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a-ladyman-in-waiting · 11 months

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A Lady in Waiting (1)

[A story in the works]

I don’t know about you, but I think that some, if not all of us, want to be someone else.

Especially in the realm of fantasy, where anyone could be as powerful as they could be.

But in this case, we just got to know the fellow before their transformation.

Otherwise, she’ll have no context.

Or us in that sense.

A Lady in Waiting

Chapter 1

“What a day.”

“I really want to buy something to eat”

“But I already ate, so why do I feel like buying snacks?”

“I traveled through whole crowds to get a limited edition Bakugan. That was the whole reason why I came here all this way for nothin, was to buy a special toy.”

The complainer over here is Brendon Rivera.

A college student, aged 22.

He often complained about stuff that happened to him.

Like the time he dropped a card onto a puddle of water.

[NOOOOO]

Or the time that he has to help out at work despite having no classes over the weekend.

[maaaaaaannnnnn]

Or the time that two buses passed by him.

[you absolute {beep-beep}, pieces of {beep}, {beep-beep}, I swear to lord I will {beep} {beep} {beeeeeep}.]

I’ll give him a pass for that. The bus system is a total mess.

Anyways, Brendon is walking around town moping about losing a toy that he didn’t need.

Until…he noticed a sign.

“Huh. That wasn’t there before.”

He takes a moment to read the sign.

Garage sale today. From 4/7 to 4/12.

Over on Gallon Road.

“Huh. A garage sale. Wonder if they have anything.”

This is where it began…ok maybe not.

It took Brendon five minutes to get there, mainly because he took his time walking.

But when he reached Gallon Road, he noticed a bunch of boxes, a couch, a few TVs, tables with several shirts, old big toys, shiny objects and oddly shaped objects.

“Huh.”

When he got closer, he saw a collection of toy cars, remote control cars, gold chain necklaces, even more shirts of different colors.

He also found lamps, vases, plates, a dark green couch with a patch of worn out red, a brown coat rack behind a pile of boxes and paintings.

“Oh dang.”

Then one object in particular caught his attention.

Two necklaces.

A pearl necklace fit for a lady.

And a necklace with a strange looking design, holding an egg-shaped white gem surrounded by six red gems.

Brendon found himself drawn to the large pearl.

He was bending over to get a closer look.

He developed an urge to buy them.

So he looked up and said,

“How much for these two?”

An elderly woman came over and told him,

“$120.34”

“Oh.”

[I mean…I was going to blow $250 on a limited edition Bakugan…]

“Ok”

[Welp, at least mom might like the pearl necklace.]

Brendon handed over 6 $20 bills, a quarter, and a dime, where he received a penny in return.

[I still have some money left over…but I better save it]

“Thanks!” Said Brendon.

“No problem!” The elderly woman chimed.

Brendon walked away with two pretty necklaces. An action that would change his life forever.

Now it begins.

It was a relatively uneventful evening at home.

After Brendon showed his mother the two necklaces, she was awestruck by the fancy necklaces and thanked him for the pearl necklace. Brendon put away his necklace to try on later because he has a lot that he should be doing.

Brendon helped with his sister’s homeworks (reluctantly I might add).

The family ate their dinner, took showers, and generally went to bed. However, Brendon decided to stay up a bit longer to check up on his necklace.

“Ok, let’s take a closer look.”

He picked up his necklace and studied it.

“Hmmm…oh dang…the white egg pearl is pretty big.”

“Like almost bigger than my thumb…”

“The shape of the gold looks like a fire fighter sign. There are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 rubies.”

“They’re also egg shaped.”

“It’s pretty heavy for a necklace, so I probably shouldn’t run with this.”

Brendon put on the necklace and looked into the mirror.

“Hmmmm….”

“Mmm…”

“I guess it’s nice.”

“…mmmm”

“I uh…”

“Umm”

Brendon doesn’t have any idea of what he bought.

Seriously, he has no fashion sense.

“I’ll keep it on for now. I might have an idea later on”

“Such as a plan for pumpkin spice latte.”

“Like how much pumpkin sauce should you use to keep it sweet but not too sweet.”

“There’s a coffee shop down the road, but it’s pretty expensive. But they do have croissants and pan dulce.”

“Man I could go for some pan dulce, maybe I can get some when I come back or such.”

“But I really don’t want to bump into Renaldo.”

“He’s rude.”

“Like the time that he sprayed me with water and I then slipped and fell from trying to catch him.”

“Or the time that he bumped me while I was dribbling the ball. Making me fall down.”

“Or the time that he put gum in my hair and I got in trouble for punching him.”

“Just unfair.”

That was years ago, Brendon.

“Like I’m just still mad over this.”

“Like I just don’t like him.”

“I hate him, honestly.”

“I hate his little goofy face.”

“I hate how he gets attention from everyone.”

“I hate how he gets away with shit.”

“I just don’t. Want. To. See. Him.”

He covers his mouth. And looks around.

“Oh shoot. I must’ve been pretty loud.”

“Sorry guys.”

He walks into the kitchen and looks at himself in the mirror.

“I honestly don’t like how I look like. I mean I’m messy. I stink. I’m generally the face of gross things…I wish I looked pretty. Like a dragon lady, with sexy clothes, a long tail, beautiful wings, and a voice that everyone goes ’Mama Mia’…”

Brendon snickers to himself.

“hehehe”

Then he takes a deep breath.

“Besides, I’m always the “quiet one.” Like I have stuff I want to say as well. Like for example, I like leotards….shit no…anything except for what I draw.”

“Never mind, I’ll probably just never mention that at all.”

“I sound like a pervert.”

“Ignore the part about the dragon lady stuff…”

Brendon sighs.

Then he went to the kitchen to clean the table to make space to draw his character.

He set the sketchbook down, opened up to a blank page and picked up his pencil.

He then put on his headphones to listen to his playlist of random songs that he liked.

“Ok, time to draw Madeline.”

Brendon proceeded to draw his character.

He drew the figure (body), he drew an overall leotard shape, he marked where the gloves and thigh highs would end, then he hurriedly drew a tail with fins.

Brendon stopped for a moment…

He started thinking…

Then he made quick shapes for wings, then sketched the fingers, the horns, the hair…

Along the way, he made a few mistakes.

Then he erased them.

Then he drew them again, made a mistake and erased.

This was how he usually draws…

He sketches the long skirt. Gotta have cover, I suppose.

He sketches the top part…

A…boob window…and a choker…

Oh boy.

The gloves…they’re baggy around the shoulders and tight around the wrist…

And he gave her a…rose…on the waist…

And…oh my…he’s drawing a vine pattern around the skirt…

how…complicated…

Anyways, Brendon’s eyes began to grow heavy. He stood up from his seat and began to yawn and stretch.

His piece remains as a sketch…

Smudges, furry lines, an overly simple face on top of a detailed body.

A front facing figure, hands that may not remain the same, multiple fabric folds.

Need I go on?

“Alright, that’s enough…” Brendon muttered.

He packed up his sketchbook.

Packed it into his backpack.

Brushed his teeth and tongue.

He hates the taste.

Then he went to bed.

OK…Now it begins.

#a-lady-in-waiting-story-post #New-story-home

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audio-luddite · 2 years

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Four new LPs

I bought myself an early Xmas present. Four new LPs comprising 2 albums. They are both double 180s at 45. (Hmmm sounds like a skateboarding trick)

Decoded it means both play at 45 RPM and have the songs pressed over four sides instead of two. Double the fun!

The first one is a repress of Fleetwood Mac's Rumours. I have an original 1977 pressing which has been played hundreds of times. I figured it deserved a rest and a nice clean high end copy was a good idea. Also Rumours has the most iconic Christine Mcvie song on it "songbird". I fired up the system and let it run for an hour on my CD machine to get it all warmed up. Then I turned up the volume and let her rip.

Four sides means more record flipping, but get over it droogs. It does sound different. 45 RPM should bring better clearer treble, but the thing I noticed was the Bass. Huh? The drums were punchier and better defined. Yes Mr Fleetwood likes tinkling bells in his kit and that was better too. McVie's Bass was more present as well. Probably due to the cut tracks being wider at 45 RPM.

Also I always knew that Buckingham did all the lead guitar stuff, but now I could clearly separate the numerous tracks he did with I suppose different guitars as the sound was very different. They were also put in the mix across the sound stage differently. So overall noticeably clearer.

One thing I found in the lead in groove was much more turntable rumble. Yes I turned it up which makes a difference, but I have played music that loud before ( and after ) with not so much rumble. I suspect it may even have been the lathe used. Those are heavy machines and all are getting really old. They have not made new ones for a very long time.

Whatever! Once the music starts I am having fun. I know I do not have a megabuck system but my phazer TT is better than good enough.

The second album was Diana Krall's "Live in Paris". It won a few awards and this was a new mastering and pressing as well. Three of the four sides had outstanding sound. Side three had an occasional problem. There is a zipping sound in a couple places. To me it seems like there may have been a flaw in the cutting, or bubbles in the lacquer? It dominated in one channel so maybe even a thing in the mastering amp or could it have been my amp. Oh dear. I will have to play it through again to be sure. I have heard this thing before on other albums. All the other sides are FN perfect.

The music is nice Jazz American Songbook with a bit of Canadian Content. I really like live albums as the sound feels more natural to me. The crowd noise and applause gives you an idea of the real space. ( A great example of that is Simon and Garfunkle's Live in Central Park ) The recording is very good. I really appreciated the sound of the Piano. I know those are hard to mike convincingly. The Piano sounds BIG.

If you can get a nice record of music you like that is best. You have to keep the balance between the total nerding out on technical quality and the music. Some people miss the boat. I recall reading about a person with a nice stereo showing it off to another person. That other person then told him he was not an audiophile as he played whole albums through. Real audiophile will play short cuts of this and that to show off their systems. From that perspective I am not an audiophile then. Or maybe that guy need therapy.

Respect the artists who want you to listen to the whole album. That's why they made it you know.

Here I have two great albums of music I like with high end sound quality. I bought them from "Acoustic Sounds" online. They sell some nice stuff even though their name is redundant.

Feed the habit.

#High end audio #audiophile records #audioblr #vinyl #acoustic sounds #Diana Krall #Fleetwood Mac

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dreams-foretold · 7 months

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Fear! Tamayori's Haunted Dollhouse Prologue

Author: Yuuki Yoshino (結城由乃) || Translator: Vixen Characters: Sora, Hinata, Yuuta

"Besides, The two of us can't run something as large-scale like a haunted house anyways, it's impossible!"

[♪]

(Note: This blog uses oi~ssu! for the best experience, please read the story through my blog♪)

Season: Spring

Sora: HaHa～♪　HiHi～♪　HuHu～♪

HeHe～♪　wow～♪ There are 'colours' everywhere... they're sparkling like stars!

HoHo～♪ It seems like everybody is getting excited for the upcoming 'school festival,' right? Hehe, Sora is looking forward to it as well!

………？

（hmm、hmmm? Is that Hina-chan and Yuu-chan over there?）

(Sora wonders what they're doing over there? There's a dull 'colour' coming from the both of them...?)

(Hina-chan and Yuu-chan are friends with Sora! If Sora's friends are feeling troubled, he should help them out!)

HaHa～♪ Hey, Hina-chan and Yuu-chan! Sora always greets his friends♪

Hinata: Ah, Sora-kun! What a coincidence!

Yuuta: Hello, Harukawa-kun. Now that I think about it, if we're talking like this in front of the doorway...。 Are we in the way for those who are passing by?

Sora: Nope, not at all~

By the way. Hina-chan and Yuu-chan, is there something troubling you guys?

Yuuta: What? How do you know we're troubled? Are you perhaps an esper!?

Sora: Sora can't use psychic powers~. Hina-chan and Yuu-chan have dull 'colours' which made Sora think you were both having trouble!

Yuuta: Ah...｡ I recall hearing Harukawa-kun could sense sounds and smells by 'colour'. It makes me wonder if he can sense the atmosphere by 'colour' as well.

Hinata: Well, we were actually talking about how we could participate in the 'school festival.'

Yuuta: The 'school festival' is a big event, so it draws in a lot of visitors from outside the school and we'd like to join it...。 I'm not sure if we have anything in mind for what we'd be performing though.

Hinata: But we're idols, we can entertain the audience with a live performance.

I think we might do something different though, since we're probably thinking of something everyone else is thinking of as well.

Yuuta: How about we think of something other than idols then. A staple in the 'school festival' is the food and drinks, right?

Hinata: uum. I think the other ‘units’ are applying for that since it's the royal road. [ 1 ]

Oh, but how about a haunted house? I like surprising people...☆

Yuuta: Oh no. Aniki not again~. You know I don't like haunted houses!

Besides, The two of us can't run something as large-scale like a haunted house anyways, it's impossible!

Hinata: That's also true~... Jeez。if it wasn't for the 'unit' program rule, I'd drag my friends in to help put together the haunted house

Yuuta: Well, if we keep talking about this, the 'school festival' is only going to get closer

If we're going to participate, we should probably fill out the form for the student council soon.

Sora: Ohh okay~ Sora understands why Hina-chan and Yuu-chan were so gloomy!

Yuuta: What about Harukawa-kun’s group? Are you guys going with the standard ‘school festival’ system or are you going to perform live with the other idols?

Sora: HiHi~? Sora hasn't heard from Shisho~ about any plans to participate in the ‘school festival’~?

Hinata: What? So ‘Switch’ isn’t participating?

Sora: Sora’s not sure! Sora hasn't heard yet, but Sora could participate?

Hinata: If that's the case, it's best for you to ask early. Maybe they’re like us and are worried about what kind of performance should be made.

Sora: Yes! Sora will ask Shisho~ immediately!

HuHu~♪ Hina-chan, Yuu-chan, thank you for the advice! Sora appreciates his friends’ generosity♪

Hinata: Ahaha, I haven’t done anything but be nice. Ah, be sure to tell me about ‘Switch’s’ performance? I’ll come and visit!

Sora: HeHe~♪ Of course! Hina-chan, Yuu-chan be sure to tell Sora of what you decided on~. Sora wants to visit with Hina-chan and Yuu-chan too!

Hinata: Um! Unfortunately I’m going to be absent from a student event like the ‘school festival,’ so I’ll think of something we could do together until the last minute.

See ya Sora-kun, bye byee

Yuuta: See you later, Harukawa-kun

Sora: HoHo~♪ see you both later, bye byee ...☆

[☆]

The royal road is Japanese slang for something that has a easy or painless method in completing something. In some cases it's also interpreted as a classic approach to something.

#tamayori's haunted dollhouse #sora harukawa #hinata aoi #yuuta aoi #event story #translation #ensemble stars #enstars

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littlemousedroid · 2 years

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Mall Walking

Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

You see a cute guy taking a silly photo and are compelled to talk to him. You spend the afternoon walking the mall with him, deep in conversation. But you’re both from out of town so these moments at the mall are all you have.

Warnings: none really, talking, eating, light kissing

A/N: This is the first fic I’ve ever finished. I’m going to post it before I lose my nerve. Formatted and posted on mobile, not proofread. No definitive connection to Triple Frontier canon, there’s no new baby at home though. I was inspired by those photos of Pedro at the mall looking very much like Frankie.

“Are you excited for the show?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah. I guess so. I tease my friend because he kind of looks like this guy. It’s an old joke that I’m not even sure is funny.”

He’s taking a picture of the sign in the mall. It’s silly, he’s standing right in front of the sign, it must be the worst picture ever taken. All glare and reflection, can he even tell what it’s for?

“Your friend must be very good looking.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that, it’ll go straight to his head.”

“It’ll be our secret.”

He’s caught up in his phone. Sending the photo to his friend? Posting it on social media? He’s squinting at the phone like he should be wearing glasses. As if he hears your thoughts, he pulls his glasses out of his pocket, deep from within his jacket. As he puts them on he finally looks up to you.

“Hi.” He’s adorable.

“Hi, I’m Frankie.” He reaches out to shake your hand.

“And I’m sorry to interrupt.” His hands are dry and calloused in places. Like he works with them. And big, overwhelming your own.

“I’m not exactly busy.” He waves his phone as if to say that his joking isn’t important.

You laugh at that, “I suppose not. Me neither. I’m actually just here to walk around. Mall walking like a retiree.”

“Well it’s the only place warm enough for it.” He bundles deeper into his coat and sweater. How is he wearing so many layers inside?

“Yeah, I guess this is March in Alberta, spring one day, winter the next.”

“It’s much warmer back home. I guess I didn’t think about the weather when I took this job.”

That explains all the layers, he’s used to warmer climates. The skin you can see peaking out from his coat is golden, even in the middle of winter. He must spend a lot of time outside.

“Traveling for work? Let me guess, Texas?”

“Nope, Florida.”

“That is a pretty big difference. It’s practically summer there now.”

“Much warmer. Can I walk with you?”

“Oh, sure.” You head off with your new walking buddy.

“Are you from around here?” He takes his hat off and runs his hand through his hair before replacing it. It looks soft and curly. Stray curls poke out the side. He’s probably long overdue for a haircut.

“No, I’m actually traveling for work too. I’m supposed to be at a conference but I had to get away. Too many stuffed shirts trying to sell me accounting software or phone systems. But it was a paid trip away from home, how could i resist? What about you?”

“I’m a mechanic.” That explains the hands, usually buried deep in an engine.

“Don’t they have mechanics in Canada?”

He laughs, his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“I suppose so but I work on specific kinds of aircraft. My friend had a contact who needed something specific.”

“The good looking one?”

He laughed again, bright and with his whole body. “Yeah, the good looking one.”

“That sounds pretty interesting.”

“It can be, but this is just some rich fool willing to pay too much to have his toys fixed. But like you said, its a paid trip. Why not get away?”

“Yeah…” you drift off into silence as you round the corner by the escalators.

“Did you want to go up or down?”

“I’d go down on you…with you!…I’d go down with you! The escalator! Shit!” He’s blushing, his ears and face have gone red, bleeding down into his shirt. You have to laugh.

“Whoa tiger, how about we go up. Get a coffee first.” He does the thing with his hair again as you head up the escalator.

“Yeah, lets start with coffee.” You get off the escalator and head for the food court. His blush is fading, the discomfort not lasting. He walks closer to you, or is it your imagination. You stand in line waiting to order, looking at the menu like you don’t know exactly what you’ll order.

“I’ll have a black coffee, medium. And for you?” He’s asking for your order, he wants to pay for yours too. You start to protest but he gives you a look from under his hat.

“A small whole milk latte.”

“A small whole milk latte, and two cake pops.”

You giggle and he gives you another look as he pays.

“Cake pops?”

“I like to have something sweet with my coffee. I was going to share but not if you’re going to judge me.” His eyes are the color of coffee tinted with mischief.

“No judgement here. Black coffee and sugary sweets. Noted.” You wait for your coffees at the end of the bar. It’s not crowded but you’re sure he’s standing closer than necessary. It’s nice, his warm presence a comfort.

“Do you want to sit?” He motions to the seating spread around, offering you the choice.

“Sure.” You find a couch and fold your self into one corner. Frankie takes the other, at first you’re two opposites. You’re facing him and comfortable, limbs tucked here and there, like you were at home on your own sofa. Frankie sat facing forward, stiff as a board. But as the conversation flowed he became much more comfortable, relaxing into the stiff couch, moving to face you. He’s so animated, his hands flying, his face showing every emotion. And those eyes, dark pools so warm and inviting. He touches your leg…

“Well?”

“Hmmm?” You were so lost in watching his plush lips wrap around the cake pop that you hadn’t heard what he said.

“Should we take another lap? Work off these treats?”

“Absolutely! Let’s head up to third floor.” He stretched out, standing and offering you his hand to help you stand. It was welcome as your legs were all tingly from sitting so long. You collected your cups and wrappers for the trash.

Walking to the escalator you recap your conversation, “I told you about my business, you told me about the military, we both hate the cold and love peaches. Your favorite person is your abuela and you wish you had time to get a dog. I listen to too much sappy music and can make a perfect lasagna. Is there anything we missed?”

“You didn’t tell me your name.” He ruffles his hair again, is it a nervous habit?

“Frankie! How could I have forgotten such an important detail?” You dig in your purse and pull out a business card, handing it to him. He reads your name. The sound makes you shiver.

“That’s me. And see that underneath? That’s my phone number. In case you need to send a jokey photo and Pope won’t respond.”

“For emergencies, of course.” His smile is so wide, you can barely see his eyes for the crinkles.

You finish your lap around the mall and make for the elevator, pushing the button to take you down. To the parking garage. And your rental car. And away from Frankie.

“I should be getting back, there’s a presentation about…” As the door opens Frankie pushes you inside, crowding you against the wall. His gaze moving between your lips and your eyes, silently asking for permission.

It’s a whisper, “Frankie…” and his lips meet yours. Gentle, wading in, testing the waters. But you want this and you give him everything, pushing against him, letting him take the air from your lungs. It’s soft but there’s a hunger. Your hands are under his sweater, his are in your hair, trying to pull each other impossibly closer.

The elevator starts to move. But you didn’t push the button. “Frankie…somebody called the elevator.” He slides his hands down your arms but his nose is sliding across your cheek.

“So what…” he’s whispering in your ear.

“The doors are going to open.” He’s kissing down your neck.

“We should stop…” he intertwines your fingers with his and pulls back just in time. The doors open on a family with kids and so many packages. You push him away from you and out the door, skirting the kids staring at you.

As the doors close, you start laughing. Frankie’s disheveled and you can only imagine the state of your hair after his ministrations. “Come on.” You grab his hand and pull him towards where your car is parked.

He doesn’t say anything as you walk hand in hand to the back of the garage. Reaching your car you open the passenger side to throw your bag in. Frankie meets you at the drivers door. Those puppy dog eyes betraying his sadness. You reach for his cheek rubbing your fingers along his patchy beard. He opens the door for you. You lean up to place a chaste kiss on his chin. There’s a perfect bare spot for it, like it was designed for gentle kisses. You get in the car and he closes the door. No words are exchanged as you put your key in the ignition and start the car. He steps back and you pull out of the spot and drive away. Glancing in the rear view mirror, to see him standing there watching you go.

What would you have said? “Thanks for the coffee, see you next time we’re both in Canada?” “Take me Frankie, I’m yours.” “I love you, run away with me.”

It’s all better left unsaid. This dreamy afternoon at the mall can be a happy memory you revisit in the quiet moments of your regular life. Like a favorite song that worms it’s way into your brain. Better to have the memory than nothing at all.

————-

The conference is over and you’re at the airport waiting for your boarding call. You’re so deep in your book you almost miss the text notification. It’s a picture, an artless photo of a cup of coffee and a sprinkle covered sugar cookie. It’s from Frankie. You send him back a completely not-staged photo of your sticker covered water bottle and over-priced airport sandwich.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie ‘catfish’ morales #triple frontier #first fic #pedro pascal #happy birthday pedro #i hope y’all like this #feedback is appreciated

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myckicade · 3 years

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Prompt: Ok so we all know Coco is touch starved, and would be clingy af in a relationship. What about Coco x wife!reader, while she’s trying to do basic errands/chores and Coco is her shadow?

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one. I really have. Hee hee. I just adore Coco. <3 . This piece sort of follows the story of the last two Coco x Reader pieces I have written, but it will stand-alone, just fine. And, I swear, these things just have a mind of their own. I can continue to apologize for length, and content, but, in the end... I let the story tell itself. ;) . <3 .

As a warning, I come from Vermont, where we have a plastic bag ban. Last I knew, California was the first state to have one. I don’t know how that would translate to Santo Padre, but… When I mention fabric bags, I mean reusables, and the ban is why. ^^;;;;.

Title: Worthwhile

Teaser: He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it.

“Okay…” you murmur, slowly, eyes scanning over the paper in front of you. Fifteen items, nothing crazy. Shouldn’t take you more than an hour, tops, and that includes travel to and from the store. “I think I’ve got everything we need… And, specials included your beer, and those little frozen cream puffs.”

Beside you, Coco groans, deep and guttural. “Fuck, I love those things.”

You giggle, but keep reading. Your man is too damn cute. “Feminine products.”

“Do those count as special?” Coco genuinely sounds thoughtful, as he steps up behind you, where you are leaning over the counter top. He wraps his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Kinda’ a necessity, ain’t they?”

Tipping your head, you glance to your husband. Seriously. This man is a treasure. “Why don’t you run for political office?” you tease, pleased when Coco chuckles.

“Yeah, my record’ll look great, on the campaign trail.”

You shrug. “You can tackle pink tax, and tax evasion, at the same time.”

Coco grins, and steals a peck off your lips. “What else you got on there, muñeca?”

“Hmmm, let’s see…” You turn back to your list, tapping the pen against your lips, thoughtfully. Spying the next item on it, you try not to let out another giggle. He’s not going to like this one. “Letty asked if we could have that cauliflower pizza thing for dinner, tonight.”

As expected, this groan is decidedly not from food lust. “Fuckin’ vegetarians. When the hell is she gonna’ get over this shit?”

“It’s just a phase, Coco,” you remind him, for the… Well, honestly, you’ve lost track. It started shortly after the wedding, Letty’s change in diet, and you’re still not convinced the two aren’t related. You’re just not entirely sure how. But, two months in, and she’s still looking healthy, so you won’t send up any alarms. “It’s very popular at her high school, right now.”

Coco scoffs, disgusted. “When the hell’d she start copyin’ other people, anyway? My girl ain’t no follower.”

The words send a shot straight to your heart. He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it. The love he has for Leticia is the greatest proof. They may carry on like cats and dogs, but when push comes to shove, there is nothing they won’t do for one another. My girl. It brings a warmth to your soul, and a smile to your lips.

You shake it off, enough to formulate a response. “She’s figuring out how to be her own woman. Trying new things.” You shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. You were Letty’s age, once, of course. And, a girl, to boot. Some things, Coco just won’t be able to understand. “It’s a process.” He hums, still disgruntled, but doesn’t push out another word. “You want anything else?” you ask, holding up your list. “I’ve gotta’ get going, before I run into the football widows.”

Before you can even take a step away, Coco tightens his arms around you. “You sure you gotta’ go, though?” he asks, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck. “With the house all to ourselves, like this?”

“If I don’t go,” you start, as Coco’s touches gain intent, becoming teasing kisses. Damn him. It feels nice, you won’t lie, but there are other things on your mind, right now. Priorities.

You’re just… having trouble remembering what they are.

Oh. Yeah. Shopping.

“If I don’t go, we won’t have anything for dinner.”

Another kiss, accompanied by a barely-there swipe of tongue. You shiver, and Coco moves his lips to your ear. “We can order in,” he whispers, breath so invitingly warm against your skin.

Oh, this asshole.

“And, what are we supposed to have for breakfast, tomorrow?” you try, again. “Half an Eggo, and a pack of Skittles?”

Coco cuddles you closer, again. “Ain’t you never heard about livin’ on love, baby?” Some of his smoothest work, that is. And, it’s almost convincing. Almost. You can imagine the afternoon ahead, if you give in. Your clothes will come off, and won’t be back on until the last second, before Letty walks back through the front door. By that time, you’ll be too tired to roll your ass off the bed, let alone go grocery shopping. And, you promised Letty you’d talk Coco into that cauliflower pizza.

“Great as that sounds,” you agree, preparing to capitalize on the truth. You ease yourself away from Coco’s stubborn hold, and give him one more smooch, just to soften the blow to come. “I don’t think Letty will appreciate the sentiment.”

A third groan. You must be going for a record. “C’mon, (y/n).” Oh, he’s whining. It’s so cute, it’s unreal. “We’ll find some place that delivers that rabbit food shit.”

Unfortunately for Coco, you’re already grabbing your bag. Lucky for you. You’re still two seconds from giving him what he wants. (He just doesn’t need to know so). “I’ll be back in a while.” God willing. “If you think of anything else, call my cell.” You rush out the front door, and don’t look back. If you see the look on your husband’s face, you know you’re as good as done.

Well, what the shit? Coco stares at the front door as it closes, you on the wrong fucking side of it. His arms are at his sides, palms turned toward the ceiling. That went so well. He kind of can’t believe you just walked away, like that. Left him alone, and wanting. In your big, empty house.

He probably should have volunteered to tag along, instead of just chasing you off.

Fuck.

Glancing around, Coco tries to find something to do. Something to clean, at the very least. But, that’s the trouble with having moved in with you, after the wedding, he supposes. Ain’t nothing to tidy up. Not that the three of you don’t have possessions. They’re all just in their proper places. Probably Leticia’s doing, in the end. He’d had a long talk with her, before the move, that she absolutely has to keep her shit where it belongs. Your house isn’t like their house. There aren’t burn marks in the carpet, or gouges in the coffee table. Dishes go in the damned dishwasher, not left to pile up on the counter, or in the sink. Beds get made. Laundry gets folded, and put away. No more wrinkled heaps in the clothes basket. So far, the kid’s been doing good. Real good.

Coco, though? He’s never felt so unnerved in his life.

It was different when he just visited. Spent a night or two, here or there. He’d almost felt at home, then, stupid as it sounds. At home, with the knowledge he wasn’t staying. But, now? Now, the reality has settled in, and he feels so-so… out of place. There’s so much he’s struggling to adjust to.

You have a purified water system installed under the sink, where Coco is used to buying bottled water.

You have a dining room, where Coco and Letty are used to eating on the couch.

You have an extended cable package, whatever the fuck that is.

You kind of have it all, here, certainly by comparison to what Coco is used to. The best of everything. Which really makes him wonder – not for the first time – what the hell you’re doing with a dirt-poor biker for a husband? You’ve had this conversation, on multiple occasions, and you’ve explained yourself, every time. But, this time… This time, you’re not around to give that speech. You’re not around to hold him, and kiss his face, and reassure him in a way that only you can. No, you’re at the grocery store, shopping for Coco, and his kid, which was apparently a better offer than staying home with him.

Oh, nope. Nope, he’s doing it, again. He can feel it. You love him, he reminds himself. You’ve got his ring on your finger, his last name, and – God-willing – his baby in your belly. By choice. All by choice.

Coco takes a deep breath, in. Lets it back out, slowly. Tries not to get sick, for all the nerves coming up to greet him. He wraps one arm around his own torso, free hand moving up to cover his mouth.

Fuck, he hopes you get back, soon.

You let out a deep sigh, as you park your car in the garage. Oh, it is so good to be home, at long-last. Talk about Old Home Week. You’d run into everyone, and his brother, at the grocery store. Shopping had taken nearly twice as long as you’d meant for it to, and you just know Coco must be losing his mind, by now. You hate to think about it, in such terms, but, sometimes… Well, sometimes, Coco reminds you of a new puppy. You can’t really leave him alone, without some kind of separation anxiety creeping up on him.

Ah, well. At least he isn’t ripping down the drapes, and shredding the couch cushions.

You blink. Well. That you know of.

Shaking your head, you climb out of the car, mentally preparing to unload armloads of bags. Maybe, if you really, really try, today will be the day you can finally get all twenty bags in, in one trip.

Right. And, shortly thereafter, you can have both forearms set, and casted. Be a real turn-on, in the bedroom.

You’ve managed to grab half a dozen bags, when the door to the mud room opens. “Hey, don’t grab too many!” Letty warns, as she comes hopping down the steps. “Let us help!”

Glancing up, you smile. For having had such a rough start, Letty can be a sweet girl. You know she gets that from her father. “Well, thank you,” you reply, resting a few, fabric handles onto her outstretched hands.

Letty grins, lowering her hands to her sides, before leaning in. “Did you talk him into it?” she whispers, conspiratorially.

You snicker, and whisper back, “He isn’t getting a choice. He’s outnumbered.”

“Yes!” Her hiss of victory is hardly subtle, catching Coco’s attention as he pokes his head out the door.

“You two plottin’ against me, again?”

“Yes,” you and Letty reply, in unison, leading you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Coco is all grins. “’Course, you are.” He strides closer, he and Letty dancing around one another as she moves into the house. You lean into the car, and retrieve a few more bags. If Coco’s out here, he might as well assist. He’s peering into the car, once you stand back up, and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, (y/n)! You buy out the whole store, or what?”

“Hardly,” you reply, dryly. You hold up your hands, offering Coco the bags. “Here you go.”

“Oh, don’t mind if I do.” Thankfully, your hold on the bags is solid. Instead of grabbing the groceries, Coco’s hands are suddenly groping all over you. One hand is settled firmly at your ass, the other sliding into your hair, at the back of your head. He wastes no time diving in for a slow, deep kiss, and, damn, does his timing suck. He could have at least let you put the bags down, first. The contact makes you tingle, and has you regretting your decision not to stay home. Coco pulls back, after a few seconds, and hums. “Mm. Best delivery ever.”

You can’t help the small snort of amused laughter that leaves your throat. “Good try, Coco,” you praise, easing back far enough to offer him the bags, again. The look of disappointment on his face is just pitiful. “I’m not banging you in the garage.”

He has the grace to mock gasp. “I’d never!” It’s a crock, and you both know it. He looks too amused to be repentant, and you look too aware to be angry. You just raise your hands, slightly, in a third offer. Coco sighs. “All right. All right.” He takes the bags from your hands.

“Thank you.” You grab another load for yourself, rounding the open car door to follow Coco’s lead, into the house. One more trip for each of you, and you should have it covered. So much for only buying fifteen items.

Coco might be right about buying out the store.

Watching from the dining room, Coco has a good view of you and Letty unpacking the last of the groceries. Damn kid, she’d thrown him out, about ten minutes prior.

“Less groping, more helping, Coco,” Letty had warned him, after he’d tried to pin you against the sink.

It had been his last warning. Now, he’s been banished. Not the worst thing in the world, not really. Over the last few weeks, he’s really learned that there are some tasks he’s not so fond of. Pruning roses… Yeah, he’s pretty sure you’ll never let him do that, again. And, hey, nobody told him what to fill the bird feeder with. Unpacking groceries goes on that list, somewhere between line-drying laundry, and a streak-free mirror. He’s not sure why. Goodness knows, it makes him feel like a kid at Christmas, most times. Since being with you, though…

Since being with you, he feels like he’s taking advantage of something.

Yes, groceries are a strange place to let that feeling land, but he can’t help it. Coco’s been responsible for feeding himself since before he cares to remember. The only time anyone provided his meals was during deployment, and half that shit barely passed for edible. You, though… You keep the house stocked with more food than he’s seen anywhere, outside of a corner market. Letty always has options to take to school, and there’s a nutritious dinner on the table, almost every night. (Some nights, he actually does win the battle for delivery). If Coco goes on a run, you send him along with snacks for the road. And, yeah, he kinda’ likes that. He also likes the energy bars you picked out for him, last week. Something with cherries, and dark chocolate. He wonders, for a second, if you picked up any more. Come in handy during his mid-week trip outta’ town.

Coco blinks. Then, he does it again, just for good measure. That’s it. That’s what’s so fucking weird about this whole thing.

It’s you.

Okay, no, it’s not you, you. But, it’s you. It’s you, taking care of him. It’s you, seeing to his needs. Letty’s needs. It’s you, being his wife, his partner. It’s you, slotting into the place of role-model for his teenaged daughter. Welcoming them into your home. Not treating it like it’s your home. It’s you, being so fucking perfect for him, it’s taken his mind all this time to catch up with reality.

Coco doesn’t get perfect. Perfect doesn’t want him.

Except, now, it does.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Coco strides into the kitchen. He doesn’t wait for you to put the box of pasta in the cupboard. He just takes it from your hand, ignoring your confused look, as he tosses it onto the counter.

“Coco!” Letty admonishes, but it’s no use. He’s already lifting you off the floor, arms around your perfect backside. The kid gives a long-suffering sigh, he hears it, but pays it no mind.

Nothing – nothing – is going to keep him from holding you in his arms.

Your own arms go around Coco’s neck, and you smile down at him, surprise still lingering in your eyes. “Uhm… Hi, there.”

Coco grins. “Hey, muñeca.” Leaning up, he pecks you on the lips.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, to which Coco shakes his head. Closes his eyes, as your fingers play in his hair.

“Nah. Got all I need.”

Pulling a package of mixed vegetables from the half-unpacked shopping bag, Letty rolls her eyes. You two… God, you’re gross. Coco always has his hands on you, no matter what you’re trying to do. It’s a wonder you don’t carry a damned fly swatter around. Actually, it’s a wonder you ever accomplish anything. He’s always smooching, and smiling, and snuggling at you. It’s disgusting. It’s pathetic.

It’s so damned cute, it’s sickening.

Really, Letty’s enjoying seeing Coco so happy. Like, genuinely happy. Not the false pride he carries around with his kutte. He’s more relaxed, nowadays. He drinks less, and he spends more time at home, both of which mean he’s not hanging around with those skanks at the clubhouse. He eats more, he’s healthier… Nothing to complain about, there.

And, hey, she has no complaints about you, either. You’re pretty cool, all-around. A woman who takes care of herself, and her family, and doesn’t bitch about either one. You’re not using Coco for money, or status, none of the shit she’s always been worried her father would fall into. There aren’t arguments, every night, not even between herself and Coco, as of late. No hostilities, nothing to avoid the house over. Just good dinners, and movies, and a new fish tank in her room. (Okay, so, you’d earned some major points with that birthday gift. She hadn’t actually expected to get one, when she’d mentioned it). For the first time, she understands what a peaceful, happy family feels like. It feels nice. It feels like home.

Glancing back to where Coco now has you perched on the counter top, stealing the most syrupy-sweet smooches… Letty can’t help but smile. Home is A-okay by her.

The sound of the air conditioner humming in the bedroom usually lulls you right to sleep. Tonight, it’s just providing you with white noise, a low background track to your thoughts. You don’t mind, not really. It gives you a few minutes to reflect on the day that’s just ended. To plan your day, tomorrow. To weave your fingers through Coco’s hair, and listen to him breathe. That, alone, makes it worthwhile.

Coco has been asleep against your shoulder for nearly an hour, now. Your arms are wrapped around him, comfortably, his own around your waist. You’d urged him up to bed, after he’d fallen asleep on the couch, his head in your lap. He’d snoozed from the middle of the movie, to the end of the nightly news report. Letty had tsked, and complained that no one had any business, whatsoever, in falling asleep during Zombieland. (How he’d stayed asleep was still a wonder to you, both, for how hard you’d been laughing at Tallahassee). With your fingers in his hair, Coco had been blissfully unaware for a couple of hours.

Glancing down, you take in the sight of your husband’s sleeping face. He looks so damn peaceful, the kind you’d outright murder to preserve for him. Coco’s still struggling with sleep, and relaxation, even though you’d hoped it would ease up, once your nuptials had passed. Most of it, you know will never go away. Anxiety doesn’t have a magic wand, or some perfect little on/off switch. And, all things considered, today wasn’t a terrible day. You’d been able to leave the house, with minimal panic on Coco’s part. Granted, it had taken extra time to get the groceries put away, and dinner made, but… You understand, as much as you are able to, that Coco needs the reassurances. It doesn’t cost you anything to carve a few moments from the day, every here and there, to give him what he needs.

Okay, so it did cost you that first batch of pancakes, this morning. They’d burned on the stove, and set off the smoke alarms, when he’d insisted on a dance through the living room. But, Coco loved the song you’d been playing on your Spotify, so there was really no denying him.

Oh, and… Yeah, you’d missed that phone call from the bank, the week before. Your husband had slipped up next to you, on the porch swing, and snuggled you to within an inch of your life. An easy fix, and you still got the business loan, but…

And, sure, you’ve been late to work, on numerous occasions. Coco has a habit of sneaking into your morning shower. And, after that… Well, hell, you own the company. It’s not like you have to explain to the boss that you’re late to your shift, on account of baby-dancing. (Fucking forums).

Point is, you’re more than happy to take care of Coco’s emotional needs. It may take you an extra hour to pay your bills. Daily tidying may have become every-other-day-if-you’re-lucky tidying. And, your ass may have gone numb, tonight, while he slept on your thigh. During which time, you could have loaded the dishwasher. Taken out the trash. Any number of tasks that have been neglected, in the name of Coco. They can wait.

Leaning in, you press a tender kiss to your husband’s forehead, before settling back in, and closing your eyes. Yes, chores can wait. Work can wait. The whole world can hold it, with both hands. So long as you’re around, Coco’s well-being will never have to take the back seat.

P.S. If Coco denies it, he’s full of it. He fucking loved that cauliflower pizza. Fucking vegetarians, indeed.

Masterlist | Request | Tag List

#mayans m.c. fanfiction #mayans m.c.#coco x reader #coco x you #coco cruz x reader #coco cruz x you #johnny coco cruz #anonymous request #fanfiction requests #ask box fic

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girlnextmorgue · 2 years

Text

Who I Think Creepypastas Kill

NOTICE: This post is a reupload from my old Creepypasta fanfiction blog (now my main blog). If you’ve seen it before, that’s probably because it was posted there first! I pinky promise that I’m not stealing anything, simply moving my old work here for organization purposes.

ORIGINALLY POSTED 5/3/21

so im a bit of a true crime junkie and by that i mean i used to binge watch criminal minds and am an avid viewer of miss bailey sarian's murder mystery & makeup monday series. this means that like... i have the basic knowledge about serial killer signatures and motivations that most true crime nerds have

but anyway i was out running errands and i was like hmmm... what if the creepypastas didnt kill random people... what if they actually had signatures.. And Boom New Headcanon Post

as always, requests/asks are very open and i encourage you all to send one in if you like my writing & headcanons :) enjoy!

––––––––

Jeff generally only kills randomly and sporadically when he's having breakdowns. This doesn't happen often, and he only gets this upset when he lets himself spiral without acknowledging it for weeks or months at a time. When he targets people, he looks into abusive or neglectful parents (usually the latter because he can relate better). Though this usually ends up with kids being put into the shitty American foster system, Jeff sees it as the lesser of two evils.

BEN will screw with anyone; he's a ghost computer virus, come on. To be honest, he's less of a killer and more of someone that fucks around and ruins people's lives for fun. He's probably at least a little based because of all of the content he consumes by just existing through the internet, so I can see him deleting important things from political databases and messing up technology that billionaires spend millions on perfecting.

Since Toby, Tim, and Brian are all proxies, they kill whoever Slenderman directs them to. These people are usually perceived as threats to Slender himself, the mansion, or the world as Slender prefers it. He also has the proxies patrol the areas around the mansion's main locations in order to keep people away from it. Sometimes they're also sent to assist other Creepypastas on their endeavors should Slender deem it necessary.

Jane targets shitty people that the system doesn't punish. This usually means murderers, abusers, rapists, and the occasional radical bigot. She tries to make life better for people that are targeted and taken advantage of.

Clockwork goes after abusive people and/or families. Unlike Jeff, she does her best to make sure the affected people move on to better lives, whether that means kids getting adopted or widow(er)s moving past their abusive relationship. If they don't get that, she does her best to give it to them, even if they don't know she's helping them.

Nina began as a Jeff copycat, targeting the same people that he did. Eventually, she developed her own style. She now goes after people who remind her of the kids who harassed her and her brother, usually school bullies, but sometimes general bullies outside of school environments.

Eyeless Jack doesn't kill people very often. He started out that way, but only because he was starving and needed to eat. Eventually, he grew into a less brutal way of getting food. He now performs quick surgeries on sleeping people and takes one of their two kidneys. It's illegal and horrible, but it makes him feel better that he isn't killing anyone.

LJ kills kids. There's no way around it. It's just what he does.

Helen, like Nina, targets people that remind him of those that tormented him in school. Sometimes he also robs craft stores, but that's less because he can't afford it and more because he thinks breaking and entering into closed stores is a fun little pastime.

Liu takes a similar route to Nina and Helen, going after people that remind him of the asshole kids that bullied him and Jeff in school. He also follows up on the kids that Jeff leaves orphaned, doing his best to make sure they end up living safe and happy lives. Way to pick up on Jeff's slack, Liu.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons

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nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

Fallout 3 companions react to the Lone Wanderer getting in contact with the Followers of the Apocalypse and asking to join them. (Possibly resulting in the creation of a Capital Wasteland chapter of the Followers?)

With the Enclave in full retreat and the Brotherhood of Steel officially installed at the Jefferson Memorial and Adams Air Force Base, the kid from Vault 101 seemed to be adrift. They wandered from Megaton to Underworld, Canterbury Commons to Rivet City, helping those they met along the way as they always had but growing more and more despondent with each passing day. "It's just me out here," they would mutter to themselves occasionally, after particularly tough run-ins with raiders or wasteland vermin. "What am I supposed to do?"

That question didn't have an easy answer, or so they thought. Then, like a lighthouse cutting through fog, a summons on Galaxy News Radio brought them to Three Dog, who parked the Lone Wanderer in an office chair and jammed a set of headphones over their ears. The kid talked for days, tuned to different frequencies, scribbled notes on every piece of paper within reach, and their missing smile gradually returned. When they finally stood up and gathered their thoughts together, a new dream came from their lips like a sermon: "There's a group on the West Coast that heard about me. They're called the Followers of the Apocalypse, and they help people. They like what I've done so far, and they want me to start a chapter here in the Capital Wasteland. I want to do this."

Butch DeLoria: Butch stared at them, flabbergasted. "You... haven't we... what more do you think you owe to these people?"

The kid he used to bully sighed. "What do I owe to anybody, Butch? This isn't about settling a debt. I think it's pretty clear now that I can make changes around here, big changes, and this is just another opportunity to do that."

"But why?" Butch pulled out a comb and ran it through his hair, visibly anxious. "So you purified the water, ran those Enclave upstarts out of town. Leave it there. Kill anyone who tries to jump you on the road, and stop worrying about everyone else."

"I..." The Lone Wanderer clenched their fist, unclenched it. "I can't. If I can make things better for everyone, I have to."

"Well that's not what Tunnel Snakes are about," Butch replied angrily. He seized his traveling pack, shook out his leather jacket and headed for the radio station's door. "You change your mind, you can find me at the Muddy Rudder."

The door slammed behind him. Three Dog, who'd been eavesdropping from the next room, poked his head in. "Is your friend coming back?"

"Ugh." The Lone Wanderer sank into their chair again. "Give it an hour or two. He'll come around. Probably when he runs into the super mutants in Georgetown."

Charon: Charon nodded. "As you wish."

The Lone Wanderer pressed a hand to their forehead in exasperation. "Okay, I tried to phrase that as openly as I could so I could get your thoughts, but I realize now that I should've just said... Charon, what do you actually think about this idea?"

The ghoul shrugged. "I don't."

"Come on Charon, there has to be something-"

"Fine." Charon rolled his eyes. "It's more of the same. More time on the road, more time building up and securing settlements, more time spent fending off attacks from those who want your stuff. I'd say you're also more likely to die, but you've defied my expectations before."

"And..." the Lone Wander pressed. "Are you okay with that?"

Charon, who was still unused to this kid's attempts to include him in decision-making, glared at them. "I am."

They studied each other silently. The Lone Wanderer broke first. They always did. "I'm not going to order you to do this with me."

"You don't have to," Charon reassured them. Half-facetious, half-sincere. "That's not how this works."

Clover: Clover examined her nails, clearly not that interested. "So what's the angle, lover?"

"Clover..." the Lone Wanderer hesitated. "What if it's not an angle? What if we just... did this?"

Clover stuck her tongue out playfully. "Whatever, honey. You probably have some scam cooked up already. Lure them out here, take their stuff, feed them to a deathclaw... you're such a tease."

"Uh-huh." Her companion crossed their arms. "A real scam. Like that time I used a GECK to purify the DC basin. Or that time I led a giant robot to fight the Enclave and eventually took over their crawler. Or that time I rescued a bunch of slaves from Paradise Falls. Clover, we've been on the road together a while. You know I'm not like that."

"I know, I know..." Clover trailed off and looked away. "S'just that I need a good story to tell when you take me back to Eulogy. Otherwise..."

The Lone Wanderer dropped their headset and took her hand. "You're not going back there. Ever. You hear me? You don't belong to that motherfucker anymore. You don't belong to anyone."

Clover still couldn't meet their gaze, but her eyes filled up with tears. "Mmm-hmm. Sure, lover."

Star Paladin Cross: The Star Paladin smiled. "I've encountered the Followers. They bring a noble cause to the wasteland, even if they stretch themselves too thin."

"Well, the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood is stretched too thin right now." The chapter's newest Knight sank back against the desk they'd been tethered to for the better part of the last 48 hours. "Scribe Bigsley is tearing his hair out about water caravans, the Enclave still has holdouts in the area, and Elder Lyons..."

They trailed off and sighed. "We need help. I don't know if I can be a Follower and a Knight, but I know they're more open to working with me because of Elder Lyons' decision to break with the High Elders. We have the same mission: To help the people of the wasteland."

"Our missions are similar, but there are a few fundamental differences," Cross corrected them. "The Followers emphasize the sharing of knowledge and learning, while the Brotherhood seeks to protect it. That said, your assessment of the Elder's decision for our chapter is apt. Perhaps we have opened ourselves up to common ground, in our desertion of our primary mission."

"Right." The Lone Wanderer nodded. "We're deserters. Let's use it. I'll start making plans and a list of potential recruits. I'll start with Reilly's Rangers and the Temple of the Union and get some leads."

Dogmeat: The mutt that accompanied the Lone Wanderer wherever they went barked, excited by his owner's excitement. The noise drew Three Dog's attention from the other room.

"Kid, I'm trying to run a radio station here," he said, leaning on the door frame with a mug of steaming tea in his hand. "Don't get your little buddy too riled up. Fight the good fight and all that, but do it outside."

"Sorry, Three Dog." The Lone Wanderer dropped to their knee and scratched the mutt's back and neck. "Just thinking out loud."

"You take their deal?" the DJ asked, before taking a sip from the mug.

The kid grinned. "You bet your ass I did."

Fawkes: The super mutant that had shadowed the kid since Vault 87 nodded sagely. "These Followers. Would there be room within their organization for an individual such as myself?"

The Lone Wanderer shrugged. "I didn't ask. The woman on the radio made a point of saying they were okay with ghouls, but she didn't say anything about mutants in general. I've heard that the mutants out west are more like you though, so probably?"

"Then I would like to be the first to sign up for your new chapter," Fawkes replied.

"Okay." The kid from Vault 101 grinned. "Great. Even if they aren't good with mutants, it's my chapter, and I say it's okay. It's not like they're going to be peering over my shoulder."

"And what do you intend to christen your first project?" Fawkes asked.

"Hmmm." The Lone Wanderer scratched their head. "Well, after recruitment and finding a base of operations, I think we should help stabilize the water caravan system. From there we can move on to tackling the slave trade."

Fawkes chuckled. "'From a small seed a mighty trunk may grow.' Then let us begin."

Jericho: The retired raider, who had been taking a nap in one of the office chairs, snapped awake with a snort and grabbed his assault rifle. "Who-whatsit?"

"Chop-chop." The Lone Wanderer tossed him his pack and punched him playfully on the shoulder. "We're going to shake up the Capital Wasteland hierarchy a bit."

"Well, that sounds like something worth getting up for," Jericho replied, somewhat more agreeable. "Where are we going?"

"Seward Square," they answered, throwing their own pack over their shoulder. "I know a crew over there that might be interested in helping."

"Reilly's gang?" Jericho stopped them. "Wait a minute. This isn't more of your usual goody two-shoes shit, is it? I told you, I was done after the business with the Enclave. Can't we just roll into a settlement and take their chems like the good old days?"

"Thought you were awake, Jericho." The Lone Wanderer smacked him on the cheek a couple of times. "You want to sit on top of the Capital Wasteland, you have to make yourself indispensable. Capisce?"

"Oh, fuck you," Jericho grumbled. "Should've kicked you off my steps back in Megaton, kid."

Sergeant RL-3: "Sir, yes sir!" the Mister Gutsy agreed. "Anything for our good old Uncle Sam!"

"Right then, soldier," the Lone Wanderer replied at the same level of enthusiasm. "Pack our gear and have this place spotless, on the double!"

"All recruits will be responsible for their own bunks!" Sergeant RL-3 shot back, before moving to retrieve the traveling packs from where they'd been stashed away.

Three Dog, who was watching from the door, shook his head with a grin. "I need to get me one of those models."

"Well, I know a guy out by Tenpenny Tower that might have a bot with your name on it," the Lone Wanderer offered. "Or at least the parts to build one."

"No time to dilly-dally, sir!" Sergeant RL-3 commented from across the room.

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1plus1kiyoomi · 4 years

Text

Chapter 9: Fried

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[masterlist]

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You groan as you look around your room, scattered paperwork and schoolwork all over the place. You have so much to do but you don’t know where to start. Out of frustration, you breakdown. Rice hears your sobs so he runs to you, and licks your arms. You take him into your arms, hugging him. He starts barking, worried about you.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong with Rice?” You hear Kita ask from outside of your room, causing you to cry harder.

The two of you haven’t been in touch lately since you’re trying so hard to distant yourself from him. You’ve always reasoned to him that you were busy, because you were, and you still are. But you’d be lying if you say that he isn’t one of the reasons of your breakdown.

You miss him so much. You want to cling to him like always. But you also seek reassurance from him. You need a label to your relationship. You’re afraid that he’s just leading you on because of his ex. What if he hasn’t moved on from her? Moving on from 7-year relationship is not easy, and from his friends’ words, he loved her a lot. Maybe he still loves her.

“I’m coming in,” Kita says and slides the door open. You grab a pillow and cover your face with it. You hear him sigh, and go around the room, probably picking up the pieces of paper. You feel him sit in front of you, so you jump in your mattress and hide under the blanket. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired,” you say in between your sobs. Rice jumps on top of your covered face, making you pull the blanket down so the dog can see you. He gives you a puppy look, whimpering. You cry again, burying your face on Rice’s fur.

Kita stands from where he was sitting, then leaves the room. A few minutes later, he comes back with a tray of food. “Eat first, then get some rest.”

“I’m really fine,” you assure him, wiping the tears off your cheeks. He sets the tray down on the floor and you hold Rice tightly, not wanting him to devour the food. He takes a spoonful of rice with a piece of beef on top, then feeds you. “Thank you. I can feed myself.”

“No. It’s fine. You seem really busy nowadays. This is the least I can do.” He feeds you soup this time, which you reluctantly accept. You feel like you’re being babied and you feel a little bit of ease. “I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but you shouldn’t forget that you’re the most important dish on your plate.”

The metaphor he used makes you chuckle, completely stopping your eyes from tearing up. You nod enthusiastically, taking another spoonful of what he’s feeding you. The three of you stay silent as he feeds you and sometimes Rice. The silence is comforting. You can even say that it’s helping calm you down.

Finally finishing your dinner, Kita tucks you in bed. “Rice, let’s get out. Let your mom rest.” Kita orders the dog, but you and your furry son look up to him with pleading eyes, begging him to let Rice stay in your room. “Fine. Just for tonight.” Kita gives in, ruffling the tops of your heads.

Kita heads to the kitchen to the kitchen, leaving the dishes by the sink. He takes a seat on one of the cushions, then says his thanks before he starts eating. It has been exactly 10 days. 10 days since he last ate dinner with you. If it weren’t for Rice, he would have eaten alone.

Knowing that you’re busy, Kita doesn’t push you to eat dinner with him. He sometimes feels lonely, but you should prioritize your work. He admits that he misses you clinging to him and you annoying him every chance you get. He wants to tell you that he wants to share your burden with you, but it seems like you don’t give him the chance to talk.

Kita isn’t stupid. Aside from your busyness with the shelter and school, he’s aware that you’re avoiding him. You aren’t so subtle about it. Who stays at school until midnight? He also knows you’re purposely coming home after his bedtime. He waits for you every night just to make sure you come home safe.

Confusion is what he feels. He knows what you’re doing, but he doesn’t understand why you’re doing it.

After eating, Kita does the dishes then heads to your room. He checks you and Rice, and the two of you are sleeping soundly. He picks up your schoolwork, then decides to do them for you. It’s a little thing he can do to help you ease your stress.

“I’ll start with this,” Kita quietly says, taking your worksheet for Engineering Math. He takes his phone out and looks for a Youtube tutorial on how to do the topic you’re assigned to.

The next morning, you wake up without Rice around anymore. “He and Kita must have gone to the fields already.” You stretch your arms and see your schoolwork and paperwork arranged and in order. A note is on top of your binder so you read it.

(Y/N)

I finished doing your tasks for school. I also wrote some notes for your Systems Software class. I read that you have a test on it. I’ve also highlighted important notes in your other classes in case you have a surprise quiz.

Don’t forget to eat breakfast. I prepared a bento box for your lunch. Make you eat it. I will check later. Take a break, too. Stop overworking yourself. If you need help, I’m just there.

Rice and I are off to work. I hope to see you at dinner.

I miss you.

- Shinsuke

Tears come out of your eyes as you read his note. “What am I even doing? Why am I aimlessly avoiding him? He must have spent all night doing these.” You take your phone to check the time and you see that it’s almost lunch, which means all your morning classes are finished. “Kita is going to kill me.”

After a long day at school, you head home. You look for an easy recipe online, in hopes that you can make a decent dish for Kita. It’s your first cooking. You don’t even know why you thought of making him dinner as an apology gift. The kitchen is one of the places you’re forbidden to go to but here you are.

“Is 2 tablespoon really enough?” You ask yourself. You shrug, then pour more soy sauce. You forget about the recipe and make the dish using your instinct. If it’s meant to taste good, it’ll taste good.

“I’m home!” You hear Kita from the front door. Rice comes running to you at the kitchen, excitedly jumping on your legs.

“Hello, little boy. How was the fields today? Did you miss mom?” You coo at him, lifting him from the ground.

“You’re actually here,” you hear Kita say, making you look up towards him. Putting Rice down, you go to him. You wrap your arms around his waist, smiling at him with your signature grin. He missed that smile.

“Well, of course, baby. You said you miss me so I’m here,” you tell him, snuggling your face on his chest.

Kita hugs you back, placing his chin on your shoulder. The two of you stand like that for a minute. You realized that last night, it wasn’t the silence that was comforting you. It was Kita. His presence is enough to make you feel less stressed. He gives you a light squeeze before pulling away from you. You look up to him and see that his eyes are on the dining table.

“I made dinner. Look at my rice! It’s perfect!” You proudly say, pulling him to the dining area. He stares at the food you made, and you nervously wait for his comment. He takes a spoon and tastes the supposedly curry dish. “How does it taste?”

Kita doesn’t answer you but looks at you emotionlessly. “It doesn’t taste that bad. It’s edible.” You sulk but start eating anyway. “How was your quiz?”

“I got a perfect score thanks to your notes. You’re really smart! Were you in the top of your class in high school?” You compliment him.

“I had a scholarship,” Kita answers and your jaw drops. How can he be so perfect at everything? He’s athletic, he’s handsome, he’s talented, he’s smart, he’s well-mannered, his soft spoken. He has probably not sin. But he has to be bad at something. But what? Is he a virgin? Is he bad in bed? He seems like the type to wait after marriage. So you’ll have to marry him to find out. Your cheeks heat up just from the thought.

Due to your daydreaming, you don’t hear Kita talking. “Hmmm? What did you say baby?”

“I said I like my eggs fried in the morning,” he repeats in his usual nonchalant voice. His words cause you to short circuit, unsure of what you heard.

“Why are you suddenly saying that?” You hide your face in embarrassment, flustered by his words. Rice is at side, staring at you as if he’s judging you. He probably is.

“You asked 3 months ago,” Kita explains, eating as if didn’t say anything.

“I know I did! But why say it now?” You glare at him. He puts his chopsticks down and bore his eyes at yours.

“Because I like you back now.”

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Facts:

Resting is very very important. No matter how busy you are, please spare some time to rest. Staying hydrated is as important. Don’t forget to drink your liquids. <3

Sleep is important in processing and committing new information to memory through a process known as memory consolidation. So pulling an all-nighter for a quiz isn’t really the best thing to do.

Sleep is important to overall well-being and mood. Sleep deprivation can often cause irritability, impatience, inability to concentrate, and moodiness.

Rest does not only involve physical relaxation, but mental as well. Mental exertion can also affect your body’s ability to cope or keep up and can cause you to feel overwhelmed and physically exhausted.

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#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu series #kita shinsuke smau #kita shinsuke x reader #kita imagines #kita x reader #kita smau #haikyuu kita #kita shinsuke

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lpham2525 · 4 years

Text

Shirou x Reader Coldest Night of the Year (Long Version)

Shirou awakens in the night to feel tremors coming from next to him. Opening one eye, he sees you shivering on the bed. Damn, he forgot that humans did not have a fur coat like he did. Both of you were under two blankets already, but it didn’t seem like enough. Shirou gets up to retrieve another blanket for you, but then he realizes that all of the other blankets were already taken. The coldest night of the year; he wasn’t going to deprive anyone of anything. He decides to make tea instead. When he returns to the room with the steaming teacups, an idea occurs to him.

His half of the blankets wasn’t being used. Shirou didn’t need it. The wolf man sets down the tea and picks up the edge of the blankets. Then, working carefully, he throws it over you, doubling up the folds and tucking in the corners. He waits and watches, but you’re still shivering. Finally, he places a hand on your shoulder and calls out your name.

“Hmmm?” you say groggily. “Shirou?”

“You’re shivering.”

“What? Oh, no. I’m…I’m fine.” You pat his hand to reassure him, but as soon as he feels your fingers, he pulls your hand towards him and clasps it between his palms.

“Don’t lie to me. Your hand feels like a sheet of ice.” Shirou sighs. “You can’t sleep like this. Worse, you might catch cold or pneumonia and then I would be…very displeased.” He gestures towards the teacups. “I made you tea. Drink some.”

You glance over at the nightstand, surprised to see two porcelain cups there. He even poured them into the special teacups, the ones with the Silver Wolf painted on them that you gave him for his birthday. You glance over at Shirou. He really was a considerate creature, despite his tough exterior. Gratefully, you reach for the tea, but your hands are shaking so badly that the teacups are rattling against their saucers. In an instant, you see Shirou kneeling beside you. He picks up a teacup and instructs you to sit up so he can help you drink it.

“I’m not an invalid,” you say, mock defiantly. “I can handle a cup of tea.”

“Your hands are shaking. I want the tea in your system, not in your lap.” You playfully swat at him, but he coolly dodges your fingers. His expression softens. “Just let me help you,” he states quietly.

Obediently, you sit up and he lifts the teacup gently so you can drink. It’s a warm, rich tea, perfect for nights like this. Once you drink the whole cup, he sets it down and picks up the other one, bringing it towards your lips. You glare at him, but he stares back, unflinching. He knows you’ll give in. And you do. Once you finish the second cup, Shirou lifts your hand into his. Your shivering has subsided somewhat, but your skin still feels like a skating rink for the cold. The wolf man frowns.

“You’re still cold.”

“Yes, but I’m better now. I’m warmer.”

“Not as warm as I would like.” He presses your hand to his face and his nose twitches as he thinks for a moment.

“Shirou.”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t seem cold at all.”

“I’m a beastman,” he says, without opening his eyes. “I have a—” He breaks off suddenly. “I have an idea. Get back under the covers,” he orders.

You obey, then watch as he moves to the other side of the bed and slips in beside you.

“Come here,” he instructs, reaching out and pulling you toward him. You gladly scoot closer to him and by the time you make contact, you’re nestled against a soft mane of white fur. The fur tickles, but hey, it’s warm. You pull back to give him a kiss on the nose, but he misinterprets the gesture and suddenly stiffens.

“I’m sorry. I should have asked you first,” he blurts quickly. His voice is tense, nervous.

“What do you mean?”

Shirou glances away. “Not everyone is comfortable around a beastman. Especially a wolf. If my beast form bothers you, I can change back—”

“What makes you think I’m uncomfortable?”

Shirou’s ears perk up and he dares to look at you. Finally, he sighs. “When you touched my fur, you moved away. You probably weren’t expecting me to morph—”

He’s interrupted by your fingers, which have now laced themselves through his thick fur and pulled his face toward you. You plant a soft kiss on his nose. He stiffens again, then visibly relaxes beside you.

“I was going to kiss you, you dolt.”

“Oh,” he whines softly.

You release him and roll your eyes. “But not everyone is comfortable around a human. Especially an affectionate one. If my human form bothers you, I can change…oh, wait, I can’t.”

The wolf man emits a strange sound, something like a cross between a bark and a yelp. You glance at him and are surprised to see his body shaking. However, it did not seem to be from cold. Perhaps from…mirth? Was this his way of laughing?

“Humans have a sense of humor,” he chuckles.

“Of course we do,” you retort, crossing your arms. “We’re not all bloodthirsty killers.”

“Forgive me. I don’t have many…positive experiences with them.”

“You should get to know them better.”

“I will.” Shirou shifts in bed. “BUT...right now, I’m especially interested in this one.” Here, he reaches for your hands again and digs them into his fur. You need no explanation. The next few minutes pass in quiet bliss as you stroke Shirou’s fur and tickle his neck. The spell is only broken when Shirou whispers your name.

You open your eyes to find that Shirou is looking at you with no small expression of wonder. “You’re really okay with my beast form.”

You sigh and pull him towards you again. Then you tilt forward until your foreheads are touching. “Shirou. I’m not only okay with your beast form. I love your beast form. And your human form. I love you no matter what form you’re in. You could be a lump of coal and I’d still—”

You feel Shirou freeze under your fingers. Then you realize that it’s the first time you’ve said those words out loud.

You want to smack yourself for your impulsiveness. I said it too soon, you realize with a sinking heart. Maybe he won’t notice? You think desperately. But it was too late. The words were said. The secret was out. Not that it was much of a secret. Michiru had been hounding you for days to fess up. Even Melissa and Gem grinned at each other whenever they saw you around Shirou. It was probably obvious to everyone but him. Well, now it’s not an open secret anymore. Now he knows.

Feeling self-conscious, you slowly remove your fingers from his fur and clamp them between your knees. You’re hoping to subtly slide away and pretend to be asleep. The wolf god was not fooled.

“Y/N,” he says quietly. You don’t respond. After a moment, you feel gentle claws slide down your arms and lift your hands out from under the covers. “If you think I’m going to let you slip away after that, you’re sorely mistaken.”

You open your eyes to see Shirou staring at you intensely. You know that you can’t wriggle your way out of this one.

“I didn’t mean to say it,” you state miserably, attempting to keep your voice steady. Shirou’s grip loosens, but he doesn’t let go completely. A long moment of silence passes.

“So you didn’t mean it,” Shirou says finally.

“No, I did mean it. I meant every word. I just didn’t mean to say it…so soon.”

“Why do you think it’s too soon?”

“Because…because we’re just starting out. And we’re taking it slow. And maybe you don’t feel the same way and I just ruined everything.”

Shirou kisses your forehead and envelopes you in a furry embrace. “If you think that what you said was going to ruin everything, then I don’t ever want you to stop. If you think that we’re just starting out and going too slow and your emotions are far ahead, then please destroy me at your leisure. Surely, this is a dream I’m having and when I wake, you will be gone and I will have nothing more than the elated aftertaste of the dream and the bitterness of you missing from beside me. But, for now, ruin me. I would love nothing more than to be utterly devastated by your words of confession.”

You take a deep breath. Maybe this was all a dream. In that case, you can be as free in your emotions as you want. So you sidle even closer to him and tangle yourself into his fur. Then you pour your heart out. “Shirou, my wild heart and shining soul, you cannot begin to fathom the extent of my feelings for you. It runs through my blood and warms my soul. It also makes me worry. And fear for you. I am thrown into panic whenever you are in danger, even if you are immortal, and I am flooded with relief when I am sure you are safe. You can reduce me to nothing with the lightest touch, the merest glance, the softest word, the tiniest gesture. Yet you also make me feel strong and electric and alive. How much do I love you? I love you to the deepest chambers of my heart and the weight of it is so much that my heart can hardly bear it. I long for your presence so achingly that I can barely keep myself together when you’re not around. You make me tremble and you make me still. You make me think of the future and you render me unable to think at all. If I loved you any more, I think I would dissolve altogether because my body could not longer contain it all. If I loved you any less, I would cease to exist because my love for you has become intertwined with the very essence of my being and I would unravel. I love you even more than these pathetic, futile words can express, but for now, this is all I have to offer you so I hope it is enough.”

You stop because you feel something wet trickle down your face. But…I’m not crying, am I? you think. Then you realize that the tears are not coming from you.

“Shirou!” you exclaim, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

Shirou doesn’t bother wiping his tears. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all. How can anything be wrong right now?”

“Then why are you crying?”

“It’s just…I never imagined…” Shirou clears his throat, but when he speaks, his voice is still choked with emotion. “I find being thoroughly loved to be…thoroughly moving.”

“Well, you better get used to it,” you say. “Because I’m going to thoroughly love you every day.”

You both drift off to sleep like this. As sleep slowly overtakes you, an old poem comes to your mind, but your muddled brain scrambles it slightly:

“The cold is lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have my lover’s warmth to keep,

And Shirou to hold me while I sleep,

And Shirou to hold me while I sleep.” *** ***Author’s Note: For those of you who are unfamiliar, the last four lines are inspired by Robert Frost’s “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening” from The Poetry of Robert Frost, edited by Edward Connery Lathem. Copyright 1923, © 1969 by Henry Holt and Company, Inc., renewed 1951, by Robert Frost.

#shirou x reader #shirou ogami #bna

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

The Thorn pt.1

summary: “Please what, Kitten? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

or my 6 thousand word essay on why I want more Sugar daddy!Slade fics.

a/n: This is just straight up smut Never combine stress thirst plus an amazing enabler. Thanks to @littleredwing89 for basically co-writing. Also I need more case fics with undercover gentlemen’s clubs stuff. I will edit this for grammar later.

warnings: mentions of murder and sexual assault (for the case), mirror sex, collars, oral (male receiving), choking, kind of public sex?, size kink (this is to be expected at this point), strength kink, reader is kind of a dumbass, and praise kink.

villain’s masterlist or masterlist

Saying this wasn’t your scene would be like saying the sun is bright. Obvious but wholly inadequate in describing just how out of your depth you are. You cross your arms over your chest in a futile attempt to shield them from prying eyes. The soft fabric of your lingerie feeling too little in contrast to the men clad in expensive suits leering at you as they passed your skittish form.

You try to swallow down the nervousness. You try to tell yourself this is fine, that it’s just for the case. But the silk collar tied tightly around your neck and your own fraying nerves made it extremely difficult to ignore just how vulnerable you felt.

God, what made your awkward ass think you could pull this off?

You lift your head, eyeing the other men and women around you. You all wore matching silk ribbons tied into bows behind your neck, a circular, silver tag hanging off of it. You wrinkle your nose at how young some of them look. Some barely look old enough to be anywhere near a place like this.

Part of you feels thankful that you shut Nicky’s idea down to go with a leather lingerie set but the stark contrast of your lacy lingerie set made you stand out too much in the sea of leather. It made you stand out just enough to color both your cheeks and ears from the amount of attention you were getting. You close your eyes trying to ignore the heat permeating from your skin. You try to focus on the details of the case.

For the last 8 months, there’s been an increase in the number of young men and women going missing and turning up dead. The assumption had been that it was due to the increase in gang activity but something felt off about the deaths.

Nothing was consistent. The victim type, the area, and even the M.O. of sexual assault were varied. Only the mode of death was even close to being consistent but even that presented its own problems. The injuries were too clean, too efficient for the killer to have drawn any pleasure from it especially when contrasted with the victims’ other injuries. Normally people who make those injuries have a certain type and a certain way of doing things. And the clean efficiency of the disposal method had easily ruled out any of the local gangs.

When you brought all of this up to your boss, he waved you off saying something about looking into it. Somehow not getting fired after screaming at your boss (probably because you’re one of the few crime scene techs willing to stay in this shithole), you decide to conduct your own investigation. The more clues you uncovered (out of sheer spite) the more they seemed to point to an organized crime group, likely involved in trafficking.

Finally, after a month and a half of searching, you found a solid lead. Augustus Klineberg. Despite the name, he was new money. At least, here in Merit.

“I’m his type!”

“And so are a dozen bodies laying around in the lab, what’s your point?”

“Sita, got me a part-time job at the Thorn.”

It hadn’t been easy. The thorn was an exclusive gentlemen’s club that specialized in certain kinks. It had taken Sita a week to even get you an interview but after that they eagerly accepted you with worrying enthusiasm. Either way, this conversation was simply a formality.

Bernard stares at you and you watch as his entire being crumples into the dining room table. He turns to his husband pleadingly. “Nicky, Please, my love, talk some sense into her.”

You turn to Nicky who is innocently sipping from his coffee mug filled with whatever ungodly creation came to Bernard in the dead of night. He tilts his head back seemingly collecting the right words. “Y/n has a point.”

“No! Not you too!”

“Yes!”

“Bern, think about it. Klineberg would never suspect her and unlike most of Klineberg’s victims, Y/n is a ninja gremlin.”

Bernard gives him a withering look while you snort. Nicky shrugs and continues to drink his, what you assumed was, liquid crack.

“Y/n, are you sure about this? The Thorn- Well, it isn’t exactly like your other undercover jobs.” You give both of them a cocky smile, biting into your mini waffle. “It can’t be that hard. All I have to do is sit there and look pretty.” At that little remark, Nicky burst out into a fit of laughter loud enough to wake the neighbors.

You run your hand through your hair still, feeling flustered. You need air.

“Hey Nina, I’m gonna need like maybe 5 minutes.”

“Sure, just don’t blame me for whatever excuse I give the bossman,” Nina says, shrugging at you. She flips her red curls over her shoulder, winking at a patron and tilting her hips to show off her curves. Both you and the patron are slack-jawed and entranced. Maybe you should try that sometime? Some time being after you stop gawking at Nina’s ass and probably also after you take in some air.

You shuffle away awkwardly keeping your eyes to the ground. You shrink into yourself easily as you cut through the crowd. This case was going to be the death of you and Bernard’s eulogy would just be a very short but satisfying ‘I told you so’.

Mercifully, you find a quieter area. You would have preferred to go outside but standing alone in a dark alley in skimpy underwear might be a bad idea. You flatten yourself against a wall and close your eyes. Maybe you could tell them you aren’t feeling well which isn’t entirely untrue. You felt sick being this vulnerable. You should probably leave before you do something stupid.

A hand on your wrist drags you back to reality. It takes absolutely everything in you not to break his wrist. You open your eyes to see Klineberg hoovering in your personal space.

“Are you ok?” He asks, the concern in his voice sounding synthetic. You try to wriggle out of his hold not bothering to hide your discomfort. You note how his smile seems to get bigger as you struggled more. Clearly, he was enjoying your discomfort.

“Thanks for finding her for me. The manager said she’d be in this general area but it’s quite hard to see with just one eye.” Slade says casually, settling a large hand on the man’s shoulder. Your heart stops. Of all the people you had to run into-

Klineberg eyes him skeptically. You have to respect him for that. You’ve faced Slade several times before, only making it out due to luck or hours of planning. If you were Klineberg, you’d be pissing yourself. Despite the almost friendly expression Slade had on him, you can tell this wasn’t up for negotiation. And apparently, so can Klineberg seeing how he dropped your hand.

Slade waves a neatly dressed man over. The man eyes you appraisingly and your heart takes an express elevator to your throat. Were you that obviously out of place?

“We’ll be taking a room.”

“Of course, sir,” The man answers politely, finally, taking his eyes off of you and handing Slade a key.

Wait. We?

Slade starts walking without a word, the crowd parting for him easily. You briefly look back at Klineberg who is still looking at you like he’s going to tear you apart with his bare hands before following Slade.

You walk behind him wordlessly. Your mind is still reeling from the fact that Slade ‘Deathstroke: The Terminator’ Wilson just saved you from your target and your own terrible acting and is mortified by the fact that he has now seen you in skimpy lingerie. The steps you take are measured, making sure to stick close to him but not too close. You keep your eyes to the ground as you walk behind him, hoping it’s enough to hide the expressions cycling through your face.

You two enter a room. It was unexpectedly spacious even under the dim neon lights. You look around finding the room furnished with expensive decorations looking nothing like the seedy gentlemen’s clubs you’ve busted before save for the pole in the middle of the room. It looked more akin to an expensive hotel bar, again, save for the pole. The darkness of the room and the quiet flow of the music set quite the intimate atmosphere which just made you that more skittish.

Slade makes his way across the room, eyes searching the corners and spaces of the room. He nods seemingly satisfied with the setup and likely not spotting any recording devices. Your stiff shoulders loosen a bit, if nothing else you could at least speak plainly now.

Slade takes his suit jacket off, revealing broad shoulders and the outline of strong back muscles. Your throat dries. Something warm stirs in you and you’re gawking again. God, you really need a better reaction to attractive people.

Slade holds out a glass of whiskey to you, a playful smile on his handsome face. He doesn’t seem to mind you staring at him. You swear viciously not skimping on colorful words but walk over to take the alcohol regardless. It’s on his tab and you honestly needed some alcohol in your system if you’re going to talk to him.

“So, working for the cops not work out for you?”

“Nah, my last sugar daddy just kicked the bucket, so I’m looking for a new one,” you say, giving Slade a wry smile. You watch him cross one leg over another easing into a relaxed position through the wall. It was polished to a mirror shine. You guess that’s the kind of thing rich people liked.

“Hmmm, that can be arranged.” You choke on your drink. You scowl at him. He simply shrugs at you taking a sip of his whiskey.

You hear the door open, forcing you to pretend to be civil. A man around your age, dressed in a classic waiter’s outfit comes in with a tray of whiskey and two glasses. You don’t know how but you can tell the whiskey is worth more than your apartment. This doesn’t help your urge to punch Slade.

“Will you be requiring any special toys tonight, sir?” The straightforward tone of the question makes you stiffen more than anything. The man’s eyes flicker towards you but his focus remains squarely on Slade who eyes you openly before smiling and saying “No, thanks, Anthony. I think we’ll be just fine.”

"If you say so, sir. Please feel free to let us know if you need anything."

You wait for Anthony to leave before turning the full force of your scowl at Slade.“How the hell did you know his name?”

Slade regards you impassively over the rim of his glass. You refuse to break eye contact. He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, Kitten, you caught me. I do frequent this club quite a bit.”

“You kinky shit.”

He eyes you again, his eye clearly tracing your curves. “I’m not the one sitting here in their underwear with a collar on. Speaking of which-” Slade nods his head towards something in front of both of you.

You look at the pole, blinking dumbly as a smile spreads across his face. He tips his head to it. “I did pay for your time and the customer is always right.”

Your mouth twists into a snarl as the tips of your ears run red. “You are insufferable.”

“Don’t make me call the manager.” You sigh at the unspoken ‘it is definitely going to blow your cover and get you shot. At best.’ and begrudgingly you make your way to the pole.

You grip the pole in front of you, flexing your fingers against the cold metal. Anxiety thrums under your skin. Your eyes flick nervously to Slade who’s got the audacity to sit comfortably, sip whiskey, and smirk at you as if he was completely in his element.

“No need to be shy. Be a good girl and give us a good show,” he says, winking at you. Your hackles rise and your face pulls into a frown before rearranging itself into a sultry smile. You put one heel in front of you, hooking your leg around the pole and grinding your clothed sex into the metal in an undulating motion that has Slade clenching his hand around his glass. You try your hardest to grin and you suspect you’ve failed. Not that Slade’s noticed considering his eye is laser-focused on your ass.

With your one leg on the floor, you push yourself into a spin. Your body tips back as your hand runs down your face, chest, and abdomen drawing attention to the plains of exposed skin and delicate fabric accenting your shape. Pulling your body back up, you let your body slide down to the floor. Your legs split as soon as you made contact with the floor giving him a full view of your ass. He whistles appreciatively, tilting his head. You watch him through thick lashes, eyes bright and predatory under the neon lights. You roll onto your hand and knees. He smiles down at you watching the sweat drip down the valley of your breasts. You were a sight to behold.

Slade pats his knee. “Come here, kitten.” Hunger flashes in his blue eye. It sends a warm shock through your system. It’s odd being looked at like that but you can’t feel yourself getting too concerned over it. Not when it sends a pleasant hum through your mind.

You crawl towards him in time with the movement, slow and steady in its place. Stopping in front of him. A large hand grasps your chin, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

You sit on his lap, hand grasping his broad shoulder. Embarrassment floods back into your system now that you’re this close, now that you had the full force of that hungry gaze on you. You feel your skin heat and the weight of his gaze makes your stomach flip.

Seduction was other people’s gig, not yours.

Large hands settle on your waist, pressing circles into your skin. The buzzing feeling in your brain returns and you refocus on your task. His hands slide down the side of your body, fingers digging into your hips. His hands follow the circular motions your hips make on his crotch and guides you over the growing bulge. You hear his breath catch and hiss as you grind down on his crotch. You wrap your hands around the silk tie dangling from his neck and roughly pull him into a kiss.

His fingers dig into the meat of your ass drawing an embarrassingly loud yelp from you and giving him access to your mouth. You suck on his tongue and receive a pleased groan from him. Your tongues wrestle for control as he kneads your ass, making you mewl and moan into the kiss. You break the kiss needing air while Slade admires his work.

When Slade dips in for another kiss, you pull away pushing off of his broad chest a flirty smile dancing across your features. You turn from him, heels clicking against the floor as your show off the lushness of your figure. In the mirror, you see Slade settling back into his position and grinning at the corners of the room again. His arms relax on the back of the couch.

You close your eyes and let the music swallow you whole. You don’t dare hazard a glance at the mirror. You sashay your hips to the music, loosening your tense muscles. You open your eyes giving Slade your best seductive smile. You run your hands up your body, tangling into your hair.

You bite your lip as you slide them back down. Your fingers catch against the collar. Slade’s mouth twists.

You ease your arms out of your bra and let it drop to the floor. Your nipples pebble in the cold night air. The sight of them makes the corners of Slade’s mouth twitch. You push past the warmth stirring in your stomach in favor of trailing your hands down your body. Your fingers toy with the straps of your panties, watching as Slade licks his lips in anticipation. You slide the flimsy garment down your legs, bending over and giving him a good view of your wet pussy through the mirror.

Stepping out of them, you toss them at Slade, who just to be an asshole, catches and pockets them. He grins at you and shrugs unapologetically. You scowl at him putting as much venom into your features as much as possible.

You sway your lush hips in time with the music, letting the slow beat dictate the rhythm of your movements as you saunter towards him. You swallow, the silk collar still wound tightly around your neck. The intensity of his gaze makes you painfully aware of your nakedness but the embarrassment heating your skin shoots straight to your core, making you shudder.

Reaching him, you straddle his thighs, your plump ass grazing over his growing bulge. You moan, mouth-watering at the sensation. Your mind dwells on the feeling, your insides growing slick at the thought of him inside you.

Your fingers trail up your thighs and up over your stomach. You watch as his eye follows the slow tantalizing movement. His large hands grip onto the plush headrest of the couch, squeezing them as his face twists just a smidge with a mix of exertion and frustration.

You give him a playful smile as you slow the gyrating of your hips. A growl rumbles from his chest and you snap your hips back against his erection, the loose movement of your body hypnotic like ocean waves. Tipping your head back into his shoulder, exposing the column of your throat to him. Your hips continue to undulate against him, feeling the deep bass of the music ripple through your body along with the shockwaves of heat coming from your core as you grind it against his bulge. The coarse feeling of the fabric against your core making your knees grow weak.

A sinful moan tumbles out of your lips followed closely by breathy panting. You let your eyes slide shut soaking up the sensation of his suit against your skin. You reach behind you hooking your arms around Slade’s broad shoulders to steady yourself as your press closer to his large form. He presses his lips to your neck, the prickle of his beard against your skin making you shiver. “Yeah, just like that, kitten,” he murmurs against your skin, a large hand settling on your thigh.

You push further into him. You grind your hips, the movement deep and slow. Your hand tangles in his hair, gently guiding him to your lips. Your lips move against each other just as your bodies do, slow and sensual. You catch his lips between your teeth, nipping at it. He chuckles at your invitation, sliding his tongue inside your mouth and joining your lips once again. Below you, you feel another large hand hook onto your thigh. Both hands grip your thighs fiercely pulling them further apart, exposing your sopping pussy to the cold night air.

Slade breaks away from your kiss, his panting breaths hot fanning your face. You stare at each other with half-lidded eyes, lust bright in them even in the low light. He captures your lips again in a quick kiss before planting one on your shoulder. “Play with yourself,” he says, the command steady and rough against your ear.

The tone of his voice makes you shiver as you reluctantly release your hold on his shoulders. Keeping one hand tangled in his hair, you slowly slide your hand down your body, mewling into his skin when you reach into your neglected folds. You slip two fingers in immediately. You shudder and bite your lips trying to stop any obscene sounds from escaping.

A hand tilts your chin, coaxing you. “Good girl, look at yourself. Look just how wet you are just for me, kitten,” Slade says, nibbling at your ear. You yelp, your hips bucking into your hand, ass rolling against his member. You watch yourself in the mirror red-faced, open-mouthed, and sinful. Your dripping sex is in full view only obscured by your hand as your fingers dip in and out of your core. Slade’s eye never leaves the mirror even as he plants kisses against your skin. His large hand grasps your neck making sure you don’t look away from the mirror. You think of how easily he could break you and you feel like you’re on fire.

You're so close. You’re so so close. You can even see the desperation carving itself so plainly on your face. Anxiety and arousal mix into a potent cocktail in your gut. The nervousness from earlier rearing its ugly head. You whine in frustration, adding in a third finger but you can’t seem to reach over the edge. You hear him chuckle behind you and see him grin into your skin. At least, one of you was having fun.

He gives your shoulder another rough kiss, leaving a mark before speaking. “Having some trouble, kitten?” You wrinkle your nose at his tone but...in truth, you were. You bite your lip not knowing what to say. You’re so close but… the venue made you shy and that was an entirely different problem. Using the hand on your neck, Slade tilts your head towards him, the heat from his lips ghosting over yours. “All you have to do is ask for help, kitten,” he murmurs against your lips. The vibrations send another shockwave of desperation wreaking havoc throughout your already oversensitive body.

He tilts your head back to look at the mirror. You can feel your ears warm at the thought of begging but you’re a hair’s breadth away from your end. Biting your lips and furrowing your brow, you take a steadying breath but it still comes out breathy when you exhale due to the hand squeezing your thigh drifting closer to your core. He presses slow circles into your inner thigh with his thumb, his teeth nibbling at your shoulder leaving marks. A vicious curse leaves your lips blunted by a moan that follows it.

“Slade, please. Please. Sir, please.”

“Please what, Kitten? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

You tighten your grip on his hair and roll your hips against his. He growls in your ear but he doesn’t budge. “Use your words, kitten,” he commands, sounding far more patient than he actually is. You whimper, rocking against him. He holds you still, fingers digging into your flesh and body leaning into yours. “Words.”

You pant, hot breaths loud in your ears. Whether it was his or your own you were hearing, you didn’t know and didn’t care, not when your head was jumbled with the buzzing under your skin. You swallow. His eye following the movement of your throat and the silver glint of your tag winking at you in the mirror. “Slade- Sir, please- Please, I need you. I need you inside me.”

“That wasn’t too hard now was it?” He says capturing your lips in a rough kiss. You scream against his lips when you feel two large calloused fingers thrust into your core, stretching you replacing the ache in your core with a burning stretch. Slade releases you, steadying you so that your eyes are once again on the mirror. You both watch as his fingers pump in and out of you, the room filling up with your moans. “Keep your eyes on the mirror and watch as I make you cum.”

He presses his thumb against your clit. The syllables of his name coming out garbled and incoherent. You cum with a whimper. Your body shakes uncontrollably, your bones melting. Your lungs take in greedy gulps of oxygen feeling like the wind’s been knocked out of them. Slade lets your head lull back against his shoulder. You press little kisses against the powerful muscles of his neck. “Thank you, sir.”

Slade removes his fingers from your pussy, leaving you feeling empty. “Clean up the mess you made,” he orders, pressing wet fingers against your lips. You open your mouth letting them in. You slide your eyes shut and swirl your tongue around them. You bob your head taking them in deep. You moan, rocking your hips against his still hard cock, letting yourself imagine what it would be like to take him into your mouth. Your enthusiasm earns you a hiss from Slade. You smile as you continue to suck on his fingers and rock your body, the fire in the pit of your stomach reigniting. You flutter your eyes open. In the mirror, you see Slade, brow raised and mouth wrangled into a shape of wry amusement. “See, I knew you were a good girl,” he says voice strained. You grind your ass into him as you moan around his fingers. You gasp when a rough hand grasps your breast, nipple pinched between calloused fingers.

“Are you that hungry for my cock, kitten?” he asks, removing his fingers from your lips. Both your lips and his fingers glisten with your saliva. You nod not trusting your voice to be steady. He thankfully accepts it.

“Well, have at it,” he says, hands repositioning themselves on the back of the couch easing into a more relaxed position and looking as smug as humanly possible. He really is getting his money’s worth out of this. You shift your body making sure you brush up against his erect member as you did so. He looks almost pained when you finally face him. You drag your hands up and down his shirt, his muscles barely hidden by the soft silky material. You lick your lips, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. You slide yourself down his body, hands kneading and worshipping every stretch of muscle they come across. Fuck, they feel so good to your touch.

Getting to your knees, you rest your cheek against his knee. You let mischief shape your features. He quirks his brow at you, tilting his strong jaw urging you to move on. You massage his thighs as you pull yourself up. You undo his belt tossing it to the side. You pinch the zipper of his pants between your teeth and pull it down, grinning as you do it. Slade lifts his hips a bit to help you ease his pants and boxers down. Your mouth waters visibly when his cock springs free in all its glory. You gulp audibly as you figure the logistics of fitting all of it into your mouth.

“Take your time, Kitten. I’ve requested you for the whole night. We have time.” He drawls, smug. You roll your eyes at him finally deciding that head-on was the only way to tackle this. You lick a strip up his member paying special attention to the large vein running down the middle. You flick your eyes up to him, seeing his muscles tense. You grasp the base of his cock tight in your hand, kissing the tip and giving the slit a long, languid lick. The taste of precum wakes your taste buds. You hum, sucking lightly at the head, your hand twisting up and down his cock. His jaw tightens, the strain of keeping his hips still tightening the muscles of his thighs.

You spread your legs wide as you sink your head down taking him in and giving him a good view of your wet pussy. You take him in as far as you can, gagging when the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. The corners of your eyes sting with tears. You still yourself, letting your throat relax around him. You pull yourself back up. Your plush lips massage his length as you go and your warm hand not trailing far behind. You keep your mouth on the head of his cock before sinking back down. His sheer girth is sure to make your jaw ache but you couldn’t make yourself care, not when you’re growing wetter the more you worship his cock. Slade for his part looked like he was gonna tear the couch apart every time you sank down to take is cock on, the fluttering walls of your throat driving him up the wall. The soft music of the room was now barely audible against the mingling sounds of your moans. Slade’s unrestrained voice was dripped with whiskey and sin.

His cock twitches in your throat and it’s the only warning you get before cum splashes against the back of your throat and fills your mouth. You choke but when your eyes meet his, the muscles of your throat work automatically to swallow his load. The movement followed closely by his eye. You pull back, light-headed. He grabs your chin, tilting it up to inspect your mouth. He hums satisfied. “Kitten, that mouth of yours is definitely worth more than the price of admission.” He says brushing a thumb against your bottom lip as you pant.

A familiar ache in your core returns when your eyes land on Slade’s still hardened cock.

“Of course, a little cockslut like you wouldn’t be satisfied ‘til you’ve been filled,” he chuckles pulling you into his lap so that you’re facing the mirror, your dripping pussy hovering over his saliva covered cock. The throbbing head teasing against your sensitive folds. He kisses your shoulder, his teeth pinching your skin leaving another red bruise. You whine as he guides your hips, moving them to ever so slightly brush your core against his cock.

“Sir, please. I need you. I- I need you to fuck me,” you beg, hands tangling in his hair and eyes watching his member in pained hunger. You sound so needy but you also needed him inside you filling you up.

Slade hums in your ear approvingly. He pinches your ear lobe between his teeth, making you keen. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” That was the only warning you got before his hands guide your hips down onto his engorged cock. Your walls flutter with every inch, stretching you with every inch. A hand cups your breast while he continues to guide you down onto his cock. Rough calloused fingers knead your breast as he whispers compliments into your skin in between kisses. The cacophony of sensations is almost too much for you.

“Such a good cockslut, look at how well that tight cunt of yours is taking me in.” You roll your hips, urging him to quicken his maddeningly slow pace. He simply chuckles at your attempt as both his hands steady your hips. You almost cry in relief when he finally bottoms out. You pant savoring the burning stretch tearing at your insides. Pleasure and pain mingling in your sense.

Slade rests his chin against your shoulder, lips pressed to the shell of your ear. “Kitten, I want to watch you fuck yourself on my cock,” he says, in a low commanding tone making you shiver and leaving no room for arguments. You grip on to his arms, nails digging into the meat of his muscle, to steady yourself. You lean forward to get yourself into a better angle.

Ah ah ah

Breathy moans and the slap of skin against skin filled the air as you roll your hips against his. You watch yourself in the mirror, breasts bouncing, mouth hanging open, and tongue lolling out getting lost in the pleasure. The mixture of shadow and light highlighting and isolating the frantic need carving itself onto both of your faces. The coil in your stomach twists as your eyes meet his in the mirror. Icy blues trailing up and down your body possessively.

His hand wraps around your throat, squeezing it gently as he trails kisses up your spine. Your hips stutter, your walls squeezing around his cock. “You like that?” he whispers into your ear, putting just the tiniest bit more pressure around your neck. You feel your walls flutter around him and he moans in your ear. His other hand squeezes at your hip, nails digging into your soft flesh.

With a growl, he snaps his hips against yours almost violent in its intensity. You let out a loud yelp. Slade jackhammers into you like a madman, pummeling your pussy. His tongue dragging against your sweat-covered skin. “Cum with me, Kitten,” he grinds out, nipping at your ear. Your pussy clenches and unclenches around him trying to squeeze his cock, gripping him as if not wanting to let go of it. He bites a hickey into your neck and you feel the coil in your stomach burst. You feel a flood of warmth fill your aching core as Slade lets himself go.

He turns your body around to face him, careful not to separate you two. He pulls you into a deep kiss as both of you ride out your orgasms.

Your body slumps against Slade’s, head resting on his shoulder and chest pressing against his. Your breaths come out in puffs fanning against his neck. Slade presses a kiss to your forehead. You yawn and kiss his throat, his pulse hot against your lips.

“Satisfied?” he asks, pulling your wrist to his lips nipping and leaving marks on it. You wonder just how many marks he’s left on you and if he’s technically allowed to do that. It just seems bad for business.

“Yes, sir,” you answer, nuzzling into his shoulder. He chuckles, rubbing his large hands soothingly over your aching muscles. He holds you tenderly for a while, both of you basking in the afterglow.

Through thick lashes, you see Slade look at his watch. You whine when he starts to shift. Wrapping your arms around him, you press your body closer. You see his brow wrinkle and have to bite your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. Sucker.

Slade gives you another kiss as he reluctantly extricates himself from your warmth. You shiver at the motion. Your oversensitive walls flutter making him groan. You whimper at the feeling of emptiness as he gently places you on the soft cushions of the couch. He places another kiss on your forehead then your shoulder then your wrist as he drapes his jacket over you. “Sorry, kitten, I have some business I need to take care of,” he says tucking himself back into his pants. “But if you feel like a repeat performance, feel free to come back,” he continues, fixing his shirt as he grins down at you. Your stomach flips despite how tired you feel.

You watch him walk away then stop. “Oh and I’ll be keeping these,” he teases, holding up your panties and tucking them back into his pocket. You try to sit up intent on throwing the entire bottle of whiskey at him but your limbs fail you, still feeling like jelly.

The next time you open your eyes is when you feel someone patting your cheek lightly.

“March,” Anthony’s voice comes out in a haze. It takes a second for your mind to recognize the name as your alias. You take a deep breath trying to quell the panic from being woken up.

“What time is it?”

“A quarter past one.”

Good, you’ve only been asleep for an hour.

“Thanks.”

“You’re pretty lucky. Looks like Mr. Wilson was feeling generous,” Anthony laughs, thumb pointing to the stack of cash by the whiskey.

That asshole.

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Thanks for reading!

a/n: This will be a 3 part series because I am thirsty as hell.

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage , @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

#Slade Wilson #slade wilson x reader #slade wilson smut #slade wilson imagine #dc smut

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votederpycausemufins · 4 years

Text

for the longest time my brain just did not want to write. but then two scenes came to mind and bam, chapter!

and as always

@petrichormeraki

Wilbur showed up like he was arriving at a party. In a sense he was since Dream was taken down and he was going to see Tommy again. Dream may have revived him, but even that wasn’t going to convince Wil to help the tyrant. When he reached Philza and Techno, he was surprised to see no sign of Tommy. “So, where is he?”

“Tommy? He’s showing off his base to Tubbo.” Grian spoke up, making Wilbur notice him. His parrot wings were folded tightly so they couldn’t be seen, which was perfect for him. "Hey, you got something in your hair.”

Wilbur patted his head. “What, my hat?”

Grian shook his head and put a blue feather there. “It’s right there.”

“I can feel you put something there.” Wilbur pulled the feather out. “Don’t need you-” He stopped talking once he actually looked at the feather.

“Hey look, I’ve got one too.” Techno said pointing at the yellow feather placed behind his ear.

“No.” Wilbur sounded dumbfounded and looked back at Grian, who now had a red feather stuck in his own hair.

“Alright, let’s go see Tommy.” Grian spoke nonchalantly before Wilbur grabbed him.

“Oh no you don’t! You don’t just get to drop that bombshell on us and walk away!”

Grian laughed. “What, missed me?”

“Yes! Where the fuck were you?”

“Oh, here and there. How are you doing being alive again.”

“Less violent than I was before dying I suppose.”

“Good! But I’m still not letting you near Tommy.” When Wilbur tried to say something, Grian stopped him. “Nope, you can’t argue. I’m oldest now.”

“What the fuck to you mean, I’m a minute older than you bird boy.”

“Not anymore, I’m now in my thirties.”

“Wh- How?!”

Philza put a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder. “We can talk more when we meet back up with Tommy.”

“Yeah, we can visit his base hermit cribs style. I’ll grab my backup elytra and some rockets!” Grian ducked into a shop to use their ender chest. “Oh yeah, are you guys okay with rockets? Because Tommy told me Tubbo doesn’t like them. They won’t explode or anything, they’re just to help you with flying. Obviously dad and I won’t need them, but uh, you guys don’t have wings.”

“I’ll take them.” Wilbur said. Techno was less eager, but did also accept the elytra.

As Grian was about to take off with his family, Scar cleared his throat to get their attention. “Now Grian, while I am glad that you have found the family you lost, I am still very serious about that paperwork. I have different forms for if they’re planning to stay permanently or if they’re just going to visit often. I can send the paperwork to your mansion if you want though if you just want to come to town hall right now, we can do it there.”

“Scar, right now I want to talk with my family and figure out what we’re doing. We can’t really sign paperwork if we don’t know which paperwork to sign, right?”

Scar nodded in agreement. “Alright, I’ll send it to the mansion then. Also about the other people visiting.”

Grian flapped his wings to quickly get into the air. “Sorry Scar too far away can’t hear you byeeeee!”

On the ground, Phil sighed, though he was smiling. “I guess this means we better start flying. Let’s get up higher for an easier take off.”

Though it took an attempt or two, the avian lineage seemed to help Techno and Wilbur get the hang of using elytra extremely fast. Though in the air, Grian hadn’t flown too far and the others easily caught up with him. He guided them to the south west towards where Tommy’s base was.

As it came into view, Grian couldn’t help but laugh as he heard a gasp from behind. They landed in front of the arch acting as a doorway on the ground floor to find Tommy leaning against it. “Took long enough dickheads.”

Grian was about to jokingly scold Tommy when Wilbur went to hug and or lovingly bully his younger brother. Tommy waved his arms in an attempt to get Wil to stop, but he kept running towards Tommy. Just before he could reach the blond, he was tackled to the ground from the side by Grian.

“Grian! I was joking! It was going to be fine!” Tommy complained, helping to pull the avian off Wilbur. “You don’t have to keep mothering me! Stress does that plenty!”

“It’s not my fault I wore the chicken mask that long.”

“That is entirely your fault! And wearing a mask that long doesn’t change anything.”

Tommy and Grian continued to playfully argue until Philza caught their attention. “Oh right, forgot we had meetings to get to. Hey Tommy, which floor do you think is best for talking about all this.”

Tommy put a hand on his chin. “Hmmm, how about the sixth floor? I mean, that one is based on the smp.”

“Sounds great!” Grian said before flying up there, leaving the others behind.

“Hey! No fair!” Tommy shouted up. “Some of us have to use rockets to fly! Ugh fine we’re taking the bubble stream.”

Entering the tower, the first floor was just completely made of cobble. It was his favorite block and all, so if he was going to mainly use the first floor, that was the design he wanted. There were also a number of chests placed around to the point that it had become a bit of a chest monster. Wilbur couldn’t help but be curious and opened one chest, eyes widening at the contents. “This is filled with diamond tools and armor! You’re just leaving it here?”

Tommy looked over to what Wil was referring to. “What? Oh, that’s from endbusting. It’s all cursed gear. You should have seen the time I caught Joe afk and gave him a set of binding diamond armor. I’m not sure how he didn’t notice right away, but the moment I mentioned I liked his armor, he jumped in the nearest lava pool.”

“Really? Other than the curses, this seems like it’s pretty good?”

“Not really. No one is really stealing from each other so everyone’s got great gear. Besides, part of the prank was giving Joe diamond gear. He apparently said he wasn’t going to use diamonds this world and burns them when he gets them.”

“He just burns diamonds?!”

“Yeah.” Tommy shrugged, then walked over to one of many bubble columns. “Here, this one goes to the sixth floor. You guys go first. I want to make sure you go in it and not the others. I’ll show off my shit hermitcribs style later.”

When they got off the bubble elevator, it was something that was recognized immediately. The floor was made of grass and one wall was missing and looking right at the now setting sun. In the middle of the room was a simple bench and a jukebox.

“Your bench.” Wilbur spoke up, making Tommy nod.

“Yeah. There’s also one in the shopping district. That’s for more public stuff. I’ll just be hanging on the bench and other hermits can show up to talk about shit. This one’s for more private stuff like this.”

“Or for letting me cuddle with you.” Grian poked his head up from the other side of the bench.

Tommy’s face turned a shade of red. “We do not cuddle!”

“Then what do you call what we do when you’ve had a long day and need me to come over so you can use my wings as a blanket.”

“Hanging out. Cuddling makes it sound weird.” Tommy crossed his arms.

Grian just tackled Tommy and wrapped him in his wings. “You’re not allowed out until you admit it!”

“Never bird bitch!”

He rubbed the feathers against Tommy’s face. “Say iiit!” Tommy just plucked a feather out making Grian pull back. “Ow! You didn’t have to do that!”

“I thought you wanted us to talk as a family or some shit.”

Grian rolled his eyes, but did nod. “Yeah, you’re right.” And then he sat down on the ground across from the bench. The others found their own places to sit and just sat there in silence for a few moments before Wilbur started the conversation.

“So, you changed your name then huh? Everyone’s calling you Grian.”

Grian nodded. “Yeah, I started using it back when I was in the orphanage and legally changed it when I was eighteen. Though it took a while with the criminal record.”

“I’m sorry, your what?” Philza asked sternly, but Grian just shrugged.

“Yeah I sort of murdered some people. I probably could have found a way around it, but at the time, it was the best answer I had. And I didn’t really have a good support system. I mean, I had friends, but how are you supposed to tell them you have voices in your head telling you what to do when they’re already not the best people themselves.”

Philza rubbed his forehead. “How bad?”

“Well…”

“No, nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

“So, you’re a Watcher?” Techno spoke up in a monotone voice.

Grian used enough of his power to make a third eye appear for a second before making it disappear again. “Yeah, whatever took me from you guys happened again and dropped me off in a world that was like, so many years in the past. I actually got dropped there with a lot of people and the Watchers sort of played around with us. Nothing as bad as what Dream seemed to be doing, just puzzles and cryptic clues and portals everywhere to push us forward in time when they saw fit. Eventually they convinced me to join them.”

“Just like that?” Techno raised an eyebrow.

“Nah, I was a real pain in their side for loads of time before they finally asked me to join. I’m pretty sure it was because it was because that was the one way to get me to stop messing around.” Grian laughed at his own joke before looking sadly at the floor. “First thing I did was start looking for you guys. I assumed you would still be in the castle or somewhere nearby, but the place was abandoned. And it’s harder to find someone when you don’t know what world they’re in.”

Philza started to reach for Grian, but the younger avian’s wings started to puff up in agitation. “You know, I don’t know if I should be happy that I found you or upset. I could have never figured out where you guys were unless I got lucky peering into worlds. Only reason I found out was because Tommy came here. And he only came here because he ended up in a dangerous world with no family helping him. And you nearly took him back there.”

Tommy put a hand on one of Grian’s wings, making him puff up even more. “Hey, calm down Big G. You made sure they couldn’t do that. And if they do try, just knock some sense into them.”

Grian calmed down, though there was still tension in the room and no one spoke. The first thing that broke the silence was a yell from above them. “Tommy! How do you get down? I don’t have a water bucket on me!”

Tommy jumped up from where he was sitting. “Oh shit! I’ll be right there Tubbo!” And Tommy jumped out the window. Grian waited a moment before asking the others to look behind them, which they did just in time for all of them to see Tommy making a face at them all as he went up the bubble stream. A few moments later, Tubbo was going down a different bubble elevator and then Tommy glided in through the window. “Sorry, I keep the down one closed off so the bees don’t wander their way into it on a suicide mission. Tubbo couldn’t find it and obviously he’s not flying around.”

“Can you actually ask him to come up here? I want to say something that involves him.”

“Got it.” Tommy leaned out the window. “Hey Tubbo! Come back up here! Use the one with green glass!”

A moment later, Tubbo exited onto the floor. Tommy pushed Wilbur off the bench to make room for Tubbo to sit. “Hey! How are you so strong!”

Tommy gestured at the room around them. “I mean, I got help from some of the hermits for the interior, but the exterior was all me. I mined tons of shit looking for diamonds and I used it for here. I mean, I also got some help with the flag on top, but otherwise, all seventeen floors were built by me.”

“Seventeen floors?!”

“I know, they’re all as tall as this one so it’s small as fuck. Only big one is the top since I didn't waste an extra ceiling with the roof there.”

“You should do what Tango did last season and add a dragon or two.”

“Nah, might just start making a castle to pair up with it.”

“Tommy! What the fuck!” Tubbo said suddenly. “How did you get so good?!”

“It’s just sort of how we do stuff here on Hermitcraft.” Grian answered. “You were at Iskall’s tree right? That’s his base. He got us to help collect the leaves, but he’s been placing it all.” Tubbo just looked like his head was about to explode. “Anyway, I wanted Tommy to call you here because I didn’t get the chance to tell you. You’re the admin of the smp now.”

“I’m what?!”

“I figured after all I’ve heard about you from Tommy, you would be safe to turn into the admin. Obviously it can be moved to someone else, but you were the first choice.”

“I can’t be the admin! What if I end up like Dream?! I already wasn’t the best at being president! What if I screw up and they put me in pandora’s vault too!”

Tommy hugged Tubbo. “You were a great president, you just had to deal with bad people. And they’re not going to put you in some stupid fucking vault for a mistake.”

“And if they do, we call in Mumbo. Speaking of him, I should call him over.” Grian pulled out his communicator and hit the call button for Mumbo, putting it on speaker for the fun of it. When the redstoner answered, Grian spoke in a dramatic and joking tone into the microphone. “Mumbo. Babe. Light of my life. Father of our children.-”

Though Grian sounded like he was going to continue, a tired sounding Mumbo came through to stop him. “What do you need Grian?”

“We’re at Tommy’s base. Can you come over and meet everyone?”

“I was already planning on finding you. I’m of course on Grian watching duty after that stunt you pulled. I would have already shown up but the redstone blocks finally needed replacing.”

“Remember to bring scaffolding. You know water and redstone don’t mix.”

“I’m well aware. Bye Grian.” And Mumbo hung up.

Grian and Tommy explained more of everything on Hermitcraft and answered more questions while they all waited for Mumbo. Finally there was the distinct noise of scaffolding being placed and they saw a tower appear in front of the window and then keep going up. From below, they could hear Mumbo talking to someone else he had brought along. “You don’t need that much. Grian said they’re only on the sixth floor.”

“But I want to see Tubbee! Tubbee Tubbee Tubbee!”

“You can see Tubbee later. C’mon, let’s see Grian first.”

After the talking stopped, up the scaffolding came what looked to be a small child. Behind them was someone a bit taller, but obviously still young, and last was a man in a black suit and a mustache.

“Dad!” The smallest one ran over and jumped at Grian. Wilbur looked between Grian and the kid.

“Wait, so that wasn’t a joke. You actually have kids?”

“Well you have Fundy. I have these two. Meet Grumbot and Jrumbot.”

Wilbur opened his mouth again with a sly smirk. “Is he any good?” and then added in a wink.

When he realized what was being implied, Mumbo’s face turned a bright red and he tried talking but it was all flustered stuttering. Grian has a similar though not as pronounced reaction to the question. Jrumbot looked between his dads confused while Grumbot looked at Wilbur. “My brother and I were merely built and are powered by redstone. We have no organic parts. Our dads are not together and thus have not had se-”

“GRUMBOT!”

#hermit!tommy au #hermit!tommy #tommyinnit #grian #grian xelqua #wilbur soot #philza #technoblade #tubbo #tubbee #mumbo jumbo #grumbot #jrumbot

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