#i drew a bunch of him when i was stuck at manning a booth at an event

[smolestboop]

i love drawing him so so so much!

[all-things-fic]

Spoilin’ for a Fight

A/N: Happy Sunday loves! Hope you’ve all had a lovely and restful weekend. No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you... I have indeed (finally) posted another piece of writing. Here’s 6.7k of Harry riling up his partner all because of a bloody vest.

Thank you as always for all the love and patience everyone has given me. Especially @waitingfortwilight, @haute-romance-quotidienne and @harryfeatgaga. Hopefully this lives up to any hype the sneak peek created! I’m going to disappear again .x 

***

You rolled your lips into your mouth as you watched him walk his way around your master bedroom. His movements were confidently familiar as he tucked his vest into the waistband of his white boxer-briefs and kept his eyes down to the dress shirt and trousers he had laid out across your bedspread, sitting next to choice accessories. 

He was running late. Both you and he knew it. Yet the leisurely motions he undertook would never have told you that if you didn’t already know. The way he had taken longer in the shower, carelessly stepped out of the towel (and stepped over it too, meaning the item was now damp and in a bunched up pile closer to Harry’s side of the bed waiting for someone to put it in the laundry basket) and meandered his way through getting ready. 

Boxers first, then black ankle socks. Then the bloody vest. 

You exhaled through your nose, trying not to release a breath that would catch his attention and let him know that you were becoming slightly vexed by how lackadaisical he was choosing to be.

The vest had to go.

Not even in a sexual way either. 

And it wasn’t the fact that it just wasn’t doing it for you - on the contrary it was quite the opposite, the tight item clearly letting you ogle and appreciate the fine specimen you were proud to call your partner - but it was just how much of grandad-move it was.

You understood how having some sort of undershirt kept his actual shirt looking pristine acting as a defensive layer between his body and his clothing.

But, the vest had to go. 

It just had to.

Blindly reaching down to your dresser for your tube of mascara, you unscrewed the gold lid and coated the wand with product. 

Mouth slightly fallen, you washed your lashes with the High Density Black mascara and quickly made the switch to the other eye making sure to get your bottom lashes too. 

Looking at Harry through the mirror, you wondered what he could be debating as he stood silently in the middle of the room. A soft frown traced his brow, his eyes looking down at the bed. His hands were digging into his waist, as his lips jutted slightly in thought. 

Your conclusion was that he was debating his outfit choice for the evening. 

Lid gently screwed back on, you placed your mascara into your cosmetic vanity, before then reaching out for your brow gel. A quick brush through each side and you were done with that step.

You happened to quite like his outfit choice. It was a little less formal than usual for one of your dinners. Classic houndstooth patterned trousers and smart black shirt. The kind of material that made a scratching noise which was music to your ears as you clawed at your man, wanting him closer. Whether that was in the booth of a restaurant, on the car ride home while you were sat at a red traffic light, or when he had you pinned against the locked door for your house. 

Eyes dropping, you watched as your hands - with freshly lacquered nails - gently drew the opening of your silky-satin dressing gown together as it started to gape. 

From your fidgeting, Harry’s attention was stolen by the movement he had seen in his peripherals and when you next looked up at him in the mirror you were met by his already awaiting gaze.

His face looked worn, as his still slightly damp hair fell across his forehead. Lines lingered in his skin from the way his head was tilted and his arms were bent as his hands faffed around with what appeared to be a trinket box. He must’ve reached for it at some point while you were otherwise occupied. 

Gold cross dipping underneath the neckline of the vest, the width of his chest seemed to be getting wider the longer you kept your eyes on his reflection. In moments like this you always became hyper aware of the amount of tattoos that were scattered across his body - arms, shoulders and chest. If you were able to let your eyes drop lower, you were sure the ones of his legs would be just as vivid.

But while everything else about him just seemed content in the moment, his eyes were different. They were strong as they held yours. Waiting for something. 

And you knew you couldn’t keep his gaze as you let your words leave your throat, albeit with less conviction than you originally thought them.

If you were after a bicker before dinner then he was absolutely going to bite and give you what you wanted. You just knew it. 

“You’re not going out in that, are you?”

“‘S there a problem ‘f I am?”

A charged pause.

Harry’s remark was shot out instantly, on yours as fast as a predator was on their prey. 

Inhaling deeply through your nose, you looked back at him through the mirror. A slant to his lips as he waited once more.

Gentle raise of his eyebrows. Faint but definitely there. Goading. Knowing you would be so aware of every moment, every twitch with your eye for detail. His eyes shone in a way that he was daring you.

Oh, he was spoiling for a fight. Most definitely. 

See, this wasn’t new territory for you and Harry. He knew that it sometimes got on your last nerve in how he opted for a vest to cover his top half as an undershirt but especially when he only wore that as the item of choice and simply slung a suit jacket over the top to complete the outfit. 

Like that one time when he attended The Store X The Vinyl Factory's Transformer exhibition and swung by your then rented London townhouse after said event in the small hours only for you to chastise him on the doorstep for how he hadn’t even put on a proper shirt for the evening. 

That night he had teased you - “‘least let me in the door before you start dressing me down, darling. Especially considering ‘m halfway there with not putting on a clean shirt an’ everythin’” - in that slow draw that maddeningly managed to warm you through even when you were irritated with it’s orator. 

Blinking, you knew you needed to respond but you weren’t sure which route you wanted to take with your tact. 

“Not a problem, ‘s just not my favourite.”

“Didn’t realise we’d become tha’ sorta couple,” he paused, his sentence obviously not finished. When your eyes met his again, he continued, “The kind that tells the other what they can and can’t wear, can and can’t do.”

Sighing, you fiddled with your diamond earrings and spoke, “Forget I said anything.” 

“No, no,” he spoke clearly, ringless hands rising in defeat. “You don’t like the vest, ‘s fine. Allowed an opinion.”

“Nice to know.”

A suppressed laugh spluttered from Harry’s lips as he pressed them together. 

Looking at him again, you watched him wrinkle his nose up at you through the mirror. By now your gaze was flat and you were far from impressed with his taunting.

“Come on,” he encouraged, eyes alight.  “‘S have a row.” 

“I’d rather not.”

“‘S healthy to tell me to piss off every once in a while, y’know tha’?”

“So, piss off.”

“Ouch,” he dragged the word, playing offended. “Could say it wi’a bit less conviction next time.”

“That’s if we make it to a next time,” you muttered, seeing his smirk. “‘M not doing this.”

He watched the way you snatched at your other earring, your hands quick to try and place it gently to your lobe but in your haste you fell foul of losing the item. 

“Shit,” you hissed when the dainty jewellery slipped from your grip and to the wooden floor below with a dull clink. 

“Hang on-“

“It’s fine,” you rebutted any chance of his offering to help, swiping for the earring and managing to make good the second time around. 

There was tension in the air now as Harry remained quiet while you continued busying yourself, ignoring the bubble of annoyance and unexplained upset simmering within you.

Gently scooping at your necklace next, you fiddled with the clasp of the fine chain and tilted your neck down as you raised your hands and arms to place the necklace onto yourself. 

From behind you, Harry nervously chewed at his bottom lip. He knew the outcome wasn’t going to go well as he looked on at your slightly shaking hands struggling to successfully bring the two sides together. 

Rather than point out the possibility of ruining the nails that you had endlessly chewed his ear about all afternoon and constantly stuck under his nose to show off; he waited with baited breath, more than willing to step in if required.

It was when he heard the small and soft growl omit from your mouth with sheer frustration that he decided to change tact.

Gone was the trinket box, tossed aimlessly back onto the bed with a soft bounce. His hands gently placed to rest against taut shoulders, Harry leaned down to press his lips to the top of your head. Nose tickled by your hair he muttered into the silky strands, “Let me, darling.”

You froze as you sat in your seat, eyes still slightly lowered from the way you had dropped your head. Frantically blinking as you mulled over how you were going to play your next move. 

Harry hummed, noticing that you had gone quiet on him, knowing you wouldn’t want to engage with him just yet considering how soon he had previously provoked. He just had to wait it out a little more. 

A slump came to your shoulders at his words, partially irked at how he had been the one to coil your spring - pushing and pressing and prodding - and now he thought he could be the one to so easily offer you release. 

“Let me just-,” he spoke more so to himself, cutting himself off, as he scooped your hair into his hands and mumbled soft apologies considering he knew you had spent some time on styling. 

When he was happy that your neck was open enough and there wasn’t going to be anything to hinder him with your tresses over one shoulder, he reached for the item. 

Harry’s right hand met yours first, his thumb and forefinger easily pinching at the delicate chain that he knew so well having been the person to pick and purchase the item. 

Surprised at how easily you gave up the treasure, Harry darted his eyes to your left side and reached for the other side of the fine chain. 

“Have you got it?” You were reluctant to let the one side of the necklace go, in fear of losing the pendant that was currently bouncing against your chest from the way you held the jewellery item. 

Again, a throaty hum vibrated through Harry’s chest. 

“Which idiot chose the finicky clasp?”

“You did,” you outright answered him.

He chuckled in concentration, eyes zoned in on the way his thumbnail pressed at the clasp to hold it down, and his left hand fed itself to the right. “‘S right, I did. Fucking big idiot over ‘ere.”

You then felt the chain gently tickle the back of your neck as Harry let the item go. “But he’s only gone an’ bloody done it.”

Lightly sighing, you pressed your hand to your chest and felt the necklace sitting cooly against your hotter than usual skin. A soft smile at Harry’s choice of words to let you know he had successfully put on the necklace. 

Slightly inside your own head as you raised it to sit up straight, you quickly busied yourself with returning items that you had been using to get ready, to their rightful spots.

Behind you, you heard Harry chuckle as he gently dropped himself down to sit on the edge of your side of the bed. He was clearly amused at how you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

“Ignoring me now? Not even gonna gi’me a thank you?”

If you hadn’t been so stubborn, and focused on the task at hand you would have heard his question and thanked him. However, given your own bloody-mindedness, you never stood a chance. 

Learning forward, Harry’s hand reached down to one of the four legs that made up your dressing table pouffe - the one closest to him - and swiftly pulled. 

Of course, you squealed. The quick change in motion was enough to cause anyone to omit a noise fit only to dogs hearing due to its pitch. 

“‘Ve got yer,” he spoke around a chuckle, enlightened by your reaction as the chair scraped against the flooring and made it so you were virtually sat in his lap. “If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed...”

Sharply, you turned to look at him and pushed at his shoulder. “Hope you’re not implying-“

“Wha’,” his expression was boyishly cheeky as he cut you off with his question, his hand keeping hold of yours that had pushed his shoulder. “What am I implying?”

Nostrils flared as you looked at him, feeling your arm slowly wrap around his neck as he tried to pull you closer once more on the chair. Legs man spread, he managed to slot you in between his thighs and enjoyed the way your soft knees squashed into his inner thigh from how close you now were. 

“I’m implying what the proverb is implying,” he smarmily responded, forever having an answer for everything.

“Is that so?”

“It is,” he turned, noting the way your arm was still draped around his neck.

“Shame that,” you commented. “Cause if you were alluding to the other thing then you would’ve really gotten the fight you were looking for.”

Harry’s eyes cut to you from the corner of his vision, his lips now pressed gently against your forearm. “Would I? If that’s the case, I take it back.”

Again your nostrils flared, as you mumbled a veiled threat of, “Swear to god, Harry.”

“So, so easy to wind up-“

Harry’s voice was abruptly cut off when your fingers came into contact with the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled as hard as you could. His only response was to gently graze his teeth to the skin of your arm and the silk of the gown in the tiniest of nips as he ascended to your neck.  

“D’yeh know how much I love fighting with you?” He mumbled against your skin, “How much I love doing anything and everything with you?”

“Have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” you swallowed around your dry response, feeling his lips quirk against the shoulder of your silk gown as he gently brushed your hair away once more.

With it falling down your back, you became all too aware of the gape to your coverup, revealing your clavicle and the top of your breast, as Harry’s lips rubbed against where your neck and shoulder met. 

Growl-like hum heard from your suitor, you gently pushed your finger through his drying hair. Forcing it in haphazard directions before bringing it back and smoothing it down. 

When he showered you with affection like he was currently doing, it was hard to stay mad at him. Which is why you found the direction of conversation so intriguing. What was he trying to achieve here? Whatever it was, he really was going the wrong way about it. 

“Know why I love fighting?” He felt you shake your head lightly as he brought you back to him with the question. The rustle of your hair against his was heard prominently in your ears as he now lightly rested his forehead to your temple. “Yea’, you do,” he disagreed with your non-verbal response, tone gritty as he tried to rouse once more. 

“‘S cause I love shagging when we’re angry,” he heavily pressed his nose into your cheek, knowing you were watching him through the hooded eyelids regardless of how you wouldn’t fully let your gaze meet his long enough to be suckered in. “How you really dig your nails into my back an’ shoulders when I properly get going - not to mention my arse cheeks - and how it feels when I step under the shower the next morning and wince like a little wuss.”

You laughed breathily, stopping your feelings of joy by biting down on your bottom lip. Laughter however played on your lips, lingering in a soft smile that danced along and up the corners of your mouth.

“Fight me, darling.” 

Amused didn’t even cover it as you pulled your head back in a slightly uncomfortable way to look at him. The smoulder of his dilated eyes that were clearly set on what he wanted, they jarred so evidently against his messy hair that looked fit for a toddler who had woken from a heavy nap.

He seemed awfully whiny for a man who was confident with what he wanted. Supposed to be the instigator of an exchange of diverging or opposite views, creating most likely a heated happening. Then again, maybe he was onto something.

Soft frown set in the middle of his brows, his eyes dropped so brazenly down to your lips. A quick swipe of your tongue had them glistening enticingly for him as saliva lingered and caused his groan to get caught in his throat. 

Hand against the back of your head, he tilted your face down to his once more and let his mouth sit at the corner of your lips. Your breathing and his had started to become staccato, as anticipation bubbled within you both from your shared close proximity. 

“‘M waiting,” you challenged knowing he would rise up to the provocation, as his hand turned you face a tiny amount more so when he stuck his nose against yours, so they would slot perfectly together.

Harry’s vision blurred as he felt your warm breath bounce against his face, licking his own lips now and rolling them into his mouth to take away any dryness. 

Hand drawing you to him and mouth about to take your bottom lip, he felt the soft draw back of your head causing his lips to tweak as his breathy laugh mixed within his short and sharp exhalations. 

“‘S tha’ how it’s gonna be?“

You fought the way your hooded eyes wanted to close at the gruff tone that laced his question, wanting to marvel in the glow that had started to coat the skin of his face. 

“Said you wanted a fight.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth were his lips abruptly upon yours. His hand spread across your entire cheek as your free hand reached for his wrist and tightly gripped. Noses squashed from the force; desperate to have each other. 

Harry's lips were fierce and bruising, his body feeling heavier against yours as he rested his other hand against your chair and gave you more of his weight. 

For him your smell was everywhere, as your other arm wrapped around his neck and clawed at the fabric of that bloody vest. The sweet of your hair care juxtaposed against the woody florals of your perfume that sensually drew and tied him to you.

Knees knocking together, you felt the way his hand stumbled as it peeled away from the chair and clawed at the silky fabric of your gown. Fingers quickly became frantic as his concentration moved to his hands that lifted fabric and slipped underneath craving the feel of your warm, soft skin.

With his mouth slightly slower and fallen as he was pulled elsewhere, you tried to take the lead as his hands wandered and he explored.

His hands were softer than usual, time away from music and instruments meaning the callouses had faded. Short nails were dull as they clawed, fingertips dancing against your plush thighs as they flattened to the seat and then upwards along your hip, scooping around your back and confidently spreading out just shy of the top of your bum.

God, he loved knowing you were completely naked underneath. How with a quick and sharp tug of his hand, he would have you bare to him.

Small press against your lower back had Harry silently asking you to raise and fall into his lap. You ignored him at first, far too wrapped up in the way he gave you his tongue around his quivering lips that were trying not to smile at the way the two of you were shamelessly necking on and he was managing to get his own way. 

Pressing your toes into the patterned antique Persian rug which sat underneath your bed, your body created a break between your thighs and their seat. Harry took advantage of the space without any need for a nudge, his hands curling against the clammier, warm skin as he urged you once more to come to him.

Your knees hit the side of your mattress first, lifting and mounting Harry’s lap and he moaned as he enjoyed your full weight against him. Fingers digging into the skin of your thighs, you felt him squeeze as he started to lower himself down to the bed.

Body laying atop an outfit priced easily in the early thousands, Harry hummed clearly letting you know how pleased he was with himself. This was only solidified by the crack of his hand, as it slapped against you bare bum cheek now on show. 

“Can’t believe you’ve got your arse in the air like this,” he rasped, head lifted so he could leave lingering kisses to the hinge of your jaw. 

Mouth slightly dropped, you could feel the way his right hand danced against the curve of your cheek and the way it dipped as it met the back of your thigh. 

His eyes were on your face, chin soft as he tilted his head down to his chest. You admired him, somehow able to find a stillness woven within a intoxicated, sensual love between the lewdish comments and suggestive wandering hands. 

Lips melding to the skin of your cheek, he asked,  “Who’re you showing it off to?”

“You, ‘f you want it like that.”

The coolness of the room hit your bare skin even more as Harry roughly pushed up the fabric of your gown up as he palmed your cheeks once more, skin massaged and squeezed between his digits.

Raw groan, he found his voice, “Turn over for me.” 

Harry slid himself closer to the side of bed, hands making light work of his socks and his briefs before he turned to throw you a glance over his shoulder.

You had removed your gown, item somewhere now on the floor revealing yourself to him proudly. 

As you lay gently on your stomach, the expanse of your bare back on show for him. He greedily let his eyes wander, the curvature of your shoulders and the indentation of your spine line. 

The way your right leg was slightly bent creating a crease to your hip and your left leg a little straighter. You certainly gave him plenty to devour with his sight. 

He didn’t give it much thought when he joined you back on the bed, his hands pressing into the mattress closer to your head.

Bare fingers caught your attention as you watched his hands scrunch around his expensive dress shirt, the familiar scratching sound music to your ears as it caught against his nails and not yours for once while he threw it to the floor at the bottom end of the bed.

“Doesn’t look like we’re going to make it to tha’ dinner,” he spoke, his words not really warranting an answer. Beside your hips, you could feel his knees as he leaned for the trousers on the other side of you and pushed them out of the way too.

He continued with, “Already late. ‘S no point.”

From the way he spoke you wondered if this was what he had been aiming for all along. To scrap dinner and have his way with you. It wouldn’t have been the first time and definitely not the last. 

Eyes already heavy from the deep lull of Harry’s voice, they closed when you felt his lips hit your back, making light work of inhaling you in. His mouth was wet as he reacquainted his lips with your skin, suckling the lower he got.

Nose gently sweeping down, you found yourself dropping your forehead to your forearm giggling from the light tickle, only to sharply cry out as his teeth sunk into the top of your cheek and your head lifted once more. 

Your hand reached behind you pressing against his forehead, “Don’t you dare leave a love bite on my bum.”

His lips twitched at your squealed but breathy chastise, tongue laving against the startings of a mark. “Always begrudging me of eating, darling.”

A devilish grin laced his features as you dared to look over your shoulder at him and take in his gaze that owlishly looked at you from behind your curved hip. All you could see were his eyes as your hand gently pushed his head while he pulled your hips upwards with him, lips skimming the backs of your thighs. 

“Mm,” he started. “Not everything though, ‘s tha’ right?”

The man simply didn’t want to part from his meal.

“You always did like dessert better.” 

There was nothing more Harry loved than when you let him put his face between your legs. But when you let him do it from behind, he couldn’t even explain the difference yet there was one.

Maybe it was the way he could grab and smack your arse, fingers digging into your hips as he got to pull you onto his face when things started to get hot and heavy. That animalistic grab to your hip bone, loins pulled onto his face as he went to town.

Even better when you would push back against him. So caught up in the way he felt that you couldn’t wait any longer. He could talk to you easier this way too, really coax you not only with the feel of his tongue but the words that dripped off it too. 

And then there was the possible anticipation of assplay. Tongue always ready and willing to stimulate if it were desired and communicated. 

The way his hands massaged you, softly pulling apart your rounded cheeks and opening you to the cool air of your bedroom almost stunned. Your body quickly gathered itself with a warm moan when you felt his warm salvia drip messily down onto your ass and your middle. 

Then he was leaning forward - lapping at your skin - lapping you up. Tongue greedy at your cheeks and folds, building his own desires before he actually ate. 

This was his starter. 

The most feminine gasp exited your open mouth when you felt his mouth land where you needed him the most, somewhat too cautiously for your liking at first but you knew he sometimes liked to play this game. You found yourself wiggling back, Harry’s hands wrapping around and squeezing into your thick thighs welcomingly when he knew you’d caught on. 

He hummed, pleased that you had fallen from his meek offerings and gave you more of his mouth. 

“There’s my girl.”

“H,” you panted, pressing your forehead onto your forearm. 

“Fuck,” he muttered against you, enjoying how you were letting him have a taste. Your sweetness quenching his starved fancy. 

You were wet, but he wanted you wetter. Just wet enough so that you were tacky when he tapped himself against you teasingly. 

With his eyes closed, Harry opened his mouth wider as he pulled your hips back to his lips. His nails dig into your skin as your hands clenched into the sheets beneath.

He worked slowly against you, tongue licking at your wetness and saliva mixing with your early arousal. Nose buried inside of you as he devoured you in a way that had you thinking he had been wanting you this way for weeks. A little bit rougher, grabbing you to him and not in the way that quickies usually brought. In a way that sex selfishly commanded sometimes. 

“God, baby-“ how was it always so- gratifying? 

With his eyes closed now as he tried to focus, Harry felt your body shuffle and his own limbs followed after you without restraint. Your bum became slightly raised as you pressed your arms deeper into the mattress due to the way you began to play with yourself.

Your fingers swiped upwards in gentle pulls against your clit, Harry’s mouth barely letting up. He must’ve figured out what you were doing though from your slight change in position as he hummed against your heat, light mutterings that you couldn’t make out. 

“‘S tha’ feel good?” he asked, voice hot as he pulled back to bring his focus onto the glide of your fingers against your wet and neglected clit. “Couldn’t wait, wanted to play.”

You knew you were slick, you could feel it but rather than feel embarrassed you found yourself without a care as you pushed yourself back again. His chuckle made you feel on fire, “Not done with me? Still need some more?”

His lips and tongue dove straight back in rather than wait for a verbal answer, feeling the way your legs widened further when he licked in a particular way. The smell and taste of you was everywhere, gleaming against him with a tackiness that was the perfect piece of free memorabilia. 

Breathing heavier, you both listened to every small gasp and light moan that was drawn from you. The sound of his lips pulling at you making a heat spread across your chest and down to your core.

Harry knew your reactions like the back of his hand, and was waiting for that one sound that was so sweet and enough to get him to cheekily pull away. 

The thought alone had his lips curving into a smile against you, as he felt you starting to clench against his tongue from your joint efforts of pleasure. 

“Harry,” you whispered, rushed. The slow burning feeling starting to form in the pit of your stomach as your fingers began to move with that little bit more fervour. “Want you.”

His mouth was away from you and against the skin of your bum cheek not long after, lips messily wiping as he moved them up your back leaving a trail of arousal in his wake as you felt yourself fall flat to the mattress as he mounted you. 

Hands pinched into the skin of your back, Harry pressed his pelvis against you. 

Feeling him nestled between the cheeks of your bum, caused your eyes to close. He was so full and hard for you, you couldn’t contain the throaty moan that accompanied his grind into the dip of your bum.

“‘M gonna fuck you,” he panted, hands sweeping your hair to one shoulder so his lips can find your skin again. “Want that, hm?”

Your fingers wove into the hair at the nape of his neck, as he craned his head to look at you. His left hand pressed into the bed, holding his entire weight as his right hand reached down for his leaking cock. 

“‘S this what you want- how you want it?” He goaded in question again, gently tapping himself against the skin of your bum before he slid himself down and watched as you slightly raised your own hips for him and started to reach behind you to encourage him to press his weight on top of you.

Harry lined himself up, pushing forward and shifting his eyes from his sinking cock and up your back to see your head dipping forward to fall between your shoulders. He knew he’d never grow tired of the welcomed blissful moan of ‘yes’ that always left your lips when he finally gave it to you.

Humming deeply, Harry bit around his smile as he started with shallow, teasing thrusts. A series of strokes that you found frustratingly sexy but knew as ones he wouldn’t be able to keep up due to his own insatiable desires. 

He swore, in the least teenage boy way possible, you were always tighter to him like this. Especially if you crossed your legs at your ankles behind him while he pushed into you. 

It was usually the position you adopted when you’d let him take you this way, however in the dusk evening he could feel that you had lifted your legs up so your calves were resting against his bum and holding him to you; cutting his shallow thrusting short to press and hold him deeper inside. 

As his pelvis flattened against your bum, he gritted his teeth and released a deep noise from the very back of his throat. The sound had you giggling, slightly wiggling your hips from beneath him, the moment quickly halted by one of his hands cupping at your skin.

“Darling, steady,” he warned.

“Come on,” you wiggled again. “Fuck me then.”

Pulling back, Harry nudged forward just as smooth, the intent behind his thrust obvious. Eyes dropped down he enjoyed the bounce of your cheeks from the force of his pelvis.

A content hum left your smiling lips as you jolted from each push of his hips; his grunts of exertion delightfully pleasurable as his hands pressed into the mattress next to your waist. 

Thrust measured - slow, hard and deep - knowing what they wanted and needed. How to get it too. Undulating and determined.

Harry’s eyes closed as he felt you squeeze him, your legs dropping away from the cheeks of his clenching arse and down to the bed with a soft bounce. You moved again and he followed, legs opening wider against the mattress beneath you both. 

The way your face was now half buried into the sheets, muffling your moans that were usually hot against his ear and coaxing him to places he was still dumbfounded he was able reach let alone find. 

Teeth gritted once more, he could feel the tightness in his limbs and lower back. The work of his hips was unyielding but you were opening up to him, only making him want to continue the steady rhythm. To push and pull. To chase.

And it was enough. It was nice. Simmering. And if you opened your legs just that little bit wider you could rub yourself against the sheets but you wanted to give as good as you could get. Being engulfed wasn’t going to give you that. 

“Give it to me,” you requested, “Harder, baby.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Really need it, don’t yer?”

He pulled you upwards, hands at the curve of your waist so his fingers indented and left lighter marks against your skin from the pressure.

Now on your knees he could really have his way with you. 

Soon the sound of your skin slapping together only started to add to the growing fire in the pit of his stomach and yours. The sound of it so obscene but so welcomed to both your ears. 

Harry’s eyes raked over your naked body, the pert cheeks of your arse bouncing enticingly against his hips, to the tops of your fingers that were fisting tightly into your bedsheets. Knuckles so prominent due to the unrelenting grip.

He had noticed that your body was on its way to folding in on itself, arms stretching above your head and hands finding purchase on your plush bed pillows closer to the top of the bed that had been reached and pulled for by your own lack of knowing what to do with your hands.

“D’ya love me?”

His question was so gritty. Throat dry from his heavy breathing. You found yourself collapsing again. 

Your body, in its lethargy, started to curl up into itself with hands pressed down and your legs bent as your arse begins to bob more against him rather than thrust itself back.

“Said d’ya love me.”

He was sharp with his thrust.

“So much-“

It was wet and it was gasped. Low moan as he cracked his hand against your cheek.

“‘S tha’ the sex talkin’,” he heaved goadingly, and you knew he was smiling. It wasn’t the sex talking, but it could be. Both so taken by the waves of pleasure that could easily sway even the most sound of minds.

You whined into your arm from his smarmy laugh, a writhe to your hips as Harry licked at his thumb and pressed it enticing against your arse. Gentle rubs had you gasping his name and pressing back, as his thumb slid down to collect your arousal that was sat coating your outer walls and his cock each time he retreated.

As you became more excited, his thumb pressed against you with a bit more pressure, gently popping inside and sitting there. 

“Harry,” you whined, the loudest you could around biting your lips, a soft frown forming against your brow at the pleasurable intrusion. 

“You fuckin’ love it,” he growled, watching as you pushed back against his next thrust. “You dirty mare.” 

Heavy frown against your brow, you dropped your head onto your forearm once more and felt yourself start to clench around him. “Yea’,” he muttered to himself, “You’re coming.” 

Nodding your head against your forearm, you felt his free hand rest onto yours that was pushed above your head. He pressed down, fingers slotting through yours as he grunted in time with his harder thrusts into you.

With shaking thighs and aching knees, you feel your mouth fall as his teeth grazed over your ear and his heavy pants warmed your already perspiring cheeks. 

“Don’t fight me,” he pleaded. “‘S nice to give in.”

His head was heavy against your temple, your hair messily in your face. You felt your expression fall as you teetered, starting to lean slightly more to one side. He was nodding, you didn’t know who to but you knew what about and you found yourself craving his narration of whispered ‘yeses’ but instead you were both overcome and the best he can do was huskily groan to encourage you.

Suddenly it tipped and your limbs started to shake as you pressed back against him both in want of more but more so to ground yourself so you didn’t collapse. He stuttered from your vigour but held you there, feeling you helplessly writhe and mercilessly squeeze around him. His cock grinding and dipping into you, drawing out each tremor, desperately seeking its own sexual gratification.

Your other hand was wrapped around his face, fingers digging into the back of his neck and whispering begs for him to come inside of you. Pleas of how you want him to give it to you. Fill you up.

And you were lewd because sometimes that was how he liked it.

Such a pretty face and pretty mouth - yours - speaking to him in such a way. Admonishment was forgotten. Who needed or cared for it when his balls were pulling up tight with each slap against you. 

And then he collapsed against you. His thighs roughly spread you as he clenched and groaned deeply - guttural - giving you everything he had. 

Blood rushed around his ears as he shuddered and shook, the force of his orgasm causing his hips to continue with little pushes just to be sure he was done. Lost to himself, the silence and his sensitivity. 

He roused to your dirty snicker, one of disbelief. Right hand wrapping behind to feel for his arse cheek and digging your nails there, wanting to keep him deep inside, or just behind you for long enough to feel him pressed flaccid and wet against your cheeks. 

The filthy reminder caused you to flush, as Harry shuffled behind you, lips seeking out your clammy skin. 

“Make you mad more often, ‘f tha’s my private penance.”

His words were muffled, spoken into your shoulder as his hands soothed and massaged over your joints in preparation for the aching reminders tomorrow. 

And the vest was still on. 

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Ooh! I just discovered you from the Bad Things Happen Bingo and I love your writing already! Could I potentially request the Bleeding Out prompt as a prequel for the Soup for the Sick story you wrote?

Thank you for the ask! I had to look up prequel to make sure that you meant before the events of Personalized Caretaker Part 1, and not after 😂. Here you go! In reference to this post.

So, with that note, this piece happened before Part 1 of Personalized Caretaker.

Personalized Caretaker Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: blood, vomit, losing consciousness, faking an injury, drugged whumpee, fear, implied touch starvation

*not edited*

~

Civilian hopped onto her couch, legs resting on the armrest and flicked on the television, going straight for Netflix.

It was a normal day, serene and tranquil with the perfect amount of work that made Civilian feel good inside.

She lazily gnawed on a piece of beef jerky and selected The Kissing Booth for personal enjoyment. Something cheesy and romantic to vibe to as she decompressed- even the best days required a period of relaxation.

But, her period of relaxation was very rudely interrupted by a thud. Right outside her door.

Civilian froze, heart racing, as her mind involuntarily replayed every known horror movie. She was the victim, the bad guy was going to break in and slash her throat as she unceremoniously says, "Who's there?"

Civilian shuddered, turning off the television, and slowly standing up. She grabbed her remote control as a weapon and very, very slowly, like a ninja, stalked stealthily up to the door.

"Who's there?" Civilian asked. Crap, her fatal flaw. Now the bad guy was going to rush out and murder her, then the police would come and there would be ten more killings and then there would be a ghost that was a moaning lady with pale skin and black hair that was hung in the woods seventy-some years ago and then it is reincarnated to be a doll that haunts children and-

Civilian drew in a deep breath. Don't freak out, don't freak out. It was probably a bird that weighed the size of a man- a bad man- that crashed into the window and died. And died. And died. And died. It was gone. Instead of using a remote, she should be using a plastic bag.

"Stop it Civilian, you paranoid freak," she yelled at herself, very loudly, her voive taut with utter fear as she peered through the shades.

The first thing she saw was blood.

Smeared blood in the direction of downwards, leading directly to...

A body.

Civilian felt nausea rise in her throat as literally the blood drained from her face. She wasn't the first victim, the poor human in opening credits, she was the next victim and her house was the killer's stash.

Probably to blame her for the death. To redirect the suspicion.

She had to hide the body and burn it before the cops came. Oh boy, the killer probably already called them. Crap crap crap.

Civilian whisked the door open, tossing her grand weapon of plastic and onto a nearby table, and prepared to wrap the body in a black bag.

The body moved.

Civilian screamed.

The body was not a body, it was a living man.

"Oh my gosh sir? Sir! Are you okay? Sir! Sir!" Civilian grabbed her hair and started to paced. "This can't be happening. This can't be happening. There is a bleeding man on my fricking doorstep." She started to ramble, muttering nonsensical curses and words that weren't going to help the dying man.

She was panicking, completely hyperventilating, by the time the man moved more than a shaky, uneven breath.

His eyes opened, revealing a drop-dead gorgeous icy blue. Eyelashes fluttered in the most enearding way as the man struggled to keep his consciousness to himself. Lips quivered as he whole face bunched together in an expression of pain.

Civilian didn't know if she could handle it.

"Are you doing to die?" She asked, rushed and abruptly. The man looked his clouded gaze on her. It took a moment, but he spoke,

"Heroes. Heroes, they are coming. Run, get outta here. Get outta here!"

Civilian shrieked, glancing hurriedly around. An insane plot twist, the good guys were the bad guys and...

Wait, this wasn't a movie.

And why was this man so scared of the heroes? Unless, of course, he was...

A villain.

Civilian covered her mouth and dropped to her knees. A v-v-villain? Was at her door? Civilian pinched herself to see if she was sleeping, but the nightmare didn't vanish. She was stuck in reality. Someone go get her a soda...

Villain's eyelids drooped as he weakly extended his arm. "Please," he begged. "I need help." Then his arm went slack.

Civilian was close to hysterics.

But nonetheless, out of fear, she grabbed the man's arm and attempted to pull him inside. She silently cursed. Her twigs for limbs could barely carry a box of mason jars; what made her think she could drag a two hundred pound full-grown adult male?

It was a taxing project that left Civilian in tangled limps, just begging for sleep. The man didn't stir at all, not even when Civilian's fist went into the gaping wound in his stomach.

Aw man, that was disgusting. Civilian vomited into a nearby trashcan before returning to figure out WHAT THE HECK TO DO!!!

"Can you wake up?" Civilian asked. "Please? I-i... how do I... how do I do this?"

Civilian was on the verge of tears, but then she reminded herself. This isn't a movie, he won't be miraculously healed after a good night's sleep.

With a quick reference to Google, Civilian finally felt prepared. She ran to get a pillow and slipped it under Villain's head. His eyelids fluttered as his eyes cracked open, but then they slipped close again.

Next she removed his shirt and was quite awestruck at the sight. Other than the painted crimson, his abdomen really was the definition of ab-domen. Hard muscles were lined perfectly.

Okay Civilian, someone is dying, don't admire it.

She placed one hand above and the other in the wound to staunch the bleeding. After the blood flow slowed, she lifted his legs to rest on the armrests in a similar position that she was in earlier.

Next, she jumped some hydrogen peroxide in and bandaged the wound. The villain never awoke.

Once the looming danger was gone, Civilian just stood there awkwardly. Dried blood crusted on his skin, but at least it wasn't wet.

So she stood there, arms crossed as meaningless thoughts rushed through her head.

What do call a male ladybug?

Is grass the earth's hair?

Do pineapples come from pine trees?

Why is a villain on my couch?

Civilian sat down, keeping a good three feet distance from the assumed murderer, and turned on the TV to resume her movie.

She leaned her head back, exhaustion tugging at her eyelids, but she refused sleep. Especially when a villain was slumbering next to her with one arm over his face.

He looked like a monkey.

One of those pale faced, brown haired primates from Curious George.

Not that his ears were splayed out or anything, the monkey had very tiny, collected ears that hid under his fluffy brown hair. His nose also held that itty-bitty appearance, perfectly formed to his face with the faintest trace of freckles.

He was cute.

Like a monkey.

Or not, as Civilian found monkeys utterly disgusting.

So cute, like a kitten.

Civilian smiled, looking down at her lap. Another thing Wikihow said that Civilian scowled at and ignored before. Put the victim's head in your lap to calm and keep them comfortable.

It wouldn't hurt, right? The villain wasn't even conscious, and he lost so much blood that he probably wouldn't remember anything if he did wake up.

She just met him.

Stress can increase heart rate which may be detrimental. Civilian scrunched her forehead. Was that even true?

Who cares. Civilian scotted her skinny self over and laid the villain's head in her lap. Then, temptation started its charismatic monologue.

Stroke his head. Be nice, clean his chin. Wipe the dirt off his eye.

Civilian hesitantly put her hand on his grimey hair- ew, he needed a shower ASAP- and gingerly patted it. Patted it, like petting a dog.

It was embarrassingly awkward.

For the next few hours, Villain slept. Civilian also dozed off between getting yummy smelling candles to fend off the revolting scent od blood and crackers to aimlessly gnaw on.

She watched through the first Kissing Booth and the second one when a thought struck her.

Pain.

The villain would be in pain when he woke up.

And the only thing Civilian had was Ibuprofen.

Like those barely took the edge off a headache, much less a gash the size of a baseball.

She reached for her phone to call her friend at the local drug store. Putting on a squeaky voice, Civilian said,

"Can you, uh, get me something for pain?"

"Slow down, Civilian. What?"

"I don't know benadryl or a very strong pain reliever," Civilian bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut. Stupid stupid stupid...

"What did you do?"

"I, uh, sprained my ankle."

"You sprained your ankle?"

"Mhm hurts like-"

"Okay! I don't need your swear word dictionary. I'll bring you something after work."

"Thanks, oh owowowowowowo."

"Goodbye Civilian."

The line clicked.

Civilian smiled to herself and popped another cracker in her mouth. Problem solved.

The blood on the door.

Crap.

Civilian set Villain's head back on a pillow and ran to the frontdoor.

Great, just great.

Civilian flipped the middle finger at Villain's sleeping figure and walked out the door. She would meet her friend before she saw the splatters of blood.

Civilian sat herself on the curb, throwing her newly "spraind" leg out, letting out an insanely loud groan, and leaned back on her elbows.

"Oh my goodness! Civilian," her friend leaped from her black car and ran over. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Civilian waved it off. "Just wanted some air and the house is a mess, so."

Civilian, you are dumb.

"You sure? You asked to be hospitalized once because you stubbed your toe and the fact that a sprained ankle isn't bugging you... I am wholeheartedly worried."

"Don't be," Civilian chuckled. "How was work?"

Friend gave her a skeptical look. "Fine," she drawled.

"Good," Civilian nodded slowly, tapping the ground with her fingers. "So thank you for the painkillers."

"Mhm," Friend handed Civilian the plastic bag slowly. "How did you sprain it?"

"Uhhh fell out of the shower."

Friend looked genuinely concerned.

"Tripped and fell," Civilian repeated herself awkwardly. "On the ground?" Why did she have to say it as a question?

She was awkward and sounded hilariously awkward as well.

"Klutz," Friend joked, but her face was still taut with worry. "Need help getting inside?"

"No no!" Civilian exclaimed. Friend stepped back, so Civilian laughed to alleviate the tension. "I should walk it out."

"Ooookay," Friend said, nodding. "Good for you. I'm gonna go. I have a dinner date with this dude from Tinder."

"Oooo good luck," Civilian said, faking a wince as she stood up. Friend rushed in to help.

"Don't," Civilian cautioned, raising her "hurt" leg up. Friend looked at it and scowled.

"Dang leg huh? Well bye-bye. Don't fall out of the shower anymore. Got it?"

"Yup," Civilian said and fake limped back to her house as Friend sped away.

Missiom accomplished.

Villain was stirring when Civilian sat back down.

Perfect timing also.

She rummaged through the bag and grabbed a bottle of valium. She popped the recommended dosage out and approached Villain.

He was still too dazed and disoriented to stop Civilian from helping him swallow, but the second the water touched his tongue, he woke up fully.

"What are you doing? Don't touch me!" He yelled, pulling away. Civilian also backed away, a frown forming on her face.

"Me? I saved your life."

Villain was silent. "How much did you touch me?"

"Enough to save your life."

Villain jerked, looking around as if somone was in the shadows. Paranoid, Civilian copied him.

"What's wrong with you?" Civilian asked.

"You touched me?"

Civilian didn't say anything. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one leg, examining the villain.

Villain jerked to his feet, swaying madly. Civilian's heart jumped. He was so unsteady...

He fell, but Civilian swooped in to catch him.

For a moment, the villain melted into her half-embrace, head resting gently on her shoulder, before pulling away. He bit his cheeks, seemingly trying to keep tears back.

"What... are you? Are, are you scared of getting a hug? Sheesh."

"Mmm no," Villain shook his head quickly, then sat down as if the feat made him dizzy.

"Mmm yes," Civilian sat down next to him. The villain looked confused, but that may be the drugs kicking in.

Soon Villain's eyes starting to droop and he swayed in his sitting position.

"Whatdya give me?" He slurred, a faraway look in his eyes. "Mm tired." He collapsed forward.

Civilian steadied him and helped him lay back down. He groaned pathetically and grappled at Civilian's hand, desperate to hold it.

He held her hand until he fell asleep.

[thegalleonsnest]

Wiggle’s Muse - Short Excerpt turned into a FanFic

Yo, so, I wanted to share a small snippet of a future project I’m working on (while also delaying my current art projects). What I’ve written out here in this post was originally in a format not meant for professional writing purposes, but I said “eh, why the hell not,” and written it out in sort of a short fanfic format for you guys to read. This project btw, is not a fanfic (had to make that clear). What I am working on is a very large scale project for myself and is still in the blocking out/rough draft phases. This right here is probably my most fleshed out scene I’ve written out, and feels pretty complete as it’s own thing. Honestly, I’d appreciate the feedback if any of ya’ll found this interesting! 

Also I’m putting this in a tumblr post because I don’t have an AO3 or fanfiction account, and this is already too short for it anyway. Read the excerpt below

In front of the camera lenses, multiple grumpuses walk back and forth discussing a matter of topics but most importantly, where was Wiggle?

"Has anyone gotten ahold of Wiggle yet? She was supposed to be here hours ago,” a gruff voice coming from out of frame says. “We’ve tried calling her for over an hour, but we got nothing,” says another off camera, “do you think we should reschedule-” before they could finish, the studio doors bust open with a loud thud echoing the studio room. A tall, short armed grumpus with a boa stumbles along the room carrying an oddly shaped banjo.

“There she is,” said the gruff voiced grump, “Wiggle, whatever you got going on, you better do it now cause we got a meeting with investors in half an hour!” From the blurry view of a slightly out of frame Wiggle, she barely registered what the grump said. In a stumble, she walks to the center of the camera’s view & shakes her head, almost slurring her words, “Doooon’t worry, Darling, we’ll get you a new vest later.” “What, no, wait, that’s not what I-” before another word could be said, Wiggle readies her banjo and strikes a quick pose before strumming the strings like her life depended on it.

It didn’t take longer than a few seconds before the crew sprung into action, setting the proper lightning, mics and cameras around her. Her rhythm and measures became a lot more stable, catchy even, and then she broke into song. The next set of lyrics would become an instant, regrettable classic. 

It’s not long before the VHS tape stutters and stops, showing mostly static. A magenta furred Grumpus with some hair covering a part of eye, hits the eject button, takes out the tape and turns off the tv. “Girl, you were a right mess there!” She said with a giggle. “Tell me about it, Vrittany...” Wiggle said frustratingly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And you’re telling me you can’t come up with anything better than that? Come on now!” “I wish I was lying, but I’m not. No matter what I come up with, nothing is topping whatever the heck my walking coma came up with instead!” Wiggle grabs her mug of coffee and takes a longing sip.

The two sit across from one another at the coffee bar. The aroma of that day’s set of cocoa beans waft through the cafe as most of the outside lamps fill out the darker spots inside. The place is nearly empty besides them, and a single muted green furred occupant sitting at a booth at the opposite end of the cafe, drawing away in his sketchpad.

“So, whatcha gonna do?” Vrittany asked sarcastically, “Stay awake for another week? Get inspired again? Hehe.” Wiggle sets her mug down, and answers, “I did try that again, but in style I fell asleep comfortably on a couch in the lobby”. Vrittany looked a bit stunned. “You’re kidding?! You’re crazy!” “Not crazy, Vrittany,” she takes another sip of her coffee before striking a pose in her high stool seat, bellowing out her voice. “Just creatiiiivly driveeeen~” “Whatever you say, darling,” Vrittany says before turning around to her bar’s sink. She cleans several mugs and glasses with gusto while preparing one last pot of coffee, enough for a single cup for later.

Vrittany takes off her apron and hangs it on the wayside of the counter as she walks around to take a seat next to Wiggle. After situating herself, she puts a paw on Wiggle’s shoulder. “Listen, pretty sure this is just a rut you’re stuck in right now,” she says. “Doesn’t every artist go through that every now and then?” Wiggle turns her head toward Vrittany, “Well..yeah, but this is different,” she desperately says. “I can’t let a song I made in my sleep be the best thing I’ve ever made! I know I can make something that’ll shake the world more than whatever ‘Do The Wiggle’ was.” 

Vrittany pulls back her paw from Wiggle to put on her best thinking cap. As deeply in thought as she was, her face immediately relaxes into a deadpan expression, “Have ya tried singing from the heart?” Wiggle cracks a smile, “HA, if only that’s how it works! It takes a musical genius to write a hit song in show biz, not just some field day with my feelings.” “Eh, worth a shot. Got any other plans?” “I’m still trying to figure that out. I need some kind of inspiration...almost like a-”

Before she could finish her thought, they both caught a glance at the muted green furred grump who walked up to them. He mustered up the words and said, “E-excuse me, you’re Miss Wiggle, right?” Wiggle turned in her seat to get a better look at the young Grumpus. She could tell he was nervous, clutching his sketchbook in his arms rather tightly. She quickly put on a more relaxed front to help calm things down, while also still showing off a bit of her excited side. “Why yes I am, Darling,” she said enthusiastically. “And I can tell you must be a fan of mine.” “Y-yeah...!” The green grump looked a little more relaxed, but still stiff in the shoulders. “Hey now, no need to be so nervous. I always got time for my fans.” “Thank you, Miss Wiggle. Um…” “No need to finish that thought, Darling, I know what you’re about to ask and I’m happy to oblige!”

Before the young man could stop to say something, Wiggle pulls out one of her many professional hand out photos that she has, and quickly signs with her autograph before handing it to him. “O-Oh, thank you, Miss, but that’s not what I was going to s-say.” he sheepishly says. “Really? Not an autograph,” Wiggle says surprisingly. “It’s usually the first thing fans ask of me.” “Sorry, I just...I wanted to show you this sketch I made…” 

The nervous grumpus slowly turns his sketchbook around to reveal a fully sketched art piece depicting a stylized Wiggle singing her heart out at the bar with Vrittany hanging out in the background cheering her on. He hands it to Wiggle to give them a closer look. It was still somewhat messy, showing a few guidelines and early roughed out shapes, but for what it was, it was still impressive to the two girls.

“Woah, that’s pretty rad!” Vrittany yelled out, leaning out from her seat trying to get a closer look. Wiggle was pretty stun, gasping at the sight of such a piece of artwork. “Darling, you drew this?! Just now,” Wiggle asked in awe. “Yeah! I was listening to some of your music and then you came in and sat down. It made me wanna draw you as fast as I could,” the green grumps says excitedly before rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry if it’s still a little messy looking though…” “Don’t be, because it is beeeaautifuuul~” “T-thank you so much, Miss Wiggle! T-that means a lot to m-me!” the grumpus says while his face lights up red from the praise. “You’re like an inspiration to me.” “Really now? Like a muse? All I do is sing the night away, Darling. You draw little masterpieces like this from me?”

As Wiggle continues to be enthralled by the young man and his work, Vrittany notices the coffee pot had finished brewing. She gets up from her seat and go back behind the counter to finish her last cup for the night. Wiggle and the green grump continue their conversation.

“W-well kind of,” says the grump, “it’s a bunch of music that inspires me when I draw. A lot of your stuff is so upbeat and fun, it gives me lots of different ideas to pump out!” Wiggle looks back, almost flabbergasted. “I’m...honestly a bit stunned that I had that kind of impact on you, Darling,” she says, almost with a melancholy tone, “...heh, kind of forget sometimes I do make some kind of impression on grumps like you.” She looks back down at the sketchbook, entranced by the creativity that sparked in the moment. That dazzling moment where it all clicked...where could she find that, when someone else can find it in her?

After an awkward minute of silence, the young grump spoke up and said, “If you like, you can keep the sketch page, Miss Wiggle?” Wiggle snapped her head back up from the sketchbook to the green fuzzball. “W-wait really? Are you sure you wanna give up this piece of art?” said Wiggle worryingly. “It’s no problem at all,” said the green grump proudly. “I already took a picture of it to save for later. I’m gonna make a painted version of it online later! Besides, it’ll make me happy if you kept it, since I was going to give it to you anyway.” “Oh Darling, you’re nothing more than a sweet one now, aren’t you? I’ll gladly keep it!” “Thank you so much, Miss Wiggle!”

Wiggle hands the sketchbook back to the green grumpus and he tears out the sketch. “No, Darling, thank you,” Wiggle says ecstatically. Vrittany returns from behind the bar with a to-go cup in hand, saying “Here’s your order, kid.”  “Oh, thank you, Vrittany. How much was it again,” the green grump asked. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Don’t feel like counting change. It’s on the house.” “O-oh you sure?” “You wanna change my mind?” “Don’t think I can, so thank you!” The green grump turns back to Wiggle and says “It was so nice meeting you in person, Miss Wiggle!”

“The pleasure is all mine, Dar-,” Wiggle catches herself before she realizes something. “Actually, what was your name?” “It’s Grite, Grite Tillsland!” Wiggle lets a genuine soft smile grow on her face. She felt a lot more at ease and happier knowing her new friend was much more relax and happy overall. She reached out her paw for a handshake, and Grite reciprocated.

“The pleasure’s mine, Grite, Darling.”

[fictionbyafangirl]

Tundric Heart

Most shifts that Jill worked were uneventful. The co-workers that she shared shifts with were always the same. Clark was the cook, and if need-be, the bouncer. He was a large, middle-aged man that had served in the army for a few decades. Burly when he had to be, he could be intimidating, but to Jill, he was just the sweetest. Typically, the waitresses had around an hour or two of overlap, which usually meant Trina, a woman who worked three jobs while finishing up college. She was honestly an inspiration and Jill admired her hard work. Trina always set the brunette up for a successful shift.  Her regulars were there nightly, without fail. 

“Can I get you gentlemen a refill?” She’d usher coffee to Glenn and his brother, Jack, as they wrote up itineraries for their senior’s club right at the bar. The eldest brother, Glenn, preferred his coffee black and straight up. It was amazing how he could swallow the piping-hot liquid just as soon as it was poured. Jack, on the other-hand, liked a bit of sweetness and cream to his, a stack of half-and-half cups usually towered next to his saucer that housed his brew. 

“Maybe one more before we go,” Jack mused aloud before placing a sticky note down in his planner. “It seems like a chilly night and I’ll need all the warmth I can get when I leave.” He was cheeky, and Glenn’s chuckle showed that he agreed. Jill topped their mugs off with her customary smile before saddling the pot once more to make her rounds.

“How are you doing over here, Miss Bernice? Need any refills or can I put in a to-go order?” Bernice, and her binder of papers scattered all across the table, did the books for her local church congregation.  She had been born in the city and lived her entire life, practically knowing everyone that lived in the area. Her strawberry blonde hair had shifted to a pearlescent white over the years, with one streak of her natural color still weaving its way through. 

“You know, I would love another glass of sweet tea, if you could, dear?” Bernice was sweet, grandmotherly in her nature as she smiled with her whole face, her eyes nearly disappearing behind the pleats in her matured skin.

“You got it,” Jill winked before departing from the table to her station with the glass in hand. With ease she punched the addition to Bernice’s order before finding the massive pitcher of sweet tea that Trina had stored in the fridge at the end of her shift. Within a minute, she had the refill back to the woman, glancing to her next table to tend to.. “All set, dear.”

Holliwell, or as she would become known as: Holli, would sit in her booth, solo, to work on her graphic novel. She wasn’t much of a talker, but was kind enough. Jill and Holli mostly stuck to a series of nods and hand gestures, particularly a thumbs-up, for their communication after initially serving her what she normally ordered. The gang of college guys that lived together always had their dinner at the diner, and they always were Jill’s source of entertainment. The group consisted of Matt, Jerome, Steven, Jared and Paul. They were lively, comedic and good-natured. The young men were roommates that rented a house a few blocks from the diner. As typical, collegiate bachelors go, they weren’t blessed in the culinary department and often found themselves at their usual spot with two tables pushed together. They inflicted some harmless flirting onto her, to which she respectfully declined and they would carry on with their stay. 

The night would always entail the same, expected things and Jill was comfortable with that as opposed to the opposite. She had worked in a rowdy bar once while trying to make ends meet in her own school days. Between sports nights and events held at the bar, she was constantly having to take care of conflict. She had been thankful for bouncers and speedy policemen before she couldn’t handle the chaos anymore. Simple and quiet suited her as she grew in age, and nonetheless, she loved the relationships she had built with her regulars. Whether it was hearing about their prime or just simply what they had done that very day, she was a welcome ear to chat at. That evening that she worked, everything had been happening like clockwork, that is, until he walked in. 

The moment he walked through the door, Jill couldn’t help but to keep an eye on him, subtly watching him take his seat. She hadn’t been the only one who’s attention was grabbed by him. Instantly, Bernice’s watchful eye was on him the moment she heard the chime of the door, casting her eyes back to the array of numbers she balanced, though occasionally checking on him. He was clad in all black like a walking mystery shrouded in secrecy. He was a mixup from her typical shift. Since he shielded his face with his hat, she wasn’t sure if she should approach him, but her better judgement told her to treat him as if he were any other customer. Jill topped off Glenn’s coffee, almost forgetting to pay attention as her focus was pulled elsewhere. 

Thankfully, she regained her rights and made sure her current customers were taken care of before making her way to the mob of young adult men who were particularly rambunctious this night. She overheard garbled conversation of advancing to the state playoffs which filled in all the gaps she needed to know. With her order booklet ready, she made rounds. They typically didn’t venture from what they frequently ordered, which made Jill’s life a tad bit easier.

“Hey Jill, when are you going to let me take you out of this place to a real restaurant?” Paul smirked at her, having given similar variations of the same line to her in the past. The blonde man with brown eyes was a football player for the local college, hoping to make it big. In fact, they all played for the football team. Paul had always been the most vocal about his flirting, clearly having not been turned down in his hometown very often. Jill didn’t know if his jaw could drop any faster than it had the very first time he asked her out and she declined. He recovered quickly and played it off as though he had only been half-serious, but she could see he had been slightly jilted with the word ‘no’. 

“When you can afford me, so… never?” She was quick and clever when it came to shooting them down. The boys had never gone beyond playful, to which she was thankful for. “So, who is next? Who’s gonna shoot their shot now?” Jill gestured for the next grab, though it was evident that she was being lighthearted with them. All were hysterical, always prompting laughter from the waitress’ lips. They varied in the degree of their attempt, Paul usually being the worst and Steven being the gentlest. Matt was from the Northeast with his evident accent that he swore he didn’t have. Jerome was from the south, vowing to make his mother proud with his grades and athletics scholarship. Jared was from the Northwest, a country boy that tended to the family farm but broke off with bigger aspirations in life. Steven was a lean Asian man that defied his family to play football. They had planned his life for him, which he didn’t dream of. Jill was proud of him for standing his ground to live his own life. He was, by far, the sweetest of the bunch with his pickup lines, which the waitress surmised was just to fit into the situation. Everyone else was doing it, so he figured he would, as well. It almost made her want to accept his proposal just to mess with his friends, but almost wasn’t enough to convince her of doing so. She addressed each one, waiting for the playful pickup lines before shutting them down with grace, poise and a smile on her face. It was flattering that they found her attractive despite having ten-or-so years on them. She took pride in how she kept herself together, applying extra effort when need be, but she took care of herself and apparently it showed. 

As she jotted down each meal order, Jill couldn’t help but to feel as though she were being watched by a spectre in the corner. He had been so silent, so still the entire time. It was eerie, yet she wanted to see his face, which was beyond her. She wanted to find out the reasoning behind the masking. She wasn’t sure what to expect beneath the hat, nor did she know if she’d even get that far. Finishing with the young men, she took a minute to go pin the checks to the order wheel, momentarily shielded by the walls that formed the cook’s alcove. Using a small mirror, she used her fingertips to give her hair a tousle and re-apply her lipstick, a warm nude color, rubbing her lips gently together. The man was new to the diner and it was her job to ensure he had a pleasant time to return. Jill’s boss had confided in her the troubles the diner had hit so any customer was a step toward keeping the doors open. 

Jill drew in a long breath that rooted itself in her stomach, her chest raising and falling as though weighted down with an anxious feeling before walking out toward the table that sat the cloaked gentleman. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she was so curious and intrigued about him. For all she knew he could have been a homicidal maniac just moments from breaking out in a murderous rampage. Yet something nagged at her, drawing her interest to him as her feet, quite literally, brought her physically closer to him. Each step was heavy in its placement, a specific destination lying ahead of her. The diner was typically kept at a pleasant temperature, with the exception of days with colder weather, such as the evening she was working, that the staff would dab the thermostat up a bit. With the cook’s ovens and burners constantly blazing and the hot coffee brewing into stainless steel carafes all day long, Jill always found the climate within the diner to be suitable for how she dressed. She had chosen the comfortable flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up after checking the weather before her shift,  though she noticed as she neared the lone table against the glass that she seemingly became colder, a chill dancing atop her flesh. Bringing her hands briefly to rub over the top of the sleeves of her shirt to warm herself, Jill continued on her path. 

The waitress pulled a deep, reassuring breath through her lips before approaching the table. The bill of the man’s hat had been pointed in the direction of the opposite side of the diner, never moving once he settled in. Without thinking, Jill took the few extra strides to move in front of his view, her hands moving to perch on the curve of her waist before speaking as she smiled though his face never once glanced up to acknowledge her. She could practically feel Bernice’s prying eyes boring into her back, shielded by the waitress.

“Hi, there! I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. My name’s Jill and I’ll be your waitress on duty tonight. What can I get you?” Jill added a bit of pep to her voice, her one hip subtly cocked out to place most of her weight on the corresponding foot. She tried, for the life of her, to figure out why she wanted to hear what his voice sounded like so badly in that very moment. Perhaps it was the classic trope of the good, innocent girl and the bad, mysterious boy but he was such an enigma to her. Her eyes followed his hand as he fumbled with the menu provided, but still, he didn’t move his head a single inch. She anticipated hearing him speak. She could see from his nose down to his chin and neck, which from what she saw was more than appealing, but he remained in the shadow of the bill of his hat. Jill wasn’t sure if hearing him speak would alleviate her curiosity or add to the mystery, but she still waited to hear him. 

“Green tea. Iced.” His voice was low, yet smooth. A mixture of a whisper and coarseness. Jill felt every hair on her arms raise in reaction, her flesh prickling as a small shudder swept over her. His voice was far different than what she had imagined in her mind, but it wasn’t different in a bad way, based on her body’s involuntary response to three simple words. Yet, those three words, watching them leave his mouth, watching the details of his lips as he formed them was enough for her to forget for merely a moment where she was and what she was doing. Blinking hard to bring herself back to reality, Jill fumbled with her hands to grab her order pad and pen, giving one blunt nod before scrawling down his request. 

“Iced green tea, coming right up. What’s uh… a name I can put on this order?” The waitress hoped she recovered nicely to not expose her nerves. Why on earth was she so timid and coy when it came to this man that she didn’t even know? Confusion didn’t even begin to touch the way she felt inside, knowing that this elusive man was simply another customer, yet still, there was a strange, baffling draw toward him. Jill’s teeth found the inner-edge of her lips, gnawing as the tension of the moment flared. At least she’d have a name for half of the face.

“Brian.” Faint and subdued, just as before, though she did detect a hint of an accent. More curiosities swirled around in her brain as she then began to wonder about where he was from, what brought him here, of all places. What he did.  She just simply wanted to know him… though finally, she had a name. She thought of asking more, but instead, she kept her professional distance. If he had the capacity to peek inside her mind he’d surely be out of the door in an instant. Still, she wasn’t a moron as he definitely made it known through his demeanor that he surely didn’t want to be bothered.

“Right. Iced green tea for Brian, coming right up.” Jill held the book of paper and pen to her chest before twisting around on the balls of her feet, her hair swinging listlessly as she made the turn. Despite her wanting to keep in his company and continue asking him whatever popped in her mind, his disposition made her better judgment kick in. 

Jill found herself at her work station, entering her credentials into the kiosk. She gripped the edges of the table and bent over to release a long, shaky breath as it loaded the program on the screen. Her eyes closed briefly, unable to pinpoint exactly what in the hell was up with her that night. She never lost her cool, and more importantly, never felt so compelled to a stranger. ‘Get a grip, Jill. Snap out of it’. She was glad her brain still had a semblance of rationality. Bringing herself back, she lifted her head to punch in the order for the table before suspending it to make the tea. It wasn’t ordered often in the diner, but the task had seemed simple enough. She placed the tea bags into the cup, pouring half of the water from the heated spigot to allow it to steep. While she waited for the essence of the green tea to infuse with the water, she prepared a saucer with an array of sweeteners and a straw, making sure each placement was precise and to her liking in a circular fan-shape. She couldn’t figure out why on earth she was putting so much thought into it but still, she strived to make a good impression. Once the tea was ready, she added the rest of the cold water and ice to top it off. She placed the glass in the center of the display of paper packets and ushered it over to his table, swallowing hard as the distance between them closed. 

“Enjoy, Brian... “ Jill smiled as she sat the tea down on the table beside him, though he couldn’t see her expression through the thick material of his hat, opting for a slight nod instead. Jill lingered for just a moment before pacing backwards slowly away, turning on her heel to check in with Holli, then next Bernice, and finally to check on the group of guys, occasionally casting a glance Brian’s way in hopes to catch a glimpse of his full-face. He was stoic as he sat, his hand only moving to take idle sips of the tea, opting to drink it plain. She hoped she had prepared it well enough to his liking. 

He never ordered anything else. The entirety of his stay he nursed that tea and made it last throughout it. Jill had said her goodbyes to Glenn and Jack, sending them off in their usual manner before closing their tab and setting aside the same allocated tip they always left on their bill. It wasn’t much, but it was a nice gesture. The meals of the college students were ushered out swiftly. Next came her duties of refilling condiments, prepping for the next shift that would relieve her. It was all about helping out. She cleared Holli’s table after she had left, though Holli only ever ordered appetizers, keeping her table free of obstacles as her pencil was constantly on her sketch pad. 

“Anything else I can get for you, or are you packing up for the night?” Next was the bookkeeper’s turn as she helped Bernice gather her things and return them to her orderly nature. The bookkeeper was growing older in age and appreciated all the help she could get.  Jill crouched down to the elder woman’s level as she leaned in close, one defined brow among her wrinkly complexion arched in suspicion as she glanced toward the massive pane of glass. 

“No, I’m doing just fine. But have you seen that fellow over there? I don’t know about you, but he seems up to no good… So very odd.” The woman’s voice was gravelly, yet quiet. Her deep, blue eyes fixated on him as though she were the watch-person for the diner. Truth be told, she was a nosey woman who loved to impede where she could. Shifting on her feet, still crouched, to cast a glance at the man in black. She couldn’t help the chill that trickled down her spine in the most exhilarating way. She captured her plump lower lip between her teeth, gently biting down in thought before turning back to the matronly woman.

“Oh, stop that, Bernice,” she said teasingly to her customer. “That doesn’t seem very becoming of you to judge someone you don’t even know. Besides, he’s probably just passing through and you’ll probably never see him again. Maybe he’s waiting on a car repair and has nothing but time to sit and relax? You just don’t know.” Jill was right and Bernice knew it. Her pride made the older woman turn her nose upward, her chest puffed as though she would rather appear courageous in her accusations than recoil in defeat. Jill gathered up the clutter after assisting the woman, though after Jill’s remark, she managed to finish cleaning up her things on her own. Pride could be unbecoming for some. 

Jill brought the dirty dishes to the back to throw in the washer in her off-time before it was time to close out the group of friends and their order. She collected all their payment methods and returned with their corresponding receipts. They had always been kind tippers, despite being college students. Their mothers would be proud. She said her goodbyes, wished them safe travels and told them she’d see them the next night, just as though it were second nature. Her smile was bright as her eyes followed them toward the door, noticing Brian had left already without a trace. Jill’s eyebrow quirked as she made her way to his table to clear the untouched saucer and glass. He had finished the beverage completely. Lifting each item, she noticed the bill tucked beneath the condiment holder. He had left a fifty dollar bill to purchase a two dollar drink with free refills. The edges of Jill’s lips twitched upward in a smirk as she picked it up. She was more than flattered but knew she was undeserving of such a tip. As her eyes lifted to peer through the glass into the dark and rainy evening, they settled on the abandoned building outside, seemingly in a daze of hoping she’d left a good enough impression that he’d return. 

Jill put the remainder of Brian’s money into an envelope to stow in her locker in the employee’s break room. If he’d come back, she’d kindly remit it back to him. She’d give it a month before accepting his generosity, though it was hardly something she expected with how impersonal he had been with her. Despite that, she still looked forward to his presence, should he show again, more than she should have.

[jabbajambler]

PROLOGUE

Human

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 1,250

*GIF NOT MINE*

        "I think it's time I return this."

         The room was dim and empty except for the two women. One clad in armor and fur while the other stood in nothing more than a loose shirt, pants, and a pair of worn boots.

         A fire crackled in the center of the large room. It was a soft, comforting sound that seeped through the chatter that filled the cavern. The smell of melted beskar in the large furnace masked the horrid stench of mold and something rotten.

         It was the first time Myrah fully embraced these surroundings. She let the environment spill and flourish around her, filling her senses till she was dizzy.

         "Myrah... You-"

         "I know." The bare woman interjected, staring down at the red helmet in the others gloved hands. "I've betrayed the clan. You've been nothing but gracious and welcoming yet I tossed your traditions in the garbage."

         "Not at all." She spoke calmly. "We are glad you're safe."

         A relieved breath escaped Myrah while the corners of her mouth quirked into a grateful smile. "Vor entye." She whispered.

         "Ba'gedet'ye. This is the Way."

         "This is the Way."

         Myrah spun and left the drab sewers, the helmets of every Mandalorian following her as she left. Everything she had known for the four years would remain down there. It was time to restart once again.

       The bright sun peered into her eyes once she reached the clear and somewhat clean air, forcing her to squint. She held her hand over her eyes in an attempt to block the beaming rays while she glanced about the gray planet.

         Nevarro was a relatively peaceful place. Even during the Galactic Empire's control, there was never too much chaos.

         Much like her armored friends, its beauty was concealed by the desolate, gray appearance.

         Weather was never awful, only a bit hazy when there was a nearby eruption. Of course, it was always foggy, but it usually covered up the blazing sun and kept a nice breeze through the volcanic terrain.

         The people were sort of friendly. Everyone stuck to themselves and their family, never caring to be involved in someone else's business.

         They had plenty of their own problems to deal with.

          Most everyone was poor and did what they could to survive. Somehow, they found their own ways to enjoy life. For some, they found their happiness hunting for the bounty guild that resided on Nevarro.

         Myrah tugged her hood over her head, keeping it low as she navigated through the crowded streets and alleys. Her dark brown hair managed to escape the low bun at the base of her neck, swarming her face and sticking to her damp skin.

         She did a good job of hiding herself. To her, it was exhilarating to be free and have no one know who you are or where you're from.

         She was young. Only twenty-three years old but her glimmering brown eyes told stories of tragedy, loss, and pain.

         Being on the run was hard. She was always watching her back since she had no one else to do it for her. Even in the clan, they only looked after one another to a certain extent. Even if she had a partner, who knows if she could trust them.

         Myrah was constantly on edge, glancing over her shoulder every other second. Someone always seemed to be hot on her trail no matter how much she hid. Even with a helmet and no sense of identity, there was a continuous game of cat and mouse.

         Now that the Empire was gone, she didn't have to hide anymore. Even so, she never let her guard down.

         Citizens of the planet stared at her while she walked past. She was quite an intriguing sight, not to mention a complete stranger to their lingering eyes.

         Despite the diverse population, humans never tended to congregate on Nevarro. Those who did choose to live on the poverty-stricken planet were nothing like the woman that stood before them.

         Myrah had this spark to her that no one could not quite comprehend. She radiated a rare, bright energy. A warm aura surrounded her and the people either loved it or hated it entirely.

         She found herself at the entrance to a tucked away, quaint bar. She'd heard rumors about the people who gathered there. Each whisper drew her closer to it, desperately wanting to find out if what they said was true.

          A local hangout to some, but to bounty hunters it was so much more. People of all kinds crowded the area, making back-alley deals and exchanging goods. Most importantly, the local bounty guild conducted business in the bar. That was what fascinated Myrah.

         After a few moments of hesitation, she pushed through the door to reveal the dark room. She was shocked to find the space filled with aliens and humans alike, all talking and laughing with one another.

         The clinking of glasses and the loud, joyous music filled her ears. It was obvious with her tense, strict posture that she was a bit overwhelmed. The place was nothing she expected. If it was indeed home to the Guild, they were all awfully friendly for a bunch of ruthless hunters.

         "Ah! A newcomer!" A voice boomed from the back of the bar. Her eyes darted in the voice's direction, hiding behind the shadows of her hood. A dark skinned man sat in a booth and raised a half-empty glass in her direction. "Come sit!" He beckoned.

         Myrah glanced around once more before she obliged to his request. She sat across from him, watching as the people continued carrying on their conversations. No one even stopped to see who the man was talking to. They were all stuck in their own world.

         "I haven't seen you around here before. I'm Greef." His voice was deep and powerful. "What's your name, Kid?"

         "Myrah. Koor." She spoke softly.

         "Well, Myrah. What brings you to Nevarro?"

         "A getaway."

         "And just what are you hiding from?" He laughed. Even his laugh was jolly and filled the room with the rich sound. "Can't imagine someone so young getting in so much trouble that they can't show their face."

         He gestured towards the hood that hid herself from any onlookers. The irony of his words brought a small smile to her lips.

         "I'm afraid I can't disclose any more information."

         He hummed. "Then perhaps I can offer you a job." He leaned forward with his arms crossed on the table. It was then that Myrah noticed the Guild symbol that decorated his chest.

         "What is it?" Myrah perked up, her cold stare meeting his.

         "I run the bounty guild around these parts." He spoke in a low whisper. "I can make sure you're safe while you're working with me."

         "I need a place to stay."

         "You can stay with me!" He bellowed. "There's no reason a kid should be sleeping on the streets. Come with me." He slid out of the booth and walked towards the door. He looked behind him to see that she was still sitting in her spot, blankly staring at the seat across from her. "Are you coming?"

         Myrah hesitated, but nodded and followed after him. Her hand rested loosely at her side, fingers draping over the gray and gold hilt on her belt. It was dangerous to accept an offer from a stranger, but she was out of ideas.

         Besides, maybe this is the beginning of something new and exciting; a fresh start.

┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉

Mando'a Translations

Vor entye - Thank you

Ba'gedet'ye - You're welcome

[hardyimagines]

Brutus

Drabble!!

———————————————————————

The bell above the creaky door jingled noisily, alerting the gangsters in the room of the sudden entrance. The door was ajar, hanging in that position for whoever had entered, despite the sign evidently reading the word ‘closed’, was hovering in place.

Every man in the room straightened, attempting to look just a little more sharp beneath your sudden appearance. You were stood with ankle high socks on and a pair of boots to match. The socks peered over the rim of the shoe, adding a little color to your outfit. Up and along your calves, their eyes slid, before briefly ogling the skirt you wore — shorter than most women wore them but the world was inevitably changing and you didn’t dress based on what was approved by society, you dressed based on what you liked. Reggie narrowed his eyes toward your blouse, ogling the fine material. It was tucked away in the waistband of your skirt, three buttons at the top, and the neckline dipped south in the slightest. When the men reached your face, they were stuck staring rudely. Your hair was curled in little ringlets, messy from the merciless wind which whipped about angrily outside. The smile on your lips was kind and the look in your eye expectant. Everyone decided at the same time that you were not where you were suppose to be.

Reggie looked to Albie, sharing a momentary look with him before he leaned against the counter and lifted his cigarette to his lips. Albie nodded shortly before crossing the room to tend to you.

“Hello, dove. I think you’re in the wrong place.” His voice was kind — much kinder than any of the other men’s so that why was Reggie had volunteered him to escort you out.

“I was sent here..” You informed him softly. Your fingers curled just a little tighter around the door handle, stroking it lazily before you stepped further into the room so that the door could swing shut, blocking the cold air from entering anymore.

Albie’s brows twitched, lips pursing and brain racking itself to try and think of who in their right mind would send you this way. “I think you may have misunderstood them.” He lifted his hand to his face and brushed his fingers along his cheek slowly. “What are you looking for?”

Your eyes roamed the length of the room briefly, shying away only slightly beneath all of the gazes that remained locked on you.

“It’s not what.. but who..” You looked back toward Albie. “I was told this certain person worked here.” You whispered. “or stayed here or something.” Albie watched the way you fidgeted. It must’ve taken a lot of courage to come and find whoever it was you were seeking. “I’m looking for Ron Kray.”

Reggie. Reggie was the one that every man in the room had assumed you were looking for — but why then hadn’t you said anything to him. He was stood, visibly, off to your right, tucked away behind the counter, smoking a cigarette. His eyes were low, latched on the receipts that bordered the counter but when you said his brother’s name, he looked toward you in confusion. As did every other man.

No woman had ever come to find, visit, or speak to Ron, so Reggie was immediately on guard. He placed his hand on the counter, ready to do some inquiries, but his brother beat him to it.

Ron was sat in the booth in the corner, eyes low as he rummaged through the box on the table. He rested in a cloud of smoke, oblivious to your intrusion and truthfully careless. Your voice was pleasing to his ears, but still he made no movement to look toward you — not until you’d said his name. He peered over the rim of his glasses, lines marking the length of his forehead as he scanned your unfamiliar face. He narrowed his eyes alongside his brother before standing to reveal himself. Your eyes instantly moved to him, lips vanishing as you pulled them in and bit them. You smiled shyly toward the bloke in the corner, hidden by the mass of men.

“Bunch of fucking nonsense.” He uttered toward the mess on the table which was beginning to agitate him. He closed the lid of the box in front of him before waving his hand toward the boys perched at his side, ushering for them to get out of his way so that he could climb out from behind the table and move toward you. “Yeah?” He lifted his fingers to the rim of his glasses, adjusting the frame as it sat on the bridge of his nose. “What is it?” He didn’t stop in his approach until he was stood by the bar, in front of his brother. He clearly didn’t recognize you, you decided, so your initial plan to come in here and thank him for helping you out felt silly to do now. Nevertheless, you’d worked up a lot of courage to come here and do what you planned to do, so you swallowed down the nerves that built in your tummy and wiggled up your throat.

Reggie was just as alert as Ron. He watched your every movement. Just because you looked sweet and innocent, didn’t mean you were. You could pull a gun or even a knife and target his brother before either of them knew what was happening — so as you moved toward his brother, he made sure to watch every little twitch of your fingers. Nobody in the room could’ve guessed what was happening. Not a single man in the room, leaning against tabletops and walls, smoking, drinking, and studying you. Not Reggie. Not Albie. Not even Ron. The heels of your boots clicked softly against the floor, silencing when you came to a stop directly in front of him.

His eyes dropped south, settling on your own as he towered above you significantly. His brown hair was slicked back in a similar fashion to his brother’s. His lips were parted, heavy breaths escaping the small space as he watched you. He feared the same as his brother. You’d been sent by the Richardson’s. You were the perfect distraction. Ron was fixated on you. Unable to look away. You were beginning to look oddly familiar to him but he couldn’t pinpoint where he knew you from.

You lifted yourself up on to your tiptoes and before any man in the room could register what was happening, you cupped Ron’s cheeks in your small palms and drew him toward you for a very soft kiss. Reggie’s eyes widened, doubling in size as he watched the scene play out. He distanced just a little, straightening behind the counter as he watched your fingers trace his brother’s cheeks as they made their way toward the back of his hair.

Albie had never seen Ron kiss a girl. Nor had Reggie. So this scene was completely new to them. Teddy was stiff in his seat, rubbing his teeth together as he plotted multiple ways to hurt you. But he remained still, hands locking together on top of the table as he fiddled lazily with them.

Ron was unmoving beneath your lips, confused. His hands had subconsciously lifted, ready to move to your hips and draw you in just a little closer, but instead, they hovered in place, twitching because he really had no idea what was going on. He wasn’t exactly kissing you back, but he couldn’t help the way his mouth responded now and then to your own very gentle one.

Your small fingers curled in the back of his hair, holding him in place. You didn’t care who watched, what they thought, or how confused everyone was. Ron had done you the biggest favor in the entire world a few days ago and it didn’t matter to you if he didn’t remember it. The want to show him how grateful you were, because he’d rescued your dumb dog, was strong. You let out a very soft hum before beginning to pull back, but it was when your hands fell to his shoulders that he finally began to kiss you. You were stunned by the action, a bit taken aback, but you let it play out, neither of you focused on the surrounding men who watched.

Reggie looked to Albie before tonguing his cheek and folding his arms. “Alright, mate.” He leaned forward and pat his brother’s shoulder. “Alright, alright,” Ron growled out lightly. The bloke broke away from your lips reluctantly before staring down at you with the same confused expression he’d been wearing prior to the kiss.

“You don’t remember me.” You said softly, shyly. Your hands wrapped around one another, clasping securely together as you shifted in front of him. “But you.. helped me significantly the other day and I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” You tried to keep your voice quiet so that the conversation was private. “I wanted to thank you properly and I suppose.. this was the best way i could think of.” The little giggle that accompanied your explanation made Ron straighten. He didn’t like how ticklish he felt. His heart was thumping just a little quicker from how admirable your actions were and how cute you were being. He looked away.

It was rush hour. The streets were packed full of honking cars and speeding drivers. Ron was headed down the crowded sidewalk with his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his trousers. His eyes were glued to the pavement, glasses sliding centimeter by centimeter down the bridge of his nose the longer that he walked. He’d wait until it had hit halfway before he’d knock them back up and into their rightful place. Ron came to a stop at the busy intersection where he needed to cross. His deep, seemingly dark and mean gaze lifted to the street across from him at the sound of shouting.

“Grab him!” You bellowed pleadingly to anyone who would listen. “Brutus!” You cried out when the pup continued to run far ahead of you. His leash was dragging against the ground, ears flopping and tongue hanging out of his mouth as he happily raced along the street freely. Your eyes were growing watery as the worry flooded your stomach. This stupid dog meant everything to you and you wouldn’t be able to bare it if anything ever happened to him. All the passerby’s took steps back, avoiding the big mutt, despite your pleas for someone to help you out. He was a pit bull. Nobody was going to touch him.

Ron stepped forward, narrowing his eyes toward the scene. He could see your distressed face as you ran as fast as you could. His eyes drifted to the dog and then the cars that raced by unknowingly. He stepped forward, brows drawing together in concern before he looked to the left and then the right. He was much smarter than a dog was, so with an intense amount of focus, he crossed the road, weaving through the speeding vehicles. People blew their horns and shouted out the window at him, wondering why he was being so foolish, but they didn’t see the animal that was inevitably going to be hit. Ron made it to the sidewalk with just a sliver of a second. He grasped the leash with just enough time and hauled the pup back.

“Easy boy. Sit.” He ground out before squatting down. Forcing the pup to sit on the sidewalk, he wrapped the leash around his hand before looking toward you. The appreciation that radiated off of you made him puff his chest out.

“Oh my god... Brutus,” You panted out before coming to an abrupt halt in front of the man. Your chest heaved and your heavy breaths made Ron have to strain his ears to hear you clearly. “I.. I’m.. thank you so much.” You whimpered out before taking the rope from him when he handed it over to you. Ron nodded once toward you with a flicker of a smile before he looked down at the dog.

“Big dog, yeah, be careful. It’s you who he’ll be dragging out into the street.” His hand moved to your shoulder briefly before he brushed past you. “Have a good day.” His voice was deep, husky, and low. You clutched on to your pup desperately before slowly taking a small step back and away from the street. Watching your savior go, you led your dog back down the length of the sidewalk and toward your home.

You’d spend the remainder of the day asking surrounding people if they recognized the man. It took no time at all before someone told you that that was none other than Ron Kray. A very dangerous man, they’d warned. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.. he’d been awfully kind in helping you out.

“The lass with the dog.” He murmured out before squinting. “I remember you, yeah, and your hard-headed mutt.” He looked toward Reggie. “Reg, this is the owner of the dog I was tellin’ you about the other day. Right, fucking thing nearly killed himself breaking free from her and running toward the road.” Ron rubbed his lips together savoring the warmth and taste of your lips on his own. He cleared his throat quietly, ogling his brother.

A wave of realization washed over Reggie and it was then that he looked toward you. He let out a soft hum before nodding his head and looking back toward his brother. What a hero. Perfect timing was what Reggie had to say about that. He shook his head at the now amusing situation before shrinking back to give the pair of you just a little bit of space.

“Well, thanks to you.. he’s doing just fine. You.. basically risked your life to save his, crossing the street when it was busy like that.” You lifted your hand to your hair before brushing the strands away from your eyes and shrinking back momentarily. “I was wondering if.. um.. youre not too busy, maybe you’d want to go for dinner sometime?”

This was how people met wasn’t it? The lonely gentleman on the corner of the street assisting the struggling girl with the dog twice her size. That was a setup for some sort of relationship. You sent him a small smile, one that told him you completely understood if he didn’t want to go. Every man in the room was sure the twin would turn you down. He had a preference for boys — and you, most certainly, were not a boy.

“I..” It was silent before he lifted his hand to his jaw and scratched the length of it. “yeah, alright.” He didn’t really want to say no, which he found instantly odd. He’d never met a girl he was interested in, but one that was brave enough to saunter into a room full of men and kiss him as a way of saying thank you, he didn’t exactly want to pass this up. You were awfully attractive, you had a very sweet voice, a kind smile, and he figured there was no loss in going on a date.

The light that lit up in your eyes made him forcefully bite back his smile. You looked so happy. He was baffled by how something so small as a date could make your day as it seemingly did, but he didn’t question it. Nor was he complaining. You bit your lips before shrinking back and away from him, further and further until your back had hit the door.

“Tonight?” Your head tipped to the side. “Your club?” Your eyes drifted to Reggie, soft smile passing over your lips. “Your club.” The twins shared a look and then an almost invisible smile before Ron nodded in the slightest. “Right, then, I’ll see you tonight.” He chewed his cheek before turning on his heel and retreating back over to the counter. The bell sounded, signaling your retreat.

“Mate. Ask her where she’s coming from. You don’t want her walking all the way to the club on her own.” Reggie frowned before pointing toward the door.

Ron looked toward his brother before cocking a slow brow. He let out a low grumble of stupidity because he was actually quite, unknowingly, careless when it came to certain things. He turned on his heel before rushing toward the exit. The door opened swiftly and he stepped out with a hurried call for you to stop.

“Oi.” You hadn’t made it far. “Let me.. pick you up tonight, yeah, it’ll be too late for you to be out so late, you know, on your own.” You, having turned around when his deep voice filled the air, studied him, small hands resting on your hips.

A little nod of understanding was passed his way before you pointed to the tall buildings across the street. “I stay here.” A little grin stained your lips. It wasn’t far at all from the club, but he’d be there nevertheless. “And my name’s Y/n.” You told him quietly, eyes gliding between his own as he studied you.

“Right then. Y/n.” He tested it. “I’ll see you at 8?” His tongue traced his lips before he reached for the door behind him. Lugging it open, he hovered in the door, watching intently as you waved goodbye before climbing the steep stairs up to the apartments. He waited until you’d gone inside before he moved back into the tall building and looked toward Reggie. The men shared a lingering look before Ron made his way back toward the booth in the corner, smile staining the corners of his lips.

He had a date.

———————————————————————

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[fullmetaldevil-blog]

Batim Stitched AU Ch. 2

*Authors notes: Wow Ch. 2 is done~ Now there are some scenes that pay tribute to my old school days when I was a musician in an Orchestra class. The scenes is question was an example of how myself and my fellow musicians were back in the day. Other then that jazz I hope you ladies and gentlemen like the story thus far.

On with the show~!*

Ch 2. A Threat and a Friend

Allison flew to the music department nearly running over a few tired overworked animators along the way, stopping only briefly to apologize before resuming her flight path. Her mind drifting to the image of the little toon sound asleep in a crate in her room, hoping that no one would enter the room looking for her. As Allison headed down the stairs to the newly remodeled Music department she could her a woman yelling sounding quite irate, her shrill voice growing louder as she neared the entrance to the department.

"What is the meaning of this, why am I being taken off the cast?!" A young dark haired woman was shouting at a young blonde man nearly a head and a half taller then herself. The irate woman seemed to have him pinned to the entrance logo of the department. 'Oh great' Allison thought to herself, it was Susie Cambell the former actress of the character Alice Angel. She had completely cornered Sammy and was blowing a gasket, even going so far as nearly shoving some paperwork she had in her hand in Sammy's face.

"Look Ms. Cambell that was not entirely my decision to make, Mr. Drew wanted to bring in Mrs. Connor for reasons he didn't specify. So please understand I'm just doing what he tells me to do, it's out of my hands" Sammy held up his hands in a placating manner trying to calm the irate Susie. From the tantrum Susie was throwing, to the frigid glare she shot Allison upon realizing she was standing there witnessing the whole scene, Susie lowered her tone and through gritted teeth hissed "Oh believe me, I will have a word with Mr. Joey Drew"

Susie stormed away from Sammy and as she waltzed past Allison to the stairs, she growled "I'm Alice Angel, not you". The rolling thunder and storm of Susie Cambell ascended the stairs taking all the tension of the room with her much to the relief of Sammy whom just barely got his breath back, visibly slumping against the wall as he relaxed.

"I apologize that you had to see that Mrs. Connor" as Sammy approached Allison scratching the back of his head sighing, "Mrs. Cambell is a very prideful, passionate woman, she's just a bit upset over the recent changes"

Allison knew she was a new hire for Joey Drew Studios and was to play the studio's character 'Alice Angel'. She had heard from her husband that she was replacing the, at the time, current voice actress Susie Cambell, and the fact that the actress in question was making a huge scene over the casting call change. She felt bad for the debunked actress, but sadly in the world of the film industry be it animation or live action, it was the nature of the business. Directors were often whimsical, changing their minds at a moments notice to the delight or dismay of those that worked under them. With Joey's growing reputation it seemed to be more of a case of dismay then delight.

Sammy motioned for Allison to follow him as they weaved through the department, glancing over her shoulder she noticed Norman was up in the projection booth as he briefly waved at her before resuming his task. Allison briefly returned the wave as she was lead through the doors entering the room where the band was, the lively bunch joyfully practicing the music, the violinist even going so far as to try his hand at tap dancing while the bass and banjo were dueling.

Allison had to stifle a laugh as Sammy marched over to the group trying to reign them in, which was going as well as herding a group of cats. The band was probably a bit livelier then Sammy's taste, but they were second to none. Obscenities were bouncing off the wall as Sammy was shouting at the Bass and banjo players to cease their playing while the violinist and drummer devolved into doing a kick line. Allison just took that as her cue to head to her recording booth, tapping the mic gently to get the bands attention. The looney bunch ceased their shenanigans as they each took up their instruments proper and waited for their conductor. Sammy let out a annoyed huff, picked up his baton, and stuck up the band.

The miniature orchestra practiced the entirety of the song just to get the feel, once completed they made minor adjustments to tuning, and the idle scribbling on the sheet music for minor corrections. Allison waited patiently as the band readied themselves for the actual recording, Sammy once again taking up the baton and glancing around the room, ensuring everyone was at the ready. The recording staff gave a small thumbs up to Sammy, indicating that they were ready to begin the recording. Norman also giving a thumbs up with his projector at the ready only to play the images as to help the 'help the mood of the song' as Sammy liked to refer to it.

With the wave of a hand and swing of a baton, the band roared to life with the joyous lighthearted music as the Alice angel short played on the wall behind them. Allison waiting for her cue as she followed the sheet music, watching the rests in the measures until the first note appeared on her page. She sang to her hearts content, pouring her very being into the role. Her mind briefly fluttered back to the images of Benny and his bright genuine smile he gave her, a smile that warmed her to her core. The comforting bliss of his provided warmth she weaved into the thread and fabric of the song, truly sounding like an angel.

Sammy was absolutely enthralled by Allison's voice as she sang, nearly drifting off into a peaceful bliss himself. Without a doubt Allison was the perfect pick for the role of Alice Angel. Allison had a way of making people feel like they were being grace by a real angel, not only in the world of 2D but also within reality. A soft soothing voice that carried the warmth of a comforting shroud that wraps around your very soul, the heavens light bathing the bearer in a peaceful bliss. Everything about Allison felt real, even if she did not have a physical halo above her, it felt like she did.

Sammy's thoughts slowly drifted to Susie, he couldn't help but pity the woman. Susie had charm and a lot of talent but she lacked that substance of belief. She could sing and act very well but it always felt hollow, as if the angel was in mask only and what lay beneath was a deformed mass of greed and envy. While he may have had a hand in Susie being replaced, he could only hope that Susie would eventually get over her removal from the cast. That she won't be consumed by the rejection and hopefully won't take it out on others as a means of repairing her shattered pride and ego. Time could only tell.

As the song wrapped up Sammy glanced over the the recording booth where the team was evaluating the most recent recording. The group all gathered within the window all giving thumbs up with the widest grins they could muster, even Norman up in the projection booth giving his thumbs up as a show of approval. Sammy taking that as a 'job well done' he turned to face the band raising his voice. "Well done gentleman, take 5 for now, I'll be back." as he stepped away from the podium to join the recording team in evaluating the song. Though he felt that the session was done for the day, as the song he just witnessed couldn't be repeated.

While Sammy was away, the band came out to play, the group striking up a lively jazzy tune as they didn't have Sammy's scornful eyes watching them. Allison giggling as she stepped out of her booth to join the group, taking care to give the tap dancing violinist some much needed space. The man was an absolute tap dancing fool as he tapped himself on and off the stage as if he was giving a performance to a imaginary crowd. The bass player, banjo player, and pianist all encouraging him with their music and cheers, Allison even clapping on the side as he wrapped up his dance and took a bow.

Just as he finished his musical number Sammy stepped out of the recording booth looking rather amused at the groups antics. "Good show gentleman, perhaps you should try your hand at broadway." Sammy chuckled as the violinist realized he had the entire recording team as a audience when he thought they weren't paying attention. The young man turned red in embarrassment, even sparing a glance up at the Projection Booth realizing that Norman was clapping in cheers at the show, his face could not get any redder.

"Nevertheless it was a stunning performance gentleman and lovely lady" as he gestured to Allison. "We got a perfect recording in one shot, for that I thank you all, and we finished up in record time. You all can head home early for today" The drummer and pianist both broke into cheers and made a mad dash for the exit when Sammy raised his voice catching their attention "However! Please make sure to collect the sheet music for tomorrow before you pack up for the day." Sammy's eyes dead focused on the two attempted escapees. Both men stopped dead in their tracks as their shoulders slumped, both moaning like zombies to the grave as they approached the podium to collect their respective music for the morrow's session.

Collecting all the necessary sheet music the drummer and pianist said their good-byes as they slowly exited the department under the watchful gaze of their director. Sammy sighed loudly as he rubbed his temples, leaving the remaining band members and Allison as he exited the department. Norman observing that their resident drama queen was gone, he cleaned up his projectors, put the reels away, and left his projection room to join the remaining members in idle conversation.

The remaining staff was all gathered round one another joyously chatting about their personal lives or the latest gossip within Joey Drew studios. However, as soon as the topic shifted over to the latest gossip of the studio, concern was a thick fog draped over the air as they were discussing the rumors of a worker getting injured by their latest annoyance the ink machine.

"Yeah I heard that a man got hurt from the machine and was taken to the hospital" the Banjo player, voiced in a hushed tone as he recounted what he had heard. Fearing that he he spoke too loudly Sammy would somehow hear him.

"Yeah right. Did you see that sign above the infirmary? They most likely dragged that poor soul to a random room and just laid him to rest. You know Joey is too cheap for hospital bills" the bass player crossing his arm glancing at the banjo player in disbelief.

"Yeah most likely, I dunno what's up with Joey. I know he pays our bills an all, but it's startin' to feel like he don't care about none of us. Especially since Henry left." The younger violinist quietly chiming in.

The group of men couldn't help but nod their heads in agreement. Joey had been constantly increasing the staffs workload. Even when Henry the lead animator and co-founder was on staff, Joey would always push the man to do more and more. Many couldn't help but wonder about Henry's stamina since he seemed to just put up with Joey's antics despite the whispers of concerned staff, even Susie expressing concerns to Henry about his constant workload punishment, to a point where he wouldn't see his wife for extended periods. The day that Henry had received notice that he was being drafted was the day that many thought the studio was gonna fall apart by Joey's hand. The argument between Henry and Joey went down in infamy as the two bitterly parted ways. From that day forward, any and all commentary and gossip regarding Henry was strictly forbidden. Joey just seemed to be falling apart at the seems after the two best fiends broke apart, and the studio was paying for it. The increasing workloads, the threats of termination and now this obsession over this ink machine, it seemed like Joey truly lost his mind and cared little for the people working under him, they were disposable.

Allison had to nod her head in agreement as well, while she may not have known Henry, she was well aware of the pressure being placed on the staff. She especially pitied her husband whom was part of the development team for the ink machine and the constant harassment by Joey was not helping the man. She could recall the days when Tom would come home just bathed in ink, looking worse for wear and absolutely exhausted. Concern shot through Allison like an arrow, Tom was supposed to be finishing up the ink machine project soon, could he have gotten hurt? Her mind was racing a mile a minute as she curled in on herself slightly.

Norman noticed the sudden change in Allison's demeanor and excused himself from the group to sit next to the concerned woman, patting her shoulder to get her attention. "I'm sure it'll be fine Mrs. Allison, don't worry about Tom none, the boys a tough cookie. I'm sure ain't no harm come to 'em." Norman smiled at her to ease her nerves. He always seemed to know what was on her mind. Allison relaxed at the thought of Tom being ok, but she still had her reservations about what may have happened.

Allison knew that the infamous ink machine was built for Joey Drew per his request and what it was actually supposed to do remains a mystery. No one within the staff knew, not even the GENT staff knew. The only ones who would potential know or would know would be Joey or Thomas. Joey was as tight as a drum on information regarding the machine no matter who asked. Tom seemed to know, but had explained that under the contract that he couldn't leak confidential information regarding clients requests. She had assumed that it was for making ink to supply the animation department but there was no way on earth they needed that much ink, the cartoons are small 2D drawings not a 3D ink model.

Allison's mind instantly shot back to Benny, the living bendy doll that was leaking ink, seemingly a life force for him somehow. Considering Tom and Joey both being secretive about what the true purpose of the machine was, she was convinced that Benny was part of whatever that machine was meant to do. But how? How can a machine that was presumably only designed to make ink, make a living toon that should only exist on the 2-Dimensional plane? Plus the fact that Benny was nearly scrapped shortly after birth for being 'off model'. She was starting to piece together the potential chain of events; that the ink machine is somehow bringing toons to life and that the ultimate goal is to make Bendy the star of the studio, but it's not complete yet since Benny didn't come out how they wanted. The studio was already paying the price for the machine and then Benny's creation, how much will it take to make Bendy? How much more will the studio suffer?

Allison laid her head on her hands briefly as she mental whispered a small prayer 'Please, once the machine is complete, let the studio go back to it's glory days where the staff was happy. Please don't let it be the downfall of the studio and doom us all'.

"hey, you alright?" Norman's words snapping Allison out of her brief prayer and thoughts.

"Oh I'm fine, just a bit tired is all." brushing off Norman's concern.

"Well maybe ya outta head home fer the day." Norman sighed as he looked at Allison. He knew that her and Tom were very close and that with the development of the machine it was putting a strain on the both of them.  Now with the rumor of the machine injuring people he knew Allison would automatically assume it was Tom since he is the closest to the strange contraption. Both of them just need a break, hopefully once that machine is finished everything will go back to some sense of normalcy.

"Yeah, sounds like a good idea" Allison smiled as she slowly rose from her seat. Taking a moment to wave her good-byes at the remaining band members whom long since gave up on gossiping and resumed their musical shenanigans. Allison rolled her eyes and quietly excused herself from the room as she strolled out of the department making her way back to her dressing room.

Along the way Allison watched as the animators frantically ran back and forth with papers and cells in hand, finishing up for the day as several were packing their bags for home. she briefly stopped and eyed a empty desk that had a lone inkwell sitting atop. Carefully glancing over her shoulder, she reached out and quickly pocketed the inkwell, turning on her heel she swiftly left the desk and resumed her trip.

Upon reaching her desired destination Allison glanced around to make sure no one was watching her as she quietly slipped inside and closed it quietly behind herself. She felt around the dark room till her fingers brushed against a light switch and she flicked them on, the light flickering slightly before settling on a smooth glow. She set her purse down on the edge of one of the chairs as she tip-toed to the back shelf to quietly check on her sleeping companion.

Allison carefully grabbed the handles of the crate and slowly slid it out of the shelf to reveal a sleeping Benny curled up within her jacket. She sighed in relief that no one found him, but then again this was her room. No one would have a real reason to enter other then to look for her.

Benny winced at the sudden light as he slowly stirred, blinking his eyes a few times trying to adjust to the light. Once his eyes focused they grew wide along with a huge smile plastered on his face as he made a happy speak upon seeing a familiar face. "ALLISON!" Benny leapt from his crate, crashing into Allison's chest nuzzling his head into her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her neck as he hugged her. He winced slightly from the sudden movement since he was still sore, but he didn't care he got to see her again, she didn't leave him.

Allison was initially shocked by the sudden snap reaction of the toon but was swift to return the hug. She giggled "Hey Benny, how are you feeling?"

"Fee....ling?" He cocked his head in confusion. He didn't quite understand what the word meant.

Allison looked at him in mild shock at his question, he didn't seem to know how to talk very well yet and the only words he recounted were ones he had previously heard. She could only mentally chuckle to herself, this little toon truly was like a small child. He was innocent more ways then one and was still learning how the world works, but did not get the best start and now he has to try again. She would have to teach him the best she can and hopefully she can get him out of the studio, somehow.

Putting her thoughts aside, she focused on teaching him how to talk properly. "Ummm...." She tilted her head to the side in contemplation. "Feeling. Like if you feel happy " she made a smile . "if you feel sad" she frowned. "Or angry" she made a angry pouting face. She hoped that by adding the facial expressions it would help the toon understand what each emotion was and how to describe them.

The toon stared at her, studying her face and listening to her words trying to figure out how he felt. He pointed up at her "Happy!" with a grin, but the grin faltered to a frown when he placed one hand over his left eye and the other on his stomach "sad".

Allison realized what he was trying to say; She makes him happy, but he is still in pain from the injuries. "You mean 'hurt'". She corrected him with a small frown of her own.

"Hurt?"

" It means when you feel pain." She pointed at his stomach as an example "when this happened, what you felt was pain. Pain usually leads to sadness and when you were crying in my arms earlier, what you felt, was 'sadness'." She slightly smiled at him reassuringly "But even though pain hurts and it takes time to heal, there will always be someone there to help you through the pain. Sadness can and will turn into happiness with support of those that care about you."

Benny quietly contemplated her words as he slowly processed how he really felt about the situation he was harshly handed. "I.. don't.. like.. pain.. it.. hurts.. and.. it.. makes.. me.. sad" The toon whispered while bowing his head "but.. you.. were.. there.. to.. help.. me.. and.. it.. made.. me.. happy." He looked up at her with a small smile. "I.. just.. need.. time.. to.. heal"

"Yes. All injuries take time to heal whether they be here" Allison placed a hand on his chest where his heart would be "or here" she patted him on the head. "But I am glad I found you and was able to help you" She gently picked him up in her arms and cradled him "You are a sweetheart more ways then one."

He looked up at her as she held him within her arms "Are.. you.. hurting.. too?"

She was taken back by his question. She had a bit of a rough start to her day, first she finds a living Bendy doll in distress in her dressing room, then her 'drive by attitude problem' of Susie. Not to mention the rumor mill of the ink machine and how Benny is most likely connected to it, the high possibility of her husband getting hurt from it, let alone the very questionable future of the studio. However seeing the little plushtoon looking up at her with hope made it all better.

She reached down and gently stroked the area between his horns. " No. Seeing you, made my day all the better" He yawned as he leaned into her touch.

"Now you need to get some rest, you had quite a day" Allison gently shuffled Benny to one arm, freeing up the other to fix the bedding so the toon can lay back down. As she bent over to fix the coat bed she bumped her purse causing it to fall to the floor, its contents spilling everywhere. The noise generated from the bag spilling made Allison groan inwardly as she turned to glare at the bag in betrayal, eyeing the spilt contents. The rolling inkwell caught her eye, still cradling Benny she reached out and gently picked up the inkwell.

Allison had always seen the inkwells on the animators desks but never really took the chance to look at them proper. She was slightly disturbed by the white skull and crossbone mark on the bottle itself, but other then the eerie label it looked like normal ink. How can ink make something come to life? It's supposed to be a artists tool for creating a image.

Her thoughts were disrupted by a sleepy voice "Is.. that.. ink?"

Allison looked down to see Benny staring at the inkwell in her hand, rubbing his eyes as he was fighting off sleep. "Yeah it is" as she brought the bottle to his eye level so he can see it better.

"Can.. I.. have..it.. please..? I.. need.. it.." Benny looked up at her with tired pleading eyes. Allison couldn't bring herself to say 'no' to the sleepy demon as she handed him the bottle. To her surprise he opened it and gulped it down like it was water, once the well was dry he handed it back to her. "Thank.. you"

Allison wanted to ask him why he drank the bottle but just as she was about to ask, she saw small Z's floating above his head, he fell asleep again. She was gonna have to save her questions for another day. She bent down and resumed her fixing the coat bed, once she was satisfied she laid the toon back down in the bed and tucked him in. She carefully lifted the crate and returned it to its proper place on the shelf.

Allison stared at the crate that contained the sleeping demon and her thoughts drifted back to when she was stitching him earlier in the day, how the ink within his body seemed to absorb the threads used to close his injuries. He had ink within his body that acted like a life force, like how blood works for humans. Her only conclusion was that he needs a supply of ink like how humans need food, but it was only a guess. She had no real way of asking him and while she did have food in her bag, with all the ink that leaked onto the bag from helping him, she doubted it was any good anymore. She'll just have to see if she can wipe a inkwell or two and bring extra food tomorrow and see what happens.

Being as quiet as she could, Allison bent down as gathered up her things that had fallen from her bag. She eyed her fallen sewing kit, it was small but it was able to do so much. Glancing at the shelf again she quietly slid the crate back out just far enough to slip in the sewing kit next to the sleeping toon. Sliding the crate back into place, she stood back up and headed for the door, stopping only briefly to glance over her shoulder at the shelf. She hoped that Benny would sleep through the night peacefully, and that at the first opportunity she was going to get him out of the studio, but how? Ever since Joey had the ink machine installed he had increased security at the studio, he called it "Protecting creative property". It was just his fancy excuse of making sure people weren't sneaking any of the finished cells off the studio lot, it's not like he needed the cells and drawings for anything, so why would it matter? She would have to buy her time and wait for a opportunity.

She whispered a soft "Good-night Benny" as she carefully closed the door and headed down the hall, taking a brief detour to drop off the now empty inkwell at the desk she pilfered from earlier. She could only hope to ask Tom about how his day at work went, but she would have to wait till later in evening when he would return home. Opening up the main door she stepped out and headed home.

_______________

Tom slowly sat up cradling his head in his hand, groaning from the ache he felt in his sides. He felt like his mind was swimming in circles and he had a killer headache. He felt around feeling that he was on a couch of some sort and even had a small ice pack on him, it contents long since melted. What happened? And where is he?

"Oh good, you're awake" a low voice acknowledged Tom's groans as he slowly came to.

Tom turned his head to face the voice in question, his head killing him and the bright light kicking up the intensity of the headache by several notches. Squinting his eye and blinking them a few times before the haze gave way revealing the nature of his surroundings. Burgundy walls, a radio and gramophone in one corner, a potted plant and shelving full of film reels in the other, and at the center of it all, a large desk and chair with a figure facing him. The desk and chair of the studios director; Joey drew.

"Ugh. What do you want?" as he glared at Joey inwardly loathing his new location. He remembered the creation of the small toon and the confrontation that followed. He knew that if he was in Joey's office rather then the infirmary, that Joey was by no sense of the word done with him.

However Joey just seemed to sit there as he fingered through some papers on his desk, his cold grey eyes examining the contents critically, not even sparing a glance at tom. A gramophone playing music from the Bendy cartoons was the only thing to break the unsettling silence of the room. The scene before him left tom on edge as he dare not move a muscle. He knew the temper of the director and was he was seeing felt like 'the calm before the storm'.

Joey stopped looking over the paperwork as he closed up the papers within a book, his eyes full of disappointment as he looked up at Thomas. "Now you and I both know that you may have said some things that you didn't mean. I'm a generous man and I'm willing to look past your past transgressions as long as the ink machine is finished and my toons are perfect" Joey calmly leaned back in his chair, hands folded in his lap as he waited for Tom's answer. His grey eyes unflinching in their gaze.

"Your machine is finished Mr. Drew-" before he could finish Joey slammed a hand on the desk.

"No it is NOT finished. It produced a flawed product and you will perfect the machine. I have paid you and your team good money to not have failures."

Tom was already fuming from the earlier transgressions he had with Joey and was steadily growing frustrated, not to mention the directors accusations that he and his team didn't do their jobs. They had been working tirelessly on the ink machine and it worked. It produced a small living toon that responded to human interaction. All that time of planning, building, repairing, and the blood sweat and tears of the crew paid off. As far as he was concerned, his job was over. "You get what you put in. We tested it to be sure it would work by using a REJECTED Bendy doll. A toy that got cut from the line because of some small defect, and guess what, it worked! It was small, but it responded to movement and sounds like how a newborn should! You can't expect anything that is brought to life to act like how it would in the cartoons right out of the box! It has no experience, no memories, no developed personality, no one for it to call family!"

By the time Tom had finished his rant he had his fist balled up tight and was shaking from the pent up rage. The director had tried to claim a small innocent life that was just born because it didn't look and act the way it was supposed to. What he saw from the little toon was the look of a baby looking up at its parent. It was a image that was forever burned into his mind, and the mere thought of that being taken way ate at him to his very core.

Joey sighed and looked at Tom with an unamused almost glacier look "Toons are things that we create to entertain, to horrify, to endear, to please the masses in anyway the creator feels fit. They do not have a personality beyond what we give them. They are the puppets and we pull the strings. What you saw was nothing more then a soulless response, an illusion of living. It had nothing of Bendy programmed into it other then his image. THE REAL BENDY will be perfect because we will be using his film reels and his original sketches. You say they won't act the way they are supposed to right out of the box. Well Bendy WILL act the way he is supposed to right out of the box, and you will make sure it will not FAIL."

Tom wanted to argue back but Joey raised a single hand cutting him off before he got started. "Oh, and before you get any ideas about not finishing, sabotaging, or reporting this incident in any way shape or form, do keep in mind that your wife is on my payroll. It would be a shame if she were to not come home from work because something bad happened. So if I were you I'd finish what I started, and I'm only giving you a week. No more delays" Joey's words seem to cut through Tom and had his heart on a choke hold as he knew the severity of the threat.

"Y-yes s-sir" Tom hung his head as knew he couldn't fight back. Joey was a cunning man and who knows what he would do to his wife. He would have no choice but to keep his mouth shut and comply with Joey's demands. He would have no choice but to meet the demands of the maddening director or else lose everything he held dear.

Joey stood up from his desk and with cane in hand hobbled over to Tom"Good man, now hurry along home to the missus and rest up. You have alot of work ahead of you, and remember it's our little secret" Joey patted Tom on the back and lead him to the door sending him off. Once he knew the man was gone Joey returned to his desk and eyed the papers. He reached into his desk and pulled out a small shot glass, brandy, and small black book. He smiled at the book as he poured himself some brandy and rested in his chair. "To the illusion of living" as he held his glass high in the air for a toast before drinking the beverage.

-------------- Later that evening ------------

Tom had returned home absolutely exhausted and frustrated. There was nothing he could do to combat Joey without the risk of getting his wife involved. He loved her deeply, and that love was being used against him. He already worried her enough with his involvement with the studio's suspicious project, and to hell with making matters worse.

He came into the kitchen to find Allison already cooking dinner and happily humming to herself, swaying slightly back and forth to the rhythm of the tune.

"Hey hun, you seem happy. Something good happen?" As he gently hugged her trying to peer into the pots she had cooking on the stove.

She waved him off "Yes and no. I had a small run in with Susie earlier, but to be honest they day ended up pretty good. How was yours?" She had turned to face him when she saw the bruise on his cheek. "What happened here?!" She gently cupped her hand on the side of his face turning his head slightly to examine the injury, concern all over her face.

He grimaced at her for a brief moment remembering the lingering threat now over his head. "Oh nothing much. I got slapped by a pipe that burst and flailed around. It's nothing serious." As he tried to joke about it. The last thing he needed was her getting involved. He didn't want to ever lie to her, she was a good woman whom took care of him, he wanted her to be happy and out of harms way, even if he would have to take a blow or two for her.

"I wish you would be more careful. I know your job has risks and Joey puts a lot on your plate, but please don't let him put on too much to where you can't handle it. If it gets too much, ask Wally to help you. He's supposed to anyways." Allison softly spoke as she let go of his face. She wanted to deny the eerie coincidence of her husband coming home with an injury and the rumor of the ink machine harming a staffer, but he said it was just a pipe burst and those were on a regular and rising basis.

Tom had to stifle a snort, he knew Wally at times was next to useless. He had tried to explain to him how to work the machine, and how to handle some situations that would come with it, No matter what was said Wally just didn't seem to get it. He wondered if the only thing that floated through the janitors head was chocolate cake. "Don't worry honey, if things get too out of hand I'll have him help" he chuckled. In the back of his mind he knew all the things he got on his plate, just got worse. The pendulum of time was slowly ticking down to the end, the face of the clock void of emotion and life as it axe like pendulum swung ever closer. A guillotine waiting to drop. Tom just gently grabbed Allison and wrapped her in a hug, unsure of how often he would be able to embrace her, or if he would be able to do it again.

Allison was initially surprised at his hug, but returned it"Ok, ok well go sit down. Dinner's almost ready" as she gently pried his reluctant arms off her as she shooed him to the table, turning to resume looking over the pot stirring it's contents.

Tom sat down on the kitchen table when he saw Allison's purse, one entire side covered in pitch black splotches.

"Honey?" He called out.

"Yes?"

"What happened to your purse? It's brand new and you got black stuff all over it"

"Oh, one of the pipes sprayed a bit of ink at me as I was heading to the recording session today. I tried to wipe it off but I guess I didn't get it all"

Allison knew better then to tell her husband about the Bendy doll she patched up in her dressing room. He wouldn't believe her and even if he did, she was afraid he would take the little plushdemon from her. She had her suspicions about Tom's connection to the machine and connection to Benny, but it is clear he can't talk about it. Maybe when the Machine is complete and things roll over that Tom will tell her what really happened. For now she had to keep Benny a secret and could only hope the small toon was ok.

Tom left it at that, deciding to not dwell on the matter as a big bowl of spaghetti was placed in front of him. The couple didn't say anything more except the quiet hums of appreciation for the good food. Thomas quietly sat there and thought to himself 'with joey's uncaring attitude the real Bendy will fail'.

---------------Meanwhile at the studio----------------

A female figure wandered through the studio glancing over her shoulder keeping a watchful eye for any potential onlookers. She paced down the halls and approached a lone door with “Allison Connor” painted on a placard. Looking around to confirm there were no witnesses, she opened the door and walked inside loosely closing it behind herself, failing to realize the door was slightly ajar.

Fingering around with only the thin light from the outside to guide her, she finally located the light switch turning it on. The flickering light illuminated the scowl on the woman's face as she glared about the room. As the light settled she marched strait to the back of the room at the book case and started rifling through the random boxes and books on the upper shelves. The noise she made startled the sleeping toon on the bottom shelf.

Benny was confused by the sudden noise being made on the upper shelves. He thought maybe Allison came back! He peered a part of his head out of his crate and through a gap in the shelving to look up at the location of the noise, ready to leap out into her arms in sheer excitement. The person he saw made him freeze and scoot as far back in his crate as he could go without making noise. This person was not Allison! He didn't know who this mystery woman was and was thankful she didn't see him, the brief scowl on her face that he saw reminded him of of that ax wielding man. He would hear her rummaging though the contents on the upper shelves, making frustrated noises as she didn't seem to find whatever she was looking for. The toon's heart started to race in fear, he could hear her steadily getting closer and closer to his bottom shelf.

“Hey Mrs. Allison what are ya doin' here so la-” The creaking of the door was heard as the mans voice instantly cut off at the sight before him.

“Ms. Cambell?! What are ya doin' in Mrs. Allison's room?!” The man raised his voice in shock, appalled at the image before him.

Susie closed the book she had in her hand as she faced her discoverer. “Why Norman, I was only returning a book I had borrowed from Allison earlier. I came in here seeing that her door was open thinking she was in here and she wasn't, so I just figured I'd return the book and tell her about it later. No harm no foul” Susie smiled devilishly at Norman as she sashayed to the door leaving the room all the while under Normans unamused scornful glare.

Norman sighed inwardly as he watched Susie disappear down the hall, he didn't trust that woman as far as he could throw her and he don't hurt little ladies. He closed the door behind himself and turned his attention to the “returning a book to the shelf” as Susie liked to call it, she had completely trashed the book case with several papers on the floor. He groaned slightly as he stooped over to pick up the scattered papers off the floor. As he bent down he saw that there were some dried ink spots at the base of the shelving. He knew he ain't no janitor but he reached for a spare cloth that he always carried and tried to clean up the dried ink.

Benny could only hold his breath as he watched a man he didn't know get dangerously close to his hiding spot. He scooted as far back into his crate as he could, still being thwarted by it's walls as his foot accidentally kicked a small black box against the wall of the crate. He turned white as a sheet as the box tapped against the wall, making the only sound to be heard in the entire room.

“huh?” Norman turned his attention to the lower shelf as he heard the small sound. He figured that perhaps Susie broke something in her 'returning a book' session as he starting moving some of the items on the bottom shelf, noticing the ink stains in the back corner and around the base of a crate.

'Now how did ink git back there?' Norman thought to himself as he got on his hand and knees to clean up the shelving, surprised at the fact that ink hadn't completely dried let alone the amount present. 'Dag-nab-bit, Did dat stupid boy Wally hide stuff again?' Norman mentally grumbled to himself as he continued cleaning, once he was satisfied with the spotless shelf he turned to slide the crate out to clean under it.

Benny watched in horror as a pair of unfamiliar hands grabbed onto his crate and he could feel it being pulled out into the open. Mentally screaming 'No nonono!'.

“The hell?” Norman mumbled as a pair of mismatched pie cut eyes looked up at him in horror. A small black figure that strongly resembled Bendy staring up at him from the crate. The man and toon quiet for a brief moment before hell broke loose and the toon let out a loud squeaky toy like scream as he tried to dash out of the shelf and past the man, knocking the crate on its side spilling it's contents.

Normans hand shot out and grabbed the squirming, screaming toon as he tried to escape. “whoa, whoa there little fella its okay, I ain't gonna hurt 'cha” as he tried to calm down this small creature in his hands.

Benny wiggled and tried to fight off the man for all he was worth, which apparently wasn't much cause the man had a cast iron grip on him, and yet the grip did not hurt him. While he wasn't hurting as bad a he was earlier, he was still sore from the days events. Inky tears streaming down his face in distress, he just wanted to catch a break from people hurting him. Is that too much to ask?

“it's ok little guy, see I ain't gonna hurt ya” As Norman raised Benny to his eye level smiling at him. “Now stop dat cryin', I ain't gonna do nothin' to ya”

Benny just gave up there was no way out of this mans grip, but he said he said he wasn't gonna hurt him. Can he be trusted? Benny hung limp in Norman's grip looking at him with merciful eyes, wondering what this man will with him.

To Benny's surprise, Norman leaned back sitting on the ground cross legged as he set him in his lap. “Now see, not so bad. “ as he used his hand to wipe away Benny's tears. He spotted the fallen coat and scooped it up, gently wrapping the coat around the distressed toon as a blanket.

“I..thought.. you.. were.. gonna.. hurt.. me..” Benny quietly spoke after calming down a bit, slightly relaxing within the coat as Norman wrapped it around him.

Norman was shocked on multiple levels. 1. This creature looks like the studios star Bendy, 2. It talks, and 3. How is his head floating separate from his body? He has no neck. He couldn't help but wonder if this little guy was the reason why Joey seemed to have his underwear in a knot earlier as he seemed to be searching about the studio. He smiled at this small 'Bendy', the way he acted reminded him of his little sister when she would do something wrong and would try and run away only to be caught. She would cry her eyes out and only after sitting with her and talking quietly would she calm down after awhile.

“Now, why would you think I'd do that'?” Norman softly asked as he gently petted 'Bendy' between his horns.

“Because.. that.. other.. man.. hurt.. me..” Benny placed his gloved hand near his cheek brushing slightly against the stitches.

“Now son, I ain't gon' hurt a fly, an' a I sure ain't gon' hurt you” as Norman glanced down at the toon in his lap and noted the stitches on his face. 'Looks like this little guy has been through a lot already' he thought to himself. He decided to treat the toon the same way he treats his sister and ask simple questions to paint a picture of what happened and how this little guy got here. That is, if the little 'Bendy' was willing to talk and willing to trust him.

“Do you know what the guy that did dat to ya look like?” as he pointed to the toon's face.

Benny nodded his head. 'Good' Norman thought 'off to a good start'.

“was he young 'o old?”

Benny tilted his head in confusion “what.. does.. that.. mean..? He didn't know what age was, he was still very young.

Norman inwardly sighed 'This may be harder then I thought'. His sister at least had a better vocabulary then this little 'Bendy' but then again it is a testimony to his age. If he has a limited vocabulary that is still developing then that means he isn't that old. He definitely had something to do with the ruckus in the studio earlier, he just needed to confirm his suspicions.

“Was he tall 'o short?”

Benny scrunched up his face as he pondered over the man's height. He wasn't really sure how tall the guy really was, after all he was kneeling on the floor when he was struck. “I.. don't.. know.. but.. I know.. his.. eyes” Benny muttered as he rung the edges of the coat nervously. He couldn't help but wonder why this man was asking him so many questions with quite a few words he didn't really know what they mean. What was this man after? He did say he wasn't going to hurt him, but why is he looking for his attacker? Does he know him? Will he turn him in?

“what did they look like? What color were they?”

Benny knew what color was but didn't know the name. He new that the color of his attacker's eyes was a similar to the color of this mans shirt. Benny carefully reached out and pulled on Normans sleeve. “They.. were.. like.. this” He could only hope his describing the man wouldn't backfire on him.

Norman looked down a the hand tugging on his sleeve and realized that the color of 'Bendy"s attacker's eyes were Grey. Unfortunately there was only one man in the building that would have Grey eyes and would be near the machine and that was the studio's director Joey Drew. This confirmed that 'Bendy' was there at the machine with Joey and that Joey had attacked him. The ruckus earlier was Joey trying to find and finish off this little guy. Norman felt a sense of pity for the toon to be attacked the way he was, but who helped him? And why was he hiding in Mrs. Allison's room?

Norman's face bounded from a clear scowl to a somber expression as he pondered the little bits of information Benny had provided. Benny could tell this man didn't seem to approve of what he had told him, but wondered why he had a sad face suddenly.

“Hey Bendy?” Norman asked, but stopped when Benny gave a small frown at him. Great, now what did he do?

“My.. name's.. Benny” Benny spoke as he looked up at Norman. He had already been made aware by Allison that he bared a strong resemblance to 'Bendy' and had drawn a conclusion that he was attacked because of that resemblance. That because of 'Bendy' he got hurt, but he couldn't fault the toon. It was the psycho with the ax that was the cause of his misery.

“Uh, ok...Benny. Who stitched ya? I mean ya can't do something like this without help” as he pointed to the stitches on Benny's face.

Benny being a bit hesitant because of his suspicions about Norman quietly answered “Allison”

Norman nearly doubled over laughing, he thought it was ironic in some weird way. Allison was the studio's angel more ways then one, and she even helped out a creature she knew nothing about other then the fact that it was hurt. He knew full well Thomas, her husband, had been developing the ink machine thanks to Joey and that the result of the machine ended up in his wife's hands. Oh boy, Joey has got to be pissed. He could only imagine the look on the directors face at the mere fact that his little pet project disappeared and he got nothing out of it.

Benny was shocked buy the mans sudden outburst. What was so funny?

Norman struggled to get his laughing fit under control, wiping the tears away from his eyes. “Bud, I ain't surprised dat it was Mrs. Allison dat helped ya. She is a good friend 'o mine, and dat little lady sure is a sweetheart. She'd take on the world if it meant dat she'd be helpin' someone out of a jam.”

Benny stared blankly, then a huge smile was plastered on his face. This man, Norman and Allison were friends! This was someone he could trust, another person who he knows won't hurt him, maybe he could be friends with Norman too. Benny's smile faltered as he looked at Norman with questioning eyes. “Who.. was.. that.. lady.. from.. earlier?..She's.. scary.”

“Ah, now dat little lady be a shrew. Her name's Ms. Susie Cambell and she don' like Mrs. Allison much. See Susie use to be an actress for one 'o the characters for the cartoons 'ere, but 'ol Sammy brought Mrs. Allison in 'nstead and has 'er playin' the character now. Needless 't say the little lady din' take it well. She was probably snoopin' around earlier tryin' to find somethin' to use to go after Mrs. Allison. Good thin' I came in when I did or she might 'o found ya”

'So.. what.. happens.. now?” as Benny looked up at Norman. The was a bit of a pause as Norman glanced at his watch, it was already getting late and he still had work to finish up.

“Well fer starters, it's kinda late so I best be finishin' up mah rounds and headin' home. I doubt Ms. Cambell will be comin' back anytime soon now dat she got caught. As fer you, you'd best be getting off to bed, and I'll be seein' ya in the mornin', but before I go is there anythin' that you need before I leave?”

Benny looked down nervously, he didn't want to ask this nice man any real favors that he may not be able to pay back, Norman had already done him a huge favor by chasing off Susie. “Umm.. if.. it's.. ok.. can..I.. have.. some.. ink.. please?” Benny rung the edges of the coat while rocking on his heel slightly, not looking Norman in the eyes.

Norman lifted a brow at the strange request, but decided to humor the toon. He very much reminded him of his little sister when she would shyly for little things, it made him smile at the similarities. He slowly stood up grunting slightly from his body protesting being on the floor for a good while, he walked over set the toon on the chair still wrapped up in his coat blanket. Now that he got a better look at the coat that fell out of the crate it was one of Allison's favorite coats, he saw her wearing it all the time. He told Benny to stay put and that he'll be right back. Grabbing the doorknob he glanced back at the waiting toon as he slipped out into the hall heading towards the heart of the animation department.

Norman thanked the heavens that none of the animators were on overtime as he rummaged through random desks swiping several ink wells for which he was thankful they were full. He couldn't help but wonder why Joey was going through all the trouble with the ink machine, but after meeting a small product of the contraption he couldn't help but be amazed and concerned at the same time. The little toon 'Benny' as he was calling himself behaved like a small child, and having a younger sister he knew full well that small children mirror their parents and surroundings in their early years of development. 'Benny' seemed to developing at a good pace and if he has the right people he will be fine young toon, but what about everything else? It is obvious that the marks left on 'Benny' were done out of disapproval, so what will happen if anything else that follows has that negativity as a example? Norman shuttered at the thought of the high possibility of Joey using the machine to make a monster, after all what you put in is what you get out.

Satisfied with a arm full of inkwells, Norman returned to the dressing room to find the toon exactly where he had left him. Benny made a small happy noise to see that Norman had kept his word and came back. His eye's lit up at seeing all the inkwells, to Norman it reminded him of a child that was told that Christmas was coming early and he could only chuckle at the toon's sparkling eyes. It must be a toon thing. As he approached the chair he heard a small 'klack' sound as his boot had kicked something, looking down he saw that it was some sort of small black box.

“Hey Benny, can ya get that fer me please?” Benny nodded his head and hopped off the chair as he picked up the box turning it over in his hands. He face scrunched up as he examined the box till a small light bulb lit above his head in recognition, it was that black box that was in the crate with him when he accidentally kicked it earlier. Norman walked over to the desk and carefully set all the inkwells down as Benny walked up to him with the box in hand. Norman bent down and lifted Benny up onto the desk so he could reach the inkwells. Setting the box down, Benny opened each inkwell one by one and downed them as Norman picked up the box and opened it to examine its contents.

Norman was wasn't surprised to find that it was a sewing kit, this was Allison's room and she was the one that helped Benny so it figured that she may have either forgotten it or left it with him. “That.. was.. the.. box.. that.. Allison.. had” Benny commented as he finished the last of the pile of inkwells, setting the empty bottle down with the rest of them.

“Yeah, this is her lil' sewing kit that she sometimes carries around” Norman carefully examined the scissors noting the small traces of ink on the base of the scissors. 'Yep, she definitely used this to help the lil' guy out' he chuckled to himself. “Hey lil' guy, you wanna hang on to this for 'er?” As he closed up the box holding it out to Benny.

“Ok..” Benny took the box from him. He looked at it before another light bulb lit above his head and he stuck his tongue out in concentration. Norman watched as Benny used his fingers to wedge them between the folds on the stitches of his stomach as he pried his stomach open partially. He carefully slid the box between a gap in the stitching as let go of the fold as his stomach closed back up. Norman had no words for what he just witnessed, he literally saw what to him looked like a mouth on the toon's stomach just swallow a box.

“umm.....” as he tried to figure out what just happened “Benny what did ya do?” As Norman knew his jaw must be hanging at the sight before him.

Benny rocked on his heel slightly with a sheepish look on his face as he looked up at Norman “See.. I'm.. a.. toon,.. but.. I'm.. also.. a.. doll.. So.. I.. can.. hide.. things.. inside.. myself.”

“ok... so it's like an internal hammerspace? An it didn' hurt to open up a hole like dat?” Norman was familiar with how toons worked but he had never seen a toon have a internal hammerspace, it was always something like box, bag or something that was behind the toon that they would magically pull out whatever they needed for the gag. This little guy just opened his stomach like a pouch and placed objects inside himself.

“Not.. really,.. I.. got.. a.. lot.. of.. ink.. now.. so.. I.. don't.. really.. hurt.. ” Benny rubbed the back of his head. Even he was a bit confused himself how exactly his body worked, but when he saw how Allison's bag was, it made him wonder if he could treat his body like a bag since he was also a toy. So now he knew for certain that he can hide objects within a internal hammerspace in his body and he won't feel any pain for as long as he had enough ink in him.

“O-Kay, well you make sure to give that back to Mrs. Allison in the mornin' yea hear?”

Benny nodded his head vigorously

“As fer me, I best be goin'. So you need to head off to bed and I'll be seein' ya in the mornin'” Norman gently ushered Benny towards the crate as he picked up the coat and handed it back to the toon. Stopping briefly noting that there was no real bedding within the crate just a scarf and the coat that Benny held in his arms. Norman felt bad, Benny didn't seem to have a lot of possessions but then again he's not quite a day old. He gave himself a quick look over seeing if there was anything he could add to give the toon some more comfort rather then the wood bottom of the crate. He eyed his sweater that he had tied around his waist, he had for years, it was old and was about time he get a new one. He untied the sweater and laid it on the bottom of the crate, the sweater was quite a bit bigger the Allison's coat so he had to fold it several times to make it fit properly.

Satisfied with the new setup within the crate, Norman scooped Benny up and laid him down inside the crate. He chuckled as the toon felt the sweater feeling how soft his new addition to his home was. He looked up at Norman and motioned for him to bend down, obliging the toon, Norman bent down and found Benny's arms wrapped around his neck in a hug. “Thank.. you..” Benny softly spoke, his voice stuttering slightly with how happy he truly was.

Benny couldn't believe how his day had turned out, yeah sure he had a really rough start but these past few hours felt like frosting on the cake. He meet a wonderful woman who helped patch him up and now he met a friend of hers who was willing to help him as well. He felt like the luckiest toon in the world to have just met these two people and to have them so understanding of him when he was so insecure and scared of this world he had been brought into. For the moment he couldn't have asked for more.

Norman just smiled and rubbed the toon's back gently “you're welcome lil' guy”

Benny eventually broke the embrace and turned to lay down in the crate using Allison's coat as a blanket rather then a makeshift sleeping bag. Norman chuckled as he watched the toon slowly drift off to sleep, little cartoony Z's emanated from him as they dissipated into thin air. He reached up and slid his cap off, and gently covered a portion of Benny's exposed head.

Norman checked the shelving again to find that the area where the crate had been was still covered in ink, reaching for his now ink stained rag, he wiped the area as clean as he could get it. Pleased with his work he turned to grab the handles of the crate and slowly slid it back into its place on the shelf, checking the area around it again to make sure it was free of any ink stains. He slowly stood back up still loathing the way his body would creak and pop from being on the floor too long, he fixed up the papers that Susie had scattered and finished cleaning the shelf. With the room restored back to it original setup before hurricane Susie swept through, Norman flicked off the light, closed the door and headed down the hall.

'Tomorrow is another day'

[kathillards]

misc morphicon stories

ok so i feel like i’ve talked FOREVER about all the wild shit that happened to us at morphicon (running into rangers at the car valet!! meeting chip lynn!! azim calling us his favorite ladies at the con!!) but i wanted to make a write up for all the stuff i haven’t talked about yet because i have to remember all this and i want you all to experience it too!! it was so fun oh my god if you haven’t been to morphicon... start making plans for 2020 guys it is legit INSANE best weekend of my entire LIFE

- ann marie crouch is AN ACTUAL PRINCESS SENT FROM HEAVEN we ran into her on our way back to the hotel one of the days and we were like omg it’s princess shayla we love you!! and she was so sweet and stopped and talked to us even though she was on her way out for a nap and she was in full shayla gear she looked so pretty! and we saw her on the way back too she had changed into casual clothes but still rocking it WE LOVE ONE MENTOR ONLY

- jessica rey is so funny and adorable omg we stopped by her booth to buy wild force pins (kat and abbey) bc the wf rangers come PREPARED w/ merch and nobody was there so we all just started talking to her and told her how we loved wild force and alyssa and abbey said she loved the ep where alyssa beat up the boys and she’s so cute and fun to talk to!! she told us about the shades of pink panel and i was like “is alyssa a pink or a white ranger” and she was like “lol i dont even know” also she had her handler take a staged candid of us talking to her because she loved us lmao. and then we were talking about white rangers and all of us were like “fuck tommy lives we stan alyssa only” and she laughed and immediately started telling us about what a dick jdf had been to fans the day before lmao (also for real...he’s a dick) and i was like YOU ARE THE SUPERIOR WHITE TIGER RANGER god shes so cool she loved us and didnt wanna stop talking but we had to move away cuz ppl were lining up for her behind us rip

- RICHARD AND ANGIE oh my god ok so i’d stopped and talked to angie on the first day and also the second day and i told her i’d come back later bc i wanted a photo w/ BOTH OF THEM and i did tell her how much i loved madison and vida like we are ROCCA SISTER STANS FIRST PEOPLE SECOND and shes so cute and she remembered us every time!! and then on the third day i finally got to talk to richard and he’s so sweet we talked about mystic force just at his booth for like ten minutes waiting for angie for the photo op, he asked us our fave episodes and i said dark wish and he actually remembered it so i think he might be the only actor at the con who watched his season. and we told him we loved the mystic force theme song AND HE STARTED SINGING IT. and someone had left him a green zeo figurine for...some reason and he told us “i dont even fucking know who that is” (but nicer lol he is very charming and polite) and we told him it was adam/johnny and he was like ohhhh lmao i love disney era actors not knowing SHIT about saban era. like he literally worked with johnny. i love him. AND THEN HE ASKED US ALL TO BE IN THE PHOTO and since kat paid for half of it we were like aight its a group thing and its the cutest photo i love disney era actors only

- i think i talked about meeting dwayne cameron already but god hes so sweet and i felt bad for him bc caitlin next to him had ppl she was talking to but he was all alone so me and abbey just went up and started talking to him and i told him i loved overdrive and i told him i recognized him as ethan’s bully and we talked about tyzonn and vella and just overdrive in general and hes so SWEET and he HUGGED ME SO TIGHT GOD i think he really enjoyed us like. actually loving overdrive and being able to talk about it. AND HE RAN INTO ABBEY IN CARS LAND AT DISNEY ON MONDAY AND GAVE HER ANOTHER HUG hes so cute (angie was also there with him I LOVE DISNEY ERA SOLIDARITY)

- met monica may and cerina vincent on saturday, not a lot to say bc i only talked to them a bit and took my photos but they are both so beautiful and elegant and classy and i told cerina i loved her in stuck in the middle :’) ranger ladies are so intimidatingly pretty god. also picked up this huge LEGIT spd poster and im gonna put it up in my room as soon as i can because oh my god its professional quality it looks so cool. we also talked to greg aronowitz bc kat wanted her poster signed and hes so cool we told him how much we appreciated everything he did for spd AND THAT WE WERE ON HIS SIDE ABOUT FEMALE RED FUCK DISNEY.

- god what else uhh we wandered around the toys section a lot on saturday/sunday bc we’d kinda. seen everyone. and there were a lot of panels on sunday so nobody was at the booths. i picked up those amazing rider/sentai prints from ceevee SUPER TALENTED SO WORTH IT. also got me a meteor storm figuart B) which i havent taken out of the box yet but i will

- HECTOR AT THE CAR VALET he literally announced he would be at morphicon the day before and then we saw him while waiting for our car and SCREAMED and he was so chill and cool and he came over and hugged us all hes so hot. AND THEN LATER WE RAN INTO SELWYN WARD AT THE CAR VALET and he also laughed when we squealed and came over and hugged us all and guys he smelled soooo nice i was like right up against him i could have died hes so handsome and perfect.

- we also ran into steve cardenas at the car valet like right when we were all leaving the hotel for the last time and we told him that we loved him and i said i was so excited that it was rocky coming back for the anniversary instead of fucking jason and abbey was like “justice for forever red!” and he was like hah i know right anyway every single actor in this franchise hates jdf lmao that was just the vibe of morphicon and it was valid

- fun fact we did not see jdf ONCE. not going to the con, not at the hotel, not ANYWHERE. just his crazy lines. he was like the douchebag cryptid. im glad tho he can stay that way.

- i talked about meeting andre on saturday night right??? hes so SWEET I LOVE HIM he was so happy when ben gave him his fanart of eddie and took a selfie w/ ben right then and there and also took a pic w/ me and abbey ugh i love him i told him he was so valid for being a power rangers youtuber and liking megaforce AND THAT HE’S THE BEST INTERVIEWER THEY’VE EVER HAD (i also told azim this, i’m very passionate about this subject, every other ranger interviewer sucks ASS)

- jason faunt at the elevators!! hes so sweet i told him how excited i was for the anniversary and he said yeah theres a lot more plot going on and told me to take a selfie bc they couldnt stop him here fhjggd i love that pic i love him AND THEN ALSO later we ran into NAKIA IN AN ELEVATOR AND SHES SO SWEET I SAID “WE LOVE YOU WE WATCHED ALL OF ZEO FOR YOU” and she was like aww thank you so much!! a literal goddess AND THEN LATER AS WE WERE CHECKING OUT karan walked by us to go to nakia and i was so excited i waved and said hi to her and she said “hi baby how are you” SHES SO WONDERFUL I LOVE MY MOTHERS

- i think i told the chris reid story already but like. hes so charming and was so nice even tho i interrupted his express checkout but like. i Had to tell him how valid ninja steel was i was literally like fuck the dudebros they’re so annoying you guys fighting w/ that one guy on twitter over the kcas was the FUNNIEST thing to EVER happen to this fandom and he laughed.

- we also went up to kelson’s booth later and told him how much we loved mick and all his roles!! and talked to him forever about all of them, told him we were kalish/disney era supremacists, told him HOW GOOD HE IS AT VOICE ACTING WE LOVE FLIT AND NORG IN THIS HOUSE he looked so happy :’) i feel like everyone just compliments him on boom which, no offense, but appreciate your voice actors guys. i told him we grew up on disney era and it was like new zealand only had twelve actors and he was five of them and he laughed and was like yeah. i also told him how we loved mick and brody’s father/son relationship and he was like yeah they ended up liking that a lot too which is why they sort of pushed brody’s real dad to the side so mick could shine more and i was like that’s LEGIT. i also told him the prism was brody’s mother and he agreed so that’s canon now. AND I TOLD HIM how fucking dark ninja steel went w/ his storyline literally being about slavery and human trafficking and he was like I KNOW RIGHT and we just talked about how dumb everyone is for being mean to ninja steel and chris showed up at this point too and we all laughed about it together

- ok and then tbh we just spent all of sunday loitering around the megaforce cast but it was worth it because they LOVE US oh my god we talked to them like all sunday about just. everything. azim’s gf jordan was there and she kept telling us to just stick around we talked to her a lot, we asked her about alex heartman and like where tf was he and she said he was working :( BUT AZIM AND ALEX ARE STILL CLOSE so victory. azim also told us a bunch of little stories like how he and the megaforce cast searched for a house to stay in together and ended up finding one at the base of a volcano and he and drew would race around the volcano in the mornings like the crazy people they are, we told him how much we loved andrew’s ACTING SKILLS and “do you see any tears” and he cracked up and said “they used to call me ‘freaky tiki man’ all the time because of that one line” and he told us about other fan encounters and things, we told him on saturday how we all met and became friends because we were the only ppl who loved and defended megaforce and he was SO TOUCHED HES SO SWEET GOD i would die for him. 

- cameron gave us (me and kat) all his money to buy him lunch from the food trucks and i guess just trusted that we loved megaforce so much we wouldn’t just run away with all his money????? and he was absolutely correct we got him teriyaki chicken with garlic noodles and he loved us. his handler also asked us to buy him food and gave us his CREDIT CARD dfhdgfjgdf like power rangers people are wild man. who just gives their credit card to random 20yo girls and just. trusts that they love this children’s show so much they won’t steal it??? i mean they were right and we didn’t but still. AND HE MADE ME AIRDROP one of my megaforce reaction pics to his phone because he loved it so much (it’s the one of jake and emma and orion looking super done, that i had ben redraw for me, so we showed them both pics and all three of them LOVED IT) and cameron even looked ben up on deviantart to see it fdgjkdfdg he loves usss. christina was telling us how they were talking about us at dinner and cameron told her that we were his favorite part of the con :’)) azim also mentioned that they talked about us at dinner because he said to kat “we were discussing that you look like that girl from 10 things i hate about you who was julia stiles’ best friend” LIKE IMAGINE. HAVING THE MEGAFORCE CAST. DISCUSS WHO YOU LOOK LIKE FDJGKDHFJGD they’re so cute ugh and azim and cameron hugged us all goodbye and john mark and christina said goodbye too and i just. love them. so much. 

- at one point cameron asked me and kat how old we were and she was like “twenties...as a group we are in our early twenties” and he was like “.... so old enough to know how a hangover feels right?” and we lost it dfgjfdkdgjh and i said “if i were an actor i would just be stoned the whole con” AND CAMERON JUST NODDED AGGRESSIVELY god the entire cast was definitely hungover and they’re so valid. except christina, we asked her and she said she only had a milkshake so maybe she was their designated driver. 

- andrew is so chill too (i mean i do think he is perpetually high but its fine) i think he just loves talking??? like he’s there for the babies (so many babies!! and they love troy so much!!! hes so adorable with them) and then he just wants to chill like we went up to him on sunday and he was like oh hey did you guys see this picture and he pulled out his phone and showed a pic of the megaforce cast doing a goofy zombie pose at their photo ops and he told us his backstory on each of their zombie poses like. who does this??? he’s so adorable.

- and ofc we stopped by christina again on sunday bc she’s THE FAVE and shes just so cuuute ugh and i told her i loved all asian rangers bc i am asian!! and she was like omg are you?? and i was like yeah i’m south asian and she was like omg so that’s all part of asia too OH I GET IT SO WE’RE BOTH ASIAN and i was like YES AND YOU’RE ALL MY RANGERS and she smiled at me it was like staring at the sun tbh. i love and would die for her.

- when we went to say goodbye to the megaforce cast cameron just looked at all of us standing around his booth and was like, so genuinely, “you guys are the best” and it still makes me cry thinking about it. AND AZIM’S FACE when we all said “megaforce’s defenders never surrender!” to him he had the sweetest smile god i really would take a bullet for the entire megaforce cast in a heartbeat. they are the sweetest angels & deserve the world. if any of you breathe a word wrong about jake holling in my general vicinity ever again i will fry your intestines and eat them for breakfast thank you GOODBYE.

[manonsabroad]

No fire tonight.

Work had been very stressful for Riza. A lot of paperwork was due this week, and as was to be expected the Colonel left most of it to the last minute. She sighed but made a mental note to postpone worrying about her superior’s work ethic. She walked into the bar where the team was meeting for drinks and let their light-hearted chatter guide her to their table. Havoc saw her first and raised his glass in her direction, the others turned their head and smiled at her. Fuery waved, face already glowing from the alcohol, and Falman made room for her as she sat down in the booth. Their warm familiarity drew a smile from her lips, she was happy to spend some off-time with them. They quickly started talking again and she tried her hardest to get into their conversation. The topic seemed to engross Havoc and Falman completely, but she could not focus.

“He’s not here yet.” Breda said, making her jump.

“I don’t know to whom you’re referring to.” She muttered, drowning the eyes that betrayed her into her beer.

“He’s been tricked into attending Elicia’s end-of-year dance performance. He and Hughes may join us later though.”

It took her a few seconds to process the information but once she had a mental picture of Mustang surrounded by little ballerinas, she giggled.

“I’m sure he will, he’ll have to drink his brain away after this one.”

Breda chuckled in agreement.

A couple of beers later, Rebecca made an appearance. She gave Riza a tight hug, shouted she was dying for a beer and set for the bar with Havoc at her feet. Riza had been too busy to mention the gathering to her, thus she suspected Havoc had taken it upon himself to extend the invitation. She watched as the two situated themselves next to each other at the counter. She had been unsure about their newly discovered attraction; who wouldn’t considering both their track records with relationships? But then, it had been going on for a while now, and since neither had made the other run away, she was warming up to the idea. While lost in that train of thought, she felt a hand land on her hip. She froze, then slowly turned around to discover that the man she had seen lurking around for some time now had decided to make a move. She narrowed her eyes. “Sir” She started as she took his hand off her hip “I believe you’ve misread my intention for I am…” The rest of her sentence got stuck as he forced her into a tight embrace. “Oh, I read it alright, babe. You’ve been shaking that beautiful ass of yours at me all night… Yeah, you can only tease a man for so long.” He leaned in for a kiss and she was overwhelmed by the smell of cheap liquor and sweaty cologne. She focused hard not to vomit and started pushing his chest. A sentence was forming in her mind but Fuery stepped in.

“You heard the Lady, Sir. Please leave her alone.” He was shaking but looked straight at the man holding her. Time stop and all Riza could do was stare at Fuery. All the inner strength it must have taken for him to step forward in such a situation… The man loosened his grip, although he did not let her go, and stood taller. “And who do you think you’re talking to, little shit?” The name stank. She wanted to reply but Falman moved next to Fuery and his move caught the attention of the man’s flock. They were five, her intoxicated brain managed to assess. Technically her team outnumbered them, but with only Fuery and Falman close enough, the best option was to defuse this before it could escalate.

“Gentlemen lets behave ourselves here.” She started as she retrieved herself from the man’s embrace. “This is a fine night and I think we should all go back to enjoying it!” She caught sight of Breda in the crowd, he had seen what was happening and was rushing back. Good. Havoc was still too engrossed by Rebecca to notice anything. “You’re a charming bunch, I’m sure we’re already boring you.” She mustered a smile. “Let’s part as friends!”. He looked down at her, sneering. “I’d like to do that. Nothing worse than wasting time on a fucking tease. But, now I don’t like the look these two are giving me.” His friends moved closer. “Maybe, I should force them to look down.” He raised a hand to reach Fuery’s face, but Breda arrived just in time to push his arm away. “I don’t think so, buddy.” He added with a grin and she felt the men tensed.

This was bad. Still close to the man who started all of this, she was fighting the alcohol and skipping through options for a swift resolution to this growing problem. She glanced at the bar, wondering if the staff had noticed and sent security. They were all busy, but Havoc and Catalina had disappeared from the counter. Before she started scanning the crowd for them, Rebecca hopped by her side. “What’s up here? Are these men bothering you, Riz?” She said, checking them bottoms ups. The men’s focus switched to Havoc who had quickly positioned himself in front of Rebecca. And that is when she spotted Mustang and Hughes at the entrance.

Alright, this had to stop now. No fire tonight. Running out of options, she took her gun out of her garter and aimed it at the man. “So now… What do you say you leave us some space? Babe.” Their faces turned white and they were gone in an instant. She heard Rebecca shout “You tell them, Riz!” as she put her gun away and turned her attention toward the bar. The staffs were still busy, so she went on and assumed they would not be kicked out because of her weapon. She turned back to her comrades. Falman was sweating and wispered a promise to himself to never cross her, Breda and Havoc readily agreed with him. Poor Fuery was looking miserable, staring at the ground and shivering. She put a hand on his shoulder and gently thanked him for his concern, although she advised him to let her handle these things on her own next time. She shuddered at the idea of a next time but gave him a warm smile which he tried to return.

Hughes and Mustang had reached them in the meantime. “These guys looked like they’d seen a ghost, what did you do to them?” was Hughes’ idea of a playful greeting. Mustang scanned the team, looking for an answer rather than asking for one. Rebecca jumped forward, glowing. “One of them was making outrageous advances to…” Riza shot her a very meaningful glance. Rebecca paused and quickly continued: “… to Fuery! To Fuery, can you imagine?!” Fuery could not imagine, his face turned bright red. His reaction suited Rebecca’s lie. Havoc burst into a massive fit of laughter, Breda joined him and pated Fuery in the back. Hughes’ piercing look landed on Rebecca. She made no effort to hide her disappointment. But as Havoc put an arm around her shoulder, Riza was willing to bet she would soon forget her missed opportunity. Hughes then glanced at her quickly and finally paused on Mustang. He grinned while readjusting his glasses and exclaimed: “I can very well imagine it! You’re a fine looking fellow Fuery. To tell you the truth, if I wasn’t happily married…” He winked “But I am and Gracia is truly the most amazing woman. I think she is the reason Elicia has the genes to be the little ballerina she is. She truly was amazing tonight!” Hughes then started a retell of Elicia’s dance performance and overall seemed to have taken it upon himself to stir the conversation away from the inquisition he had started. Mustang was unconvinced, Riza could feel it, but she also knew he would be desperate for an escape from Hughes’ gibberish. “Let’s get you a drink, Colonel.” She said, smiling. He looked at her, thankful, and followed her to the bar.

[peaches-of-1]

Theatre Girl: Prologue 1

Theatre Boy: Prologue 1

Theatre They: Prologue 1

So those ^ are basically the same stories. Only things changed are pronouns and maybe descriptions here and there. I’ve been trying to keep most of my reactions gender neutral and have been wanting to do gender specific pieces for a while. I think I finally have the motivation and gumption to put the work in to make my blog more accessible for all genders.

Anyways, here goes!

Today was your second week of shows, and everyone was excited about the “special guests” Director Edith told you all about. You had been doing plays and musicals here for a while now, so you were pretty sure it was a backer or some other financial person you’d have to schmooze with after the show.

You went straight from the cafeteria to the auditorium with some of the others who were in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” with you. Luckily enough for you, your part was as Puck with a comfortable amount of lines.

At least you guys were able to get a slightly more modern version of it. That is, fairies spoke the old text while everyone else spoke normally. Putting on your stage makeup was your favorite part. You liked to take your time with it, so you always showed up about 30 minutes before call since time moved really fast after a while. Your face would be turned beautiful within the span of two hours. A little goofy since you were the Jester of the play, but you loved it.

That’s what drew you to theatre in the first place. How extreme yet simple everything was. It helped your confidence and you had found a second family of sorts. Your theatre teacher in high school warned you about not majoring it unless it was what you wanted to do for the rest of your life. You weren’t sure, so you decided to minor in it instead.

Not only were you allowed to overdo it a bit on the highlighter, but actual glitter was placed on your cheeks since the rhinestones kept falling off. You couldn’t keep your hands away from your face, either. So emerald glitter stuck to waterproof hairspray it was!

You got this part in due in part to your bouncy attitude, and although you weren’t a gymnastics hero, you were reasonably flexible and could do a few mid-air splits and Oberon was the most muscular hunk of human and former cheerleader. He had no problem lifting you up.

You two even tried to incorporate more spectacle into your interactions which Director Edith liked. Yellow lipstick made your lips pop and wasn’t distracting thanks to the yellow, blue, and pink flowers on your costume. Your finger nails were pink too, not baby pink.

As for your costume, your outfit was a black and blue corset with a collar connected to it since they didn’t want your boobs to accidentally slide out during a lift or something. Lots of leaves and flowers tucked into your ribbon leggings and no shoes. Though, they always had a pair of lace-up flats in case you wanted them.

That meant you had to paint your toe nails too. They were the same pink as your fingers. The costumer put on your horns after making your shoulders and part of your arms blue and yellow in a sort of ombre way. To say the least, showers took a long time after the show. It was mostly upper arm and right before your hands.

Then you sat and waited for warm ups, singing along to the assortment of music that played from the speakers. One of the leading ladies, the one playing Helena, came up with a list of music we’d all enjoy and gave it to the sound guy. Being the weirdo you were, you chose 3/5 of your songs to be k-pop. Bunch of hype songs. Someone else chose German Reggae, though, so you weren’t the only weird one.

Azar, who played Cobweb, was running late and he played multiple characters, so that wasn’t great. Yoongi Oberon nudged you since you were staring off into space again. It had become a thing in the cast to call everyone by their first name and their character’s name.

“You know you could at least be stretching, Puck (Y/N)*.” He gave you his gummy smile and booped your nose. “The more you do, the better things will go and the less you’ll sprain.”

You shook your head, “Oh, yeah. I meant to, but I kinda sorta forgot why I was walking over here. What was that video we followed last week? I wanna do that again.”

He got his phone and started searching, “That was one of our best shows, wasn’t it? Here it is.”

After following the 3 minute video, it was time for everyone to get on stage. The music stopped and a figure caught your eye. You didn’t think much about it until your Stage Manager and local pyro Seulgi introduced him as the head of some super important theatre league.

“This is the man who keeps things running in this whole section of the country. So he’s super important, and it’s our job to give him a good show.” She turned and presented him. “Everyone say hi to Kim Namjoon!”

The cast clapped, cheered and waved. He smiled a smile that captivated you and almost made your forget to breathe. Not something you could afford to waste in a corset. Those dimples were so nice.

Namjoon waved back, “You can all call me Mr. Kim. I’m the newest and youngest person to hold this position. My job is to make sure all the people are doing their jobs right by making theatre an inviting and exciting place for the community.” His coffee colored eyes scanned everyone.

They seemed to linger on you, but that was probably a figment of your imagination or he really liked your costume. It was a great costume.

“As far as I can see, they are. The costumes look great. The set looks great. I can’t wait to see them in action and talk to you after the show. Fighting!”

Everyone clapped. Seulgi started talking again, “Thank you, Mr. Kim. Alright, you guys, time to become spiderman!” She leaned to one side and the stretching began. You ended with a shakedown and a cheer.

You stood alone in the spotlight, center stage. All the other actors were off into the wings waiting for you to say the final line, probably mouthing it with you. These had to be the most difficult lines you had to learn, but you were so glad to finally get to this point.

Mr. Kim was near the middle. You knew because of the reserved sign that had been placed there today. You were eager to see his face again.

“...And, as I am an honest Puck, if we have unearned luck now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue, we will make amends ere long. Else the Puck a liar call. So good night unto you all. Give me your hands if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.” You winked, threw some more glitter and music played.

A silvery green path led you offstage. Once you were off, it was a blackout and the jaunty tune ended. Everyone started clapping. Music started again and everyone took their bows. Hoseok Lysander, finally got to joke around a bit as he spun his Zendaya Hermia into a dip and kiss her cheek. Jimin Demetrius laughed as his Helena did the same to him.

Then everyone held hands and did their final bows, motion to the audience since there was no one in the pit and then to the sound booth. Then off to the meet and greet. Because this show brought in a lot of kids, you were able to keep your costumes on.

After the meet and greet, the cast got undressed and sat in the front rows of the audience while Mr. Kim stood on stage. He asked questions about our experience from set building to stage. A lot of the first-timers were nervous to speak, but you had done this enough times to be chill about it.

He directed quite a few questions directly to you since you were sort of a lead in the show for once. “What was the most difficult aspect for you?”

“Well, the lifts for one, but I had Yoongi here to catch me if I fell.” You pat his thigh.

Yoongi joked, “If not catch, then fall with you.” making everyone giggle.

“Now, this is a question that I like to ask and you can go into detail if you want. It’s completely fine if you don’t want to. Were there any show romances?”

Everyone looked at each other. There actually weren’t any. Zendaya spoke up, “Well, no, but I’m sure everyone in the cast wants to get with Jimin.”

...She wasn’t wrong and so everyone giggled. Jimin blushed and hid his face in Hoseok’s shoulder. Jimin wasn’t a flirt, but he was just too darn cute. He liked holding hands and was a very touchy person. It was your first time working with him and he was top 5.

“Any questions for me?” Mr. Kim asked.

Hobi giggled and raised his hand, “I’m sure the girls wanna know if you’re gay or not.”

Claire added, “Also, how old are you? Cuz, like you look really young and really attractive.” She had no filter.

Mr. Kim blushed and bit his lip, looking down for a moment, “I’m attracted to someone’s heart, not their body or what’s in their pants. I’m 23, and before you ask, I am single.”

“Is that an offer?” she flirted, raising an eyebrow and leaning in.

“Maybe, but not to you.” He made eye contact with you and winked.

Your eyes got wide and you started blushing, trying not to laugh. No one flirted with you. What the heck?

He laughed. It was a joke. “Anyways, I very much enjoyed the show, but I won’t keep you here any longer.”

Then he sent everyone home to gt some rest before tomorrow’s show. Well, everyone was going out to eat and probably party seeing it was a Friday night. You, Hoseok, Yoongi, and Zendaya were going to get some Panda Express and some drinks. You grabbed your bag when Mr. Kim approached you.

He put his hand on your upper back, “Miss Puck, you did a fantastic job up there. I can say that, without a doubt, you are the best I have ever seen in that role.”

You laughed, “You can call me (Y/N), Mr. Kim.”

“And you can call me Namjoon, Miss Puck. But really, you were great. I hope I get to see great things from you in the future.” He handed you a business card. “If you need help with any of it, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

He left, taking a few lollipops from his jacket pocket and handed them to you. Told you to share them, and left. Was he flirting with you? Did you flirt back? If so, it was a complete accident. You didn’t know how to.

“Hey, (Y/N), hurry up. Uber is outside!” Hobi called. “Jimin’s coming with us!”

You tucked the card into your back pocket and joined your cast mates. Everyone made sure they had wiped off enough makeup to be considered normal, and you admitted that you still had your blue on. Your very old hoodie covered most of it, though.

Author’s Notes:

*Puck is used like an adjective, so that’s why it is first for MC. Just felt more comfortable too.

So, the course is set! Time to go change pronouns and stuff. Please let me know if I ever miss any or do the wrong ones in the other versions!

Character Profiles:

Namjoon | Hoseok | Jimin | Yoongi

[personal-stxff-blog]

The Phoenix

Hey everyone! So, here’s another x-files college au with a weird twist. It’s also on AO3 so I’ll link that here (so far there’s seven chapters but I’ll post them all up here in one bulk - sorry ‘bout that). If anyone on here is interested I’ll continue to update on Tumblr, although I might do that anyway to be honest. Anyway, sorry for the ramble. Here you go! 

It wasn’t Mulder’s idea of a great night out, but they dragged him along anyway.

Ringo had been the one to suggest going, and for once Melvin had actually agreed to one of his ideas. John seemed impartial and rolled with what they were saying. Fox, however, wasn’t too keen on it. They had pored over movies on TV and at the cinema - nothing. None of them were hungry and the angry old farmer at the top of the hill had caught them UFO-spotting a few nights ago and had told them that if they came back one more time he’d set his dogs on them. It didn’t seem to leave them many more options.

“I just don’t see why,” Mulder huffed. “Since when have you guys been into brawling and street fighting? In fact, when have any of you cared about any variety of sport?” Ringo Langley - who, like the other two, preferred to be addressed by his last name - grinned and tapped his nose.

“Ever since we started watching Gladiators,” Frohike sighed, smiling to himself. “Natalie Lennox is an absolute babe.” Langley glanced up from his computer with a frown, opening his mouth to protest immediately.

“Uhh, have you seen Marisa Peré?” he argued. “She was the original Lace -and she was the best!”

“Lennox is way hotter - what are you talking about?” Frohike persisted, throwing his hands up dramatically. “And besides...”

Mulder tuned out the sound of their ceaseless bickering as he approached the crumpled poster on Frohike’s desk. It was torn and dog-eared from some sort of excessive reference which Mulder preferred not to consider. “Got what it takes?” was slapped at the top of the paper in vibrant red writing. He continued down the page, skimming through the information. “The Combat Zone proudly presents...Fight-And-Fantasy REDUX!...Old and new acts every week...sign up if you think you’ve got what it takes...winner wins $500, losers win a broken nose...$10 a ticket. The more the merrier.” Mulder shook his head in disbelief. Did he really have nothing else to do but waste ten bucks watching a bunch of amateur fighters and scantily-clad women beating each other up?

Apparently so. The argument had been cleared and the three boys were reaching for their coats by the door. Byers glanced back at him hopefully. “You coming, Mulder?” With an internal sigh, he nodded, grabbing his jacket from the chair behind him. How bad could it really be?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pretty bad.

They were stuck in a stuffy room with crowds of people who were primarily drunk or terrifying - sometimes they found men and women alike who happened to fit into both categories. Mulder had never felt so small in his life, or so excruciatingly young. They were the youngest around by far, the rest of the people in the cramped bar/arena starting in their late twenties and drifted into the thirties, forties, even fifties. Many of them looked as though they were part of some type of biker gang. If this bothered the Three Stooges who dragged him through the scary masses, they hadn’t shown it. They smiled and excused their way past the bar and shuffled into a tiny booth with a surprisingly fair view of what was supposedly the ‘ring’. A rickety wire cage that snaked all the way up to the ceiling, the sides concealed by thick curtains that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a theater. Maybe that’s what this place used to be, he thought, staring around absently. It wouldn’t surprise him.

“One of our favorites is coming on tonight,” Byers said excitedly. “She’s called the Phoenix. Just wait ‘til you see her, Mulder. She’s such a fantastic fighter. Nobody knows who she is, or where she came from. That’s why they call her that - she just rose out of nowhere, like out of the ashes, or something. We’ve heard that even the managers and coaches have no idea who she really is.”

“She’s hot, too,” Frohike agrees, sipping on his drink. “Wait until she comes on, she’s got a body like you’ll never believe.” Mulder rolled his eyes, a gentle huff of laughter breaking between his lips. The mention of cute girls made this entire idea seem a little less ridiculous, though he wasn’t willing to admit that to anybody just yet. He wasn’t necessarily pleased with the idea of them beating the crap out of each other.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The widespread clamor of everybody yelling over each other dwindled into eager murmuring as a voice boomed out of the tinny speakers. Mulder opened his mouth but Langley quickly nudged him into silence, his eyes rooted to the spindly cage. He looked around; everybody was hypnotized, under some sort of spell, by the looks of things. He momentarily entertained the idea of witchcraft and laughed to himself. “It’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for, for tonight we have some wonderful people with us. We’ve got a vicious fight between the deadly Viper and her arch-rival Nemesis -” The audience cheered and clapped, drinking in the MC’s voice. Mulder cringed. “Then we’ve got the Lion and the Wolf up against one another in the second round -” More whooping and hollering. Mulder couldn’t help but wonder if they all had such embarrassing names. Talk about wannabe wrestlers. “And there’s plenty more where that came from folks, but I know what you’re all here for... The ultimate showdown between our much-loved killer queens - it’s the Phoenix and the Widow, fighting once again for the grand prize of $500!”

The room was filled with ear-splitting screams and shouts. Most people seemed to be hollering in the Phoenix’s honor, although there was a scattered undertone of people screaming ‘Widow!’ hysterically. Mulder wondered if he’d even be able to make it to the final fight without taking a couple of painkillers in the bathroom, or just straight-up walking out. His head was pulsing already.

“Is it always this loud?” he yelled into Frohike’s ear, who also happened to be whistling and cheering on the Phoenix. He nodded, patting his friend’s shoulder and laughing. Mulder held his own face in his hands, void of hope.

“Our first fighters of the night are new to the ring, so be nice,” the MC teased through the speakers. Everyone roared with laughter. He introduced them slowly, bringing up fabricated backstories and leaving everyone hanging as he called out their names. “Iiiiiiiiit’s... Storm!” and “Heeeeeeeeeere she is: it’s Athena!”

Mulder watched them both saunter into their corners, throwing furtive looks to the crowd and blowing kisses at nobody in particular. His three friends lapped this performance right up, their tongues practically hanging out of their mouths. He raised his eyebrows and sunk further back into the leather seating. Surely any movie would’ve been better than this, right? Did we really have no other choice?

The fights came and went without provoking any other emotion but pure, consistent boredom from him. It suited his friends, who designated him as the one to buy more cans of Coke and Sprite from the bar. This didn’t improve his mood in the slightest, for he needed to push past all the tough biker guys to get to the bar, which was also tended by a pretty scary looking man. As much as he wanted to leave, he found himself hanging around. There was no real reason why. He felt at though sticking around would be the polite thing to do, but that never normally kept him from running away from whatever his friends had planned out. Screw politeness, there was something else. He figured he’d stick around until the end. Maybe he'd been a little too harsh on the guys, maybe he was making a big deal over nothing. Maybe something good would come up somewhere.

Emphasis on ‘maybe’.

The evening dragged on and the acts were all the same; cute, flirty girls with feisty attitudes and beefy men with cocky smiles and bulging muscles. Blood was spilled on more than a few occasions and hastily wiped away in the intervals between brawls. Lion spat out a piece of broken tooth into the audience mid-fight and it landed at Langley’s feet. Mulder wasn’t a particularly sensitive person but he drew the line after watching Viper’s nose break and seeing her getting carried off the stage screaming and wailing for help. He picked up his jacket and nodded at his friends. They immediately looked disheartened.

“What’s the matter, Mulder?” Byers asked. “The Phoenix is about to come on! Don’t you want to see what all the fuss is about?”

“Not particularly,” he mutters, hurrying his coat on. “It was great guys, but I think I’ve had enough gore for one day. I’m actually surprised you three survive in a place like this.” They have the dignity to look offended.

“Sit down,” Frohike insists. “Trust me. She’s way hotter than Lennox and Peré combined.” Well now I definitely want to stay, Mulder thinks sarcastically. Yet against his better judgment, he sinks into his seat again, propping his elbows up on the table and resting his face on them like a sullen schoolboy. He concentrates on deliberately ignoring the stupid MC bigging the girls up, delving into their non-existent stories. His focus slips, however, and he finds himself listening in on snippets from the Phoenix’s introduction. She swanned out of nowhere, out of the ashes, as Byers said. Young, fiery, not to be messed with. He scoffed under his breath - not that anybody would’ve heard him. The roars of her fans were deafening as she was introduced into the cage.

Mulder squinted, waiting for her to appear so he could see what all the fuss was about. This had better be worth it, he complained internally. He leaned forward, his head resting on his knuckles.

There she was. The Phoenix.

The first thing he noticed about her was that she carried herself differently to the other girls who had previously been. She didn’t flaunt, she didn’t have any flair or glamor or anything that marked her as something of a show-off. She walked like she meant business - like she knew what she was doing. He found himself impressed, for some reason, and found himself sitting up a little straighter in his chair. The second thing he noticed was that she didn’t need to prove her sexuality to the audience, not deliberately at least. Her legs were dressed in skin-tight leather, accentuating every curve of her lower half. Watching her felt wrong, somehow. It felt almost obscene. He found his face flushing, though no one could see for the only lights were those illuminating her arena - and it definitely was hers. She had her audience hanging onto her every movement. She was wearing a tight black vest too, but he tried to skim past for the sake of keeping some illusion of being a gentleman. Then he remembered that they weren’t the only ones in the room and felt stupid. He didn’t look anyway; his shirt wasn't long enough to pull over his lap.

The only thing missing was a face, an identity. She was looking away from the audience; all he could see was a burst of flame which just so happened to be her cropped red hair. As though reading his mind she turned suddenly and abruptly. The only glitzy part about her was the glitter dashed against her cheeks and lips; it sparkled under the lighting like embers.

No wonder they called her the Phoenix. She didn’t just look like fire, she was fire; she was a burning flame, passion, desire, life itself. Mulder found himself captivated, suddenly enthralled by the idea of street-fighting so long as she was involved. She had pulled him into the most wonderful inferno imaginable and he never wanted to leave, only to be surrounded by everything she represented.

He found that he was gaping and immediately stopped himself, trying to regain his composure. Of course, the others had already noticed but they had also fallen into her trap. They were gazing at her like they couldn’t believe their own eyes. Mulder pinched himself. This is not a dream.

He may or may not have been in love, in a wonderfully starstruck kind of way. He decided that the combat zone wasn't so bad after all.

[jabbajambler]

19

Human

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 2,291

*GIF NOT MINE*

         "Ouch! What the hell, Din?" I shouted as my head harshly hit the ceiling of the Razor Crest, sending a shooting pain through my spine. "You could at least be careful!"

         "Right. Be careful while being shot at." He snapped. "Sorry, Princess, you're not my main concern right now!"

         The other ship had grown closer now than it was a few seconds ago, firing rapid shots at the engines of our ship. Those few months of peace were long gone.

         "Hand over the child, Mando." The voice echoed through the radio. Sparks were flying through the ship as we were shot at. "I might let you live."

         I rolled my eyes as I rubbed my head where it had hit the ceiling. Alarms were going off within the ship, red lights blinking, signaling that things were not in our favor at the moment. Each blare of the alarm increased the tense feeling in my head.

         "One of the engines is down!" My voice became whiny, which I blame on my current state of panic.

         "I see that!" He sighed. "Hold on."

         He quickly spun the ship upside down, not even giving me enough time to hold onto anything as we hurled through space. I gasped as I was knocked against the ceiling and then the ground once more. I let out a pained groan, rubbing my back and head.

         "Come on..." Din mumbled to himself.

         "I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold." The voice came through again.

         Something in Din had snapped once they spoke again. He quickly stopped the ship and soared backwards beneath the enemy fighter until it was in the Razor Crest's aim.

         "That's my line." He growled and pulled back the trigger, firing the blasters upon the enemy ship, exploding it into an oblivion.

          My eyes widened as I watched the ship become nothing in the empty abyss of space. Maybe it was the pounding of my head or the immense panic, but my thoughts were spoken out loud. "That was hot."

         His head snapped in my direction on the floor. I'm sure even if there was no helmet, his expression would be unreadable.

         "What did you just say?"

         "Nothing." I groaned and pulled myself into my seat, holding my head in my hands.

         He shook his head with a sigh and began messing with the control panel, powering down the engine. "Can you press-"

         I reached up and pressed the button above my head, powering up the emergency engine. A dim red light lit the cockpit as he continued to rework the panel, trying to find a signal.

         "This is Mos Eisley Tower. We are tracking you. Head for bay three-five, over." A voice came through the radio after Din sent out what I assumed to be an S.O.S.

         "Copy that. Locked in for three-five."

         He carefully landed the ship in the hangar, making sure everything was hidden away and secure. That included the child, which he locked away in his hardly spacious cot.

         "You okay?"

         I hardly heard his voice, but I felt the gentle hand that grazed my head. His fingers threaded through my hair, looking for any sign of bruise or cut.

         "I'm fine... Just a headache. Although, I don't know if that's from hitting my head or dealing with you." I teased with a smile before I pressed the button to lower the hatch to the ground.

         Din walked out before me, quickly firing a shot in the direction of the droids that were beginning to approach the ship. It was a bit aggressive if you asked me.

         "Din..." I whisper-growled and ripped the blaster from his hand. "You can't just do that." I placed the blaster back in it's holster on his hip, shocked to find his gaze trained on me as I looked up at him.

         "Hey! Hey! You damage one of my droids, you'll pay for it." An older woman approached us, stomping on her way. She was short with wiry, reddish-brown hair.

         It fit her rage.

          "Just keep them away from my ship-" I pinched Din's arm, causing him to flinch away from me with a sharp look in return. "What?" He whispered harshly.

        I sent him a glare, silently encouraging him to be nice. After all, this woman was supposed to fix the ship.

         "Yeah? You think that's a good idea, do ya? Let's look at your ship."

         She began walking around the ship, both of us following close behind her. She banged her hand against the metal, the echoing sound bounced off the walls and filled our ears.

         "Oof! Look at that." She pulled a scanner from her tool belt and used it on the ship's damaged siding. "Ugh, you got a lot of carbon scorn' up top...Yeah...If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in a shootout."

          Din and I shared a momentary worried look of knowing, my eyes growing wide. We looked back at the woman once again while she continued on, still on edge.

         "Special tool for that one." She sighed. "I am gonna have to rotate that. You got a fuel leak... Look at that, this is a mess! How did you even land?" She scoffed. "That's gonna set you back."

         "We have five-hundred Imperial Credits." I grinned and held up the bag of currency.

         Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Din pat down his belts, searching for his credits. It took him a while, but he must have realized that the ones I held were actually his.

         What can I say? When you're on the run and hiding from a bunch of people, you start to pick up new skills.

        I just happened to pick up pick-pocketing.

        "That's all you got? Well, what do you guys think?" She turned towards the chattering droids with a shrug. "That should at least cover the hangar."

         "I'll get you your money." Din spoke through gritted teeth. I must have just irritated him more.

       "Hmm. I've heard that before. You're lucky your girl here has a trustworthy face, otherwise I don't know if I would help you."

         "My girl?" His voice became flustered and confused. "I-"

        "Thank you so much!" I brushed my fingers down his arm, eventually settling my hand in his, intertwining our fingers. I could feel him tense, but he gave me a gentle squeeze nonetheless. "Remember, no-"

         "Yeah, no droids. I heard him. You don't have to say it twice."

         I nodded and tugged on Din's hand, walking with him outside of the hangar. Just as the door closed, I could hear her mutter a few final words.

         "Jeez... Womp rat."

┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉

         Din dropped my hand once we were outside of the hangar. I couldn't blame him, we already stuck out like a sore thumb. There was me, dressed head to toe in black with a hood hiding my face, and Din, a Mandalorian clad in shiny beskar. This was far from a normal sight for the people of Tatooine.

          If he were to have held my hand through these dusty alleys, we would have attracted even more unwanted attention. Although, a part of me didn't want him to let go.

         I took a deep breath of the familiar dusty air. The same old sand buildings decorated the terrain. It was similar to Nevarro. Nothing was incredibly special about this place except for one thing: it was a place I once called home.

         We came across a series of stakes in the ground, decorated with stormtrooper helmets speared through them. I felt my heart drop to my stomach, becoming a bit on edge. This must have been long after my family left.

         I glanced up at Din but he chose to not acknowledge the sight. He simply nodded towards a building, the cantina. We weren't allowed here often as children, but it was once a bustling sight.

         His hand rested on the small of my back as he led me inside. I flinched at the initial touch, but before I could relax, he pulled his hand back to his side. It left an absent feeling against my skin and I nearly whimpered at the cold air that hit my back.

         "Hey, droid, I'm a hunter." Din leaned against the counter at the bar, talking to the bartender droid. "I'm lookin' for some work."

         "Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates from Tatooine."

         He lowered his voice, taking a quick glance around. "I'm not looking for Guild work."

         "I am afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculation."

         While Din spoke to the droid, I looked around the Cantina, watching the strange, diverse group of people. Aliens, humans, all sorts of species. There were no where near as many as there once were. The entire planet had sort of died down at the fall of the Hutts.

         I could feel a pair of eyes boring through my back. Glancing over my shoulder, I found a young man in a nearby booth with his feet kicked up on the table.

         He had dark brown, almost black hair. His face was left unshaven, a thin layer of facial hair trailed along his jaw, chin, and upper lip. He was a fairly attractive man, I had to admit that, but there was something odd about him. Something that I was drawn to and it most certainly wasn't an attraction.

         "Bringing you two in won't just make me a member of the Guild, it'll make me legendary."

         I winced as the words were forced into my head. I didn't know what it meant, but it hurt. His eyes remained on mine for a moment before looking me up and down.

         He had something we needed.

         I drew my bottom lip between my teeth flirtatiously and mimicked his gaze, shifting my eyes over his relaxed body.

         "Think again, tin can." The mysterious man spoke. "If you're looking for work, have a seat, my friend... And his friend." He sent me a wink and gestured towards the booth in front of him. "Name's Toro, Toro Calican... Come on, relax."

         Din nodded at the droid before sliding into the seat across from Toro. I slid in next to him, lacing my fingers again with his. The man made me feel uneasy and I couldn't let that go.

         Especially those words that I heard. They sounded like him.

         Toro placed a bounty puck on the table as it lit up with a familiar face, one that I hadn't seen in years.

         "Picked up this Bounty Puck before I left the Mid Rim. Fennec Shand, an Assassin? Heard she's been on the run ever since the New Republic put all her employers in lockdown."

          "I know of her." I kept my voice soft, almost sultry. Seems like that was the only thing this guy listened to. I felt Din's grip tighten on my hand, forcing me to hold back the small grin that threatened to form on my face. "Brave of you to accept such a bounty."

         "Or extremely stupid." Din mumbled.

         "I followed this tracking fob here. Now the positional data suggests she's headed out beyond the Dune Sea. Should be an easy job."

         "Well, good luck with that." Din tried to push me out of the booth in an attempt to leave, but I wouldn't budge.

         "Wait, wait, wait, hey. I thought you needed work?"

         "How long have you been with the Guild?" He questioned. I wanted to ask the same thing, but I had a different mission than Din. I had to play it safer.

         "Long enough."

         "Clearly not. Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary. She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates, including the Hutts. If you go after her, you won't make it past sunrise."

         I sighed and finally slid out of the booth, dropping Din's hand before anyone could see. He began walking towards the exit, his cape flowing gently behind him.

         How dramatic.

         "This is my first job." Toro ran after us, his voice quieter than before. "You can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the Guild." He sighed. "I can't do it alone."

         I smiled hopefully up at Din, wanting to take this chance to figure out why the Force was drawing me to this newbie bounty hunter. One of these days I would have to tell Din that secret too, but that could wait.

         "Meet me at hangar three-five in half an hour. Bring two speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob." He held out his hand, waiting for Toro to place it in his hand.

         That didn't happen.

         Toro smashed it against the wall without thinking twice. Din tilted his head, staring at him with a complete lack of amusement. My eyebrows furrowed in equal confusion, wondering what would bring him to do such a thing.

         "Don't worry, got it all memorized." He beamed.

         "Half an hour." Din spoke sternly.

         I sent Toro a quick wink before chasing after Din as he left through the door. His hands clenched and his posture was tense, practically stomping through the sandy walk ways. Oh my maker, was the Mandalorian jealous?

         "Still think he's cute after that?"

         I rolled my eyes and brushed my hand against the small bits of his arm not covered by beskar.

         "I don't know." I paused, picking my next words extremely carefully. "There's someone else I can't seem to get off my mind" I threw his words back at him, grinning to myself as we walked back towards the hangar.

[magnoliasinbloom]

Someone to Stay - AU

Previous chapters

Chapter 2

Coffee felt anticlimactic, after the noise and pound of the club. The fluorescents highlighted the bright orange vinyl booths, making every spilled sugar grain on the table glow.

Claire sipped slowly, enjoying the scalding of her tongue. The whiskey buzz had been on the verge of turning into tipsiness, but before that could happen Claire had dragged Geillis out of the club and into the closest open diner she could see. 24 hour caffeine purveyors.

“Do you regret it?” Geillis watched Claire over the rim of her cup. “Not going backstage I mean.”

“No. You were very clear on what their true intentions were. Why?” Claire raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Not anymore.” G tilted her head towards the diner door behind Claire. The faint tinkle of a bell preceded the entrance and exit of customers.

The lounging server at the counter had her feet up on a stool, reading a magazine, but stood and grabbed a bunch of menus at the sound of the door. She dropped them just as fast and gasped.

Claire turned, and who should come through the door but James Fraser and the rest of The Clan. She couldn’t for the life of her remember all their names just then – her eyes were helplessly riveted on the tall man who smiled gently at the dumbfounded server and stooped to retrieve the fallen menus.

“Here you go.” James Fraser held them out to her – Laoghaire, read her tag. Claire and Geillis watched this encounter silently, while the men with James Fraser (could she stop thinking of his name like that?) waited patiently for the girl to react. She hadn’t, thus far. Her hands went to her flaming cheeks and her mouth fell open.

“You’re—they’re… you’re— “ Laoghaire stammered.

“Jamie. Pleased to meet ye.” Jamie put the menus on the counter once it seemed clear Laoghaire wasn’t quite up to the job at the moment. He extended a hand that was quickly taken in a death grip. Claire and Geillis exchanged amused glances.

“Oh my God, oh my God! It’s you! Here!” Laoghaire jumped up and down, still holding Jamie’s hand. He smiled good-naturedly and slowly extricated himself from her grip. “Could I have a picture?”

“Of course. Here, lads.” The men quickly surrounded them, subtly stepping in between Jamie and the girl. She pulled her mobile from her apron pocket and looked around wildly for someone to oblige.

“Would you mind?” Laoghaire finally shoved the phone at Geillis, who stood from the booth and held it up and snapped 3-4 pictures for good measure. As the flash went off, Claire caught Jamie’s eye, smiling at her and not for the picture. She allowed him a small smile in return, remembering certain invitations and talk of groupies.

“Thank you so much!” Laoghaire squealed. “Let me find you a table or do you prefer— “

“A table will be just fine,” Jamie interrupted. “Perhaps this one?” He pointed at the booth Claire and G were occupying.

Claire began to fume. The whole empty diner and he was seriously asking to have them booted? Rock star or no—

“May we join you ladies?” Jamie smiled disarmingly, running a hand through his hair. Behind the apparent nonchalance Claire detected a hint of nerves. “These are my mates, Rupert, William, Ian.” Each nodded and smiled in return.

“Sure!” Geillis grinned and moved down the seat. Claire followed suit more hesitantly, looking daggers at her friend. Jamie squeezed in next to her. Six to a booth was a slightly tight fit, but they managed somehow. “I’m Geillis, and this is Claire.”

The men (more boyish up close, including Jamie, Claire noted) turned to Laoghaire, still standing by breathlessly. Rupert, the drummer, winked at the girl. “Let’s have a keek at those menus then, shall we?”

Quarters were a bit cramped for flipping the laminated pages. Jamie couldn’t seem to help brushing Claire’s hands every time he ran a finger down the proffered items. Claire picked up her coffee cup only to discover it was empty.

“Can we get another?” Jamie gestured at the server, who scampered away for the pot.

“Thanks.” Claire smiled as her cup was topped off. Laoghaire ignored her, eyes only for Jamie.

The rest of the men ordered burgers, fry-ups, and more coffee. Laoghaire balanced the tray full of food and lingered eagerly by the side of the table.

“Could ye maybe leave the pot?” Jamie gave her a dazzling smile and she grinned back, setting the coffee down and backing away slowly, her eyes never leaving his.

“So.” Jamie forked some chips over to his plate, while Geillis flirted with the rest of the men—Claire focused on her cup like her life depended on it.

“So?”

“We asked you backstage at the pub.”

“We?” Claire raised her eyebrow at him, and sipped. Two could play this game.

“Och, weel.” He ducked his head and the red strands tickled his forehead. “Not we, then. I asked ye backstage. Ye looked... intriguing.”

Claire glanced at Geillis. She was laughing raucously at something Rupert had said – no doubt something lecherous. The men’s conversation had faded into the background as Claire focused her attention on Jamie.

“I’m not a local. I’m visiting with my friend. I had…” She took a deep breath. “A bad experience in London. I needed to get away.” She didn’t understand the need to pour her troubles out for this stranger.

“What kind of bad experience?” Jamie’s heavy eyebrows knit together.

Claire shrugged, despondency settling briefly on her features. “Romantic, you could say.” She waved her hand dismissively, not willing to go into details at the moment. “How about you?”

“Nothing as bad as that,” Jamie smiled, making the corners of her own mouth lift ever so slightly. “We’re on tour, heading south. We’ve done Edinburgh, tomorrow’s Glasgow, then Newcastle and Leeds . Then Manchester, Liverpool, and Cambridge, and ending in London.”

“Sounds exhausting.” Claire sipped again. “And where’s home?”

“Scotland, obviously. Place called Lallybroch. Family farm, for generations and all that. Can’t wait to get back. You?”

“Based in London. I’m a nurse.”

She spoke of the hospital and her cozy flat. Of her childhood with wandering Uncle Lambert and her favorite bookshop. Of her longing for mornings when she could sleep in and her dislike for high heels. Of the way she drank her coffee and the most difficult medical case to ever cross her path.

He filled her in with the details of his large family – his sister Jenny, married to Ian their keyboard player and his nieces and nephews. How he had taught himself to play guitar in between farm chores. How his parents had encouraged him to pursue his dream of music and crowds who clapped and cheered. How he had found his band – his clan – in Ian the pianist, William the bassist, Rupert the drummer, and his uncle Murtagh as manager.

Two hours later, as Claire happened to glance at her watch, and still going strong at 3 AM. The food was gone and the whole coffee pot practically empty. One of the other men—Ian, Claire recalled—raised his hand for the check, glancing briefly at Jamie, who nodded. Laoghaire bounded over, paper slip in hand.

“No charge for you. On the house.” She smiled ingratiatingly at Jamie and thrust the check into Claire’s hand. “Two coffees, £2.40.”

“Och, I insist.” Jamie pulled a £50 out of his pocket and set it on the table.

“But that’s too much!” The girl’s eyes almost popped out of her head. She reached out for the bill and drew her hand back, afraid to touch it for fear it wasn’t real.

“Nae bother. Thank you, lass.” He nudged Willie, who had been sitting to his left all along unobtrusively, and they all slid out of the booth. Geillis flushed and laughing still, her hand on Rupert’s shoulder.

Well, well, Claire thought, what have we here. She caught G’s eye and winked, which only caused Geillis to giggle unabashedly.

Jamie placed his hand on Claire’s back, guiding her towards the door. She couldn’t resist a dig at Laoghaire as she turned her head back and called out, “Thanks so much!” while the girl just stood there, agape and overwhelmed by what had transpired.

The burst of cold air on her face was most unwelcome, after the secluded warmth of the diner. Instinctively her shoulders hunched against the chilled wind, and she drew her coat about her. The rest of the band was still talking animatedly with Geillis, and Claire managed to catch her slip a napkin with her number to Rupert the drummer; he tucked it in safely into his jacket pocket.

She turned to face Jamie as much as she could, still shielding herself from the freezing gusts. “Thank you for the coffee Jamie. It was nice to meet you.” She stuck out her hand a bit idiotically and was surprised to feel the enveloping warmth of his own.

“Claire. It was lovely to meet ye. I hope… perhaps… we can meet again.” Jamie gave a most convincing bow, which would not have been amiss in an earlier century. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss into her skin.

Her heart stuttered, against her will.

Against her will, images of Frank flooded her mind. When they went out on dinner dates, when she sat through his endless lectures, when he supported her decision to apply for medical school, when they spent time together in the morning reading the paper, when they had kissed and touched and loved. When she had been betrayed.

And she thought, Never again.

Claire pulled her hand out of Jamie’s grasp as gently as she could, hoping her face would not betray the anguish his simple gesture had triggered. “I wish you good luck Jamie, with the rest of your tour.” No word on meeting again, no number exchanged, no last name given.

She turned to the William, Rupert, and Ian; shook hands with each of them quickly, nodding goodbye. She took Geillis by the elbow and pulled her away, down the street, and managed to glance back only once.

Jamie stood there, fiery hair glowing in the street light, smiling after them. A smile that said, Soon.

[freyawrites-archive]

What about Prompto trying really hard to impress his crush by winning them a stuffed chocobo from one of those carnival games where you have to shoot the moving targets? (Who says Noct is the only one who gets to enjoy the Moogle Chocobo Carnival?!) His crush loves the plush, but tells him that he's still their favorite chocobo. (Maybe they even kiss his cheek?)

Eeep! I’ve been super excited to do this one since it’s a oneshot request~

And plus, Sunshine Chocobo is adorbs

No special warnings or spoilers (unless you consider the Carnival a spoiler?)

---

It was all he could talk about for weeks. Once Prompto Argentum had heard that there was a Moogle Chocobo Carnival in Altissia, it was all he could focus on. To be be fair, you were pretty excited yourself since you were a big fan of both Moogles and Chocobos, but Prompto’s excitement was also extremely contagious.

Somehow, Prompto managed to convince Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis that it would be a fun way to relax and unwind before continuing their journey. Noctis had briefly protested, not wanting to deviate from their goal of reuniting with Lady Lunafreya, but Prompto convinced him to at least enjoy some of the carnival and maybe try winning something for Lunafreya so that he could present it to her when they were finally reunited.

“We will meet back at the hotel tonight after the fireworks, and tomorrow morning we meet with the first secretary,” Noctis instructed as the group stepped off the boat. The sun was still high in the sky, giving plenty of time for the festivities prior to the firework show you had read about on a brochure on the way to the carnival.

The group agreed and started to part ways. You had started off in a random direction before hearing footsteps behind you. You looked over your shoulder and smiled when you found Prompto was trailing behind you. His eyes were wide with amazement as he looked around at the various decorations. You could see the twinkle in them and it made your chest fill with warmth.

It took him a minute or so before he realized you were looking back at him and he caught your gaze. The pale skin beneath the freckles that spotted his cheeks turned red and you couldn’t help but giggle as you turned to face him fully.

“Almost too much to take in?” you teased.

“I want to steal all their Chocobo decorations,” he admitted, giving you a sheepish grin as he rubbed the back of his neck.

This elicited a rich laugh from you which made Prompto’s face light up.

The two of you walked alongside one another as you made your way through the streets of Altissia. You’d been to Altissia once as a child, but those childhood memories were nothing compared to the sights before you. You could see the beauty in the architecture beneath the decorations and you could feel the ancient history of the city as you walked through its streets.

As you passed over an overpass, you paused. You rushed quickly to the edge and looked over just in time to see a gondola lazily cruise by with a few passengers as they made their tour around the city. The gentle splashing of the water was what had caught your attention over the sound of idle chatter while the gondola passed by. You leaned forward over the block railing, your eyes shining.

“Man, I’d kill to ride on one of those,” you said, a wistful tone to your voice.

“Maybe we’ll get a chance later on today,” Prompto replied as he stepped up next to you. He placed his hands on the block railing, looking out at the gondola as it continued on its journey around the corner and out of sight. He then reached and gently nudged your hand with his. “Come on, let’s go see what else there is!”

You smiled and nodded, following alongside him as you continued over the overpass. After rounding the corner, you two came upon a plaza where there were a bunch of vendors. Between vendor stands, there were various carnival games.

“Woah,” you both said in unison, amazement clear in your voices. You then shared a laugh before starting down the row.

While the games looked fun, a lot of them either had crowds or didn’t have any prizes worth fighting for. The vendors looked interesting as well, but some of the price points for their wares was a bit steep and you weren’t hungry enough yet for a food vendor. So instead, you admired it all from afar.

That is, until you spotted an empty game booth with the most adorable Chocobo plush known to man. You stopped walking, a dramatic gasp passing your lips. Prompto froze as well, surprised and concerned by your gasp until he followed your gaze to the game booth. His own eyes lit up and a grin curled on his lips.

“Oh hell yeah,” he said as he started walking up to it.

It was a shooting game.

The game itself was what had Prompto excited. However, your agenda was completely different. You had terrible aim when it came to using any sort of ranged weapon. It was amusing since you wielded magic and could throw that in any direction for days, but the minute it came to using something like a gun or a bow and arrow, you were helpless.

No, what had caught your eye was the fat Chocobo plush that sat atop the “Grand Prize” stand. It was love at first sight. You knew that if you walked away without that plush, you would regret it for the rest of your life. The sign read that if you shot a perfect score, you would win the fat Chocobo plush. Simple as that.

Simple if you could actually aim worth a damn.

You were about to lose hope when you saw Prompto hand over the gil to play. He positioned himself with the fake gun and smirked as his eyes fell on the targets.

POW POW POW.

You jumped a little at the sounds of the fake gun, briefly wondering if the thing was real. You watched each of the targets fall over in rapid succession. You noted that even the guy in charge of the game was impressed with Prompto’s aim and quick reflexes. Every target went down quickly and when the game rang out its bell, Prompto punched a fist in the air with an excited cheer.

“Wow, you’ve got great aim, kid,” the man said as he looked over the targets before looking at Prompto.

The blonde haired man grinned at the other man. “Didn’t even break a sweat,” he replied. His eyes moved toward the fat Chocobo plush. “Does this mean we win that?” he asked.

The other man nodded and moved to pick up the fat plush. “It does! Congrats, kid,” he said, handing the plush over.

Prompto grinned and hugged the plush tight once he had it, then turned and faced you.

“Tada!” he said, handing the plush over to you.

Your eyes widened as you reached your arms out to receive the plush. It was the size of your torso and you had to wrap your arms around it to hold it against your chest. You looked down at it before looking back up at Prompto, your eyes still wide. He grinned at you.

“Come on, let’s go look at other stuff!” he said, starting to walk.

It took you a moment to shake yourself out of your stupor and follow along behind him.

You two spent the time looking at different vendors, playing a few smaller games, and admiring the atmosphere. At one point, you had gone to find a food vendor while Prompto secured you somewhere to sit. When you found him and took a seat across from him, he grinned across at you.

“Got another surprise for you,” he said as you set the plates down. Your fat Chocobo plush sat in a chair between you two.

“Oh?” you asked as you sat down across from Prompto.

“Mmhmm~!”

You laughed. “Are you gonna tell me what it is?”

He grinned at you. “Not yet!”

You laughed again. “Then why tell meeeee~?” you said, faking a whine.

Prompto shifted to rest his elbow on the table and lean his chin onto his hand. “I like to see you squirm,” he said with a wink.

It was your turn for your face to flush red as Prompto went on to eat his food like he’d said nothing suggestive. You stuck her tongue out at him before joining him in eating.

The food went quick as the sun descended beneath the horizon. The lights of Altissia were another sight to see for sure and you couldn’t wait to come back even after the carnival was over so you could look at the city in all of its beauty.

Once food was over, you carried your Chocobo plush with you as you followed Prompto through the streets again. He’d offered to take the lead so he could take you to your surprise. You’d tried to poke and prod him a few times for information, but he was keeping his lips sealed.

“Here we are!”

He paused in front of a set of boats. You blinked before watching Prompto hand two tickets to a man attending to the boats.

“Prompto?”

“You said you’d kill to ride on one of these… I figured I’d save you the trouble of having to kill anything,” he said with a big smile.

You returned the smile with one of your own and followed him onto the boat. He took the oar and pushed you out onto the lake. He seemed to be a bit hurried in his motions. And then he suddenly stopped once the two of you were closer to the center of the lake.

You had opened your mouth to say something, but quickly jumped at the sound of the first exploding firework. Your eyes drew upward to where you and Prompto could see the fireworks show starting up. Your eyes widened with amazement and you hugged your fat Chocobo close as the two of you watched the show together.

“This is amazing,” you breathed after a few minutes.

Prompto leaned back, smiling. He’d been watching you more than he had the fireworks show. Your expression and the way the fireworks lit up your face was way more appealing than the show itself.

“I’m glad that you like it. And I’m glad you’ve made such a quick friend,” Prompto replied, a warm smile curling on his lips.

You managed to tear your gaze away and shifted on the boat. You made sure your motions were slow so you didn’t tip the boat, but you shifted your Chocobo plush to the side so you could lean over and press a soft kiss against the blonde’s cheek. His face flushed bright red and he stammered a bit. You giggled.

“I may have a new little friend… but you’re still my favorite Chocobo, my Sunshine Chocobo,” you said softly.

And his face lit up.