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jungwondazed · 2 years ago

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tension.

[thank you so much for 100 followers <3 my gift to you guys as jungwon won the poll]

- jungwon x reader // sexual tension, nsfw 18+ only

tight spaces, elevators, and forced proximity.

a swarm of people rushed in, making you step back before your brain could even process what you were doing. in the tiny elevator of the hotel, jungwon stood right behind you and in the split second of the space filling up, you found yourself squished against him, back pressed up his entire front side, biting your tongue to stop you letting out a string of cuss words.

“sorry” you breathe out, ever so slightly turning your head back to notion that the apology was for him.

jungwon wasn’t exactly what you thought he was. to many he was a gentle and sweet guy, and for the most part he is. he’s respectful, cheery, and lights every room he walks in.

it wasn’t until you started working along side him when you realized he had this edge you couldn’t quite figure out. sometimes you caught him staring at you in a way no guy around you does. it wasn’t anything worth thinking about because, this is jungwon, and you are simply a team member and this is completely professional.

however, the constant traveling alongside jungwon and finding yourself in these situations more times than you could count, made you question if this was purely coincidental.

you feel his body straighten up against your back side, and he crouches towards your neck, leaning his head near your face, just a few centimeters before his lips could directly make contact with your ear.

“that’s alright” is all he says but you swear you feel every chill in your body. he lingers his head there for a minute before straightening up, resting his fingers on your hip.

he was just stabilizing me, you think to yourself that night returning to your room. and it keeps you tossing and turning till the late hours.

your manager called for a quick team gathering backstage right before the concert started and you found yourself standing on the outer circle, hardly able to see or hear a thing. standing on your tippy toes to try to get a better view, jungwon walks up right beside you, staring right ahead over all the bodies with his tall stature. you get back on your heels, cringing at how child like you probably looked just now.

you feel your fingers touch slightly with another pair and your breath hitches, glancing down at your hand. he pulled away after making contact and you shake it off, telling yourself you may have accidentally bumped towards him.

you perk your ears trying to catch a few words that your manager says, something about making sure the timing is right or whatever it was.

his fingers brush yours again but you don’t bother to glance down, staring straight ahead ignoring him entirely.

to your surprise, he leaves his few fingers in contact with yours, not bothering to pull away this time. feeling his touch in every single sensation within just those few centimeters of your skin, you swear it was the most physical touch you’ve ever gotten.

you crash right into him as he was turning the corner, and he stills as you barely pull away.

“i’m so sorry” you breathe out looking towards the ground, raising your head up to see him staring down on you, way closer than you thought he was.

his face being just a couple inches from yours made gasp and step back, only for his hand to catch your lower back, keeping your feet grounded. his gaze was intense, his line of sight tracing your entire face. the intensity from his eyes made your face redden and all you wanted to do was run for the hills, feeling so small and insecure in front of someone as broad and handsome as him.

he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, guiding his hand slowly and firmly up your spine, sending you more shivers than you’ve ever gotten, until he stops it at you shoulder and then takes his own feet back. you watched him gain his composure again, his breathing a little faster than normal and his hands in a fist.

letting out a breath which quickly changed his demeanor, he smiled and shook his head.

“don’t worry about it.” and he moved past you, not turning around when you tried to steal a final glance.

later, you fold your arms to hold yourself, retracing the places he touched you and the memories of how he made you feel in those moments washed all over you.

it was long past the time when everyone left the building. you stayed a few hours in the office trying to finalize some paperwork your boss asked you to complete and it wasn’t until the security walked by saying the building was closing did you realize it was probably best to head back.

gathering your things, you make your walk out of the huge corporate building, a lot less pep in your step compared to the morning.

upon walking outside you noticed jungwon standing near the outside tables and chairs, staring off into the city streets. his heard turned towards you once he heard the door close and gave you a small smile.

“ah, ____.” he politely nodded and you gave a light bow before turning on your heels to go home. you had no reason to speak to him anyways, no point in hovering.

“you stayed so late today, i figured you would.” he called out behind you which made you snap your head back in confusion. what was he talking about?

he lowers his gaze a bit, “i wanted to talk to you about yesterday” he says, making his way towards you. this was strange, there wasn’t anything that needed to be said but out of politeness and nerves you nodded and said okay.

he stood before you, with his nose and ears red from waiting outside in the wind too long, and you couldn’t help but feel bad, wondering how long he was out here given that his practice time ended before the sun even set.

he puts his hand on your arm to guide you to a bench nearby and you comply to his gesture. getting goosebumps from him just slightly touching you again.

“you’ve got to stop running into me like that” he starts his sentence looking off and ending it with his eyes on yours.

you’re taken aback and a little bit offended as if running into him was a deliberate choice that you make. suddenly your body was as cold as the october sky and you wanted to be anywhere but here.

“i’m sorry, what are you saying?” you start off shaking your head, bewildered to the point where spitting out a sentence was hard.

“i didn’t mean to run into you and i don’t try to and i don’t want to. you’re the one who’s always in my space” you continued, and he genuinely looks curious but there is a sly look in his eye that makes you question what he’s trying to get at.

his lips lift up just a tad bit, a gesture you would probably miss if the streetlights were the slightest bit dimmer. he’s oddly calm for hearing the offensiveness in your voice.

“i’m, always in your space, is that it?” and you slightly roll your eyes

“well what else is it? i’m not deliberately chasing after you” and he nods at this and you’re more confused as ever as to why he isn’t taking you seriously at all.

“you almost had me thinking these little run ins weren’t a coincidence” he breathes out, getting up with a smile, pulling your arm gently to get you to stand up. and to that you have absolutely nothing to say.

“i’ll walk you back home”

he sat beside you during the company’s monthly meeting and the second you caught his eye you turned away, mentally face palming yourself at reacting in such a childish way.

he doesn’t say anything but focuses on the papers being handed out in front of him, head resting in the palm of his hand. he looked particularly nice today, wearing a thin casual button up with black slacks. he looked good everyday, no matter what he was wearing.

he turns his head to look at you and gives you a nod to which you again turn away from, avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of the meeting.

“i wanna know what you meant with that” you corner him in one of his changing rooms, hours before the show was starting.

“hmm? meant with what?” he says while looking through his outfits, glancing at you after a few seconds of you not answering.

you sigh and begin to walk out before feeling jungwon pull you back softly with his hand, spinning you around to face him again. he’s close. close just like the other day and his presence feels a bit heavier than what you were used to, there’s a lot pent up here you think to yourself.

“you didn’t answer me yet for you to leave like that” and he says this with a lot of genuineness, his eyes softening a bit once realizing just how shocked you are. he looks a bit out of element himself, his confident composure dropping the second he pulled you close. he still wouldn’t pull away from you.

you look down, shaking your head at why you were even here in the first place. you had been avoiding him for a few days now, every time he came in a room you went out of your way to leave. you were confused, trying hard to suppress your curiosity but he wouldn’t stop staring at you all week and your patience is at a breaking point.

“i’m sorry i just wanted you to explain”

his eyes are sharp, taking in your words. the room is quiet except for the heart beating in your chest, so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if jungwon could hear it himself.

“you want me to explain?” and to that you nod and he stares at you for a long few seconds, pupils wavering just a bit before his eyes moved down your face, lowering to your lips and and back up to your eyes again.

“yeah” he breathes out, his voice raspier than you’ve ever heard, “i can explain”

and you can’t recall what happened in between before realizing his lips crashing into yours, moaning into his mouth the second you process it. he groans right back into you moving his head to the side to kiss you deeper.

his hand slid down to your lower back, the same place he touched the other day. you can barely keep up with him, he kisses so good. he kisses so fucking good. you’ve never shared your lips with anyone else, but he’s guiding you with his tongue like you two have been making out for centuries. you feel the desperation in the way his teeth clinks with yours, like he’s never had anything like this either. he pulls away, sucking on your neck before he stops entirely, to which you furrow your brows.

you hear a crowd of people heading towards your direction and immediately get yourself together, remembering that it was well within working hours. jungwon steps back as well, a bit more disheveled than you were, before your manger and the rest of your team walks in, not giving you any time to process what just happened before giving you directions on how to manage tonight’s concert.

he doesn’t speak to you for a few days, and you don’t bother looking in his direction. but you swear to yourself that you aren’t going crazy and you feel the way his eyes dig into your back and the subtle hand brushing every time he walks past you.

“are you crazy?” you quickly blurt out, barely able to see anything in this tiny work closet that jungwon pulled you in when you once again ran into him in the halls.

he doesn’t answer, his tall frame hovering over you, snaking a hand behind your neck and bringing you closer, kissing his lips once again. you don’t argue to this as you realize he’s been wanting this just as much as you do. you’re a bit whinier this time and jungwon almost loses it.

“i can’t stop thinking about you” he breathes out before placing the softest kisses on your neck and collarbone. the intimacy making you shake everywhere. he touches your body like he knows every inch of you. lowering his lips further down your body, he looks up at you, a silent request before you hesitantly nod and he lazily smiles.

no one has ever undressed you before, letting alone see you half naked. maybe nodding wasn’t a good idea and he wouldn’t like you after seeing how you really looked and-

he lets out a “fuck” once he opens up your blouse, making you turn away from him out of self consciousness, to which he completely ignores by guiding your navel back to him.

“i wanna taste every part of you” and his mouth is kissing every inch of skin he sees, and you almost want to melt into the ground. you try to concentrate on watching him lose himself over you, distracting yourself from wondering if he likes what he sees but your mind goes fuzzy and all you can do is take in how he makes you feel.

you don’t know how long he’s kissing your waist until you feel him stop, whining at the pause in contact. he’s lowered to his knees at this point, hooking his fingers on your pants, asking you again silently if this is okay. you shake your head because you didn’t realize where this could have lead to. you’re being way too impulsive, and it wasn’t supposed to be like this in the first place.

“i- i’ve never- i’ve never done-“ and to this he lets out a genuine chuckle, sliding his tongue across the lower inch of your waist, causing your legs to tremble and for jungwon to hold you up. he grins.

“you’ll like this, i promise” his breath feeling cool against where he licked your stomach, and he slowly pulls it down, going far too slow that it makes you whine. he’s stripping you at this point, and it’s mortifying.

he leaves your bottoms hooked around your knees, pausing once your drenched panties are revealed. he moans, letting out a breath like it was his final one and you close your legs and stabilize yourself by trying to get away to which he holds you down and spreads you apart again. he shakes his head, not letting you go anywhere. you don’t even wanna think about what he’s pondering, your face more red and hot than you’ve ever thought possible.

he presses his tongue flat against the front, licking the slick soaked cloth. you close your eyes, being too embarrassed to make a sound. he pulls your panties down and groans, squeezing his eyes shut, biting down on his lip as if he could barely take in the sight at all.

jungwon uses the pads of his fingers to slide under your folds, just gliding to feel how soaked you are which makes your knees tremble and you’re lucky you didn’t fall if not for the shelf you’ve been holding on for gods sake. you’ve never had anyone touch you like this before, the feeling of his bare fingers feeling you up leaves you confused and begging for more at the same time. if you could touch yourself the way he touches you, you’d be a lot less stressed all the time. with the way he rubs your pussy, there isn’t anything else worth caring about.

he pulls away, mouth agape as he looks at the slick on his hand, staring as if this is something he’s always been curious about. he brings it to his tongue and he licks it all up, closing his eyes as his mouth takes it all in. you whimper and shake your head again, feeling so exposed you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

he leans into your cunt, pressing a soft kiss on your clit and it earns a squeal from you to which he chuckles. he kisses it over and over again, being so gentle that it’s almost agonizing.

he eventually sticks out the tip of his tongue to lick as far back as he could, all the way to the front of your clit, circling once he reaches it and repeats this over and over again, still not sticking his tongue inside you yet. he teases just the outside of your folds, moaning like this is just enough for him.

“please- fuck just please” you finally blurt out and he hums into your pussy, increasing the already growing intensity. you could moan at the top of your lungs if you could. you feel him smiling against you and he finally forces his tongue inside to taste the inside of your hole and you gasp into your hand, the sensation of a tongue fucking you being foreign. he stuffs you with his tongue and then flattens it when he licks you up. he moans the entire time doing this and the feeling is so overwhelming you think you might just lose your mind.

he pulls away, using both of his hands to pull either side of your folds, exposing your entire clit to him, teasing you again by hardening the tip of his tongue and licking just the clit. he circles it, making out with it, and looks up at you to see if you’re enjoying this, and you like it way too much. he’s cruel with the way he laps your clit, pulling away every time you feel like you’re close and you almost wanna cuss him out because all you wanna do is cum.

at this point it feels like he’s making out with your pussy for his own pleasure and you shove your hand behind his head, pushing him in deeper and fucking against his face. he groans and the vibrations fuck your clit even more and you’re so fucking close you start tearing up. you feel like you’re riding his mouth at this point, and later you will look back and groan at how desperate you looked, but in this moment you didn’t care, fucking jungwon’s face was the best thing you’ve could’ve ever possibly felt.

with his face still deep inside you he puts both of your legs over his shoulders, his hands cupping your ass while pushing you up against the wall, where you’re basically sitting with your legs wrapped around his neck, the wall holding you up. you’re sobbing at this point to where he rocks his head side to side, using his tongue to slide across your clit, bringing you closer with every swipe. tongue moving so fast you start feeling every nerve in your feet and legs till it reaches your entire lower body.

“just wanna cum so bad” you’re begging him over and over, desperately wanting to reach the high he kept making you come down from. he stills his head and wags his tongue over your clit, brows furrowed like your pussy had all his focus. it was bringing you closer and closer and closer and him keeping that same pace made you feel like you were gonna release all over his face.

“fuck jungwon, fuck i think” you can hardly speak at this point, and he still works on your pussy.

“fuck i just- i think i’m gonna, fuck i think i’m gonna fucking cum” and he pushes his tongue even harder, making you nearly scream into your fist, your entire lower body starts shaking and he licks it over and over and over again until you feel yourself cumming all over. he takes one of his hand and brings it up to your mouth, forcing you to be quiet while you cum on his tongue. he fucks your pussy out, using his entire tongue to lap at your hole and clit, fucking you through your orgasm. every fiber of your being feels good and he drags it out by continuously licking you, moaning just like you are and you’re gripping onto anything you can.

reaching near the end of your orgasm, he slows his tongue down, going back to sucking on it dangerously slow and hard. your clit feels so sore, earning a wince from you every time he sucks. your breathing is fast and you feel the top of your head sweating. he takes his time kissing your folds, sucking on either side while slowly lowering you down, keeping his mouth attached the entire time.

long after your orgasm was over does he pull away slowly, pressing the kisses like he did at the beginning of eating you out. finally opening his eyes, he licks you a few more times before slowly looking up at you, raising his hands to grope your body again. jungwon stands up, towering your shaking body once more to kiss you on your lips.

“see how good you taste for me” he says in between sucking on your tongue, and you whine at his actions, not knowing what to say but to just kiss him back.

“lick my face ___, clean all the mess you made off.” and you shake your head but he presses the side of his mouth into your lips, forcing you to start off there. you lick your cum off his chin and around his cheeks and you think to yourself how you taste so much better than you thought. he goes back to making out with you, losing track of time.

he finally pulls away with a soft smile, his eyes a bit more tired than when he first came in, probably exhausted from all the work he did but he’s glowing, more beautiful than ever.

your face heats up realizing how exposed you still are while he was entirely clothed, and he chuckles before helping you get dressed, his eyes darkening all over again watching you struggle to get your panties on.

you don’t know what to say, almost walking out without saying a word to him but he grabs onto your arm, pulling you back to press a few more kisses on your neck and face. you wouldn’t mind doing this all over again.

“let’s get closer” he says as he smiles against your cheek after kissing it. you’re embarrassed at his sentiment considering he just ate your bare cunt out. why he decided to fuck your pussy with his mouth before confessing that he wants to get to know you more as a person, you ask yourself, to which you will never know the answer to. you shy away from his touch but he holds you close again, obviously not very uncomfortable with his physical affection.

“won’t be able to get enough of you after this, i wanna do this every time i see you” and you lower your gaze, feeling extremely flustered at his words, and excited at the idea of a next time. he’s still looking down at you as you don’t respond to him for a few long seconds.

you pull away and nod, leaning in to give him a kiss on his cheek before flattening your clothes and leaving the closet.

#enha smut #enha x reader #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #jungwon x reader #jungwon x you #jungwon imagines #jungwon smut #jungwon hard thoughts #jungwon hard hours #jungwondazedjungwon

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sanjoongie · 4 months ago

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𝒟𝒶𝓎 𝒯𝓌𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓎-𝐹𝑜𝓊𝓇~ 𝒫𝑒𝓇𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓉 𝒦𝒾𝓃𝓀

The Menu

🤍Pairing: pervert/subway groper! Kim Hongjoong x special agent! Reader (f)

🤍Au: sci fi,

🤍Trope: police/criminal

🤍Genre: smut

🤍Rating: 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

🤍Warnings: ⚠dubcon/cnc⚠, pervert kink, outer job, breast play, praise kink, restraints (handcuffs), groping/molesting, ruined cum panties

🤍Word Count: 1,747

🤍Summary: as an agent of the special division devised to take down subway gropers, you slowly succumb to wanting to be a target instead of capturing yours.

🤍Day Twenty-Three: Seonghwa | Masterlist | Day Twenty-Five: Mingi🩵

Hongjoong was a pervert. You knew this, and it had been your utter downfall.

In the future, where perverts groping women on the autonomous trains and cars that took them wherever they needed to go became a problem due to the lack of humans policing anything within those confines, you became a part of a special task force that hunted down these perverts. Equipped with a device that could read sexual arousal in the air due to exhaling, it was your task to take down these men, one at a time. Or in multiples if the situation called for it.

There was one particular criminal with the pseudonym Laughing Gas, aka Kim Hongjoong. The man was known to walk around with a mask, presumably to halt the release of the chemicals that indicated arousal. However, the man was known to let out a shudder-inducing giggle before he began groping his next victim. The laugh, combined with the mask, led to his pseudonym.

You had been tracking him for a long time. At first, you attempted to capture him the minute he touched an unsuspecting individual, but Hongjoong seemed to always be one step ahead of you and got away. Then, you developed a system of allowing Hongjoong to get sucked into his fantasy, but that was your downfall.

You had watched him countless times grope and molest women; he drove them to whining, moaning messes with his hands and his cock. It wasn’t long before you developed a perverted need to feel what it was like to be whipped into a frenzy by Kim Hongjoong.

“I’m going in myself,” you announced to your boss.

Yeosang frowned at you over his desk, mid collection of Hongjoong’s file. “Are you serious?”

You nodded firmly. “I can’t risk any other innocent women, Captain. It’s gotta be me.”

Yeosang shook his head like he was unsure. “That’s like risking death to catch a serial killer.”

“Sir,” You met Yeosang’s eyes solemnly, “I have to catch him. Once and for all.”

So that’s how you found yourself, without backup, in a crop top and short skirt. You were grabbing the train during peak home travel time. You found the perfect spot, too, right by the door. It would appear as if you wanted a quick getaway, but you knew that the space where the doors opened up was Hongjoong’s favorite location to molest a target.

All it took was one jostled bump from another passenger, and you were pressed up against the glass of the door and someone’s front pressed to your back.

“Good evening, special agent,” a voice said from behind you. It was slightly muffled, as if something was covering it.

Bingo. Hongjoong had locked onto you. Except you weren’t as incognito as you planned on. He knew who you were?

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance finally, Laughing Gas,” you replied.

Hands ran up your ribcage and then lightly cupped your breasts. “No, special agent, the pleasure is all mine,” Hongjoong said, a happy sigh escaping his lips.

It took everything in you to not join the man. “Pathetic,” you hissed. “Shouldn’t you be running the other way? You knew this was a trap.”

“Oh but the honey was just too sweet,” Hongjoong hummed.

Those fingers gripped your breasts through the flimsy material and began to jostle them, feeling the weight of them in his hands. An errant thumb brushed against your nipple and you felt it tighten in response. So did Hongjoong.

“If I manage to bring you in, you’ll make my career,” you boasted.

“You’re making my career right fucking now,” Hongjoong growled.

Your shirt was yanked up unceremoniously, bralette not a concern, as he pulled and teased your nipples into stiff peaks. You had to swallow a moan that was threatening to spill from your lips and ruin your entire mask.

“Why just stop at molesting my breasts, hmmm? Isn’t my sweet hole a temptation, too?”

Hongjoong groaned. You knew he’d be biting down on his lower lip at this point, hungry for the next step, perhaps just as much as you were. You had seen him do it enough with all his other targets.

One hand abandoned your breast, in lieu of other spoils. It floated over your ass, soft, featherlight touches. “Do you know how much of a delight this is for me? The special agent dressed up just for me? All I have to do is flip over this skirt, and it’s all over for the both of us.”

“I wore a pretty thong just for you, Hongjoong. Because the minute you stick your cock inside of me, I’ve got you, you fucking pervert,” You cursed.

“Hmmm?” Hongjoong hummed, sounding dreamy and thoughts clouded with lust. “That sounds like a challenge, special agent. How about I just use your thighs?”

You almost whimpered. You wouldn’t get to feel his thick cock stretch you? This might be your only chance…

“I guess we’ll find out if I get my handcuffs on your wrists or not, won’t we?” You sneered.

“Oh, these handcuffs?”

You heard a click and your heart beat out of your chest. When the fuck had he dived his hands into your bag and fished those out? You looked up to confirm Hongjoong had indeed handcuffed you to one of the metal poles that you had been holding onto to brace against the door.

“You fucker,” You swore.

You had the key. It was around your neck. But to think that you now had one less hand and you were even more at the mercy of Hongjoong…made you simply wet in anticipation of what was to come.

You heard a belt jingle and a zipper being pulled down. Hongjoong gasped and hummed lightly as he must have rubbed his cock in preparation for you. “I’m so fucking hard for you, special agent. You’re all mine, at this moment, do you understand?”

You felt your thong being moved and then the push of Hongjoong’s cock against your wet folds. Hongjoong chuckled and it sent goosebumps along your skin. “You’re so wet for me. Either you really enjoyed your tits being played with or you’re the perfect target for me, special agent.”

You shifted on your feet, which caused Hongjoong to growl. “Stay still.”

Your underwear slid back into place, and you finally understood Hongjoong’s plan. Your underwear kept his cock in place and he began to rock his hips. His cock played against your wet folds, and while being stuck between your underwear as well, he fucked your thighs.

You bit down a whimper as the head of his cock played against your clit as his cockhead pushed against the front of your underwear. A swift look down confirmed the motion, your skirt pushing forward as his cock came out the other side of your legs.

One hand still groping your tit, Hongjoong placed the other on your hip and continued to fuck himself between your thighs. “There’s a good girl,” Hongjoong crooned. “You’re doing so well for me. Are you sure you’re here to catch me? Or are you here to finally get a taste of what you’ve been missing out on.”

“Sh-shut u-up,” you stuttered, barely able to keep your gasps in.

“Feels good, huh?” Hongjoong chuckled darkly. “Your body can’t hide what your lips search to. Why, special agent, are you enjoying getting molested by this pervert?”

“Absolutely not!” You whined, throat tight with need.

Hongjoong’s breathing kept hitting the back of your neck, hot and quick. “You feel so good like this, my perfect little target,” Hongjoong whimpered.

Your hips started to rock with the motions of Hongjoong’s dick rubbing against your hole and spreading your wetness to your clit and back again. This tease felt so fucking good and so fucking taboo. Hongjoong knew if he penetrated you, you could charge him to the full degree. But if he didn’t, there was a lower penalty for bringing him in. He knew the laws probably just as well as you did.

You had to get him to penetrate you.

“Please, Hongjoong,” you pleaded. “Are you tempted to fuck me?”

You clenched down on nothing but Hongjoong’s shaft felt the whispers of your pussy lips. He hissed at the hint that your cunt wanted him. His blunt nails dug into your hip harshly. “You’re playing a dangerous game, special agent.”

“You were right,” you whimpered. All matter of facade was lost. You needed Hongjoong inside of you for personal and professional reasons. “I love all of this. I couldn't wait to get your hands all over me. Now’s your only chance, Hongjoong. If you don’t fuck me now, you never will.”

Hongjoong groaned and lightly bit down on the nape of your shoulder. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

“Come on,” you encouraged him. You pushed out your ass to a better angle for him to penetrate you. “Isn’t this the best prize? To fuck the special agent that’s been doing her best to capture you and put a halt to all your fun. Wouldn’t that be something to crow about, to have fucked me full of your cum?”

Hongjoong’s hips continued to rut against your ass and your dirty talk was a little too effective. Hongjoong didn’t penetrate you, but he sent you both towards your climaxes. You could feel his cum drip down your thighs and you watched as a wet spot formed on the front of your skirt. You choked on your orgasm, trying to keep it quiet.

“I think it’d be much better if we continue playing this game, special agent,” Hongjoong teased.

You felt him pull out from between your thighs, and when you turned around, he was already gone. He disappeared through the crowd. And you were still handcuffed to the damn metal pole.

You tapped your comms on your ear and sighed heavily. “Laughing gas has fled. I repeat, Laughing Gas has fled.”

“Status?” Yeosang’s voice sounded slightly static in your ear.

High off an orgasm from being molested in a subway car.

“I’m fine, Captain,” You said instead.

Hongjoong’s cum rubbed against your pussylips, having ruined your underwear and your life. Seemed like a pretty solid reminder that you had failed to capture him--and his dick. Perhaps there will be a next time.

In fact, you sincerely hoped there would be. You wanted him to imprint the shape of his dick inside of you.

Hongjoong wasn’t the pervert. It was, in fact, you instead.

🤍Day Twenty-Three: Seonghwa | Masterlist | Day Twenty-Five: Mingi🩵

#dovenet #kim hongjoong smut #ateez smut #hongjoong smut #atz smut #ateez hongjoong smut #topaz's work #fff25 #ღatz

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rawmeknockout · 2 months ago

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Bj for dreadwing by lower soldier? God he needs one 😩. I give you kisses 💋💋💋

Captain Dreadwing is one of the hottest mechs among the Cons, at least according to popular, albeit unofficial, polling of the masses. And as just another lowly soldier, fodder among the Decepticon ranks, you can’t help but agree. Maybe Commander Starscream would say that’s why you’re not in Intelligence, but every mech with optics can tell there’s no Decepticon alive with Dreadwing’s allure. Knockout and Starscream may fuss among themselves over who has the best coat of polish or who has the most shapely legs, but individual parts can’t touch what Dreadwing has.

It’s not just his strong build and sharp intellect, either. More than once he’s saved you and your fellow grunts from being ground into paste by the Autobots (for such a miniscule force they are unbelievably scrappy). Unfortunately, as steadfast and strong as Captain Dreadwing is, as merciful as he is with the lower ranks when it comes to whether they’ll be left behind in the heat of retreat, you know your time is short. Everyday brings new crises and new chances to be met with Optimus Prime’s axe. If you asked Shockwave he could probably give you an actual number as to your probability of survival in regards to the number of days you’ve been online, but you would really rather stay away from the cold mech in case he finds a need for a living specimen.

Yes, perhaps that’s why you’re not in Intelligence. You’re not a risk-taker. In fact, standing before Captain Dreadwing, servo to your forehelm in a respectful salute, after having just asked him to let you treat his array, is about the most risk you’ve ever taken. If you die by his hand, at least you can die without regrets. If only you could see the looks on the mechs who constantly chatter and swoon over the Captain, throw in their faceplates that you had the actual ball-bearings to ask. You’d be the talk of the energon cooler.

Dreadwing is silent and pensive for so long, you’re sure that means your time has come. You squeeze your optics shut in advance, not daring to budge from in front of his desk. Running would make it worse.

“I.. I would like that.”

You waste no time settling yourself on your knees under his desk, despite the pop-ups on your HUD warning you of dangerous overheating within your chassis. Primus above, you just hope it isn't embarrassingly obvious on your faceplate how turned on you are. Dreadwing's spike pressurizes before your optics with a daunting quickness after his panel transforms away, the bulbous head graduating in segments to a thick, rotund body before tapering slightly back at the base. Sweet Prime, he must be at least twice your size class. Your mouth fills with lubricant in anticipation, one tentative servo coming up to stroke at the very base of his spike.

Dreadwing watches you with sharp, though not unkind, optics, a heavy exvent causing his chassis to heave, as he settles back fully in his office chair. If you didn't know any better, you might think he's more nervous about this than you are. You maintain optic contact as you lean in to kiss the tip of his spike, pulling away only briefly to pepper more kisses along the outer ridge. A thin string of transfluid still connects you to his spike every time you pull back just to pucker up again, your glossa darting out to taste what wets your lips. Your optics slip closed just as you open your mouth to take the head of his spike, hollowing your cheek plates for a moment before focusing your attention on working down his shaft.

You hear and feel Dreadwing's armor rattle, a gasp and then a groan leaving his vocalizer as he watches you take his spike. He can't help when one of his servos shoots out to craddle the back of your helm, clawed digits tapping softly on the metal. Your intake flutters and threatens to close noisily around his spike, the lewd sound of your lubricant soaked intake trying to force the intrustion out filling the space in his office. He has half a processor to be worried someone will hear, but the sight of you on your knees takes too much of his attention.

The thick middle of his spike is barely past your lips before you have to stop, intake stuffed as full as it will go. Still, you hollow your cheeks and suck with fervor, bobbing your helm minutely. Dreadwing's servo goes from cradling your helm to gently, carefully, running his digits over the main bulging cable of your neck, feeling his own spike through your warm metal. He feels your intake working around him, his spike leaving and then hitting the back of your throat each time you bob your helm. Dreadwing grunts, denta grit painfully, as he resists the urge to fuck your warm, wet intake.

His helm drops back onto the headrest, his mouth open in a silent moan and optics closed, as he overloads deep into your intake. Dreadwing can't look down, doesn't have the struts to even lift his head, for several long moments. His servo clenches and unclenches in the barest twitches of his digits, as you continue to milk him through his overload. Only when you've fully pulled away does he look down, wary of making optic contact with you too soon and getting revved up again. His gaze is significantly softened, exhaustion and satisfaction clear in his expression. TIredly, almost unconsciously, his servo moves from feeling your throat cables to petting your cheekplate, thumb digit running circles under your optic.

While your face was flushed and flaring before you started, your HUD displays a more urgent overheating warning now.

#asks #txt #transformers #reader insert #reader imagine #smut #valveplug #transformers prime #tf prime #tf dreadwing #tfp dreadwing #dreadwing

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afyrian · 9 months ago

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line four - sampling desserts together m.list

a large sign rests over the entrance of your local restaurant and bar, trellis tavern. backlighting illuminating the lettering. looking through the front doors, you don't see sakusa in sight. for a second, you look back at the parking lot your car is sitting in, wondering if this was a terrible idea. you barely know him, unsure of how he comes across outside of the workplace.

and yet there'll always be that part of you that knows that the only way to save your show, is to get to know him better, break his walls. your tongue runs along your teeth, hand stuffed in your pocket while the other absentmindedly flips on and off the ringer of your phone. leaning towards the doors once more, you still don't see him.

"sorry, parking was-" someone starts to say behind you, causing you to jump in your spot, pushing against the restaurant's outer wall, "horrendous..."

turning around, you see sakusa standing there, his hands resting at his sides. your eyes are wide as your heart beats quickly in your chest, ringing forming in your ears. "you can't just- oh my god, you scared the living shit out of me," one of your hands comes up to your forehead, fingers running along your hairline.

"sorry, was just trying to find parking," sakusa purses his lips, looking towards the restaurant, "we should probably see how long the wait is."

assuming you'd follow him inside, he walks in briskly, his attitude to the point. narrowing your eyes, you wonder if he's this back and forth with everyone new or just you. especially after seeing him joke with atsumu in the break room. pushing open the restaurant's doors, you make your way in, listening to the soft music playing over the speakers.

there's a few people in front of him, leaving the two of you stand in silence. your gaze makes its way to him more than once, noticing little details about him and his appearance. like the beauty marks by his eyebrow and his hair that curls into a perfect pile above his head. or how he likes to look at certain things in the restaurant, the art, the people.

he's quick to step up to the hostess, leaving space for you to join him, "we were wondering if you have any space for around twenty people tonight?"

the hostess clears her throat upon hearing the request, her hands resting on the podium. "luckily for you, we have the event space that you could rent for a couple hours. the only issue is that we have an event going on currently that ends in around thirty minutes. if you could wait, we can send your phone a message and get you over here," her eyebrows raise as she realizes that they have the space available, knowing that they like to book a couple months out.

writing down his number, you sway back and forth on the balls of your feet. "thank you..." sakusa nods, turning around to look at you, lips pursed, "and thank you for your good luck."

"anytime," you wink, the action coming from a deep subconscious voice within, looking away from him, your nose scrunches up in disgust.

"well we can grab a cake or two for the event, osamu has a food critic slash baker working at onigiri miya for the day. although, i think she's going to become more of a regular baker there," he maneuvers his body, walking around another customer waiting to talk to the hostess, a sly smile on his lips.

nodding softly, you can feel the excitement building as he starts to talk more. giving you information that only a close friend would be privy to. you can feel yourself smiling, your mouth turned into a soft crescent shape. following him down the street, you start to recognize the area. the pottery shop just a door down from onigiri miya, kiyoko's flower shop not too far away.

sakusa opens the door for you, letting you enter the pristine restaurant. it's just how you remember it from your times visiting with atsumu. osamu stands by the cashier, the restaurant slowly dying down from what you assume to be a rather busy day with the offering of cake. he's leaning against the counter, talking to someone bringing another cake forward.

her gaze quickly finds the two of you entering, giving osamu a wave before heading to the back. "so, the cakes seem to be a hit. you guys gonna make it a regular thing.. or?" sakusa crosses his arms in front of his chest, his smile still holding.

osamu shakes his head, leaning back, "how about i just ask what you guys would like to eat? hi y/n, it's been awhile since i've seen you around here."

"been ordering a lot online, if you see any getting ordered to the station it's usually me. but we're actually here to get some cake for the station's anniversary, twenty-five years. and we have to wait for the space to finish up," you nod, staring down the few cakes that the woman had brought forward, the decorations looking out of this world.

nodding his head, osamu grabs a serving knife, taking a couple slices and resting them on a plate. "take these, try them out, and i'll set aside a few cakes for you guys," he sets down the plate, grabbing a couple forks for the two of you to use.

not passing on the offer of a free slice of cake, you happily take it. and with the atmosphere that onigiri miya garners, it's easy to be happy sitting in a corner table, looking out the windows. it's starting to get dark outside, the colorful hues in the sky starting to form as the days get shorter. shoving a fork into one of the slices, you take a bite, dwelling in the sweet aroma.

"so how'd you meet the miya brothers?"

"i actually met them in secondary school, played volleyball against them. they were as insufferable as they are now, but as a team they were scary," sakusa takes a bite of the other slice, holding his fork up in the air as his elbow rests on the table, casually, "how'd you meet them?"

"met atsumu at the station, when he was a writer for one of the fiction audio shows. don't even know how they hired him for a writing position, not with his... creative abilities," you laugh, knowing that writing was never gonna be where he ended up.

"when he somehow recommended me for a position there i was actually surprised he wasn't lying the whole time about this show he was gonna be on," sakusa shakes his head, using his fork to grab a piece from your slice.

narrowing your eyes, you reach your fork down and take a piece from his. tasting it, you realize that this cake would be perfect for the event. and that, hopefully now, sakusa's seeing you as more than just a coworker. but as someone he could go to lunch with, rant about romance or life problems. "yeah i'm not surprised. so, i hope you're enjoying ‘talk it out’ as much as you liked ‘late night rebounds’,” you shrug, trying to come across as nonchalant.

“yeah, it has been more enjoyable to hear about friends crushing on one another instead of relentless one night stands,” one of his hands scratch the back of his head, taking another bite.

smiling, you finally feel like you’re breaking through his shell. that the pounding in your heart and ears stems from a new friendship that you’re brewing.

a/n: osamu’s ‘mystery’ friend is y/n from @/lale-txt’s soft launch :D taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@jadeoru @yessimo @lale-txt @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sugacor3

@quikhs @todorokiskitten @mollyrolls @honeyfewr @pookiebearcave

@phoenix-eclipses @madiexuberant @kameyyy @cr4yolaas @asrichin

@bakugouswh0r3 @bakingcuriosity @zazathezaer

#art by @/zhang.tattoo #☆ talk it out #haikyuu #hq #hq fanfic #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq sakusa #sakusa kyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa fluff #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction

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pvrkacciosan · 1 year ago

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Akrasia

Summary: Akrasia; acrasia - The state of mind in which someone acts against their better judgment through weakness of will. You hated Garrick Tavis. He was arrogant. Threw his size around to please his friend and most of all was so attractive you couldn't ignore. So yeah! You hated him.

Pairing: Garrick Tavis X Fem! Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: !NSFW! Unedited part.

☽⋆❈⋆☾

You hated every rippling inch of his muscled body.

Garrick Tavis. The bane of your existence at Basgiath and most importantly the biggest pain in the ass.

Everything he did, if only you could wrap your hands around his throat and reduce the oxygen running to his brain, so you might get some peace from the blood thrumming thoughts that slipped you at the sight of him.

The sheer size, a weapon of his own which he used for Xaden's benefits. You hated it. Hated them both. Strutting around the war college like the gods had shoved the sun up their back sides.

It was infuriating to watch cadets move from their way, many of which were simply unwilling to stand against the wall of muscle that was Garrick Tavis.

And most importantly you hated the fact you had let yourself into this current position. Back pressed almost painfully into the wall, pinned by that same wall of muscle between your legs.

Garrick hadn't seemed to care what your words meant as you spat them at him. Hatefully throwing your rage into them.

"I hate you" You fused your soul to the words, as though speaking them aloud would allow you to remind herself you hated him even as he rolled his hips into you.

The sheer friction of his growing erection against your pulsing core causing your head to roll back against the wall. A soft moan escaping after your words, despite trying to fight it, despite the hate in your tone.

"Shut up." Garrick's words were clipped, quick as he moved his mouth to the expose column of your throat. The warmth of his lips made you curve. Molding to Garrick's will as his hands gripped you tighter, holding you in place.

His tongue flicked against the pulse in your neck, teeth grazing the flesh above your artery. One act from hims could so easily had you bleeding to death, You would have hated it but couldn't find the feeling as his teeth nipped the skin.

Wrapping both legs, pulling Garrick closer by your hold.

He groaned, the pressure in his pants growing at the enclosed space, The space which grew smaller as you needed him closer. He pulled away just enough to breath his words against your throat.

"I thought you hated me."

You tried to speak but his mouth repositioning on your jaw, halted you, his breath ghosting the bone before he began slathering it in kiss after kiss. Flat togue running the warmth further from his hold.

"I do."

His soft chuckle was low, a sound which rumbled into your core causing shockwaves to skitter through your bones. He was an inch from attaching to the divot at your collarbone when he spoke, word a loose breath, "Doesn't seem like it."

Words weren't a virtue you could force right now, tilting your pelvis up in need of friction. Damn him and his stupid mouth for getting you into this position,

You panted painfully at the ache growing, One of Garrick's hands slipped down to cup the curve behind your knee, thumb rubbing slow circles into the muscle of your outer thigh.

"I do." The words were mixed with the pants of air, almost inaudible. Indistinguishable as Garrick twisted, arm bracing the wall beside your torso, caging you in entirely with his body. That fucking body. You hated the way it felt against your own, hated the way he seemed to answer every call of your pleasure with ease.

"Do what? Sweetheart" He pulled back, eyes half-lidded with the sensations he struggled to hide on his expression, His brow was raised in a mock, The arrogance in his tone made your anger rile.

"I hate yo-" You couldn't stop the gasp of surprise as his hand moved suddenly tipping down past the waistband of you leathers, thumbing searching, seeking the bundle of nerves.

Garrick was studying your own expression, eyes squeezed shut. All the air around you had evaporated, eyes finally fluttering open when he stilled, hand unmoving, There wasn't any doubt he could feel the heat emanating from your core.

Looking at you now, you could have smacked him. The cocky half lifted grin almost met his eyes, "Didn't catch that Sweetheart."

The name infuriated you, "I Hate you"

He waited for you to finish your words as his thumb found the bud he sought. Pleasure ignited like a thousand matches had been lit across the surface of your skin as he traces the edges of the nerves.

"My Sweetheart is so tender"

The only sensation you could feel beyond the pulses of pleasure was the dull ache as your head pressed to the wall. Tilting back with gritted teeth, "Don't call me that."

His lips reattached to your jaw, Unyielding against the already hot flesh, he moved to savor the other side of you facial bone. Hands moving to curl around the underside of your ass.

"Sweet" - Kiss - "Heart"

The cool air hit your spine, air creeping in around you as Garrick grunted arms lifting you from the shared position against the wall. What wall or where in the school you were right now. Didn't matter.

You couldn't care less, only that Garrick couldn't multitask very well. Even with one hand holding you up against him, His other had begun to neglect its movement against your clit.

A new ache had begun building, a insatiable need that grew stronger the longer you went without the brush of his touch. Using your arms to hug closer to his chest, you shift to angle your head, Hand deliberately slow in dragging his attention to you, fingers feeling the stubble of his chin.

Garrick let out a needy moan when you roughed his lips with your own, He huffs into your mouth at the need of air. Pulling from you, head tilting as he manoeuvred around the space. Dropping the weight of your body to a surface.

It was solid but something for him to balance you on, A table or wooded units of sorts. It was cold, the new temperature on the furniture enlisting goosebumps across your body.

"Garrick" You weren't sure if you meant for his name to come out as a plea, or threat. Did you want him to stop...

The word were a dizzying challenge. One you couldn't bring yourself to continue. It was easier to offer over to the sensations he beckoned with his touch.

The first few buttons on your shirt had become undone, exposing the valley of your breast, sternum bare to the cold. Garrick ignores your words, smirking he places a lazy kiss to the edge of your mouth.

Your breathing had begun to turn ragged as you watched him, he lowered, head falling below your field of vision, and continues lowers still.

The room was so quiet you could hear your own heart, thrumming like drums in your ear. The first trace of his touch on your bare torso made you writhe. Spine curving until you lay back on the surface.

Garrick ran kisses down the line of your sternum then over your stomach, Pants of air worked their way up through you throat.

He murmured words against your skin, words inaudible to your ears, which had grown so heated in the time from the wall to the table it was a struggle to even hear the sound of your own fast exhales.

As his tongue flitted your navel Garrick's hands worked their way up your legs, coming to rest against your hip, Your head fell back against the hard surface beneath you.

You weren't sure if the sounds leaving you were words or simple noises of plea.

His fingers worked into the bindings of your leathers, his kisses continued rounding, following the lines of your ribs, savouring every inch of your skin that lay exposed. Ripping the clothing off your legs in a single movement, your hate reignited. He had done it so effortlessly, Stripped you bare until you lay exposed, You hated it.

Garrick made even quickly work of removing his own leathers, the sweat already clinging to his musclebound chest, the sight of it made your breathing erratic. It was a reaction he shouldn't have evoked. You hated that he could arise such a...

The hot exhale stilled your every thought, Kisses recontinuing as they followed past your navel. Going lower, Until you arched for his touch, ached to your very core.

Garrick conveniently had placed himself kneeling between you legs, Hands working into the spaces behind your knees. Using his hold there to push you further up the table. So when he leaned down, mouth attaching to your—

Holy burning fucking hell.

His tongue was warm and thrust into you with an unrelenting tempo. Breathing is an insignificant struggle you choose to ignore for so long your chest began to ache in protest. Gasping was your only solace, the only cling to oxygen.

The thrusts were mingling with the exhales, so in tune with one another your heart even joined. Pulse hammering harder into the cage of your chest.

Hate Garrick all you will but he knew how to tongue fuck his way to oblivion. The pleasure was so blinding that even the edges of your vision had grown blurry.

A coil had situated itself low in your gut, an unrelenting force as strong as his tongue which built stronger with each thrust as he tilted his head getting even impossible deeper. A crashing of a wave cresting the surface, Your spine felt pliant when Garrick stroked a hand up the centreline of your torso.

Hand curling to twist, cupping the round expanse of your breasts, Painfully he pinched your nipple in between two fingers and with the next thrust of his tongue that crashing wave barreled into you.

The full force of it rocked the world on its axis around you, Spinning as Garrick rested up on his elbows,

"Still hate me Sweetheart" The haze of your vision made it difficult to glance at that demandable smirk you knew plagued his expression. The same smirk you wanted to slap off his face at all times of the day.

"Yes." You shuffled from the shoulders to reposition on the table.

Garrick's forearm pinned you down when you tried to rise, He steadily lifts himself up in one singular motion, maintaining the gaze he used to rake over your naked exposed body beneath his hold.

"You hate me?" He beckoned the scoff from you lips,

He leaned over you entirely now, body entrapping any escaping heat, You hesitated to even breathe at his closeness, so aware of the ripples of his toned body above your own, the table creaked but held place with the combined weight.

He curled a hand into you thigh, nails tickling the surface of your molten flesh.

"But I am the only one who can make you squirm this much." You wanted to refuse his words, even knowing damn well you forced back the urge to roll your hips up to meet his for the sweet hope of friction.

Still you shook your head, protesting in any way you could, "You haven't fucked me yet" Tilting your head back in a weak act of defiance to the commanding aura that his presence brought, He released you legs to brush below his lip with his thumb, the evidence of your release coating his finger as he cleaned his chin.

You swallowed hard watching intensely as he lapped up the substance off the pad of his thumb. Brow raised when he finished tasting your lingering essence, "Is that so?"

He had forcefully grabbed your legs, standing at the edge of the table he yanked your body to the end. Pulling you to sit up closer to his chest. You ass rested against the edge awkwardly as Garrick lowered below the height of the table.

You tried to not look down as he aligned himself,

"Want me to stop?" He stilled, shoulders shaking with anticipation. Garrick took the second to meet your stare, If you asked now. He would stop. Even through the hate, you felt the pulsing need for pleasure, the craving that lingered in your chest.

You glance down, to where your bodies almost joined, Your legs spread rested on either side of his hip. The erect size of him waiting at your entrance.

The sight was dizzying, Garrick shuffled on his feet, the tip brushing between the folds as he moved. You almost moved towards the touch, waiting the moment he would fill you. Mouth salivating at the thought of what it would feel like to have him down your throat.

"Use your words Sweetheart." Adverting your gaze back to him, Garrick had invaded the space you breathed, could taste the sweet scent of his arousal on your tongue. He was so close you could almost taste yourself on him.

"Don't stop."

and then he slide in slowly, a gasp leaving from you at the fullness. An incomplete feeling that rocked you forwards, arms wrapping to enclose you to him. Chin digging into his shoulder for support.

The unwavering sensation, the length was fulfilling in the ways his tongue had not been.

Yes you hated every rippling inch of his muscles body, but perhaps this could be the inches of Garrick Tavis you did enjoy.

...

A.n: Perhaps I might just do a part 2. They haven't even made it to the bed yet😏 I hope this was okay for now.

#fourth wing imagine #fourth wing #fanfiction #fourth wing by rebecca yarros #fanfiction writing #booktok #iron flame #garrick tavis #rebecca yarros #iron flame by rebecca yarros #books #book tumblr #fourth wing fanfic

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fanficmanic · 3 months ago

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Let me start by saying that Aisha Hinds did a wonderful job for her directing debut!! Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!!

Another quick thing to get out of the way is this: I DO NOT like not seeing Eddie for a full episode. He better be there next week!

Now! Let's start to unpack, just like Buck did at the end of today's episode (about time, babe).

(I will not be talking about Bobby's storyline with his mom because that was too emotional for me and hit a bit too close to home)

The way the episode began with Buck unable to unpack and just going to stay with Maddie kinda broke my heart. Babe is hurting and only his sister could provide comfort now that Eddie isn't there to do it.

Then the parallel between the lady on the tower and the Rollercoaster in season 1!! It really scared me, like Buck wouldn't be able to handle it now! Thankfully, they didn't go there.

I said this for 8×9 when Buck took over Eddie's lease: the writer's room is full of fanfction readers and authors. You can't convince me otherwise.

I mean, running into Tommy at a bar? (Or more like having Tommy dragged over to him - looking at you, Ravi) Taking Tommy back to Eddie's house? They need to start giving credit to FanFic authors!!

Now, let me take this time to pay very close attention and dissect to the conversation Buck and Tommy had in the kitchen.

Buck was OK with nothing else happening, because based on the breakup speech back in Confessions, nothing has changed as far as he was aware, until Tommy said that he wouldn't mind taking it further and trying again "now that the competition is out of the way"

Say what now? Competition is out of the way?

Tommy knew all the way in season 7 that Buck has feelings for Eddie. ("My attention?" He asked, shocked). Yet, he went for it. But 6 months later, after seeing first hand how close Eddie and Buck are, he decided to leave to protect his heart. I don't blame him one bit, dude has good self-preservation skills that I know I didn't have back when I was still dating.

When Buck pushed for an explanation on "the competition", his only reasoning for not having feelings for Eddie was that Eddie is straight.

To which Tommy scoffed so loud people heard it from outer space. He scoffed! He didn't even try to pretend to believe it, because 1) his gaydar is spot on - he clocked Buck's bisexuality from a mile away, and 2) (as pointed out by @cathcer1984 during our live chat) he and Eddie served, and I'm welling to bet he identified with Eddie's repression the minute they started hanging out.

So, yeah. Tommy scoffed at that, as if to say, "you don't even know the half of it, Evan."

Then Buck went to say the two lines that gave the entire Fandom whiplash:

"I don't have to sleep with everyone I have feelings for, and I don't have to have feelings for everyone I sleep with."

I think Buck was too focused on the hurt he caused Tommy with the second sentence that he didn't even realize he actually said the first.

Like, baby, you just admitted that you don't have feelings for Tommy while admitting that you have feelings for Eddie! (In the voice of Chandler Bing): can you be any more oblivious?

Then he had a talk with Maddie, very similar to the talk he had with her back in season 7 about Tommy, and again, his only reasoning for not having feeling for Eddie is because Eddie is "My straight best friend."

Who are you trying to convince here, Buck? Everyone or yourself, baby boy?

The episode ended with Buck finally unpacking, which could mean that he finally accepted that Eddie and Christopher aren't coming back (like he told Maddie). However, accepting it and reacting about it are two different things. I think we still have a lot to see about Buck's reaction about Eddie leaving, and that what we saw today was just the tip of the iceberg.

I'm going to end up my very long post with this: I loved today's episode, every single second of it, and I think it all needs to happen to get the characters to where they need to be.

#911 abc #911 #911 on abc #spoilers 8x11 #manic rambles #buddie #bucktommy #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard

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luimagines · 2 years ago

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A Steel Thorn

Another commission!

This is the companion piece to A Glass Rose, which you can read right here.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

“The battle’s not done.” You say through gritted teeth. You don’t want to look at him.

“My Jewel-”

“Go.” You say, coughing. He thinks he can see some spittle of blood shot from beyond your lips. You merely roll over to block his view from the worst of it. “You’re needed.”

“You need me.”

“Go.”

The Fierce Deity growls. He won’t leave you. Not like this. He must atone. He must make up for his sins in blood. But his and his alone.

Unless this was a punishment from the heavens and you were to pay with your one blood.

The thought enrages him and he finds himself reaching for his sword once more. He’s blinded by the injustice. He sees only red.

But he can’t allow you to see it. This wasn’t a side to him that he wanted you to be privy to. Grabbing the hilt of the sword, he charges toward the main hoard that continues to make itself a threat to your wellbeing. He needs to make space. He needs to get away from you unless he wishes to commit a higher ransom than the blood already spilt.

The battle sounds continue and you know that they won’t last long, not if he was reason to be wrathful. You groan and grunt, pushing yourself up to the best of your ability. The blood has already begun to stain your outer layers. You can feel it slowly trail down your throat now that you’ve righted yourself.

You feel ill and sickly already. You feel both warm and chilled to the bone. You have to fend for yourself now that the Fierce Deity has left you to deal with eradicating the threat in its entirety.

You gulp- not surprised at the iron taste in your mouth.

It’s a bitter taste.

You hadn’t wished to show him the plight you’ve found yourself in. Only marginally aware of the cause of the injury, you had only come to think that he was right in the end.

He was much stronger, bigger, tougher, virtually indestructible. While here you are, only a step into the battle and taken down for the count.

Your shoulders work to maneuver through your side bag. You can’t reach for a spare weapon nor would it do you any good. Your hope for a steady and quick recovery is either a fairy or a health potion. You tried to make it a habit to carry either for the rare occurrence of your injury. You had always assumed you had to Fierce Deity to protect you.

And the one time to step away from his protection, you find your blood on the outside rather than where it belongs.

Your fingertips glaze over a bottle and you can feel your body sag with relief. You doubt it would be enough to heal you completely, but you’re going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You pull the bottle out of your pouch and prepare to pop the cork off- only to find it empty.

Dread sinks into your stomach like a lead weight.

“My Jewel…” The Fierce Deity appears beside you once more without revealing his presence. “Your injury.”

You gasp, jumping and ducking to cover the severity of it.

You miss the way his face twists into hurt. He hadn’t meant to frighten you…ever. Would you allow him to tend to you? To mend what he has broken? Would you now forever only see him as a monster? A killer? Designed only to destroy?

When you had first met, you had tried to break that impression of the people around you- but here, in this moment, he had only proven the naysayers correct.

The Fierce Deity gulps in a rare show of trepidation as the nerves run wild under his skin. “I have a fairy.”

You flinch.

He takes a breath and lets the fairy out of her trap. She flies and happily focuses on your injury. On instinct you uncoil and allow the magic to do its work to your body. The Fierce Deity has yet to relax even as you begin to heal.

You turn back to him with a bite to your lip and nervously likewise energy. You can’t hold eye contact and instead find yourself looking away before the fairy is even done attending to you.

Something within the Fierce Deity is telling him to fix it. To say something. Do something. But for the first time in the eons of his life, he can say that he hesitates.

“I’m ok.” You say at last, spitting out the remnants of blood from your mouth. You turn to him, finally, and open your arms for him.

His heart stills, not sure what would be the correct choice of action. But you whine and instinct and desire overcome what he would consider a more rational part of his brain. He scoops you up, trying to be mindful of the injury and holds you dearly.

“My Jewel…” The words get stuck in his throat.

“You were right.” You say with resignation. “I’m nothing compared to you.”

He shakes his head. “You are my everything.” His grip tightens by a fraction. “How is it that I can hope to compare to you?... It would have been my fault if I lost you.”

“You got rid of the monsters-”

“And yet it was my blade that dared to strike you in the first place.” He admits.

You completely still and instead shift your eyes to look into his face. The Fierce Deity isn’t known to openly show his emotions often- if ever. Which makes the tears crawling down his face all the more gut wrenching.

“H-hey…” You reach up to cup his face. “I’m still here.”

“And if you weren’t?” He whispers. “I was meant to protect you.”

“And you brought the fairy.” You put on a brave smile. ”It’ll be alright, you’ll see. I should have just let you deal with the threat.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

#legend of zelda #fierce deity #fierce deity x reader #fd x reader

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lgwifey · 4 months ago

Text

THE ALBATROSS

part two | series masterlist

richie boyle x fem!reader

summary : growing up within a mob family had its benefits, it also had its downsides. one being overprotective parents... who had access to weapons and alibis... the main downside however was the secrecy of it all.

warnings : violence, gun violence, swearing (shocker), mob/mafia themes, bad 1950's slang, legal age gap ? ( 19/20 & 25), LOW standards, domestic violent - start & finish signaled by 📍

Y/n padded through her little one bed apartment, panicked hands running through her unstyled hair.

Once she'd got in from work - about half an hour ago - the first thing she'd done was unpin her hair.

As much as she loved how it looked, after a few hours it started to get heavy, more of an unneeded issue she had to work around than a hairstyle. Any other reasonable girl would just wear her hair short and slicks, like the style, but Y/n Y/l/n wasn't just 'any other reasonable girl'.

Y/Parents/N had learnt this pretty quickly. For the most part, their daughter was quite docile. She did as she was told, when she was told and usually to quite high standards. For quite some time, her mother had been anxious that it was from being around the Boyle's too much. She was convinced her little girl had seen an execution or beating at some point as a child that had made her link the actions not obeying everything with being brutally tortured.

All this became unearthed as nothing more than worry when one morning, her first day of kindergarten, Y/n had wanted to wear her ribbons in her hair. Her mother had told her no - it wasn't within the private establishment's dresscode. Her father had joined in when the four year old threw her juice all over the breakfast table.

Fifthteen minutes later, her father had shouted her down from wherever she'd ran off to, they had to leave. He had a slight look of astonishment when the girl came strolling around the corner with the black ribbon tied delicately in the back of her hair.

Later on, he'd found out the little minx he'd raised had convinced her eldest brother to tie it for her.

The nineteen year old now stood staring at her kitchen space.

A discarded pan sat at the back of the gas hob which the previous contents of it was in a casserole dish in the oven below it.

Her eyes darted around the apartment.

There was really no need for her to be in such a panic, Richie had been to her apartment practically every other day since she'd been bought it by the father - demanding that she needed personal space from her helicoptering parents.

The light knock came as she was readjusting a cushion on the sofa, head darting unnaturally quick to the locked front door.

She patted down her clothes, a simple navy and green tartan dress that swayed outwards over her knees, before her thick sock covered made their way over to the door.

The golden chain was quickly slipped back on when the beige coated man was inside the home, the usual quick comments being left til he was in the warmth of the apartment. Although it was the best the place had to offer, the cold constantly seeped through the corridors of the stairwell of the housing block.

"Fucking freezing out there y/n/n."

The owner of the warm apartment gave a hum in agreement.

"It looks it. You want the fire turned up ?"

"Nah it's alright Doll."

The girl didn't wait for him to adjust to the warmth of the room, darting to shed the outer layer dotted with a few melting snowflakes.

Richie just stood quite constantly watching his girl remove his coat and hooking it onto the tall white coat stand next to the door. He let a smirk as she reached up, taking his hat and placing it on the tip of the stand.

As she turned to face him again, she found his face much closer than previous, his lips connecting with hers before she could think.

As she reciprocated the action, his hand came up to her jaw, gently pulling her closer.

Just as Richie began to think he was getting his way, the Y/l/n girl pulled away, turning towards the small kitchen.

"Y/n/n !"

Her name came out as a complaint, y/n just shaking it off as she opened the lit door of the oven to check on the food. As she pushed the tray back in and closed the oven door, y/n turned towards face him, her hands resting on her hips and a thin eyebrow raised on her right.

"Would you rather have burnt food ?"

He gave a muttered 'whatever', stalking towards one of the cupboards next to her to take out the bottle of whiskey he kept there.

As Richie took the bottle down, he noticed the golden liquid at a lower level than he had left it.

"Y/n/n ?"

Richie sat himself on one of the counters the girl wasn't using to chop up vegetables, an empty glass in his hand and the bottle in the other. She didn't look over her shoulder this time, concentrating on slicing the carrots she'd bought the day before.

"You want a drink ?"

"Nah 'm okay. I've got a bottle of red next to the whiskey."

He just gave a hum in return, eyes going darker. He knew y/n didn't drink anything other than wine, whenever he'd got her to try new bottles she'd make a gagging noise and then go on about he was trying to poison her.

📍

Richie swallowed the glass he'd poured out before he pushed himself off of the countertop, taking the few steps over to the relaxed girl with the bottle still in his hand.

He sandwiched her between himself and the countertop. Slipping his hand into hers, he loosened her grip on the knife she was using and placed it on the counter in-front of her, hand entwining with hers.

"Richie, I've gotta-"

When y/n turned to face him, she quickly realised that this wasn't the loving and fun moment she thought it was. The twenty five year old stared down at her with dark eyes, his regular clenched jaw expression facing her, soulless.

Her eyes drifted to the bottle he had held in his right hand.

"Who've you had over."

It wasn't a question, and she knew the answer she'd give him, he wouldn't believe.

"My parents came 'round."

His hand dropped hers, coming up to hold her jaw. It wasn't the same, delicate way he had before - this time it was to remind her that he had power over her.

"You can call my Pa if you want. Not sure how he'd react to Richie Boyle being in his little girl's apartment though."

She regretted the quip as quickly as it slipped out of her lips. Richie's jaw tensing simultaneously as his left hand moved away from her jaw and came back with added force against her face.

"Don't be fuckin' mouthy."

Just before he stepped back to go and sit back on the counter, he gave a peck to her forehead, the girl just watching emotionless before turning back to the carrots.

A quiet 'sorry' slipped out of her lips, looking over to see him pour another glass of gold. He gave her a tilt of his head in return.

The right side of her face stung slightly, not too bad though. She knew he didn't put any actual effort into the slap, she'd seen the damage he could do to someone if he wanted to.

In the back of her mind she had to tell herself that she shouldn't be grateful that he didn't beat her entirely.

He's never done it before and she was pretty sure he never would but she'd heard from her few friends how their husbands and boyfriends react to the smallest thing with deranged violence.

Her mind ran over her regular comment.

I'm a Y/l/n.

But he was a Boyle.

📍

Richie carried the conversation throughout dinner, as he usually did. By the time they'd sat themselves going the two seater sofa, really only having up half of it with how close y/n was to Richie, the young girl had half a bottle of Rouge '07 in her.

'What's the envelopes about ?"

Richie had discarded the dark suit jacket and had an arm draped over y/n’s shoulders whilst the girl gently dragged a finger up and down the red brace closest to her, her head rested on Richie's shoulder as they made calm conversation with Frank Sinatra playing quietly on the Vynil in the corner of the room.

"What envelopes ?"

"You know what envelopes, the ones you're getting delivered to the shop. You and Francis are the most obvious people in the whole of Chicago."

As she rolled her eyes at the playing dumb tactic, he took another puff of the cigarette between his left index. Y/n shifting her head up to stare into doe brown eyes.

A single shade lighter than how he takes his coffee.

She raised her hand that had been tracing his braces to ask for a puff. Instead of passing the cigarette, Richie lowered his hand, placing the white roll between his girlfriend's lips and allowing her a single drag before he took it back.

"Urgh, Doll you know I can't-"

"If you don't, I'll just ask my Pa."

"Y/n/n-"

"I promise I won't accidentally blab. I'm getting better."

The girl did the best convincing face she could. She sat herself up before turning and throwing her legs over the suited man's. She took another drag of his cigarette before pressing slow kisses down his neck, a trail of pale lipstick forming along Richie's skin. He'd lost his tan from the summer months but still had a bit of an olive tone compared his usual winter complexion.

"Fine ! But only because your Pops would tell you anyway. And you didn't hear it from me."

"I never hear anything from you."

She gave a grin, Richie rolling his heavily bagged eyes before being entranced by another kiss, this one longer and more passionate than any of the others. Still it wasn't long enough for him when y/n pulled back slightly, pressing a peck on his cheek as she waited for the details on what was happening.

"Francis is just being paranoid and my Pops listens to him for some insane reason ! 'Francis, y'know he's so smart. You could really learn a thing or two from that kid.' "

Richie deepened his voice, replicating Roy's. Y/n just strolled her fingers up and down his braces as he let off the steam.

"Richie, Francis doesn't matter. Your Pa-"

"I keep getting told. A thousand fuckin' time ! Six marbles, but that's only because I wasn't there. Y'know if I was there that would've been me. You know that right ?!"

"Of course I do, everyone does."

"Francis thinks he can make moves with my Pops, my fucking Pops ! Without me !"

And then came the five words that could destroy the entire neighbourhood, especially with the current issue with the LaFontaines.

"He thinks there's a rat.”

part three

masterlist

#the outfit x fem!reader #the outfit #the outfit x reader #richie boyle x fem!reader #richie boyle fluff #richie boyle x reader #richie boyle #richie boyle angst #dylan o’brien x fem!reader #dylan o’brien x reader #dylan o'brien #Dylan O’Brien fluff

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xpocketeer · 7 months ago

Text

V. Proximity Panic and Canine Chaos in the Kitchen

Medicine Pocket wakes slowly, eyes fluttering open, only to find Sonetto standing beside their bed. They squint up at her, frowning.

“Huh?” they mumble, voice rough from sleep.

Sonetto hums, her expression calm and unruffled as always. “We were supposed to wake you up before noon, but X insisted we leave you be.”

“Before noon?” Medicine Pocket rubs at their eyes, trying to shake off the drowsiness. “So that means… it’s afternoon now?”

Sonetto’s lips twitch in a slight smile. “Late afternoon. Around three.”

Medicine Pocket jolts, half falling out of bed. “Three?! I slept that long? Damn it!”

Sonetto tilts her head slightly. “You don’t sleep much, do you, Researcher Medicine Pocket?”

“Of course not! Sleep is for losers!” they snap, but it’s clear that the grumpiness is already settling in. They shoot out of bed, scowling. “What do you think I am? Some kind of… lazy sloth?” They huff, feeling their cheeks flush as last night’s memories start drifting back—the quiet conversation with X, the rare openness they’d somehow let slip out. Ugh. The less said about that, the better.

As they pull on their boots, fastening the buckles with quick, impatient movements, they glance around the room and frown. Right… they’re still in Vertin’s stupid magical suitcase, not in the comfort of their lab. No way this was just a dream, not with how real everything feels—especially the thought of X somewhere out there. That whole talk last night… Why had they even allowed themself to go there? Ridiculous.

Sonetto, unfazed by the rambling, merely waits as Medicine Pocket storms off to the bathroom, barefooted once more. They splash water on their face, rubbing furiously at their cheeks, and fix their hair in its usual, messy style. Something they dub anarchy; a state of disorder. Gotta be equivalent to their outer (and inner) persona, right? What they do is twist their hair back into a loose knot, securing it with their trusty pair of scissors, the way one might use a pair of chopsticks, and clip a small device into their hair as a makeshift way of keeping it from falling into their eyes. There. The mirror stares back, and they pull a satirical smile, making a face at their own reflection.

By the time they stomp back into the room, Sonetto has already left, leaving a message about how the crew would meet them outside. Great, they think, sarcastically. They’re probably starting the evaluations without them. Lovely.

Grumbling all the way, they grab their satchel and stomp into their boots, tugging at the buckles with frustration. They’re barely out the door before they start fuming. “Just letting me rot like a corpse in that stupid bed—honestly, who thinks leaving someone to sleep is a good idea?”

Lost in their indignation, Medicine Pocket rounds the corner into the main sitting area and freezes. There, in the middle of the living room, X is laughing and running around with a group of the younger arcanists. He’s dodging and weaving through a mess of giggling kids, clearly having a… blast? The kids are shrieking with delight as X playfully ducks, almost letting one of them catch him before dashing away again.

Medicine Pocket finds themself utterly fixated on the scene, the irritation temporarily slipping away. This kid, they take in, almost in awe. What is he doing? For a moment, they stand there, not realizing they’re practically staring, their mind fogging up with a strange, unsettling…what? Don’t tell them this is what most people call affection? Are they getting attached??

They opt to decipher it, to decode what this weird feeling means—

That is, until a familiar, dry voice pulls them back to reality.

“Well, look who decided to show up.” Mesmer Jr. stands a few feet away, arms folded as she leans against the wall, eyebrows raised in exaggerated amusement.

Medicine Pocket blinks, their face immediately morphing into a distasteful grimace. “And look who’s still here, taking up valuable space like an indoor potted plant.”

The girl raises her eyebrows, unimpressed. “Indoor potted plant? Please. You don’t have to be jealous just because I’m actually productive—”

“Oh, spare me,” Medicine Pocket quickly cuts her off with a dismissive stroke of their wrist. “If you call standing around like a smug weed productive, then congratulations, Mesmer. You’re Laplace’s top horticulturist.” They glance over their shoulder, noticing X glancing their way as he finally catches sight of them. But that only fuels their sarcasm further. “I bet you’d wilt if someone even whispered the word responsibility in your general direction.”

“Interesting words from someone who just spent half the day sleeping,” Mesmer replies, her smirk never fading. “Maybe they shouldn’t have let you off so easily. Three in the afternoon, Medicine Pocket? Really?”

Medicine Pocket rolls their eyes. “Excuse me for needing to recover from the sheer torture of being stuck in this… this museum of domesticity you all seem so fond of.” But as they say this, they’re aware of X, who’s stopped running around and is now giving them a smile from across the room.

“Medpoc!” he calls out cheerily, wiping a bit of sweat off his brow as he jogs over, his face bright. “You’re finally up!”

“Finally up, he says…” Medicine Pocket huffs, trying to maintain their annoyance even as their eyes linger on the boy. “Yeah, well, maybe I would’ve been up sooner if someone had actually had the decency to wake me instead of letting me corrode.”

X chuckles, clearly unbothered by the bristly tone. “We just figured you needed the rest,” he says, voice softening. “Besides, you looked so peaceful sleeping.”

“Peaceful?” Medicine Pocket raises an eyebrow, highly skeptical. “You’re hallucinating. I don’t do peaceful.”

Mesmer snorts in the background. “I don’t know, Medicine Pocket. You seemed pretty cozy in that bed. Probably dreaming about funds.”

Medicine Pocket shoots her a withering look. “Oh, go count ceiling tiles or something, Mesmer.”

X lets out a laugh, his eyes twinkling with it. “Glad to see you’re… well, back to your usual self.”

Medicine Pocket gives a mock sigh, rolling their eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’m back, I’m grumpy, and I’m ready to bite someone’s head off if you’re all still playing house in this witless suitcase.”

…But as X stands there, smiling at them with that irritatingly soft expression, Medicine Pocket can feel the last shreds of their chagrin melting away. Fine, they think grudgingly. I’ll stay. But only because they’d probably mess up this whole thing without me.

˗ˏˋ꒰𖦹｡🧪⋆°✰꒱ ˎˊ˗

Vertin gestures for the group to follow her into the suitcase’s kitchen after a while—a surprisingly spacious and polished room with gleaming countertops, polished wood cabinets, and even a large dining table. Medicine Pocket looks around, unimpressed but mildly curious.

“Right,” Sonetto says, clapping her hands together, stepping up to the counters with the draft of someone who knows what she’s doing. “We’ll make something simple for dinner. It’ll be quick if everyone pitches in.”

This makes Medicine Pocket click their tongue, crossing their arms, defensively. “Cooking? Not my style. Give me a machine to break down, and I’ll get somewhere, but don’t expect me to know a spatula from a scalpel.”

Mesmer rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Medicine Pocket, it’s not rocket science. It’s dinner. Try not to break anything.”

Medicine Pocket opens their mouth to retort, but their comeback is quickly interrupted by a small hand tugging on their sleeve. They glance down to see one of the younger arcanists looking up at them with wide, googly eyes. Huh. Creepy fellow.

“So, you really are a scientist,” the kid states, dreamily, grinning. “Like a real scientist who does, like, experiments and stuff, yeah?”

Oh.

Medicine Pocket narrows their eyes, giving a low, threatening growl. “Yeah… A real one, alright. …And I’ll experiment on you if you don’t get out of my way.”

The kid just giggles, as if they’d heard the funniest joke ever, and grabs their other sleeve. “Can I help you with your experiments? Pleeease? Pretty pleaseee?”

Medicine Pocket lets out a groan, making overripe biting motions at the kid. “Back off, or I’ll chew your head off!” They snap their teeth in the air, making a ferocious face, but the kid only giggles louder, clearly thrilled by them, seeing their ultimatum as mere antics.

Another kid pipes up from behind them. “Yeah, Medicine Pocket! Experiment on me next!” The little mob closes in, chattering and laughing, tugging at Medicine Pocket’s lab coat as they eagerly demand attention.

Medicine Pocket throws up their hands, looking over at X with an expression somewhere between panic and exasperation. “X! Get these ankle-biters off me before I go feral.”

X, watching the scene with his hands on his knees and a huge grin, lets out a laugh. “I don’t know, Medpoc… looks like you’re the kids’ favorite.”

“Ugh,” Medicine Pocket mutters, swatting away another small hand. “Favorite? I didn’t sign up for this! These kids are like… like gnats. Persistent gnats.”

One of the kids laughs and pokes Medicine Pocket’s cheek. “But you’re so funny, Medpoc!”

Medicine Pocket snarls playfully, making another snapping motion. “Funny? Ha! Keep saying that, and I’ll be showing you my canine teeth up close.”

X chuckles, looking utterly amused as he keeps his gaze glued at the tableau, as well as Medicine Pocket’s failed attempts to shoo the kids away. It’s not until one of the bolder arcanists gets a bit too close, tugging on the scissors stuck in Medicine Pocket’s hair, that the boy finally steps in.

The sight has them gasping, how X’s naturally happy eyes darken as he shakes his head. “Nah-uh…” he utters lowly. “That’s enough, okay?”

The kid stops, looking sheepish as they release Medicine Pocket’s hair and mumble an embarrassed, “Whoops, sorry…”

Swallowing for some reason, albeit very subtly, Medicine Pocket huffs, folding their arms against their chest, mumbling, “Yeah, that’s right, listen to X, the voice of reason.”

X’s lips part, Medicine Pocket awaiting what he must want to say to that, but the moment is cut short when Sonetto clears her throat, looking over her shoulder from where she’s chopping vegetables. “Researcher Medicine Pocket, if you’re done fending off your little fan club, you could make yourself useful by handing me those carrots.”

Medicine Pocket raises a skeptical eyebrow, the previous encounter already leaving their system. At least, for now. “Carrots? What do I look like, a rabbit?”

“Just pass them over please,” Sonetto sighs, bemused. “I’m sure even you can handle that.”

Grumbling, Medicine Pocket grabs the carrots, tossing them onto the counter next to her. “There. Don’t say I never helped you.”

While Sonetto works efficiently, Mesmer has set herself up beside a stove burner, stirring a pot with a look of concentration. Medicine Pocket can’t help but smirk. “Oh, look at you, Mesmer. Playing chef. I didn’t know stirring soup was such an art form.”

Mesmer rolls her eyes but smirks back. “I’m sure this is just too highbrow for a chaotic lab rat like you to understand.”

“Cooking. It’s… so important,” Medicine Pocket mutters sarcastically, rolling their eyes. “I’d much rather be tearing into a dog chew toy right now than standing around here doing… household things.”

They’re answered by coruscating laughter, causing their peeve to simmer. And they’re just about to counter some more when they catch X raising his hands in their peripherals. He conjures a little teacup from thin air, followed by a steaming stream of tea, filling it right up. He holds it out to Medicine Pocket with a soft smile.

“Here,” he says gently, “thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”

Medicine Pocket stares at the cup. Odd. Odd that one, X is doing this out of nowhere, and two, their scowl is slowly fading as they reluctantly accept the offered cup. They sip with a quiet grumble, “Thanks… I guess,” though the warmth of the tea seems to soften their usual—

No. They can practically feel their brows unknotting…

And they hear X chuckle softly, eyes twinkling. “You’re welcome.”

˗ˏˋ꒰𖦹｡🧪⋆°✰꒱ ˎˊ˗

With Sonetto and Mesmer handling most of the cooking, Medicine Pocket finds themself standing around in the kitchen, surrounded by the lawless dynamism of the younger arcanists, who keep darting around them, hooting and poking at their lab coat once again. They grunt under their breath because it just doesn’t stop, does it? This thing right here, fending off small hands attempting to tug at their sleeves.

“Back off, you little… puppies!” Medicine Pocket hisses, snapping their teeth that can only be classified as a playful snarl. “No boundaries, you tiny gremlins, honestly!” They make even nastier mock-biting motions, sending the kids into… fits of delighted laughter as they scamper around. The rascals!

From the pot she’s stirring, Mesmer coos, “Look at you, Medicine Pocket—being all soft and cuddly.”

“Soft?” Medicine Pocket guffaws, cocking a brow in alarm. “If you mean rabid and barely tolerating you all, then sure, I’m soft!”

X snickers somewhere, apparently watching them fail to chase off yet another kid who’s clearly taken with them. “They’re just excited to see you, Medpoc,” the boy comments, tone considerate. “They like you.”

Medicine Pocket’s face flushes, faintly so, as they glare in return. “They’re like overgrown puppies—clingy, slimy, and way too interested in personal space,” they whine, horrified by what comes next—

The arcanists, who take it upon themselves to mimic everything they say. “Puppies!” one little girl cries, throwing her arms around their leg. “Woof!”

They look down, appalled. “That’s enough, you mutts!” they shriek, pointing at the girl. “I’ll have you tossed into the ocean if you don’t let go!”

Leaning against the counter and sipping from his teacup, X bursts into laughter. “You’re really good with them, Medpoc.”

“Oh, shut it, Alphabet Boy,” Medicine Pocket retorts, trying to look cross, though the faint warmth in their eyes conceivably gives them away. Tch. “If they keep at it, they’ll be my next experiments.”

“Right,” Mesmer says with a grin, rolling her eyes. “Let me guess: experimental puppy muzzles, coming right up?”

“Ha-ha! Funny.” Medicine Pocket makes a face at her before lightly nudging one of the arcanists away with their foot, whispering something colorful under their breath as the kids erupt in giggles.

When the meal comes together, they all gather around the large dining table to eat, a lively spread of soup, roast vegetables, bread, and other dishes filling the air with toasty scents. Medicine Pocket finds a seat, only for the younger Arcanists to immediately cluster around them, squabbling over who gets to sit nearest. It’s all they can do not to roll their eyes, but… a tiny part of them is starting to feel strangely fond of this harebrained setup. These people, this noise, these ‘puppies’…

As they start eating, Vertin clears her throat to get their attention, smiling at Medicine Pocket as she starts filling them in.

“Researcher Medicine Pocket, just to catch you up,” the Timekeeper begins, “we actually wrapped up the evaluations while you were asleep.”

Medicine Pocket’s fork pauses mid-air. “Wait… really?” They look around, raising an eyebrow. “So… we’re done?”

“Yep,” Sonetto affirms. “Finished it up just before dinner. You’re free to leave the suitcase after tonight.”

“Leave?” Medicine Pocket asks aloud, a strange stab of reluctance surfacing. Just when things were getting interesting in here, they think, especially glancing toward X, who’s grinning over a story Mesmer is telling. “So… that’s it, huh?”

Vertin nods. “That’s it. Unless, of course, you’d like to join us again for these assignments.”

Medicine Pocket scoffs, rolling their eyes. “Ha! As if I’d willingly put myself through this circus again…”

But before they can say any more, the door to the kitchen swings open with a loud creak, and a familiar voice breaks through the laughter.

“Oi oi! How are you all doing?” It’s Regulus, accent bright and full of energy as she strides in, followed by Mr. APPLe, hovering behind her like an eccentric floating chaperone. But she isn’t alone—trailing behind her is a figure Medicine Pocket recognizes immediately: Oliver Fog.

A flash of ash-gray in a white lab coat dashes at the corner of their eye, and then X is beaming brightly. “Regulus! And Oliver!”

Oliver Fog gives a calm, easy smile as he steps forward, looking every bit the composed gentleman in his trench coat and top hat. But Medicine Pocket notices the quick flick of his eyes, assessing, as they land on them. The look lasts only a second, but it’s clear as day—Oliver Fog knows exactly who they are. And judging by the slight twitch of his mouth, he seems to find the sight of Medicine Pocket… intriguing.

Well, that’s just. Great. Just what they needed—Fog Boy, up close and personal.

Oblivious to the silent stare-off, as expected, X quickly jumps in, stepping between them. “Oliver, I’d like you to meet Medicine Pocket! Medpoc, this is Oliver Fog,” he chirps, looking at both of them with pure enthusiasm, adding, “Two of the best people I know!”

Two… of the best? Medicine Pocket raises an eyebrow, barely disguising their irritation. “I’ve… heard of him.”

“Likewise,” Oliver says, inclining his head with a polite nod. His gaze hovers over Medicine Pocket, deviant. “Medicine Pocket, Laplace’s… infamous scientist, I believe?”

And just like that, their day is ruined. “And you’re the Foundation’s prized fog-cleaner, aren’t you?” they retort, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Ever the peacemaker type, X simply laughs. “Medpoc, Oliver’s more than that—he’s practically a legend with the work he’s done. And Oliver, Medpoc’s been working on all sorts of groundbreaking things in Laplace. The picrasma candies, for one!”

Oliver hums, an amused glint in his eye as he studies Medicine Pocket. “Oh, I’m aware,” he says smoothly. “Very aware, in fact.”

“Are you now?” Medicine Pocket folds their arms, brooding. Who does this Fog Boy think he is, trying to size me up?

Just then, Regulus plops down in an empty chair between them and X, impervious to the battle of glares. She grins, prattling on cheerfully, nudging Medicine Pocket. “Well, this is one weird crowd, I’ll say that much. Good to see you in a group for once, mate.”

Medicine Pocket huffs, shrugging her off. “Don’t get used to it. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t absolutely necessary.”

Regulus laughs, tossing them a wider grin. “Sure, sure. Just admitting you like the company would be too much to handle, eh?”

They grumble under their breath, but can’t help sneaking a glance at X, who’s still chatting animatedly with that boy.

Oliver, who catches Medicine Pocket’s gaze, giving them a faintly amused smile as if he’s caught onto something. He leans back in his chair, clearly comfortable with X’s attention and unbothered by Medicine Pocket’s death stare. It only grates on them further.

Meanwhile, Mesmer Jr., perched across from them, clears her throat. “Jealous, Medicine Pocket?”

And that—that very term. Medicine Pocket snaps their gaze to her, nearly toppling over. “Huh? Of that thing? Pardon me. He’s barely worth noticing.”

“Is that so, Researcher Medicine Pocket?” Vertin suddenly pipes up, just loud enough for them to pick up. The Timekeeper scrutinizes them with a pair of quizzing eyes.

Medicine Pocket clenches their jaw, scooting away. “Yes, that’s so,” they mutter. But the words feel hollow even to themself as they glimpse back at X, who’s laughing at something Oliver just said. X’s eyes are shining, the smile on his face brighter than ever, and Medicine Pocket feels an unconventional, tight spasm in their chest.

Regulus, blissfully unaware, leans over to X with a smirk. “Quite the crowd tonight, isn’t it? And here I thought you only had foggy friends, X.”

X chuckles, looking warmly at everyone, including Medicine Pocket, who he hasn’t quite noticed (most definitely) is stewing in their seat. “It’s just nice to have everyone together, you know?”

Medicine Pocket snorts. “Nice.” Right. How ‘nice’ to be stuck here, forced to watch Oliver Fog bask in X’s attention. Their friend.

As the dinner continues, the laughter and chatter grow, but Medicine Pocket sits there, arms folded, eyes narrowed on the newcomer, feeling that freakish denseness augment. Every time X laughs, it sends a prickle of irritation through them, and they can’t help but imagine all the ways they could interrupt this little reunion. But all they can do is sit and sulk, trying to shake the creeping realization that, maybe… they’re feeling more than just annoyance.

The post-dinner gathering in the living area is as snug as a bug, the air buzzing with a pleasant, unabating residue from the meal. Sonetto sits with her hands folded primly in her lap, graciously accepting compliments for her cooking.

“Sonetto, that roast was divine,” Vertin says with a satisfied sigh, leaning back in her chair. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“It was nothing,” Sonetto replies modestly, brushing a stray strand of ginger hair from her face, cheeks all pink. “Just simple recipes, really.”

“Simple but effective,” X chimes in, resplendently. “I haven’t eaten that well in a while.”

“Oh, sure,” Mesmer interjects, leaning lazily against the arm of the couch. “But let’s not forget the soup was my doing.”

Perched stiffly on the edge of another seat, Medicine Pocket cocks an eyebrow. “Your soup? Yeah, the soup was… passable.” They tap their fingers against their knee. “If we’re talking about edible slop.”

Mesmer shoots them a tired glare. “Thanks, Medicine Pocket. Your feedback is always appreciated.”

“Anytime,” Medicine Pocket replies with a self-satisfied smile. “I like to keep things honest. Especially when the truth is funny.”

The others chuckle, and X stifles a giggle beside Mesmer, clearly enjoying the exchange. Medicine Pocket flicks a glance his way, their chest doing that stupid squinching thing again when he smiles. Ugh.

On the one hand, Oliver Fog sits calmly on a nearby armchair, twirling his pocket watch absently. “Well, it was a fine meal,” he puts in smoothly, nodding at Sonetto. “I’d say you have the makings of a true chef, Sonetto.”

“Oh, stop,” Sonetto replies with her hands waving dismissively.

Medicine Pocket’s gaze leaves Oliver for X, who’s now chatting animatedly with him, their voices overlapping. Medicine Pocket tries not to focus on it, but their ears twitch at how X snickers at something Oliver says. It’s not like it’s a big deal—or that this should be news to them. They’re friends. Of course, they are. X is someone who easily befriends people, and that’s why Medicine Pocket has taken a liking to him, right? And when they say a liking, they mean… a friendly liking. Just friends, they remind themself, frowning. They have no reason to get indignant at this kind of circumstance. None at all.

And yet, something beyond interpretation tears at their insides, unnamed.

As the conversations continue, Medicine Pocket fidgets, feeling the heaviness of the room press down on them. They don’t even realize that X has been inching closer—chatting casually, only quite noticing it little by little once he’s slowly closed the gap between them. When X sits down beside them, driving them to snap out of their spiral and jolt slightly when the boy’s shoulder almost brushes theirs.

Their body goes rigid, their mind serpentining into mayhem. Proximity—too close—why is he sitting here?

X doesn’t notice their inner panic, smiling at them like nothing’s wrong. “Hey, Medpoc,” he says softly. “Enjoying yourself?”

Medicine Pocket doesn’t answer right away. Their chest strains, the unfamiliar sensation of their personal space being gently invaded completely throwing them off. But, why?

“I—uh…” They look from left to right, at a loss for words.

As if their body has a mind of its own, it promptly stands, nearly knocking over the little table beside it. Everyone in the room looks up, startled.

“I think… it’s time for me to head back to Laplace,” they blurt, brushing their coat down as if smoothing imaginary wrinkles. “Yep. I just remembered I’ve got… uh, loads of unfinished reports to submit to Bucket Head by tomorrow.”

“Bucket Head?” Mesmer echoes, raising an eyebrow.

“Madam Lucy,” Medicine Pocket clarifies quickly.

The room erupts in muffled laughter, Mesmer chortling openly while Sonetto covers her mouth. Even Vertin cracks a small smile. Everyone seems to find the nickname hilarious.

Everyone except one.

As Medicine Pocket grabs their things, they catch X’s expression—soft and quiet, his gaze following them like a gentle weight. His smile has faded, replaced by a glint of something harder to place. Sadness? Disappointment? Medicine Pocket doesn’t know, and they don’t want to figure it out.

They mutter something incoherent even to them, ignoring X’s stare as they head toward the door. Their body screams at them to flee, and for once, they listen, leaving behind the joyous convulsions, the warmth, and the persistent, heavy gaze of a boy they can’t afford to think about.

˗ˏˋ꒰𖦹｡🧪⋆°✰꒱ ˎˊ˗

Medicine Pocket storms through the main hall of Laplace, their boots clicking sharply against the polished floors. The chaos of the place is a comforting din—the buzz of enginery, the whirl of automated carts zipping by with trays of lab samples, the murmur of hurried conversations between staff clutching clipboards. Holographic screens blink overhead, displaying intricate equations and arcane projections, while mechanical arms work tirelessly in glass enclosures, assembling something far too advanced for most to understand. Laplace buzzes with life and science, a cathedral to human ingenuity and arcanum combined. This is home, not that infernal suitcase.

Taking a deep breath, Medicine Pocket feels their pulse slow slightly. “Finally,” they hiss under their breath, running a hand through their messy hair. “Back where I belong.”

They head toward the elevators, feeling the familiar flow of the place seep back into their skin. As the doors slide open, they step inside and punch the button for their lab. It’s only when they exit on their floor and approach the door that they see it—the battered wooden sign hanging on the handle: KEEP OUT.

The sight stops them in their tracks. The sign swings slightly, revealing deep bite marks and scratches across the surface. Medicine Pocket frowns, folding their arms. Of course, it’s still here. It’s been here forever. But their ogling remains longer than they’d like. Why does that kid—X—get to ignore it?

They scowl this time, shaking their head. “Because I let him,” they tell themself, tenor dripping with disdain. Because I’m an idiot who invites him in. What am I, some compassionate mutt now? Since when?

Their thoughts are interrupted by a voice. “Oh, Researcher Medicine Pocket, you’re back.”

Medicine Pocket turns to see Trina, one of their colleagues, peeking out from the lab door. Trina’s long white coat is uncharacteristically spotless, her hair pinned into a perfect bun like she stepped out of some textbook scientist advertisement. The contiguity makes Medicine Pocket bristle.

“Yeah, you see me standing here, don’t you?” they bite, rolling their eyes and pushing past her into the lab.

“Nice to see you too,” Trina mutters under her breath, closing the door behind them.

Medicine Pocket heads straight for their workstation, a deranged mess of papers, test tubes, and half-disassembled gadgets. They slump into their chair, dragging a hand down their face. Ugh, mismatched eyes and warm smiles, they think bitterly. “What’s wrong with me?” they groan, glaring at the ceiling as if it has answers.

Deciding the best way to purge their thoughts is to drown them in science, Medicine Pocket grabs their notes and starts flipping through them. They settle on a stack of papers marked with Lucy’s precise, perfunctory handwriting, all bearing the same topic: The “Storm” Phenomenon.

Medicine Pocket sighs. “Bucket Head and her obsession with the unknown,” they spit, but their curiosity wins out. Fine. Storm research. Let’s go.

They grab a pen and start scribbling, their mind stropping as they sink into the work. The Storm—a catastrophic event that rewrites the flow of time. To most, it’s an impenetrable enigma. To Medicine Pocket, it’s a puzzle worth poking at until something breaks.

They jot down questions, theories, and potential experiments:

What triggers the Storm’s arrival?

Why is the Timekeeper the only one immune while others are completely erased?

What’s the significance of its color changes?

Does it respond to temporal disturbances, or is it entirely random?

Pulling out one of Lucy’s data logs, they skim through her notes on temporal flux patterns. “Patterns,” they mutter, voice heavy with sarcasm. “As if this thing’s going to follow a neat little timeline like her bloody algorithms. It’s chaos—like everything else in this stupid world.”

Still, something nags at the back of their mind. The Storm didn’t just rewrite time—it dissolved it, rearranged it like clay. Medicine Pocket winces, scribbling furiously. What if it’s not random? What if it’s targeting something specific—someone specific?

“Storm as predator,” they whisper, jotting down the phrase. “Searching for… what?” They chew on the end of their pen, glaring at the disarray of data in front of them.

The more they think about it, the more tangled their thoughts become. Their scrawls grow messier, veering off into unrelated questions…

Why does X’s smile feel so distracting?

Can a Goldberg machine predict people’s emotional responses?

Medicine Pocket groans, tossing the pen onto the desk and slumping forward. “Great. Now even work can’t save me from this nonsense.”

They sit there for a moment, glaring at their notes as if they’ve betrayed them, before grabbing a nearby stress ball and hurling it at the far wall. It bounces back with a satisfying thwack, landing on the floor with a pathetic wobble.

“Stupid… emotions. Stupid… Researcher X.”

But even as they mope, they glance at the ‘Keep Out’ sign swinging gingerly on the door. A misgiving of something uncomfortably balmy shoots through their chest, and they press their lips into a thin line.

“Back to work,” they scorn, dragging the papers closer. “I’ve got real mysteries to solve—not… whatever this is.”

Medicine Pocket’s pen scratches furiously across a sheet of paper as they lean into their work. The labyrinthine tangles of data and theories spread out before them are beginning to click into place, and the rush of progress hits like a lightning bolt. Pure, unfiltered ecstasy. A prominent grin makes it to their lips, shark-like and triumphant, as they scribble formulas and notes with feverish energy.

“Trina!” they bark when a perception springs into their mind, spinning on the stool. “Whiteboard. Now. Grab the blue marker—the red one makes me itch—and start recording these equations.”

Trina sighs, clearly used to them by now, and obediently picks up the marker. “Fine, fine. What am I writing down this time?”

“Temporal stress thresholds in localized phenomena!” Medicine Pocket exclaims, slapping a hand against the whiteboard. “And don’t skimp on the variables. If you leave out the third column, I’ll chew your head off, I swear.”

“Charming as ever,” Trina drawls, but she writes down the numbers Medicine Pocket rattles off at lightning speed.

“Column D! You’re skipping it!” Medicine Pocket snarls, pointing at the board with the vehemence of someone guiding a nuclear missile.

“I’m not skipping it, you’re talking too fast,” Trina fires back, but keeps writing, her hand moving with mechanical efficiency.

Satisfied that Trina is keeping up—barely—Medicine Pocket dives back into their papers, muttering under their breath. Theories are flying through their head like a storm of their own creation. They begin mapping out possible ways to stabilize temporal flux points, their mind spinning faster than their pen can move. They grab the blue marker from Trina’s hand mid-sentence to scrawl something barely legible on the board, even to them.

“Got it?” Medicine Pocket demands, spinning back to the desk without waiting for an answer. “Good. Keep going.”

For a hot minute, they’re in their element—lost in the sheer upheaval of scientific discovery, surrounded by notes and numbers and the thrill of their brilliance. Everything feels perfectly aligned.

And then they hear it.

Laughter. Muffled voices. Familiar tones carrying through the hall outside the lab.

Medicine Pocket freezes, marker hovering mid-air. They recognize that laugh—bright, supple, unmistakable. X.

A chorus of other voices joins his, and their almost-smile drops like a stone. Regulus. Mr. APPLe. Mesmer. And…

Their nose flare. Oliver Fog.

And their eye twitches, hand clenching around the marker. For a second, they feel their focus wobble, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table. But no. They shake their head violently, clearing the thought. Never mind them. Who cares? Fog Boy can go haunt someone else.

They slam the marker back onto the whiteboard rail and hop off the stool, storming back to their desk. But their chest feels too tight, and their blood feels too loud in their ears. That exasperating, erratic pulse—that’s the problem. It’s always been the problem.

They yank open the desk drawer and pull out the familiar syringe filled with effervescent green fluid. Without a second thought, they stab it into their arm, watching as the liquid vanishes into their veins. The effect is instant—a rush of clarity and energy floods their senses, sharpening the edges of the world.

“Better,” they declare, rolling their shoulder as they toss the syringe aside.

They swivel back toward the whiteboard, eyes gleaming with manic spirit. “Trina!” they bark again, startling her as she adjusts her grip on the marker. “Forget the thresholds for now. Let’s blow this up. Literally. What happens if we destabilize the temporal node instead of stabilizing it?”

“Uh… it collapses into a black hole?” Trina offers hesitantly.

“Exactly!” Medicine Pocket yells, grinning wildly. “And what’s on the other side of that black hole? That’s what we’re going to find out!”

“Wait, are we actually—”

“Take notes!”

Fueled by the injection, their theorizing becomes even more chaotic. They pace the room, gesturing wildly at the whiteboard, muttering equations faster than Trina can write them down. Their thoughts spiral into impossibly intricate tangents, one train of thought bleeding into another.

The voices in the hallway grow faint as they become immersed in the work again, the outside world dissolving under the consummate mass of their focus. Numbers and possibilities dance across their vision, and for a little while, they feel invincible.

“Let’s crack open the Storm and see what makes it bust!” Medicine Pocket asserts, slamming a fist onto the desk with exhilaration.

They scribble something else onto a loose sheet of paper, their grin widening. In the meantime, this is all they need—numbers, theories, and the thrill of invention. And absolutely nothing else.

˗ˏˋ꒰𖦹｡🧪⋆°✰꒱ ˎˊ˗

They jerk awake, blinking blearily at the dingy glow of their workstation lamp. Papers are scattered everywhere, some stuck to the side of their face, and a woozy line of drool marks the corner of their mouth. They groan, wiping it away as they peer at the clock on the wall. 1:19 a.m.

“Damn it,” they curse, sitting upright and stretching with a start. Their back protests from being hunched over the desk for so long. A quick scan of the lab shows it’s empty—no Trina, no one else. She must’ve left for the sleeping quarters.

Medicine Pocket grumbles as they stand, brushing stray papers off their coat. “Great. Passed out like an idiot. Again.” They catch a glimpse of their disheveled reflection on the polished brink of the workbench and pout. A public heap, they deem. “Right. Shower first. Food second.”

The public showers for Laplace staff are as sterile and functional as the rest of the facility. By the time Medicine Pocket finishes and redresses in their usual attire, they feel somewhat human again. Their hair is damp, tied back with the ever-present scissors, and the antiseptic-scented soap clings to their skin. But as they towel off, their stomach thunders, demanding attention.

“Fine, fine,” they click their tongue, grabbing their ID badge and heading toward the elevators, where they stand in front of, tapping their fingers impatiently against their crossed arms. Their stomach growls again, louder this time, and they glare at the offending sound as if it’s personally insulted them. “Sandwiches,” they mutter to themself. “If it’s another night of sandwiches, I swear I’ll—”

The sound of footsteps interrupts their grumbling. They glance sideways, only to immediately wish they hadn’t.

Oliver Fog approaches with the same polished air he always transudes, his top hat angled just so, his umbrella wand in hand like it’s glued there. He nods when their eyes meet, his smirk so faint it could almost be mistaken for pleasantness.

“Medicine Pocket,” he greets casually, stepping up beside them.

They grunt, lowly. “You again. What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re cleaning fog inside the building now.”

Oliver chuckles lightly, as if amused by their sarcasm. “Not tonight. Just making my rounds.” He adjusts the brim of his hat, his voice glassy but clearly deliberate. “I was actually just leaving X’s lab.”

Medicine Pocket freezes, their arms uncrossing as the words hit them like a badly aimed dart. “X’s lab?” They blink at him. “And why would you need to be there this late?”

Oliver shrugs, as if the answer is obvious. “Oh, it’s been happening for some time. Old friends, you know. He seemed happy to accommodate me every time.”

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Medicine Pocket walks inside, tension radiating from every movement, and Oliver follows, his expression blithe.

“Didn’t realize you were on the schedule for a catch-up session even at midnight,” Medicine Pocket says flatly as the doors close.

Oliver’s smile widens just slightly, his voice light but pointed. “No schedule needed. I tend to drop by when it feels right.”

Medicine Pocket lets out a sharp laugh, the sound more bark than humor. “How nice for you. Dropping by unannounced, poking into places no one asked you to.”

Oliver tilts his head, the faintest flicker of amusement in his otherwise serene expression. “You sound annoyed, Medicine Pocket. Something bothering you?”

“Annoyed?” Medicine Pocket snorts, their fingers tightening around the railing. “Why would I be annoyed? You’re just so charming, after all.” Their voice is dripping with sarcasm, each word razor-sharp.

Oliver chuckles again, his calm exterior unwavering. “Well, X didn’t seem to mind.”

That does it. Medicine Pocket turns to face him fully, eyes blazing as they lean closer, practically bristling. “Listen, Fog Boy,” they say, voice low and cutting. “You can loiter outside his lab all you want, but let me make one thing clear.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow, his calm facade slipping just a fraction. “Oh? Do enlighten me.”

Medicine Pocket steps back, their grin self-assured. “I don’t need to hover. I don’t need to linger around his door or find excuses to bump into him. You know why?” They cross their arms, their confidence radiating. “Because X? He comes to me. Every time. Without fail. Naturally.”

For the first time, Oliver’s smile falters, his grip tightening ever so slightly on his umbrella wand.

The elevator dings, and the doors open to Medicine Pocket’s floor. They step out like clockwork, throwing a smirk over their shoulder. “So, keep hanging around, Fog Boy. Let me know how that works out for you.”

And with that, the doors slide shut, leaving Oliver alone in the elevator, whose composed expression remains for only a few heartbeats, before a crack of uncertainty flashes across his face. And then there’s Medicine Pocket, already mentally kicking themself for what they said, because what on earth was that just now?

#xpocket #syzygy 5 #xpocket fic #reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 fic #my fic #medicine pocket #x

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television-overload · 2 years ago

Text

Field of Dreams

(an X-Files fanfic)

Part I

Mulder's favorite movie inspires him to fill his seemingly endless free time with a special project shortly after moving into the Unremarkable House.

I was reading a bunch of fics about dad!Mulder and baseball, and had the sudden realization that my favorite baseball movie of all time is so Mulder-coded, that it would 100% be his favorite move too, full stop. And thus this was born. It seems all my X-Files fanfics are going to be accidents, none of them planned.

Read on AO3

She should have known this was coming eventually.

The well-worn VHS had been sitting on the coffee table for the last two weeks, in the living room of their new, unremarkable house.

Kevin Costner. James Earl Jones. Ray Liotta. Baseball and dreams and ghosts and time travel and the healing of broken father-son relationships...

It was his favorite movie, but for reasons so personal to him that he never spoke of it, instead claiming that Caddyshack or Plan 9 from Outer Space was his top pick if anyone asked. She'd never even known he had it until she woke one night to find him downstairs watching it alone in the dark, his face lit up by the flickering images on the screen. He said nothing, but allowed her to sink into the cushions of their shared couch beside him, curling into his side. They watched it together in silence. No words needed to be said, after all. She knew him well enough to understand what this movie meant to him. As the credits rolled, he flicked the TV off and the living room of their creaky house was enveloped in darkness once again.

He'd been lonely here at home. He tried not to let it show, but she knew anyway. It was only recently that they'd finally been able to settle down, purchase a house out in the middle of nowhere while she put her medical degree to good use. But while she was away, he was left alone with his thoughts for hours at a time, nothing but the peaceable silence of the Virginia countryside to keep him company.

There were certainly signs she should have picked up on. Dirt under his fingernails. A splotch of grease on the corner of his sleeve. The smell of gasoline on his hands when she came home from work and was welcomed with a kiss.

He wasn't sitting idly in his office all day, that much she knew.

But it wasn't your run-of-the-mill yard work he was busy with, either.

He seemed happier. She tried not to question it. For the first time since they'd moved in, he seemed more like himself, and she saw a future where they could be happy here, establishing a comfortable routine and finally getting started on living a somewhat normal life.

She came home one day to find Mulder a couple hundred feet from the house, wrestling an overgrown chain link fence with his chosen weapon of a pair of bolt cutters. He waved at her with a smile, and she felt her heart flutter. She wouldn't ask what he was up to, not yet. When he was ready, he'd let her in on his secret.

A week later, he was in the small shed behind the house, drenched in sweat but seemingly gratified at the work he was doing cutting wood planks with a hand saw and sanding them down to perfection.

Some days he wasn't even there when she pulled into the driveway, and though she missed the way he would run up to her like a puppy to welcome her home, she was glad he'd found something to pass the time that made him happy. She secretly appreciated the flush of color on his face and sweat stains on his t-shirts when he finally made his way back to the house in time for dinner, bounding up the stairs for a quick shower before joining her at the table. It was a side to him she didn't see often before, what with his white-collar job and Armani suits. He'd even acquired a thin layer of facial hair in recent days, having forgotten to shave, and she couldn't bring herself to be mad at his new rugged, manly look. In fact, she quite enjoyed it.

Scully was napping on the couch, exhausted from another long day of work, when she felt a hand on her shoulder shaking her awake.

"Scully, wake up," a soft voice spoke, "I wanna show you something."

"What's that?" she slurred, her eyes blinking open blearily. His hands cupped hers and pulled her to her feet, steadying her on her wobbly, half-asleep legs.

"Come on," he said, and he tugged her toward their back porch door.

The first wisps of crisp fall air danced across her face as she stepped into the backyard, following Mulder with her hand clasped comfortably in his.

"Where are we going, Mulder?" she finally asked. They'd passed the boundary of what she traditionally thought of as their backyard, and were now traveling down a trail through the tall, wild grass that filled their sprawling property.

"You'll see," was all he said, but she saw the gleam of enjoyment in his eye and the way the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile.

The sun had begun its retreat to the horizon, the longer days of summer beginning to fade into the shorter ones of autumn. The sky around them was painted in vivid oranges, yellows, and pinks, the aftermath of a brief storm that had passed through. The earthy, fresh scent of the air filled her lungs, and she was once again in awe of the peace they'd finally been able to find, after all they had been through together. She squeezed his hand tighter.

As they came up over the hill, she saw it.

Freshly turned dirt, darkened with moisture from the rain, in the shape of a diamond. The grass was mown short, weeds removed until it perfectly mirrored the well-manicured outfield of any respectable baseball stadium. There were wooden benches on each side of the field, set up in raised tiers so that hypothetical onlookers could see above the heads of those in front of them. And the chain link fence had been modified and built into a decent impression of a backstop behind home plate, which appeared to be made of a burlap bag of sand. Beyond the outfield, the wild grasses and flowers grew up tall, stretching as far as the eye could see.

Scully felt a tear slip from her eye, and she quickly lifted a finger to wipe it away.

"Did a ghost tell you to build this, Mulder?" she asked, the hitch in her voice betraying the emotions that laced her joke.

He smiled and pulled her into his side. She hadn't noticed the baseball jersey he wore before, but it brought back fond memories.

"Yeah, actually, but it turns out the Lone Gunmen don't have an ounce of athletic skill to spare, so it got boring pretty quick."

She let out a watery laugh, wiping more forcefully at the moisture on her cheeks before turning back to him.

"Well, are you gonna show me around?"

He grinned and took off, walking backwards toward the field with a spring in his step. As they approached the field, this field that he had built, he paused to grab something out of a dirt-encrusted wheelbarrow that sat adjacent to the tall grass. From behind his back, he produced a baseball glove and a wooden bat, offering both to her.

"You pitching or batting first, Scully?" he asked, the fire of purpose, of passion in his eyes for the first time in a long time.

She smiled and grabbed the bat, which he used to drag her giggling toward the field.

"Up to bat first is Shoeless Dana Scully, coming out of retirement after 5 years for the opening game at this unremarkable field!" Mulder narrated, the playful tone of his voice sending her back in time. She dragged her feet exaggeratedly to home plate, lifting the bat above her shoulders as Mulder took his place on the pitcher’s mound.

"Fire away, poor boy," Scully called, earning a flashing smile from the man with the glove. She had thought that somewhere along the way, between dingy motel rooms and nights spent sleeping in their car, he had lost that boyish look he sometimes had. But there it was, that carefree, life-loving look of wonderment that had only made her fall deeper in love. Her stomach did a flip.

Mulder drew back in a windup before firing a fastball right over the plate. It whooshed past, clanging into the rattling chain link fence before Scully could even blink.

"What was that, Mulder?" Scully protested, raising her palms to the air in question.

Mulder laughed, kicking the dirt with his dirty sneakers before looking back up at her.

"I know your secret, Dana Scully," he said, mischief glinting in his eye. "You were on your brother's little league team as a kid. I found the pictures in that album you keep hidden in the closet."

Scully's jaw dropped and she let out a laugh.

"You've been holding out on me, slugger."

"Well, that was a long time ago," she reasoned, doing an impressive job of hiding the fact that she was guilty as sin.

"Uh huh, I'm sure," he nodded, tossing the ball a couple times in his right hand. "Let's see what you got, babe."

An eyebrow raise.

"Like Babe Ruth."

She rolled her eyes.

Accepting her fate, Scully got in her batting stance and prepared to hit the ball. He whipped one at her, and she made contact with a satisfying crack! sending the ball soaring into the outfield.

Mulder nodded his head up and down, doing a circle around the pitchers mound as he cracked a sunflower seed between his teeth. "Yep, that's what I thought. So you mean to tell me all these years I could have been talking baseball stats with you? Scully, who's your favorite team?"

Scully rolled her eyes and dug the end of the bat in the ground, tracing shapes in the dirt. "I never actually liked baseball, Mulder, I only played cause I refused to let Bill do anything without me."

"Are you hiding any other spectacular skills I should know about? Do I need to build a magical basketball court next?"

"Magical, Mulder?" she said, raising a familiar skeptical eyebrow in his direction.

He shrugged and gestured around him. "What? This feels pretty magical to me," he answered with a wink, all that natural charm he possessed coming out in full force.

She shook her head, laughing softly at this side of him that she had missed.

"I think it's safe to say I'm not hiding any basketball skills," she spoke, gesturing at her 5'3" form.

Mulder reached down to grab another ball from the bucket beside him, idly passing it between his bare hand and his glove.

"Good, because this was a lot of work."

Dusk slowly turned into night, the cool air turning cold as they took turns batting and pitching, until they'd exhausted their stash of baseballs. They'd be lost to the darkened fields until the morning, when the sun would again illuminate the landscape.

As Mulder led her back to the house, flashlight lighting the way before them, the words from the movie echoed in her ears, as if from a disembodied voice. "Ease his pain."

She wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. His hand moved in small circles on her lower back, warming her against the chill that had settled in.

Whatever regrets they had, whatever dreams were broken beyond repair, they had this. They had each other. And even if this is how things always would be, nothing more than the two of them and this unremarkable house, she would be happy. And so would he.

"Is this heaven, Mulder?" she asked, her voice soft and pensive.

Mulder smiled and pressed a kiss to her hair.

"I think it just might be."

------

Anyway, the only way Field of Dreams could be more Mulder is if an alien showed up in it. I mean, it has ghosts, time travel, baseball, and difficult father-son relationships. What more could you want? Go watch it if you haven't. Even if you're not a baseball fan. The end literally makes me weep every time.

Now what are you still doing here, go watch the movie!

Tagging: @today-in-fic @randomfoggytiger @cutemothman

#txf #x files #x files fanfic #my fanfiction #field of dreams #dana scully #baseball #fox mulder #pre-IWTB #post-series #Spotify #msr

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ogdegenerate · 3 months ago

Text

I tried doing a writing prompt on reddit but it wont let me post it so I'm posting it here

I would like to consider that I and Naoki were good friends.

Not as great as friends, where hypothetically I would die for him, but we were chummy enough.

So when I suddenly wake up remembering I saved the douchebag from oncoming traffic because he was too busy spending money on gacha girls to see the truck. I was understandably furious.

My life was FINALLY GONNA START! I finished high school, and I got a scholarship for a college in the Netherlands! It was my dream to become a singer ever since I watched the Bad Romance music video on my mother's computer.

But NOOOOOOOO! I had to throw that all away for my weeaboo classmate because he was too busy ogling at fictional underage women!

It was then I realized where I was. I was sitting in the passenger seat in a moving truck. Looking out the window, I could tell that I'm very much in some unknown part of outer space.

My body looks okay as far as I can tell; I would expect some sort of evidence on my body that I've been run over by a 60,000-pound vehicle, but I feel nothing.

I finally looked at whoever (or whatever) was driving this truck, and I had to catch my jaw from falling to the ground.

The giant man next to me wasn't a human; the exposed skeleton and glowing ethereal eyes were proof enough. But he was still a looker! The skeleton next to me was very bulky and wore a stereotypical trucker outfit; he wore a short-sleeve plaid shirt, a sleeveless jacket, black jeans, and a netback cap that had a skull symbol on it.

His bones were covered by this ectoplasm-looking substance that formed huge and chiseled muscles. and a round gut that would be comfortable to lay on. His head (or, in this case, skull) was the only part of his body that was exposed, but he does have facial hair that looks like aquamarine flames.

The truck driver turned his head towards me, sensing that I was staring at him. His face(?) went from joy to shock to worry to sympathetic. Not sure how I can tell due to no face muscles, but looking at the glowing dots on his eyes is enough to read his emotions, I believe.

"Oh dear... You're not Naoki..."

Ohhhhh I know what this is. I'm being Isekai'd. I got truck-kun'd and I'm being sent to another world of medieval fantasy and Asian waifu's...

"I guess that Naoki was supposed to get hit by that truck and not me?" "Yes that was indeed the intention, but I guess the fates had other things in plan. On behalf of the gods I would like to apologize for the mix-up, and to give you my condolences on your untimely demise."

"You can't just...put me back in my body...can you?"

"Even if I can... There would be nothing to go back to; your body was completely destroyed. If you went back now, you'd spend your time in the mortal realm as a ghost."

I throw my head on the headrest and let myself go, trying not to cry in front of this stud next to me; he's probably seen worse if my suspicions about who he is are correct, but I at least want to keep control of myself; I'll mourn my death as soon as I have the privacy to do so.

The two of us sit in silence as infinity passes us by; it's very nice of the trucker to give me some time to come to terms with my death, but I can feel him giving me quick glances even with my eyes closed.

"Hey, if this is an isekai meant for my friend, shouldn't you be a hot angel or something? You look nothing like the gods or goddesses from anime," the skull-headed driver looks at me with a perplexed look, as if I just said that 2+2=22.

"Am I not?"

Now it's my turn to be confused; obviously, this is nothing like the stuff Naoki likes to read and watch. He also hates driving and finds space boring. The truck driver looks at the non-existent road and snaps his fingers in his enlightenment.

"Ok, so what you are experiencing right now is an illusion; your soul is being transported and placed into a new body as a preparation for being placed into the 'isekai' you will soon be living in. Everything you see before you is designed to keep you from panicking and stressing out over... your last moments."

That makes sense; dying itself is very traumatic, so it would be ideal to put the newly deceased in a situation of comfort, something they can comprehend and stuff.

“As the embodiment of death, I do not have a concrete form; what you see before you is to give you comfort. I was told that I was going to look like a well-endowed goddess of death with snow-like skin and long hair that’s as black as the night sky. But that was for Naoki. May you enlighten me on how I look to you?”

Ohhhhhh fuck, that tracks. A big-titty gothic dommy mommy would have Naoki bursting through his pants; it’s no wonder why the grim reaper looks like a guy I would spread my legs for without second thought. This is all for my pleasure to make me forget that I DIED.

“Are you… really curious?”

“By all means, you don’t have to tell me. Time doesn’t exist here, and we won’t be at your stop until you decide on your load-out to defeat the demon lord, so you can decide on if you want to or not, but I am very interested to know!”

I am absolutely going to regret this. Fuck it, what do I have to lose?

“You… look like the Grim Reaper if he was a truck-driving DILF, and a really hot one; you’re pretty much my type.”

If the driver had eyebrows, it would’ve flown off of his head with how he was staring at me. I bury my face in my hands in shade as I lean forward to make myself look smaller. The truck driver lets out a huge and hearty laugh as he repeatedly smacks my back in amusement.

I really hope I’m going to super hell because I want to throw myself out the window right now.

The truck driver wipes away his tears and clears his throat as he finally calms down.

“Now then! You might already know what’s going on, but I will tell you anyways. You will be transported to a world of fantasy and magic. As the chosen one, you will be granted immense power to match the demon lord’s. Also, as an apology for accidentally harvesting you instead of your companion as well as a reward for your righteous sacrifice, I shall bless you with any skills of your dreams. It's the least we gods can do!”

“Really? That sounds amazing. My skills can be ANYTHING, right?”

“Nothing too grand or overpowered; you will have a humble start, but the limit is your imagination!”

Figures. Too much power isn’t really a good thing, but I’m happy that I can be creative about what skills I can get; maybe I can even become extremely powerful either way if I think smart enough.

“Death! I’m in your dept, thank you.”

“By all means! It’s the least I can do with everything you went through! You don’t need to thank me.”

“No really, is there any way I can…. Show you my gratitude?”

I can see a faint glow of curiosity in the Grim Reaper’s eye sockets, which then dims down as he gives me a pitiful smile.

“I am flattered, mortal. But you are way too young for me.”

Damn, it was worth a try. I feel like I was going to regret it if I didn’t shoot my shot before going to the new world. If I know Isekai animes, there are never any hot guys who stay relevant to the story.

Death seems to catch my quick change in mood and starts tapping at the monitor that trucks usually have.

“Take a look at this; I believe this will interest you a lot.”

I look at the screen and see a bunch of monsters, beastfolk, and demonic-looking humans.

“This is the army of the demon lord. He plans to wage war upon humanity and plans to bring ruin upon all life.”

He then swipes the screen to show a group of intimidating and powerful-looking people, 7 in total of mixed genders, with the one in the middle looking the most powerful.

“All you need to do is stop the demon lord and bring peace throughout the lands.”

The one in the middle must be the infamous demon lord, huh? It's a black dragon; he doesn’t seem as gigantic for your run-of-the-mill fire-breathing lizards, but I’m sure he will still dwarf me. He has an intense yet regal look in his amethyst-colored eyes. His entire posture demands respect, and I can tell that he’s very well built, but his armor and clothing are covering up any show of muscles.

“If you keep on swiping, you will see more pictures of the demon lord.”

Peculiar, but hey, don’t mind if I do! The next picture is the dragon leading his army; they all must really respect him a lot, and I could understand; he has a very charismatic air about him.

The next one is the demon lord swinging around a large sword as purple flames dance around him. I have to say that he looks very cool.

This picture is actually very cute; he’s a pretty three-headed dog as a bunch of imp-looking kids run around and crawl on him as if he were a playground set. He doesn’t seem to mind it for some reason.

Why is there a picture of him in his bed sleeping? Why is he naked with the blanket sheets barely covering him? Why does he look like that? A very horny bara artist spent 5 hours drawing him. I don’t think he’s even flexing, but his muscles are huge!

Ok cool, this one is him talking to the three women from the first photo; they seem to be having a tea party, probably talking about plans to take over the world? They all look so casual and calm with each other, as if they’re all old friends. He also has a small and soft smile on his snout. I can't stop staring at it, and it's making me smile as well.

The following photos either show him being intimidatingly epic, scandalous, and seductive, or surprisingly domestic and cute despite his threatening looks. I even look back at the ones I already passed just to see them again.

I finally notice that Death is looking at me with a very knowing look. I can’t stop my face from going a comically dark shade of red as I’ve been caught thirsting over the man I’m supposed to defeat to save the world.

“Do I… have to kill him?”

“I never said that. All you need to do is stop his plans and make sure he won't do it again.”

“At any means? Nobody has to die?”

“If it saves the world, then go nuts! No complaints from here.”

“Even if I… seduce the demon lord through the power of song and music and convince him to not end the world?”

“Sounds like a great idea! Think you’re up for it?”

I look back at the demon lord on the monitor; it seems like a huge stretch. I’m not even supposed to be here. This job is supposed to be for Naoki, he has more knowledge about Isekais and anime, He probably would be a much more better hero than I could ever be…

“It won't hurt to try.”

The truck suddenly comes to a stop, and when I look out the windows, I see the bright sun and a huge valley of grass. The door on my side of the truck suddenly opens, and I taste and smell the pure, non-polluted winds of nature.

“Then go, my hero. Tame the demon lord with your voice and your love. For both sides and for the world.”

I give one last nod to the truck driver and hop off the vehicle and into the new world. The sun feels great, and the noises of nature make a beautiful melody. I think I could get used to this!

“Oh yeah, by the way, where should I—”

Aaaaaaaaand the truck is gone, as if it never existed in the first place. Luckily enough, I think I see civilization an hour’s jog away. It might be a good idea to make myself friendly with the locals if I were to know how this place works.

“Huh, neat…. Wait a minute, how do I—”

A semi-transparent screen appears right in front of me with a video-game-ish sound effect. I believe these are my stats. I don’t really play video games all that much, but I have a sense of what all of these are for.

They all seem very standard, nothing too impressive and all around average. One part of the screen catches my eye.

Class: Singer

Level: 1

“...You got lucky this time, Naoki. I don’t have to throw away my dreams after all.”

#writing prompt #writing prompts #writing #isekai prompt #isekai #gay #monster x human #reddit prompt #r/writingpromps #writers on tumblr #monster lover

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primeofprimes115 · 2 years ago

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Lost Without You - Supergirl x Male Reader

Warnings: Fluff 🥰 and Angst 🥺

Five years... Five... Years has passed since he lost his beloved to a Crisis.

She went ahead to defend the universe from a very, very powerful threat.

And when the threat was thwarted? He'd receive the most heartbreaking news.

"Kara Zor-El... Is dead" he was informed by the Last Son of Krypton, though the Kryptonian was devastated, the same could be said for the girl's fiancé, Y/N L/N.

The moment put him into a shock, he was in emotional distress, unable to cope with the news he received before he'd lash out at anyone who was there, before he was eventually calmed down by a few of his closest friends.

His worst nightmare had come to life... His own future wife, the Kryptonian woman he asked to marry... Was killed by sacrificing her life to save her cousin from what was known as the Anti-Monitor.

A funeral was held for Kara Zor-El aka Supergirl, where Y/N got to say his last goodbyes to his future wife in a devastated state, he felt... Anger, anger for those who COULD'VE saved her... But no one even tried.

He wasn't there, but he knew someone could've saved her, maybe save the Flash who also died in this Crisis... Yet no one tried anything.

He felt the hatred in his heart toward even the Man of Steel, who set to carry her body, covered in a blanket out to the outer rim of space to lay her to rest, potentially falling into the sun.

For a time, he distanced himself away from mostly everyone, anyone who was a super, tried to talk to him? He'd threaten them... Before eventually his closest friends would be threatened by him.

It wasn't long till he went through a stage of depression, which worried his close ones.

The only thing he ever wanted... Was his Kara back... His soulmate... His "Angel".

He even thought of setting himself free and letting go of the pain... By just a leap of faith, however he failed.

He was forced to get help after being convinced by one of his good friends since childhood, to get better, to try and move on from her... Though the help from a psychiatrist helped, still his other problems were at large... His sleeping was one of them.

"He's barely gotten sleep since the situation, he hasn't been eating, drinking, hasn't gotten showered for the last few months and... We're-We're worried about his health, he's declining from the looks of it" his close friend, Jacob and his wife sat and talked with the Psychiatrist, overlooking Y/N's mental status as a whole.

"Can you confirm Mr L/N?" the doctor asked politely as the young man looked up slightly.

"Yes" he said in a low tone of voice.

"His health is declining you say?" the doc asked the other two, which Jacob nodded his head. "Has he tried eating or drinking?" he then asked.

"He's tried... But he can't seem to eat like he used to" Jacob expressed his worry.

This has been the third week since Y/N went to his Psychiatrist, he had to be accompanied by someone to make sure he gets there alright, unless he runs into a criminal and the worse can happen to either him...

Or the common thug...

"I think I have all the information I need to put him on a prescription for medication, from the diagnosis... He's going through a Persistent Depressive Disorder, common symptoms are skipping or not eating food, not drinking, sleeping too much or too little... Which can cause a decline in health which can be a huge problem if not treated quick enough" the doc explained.

"I should also say that... He's been experiencing hallucinations a few times... Of his late wife" Jacob added.

"Fiancé, Jacob" Y/N lowly corrected.

"Fiancé, sorry. Y/N claims he sees her and hears her voice calling out to him, at first he thought she was alive again but then he... Well..." Jacob stopped, trying not to tell the full exact details, wanting to forget what had happened that day.

"Hallucinations?" the doc's eyes darted toward the young man as he slowly nodded, looking down at the floor, staring. "Hmm, that's also a sign of Depressive Psychosis, I'll have a prescription for that medication for him too once this session is over, hopefully have it rolled out as soon as possible" the doc added to his notebook of patients.

"Oh also... Could Y/N receive an emotional support animal? A dog perhaps? A service dog at least? He was open to have some sort of companion to keep him stable" Jacob's wife chimed in, open to support Jacob's best friend.

"I can contact the Dogs for Good provider and see if I can get a service dog to help Mr L/N with his condition" the doc issued to help and provide.

The weeks would go by and he started to open up his circle to others, even apologizing to some he threatened to kill if they ever got close to him. One of them was Clark Kent aka Superman, the cousin of Kara Zor-El.

He told Clark that he was lost without Kara...

But... He wasn't the only one who felt lost without the Girl of Tomorrow.

* *

The last five years had passed since Supergirl's death, the world had seemed to have changed since then.

It was no different that Y/N and his 4 and a half year old companion named Riley had moved away from the current city they lived in together, he said his goodbyes to everyone and moved away... To another Earth where it felt more safer for him to move around in.

Helped by Dr Fate and some others, he was able to travel to this different Earth where it felt the safest within the Multiverse, there were a few other Earths like this one... But this one felt it called his name. Where a new chapter in his life would finally begin.

On the ridge of Vancouver aka Vantucky located in the Washington State, laid a house that he stayed in.

This place costed at least $1.250.000 Dollars, but thankfully? He had some friends who helped buy him the place from his old home, that being his old Earth.

"Good day for a walk, ain't it Riley?" the mid-20s man looked to his K9 companion and asked his companion.

Riley barked once as to respond to his owner's question.

"Couldn't say it any better bestie" he smiled as the two turned up at the front door of their house, he pulled out the keys and began unlocking the door to enter his home.

He opens the door and enters before allowing his K9 friend to come in before closing the door behind him, exhaling his breath as he began taking off his jacket and hanging it up.

Before he took another step, he heard Riley growling...

"What is it?" he asked as he bent down to comfort his K9, the dog barked toward the direction of where he was growling at, which set off alarms in Y/N's head. Riley wouldn't growl at the presence of Y/N's house cat Milo would he?

But... Someone unfamiliar had popped into his home when he suddenly realized why he was growling.

"Take it cool Riley, we go together" his heart was pounding, someone had broken into his home and not even the security alarm warned him of an intruder? This set off red alarms.

He pulled out his concealed handgun in his back pocket, in case he was apprehended by common thugs or whatever.

He moved slowly with the dog, aiming his handgun in front of him, finger on the trigger in case something were to jump out at him.

Never did he think someone would even dare break into his own home and manage to not trip the security that was placed in his home for any intruder who tried breaking in... The weird part? The more he slowly moved throughout his home, he began to think something was off, no break-ins were seen, the alarm wasn't tripped.

The dog began barking before rushing off, causing Y/N to panic.

"Riley, no!" Y/N shouted after the dog, hoping the intruder wouldn't hurt his K9 Service Dog, the barking continued as he quickly rushed to where Riley ran off to, only to stop at the sight of seeing someone... Very familiar standing beside a sleeping Milo on his favorite spot on the couch.

"Hi... Sparky" it was a blonde haired woman, she would smile but the dog kept barking at her and she didn't want to hurt it if it went to attack her with Y/N's permission to do so... Though the dog would only hurt itself if it did so.

His eyes bulged open, his heart began racing... He was wondering if he had taken his medication today since he was frozen still at the sight of seeing what he thought as a ghost.

His gun still aimed at her, she still wore the same outfit the day she went to fight for Earth's survival, the day she would say her last goodbyes without knowing she was going to die and leave a devastated Y/N behind her when she sacrificed herself.

"K-Kara?" he spoke the name of his late fiancé... Who appeared to be standing in front of him...

* *

Kara Zor-El stood still as the Anti-Monitor had been defeated, wounded but still able to stand.

She witnessed her own death here... At that exact moment when sacrificing her life to save her cousin from the Anti-Monitor. But luckily? She was saved by Zero-Hour Parallax Hal Jordan, even the Flash aka Barry Allen was saved by him too.

She knew what would happen if she were to die... How she ORIGINALLY died and the impact it would cause.

She first saw it through images of smoke in the Phantom Zone that had imprisoned Kryptonians that defiled the House of El.

She saw her devastated fiancé and what he was going through after her death, no matter her pleads to make the strange smoky visions stop, the images kept playing in her head. Watching her own body be carried to the sun by her cousin to lay her to rest, seeing her fiancé go through a very rough depressive state.

It was enough to make her panic with her thoughts, before she crumbled up into a ball and let the tears flow.

However, she promised to keep it all a secret, knowing she was going to die. She knows what happens to the timeline if things were altered.

She was fully willing to accept her fate, knowing how heartbreaking it is to see her future husband go through the pain of losing her and knowing Clark would be the last living member of the House of El... She had to accept it.

However... When things were revealed that a version of Brainiac had been up to no good with the multiverse at his fingertips, he began collecting different Earths and timelines, fitting them against each other, the winner? Gets a future.

However things weren't going well... The multiverse was unstable... Telos, a servant of this Brainiac had brought everyone to the dimension Brainiac was in to control the universes he collected.

The only way to restore it, was to send everyone back home and Brainiac was the only one who could do it.

But he couldn't... The first Crisis he claimed, was blocking him from doing so, in order to restore the multiverse, he had to send Pre-Crisis Supergirl and Flash back to their timeline, where they already knew their fates were sealed...

But in luck... Zero-Hour Hal Jordan aka Parallax had decided to go with them... Along with Superman and his Wife and newborn son, in which in an instant... The Multiverse was saved.

Kara issued a word with Brainiac and Telos before she would be saved by Zero-Hour Hal Jordan... She wanted to see her fiancé after the deed had been done, she didn't care if it wasn't the present Y/N or just after the Crisis, she wanted to see her fiancé since the vision she saw showed he NEVER moved on from her.

And so her wish was granted the moment the Anti-Monitor was defeated...

"Ah! What?! Where... Where am I?" she was suddenly teleported into a home she didn't recognize. "Rao! This isn't my home... Is it?" she turned round and noticed she was standing in the living room, where small portraits were on display... Showing her fiancé in them. She recognized his face in them, showing she was in the right place... But something was different.

She stopped the moment her eyes laid upon an old photo on display. A photo of herself and Y/N, before they were even married... When she was living in New York City, wearing the old blouse and hot pants suit.

"Brainiac actually lived up to his promise? If only I could thank him" she smiled upon the old photo, she was definitely in the right place... But it seemed to be a different house.

She then looked around and saw a cat sleeping on the couch, who awoke at the sound of her voice... The cat looked a lot familiar.

"You look a lot like Streaky" she cooed, kneeling down at the cat as it yawned, waking up from its nap on the couch, trilling at her presence. "And very friendly like him too" she smiled a little more.

Before long... The Maiden of Steel heard a door opening with a familiar voice behind it. "Couldn't have said it any better bestie" she heard her fiancé's voice, talking to someone.

Before she could even move, she then heard a dog growl.

'A dog too?' Kara said in her mind, she even used her x-ray vision to check, confirming it was a German Shephard. 'Seems to be a service dog, like I saw in the visions' she added.

"Riley, no!" her fiancé shouted out for the dog, who came running into the living room while barking, she put her hands up in front of her as Riley continuously barked at her with some growls at the end.

Y/N came sprinting in, his handgun in hand and stopped at the sight of Kara Zor-El, who then focused her attention to as she put her hands down, relaxing them.

"Hi... Sparky" she said awkwardly, smiling like she was caught doing something stupid.

Y/N's eyes bulged wide open as the dog kept barking and growling, his gun still aimed at her as she tried to get closer, but the dog wouldn't allow it.

"K-Kara?" he asked, his eyes still wide open as his gun was drawn on her still.

Kara thought back to what Telos had mentioned about Y/N in the future of her death in the Crisis, he'd gone through a deep depression and had trouble with his life after her death, it was like he was lost without her, before eventually he got help, and got a service dog named Riley.

"I don't know how long it's been but... It's me, Kara Zor-El, your fiancé" she smiled softly, trying to get closer again but Y/N's service dog growled at her since she was unfamiliar to him within his own home.

Everything was as it said it should be, Telos only warned that things would be a little different after the Multiverse is restored, along with her own life. She'd have to be his Guardian Angel, like she always has been to him. To be a somewhat light in the darkness for him since he'd gone through that mental breakdown.

"No, no... No! You're just a damn figment of my damn mind!" he closed his eyes and looked away, refusing to even believe if what he was seeing was real. Kara felt heartbroken to see him this way in person, what did she have to do to convince him that she is alive in front of him? It was then that Riley began sniffing the Kryptonian's scent. "Riley, did I take my meds today?" he asked his dog, still looking away from him as he thought the person in front of him was another trick.

However, the dog was still sniffing Supergirl's scent as she knelt down to his level, upon finishing, the dog began wagging his tail as it sensed the girl wasn't threatening at all.

"Riley?" he turned round to see Riley licking the "figment's" face as she giggled.

"For a service dog? Giving me kisses is something else" she giggled, remembering that Krypto the Superdog used to do it all the time when he greets her.

It was at that moment... Y/N's eyes widened once more, he felt his body go stiffer as he watched his dog lick the girl's face, giving her friendly kisses as she giggled away.

A few seconds go by and Riley stops, allowing the girl to stand up as he sat still next, allowing her to maneuver around now after being welcomed by him. Kara looks at her shocked and conflicted fiancé as the gun in his hands suddenly slips out from his hand, a loud thud hitting the ground as he stared at his supposed dead fiancé, now alive mysteriously.

"A-Angel?" he began to feel his eyes watering, all the pent up emotion getting to him as she got closer to him.

"It's me... I'm back, in a confusing way but I'll-" she was suddenly stopped by him rushing into her, wrapping his arms tightly around her body as he dug his head into her, though he was slightly taller, he could still bury his head into her shoulder.

Kara heard the loud sniffles, as he let the tears flow down his face onto her suit's red shoulder where he burrowed his face into, hearing him sob her name out, asking if she was really alive a few times made her wrap her arms around him next, to show she was indeed alive once again, now in her arms after that long battle with the Anti-Monitor who originally, killed her.

His sobs were enough to make her eyes water with his, she didn't know if he was crying happily or the other way around, she stayed strong for him however and let him sob his heart out.

"It's been f-f-f-f-five y-years!" he sobbingly mumbled into her shoulder with a muffled tone before sniffling again. Her initial thought was confirmed, this was present day Y/N, some time after her death as Telos and Brainiac stated before she went through the portal to face the Anti-Monitor, with a different outcome.

"And I'm not leaving you again" she responded as his sniffles continued. "Can you look at me so I can kiss you?" she then asked, as her fiancé pulled back a little to look at her before their lips crashed into each other with Kara wiping away the tears on his face with her hands on his face.

He gave his all to show how much he missed her, melting into her lips as he kept his arms around her, not wanting to let go any sooner, in case he were to lose her again. giving small whimpers.

Their kiss soon ended as their foreheads rested on each other, their eyes opening as they look at one another.

"Kara I..." he didn't know how to process this situation. With her thumb, Kara wiped away another stray tear that fell down from his right eye.

"Shh" she cooed. "I'll explain everything later, right now? I just want to hold you right now, give you all the kisses and hugs in the world" she suggested, putting a smile on her fiancé's face.

"That's all I want right now" he softly spoke before the two smiled and kissed once more.

* *

"So... What you're telling me... Is that Brainiac admitted he felt loss? And then tried to restore the collapsing Multiverse which he originally caused to happen? He had to send you and our Barry back to face your deaths again, but an evil Hal Jordan saved you and Barry? Which pretty revived you?" Y/N spoke with confusion. "Okay... I'm confused" he admitted.

"Yeah, it's confusing I know... But... I'm alive again so... That's all that matters" she agreed, she was now out of her costume and put on a cardigan and casual short shorts with no socks on her feet, laying down on the couch with her fiancé reunited with her.

"Yeah... You've missed a lot" he spoke lowly. "I'm on meds now, got Riley as a service dog" he gestured while cuddling into Kara as Riley barked as a response. "And I got Milo" he then added.

Kara looked at the peacefully sleeping orange cat Milo as she smiled. "Reminds me of Streaky the Supercat".

"In a certain way? Yeah" he agreed with her on a short note.

"Y/N... I... I'm sorry for leaving you" she looked down at him, his eyes now focused on her by just moving his head to face her. "If I had known the impact I was going to leave on Kal, on you and everyone else? Especially you. I..." she then sighed, she was going to call herself selfish, but originally she saved her cousin from death, but it costed her, her own life.

"You don't need to be sorry and it's not your fault about what I went through... I found it hard to move on from you, which clouded my judgement, I was so angry, upset and... Drowsy" he took away the blame Kara was putting on herself, not wanting her to blame herself for what he went through as Kara began to realize. "But I got help eventually, Riley has been there since I got help, you're not gonna believe this but, he was a puppy when he became my emotional support animal and my service dog" he explained with a soft chuckle, causing the girl to smile.

"I believe you, cause I saw it like I said" she spoke before leaning her head down and kissed his forehead.

"As for earlier, I let those emotions out because I couldn't believe that my fiancé was alive again, for the last five years Kara, I still found it hard to move on. I've tried dating, but my heart could not move on from you, even with my mind playing tricks on me thinking I saw you in the distance or in front of me" Y/N unexpectedly began explaining, like it was sudden instinct to vent his thoughts. "I take medication to keep my mind straight, so I don't fall into that feeling again, ever since you died... I felt... Lost without you, and I couldn't bear with feeling crushed without you by my side" he choked on the last set of his words, with Kara now stroking his face.

"But I'm here now... To guide you once more, as you were with me when we first met" she cooed, stroking his face softly as he began to smile. "I can hang up the cape to be with you at all times, no more Supergirl... Just Kara L/N" the Kryptonian hinted while she smiled back.

"Kara, this world does need heroes, there's barely any out there in this world" he denied her suggestion. "This world needs a hero like you, to inspire others just like your cousin did".

"Are you certain?" she asked concerned. "I don't know how you'd really feel about me going back out there, after all you've been through without me".

"Yes" he looked Kara in the eye to show he was genuine about it. "This world needs someone like you... It may not be the same Earth but... It someone Super to be its Champion" he softly smiled.

Kara smiled with him before the she was pulled into a soft and passionate kiss, their lips touched with tenderness, longing for another long kiss before it broke.

"I've been strong for so long Kara... Losing you, really broke me, it broke me everywhere. I just wanted you back so much-"

"Shhhhh" Kara cooed, putting a finger on his lips as she softly smirked. "You don't need to fret anymore... I'm here with you now" she whispered softly.

Her fiancé's face brightened up upon hearing her words, it was all he ever needed... Was his soulmate to come back, even if he had moved on.

"I love you Kara, I love you so much" he cooed as the Kryptonian then planted a quick kiss on his lips.

"I love you too, Sparky" she smirked as their kiss was continued into a soft and gentle make-out session...

#supergirl #dc comics #kara zor el #supergirl x male reader #kara zor-el x male reader #dc supergirl #male reader #supergirl x reader #pre-crisis #superhero x reader #pre-crisis supergirl #crisis on infinite earths #fluff #angst

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mistfallengw2 · 2 years ago

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Quick Guide for a Smooth and Quick Toypocalypse ⛄️

Just a quick guide so that Toypocalypse can a bit faster and hopefully more enjoyable for everyone involved~

General Strategy

Every player should pick a different zone to focus on, so that there's no need to struggle for resources and the whole map gets covered by clusters of catapults! Here's a map of the best spots:

The areas in red are secondary spots where you can expand or move to if an area is already covered. You CAN cover a whole map with properly built Labyrinth, Hoelbrak and Village, so you can team up to do those!

You want to pick spots that are close enough to be in reach of other people's catapults, but not so close that you have to fight for resources. See what your party is doing and act accordingly.

For your own zone, you want to pick a good spot to build your Catapults (high, good view over the map) and then surround them with a few Snowmen and the occasional Ballista. Soon, your Catapults will be able to nearly one-shot enemy waves that spawn close enough, while the rest will take care of those that get too close during reload.

Properly set up clusters are more effective than randomly placed toys! Clusters focus enemies in a few spots and catapults' barrages can clear them even at their spawn. Stray toys will spread enemies around the map and Catapults may not even reach them :(

There's a cap AND a decay timer for siege toys! Old toys will despawn if you place too many or after 15 minutes with no upgrading! Try to place them with intention from the start, then after round 4 it's best to start upgrading what you've already placed.

Your strategy should be to aggro enemy waves away from the center and clear them fast! While you want to drop a few toys on the central platform to defend the dolyaks (pretty useful in the first waves and for extra security), only place them on the outer edges and don't overdo it! Enemies will aggro on siege toys, and if they're too close to the dolyaks... well, that kinda defeats their defensive purpose, and it'll hurt a lot if it's Toxx's turn.

Focus on Toxx as soon as she spawns (every 2 rounds, after a few waves of regular toys) and try to break her CC bar asap! You don't want her to destroy your hard work, but be careful of her attacks, especially the one where she spins and reflects projectiles (you can get oneshot if you use the rifle).

Siege Toys and Weapons

Catapults are your best friends and Snowmen are their buddies! Let the Snowmen do damage, aggro and chill enemies, so that Catapults can reach them over long distances by firing in an arc. (a full barrage from is extremely satisfying to witness)

Ballistas and Walls are not bad, but should be used sparingly. Ballistas attack faster than Catapults, but unlike them they are single-target and can only hit enemies that are in a straight line in front of them. Walls should be used only as a way to block or bottleneck specific areas, as toys will usually ignore them if something else is around.

Siege toys do more than any weapon skill! Pistol is kinda useless after the very first wave, while Rifle and Smasher are overall better. They mostly matter during Toxx fights.

Remember: a few upgraded toys are better than many base toys.

While you can build in a cluster, you're better off leaving at least some space between them so that you can have an easier time upgrading them later. (This example for the two points above is a bad example: FAR too many toys for one spot + extreme lack of space between them)

If you know spawn points, you can place a single sacrificial Snowman (you'll have plenty of snow anyway) in there to immediately aggro enemies and give your Catapults extra time to clear the wave where it spawns.

Tips & Tricks

When holding Snow or Scraps, you can use your 3rd skill to run faster!

You can gather extra gifts after every Toxx on the left side of the map! (Round 2, 4, 6 and 8. Round 10 gives its own reward in the bouncy chest.)

You can regen health by hanging out with the dolyaks for a few seconds, and if they're hurt you can heal them using Hay!

If you want extra security for the dolyaks, there are 4 Skritt Mercenaries on the sides of the map that can be hired for 3 Scraps each.

Resources respawn after a few rounds, so do try to use your first round of resources responsibly! If you're doing fine with your numbers, upgrade early or maybe even bring some of your Scraps to party members that are struggling to set up!

Siege toys are built right on the spot your camera/mouse cursor is aiming, and you can take advantage of it to build more precisely! Also, if you're building against a wall, it'll be placed above it! (In this example of my fave Labyrinth configuration: toys are built by aiming on the pole at the intersections and end up on top of them + walls block the entrances)

As a note, the Wiki has already a pretty decent guide, but I wanted to sum things up and add to it!

#gw2 wintersday #toypocalypse #gw2 #wintersday #gw2 guide #I do hope this helps someone enjoy this mode a lil' more #there's some “graphic design is my passion” in this and I am sorry #certified to be made with 'tismest love possible #might add to this later #guiding Skye

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your-divine-ribs · 1 year ago

Text

The Christmas Wish Part 4

Words: 2.8k

I intended to also add Van’s POV to this but I wanted to get something posted this weekend so that’ll be next part. Sorry if it’s naff! Hopefully some cute moments coming up in the next part 🤍

The Christmas Wish Masterlist Main Masterlist

🤍 Sacha's POV 🤍

I'm still partially in shock as we all make our way down the corridor and push through the outer school door. I'd been dreading seeing Grace's dad, I was totally expecting the worst from him and I truly thought I'd be desperate to get away after an uncomfortable and awkward meeting. Instead here I am, watching his kids practically dragging him across the car park, excited chatter filling the chilly winter air of Christmas trees and tinsel and fairy lights.

"Are you really sure you don't mind me tagging along?" I say as Van comes to a stop in front of a flashy looking red sports car, fumbling in his jacket pocket for the keys. "I can always pick up the stuff I need for the Christmas wreaths on my way in tomorrow, it's not a problem."

I can't help but feel like I'm intruding on a precious family moment, but Van won't hear any of it. "Why put yourself out when we're heading there right now? We'd love you to come with us wouldn't we kids?"

Cries of "yeah course we do Miss!" and "you gotta help us choose a tree!" burst from the two children and I can't help but grin from ear to ear, buoyed by their obvious excitement.

He opens up the passenger door and shunts the seat forward, urging the kids to clamber into the back. "C'mon you pair, you're gonna have to both get in the back. We can't expect Miss Wilson to squeeze herself in there can we?"

"Err... it's Sacha," I remind him. "We're not in school now. And I don't mind sitting in the back. Not at all."

Even as I'm saying the words I'm filled with doubts as to how I'll be able to manoeuvre myself into the car gracefully without flashing too much leg. It's so low to the ground the suspension's practically scraping the tarmac, the back seat a cramped-looking space that I'd likely have to contort my body into. It's definitely not a practical family vehicle but I suppose what should I expect from a rock-star, even one with children?

"No way, you're up front with me," Van smiles and I feel a little twinge of excitement radiate through me which I try to ignore, turning my attention quickly back to the car.

"It's a really nice car, very fancy!" I enthuse, letting my eyes trail over the sleek contours, the garish fire engine red paintwork standing out starkly amongst the drab coloured family saloons parked on either side.

Van lets his hand trail proudly over the soft-top, almost petting it. "Just picked it up last week, bloody gorgeous ain't it? Bit of a tight squeeze for four though. Wasn't really thinking about the practicalities when I bought it."

"Can we have the top down Daddy?" I hear a little voice come from inside.

"Not in the middle of December, we'll freeze!" Van laughs, sliding the seat forward and ushering me into the passenger seat. I slide into the leather seat self-consciously, holding my skirt tight to my thighs. Van waits until I'm settled before he shuts the door.

I've never been in a car like this before in my life. It's a far cry from my trusty little Fiat 500 that I trundle to school and back in every day. I glance around at the impressive interior, wondering what something like this might cost.

"Can't wait for the summer," Van says as he takes his seat behind the wheel. "Cruising along with the top down, tunes blaring out, the wind in my hair..."

"You'll just be moaning about messing up your hair the whole time!" Grace giggles from the back and I laugh as I see Van sticking out his tongue at his daughter in the rearview mirror.

"Well? It's good hair!" He smirks, making a show of running his hand through it.

"Grandma keeps saying when ya gonna get it cut?" Leo pipes up and Van is quick to reply that Grandma knows nothing about style.

I can't stop grinning hearing Van's easy banter with the kids and I'm beginning to see where Grace gets her outgoing, cheeky nature from. I fasten my seatbelt just as I hear Van firing up the engine which roars into life with a throaty growl.

"Just listen to that," Van murmurs as he revs the accelerator a few times, the delight on his face evident. "Goes 0-60 in about 4 seconds!"

I raise my eyebrows and nod my head, trying to look impressed even though the thought of travelling so fast so quickly frankly terrifies me.

"Can we go fast today... please!" Grace cries. "You're always on about how quick it goes but then you never show us. You always drive so slow-ly."

She drags out the word for effect and Leo makes loud vrooming noises. Van starts to inch the car forward.

"I told you before, I'm not driving fast with you two in the car... precious cargo ain't ya?"

There's booing and grumbling from the back and I turn my head towards Van, surreptitiously sneaking a glance at his handsome profile as he's concentrating on navigating out of the tight parking space.

"I swear if I scratch this paintwork..."

"Mummy says Daddy bought this car 'cause he's having a mid-life crisis...whatever that is!" Grace suddenly announces and I have to bite down hard on my bottom lip to stifle the laugh that nearly bursts free.

Van doesn't look quite so amused, his face scrunching in embarrassment which morphs into an awkward grin as his eyes flick quickly across to me. "Yeah well... mummy says a lot of things," he murmurs, then he drops his voice even lower. "Is Gracie like this in class too?"

"Oh yes," I grin, also talking in hushed tones even though the children clearly aren't listening, chattering away to each other in the back. "If Grace has something to say then she'll just come right out with it, she doesn't hold back."

"Have no idea where she gets it from!" Van chuckles, then he's pulling out of the car park, the momentum of the acceleration of the car pushing me back in my seat even though we're not even travelling that quickly. I'm not into cars at all but even I can't deny there's something kind of hot about the thought of all that power thrumming underneath the bonnet.

Van asks for directions to Harvey's and I start to tell him before we're interrupted by the raised voices of the kids squabbling in the back. I twist around in my seat to see what the altercation is.

"I get to pick this time," Grace demands, pouting sulkily at her brother. "You had your go this morning."

"But it only takes five minutes to get to school. That's only enough time for one song!"

Grace is resolute. "I don't care, those are the rules! You'll only go and put something rubbish on anyway. We don't wanna listen to 'baby shark' again!"

"Ughh had that stuck in my head all morning," Van grumbles, then he reaches into his inside jacket pocket to produce a phone which he holds out to me. "Here ya are, pass that to Gracie will ya? We take it in turns to take control of the music on car trips... unless you want a turn Sacha? Seems only fair you being an honorary guest an' all?"

God, why does the sound of him simply saying my name make me feel all warm and gooey inside?

I take the phone from him, feeling far too shy to reveal my basic music tastes. "Oh no, I'll pass thanks. We don't want Grace to miss her turn do we?"

Grace smiles victoriously and thanks me as she leans forward to take her dad's phone, immediately jabbing at the screen.

"Should be already connected," Van calls to her. "And pick something decent to put on... especially seeing as we've got company."

"I'm on your Spotify account, so you're bound to like it," she replies, and I glance at Van just in time to see that awkward little smile surface again.

"I've got a really wide range of music tastes nowadays. Touring and meeting other musicians really opens up your ears to new stuff. There's all sorts on there. You never know what you might find."

"Any guilty pleasures?" I tease, intrigued as I hear Grace giggling from behind me.

"Me? Nah... I'm not remotely guilty about any of the stuff I listen to..."

And then, as if on some perfectly timed cue, the tinkling opening bars of Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas begin to blare out from the car's speakers. Van's jaw practically unhinges and the giggles I've been suppressing since we first got into the car finally burst free.

"I never would've had you pegged as a Mariah fan!" I laugh as Van splutters, clearly embarrassed.

"I'm not, I swear! She must've clicked on some generic Christmas playlist."

"But Daddy... it's your Christmas playlist," Grace is quick to pipe up. "You picked all these songs yourself. Remember?"

"I swear, every shred of dignity goes out of the window when you have kids," Van mutters, but he's laughing, little creases forming around the corners of his eyes, an adorable tinge of pink lighting up his cheeks. "And you can't have Christmas without Mariah can you?"

"Definitely not!" I laugh along with him, before I'm trying to maintain a mock serious tone. "I mean, I'm not a fan at all but I'd be very disappointed if this particular song wasn't on your hand-picked Christmas playlist."

"Phew... am I off the hook then?" He flashes me a toothy grin, but before I get a chance to answer, two little voices sound out in perfect harmony.

"I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know... make my wish come truuu-uuueee..."

"It's your bit next Daddy!" Cries Leo.

Oh... this just gets better and better. I look across at Van again whose cheeks are getting pinker by the second as he shakes his head. "Err... not now Leo."

"So you can hit Mariah's high notes then can you?" I tease, throughly enjoying watching him squirm.

"You should hear him Miss, he screeches sooooo loud," Grace cuts in and I glance back to see her covering her hands with her ears whilst she winces dramatically.

"Hey... less of the screeching," Van interjects. "I've got the voice of an angel, I'll have you know!"

"Well if it's that good then I think I need to hear it," I say, as both children erupt into chants of "sing Daddy sing!"

"My throat's actually a little sore right now, think I might be coming down with a cold." Van finishes off his sentence with a weak cough and it's quite obvious that he's faking it, but it's also quite obvious that his children aren't backing down from their pleas.

"No you've not... liar!"

"Yeah that's rubbish! And we always sing this song together!"

"Sing Daddy... please!"

"God, they're more demanding than the fans," Van groans but I can see his resolve is being ground down. What I'm not banking on though is his next line as he comes to a stop at a traffic light and looks across at me with a mischievous smirk. "But if I am gonna sing I think it's only fair that Sacha sings too... we're all in this together."

Now it's my turn for my jaw to fall slack, my eyes widening as I protest.

"Oh no I can't... I can't sing at all... I'm tone deaf..."

"No you're not Miss!" Grace blurts out excitedly. "You always sing so prettily in class... and you lead the school choir don't you? You're a good singer!"

I'm visibly cringing much to Van's amusement, the biggest shit-eating grin stretching wide on his lips. "Ahh... it's all coming out now! Look... we're not gonna get them to shut up if we don't do this. We'll never hear the end of it."

"Oh my god I can't believe I'm actually doing this," I mumble, my whole face in flames as I raise up my hands to my cheeks.

Mariah's still warbling away shrilly on the car stereo, and I figure I might not even see Grace's dad again after this so I take a deep breath, looking straight ahead out the car windscreen so I don't have to look directly at him as I start to sing.

"Oh, I don't want a lot for Christmas, this is all I'm asking for..."

And to my horror the whole car falls silent to listen to me.

"But you didn't even join in!" I gasp in surprise, but my words are cut short as Van starts to sing.

"Oh, I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come truuuu...uuuee..."

His voice is the perfect mixture of smooth with a throaty rasp that makes me suck in a breath, and he scrunches his eyes shut briefly as he rises up to hit the high note. I'm staring with my mouth agape, I can't help it, and then our eyes meet as he looks right at me to sing the next line.

"Oh, baby, all I want for Christmas is youuuuu."

"Youuuuu, ba-by..." Chime in the kids, loud giggles emanating from the back seat that thankfully snap me out of my trance.

Van's smiling widely at me, his face all lit up from within and his eyes sparkling with a youthful exuberance and an errant thought flashes through my head...

Shit... I'm in trouble... I like this guy... I REALLY like him...

But as soon as the thought pops up then it's gone. I'm swept up in the moment, singing along with everyone, hamming it up as we all mimic Mariah's signature high-pitched vocals as the song plays out. I'm having so much fun I completely forget where we are for a moment, and the actual purpose of me being here with Grace and her family. Too late, I see the turning for Harvey's shoot past in a blur out the passenger window.

"Ahhh... you just missed the turning... sorry I got completely distracted," I say, quickly giving Van directions as he indicates for the upcoming roundabout.

"No problem," he replies, navigating the roundabout to bring us quickly to our destination.

"Here we are kids!" He announces as he pulls into a free parking space. "All ready to get this tree then?"

"Can we get a real one rather than a fake one?" Grace calls hopefully. "That's what Alex bought mummy last week. It's huge!"

Van's cheerful demeanour disintegrates instantly at the mention of the name which is unfamiliar to me, and it doesn't take a genius to work out that Alex is likely his ex-wife's new boyfriend. He's obviously still wounded and far from over the breakdown of his marriage and I should be filled with sympathy but instead I feel an unexpected rush of completely misplaced jealousy that I really have no business feeling.

"There's loads of trees here to choose from," I say purposefully brightly, tearing my eyes away from Van to address the kids. "Ellie bought a six foot Norwegian pine here just last week. It looks gorgeous in her living room all decorated up."

"Six foot?" Echoes Leo. "Is that as tall as you Daddy?"

"Uh-huh," Van says as he powers off the ignition, turning around in his seat to face the children. "So how big's this tree of mummy's then kids? Is it as tall as me d'ya think?"

Leo shrugs whilst Grace looks thoughtful. "I dunno... Mummy couldn't reach up to put the star on the top though so Alex had to pick her up to do it... just like you used to do..."

The kids likely don't notice the shadow that flits across Van's features but I notice it, a ripple of emotion on the surface that he admirably recovers rather flawlessly from. He plasters on a smile full of enthusiasm as he leans on the headrest, telling his excited children that the tree they're going to get will be much bigger and better than their mum's, and how they'll take it home with them to decorate up that very evening.

"Umm... Van... errr... sorry to interrupt," I venture cautiously.

I don’t want to ruin the moment, I really don’t, but my practical primary school teacher's brain tends to assess scenarios very quickly, pinpointing and zooming in on probable complications. I wonder if Van's even considered how he's going to fit a majestic seven foot pine into his tiny little sports car to transport it home.

“Yeah?” He whips his head around to face me, eyes bright and eager.

“There might be… ummm …. a little problem... you know... with the logistics of getting a tree that size home in this car. Not sure if you've thought about that."

But it appears that Van already has, a huge grin stretching wide on his face as he reaches forward to pluck his phone from his daughter's hands. "'Course I've already thought of that... that's where Larry comes in!"

#the christmas wish #dad van #van mccann fanfic #van mccann #au fanfic #vanfic

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