

“Others?”

You pointed at your ears and he understood you meant the lack of his headphones. He turned his head to them, they were in the corner of the room with other equipment.

“Communication was… corrupted.”

You nodded and remained silent, collecting all your thoughts. It was none of your business after all, you didn’t know his mates. Ghost was looking at you, up and down. You felt like he was inspecting every inch of your skin, your body in general.

“Well,” you couldn’t bear his piercing big eyes anymore. “Let’s get the rest, yeah?”

Laying down on the bed, you realized there were no blankets. The nights tend to be cold here at this time of the year, but you didn’t care when you were unconscious. Did he keep you warm maybe? Before you could ask anything, his big jacket landed on your head.

“Thank you,” you smiled.

He gave you a warm look you thought he’s not capable of, but did you know him? Not at all. Maybe he wasn’t only the intimidating deep voice that can kill anyone perfectly.

“I keep watch.”

Falling asleep was the easiest thing, but staying asleep was harder. Your leg didn’t hurt but sometimes you felt sharp pain shot through it because of the healing process. At first you were welcoming the pain, knowing you didn’t lose the leg completely, but after an hour of not being able to sleep longer than for 10 minutes, you were frustrated. You were slowly getting numb to the pain, but it managed to wake you up from your sleep still.

Hours later, when your wound ached again, you saw the darkness outside was fading away. Time to get up soon . You noticed your back were pressed against something warm and solid. Reaching out your hand, you felt Ghost’s warm skin. Your eyes widened when you realized that the jacket’s edges you thought were digging into your back weren’t the jacket, but his hard crotch.

“Holy shit…” you mumbled to yourself.

He was big from what you felt, you expected that, but you didn’t expect to suddenly forget everything that happened the past few days as your brain was slowly being eaten with lust. Your fingers, still pressed against Ghost’s skin, were shakier the more your mind was drowning you in wild scenarios. Without thinking about it, you started to grind against him, giving in to all the thoughts in your head.

Fuck, he’s not even touching me, you thought as you felt the wetness of your pussy grow.

“Fucking hell,” his breath warmed up your ear.

“Shit, sorry.” You gasped. “I don’t know what got into me.”

You tried to play the situation off but failed. So damn awkward , you bit your lip.

“You know more than well what you are doing,” he leaned even closer to your ear.

God… the voice… He sounded like he was enjoying it.

“We need to get going,” he ordered and sat at the edge of the bed for a while, before going to his equipment to pack it up.

He was right. Graves might’ve been dead, but it didn’t mean it stopped whatever was going on. You had no idea what was going on and didn’t want to ask much about it. Not now. You followed Ghost and got up as well, surprised by the ability to stand straight without any pain. Making a few steps towards him, you smiled as your leg felt even stronger than yesterday. It wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t have to carry you in his arms anymore.

“Feeling good, are we?” He threw the question over his shoulder.

“Yes… no, not quite.”

You squeezed your thighs together. His presence in the bed before left your pussy throbbing for his attention, he was driving you insane. You remembered feeling him pressed against your back. You felt something grow inside of you when you saw him the first one, but you were too weak and hurt to care about it. Now when you were well enough, it was different. You didn’t have to worry about your life anymore with him. You weren’t dying to blood loss anymore.

“Not quite?” He seemed to mumble to himself.

Spectating the clean, sharp blades of his knives, he pulled them in their places on his belt. You watched his every move carefully. Tall, well built, strong, yet his movement was so smooth and elegant. His arms were really visible in the light and you couldn’t take your eyes off the veins popping up. You didn’t notice he turned his head to you, looking at you the whole time. He was waiting for a reply.

“Not quite?” He repeated more loudly.

You swallowed and started to brush your clothes with your hand, trying to get off non existent dirt. He stood up and took off his shirt, offering it to you. You accepted it after a moment of confusion, eyes glued to his abs. He’s not making it any easier, you felt the heat, the lust down in your abdomen growing.

“Your shirt.” He pointed at you after a while. “It’s all bloody and dirty.”

“Oh, yes, yeah. You’re right.”

You weren’t able to think clearly. Grabbing the edge of your own shirt, you pulled it over your head slowly and tried to read his thoughts. You wish you could see more, but his eyes were more than enough. The way they darkened as you revealed more of your skin and your bra just confirmed that he liked the grinding before. That he liked what he saw now. Your confidence boosted and your lips formed into a playful smirk. The blood got through your shirt and your bra was just as dirty.

“I’ll have to change that as well,” you said with a teasing tone.

You could see every muscle on his bare arms and chest tense up when you reached to your back to the buttons.

“I warn you, love. Don’t tease me.”

His deeper than usual voice sent an ecstatic shiver down your whole back.

“Are you threatening me?” You unbuttoned your bra and kept it in place just with your hands.

“For your own safety.”

When he finished the sentence, you let go of your bra and let it fall down to the ground. You saw his lips part through the mask and squeezed your own breasts, not breaking eye contact.

“My own safety?”

Your voice was playful and teasing and he reacted to it. Lunging at you like a wild animal, he forced you to step backwards till both of you fell onto the bed. He was weighing you down and your bruised body was letting you know he’s heavy, but you couldn’t care less.

“Really a brave one,” he growled through his mask.

“Fuck me already.” You moaned.

You couldn’t wait any longer to feel him inside of you. To feel him raw, to feel him thrust into you and fill you up.

“You have a rank higher than mine to give orders?”

“Please, fuck me.”

“That’s better.”

He threw away his knife belt and pulled down your pants quickly, yet still making sure he wouldn’t hurt your wound. Doing the same with his own pants, you managed to lay eyes on his growing bulge before being flipped on your belly. You gasped in surprise at the sudden change of position, but didn’t protest at all. He pulled up your ass and you felt his hand run all the way through your folds slowly.

“Already so wet, hm?”

Massaging your clit, you moaned louder and louder. He slid down his underwear and swapped his hand for his cock, already hard and ready. You felt the sensation deep in your abdomen. What a damn tease , ran through your mind before it went blank again.

You let out an impatient moan and he stopped rubbing his cock against you. You felt the tip pressed against your entrance. Fuck yeah… He immediately slammed fully inside you. You weren’t ready for this. Your walls stretched around him, trying to adjust to his size.

“Slower, please!” You cried out.

“I warned you, didn’t I?”

Few more moves and the painful stretching exchanged for growing pleasure. He dug fingers into your sides, keeping you in place under his powerful thrusts. You heard him moaning, it was muffled but soon enough the room was filled with loud moans from both of you, mixing together. You’ve never felt so full. The tip of his cock hitting your cervix. His balls slapping against your sensitive, swollen crotch. His rhythm was so fast, you didn’t have enough time to catch your breath between each thrust. You were sinking into the mattress under him. You tried to lift yourself up but he immediately moved his hand to keep you in place. The way he was handling you, taking you, you felt you wouldn’t be able to last much longer.

“So perfect,” he said between moans.

Your walls started to tighten around his cock and he slowed his moves. You lifted up again without him stopping you this time. Instead, he slid his cock out and moved up his hands that rested on your sides, flipping you on your back. The sight in front of you left you speechless. His muscular chest, rising up and down quickly, covered in sweat. His big arms, removing your pants fully, holding your thighs firmly and spreading them wider. The visible veins on his arms pulsating. His cock, covered in your juices, slowly sliding inside of you again.

Letting out a soft moan as he fully pressed himself against you, he grabbed his balaclava and pulled it up just enough to reveal his lips. His soft lips. He started to move inside of you again, more sensual rather than wild as before. Not crashing into your cervix anymore, you closed your eyes to fully focus on how he massaged your orgasm spot. Ghost covered your neck and jaw with hungry kisses, sucking on your skin. Marking you. His hand squeezed your breasts, making you scream out with pleasure. He was rough, but at the same time gentle. His other hand played with your hair, pulling on them so he can access every piece of your neck. You felt you were losing control over your body and thrusts were becoming sloppier and quicker, you dug your fingers into his lower back pushing him against you.

“I’m close” you whimpered.

Ghost put his hand under your ass and pulled it up while squeezing it, allowing him deeper and better access to your sweet spot. He was ramming into you senseless and you loved it. Your lips found his and when you both gave in to the deep, long kiss, your release overcame you followed by his own. You felt his cock twitch before you were filled up with a load of his cum, leaking out of you right away and wettening the mattress under you. Moaning into his mouth, your legs and arms went limp. He seemed hungry for more kisses and so were you. He kept his cock in you and slowly rested his body fully on yours, pushing the air out of your lungs.

It was a long time before your lips parted.

“I didn’t think you could be so… gentle and… sensual.” You gave him a smirk.

“You don’t know me,” he replied. Looking at you panting under him, legs and arms spread wide on the bed motionless, he returned your smirk: “Guess you can’t walk again, love.”

Static noise cut through the silence, coming from his headphones in the corner. He set them on loud before incase.

“Success… tracking… stay in position…soap…out…” was heard.

Many words were missing, but the message was clear. Stay where you are, we’ll come to you.

“Guess we have more time to get to know each other now,” you smirked back at Ghost.

His mask was still rolled up to his nose and you saw him smile. Teasingly smile. You decided to try again and grabbed the edge of his balaclava to see his reaction. He didn’t move. You rolled it up slowly until it stayed in your hand, his face fully exposed to you.

“Are you Riley?” You asked.

“Simon Riley.” He whispered and rubbed your thigh.

#x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #modern warfare 2 #fanfiction #simon riley x you #mari.gif

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heretherebedork · 10 months

Text

I just cannot get past the fact that even if the entire family shot, when all the brothers as with their parents and finally finding out about the divorce and everything... Tien still vanishes. He is not there in the longshots, only the close ups, and he's the one who invites Nu into the circle even though he can't see him for his brothers.

Tien is the one who vanishes. He puts everyone before himself and he might be loud and brash but he doesn't actually take up any space, not unless he has to. He is never chosen, he is Tai's sidekick and he is part of his support system and he loves his parents and his brothers and they love him but they don't see him.

One of two middle children with the older middle child being unique, having the same hearing loss issue as his parents and so sensitive, so easily upset, so quick to hold a grudge and Tien had to be there for him because that's what brothers do.

But he let himself be consumed into that role. There is more of Tien in taking care of Tai than there is of Tien in himself. He is the brother who chose his brother over himself because he saw that Tai needed that and so he found a role in his family that wouldn't allow him to vanish any more than he already had.

Tien is the noise to Tai's silence, the action to his fears, the forward bravado to his avoidance. Tien is everything that Tai needed to keep going and so he is seen, by Tai and by others, because they always see Tai.

When Tai finally saw that Tien was hurting, it was with disbelieve and confusion and the realization that he had not seen that coming, that he had not ever thought that Tien might like Lomfon, that Tien might be in love, that all of what had happened might have hurt his brother, that brother he takes for granted because Tien has always been there at his side.

The first person who truly saw Tien's weakness and compassion and passion and guilt and the weight he carries was Lomfon and Tai might have given him comfort and listened but, in the end, it was still on Tai's terms and Tien was still more worried for him than for himself.

Tien is resilient and he is because he has to be, because there is no one looking out for him no matter how many people he looks out for and no matter how much he loves what he gets in return is never the same as what he gives.

He gives love and he invites people into his life and he might be rude and brash and loud but he's had a lot of silence to fill over the years and we saw how quiet he can be when he took care of Lomfon, thoughtful and kind and aware of their space and the tiniest of touches.

And only Lomfon sees that.

Tien might vanish for so many other people but he has never vanished for Lomfon and now we just need Lomfon to prove it. Lomfon has to show Tien that he will never disappear from his sight, that he will never simply not be there, that he will never tell him that he has no place in his life again. This is Lomfon's chance. This is his one job.

To show to Tien, to prove to Tien, that he will love him and he will choose him and he will not let him vanish any longer, not let him fade into the background whenever he stops talking.

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i-think-i-did-it-again · 1 year

Text

We were never meant to be

Warning: swearing, drinking

You lay beside Colson, still consumed by sleep, his breathing deep and steady. You stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks one by one to pass the time. The night seems to be dragging along at the most uncomfortable speed and your never ending thoughts aren’t helping. You groan and roll over, trying desperately to silence your mind. You pull the sheet tighter under your arms to shield yourself from the guilt.

You told yourself that the last time would be just that, the last time. But then you heard his voice on the phone. The way he dragged out your name as he half begged, half demanded that you come over and “hang”. You knew then exactly what hanging with Colson would lead to. It’s the same dance the two of you have played for years. He calls you to come over, you order some form of takeaway, he puts some random movie or playlist on as background noise, then he turns to you and tells you how beautiful he thinks you are and suddenly your hands are in his hair, his lips on your neck, moaning your name. You have sex, he has a blunt and then he rolls over and goes to sleep and you’re left lying there feeling empty and alone.

It’s not like the sex isn’t good, it’s amazing but you know deep down that you want to be more than a booty call to him. You know you’ve been in love with him for years. You knew 12 months ago when this happened the first time that your feelings for him were greater than his feelings for you. Sure, you can tell he’s attracted to you because why else would he sleep you if he didn’t find you attractive on a basic level but that’s not exactly something to write home about. All of your friends, even Colson’s friends, tell you that what you’re doing isn’t healthy. That you’re just torturing yourself with the idea that you can turn this into something it’s not but you just can’t seem to stop. In the biggest cliche ever, Colson is like a drug that you just can’t seem to get enough of, no matter what you do.

You’ve tried dating other guys but you always find yourself comparing them to him. You haven’t seriously dated someone since your first night with Colson and that makes you feel even more guilty than the sex. You know that if you put an end to the arrangement, if you started dating more seriously, maybe even found someone that made you feel worthy and beautiful, that you’d get over Colson. The problem is, you don’t want to get over him. You have this stupid idea in your head that one day he’ll look at you, realise he’s madly in love with you and beg to be with you and only you. A dumb dream that you can’t seem to shake.

You huff and pull yourself out of bed. You gather your clothes and dress as quietly as possible. You grab your phone from the floor where it was earlier abandoned and check the time. 2:03am. Great, now you’re going to look dead tired for your birthday party in less than 12 hours and your friends are going to know exactly why. You look at Colson's sleeping face one last time, tears pooling in your eyes at that angelic face. When Colson is asleep, he looks so untroubled. You have to look away because all your body wants to do is curl up next to him. Pretend that he’s your loving boyfriend and you’re just falling asleep in his arms like it’s a normal night together.

You tear your eyes away and tiptoe down the hallway before descending the stairs. You open the front door as quietly as possible and escape into the night. You never leave in the middle of the night and you can feel the shift in your body. You feel it deep in your bones. This is the last time.

********

Colson wakes light and rested, in the way he always does after a night with you. Something about falling asleep next to your soft, warm body makes him feel safe. He rolls over to get a glimpse of your peaceful, sleeping face but finds the spot beside him empty. He feels the spot where your body would normally be and finds it cold. He didn’t even realise you’d woken up before him. He fumbles around for a pair of sweatpants and drags them up his legs as he tries to head down the hallway. He takes a deep breath as he stands at the top of the stairs. That giddy feeling he always gets when he’s around you fills his stomach with butterflies.

Colson heads down the stairs, listening for the sound of you in his oversized house but comes up with silence. He heads into the kitchen and finds it empty, no trace of freshly brewed coffee. The TV isn’t on so he knows you’re not in the living room. The back door is locked so he knows you’re not in the backyard. He strains to listen for any movement in the house whatsoever and hears nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat. He opens his front door, already knowing exactly what he’d see, an empty driveway, your car long gone.

Colson heads back upstairs to check his phone to see if maybe some emergency pulled you away from him earlier than expected. His phone has messages from everyone but you. He tries to call you but his call goes straight to voicemail. He sends you a text but after 10 minutes of nothing, he realises you’re not replying and he sits down on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, defeat filling his body. He’s finally done it. He’s finally pushed you to the point of no longer caring. He promised himself a year ago when he made love to you for the first time that he wouldn’t do it, he wouldn’t ruin you but he did it anyway. He always manages to fuck things up. He knew you’d get bored of him but he just hoped it wouldn’t happen so soon. He hasn’t gotten his fill of you. He could have you a million times and he’d never get enough of you.

“FUCK!” he screams into the empty abyss that is his house. The silence and the loneliness begins to fill him to the absolute brink.

He checks his phone again, just in case you’d replied to him or tried to call him in the 2 minutes since he’d looked at his phone. Nothing. He notices a text from Rook that mentions your name and his fingers have never moved so quickly in his life. He taps on the message and sees a half articulate message.

Yo, u 🚗 wth me for Y/N 🎂 🎉 2nite?

A glimmer of hope shatters through Colson’s chest at the reminder of your birthday party later that evening. You’d invited him months ago. You were so excited that you were literally bouncing off the walls. He couldn’t help but laugh at your giddy anticipation. He liked seeing you like that. You were completely free. You had this uncaring attitude yet somehow it didn’t come across as cocky or self-absorbed. You were just happy and you were glad to show it, no matter who was watching. You took the whole ‘dance as if no one is watching’ literally and he loved that side of you.

Colson sends a quick ‘yes’ reply to Rook and a pick-up time and lays back on his bed, thinking about what he’s going to say to you tonight. He knows he can’t just wing it. He knows he has to have something well thought out and coherent explanation for his feelings, to explain to you. He knows that being a musician, words should be his strong point but when it comes to you, all rationality flies out of his head. Hence why it’s taken him a year to explain to you exactly how he feels.

********

At your pre-drinks, you don’t exactly feel the buzzing excitement you felt when you planned this night 3 months ago. This is the first birthday you’ve had where you’ve actually had the money to splurge on a party. You hired out an entire rooftop bar, hired a DJ, pre-paid for an entire evening of bottle service and bought an absolutely banging outfit especially for the occasion. You even promised your friends that you’d wear heels! This whole night was such a big deal to you but now, it seems over the top and self-indulgent. Like why would someone need to go to such an effort for their own birthday party? It’s not even a major birthday.

You hate feeling like that girl whose mood is completely dependent on a guy but you were excited to celebrate your birthday with Colson. The last three birthdays you’ve had, he’s been on tour or out of town visiting Cassie. This was the first birthday that he was actually going to be there. Although, he did always make sure he was the first to wish you for your birthday. Last year he even called you during his concert, live on stage, to wish you a ‘happy birthday’ at midnight. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face for the whole day.

Your friend calls for your attention to hold up her two outfit choices and you shake off the feeling of sadness and just try to be in the moment. You throw back your entire drink and pick a dress for her. Sophie arrives not long after that and your excitement somewhat returns. You’d asked her to do your makeup for the night and she’d been a more than willing helper. You were a bit unsure when she’d sent you a few look ideas, that were mildly over the top, in the past few weeks but you’d both eventually settled on a heavy smokey eye. When you saw her setting out the false lashes and lipstick shades, your confidence wavered slightly but you pushed the negative thoughts away.

Who are you trying so hard for? Your subconscious scolded you but you just took a shot of tequila to shut her sassy ass up.

“Trust me, you’ll drop dead bangable by the time I’m finished with you,” Sophie reassures you, although you’re not really sure if you find it reassuring.

The music blares as Colson steps off the elevator onto the rooftop. His stomach is filled with that uncomfortable nausea again. That feeling he only gets when he knows he’s going to be seeing you. It’s an overwhelming excitement and nervousness that fills his entire body. His heart rate speeds up, his palms begin to sweat and all rational thought escapes him. He tugs at the present bag in his jacket pocket, making sure it’s still there for the 100th time since he got to Rook's place. The Uber ride had felt like hours but it had only been 5 minutes.

Colson looks around for you but Rook spots you first. He points to your spot in the middle of the dancefloor, your eyes closed, swaying to the music, completely in your own world even though you’re surrounded by a sea of your friends. Colson holds his breath as he takes in your appearance. He’s not surprised by your over the top makeup, he expected it when Sophie told him last week that she was doing it, but somehow on you it looked just the right amount. It wasn’t too heavy and it wasn’t too light. He could tell that you’d probably convinced Sophie to tone it back a little bit. It accentuated your already beautiful features. The way the red lipstick made your lips look even more full than usual made his groin ache and he had to adjust his stance to cover that fact.

Colson’s eye wandered down to your dress and his eyes almost fell out of his head. You were wearing a silver sparkly mini dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. Your full breasts were barely contained in the tight material. Your legs seemed to go on forever and the black, strappy heels gave your legs amazing definition. Your skin was bronzed and glowy, the lights of the bar hitting your skin just right.

Your eyes open as someone grabs your hand and spins you. You look up to see Rook’s adorable smile shining at you as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you to him and off the dancefloor. He kisses your cheek and you instantly feel your face heat up at the casual gesture. Things have always been natural between Rook and you. He’s got this chill, go with the flow attitude that just makes him so easy to get along with. He’s one of those people that it’s almost impossible to get in an argument with.

“Happy birthday babe!” he calls over the music, giving you another kiss on the cheek.

He pulls out an envelope from his back pocket and hands it to you. Before you can show him where the present table is, he’s off in the direction of their usual group, crowding around the bar. You shake your head and chuckle at his one track mind before heading off to the present table in the far corner of the bar, slightly hidden near a small garden with a water feature. The music isn’t as deafening here and you take a few minutes to hear the sound of your own thoughts. You place the card with the others and wonder if maybe you should ask the staff to move the table somewhere more visible to guests when a hand taps on your shoulder, causing you to squeal and jump at the same time. You turn to scold the stranger but the words get stuck in your throat as you look up to see Colson’s unreadable face.

“Sorry,” he mumbles with a sympathetic smile. You shake your head as a way of dismissing him.

Looking at his face is making your chest tighten so you look down at your feet uncomfortably, wishing that he’d make some lame excuse and follow Rook to the bar. His black jeans and dark tie dye t-shirt are casual but yet he’s somehow still the most attractive guy in the room, which makes looking at him even harder. He seems to be searching for something to say and the silence is killing you so you have to break the tension before your head explodes.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” you tell him with a tight smile. His eyes light up slightly and you start to feel the tension dissipate a little.

“Thanks for inviting me. This place is pretty fucking amazing. How did you find it?” he asks, looking around at the open space behind him.

“Someone I work with had their engagement party here last year and I just fell in love with the open space and setup,” you explain, looking at all of your friends on the dancefloor, enjoying themselves.

“This is exactly what I’d pictured when you said rooftop bar, it’s very-”

“Why are you here Colson?” you interrupt him before he can finish his sentence.

You’re not nearly drunk enough for this situation. You thought you could do small talk with him but being this close to him and not being able to reach out and touch him is so difficult, you can’t keep up the pleasantries for much longer. The elephant in the room feels like it’s sitting on your chest and the longer you stand here, the more crushing it feels. You feel horrible at the small part of you that had wished he wouldn’t come. The larger, desperate part of you was dying to see him, even if he did just come out of obligation because of your invitation from months ago.

“I-I wanted to see you for your birthday,” he explains but you feel like it’s half an explanation. Like he’s almost holding something back. “And because you invited me and basically all of my friends,” he gestures to his group of friends now moving towards the dancefloor.

You’re not really sure what witty comeback you were planning to give him but the words stick in your throat. For some reason whenever you’re around him, every intelligent thought seems to seep out of your brain and all you can do is stare at his handsome face like a silent mime. It physically hurts your heart to look at him. All your mind wants to do is imagine a life together. One where he loves you, where you’re the only woman he wants or could ever want. You would spend Sundays in bed together, your hands intertwined, talking, laughing, making love, tracing everyone of his tattoos. But that’s not the reality you live in.

“Well, thanks for coming,” you mumble and try to push past him to join back into your own party.

“Wait,” he grabs your wrist and you pull back as if his touch burns your skin. You notice an unreadable emotion flitter across his face but he turns away before you can study it. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, pink party bag and hands it to you. “Will you at least open the present I bought you?”

You grimace but take the small bag. You contemplate just putting the present with all your other presents but you don’t want to be purposely nasty to him. After all, he didn’t really need to buy you a present. Written on the small tag attached to the handle in scribbly writing is simply:

Happy birthday, beautiful x

You try to ignore the flutter in your chest at his simple but sweet message. You pull out the small jewellery box inside and place the bag on the table behind you. You open the bag and inside is a beautiful diamond pendant necklace in the shape of a teardrop and your heart immediately begins to hammer in your chest. You can’t believe he remembered the necklace you’d shown him over a year ago.

You’d gone out for coffee with him one Sunday morning and you happened to walk past a jewellery store on the way back to his car. You always had a habit of looking in the window of jewellery stores, just simply to admire all the beautiful diamonds. You had absentmindedly pointed out this exact necklace to him and had completely forgotten about the encounter until now.

“You remembered?” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly at the overwhelming emotions swirling inside of you.

“I remembered the way your eyes lit up when you saw it, so after I dropped you home I went back and bought it for you. I was going to give it to you this morning for your birthday but…” his voice trails off as you both know exactly why he didn’t give it to you this morning. He didn’t have a chance to.

“Colson…I-I don’t know what to say but, thank you.”

No one has ever given you a present that has such an unspoken significance. The fact that he had bought it so long ago just because he knew how much you loved it muddles your feelings all over again. You’re so scared that if you try to convey exactly how you feel with words, you’ll end up a blubbering mess or you’ll ruin the moment by telling him how you feel and then you won’t be able to take it back. You thought this morning that you were strong enough to live without Colson but now, now that he’s done something so sweet, you’d happily be his booty call and friend for the rest of your life.

You wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tightly as no words seem enough to tell him exactly how grateful you are for the gift. You bury your face in his neck and breath in his musky cologne. You feel his arms wrap around your waist and he holds you against his body, moulding you perfectly to him. You stand there for a few seconds and you go to pull away but Colson tightens his grip, refusing to release you.

“No,” he mumbles into your hair and you smile.

You run your fingers through his hair and he practically purrs in your arms. Eventually, he releases you but only to hold your face in his hands, stroking your cheek with his thumb. He leans down slowly and you stop breathing as soon as you realise what he’s doing. He lips brush against yours and your head swims with a hundred questions and a hundred unregistered emotions. He kisses you again, deeper and with more force and your lips parts as you moan into his touch.

Colson has never kissed you casually. He’s never kissed you in front of everyone. Your physical contact when you’re with all of your friends goes no further than a quick hug or a drunken arm thrown over your shoulders to help keep him up. This new experience is both confusing and exhilarating at the same time. You try to live in the moment and his lips against yours is the one thing that can make your brain shut up and the world melt away. After you’re not sure how long, you both have to pull away to fill your lungs with oxygen.

“That was…” you gasp out in between shallow breaths.

“Yeah,” Colson chuckles, still holding your face in his hands. He looks at you so intensely that your breathing stops momentarily and you’re slightly scared about what he’s going to say. “Y/N, I had this big, long-winded speech planned but being with you, all of it has completely fucked off so all I’m going to say is, I love you. I’ve loved you for a very long time and I’ve been spending the last year trying to work out how to tell you. I thought that after I took so fucking long to actually say how I felt and I wasn’t sure how you felt, that maybe we were never meant to be but after you left this morning, I realised that that’s fucking bullshit. I think we were meant to be from the moment I met you 4 years ago at a random bar, in a random sketchy area, in a random coincidence and now I’m just making it happen.”

“I…I didn’t think you felt that way about me,” you tell him honestly. You feel dumb for ignoring everything he just said but you’re in complete shock. “I-I love you too by the way.” Colson laughs and shakes his head, leaning down to kiss you again.

“Well, you better because that necklace was fucking expensive,” he teases and you melt into him, effortlessly.

“Best. Birthday. Ever,” you chuckle and kiss him again, unable to wipe the smile from your face.

#machine gun kelly #colson baker #mgk #tickets to my downfall #ttmdf #mgk imagine #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk x reader #mgk smut #mgk fanfic #mainstream sellout #est19xx #mgk fluff

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empty-blog-for-lurking · 9 months

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Here's my pitch for vld sequel. Based on bnha world's hero mission, a movie i have never seen from a series i stopped watching a long time ago (do not take seriously) #Alluralives #Kuronlives-

• Keith and Pidge get framed for like a very serious crime and are on the run and wanted across the universe.

• Allura is alive and there and it is never confirmed how (Someone: Wait, Princess Allura? Didnt you die? How are you still alive? Allura: Oh yeah i did almost die! However *background loud car crash noises, machine revving sounds, things falling sounds, cats sound in the background. Just basically that One troupe™, you know the one* and that is how i survived.)

• Kuron is also alive, it is also never confirmed how (Some completely random bullshit: *happens* Kuron: This is just like the day i came back to life)

• Anyway while Keith and Pidge are on the run, Allura and Coran are handling the diplomacy front since you know Keith and Pidge are both pretty high profile, Kuron Hunk and Matt along the Blades handle damage control, communication and extraction of Keith and Pidge. Shiro and Lance have the arguably the most important job, find out whodunnit while also distracting the detectives on the case from getting too close to Keith and Pidge.

• Lance and Shiro take this job Very very Seriously.

• Like Lance is playing up the dumb goofball as he "accidentally" "loses" the evidence and just doesnt seem to be "taking the job seriously" or is "unable to follow the instructions" really Detective, dont you know? The Blue Paladin is a very clumsy carefree guy! Honest!!!

• Shiro meanwhile is playing up the straight laced bureucrat rule follower. "No we can not go down there yet! We have to follow the protocol!!" Shiro says having never followed that protocol ever. "I am sorry but the rules clearly state we have to do this in this time consuming way" Shiro says knowing full well that rule is ancient and doesnt apply anymore. "I understand your concerns, however the procedure X95t-78v is a vital procedure required for any paperwork to go futher," Shiro says, he made that procedure up.

• Detective's partner suspects they are both full of shit, but cant prove it. Detective knows full well they are both full of shit, CAN prove it, but doesnt really care about it, because she's like 75% sure Keith and Pidge didnt do it.

• The Detective is by the way straight out of a Noir film, like it legit goes black and white when it is her pov and has full noir style narration going on, and she smells of cigars and coffee and rain and is also sopping wet and divorced

• Hunk goes from, "Ok guys i know this is hard but please you have to listen to us, we just want to keep you guys safe." To "I will literally throw hammers at both of you and get you arrested myself if you two dont shut the fuck up."

• Kuron is just vibing man, just chilling, doing his job, a bit red-eyed. He might be a bit high (he needs that weed to keep Traumas™ at bay)

• Allura is fighting for her life trying to handle the diplomacy front and put out fires. Everytime she and Coran make some headway Keith and Pidge end up on the front news after causing mayhem in some random planet and she has to start all over again

• Lance just knows soooo many people. He knows a Guy™ for everything. When asked he's like, "Oh it was during the time when Keith was off with BoM and Lotor was in ship. I kinda didnt have much to do so i just went off on my own." Lance, Lance why do you know these space pirates? Lance why do you know a famed recluse blacksmith who apparently also is a spy? Lance why do you know this mythic species thought to be long extinct? Lance why do you know a god of death? How the fuck do you know a God of Death, and why-why are they calling you babygirl?

• There is another God who knows Coran and calls him babygirl btw

• My main goal here is to gaslight people. There are some facts that were totally canon but reintepreted in a way that wasnt the writers intent. There are some facts that are canon but a little bit molded. There is atleast one episode/season that is hinted to be a mass hallucination and not canon at all. It works best if Netflix removes the original and its wiki gets corrupted./j

• Lgbtqia+ rep is Shiro and Curtis navigating their relationship through long distance, their own trauma and the post war era universe, atleast 2 characters being the focus in a valentine day episode only to come out as aroace, and a B-plot about Lance having just the most atrocious taste in men. Like men you wont believe were allowed to exist.

• i'll add more if i think of more

Dreamworks hire me/j

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mwolf0epsilon · 11 months

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The Frog Trooper - (4/4)

Summary: After contracting a bad case of strep throat, Dogma ends up feeling a little less like himself and begins to withdraw from his brothers. An outside force decides to teach him about self-value and to trust in one's brothers, no matter how annoying they may be.

[And we finally get to a resolution to this froggy conundrum!

It takes a lot of effort to work out misunderstandings caused by miscommunication. You may even flail and stumble along the way, but eventually everything works itself out if you just sit down and are openly honest with the people you want to make up with. Dogma certainly needed to see it with his own eyes to finally understand what he had been missing this entire time.]

[Part 3 can be found here or on AO3]

---

It took an exact four hours and a half for everyone to retire to their bunks. Four hours and a half of sitting around in the terrarium the others had built to contain him. Pressing himself against a bed of mud that didn't feel offensive to his skin (despite his usual aversion to getting himself dirty), and even going for an occasional dip whenever he felt antsy about standing still for too long (he wasn't much of a swimmer either, but he couldn't help but feel amazement at how graceful this body could actually be when in its rightful element).

The first two hours were the scheduled (and technically mandatory) mealtime. With most of the vode having left to join up in the mess hall to eat, while a few of the more solitary sort returned to the barracks with treys in hand to have their late meal in peace. Not the best of times for him to try anything particularly bold or risky.

Dogma watched them quietly, listened to their idle chatter to pass the time, and even accepted offerings of more mealworms, crickets and even mushed up pellet food that Twitch had been thoughtful enough to fill his little dish with. He'd need the calories and energy in the coming hours. The trip he was planning would take him a substantial amount of time and effort in this clumsy little body of his.

With each squirmy, crunchy or mushy treat he consumed, the less opposed he was to his potential future as a somewhat pampered frog. His mind no doubt slipping more and more from his grasp as the instincts began to fully set in and overwrite his personality.

There was no telling how long he had left as himself. He needed to be quick once he got out.

The following two hours after late meal were a mixture of recreational time before curfew, with most troopers going to the training rooms and shooting range, hitting the showers, or simply coming to the barracks to play sabbacc, read, or watch a holofilm on their datapads.

The idle chatter became that familiar droning background noise that he was accustomed to. Noise that he'd undoubtedly miss until his brain finally gave up the ghost and fully converted into that of a mindless little animal.

So Dogma watched from the confines of his glass prison.

Watched in contemplative silence as everyone else went about their business, completely unaware of his attentive gaze. He noted with great interest that each vod had their own routine (their own quirky nightly rituals) that they needed to do before they settled in for the night proper. And, now that he had the time to consider it, Dogma realized he had never stopped to think about any of that before.

How, despite their vast differences in personality, every single trooper of the 501st battalion shared a need for the tiniest of crumbs of stability in the form of practiced patterns. Something he assumed only he required, and that they found reason to scorn him for because he was usually so meticulous about it.

It was his attention to detail that helped him recognize each and every little thing they did as a source of personal solace. Dogma could very easily associate those actions to the vod performing them. The fluffing of pillows, the tucking of blankets in specific manners, and what position they preferred to lay in until slumber took them.

Even the quieting of their voices as they drifted off into restful sleep...

He noticed that Jesse's voice always took on this very distinct timber when he was about to fall asleep, making it soft in a way Dogma never heard when he was fully awake. Because Jesse had never been anything but harsh towards him when he'd realized something was unmistakably defective about him. And yet here in the safety of the barracks, beneath scratchy blankets and head set atop a plumped up pillow, the lieutenant sounded very serene as he whispered in a half-awake state.

Hardcase was always extra giggly when he was beginning to conk out, the exhaustion further muddling his already chaotic thought process. He spoke of nothing and yet everything at the same time. Ideas for absurd sounding strategies (that with some fine tweaking could actually be feasible in a discordantly brilliant sort of way), activities he and his brothers could partake in come morning, or just random facts he'd learned that day that seemed worth sharing to him.

Out of his batch, Kix was always the last one to fall asleep. Making sure to pull the covers over his two batchers, before climbing into his own bunk and sighing contently as he rolled onto his side. He had trouble sleeping most nights, likely haunted by the many terrible things he bore witness to as a medic. But he never put up much of a fuss. Always quiet and collected, respectful of everyone else's need for the quiet.

Echo and Fives were no different from their usual selves. Chatty, giggly, restless while trying to make themselves comfortable in separate bunks, before one gave in and climbed under the other's covers for a cuddle. They slept best in pairs. Much like he and Tup once did (no matter how much he halfheartedly muttered that they weren't cadets anymore). It felt alien to think of one without the other, so naturally that they slotted together. Had Dogma not known better he would have assumed they were literally attached at the hip.

Tup... Dogma's little heart ached as he looked towards his twin's bunk only to find him curled up under the covers. Even now his back was turned away from the terrarium. He hadn't looked at Dogma once in between coming back from late meal and then going to bed. Refusing to look at the ugly and useless little creature he'd become.

It hurt that his twin didn't want anything to do with him anymore. But it did help to solidify Dogma's final decision. His resolve.

It was strangely comforting to know that he had nothing to return to, no reason to stay whatsoever. And accepting that there was no going back to how things were certainly made the whole 'being a frog for the rest of his life' thing easier...

Counting each steadying breath helped keep track of who was or wasn't asleep. They all had a certain breathing pattern when they slept that helped another clone identify whether or not their kin were deep enough under, that moving in and out of the barracks wouldn't disturb them. Dogma knew that pattern by heart.

Deep whistle of a breath in, slight stuttering snort out.

He'd listened to it often enough when he was laying on his own bunk, mind racing with too many thoughts and little to no answers as to what he was doing right or wrong as a brother and soldier. That soft sound the only indicator of them ever being openly vulnerable around him. It had always soothed him to sleep.

Twitch and Sponge were still too awake for him to risk climbing out just yet. That much he could tell from how unusually quiet they were while laying in their bunks. It was actually very rare that Sponge slept in the barracks with the rest of them, but he supposed the current circumstances had tired them out enough that they'd just given up and gone to sleep among vode for once.

Their resistance to fully relaxing was a bother however, and it seemed to be keeping Twitch awake.

"Sponge... You're shaking the bunk..." The younger medic whispered from up above. Head just barely peeking over the edge.

"Hm... Sorry Twitch..." The older medic responded in a hushed tone. They seemed a little embarrassed over being called out like a rowdy cadet caught after lights-out. "Too wired to sleep... Just can't get comfortable..."

"It's been a long day..." Twitch agreed with a weary sigh. "I can't stop thinking about it..."

"Yeah... I might just... I might just go back to the medbay. Let Beau out of her kennel a bit and... Just spend some time with her. She's been cooped up a while now..." The infamously cantankerous medic ran a hand over their face as they slowly sat up. "Better than keeping you up..."

"You're not. I mean... The shaking isn't helping but, but it's not your fault really..." Twitch also sat up, much to Dogma's annoyance. If they kept this up, they might wake someone else and then there went his plan. "If it's of no bother to you, can I come along? I could use some Beau kissy time..."

Yes! Yes go away! Go somewhere else!

"I don't see why not..." Sponge shrugged. "Take your sweater, it's chilly out at this hour."

"Only if you take your coat." Twitch smiled.

"I already was planning on doing that, baar'ur'ika..." The older medic snorted. "Thank you for the reminder anyway... Now lets go before we wake the twins. They're absolute grouches when you disturb their beauty sleep, and we can't have Fives looking any uglier than he already is..."

Twitch suppressed a giggle as he climbed down to the floor to join Sponge in going through their trunks to get warmer clothing articles. Dogma kept a keen eye on them, hoping that once these two were gone that he'd be able to finally put everything into motion.

While Sponge carefully put their fluffy coat on, Twitch looked towards the terrarium. Dogma quickly closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, hoping the little medic wouldn't catch on to his idea. With how perceptive he was, the frog trooper wouldn't put it past him.

He kept his eyes firmly closed when he heard the pitter-patter of semi-bare feet against the tiled flooring, hoping against all odds that he wouldn't be caught. Instead of an accusatory hiss however, he felt gentle and slightly slender fingers run up and down his spine in a petting motion.

Similar to how Sponge had been caressing him before, Twitch was apparently offering him the same kindness. This time he wasn't against it. In fact, he couldn't help but sigh in contentment and lay flatter against the mud he was pretending to sleep on.

He was sure his kih'vod was smiling at the sight. Another thing he'd miss. Twitch's easy-going friendly smile. Oh who was he kidding? He'd miss all of them.

But this was for the best. He couldn't stay. Not anymore...

"Sleep well Dogma... Tomorrow's going to be a good day." The younger medic whispered encouragingly. "I can feel it in my bones."

Yes, it would indeed be a spectacularly good day for the 501st. They would no longer have to deal with a painfully punctilious pest like him.

Dogma waited for the opening and closure of the barrack doors before he dared to open his eyes again. With the two medics gone, he focused once more on the sound of his sleeping vode's deep breaths. He was in the clear. It was time to get climbing.

And climb he did.

With some difficulty at first since he wasn't exactly built to climb anymore. But a combination of stubborn determination and a bit of mud did get him up and over the glass. He mentally thanked Hardcase for his accidental contribution to his escape plan. Without the sticky mud to provide him with some grip, he'd most definitely be unable to get out.

Now came the issue of climbing down... He really hoped these frogs were more resilient than they looked, because making the trek with broken bones wouldn't be easy. Or pleasant.

Lucky for him, he landed relatively well. His body could apparently take a nasty fall like a champ. Must be the extra squishiness providing some much needed padding that softened the blow...

Whatever it was, it saved him a miserable journey. And the ventilation system saved him a potential trampling on the way out. He just needed to avoid the mouse droids.

He doubted they'd be happy to find a trespasser in their territory.

"This is absurd Oln..." A white and blue colored BD unit hissed disparagingly, as it watched from up above how the little frog trooper sprinted from one hidden corner of the streets of Coruscant onto the next.

Dogma was being cautious. That much both higher beings in disguise could tell, as they observed his daring escape in progress. Not a bad idea, really. While the vehicular traffic floated well above his little head, the foot-traffic was a different story. And still very much a danger to his diminutive body.

Not to mention the myriad of stray beasts that wouldn't mind making a quick snack out of him...

"Your plan did not work at all, and now that poor trooper is allocating himself to live at the zoo!" The BD's lens focused on the red loth-cat sitting lazily besides it. A righteous fury radiating off of the droid as it regarded its companion with burning judgement of their impulsive actions.

"I wouldn't say it failed either..." The cat responded calmly. "I provided a fresh perspective through the eyes of something he and his brothers seemed to consider repulsive and lesser."

"You caused him needless misery, is what you did! And it did not solve whatever turmoil he was already going through..." Arbiter stamped their foot in disagreement. "While the others had his best interest at heart, they did not communicate with him appropriately... And he continued to misunderstand what their feelings towards him truly were..."

"It is not an easy lesson to learn." Oln conceded. Well aware that a lot had not gone according to their plan, but still seeming optimistic about the current odds. "Matters of the heart rarely are, which is what makes Humans so stubbornly impossible at times... But I do believe this will spur his brothers into actually putting themselves in his shoes."

"How? He's run off and left no idea of where he is headed..." Arbiter sat back down, watching the frog turn towards another corner that would lead him into a maintenance shaft. One that lead towards the level he needed to climb to, to get to the zoo.

"That's where the beauty of bonds lay, my dearest friend..." Oln smirked in that cat-like way they often did. "His closest brothers will know. At the very least, his twin will know... And that's exactly who he needs right now."

"I hope you're right... For the poor guy's sake at least."

"When have I ever given you reason to doubt any of my plans?"

"Oh, I can list a few instances..."

"Just trust in me, Arb..."

Coric was, unequivocally, a bit of a restless mess.

It's not like he could really help it (not when circumstances were as they were). And he knew he wasn't the only one in this kind of state. Otherwise all of the other medics wouldn't have slowly sneaked out of their bunks in the middle of the night, and gone to the medbay to ponder on that day's mind-boggling events.

The on duty CMO was sure that he was slowly wearing a hole in the floor as he paced. Looking quite the sight of anxious energy, with one arm behind his back while the other remained raised up so that he could tap away at his chin in time with his incessant pacing.

Were he the one sitting on the floor enjoying Beau time, he might have snapped at whomever might have been in his current position. But if his pacing bothered anyone, no one seemed to have it in them to say it out loud. Not that either Twitch or Sponge were currently focusing on anything but the rotund barghest who was valiantly attempting to drown them in her slobber...

"We're going to have to tell Rex, aren't we?" Pitch called up from the examination table where he was laying with his hands over his chest. It was his best imitation of a dead body laid out by a natborn mortician for display (a rather strange mourning ritual that disturbed him to no end, once he'd learned about it).

"We told the others." Kix pointed out, seeing no reason to stall any further in terms of bringing this up to their CO. "If we keep it from him for too long, he might not take kindly... As medics it's our job to be the responsible ones and report any kind of trouble..."

"Not to mention we also told Ahsoka, general Nu and general Che..." Twitch added, never once looking up from where he was focused on giving Beau the best scratches of her life. "The captain will definitely be a little sore if we don't tell him that one of his troopers has turned into an exotic frog..."

"Yes, because approaching the captain with this topic without sounding absolutely insane is going to be oh so easy..." Sponge's muffled response was full of bitter sarcasm as usual.

"Usually, yes we'd sound like we're on Spice. But we do have proof vod'ika." Coric pointed out, giving his legs a break by sitting right next to Pitch on the examination table. "I doubt Rex would think we went to the extent to tattoo a frog just for the sake of a practical joke..."

"Doubt even Hardcase would go that far." Pitch agreed. "And he's done some pretty outlandish things to get back at Jesse and Fives..."

"And we also have eyewitness accounts." Twitch added, recalling everyone that had seen Dogma growing sick in the mess hall, and then the group that had seen him transforming. "Oh, and probably security footage from the medbay..."

Coric felt bad for the poor sod who'd have to go through that footage during inspection day. They were, without a doubt, in for a shockingly gross surprise once their shift began.

As it stood, they were all pretty much at a standstill. Basically just sitting idle while waiting for something to happen (new developments perhaps? Some miracle solution to come down from the heavens? A request for them to somehow be able to extend their leave so that Dogma wasn't left alone in his current condition?).

Ask and the Force shall provide. Or however that saying went...

The door to the medbay opened up and in walked the captain himself and their padawan commander. The former looking somewhat bewildered by something currently unknown to them, while the latter had a wide grin upon her jovial face for reasons also unknown. Whenever Ahsoka Tano was in this good a mood, the medics had learned to either be alarmed by whatever may follow, or to look forward to something quite grand.

"Good news boys! Master Nu might have found something in the Archives!" The togruta proclaimed, causing all medics to perk up and turn to face her (or, in Sponge's case, lightly readjust Beau's position so that they could see past her chest fluff).

"The general found a way to cure Dogma?!" eyes wide with both hope and excitement, Twitch practically ran over to meet with the two new arrivals. A light bounce in his step.

"About that..." Rex frowned, sending the medical staff a stern glare as he crossed his arms in typical 'I'm not angry I'm just disappointed' fashion. He was clearly not too pleased with not having been in the know. "What's this about Dogma turning into a frog...?"

Kix and Coric both winced audibly, while Pitch quickly looked away so as to not face Rex when he was displeased with them all. Twitch was the only one who didn't seem deterred, even when Sponge fidgeted uncomfortably at getting caught being sneaky. Usually they weren't too bothered with incurring the captain's wrath.

Tonight was proving to be very astounding indeed.

"We were going to tell you sir. We just hoped we wouldn't have to so soon while we didn't have definitive answers..." The younger medic explained. "And it's a good thing too. If there's a potential cure, then you really didn't need to worry about it in the end!"

"....Any of the men I'm responsible for turning into frogs under my nose, is still something I should DEFINITELY worry about. Even if there is a cure..."

"Hold your fathiers, I didn't say it was a cure!" Ahsoka interjected while holding her hands up in the universal show of getting everyone to back up a bit. "But it might lead us to one, since it is something the Force itself might be able to do after all..."

"Still better than nothing!" Pitch pointed out optimistically, an easy smile on his face. "Information is information... Oh, and if we're going to the general about this, we should go get Dogma. I'm sure he'll want to hear about this. It might do him some good since he's been a bundle of nerves all day..."

The others seemed to agree. Coric himself also agreed.

With how much their kih'vod had been reacting to stressors, it really might ease his mind if he saw that they were on the right track to getting him fixed up.

The warning they'd been given by the Master Archivist and Healer still rang fresh in their mind. And, knowing that something so small like a frog could easily die from complications due to stress, keeping Dogma's anxiety to a minimum was a must.

The Jedi knowing something, even if it was just some kind of a anecdotal tale, might get him to ease up a little.

And thus their trek back towards the barracks was a little noisier than they intended it to be. In spite of that, no one would fault them for their sudden boisterousness. After Dogma, the medics had all been just as tense about this whole ordeal as the transformed trooper himself was. If not more so, due to the enormous responsibility that fell upon their shoulders.

Waking up a few brothers in the process of retrieving the little frog trooper from his safe spot in the terrarium, would not be too bad in the grand scheme of things.

Only, there was just one itty bitty little problem with this. Dogma was nowhere to be seen. The terrarium they'd built for him with so much love and care, was noticeably uninhabited.

"Ok very funny, who took him?!" Sponge whipped around and glared accusingly towards the bunks, while Kix went to turn on the lights before dashing over to the terrarium they'd all helped construct to keep Dogma safe and happy.

All around them resting vode began to rouse from their fitful slumber with loud complaints and angry grumbles. Some either sat up to glare back at the cantankerous medic, or simply turned away and hid their head beneath their pillows and blankets to shield themselves from the assault of light and noise.

No one answered the question. Which only aggravated Sponge even further.

"Quit moaning about getting your beauty sleep interrupted! Which of you di'kuts took Dogma?!" Sponge barked back. Impatient and clearly displeased with what they assumed was a prank in bad taste.

"What are you talking about...? No one took Dogma..." Fives rubbed at his eyes as he sat up sleepily. Echo sitting up slowly beside him and looking somewhat dazed from being woken up so rudely.

"Oh really?" Sponge growled, flashing their teeth at the ARC trooper with the goatee and numeral tattoo. "Then why the hell is his tank empty?!"

At this, the others began to shake off the drowsiness to look towards the terrarium for confirmation of their statement.

Coric and Kix were both pulling a few of the decorations aside to see if maybe the aforementioned frog hadn't just hidden under them to rest somewhere quieter. When they still ended up empty handed, their concern only doubled.

Pinched expressions and tense body language evidence enough that Sponge wasn't just picking a fight out of general crabbiness. Not that they were prone to just randomly start things in the middle of the night. The others just couldn't be too sure of how stable their mood was when they were so clearly stressed out with worry.

Jesse and Hardcase both hopped out of their own bunks and moved over to help. They seemed just as confused and worried as the senior medics. And not without reason.

"That's... He was right there when we went to sleep..." The usually hyperactive heavy-gunner commented aloud while looking at the tank. He seemed utterly perplexed by this unexpected situation. "I remember giving him a little cricket and everything just before calling it a night..."

"He can't just have vanished!" Sponge huffed and puffed as they watched other clones begin to join the frantic search.

They were all looking under bunks and behind trunks, upturning anything that may hide a small critter. All trying to figure out where their now-amphibious brother had gone to while they'd been sound asleep.

Tup (who had yet to say anything) slowly crept out of his bunk to join the group surrounding the terrarium, but paused when his bare foot touched something slightly moist that sent a cold jolt up his leg and spine.

Looking down, the long haired trooper noticed a small trail of mud leading from the base of the table where the terrarium sat, to a vent that had wide enough bars that something small like a rat or a frog might be able to pass through.

Putting 2 and 2 together, he quickly realized what this meant.

"Dogma!" At his cry of alarm, every other trooper in the barracks (and Ahsoka) turned to look at Tup. Seeing how he ran over towards the wall and crouched in front of the vent in an attempt to peer inside into the vast darkness within its confines.

Exchanging knowing glances, no one had to say anything more on the matter. The captain held up his comm and began barking out orders to whomever had been assigned the night shifts. The base would be on indefinite lock-down until they could locate and safely retrieve their wayward vod.

Starting with figuring out where that vent might lead to, which might require some extra help from someone who could give them that kind of information...

Fox was not having a good night.

An understatement, as it was rare that he ever got a good night at all. But this particular one was certainly one among many that left him feeling surlier than usual. Mostly because it had been too quiet, and that often heralded trouble for him and his Guard.

And then, of course, he'd gotten cosmic confirmation that his paranoia was not uncalled for, in the form of a call from a certain someone who only ever remembered he existed whenever he needed a favour or two.

Rarely did he ever get to have normal social calls that didn't involve some kind of shenanigans orchestrated by his blond kih'vod'ika...

"Slow down Rex." Pinching the bridge of his nose, the marshal commander of the Guard took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice level.

As much as he hated the recent indifference his batch had shown him in terms of staying up to date on communications, he didn't need to take it out on his vod'ika who did stop to ask him how he was doing whenever he had to drag one of his men out of the Drunk Tank by the ear.

Fox knew better than to push away one of the few GAR boys that still cared enough to make polite idle chatter with him. Even if the little sheb'ika came to him with some of the weirdest requests he'd ever heard in his entire service record. And little gods only knew how many weird requests Rex had come up with, since he'd become Skywalker's second in command.

Not even a a promotion in sight and the kid was somehow doing better in terms of reputation than the actual clone commander of the 501st...

It did mean Fox interacted less with his general however, which was a pro in all of his books rather than a con, no matter how demeaning he thought it might be for his vod to be reduced to an errand boy or pet fool. Skywalker was nothing short of insufferable (and a liability) after all, and Fox preferred to avoid him like the plague.

"What's this about ventilation blueprints?" Fox ran a hand over his cropper hair, having only just had the time to shave and bleach it prior to preparing to get it dyed. He was thinking a nice teal to contrast all the blood red he had to see on the daily. Be it his paint or a suspicious amount of actual blood on his person, that he couldn't quite (nor wanted to) account for. "Hm... A frog...? Uh, depends... Some of the vents on this planet are older than the actual levels themselves and have their own very rudimentary self-maintenance systems... If your boys lost a pet in there, it's probably already been turned into minced meat..."

He winced slightly as his ears got bombarded.

"I said probably, not definitely. I don't know if your boys or the natborn officers that should be manning the GAR, actually set the vents to clean up regularly enough that.... Oh... Yeah uh, you should look into that then. You really do not want anything hazardous to actually climb out of tho-- Alright, alright! Just take a deep breath vod'ika, you sound like you're going to have an aneurysm over the comm..." Fox began to pace around his office as he continued to listen to his younger brother prattle on about a missing pet frog or whatever this was.

He sounded far too distressed over something so trivial like that.

Sometimes people (and many a clueless rookies) just lost their pets on Coruscant (it was far too common an issue with Senators even, which wouldn't be so bad if not for the fact some of them had very exotic and dangerous preferences).

Heck, Fox himself had lost a tooka he'd taken in a while back. Then again, for all he knew it had just moved on to the next sod who'd fed it more consistently. Touché Mr Socks...

"Look, maybe it wandered into the vents and got out before hopping off or whatever it is frogs do..." The commander sat down on the chair his men had gifted him. It was an armchair, rather than an office chair, soiled by years of use and weeks of being out in the curb. But the Guard had made due with what little they could salvage and, despite it's hideously stained appearance, it was actually quite comfortable and clean. "This entire planet's infrastructure has vents inside of vents inside of vents. Even if I gave you blueprints for the GAR headquarters's ventilation system and all its maintenance shafts, you would still never find-- What do you mean hang on?! Vod'ika I'm bus--Oh don't give me that attitude! Fine I'll hold on..."

Tapping his fingers impatiently against his desk, Fox waited for Rex to return. Being put on hold over a frog seemed incredibly silly (not to mention downright insulting). It was still better than attending to one of Orn Free Taa's long-winded speech practice sessions. Taking the call had at least gotten him a way to weasel out of THAT indignity...

He stopped tapping once he heard Rex's voice again. This time he couldn't keep the irritation out of his own voice.

"What do you mean you're coming to pick me up?!" Hand running down his face, Fox groaned. "Why do I even put up with you...?"

He stared blankly as he got a reply to his question.

"....'Because I love you' is NOT an answer, you absolute miserable pain in the shebs!" He hissed into the comm as he hung up, wasting no time to collect his bucket and march out of his office. Much to the confusion of everyone else he passed by. He might as well go outside before the damned gremlin showed up to drag him into whatever misadventure he'd conjured up this time.

Cody would rue the day he ever took pity on the little CT that he'd found out in the rain, looking like a pathetic sopping wet womp rat.

Fox would make sure of it, one way or another...

It turned out to be a good decision to leave ahead of time because his vod'ika was not alone. And (taking stock of who was with him) Fox doubted the group he was with would be greeted with open arms by any of the veterans of the Guard.

Everyone who'd ever worked the detainment shift had a list with photos of repeat offenders, and there were at least three faces in the crowd that were usuals at the Drunk Tank.

It almost made him turn around, march up back into the Guard headquarters, and lock the door behind him. Almost.

Sadly he doubted that whatever Rex (and the rest of his ragtag team of rabble-rousers) was up to, could go unsupervised. It was common knowledge at this point that whenever that particular shade of blue shell was anywhere outside of the GAR's facilities, that it usually ended in quite a few calls from grouchy civilians that weren't particularly grateful for the clone army's services.

It fell upon him and his commanders to make sure the 501st didn't make every single clone a target of hatred due to their carelessness while on leave.

Which is what kept Fox from fleeing for his sanity.

"What is this?" He cut to the chase, leveling the captain with a stern glare beneath his bucket. One he knew for sure Rex could guess was being cast his way, from being raised alongside Fox's batch. "It's well past GAR curfew."

"I'm well aware commander." Rex responded calmly. He'd managed to compose himself on the way. Good. He didn't much feel like dealing with his fellow bottle blond while he was a bundle of nerves. "But I do have a good reason."

"Ah." The marshal commander crossed his arms behind his back, regarding the 501st captain with some disdain. He wouldn't call whatever this was a good reason. At least not from what little he knew of what actually was going on. "Do clarify why requesting documents that are not entirely free to the public, specifically to rescue a pet frog, would be considered a good reason? Or a reasonable waste of my time? I was in the middle of Senate duty."

He wasn't about to admit he'd been dying to find a reason to ditch Senator Taa. He couldn't give all his cards away or express gratitude. Rex, sneaky bastard that he was, would try to cash in on that favour later if he knew. His vod'ika had learned from the best after all...

"That's the thing... He's not a pet frog. Or a frog... A real frog I mean." Rex tried to explain, only for one of his men (a medic, if the symbol on his pauldron was anything to go by) to step in and interject.

"What the captain means, commander Fox sir, is that there was an incident this morning concerning one of the 501st's newest sergeants." The bald medic (there were a lot of medics in the group now that he was looking at them) with the faint scar over his left eye, stated calmly. "We are not entirely sure how this happened, and we are assuming that it has to do with the Force itself experiencing some kind of a 'glitch'... But, to put things simply, our man was transformed into a frog."

"I know it sounds strange, and insane, but when you work with the Jetii you grow used to strange nonsense involving the Force." Rex continued after nodding gratefully at the medic. "Either way, I wouldn't have bothered you over a lost pet. But, as this isn't a pet..."

"Maker give me patience..." Fox shook his head in disbelief. Ok, a trooper had been turned into a frog by 'Force Osik'. That made a little more sense as to why he'd be called in to help. He supposed. "And you think he's still in the vents?"

"Well... We're not sure?" One of the other medics, this one looking younger than the rest of the group (with some rather garishly decorated armour to boot), admitted. "I mean... He couldn't have gone far, but then we have no idea why or when he left..."

"Yeah, I mean, we even built him a terrarium that was absolutely frog heaven. And we gave him lots of food, and whatever a frog might need to thrive like the generals told us to!" Another trooper, Jesse (one of the Drunk Tank usuals), pointed out. "If I was a frog, I wouldn't have wanted to leave all of that to go into some dirty vent..."

"Yeah same! Seems kind of like a downgrade to me..." Fives (another Drunk Tank usual), agreed with a nod. "Makes no sense..."

Fox stared at the two with an incredulous look that they couldn't see, but the way he slowly turned his head should be more than indicative of the mood. That said, he doubted they could sense the amount of disgust he felt at their obliviousness. What truly bothered him about this situation, is that the rest of the group didn't seem to be seeing the same glaring issue that he had no trouble zeroing in on.

"You're kidding right...?" Dropping the decorum, Fox stared (really stared) at them all with nothing short of barely contained anger. Foot tapping away on duracreet, as he tried to keep himself from shaking any of them until they heard their own idiotic words rattle inside their thick skulls.

"Uh?" Fives blinked, surprised at his curt response.

"A downgrade? Makes no sense?" Fox shook his head. "Look, if what you said is true and your sergeant turned into a frog, then I'm pretty sure he ran into the vents because he felt belittled."

"Belittled...?" The bald medic's brows furrowed slightly. He exchanged a look with the others, some of which seemed to slowly grasp what it was Fox was getting at. Good, there was hope for some of these men yet...

"If you woke up one day as a frog and you were put on display and fed like a pet for everyone to see, would you not feel demeaned in any way?" He carried on, putting as much resentment and disapproval into his words as possible.

In reality he (and the rest of his men) could relate with this situation far too easily. It disturbed him that the 501st had grown far too comfortable in the presence of natborn officers and Jetii alike, that filled their heads with empty promises. Grown so comfortable with people that didn't care for clones other than how they could be useful to them, that they'd forgotten what it was like to be regarded as anything but what they were:

Owned property.

Clones with no rights and no legal representative in the Senate, or public acknowledgement of their obvious sentience. Holding the same sort of value as a well trained massiff or (if you were unlucky enough to catch someone's eye) a very fancy show bantha to be displayed.

The idea of suddenly having your form changed into something that could be easily lorded over by others, and have no means of communicating your distress to anyone but yourself? Fox knew that feeling all to well as well... Sans the transformation part, of course. He was no stranger to having the rights he did not legally have, so terribly violated by someone much more powerful and so heedlessly loved by hundreds of millions.

That was his life as marshal commander. Suffering so that no one else he cared for had to.

"We were just trying to look after him..." Interposed the medic with the intricate lightning bolt buzz and fade "When we couldn't figure out what to make of Dogma's situation, we sought help from the Jedi Temple and were told to be mindful of his needs as a frog. We even researched what to do to fulfill those needs."

"Yes, and while it's admirable that you took charge and went to someone more qualified to deal with the issue, it doesn't erase the fact you might have gotten a little carried away in your care." Fox pointed out, watching the medic's face fall slightly. "Even with good intentions, it would feel fairly dehumanizing to be put into a situation like this. Having all your agency taken from you by people you should be able to trust in."

One by one, each of the 501st vode seemed to at last fully understand what he was telling them. Their expressions slowly changing into concerned frowns as they likely began assessing their last few interactions with the aforementioned sergeant. And, like a light suddenly cast in shadow, their previous missteps finally became painfully clear to them.

In all their worrying over trying to keep Dogma from stressing himself to death, they'd indeed gotten too caught up in treating him like you'd treat one of the frogs he had become.

They never even considered what he might feel about that.

"It's like with what happened at the zoo..." The second ARC trooper, the one with the hand print on his chest plate, muttered to no one in particular. "When Fives said that the frog in the tank reminded him of Dogma because it looked so grouchy..."

"It was a harmless joke to the rest of us, but he didn't see it as that." The younger medic nodded, seeming to know what the ARC was talking about. "And he took it to heart because every time someone makes a joke about him, it's not usually lighthearted..."

"No, usually people just make fun of him because they think it's funny to get a rise out of him..." Jesse looked away in shame, no doubt having been one of those people as well. From how his shoulders fell, Fox could at least tell he was genuinely regretful of that.

"We made a dumb joke, we laughed, and he overthought it to the point he skipped out on late meal and blocked out everyone who came check up on him..." Hardcase slowly curled his arms around himself and fidgeted uneasily as the guilt settled in. "Kriff, I think we've been looking at all his reactions wrong... He was upset because we kept talking about him like he wasn't there, and instead of paying him mind we just ran about thinking we knew what was best for him..."

"You weren't thinking about what was best for Dogma." Rex shook his head, clearly a little mad at his troopers. Fox didn't fault him. He'd be just as furious if this had happened to his men instead. "You should have come to me and general Skywalker the moment all of this happened. I know you were doing what you thought was right, but if you'd have just come to either of us, we could have avoided this entire misunderstanding..."

They all fell into silence. Inwardly processing all of this to the best of their abilities. Then, the trooper with the tear drop decals and messy topknot gasped loudly.

"That's it!" He exclaimed, startling everyone else in the process. "I know where Dogma went!"

Rex turned to face the trooper, both surprised at his sudden exclamation, and curious as to what he might have in mind.

"Are you sure, Tup?" he asked.

"I know Dogma like the back of my hand, and that's exactly the problem. Because he wasn't acting like Dogma, I didn't pay enough attention because all of this just wasn't typical of him... Of my idea of him." Tup continued, wringing his hands together as he looked at the captain. "He gets stuck in his own head sometimes, withdraws and hides when he doesn't know what else to do. And it got worse after Umbara... But... Even in one of his stupors he would have gone where he thought he'd be needed. And since he's been turned into a frog..."

"The zoo!" The medic with little to no paint on them smacked their on face in frustration. "Haar'chak... That self-deprecating clever little sheb'ika..."

"Yeah..." Tup smiled sadly "We treated him like a frog, so he'll accept that's what he is now and go where you'd find that type of frog. Since he can't exactly pilot a ship to wherever these ones come from, the zoo is the next best option."

"Right." Fox carried on, crossing his arms once more behind his back as he watched the group. "Does this mean I get to go back to what I was doing?"

They all stared at him impassively. Wishful thinking on his part. He knew in truth that (considering the zoo was closed at this hour) he wouldn't just be able to go on with his night.

It was still worth a try to get the hell away from this gang of misfits.

"Very well... Lets go then. But you owe me big for this one, Rex..." The marshal commander of the Guard growled lowly, making sure to glare at his vod'ika who seemed entirely unfazed by his rising frustration. Brat.

"I always pay my debts ori'vod."

It takes them a few lift trips to get to their destination. Then only a few swift clicks and turns of the lock-picks Fox legally does not own on record. He has them for many very good reasons, but that is Guard business and not something to be discussed openly where the wrong person could hear.

If it bothers any of the 501st boys currently trailing him (his vod'ika included), they don't dare say it to his face. It's his particular set of skills and street smarts that are getting them this far anyway, and their silence and gratitude are expected as much as they are well deserved.

All savoir faire aside, he does make a note of how easy it is to break into the zoo's security system. It's a fairly rudimentary thing. Consisting of mostly manual locks and just a few cameras and ray-shields. Tubie grade toys that anyone can crack into, and that is clearly just there for show.

He supposes things might be different in the more exclusive areas that require a fair bit more credits to get to experience, but it is no less annoying to know someone could just waltz in and steal something like an exotic and highly venomous creature...

He already has enough issues controlling the feral runaway pet population on Coruscant. He doesn't need this as another potential problem to the ever expanding roster.

"There. Go in quickly and don't stall." He motioned for the group to carry on with their business. The quicker they found what they were looking for, the better. Best they not linger around for long.

"Thanks Fox... I really do owe you." Rex gave him a courteous nod as he let the others run on ahead.

"Yes you do, you little shit." A flick to the nose was the best he could do for now, but Fox was definitely going to cash in on that favour later. There were certain things the GAR could provide him after all, and the captain was in no position to deny him any requests of his own. Especially not after dragging him on this clown show. "Just don't let them make a mess in there. I'd rather not have to be called back here in the morning because your lot trashed the place..."

Dogma found it infinitely ironic how incredibly easy it had actually been to get as far as he did.

Coruscant (which was more of a maze planet than a city planet in his oh so humble opinion) was often fairly difficult for him to navigate on a good day, due to all of the constant foot and hover-transport traffic. No matter how much planning he did ahead of time, or how much attention he paid to street signs, he had always managed to get turned around and it had frustrated him to no end.

As a frog no bigger than a nerf patty, it should have been trice as difficult to get to his destination. And yet, somehow (perhaps by sheer will and determination), he'd managed to sneak out of the GAR headquarters, traverse the dank and dark Coruscanti streets, and then gotten into a locked up entertainment/educational facility.

Oh, and he had also climbed into an already occupied frog exhibit without distressing his new roommates too much. That had also been bewilderingly easy, and also indicative of very lazy security measures that he was fairly certain weren't up to standards.

Although, to be fair, he doubted any of the city levels were OSHA compliant with just how much more infrastructure had been added on over the years, rather than the governing forces opting to reclaim the sub-levels. Very few sentient beings alive right now had likely ever seen the absolute basement level of the planet itself. The Jedi likely included.

All thoughts of needlessly complicated architecture and standards of building aside, maybe the underwhelming nature of his trek was just how life as an animal generally went. Overly simplified with little to no nuances or stressful aggravation (aka the human condition), or obstacles of their own making.

Maybe Dogma just had to get used to going unchallenged, now that he was an insignificant little frog. An amphibious creature with little to no value, other than being something curious to gawk at from behind a glassy barrier. A mere tidbit of knowledge shared at a party as a random trivia fact.

His new "friends" seemed to live with that just fine.

That said, he yearned for something more fulfilling in his every day life than just to sit around looking as unsightly as he did right now. Like a game of high stakes dejarik (playing for shift swaps and favours was exhilarating, even if he knew he shouldn't encourage dishonest behaviors while on duty); a meaningful conversation about things he'd learned from the few holobooks he'd managed to read in the last couple of months (mostly encyclopedias with all kinds of useful knowledge, for a future he wished for but couldn't hope to ever have); or maybe even the closeness he no longer had with any of the vode he'd left behind (he yearned for a vodpile like a starving man lusted after a Braised Shaak Roast)...

He wondered if the other frogs ever felt that sort of itchy longing in their limited thinking span. Hard to tell when those beady little eyes of theirs glanced out at nothing with a sort of vague vacancy that inspired little to no level of intellect at all.

Honestly they were just regarding him as if he were another flat surface or other such fixture of their tank. New but familiar in a way that told them this was a normal addition to their little world, and nothing to really concern themselves with. Perhaps if he willed it enough, his consciousness would leave him faster and he'd be just as dense and carefree as them.

The frog instincts that had arisen in him through out the day and caused him so much trouble, had yet to fully set in and take his ability to think from him. As a result, the overwhelming fear he'd felt at that possibility was suddenly gone from his mind.

In fact, he felt somewhat impatient now. Left to wonder when exactly Dogma would seize to be, and the geometrically marked frog would finally take over.

Settling down upon a decorative piece of driftwood and watching the other inhabitants of the tank with a minimal degree of sadness, Dogma sighed to himself and lay as flat as he could on his pudgy little belly. The one that he'd filled up with way too much food prior to his departure from the familiarity of home base. Silently he pondered on the past few days he'd experienced before finding himself where he was now.

He was maybe even considering the sleep he'd denied himself for the sake of escaping, when a noise in the building startled him into the full alertness he was trained to rely on out in the field. The other frogs quickly took offense to the sound and dove into the water to find better hiding spots away from view. Their instincts telling them that a sharp noise not made by themselves, was often indicative of danger to be avoided.

Only Dogma stood his ground to investigate further. He was still thinking too much like a soldier, something he'd need to change soon if he wanted to fit in with the rest of his new kin. But that could wait a few more minutes.

The once proud clone trooper sat still, listening in on whatever was making such a racket in the middle of the night. Fully aware that no one would be inside the facility at this hour. No one that should be there at least...

The idea of a thief breaking into the zoo to steal some of the animals did cross his mind (although he doubted they'd be so bold as to try to take something like an oggdo).

The noises were steadily growing closer, becoming progressively louder as a result of proximity. Dogma could make out a lot of footfall, so it was most definitely a group rather than a singular individual. He couldn't, however, tell if they were speaking. Their running a bit too frantic to catch any potential voices.

And then the door on the far side of the room opened up, and he saw a flash of familiar white and blue. Wasting no time, he dove into the water himself and joined the other frogs in hiding. Unwilling to be seen by the very same people he'd been running away from.

What could they possibly be doing here at this time of night? More importantly, what could they possibly want from the zoo?

"Fives, do you see him in there?" Hardcase called out as he made his way towards the budgett's frog enclosure at a slower pace than the aforementioned ARC. Fives practically had his face pressed to the tank's glassy surface after bounding over to inspect it. But (from what Dogma could tell at least), he didn't seem to be able to see him in his hiding spot among the other frogs.

It didn't really surprise him. Hiding in groups was a classical tactic to avoid scrutiny from trainers, Kaminoans and upset superior officers alike. Employing the same strategy as a frog proved to be just as effective, since the color and size variations between them weren't too drastic.

That said, his mind began to fill with questions anew. They'd come out here to look for him? Why? Last he checked they didn't particularly care for him.

That said they had seemed fond enough of the idea to keep him as some kind of mascot, which was a thought that filled him with a modicum of bitterness. To think he was more likeable to them as this...

But how could they have known to come here to look for him? Was he that obvious, or was it something else? It had to be something else.

Maybe he'd left some kind of a trail without meaning to...

"All of the frogs are in the back hiding under stuff... I can't tell if he's in there with them..." Fives replied after squinting in silence for a few seconds. "I don't fancy my chances of poking them without getting bit..."

"It's not like they're venomous." Hardcase joined his side, and Dogma pressed himself further back, eyes focusing on the two troopers that were covering his view of whom else might be coming to check the tank. He squeaked in apology as he bumped into one of the other frogs, causing it to puff up slightly and stare menacingly at him. "Just lift that off and have a better look. A bite or two won't kill you!"

"If I mess with the exhibit, I'm pretty sure commander Fox will kill me." Fives winced. "I'll be on my knees getting executed Mafia style faster than you can say 'supercalifragilisticexpialidocious'..."

"...What the hell does that even mean?" Hardcase raised an eyebrow at the bizarre and rather long word. Funny, Dogma didn't peg Fives for the musical sort.

"It's just a fancy way of saying wonderful." Fives shrugged "Either way, I am not karking around with the exhibit. I value my life, thank you very much..."

"Yeah?" Tup huffed as he pushed past the two of them to look into the exhibit himself. "Well I value my twin's safety!"

"And Fox isn't going to execute you 'Mafia style', stop being dramatic..." The captain joined the trio. Looking all kinds of put-off by this situation. "Now help me pull that up to have a look. If he made it out here on his own, he's probably tired and we shouldn't overstay our welcome anyway..."

From his hiding spot, Dogma stood frozen in shock.

Tup was worried about him? Worried enough to come looking for him at all? It didn't make sense. Not with how distant he'd been lately... And he'd also been very unwilling to believe Dogma was still Dogma because he'd been acting like a frog (which, fair, if Tup had also eaten a live grub he might have thought his twin was possessed by some kind of bizarre insect-eating spirit).

Honestly he'd half expected to never see his batchmate ever again after tonight. He'd also assumed it would probably be good for the long haired trooper to not have a defective batcher holding him back anymore...

Well, not that he was doing that prior to being transformed into a frog. They hadn't been as close as they'd once been, especially after Umbara had happened. A little before that they had already begun to cross towards very different paths. Drifting apart ever so slightly as they tried to get accustomed to being a part of their new battalion (their new family, as Tup had put it).

The truth was that Dogma was entirely at fault for this. And he knew he was.

As a cadet he had always been bad at endearing himself to others. An issue that did not resolve itself as he grew older, no matter how hard he tried to follow his twin's advice on dealing with his awkwardness. Tup, on the other hand, was absolutely excellent with this particular subject matter. The social butterfly of the squad they'd been adopted into (because Acronym had also been somewhat shy, and both Bully and Jawbreaker stuck to each other more often than not).

Tup was just the kih'vod that everyone smiled at whenever they both walked into a room. In contrast, no one was ever excited to see Dogma. But they always lit up at the sight of their Tup'ika.

And that had undoubtedly both frightened him, and filled him with a tremendous jealousy that just would not go away, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that his feelings were irrational.

Deep down, he had always known that it was just a matter of time before his twin turned his back on him, and began hanging out with literally anyone else.

Hang out with vode that didn't dig their heels into the sand at the thought of being anything but compliant to the standards; who had better more interesting hobbies than keeping up to date on topics that bored others to near death; who weren't opposed to breaking the rules whenever they had little else to do; and who knew how to be absolutely comfortable in their own skins. Who were confident in their own senses of self.

Vode that were nothing at all like stiff killjoy boring Dogma...

The idea hurt more than any jeer or punch anyone ever threw at him, when he was still small enough that his control over his tantrums and crying fits was little to none. And it had also made him a little clingy and overprotective of his twin. Selfishly trying to insert himself into Tup's space, and hold up both his time and attention because he was too scared of losing his only friend.

Sithhells, he'd dragged him along on Umbara too. Nearly setting him on the same destructive path that had made Dogma so much of a detestable sight to the rest of their battalion. Fives's hateful glare and Jesse's snide remarks still oh so clear in his memory. But of course Tup had been smarter than him in the end. He'd made the right choice while Dogma had allowed himself to be played for a fool. He'd dug his own grave and made himself dar'vod.

If anyone had a reason to leave him to this froggy fate of his, and not look back, it was certainly Tup who'd suffered through years of Dogma's self-centered nonsense. Because Dogma was a limpet stuck to his side all their relatively short lives, and wouldn't it be better to just not have a blood-sucking parasite leeching off of him for a change?

Knowing all this, his tube-twin's presence and obvious concern really made little to no sense at all. It was frustrating how other people rarely made sense.

"We can't just... Look these things get stressed easy! And if they die on our watch we're all screwed big time." Fives continued. "I really don't want to be on the marshal commander's shit list... I hear he kicks harder than even commander Cody... And commander Cody can kick the head off of a B2 like it's nothing!"

"I'm not gonna break anything, and I'm not gonna mess with the frogs." Tup settled Fives with a stern glare. "If it was Echo in his place, would you hesitate to do look for him if he'd run off because everyone else acted like shabuirs without noticing?"

"I... Of course not." At that the ARC backed off, seeming taken aback. He'd likely not thought about it from that angle. "Fine... Here let me just..."

Dogma pressed himself flat against the tank wall and turned away so he wouldn't be facing the other troopers. As much as Tup being here (any of them being here actually) made his little heart flutter with something akin to hope that maybe (just maybe), someone did tolerate him enough to want him back, he couldn't go back on his decision now. This is where he belonged.

They had to understand that! He was no good to them like this!

He closed his eyes tightly as he heard something move above his head, and promptly ignored the angry startled shrieks of the other frogs who were now pushing into him as they puffed up and screamed at the intruders.

His tattoo would make him easily identifiable among the riled up crowd. If they couldn't see it, they wouldn't know it was him. And then maybe they'd just give up and leave before they actually broke something and got into trouble for it. He didn't want them getting into trouble because of him.

"You know...All the grumpiness and dying loth-cat noises aside, they're not as ugly as I thought they were..." He heard Fives comment as he probably stared at all the upset frogs currently screaming their heads off at them. "They're like... It's like Echo said. They're ugly cute. Like naked voorpaks."

"He's gonna be all smug that you agree with him as soon as he finds out that you changed your mind~" Hardcase purred in that pleased sing-song kind of way that always got everyone else groaning with exasperation. His 'up-to-no-good' voice as Dogma liked to call it, because he usually was up to shenanigans whenever he employed it.

"That's why Echo isn't going to find out." Fives retorted.

"Too late, I could hear you from way over there with how much your voice carries in this place." Dogma assumed that was Echo and, even though he was turned away from them, he could tell the ARC was likely smirking smugly as Hardcase had suggested.

Everyone had probably surrounded the tank by now with just how loud the other frogs were getting. He laid down flatter in an attempt to both better hide from their gaze, and to try to drown out the unbearable cacophony that was making his inner-ears ring.

Please, if there really was some kind of a merciful god or entity out there, let it have some kind of sympathy for him. Let it make his brothers give up and just leave him be, so that he could get on with this new life of his.

But of course, if there really was such a higher being out there, it did not grace him at all with anything but disdain.

"Dogma... Dogma I see you." Tup sounded relieved. "You're in the back playing possum."

"Uh, you sure it's him?" He wasn't sure who was asking and he didn't dare turn around to confirm Tup's guess.

"Well, from what Coric, Kix, Pitch, Twitch and Sponge read up on, these frogs are incredibly aggressive and are responding to us as they would in the wild." Dogma cursed himself as he listened in on Tup's logic. He hadn't thought that him playing it cool might be a little suspicious. Now that he thought about it, it made sense that he was never very good at playing games like hide and seek. He was bad at concealing himself in general. "Dogma only freaked out whenever anyone said something he didn't like, or when anyone tried to grab him unexpectedly..."

"Like when Pitch suggested making a terrarium to put him in, or when Sponge grabbed him from behind where he couldn't see their hands." Twitch, because it could only be Twitch with how incredibly chipper he seemed about this, added to confirm Tup's suspicions.

"Dogma wouldn't want to bring attention to himself, so he'd just stay still and try to hide in plain sight." Tup carried on. "Which, because he's not acting like everyone else, only brings attention to him."

He couldn't help but let out a low hiss as he looked up at the group with what he hoped was an angry glare. Annoyed at his predictability, his obvious mistake, and the fact that somehow his twin had still been able to get a read on him and his finicky nature even as a frog.

Tup's eyes only lit up the moment he caught sight of his tattoo.

"I knew it." He smiled a clearly pleased smile, which only elicited another low hiss from Dogma. "Sorry vod'ika, but I just know you too well."

He shrieked in protest, flashing the few sharp teeth he had to show just how peeved he was. Yes, Tup had gotten it right, but that didn't mean he'd go with them willingly. For as much as he claimed he knew him well, Tup seemed to not understand that Dogma didn't want to be some kind of battalion mascot.

At that Tup's smile fell.

"I mean that in a good way Dogma... If I didn't know you as well as I do, we might have never found you." the teardrop tattooed trooper's tone became less affable and a little more saddened in response to his negative reaction.

"He's right you know... We wouldn't have thought to look for you here." Echo stepped a little closer to the tank, stopping only when Dogma turned to hiss at him as well. The ARC seemed to understand he didn't want them to come any closer than they already had, so he backed away once more to appease him. "I guess we deserve that... We've been causing you a lot of grief recently..."

Fives, Jesse and Hardcase nodded in agreement, a look of regret on their faces as they fidgeted and fiddled uncomfortably in place. Seeming unsure of what to do with themselves at the moment, while the medics looked down at their own feet in shame.

It made Dogma pause in his aggressive display, regarding them with slight curiosity.

"We haven't been very good brothers to you..." Rex spoke up, eyes sad as he carefully held the hollow log he'd removed from the enclosure. It felt like a long time since he'd actually spoken to his captain. How long had it been? Since he'd gotten sick, maybe? "I haven't been a very good older brother at least. I let something like this slip under my nose, and I can't tell you how sorry I am that I wasn't there to give you a hand."

"We're all very sorry." Coric added. "We were so afraid of causing you any distress that we went a little overboard with generals Nu and Che's advice. We knew you weren't really a frog, and we shouldn't have assumed that treating you like one was the better thing to do."

No, it hadn't. If anything, it had made him feel downright awful. Especially when they ignored his desperate cries of disapproval. And assumed they knew how he'd been feeling, when they'd gotten it completely wrong...

Dogma let out a softer croak and turned away slightly. Even if they were sorry, he was still angry at them. He'd likely be angry for a long time too.

Tup sighed and then took a deep breath. Presumably to collect his thoughts before speaking up again. He seemed determined.

"I'm not sorry about the frog thing..."

At that, Dogma turned back around sharply to stare at his twin in surprise. The others seemed just as startled by his affirmation, staring at him in question.

"Tup...?" Fives gawked.

"I'm not sorry that Dogma got screwed over by the Force." Tup continued defiantly. "It sucks yeah. But..."

He sighed again, running a hand over his hair and tugging on the hair-tie that was barely holding the sloppily pulled up top-knot. His locks falling over onto his shoulder in a messy tangle of knots.

Usually Tup looked well put together appearance wise. He'd always been rather vain, which meant he put a lot of work into being presentable for any occasion. Seeing him like this was a bit of a shock, and indicated to Dogma that his twin had a lot on his mind. Enough so that he'd neglected his hair-care routine.

"Things happen for a reason, right...? At least that's what the Jedi say whenever something goes wrong..." The more sensitive of the group carried on in his explanation. Seeming a little unsure of his own words at first, before shaking away his doubts and continuing strong once he managed to make sense of things. "Maybe the Force saw that we weren't doing good by Dogma and thought we needed to try harder."

Dogma blinked slowly as he watched his twin. Tup stared back at him with clear sadness.

"We still messed it all up, anyway..." Tup's frown deepened. His eyes were a little shiny from unshed tears. "I messed up and now you don't want to come back home, do you...?"

Dogma's eyes widened. How had Tup messed up? If anything, Dogma had been the one ruining everything since day one! From Kamino to Umbara to this very zoo.

None of this was Tup's fault in the slightest!

"I promised I'd still protect you once we left Kamino, and then I let you down..." Tup gulped noisily as he tried to fight back tears. His ori'vod had always been a crier. Even now as a capable soldier he couldn't control how emotional he got. "I should have included you more whenever I wanted to do something new, now that we didn't have to worry about bullies and trainers and all those assholes that kept tormenting us growing up. I should have seen you were struggling with integrating into the 501st, because everything was so different from what we were used to and you didn't feel safe. I sh-should have known K-Krell was using your loyalty against you from the mo-moment he kept assigning you tasks a-away from the rest of us... I sh-should have t-t-tried to reach out to you w-when you were st-struggling to figure out who to t-trust... I sh-sh-should have n-n-never pointed my bl-blaster at you w-when you were co-confused and af-afraid... I..."

Dogma squeaked in distress as Tup began to openly cry while he recounted his perceived missteps.

No, no no no no! None of that had been his fault!

He moved away from the other frogs, shoving past them rudely to get closer to the glass. Closer to Tup. To his crying batchmate. His only batchmate.

"I... I'm so sorry M'ika..." Tup sniffled, reaching into the tank to pick him up. Dogma didn't hesitate to climb into his hands, croaking softly in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "I shouldn't have j-just left you on your o-own after Umbara! I wanted to talk to you b-but I was so ashamed! I b-broke my promise and m-made a mess of everything! Bully and Jawbreaker are g-gonna be so disappointed! A-Acronym would be s-so disappointment!"

Croaking softly up at Tup, Dogma felt his own eyes begin to sting.

It was odd, because frogs couldn't really cry in the same way as people did. But he still felt the burning itch of tear ducts reacting to his emotional distress. And seeing Tup so wracked with misplaced guilt was definitely making him want to cry as well.

It was awful that he couldn't reassure him. Couldn't tell him that, no, he hadn't done anything wrong.

Umbara had been rough on all of them, and Dogma had deserved to be left to his own devices away from the brothers he'd hurt. Deserved to be tasked with the herculean chore of earning back trust and forgiveness, that everyone else was free to choose whether or not to give him.

Tup had done well not associating with the likes of him, even if it had hurt deeply that he'd done so wrong that even his twin shunned him. He hadn't broken his promise. At least not in Dogma's eyes.

Carefully placing one clumsy hand on Tup's left wrist, Dogma croaked up at his twin again as he tried to reach with his free hand. Maybe if he braced himself he could stand up and try to wipe some of the stray tears running down his brother's face?

He grunted in slight irritation as his attempt ended with him flopping uselessly onto his back, rotund belly up and useless limbs kicking about as he flipped himself back onto his stomach.

The stuffy gross snort that followed his clumsiness made him stare back up at Tup, slightly insulted.

"S-sorry... That was kinda funny." At least he had the decency to apologize for laughing. The others were trying to cover up their amusement and failing badly at it, which only elicited more angry hisses from him. "S-some things never change... Even when you're the one who should be upset with me, you still go out of your way to try to make me feel better instead."

Dogma huffed, vocal sack inflating slightly in the same way his chest would puff up at hearing something so obviously absurd. Of course he'd try to make his twin feel better! What else would he have done?

Since he couldn't wipe his brother's tears from his face, he opted with trying to pat his wrist. The awkward little wet slapping noises were a little aggravating, but not the worst sound he'd made so far. And it seemed to do the trick.

Tup smiled softly and raised him up slightly closer to his face.

"What would I do without you? Maker only knows you're the expert crybaby wrangler around here..."

There was a lot Tup could do without him honestly. But... Maybe he didn't have to?

Looking around at the present group, it occurred to Dogma that everyone had gone out of their way to look for him in the middle of the night past standard GAR curfew. And to apologize for hurting his feelings no less.

Even Fives, Jesse and Hardcase who'd openly mocked him before, all seemed incredibly relieved that he was safe and sound and not lost to them at all. Had he perhaps misconstrued what they thought of him this entire time?

It did seem like the likely conclusion.

He'd mistakenly believed Tup's avoidant behaviour to be something it had not been, so maybe the other day at the zoo was a misunderstanding as well...? And then Fives had been trying to apologize during early meal, hadn't he? Before Dogma had thrown up all over him, that is?

He felt a little dumb now that he thought about this with a much clearer head. He croaked up at them in embarrassment.

"As touching as this is, we should really get going." Rex pointed out as he glanced towards his comm unit. Probably looking at the current time on the chrono feature. "Fox is trusting us to not mess anything up, and I'd rather not disappoint him. Otherwise Fives's dramatics might actually become a reality, and he'll hunt us down one by one for giving him more problems to deal with in the morning..."

"Right, we should uh, put these back in." Fives agreed, moving over to help put the decorations he and Rex had pulled out of the exhibit. Placing them back into their rightful and proper place. Much to the relief of the frogs they'd upset.

As they did so, Tup brought Dogma closer so that he could bump their foreheads in a slightly disproportionate kedalbe. Leaning into the touch, the frog trooper sighed contentedly and closed his eyes to relish in the warmth and love he could feel radiating off his closest brother. His best friend...

Only to suddenly find himself and his twin sprawled out on the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs and startled yelps.

"AUGHCK!!!" Tup gasped as he was pinned under the full weight of a very human Dogma, who was left coughing and spluttering from the sudden shock of finding himself transformed back in a quick flash.

No horrifying flesh-melting and nightmare-inducing sequence required.

"Holy shit! He changed back!" Hardcase gasped in amazement, watching his two kih'vode struggling on the ground with wide eyes.

"Aaaaaand he's naked." Jesse covered his mouth. Both to try to hide his shock, and to stop himself from saying anything else that might make things any more awkward than they already were.

"I mean..." Twitch winced, looking at the others with a bewildered expression. "We weren't really uh, expecting him to change back and grow a set of brand-new clothes... Right...?"

"That'd be creepy... But I am more concerned as to how and why he just changed back." Sponge shrugged, accepting that Twitch was right and they shouldn't have expected anything else. "We never even went to the generals to see what they'd found out..."

Dogma shook the disorientation off and slowly took stock of himself before fully sitting up. He was practically on Tup's lap, having suddenly changed back while still in his brother's cupped up hands. Thankfully neither of them were injured from the experience.

He also noted the odd chill he felt, which gave him goose flesh that made him shudder ever so slightly. Glancing down and finally registering his brothers's words, his eyes widened and he immediately tried to hide his shame by crossing his legs and placing his arms in front of his modesty.

"Why me...?" he whined pitifully as he tried to desperately ignore the heat overtaking his face and ears. His own voice felt almost foreign to his ears. It had, after all, been a while since he'd last been able to speak at all.

"Oh, hey don't cover up on our account little brother! We've all seen what you're packing in the mirror!" Hardcase grinned, attempting to lighten the mood with good humor.

"That's not overly helpful..." Dogma shot back, clear annoyance plastered on his flushed face. This time there was no room for misinterpreting his state of mind.

"Or a welcome or appropriate comment..." Sponge hissed in disgust, clearly finding Hardcase's joke to be a little too crass for their taste.

Rex rolled his eyes and approached the younger set of twins, helping them both up onto their feet before tapping his chin in thought. He seemed to be worried about the same glaringly obvious issue, that Dogma was dreading to have to soon face.

"Alright... How are we sneaking a very nude clone into the GAR headquarters, without someone calling CorSec on us for streaking...?" The blond captain asked, only to be met with absolute silence on everyone else's part. "... You know, as much of a privilege as it is to work with the Jedi, I really hate getting caught up in Force Osik..."

A nice steamy hot shower had never been more welcomed in Dogma's fleetingly short life. More so after the absolute roller-coaster of emotions he'd been put through that excruciatingly long day, due to circumstances they all still didn't quite understand (and they had consulted the generals too, which just gave them a brief notion of something about testing bonds and true love's kiss coming in all shapes and sizes, whatever that meant).

Between the stresses of being rendered a diminutive creature that could neither speak or move around in a very coordinated fashion, and also falling prey to instincts that had been very against Dogma's actual nature, he certainly deserve the few extra minutes he'd spent under the warm spray. He wasn't one to overly indulge or hog the hot water privileges, but for once he thought to treat himself since there was really no one else around at this time of night who'd even need to wash up.

After his 15 cheeky minutes (5 more than his usual, he'd been feeling generous) were up, he turned off the shower and quietly padded towards the bench where he'd left his towels and clean body-glove.

One towel was swiftly wrapped around his midsection. The other was put to use vigorously drying his hair. And while Dogma busied himself with that, he couldn't help but to hum in delight at the soft texture of the pristine fabric. The towels he'd picked up from Requesitions were still fairly new, so they hadn't become the unpleasantly rough rags that most clones often had to contend with during shower time.

And he really, really, hated the feeling of those warn out towels. It was like taking sandpaper to his entire body, and it often left him feeling itchy and irritated. Chafed skin was a right pain in the shebs to deal with, especially when you had to wear a full body garment like the body-gloves.

Thoughts of unpleasant textures and damaged skin aside, the clone sergeant sighed contentedly. He felt refreshed and relaxed. It took him very little time to dress himself and even less to give himself a once-over on the mirror.

He was human again. That was a great comfort to him. And to the vode currently waiting for him.

Storing his hygiene kit away in his locker, and putting the used towels in the bins that would be taken to be washed in the morning, Dogma calmly retreated out of the showers and made his way towards the barracks.

The halls were empty of any foot-traffic as was to be expected at this particular time. The only movement really being that of himself, and a few mouse droids that were going about their own business. It was perfectly peaceful and he was grateful for that. He didn't need any more excitement after everything that had happened. At least not for a good long while...

As he crossed the threshold separating the halls from the barracks, he was met with a welcoming sight.

"There you are, Dogma!" Tup greeted him enthusiastically from where he was currently standing, motioning for him to move over. "Come help me sort this blanket out, I can't get it to sit right!"

Dogma rolled his eyes as he approached, passing by other brothers who were currently preoccupied with their own parts of the 'projects' they'd decided to construct.

He stood opposite to Tup and took hold of part of the blanket.

"That's because you're not tucking the corners right." He pointed out as he began to tuck his side of the blanket beneath the mattress of the top bunk. The way he was doing it made it drape over the bunks like a curtain. "Here, like this it won't stick out oddly..."

"You're usually the one who does it..." Tup shrugged, kneeling down so he could begin tossing pillows into the bottom bunk and the mattress laid out in front of it.

"Because I do it right. Honestly, a blanket fortress that's poorly constructed won't offer much comfort or privacy." He huffed, before stepping back to admire his handywork. "Are Echo and Fives back with the pilfered snacks yet?"

"It's not pilfering if you skipped all of four meals!" Tup grinned.

"I technically ate late meal, so it was actually only three..." Dogma pointed out before sitting down on the bunk. With all the extra padding and blankets it felt like laying on a field of cotton.

Or perhaps a fluffy cloud? Whatever the case, it felt nice.

"They're on their way." Jesse sat down next to Dogma, holopad in hand. "And the holo's nearly done downloading."

"Fives said this one's good! Something about a creche master lady that's taking care of a rich senator guy's younglings, and lots of singing and fantastical shenanigans." Hardcase jumped up onto the bunk, knocking into Jesse who subsequently bumped into Dogma.

Both scowled at him but readjusted their positions so they could sit more comfortably.

"Sounds interesting." Tup smiled lazily as he too joined the trio on the bunk. He wrapped an arm around Dogma's shoulder, pulling him closer so that he could rest his head against the crook of his neck.

He found himself leaning into the touch with a pleased sigh.

All around them several vode sorted out their own blanket fortresses and the likes to settle into mini vodpiles. Some already had snacks that they'd been stashing for one such occasion. Others had holos they were being lulled to sleep by. Comfortable, warm and safe at home base. Away from the horrors of the field for another night.

Dogma even caught sight of the medics draped over each other in a corner, having set up a makeshift cot out of mattresses and pillows. They had been so exhausted that they'd just fallen asleep sprawled out. Kix and Coric curled up at the edges to form a protective barrier between the world and their younger siblings.

He could see Sponge snoring away while their barghest lay on their chest. A dark patch of drool steadily forming over where her jaws had contact with the body-glove. Twitch in turn, was pressed up between Sponge and Pitch, one hand tangled in Beautiful's fluff.

Dogma's gaze soon fell away from the resting medics and onto the one piece of evidence of that day's misadventure. He wondered what they'd be doing with the terrarium, since it wasn't like they needed it anymore. Honestly he really hoped they would just give it back to whomever had lent it in the first place, because no one needed any more incentive for Hardcase to beg for an actual battalion mascot.

And Dogma seriously did not want them to get a frog after he'd been one himself, even if it had been for only a singular day.

It would feel a little weird. More so than his lingering craving for insects that he really didn't want to mention to any of his brothers. At least not right now (and it wasn't like this was the worst side effect he could have ended up with after becoming an animal).

"The Snack Cavalry has arrived!" he looked away from the empty terrarium to glance over at Fives, snorting when Echo shoved him for the noisy entrance he'd made.

"There's people trying so sleep, you di'kut!" The more sensible of the Domino Twins hissed, making his way over towards their group's blanket fortress.

Feeling Tup chuckle at his side, and then seeing Jesse and Hardcase trying to hide their grins as they watched Fives make stupid faces behind Echo's back, Dogma couldn't help but feel completely at peace for the first time in ages.

This is where he belonged. Alongside his twin and the rest of the 501st. He wouldn't dare forget that anytime soon.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #clone trooper dogma #clone trooper tup #captain rex #commander fox #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #arc trooper jesse #clone trooper hardcase #clone medic kix #clone medic coric #clone ocs #clone medic twitch #clone medic pitch #clone medic sponge #twitch belongs to gaeasun #pitch and arbiter belong to lost-on-kamino

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leafs-lover · 1 year

Text

Too Far Gone - Part Fifty

Warnings: swearing, drinking, very brief mention of sex (not really but it's there) rude people. I think that's it

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,800

Tia spent the entire next day trying not to stress. It was just another day after all.

She dropped Taylour at daycare in the morning and went to class. After class she went to work, then she went home to an empty apartment and made dinner - quinoa salad with roasted vegetables.

With Taylour at Auston’s for the night, she thought she would make use of her time and start on the clothes for her friends. She had the fabric out, sewing tape, pins and scissors were ready, the mannequin was a few feet from her sewing machine. Everything was ready, Tia wasn’t. It was taking twice as long as it should - she kept having to measure, then re-measure because she couldn’t remember what the tape said and when she finally made a cut it was way too small and ended up being a waste. Her brain needed a break, and so, she opted for a night of self-care – a long bubble bath with some wine and her audio book, face mask, hair mask and an at home manicure.

When she woke up the following morning, she felt rejuvenated and momentarily considered working on the clothes, but she already had a busy day planned; lunch with Abby, Taylour would be home in the afternoon and that night the two of them were venturing to the Leafs game -their first of the season. She didn’t want to try for too much. Heidi has been trying to help her recognize that everything doesn’t have to be done today and that burnout is a real thing and can come quickly.

With that in mind, she did nothing. She showered, brushed her teeth, got dressed – all the things she had to do – then for the first time in so long, Tia did nothing. She didn’t do laundry or make the bed – which is something Tia must do every day – she didn’t watch TV or respond to her dad’s three-day old text. She didn’t let herself think about what had been going on in her life. She didn’t try to understand the feeling that consumed her for weeks only to vanish the second Auston called her his friend. And she most definitely did not think of the kiss they shared, or the second one.

She sat on the couch and listened to an “easy listening” playlist with a cup of green tea in her hand. At one point she thought she’d get bored or antsy, she wasn’t really the type to sit around and do nothing, but it was perfect. The music mostly turned to background noise, drowned out by the nothingness Tia let consume her. It was perfect.

Tia felt completely at ease. She didn’t worry about sales or stress about the Leafs game later that night. Everything was right where it needed to be - she felt like a glow was radiating off her and wondered if anyone else could see it too.

“It’s so annoying,” Abby groans, aggressively stabbing a piece of lettuce, unimpaired by Tia’s mood.

“James always picked favourites,” Tia replies, somewhat absentmindedly. She doesn’t mean to dismiss her friend’s problem but she is on such a high she feels like she could float away.

“This isn’t picking favourites, I shut down his attempt at sex and he hasn’t sent me to the Upper Brass or let me on the pole since. I made $33 last night.” Tia can feel her frustration, not just through the words but because of the chill that erupts in the air and threatens to burst the warmth Tia has spent the morning wrapped in.

“He gets like this,” Tia tells her from experience. “It sucks but he’ll get over his ego eventually, he always does.”

Abby slams her hands against the table letting out a strangled groan. “I just hate working for him, hate him.” Abby’s nose scrunches up in disgust.

Tia looks up and nods. She gets it, she’s been there. The worst part is there is very little that can be done. Nobody wants to listen to the voice of a sex worker and even fewer are willing to help. “It’s not forever.” She says confidently, giving her friends hand a squeeze. “You have some big things coming.”

“I know.” Abby shakes her head defeatedly and sighs. “Anyways, enough about me. Tell me about you, how’s the line doing?”

“Uh.” Tia shifts in her seat and clears her throat. “There is nothing to say. I haven’t sold anything.”

“It’s only been a couple of days.” Abby nods in the direction of the couch. “These things take time.”

“God, you sound like Auston.” Tia grumbles as she follows her friend and slumps onto the old lumpy brown futon Abby never bothered to replace.

“What else did Auston say?”

“I don’t want to-”

“I could use the distraction.” Abby pleads with desperation in her voice.

There is a second where Tia considers fighting her. She didn’t think much could burst her bubble, but diving into Auston and her failures seems like it has the potential to do so.

“That I’m going to do fine because I’m destined for greatness or something…I don’t know. He was worried about being a bad parent which was more important than my clothing line. Between that and the kiss, it all sort of blurs together.”

“What?!” Abby chokes on her tea. How could Tia let her ramble on about the same old Brass Rail drama for a half hour when she has been sitting on this? “You’re kissing Auston again.”

“I’m not kissing Auston again.” Tia stares blankly at the popcorn ceiling.

“You just said –“

“It didn’t mean anything; it was a friendly kiss.” Abby instantly notices her words don’t match the pink that flushes her cheeks and the small smile trying to force its way through. “Completely platonic.”

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” Abby’s brows furrow. She sets down her mug and shifts on the couch, straightening out her back in preparation for what clearly won’t be an easy topic given her friends’ stubbornness.

“What?” Tia rolls her head to the side with an exaggerated huff.

“There is no such thing as a platonic kiss with your ex,” Abby almost yells, dumbfounded that she has to explain this.

“That’s what they were.” Tia groans. This is why she didn’t plan to tell Abby; she didn’t plan to tell Becks or Heidi. It’s not a big deal but everyone else will make it one.

“They?” Abby wiggles her eyebrows. “There was more than one?”

“Two. But they didn’t mean anything.”

Abby is beginning to wonder if Tia believes the more she says it the more it will become true. It’s the only explanation for the ridiculousness being uttered.

“You kissed Auston, your ex-boyfriend, father of your child, the person you had a crazy and unmatchable love with, and it meant nothing?” Abby scoffs.

“I wouldn’t call it crazy and unmatchable,” Tia trails off, fighting the memories that begin to flood her mind.

“You called him the best sex of your life,” Abby says bluntly, not missing a beat and Tia’s face burns in horror.

One night at the end of summer the two of them ventured back here after a night at the club. With a few glasses of red wine on a rather empty stomach – her specialty at the time – Tia couldn’t stop talking even if someone paid her. When she woke in the morning, her memory clouded by a wine-filled haze and she couldn’t remember if it was real or all a dream, when Abby never mentioned it, Tia assumed the latter.

“Most of the time when Thomas got you off it was because you were thinking of Auston.” Abby says with a knowing look.

“All that proves is on top of being a shitty person, Thomas couldn’t find the g-spot. I can miss Auston’s dick without missing him” Tia defends. “I appreciate you looking out for me Abs, but the kisses weren’t anything. They were short, no tongue, the other person didn’t even have time to kiss back.

“But you thought about kissing him back?”

“No.”

Tia’s lying. Abby knows it. It’s obvious in the way her eyes dart left then right, up then down, anywhere except towards her friend and the constant drumming of her fingers against her mug. The most obvious sign is the way she instantly shuts down this topic. Tia never used to keep everything bottled up but years at a strip club where men treated her as anything but a human it almost became second nature. Unfortunately for Tia, Abby knows her, and Abby knows that when she shuts down like this it’s because she is too stubborn to admit she’s wrong.

“My parents thought raising my sister and I in a two-parent home was more important than us seeing them happy. They stayed together for about 5 years longer than they should have.”

“I know Abby.” Tia groans. She’s not a stranger to this story.

“Then you should know I’m pretty good at telling when two people aren’t in love. You love Auston.” Abby says pointedly.

Tia flies off the couch and slams her mug on the table. The only thing hotter than her blood are the words leaving from her lips and the steam coming out of her ears. “I do not love him!”

“Tia, come on,” Abby laughs, almost at her wits end. She loves her friend but sometimes she wishes she could smack her upside the head and knock some sense into her.

“No, you come on! You never met him; you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t have to know him; I know you and you -”

“ABIGAIL!” Tia snaps.

Her jaw is clenched so tight her molars are grinding. She has nothing left to say, more importantly, there isn’t anything Tia wants to hear. How can Abby assume to know Tia’s heart after a half hour together?

Tia leaves her mug on the counter and walks to the door. She steps into her boots and grabs her jacket, forcing her arms through the sleeves before she reaches for the handle.

“Stop being scared Tia,” Abby calls out, leaving all the vitriol behind. “You’re only hurting yourself.” The words barely have a chance to hang in the air before the door slams heavily behind her.

The scent of popcorn, nachos and beer fill the air. Tia stands at the door to the MLSE suite, grasping Taylour’s hand and takes a deep breath. She might be feeling better but she in no way is feeling good. If only her son could share some of his energy with her.

After Abby’s she walked home.

The air was calm a steady drizzle fell from the sky. Her toes and the ends of her hair were wet. She originally planned on taking the TTC home, but she needed some time to decompress before seeing Auston and Taylour.

She stopped for a tea on the way home. She thought she needed warmth but twenty minutes later when she was walking off the elevator her cup was full and cold. She had a bitter taste in her mouth.

Her walk did little to calm the erratic thumping against her ribs. It was crazy to her that one lunch could take her from practically floating away to wanting to tape her friends face to a punching bag. She considered calling Emily or Becks to bitch about Abby, but they are both at work. And if talking to Abby proved one thing it’s that nobody will understand the circumstances surrounding her kiss with Auston. How can she tell them what happened with Abby and not tell them about Auston?

She wouldn’t say she was in a good mood by the time Taylour came home, but she was feeling better. Then came Taylour, bursting through the door, smiling ear to ear with two suite passes in his hand. He barely managed to say bye to Auston through his excitement.

Tia listened to Taylour tell her about his time with Auston. He told her how they went bowling with Fred (she already knew that), and how they went skating (she also knew that) and about the big bowl of ice cream his uncle Fred let him have not too long before bed (she knew that too). He told her about beating Fred in a game of mini-sticks and how he read his bedtime story “right” this time. Tia listened and smiled and when Taylour had finally filled her in on everything that happened over the last day and a half, she ventured to the bathroom to start getting ready. Time and Taylour were beginning to settle her heart, but she still has a ways to go.

“Daddies going to score a goal,” Taylour proudly beams up at her.

“Oh yeah,” Tia muses and crouches down to be at his eye level.

“Yeah Mommy, I told him too and he said he would.”

A light laugh escapes Tia following Taylour’s admission. If only it were that easy.

She tugs the Leafs toque from his head and pulls the zipper down revealing the jersey he was gifted last season. While he has grown and the sleeves are a little short, it’s not that noticeable, and when Taylour informed her he was going to wear it, there was no telling him otherwise.

“Where’s your shirt Mommy?” Taylour purses his lips while he carefully examines her outfit - a perfectly tailored pair of vegan leather pants and a deep plunging navy blue bodysuit she designed herself.

“Mommy doesn’t have one,” Tia explains whiles hanging their jackets in the closet. He has become more observant recently and sometimes it catches her off guard. “But I’m wearing blue because Daddy’s team is blue.”

“Daddy will get you one.”

“You’ll have to remember to ask,” she smiles sweetly at him.

“Okay.” He eagerly nods.

When Tia finally scans around the suite she notices some new and familiar faces, but mostly it’s the look on them. They likely weren’t expecting to see her, or for her to come looking the way she is.

It wasn’t her intention to go all out with dark eyes and bright red lips, but her frustration from Abby bled into her appearance. She just kept picking up bottles and brushes, applying products and before she knew it, she looked like she was ready to hop up on stage under the bright neon lights at the club. Once she had the fishtail braid pulled over the white cardigan Auston gifted her and took a step back, she had a moment of ‘should I wash off some make-up’ then remembered Heidi constantly tells her to be comfortable in her own skin and stop worrying about how others perceive her. And she did just that.

Letting her ankle boots click behind them, her and Taylour walk in, through the suite, past Steph, Audrey, a sandy blonde Tia has never met before – perhaps another WAG - and Victoria and Tessa who both smile politely at her. Tia smiles back, and takes Taylour toward the stairs, guiding him down the steps to the glass. Once at ice level, Tia picks Taylour up and sets him on the tiny ledge where the glass and boards meet. She then put one hand on his back to keep him in place while the music makes the concrete vibrate under her feet.

“Mommy look!” He squeals when the team steps onto the ice.

“I see,” she smiles at him, brushing aside a few of his curls.

“It’s Daddy’s friends!”

His eyes struggle to track the dark blue flashes that buzz by, and every time a puck hits the glass near his face he flinches then giggles. It’s not until part way through the drills, does Auston finally appear in front of them, tapping and smiling through the glass.

“Daddy!” Taylour shrieks. Bringing a hand up to the glass he fist bumps Auston through it. “Hi Daddy!” he waves.

“Hi Taylour,” Auston yells through a gap in the glass.

“Look!” Taylour points to his stomach to show off his jersey, as if that wasn’t the first thing Auston saw.

“Puck?” Auston tries to yell through the glass, unable to shake the smile on his face.

When Taylour doesn’t immediately acknowledge him over the loud music and laughter of the fans, he bends down and holds a puck up for him to see, instantly being met with an eager nod. With a wide grin, Tia sets Taylour on the ground and prepares to catch it, then hands it to Taylour who starts jumping up and down excitedly.

With Taylour no longer in front, Auston’s eyes finally find Tia, and his cock throbs under the equipment. While he loves her with messy hair and not a drop of makeup on, she looks absolutely breathtaking tonight - cherry red lips always did something to him.

“Mommy, it has Daddy’s leaf on it,” Taylour holds the puck up for her to see.

Daddy’s leaf.

The first time he said that Auston was confused. He hadn’t had a plant in his condo since he killed one in under two months, but he ignored it. Taylour said it a few more times over the coming weeks always leaving Tia and Auston puzzled. Then one day she saw Taylour carefully examining the Leafs mini-stick given to him for his birthday and put the pieces together. It was so endearing, the fact Taylour thought it was Daddy’s leaf because it’s on his jersey neither one could correct him.

“Would you look at that.” Tia examines the puck and passes it back to him. “It does have Daddy’s leaf on it.” Turning her attention back to Auston, she mouths “good luck” through the glass earning a grin before he skates off to rejoin the warmup.

As Auston and Mitch stepped off the ice, Tia and Taylour remained at the glass along with a few other parents that lingered to watch the Zamboni’s. When they finally finished cleaning the ice, Tia and Taylour set out to return to their seats when Tia heard her phone chime from her purse.

I’m really happy you’re here ❤

She smiles, remembering how before every game in Zurich she’d receive a similar text.

Good luck tonight.

Auston smiles, remembering how he used to receive a similar text in Zurich, except those ones were often accompanied by a dirty message detailing her plans for later that night.

Someone says you promised them a goal.

Not quite the message he used to get, but somehow he thinks he prefers this motivation.

I’ll get one for you too 😉

Auston watches the typing bubbles pop up, then disappear, then pop up again. After the third time he locks his phone and shoves it on the shelf. Whatever it is will have to wait until after the game.

Tia and Taylour sat alone. Aryne was at home and Victoria chose to sit in the suite, something Taylour was wildly against. Steph, Tessa and Aubrey were a few rows down sitting with the woman Tia had never met, laughing and chatting amongst themselves. She isn’t bothered by it, after the day she had she actually preferred to sit alone and not have to make small talk for a few hours.

Like the last game, Taylour was mesmerized by it all. The lights, loud fans, Carlton the bear, the music. He understood the game a little more – mostly that when the loud horn followed by the Hall and Oates song went off it meant Daddy’s team had scored. Just like the last game he wanted popcorn and M&M’s, pizza and a pop. And like the last game Tia let him and took to the glass to watch the Zambonis.

“They go so fast,” Taylour yawns. Letting his head fall to her shoulder he keeps watching them make their rounds.

“Yeah, they do,” she faintly kisses his forehead.

“I’m going to drive the ‘boni when I’m older.” He yawns sharply and rubs his cheek against her white cashmere sweater.

“You sure that’s her?” Tia hears a woman’s loud whisper from behind her.

“Look at the kids jersey,” another voice chimes in. “That’s definitely his kid, and you saw what she’s wearing right? Couldn’t look more like a stripper if she tried.”

Tia doesn’t want it to bother her. She knows better than anyone that there isn’t a “look” that can label someone as a stripper. When the lights are on, the faces are washed, extensions removed and clothes put back on, they look exactly like every person roaming the streets of Toronto.

Tia knows this.

She knew this before she started therapy. She has spent so much time in therapy talking about this.

But in this moment, she struggles to feel it. She tries to hear Heidi’s voice say “if you wouldn’t accept their advice don’t accept their criticism” but she can’t drown out their snickering and snide remarks.

“Didn’t realize it was bring your whore to work day,” one of them sneers, and at that point she has heard enough but is too stunned to respond.

The sound of a camera shutter sends goosebumps erupting up her spine and every prickle threatens to pull the air from her lungs. Her jaw clicks and entire body stiffens as she fights the brimming tears. Tia wishes she had the strength to fight back, but it’s almost as if they know it’s her weak spot and keep driving the knife in.

“Auston could do so much better than her, she’s just heavy makeup and big boobs.”

“They’re probably fake.”

“They definitely are.”

Every laugh and jeer only glued her feet further to the floor. The pounding of her heart is somehow louder than the music blaring over the speakers but quieter than the girl a few rows back. It’s not until the taste of copper floods her mouth does she realize how hard she has been biting her lower lip.

Taylour lets out a soft murmur and her motherly instinct kicks in. All she can do is bring a hand up and tuck him in tight to her shoulder. With a quick glance at the clock, she has four minutes to find the strength to turn around and walk up the stairs, four minutes to face them.

“Delete the pictures.” A voice speaks from behind her.

“Excuse me?” They try to play dumb.

“I said Delete the pictures.” They reiterate, louder and firmer this time.

Tia recognizes the voice but can’t put a face to it. It’s a woman but not Victoria. If not her then who?

“You can’t make me!” One of the young girls replies, very snarkily.

“If you know who she is then you know who I am,” they say firmly. “I’m Mitch’s girlfriend, and if you honestly don’t think I can get you kicked out from here you are poorly mistaken. Delete them. Now.”

There is a stare down between Steph and the three women, after a few seconds Tia hears them mutter something. Once Steph watches them delete all of the pictures, she grabs Tia’s arm and drags her down a hall towards the platinum club access, past the small concession area and weaves through a small crowd. They round a corner and find a quiet hallway. Finally, Tia can breathe.

“Thank…thank you,” she stammers out, still processing what just happened, and that Steph of all people was the one to come to her defense. Tia knows Steph looks down on her. She made that clear with the comments at the NHL awards, the looks that are glued to her face anytime Steph is forced to share her air. Her being the person to jump to Tia’s aid makes zero sense, but at this point Tia doesn’t care.

“Any time.” She sends Tia a soft smile, one that radiates sincerity. “Most of the fans are chill and don’t care about us, there’s a few exceptions.”

“So I’m learning.” Tia’s heart has yet to settle, her entire body is still numb. “Thank you,” she repeats, louder this time. “You didn’t have to help me. I know you have opinions based of my job –“

“Woah,” Steph eye’s narrow as she puts her palm up in the air. “Okay, maybe at first I was taken aback by what you do, but whatever, I’m past that, have been for a while.”

“Then why don’t you like me? You barely talk to me.”

“You haven’t exactly gone out of your way to talk to me.” Steph scoffs, leaving Tia slightly baffled. Maybe she hasn’t tried but Steph shouldn’t be surprised by that, she hasn’t been all that welcoming.

“You obviously have a problem with me,” Tia sighs, dropping her gaze to the side. This is the last thing she wants to deal with today.

“Auston is one of Mitch’s best friends, I’ve watched him get pummeled by you too many times this year.”

Tia rolls her eyes hard and shakes her head. “I don’t owe you an explanation or an apology over what you think happened,” Tia informs her, slowly becoming more annoyed.

“I know about Vegas.“ Steph states bluntly.

“Jesus,” Tia mutters bitterly while letting her face scrunch up. She acknowledges Steph knows they slept together, anyone at the table could have made that conclusion, but does Steph know about Tia’s crumbling mental health at the time? That Auston was nothing more than a band aid thrown over a broken limb? “Make one mistake –“

“One mistake?” Steph laughs. “You spent weeks giving him false hope only to tear the rug out from under him.”

“I didn’t intend to hurt him,” she replies curtly, any compassion long ago faded. “But we both made mistakes. If you really were his friend, you’d be happy that we’ve forgiven each other and moved past them.”

“I sincerely hope that’s true,” Steph trails off when the stadium erupts into a chorus of boos over something a ref didn’t call. When the crowd settles, Steph eyes over to Taylour – eyes barely open. “For his sake.”

There is that switch Tia knew Steph had. One minute she is your saving grace and the next she is tearing her down. At least she has the decency to do it to her face this time.

“It’s easy to make assumptions when you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Tia bites. Steph may have a switch, but Tia has one of her own. “Auston doesn’t come running to you with his problems.” He does that with me is what she wants to say but bites her tongue. “You know nothing of what we’ve gone through.” Steph’s jaw clicks, she didn’t realize she was throwing gasoline on an already burning flame. Tia looks around carefully then takes a step closer, she speaks in a hushed yet angered tone. “Don’t ever give me parenting advice again.”

Tia returned to her seat. A few minutes later she watched Steph’s golden blonde ponytail sway side to side as she trotted up the stairs to her friends. She had a perfect little smile pressed to her face, but Tia could tell she was putting on a façade.

The entire third period was a bit of a blur. Taylour was nestled on her shoulder, and it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. There was a lot of goals both ways, including two more for Auston which completed his first hat trick of the season. Taylour slept through it all.

Tia spent that time with the gears spinning in her brain. She thought about what Abby said, she thought about the fans and her interaction with Steph. When the final horn went off and the team saluted the fans, Tia was so consumed in her thoughts she stayed in her seat long after everyone left.

“Hey T.” Auston pops up beside her, causing her to jump. He wraps his arms around them both and breathes out a serene exhale. He places a kiss against Taylour’s forehead, not even receiving a faint mumble in response, then places one against Tia’s cheek.

“Good game.” Her back is stiff, but she returns a kiss to his chest, then buries herself between his suit and wool jacket.

“Thanks.” He already saw her ‘good game’ text she sent a few minutes ago (and that was the only text because she never responded to the one before the game), but he always was preferential to hearing it in person.

“He saw you make good on your promise before he fell asleep.” She hasn’t let go, but neither has he.

“Yeah.” Auston lets out an airy laugh and Tia feels her knees start to give out – she always loved that sound.

“Made good on my promise to you too.” She tilts her head up to him, getting her first look of him. His tie must be tucked in a pocket because the top couple buttons are open, chest hair poking out. The scruff on his jaw is dark, longer than normal – it’s been a few days since he last shaved, but that mustache she used to hate has never looked so good.

When Auston finally gets to see the warmth behind her eyes, he shifts slightly. Earlier Auston was fixated on the game and couldn’t let the thought cloud his judgement, now he can’t help but wish his Gucci pants weren’t so tight.

“Ready to go?”

Not really is her immediate thought, but it wasn’t an actual question. Auston is already sliding his hands under Taylour’s armpits, pealing the sleeping toddler from her grasp. With his other hand finding the small of her back, he carefully guides her down the hall.

Once in the car, he struggles to not notice her behaviour. Constant drumming of her fingers on her thighs, blowing air out of her lips, fiddling with her coat zipper. He tries to tell himself he is imagining all the nervous energy that is roaring from the passenger seat, but when Tia asks him to park in the garage and help bring Taylour upstairs, he knows something is wrong.

“You okay?” Auston asks.

After taking Taylour to his room, Auston removed his boots and clothes. He tucked him and Geoffery in tight only to find Tia exactly where he left her - standing with the filtering streetlight illuminating the room, her back is against the counter and lips are pursed - she is deep in thought.

“T?” Auston nudges her, snapping her from whatever darkness is filling the air.

“Yeah.” She brings a hand up and brushes aside a tear that clings to the corner of her eye. “Thanks for bringing him up. Have a good night.”

There is a hollowness in her words and a stiffness in the way she moves, it’s a sight Auston hasn’t seen for months. He may have left her like this in the past, but not now. They have grown so much, not just as individuals or Taylour’s parents but as friends. There isn’t even a second thought, he knows he’s staying and so does she.

When Tia steps out of the bathroom her face is bare and hair released from the intricate braid. She has on a pair of beige skin-tight shorts and an oversized tee that falls off one shoulder. Auston is standing with his dress shirt untucked, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His phone, wallet, watch and belt are on the dresser, and he is lingering to the side, waiting for her.

“Is it alright if I crash here tonight? Kind of tired.” They both know that’s not the real reason.

“Yeah,” she starts tossing throw pillows around, letting them scatter the floor. “I think you left some pyjamas behind.”

“Left or you stole?” Auston teases, drawing a faint blush to her cheeks.

All the lights were off when Auston left the bathroom. Tia had the duvet high to her chin, but Auston didn’t need to see her to know she was deep in thought. Using his memory and the faint city lights that were filtering in the windows, he navigates the darkness to lift the corner of the duvet.

“What’s going on?”

The bed dips as Auston lies down. Not worried about personal space, he crowds her. Tia attempts to shift back to give him more room, but every time she moves, he is right there, filling the space she used to occupy.

She takes a deep breath of his faint cologne then releases a shaky exhale. “Just some bullshit with some fans.”

“What happened?” His voice is leaching with concern, but she can feel the bitterness he’s trying to hide.

Tia sighs then tilts her head to look at him. Even though she can’t see anything beyond a silhouette through the darkness, she needs to see him. Keeping her voice barely above a whisper, Tia tells him of the comments that were made, and it doesn’t take long for her to feel him stiffen or hear muttered curse words.

“Who the fuck cares what they think?” Auston spits out, cutting her off before she can get into everything that came afterward with Steph. “Own that shit and be proud of it, because I’m proud of you.” Tia allows a smile to break across her lips, Auston always knew exactly what to say. “So fucking proud,” he emphasizes, giving her a soft squeeze. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he adds, letting out a hefty sigh.

“It’s alright.”

“No Tia! It’s not okay! Nothing about what happened is okay.”

“You’re right,” she concedes, keeping her voice soft. “But there is nothing we can do about it.” There is a moment of silence that ensues, and Tia knows Auston is stewing beside her. She knows he is going to take the blame for what happened, let it eat at him as if he’s somehow responsible – he is just that type of person. “There is nobody else I’d want to do this with,” Tia adds softly, but Auston can sense the residual pain in her voice.

Auston doesn’t answer. Instead, he navigates the dark and places a kiss to her cheek, catching the edge of her lip. He either doesn’t notice; or, after what happened only days ago, doesn’t care.

His arms tighten and his hand slips under her shirt, resting just above the waistband on her shorts. Something about his touch always was grounding, and tonight is no different. The longer it sits there the more she feels her worries begin to fade.

It’s not long before the weight of the day is gone and she slips into a slumber, but unfortunately it doesn’t come as easy for Auston. He is full of worry over what happened. Every time he thinks they are taking a step forward they take five back. He wants Tia to be a part of his world, for Taylour to be at practices and games, but how can she be when this is the response?

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