#she was shootin that thing

[azzifudd]

"I knew when we played 'em, we had to get them back at our place, and I couldn't let it slide, so I hit that shot, and I was like 'this is the moment,' so I turned and I blew her a kiss." x x

[trickphotography2]

we can't be friends (but i'd like to just pretend)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x unnamed female!reader, callsign Ladybug (story from Jake's POV)

Word count: 12.8k (sorry, it's a really long one)

Synopsis: Jake's not entirely sure how the bet came about other than being too drunk and maybe a little bored at the Fourth of July party. But after shaking on it with Yale, he agrees to help the new WSO - Ladybug - out with her crush on Rooster and figure out how to get the two of them to the Navy Ball together. With four months to get it done, it'll be simple. But when the reserved aviator is harder to get to know than expected, Jake has to push her to get out of her own way.

Written for @sorchathered Rom-Com challenge, with a prompt of She's All That

Warning: This fic does include angst (mentions of drunk driving and the aftermath, PTSD, loss of consciousness, and toxic men) with fluff

18+, minors DNI

Crossposted on Ao3 | My Masterlist

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The Hard Deck was busy for a Monday, which suited Jake just fine as long as he still had access to the dartboard and could flirt with some of the fresher faces while avoiding his previous mistakes. After a long day in the classroom, he was ready to let off some steam, and the pretty blonde thing by the bar looked like she’d do nicely. 

Downing the rest of his beer, he threw his last three darts, ending the game against Coyote with a decisive win and making his way to the bar. Yale and Omaha were there, but the rest of the Daggers were huddled by the pool table. As he passed, he could hear Phoenix telling everyone about the new WSO she was sponsoring that was finally arriving after her orders got pushed back - he still didn’t understand why she volunteered for the extra duty. Sponsors were great, but unless you had kids, getting established on a new base wasn’t hard - show up on time, figure out your housing, and report to command ASAP. There was no need to have someone hold your hand through the process. But that was just his opinion. If Phoenix wanted to spend her spare time being pen pals with folks moving to San Diego and running around to help them get settled, more power to her. 

Getting the blonde’s number was hardly a challenge, and she grinned at him while walking away to rejoin her friends. Jake motioned to Jimmy for another beer, and the older man quickly slid one over the counter. Moving closer to his fellow aviators, Jake leaned against the bar and surveyed the crowd. “Found yourself another tag chaser?” Yale chuckled, sipping his drink.

“Like shootin’ fish in a barrel,” Jake shrugged and smiled as the girl looked at him again. He threw a wink for good measure and saw how the friend group giggled.

The front door opened, and his eyes darted to the woman walking in. Even if she hadn’t been wearing her khakis, the god-awful birth control glasses that Bob also favored would have given her away as military. Jake let his gaze rake over the unfamiliar woman, clocking the double bars and wings as she looked around nervously. And then he heard Phoenix call out, and she looked up. 

Omaha looked up from his drink, tracking the woman as well. “Shit,” he hisses through his teeth before lifting his glass and taking a swig. “That’s Ladybug?” Twisting, Jake watched her reach Phoenix, who seemed to be introducing her to the rest of the crew.

“Ladybug?” Yale asked, straightening from where he leaned against the bar. His eyes tracked her as she moved, barely hiding a sneer behind his drink. 

“My new backseater,” Omaha sighed. Since Halo had gotten orders to Pensacola, the aviator had been waiting for his new WSO to arrive. 

“And would you look at that - girl’s swingin’ way out of her league.” Even from across the bar, Jake could see Ladybug blushing as she talked to Rooster and reached up to adjust her glasses. Phoenix, standing between them, caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow. Smirking, he turned away, his attention settling back on the table of women who weren’t subtle about their looking at him. Lifting his beer, he grinned around the mouth of the bottle before slapping the bar and pushing away from it.

“If you’ll excuse me, gents - looks like I’ve got an audience.” 

It was still early when he closed out his and Kristen’s tabs, and Jake reflexively looked back toward where the Daggers hung out. Most were still there, but he noted that Ladybug had already left. The scowl Phoenix shot him when she sensed his gaze let him know he’d get an earful tomorrow about not welcoming the new kid, but he’d deal with it.  

“Ready?” Kristen purred, running her hand up his back as she came alongside him. Grinning down at her, he nodded before signing his receipt and shoving his wallet into his back pocket.

“Let’s get outta here.” 

Weeks bled past, punctuated by a party at Payback’s for the Fourth of July. As the married man in the crew, the Fitch family was always happy to host.

And while Jake wasn’t purposefully keeping tabs on Ladybug - “Bug is fine,” she’d told everyone - he started to notice her absence more. While in the Ready Room, she often looked out the window and listened to the radio chatter while others played foosball and messed around. Omaha said she was good but missed Halo and joking around in the cockpit. Bob, Fanboy, and Phoenix seemed to be the only ones to get her to open up and crack a rare smile. She didn’t join them at lunch in the cafeteria or for drinks at the Hard Deck. 

And every time Rooster got near her, she got flustered. Her usual reserve and cool seemed to disappear, and she either clammed up or rambled. 

So, seeing her show up at the party with a fruit platter was surprising. Payback’s wife, Maria, quickly offered her a drink, and Bug joined Phoenix and her girlfriend, Kerri. From the grill, Jake watched as she mingled, and he wondered how she was wearing jeans on a day when the temperature was already reaching the mid-80s. Most of the other women had opted for shorts or summer dresses - god, he loved summer dress season - but Bug’s only concession to the heat seemed to be a short-sleeved shirt and occasionally pressing her cold soda can to her neck.

“I gotta ask,” Kerri said, her arm looping through Bug’s as they walked into the kitchen to grab food. “What’s the story behind Ladybug? Nat told me there’s always a story behind the callsign.” While assembling his burger, Jake found himself listening to their conversation.

“I, uh… I worked with a lot of…new… pilots when I was starting. There were a couple of close calls and,” she shrugged. “Ladybugs are good luck.” 

“Shit,” Rooster said, glancing up from spooning pasta salad onto his plate. He grinned, a sunburn already appearing on his face. “I remember you on the Ford now - you were the WSO with the kid just out of FRS who panicked when his landing gear got stuck and nearly skidded into the ocean.” 

Bug’s eyes were big behind her glasses as she flushed, pouring chips onto the table when she missed her plate. Quickly, she set the bag down and cleaned up her mess while muttering, “Yeah.” 

“Damn. That was a bad one - thought he was gonna ram the back of the carrier at first.” Rooster put down his plate and lifted his hands to demonstrate. “I heard the pilot started descent without realizing his front gear wasn’t down, missed the tailhook, and almost didn’t accelerate fast enough to recover. They circled and had to dump fuel while they got the barricades up, but they came in too low and nearly clipped the back of the ship before finally skidding in.” 

“Jesus!” Kerri said, looking at Bug. “Seriously?”

“It was his first carrier landing,” the woman replied with a shrug. “He got better.” 

“After we all had to sit through a lecture on the basics of landing,” Rooster smirked while grabbing his plate and throwing a wink at Bug, who flushed bright red. “Didn’t you both have to sit front and center for that one?”

“It was a good refresher.”

“He still flying?” Jake asked, biting into a carrot stick. Bug’s eyes flashed with something before her gaze dropped to her plate. 

“Not anymore,” she said softly, quickly heading back outside with her plain burger and a handful of chips. He and Rooster exchanged glances as Kerri got a worried look on her face. 

The drinks flowed, and Jake enjoyed himself as he hung out with his buddies. As fun as it was to have Mav around, it was also really nice when the soon-to-be-Admiral chose to hang out with his wife and stepdaughter, allowing the younger crowd to cut loose. Payback and Maria had already offered anyone who'd drank too much a safe space to crash, and Jake would take advantage of it. He and Yale went shot-for-shot in beer pong, and his tongue was red from the jello shots he’d consumed. 

“She’s delusional,” Yale slurred, punching Jake’s arm and pointing to where Bug and Rooster were chatting. “Not hot ‘nough to pull an aviator.”

“She’s an aviator too, dick,” Jake rolled his eyes, watching as Bug pressed her cold soda can to her throat. The movement shifted her shirt, and he could see that she had the beginning of a sunburn on her arms. Squinting, he stared at the raised red line that reached the middle of her bicep, and, as though feeling his gaze, she looked at him. Her eyes darted down to her arm, and she quickly adjusted her sleeve to hide it, her face flushing. 

“Oooh, Hangman’s gotta crush on Bug!” He rolled his eyes at the immaturity, sipping his beer and anticipating the hangover he’d have in the morning for mixing alcohol. 

“You’re drunk. She’s a decent WSO and keeps Omaha’s dumbass alive.” And that was true. As much as he never wanted a backseater, he couldn’t help but notice how methodical Bug was. She was the first on the flight line doing her pre-flight checks, talking to the flight crew and mechanics about anything that felt off in the jet. She took thorough notes during a mission brief and conferred with the other WSOs to triple-check things before heading out. He knew that Mav was keeping an eye on her, probably vetting her for a reference to a test program. 

The conversation shifted, and Jake could feel his tongue getting looser the more he drank. That was how he was somehow talked into a dumb bet - that Bug would catch Rooster’s eye and go to the Navy Ball with him. 

And Jake would help.

Bug left the party before night fell, missing the impressive fireworks and sparklers they set off in the front yard. They had to brush debris from their hair and use the hose to put out minor fires in the grass, but thankfully, the only injuries were minor burns.

As he lay on Payback’s couch, Jake closed one eye to stop the room from spinning when his phone started going off. He ignored the few messages asking what he was doing and if he wanted to come over, wishing he was sober enough to drive home instead of listening to Yale’s snoring. 

As much as Jake wanted to forget his drunken bet with Yale, the other pilot was adamant they followed through because he’d shaken on it. And, never one to back down from a challenge, he reluctantly agreed. 

His first step was reconnaissance. With four months until the Navy Ball, he knew he had enough time to enact his plan once he figured it out. He knew Rooster and the type of women he usually dated. And it wasn’t that Bug was unattractive, just that she seemed not to give a shit what she looked like. Which wasn’t great because Rooster usually dated women who did. They wouldn’t have been caught dead in public without a perfect face of makeup, while Bug seemed content with eyeliner, not even bothering to hide the pimples that occasionally decorated her face. The few times he saw her off duty, she favored comfortable clothes over cute, and he never saw her hair out of anything but the regulation bun or a ponytail. 

However, Jake's most significant obstacle was her confidence. While Bug had no problems with her confidence regarding her job, the moment the conversation strayed outside anything to do with work, she seemed anxious. And if she was going to get Rooster’s attention, that would need to change. 

The first thing he had to do, though, was to gain her trust. Without that, she wouldn’t hear him out on any of his suggestions.

Which was why he found himself approaching her at lunch after seeing her sitting outside at one of the few tables under the trees that the smokers usually used during breaks. She looked down at her phone, occasionally tapping the screen as she picked at her lunch. “Mind if I join you?” Jake asked, not bothering to wait for her answer before tossing his heated-up chicken and rice onto the table and sitting. Bug gave him a surprised look but returned her attention to her phone, eyes occasionally flicking toward him as he ate and watched her finish her apples, cheese, and crackers. She blushed every time their eyes met, and he noticed she wasn’t tapping her phone as much. He was about to say something when she frowned, tossed her apple back into her lunch container, and tucked the phone to her ear.

“Hey, gimme a second.” With a tight smile, Bug gathered her things and shoved them into her lunch bag, slipping it over her arm before standing and walking away. 

Jake tried again the next day, only to find that Bug wasn’t at the table. Instead, he saw her walking around the building with her headphones in, her flight suit tied around her waist, and one of her sleeves pushed up. On the third day, he beat her to the table and saw her pause when she caught sight of him. “I don’t bite, Bug,” he called out and saw her shoulders tense. Her gaze was guarded as she trudged to the table and sat, not saying a word as she pulled out her container of apples, cheese, and crackers with flavored water. His eyes darted over her meal as she opened the container. “So what’d’ya think about the new group of trainees?”

Her hand froze as she dug in her pocket, eyes slowly lifting to meet his. “They’re cocky.” Her answer made him smirk as he reached across the table to grab a hunk of cheese from her lunch. “Hey!”

“We were all cocky when we got here. The instructors and Adversary students will beat it outta them.” Bug gave him an incredulous look as he popped the cheese in his mouth and grinned. 

“Clearly, they didn’t beat it out of everyone.” The steely look she gave him was the most animated he’d seen her. She slapped the back of his hand when he reached for a cracker. “You have your own lunch, Hangman.” 

“That’s not a lunch, Bug, that’s a kid’s snack. You need protein.” She ignored him and pulled out her phone, tapping on the screen. Chuckling, he opened his lunchbox and took out his meal, stirring the chicken and rice together. He watched her as he ate, smirking every time he caught her glancing at him and noting the rising blush on her cheeks. “Why do you hide out here?” he asked. 

“I hardly think sitting outside the office is hiding,” came her clipped response. 

“It is if you’re avoiding your squad.” 

“Maybe I just like peace and quiet while I’m eating.” 

“And scrolling social media.” 

“I’m not - ” Bug lowered her phone enough for him to glance at the screen, seeing it covered in text. “I just like to read in silence, okay? Do you mind?” Jake shrugged and didn’t say anything for a few minutes until he finished eating, his fork clattering in the glass container as he tossed it down. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

“What are you reading?” 

“A book.” 

“Is it any good?”

“It’s hard to tell when someone keeps interrupting me.” 

“What type is it?” 

“An e-book.”

“No,” he chuckled. “History? Non-fiction? Biography?” The faded blush roared back, and she refused to meet his gaze. His grin grew as he asked, “Is it a sex book?”

Bug locked her phone and set it face down on the table. Crossing her arms over her chest, she lifted her chin, lips pressed into a thin line. “What do you want, Hangman?” 

“Nothin’. Just trying to get to know my new squadmate.” 

“You don’t have to know me,” she snapped, shoving her things into her lunch bag. “I already have a sponsor and a pilot.” Startled by her response and the tears glistening in her eyes, he pushed to his feet as she stood.

“Bug - ”

“Just leave me alone, Hangman.” 

For as close as the squad worked together, Bug was good at holding herself apart from the team. After slipping a note into her locker with a quickly jotted ‘Sorry’ and feeling like he’d regressed to high school, Jake left her alone. Losing a bet wasn’t worth being an asshole and causing a rift in team dynamics. 

But while she was ignoring him, it was good to see that she was at least talking to Phoenix. And, every once in a while, Rooster, who still seemed oblivious to her crush. Jake tried not to look at Yale whenever the two interacted, not wanting to see the mocking eye-roll the other aviator would send his way. The way she’d blushed and tripped over her boots when Rooster patted her shoulder after a run where Omaha managed to get tone on him with her guidance was enough for Yale to go on a ten-minute tear about her at the Hard Deck.

Jake had walked away. He hadn’t even stayed long enough to pick someone up and went back to his apartment, wondering what the hell Yale had against Bug.

An August rainstorm drove Bug inside to the cafeteria, and Bob waved her over to join them. The only seat left was between Jake and Rooster, and she reluctantly settled between them and opened her salad. Jake was happy to see bits of grilled chicken in it but forced himself not to say anything. He was relieved that Yale, Harvard, and Fritz had decided to go to the food court for lunch so he wouldn’t have to witness how Bug kept herself apart, how she picked at her food, and how her eyes were downcast. When Phoenix mentioned the upcoming beach trip, she didn’t hear the offer to join until Rooster nudged her, brow furrowing in concern. 

“Yeah, sure,” she murmured, not seeming to realize what she agreed to. 

Later, when they were in the desk farm, Jake saw Bug jump out of her seat and leave quickly, phone pressed to her ear.

And Yale glared at her while looking up from his phone.

Bug needs help and you’re the closest. Here’s her address.

Jake stared at his phone as he sat at a red light. Halfway to the beach, he quickly flicked his blinker to pull a U-turn and head back toward his house. Bug only lived a few streets away from him, in one of the apartment complexes that had gone up over the last year.

He spotted her standing by her car, phone pressed to her ear and lower lip between her teeth. Jake frowned when he drove behind her, seeing the tilted vehicle. Rather than pulling into a spot, he parked behind her and hopped out to see that two tires were slashed. Her eyebrows rose behind her glasses when she saw him, and she quickly spun to avoid his concerned gaze, her floor-length floral skirt fluttering. 

“Whatever is closest, I don’t care,” she said, and he could hear the barely constrained tears in her voice. “Yeah, two tires…. Alright, thank you.” He crouched and ran his finger over the puncture mark on the back tire, glancing up to see that Bug’s shoulders were up by her ears. 

“You alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I told Phoenix that I didn’t need anyone here.” 

“Someone slashed your tires.”

“It happened to a few people last night,” she shrugged, slowly turning to face him. “It’s an annoyance, but nothing I can’t handle on my own.” 

“Was that the insurance company?” 

“Yeah. They’re going to tow it to a garage for me.”

“Alright, how long are they gonna be?”

“They said an hour, which probably means two. You should go and enjoy the beach.” 

“I’m not going, Bug. Did you call the police?” 

“They’re the ones who let me know it happened. One of my neighbors called them after he came out and saw his slashed.”

“So you’ve got the report number?” When she nodded, he ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, I’m gonna move my truck.” 

“Hangman, I’m serious - ”

“So am I. I can sit in my truck or wait by your car, or we can go inside, but I’m not leaving until they get your car. And then we can go to the beach.” 

“I’m not going to the beach.”

“We’ll see.” Bug’s lips pressed into a thin line as she crossed her arms, hip cocking to one side. He smiled at the sight, eyes snagging on the red scar on her arm. With his sunglasses on, she didn’t notice.

Her apartment was nice, in the ‘recently moved in and haven’t fully unpacked’ way. As she grabbed some water, he looked at the cart of books sitting by her couch. One caught his eye, and he flipped to a random page. 

Patroclus is breathing harder than the effort to hold our princess down requires, and his cock is so stiff, it’ll be a fucking miracle if he doesn’t come just from foreplay. It’s fine if he does. We have all of tonight and tomorrow. 

“What are you doing?” 

Jake looked up from the book and grinned, holding it so the cover faced her. “I didn’t realize you were reading porn at lunch.” 

“It’s not porn,” she snapped, reaching for the book. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but he held the book higher and read aloud. 

“I plan on tucking these two in for some rest after I fuck the worry out - oof!” He doubled over when her fist collided with his stomach, not enough to hurt but to startle him. Face bright red, Bug snatched the book from his hand and returned it to the cart, standing protectively in front of it. “That’s definitely porn,” Jake chuckled. “Good for you. Didn’t take you for a threesome kinda girl - ”

Bug let out a strangled sound before she lunged forward to press her hands to his mouth. “Will you shut the fuck up, Hangman?” Fighting back the urge to lick her palm, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand from his mouth, unable to keep from grinning. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, Bug. I won’t tell anyone that you avoid talking to us so you can spend your lunch reading sexy - ”

“Thanks for stopping by; now get the hell out of my house,” she cut him off, ripping her hand out of his hold and pressing it to his shoulder, trying to turn him toward the door. He shook her off, choosing to collapse onto the couch instead. She glared at him briefly before sighing heavily as he reached for one of the water glasses she’d dropped onto the coffee table. Sitting on the opposite side, she grabbed the other glass and ran her thumb through the condensation already forming on the sides. “You really don’t have to stay. The tow driver’ll take care of my car, and I don’t feel like going to the beach after this.”

“‘M startin’ to get the feeling that you don’t like us, Ladybug.” While his tone was teasing, Jake meant every word. “You don’t eat with us, you won’t go to the Hard Deck, and now you’re avoiding a beach day? Those are pretty much mandatory for the squadron.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes, and Bug’s teeth dug into her lower lip. “I… I don’t dislike you guys. I just… there’s a lot of stuff that - ” Her cell started vibrating on the coffee table. Jake’s eyes shot to it, catching the name RISK and seeing a picture of a guy in a flight suit, smirking up at the camera and flipping it off. Bug snatched the phone up, eyes darting toward him. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” Quickly, she stood while answering it and walking toward her bedroom. “Hey, how’s it - ”

The door closed, muffling her voice. Jake stared at it momentarily before pushing to his feet and walking to the fridge to get a refill. While the rest of the apartment was pretty bare, the refrigerator was covered in magnets from across the world, puns about books, a few bills, and a couple of pictures. He recognized the man from her phone screen as the one with one arm around Bug and her head on his shoulder as they sat in the shadow of an F-18’s wing, hair a tangled mess with her helmet between her knees and a pair of glasses with brown frames perched on her nose. They were there in a group, Bug laughing while sitting on his shoulders and his fingers digging into her thighs to hold her steady at an outdoor concert, the hem of her dress sitting on his head. There were pictures of a softball team, Bug grinning with a bat resting on her bare shoulder.

And Jake realized it was the first time he’d seen her smile like that. 

That thought irked him. And it definitely didn’t make him pay more attention to the calendar hanging in the kitchen. Sipping his water, his eyes darted over her small, neat handwriting, and his brows furrowed. Risk’s PT. Deposition. PCP follow-up. Chiro follow-up. FS reassessment. 

When the bedroom door opened, he was back on the couch, reading one of Bug’s books. Her eyes were red when she stepped out, and he clocked the fake smile. “Tow truck driver just called and said he’s pulling in.” When her eyes landed on the book in his hand - the Kiss Quotient - color rose in her pale cheeks. 

“Good timing. We’ll get that taken care of and head out. Harvard’s already texted me a list of things people forgot, so we’ll grab those at the store on the way.” 

“Hangman - ”

“Bug.” It was his turn to cut her off, the playful tone absent in his voice. “Come on. Give us a chance. If nothing else, Rooster’ll be there.” 

“Why would - ”

“I’m borrowing this, by the way,” he added, raising the book and tucking it under his arm while walking to slip on his shoes.

“What? No - you don’t want - ” The front door shut behind him, and Jake couldn’t help but chuckle when he heard Bug open the door and call for him to stop. He ignored it, going to greet the tow truck driver. 

It was hard not to pay attention to Bug after that day at the beach. She’d declined every offer to play a game, instead sitting on her towel and reading. She didn’t even change into a bathing suit - choosing to wear that long skirt that covered all but the tops of her feet and a t-shirt that gave her a farmer’s tan. The most skin she showed was a flash of ankle when she walked along the water with Kerri, pausing to pick up shells occasionally as Rooster and Phoenix trailed them. Jake tried not to pay too much attention when, on the way back, Kerri and Phoenix pulled ahead, leaving Rooster and Bug walking side by side and chatting.  

But she stayed through the late afternoon retreat to the Hard Deck, sipping cranberry juice and ginger ale. When she stood beside Rooster as he pulled his usual party trick of playing the piano, Jake tried not to notice how her skirt and his hideous Hawaiian shirt almost matched and pay attention to the woman chatting him up. He saw Bug looking at her phone a few times but only slipped away twice before calling it a night. She declined his offer to drive her home when he managed to shake off the woman - Jackie? - for a few minutes, and said goodbye to everyone instead of disappearing as usual. 

And now that he was watching, he noticed how frequently she left work early on days they weren’t in the air. The occasional wince when she turned too quickly to look at something, and how she sometimes favored her left side toward the end of the day. The handful of over-the-counter painkillers she took after they did PT and drove home before hitting the showers. 

She didn’t join them at lunch every day, but she started to make appearances, even though she mostly stayed quiet and frequently left to answer a phone call before the end of the break. And Jake found himself seeking her out at the smoker’s table. After he returned her book, teasing her mercilessly about the explicit sex scenes in the story, she just put in her headphones and flipped him the bird before going for a walk. 

He wouldn’t admit it, but the book had been hot. And it made him wonder what else Bug was reading, face blank as she sat across from him. 

The only one who seemed unhappy about the change was Yale. Jake caught the aviator watching her through narrowed eyes a handful of times and noticed how she went out of her way to avoid him. When he asked Bug about it, she just shrugged and changed the topic. 

The only activity she had yet to do was a night at the Hard Deck, so Jake found himself standing at her front door, grinning at her confused expression. “We’re going out,” he said, reaching over her head to open the door wider and inviting himself inside. 

“What? No, bra hours are done.” Laughing, he kicked off his shoes and spun, planting his hands on his hips. She crossed her arms over her chest, making the thin material of her t-shirt cling to the swell of her breasts and a thin strip of skin appear over the waistband of her sweatpants. 

“Come on, Bug. You need to do a Hard Deck night with us. Everyone’s gonna be there in a few, and it’ll be fun.” When she stared at him, he forced his smile to not falter. “You can’t tell me you didn’t have fun the two times you’ve been there before.” 

“I…” she paused and took a deep breath, eyes pinching behind her glasses. “I appreciate the invitation, Hangman, but I want a quiet night. I’m exhausted and - ”

“Just a couple of hours. Have a few drinks, play some pool, and then I’ll bring you home. Promise.” The longer he looked at her, the more his smile faltered. So he played his ace - “Rooster’ll be there.” 

Her brows knit together for a moment before her expression cleared. “I’ll give you one hour,” she sighed.

“Three.”

“I’m not putting my bra back on for three hours. Two or no deal.” 

“You’ve got it. As long as you wear something other than jeans.” 

“What’s wrong with jeans?” she demanded, squeaking in protest when he pushed past her into her bedroom. He flicked on the light, glancing quickly at her unmade bed and rumpled sheets before moving toward her closet. “Do you even know what boundaries are?” 

He quickly flicked past her flight suits and uniforms, finding what he was looking for in the back of her closet. Grabbing the hanger, he grinned while turning to see Bug’s scowl. “Wear this,” Jake said, trying to hand her the hanger holding a sundress. She stared at it, eyes slowly raising to meet his.

“No.” 

“Come on.” 

“No.”

“You’ll look hot in it.” 

“I’m wearing jeans or nothing.”

“Not sure why you’d be naked instead of wearing a dress, but I’m not opposed.” She blushed, shaking her head. 

“Goodnight, Hangman. Thanks for stopping by, but I’m tired.” Jake sighed her name, making her eyebrows shoot up. He’d never called her that before, and he wasn’t sure why he did it now. She was always Bug or Ladybug. 

“Wear the dress. Come out and have fun with your friends. Please?” Their gazes met, and he could see the conflict in her eyes. And, after a long moment, she reached out to take the hanger. Their fingers brushed, and he tried to keep his eyes trained on hers but couldn’t help but notice how her breathing had increased. The slight tightness around her mouth as she blinked quickly. And the subtle way her body trembled. 

“I-I’m going to jump in the shower.” 

When the bathroom door closed, Jake had the urge to knock on it and tell her she didn’t have to wear the damn dress. That she could go in her sweatpants and he wouldn’t care. That he was an idiot for asking, Yale’s reminder about their bet ringing in his ears as he drove past her street. She didn’t have to wear a damn dress to get Rooster’s attention, and she shouldn’t have a crush on a guy who was so oblivious.

Instead, he walked back to the kitchen, opened the cupboards until he found a glass, and helped himself to some water. He stared at that picture of Bug on the man’s shoulders. Her eyes nearly closed behind her glasses with how broadly she smiled, one hand holding a cowgirl hat to her head, the other thrown out to keep herself steady with a beer clutched in her hand. 

Jake couldn’t believe that Rooster wouldn’t remember a girl like that. Even without the makeup and smiles, there was no mistaking Bug. Behind those birth control glasses, he could still see glimpses of that woman in the WSO. And it bothered him not to know what had happened to dim that shine. 

He was a few chapters into another book he’d plucked off the cart when he heard the shower turn off, the blow dryer starting a few minutes later. Jake glanced at his phone to check the time, ignoring the texts asking where he was and if he was going to the Hard Deck. Instead, he set his phone beside him. He settled on the couch, leaning against the arm and making himself comfortable as he read about a group of guys who got together and read romance books to save their relationships. 

Jake was lost in Gavin and Thea’s story when he heard a throat clear. Sitting up quickly, he spun in his seat, jaw nearly dropping at the sight of Bug. But not his Bug - the Bug from the picture, standing in her doorway with a teasing smirk on her red lips and uncertainty in her eyes. She shifted under his open admiration, hand lifting to adjust the glasses that she wasn’t wearing. “Let me guess, you’re gonna borrow that one too?” 

“I…uh… yeah,” he nodded, moving to stand before her. She hadn’t pulled her hair back into its usual bun or ponytail, leaving it down so it curled against her shoulders. Jake let his gaze dance down her body, and Bug’s shoulders pulled back under his blatant inspection, inadvertently drawing his attention to her breasts pressing against the sweetheart neckline of her dress. When she crossed her arms, his attention went to the raised red scar on her right arm, and he had to stop himself from reaching out and tracing it with his fingertips. It was about the width of a pencil, curling from the top of her shoulder to the middle of her bicep. Sensing her discomfort, he tore his gaze away, allowing it to drift lower. Her dress skimmed the top of her knees, and he bit back a groan at seeing cowboy boots on her feet, red scars decorating the skin on display. 

Bug’s hand was clenched tightly around a jean jacket, and Jake could feel the discomfort radiating off her. But she met his eyes when they lifted. He wasn’t a makeup expert, but he could appreciate how her eyeshadow and winged eyeliner complemented her eyes, and he found it heartening that he could still see the little divot on her nose from her glasses. “Can you even see without your BCGs?” Jake asked after clearing his throat. 

The apprehension drained from her face at his gentle teasing, and Bug scoffed while rolling her eyes. “I hate wearing contacts, but I’ll put up with it for a couple of hours.” Shaking his head, he reached for her jacket and took it, holding it out to help her slip it on. His fingers accidentally grazed her neck, and he caught the subtle scent of something floral when she turned toward him. His eyes went to her lips like they were a painted target, and her voice was a little breathier than usual when she spoke. “I’ll meet you there?” 

“I’ll drive,” he answered, voice husky as he stepped back.

“I’ll drive so you can have a couple of drinks.”

He shook his head, digging into his jeans pocket for his keys. “You can be my WSO tonight and pick the music, but I’m driving.” That made her roll her eyes, and Jake had to force himself not to stare at her ass as she walked in front of him out of the apartment and down to his waiting truck.

In the dark interior of his truck, he could smell her perfume and gripped the shifter to keep from placing his hand on the expanse of her thigh that flashed in every streetlight they drove under. Seemingly oblivious to his struggle, she sang along to a 90s station about kissing in the moonlight. 

And, once they were outside the Hard Deck, she paused, her hand slipping into his for a fleeting moment. He could feel her shaking and squeezed her fingers before she let him go and stepped into the bar. 

Everyone would have paused to witness the not-improved-by-different Bug if it had been a movie. But no one seemed to notice them enter, and Jake reclaimed her hand to help tow her through the weekend crowd to where he knew the Daggers would be waiting. And that was where Bug got the recognition she deserved, when Kerri catcalled her, making a flush rise on her cheeks as Phoenix’s girlfriend took her hand and dragged her from Jake, encouraging her to do a little twirl. He saw a couple of glances at her scars, but thankfully, no one said anything. 

And Jake spent the night catching men checking her out, but Bug remained oblivious. When he went to the bar to get them some sodas - he overheard a conversation from two pilots about not recognizing her. “Now that’s the Bug I remember,” Rooster said as he joined him at the counter, setting down his empty beer bottle. Jake glanced at his wingman and nodded as they watched her laugh at something Omaha said to her and Fanboy. 

“Hey, Jake,” a somewhat familiar voice said, and he felt a hand on his lower back. A woman slid into the vacant spot beside him, smiling coyly. “Long time no see. Wanna buy me a drink and catch up?” 

For his life, he couldn’t put a name to her face, but he was pretty sure they’d slept together. Beside him, Rooster snorted and ordered his beers. Jake tore his gaze away from the woman and caught Penny before she left. “I’ll get two Cokes, please.”

“That’s not my usual,” she giggled.

“No, it’s my friend’s,” he replied. He shouldn’t have enjoyed the shocked look on her face, but he felt relieved when her hand lifted, and she disappeared into the crowd. 

But when he looked over to see what Bug was up to, she’d also disappeared. When he returned to the group, Bob said she’d stepped onto the patio to take a phone call. Jake sipped his soda and tried not to keep glancing at his watch, but his eyes darted to the back door. Yale arrived, pressing a beer bottle into his hand as they played darts, and he didn’t think before drinking it. 

Forty minutes had passed when he finally decided to look for her. The late September night was still relatively warm, but it was breezy by the water. The laughs were loud on the patio, but he didn’t see her at the tables. The parking lot lights spilled out onto the beach, and Jake caught sight of a flash of color in the corner of his eyes. His feet moved before he realized it, shoes sliding in the soft sand. As he neared, he could see Bug had removed her boots, her forearm across her raised knees as she curled into herself, trying to make herself as small as possible. “It’s okay, Risk,” her voice was soft, and he could hear her sniffle. The sound made him move faster, shrugging off his bomber jacket as he neared. 

Sensing his approach, Bug lifted her head, and his heart broke at the sight of tears on her cheeks as she talked on the phone. In the weak moonlight, he mouthed, “You okay?” She looked at him for a long moment before shaking her head, letting her forehead drop back onto her arm. Jake hesitated a heartbeat before draping his jacket across her shoulders and sitting beside her. The sand was cool, and he rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his wrist and trying not to listen to Bug’s call over the crash of the waves. 

“Risk, I… yeah. But it’s getting… I need to…” she heaved a weary sigh, digging her nails into her shoulder. “I’m going to go, alright? We can talk tomorrow and… I told you, I'm with some friends toni - ” The voice on the other side of the line got loud, and she lifted her head to swipe at her eyes. “No, I’m not fucking any of them, Risk.” The words made his blood boil, but Bug just sounded so tired. “I’ll talk to you - alright, good… I know you’re upset, but I ne - please don’t say that…Risk, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight.” 

They were silent for a long time, the only sounds were Bug’s occasional sniffles and the tide coming in. A weight hit his bicep, and Jake turned to see that she’d rested her head on his shoulder. He lifted his arm, tugging her closer. She was trembling, and he knew it wasn’t from the cold. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he didn’t push. 

“Risk is…was,” Bug said, voice rough with suppressed emotion, “my pilot before I got here. W-we were really close.” It was on the tip of his tongue to say that didn’t give him a right to say that to her, but her next words froze him. “We were in a bad car accident coming h-home from my going away party.”

“How bad?” Jake asked, not wanting to know the answer. 

“Bad. We were t-boned by a drunk driver and - ” she gasped, letting him pull her closer when she started to shake. “Rolled a few times.” Her hand lifted to touch her temple. “I woke up, and everything was upside down. I hit my head so hard that my glasses broke. But I was lucky. Just had a concussion and cuts from crawling out of the glass. Risk wasn’t… he…he was turned to look at me when  we got hit, and he took the brunt of it.” 

“Is he okay?” 

Bug shook her head, tears dripping off her face as she stared at the water, her voice sounding distant. “Paralyzed from his chest down. The docs think he might get some feeling back, but he’ll never walk again. Never fly again. They’re med boarding him out for that and the TBI.”

“Fuck.”

“One minute we were having drinks and he was telling me he was in love with me, and the next everything was literally upside down.” It was his turn to tense.

“D-did… do you love him?”

“Like a brother.” Jake nodded, pushing away the feeling of relief at her words. His heart cracked when he heard her soft sob. “He’s so angry with me. He doesn’t remember the crash, but I do. I think I was conscious for the first two rolls, and…he was so still. I thought he died. I thought I’d lost my best friend and couldn’t do anything to help him.” Acting on instinct, he pulled her into his arms, her knees digging into the sand by his hips as he held her. He could feel her warm tears on his neck as his hand swept her back, holding her tightly. 

But while he half expected her to fall to pieces, Bug just let out these little hiccupping sobs that broke his heart. “I’ve gotcha,” he said, whispering her name as his lips brushed her hair. 

“I should have let them ground me.” The words were so quiet he would have missed them if they weren’t so close. “I had to leave the day after he woke up. I stayed as long as I could, Hangman, I swear. But the flight surgeon cleared me for duty, and I had orders. I had to come here.” 

“You had orders,” he echoed. “He can’t blame you for that.” When she nodded, he repeated himself. “He can’t blame you for that, Bug.”

“He feels like I abandoned him. That I left my wingman. I-I figured you all would feel the same way… Yale does.” 

“What does Yale have to do with this?” 

“He was in our squadron before he got stationed here.” A chill ran down Jake’s spine, bits of information slotting into place. It was quickly replaced with anger. 

Gently, he pulled away from Bug until he could meet her watery gaze. Her eyes were guarded, exhaustion etched in every feature as he ran his thumb across her cheeks to try and clear away the mess of her makeup. “You did nothing wrong, honey. And no one can blame you for what happened - the accident or you being here. Understood?” When her eyes lowered, unable to meet his, he cupped her cheek and raised her head. “Understood?” 

“Did you drink?” His stomach dropped, tasting the beer Yale had given him on his tongue, smelling it on his breath. 

“Just one.” Bug nodded, bracing her hands on his shoulders and pushing to her feet. It took everything in him not to stop her, his hands sliding to her hips as she looked down at him.

“I’m gonna get a car.”

“I can drive - ”

“No.” He let his hands fall to the sand, hating himself for forgetting his promise. “It’s fine. You should stay and have fun.” 

As much as it killed him, he waited with her in the parking lot for her car to arrive, wanting to pull her into his arms but resisting the urge. But when she tried to give him his jacket, he pushed it back into her hands. “I’ll get it later and grab yours before I leave.”

Bug nodded, saying as she slid into the backseat, “Thanks for tonight, Hangman.” He waited until the tail lights had pulled out of the parking lot before turning and making his way into the Hard Deck. 

He wanted to get the hell out of there and pushed his way to the counter to close out his tab. Bug’s jacket was by the pool tables, and he threw down the pen to retrieve it after signing his receipt. Fury rose in him as he spotted Yale laughing with Harvard and Omaha. Without thinking, he stalked toward him, shoving the other aviators out of the way to grab him by his collar and pushed until Yale’s back hit the wall. Jake ignored the ‘Hey!’s and ‘Whoa!’s, the hands trying to pull him away as he leaned close to hiss, “You leave her the fuck alone, hear me? Leave her alone, or I’ll fuckin’ kill you.” 

Hands curled around him, yanking him away, and Rooster banded an arm around his chest while Harvard stepped between them, holding back his pilot. The bar quieted in anticipation of a fight, but Jake only had eyes for Yale, who grinned. “Finally told you, huh? So much for never leaving a man behind.” 

Rooster pulled hard, Payback catching his arm when he raised his fist. “Come on, man,” Rooster grunted, hauling him away. “It’s not worth it.” 

He grit his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose as he shook off the other men. Grabbing Bug’s jacket, he stormed out of the bar, avoiding Penny and Mav’s gaze and the whispers that followed. 

Bug’s jacket sat on his front seat as Jake drove into work on Monday. He’d texted to check on her over the weekend, but she told him she was okay and didn’t want to see anyone. His phone had been blown up with the other Daggers trying to figure out what happened on Friday, but Jake didn’t know how to tell them without sharing Bug’s story - and that wasn’t his to tell. 

The morning briefing was short, and they were dismissed to the Ready Room to prepare for their flights. Jake was going up in the first group. But before he headed out to the flight line, he stopped Bug on her way out of the classroom. “I’m fine,” she said, answering his unasked question. He could see the dark circles under her eyes and the silent request for him to not say anything. So he didn’t. Other than telling her that her jacket was in his car, Jake asked if she’d brought lunch or a kid’s snack. That earned him a tired smile, and she said she would have to buy lunch today. 

But they wouldn’t get that opportunity.

Bug went up in the second group, and Jake listened to the radio chatter while lounging on the couch. He was happy to have gotten tone on Yale and Harvard, pulling riskier moves that Cyclone wasn’t pleased with, but it had been definitely worth it to hear the asshole cursing him over the mic. 

Their flight started routine enough, and Jake was helping himself to a cup of coffee when he noted a change in Bug’s tone. “Hey Omaha, you with me?” she asked after he’d pulled a quick roll into a dive to avoid Fritz’s attempt to lock on them, climbing to regain altitude as they neared the hard deck. “Omaha?”

“Omaha, come in,” Fritz echoed. “Bug, his radio out?” Even though they were out of sight, flying over the desert, Jake’s eyes flicked to the window.

“Negative, radio’s fine. Omaha?” He could hear the tension in her voice. 

“Shit - level wings, Omaha.”

“He’s out!” 

“Inbound,” Rooster called. The Ready Room was silent, and Jake didn’t realize he’d moved closer to the radio until he felt the volume dial in his fingers, cranking it higher. 

“Bug - status?” the tower called. 

“Losing altitude. Fuck!” Hot coffee splashed over his hand as Jake squeezed the paper cup, and he quickly set it down, shaking away the burning liquid at the sound of her panic. 

“Omaha, recover!” the tower yelled. “Someone give me details. 

“55 nose low, 67 bank,” Fanboy called out. 

“They’re diving,” Phoenix breathed. Jake felt a hand on his shoulder but couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but listen to Bug’s panting breath over the radio. 

“Come on, Omaha,” Payback barked. 

And then Jake heard it - Bitchin’ Betty telling Omaha to pull up. “Punch out,” he whispered. His hand itched for the throttle and stick, adrenaline racing as he pictured the dive. As a backseater, Bug was helpless. There was no stick, no throttle. Just the radar, letting her know how close to the ground they were. Their speed. It was her pilot’s job to keep her safe. He was vaguely aware of Coyote coming up beside him, probably reliving his G-LOC blackout just a year ago. 

“Tone,” Fritz called. 

“8G, mach,” Fanboy called. “Alt 500.” They were nose down, headed toward the ground at the speed of sound. 

“Recover, Omaha!” Rooster yelled. But then one voice drowned all the rest, a scream that Jake would hear in his nightmares for years.

“Neil!” 

“Climbing,” Fanboy called.

“Back, I’m back,” Omaha panted. “Fuck.” 

“Knock off,” the tower ordered, scrubbing the rest of the exercise. “Alright, Omaha, climb back above 12,000.” 

“Payback, knockoff.”

“Fritz, knockoff.”

“Fuck, Bug, you good?” Rooster’s question went unanswered, so he repeated it. “Bug, status?” 

“Bug?” Omaha said. 

“9K and climbing,” came her shaky voice. 

“Rooster, knockoff. See you on the ground.”

“You good?” Coyote asked.

Twenty-seven seconds. Omaha had been out for the longest twenty-seven seconds of Jake’s life. 

“She’s good, Hangman,” Phoenix said. But he didn’t hear it. He focused on the radio, listening to the tower guide everyone back in. Rooster refused to land before Omaha, wanting to keep an eye on everything from the air. The room emptied, and he stayed there until Omaha alerted the tower that he was in the landing position. 

And then he bolted, sprinting past the others to the tarmac, barely restraining himself from running to the jet as Omaha landed and taxied. It took ages for the engines to stop and the canopy to lift. There wasn’t any movement for a long moment until Omaha stood, turning to look at his WSO. He extended his arm, and Jake was relieved to see her arm reach up to bump fists. His breath was sawing in and out of his chest as he raced toward her, barely skidding to a halt as the two embraced as soon as their boots hit the tarmac. “So fuckin’ sorry, Bug,” Omaha breathed. “Never happened before, and it - ”

“Are you alright?” Jake demanded, forcing himself not to shove the other man away, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to draw deep breaths. 

“We’re good,” Omaha answered.

“Are you alright?” Jake demanded again, gaze not leaving Bug’s wide eyes. Her face was damp, and he could see the imprint of her mask on her pale face, but otherwise, she seemed fine. 

“We’re good,” she repeated, her voice steady. But when he pulled her into his arms, he could feel that she was shaking hard and smelled the sharp scent of sweat. He was vaguely aware of the others arriving, their questions going unanswered as Bug rested her helmeted head on his shoulder, hiding her face from them.

“I’ve gotcha.” He didn’t want to let her go, but he knew they needed to make their way to medical. She and Omaha would need to be checked out and debriefed. Eventually, she pulled away and looked up at him, and Jake made himself give her a reassuring smile as he reached to unclip her helmet. Her hair was sleek with sweat when he lifted it from her head, tucking it under his arm. 

“Hey,” Rooster said, appearing beside them, glancing between the two. “You good?” 

“Yeah,” Bug nodded, stepping toward him and throwing her arms around him. “Thank you, Rooster.”

“‘Course. You ready to get checked out?” She nodded, glancing at Jake. He handed her the helmet and tipped his chin to where the flight surgeon was already talking to Omaha. It hurt to turn away from her, and he caught a flash of something in her eyes as he moved away to shake Fritz’s hand. Rooster threw him a look before tossing an arm over Bug’s shoulder and walking her toward the doc, stopping so she could hug Payback and Fanboy along the way. 

They spent the rest of the day in the classroom, neither Omaha nor Bug joining them. When Jake left work, he saw that her car was already gone. There was talk of getting together to have a few drinks at the Hard Deck, but Jake had no interest in going - especially not when Bob had quipped about another lucky landing for Ladybug.

He’d planned on going straight home and having a glass of whiskey. It was his preferred way to wind down after a hard day, and this one hit harder than most. It wasn’t the first time he’d almost lost a wingman, and he knew it would take some time to shake, but this time was… different. 

This time, it was Bug.

Jake was parking at her apartment and knocking on her door before he realized it. His fist collided with the metal when she didn’t answer. “Bug, it’s me,” he called. She was there - her car was in its spot. But she didn’t answer. He banged again, then rested his forehead on the door, calling her name. When he heard the flick of the lock, he straightened. 

Bug’s eyes were red when they met his, her hair a tangled mess on her shoulders. She was still in her flight suit, the sleeves tied around her waist and her black undershirt discolored with sweat. They stared at one another for a heartbeat before Jake stepped closer, cupped her face, and kissed her. His lips were rough against hers, and he took advantage of her surprised gasp to deepen it. Her hand carded in his hair and he walked them into her apartment, pausing only long enough to kick the door closed. He moved his hand to curl around her neck, guiding her to just the right spot while his other hand slid under her shirt, wanting to reassure himself that she was alright. Bug moaned as his hand curved around her waist, fingers digging in and pulling her close enough to feel her heart beating against his. 

Jake tasted spearmint on her tongue and, when they broke apart to catch their breath, the salt on her skin as his lips sealed on her throat. His fingers curled in her hair, tugging lightly to encourage her to give him more access as he nipped and soothed the hurt with his tongue. “Fuck,” she breathed. 

“Don’t scare me like that, honey,” he whispered, relishing the soft whimper she let out. “Can’t do that to me.” 

“I was so scared,” she admitted. “It was just like the crash. I couldn’t do anything but watch.” His mouth covered hers, unwilling and unable to think about her being in situations where he couldn’t do anything to help. Standing by the radio and listening, being helpless, had been the worst kind of torture.

They froze when there was a knock on the door. And then Jake felt as though he’d been doused in cold water when he heard Rooster call out, “Bug?” He pulled away and stared at her, taking in her kiss-swollen lips and the red marks he’d left on her throat. “Bug?” 

“J-just a minute,” she called back. The glint in her eye dimmed slightly as he stepped away, dropping his hands from her body. Jake ran a hand down his face before licking his lips, savoring the taste of her mouth, tongue, and lip balm before he cleared his throat while continuing to back away.

“I’m… I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“You don’t have to - ”

Jake didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence, turning on his heel to open the door. Rooster took a step back, surprise written across his face, as he pushed past him and hurried toward his truck.

He’d fucked up, and he knew it. 

Jake hated himself, but he wasn’t sure what for - kissing Bug or leaving her. Probably a bit of both. 

But he definitely hated himself for going out of his way to avoid her. For seeing the hurt in her eyes, knowing that he caused it, and doing nothing to make it better. Actively making it worse when she sought him out - avoiding her at lunch and flirting with a woman the night Bug surprised everyone by showing up at the Hard Deck. He knew it was a dick move to walk the woman to her car, leaving her disappointed when he said goodnight without so much as a peck on the cheek. Jake knew what it looked like when he climbed into his truck and drove away rather than going back inside. He spent the rest of the night alone in bed, trying to forget the taste of Bug’s skin, only to paste on a fake smile and whistle as he strode into work the following morning. Bug hadn’t looked at him all day, but he’d definitely caught angry glances from the others.  

It had taken everything in him not to stand on the tarmac the first time she climbed back into a jet and watch the entire flight. Instead, he forced himself to play foosball with Coyote and pretended not to listen closely to her on the radio.  

If there was a benefit to Jake denying himself her company, it was that Bug was getting closer to the rest of the squad. She was eating lunch with them when he dodged her, eating outside or in his truck. She was joining them at the gym instead of sneaking away. The first day he saw her in running shorts instead of pants, Jake wanted to go to his knees in front of her and kiss every scar on her legs to let her know how gorgeous she was. 

And she’d agreed to take the last open seat at their table for the Navy Ball. 

Jake wasn’t sure if he would go until a few hours before it started when Phoenix texted that she’d castrate him if he skipped. So he ironed his dress blues and shaved, promising to leave right after the ceremony and dinner. He didn’t even get his truck washed before heading to the hotel, tossing his keys to the valet, and going straight for the cash bar. 

Phoenix and Kerri were getting pictures taken, and Jake spotted Payback and Maria chatting with Mav and Penny. Fanboy and Bob were mingling, and he didn���t want to sit at the table by himself, so he decided to circulate as well. He’d never enjoyed these nights but knew it was important to get his face out there and show that he was a good sport, especially since he’d be pinning on his gold oak leaves in a few months when he was promoted to Lieutenant Commander. 

One more step toward his goal of being an admiral. 

When he was almost finished with his whiskey neat, Jake made his way back to the bar for another but decided to wait until dinner. But as he walked away, he heard someone call him, turning to see Yale motioning him over. “What?

“Just thought I’d rub it in your face that you lost our bet,” the other man smirked, pointing behind him. Jake glanced over his shoulder, watching as Rooster led a woman to their table and pulled out her chair before collapsing into the one beside her. His arm went around her shoulders, and he tugged her in to kiss her temple. “Looks like you didn’t get Rooster to pick Bug after all.” 

“Our bet was over months ago, asshole,” Jake spat. 

“You sure about that?” 

“It was stupid to do in the first place.”

“What, you betting that you could get Rooster to be attracted to Bug?” He frowned as Yale looked over Jake’s shoulder and winked. 

“You what?” 

He closed his eyes, wishing that it wasn’t her. But when he turned, Bug stood there, shock and hurt written across her features. She looked gorgeous in a tight, floor-length navy blue dress with some type of short, glittery sleeves. He could just see the scar on her arm peeking out, and he ached to press his lips to the curve of her neck. “Bug - ”

“A bet?” 

“Yup,” Yale said, clapping a hand to Jake’s shoulder that he quickly shook off, fists clenching. He couldn’t punch him here, not in front of all the officers, but he wanted to. “All a bet.”

“It wasn’t,” Jake said, reaching for Bug. She stepped back, her red lips pressed into a thin line. “It started out that way but - ”

“Just - ” she cut him off, lifting a hand to stop him. “Just stop, please. Don’t ruin tonight for me. At least, not more than you already have.” 

“Bug - ” But she was gone, pushing through the crowd and exiting into the hotel's main lobby. Turning, he faced Yale, who smirked into his highball glass. “You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that?” The other man shrugged. 

“You ever think I’m doin’ you a favor? That Ladybug might not be a good luck charm but a curse? Look at the other pilots she’s been involved with - I mean, fuck. Omaha’s never G-LOC’d before, and a couple of months with her as his WSO and suddenly he’s almost crashing?” 

Aware of the eyes on him, Jake forced himself not to lift his clenched fist as he stepped closer to Yale. “You shut your fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Gentlemen,” Cyclone said, appearing beside them. “You’re blocking the bar.” Jake lifted his chin and stepped back, feeling the air boss’s eyes on him. 

“Sorry ‘bout that, sir,” he forced himself to say. “I’ll get out of your way.” His eyes darted across the room and saw Rooster standing up from the table. Angry, he followed the pilot, intercepting him on his way to the men’s room. “Hey!”

Rooster startled at Jake’s bark and raised an eyebrow. “Hey?”

“Why didn’t you come with Bug tonight?” 

“Bug? Why would I come with her?” 

“Because she likes you, you jackass!” 

“Me? Bug doesn’t like me, jackass. At least, not like that.” 

“Yes, she does. She’s had a crush on you since she got here.” 

“Aren’t you two dating?” The question brought Jake up short. “Everyone’s kind of thought the two of you were together.” 

“No… no, we’re not. She’s not - she likes you. We’re just friends.” 

“Wow,” the other man said, crossing his arms and smirking. “I didn’t realize what a fucking idiot you were. Bug and I are just friends - you two aren’t friends. Or, at least, not just friends.” 

“But…”

“Wow. Phoenix is gonna love this,” Rooster laughed, clapping the other man on the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta piss and then get back to my date. Maybe you should go find yours.” 

Jake stood there for a long moment, playing the last few months over in his head. It had been a while since he’d seen Bug blush whenever Rooster looked at her. And, if he thought about it, she’d always looked confused when he mentioned Rooster being somewhere as an incentive for her to go out.

And she’d kissed him back. 

Maybe…maybe what he’d taken for an adrenaline crash on her part had actually been… 

“Fuck,” he groaned, realizing that maybe Bug did actually like him. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d caught feelings over the last few months. And she thought he’d only talked to her because of a bet. 

She ignored his phone calls, and he couldn’t find her anywhere in the hotel. He was about to get his car back from the valet and drive to her apartment when he saw her walking back into the ballroom and had to force himself not to run after her. Bug settled at their table, taking a spot between Kerri and Maria. Both women looked at him as he stood behind Bug’s chair and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Can I talk to you?”

“No.”

“Please?” When she turned away from him and started talking to Maria, he bit back a groan. He sighed her name and watched as a blush rose on her cheeks. 

“Maybe you should sit down, Hangman,” Phoenix said, smirking as she nodded to the seat directly across from Bug. Their squad had thrown in together to get two tables, and he was relieved to see that Yale was sitting at the other one. “Speech is about to start.” He sighed, rubbing a knuckle along Bug’s shoulder and watching the goosebumps rise. She ignored him, and he retreated to sit between Bob and Rooster’s date. Bug continued to ignore him as he stared at the pretty blush that stretched from her cheeks to her chest. He was paying so little attention that Bob had to elbow him when the color guard entered, and he saluted, not watching the guard but instead watching Bug as she stood at attention with her back to him. 

If asked, he couldn’t tell you a damn thing about what the keynote speaker said over their 45-minute speech other than hazarding a guess that it had something to do with the Navy and Marines celebrating their birthdays together. Instead, he watched Bug turn in her seat, occasionally facing him as she sipped her water. During the short break, he stood and tried to catch her before dinner was served, but she looped arms with Maria and retreated to the ladies' room.

“Didn’t think tonight would have a show with it,” Payback chuckled, sipping his beer and setting a glass of wine by his wife’s plate. 

“This is perfect,” Phoenix agreed, tapping her rum and coke against Fanboy’s. 

“Shut up,” Jake grumbled. When Maria and Bug came back, Maria tucked herself under her husband’s arm while Bug checked her phone. He caught the way her brows furrowed, and her shoulders slumped, finger hesitating over the screen before tapping it and returning it to her clutch. When her eyes lifted, they met Jake’s before flitting away to focus on the floral centerpiece. 

The same thing happened as they ate dinner. Jake had never realized how hot it could be to watch someone eat… that lipstick smudge on her water glass. When they cleared away dinner and cut the birthday cake, he grabbed them both a piece and fantasized about smearing the icing on her collarbone and licking it off. 

The DJ kicked off the music, and as soon as Bug put down her fork, he pushed to his feet and circled the table. “Dance with me?” he asked, extending his hand over her shoulder. She ignored him, as expected. Her skin was warm under his palm as he rested his hand on her shoulder and leaned to whisper in her ear. “One dance, and I’ll leave you alone. Promise.” Bug sighed, and Jake grinned when she grabbed her napkin from her lap and threw it onto the table. He pulled her chair back, chuckling when she ignored his offered hand. 

“One dance,” she said, holding up a finger before walking to the dance floor. She waited expectantly for him at the side, and he took her hand, leading her to the middle of the floor where they could hide in the crowd from their friend’s prying eyes. But even as she stepped into his arms, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other in his, she didn’t look at him. 

“Bug, I’m sorry.” When she didn’t say anything, he forged ahead. “The bet was stupid, and I made it before I really knew you.”

“When?” 

“What?”

“When did you make the bet?” 

“The Fourth of July.” He watched her lips press into a thin line as they swayed to an old song, her eyes fixed on his medals rather than meeting his eyes. Jake sighed, “We were drunk, and it was stupid, and I don’t even know why I did it. And it was before I knew that you and Yale even knew each other before this. But, what I’m tryin’ to say is that I’m sorry that I made the stupid bet, but I’m also not.”

Bug pulled them to a stop, anger flashing in her eyes as she finally looked at him. “You’re not sorry?”

“No,” he smiled, applying gentle pressure to her lower back and pulling her closer. She resisted. “You promised me one dance, Bug, and it’s not over.” Reluctantly, she stepped closer and resumed their awkward dance. “I’m not sorry, at least not entirely, because I probably wouldn’t have tried so hard to talk to you if I hadn’t been tryin’ to set you up with Rooster. You’re not the easiest person to get to know.” 

“Are you blaming me?” 

“No, just stating a fact. You avoided talking to any of us about anything other than work. If it wasn’t for the bet, I wouldn’t have gotten to know you - I’d only know Ladybug.” 

“I am Ladybug.” 

Jake smiled while saying her name, his hand lifting from her waist to trace the scar on her arm. “You’re more than Ladybug. Ladybug doesn’t read sexy books over lunch or think that apples, cheese, and crackers are a meal. She doesn’t play softball or answer her friend’s call even knowin’ he’s probably gonna hurt her. That’s all you, honey. Ladybug’s great, but I think I’m fallin’ in love with you.” 

Bug stopped for a second time, her red lips falling open as she looked at him. “What?” 

“I said, I think I’m fallin’ in love with you.” 

“Even though you were trying to set me up with your friend?” she asked after a moment. 

“If you think about it, I wasn’t really trying too hard.”

“You’ve been ignoring me for weeks.”

“‘Cause I didn’t want to see you with him, but I want you to be happy. And if you’d be happier with Rooster, then I guess I can figure out some way to break up him and - ”

“Are you serious right now?” her voice was getting louder, and they were starting to draw attention. Noticing this, Bug squared her shoulders and stepped out of his arms, storming off of the floor. Jake hurried behind her, heart in his throat as they exited the ballroom and entered the hotel lobby.

“Bug, please - ” Spinning on her heel, she marched back toward him and poked his chest. 

“You… you jackass!” 

“I’m hearing that a lot tonight.”

“You’re an idiot!”

“Heard that, too.” 

“You don’t tell someone that you ‘think you’re falling in love with them’” - she made air quotes while throwing his words back at him - “and then try to set them up with your friend.” 

“How am I supposed to know? This is the first time I’m doing this.” 

“This is - ” Bug paused, ruby lips falling open as she let out a little gasp. Crossing her arms, she cocked a hip and pinned him with a glare. “This is the first time I think I’m falling in love with someone, too, and even I know that, you idiot. It’s pretty common sense.” 

Jake’s grin was blinding, and he hesitantly reached out to wrap a hand around her waist, stepping into her space. Bug tilted her chin to meet his eyes, her lip twitching as she fought a smile. “You think you’re fallin’ in love with me, Bug?” 

“Maybe.”

“Well… maybe I don’t think I’m falling in love with you. Maybe I know I’m in love with you. I think,” he leaned down, his breath ghosting over her face as he stared at her lips. “I think maybe I knew when you nearly burned in.” 

“Maybe I knew it then, too.” 

Jake’s nose brushed hers before he kissed her. This time, it was soft. Teasing. Testing the waters. They pulled away to stare at one another for a heartbeat before Bug threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down to lick into his mouth. Jake smiled, his arms going around her waist and pulling her close, his fingers curling around the nape of her neck. And then, just like before, they were interrupted. But this time, it was by a catcall. 

“Finally!” Rooster laughed. 

“Get a room, you two!” Phoenix ordered before kissing her girlfriend’s cheek. 

Bug and Jake looked at one another, and she reached up to wipe the red lipstick from his mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, and she couldn’t quite meet his eyes when she said, “I do have one… a room. Here. If you wanted to.”

“Fuck, honey,” he groaned. “Let’s go.” Her blush deepened as she pushed onto her toes to whisper in his ear.

“So… you should know that I’ve only slept with one person. And only once. Just in case it’s not…so you don’t get your expectations too high.” 

Jake stared down at her, forcing his jaw not to drop. “Bug, please tell me he at least made you cum.” Rather than answer, she pressed her lips together tightly, and he groaned again. 

“I have so much to teach you, honey. Starting tonight. Let’s go.”

“My key’s in my clutch. At the table.” 

“Right.” He nodded, bending to kiss her again. 

“It might, um…have been a while. But I’ve read a lot,” Bug said, as though trying to assure them both. And Jake couldn’t help but smile at that.

“I know. I’ve read some of your sexy books. Want me to reenact them for you?” Bug’s breath caught, and he chuckled, pecking her lips. “Be a good girl, and wait here for me, honey.”

There was some good-natured teasing when Jake hurried to their table and snatched Bug’s clutch. He ignored it all, wanting to get back to her quickly.

But he did detour to the cake table, picking a slice with extra frosting. 

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

Author's Note: This one really got away with me, and I was shocked that I managed to write it in about 2 days. A huge thanks goes to May for beta'ing this for me and making sure that Jake still felt like Bug was interested in Rooster throughout.

I love the idea of Jake reading romance novels because his girlfriend likes them. Three that were mentioned here (in order) are: Wicked Beauty by Katee Roberts, The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang, and The Bromance Bookclub by Lyssa Kay Adams. You know that he would absolutely lovingly tease his partner about reading them, and then be blown away by just how much one can learn from reading smutty literature. There are definitely some book shopping trips he'll be treating Bug to in the future.

Ladybugs have historically been seen as a sign of good luck. I liked the idea of Reader having that as a callsign, as she wouldn't have anything to do with piloting the plane, but could serve as good luck for her pilot. Even in scrapes, she's there to help them out. For Risk, on his first carrier landing, she was able to keep him calm, and later in the accident, she was able to keep him stable until help arrived. For Omaha, she was able to snap him out of G-LOC by screaming his name. And for Jake? Well, ladybugs can also mean luck in love and expanding family.

A bit about the trauma in the story. Bug would meet the diagnostic criteria for post-trumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and probably should have been grounded for a little while. But disassociation from the traumatic event can help someone compartmentalize their trauma and get back to work (can attest to this from personal experience) - she was medically cleared by the flight surgeon and was back on duty. As of this posting, the Air Force is the only branch with a policy that allows aviators to get 60 days of mental health treatment without needing a return to duty waiver/clearance. Bug would have benefited from treatment, which might have further delayed her PCS and made Yale not hate her. She's not "cured" of PTSD by falling in love, but hopefully there's some therapy in her future to help her process the traumatic events. As for the G-LOC, there is no way for a WSO to take control of the aircraft, and the F-18s haven't been retrofitted with the technology to have autopilot reengage when the pilot loses control.

Risk would undergo the medical discharge process - "med board" - to be separated from the military with an honorable discharge following the accident, as he would be unable to preform the duties of his Military Occupational Specialty (MOS). I don’t imagine him as a bad guy, trying to hurt Bug, but traumatic brain injuries (TBIs) can cause emotional dysregulation and aggression that can be hard to deal with.

If you're interested, this is the dress that I imagined Bug wearing to the Navy ball (not representative of how I think she looks).

Thank you so much for reading this. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please fill out my tag list form (hyperlinked).

Tag list: @shanimallin87

@roosterforme

@kmc1989

@dizzybee03

@lovelyladymayyy

@tgmreader

@justdamnpeachy

@milegonzalez96

@capoteera

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@seitmai

[stranger-stevieee]

Risk

Summary: You have a bad habit of falling in love too quickly, but is it really that bad if a certain someone happens to feel the same way? Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: use of y/n, fluff, angst? (maybe), cliche writing, first kiss

Look at me now Said I wouldn't do it, but I hunted you down Know you had a girl, but it didn't work out

Steve Harrington was very sought after. Every girl wanted him and every guy wanted to be him. You tried very hard to not fit into that stereotype but you failed miserably.

There was just something about him that drew you in. You told yourself that you wouldn't fall at his feet like every other girl at Hawkins High but you couldn't help it.

Now, Steve wasn't really known as a relationship guy. He was more of a "let's go out once or twice, have sex, then onto the next girl" type of guy (he was called "King Steve" for a reason after all) so it was a shock to everyone when he started dating Nancy Wheeler.

You were sad, just like every other girl, that you had lost your chance with him but when you heard about their breakup after a year of being together, you couldn't help but feel like you actually had a chance.

I'm not proud Guess I'm just scared of you shootin' it down You can just talk, and I'll stare at your mouth You could be bad, but I wanna find out,

Giving in to him wasn't your proudest moment but it was inevitable. You had decided that if you wanted him, you would have to go get him.

See that's what all these girls were doing wrong. They would wait for him to come to them and ask them out, when in reality if they wanted a chance they would have to take it. So that's exactly what you did.

You were in your history class that you happened to share with Steve and the teacher had just announced a research project that would take all month to complete.

Picking a partner would've been easy had your only friend in the class been there that day, but sadly she had stayed home for whatever reason. The bright side was, now you could take a chance.

You got up out of your seat and walked straight over to his. You were a bit nervous but decided it was now or never.

"Hey, Steve!" You spoke loudly due to your nerves but luckily he found it funny.

"Hey..." he paused

"Oh, it's Y/n," you said embarrassed that you had been fawning over this man that didn't even know your name.

"Right! That's right, I- I knew that"

"Yeah," you laughed it off, "So do you have a partner yet? For the project, I mean?" You stuttered over your words a bit, albeit scared of the potential recegection coming your way.

"No, actually, I don't"

"Okay, cool... do you wanna work on it together? Maybe?"

'Here it comes' You thought 'He's gonna say no, laugh in your face and...'

"Sure."

'Oh. Well, that was easy.'

And I wake up in the middle of the night With the light on, and I feel like I could die 'Cause you're not here, and it don't feel right

It's 4:28am and you can't stop thinking about him. You woke up from your dream almost 30 minutes ago and haven't been able to get back to sleep.

This dream just messed everything up because now you've come to the conclusion that you're in love with Steve Harrington.

This wouldn't be your first time loving someone but it is your first time being in love. There's a difference. You tend to love rather quickly and when you love, you love hard.

It takes a while for you to stop loving someone. But you have a feeling things will be different this time.

You think about what it would feel like if he were with you in that moment. But he's not, and it sucks.

God, I'm actually invested Haven't even met him Watch this be the wrong thing, classic God, I'm jumpin' in the deep end It's more fun to swim in Heard the risk is drowning, but I'm gonna take it

A couple weeks into working on the project and you still barely knew anything about him. The only thing you both talked about was the project and how it's coming along. You were getting nowhere.

"Hey, what do you think about coming to my place today?"

You had been digging through your locker looking for a specific book for your next class when Steve came up to you and it's safe to say that his words shocked you.

"What?" you asked

"Do you want to come work on the project at my place today?" Although he didn't sound like it, he was nervous asking you to come over.

"Sure!"

'Maybe she is interested in me' he thought

His heart fluttered at the sight of your excited smile.

Isn't it fun thinkin' I'm right when I'm probably wrong? Holding my breath like I met someone Knowing damn well that I haven't been touched by you In my head, you're in the car, and you're comin' to me And you get to my door, and you can't even speak But I think that it's sweet, yeah, I think that you're sweet

You knew Steve was rich, but you didn't know he was this rich. Standing in front of his house you were a bit worried about what was to come.

Once you finally worked up the nerve, you lifted your fist to knock on his front door. Inside Steve had seen your car pull up and stood by the door waiting for you to knock.

When he finally heard it, he waited a few seconds, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

"Welcome..." he sighed "Sorry I don't know why I said that, that was weird, let me start over... hey."

You had a small smile on your face trying not to laugh. "Hi... can I come in?"

"Oh, yeah of course."

"Thanks," you let out a little giggle

You walked in and looked around in awe. His house was 2x the size of yours. "Your house is amazing," you whispered.

"Yeah, it's great I guess. It does get lonely sometimes but... anyways we should probably finish the project."

He walked you over to the dining room where he already had his textbook laid out. You both sat down, took out everything you needed, and got to work.

After an hour of working you had finally finished the project and it had only taken you about 3 weeks. Even though you were finished, Steve didn't want you to leave yet so he suggested having an early dinner.

"I wouldn't have pinned you as a cook, Harrington," you said with a small smirk on your face.

"Yeah, well when there's no one around to cook for you, there's only two options. I can cook for myself or get takeout, and I obviously have to stay healthy so takeout's not ideal. Gotta stay in shape for the ladies, you know?"

'Maybe he isn't interested in me' you thought

"The ladies. Right." you let out a nervous laugh.

Too soon to tell you "I love you" Too soon to tell you "I love you" Too soon to tell you "I love you"

Steve could tell you were nervous to tell him something. You were standing in front of him on his front porch unsure if you were ready to say what you wanted to say. But you knew you couldn't keep it in any longer.

It had been months since you both finished the project and you had become even closer than before.

Ever since that day at his house, you've fallen for him more and more each day. And even though it might be too soon, you have to tell him.

"Umm... can I talk to you?"

"Sure, come in." He said stepping out of the doorway to let you in. "So, what's up?"

"Uh, so, I just wanted to say that... you've been an amazing friend."

Steve let out the breath he was holding and sighed with disappointment. That is definitely not what he wanted to hear. The exact opposite actually, but he let you continue anyway.

"But I can't just pretend that that's all I want to be. I love you and I know it's probably too soon to be saying this but—"

Steve suddenly stepped forward and brought his hand up to cup your face which shut you up quickly.

“Is it ok if I kiss you?” he whispered

“I would like that very much.”

He leaned in and connected his lips with yours and, if it was even possible, you fell in love with him even more. The kiss was soft and tender, way different than what you thought it would be.

It was the first time your lips were meeting, but you immediately knew that it wouldn’t be the last.

Steve was the first to pull away and as much as he didn't want to he knew he had to.

"I love you too, by the way"

"Good"

You're the risk, I'm gonna take it

[oricreature]

Taking the swallowtail license so you can be columbo

Activates ATHENA

"Now see, my wife, she loves these invisible mechs, and I can respect that. But see, I'm not too comfortable when they're shootin at me all aggressively, so I figure, why not just select a blast 3 area within range 50 where the invisibility just don't work. I know it's a real shame to take away the specters whole gimmick, and I really am sorry about this, but I just can't let my friend the Deaths Head miss the shot they've been linin up for 3 turns now, it'd be an awful waste of everyone's time."

Activates prophetic scanners

"Oh sure yeah you can shoot our Lancaster, but uh, just one more thing and I'll get out of your hair. I couldn't help but notice the Lancaster was actually 3 spaces to the left. And see that got me puzzled, because if you shot the Lancaster, and it wasn't even there, how could you have hit?"

[princessbrunette]

Bounty hunter rafe who finally lets reader hold his rifle because he knows from her staring at him like that she is NOT shooting his ass 😭

that’s so hot :(((( even you question it all doe eyed like “you really trust me with that thing?” and he just huffs out a smirk and is like “you’re smitten, kid. not shootin’ me.” and u can’t even argue:(

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,355

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Reader pronouns: she/her

Era: the Whisperers

Warnings: language, blood and gore, injury, typical TWD violence

Summary: Hilltop must cope with the disastrous events outside the walls and Michonne asks Daryl to try and find the mystery woman who saved him and Dog to find out what she knows about the people she calls 'The Shepherds'.

A/N: This is the second part of a series! Find the first part linked below!

Previous Part

“Daryl!” Tara was running up to him and quickly grabbed him into a hug before he’d hardly passed through the gate. The hug was tight and long and Daryl pulled back abruptly to look at her with a question on his face. “We thought you were dead,” she said grimly. It was then that he noticed how pale she looked and that there were dark circles beneath her eyes.

He gulped. “The others. Did they make it back?”

Tara was about to answer when Carol was there also throwing her arms around him, her expression equally grim. When she pulled back, her pale blue eyes were teary. “Did she tell you?” Carol asked. Tara ducked her head.

Daryl’s stomach clenched into a tight knot. “Tell me what?”

“It’s Jesus,” Tara barely managed. “He was killed out there.”

Daryl’s heart dropped into his gut. “Walkers?”

Tara shook her head. “No. Something else.”

Daryl’s hand strayed over to the side of his vest and he felt the bulk of the skin mask there. He withdrew it and held it up, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “One of these fuckers?” he asked, throwing it down on the ground. Dog nosed and pawed at it before bristling.

Tara and Carol stared down at it for a long moment until Tara nodded. “Yeah. One of those, .”

“Yeah, I had my own damn run-in with ‘em. Almost took me and Dog out.” Daryl caught sight of movement over her shoulder and looked up as Michonne stepped out with several strangers at her side.

“You better come in and tell us what happened,” Tara said.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl was seated on the edge of his chair. Carol had thrust a big glass of water into his hand and set a tray of food down in front of him. It sat untouched, except for the egg that Daryl had fed to dog.

“Next thing I know, a damn rope ladder dropped down out of the tree. And I didn’t have much choice,” Daryl drawled, turning the glass absently in his hands.

“A ladder?” Aaron asked, incredulous. Daryl nodded.

“Mhm. S’gonna sound nuts but—there was this—this woman. She had platforms built up in this huge oak. I didn’t see anythin’ except the lowest one which was empty, but I think she was livin’ up there. She saved me and Dog by droppin’ that damn ladder down and shootin’ all those walkers and skin freaks besides….”

“You’re telling us a woman living in a tree saved you?” Carol said.

“I said I knew it sounded nuts,” Daryl drawled, sitting heavily back in his chair. “Ain’t even the half of it. I watched her climb up a damn tree branch like it was a set of stairs. No hand or foot-holds, nothin’. She sheltered us there overnight during the storm and then in the mornin’, she came down and gave me food and a thermos full of hot tea,” he said, casting a glance around to read all the perplexed faces.

Michonne’s gaze was intense on his face. “Did she try to question you? About where you came from? About the settlements, our group?”

Daryl shook his head. “No. And she wouldn’t even tell me her name… But she guessed that I had people. And—” he hesitated, thinking about whether or not he should convey that he thought you’d been watching the area and certainly had seen him, but likely others from Hilltop as well. But Carol made the decision for him.

“Wait—your knife,” she said suddenly, the realization striking her. “Was this the same area?”

“What about your knife?” Tara asked, confused. Michonne only seemed more rigid, on edge.

Daryl quickly relayed what had happened in the previous days, about losing his knife and then finding it when he returned to look for it, hanging up and presented for the person who had dropped it. “The arrow it was hanging up on was identical to the ones she used to kill the walkers and the people wearin’ those masks. It had to be her. It wasn’t exactly the same place where I lost my knife but the distance ain’t far.”

“So, she’s been watching the whole area,” Michonne said. “You’re sure she didn’t ask you anything about—”

“No,” Daryl interrupted. “In fact, she seemed pissed off ‘bout the whole thing. Told me off for endin’ up at ‘her tree,’ like I’d had a fuckin’ choice. Said she was gonna have to move. She seemed—I think she knew more ‘bout these Whisperers than she said. She called them ‘The Shepherds’ and told me they walk with the dead. She said they can control them somehow. I tried to ask her more about ‘em but she would hardly talk.”

“How do we know she isn’t one of them?” Michonne said.

Daryl shook his head. “Why would she risk revealin’ herself to me and kill all those walkers and Skin freaks if she was one of them? That dun make any damn sense. No,” he shook his head. “No, she wasn’t with them. If she was, I’d be dead.”

Michonne’s face was stony. “I think we need to find her, question her. If she knows more, she needs to tell us.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “And what if she won’t? We gonna make her?” He looked around at the other stony faces in the room. “My gut says she ain’t the enemy here,” he said emphatically. “She just wanted to be left alone.”

“So do we. But if there’s a threat, it’s better that we know everything we can about it. Jesus is dead. We need to know before someone else dies.” Daryl sighed and his eyes closed for a moment, a grimace passing his face as he thought about Jesus. “’M sorry I wasn’t there with ya’ll,” he gulped in a failed attempt to clear the lump in his throat. “Maybe if I was, if I had been then—”

“We all know the risks of going outside the walls,” Aaron interrupted. “Jesus knew them too. And he made his own decisions like the rest of us. He died making sure the rest of us got away.”

There was a heavy silence for a long moment.

“Look, I can probably get us back to the area Dog and I were at. We can try to talk to her if, and tha’s a big if, we can find her,” Daryl said. “But I ain’t gonna be in on any kinda plan to hurt her in order to make her talk to us. Not after she saved me and Dog. She didn’t have to, and for some damn reason she did. I ain’t repayin’ her for that with anythin’ but askin’ nicely.”

Michonne sighed and straightened up. “Fine. It’s a start.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Michonne and Daryl were on edge as they moved through the forest, constantly stopping to listen, straining their hearing, checking behind them. Jesus’ death sat heavy on Daryl’s chest like a concrete block, making moving and even breathing harder than normal. It was a tremendous loss and Hilltop was reeling from it. Tara would do what she could to step up in his place, but there was no replacing him.

Finally, Daryl picked up some tracks that were clearly from part of the large herd that had trapped him and Dog, and not long after they began following them he thought the area looked familiar. His eyes searched the trees. He remembered the silhouette of the large trunk of the oak as the lightning had flashed and tried to hold it in his mind’s eye as he tracked, checking every large tree against this mental image. They never would have found it if it weren’t for the walker tracks…

“This is it,” he said suddenly, putting his hand out to touch the tree and revolving in place. “Yeah. This is the one but—” Something on the ground nearby caught his eyes and he paced over to it as Dog pawed at the corner; a large sheet of plywood. It was far too clean to have been laying on the ground for long and Daryl knew what it meant. You had moved.

Michonne stood beside him, looking down at the find. Daryl stood again and shook his head. “She’s gone,” he asserted.

Michonne glanced up at the canopy overhead. “We have to be sure. Boost me up,” she said, approaching the trunk again.

Daryl joined her and boosted her over his head. She struggled to find a hold for a moment and then her weight left his shoulders. She climbed higher until Daryl could no longer see her among the leaves and branches. “Anythin’?” he called up, as loudly as he dared.

“There are some—some supports left but… nothing else,” she called down. Eventually, her feet reemerged and then she dropped down lightly to the ground.

“She wasn’t kiddin’,” Daryl drawled. “Said she was gonna have to move,” he said.

Michonne hummed an acknowledgement but was distracted, scrutinizing the ground. “You said she had at least a couple levels up there?”

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, glancing back up toward the tree. “I only ever saw the first one, but she climbed higher up.”

“Maybe you can find her tracks again. She would have been moving all her things, maybe multiple trips,” she said hopefully.

Daryl ran a hand back through his hair thoughtfully. “Yeah, maybe… I can try, but with all the rain we had overnight, just one set of tracks might’ve already been washed out. Only reason we even got here was followin’ the trampled ground from that herd. Besides, I have a feelin’ she’s good at leavin’ no trace. I mean, she didn’t even leave the bodies here,” Daryl commented, gesturing to the area around the base of the trunk.

“Yeah,” Michonne sighed. “I’m just worried… If there are more of these people out here, we need to know everything we can about them. Alexandria needs to know, and Hilltop too. The Kingdom…” She broke off, thinking back to their last war and hoping there wouldn’t be another.

“I know,” Daryl agreed. “’M worried too.” He paused, wondering if the others had been able to retrieve Jesus’ body yet. “We can at least look around a bit. Maybe we’ll get lucky,” he said.

It was maybe twenty minutes later as they searched the ground for a trace of the mysterious woman when they did, in fact, get lucky. A small group of walkers, maybe six or seven, moved toward them out of the trees. Daryl and Michonne exchanged a glance, both drawing their weapons.

“Let’s see if any of these fucks are the fully conscious kind,” Daryl growled. “Watch their hands.”

“If we find one, keep them alive if you can,” Michonne growled, flicking her sword. “We need to question them.”

The first two fell as regular walkers but the third screamed as Daryl’s bolt pierced its leg. It was immediately fallen upon by others and quickly died under clawing hands and snapping teeth, a dark pool of crimson blooming beneath the bodies. Daryl noticed two more of the figures stumbling toward him suddenly reversing their direction to move away from the feeding zombies. Behind him, Michonne was putting down more of the dead.

One of the figures trying to turn away from the carnage pulled a knife from his sleeve and lunged, but fell quickly with Daryl’s bolt in his head. At the sight of that, the final figure dropped to their knees and pleaded for their life, throwing their knife aside as both Daryl and Michonne advanced on them. Daryl ripped the mask from their face and looked down in surprise at a young teenager, by his guess no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. She trembled and cried behind Michonne’s blade.

More walkers were inbound, and a hasty decision had to be made. They needed answers more than they needed anything, and someone had to be held responsible for Jesus’ death. “We ain’t got time. We’ll take her with us.”

As they hurried away from another approaching herd, a raven called a raspy croak overhead and Daryl saw it streaking away into the woods.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“I’m telling you, man. Your pipes and my accompaniment… we’re gonna be a two-man band at that festival,” Luke said, nearly bouncing on his toes. Alden couldn’t help but laugh. Despite how worried they were about all the others, Luke was a jovial traveling companion. Most of Luke’s group had gone outside the walls and had not yet returned, and the two of them felt unable to just sit around and wait... Surely, something had happened and their friends needed help.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Alden said. “You haven’t even heard me yet. For all you know, I’m terrible,” he joked.

“No, no, no… I don’t think so,” Luke smiled. “I’ve got a good feeling about this collaboration!” He glanced ahead. “There’s another one of Yumiko’s arrows,” he remarked, nodding toward a tree up ahead, an arrow shaft clearly visible protruding from the trunk. The two men moved closer but stopped short when they caught sight of a figure up ahead, a lone walker. Both of them readied their weapons. “I’ll get it,” Luke said, his weapon in hand.

But the ambling walker was suddenly… not. It froze. It stood completely still. Luke and Alden stopped too. They exchanged a perplexed glance. “That’s… weird,” Luke commented softly. He was about to ask if Alden had ever seen a walker not moving before.

Then, a stick broke to their left. Another figure appeared. Another crack on their right, then behind… More figures emerged through the brush and they all stood still. It was then that they realized the first was holding a bundle of arrows, the same ones Luke had assumed were Yumiko’s. They’d walked right into a trap and they were surrounded. There was no escape.

With no other options, Luke and Alden were forced to drop their weapons. Held in place by several men, the initial figure approached, masked in a sickening skin with scraggly white-blond hair. When she spoke, her voice was soft but dangerous.

“Bind their hands. Gag their mouths,” she urged, swaying slightly on her feet. “We keep them alive until we know about the girl. I’m going to see the others. I’ll return. Do not let them escape or your blood will be spilled.” Her tone was commanding but also matter-of-fact.

“Yes, Alpha,” the other masked figures replied. Alden and Luke watched as she disappeared into the trees again. They were bound and gagged and shoved to the forest floor to sit uncomfortably against a couple trees, able to only exchange fearful glances.

Dusk fell and the shadows lengthened. They were watched through the eyes of grotesque masks as the figures paced around them keeping guard. Their hands and fingers were cold from the tightness of their bonds and their shoulders ached and burned.

Two of the figures stopped next to each other and whispered for a moment before one of them disappeared farther into the brush. Bathroom break, Luke thought wryly. And despite his fear, he registered his need to do the same soon, but he didn’t dare make a sound. He glanced toward Alden who seemed to be staring straight ahead into the gathering darkness. Luke tried to work his hands up and down, trying to loosen the bindings on his wrists, but they were too tight. The backs of his hands burned from the friction. He let out a heavy exhale and tried to stay calm. Maybe the others were still out here… or maybe they were now looking for him and Alden. If they could just stay alive long enough, surely they’d—

Swoosh and then a dull thunk.

A muffled sound of surprise escaped him and Alden at the same time. Luke recoiled farther into the tree behind him as he watched the masked Whisperer who’d been guarding them drop to the ground with a thick arrow shaft in their head. It was tipped with inky black feathers.

He and Alden looked at each other with wide, shocked eyes. What the hell?

There was a rushing sound as the other guard returned through the brush. Before they could even reach the body of the fallen, they too were struck with a deadly shot in their forehead. Luke’s chest was heaving with confusion and fear. Alden was trying to push himself forward so he could get onto his knees and perhaps stand up. Suddenly, a strong hand gripped his shoulder and began to hiss in his ear.

“Move again and I’ll stick a knife in your knee.” Alden retracted from the breath on his ear and the bony fingers gripping him. “What—no!” the voice gasped. They had noticed the bodies.

They pulled a knife and straightened up, glancing around frantically, baring their teeth inside the mask like an animal. They grabbed Alden’s hair and pulled him to his feet, placing their blade at his neck. “Come out! Come outtttt! Or I’ll slit this one’s throat!” Somehow their voice still had the raspy quality of a whisper but it seemed to echo in the trees. A thick silence fell. For a moment, the was neither call of a bird or hum of an insect. The wind in the treetops was still. The trees seemed to be listening. The leaves held their breath. Then, in the distance, Luke and Alden heard the flap of wings and the rush of air beneath them clearly as if magnified by the silence that had fallen over the woods. The throaty croak of a raven called three times.

Swoosh and thunk. The figure’s grip on Alden disappeared and he jerked backwards away from it as it fell with another black-feathered arrow. This one, however, had struck in the neck, too low for an instant kill. The figure writhed and rasped in agony on the ground, the echoes of their cries bouncing off the tree and sounding deafening in the previous calm.

That’s when you dropped down from your perch in the trees above. Luke and Alden watched in shock as a figure, cloaked and hooded in black with a bow in one hand, produced a knife in the other and swiftly stabbed the struggling Whisperer in the base of the skull, silencing and stilling them.

You quickly threw back your hood and looked at Alden first, heading toward him and untying and pulling the gag down from his mouth. He gasped in hurried breaths. You could feel him shaking as you cut and untied the cord around his wrists. Luke looked on, dumbstruck. Alden rubbed his wrists and glanced around, expecting more of those masked freaks to step out from the trees at any moment.

The same thing was clearly on your mind as you rushed to Luke, saying, “That last one was loud. You better get out of here before more show up.”

You cut Luke’s bonds and he pulled the gag down out of his mouth, his jaw dropping open as he turned to stare at you, still dumbfounded. “Who—who the hell are you?” he asked, watching you quickly collect your arrows. They made sickening squelching noises as you pulled them from the skulls of the fallen Whisperers.

You ignored the question and hastily wiped the gore off the arrow heads onto your pants, glancing around anxiously. Stowing your arrows, you looked back at Alden. “You need to go,” you said again.

“Go where?” Alden said. “We don’t even know where we are.”

A raven called again overhead and then in a dark blur came fluttering down to hover over you. Looking up, you held your hand out and it dropped something into your palm before taking off again with a peculiar bubbling sound. Alden and Luke exchanged yet another mystified look.

“Great,” you murmured to yourself, tossing what the bird had dropped into your palm down onto the ground. It was an ear, clearly from a walker. “There are more dead coming. Probably with Shepherds.” You spun your knife skillfully in your hand and glanced at the two men. “I can get you to the old highway, but that’s as far as I go. Come on.”

“Shepherds?” Luke repeated, but you simply plunged off into the trees, drawing your dark hood over your head again.

“Wait—” Alden urged, hurrying after you. Luke was on his heels. “Wait! You aren’t even gonna tell us your name?”

“No,” you said in a hushed voice, “and be quiet.”

Luke took a succession of quick steps to come to your other side. “Listen, uh—you just might’ve saved our lives back there. I’m Luke. This is Alden,” he said. “That’s—that’s a neat trick you’ve got there with your—your crow pal,” he said, laughing nervously. He could feel the adrenaline and endorphins rushing through him, making him anxious and jittery.

“Raven,” you corrected him with a mere sideways glance.

“Oh. Right. Raven,” Luke said. “Sorry.”

You charged ahead into the brush again and the two men struggled to keep up. It seemed that walking through this landscape and the dense vegetation, rife with obstacles, was second-nature to you.

The feeling was still coming back into his fingers, but Alden looked around for a makeshift weapon. He seized a dried pine limb with a sharp, broken end and tested its strength over his knee. Good enough. Luke followed his lead and selected a sturdy branch as well.

You’d barely been leading them toward the highway for more than two minutes when you heard another sound overhead; a shrill alarm call from your raven that you knew all too well. You froze. Luke nearly ran into your back from the sudden stop. You strained your hearing for a long moment… There. You heard rustling to your left and growling. “More here.” you said. “The dead and maybe Shepherds. Get ready,” you said.

You readied an arrow on your bow and charged forward toward the sound, crouching behind a fallen tree to conceal yourself until the moment was right. Alden and Luke followed more clumsily and far less silently.

Peering between the branches, you finally saw them approaching. Alpha was at the lead, followed by maybe six or seven others. She was unmistakable in her gruesome mask with scraggly pale hair. The rest of them? Dead or living, you couldn’t be sure. You pulled in a slow breath, stood, and bent your bow. Alpha was obstructed behind a large pine trunk. The first arrow dropped a figure to the ground and several of the dead stumbled over it before bending to feed. Alpha and two Whisperers wearing masks withdrew knives. Her followers huddled around her. You bent your bow again and let an arrow fly. It struck one of the living in the chest and they screamed as they fell in a heap. Alpha turned and thrust her knife into their throat, silencing them. She stared into the dark trees ahead, swaying slightly on her feet, her large blade glinting in the low light.

She gestured to the other Whisperer and they began to move forward again. You were readying another arrow when there was the distinct sound of many moving through brush to the left. Alden turned and saw more dead inbound. “Fuck,” you swore under your breath. You had to take your eyes off Alpha and fired a shot at the walker in the lead. More stumbled forward… many more. “Get ready,” you said again to Luke and Alden. As you glanced back toward the other group, there was no sign of Alpha. You fired shot after shot into the advancing dead, not missing your mark once, but finally, when you reached back for another arrow, your hand grasped at air. Your quiver was empty. You withdrew your knife again and nodded to the men. Alden leapt forward and thrust the sharp end of his pine branch into the face of the walker in the lead. “Watch their hands!” you cautioned the men, thrusting your knife into the forehead of another. Luke swung his branch like a baseball bat and knocked another to the ground before smashing it’s head in with the blunt end.

You were about to lunge again at a snarling dead one when another behind it suddenly stepped forward with a blade raised. You ducked their thrust and kicked hard at the side of their leg. They crumpled to the ground with a cry and the dead fell on them. You stabbed your knife into two more of the dead, wincing as a spray of blood landed across your neck as you withdrew. Alden and Luke were both still fighting behind you. You turned to join them but were caught off guard when someone kicked you hard in the center of your back. You fell forward onto the cushion of pine needles and your knife tumbled away into the litter.

Hurriedly rolling over you saw Alpha standing over you, one of her followers at her side. She cocked her head and you saw her smiling behind the mask. “Looks like you dropped your knife. That’s a shame,” she said, her voice sweet like poisoned honey.

You scrambled back on your hands, glancing over your shoulder, hoping to see your knife reflecting the moonlight, but it was too dark. The shadows swallowed nearly everything. Your right hand groped for a stick, anything, to wield as she advanced on you slowly, calmly.

Your fingers hit something cold and hard; a stone. You grasped it, your chest heaving.

You jumped to your feet and waited for the right moment. Alpha and her follower were still fixed on you, but behind them you saw Alden put down the last walker. Luke nudged him and the two of them began sneaking up behind your adversaries.

Suddenly, Alpha sprung toward you with her knife. You reflexively jumped back and it barely missed your stomach. She swept it toward you again and you dodged, but she was relentless. You threw up an arm to block another quick attack and felt the blade cut deeply into your forearm. You let out a cry of pain and stumbled to the side, away from her.

“Hey!” Alden yelled, raising his pine branch.

Alpha didn’t even turn to look, her eyes still fixed on you. “Take care of those two. This one is mine,” she growled. Her follower spun to face the men and was soon engaged in fighting with them. Alpha continued to advance and you stepped back slowly, the stone still in your hand. You could feel the warm wetness of blood running down your arm and soaking your sleeve. Alpha lunged again, raising her knife and you deflected the blow to the side, taking the opportunity to smash the side of her face with the stone, knocking her to the ground but smashing the tip one of your own fingers at the same time. She fell sideways and was stunned for a moment as you straightened up, staggering backwards. You felt your boot hit something and you looked down to see your knife underfoot.

“Yes,” you gasped, reaching down. You fingers closed around the handle and then—something sharp and cold pierced your side and sunk in. You let out a pained gasp, all the breath leaving your body in a rush of air. You were suddenly on the flat of your back again and looked down to see her knife sticking out of your right side. She’d thrown it as you bent to retrieve your own.

You heard her laughing and looked up to see her stumbling toward you, still somewhat unsteady after the blow from the stone but determined. She was within two feet of you when a streak blacker than night hit her in the head from behind and clawed at her mask. There was a raucous screeching and flapping as your raven divebombed her and struck her on the head. The shiny black peak pecked into her mask, reaching her face with the sharp bill.

While she was distracted by your bird, you gritted your teeth and stood with a tremendous effort, the knife still protruding from your side. As soon as you were on your feet, your raven disappeared again into the trees. Behind Alpha, you saw that Alden and Luke had dealt with the final Whisperer and were both advancing on her from behind and you smiled through your pain. She didn’t have a weapon now and it was three against one, despite the knife in your side. “You’re surrounded,” you said. You adjusted your grip on your own knife. The handle was slippery from the blood running down your arm. You blinked to clear the slight blur in your vision.

Alpha glanced back over her shoulder briefly before meeting your eyes again. You were hunched over from the pain and she simply smiled. “You’re dead,” she said softly. “And I’d really like to have my knife back.”

“Fuck you,” you growled, suddenly throwing the stone from your non-dominant hand and hitting her hard in the chest. She gasped and staggered back slightly and you rushed forward, raising your knife, aiming for her chest. But you were weak from the pain in your side and she grabbed your wrist as you tried to bring down the blade. The two of you struggled with it overhead. You cried out as the effort sent white-hot jagged bolts of pain through your body. Alpha was stronger than you in that moment and she redirected your struggle down to her side. She thrust a knee up into your stomach hard, paralyzing your lungs and stunning you. You still had hold of your knife but before you could respond, you felt another searing, blinding bolt of pain as she gripped the handle of her own knife and tugged it, ripped it from your body. You fell forward onto your hands and knees and then pressed a hand over the wound on your side. You felt that your clothing as soaked with blood and your hand came away wet and sticky, the crimson appearing black in the low light. Where were Alden and Luke? Why weren’t they helping you? Your gaze lifted to see that they were fighting with another wave of the dead that had wandered in while you were all distracted.

You gasped again as Alpha kicked her boot into your ribs and sent you rolling to the side. You came to rest on your back, trying to pull in air. You looked up to see her rushing you and you summoned the last bit of fight and effort you had and threw all your bodyweight behind your knife and sunk it into her thigh before she could bring hers down on you.

She let out a scream of agony followed by a low growl, whirling and staggering back. The look she gave you through her mask was utter contempt and rage. You tried in vain to get your muscles to hold your weight, to get up, to do something…. But they wouldn’t cooperate. Alpha was standing over you again, limping on her injured leg. The last thing you saw was her boot aiming for your face. You managed to turn your head to the side just before it connected but then everything went black…

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Series Masterlist

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Chapter 15

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Suicidal ideation; Allusions to necrophilia; Sexual themes A/N: Don’t get too settled! Things will be shaken up in some heavy, heavy ways in the next few chapters. Also, my edit button isn’t working so I can’t fix anything once this is posted. Just ignore errors and pretend I know what I’m doing.

Daryl lifted the pistol with one hand, firing off a shot with practiced precision to effortlessly hit the target— a can on top of an empty water barrel —some distance away. 

“You… didn’t even aim.” You stated timidly, your shoulders tensed and trembling close to your ears. Your target, another empty can, was significantly closer but still an intimidating distance away. 

“Yeah, I did. Jus’ been doin’ it fer s’ long that s’quick. Know what ta do without really thinkin’ ‘bout it.” He lowered his weapon and placed it in the holster at his hip, coming to stand just behind you. You had been practicing aiming for several days, even choosing to stay out after Daryl had left to complete other tasks. You had found that he was keeping an eye on you, hovering without suffocating you. 

Things had changed since he had been sick. Drastically, in your opinion. It was like a switch flipped in both of you. He communicated with a certain ease now, the way you had witnessed him speak with Carol. Still a man of few words unless they were required, but less closed off than before. 

Any apprehension you had around him had dissipated entirely. You were comfortable and felt a warm safety under his watchful eye. Even when you couldn’t see him, you knew he was there. 

You had taken to sleeping on the mattress with him. The both of you were careful to keep space between your bodies, a boundary not so willingly crossed. He usually slept with his back to you, but you opened your eyes nearly every morning to see him rising from his side, facing you. 

Your relationship with Carol was healing, bit by bit. Just that very morning, you had shown up to help her with breakfast. Silence remained throughout. You began stirring the oats while she chopped berries, taking a moment to look at one another with small smiles that said more than words ever could. 

“Don’ look at what yer shootin’ at.” Daryl stepped up beside you and tapped the rear sight of the gun. “Line ‘er up n’ then look here. Ya can still see the can, jus’ a lil’ blurry now.” The archer took a step back and crossed his arms, eyes narrowed while studying your form. You were trembling, not only with anticipation but with nervousness. You wanted to do well. You had been practicing diligently, already embarrassed that he was reminding you how to aim properly. You smiled when you saw him nod his approval from the corner of your eye.  “Whenever yer ready.”

You inhaled deeply, not focusing on the drumming of your heart or the noises of the prison around you. You let your sole focus simmer down to the weight of the gun, the slack you could feel in the trigger as you began to squeeze it. The target was indeed blurry beyond the sight but you could still see it. The can expanded and twisted into the face of Big Jazz, his cruel laughter echoing as you felt the first traces of resistance. 

Daryl had warned you about recoil, so the kickback of the weapon startled you very little. You were too focused on the target. He had instructed you to keep the gun steady even after firing so that you didn���t pull it back too early and alter the trajectory of the bullet. There was a loud clink when the projectile made contact, clipping the can on the top right, sending it soaring. 

You stared at it in wonder, the pride you felt beginning as a low buzz just below your sternum. Then you were beaming, lowering the weapon to turn your smile on Daryl, finding the man already smirking back at you. “I did it!” The calm in your voice betrayed the absolute thrill sparkling in your eyes. 

He watched you curiously. You had been spending so much time dedicated to practicing the things he would teach, soaking up the information like a sponge and immediately. You never complained that he put you through the motions and wouldn’t let you try live rounds from the get go. 

You actually never complained about anything.

You always smiled, albeit small and unsure, when you picked up your meals. You always offered a word or two of gratitude, putting forth so much effort toward acclimating yourself into the little community. You did the chores, no matter how tedious or exhausting. In between everything, you scurried off to practice on your own. 

After all you’d been through, you were blossoming into something he’d never expected. Which only added fuel to the fire of his infatuation with you. 

He was struggling to say the least, hoping to every deity that he was hiding it well. Every touch set his skin on fire. Every glance made the butterflies in his stomach do gymnastics. The urge to run from you, however, was strongly outweighed by the desire to be close to you. You needed to be safe. Even Daryl knew that it went far beyond his feelings of responsibility at this point. 

“Yer a natural.” His smile fell away as you ran at him, throwing your arms around his neck. The embrace was the reason his cheeks flushed but the real problem was still nestled in your tight grip. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! How ‘bout ya, uh, put on the safety ‘fore ya come runnin’ at me, huh?” He was unwinding your limbs, handling your gun-wielding arm with extra care. 

You pulled back with a grin that made his heart flutter. “I did.”

He blinked at you, caught off guard when you held the gun sideways to show that you actually had, at some point between firing the shot and throwing yourself against him, flicked on the safety. 

After the initial surprise wore off, he snorted slightly. “I’ll be damned. Good girl.” The words were out of his mouth before his brain caught up. His face grew impossibly warmer, but his heart dropped when he saw the expression you wore. Almost a look of fear. One that made sense almost immediately. He had meant it as a compliment but it was something you most definitely heard during less than pleasant experiences. 

“Sorry.” You dropped your gaze, that submissive stance he hadn’t seen in a while returning with such intensity that he found his hand reaching out, fingers tapping gently beneath your chin. You were slow to oblige, which was an improvement from your once instant desire to obey. 

“Shouldn’a said it like tha’.” Daryl dropped his hand to his side, too focused on how he’d just made you feel to dwell on the tingle in his fingertips from the brief feel of your skin. “Meant it as…well, uh, m’ proud’a ya.”

The discomfort faded from your face almost immediately. “Thank you, Daryl.” Your teeth teased your bottom lip in front of an almost bashful smile. When he noticed the way you were bouncing on the balls of your feet, he sighed with a dramatic roll of his eyes. 

“G’on n’ tell Carol.” You took off, your boots sliding in the gravel and almost toppling you over, but you managed to stay on your feet, tucking your handgun into the waistband of your jeans on the way up the hill. 

Daryl didn’t even realize he was smiling until he noticed movement from the corner of his eye, turning to find Rick watching him curiously. The frown was instantaneous. “What?” He snapped. 

Rick failed exponentially at covering his grin but held up his hands in surrender. “Nothing.” The archer didn’t like the way the other man laughed as he turned away. 

Carol nodded enthusiastically with an amused smile as you carried on about your successful first shot, not daring to interrupt you. She was just elated that you had come to her willingly with your excitement and that your voice was still strong and even louder than you’d ever before shown. 

“Good job!” She cheered, holding out her hand for a high five. You actually jumped when delivering the request, bringing laughter bubbling out of her throat. Rick had approached and was listening in toward the end, engaging you in conversation about the experience once you had finished telling Carol. 

As you talked with the former deputy, she watched you, only noticing small signs of discomfort in your body language. You were healing. Little by little, you were feeling more confident. You smiled freely and frequently. You laughed. You were eager to learn. It was such a beautiful thing in a not so pretty world. It was like watching her own story, different players and scenes with the same underlying theme. 

“Hey.” Daryl nudged her with his elbow. Carol looked up at him, standing beside her with his arms crossed and a stick of cinnamon between his lips. His blue eyes were trained right on you. 

“Good job, Pookie.” She laughed when his lip curled, his elbow bumping her arm a second time. 

“Whaddaya mean?” The archer inquired, rolling the cylinder between his teeth. Carol only slightly refrained from rolling her eyes. 

“Look at her. That’s all you.” She nodded toward where Rick was intently listening to you explain what Daryl had taught you, as if the man had never seen a firearm in his life. The silver-haired woman observed her friend from the corner of her eye. The bowman had a different air about him when he looked at you, even if he tried like hell to hide it. Responsibility, my ass. 

“S’all her. I jus’ watch.” He shrugged. 

“I bet you do.” She said smugly, leaving him standing there with an exasperated expression that was just as much telling as it wasn’t. 

Daryl had to go on a run. He had left you with Carol, under very strict orders not to move from the woman’s side. You didn’t like seeing Daryl upset or stressed, and he always seemed to be both when called away from the prison for hunting or scavenging. It was obvious to even you that he didn’t like to leave you behind. 

“Keep practicin’. When I think ya can handle yerself, ya can go with me.”

So that’s what you did. Everyday. You would help with the chores that kept things running smoothly and in between, you would practice. Except the days Daryl was gone. Those days, you were Carol’s shadow. She was well aware of why and never complained. Though she couldn’t make time for you to improve shooting, she would take you with her to clear the fences.

That particular day, you had ended up soaked in dark blood and brain matter. You were obviously repulsed by the mess but dropping the walkers didn’t really bother you anymore. There was still a respectable amount of fear when facing a corpse but it was no longer debilitating. 

Once inside the safety of the prison, you split from your chaperone and headed straight for the showers. Most of the community didn’t shower daily, understanding the need to conserve water. You were different. Rick gave the okay for your daily washes, knowing your history and why it was imperative for you to end the day feeling clean. Feeling new and untouched. Unsullied. 

You always made them fast but thorough. The darkness that surrounded you there was suffocating, even with your lantern. It never failed to overwhelm you with the paranoia that some sleaze was waiting in the shadows to take you back to Big Jazz. It was the same song and dance each time, without fail. 

Hair still damp, you rubbed at it with the towel on the way back to the perch. The sun had already dipped behind the trees, leaving you certain that Daryl would be waiting for you. So when you reached the top step to find the space unoccupied, you grew nervous. Not only for the archer’s safety but for the fear of being left alone once the last shreds of light gave way to the faint luminescence of the moon. 

Biting at your nails, you sat down on the mattress and laid out one of Daryl’s handkerchiefs. Cleaning your gun gave you practice while occupying your mind. You knew from experience that being left alone with your thoughts was dangerous. 

During your isolation at the club, you idealized ways to end your suffering. That only led to wondering what would become of your body. Back then, your knowledge of walkers was limited. And you knew that Todd had sold some of the other bodies to clientele and what those men were doing when they didn’t need your services for a while. The thought of what would happen after your death was almost as daunting as what was happening while you were living and breathing. 

Except you had this hope that, while you still lived, you might come to know someone. Someone that would miss you if you died.

Along came Daryl. 

He was your savior in every sense of the word. He delivered you from the hell in which you were trapped. He brought you to a place of relative safety, despite the dangers that could infiltrate. He was teaching you and protecting you. 

He had finally begun to drop his walls. He treated you like a person. He could still be abrasive but the moments had grown fewer and farther in between. He was ruggedly handsome with kind eyes and a nice smile when he would show it. It wasn’t often that his lips dared venture past a smirk. You liked his lips. 

You dropped the clip when trying to return it to the gun, blinking at the pieces with wide eyes. You were supposed to be distracted from thinking, not swooning over a man who was as emotionally available as a thumbtack. Sure, Daryl was kind but you noticed he never spared any of the women a second glance. 

They sure spared him several. 

There was a smoldering heat somewhere in your chest when you thought of how the other females would eye the man as he passed them. The sensation was vaguely familiar, a piece of your pre-enslaved self prodded at whatever cage your subconscious had trapped it inside. You couldn’t exactly name it, but you were well aware that you didn’t like it. 

With an annoyed huff, you glanced up toward the high windows. It was well past nightfall and the group had still not returned. This had never happened before and if you were completely honest, you were scared. The shadows were forgotten, every threat your mind could create was shot down by the vivid scenarios of what could have happened to Daryl. The final image your brain shoved to the forefront was enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

Daryl as a walker at the fence. 

“No, no, no.” You chanted, shoving yourself to your feet. You kept repeating the word all the way to the door of Carol’s cell. You didn’t tap on the bars or call out to her. The curtain was roughly shoved aside and you barged in with no still tumbling from your lips. 

“Y/N? Hey, what’s wrong?” She had already pulled you into her arms, shushing you and stroking your hair. 

“He’s not coming back, is he? It’s after dark. Daryl said nights are dangerous. He’s not coming back, Carol. He’s not coming back.” You sobbed against her. You had finally managed to find something good in this world. Someone good. The fear of that being stripped away from you was almost too much to bear. 

“No, no. Honey, listen. They were probably just held up. It doesn’t mean—” She seemed to understand the moment that your legs gave out and followed you to the floor, still holding you tightly against her. “Y/N, everything’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! He’s not coming back!” Your voice was slowly rising, panic taking hold in a familiar way that you never again wanted to feel. “He’s not coming back! He left me and he’s not coming back!”

“Who ain’t comin’ back?”

Your head snapped to the doorway so fast that your neck twinged in protest.

Daryl was bruised, bloody, and more than a little dirty but he was there. 

“Who ain’t— oomf!” 

You hit his chest with enough force to stagger him toward the railing, his heartrate spiking from the fear that you both might topple over it. “Why weren’t you here?! You can’t leave me, Daryl! You can’t go!”

The archer was staring helplessly at Carol, admittedly unsure of what the hell he was supposed to do. She only gave him a gentle smile and stood, walking to the door of her cell and pulling the sheet closed. He could not suppress the glare that the doorway received. 

He then turned his attention to the bundle of you currently holding so tightly to the shirt beneath his vest that he heard some part of it tear. Hug you. He should hug you. That was logical. 

“Hey.” Daryl said softly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed your back. “M’right here.” Your sobs didn’t seem to quiet in the slightest, surely alerting everyone else in the prison. Hopefully they weren’t asleep yet. “Y/N. M’here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” His brow furrowed when he noticed how hard you were trembling. When words were continuing to fail him, he settled with just holding you. 

It felt like hours of listening to you cry, the vice around his heart tightening until he could barely breathe. When one of the former Woodbury residents peeked out of their cell to scowl at him, he knew he had to get you away from that area. Not before offering a glare that had the man’s eyebrows shooting into his hairline just before he disappeared back into his space. 

You made no objections when he bent to sweep an arm beneath your knees, only refusing to release your hold on the shirt your tears were steadily soaking through. He was careful, walking slowly so as not to jostle you, like you were still that fragile burden he had carried to the prison all those weeks ago. 

Once he had climbed the stairs, he attempted to place you down on the mattress but you held fast to him, twisting your fists for a firmer grip. Daryl couldn’t help the fond smile he gave to the top of your head. 

“Gonna hafta let go eventually.” With a deep, stuttering breath, your hold finally loosened yet didn’t fall away. “Wanna tell me wha’ happened?”

“Nights are dangerous.” Your voice was so small that it reminded him of the first time you ever spoke to him, outside of that club. He did not want to see you revert back from the person you had worked so hard to become. “That’s what you said. When night came, I thought—”

“Ya thought I wouldn’ come back.” You nodded against his chest. “Ran outta fuel skirtin’ ‘round a herd. Gotta diff’rent car, got the crap we found, made it back.” You sniffled again. 

“You were late.”

Daryl couldn’t stop himself from snorting. “Didn’ realize I had a curfew.” He was able to hold onto the humor of the situation until you finally looked at him. His heart went plummeting down into some dark part of him, knowing then and there that he never wanted to see that fearful hopelessness again. 

“Don’t leave me behind again. Please.”

The archer swallowed hard, feeling like an asshole. “Y/N, I can’ take ya out there. It ain’t safe.” His hold tightened slightly when he turned to sit on the mattress, lowering your legs onto his lap, so that he could embrace you with both arms. You were still looking at him. Strangely, he didn’t feel anxious under your gaze, distressed as it was. He felt oddly…anchored. 

“It’ll never be safe.” 

He couldn’t argue with that point. Nowhere was safe anymore. “Not knowin’ how ta protect yerself gets ya killed. I can’ take ya with me n’ have ta watch ya the whole time. Get us both killed.”

“Then teach me.” You implored, actually shaking him with the hold you still had on his shirt. “I can use the knife. I can shoot. Teach me what else I need to know so I can go with you.”

Daryl’s expression fell. You were right. You were good with your knife. You were fucking great with the gun. There was only one thing left to show you. And he dreaded it more than actually taking you outside the fence. “Ya need ta know how ta fight.” Your head tilted in a way that he would have found adorable had he not felt like he was about to vomit. 

“Can Carol or Maggie—”

He was already shaking his head. “Need ta know how ta fight someone bigger, stronger. Need ta be able ta hold yer own when I can’ get ta ya.” When, not if. There would undoubtedly come a time when you would be alone, for whatever reason, and need to be able to take down walker or human; woman or man. 

He would need to teach you. 

Which meant, at some point, putting his hands on you. 

The images of finding you at the mercy of Lonny and Marvin. The stark contrast between the blood and your skin. The way you had surrendered, given up, and just accepted what would have happened if he hadn’t—

Daryl didn’t know when he had looked away, staring at some unimportant spot on the floor until your soft palm turned him back to you. 

“Okay.”

He narrowed his eyes, filled with an anger he knew wasn’t for you. It was for the lowlife assholes that had touched you, made you afraid of your own shadow. You had struggled to claw your way out of the shell they had left behind and now he would be forced to bring all of that back to the surface. Maybe not at first, but before it was done, before he would even feel remotely comfortable taking you anywhere beyond the prison gate, you would be afraid of him. 

“I can do it, Daryl.” 

The fire he felt raging just behind his ribs began to fade when he looked at you, your fierce determination mingling with the softness your eyes always held. Somewhere down deep, he knew you could do it. It wasn’t really about that. It was him. He was the one afraid. He never wanted to be the source of your nightmares. He didn’t want to portray the monster that his father so openly and willingly embraced. 

He somehow managed to swallow past the lump in his throat. “Okay.” He reluctantly agreed. “I, uh… need ta shower. Gettin’ guts n’ shit all over yer clothes.” When he tried to move you aside, this time you let him. Yet when he stood, your hand snagged his wrist and he found himself looking down at you again. 

“Don’t go.”

“M’jus’ gonna shower, Y/N.” Had his absence really been that profound? “M’gonna be righ’ back.”

“I’ll go with you.” 

Daryl was certain his jaw hit the floor. “W-wha’?” 

“I won’t look. I promise. I just…I don’t want to be alone.” You released his wrist but he could still feel a tingling where your fingers had been. 

“Y’ain’t alone. Carol’s jus’—”

“I don’t want to be away from you right now.”

Part of him wouldn’t mind if you tagged along. You weren’t going there to gawk at him. But the part of him that knew what he was planning on doing aside from showering was filled with a sudden shame that he was no stranger to but had learned to ignore. 

“Please?” You fixed him with those doe eyes of yours and he knew he was well and truly fucked. The hunter rubbed a hand roughly over his face and began to dig through his pile of clean clothing for something to wear to bed. Before you, he had usually just slept in whatever he was wearing when he crashed, giving in to the need for comfort by pulling on some flannel pants on occasion. When you began to spend more time in his space, he had raided the scavenged clothing and found several things he could sleep in that would make it more comfortable for you. How could you relax if he was constantly covered in grime and guts with no reprieve?

“Fine.” 

You didn't smile which actually surprised him. You loved to beam at him when he gave you your way, but this was different. He had truly scared you. Clothing and towel in hand, he started down the steps with you trailing behind. He shouldn’t have been allowing you to be so dependent on him. You needed to learn to be self reliant, self soothing. God, he was making you sound like an infant. 

Maybe you simply didn’t know that it wasn’t exactly appropriate. You had been passed from man to man for so long that the lines of decency were blurred. He couldn’t fault you for that, and he wouldn’t try to educate you when you had been so shaken and he was aching and dog-tired. 

The run had been a shitshow. He didn’t lie to you, those things did happen. He just omitted a few things that would have done nothing but compound your anxiety. He was well aware that you would need to know the realities of a supply run but he would explain those in detail when you were ready to join him. The thought made him cringe. He still couldn’t imagine you out there. Not that you weren’t doing well with training. You were. It was just that knowing you’d be anywhere near immediate danger made him sick to his stomach. 

He was hyper aware of each and every step you took behind him, even with your feet being bare. As an afterthought, he wondered if he should have brought the lantern. He didn’t need it but perhaps you would. If you did, you hadn’t said anything, even when he stepped into the stall, still fully clothed. 

He turned to find you holding some of your own clothes at your hip. 

“Mine got dirty.” You shrugged, walking into the adjoining stall. Nothing but a single half wall separated you. When he saw your arms raise and the shirt being lifted over your head, he turned his back and inwardly groaned. 

Why, oh why, had you needed to follow him? 

“Done.” You announced, any trace of you gone when he turned around. Brow knitted, he raised to the balls of his feet to look over the barrier but still couldn’t see you. Next, he leaned forward and peered around the outside of the wall. You were sitting with your back against the tiles, your eyes finding his before you smiled shyly. “Is this okay? I don’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable could not even begin to describe how Daryl was feeling. 

You watched as Daryl’s eyes narrowed, something almost playful twinkling within the cobalt depths. “No peeking.” He warned, his tone light, and then he vanished back to the other side. 

You ignored the sounds of him undressing— the graze of his boots over his socks, the soft clink of his belt buckle —and busied yourself with chewing on your nails, trying to even out the ones you had fucked up during your earlier episode. Chewing at a jagged edge, you’d pull back to inspect your work and then continue to the next. 

You had made it almost all the way across one hand when a weight plopped and settled over your head. The familiar smell of leather stifled any instantaneous fear, so you pulled at the veil to find it was the winged vest. 

“Daryl,” you whined through a smile. “I just changed my clothes!” The shower started spraying behind you. 

“Oops.” He replied flippantly. 

Leaning forward, you cross-crossed your legs beneath you and set about carefully folding his vest, brushing away any dirt you could see by only moonlight, the rest left for when you could properly clean it. Carol had taught you how to care for and maintain it when the precious article came through in the laundry she had gathered, the one and only time you’d seen it in all the loads you’d helped wash. 

Sweeping your hand back and forth over the material, you smiled at how far you’d come. There was a man showering less than ten feet away from you and you weren’t whimpering or cowering. You weren’t looking for an escape. It was a testament to both your strength and the influence of the aforementioned man in the shower. 

Amidst your thoughts, the smell of burnt tobacco wafted into your face, your nose scrunching. You hadn’t even heard the lighter!

“Are you seriously smoking in the shower?”

“Who doesn’?” 

You could tell he was letting the cigarette hang between his lips from the sound of his voice, obviously talking from one side of his mouth. You smiled and rolled your eyes but didn’t badger him further. There was no need. Your mind ventured far away. 

It started innocently enough. You were picturing him washing his hair while drawing off the cigarette, exhaling the smoke through his nose and looking pleased as punch. You would have giggled had your traitorous mind not called upon the rest of his body. Just recalling what you had seen that night made your cheeks burn. 

If it had ended there, you might have been able to brush it off without hindrance. Your subconscious was never kind to you. 

You saw yourself sitting on the low wall that currently separated you from him, just as wet and just as bare. The archer stepped between your legs that were open in invitation. His scars felt like your own, your fingers studying them as he watched, the cigarette still pressed between his lips. You blinked up at him when he grabbed the smoke between his thumb and forefinger, flicking it into the shower floor to be extinguished and forgotten. That same hand glided up your thigh and dipped between your bodies, his fingers mimicking your own; delicately tracing the scars littered over your core. 

“You’re just like me.” You whispered as his lips found yours. 

“If ya mean tired n’ done with this shit day then yep, we ‘bout the same.”

You jolted sideways, eyes wide with surprise. “Daryl!” He was standing at the end of the stall in flannel pants and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, his damp towel and dirty clothing in hand. 

“Yeah?” He was waiting you out but you couldn’t seem to find words while your fresh little fantasy continued to flicker behind your eyes. “Y’alrigh’?”

“Yeah.” You cleared your throat, suddenly uncomfortable with his close proximity. “I’m good.” Clambering to your feet, you smiled and handed him his vest. “I’m just really tired too.” His narrowed eyes brought on worry that he wasn’t buying it but after a moment, he nodded toward the door.

“Le’s hit the sack. Gotta a long day tomorrow.” 

You hummed your agreement and followed him out. Sleep was doubtfully going to be in the cards that night, not after what you had allowed to happen inside your head. Daryl wanted you, at least he had wanted you at some point. Did he still? Did you want him? Of course you did. He had made it clear that he cared for you. You were his friend. Maybe he did still want to fuck you. 

That wasn’t something you could ever allow. 

You were damaged. Healing but forever damaged. You’d been used so frequently by so many that you would never allow Daryl to lower himself to such desperation. There were plenty of women there vying for his attention. Maybe once he was less focused on you, he could start thinking more about his own needs. He would see that any appeal you had was nothing compared to a woman who could give him her whole heart and not just a pile of shredded fragments. 

Finally settled, your shoulders were almost touching while the two of you laid on your backs. Silence was abundant for the longest time before Daryl cleared his throat. 

“Night.”

“Goodnight.”

Simultaneously, you both turned away from the other; Daryl’s eyes on the wall and yours on the shadows past the railing. 

Neither was aware that the other was thinking the exact same thing. 

He deserves better.

She deserves better. 

@royaltysuite@thegeorgiahuntsman@livingdeadblondequeen@deansapplepie@feral4daryl@walker-bait-1973@lazyneonrabbitt@bizquake@ririi-3@ankhmutes@littlelovingideas @blackvelveteen1339@sokkasimp101@lehhos @1ivinqdeadqir1main@loganlostitall @callmeyn@lilyevanstan1325@the-lonely-abyss@gutsby@eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus@wifeof-barnes@bananafire11@hutchersonsgurl@the-milk-is-rotten@she-could-never@Kenzimae67@nessa-mayfield@ilovedilfs4eversthings@richardsamboramylove55@annhells@abi67sblog@nessieart@imgeorgeclooney@brinteylovesaliens@eduardast4rgirl@daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87@atyourmomshouse01@bultamer@mia051 @memphiscity69@flowerspetalsthorns@riya12044 @ariacraigggg @morgan556 @carley12041 @timeladyrikaofgallifrey @twdislifee @bae-live-0 @elbellmam @aleemendoza2425-blog @ramdomhoe @ren9sstuff

[andi-o-geyser]

A compilation of my favourite Perc’ahlia lines because I’m such a sucker for them:

“She is my heart and my judgement and the future that I have chosen.” (Percy)

“Darling, take the mask off.” (Vex)

“Every time I thought I would sink, I would see your face- your face, the first time I truly lost control, and you told me to take off the mask.“ (Percy)

“You're a good person and you're not broken anymore. All right? We're filling each other's gaps. We'll be the glue.“ (Vex)

 “Never forget you’re my favourite.” (Percy)

“I’ve known a lot of people with money, and they are definitely not worth you.” (Percy)

“Nice shootin’, stud.” (Vex)

“You’ll have to amend that one name, just to be fair. It’s Lady Vex’ahlia. Lady Vex’ahlia, Baroness of the Third House of Whitestone and Grand Mistress of the Grey Hunt.” (Percy)

“My heart is someone else’s.” (Vex)

“I should have told you: it’s yours.” (Vex)

“There was a hole in my heart, and I truly believe the only reason I didn't perish from it was because you were holding my heart so tightly. I thank the gods I gave it to you. It is yours, forever and always.“ (Vex)

“I just scream, I scream.” (Vex)

“I need you here now, I need you here.” (Percy)

“You still have a little blood behind your ear.” (Vex)

“But I don’t want to be here if you’re not. Whitestone still needs you, darling. I still need you here.“ (Vex)

“You’re far too wonderful for an idiot.“ (Percy)

“He’s married, to me, and I will cut you.” (Vex)

“You have given me a future I had cheaply sold away.“ (Percy)

“You allowed me to be a part of the thing that you hold dearest. And I was so proud.“ (Vex)

“Vex, I heard you. It was the only thing I heard.” (Percy)

“Were you going to fight the Raven Queen for me?” (Vex)

“I promise to walk into the future with you. I promise to build a family with you. And I promise to always be here for an adventure with you.“ (Percy)

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Even Goldish in the Privacy of Bowls do it

A Sarge & lil Mama episode

circa 1966 (yes this got moved a little from original shooting time of the movie hinted at here-in, shh)

Elvis Presley x original character -chart refresher for kid’s ages HERE

Warnings: 18+ -y’all, this is perhaps my most unhinged attempt at chaos yet. Finally we’re getting to see more of the kids, maybe more than wanted when a man’s just trying to grab a quickie in the shower with his wife. Warnings include unhinged family chaos, filthy smut, Elaine using firearms, brief mention of animal death by gunshot, brief mention of implied young children sleeping in their parents bed/bedroom while past sexual activities may have taken place, and -PLEASE NOTE- multiple references to an eating disorder on Elvis’ part. Troubling issues like this are integral to him and his mindset at the time so I include them, but please be aware there’s language in here that’s dismissive and condoning at times by certain individuals, just as it’s pleaded against by others. Along with brief body issues and shaming. Just a caution.

Word count: 12k -hope ya missed my tomes lol

Thanks: ever so much thanks is owed to many for their help and support but particularly to the dolls who made this so much better worse with their suggestions. Calling out @missmaywemeetagain @elvisabutler @eliseinmemphis @ab4eva @stylespresleyhearted

Summary: when Elaine visits the Colonel’s bungalow early on a Hawaiian dawn to defend her man and his appetite for her fried chicken -bringing along a loaded firearm for emphasis- the pelicans aren’t the only things startled.

Seven o’clock in the balmy hours of a Hawaiian morning, a solitary gunshot broke the peaceful silence and sent the beach birds squawking into the jungle’s dense foliage.

As seven AM was an ungodly hour of the day to expect anything from a human being, Elvis Presley was still in bed, asleep, and finally settled into that sorta circadian rhythm that helped him sleep through nightmares, alarm clocks, voracious wives and the pokes and prods of three to five children in his bed.

But a gunshot was jarring enough he swam to the surface of consciousness long enough to fling an arm out and pat Laney’s sweet ass and mumble an inquiry as to wether she had any clue why someone was shooting a gun in fuckin’ Hawaii. Especially as he, the only one likely to do so, was, quite obviously, in bed with her.

Except Laney’s sweet flesh wasn’t anywhere to be grabbed the more he flailed his arm in the cold sheets and, with a sudden bolt of terror, Elvis sat up and searched about the room only to find her gone. Jack was, predictably, still clinging to the same pillow Elvis had mistaken as her. He felt a little validated by that.

Two more gunshots punctuated his growing alarm and before two seconds had passed he was flying out of bed despite the way Jack’s legs clung to him and he exited the bungalow door with nothing but his silk night shorts on and espadrilles.

“Laney? The hell are you, woman?” he bellowed out the veranda with caring bravado.

No answer. Which didn’t mean much but it was harder to shake shit like this since the recent uptick in hate crimes and the way those girls had jumped her at their own gate last summer. His knuckles ached at the mere memory of the pummeling he’d given those tarts’ car hood. Nothing funny or harmless about it.

“Laney!”

Jesse barreled out shortly after and stood beside Elvis with a mimicking pose of concern, staring out at the beach with his hands on his hips, surveying the glittering water in the fresh sun’s rays and the undisturbed sand for miles. She wasn’t anywhere to be seen for that long stretch of golden beach.

“You seen your mother?” he asked Jesse sternly.

“No sir, didn’t hear her go out either. She not in bed?”

“No, and I didn’t hear her either. Neither did Jack and he’s always wound round her like a sloth to a branch.”

“Maybe she’s the one doin’ the shootin.” Jesse ventured with a mild expression of hope.

Father and son were both recalling when Elaine had given Elvis ample complaint and ample warning to do something about his reprobate pet chimp and when nothing was done and a child was harmed, Laney stalked into the den where Elvis and the boys were going over rehearsals and asked if he’d like to do the honors of shooting the damn monkey. When he laughed her off she trumped upstairs and the next thing Elvis knew was Tink clipping past the den and out the front door in her heels with his shotgun in her hand, while poor, unfortunate Scatter was being carried by the scruff of his sailor costume.

By the time Elvis caught up with her she’d put five holes in the hairy little pervert. To be perfectly honest he was aghast at such overriding of his jurisdiction but it didn’t prevent him from appreciating that when she meant business, she meant it.

So, it was plausible Laney was shooting something at seven am, and that was one of the reasons Elvis loved her. The only trick was, there was no Scatter here, no enemies in the general vicinity for her to be shooting at.

Elvis commented as much to his young son in grave deliberation.

“ ‘Cept for the colonel.” Jesse pointed out blithely and at that excellent observation all of Elvis’ blood felt like it rushed to his brain and pounded within like a tribal drum.

“Oh sweet merciful Jesus-“ Elvis wheezed and took off from his porch in a sprint along the beach hedges, towards the colonel’s adjacent bungalow, the roof of which -now that he was looking- appeared to have smoke coming out of its abnormally saggy thatch.

“She didn’t like it when he called ya fat yesterday!” Jesse was still hell bent on a little redeeming PR and Elvis waved at him with the back of his hand in acknowledgment that, if Laney was murdering, it would be for him.

And his fat self.

And for the reputation of her fried chicken that Elvis had been laying off of ever since he got so damn pudgy no director would hire him without contractually asking for a little casual bulimia on the side.

It was all part of the business, the snow job of an available and attractive man made harder by the real life presence of a wife and brood of children. The addition of a decidedly fatherly gut wasn’t gonna make them money.

He got it. Laney didn’t.

He tried to jog faster through the sand before she put her fingerprints all over the scene.

Inside the bungalow Elaine fanned the smoke out of her face with red tipped fingers and kept her diction very clipped as was most effective with this self consumed weasel.

“Am I understood? No more sedation and no more starvation and stop recommending those damn uppers that keep him buzzing while his body goes undernourished.”

Elaine still gripped the shotgun barrel, right there by the racker thingy but Parker had watched this woman long enough to know that if he agreed, then she would be pacified enough, he’d live to see another day.

“I get you, Mrs. Presley,” he assured in a pleasing tone, one that always suggested she started this long war between them, “no more. It was the business I was thinking of, it is my role. And yours is to nurture. You cannot expect me to have the same leniency as a wife, but I bow to your superior discretion.”

“You’ve kept him from home, colonel, robbed him and my children of valuable time together just because he knows he’ll be tempted to eat when he’s home. You’re a cruel, heartless Scrooge, that’s what you are. And this ain’t over.”

“It was merely business, Elaine.” he looks close to crying and she feels tempted to blast another shell into his roof.

“It's not your fault Colonel,” she steadied herself and he always liked how she was not so emotional like some women, even if she was icier than Elvis would ever admit, “I wouldn’t expect you to know what appeals to women, you never had the chance to appeal to them yourself. But I’ll tell you now, just for your excelsior betterment, some women like a sturdier man, some women like more cheeks on their husband, and your gravest omission when thinking of his appeal -a slight ponch rubs ever so delightfully on a woman’s clitoris when making love. You have heard of those, haven’t you? Maybe not, I’ll leave you to peruse the encyclopedia. It’s under C.”

Elvis got smacked in the face by the opening door as she stepped out right as he barreled in.

“Good morning honey, why on earth are you awake?” she greeted blithely as the door swung behind her and she raked his bed head back into place with her hands.

“Because you were shootin’ up the damn island.” he cried, “The hell’s goin’ on, Tink? You kill the colonel?”

“No. Of course not.” she rolled her eyes, “I’m just on a roll, keeping varmints in their places. It was his turn.”

“What’s he done wrong?” Elvis was aghast.

“Oh honey we haven’t got the time for all that on such a perfect morning.” she laughed instead, “C'mon back to bed, when you wake up again I’ll make you your favorite.”

“I can’t have flap jacks right now, Laney, you know that.” he mumbled sullenly as they turned back to the path leading to their own bungalow.

“Yes you can.”

“Says who?”

“Says the woman who owns ya before God, that’s who.” Elaine retorted sharply and he sucked in a breath in appreciation of the vindictive mood still clinging to her. He should chastise her for her language but right now he didn’t wanna shift the mood. The racked gun at her side may have added to the thrill a little.

“You’re real pretty totin’ that thing around in just your kaftan.” he complimented

“Oh Naughty.” she breathed, a little blush flaring on her face. His simple little sweetnesses still getting to her far more than any of his wiles or spice.

“Really, just so pretty, sun’s gettin’ in your hair like it’s what it got up to do this mornin’. S’all gold.”

“Oh naughty, hush.” Elaine felt a fit of compliments coming on and was a little rusty at receiving them, truth be told.

“Why can’t I tell ya you’re pretty?” he laughed.

“You can.” she shook her head in amusement and tried to keep walking but his narration stalled her a few steps down the path.

“Your legs are gold too.” he was saying “Is this like your witchin’ hour or somethin? Do I gotta get up at ass crack a’dawn to catch ya like this?”

“I am in a kaftan, Elvis. And this is hawaii, hardly a new sight.” Elaine laughed herself.

“Yeah, and the sun sure goes right through it.” he was admiring the way her legs were shapely shadows under the cream linen, the illuminating ball of fire in the sky giving him a little show. “Is this how early I gotta get up to see this?”

“You’re sleep deprived, that’s why you’re so astounded by a woman in a kaftan, c’mon and I’ll help ya get back to sleep.”

“No, no I don’t wanna go inside yet.” he objected like a child in the middle of his construction when the dinner bell goes off, “There’s kids inside.”

“Yeah there are.” Elaine’s lip curled in wry amusement.

“Colonel gets ya alone but I don’t.” he wasn’t saying it accusingly, just a contemplative pout and Elaine shaded her eyes to watch his face as he stood in front of the glittering ocean, so bright its reflective rays were almost painful this early in the day. “Why’ve we got so many damn kids.” he joked, “Hardly see ya.”

“Aww well I’m here now.” she was touched and a little confused by this mood but she sauntered up to him, leaning the shotgun against a dune marker, and put her arms around him.

That seemed to be the right course of action as he gave her one of those soft little expressions that weren’t smiles so much as they were bashful little cheek scrunches of recognition. The extra cheeks on him made the expression almost intolerably cherubic. “You got up to blow his roof off but..” he can’t accuse her of not getting up to be with him, that was a damn lie, Elaine somehow managed a schedule that fit both the normal world’s waking hours and incorporated in his bizarre nocturnal clock, he very rarely was awake while she was asleep although the same couldn’t be said for him and this morning it nagged him, what little pleasant nothings he might be missing at seven in the morning.

“It don’t make a habit of it,” she reminded softly, “he just needed a talking to. It’s like spanking or putting a child to bed, never meant to disturb you and was gonna slip right back in next to you.”

“Yeah well, three gunshots kinda have the opposite effect, woman.” he shook her shoulders playfully.

“Well I think I got the message across.”

“What was the message?”

“I-“ Elaine paused to restructure her complaint into the mildest terms possible to preserve his sleepy temper and the peaceful scenery around them. “It’s kinda like you were saying with me! I miss you, the children miss you and it’s got nothing to do with movies and making money. You’re tired from the pills and from the starving and -lord, if I see you excuse yourself after one of my meals one more time just to hear you gaggin’ it right up, I’ll-“ she couldn’t quite finish that, wasn’t sure what she’d do but the most constructive thing she could think of after hearing it last night before bed was to visit the colonel and put some fear of God in him.

“How’d you-“ he scratched the back of his neck, sheepish.

“Oh heavens Elvis!” she pinched his cheek, “It’s the oldest one in the book for us women, when I didn’t shift the weight in two months after having a second set of twins it was recommended to me by all the other wives. Just because it’s old or common doesn't make it healthy and I’m just saying that if you’re unhappy and wanna fit in your old slacks then so be it, I’ll feed ya salads and cut down on the butter but there ain’t a single movie producer I’m gonna let stipulate or pay you to starve yourself. Sweet Jesus I- I know you like looking pretty but for god’s sake! You are! You are pretty, you’re Elvis Pretty Presley for the love of God and what are your children gonna think growin’ up watchin’ you treat yourself this way? It isn’t business, no! No! It isn’t! Hush up! It’s not! Business can be constructive or destructive and Christian business only builds up. Actin’ like a pagan by starvin’ your bodily temple that the Lord gave ya isn’t gonna sell us more movies.”

“You done?” he asked her after letting out a long whistle.

“No not quite,” she cooled her tone a little but stopped her hug to cross her arms and hug herself defensively, “Marlon told me they’ve been asking the same from him and he told them to go- well, you know. And they did. They’re still casting him in serious roles even if he’s not a breathing Adonis. They should be castin’ you in movies about human life not posin’ you like some cut out in a storyline.”

“Brando told ya this?”

“Yeah.” she said, “Because Brando’s manager does what he’s supposed to. I was just reminding the colonel that he is *your* manager which means he’s supposed to be your advocate not your damn jailor!”

“Sheesh alright,-“

“Elvis! It’s serious! I mean if Marlon-“

“God!- stop all this talkin’ about Brando, dammit!” Elvis bellowed and Elaine flushed bright red for an instant and it made him do a double take, thinking he saw a flicker of something new there but in an instant it was gone and -this was Laney, it couldn’t have been there in the first place, “Lord ya need to cool off.” he muttered.

He saw Elaine heave in a deep breath and cup her hand over her nose in that tell-tale way she had when she was regaining her control, started with the nose then the hand would go to the lips and then drop as she shook it out like casting out the damn emotions it collected before it fell to her side, diamond ring glinting in the morning light.

He wanted to say he missed her again, but that felt redundant. Instead he busied himself with observing how pretty she was and before he could voice that again, her eyes cleared and she smirked at him.

“Last one in is chicken.” she dared him before taking off over the sand, headed for the decently violent surf.

That was an old trick of hers, when shit became too real she just- played, instead. He felt it was for his benefit but maybe not, maybe it kept them both sane. He was as fond of the old trick as he had been the first time she pulled it in the studio back in ‘56. Elvis caught up to her about three paces from the surf and managed to swing her up in his arms and crash into the water together. After that first gasp inducing plunge and the salty sting up the nose, the water became a sparkling friend to them, and holding onto each other they surfaced and bobbed for a brief time, enjoying the sounds of the island waking up.

“So I guess I gotta get up at the crack a’dawn to do this with ya.” he griped again and pouted into her neck.

Elaine laughed and stroked the curling hair at the base of his neck, “If you want to escape the heat of the day and catch this lighting, then yes, yes you do. Otherwise, I’m here anytime you want me.”

“Why’d we make so many people!” his face puckered playfully for a moment, “I miss you!”

“I dunno, just sorta happened.” she fibbed herself and after a moment of disbelief he caught the joke and laughed too.

“I-I mean I try to be a good father-“

“You’re an excellent father .” Elaine butted in sternly.

“a-and part of that is bein’ with ‘em and I do try,” he laid his head back partially and let the water buoy him, “whatever you may say, I do try, but when I try I-I well, I let Daisy give me a haircut because she had her heart set on it and then when I get to the film set I’m told that was a ‘dis-reee-spectful’ thing to have done. I just can’t figure out how to manage what everyone wants from me. Just can’t figure it out.”

“Elvis, I don’t know why you’re caring so much what a half a dozen crusty old men say.” Elaine murmured, “Especially not when your wife finds your haircut rather fetchin’ and thinks the meat on your bones feel real nice when you’re up against me.”

“Oh?” Elvis tipped his head back up and seemed to register their close proximity for the first time. As if a switch had been flipped it seemed to be all his eyes could process, the material of her transparent kaftan clinging to what parts of her torso he held out of the water by his hold on her thighs and- Elaine thought it sweet how sometimes her man had a singular track in his mind and that was for sex, but just as singular could be some other focus and a near naked woman wouldn’t strike his as suggestive at such a time until he was made to notice. “Oh, Laney!” his eyes lit up as he surveyed his wife and then the coastline behind her, “Hell, baby, we’re alone, we’re genuinely alone!”

“I know.” her voice couldn’t keep from pitching low as she tightened her legs around his padded hips and watched in awed appreciation for the way his face’s coloring looked like it belonged in the blush splashed sea. “Seven am, for the lighting and for -the solitude.”

“Oh I like the lighting.” he muttered as if to himself as he swayed closer, eyes glued to her wettend lips. “And I like not havin’ all those damn people around. You get it don’t you?”

“Yes I do.”

“You tired of our friends?” he asked.

That could be trick question so she carefully shrugged it off, “Not really, you?”

“Not really just-“ Elvis pondered for a bit, his full cheeks squishing his mouth up and he looked the closest to his babyish self when he had married her than he had in ten years. “It’s just always so crazy ‘round us and I -I want more of this. Just not at seven am. I’ve got a naked woman in the ocean and I’m so sleepy I can’t even stay on track to get in her!” and he laughed ruefully.

“You can just kiss me?” she begged, “Kiss me and we’ll get you back to sleep.”

As if he knew what kind of his kisses she’d been missing most in this fast paced life -for Elvis Presley had many different kinds of kisses for Mrs. Presley- Elvis brushed her hair off her face with gentle care before thumbing at her throat, making her pulse jump from the swipe of his thumb before he brought his lips nearer and nearer as her own trembled and puckered in anticipation until after painful restraint those two plush pillows caressed her own. And stayed. And stayed.

Stayed until the screech of a car peeling out on the path they'd just abandoned made Elaine look up and she saw the Colonel’s conveyance speeding inland after breaking to view their little rendezvous.

“I’m sure we cut a rather scandalous figure in here.” she realized.

“Where’s the scandal when you’re married?” Elvis scoffed. “Besides, not even the paps want a picture of me when I’m this fuckin pudgy-“

“-oh not this again!” Elaine growled, kneading said pudge with vigor as if it would get her point through him better.

“Laney, you're sick in the head, we’ve established this already.” he replied, teasing yet not entirely unserious, “What appeals to you ain’t a rule for the rest of the world.”

“Ha.” she tossed her head back, “Let’s talk about trends then. The trend is towards beefier, hairier men, less of this pristine crooner image, more of the beefcake -Redford, Bogart, that sorta thing.” Learning her lesson on the beach, she omitted Brando from the list.

“Neither of those men are fat.”

“And neither are you.”

“But I don’t look like a star no more-“

“-oh, oh trust me,” she crowed, “if you got yourself a role where you could play a man, a real , raw, gritty man, theaters would be forced to change their seat cushions.”

Elvis scoffed again but asked again with helpless curiosity, “W-what kinda man? I mean, I’m playing real men, honey. Whadda ya even mean, Tink?”

Elaine kneaded his shoulders and pondered the earthy, sultry lines of his face and the heft of his chest beneath her hands, “A working man.” she admitted. “Salt of the earth working man. A man they show working. That’s what I mean.”

“Want me to play a mailman or somethin?” he rolled his eyes. “Real innovative, honey. I’ve been a race car driver, a-a-a Cowboy, I-I’m playin’ a pilot now-”

“I mean a hefty, strong working man who crawls out from under a sink he just fixed and lays a lonely housewife on her husband’s table and gives her something to keep her company at night.” Elaine rasped in his ear.

She felt the gust of his shocked gasp against her wet ear. “Hell, Laney,” he choked, “this-this somethin’ you wanna play?” he sounded scandalized and eager all at once.

“Always, when you’re ‘in this state’, my dear.” she murmured, thumping at his back significantly.

“Hell mama, I could lay you out good.” he swore, going back in for another searing, messy kiss.

“Is everything alright boss?” a yell from the shore startled them both and Elvis fumbled with his grip on Laney’s ass to lower her further in the water for modesty’s sake.

“You’re a lil late, Jerrah.” he snarked back at his friend who was investigating gunshots from fifteen minutes ago. “But yeah, yeah all’s fine.”

“Yeah, yeah ok,” Jerry hollered back, slowly backing away from the beach and up to the hedges, “I can see that. That it’s alright, I mean, like, I can see y’all are very alright. I mean, yeah ok, I’ll go.”

“Why’s he actin’ so prissy.” Elvis grumped but began to ease them both out of the surf anyway.

“You know why it is.” Elaine’s color heightened and Elvis’ grin grew wildly proud. “We were mauling each other a bit.”

“Oh you’re thinkin’ of those early days, hmm? Fresh back from Europe and alllll the world clutchin’ their pearls over how much we loved each other. Fuck ‘em.”

“Elvis!” Elaine prostested, amused yet aghast, “We gave them some cause!”

“Yeah buddy we did.” his tone held masculine admiration for the memories of leading Tink away to a darkened alcove in her pretty jewels and silks and taking her up against one of the ‘Cabana’s marble pillars. He’d had to move so slowly not to attract notice that it was practically cockwarming with a little jive to it.

“Don’t forget the boat.” she pointed out as if she knew he was hung up on another memory.

“Ooh, oh the boat.” he clutched his chest as if she’d brought up the fondest of memories and he was an old man reviewing the best in the twilight of his life, “God you looked so damn good in those photographs, Laney.”

“Elvis! It’s not a proud thing to be the first “indecent” photograph on the cover of Life Magazine.”

“We were fully clothed! They’d no idea what-“

“Yeah, yeah just a man casually playing hoola hoop behind his wife, I’m sure. That stupid captain’s hat,” she pretended to bemoan, “if you wouldn't have been wearing that I coulda resisted and we wouldn’t be on Life.”

“Five years ago, ‘bout time to give ‘em a refresher on the faces you make when lil Elvis is hittin’ the spot.” he snickered at his own joke as she swatted him towards the stairs to their bungalow.

“Five years is not sufficient to dim for me the awful talking to the colonel gave us that night.” Elaine retorted wryly and watched Elvis’ broad back shiver at the recollection before he jiggled up the steps in just his soaked silk night shorts. She stayed below for a moment just to enjoy the dripping, meaty sight of him.

“Lord mama, what was all that for? Was that you?” a wall of young voices hit them as they stepped into their house, five children in various stages of undress and sleepwear scattered around the front kitchen area and worked up by excitement to an ungodly level of energy this early in the morning.

“Yes, that was me.” she admitted cheerily and Elvis loved her for it. “Oh heavens, we forgot the gun-“

“I’ll get it mama!” Jesse was up out of his seat in a flash. “What’d you shoot with it?”

She kissed his forehead in a good morning greeting and soothed, “There was a varmint out back, kept me awake all night so I took care of it.”

“Oh, that’s real cool, mama.” Jesse’s eyes filled with admiration before he backed outta the screen door and flew down the path to get the gun in a blur of blue swim drawers.

“Cool.” Elaine repeated and tested the compliment on her tongue as Elvis laughed in a tired rumble that reverberated against her back as he clung to her like a sleepy child, one hand around her waist, his chin on her shoulder and his other hand busy stroking a clinging Rosalee’s head.

“Yeah, you’re real cool.” he insisted, his voice warbling.

“Outta sight.” Daisy offered from her place on the floor amidst a pile of crayons.

“Mhmm!” Elvis grunted, all gritty and revved up in her ear and she shuddered from something besides her wet kaftan.

“Alright, alright thanks.“ she batted the air like she could knock the compliments down that way, while trying to spin in Elvis’ hold. “Your daddy needs his sleep. Woke him up with all that racket, y’all be good and I’ll be back to fix food. C’mon Mopey, let’s get ya tucked in.”

“But Jack’s in our damn bed!” Elvis bawled.

“Not for long! He’ll be up for breakfast, come on baby, let me tuck ya in.”

“Can’t tuck me in the way I need when he’s there.” Elvis grumped.

“Oooooooh.” Elaine drew it out in understanding before turning back round to address their sleepy little audience gathered round the kitchen table, “Y’all get the flour and maple syrup out for me, your silly daddy dunked us in the ocean so we’ve gotta shower off. I’ll be back.”

“I know how to make pancakes mama!” Ella piped up, suddenly very awake.

“Alrighty then, pancakes it is.” Elaine smirked and saluted her before leading Elvis into the adjacent master bedroom.

“You’re showering with daddy?” Jack grumped from their bed, his stuffed whale toy clutched and his blonde hair scattered across the pillow, “I need a drink, mommy.”

“There’s this great thing called a water faucet in the kitchen, son.” Elvis snarked, now he was the one tugging Elaine.

“Well I can-“ Elaine began before finishing with a little scream as Elvis hauled her bodily into the bathroom with him.

“S’real bad to let the salt stay in your hair for long, Laney, you know this.” he tsked before addressing Jack as he slid the door closed, “Mornin’ Trouble, hope that pilla kept ya good company.”

“You’re awful.” Elaine snickered behind him as she adjusted the faucets. “Having a rivalry with your own son!”

“You like gettin’ fought over, don’t you even try to deny it.” he murmured, coming up behind her to kiss her neck -and help her remove her kaftan. “And I can dance better than him. So it’s a clear choice, lil mama.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t give me half the trouble you do.” she grinned, making fun of his nickname for the poor kid.

“You’d be bored to death without it.” he growled and it sent sparks down her spine as his damp and slippery silk shorts rubbed against her butt.

There was a knock at the door. Elvis quickly left off his romancing and bodily picked up Elaine and set her behind the shower curtain in the steaming bath.

“What?” he asked of Jack, because of course it was Jack.

“You’re not in yet.”

“Thanks t’you,” Elvis laughed, “now what?”

“My whale wants to go swimming with you.” he held up his fuzzy sea creature.

Elvis took a very nasally breath and held it, “Jack, there’s a whole goddamn ocea-“

“Elvis!” came a rebuke from behind the curtain and only the thought of Elaine naked and slippery back there gave him fortitude to begin again, although in a mockingly patient voice:

“Jack, there’s an entire ocean out there for you and your whale to swim in. He swam yesterday and I’m sure mama’s gonna take ya this afternoon. Now go eat Ella’s pancakes. Good mornin’.” and he shut the door.

He tore into the shower so fast he didn’t even shuck his swim trunks, spurred by the image of Elaine lazily wetting her hair under the spray. She looked at him and at his dripping silk shorts and the outline of little Elvis poking needily out the waistband and bit her lip to suppress a grin. It was pretty gratifying to be so wanted.

“Did you lock the door?” she asked breezily and saw the exhaustion cloud his face once more.

“No.” he admitted and stared at the shower curtain while contemplating the door beyond it, “Nope, and if he comes in, it’s on him what he sees.”

“The kid has seen a lot and it hasn’t deterred him yet.” she laughed.

Elvis still stared at the curtain, “Yeah, maybe we should take him to see someone ‘bout that.”

“Oh hush,” Elaine smacked his belly, “couldn’t be hereditary or anything, could it?” she joked.

“I did not cockblock my father at every goddman opportunity!” he railed, playfully backing her into the tiled wall.

“Oh?” Elaine grinned, “That’s not how Vernon recalls it.”

“Vernon’s a bastard!” Six years after Jack’s birth and Elvis was still aggrieved by the suggestion that his doppleganger was anything like him. “Just makes that shit up to justify remarryin’ so fast, actin’ like mama weren’t the best thing that ever happened to his sorry a-“

“I know, I know.” Elaine soothed, regretting this line of conflict. “Just teasing.”

“Don’t tease.” he begged, kissing her under the spray, “I’m tired and I don’t want it.”

“Ok.” she assured, returning his smooches, “No teasing it is then. C’mon now, help me, step outta of them.” she kneeled under the fall of water and peeled away his shorts.

It was a gift every time, pulling the fabric away to see her man and that alluring place that all his costumes and paraphernalia teased but only she got to see at the end of it all. Those deep and skimpy tan lines that marked her territory versus the rest of him that the world saw, like a sovereign country’s borders. Thighs thicker than usual and soft brown skin stretching over his fuller belly, that dark thatch of hair so fastidiously trimmed and leaky lil Elvis collecting shower droplets on his bubblegum pink head. She shifted on her knees and licked her lips, so impatient to taste him she had to force herself to finish the task of untangling his shorts from his feet.

“Think he’s gone?” she asked Elvis as he stroked back her hair in anticipation, spreading his feet to get a stance that didn’t make him knock his knees and crumple at the first throat tickle she gave him.

“Awful quiet.” he shrugged, a whimper caught in his throat as Elaine shifted closer on the hard tile and peppered his stomach with kisses, kneading those handles of his on his fleshy hips and nuzzling the little crease he’d begun to show where he’d once been cut and firm. Her tongue darted out and traced those lines lovingly and the way she held him so firmly to her attentions and the sweet arch of her back beneath the spray convinced him to view such things a little gentler, a little less obnoxious while his Tink’s mouth was worshiping them so gently.

Down she went, lovingly nuzzling and licking a path across his creases and up his thighs, nosing as his balls and rubbing her cheek against him before opening her mouth and letting Elvis guide his throbbing length onto her tongue. He clasped her head and started a rhythm, a gentle and steady pump to the back of her throat which she knew by heart, and when the cadence had been perfected he let her be and grabbed the shampoo and lathered his own hair before tipping his head back in the water and washing the suds out. Then he poured out a dollop again and, rubbing it between his hands, began to massage it through her locks, lovingly swiping any run-off away from her eyes and swirling hypnotizing little circles into her scalp.

That made her moan. It sent the damndest spark to his very toes and he thrust in harder, hissing and smiling down at her. She was smiling back -around a mouthful of cock. And she looked so pretty doing it, there wasn’t a sweeter or lovelier face to be found when she was hollowing her cheeks and stretching her lips and batting her sparkly eyes. Savoring the feel of a man’s meaty weight in her mouth, letting him gag her with aplomb. The suds squished under his grasp as lewdly as the slurping sounds Elaine made when her gasps grew short and she tried to sneak in a breath or two between his thrusts.

“Hell laney, you’re prettier than you ever been.” he realized with his chest fit to burst from love for her, her and the way she massaged his thick sides and the way she always smiled when sucking cock. The way she blew the Colonel's roof off over a point of honor, “How’d I ever get so lucky.” he muttered, realizing suddenly that she reminded him of those early days, before the babies -any of the babies- back when she was toned and lanky and bare faced. She had the prettiest smattering of freckles when her makeup was gone, he swiped the shower spray from off them.

She looked a girl again, the girl who gave herself to him for safe keeping.

She was trailing one hand down her stomach, flat and firm again, and down and down till she was playing with herself, he could tell by the way her arm moved in time with her head. He rubbed at her scalp again.

Another moan. His toes curl. His spine ran like hot lava.

It had been three years since…a baby. That would account for the toned and lean look, he had a sudden epiphany. Felt a fool for it immediately after.

It maybe wasn’t what they wanted but something a little feral and fond flooded his chest at this old Tink. Something told him to marvel at her, marvel at her like he had in her soaked kaftan at the beach. He had a beautiful wife. Damn stunning and he just -he didn’t see her enough, he felt. Odd, that.

“Laney, laney, hold up.” Elvis tapped her jaw and pulled her off him, chuckling as she wheezed in a breath, spit and precum sputtering thick and shiny off her lips and caught herself against the slick tile wall as if she had sparks in her eyes.

“What baby?” she gasped with eagerness, playing with the suds on her breasts and looking up at him coyley, knowing that tone meant her man had a notion up his sleeve. Probably a dirty one.

“I-I-I w-wanna, I-I wanna see you.” he begged and when she still looked lost he clarified, “I w-w-wanna w-watch ya p-play wi’yeself.”

Elaine’s face flushed crimson in pleased gratification at his adoring tone and with one last look of skepticism at his bobbing and visibly pulsing cock, asked with soft eagerness, “How’d’ya want me, daddy?”

Oh lord, it had been awhile since they played this game and his heart skipped a beat in anticipation. “Want ya to lay down on the tile, baby,” he instructed and watched as she sank back on her haunches without argument, slowly spreading her legs and scooting down until she was laying amongst the swirling suds, “Now, I-I-I w-want ya to spread your legs, baby, nice and wide f’me.”

Elaine did as asked, her hair swirling out in the eddy of water, her belly a canvass of sprinkles, letting her right foot push into the encroaching shower curtain a little, feeling a draft of the cold outside air rush in. “Like this?” she asked, her mouth dry from the sight of his bulk standing in a straddle above her.

“Jus’ like that.” he nodded down at her, his eyes darting all across her beautiful shiny self as the spray pelted down on her after breaking across his body, “Now this next part’s important to get right, Tink. Ya gonna be a good widdle bitty f’me, ain’t ya?”

“Yes daddy, I’d do anything for you, anything at all!” her voice rose.

“Then you spread those pretty pussy lips for me,” Elvis directed, “wanna see your itty bitty rosebud, gonna let the water do the teasin’ for us. Wanna see ya cum from the drip.”

Elaine did as she was told and stretched her labia, sucking in a breath as a small jet of water landed on her teased vagina. “Ooh, l-like this?” she hoped, sucking at her lip, trying to get on top of the teasing sensation.

“Fuuuck yeah, oh fuck, ‘xactly like that.” Elvis’ eyes were glued to her wobbling little petals, battered beneath the shower stream as he began to strip his cock with cruel, tight jerks of his wrist. Elaine nuzzled his ankle and glued her own eyes to his heavy sack, swinging above her in perfect view as it tightened up, guarded by those delicious, meaty thighs and her mouth hung open in craving. A drop of water ran off his heavy balls and landed on her forehead. “Oh Laney, you’re just perfect honey, jus’ perfect.” he praised. “It feel good?”

She was pretty sure if they kept this up he’d be spouting down on her face in a matter of seconds. “Yeah, it really does.” She craned her head back and stuck her tongue out in optimism.

—————-

Back in the kitchen a disgruntled Jack wandered into the little gathering of his siblings who were eagerly dishing out advice and praise to Ella as she capably flipped decently fluffy pancakes and stacked them onto a steaming plate.

“There, that should do for a start.” she declared and even Jesse and his ever growing appetite assented as he set the kitchen table with forks.

“Rosalee.” Jack sidled up to the auburn haired little girl trying to make a swan out of the paper towel Jesse had laid down as her napkin.

“Yeah, Jack?”

“Daddy said he’s gonna take us swimmin’.” he lied with the most guileless tone, “You wanna come?”

It was a calculated move, and a stunt Jack had pulled often to back up his own devices regarding monopolizing Elaine.

Rosalee went nowhere without her father and everywhere that her father did go, she went. And Jack knew this. She had meltdowns when she was escorted off sets and had meltdowns when she arrived at sets to find him holding his young co-stars instead of her. Jealous and sensitive, there was nothing more precious to her than time with daddy and at this news of an impromptu frolic, Rosalee clambered off her barstool so quickly she nearly split her head open.

“What are you up to, Jacky?” Nine years old with a head twice older, Jesse was onto him and stared his towheaded brother down with slanted gray eyes, “How is it daddy’s takin’ ya to the ocean when he’s washing the ocean off him as we speak? Don’t sound like somethin’ he’d do before going back. Waste a’time.”

“I’m just bearin’ the news.” Jack held up his hands, “It’s what he done told me.”

“But daddy’s gotta sleep, Jack!” Ella protested, always so keenly aware of her father’s irregularities and fiercely protective of his health.

“Ooooh leave off, he promised!” Rosalee whooped in joy and tore back towards the master bedroom with a maniacally gleeful Jack following on her heels.

Ella dropped the pancake plate onto the tabletop with a thump and Daisy immediately grabbed her fork and skewered four at once.

“Where y’all goin’?” Jesse cried out after trying to get a pancake of his own, abandoning it in favor of running down his two rogue little siblings who were about to start banging at the bathroom door like they had a death wish.

——————

Inside the shower Elvis felt his climax hit him like a freight train and bracing himself with one hand on the tiled wall, he watched with flitting eyes as his thick ropes of come joined the water shower to spatter across Laney’s chest and then down to the pattering of the stream against her pink house, then back up again. His thighs quaked and his belly shook and he kept stripping himself as wave after wave took over him from the sight of her down there, looking up at him with a pleasured grimace as the jetstream wiggled her nub. She had to be close, he could tell from the lines on her forehead and he managed to lift his foot and press it gently on her lower belly, jostling her womb like he did with his hand when he was inside. Her toes curled.

“Ya almost there, ain’t ya pretty girl?” he gasped, his own toes curling as lil Elvis didn’t seem content to flag after one shot alone, still standing stiff and interested in the proceedings below him. Elvis’ hand started to cramp.

“Elvis-“ her pretty pink tongue came out and touched her upper lip, her breasts jiggling with every big heave of breath.

Just then a round of knocks sounded on the door and if Elvis was any judge of distance -and he was a good one- he’d wager they were coming from someone about three feet off the ground and blonde as satan himself. “Not yet!” he barked, well past being patient.

“Elvis!” Elaine fretted below him, so close her eyes looked scared from desire. “I’m -“

“That’s it, that’s it you just take your time and feel it, sugar pie, that’s it.” he cooed to her and stepped over her, turning round in between her legs and running his foot further down, pressing on her little mound and after observing her hesitant moan, slipped his big toe along her soft seam.

The way her legs snapped closed like a trap spurred him on, as did her happy gasp as she thrashed and gripped at her chest like she was trying to hurt herself with the squeeze. He wiggled his toe in further, snagging her lil hole and plunging in, his leg shimmying in that controlled way he’d perfected on stage and she shrieked, happily, he was sure, except Jack didn’t know that-

“Mama I know you’re in there!” He demanded from behind the door, driven to outrage by neglect.

Laney was gorgeous when she was coming, and while often a moaner in the moments leading up to it -when propriety allowed- she was a silent screamer in the throes of it. Elvis kept up the merciless jimmying of his leg all the way through it and watched with distinct enjoyment a sight he rarely got to see from this removed vantage point. Caught in the vice grip of pleasure Elaine couldn’t humor her little brat any more than she could call on Jesus for help and Elvis just smirked down at her evilly as he kept the stimulation up. Kept it up until he was getting kicked in the gut by an overwhelmed wife.

The faucet stabbed his back as he stumbled backwards, laughing those hiccuping laughs of his and jostling his throbbing balls in one hand as Elaine cupped her mouth and tried to get her breath back. “You ok?” Elvis giggled as he knelt down and crawled over her to cup her wet cheek and bring her back down to earth. She was giggling herself, unable to voice anything but giving him a thumbs up to assure she was ok. He smooched her cheek vigorously.

“You’re still-“ she tried to form a full sentence but couldn’t.

“Those diet pills.” he whispered in explanation, gingerly still stroking his hard cock but over-sensitive cock. “It won’t go down, Laney.” he whined a little as he humped her slick belly, conscious that this was a lil pathetic to do on the shower floor but this is what he missed, moments like these where they could trust each other with all of it. He couldn’t stop himself now just to make it a little less animalistic, a little less needy. Truth was he needed her terribly and he didn’t mind her knowing.

Elaine’s hands came up and clung to the backs of his meaty thighs, as high as she could reach over his hips and she begged in a hoarse whisper that underscored the way her eyes were heavy and half mast “Sit, please, sit on my face, Daddy. Wanna taste you, I’ll get ya drained.”

She’d seen the chafed markings on her little friend from all the tucking and taping the wardrobe department had put him through, she’d tended to them with Vaseline and kissed the booboos goodnight. From the way she had her mouth open and her chin tipped back -Elvis knew what his wife wanted and with a weak moan he crawled over her again and at her insistent hands, turned back around till they faced the same way.

69ing he’d heard it called from a co-star. A filthy sorta indulgence that his ingenious wife had discovered on her own without the benefit of co-star gossip or ‘new wife’ magazines. “Gosh yes, yes that’s it, smother me baby, you're a hunk like this you know?” She gushed, gripping his hips firmly.

“Mama?” got yelled through the door along with another knock and a small racket as if there were reinforcements approaching -wether for Elvis’ cause or Jack’s, was yet to be seen.

“Go eat your pancakes!” Elvis hollered over the noise of shower spray.

“I need mama to cut them up!” Trouble hollered right back and Elvis looked down to see his fair temptress waiver at the sound of her son’s dire plight.

“Oh no, no you don’t, don’t even think it.” Elvis corrected her as he settled over her, a hefty thigh on each side of her face trapping her where he needed her, hard tile and grout lines digging at his knees. He patted at her belly and rubbed her hips as he stared ahead at the wall and slowly, almost apologetically, lowered his package over her sweet face. One ball slotted into her waiting mouth perfectly, aided by her eager little hands as she snuggled it onto her waiting tongue and with a contented grunt he muttered, “All you need to think about right now, my lil Tinkerbell, is how full and stuffed your lil mouth is with daddy’s sugar plums, how nice he is to give ya a treat n’how good you’re lil mouth is gonna make daddy feel, so good I just might kiss your lil kitty in thanks.”

Laney always got a little woozy when he didn’t give her a choice, told him it made her feel like goo inside and like she was a baby again -not in a bad way, mind. She loved it and he capitalized on it on occasions like this. After years together he’d come to understand she enjoyed a little sternness so long as he mixed it with affirmations and gentleness after. Something his younger and randy self may have been pitifully short on in his eagerness to sample her. So Elvis found himself able to squash the shame of teabagging his wife in the shower rather speedily, the obvious and untampered joy she took in the act helping him, as well as the feel of her rolling the damn things, one at a time due to size, in her mouth like his nuts were a Listerine swish.

How someone could enjoy gargling ballsack or having their noses smashed to an asshole was a little beyond Elvis, but when he said as much to her, Tink had told him she didn’t get how he could eat bloody pussy for hours.

After arguing this they had to call a truce. No accounting for taste. And since then, as a treat, Laney gets to suck his balls with the only addendum being she can’t lick his ass.

Never stops her from kneading it though, digging at the plain globes with her nails and pulling it apart -for his sanity’s sake he likes to assume she spreads it so she can get some air down there. He wishes he didn’t like that feeling as much as he does but hunched over her in the shower he has to admit the stretch of it feels rather good, combined with her suckling his sack. Little Elvis begins to pulse like he gets the memo. The better it gets, the greater the sensation becomes, the more he moans and shifts and bends double till he’s biting her thigh to keep quiet. In doing so he stops sheltering her little house from the spray with his shoulders, and with malevolent delight, he notices her jerk from the water jet.

It’s fun to watch from down here, her pretty pink petals getting battered and he adds his tongue into the mix on occasion and she thrashes and screams around his balls and he keeps his thighs locked against her cheeks, muffling it almost completely. He’s missed this, not just the filthy want for each other but -but the selfishness to do it. Sure he had been a cad in their earlier marriage, using her more like an animated glory hole than a cherished child of God, but they’d both trade the exhausted lassitude of the past year for that rigorous idiocy in a heartbeat. There’s gotta be some middle ground. He just can’t come up with the right balance with Tink mouthing at his balls like a feral harmonica player tearing up the riff to Orange Blossom Special.

“Daddy! Daddy when are you takin’ us swimmin?” That’s Rosalee’s voice, coming through the door and Elvis’ heart thuds to a stop for a moment in complete confusion as to why his lil pet expects that of him this morning, “I’ve been waitin’ patiently! Please daddy!”

She’s been waiting, by the door, this whole damn time while Jack’s been doing his regular, moronic behavior. She has been good. And somehow there’s been a mix up. He’s had little enough time to play with the kids on this set and Rosalee always takes that absence the hardest. The tile is unyielding beneath his knees and his resolve waivers.

“Oh sweetie I-I-“ he brings his fist up to his mouth to try to steady his wrecked voice, “sweetie I didn’t say nothin about that, did I?”

Elaine, callous succubus that she is, ignores his fatherly plight and begins to strip the base of little Elvis like it’s gonna spurt pixie dust for her. He falls down a little more in his kneeling posture from the intensity of it, forehead banging against her shin as he claws at the slippery grout lines.

“Jack said you promised to take us swimmin!” Rosalee sounds close to tears and it makes Elvis plan on wringing Jack’s little neck while the desperate need to cum rattles in Elvis' head until he’s humping Elaine’s mouth like a maniac. She digs in harder and he hides a sob as a cough.

Angrily he peels her pussy wider and let’s the jets sting her little nub, locking his legs resolutely against her cries until he sees a stream going in the opposite direction of the shower flow, a pretty little arc of fluid straight from her pussy and if it weren’t so diluted by the shower he’d know it tastes perfectly salty sweet. Satisfied with his revenge he covers her again with his back and lays his face on the tile between her legs, trusting her to either let him get up and console his poor daughter or else finish him fast.

Going with the first option becomes entirely necessary when he hears the door crack open and a cold gust of air rustles the shower curtain.

Panic gives Elvis’ voice a thunderous edge as he shouts:“The hell are you doin’? Don’t you dare open the curtain, don’t do it! Do not!”

“Oh daddy please don’t hit me!” Rosalee wails this idiotic plea like it’s a line from some dramatic afternoon Soap Opera, and Elvis is quite sure that’s where she learned it.

“Oh, s-s-stop the d-d-dramatics!” he begs, half to his children and half to Laney who seems convinced he can come from ball sucking alone, while he’s quite sure he can’t today.

“You promised!” Rosalee continues crying, very near the shower but not touching the curtain.

“Jack!” Elvis' voice thunders shakily.

“Yes Elvis?” the kid replies very calmly from the sink area.

“G-get out! Both of ya- get out.”

“I just wanted to take a bath with you!” Rosalee stays from sheer horror at having provoked such temper from her ever-loving father, “I’m sorry daddy! I-I-I didn’t mean to make you mad, honest I didn’t! Jack said-“

“Guys, what the- come on, get out!” That’s Jesse’s beautiful voice resounding in the bathroom, sounding like a general at nine years old and Elvis is gonna have to buy the kid another motorcycle for always being such a swell fella in times of need.

“But Daddy promised to take us swimming-“

“Guys out!” Jesse grabs ahold of Jack’s tshirt and starts tugging.

“But swimming-“

“Only Mommy’s and Daddy’s swim in showers, sometimes-“ Jesse insists.

“I just came to tell mama that Ella has caught the stove on fire-“

“Jack, liars go to hell.” Jesse reminds.

Elvis realizes then that maybe his thighs are squishing all the sound from Laney’s hearing and that perhaps she’s just coasting while enjoying her favorite hobby, unaware of exactly how nuts it’s gotten in here. Nuts was a bad word for it but- he starts to pull himself off her only to feel her teeth snap in protest at the thin base of his scrotum.

He can’t help his yelped,

“Laney!” that in turn spurs Jesse onto a frantic beg,

“Kids come on! Really, we need to evacuate now!” The poor boy sounds frantic and Elvis wishes he had the moral fiber to get off his wife’s face this close to the finish line. But he doesn’t, not for Jack, not even for Rosalee and any other sweet idiot spawn who didn’t obey the closed door policy.

This isn’t the first time.

Hovering as he is, balls clamped in a toothy prison, it’s like Elaine finally hears it all, processes her children and their proximity, finally gets it without the soundproof padding of Elvis’ thighs. She responds accordingly. Instead of abandoning their tryst as he expected, like a ninja geisha, she simultaneously grabs his cock and bends him backwards between his cheeks into her mouth, while raising her foot for Elvis to muffle his impending scream around some perfectly manicured toes.

To a chorus of wailing youngsters and one very admanet eldest son who sounds like a shell-shocked veteran encouraging the green troops to pull back, Elvis feels the persuasive suction of Laney’s mouth around his throbbing head, a flick or five to his weeping slit and he’s giving into her efforts, biting her toe to keep silent and smacking at the shower curtain in an attempt to stifle the need to move with his release.

Elvis shakes to the floor with an exhausted splat as his orgasmic loss of reality gives him a blissful five seconds of escapism where he lays, cheek down in the swirling shower drain, thanking Jesus and God and the Holy Spirit for his wife.

Elaine surfaces from beneath him with the invigorated gusto of a woman satisfied with her work, pulling herself out from beneath her man’s inert form only to be hit by a toy whale that’s been hurled over the curtain and onto her wet head -a last little defiance by a growling Jack who is getting tugged out by Jesse. An impressive throw, one Elvis is responsible for helping Jack perfect with the football many a summer’s night on Graceland’s lawn.

“Oh you silly thing!” she shouts with a laugh, “If any of you sprites are still in here, make yourselves useful, hand me those towels on the countertop.” she adds as she leans over Elvis, straddling him to turn off the tap, sticking just her hand out the curtain and making grabby motions with her fingers till the feel of fuzzy cotton meets it. “Thanks, sweets.”

“Why’re you so short mama?” Rosalee’s voice asks and Elvis groans beneath her on the floor.

“Cause I’ve been playing with sea creatures.” she explains without missing a beat and Elvis’ slick back starts heaving beneath her from suppressing his laughter.

“Oh.” Rosalee accepts it with a sniffle, having spent many hours in the tub or hot tub on her knees, the better to help her toys swim around.

Elvis rolls over beneath Elaine’s straddle and smiles at her with eyes still crossed from going to the grown man’s neverland. “Alright Rosalee, you run on now we’ll be out in just a minute. Promise.” he speaks up.

“And swimming?” she begs as she retreats.

“Well, uh, we’ll talk about that over breakfast.”

Elaine makes a sad face at the realization he’s not going to let himself go back to bed after causing so much heartache in their little people. “S’ok.” he insists, reading her mind and patting her thighs.

Hearing the latch click and the silence of privacy restored, Elvis clasps her by her neck and brings her face down to his, kissing her passionately, licking at her tongue and the traces of his spend on it. “You sure know how to love a man, Tink.” he murmurs, clinging to her warm body as the shower tile turns cold.

“All I ever wanted was to learn to be the best for ya.” she whispers, sweet and gentle.

“Born the best.” he insists, “The rest was just…a bonus.”

She brings the towels she’s been balancing out of the wet, onto his chest, and sitting up they rub each other dry, soft smiles and drowsy affection making them clumsy and open.

They stagger upright together and Elvis throws his towel around her and she throws hers around him and they’re cocooned in terry cloth this way, standing in the dripping shower, snuggled together and nipping at each other’s lips.

“How’s my lil friend.” she asks, sneaking a hand between them in the damp warmth of their burrow and cupping his harmless, shrunk little appendage.

“He’s good, he’s real good.” Elvis giggles, his cheeks turning pink, “Gentle with him now, he got wrung out by a cruel, lecherous gal.”

“He sure did.” Elaine grunts satisfactorily and it’s the most masculine sorta sound Elvis has ever heard her make, full of smugness and a dirty, gritty edge he can’t quite believe came out of his woman, his woman who is so polished and elegant most times. As if to underscore this departure from demure normality and diminish it all at once, Elvis feels her hand move again beneath the towel before an electrifying sting slices up his spine and down his leg from his freshly smacked ass.

“Laney!” he cries again, utterly aghast and pink as a baby and she can’t stand it anymore, standing on tippy toes to neck him some more, vigeorusly smashing her lips to his as she yanks the shower curtain open with her free hand

She steps out while Elvis lingers and bends down to retrieve Jack’s sodden whale plushie. He may wring the poor creature out more violently than necessary but it makes his wife titter.

“God! - I love you.” she insists, surveying her man as he steps out, his wet hair dripping in a boyish mop down his forehead and his lips kissed and bitten puffy pink and his cheeks bunched in a grin despite their bashful blush and the soft accumulation of fluff and good living filling out his chest and swelling his belly just that little bit. “Sometimes I think it’s gonna kill me, gettin’ to enjoy you, getting to look at you so much. Feels indulgent somehow, like you oughta be rationed to a gal, the same way you’re dosed out to your fans in little bits, one movie a time.” she laughs at her own silliness and he shakes his head shyly as he tucks his towel into a covering around his waist. “One day they’ll find me keeled over from palpitations brought on by starin’ too long.”

“That’s what the obituary’ll say,” Elvis snarks, “but you and I’ll know the truth of the matter, that you’re a lil squirrel who likes her nuts so much she don’t take time to breathe. Mark my words, that’s how you’ll go if you keep this appetite up.”

“Then I hope they accuse ya of manslaughter, right after.” Laney grins and he stalls with his comb in hand, raised to coiff his hair back, waiting for the punchline, “Because I don’t wanna be up there without you for too long.”

“Laney!” he repeats for the upteenth time this morning, but this time it’s hushed and his lower lip wobbles with emotion and his eyes swim, touched by the sentiment. Clearing his throat he adds, “I still wanna uh, sometime -yeah, uh sometime do that thing you were t-t-talking about in the w-water.”

She makes a puzzled face as she wiggles into a tiny pair of shorts Elvis bought her last month. She’s fit as hell, and he’s envious of it, and has to admit Jack’s overdue weening did serve one purpose at least, it thinned her out like nothin’ else coulda.

“Play handyman or-or whatever.” he blushes and turns his face away as he hangs up his towel, aware that they haven’t the time to linger over this with the kitchen possibly on fire and his children eager for a swim. “Ya recall? -what you were sayin’? Me uh, playin’ a handyman or plumber or, uh, whatever. Come visit ya.”

“Oooh that,” she goads playfully wrapping her arms around his belly once more, chin in his shoulder blades, “you wanna swing by Graceland and fix a pipe or two, find the rich and spoiled Mrs. Presley wasting away in her gold cage, rich but wanting in the worst ways? Hmm?” she runs her finger down the shell of his ear and it’s flaming hot to her touch, he must be red as her nails in the face, “Wanna take her on the table and give her what her posh movie star husband can’t? Wanna do that, huh Naughty?”

“God y-yes.” he stutters, head thunking against the wall in desperation at the mere

concept.

“Wanna make a movie of it,” she whispers into his ear, “like those ones Thumper and I made? Wanna make a movie so Elvis Presley has to sit and watch it later, hmm? Watch his wife get taken by a workin’ man?”

“Nghhh…” he growls smacking the wall, overwhelmed by memories and prospects.

“I see, well, that’s settled then.” Elaine murmurs before stepping away from their embrace, flicking his bare butt one last time as she laughs, “Only you would get the hots for cuckolding yourself.”

“Anything involving rearrangin’ your guts on a table gets me hot.” he mumbles defensively and Elaine smirkes at him with a promise in her eyes as she makes her way past him. He snags her back to him briefly by a finger in her back pocket, “Hey you,” he says adently with his hand cupping her jaw, “I love you too. I love you somethin’ fierce.”

~~~~~

“Daisy!” Jack’s voice warbled with betrayal as he entered the kitchen, “You didn’t!”

“Daisy!” Ella chimed in, whirling around from the stove to survey the kitchen table and her demolished stack of pancakes, “There was enough there to feed uncle Jerry and us besides!” she cried out as her little sister swallowed down the last of her syrupy goodness with a shrug,

“Oh, oh Daisy, oh my, that’s gonna -that’s gonna bite ya later.” Jesse sighed as he pulled up a chair and pushed around his abandoned, now cold and half eaten single pancake on his plate. “Your stomach’s gonna kill ya, Mae Mae.” he explained to a remorseless Daisy Mae.

“I was hungry.” she defends as Rosalee sullenly takes a seat next to her twin, “Sorry Rosalee, I shoulda saved one for ya.” she conceded but Rosalee shook her head.

“I don’t feel like eatin’ anything.” Rosalee moped.

“Why not?” Ella turned again from the stove, affronted for the reputation of her irresistible pancakes. “I’ll put blueberries in them and everything for ya!”

“I’m not hungry!” Rosalee repeated close to tears and her little chestnut bob swayed with her head shake.

“What happened to you?” Daisy grunted.

“Daddy got mad at me.” she whimpered.

“No he didn’t.” Jesse sighs, settling Jack into a seat by the scruff of his t-shirt, “He’d just told y’all not to come in and you disobeyed. He ain’t mad. He’ll be right as rain in a minute, hold tight.”

“He sounded mad! He sounded sad!” Rosalee’s tone grew in emphasis.

Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose and stared at his empty plate as Rosalee’s whimpers grew from just that to outright crying. “No, no look it’s-“ he glanced over at the stove to his twin who was industriously cooking another batch but not fast enough to circumvent Rosalee’ meltdown, “it’s like, when we all used to sleep in the big bed,” he chose his words carefully for optimal grief assuagement, “you know how some mornings you thought daddy was cryin’?”

“Yeah.” her little voice was garbled by snot.

“Yeah but he wasn’t, was he?” Jesse pressed his point, “He was just tryin’ to hold in his laughs so he didn’t wake you, while mama or Ella was ticklin’ him.”

“Yeah.” Rosalee cracks a small smile.

“S’like that.” Jesse reminded, “He ain’t sad. You ‘member how he’d start bawling when we started ticklin’ too?”

“Yeah.” Jack smiled in reminiscence of mornings when they’d all pile on top of Elvis and tickle him while Mama held his shoulders down. “But I know you don’t tickle people in the shower.” Jack fired back with six year old conviction, “Elvis hisself told me it wasn’t safe.”

Before Jesse was forced to choose between explaining further or else sullying his daddy’s reputation for safety ethics in the shower -or in general- the man himself and Mama breezed through the door, hair wet and as smartly dressed as always.

“Alright, alright, kids what’s groovin’ huh?” Elvis barreled in like his kitchen was his stage and topics of tickling and sadness were shelved, much to Jesse’s watery eyed relief, though he couldn’t quite meet his mama’s eyes when she scootched past him with a kiss to his head on her way to the sink. “Hey you I’ve got a present for you.” Elvis addressed Jack before plopping a very sudden and deformed whale plushie on the boy’s plate.

“Thanks a lot Elvis.” Jack muttered.

“Look on the bright side Trouble,” Elvis laughed while reaching down Jack’s back to grab a handful of his jean’s waistband, “all ya had to do was wait fifteen minutes and now mama’s got your glass o’water and your pancakes’ll be cut in triangles. Imagine that, patience.” and with that laughing admonition Elvis hefted Jack out of his chair by his waistband and proceeded to jostle his second born son in the age old manner often referred to as a wedgie. It even made Rosalee laugh and Jack hiccup from something they all suspected was enjoyment, although the kid would never admit it. “Alright, everyone alive and well? No fires?” He took stock of the place and found it comparatively tidy -little wonder as the kids didn’t have time to wreck anything, too busy knocking on his door. “Ella Bug those smell amazing and- Daisy, why’re you actin’ put out?”

“M’fine.” his daughter protested even as her face was folded into the identical sorta scowl that sold him a lotta records back in the early days.

“Is everyone mad at me?” he balked.

“No, she just ate fifty pancakes while everyone else was… busy.” Jesse cleared his throat. “Should enter her in a contest.”

“Oh Daisy, no!” Elaine swiped back her black curls and knelt by her, “Is your belly hurting?”

“Startin’ to.” Daisy was forced to admit through clenched teeth.

“Lordy, Mae Mae, that’s impressive,” Elvis murmured as he took his seat and, in a well worn routine, opened his arms and lap in welcome to a still sniffling Rosalee who catapulted into him, “what got into you?” he marveled as he tucked Rosalee into a snuggle and peppered her now glowing face with kisses.

“They were very good.” Daisy insisted and Ella beamed with pride over the stack of freshly made ones she carried to the table.

“Bet they were.” Elvis praised, tongue poked through his teeth laughing, “Glad ya enjoyed yourself at least.”

“Come lay down sweetheart, here on the couch.” Elaine led her to the adjacent wicker lounge. “Get you some ginger ale or something. Heavens, girly, the appetite on you!”

“Are you gonna eat with us, daddy?” Ella spoke up timidly as she took her own seat, the rather novel concept of her daddy at morning breakfast and the pride she took in her own cooking warring to make his verdict overly meaningful to her.

Elvis stared for a moment at the heaping piles of fluffy goodness with its melting pad of butter and sparkling syrup trickling to the plate as Jack voiced the very worry he had rattling in his head:

“That’s a lotta carbs.”

The whole table’s racket of pancake stabbing screeched to a halt and Elaine fumbled the glass bottle of ginger ale she had retrieved from the fridge to the very ground in her shock. “Jack!” she chatsized with more vehemence than the little stinker had ever elicited from her in his life, “Why on earth would you say a thing like that?”

Jack shrugged, although the combined weight of his family’s horror and Elaine’s blazing eyes made him timid, “It's just what the Colonel said. Last night. To daddy.”

“And why would you ever wanna sound like that good for nothin’ scallywag?” Elaine cried, “We appreciate a good appetite in this house, plenty of folks don’t have what we’ve got and we’re not about to thank the good Lord for his generosity to us by listenin’ to the worn out gimmicks of a corpulent glutton. Carbs! Maybe he should count some carbs-“

“Laney, laney.” Elvis moderated her with a shushing wave of his hand and she stilled, pinching the bridge of her nose in that way Jesse had learned from her and clipping over to Daisy with grief stricken eyes she hid behind her ire.

“Sorry.” Jack croaked while giving his mother the stink eye even as Jesse in turn glared at him, “I said I was sorry?”

“There’s nothin’ to be sorry about Jack.” Elvis insisted, eyeing his strangely cold wife as she tended to Daisy and got her a preemptive barf pan. “You were just statin’ nutritional facts and if you’re gonna be a scientist one day, your interest in ‘em will serve ya well. Now Ella, dish me up some a’those sticky carbs, won’t ya?”

Ella beamed and quickly stacked up a steaming pile on her daddy’s plate, presenting a blushing cheek for his kiss just as Daisy lost her battle with the bellyache and puked into the bowl Elaine held for her.

“Well that’s an appetizing sound.” Jesse pushed his plate away with a joking grimace and he and Elvis shared a silly moment that almost made Jesse forget about the shower and his subsequent vow never to look his daddy in the eye again.

“Poor Mae, Mae,” Elvis sighed, stabbing his pancake and making a show of chewing it obnoxiously for Ella’s benefit.

Elaine couldn’t help but smirk, even as she dabbed at Daisy’s mouth with a cloth, amused that her man was moaning louder over pancakes than he did from her attentions in the shower.

“So,” he spoke up as he scarfed them down, “what’s this about swimmin’? Hmm? For the record I never promised anythin’ of the kind but, loathe as I am to award bad behavior,” and here he gave Jack a pointed look over his poised fork, “since we’re all together, why not?”

“Really? Really?” Rosalee screamed so loud in his ear he shook his head just to get the ringing out.

“Oh daddy, it’s gonna be so fun! You there! Oh yes yes yes yes!” Ella was spinning in circles, having gotten out of her chair at some point to celebrate.

“Mhmm,” he hushed them and went on, pushing his plate away, “is it swimmin’ you’ve really got your hearts set on?”

“Well, no- we just wanna be with you.” Rosalee admitted.

“What? No! We wanna go swimmin’, just us and mama-“

“Jack, please hush up.” Jesse begged.

“See I was thinkin’,” Elvis rose above his six year old’s sharp remarks, “we could certainly go swimmin’ but then again, ya can go swimmin’ most anytime, near anywhere. But ya know what ya can’t do?”

“What, daddy?” a hushed chorus of anticipation went up from his little audience, even Daisy showed interest as Elaine doted on her.

“How would you Tiddlywinks like to fly ‘round in a helicopter?” He asked with a brilliant grin.

“No way!” Jesse nearley fell out of his seat and his eyes filled with excitement.

“Yes way, perks of the job, boyo.” Elvis sat smug at the head of his table as his children gushed around him in a frenzy of anticipation, Elaine watched their adoration with a pleased smile, praying only that he wasn’t going to be the lone pilot. “Now who’s glad daddy works for that ‘corpulent scalliwag’, huh?” he goaded and Elaine’s smile turned brittle as the kids laughed and cheered.

Elvis eyes met hers above the den of kids clearing plates and his sober, cobalt stare put her right back in her place, a place that more and more had little or nothing to do with his creative processes and business deals - a far cry from the production and artistry that first brought them to together. She bit her lip and walked the vomit pan back to the sink, receiving a wide berth from the little revelers as she did. “Alright well, help your mama with this mess and get yourselves sorted.” he clapped, “We’ll leave, soon as we’re ready. Gotta go brush my teeth.” he rose from the table, his hasty exit unnoticed by any save Elaine who postured herself to be in his path as he turned to go into the master bedroom,

“E,” she murmured softly as he brushed past and he didn’t stop, but she knew he was listening by the tilt of his head as he went “while you’re at it, be sure you don’t accidentally brush your tonsils again, silly man.”

This loaded tease met with a titter of laughs by the couple clueless kids who overheard it and this time it was Elvis’ face that grew brittle, his step halted and his lip was close to sneering as he lowly rejoined,

“If you know ‘nother silly man who can get you a helicopter ride, an all expenses paid for vacation to Hawaii and satisfy your particular tastes, then be my guest Elaine, you tell him how to brush his teeth.”

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo

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@honeyorangess

[honestlydarkprincess]

writing patterns

tagged by @wikiangela !!

rules: share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shootin' stars

When Buck had agreed to change flights because of overbooking, he hadn’t been told that the flight they wanted him to switch to wasn’t for another four hours. He was exhausted. He had already waited for his connection and now he had to wait even longer? By the time he boards the new flight its with a scowl and bloodshot eyes. He had spent his four hour wait sipping shitty coffee, draining the battery on his phone, and fighting a migraine.

that should have been plan A

Jake knew he was running late, that he was supposed to have met the other Daggers about thirty minutes ago, but he had had a bit of a fashion emergency.

this is gonna get long so to save ur dash i'll be the rest under the cut!

don't let go

“Well, that was a fucking exhausting shift,” Buck groaned, following Eddie into the Diaz house.

you chase away the pain

Gwen hummed to herself as she walked to her lady’s chambers, a pep in her step that was always there when she was about to see Morgana. Her crush was a doomed one, there was no way that Morgana would ever feel the same way towards her, but she couldn’t help it. Morgana was beautiful, strong, and kind. Who wouldn’t fall for her?

i only want you

Clarke had known it was a stupid idea to go to the party. She didn’t want to go to a party in the first place but Finn had insisted and Clarke had given in, desperate to try and make things work with him. She didn’t like him all that much but at least he was a distraction from her soul crushing crush on Bellamy Blake, her best friend’s older brother. Bellamy was a few years older than them and lived off campus while Clarke shared a dorm with Octavia, his sister.

think pawsitive

“Maddie, you don’t understand, he’s being weird,” Buck whined, throwing up his arms as he paced in front of the TV. He turned towards his sister and raised a brow. “Are you even listening to me?”

a gift i've never gotten before

Buck was nervous.

until you're feline better

“Alright, Ember, what do you think?” Buck asked, turning around and facing the kitten— who was starting to outgrow the title of kitten— that was perched on his bed, watching him intently. Buck was getting ready for a date with Tommy— it was their six month anniversary and Tommy said that he wanted to take Buck someplace special so Buck had gotten dressed up.

and it was purrfect

Buck was exhausted.

you gotta be kitten me

A few weeks after Tommy had turned his world upside down— in the very best way, of course— Buck was walking with him after a lovely dinner and trying to work up the courage to grab his hand. They walked side by side, shoulders brushing, and Buck was very aware that Tommy was right there, that he could just reach out and grab his hand and there was nothing stopping him. He could hold his boyfriend’s hand if he wanted to. That never failed to make him smile— he had a boyfriend now. They hadn’t talked about labels yet but internally Buck had started to think of Tommy as his boyfriend. He just hadn’t gotten the courage yet to ask him. First he’d work on holding his hand, then he’d ask about having the boyfriend talk.

wow okay the pattern is that i like a long ass intro

n ee way

tagging: @bigfootsmom, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @lonelychicago, @monsterrae1, @watchyourbuck

@father-salmon, @underwaterninja13, @devirnis, @itdoesntrhyme, @insecuregodcomplex

@thiamsxbitch, @remembertheskittles, @maygrantgf, @beyourownanchor6, @exhuastedpigeon

[llamagoddessofficial]

I hope I'm not unwelcome here, I was wondering. How do you think the boys would react to a siren MC that was another variety of deep sea siren~? I've been writing a fic with the reader as a deep sea eel siren and it's on my mind since I adore your siren au thoughts!

Ohoooooo

I fuckin love the concept of a gorgeous, dangerous eel Mc. Sleek and dark and powerful. I feel like a deep sea Mc would be bigger than her pelagic counterpart... much closer to the skeletons in size. Not to mention, she’d have some other unique traits, like heightened senses and bioluminescence. 

Sans: She is, for once, something he isn’t used to seeing on his usual menu. Orca are surface dwellers. She’s a curiosity; he adores curiosities. Especially pretty ones. He’s cautious, because she’s clearly a predator, he works slowly... stalking her from a distance, then approaching fast and ducking away at the last second, baiting her into lashing out so he can see how her attacks work. It doesn’t take him long to figure out what her deal is. He’s enamoured with this beautiful, fierce novelty from the deep.

Sans frightens her. He didn’t, at first; he looked like a puny version of the much bigger, much toothier whales who occasionally make the long journey to her depths. But then he started moving- and she realised his danger wasn’t his body, it was his adaptability. He could kill her if he wanted to.

And yet... there’s something about his intelligence. Something about his powerful form as he swims. Something about his unreadable calm, soft smile around her, razor sharp eyelights taking in every detail... she can’t help it, she’s drawn to him. 

Red: ... C’mon. We know this dance by now. She’s big, she’s beautiful, she’s strong- not only that, but she’s mysterious and elegant, a dangerous predator from the depths all decorated in glittering lights. It’s like he’s at a cocktail party and a 6ft buff woman just walked in, wearing a black velvet dress and diamonds- he’s shootin his shot, and nothing will stop him. He likes his ladies capable of killing him. He makes a couple stupid eel-related pickup lines (“girl, are you a coral-dwelling eel? cus you’re my a-moray.” “I’m a conger, not a m- wait,”) and her baffled flustered reactions just cement his growing interest.

Red is... a lot. Not necessarily in a bad way. He keeps shocking her by making her laugh (“gulper? jeez, i hardly know her.”) and she likes the company and conversation. Deep sea sirens don’t tend to do the whole ‘group’ thing, but that doesn’t mean it can’t get lonely, down there in the endless night. 

She also likes the patterns on his body- you don’t see many pretty markings when you live in near pitch-black. He likes when she can’t help but touch them.

Skull: Finally. Finally. Another creature from the deep, another siren like him, who understands his mannerisms and his way of life. A siren who’ll see him as kin, who won’t view him as some kind of strange, unknowable alien. Being around her makes him soft and giddy, he lights up his bioluminescence any chance he gets, he enjoys having that point of bonding with her (he’s smug the others don’t understand their secret language of lights). He gets the overwhelming sensation they were meant to be together... the abyss is so huge, so endless, and yet somehow they found one another? It can’t be chance. The stars aligned. He knows her smell now- he’ll follow her wherever she goes.

A deep sea Mc would definitely feel more comfortable around Skull than she does around the other two sirens. They’re so similar, and she’s much more used to monsters like him; big, dark, strong, slow. She’s still careful around him considering he’s the more frightening apex predator where they’re from- being familiar with something doesn’t make it any less dangerous. But when his tentacles flash and she flashes back, it feels like stumbling across someone who speaks your mother tongue in a land full of strangers.

[caashmoneynae]

MY MASTERLIST. <- click here for more!

❦

POSSESSIVENESS.

TUPAC SHAKUR x BLACK!FEM!OC

SUMMARY: in which Aaliyah gets angry at Tupac due to the cheating allegations against him and has a night out on the town with her best friends, which ends in a different way than she imagined. ✨

❦

"𝗪𝗘 𝗢𝗨𝗧𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘, 𝗪𝗘 𝗢𝗨𝗧𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘, 𝗪𝗘 𝗢𝗨𝗧-𝗠𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡'-𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗘𝗘𝗘!" Aaliyah and her friends Kenny and Leah shouted as they clinked their glasses together and took another shot.

"you sure Pac ain't gon' trip about you bein' out like this?" Kenny asked, raising her brow, as she sat her shot glass down.

"i'm with Ken on this one. you sure he ain't gon' fuck you up? especially with that dress you got on." Leah chimed in as Aaliyah looked over at the two and rolled her eyes, sitting her shot down and wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb.

"fuck Pac. a'ight? he wasn't worried about me when he was at Suge's mansion with all them bitches, so why be worried about me now?" Aaliyah shrugged, adjusting her breasts in her dress, as she crossed one leg over the other and looked at her friends, who looked at each other before looking back at her and laughing.

while at her and Tupac's shared home, Aaliyah was informed that Tupac was at Suge's mansion surrounded by an assload of women. and what made things 10x worse was not only was she told anonymously of his infidelity, but she was sent pictures as well. though in the pictures there wasn't any type of foul-play — like him touching them the same way he touched her and/or him letting them touch him the way she touched him — Aaliyah didn't trust any of the women that he hung around.

it could've been her trust issues as to why she felt that way, but it could've also been that she was dating an extremely attractive celebrity that every woman wanted in their bed, which created trust issues for her whenever Pac went out. it's not that she didn't trust him, she just didn't trust women, and the women she used to be friends with were prime examples of why she couldn't trust anybody.

she didn't believe that Pac would cheat on her, however... she was pissed that he allowed all of those women around him. so, why not give him a taste of his own medicine and go out to a club?

as for the clothing that Leah commented on, Aaliyah wore a short jet-black body-con tube dress with a matching pair of black stilettos. her caramel skin shined underneath the lights of the club and glitter adorned her skin from her vanilla-scented perfume as her black silk press was styled in a high ponytail and her lips were glossed in Vaseline, mischievousness evident in her mind while her brown eyes looked at her friends.

"girl, all i'ma say is that when he come in here lookin' for yo' ass, don't say we ain't warn you." Leah advised, her hands raising in defense, as Kenny laughed and Aaliyah rolled her eyes.

"he ain't gon' do shit. he don't see me runnin' towards Suge's mansion and shootin' all the bitches up in there. 'cause i'll do it, fo'real." Aaliyah threatened, placing her glass of Hennessy to her lips, as Leah and Kenny laughed at her words.

"yeah, we know. that's why we hadda' take yo' ass out the house, so you wouldn't do no stupid shit." Leah laughed, earning a laugh from Aaliyah, as she sat her glass down and ran her tongue over her lips, letting the taste of the brown liquor marinate in her mouth.

suddenly, the song changed from TLC's "Diggin' On You" to LL Cool J and LeShaun's "Doin' It", making Aaliyah's brows raise as a naughty smile crossed her lips and Kenny and Leah looked at each other before looking back at their friend.

"now, 'Liyah... i know you not..." Kenny advised, raising a brow at her, as Aaliyah looked at her and Leah before letting out a hearty giggle.

"yup! i'm 'bout to go get myself a dance with a fine ass nigga!" Aaliyah smiled, hopping down from the stool, as she adjusted the bottom of her dress and hurried off to the dance floor.

"Aaliyah— bitch— you gon' get yo' ass beat!" Leah shouted after her as Aaliyah laughed and shrugged before rushing off to the dance floor.

with the liquor and pettiness in her system, it was bound to be a recipe for disaster. making her way to the dance floor, Aaliyah's hips swayed with each step she took as she moved her body to the sensual track that played loudly in the building.

it didn't take long for Aaliyah to gain a man's attention, and that's one thing that made Tupac choose her over everybody else. she didn't have to do much to get attention. she could just stand there and breathe, and every man would bow down and worship the ground she walked on.

that was the power of being a beautiful and successful black woman.

two masculine hands found their way into Aaliyah's waist as she moved her hips to the beat and a small smirk crept onto her lips, biting down on her bottom lip while she pushed her ass back onto the unknown male behind her.

Aaliyah assumed the unknown male was light-skin because of how light yet melanated his hands were and she also assumed he was tall due to his long arms and big hands, but that wasn't the only thing that Aaliyah noticed about him. the print of his friend poked against her ass and Aaliyah's smirk widened, but before she could continue her dance with the random man, her wrist was snatched up and she was aggressively yanked away from her dance partner, making her squeal in surprise while her brows furrowed.

"excuse y—" before Aaliyah could finish her sentence, she was faced with an angry Tupac, his jaw clenched and his brown eyes darkening as he stared at her.

"let's go. now."

—

"so, what the fuck was that? huh? you lettin' random niggas feel on you and shit?" Tupac asked, breaking the tense silence between the two, as his voice was stern and his grip on the steering wheel was tight.

looking over at him, Aaliyah laughed bitterly before grabbing her purse from the floor and beginning to search through it.

"wanna talk about me and shit..." Aaliyah trailed off and grabbed the pictures of Pac with various groups of women that were mailed to her, tossing them in his lap and crossing her arms, "now what the fuck is that?! huh?! you lettin' all then bitches touch on you like you ain't got a woman at home?! see, i knew i should've never trusted you being with Suge's no good ass!"

slowing down at a red light, Tupac looked down at his lap and looked at all the pictures individually before looking over at Aaliyah, "you think i fucked these bitches?"

"ding ding ding! congratulations, you have a properly working brain!" Aaliyah imitated a game show host, a fake smile on her face before she rolled her eyes, "if you ain't fuck these bitches, why y'all so close?! why they touchin' you?! why— why are these bitches on you, Amaru?! talk to me! tell me somethin'!"

"we can talk about this shit when we get home, a'ight? i'm not tryna talk about this while i'm drivin'." Tupac sighed, shaking his head, as Aaliyah smacked her lips and leaned back into her seat, looking out of the window and feeling her blood boil more.

"fine."

—

"uh-uh, 'Liyah, bring ya ass back down here, we got shit to discuss." Tupac demanded, watching Aaliyah begin her way up the stairs, as she huffed and made her way back down them, walking into the living room and standing in front of her lover while he sat on the couch.

"and when i say "discuss", i mean talk. stop raisin' ya damn voice at me." Tupac advised, raising a brow at her, as Aaliyah rolled her eyes before sitting down next to him, her arms crossed and resting on her chest while she avoided his eye contact and looked down at her lap.

"don't do that," Tupac lightly grabbed her chin and made her look over at him, "i know you mad, 'Li', but, you gotta talk to me, a'ight?"

looking into his eyes, Aaliyah noticed sincerity in them, and the wall of anger she had pint up was slowly diminishing, causing more frustration to rise within her. she hated how easily she cracked under his eyes, but she loved that he kept it real no matter what — which is one of the things that pulled her towards him anyway.

letting out a sigh, Aaliyah pushed a strand of hair and she glanced down at the floor before parting her lips to speak, "Pac, please tell me you didn't fuck any of those bitches."

"baby, i swear on my life, i didn't fuck any of those broads. i didn't kiss 'em, didn't give 'em my phone number, nothin'. i promise you i didn't." Tupac assured as Aaliyah stared at him, a hint of unsureness in her eyes.

"then explain the pictures. explain to me what happened with those polaroids, Amaru." Aaliyah demanded, trying to suppress her urge to yell at him.

"those are fans, 'Liyah. that's it and that's all. fans. i never fucked 'em. i never touched 'em. never entertained 'em. nothing. i ain't even want the bitches there, nor did i know they'd even be there. Suge invited 'em.—"

"and that's exactly why i don't want you around him, Amaru! he's a bad influence!" Aaliyah snapped, standing to her feet, as she looked down at her lover and crossed her arms, "i knew there was a reason i never liked his big yellow ass! he's tryin' to make you cheat on me! he knows exactly what he's doin'!"

"Aaliyah Faith. lower yo' tone." Tupac warned, calling her by her first and middle name, as he raised a brow at her and Aaliyah bit down on her bottom lip to suppress the disrespectful words that were bound to leave her mouth, crossing her arms for the million time while she turned her back towards him and stared at the wall with a clenched jaw.

"i didn't cheat on yo' ass, 'Liyah. i never have, and i never will, a'ight? but... let's talk about you for a second," Tupac stood up from the couch, his 'Death Row' chain jingling around his neck with the movement, as he stood behind Aaliyah and placed his lips next to her ear, "let's talk about how you was all up on that nigga on the dance floor. how you pushed yo' ass all up on him and let him feel what's mine. you thought i forgot, hm?"

"and who let you leave the house in this tight ass dress?" Tupac muttered in her ear, his brows furrowing, as he tugged at the material of her dress, "shit so tight and short, the bottom of ya asscheeks stickin' out. who told you that you could let them thirsty ass niggas at the club see what's mine, Aaliyah?"

Aaliyah froze at the sudden change in his demeanor. how in the hell did he go from being compassionate and talkative to being ready to rip her out of her dress and go to town? she didn't know the answer, but once she felt his arms wrap around her waist, a heartbeat was soon found in another place.

"now you see how i feel, right? you told me those bitches was too close, but now you lettin' niggas get too close? i ain't fuckin' wit' that, 'Li'."

"and i ain't fuckin' wit' it either. so what we gon' do?" Aaliyah suddenly matched the energy that was given to her by her lover, and Tupac raised his brow at the change in her manner as the two now stared at each other face to face, his hands on her waist and her arms around his neck.

identical smirks clouded the couple's faces as Pac let out a small chuckle, shaking his head while his eyes shined in lust.

"take yo' fine ass upstairs. we ain't done with this conversation."

—

"o-oh, my g— yes! don't stop, don't stop, don't sssstop!" Aaliyah shouted, going crosseyed at her lover's aggressive strokes, as her arch deepened and her head rested against Tupac's shoulder, a dazed expression on her face while his hand rested around her neck in a semi-tight grip.

his strokes never ceased from their fast pace and the deepness of his phallus only seemed to dig further inside her walls as her light-skinned face grew rosy and beads of sweat formed on multiple parts of her body, including her lover's. her lips rested ajar, apart from the occasional bites to her bottom one, and her vision faltered repeatedly, no matter how many times she attempted to see straight. faint bruises appeared on her body from the male's aggressiveness, and it only added more fuel to her fire as her eyes rolled back and she felt a rough smack on her ass, making a lazy smile cover her face while a squeak fell from her parted lips.

"i still can't believe you left the house like that, 'Liyah. lettin' all them niggas see what's mine... lettin' all them niggas touch what's mine... who the fuck told you to leave the house and show yo' ass like i'm not fuckin' crazy 'bout you, girl?" Tupac growled, his grip tightening on her neck, as Aaliyah's face held that same lazy smile and she looked up at him, seeing glints of anger yet lust in his brown eyes.

"behind yo' ass, i'll shoot that whole fuckin' club up, 'Li'. you think i want them niggas seein' what's mine?" Tupac muttered, kissing the sides of her face, as he leaned down to her ear and tugged at her earlobe with his teeth, "you're mine, you hear me? mine. nobody else's. you belong to me, Aaliyah Faith. you fuckin' hear me, baby?"

"f-fuck! i-i'm yours! i swear! nobody else's! o-oh, God, Tupac!" Aaliyah cried out, biting down on her lip, as she blinked back tears of pleasure and felt another rough smack on her ass, earning a whimper from her melanated lips while her brows furrowed.

"tell Daddy you're sorry, baby. let 'im know how sorry you are, sweet girl." Tupac cooed in her ear, peppering kisses on her earlobe, as Aaliyah felt her climax come closer and her grip on the sheets in her hand tightened, her eyes screwing shut and her jaw dropping before she let out a loud moan.

"i'm sorry, Daddy, i'm so fuckin' sorry! oh, s-shit, i'm cumming!" Aaliyah moaned loudly before climaxing, her juices clouding Tupac's length and their sheets, as Tupac smirked devilishly against her ear before his strokes suddenly picked up momentum and he pinned her down onto the bed, locking her arms behind her back while tears of pleasure pricked at Aaliyah's eyes for the second time.

"i can't hear you, beautiful. what'chu say?" Tupac whispered in her ear, sending a harsh smack to her ass, as his grip on her arms tightened while he watched tears run down her face, "say it again, pretty. tell me you sorry."

"D-Daddyyy!— i-i'm sorry! i'm so sorry! p-please, i c-can't— oh, my God!" Aaliyah cried, her hands balling up into fists, as Tupac grabbed her ponytail and yanked her head back, earning a feeble whimper from the woman while she looked up at him with glossy eyes.

"let me catch you lettin' anotha' nigga see what's mine again. let me catch you doin' some fuck ass shit like you did tonight with that fuckin' tight ass dress on, Aaliyah. let me catch you doin' some dumbass shit again and see how bad i fuck you up afta' that," Tupac spoke through gritted teeth, staring her dead in the eyes, as Aaliyah's brows furrowed and she gently bit down on her lip, "let me see you doin' some bullshit like that again and i'll air that whole fuckin' club out."

"you should be grateful homeboy walked out alive, baby girl. the way he was touchin' on you, he should've fuckin' got his shit knocked off tryna fuck wit' what's mine," Tupac continued, letting go of her hair and gripping her neck, as Aaliyah hiccuped at the sudden action and she stared submissively at her man, "you see what you do to me, baby? you got me goin' crazy ova' yo' fine ass. you think i'm 'posed to be cool wit' you goin' out in that shit?"

"lettin' all them bitch ass niggas see what i touch every night. what i kiss every night. what i lick every night. what i make cum every. motherfuckin'. night." Tupac growled, roughly squeezing the sides of her neck, as Aaliyah's face was now soaked in tears and the sheets mirrored her face, except they were 10x wetter and they weren't wet from tears.

Aaliyah's speech began to slur and her eyes rolled back into her head as incoherent words left her lips and an aggressive knot formed in her stomach, causing her to whine loudly while her brows furrowed.

"...i-i need to cum... p-please le-let me cum, Daddy." Aaliyah pleaded in a whimper, her words slurring a bit, as Tupac smirked at his lady and his animalistic strokes suddenly slowed, his tip jabbing right into her g-spot and making her jaw drop.

"tell me who you belong to, pretty girl. and then i'll let you cum. deal?" Tupac cooed, biting down on his lip, as he squeezed the sides of her neck and leaned down to kiss her ear, "because if not, you betta' hold that shit or i'ma fuck you up."

"i'm yours, baby! i'm yours! i-i swear i am! this pussy's all yours, Daddy, i promiseeee!" Aaliyah cried, her arch suddenly deepening, as the knot in her stomach slowly began unraveling, "Tupac! o-oh, fuck!"

Aaliyah shouted Tupac's name for a final time before she came, more of her honeydew drenching the sheets and clinging to her lover's erection, as her body weakened in his arms and she let out a soft whimper, her chest rising up and down heavily while her eyes fluttered repeatedly to try to regain her vision.

"aww, look at the mess you made, beautiful. i love how wet this pussy always get fa' me," Tupac cooed, smirking, as he raised his head from her ear and their brown eyes locked, "this yo' dick, right, baby?"

"...of course."

"come show me then."

Aaliyah's lips curled up into a lazy smirk and she bit down on her lip as Tupac's slowly pulled out of her wet sex and laid down on the bed next to her, watching his woman gain strength in her limbs while she crawled over to him. releasing her hair out of her now messy ponytail, Aaliyah tossed the elastic band onto the floor and allowed her hair to cascade down her back as she straddled Tupac's lap, the soreness in her limbs beginning to kick in as she did so.

fighting the aches in her joints, Aaliyah bit down on her lip and raised her hips a bit as she wrapped her fingers around Tupac's soaked phallus, rubbing his tip against her folds for a bit before placing him at her entrance and sliding down. the two lovers released soft gasps of pleasure at Aaliyah's actions and Tupac's hands rested on her hips as Aaliyah bit down on her lip and looked down at her man, who was already staring up at her with lust written in his pretty eyes.

this was her shot to prove that he was all hers, and despite the soreness in her limbs, she was gonna do just that. if he thought he was the only one who could be dominant, he had another thing coming.

leaning down to him, Aaliyah rested her hands on his shoulders as her hips moved up and down at a steady pace, her waist occasionally swirling and earning a small moan out of the man underneath her.

"we been talkin' about me all night," Aaliyah muttered, staring at the man with low eyes, as she bit down on her lip before leaning towards his ear, "now it's time to talk about you."

"how did you think i felt seein' all those pictures, Pac? all them bitches surrounding my man and being all up in his personal space. you think i didn't feel affected by that? hm?" Aaliyah cooed, placing a kiss on his earlobe, as Tupac let out a soft sigh in pleasure and Aaliyah smirked, knowing she had him right where she wanted him.

"you know none of those bitches could do what i do. they couldn't kiss you like i do. they couldn't fuck you like i do. they couldn't suck this dick like i do. they couldn't handle this dick like i do... and they can't ride this dick like i do," Aaliyah growled lowly, bucking her hips onto the male's shaft, as Tupac's hands slid down her ass and grabbed a handful of both cheeks, "you know i know your body better than those bitches do, baby. like... your sweet spot."

Aaliyah's lips wrapped around the top of Tupac's earlobe and she gently tugged at it with her teeth before peppering kisses around it, earning a moan from her lover while she smirked. Tupac fell into a submissive trance — a trance he never even knew he had — and Aaliyah began grinding her hips onto his length as her hands rubbed along his chest, making him twitch inside of her walls.

"fuck, 'Li', if you keep fuckin' around, you gon' make me buss quick." Tupac moaned, biting down on his lip, as Aaliyah smirked and raised her head from her ear, pressing her forehead against his while their heartbeats synced up to match one another.

"i bet those bitches couldn't make you buss quick, could they, Daddy? nobody can do it like me, baby," Aaliyah cooed, a devilish smirk on her face, as she sped up the pace of her grinds and Tupac's hands ran up and down her body, abruptly stopping at her back and gently digging his nails into her skin, "tell me somethin', Pac... who does this dick belong to, baby? tell me who else can make you cum fast. tell me who else knows the right spots to touch. tell me... tell me that you're mine. say it. let me hear you say it, Daddy."

"i'm yours, mama. all yours. mmh, don't stop, i'm 'bout to nut." Tupac moaned, his bushy brows furrowing, as Aaliyah smiled in delight before feeling a knot form in her stomach for a second time, causing the two lovers to moan in sync.

"that's what i like to hear. cum with me, pretty boy."

Aaliyah's hips swiveled and grinded on Tupac's phallus and her juices continued to coat him as some of them dripped down onto the sheets, her walls clenching around his dick while his veins throbbed inside of her. Tupac's gripped Aaliyah's sides and Aaliyah's hands gripped Tupac's shoulders as their foreheads rested upon one another's, fiery passion glossing over both of their brown eyes.

suddenly, Aaliyah's jaw dropped and Tupac's brows furrowed, letting the two know that they were both at their peaks. with a moan of one another's name, Aaliyah came on her man's length and Tupac shot up his woman's club, both of their bodies jolting before relaxing at once. a sigh of relief fell from both of their lips as their grip ceased on each other and Aaliyah rested her head against his chest, tracing over his chain with her finger while Tupac's hands rested against her back.

there was a moment of calm silence between the two before Aaliyah parted her lips to speak, and Tupac rolled his eyes because he knew she was bound to say something smart-mouthed.

"I'll fight every bitch in those pictures." "And I'll shoot that nigga you was dancin' on in the club."

[sonicboomseason3]

this is really fucked up, but one of the reasons why actors tend to not speak out on big political topics is because on some contracts, production companies will include clauses such as not being able to publicly contradict their political beliefs. this is enforced through either monetary penalties and non disparagement agreements, but they both serve the same purpose of having a legal precedent to publicly punish actors who do it

i was originally just gonna respond to this with an "ok" and nothing else but then i caught a good handful of people in my notes dickriding an actor who doesn't even know that they exist (and really only him because i haven't seen anyone doing the same for marsden or pally) so ykw how about i just take this opportunity to bring up a couple of other sketch things that keanu has done that show that he isn't nearly as cool as everyone wants to believe:

the party with netanyahu isn't actually the only time he's rubbed elbows with a prominent israeli - he actually trained with IOF special ops vet aaron cohen in order to play john wick (and on the off chance that anyone wants to dismiss cohen as some guy who was just in the IOF decades ago and left that shit behind, just take a look at his history here). cohen on his own is just an absolute piece of work and a cursory glance at his social media should tell you everything in case the past couple of sentences didn't

and since people want to play the fucking "keanu attended that party a decade ago!!1!" card with me (interestingly enough nobody's doing the same for marsden even though the thing with him was way back in like 2004) i'll go for something relatively recent: he's friends with killer cop toni mcbride. in 2020 mcbride shot and killed daniel hernandez and subsequently got sued by his family for it (guess whose movies they've requested that people boycott?). around the 0:10 mark of this video of the two of them meeting up, they make jokes about "shootin' newton," which is a chant lapd newton division cops came up with to reference the high amount of police shootings that happen there. also in case none of this is enough for you mcbride's a proud trump supporter so yeah she's just a full-on white supremacist and keanu not only decided to hang out with her for a day but also evidently knew enough about the lapd to know about "shootin' newton"

but back to anon's original point, am i supposed to care that he could potentially get fined for saying shit? this past week, hundreds of college students and faculty, most if not all of whom are significantly worse off than an a-list celebrity like keanu, have been brutalized and arrested for protesting the genocide on campuses. and somehow an actor with a net worth of $380 million can't say or do anything lest he run the risk of being fined or fired or whatever

[stellocchia]

I've been thinking about Color's chat a bit more (they're forever called that in my mind) and I've come up with just... a bunch of headcanons. None of these have any basis in the canon of Othertale aside from the fact that Patience is Color's favorite and what the consequences of that may be. Considering the fact that these are souls of dead children, keep in mind there's a mild cw for child death mention.

Integrity:

He's the oldest of the bunch (it takes a while for kids to develop integrity, so, yeah). He was probably already a teenager when he died (imagine 16-17 age range)

He's very often the only one having any common sense in the group. And that is counting Color

He speaks up relatively often but is in no way the most chatty of the group

He is closest to Kindness who he views as a sort of annoying little sister (affectionate)

If I remember correctly, in canon Undertale the items connected to the integrity trait are a tutu and ballet shoes. So the shoes stay the same, but I say you find a fancy sparkly unitard in Waterfall instead from him

He has some very vague memories of his life, mostly of what pushed him up Mount Ebott and then of his death. Like all the others, he does not remember his name

He and Color have a pretty positive relationship, though on certain occasions Integrity does get frustrated with what he perceives as Color's complacency and his overly trusting nature

Perseverance:

She's the second-oldest, being around 15 when she died

She's a nerd but in the "evil scientist" kinda way (she's not really evil, but she has fun roleplaying that kinda stuff). She is the holder of the braincell, except it's rarely gonna used in a productive way

She speaks rarely, and almost exclusively to come up with some convoluted plan that would most likely end up making the problem at hand worse. She just really wants to watch the world burn sometimes and would probably get along great with Killer

She is closest to Bravery, as they have a sort of evil mastermind and her henchman kinda dynamic. She's also rather friendly with Justice, to everyone's surprise

The items you find for her are the classic Torn Notebook and a pair of glasses. Except, instead of being cloudy, they are missing the lenses. That's because she could see just fine, but she liked the aesthetic

She has a lot of memories of her old life, but never speaks about them with the others. Color sometimes wonders if she actually remembers her name, but doesn't want the others to feel inadequate and doesn't use it because of that

Her relationship with Color is chaotic. To Color, it often feels like having a younger Killer stuck in his brain. Except usually less stab-happy

Justice:

They were 14 when they died

They're an extremely bright and energetic kid. And they have the strongest moral compass in the group. They still entertain Perseverance and Bravery's antics rather often because they know those two can't exactly harm anyone. At times they can get a bit preachy about their beliefs, but someday here has gotta have a moral backbone...

They're average on the speaking front. Not too much, not too little. Yet always with conviction to the point that it's hard to tell when they're joking

As mentioned, they're closest to Perseverance, but do get along great with Patience, Kindness, and Integrity on certain topics

The items you find for them are a cowboy hat and an empty gun. They claim the gun was used "For chuckin' not shootin'"

The only memory of their past life they have is that of their death in the Underground. Everything else is just vague feelings of unease about certain things

They get along great with Color whenever they're not going along with Perseverance and Bravery's antics. Their morals align rather closely. Nightmare has in the past taunted Color, saying he clearly only believes what he does because of the Justice soul. But, truthfully, they found themselves in agreement from the get-go, way before Justice had a chance to influence him

Bravery:

He also died at 14 like Justice

He's the punch first, ask questions later type. Very reckless, often obnoxiously loud. He is down with violence in theory, though he gets squeamish when they actually witness any. He's very much all bite and no bark

He speaks the most out of anyone in the group. He's far more talkative than Color as well. At times even drowning out his thoughts with his incessant chatter

He's closest to Perseverance. He really likes any Undyne because of this, they remind him of Perseverance. Also, he thinks Integrity is kinda lame but in a "Cringy Big Brother I'm still running to if I get in trouble" way

The items you find for him are a Tough Glove and a Manly Bandanna. He remembers that they were from some character he liked in life, but doesn't remember which one

He has quite a few memories from his life before Mount Ebott, but none from after his fall. Doesn't remember how he died either. And he doesn't know why he ended up scaling the mountain since he remembers only all the happy memories he had

He's a chaotic little shit and Color is a very tired single mom. That's their relationship

Patience:

Patience was a pre-teen (around 11-12yo) when he died

They are a very calm individual, oftentimes fading into the background and just letting the world pass them by. They're against any form of violence and only entertain the idea for jokes when they're certain it's not gonna hurt anyone. They're also endlessly trusting and willing to give anyone one more chance if they show an interest in changing

He speaks the least in the group. Though his calm presence is always felt regardless, mostly as a vibe

They're not especially close to any of the other souls, though they do get along the best with Kindness as she tends to be a very positive person

The items you find for him are a faded ribbon and a toy knife. He mentioned once that the fake knife was just sharp enough to get rid of the ribbon, but not of his hair

They remember very well why they climbed up the mountain. They only talked about their parents not being accepting, and them giving up on trying to make them understand after a few years. They regret giving up on them now, saying perhaps in time... they also remember their time in the Ruins in its entirety and have very fond memories of Toriel. Their death was supposedly a tragic accident, but it's never entirely clear if they're sincere when they say that

He's the closest with Color even if they don't talk much. He often helps keep their host calm under stress, and also encourages him to be understanding of others at any opportunity he gets. Color appreciates them greatly, though, at times, he does acknowledge that their help can backfire

Kindness:

She's by far the youngest of the bunch, being only between 8-10 when she passed away

She's a very happy-go-lucky kid. Very empathetic, very energetic, and a big food lover. She's very affectionate too and generally believes that anything can be fixed with a hug and a good meal. She is a bit naive, but also, well, she is a really young child

She speaks an average amount. Usually when Integrity is also involved in the conversation as he makes her feel more confident

She's closest to Integrity. That's her big brother and nobody can convince her otherwise. However, she gets along with literally everyone in the group. This can become an issue when Bravery drags her into his shenanigans because their energy just keeps building on each other

The items you can find for her are a Burnt Pan and a Stained Apron. Those were both gifts from Toriel. And, apparently, the pan got burned during a cooking lesson from Heats Flamesman (nobody else there has a single clue of who that is, Color included)

She remembers nothing of her life before the fall, and she only remembers the good things that happened in the Underground, and the nice monsters she talked with. She has a lot of fond memories of Toriel, of the Innkeeper at the Snowed Inn, of this Heats Flamesman guy, and so on. Her journey was very different and far longer than that of the others as she kept spending time with and befriending all the monsters who weren't immediately hostile to her

Much like with Bravery, Color is kind of a parental figure for her. They're pretty close, and they have similar attitudes about life, so it's often uncomplicated

-

@howlsofbloodhounds ('cause I know you mentioned wanting to see these)

[hellsite-hall-of-fame]

Once upon a time there was a lovely princess. But she had an enchantment upon her of a fearful sort which could only be broken by love's first kiss. She was locked away in a castle guarded by a terrible fire-breathing dragon. Many brave knigts had attempted to free her from this dreadful prison, but non prevailed. She waited in the dragon's keep in the highest room of the tallest tower for her true love and true love's first kiss. {Laughing} Like that's ever gonna happen. {Paper Rusting, Toilet Flushes} What a load of - Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed She was lookin' kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb In the shape of an "L" on her forehead The years start comin' and they don't stop comin' Fed to the rules and hit the ground runnin' Didn't make sense not to live for fun Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb So much to do so much to see So what's wrong with takin' the backstreets You'll never know if you don't go You'll never shine if you don't glow Hey, now You're an all-star Get your game on, go play Hey, now You're a rock star Get the show on, get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shootin' stars break the mold It's a cool place and they say it gets colder You're bundled up now but wait till you get older But the meteor men beg to differ Judging by the hole in the satellite picture The ice we skate is gettin' pretty thin The water's getting warm so you might as well swim My world's on fire How 'bout yours That's the way I like it and I'll never get bored Hey, now, you're an all-star {Shouting} Get your game on, go play Hey, now You're a rock star Get the show on, get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shootin' stars break the mold {Belches} Go! Go! {Record Scratching} Go. Go.Go. Hey, now, you're an all-star Get your game on, go play Hey, now You're a rock star Get the show on, get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shootin' stars break the mold -Think it's in there? -All right. Let's get it! -Whoa.

Hold on. Do you know what that thing can do to you? -Yeah, it'll grind your bones for it's bread. {Laughs} -Yes, well, actually, that would be a gaint. Now, ogres - - They're much worse. They'll make a suit from your freshly peeled skin. -No! -They'll shave your liver. Squeeze the jelly from your eyes! Actually, it's quite good on toast. -Back! Back, beast! Back! I warn ya! {Gasping} -Right. {Roaring} {Shouting} {Roaring} {Whispers} This is the part where you run away. {Gasping} {Laughs} {Laughing} And stay out! "Wanted. Fairy tale creatures." {Sighs} {Man's voice} All right. This one's full. -Take it away! {Gasps} -Move it along. Come on! Get up! -Next! -Give me that! Your fiying days are over. That's 20 pieces of silver for the witch. Next! -Get up! Come on! -Twenty pieces. {Thudding} -Sit down there! -Keep quiet! {Crying} -This cage is too small. -Please, don't turn me in. I'll never be stubborn again. I can change. Please! Give me another chance! -Oh, shut up. -Oh! -Next! -What have you got? -This little wooden puppet. -I'm not a puppet. I'm a real boy. -Five shillings for the possessed toy. Take it away. -Father, please! Don't let them do this! -Help me! -Next! What have you got? -Well, I've got a talking donkey. {Grunts} -Right. Well, that's good for ten shillings, if you can prove it. -Oh, go ahead, little fella. -Well? -Oh, oh, he's just - - He's just a little nervous. He's really quite a chatterbox. Talk, you boneheaded dolt - - -That's it. I've heard enough. Guards! -No, no, he talks! He does.

I can talk. I love to talk. I'm the talkingest damn thing you ever saw. -Get her out of my sight. -No, no! I swear! Oh! He can talk! {Gasps} -Hey! I can fly! -He can fly! -He can fly! -He can talk! -Ha, ha! That's right, fool! Now I'm a flying, talking donkey. You might have seen a housefly, maybe even a superfly but I bet you ain't never seen a donkey fly. Ha, ha! Oh-oh. {Grunts} -Seize him! -After him! He's getting away! {Grunts, Gasps} {Man} -Get him! This way! Turn! -You there. Orge! -Aye? -By the order of Lord Farquaad I am authorized to place you both under arrest and transport you to a designated..... resettlement facility. -Oh, really? You and what army? {Gasps, Whimpering} {Chuckles} -Can I say something to you? -Listen, you was really, really, really somethin' back here. Incredible! Are you talkin' to - - me? Whoa! -Yes. I was talkin' to you. Can I tell you that you that you was great back here? Those guards! They thought they was all of that. Then you showed up, and bam! They was trippin' over themselves like babes in the woods. That really made me feel good to see that. -Oh, that's great. Really. -Man, it's good to be free. -Now, why don't you go celebrate your freedom with your own friends? Hmm? -But, uh, I don't have any friends. And I'm not goin' out there by myself. Hey, wait a minute! I got a great idea! I'll stick with you. You're mean, green, fightin' machine. Together we'll scare the spit out of anybody that crosses us. {Roaring} -Oh, wow! That was really scary. If you don't mind me sayin', if that don't work, your breath certainly will get the job done, 'cause you definitely need some Tic Tacs or something, 'cause you breath stinks! You almost burned the hair outta my nose, just like the time - - {Mumbling} Than I ate some rotten berries. I had strong gases eking out of my butt that day. -Why are you following me? -I'll tell you why. 'Cause I'm all alone There's no one here beside me My promlems have all gone There's no one to deride me But you gotta heve friends - - -Stop singing! It's no wonder you don't have any friends. -Wow. Only a true friend would be that cruelly honest. -Listen, little donkey. Take a look at me. What am I? -Uh - - Really tall? -No! I'm an orge! You know.

"Grab your torch and pitchforks." Doesn't that bother you? -Nope. -Really? -Really, really. -Oh. -Man, I like you. What's you name? -Uh, Shrek. -Shrek? Well, you know what I like about you, Shrek? You got that kind of I-don't-care-what-nobody-thinks-of-me thing. I like that. I respect that, Shrek. You all right. Whoo! Look at that. Who'd want to live in place like that? -That would be my home. -Oh! And it is lovely! Just beautiful. You know you are quite a decorator. It's amazing what you've done with such a modest budget. I like that boulder. That is a nice boulder. -I guess you don't entertain much, do you? -I like my privacy. -You know, I do too. That's another thing we have in common. Like I hate it when you got somebody in your face. You've trying to give them a hint, and they won't leave. There's that awkward silence. -Can I stay with you? -Uh, what? -Can I stay with you, please? -Of course! -Really? -No. -Please! I don't wanna go back there! You don't know what it's like to be considered a freak. Well, maybe you do. But that's why we gotta stick together. You gotta let me stay! Please! Please! -Okay! Okay! But one night only.

-Ah! Thank you! -What are you - - No! No! -This is gonna be fun! We can stay up late, swappin' manly stories, and in the mornin' I'm makin' waffles. -Oh! -Where do, uh, I sleep? -Outside! -Oh, well. I guess that's cool. I mean, I don't know you, and you don't know me, so I guess outside is best, you know. {Sniffles} -Here I go. -Good night. {Sighs} -I mean, I do like the outdoors. I'm a donkey. I was born outside. I'll just be sitting by myself outside, I guess, you know. By myself, outside. I'm all alone There's no one here beside me {Bubbling} {Sighs} {Creaking} {Sighs} -I thought I told you to stay outside. -I'm outside. {Clattering} -Well, gents, it's a far cry from the farm, but what choice do we have? -It's not home, but it'll do just fune. -What a lovely bed. -Got ya. {Sniffs} I found some cheese. -Ow! {Grunts} -Blah! Awful stuff. -Is that you, Gorder? -How did you know? -Enough! What are you doing in my house? {Grunts} -Hey! {Snickers} -Oh, no, no, no. Dead broad off the table. -Where are we supposed to put her? The bed's taken. -Huh? {Gusps} {Male voice} What? -I live in a swamp. I put up signs. I'm a terrifying orge! What do I have to do get a little privacy? -Aah! -Oh, no. No! No! {Cackling} -What? -Quit it. -Don't push. {Squeaking} {Lows} - What are you doing in my swamp? {Echoing} Swamp! Swamp! Swamp! {Gasping} -Oh, dear! -Whoa! -All right, get out of here. All of you, move it! Come on! Let's go! Hapaya! Hapaya! Hey! -Quickly. Come on! -No, no! No, no. Not there. Not there. -Oh! {Sighs} -Hey, don't look at me. I didn't invite them. -Oh, gosh, no one invited us. -What? -We were forced to come here. -By who? -Lord Farquaad. -He huffed und he puffed und he...... signed an eviction notice. {Sighs} -All right. Who knows where this Farquaad guy is? {Murmuring} -Oh, I do. I know where he is.

-Does anyone else know where to find him? Anyone at all? -Me! Me! -Anyone? -Oh! Oh, pick me! Oh, I know! I know! Me, me! {Sighs} -Okay, fine. Attention, all fairy tale things. Do not get comfortable. Your welcome is officially worn out. In fact, I'm gonna see this guy Farquaad right now and get you all off my land and back where you came from! {Cheering} {Twittering} -Oh! You! You're comin' with me. - All right, that's what I like to hear, man. Shrek and Donkey, two stalwart friends, off on a whirlwind big-city adventure. I love it! -On the road again. Sing it with me, Shrek. -Hey. Oh, oh! -I can't wait to get on the road again. -What did I say about singing? -Can I whistle? -No. -Can I hum it? -All right, hum it. {Humming} {Grunts} {Whimpering} -That's enough. He's ready to talk. {Coughing} {Laughing} {Clears throat} -Run, run, run, as fust as you can. You can't catch me. I'm the gingerbread man! -You are a monster. -I'm not the monster here. You are. You and the rest of that fairy tale trash, poisoning my perfect world. Now, tell me! Where are the others? -Eat me!{Grunts} -I've tried to be fair to you creatures. Now my patience has reached its end! Tell me or I'll - -

-No, no, not the buttons. Not my gumdrop buttons. -All right then. Who's hiding them? -Okay, I'll tell you. Do you know the muffin man? -The muffin man? -The muffin man. -Yes, I know the muffin man, who lives on Drury Lane? -Well, she's married to the muffin man. -The muffin man? -The muffin man! -She's married to the muffin man. {Door opens} -My lord! We found it. -Then what are you waiting for? Bring it in. {Man grunting} {Gasping} -Oh! -Magic mirror - - -Don't tell him anything! -No! {Ginerbread man whispers} -Evening. Mirror, mirror on the wall. Is this not the most perfect kingdom of them all? -Well, technically you're not a king. -Uh, Thelonius. -You were saying? -What I mean is, you're not a king yet. But you can become one. All you have to do is marry a princess. -Go on. {Chuckles} -So, just sit back and relax, my lord, because it's time for you to meet today's eligible bachelorettes. And here they are! Bachelorette number one is a mentally abused shut-in from a kingdom far, far away. She likes sushi and hot tubbing anytime. Her hobbies include cooking and cleaning for her two evil sisters. Please welcome Cinderella. -Bachelorette number two is a cape-wearing girl from the land of fancy. Although she lives with seven other men, she's not easy.

Just kiss her dead, frozen lips and find out what a live wire she is. Come on. Give it up for Snow White! -And last, but certainly not last, bachelorette number three is a fiery redhead from a dragon-guarded castle surrounded by hot boiling lava! But don't let that cool you off. She's a loaded pistol who likes pina colads and getting caught in the rain. Yours for the rescuing, Princess Fiona! -So will it be bachelorette number one, bachelorette number two or bachelorette number three? -Two! Two! -Three! Three! -Two! Two! -Three! -Three? One? {Shudders} Three? --Three! Pick number three, my lord! -Okay, okay, uh, number three! -Lord Farquaad, you've chosen Princess Fiona. If you like pina coladas And getting caught in the rain -Princess Fiona. If you're not into yoga -She's perfect. All I have to do is just find someone who can go - - -But I probably should mention the little thing that happens at night. -I'll do it. -Yes, but after sunset - - -Silence! I will make this Princess Fiona my queen, and DuLoc will finally have the perfect king! Captain, assemble your finest men. We're going to have a tournament. -But that's it. That's it right there. That's DuLoc. I told ya I'd find it. -So, that must be Lord Farquaad's castle. -Uh-huh. That's the place. -Do you think maybe he's compensating for something? {Laughs} {Groans} -Hey, wait. Wait up, Shrek. -Hurry, darling. We're late. Hurry. -Hey, you! {Screams} -Wait a second. Look, I'm not gonna eat you. I just - - I just - - {Whimpering} {Sighs} {Whimpering, Groans} {Turnstile clatters} {Chuckles} {Sighs} -It's quiet. Too quiet. {Creaking} -Where is everybody? -Hey, look at this! {Clattering, whirring, clicking} Welcome to DuLoc such a perfect town Here we have some rules Let us lay them down Don't make waves, stay in line And we'll get along fine DuLoc is perfect place

Please keep off of the grass Shine your shoes, wipe your... face DuLoc is, DuLoc is DuLoc is perfect ...... place {Camera shutter clicks {Whirring} -Wow! Let's do that again! -No. No. No, no, no! No. {Trumpet fanfare} {Crowd cheering} -Brave knights. -You are the best and brightest in all the land. -Today one of you shall prove himself - - -All right. You're going the right way for a smacked bottom. -Sorry about that. {Cheering} -That champion shall have the honor - - no, no - - the privilege to go forth and rescue the lovely Princess Fiona from the fiery keep of the dragon. If for any reason the winner is unsuccessful, the first runner-up will take his place and so on and so forth. Some of you mae die, but it's a sacrifice I am willing to make. {Cheering} -Let the tournament begin! {Gasps} -Oh! -What is that? {Gasping} -It's hideous! -Ah, that's not very nice. It's just a donkey. -Indeed. Knights, new plan! The one who kills the orge will be named champion! Have it him! -Get him! -Oh, hey! Now come on! Hang on now. -Go ahead! Get him! -Can't we just settle this over a pint? -Kill the beast! -No? All right then. Come on! I don't give a damn about my reputation You're living in the past It's a new generation -Damn! {Whinnying} A girl can do what she wants to do And that's what I'm gonna do And I don't give a damn about my bad reputation Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Not me Me, me, me -Hey, Shrek, tag me! Tag me! And I don't give a damn about my bad reputation

just so everyone knows, there are like 5 other asks with the rest of the Shrek script in my inbox…..

but i’m only posting this one, so you’re all so very welcome!!!

(also thank you so very much @genlossicle, your commitment is astounding and very much appreciated lol)

[mrmorganswoman]

Hey, I've always thought about a girl who made Arthur that way... cold but soft at the same time, serious but funny.

Maybe she was in the gang when Dutch and Hosea found Arthur. She tried to help him. She saw both him and John as her little brothers.

Maybe she was the old Arthur of the gang, hunting and dealing with folks, making money for the gang. Maybe that's why Arthur is like that.

She died miserably, that's for sure. That's why Arthur chose to copy her persona…can you write something like that?

omg that is just a heartbreaking amazing idea omg!! the exact type of thing i like to write lol. also congrats to you on being my first request!! Xx

Dear Sister

How many years had it been?

‘Too fuckin’ many…’ Arthur thought with an angry sigh. He had the date written down in his journal, along with a sketch of her. And pages upon pages written about her, of every memory of her he could recall. He could go and look, if he had a mind too. But he never could bring himself too. It was too painful. He looked at the small whiskey bottle in his hand, and downed the last couple of gulps. It burned, but that was good. Better than whatever it was he was feeling before.

“Arthur, honey come 'ere. Sit down with me…”

The teen grumbled, before sitting down next to his older sister. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder, and it was like the anger within him melted away. He leaned his head on his sisters shoulder and sighed.

"What's wrong with you, kiddo? Talk t'me."

Arthur sighed into his sisters shoulder, and felt stupid tears prickling in his stupid eyes.

"I feel like a fuckin' fool. I wasn't shootin' right- And then I got mad at Hosea by mistake and now here I am- Dammit why can't I just be like you!"

She started stroking Arthur's honey blonde hair, giving his scalp a gentle massage.

"You listen to me Arthur." She began, her tone comforting and warm. "Even I have my bad days, where I can't seem to make my shot on the first try or when I make a dumb mistake on a simple job. It's fuckin' hard, aint it sweetheart?"

Arthur nodded, absorbing every word she said. Taking every breath to heart. He loved his sister so so much, he really did wanna be like her when he grew up. She was the best gunslinger he knew. She was Dutch's most trusted associate. She was orphaned, just like him, and taken in by Dutch. And now here she is, the finest outlaw Arthur knew! She did good for the gang, making them money, pulling off the most complicated heists with ease. She could hunt, moving through the forest like one of them lynx's, silent and deadly. And, according to Dutch, she was the best enforcer they could ever hope for. Never once failing to collect a debt, or scare people off their trails.

"Honey you listen to what I'm telling ya' now. I want you to never forget your worth. You are a skilled, gifted, good young man and ya' always will be. Don't you never let anyone tell you otherwise. And when times are tough, you are tougher. I want you to be strong for me Arthur, always. You promise?"

Arthur pulled away from his sister, looking at her in her pretty blue eyes. Though he would never tell her that.

"I promise. sis. I'll be strong for that stupid little John too." Arthur said, his tone is light but he meant every word with a deadly seriousness.

"Atta boy!"

Arthur looked at the bottle in hid hand, and with an enraged yell smashed it against the nearest tree. It shattered, a few sharp shards flinging back and cutting him in the face.

"Arthur! What the hell is the matter with you!?"

Ugh. Of course it had to be John.

"Get lost!" Arthur snapped, quickly standing up off the ground. Arthur stormed off, but stubborn John followed him anyways. "Marston god dammit leave me ALONE!"

“ARTHUR!” John yelled. Arthur snapped his head around, enough anger in his eyes that John was surprised he wasn’t dead. "Arthur you’ve gotta know by now that I know when she is on your mind! I know how you feel! She was as much as sister to me as she was to you! And-”

“WERE YOU THERE WHEN SHE DIED?!” Arthur roared, every speck of rage, grief, and sadness he was feeling fueled his words. “WERE YOU THE ONE WHO HAD TO LOOK INTO HER EYES AS THAT AXE WENT THROUGH HER HEAD!? DID YOU HEAR THE SOUND OF HER SKULL CRACKIN’?! DID YOU HEAR HER SCREAMING YOUR NAME FOR HELP WHEN THERE WASNT A DAMN THING IN THE WORLD YOU COULD DO?! DID YOU HAVE HER BLOOD COVERIN’ YOUR HANDS? YOUR CLOTHES? IN YOUR HAIR?”

“Arthur-”

“YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH MARTSON CAUSE I AIN’T FINISHED!” Arthur inhaled a deep and shaky breath before he continued. “You know what it sounds like, or how it fuckin’ feels to have to pull an axe outta someone’s skull? The way it sticks, how hard you gotta pull on it? The sound when it is finally unstuck?”

John sat there, motionless. The words Arthur spoke made him ill, but it was the truth. Their sister died a horrible death, one she didn’t deserve in the slightest.

“I couldn’t even bury her body. I had to run. They shot my horse dead, and when I came back she was gone.”

John opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. When John didn’t speak, Arthur continued.

“So Brother.” Arthur spat, the venom in his tone enough to make flinch away from them. “Don’ tell me you know how I feel, cause I can assure you, ya’ haven’t got the slightest fuckin’ idea.”

With that, Arthur stormed off. He headed deeper into the woods, not giving a damn about the time of night or predators or anything. He needed to be far away from everyone and everything, to clear his head.

He knew he couldn’t save his sister. Then or now. She was gone, nothing left of her but the gamblers hat on his head. It had fallen off, before….

‘I’m gon’ kill that son of a bitch…..’ Arthur thought, knowing with a deadly certainty that this was the only thing he could do. He had attempted to find them before, but this time he wouldn’t fail.

He couldn’t save his sister, but he damn sure would give her the redemption she deserved.

a/n: thanks for such an amazing request anon! i might have to include this sister in the fic im working on rn! Xx