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cheemscakecat · 7 months

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Missing in Action 6

Chapter 6: Strange Dream, New Favorite Memory

TW: Heavier Angst. Scout has some awful, awful brothers. But Spy is a real one.

Jeremy went to bed in a better mood than he’d had in a long time. He was so glad that the new Spy was such a nice guy. And such a great cook too. Though, somethin was going on and he didn’t feel like making food. And from how the newbie was actin, it was something serious.

Well, it wasn’t Scout’s business, so he decided not to tell the others unless he had to. They really weren’t the type to badger Spy into cooking for them.

Jeremy felt so relaxed and lost in thought that he crawled right up in that bed without realizing it. It surprised him when he found himself curled up in his blanket. He hadn’t wanted to sleep in a hot minute, even on the night he cried. Aw Hell, he wan’t complainin.

————————-

The dream started out with an old recurring nightmare of his. It was one he’d gotten used to a long time ago, so it was more annoying than scary. Especially since he had to sit through it before anything interesting and new happened.

Jeremy dreamt that he died, and none of his stupid brothers cared. Ma was real upset, and trying to get his funeral and stuff sorted out, but none of his siblings would help. They definitely weren’t gonna cry over him. Cause he’s the runt. Runts die all the time, it’s just piddly women who bother to feel bad and save them. Whatever.

Since it was such an old dream, current Scout could still have his opinion on what was goin on, but his younger self was the character in the dream and reacted like he always did back then. He was cryin and trying to help Ma from beyond the grave, since there wasn’t a **** brother man enough to make it easier on her. And he didn’t know about Spy yet, so he wasn’t with the brothers ignoring Jeremy’s death.

It looked like Scout woke up, but all his stuff was laid out like when he first got hired at RED. He got up and went to the bathroom so he could splash water on his face and hide his tears. It worked, but he wasn’t getting a hold’a himself right so he wandered into the hall.

People were always used to Jeremy being loud. Most never knew he could be quiet. Younger Scout aimlessly made his way around base and tried not to wake the rest’a the team. Then he noticed a light.

Spy’s smoking room. The door was slightly cracked, so he could let smoke out and stink up the rest of base with it. But that meant Spy was awake, the only teammate who would be at that hour. Medic was crazy, but he’d never give up a chance to round up the doves and go to sleep to ‘em making their weird bird noises. Engineer needed all the sleep he could get. But Scout knew from those 6 months in prison that Spy didn’t sleep most nights.

His younger self hesitated near the door, tryin to decide whether he should be a baby and talk with Spy, or keep walkin. Before he could make up his mind, the door opened and he locked eyes with Spy. They stared at each other with the same amount’a surprise. Younger Jeremy choked out something, anything to fill the loud silence.

“Aw, crap. Am I that noisy?” “Not in the slightest. But people in this line of work learn to feel eyes on them.” **** invisible show off. Younger Scout nodded to try and play it cool, and started to walk away so the deadbeat couldn’t see he’d been cryin.

“Would you like to come in?” He paused. Older Jeremy remembered that he didn’t always know he could go in the smoking room, or that anyone else on the team was allowed in there. This must have been during that time, cause his younger self looked at Spy with hopeful eyes.

The musty, smokey wooden room was nothing special to the current Scout, but his younger self was looking around like a kid in a candy store. Spy pulled over another chair and gestured for him to sit. Young Jeremy did, but went quiet afterwards. He didn’t know what to say.

Back then, he was afraid that the other teammates would laugh at him like his brothers. Or worse, think he was so weak that he should be fired, and then he’d be back in Boston stuck in his cycle of getting hired and fired. And Ma probably wouldn’t be surprised. He couldn’t look Spy in the eye.

“I presume that whatever is bothering you, you would prefer not to speak of it with a shady Spy.” Not a selfish *** deadbeat like you. Older Scout thought. Spy looked at his side table and there was a smaller cutting board with meat, cheese and bread.

“Perhaps this is not a time for eating, but you’re welcome to this if you can stomach it.” Younger Jeremy didn’t say anything for a minute. “Nothin’s wrong. I just can’t sleep.” His voice was firm and harsh, but he and Spy didn’t believe his weak lie. Spy chose the fast-food parenting route of talkin even though Scout wasn’t in the mood.

”You would not be the first. Many mercenaries uninvolved in wars prior to joining RED have suffered nightmares when they arrive. The feeling of respawning is a difficult thing to get used to.” Jeremy flinched and stared into the fire. Spy shrugged and got up.

“I may have something that will help.” The old fart poured him a glass of scotch and offered it to him. Younger Scout hesitated to take it, knowin it was fancy stuff. “Trust me, there is nothing you could possibly do drunk in here that the Demoman or Soldier has not.” That convinced him enough to take the cup and down the alcohol like medicine. He found the fire more relaxing after it kicked in.

—————————-

Jeremy woke up with the dream still on his mind. That didn’t usually happen unless… it was one of those dopey “half-memory type dreams”. He stared at his door and groaned as he realized it was a real memory. Back in Siberia he had a more twisted dream about himself waddling around on the carpet as a baby, with his Ma and current Spy seducin each other. Gross.

He checked the clock and decided it was late enough that he could go to the training room without wakin folks up and getting yelled at. He’d go punch something and get this dumb memory out of his mind in no-time.

A few hours later, new Spy came in with a stabbing knife and no shirt. Jeremy didn’t look at first, but his stupid need to compare himself to other guys drove him to study Spy more close.

New Spy was tall and skinny, but he was no toothpick. He had abs and broad shoulders, with arm muscles that poked out more than Jeremy’s ever did. He hated the part of him who got jealous of people his age. At least with Sniper, he smelled like pee and looked old as Hell, so Scout could bury his annoying thoughts easier. Otherwise they never shut up.

Engineer came in, but not to train. “Scout? There’s somebody tryin’a call ya. You got time to answer?” He nodded. It was probably Ma callin to check up on him, or Pauling with a new task.

———————

Jeremy took a deep breath. Ma had probably heard from Spy about what happened, but she hadn’t tried to confront him over it. He wasn’t gonna complain about Spy or act pitiful about getting rejected by Pauling. Nobody knew about that, not even Ma. The nice thing was, if Pauling did call him and shut down any attempt to talk to her like she had always done before, he wouldn’t have to play normal so long.

“Hey, this is Scout. What’s up?” “Ay tiny! Guess who?” Kevin. One of his three crappier brothers. Ma musta tried to put him up to callin, so he could be nice for once and check up on him. He kicked himself for not calling her more the past few weeks, she musta been worried. They only bothered to speak to him if he was in Boston and failed to time it right so he could visit Ma in peace.

He wished it was Frankie or one of the other “I got better and now you’re all below me” brothers. They would at least pretend to care, on principle. But Kevin was still a gang member and all around jerk.

“Say hey, Danny and Pete are here too!” Oh great, all three gang brothers together to mock him in one place! “Dan. Petey.” Jeremy was starting to wonder if Ma was trying to tell Frank or somebody to call him, and his idiot brothers overheard. They probably stole her phone or locked her outta the house just to pull this. But maybe not. Maybe they weren’t in a chatty mood.

“Aw, don’t be like that pipsqueak, we’re ‘worried’ about ya! Ain’t we fellas?” Kevin said in his sarcastic tone. The others chimed in with just as fake’a friendliness. That meant they were definitely in a chatty mood. Whatever they knew, it mayst been hilarious to them. Jeremy needed to be ready to stop himself from reacting to their jabs.

“What do you want, Kev. I have work to do.” Scout was a lot better at lying now, and being over the phone helped. The sooner he hung up without giving them more ammo to make fun of him, the better.

“Heard ya finally found yer daddy. What kinda thing is he? A gnome? A bunny rabbit?” Yeah, Ma wouldn’t’a told them on purpose. He hoped she couldn't hear them, since she dated that bozo once. It wasn’t right to clown on Spy around her.

“He’s a cigarette, actually. One that got sun-bleached in a dirty parking lot. It’s a miracle I don’t smell like him.” They wanted him to get mad, and he wasn’t gonna give them the satisfaction. He needed to stay calm and keep firing back like it didn’t matter to him.

“Ay Mi-Mi, did ya stomp him into the pavement? I wanna see how that went down!” They were just gonna keep digging for a nerve the longer he talked to them. But if he hung up at the wrong time, It’d show that they’d found one. And then they’d never shut up.

“Naw, but he musta been scared that I was gonna; rolled right into a dirty sewer drain like a coward. Squealed like a piggy on his way out.” That turned out to be exactly the wrong thing to say. The phone erupted into mocking cackles and loudly echoed in the hall outside the training room.

“Bruh, he left! Oh my God, he still didn’t want ya!” Jeremy froze, which only left them without a response and let them know they had finally gotten to him. But he had to be quiet or he was gonna cry or start yelling, and that would only make them more satisfied with what they said.

More heartless laughter and insults rattled out of the phone, and Scout was so distracted that he didn’t notice new Spy until he leaned in to talk into the speaker.

“Oh bonjour, je m’inquietais du manque de batards dans la base.” He said it in a weirdly happy tone, like the young version of an old lady who people make fun of ‘cause she can’t hear em. Scout didn’t know much French, but he knew old Spy used to curse more in that than in English, and “batards” was one of the rarer ones.

Jeremy found himself handing over the phone and staring as the new guy got insulted by his brothers. Spy kept respondin by sayin things that had to be insults, but in that same goofy higher pitched tone. And what was funny was that his brothers were too stupid to figure it out. They just assumed he was a dumb foreigner that they coulda robbed if he was there in Boston.

“Hell yeah, keep talkin little man! You one’a Scout’s dopey friends or somethin?” This time, Spy turned to Jeremy right before replying. “Vous etes tellement immonde que vous plonger dans le beurre comme escargot creerait une bouillie brune. Rat des rues degoutant.” Newbie hunched over and curled his free hand like a big New York rat while he spoke.

Scout tried so hard not to snicker at that, but when his brother started running his mouth again, Spy swung his hips like a sassy lady and made the funniest face he’d ever seen in his life. He burst out laughing so hard that his annoying brothers could hear it.

“Ay! What’s so funny?” Spy leaned against the wall and then posed like a toddler with his butt out and his free arm dangling. “Mon Dieu, le petit frere t’a offense, mon petit cochon? Quel dommage qu’il s’amuse de tes reniflements.”

Jeremy could not stop laughing, and could barely breath. The new guy was still takin that fake cheerful tone with Kevin, who was getting angrier and angrier. And hearing him getting butt-hurt made him and the other two less… heavy on him. Not like they were scary, just less of a hurdle. They were getting clowned on by a skinny French guy with real long hair.

Young Spy walked like a sheepish and ditzy housewife from TV and cupped his hand over the phone, like he was tryin to stop the brothers from hearing. But he spoke up real good. “Oh la la, je crois que la poubelle est en train de s’offusquer. C’est preseque commes s’il pouvait me comprende!”

“Now listen here, you stupid Frenchie! I know you can understand us! What’s your problem?” Spy suddenly looked angry, and Scout realized he’d been angry this whole time, and mocking his brothers was how he’d been dealing with it. He started talking in pitch perfect English and his naturally deeper voice.

“No, you listen street filth. You have a wonderful brother that is a competent mercenary and good friend to his team. And I am very much thankful that we got him instead of any of you. How dare you talk to him like he’s nothing? You are lucky that I caught you instead of the others here, because I do not want you dead for this. But Scout has friends here that could outperform your precious gang and you, no contest.

Do not call this number again, do you understand? I know you will say something hateful and stupid, and somebody scarier than me will hear it and come after you. And believe me pal, this Mercenary company can make sure you’re never found. Adieu!”

And with that, Spy roughly hung up the phone. Jeremy couldn’t help but notice that he’d switched from his thick French accent to a perfect Bostonian one somewhere in the middle of his threat.

———————

Merriam got her phone back from her three problem sons, who were acting all jumpy. They said some crazy French guy got on the phone with them and threatened them about joking with Scout.

Something was wrong. Antoine would never threaten her boys, even though she knew they deserved it. But from the details she forced outta them, he was acting like his younger self. Back before they dated, they were already friends and he would go to the bar with her.

He used to do the “naive foreigner” routine on guys at the bar that tried to start fights or wouldn’t leave her alone. It freaked them out because he’d switch from a real cheerful harmless tone in French to dead serious and speaking proper English. He stopped doing that years ago.

Maybe that’s why he hadn’t contacted her in four weeks. She made up her mind to call his wife and let her know.

What did young Spy say to Scout’s trash brothers? [Used a translator, so this might be off.]

Oh hello, I was worried about the lack of *******s on base.

You are so foul that drenching you in butter like a snail would create brown slop. You disgusting street rat.

My oh my, did the little brother offend you piggy? How awful of him to be amused by your snorting.

Oh dear, I think the trash is getting offended. It’s almost like he can understand me!

#tf2 #dadspy #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #angst fanfic #sad lad hours #scouts ma

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eartheats · 4 months

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[video: taken 05/17/2024]

[The video starts pretty normally; it seems like Ren's in the Dalizapa passage, with Lulu, Linux, and a tall blonde haired man in what can only be described as "clothing that should have been retired years ago". torn shirt with holes in it, jeans that seem to be more bobbypins than fabric, and his long mess of blonde hair seems to cover his eyes a little bit. he also has a scarf that a few little pokemon can be seen poking their heads out of; a family of Maushold, it seems.

"Yoooo, Renny, thanks again for volunteering to help Gran out." The young man seems to laugh easily as he walks with a casual style, the Maushold making little noises as he does. "Really appreciate it. You said this stuff with the tinks should be sorted out real soon, yeah?"

Ren turns around with a grin, as the camera catches a brief glimpse of Lulu and Linux fighting off some Tinkatuff--ones that ran at them first, of course. "Don't mention it, Kev! Figure it's the least I can do since the both'a ya have been helpin' me out. We still on for tonight?"

"Duuude, fuck yeah!" Kevin laughs brightly as they walk, seeming to take a path towards Medali. "Need for Speed and alcohol, and neither of us have to drive? Sounds like a damn good time to me!"

Ren can't help but laugh at that a bit. "For sure. At least with this one the tickets we're gonna get are purely metaphorical!"

"Renny, if we aren't racking up huge fines by the end, what's the point?"

"Sooooo true, bestie!" The both of them laugh easily, though if one is eagle eyed enough, they can see Kevin look to the distance before Ren gets the chance to and reach out to grab their shoulder, stopping them cold as they startle a bit. "Kev, what's going--?"

"Dude. Hot and crazy spotted. We, uh, might wanna--"

Ren winds up looking back before Kevin gets a chance to try and do something--hide them, take another path, do something--but the camera turns along with Ren, and everyone will get to see who Kevin's talking about.

The camera focuses on a woman. A woman that might be a little familiar to those who remember the time that Ren's younger self took over their Rotomblr account for a while, but something about her is different. Maybe it's the fact that there's a lot more black in her wardrobe; a short leather jacket in black with rinestones that glimmer, with a cute pink dress underneath. It contrasts with the black boots she has on, ones that seem to raise her already rather sizable height (about 6'0'') to intimidating levels. She commands her Pokemon easily, a Mawile and a Shiny Ribombee taking on a Tinkaton and a few Tinkatuffs with ease as they come back to their trainer.

"Ohhhhh my goooosh! Look at you two! You guys slaughtered the fuck outta 'em! Good. It'll teach those nasty fucks to try stepping near our turf again, huh?"

Everything in the woman's voice drips venom, and there's a brief--hilariously brief second that turns back to Ren and Kevin, both looking like they're about to make a break for it--but it's the shiny Ribombee, sweet and innocent as ever, that seems to trill a bit in recognition before flying off. A joyful one to it and it alone, it seems, as the camera focuses back on the woman as she turns around to see where her partner is flying--

"Dearheart, baby, where you goin'? You see another one--?"

And then the woman catches sight of where Dearheart seems to be flying, and in an instant, her eyes seem to widen. Lulu seems to startle for a moment, but Linux is very quick to place themself between the Ribombee and everyone else, causing the Ribombee to startle. The camera focuses on the woman, who's gaze is full of utter shock, but one that slowly gives way to something else as she speaks up. Her expression tightens, her eyes widen further, and...

She looks more like a feral Pokemon when she speaks up, her tone booming and frankly furious.

"What the FUCK are you doing here, you backstabbing bitch?!"

The recording cuts off here.]

#ren talks #one rises one falls #pokemon irl #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #rotomblr #//:3c #//I'LL GET TO MORE LATER BUT UH #//everyone say hi to tati. she's even worse now (affectionate)

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correctrvbquotes · 1 month

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Credits come in with several recruits running across the screen as a voice booms over a loudspeaker

Flowers: (voice only) Alright I wanna see some hustle out there! I mean the, hard work kinda hustle not the, disco or legal scam kinda hustle. Apologize for the confusion on that earlier.

SPECIAL FORCES TRAINING

The voice continues mostly inaudibly in the background. Church, who is wearing regulation blue armor, approaches Tex, who watches the training from atop a platform.

Church: Your armor looks good. A lot better than this regulation blue stuff they give the rest of us.

Tex: They told us each one has a unique ability. I've been tryin' to figure out what mine is-

Church: Tex you know, you don't have to do this.

Tex: I'm not doing it because I have to.

Church: It's just that, there's all these rumors about these experiments they're running, they're... taking computer programs and puttin' 'em inside of people's heads. Just sounds a little, crazy.

Tex: You know I can't talk about it with you.

Church: I know.

Tex: (softly) Technically you're not even supposed to be here.

Church: I know.

Jimmy appears from behind a corner.

Jimmy: Hey Leonard, come on.

Church: Yeah hold on a second Jimmy!

Wyoming suddenly appears

Wyoming: Yes I think it best you go, Private. We've got real military work to do here. Perhaps you should go back to your training. Learn how to get shot properly. Hmhmhm.

Church: Yeah thanks. I was already leaving.

Church walks a little, then stops.

Unknown Voice: (voice only) Never leave a man behind... except when it's to save them from danger, you should probably let women and children go first, and come back for the men later.

Church: Tex I... just be careful.

Church leaves.

Unknown Voice: (voice only) Just give us your best judgment.

Fade to the present. Tex gives a stirring monologue about the events happening on screen, in which several Freelancers undergo the A.I. removal process. Tex, however, escapes.

Tex: (voice over) He was right about the rumors: every operative was paired and implanted with some kind of modified A.I. They were supposed to make us faster or stronger, or in my case, just plain meaner. The experiment worked for a while, then people just started goin' crazy. So they scrapped the project, and began removing the A.I. modules and deleting them one by one. Problem was, some of the A.I.s didn't wanna be deleted, resisting the removal process. The one in my head, Omega, was one of the difficult ones. Since they couldn't erase him they decided to erase both of us. And that didn't go over so well. By the time we escaped the facility it was pretty clear I had to do something to get rid of Omega for good. Unfortunately, it's pretty hard to hide your thoughts from somethin' that lives inside your head. It wasn't that long before he figured out how to jump outta me, and in to other people using the radio. So removing him was the easy part. Killing him, was gonna be a different story. And as much as I hate to admit it...

Fade back to the present, where Tex looks up at Omega's island fortress.

Tex: (talks) I'm gonna need some help.

#out of mind #tex #alpha!church #florida #wyoming #alpha!church tex #alpha!church wyoming #o'malley tex #jimmy #alpha!church jimmy

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gaybitchfx · 3 years

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Ok, this one came to me while I was at work. What if Mikey and Draken were kidnapped and Takemichi happened to be there and saw the whole thing. He proceeds to run like a mad man to the shrine to get their friend, the reader who is considered to be just as strong as Mikey, and told him everything that had happened. Takemichi had gotten the license plate and gave it to the reader(the reader being a cop that hangs out with their two best friends since they were like 7) and they just casually kicks down the door to find their friends tied to chairs and then reader just kinda went crazy and that would be the first time Draken, Mikey, and Takemichi had ever seen the reader from crazy.

Thank you fantastic human!!

A/n: I don’t know what kind of x Gn!Reader this is so imma just put all three of ‘em! Hope you enjoy!

KIDNAPPED

Draken, Mikey & Takemitchy x Gn!Reader

Category: Fluff🥰✨

Warning: Kidnapping

“What’s goin’ on here?”

Mikey, Draken & Takemitchy we’re walking around and talking about god knows what till a white van pulled up next to them and injected both Draken and Mikey with something causing them to be knocked out.

Takemitchy stood there in horror as the van drove off with them.

His eyes were bulging out of his head and his jaw was dropped. He quickly pulled out his phone and ran for the van and took a picture of the license plate.

He took a U turn and started running like a madman back to the shrine hopping someone was there. When he finally arrived to the shrine he saw you eating peeps, the blue ones specifically.

“Mikey…Draken…! Kidnapped..!” Takemitchy said in between gasp of air making you look over at him with a half eaten peep in your mouth. “Wha?” You asked, your voice a bit muffled.

“Draken-kun and Mikey-kun were kidnapped!” Takemitchy quickly said as he tried catching his breath. You are the peep in one go and nodded your head. “Alright let’s go find them. Do you have the license plate?” You asked standing up.

“Y-Yeah!” Takemitchy said as he took his phone out his pocket and fumbled with it for a bit before opening the photo and gave you the phone.

You looked at the photo and went over to your bike and patted the part behind him. Takemitchy quickly went over to your bike and sat at the back of it. In a matter of seconds your bike had already taken off before Takemitchy could even hold onto your waist for support.

Your expression was calm and neutral but deep down behind that calm look you were infuriated. After a few minutes of tracking the van down you had found an abandoned warehouse and parked outside of it was the van.

You stoped your motorcycle and looked back at Takemitchy who looked like he saw God for a second. “C’mon Takemitchy.” You said as he got off your bike. “O-Okay!” Takemitchy said, snapping back into reality as he also got off the bike.

You went up to the warehouse door, but there was a huge chain with a padlock keeping it from opening. “This is so troublesome.” You sighed before raising your leg and kicking the door open, breaking the chain and padlock.

A horrified sound came from Takemitchy as he stood there with his jaw touching the ground. When the doors were finally opened you saw Draken and Mikey tied to a chair with cloth covering their mouths and ropes holding them down tightly.

When you walked in Mikey and Draken were trying to say something but it was all muffled so you didn’t understand a word they were saying.

“Look out!!” Takemitchy shouted and you turned around seeing someone holding a metal rod. Before you could react they had hit you in the head thinking you’d pass out from that. When they saw you still standing their eyes were wide as dinner plates.

“Well that was a cheap shot.” You said and cracked your knuckles. After at least 6 minutes later that person and a few others who had decided to try and help were out cold. Mikey, Draken, and Takemitchy were speechless as you freed Mikey and Draken.

“Sorry to keep you guys waiting let’s go home. I assume you all can get home by yourselves right? If so have a good night you three.” You said and got on your bike before leaving. “I am flabbergasted-“ Mikey said with his mouth slightly gap.

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aggressive-positivity-network · 3 years

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do any of the mercs play board games?

Mercopoly (Board Game

Headcanons)

Scout:

You think he has enough of an attention span to play something that doesn’t involve sweating out his energy drinks?

Hell no!

He gets very bored very quickly, especially with something complex like chess.

He’ll play cards sometimes, but only Crazy Eights and Go Fish - that’s all he knows how to play.

However, there is one true board game he plays occasionally: Candy Land.

It’s one of the few board games that you don’t really have to read the rules for, and there isn’t any writing on the cards.

However, he only asks to play it when he’s not feeling very well.

Medic even has a page in his medical journal for the mercs that says, and I quote:

“The Scout has an extremely short attention span, and if an activity isn’t active or immersive, he will not stay long. If at any point he chooses a sedentary activity, a check-up is in order.”

As sad as it is, a request to play Candyland is a good way to know if Scout needs a little extra reassurance or support.

By the end of the game, Scout usually feels more himself, whether he wins or not.

Engie is especially good with Scout when he’s this way, being the one of the most emotionally sensitive of the group. But he also knows Scout would never admit straight-away how he was feeling, so he usually has a more fun way of getting answers.

“You feelin’ more like a King Candy or a Lord Licorice?”

“...Fudge Monster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah...”

Spy:

If you ask him, he will most likely go off on a tangent about chess, and how it’s a game of strategy, deception, and crushing your enemy with your wit.

He scoffs at any other game, and constantly makes fun of several of his more intelligent peers for finding interest in them.

“You are mercenaries. Blood-thirsty killers of men. And you are playing ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippos’ like a hoarde of kindergartners?”

But one thing he cannot resist is Sorry.

He considers it above normal board games because it has strategy - or at least that what he says.

He actually just likes it because it’s a game of revenge, which is like a drug to him.

He’s gotten so good at it that if he asks you to play Sorry with him, it’s almost guaranteed that he’s mad at you and just wants to let off some steam by giving you a horrendous loss. However, occasionally, he’s the one who loses.

Spy isn’t a poor sport, exactly - he’s too cultured for that - but sometimes his pride outweighs his manners and he convinces himself that the other player cheated through made up signs of deception.

He simply “allows” them to win because he “doesn’t want to make a fuss.”

But god help the unfortunate soul who decides to rub their win in his face.

Sniper had won five games in a row, and it was clear Spy was getting hot under the collar.

Sniper ended their games with a mischievous, “You’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.” and a small pat on his shoulder.

Spy immediately saw red, grabbed Sniper’s hand, and before the aussie knew it, he was against a concrete wall with a butterfly knife to his throat.

“I could kill you right now. Your final cry for Medic will be drowned in blood, and I would leave you here to die a painful, dramatic death. You’ll be replaced with a rusted trash can of a bot until they could grow another clone of you. Every memory will be gone. The team will be shrouded in grief, not because of losing you, but losing what the clone can never have. And I shall bide my time, ask the clone to play the same game, and kill them when they win. Another clone, another kill. And again. And again. And again. You think the Manns give a damn as long as their work is getting done? You will never be able to form a single thought before I spill your blood - caught in an eternal prisoner’s dilemma where you always lose.”

After gathering his bearings, Sniper finally spoke.

“Is this about your takeout?”

Spy scoffed.

“Do you really think - !”

“Tonight, my treat if you don’t kill me.”

Spy squinted.

“Egg rolls?”

“And an extra order of crab rangoon.”

“Your treat?”

“Yep.”

“How do I know you won’t poison me?”

“Chemical test before and after the food arrives.”

“How do I know Medic isn’t in on it?”

“Miss Pauling as a witness and Scout as an overseer. Pauling’s main objective is to keep us alive, and Scout can’t do bloody anything subtle, even if he wanted to. You can also play back the cameras in the lab, if the mood really struck ya.”

Spy held Sniper against the wall for a minute or two while he thought it all over, then let Sniper fall to the ground.

“I don’t need your sympathy, bushman. But you had better keep your end of the deal. I am the only backstabber around here.”

Demo:

Can’t even stay awake long enough to play most board games.

On the rare chance that he’s sober, he, Engie, and Medic like to play Monopoly.

Here’s the thing: you should never ask a drunkard, an engineer, and a sadist genius to play Monopoly together. It will not end well.

They have been playing the same game for years, with new rules in place and physical extensions to the board in order to try and end the game. Every other Friday, they take the weekend to try and finish it.

However, it all ends up fruitless.

Demo is usually the one keeping the peace, since he is the least competitive out of the three. That isn’t to say he isn’t clawing for the win as much as the other two, but he is definitely the least invested. He’s mostly staying out of principle.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, ‘s ta ne’er give up, e’en when the goin’s gettin’ tough. Roll the dice, doc.”

Despite his confidence, he’s not even sure what he would do if he or anyone else won. It would seem more like a relief than a celebration.

Medic:

He’s the one who started the Eternal Monopoly game, which has led to some theories that the game itself came straight from hell, and is one of the many punishments used on sinners. The box does smell a bit of brimstone…

He seems to enjoy the chaos that each round brings and the challenge of coming up with new rules to the game. To any outsider, his commentary and directions are complete nonsense.

“According to zhe ‘Calvinball Rule,’ as stated by Engineer, and the ‘Double Kill,’ as stated by myself, since the current time ends vis a three and ve all received at least two kills zhis veek, ve need to double every other roll and whomever loses zhe resulting game of ‘Bim Bum’ vill have to go to zhe Purple Jail.”

The rules and mechanics are like an unholy amalgamation of Monpoly, Sorry, chess, D&D, Bluff, and poker.

However, when Medic isn’t stapling pages of rules together, he likes to play a nice, relaxing game of checkers with Heavy.

Both of them are excellent checker players, but neither of them care who wins.

In fact, they usually talk over the game, taking the other player’s pieces as one of them shares a story from that day’s battle.

They’ve even played while Heavy was in surgery - leading to many unfortunate times when Medic had to fish a piece out of Heavy’s intestines.

One would think that a genius doctor would also have a passion for chess, but he expresses his disdain for it almost every time the checker board is brought out.

“Ach, people think chess is such an intelligent sport. Let me tell you, liebling, it is terribly overrated. If zhe devil can play chess, anyvun can. He might as vell just give souls avay, vis those shaky claws of his.”

Engineer:

Being the engineer, he is usually the one to add to the Eternal Monopoly.

Pieces, board extensions, cards, trivia - it gives him a nice break from all the weaponry.

He’s usually the one who remembers all the mechanics and rules, and serves as the judge if rules contradict each other.

“Alright, now let’s see here…we’ve got the Infinity Loop over here, but now you’ve got the Time Travel card…how many years? Infinite? Ho boy…looks like I’m gonna have to add a Hilbert’s Hotel square somewhere. Hold on…”

Despite his affinity for Eternal Monopoly, Engineer will play almost any board game. He learns new rules and figures quickly, and enjoys the challenges that brings.

However, if he’s particularly burnt out, he likes to take a break by playing Jenga. He and Spy have a friendly rivalry, since Engie can tell which blocks are supporting and Spy has quick fingers.

Spy, oddly, is a lot more amiable losing in Jenga - he knows Engie won’t think less of him - but Engineer hates when the bricks fall over. Not because it means he lost, but because, to him, it’s a failure on his part…even if it was someone else that knocked it over.

He’s made several blueprints for the perfect Jenga game, but has concluded that no human hand could put it into practice.

During one particularly bad day, Engie bumped the table, causing the whole column to come crashing down. Spy had already recovered from the noise, but Engie was still standing there, stone-faced.

His eyes were covered by his goggles, but it was clear he was crying.

Several of his machines had broken on the job, and to him, this was just another egregious mistake.

Spy carefully put the blocks back in the container, and Engie came to his senses.

“I’m real sorry, Spy. Maybe another time…?”

Spy only nodded. He was thinking.

The next time they played, Spy brought out a different container.

Instead of wood, the bricks seemed to be made of a sturdy foam.

“They fall a bit more…quietly,” Spy explained. He dropped one, and it only made a small bouncing sound. “Pyro uses these, but they allowed me to borrow it.”

Engie was a bit skeptical at first, since it was a new material, but he got the hang of it rather quickly. He was almost ecstatic the first time it fell - the blocks barely made any sound at all!

After a few games, Spy had to leave for an assignment. Engie put a hand on their arm.

“Thank ya, Spy. Maybe you ain’t the cold-blooded backstabber I thought you were.”

Spy chuckled, but said little else. He didn’t want to admit that noise sensitivity plagued him as well.

Pyro:

Pyro loves board games, and has quite the collection in their room.

Each plastic piece is at least a little melted, and all the boxes have two or three scorch marks.

Hungry Hungry Hippos, Candyland, and Uno are among her favorites.

He is an absolute beast at Uno, though.

They take each game very seriously, especially when they can convince the whole team to play.

As you can imagine, it’s pure chaos - it even led to a rule in the Merc Guidebook: “When playing Uno with three or more players with the inclusion of a Pyro, at least one Mann Co. representative and/or a mediating Medic must be present.”

Pyro has been known the hide cards, bribe players, or even try to set flame to competition. Playing Uno is almost like a mission, with weapon preparation and Spy posing as other players.

The mercs even have a betting stand that Sniper runs. All parties have lost a lot of money that way.

It’s pretty much the only time outside of battle that the team remembers how cruel and malicious Pyro can be.

Sniper:

Conventional board games aren’t exactly his forté, but he does enjoy a bit of cards every once in a while - Solitaire being his favorite.

He even has a pack of cards in his Sniper Square for that exact purpose. It allows him the pass the time without having to look away from his targets too often.

On occasion, he could be pressed to play poker, but only if the stakes weren’t monetary (i.e candy pieces, crackers, duties, etc.).

His favorite part of every match is shuffling the cards. Pretty much every merc could shuffle cards, but Sniper could make them almost float with how quick his fingers and wrists moved. He always began the game with a new trick he learned, which delighted his fellow players (usually Spy, Engineer, Medic, and Demo).

You could always tell if he had a busy day because he would avoid tricks with too much movement, which would be murder on his sore fingers and hands.

Pyro is currently learning card tricks from Sniper, and show off what they learn at the beginning of every Uno game.

Heavy:

He isn’t a huge fan of the bright, plastic-y board games that Pyro has, although he will play them if asked.

It’s mostly because of how complicated the rules are and the fact there are almost never a Russian translation for the directions.

He always prefers checkers, cards, or mancala, which he almost exclusively plays with Medic because he’s the only one who speaks fluent Russian.

Heavy can play a mean game of mancala, though, and it’s the only game he can beat Medic at.

Soldier:

The only games he will play are Battleship and Uno - but only after Miss Pauling convinced him it was “American enough” because the game had red, white, and blue cards.

He prefers the electronic Battleship because of the sound effects and voices. However, if it’s out of batteries, he’ll make his own sound effects.

Miss Pauling is the best at pretending to be a commander, so she’s usually the one playing with him - but, sometimes, Demo gets in on the action, too.

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 4 years

Photo

Words: 3,185 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of suicide, gore, sexuality, fear and anxiety, disturbing imagery, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Someone dies and Daryl finally learns about Y/N's past.

Your name: submit What is this?

“Where ya goin’?” Daryl’s voice behind you as you headed to the gate, your recurve bow slung over your shoulder.

“Hunting,” you said. You’d been reserved since Hilltop and Daryl was worried.

He shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other. “Huntin’ what?”

You caught his meaning and sighed. “Food. I promise.”

He nodded and paced closer to you. “Good. Look, if ya want to go out and hunt them, I’ll go with ya. Ya shouldn’t do it alone.”

You nodded. “Been doing it alone a long time now,” you countered. “But I won’t today.”

Daryl nodded. That was about as good a response as he could hope for. “Alright.”

“Where are you off to?” you asked, noting the bag slung over his shoulder.

“Denise found a place she thinks might have meds. She asked Rosita and I to go with.”

Your stomach twisted suddenly and you felt unbalanced. You didn’t know why… it sounded like a routine supply trip. But eventually you shoved the feeling down and nodded. “Alright. Be careful…”

“Ya. We will. You too, alright?” Daryl wished he was brave enough in that moment to—to do or say something more. He could sense that whatever had happened to you, whatever you knew about the Saviors, it was eating you. It had been since Hilltop, and likely even before, probably since the run-in with those men when he was laid up with his ankle. That time when you hadn’t been able to sleep and he had stayed at your house… And he wished he knew how to lift that burden, how to make it stop or at least lighter, but until you were ready to talk about it there wasn’t much he could do.

You came back that evening with a deer. The gates rolled open to admit you and you headed toward home. That’s when you saw the crowd gathered on the porch of Rick’s house, but something was wrong. No one was talking and their expressions were grave.

You felt your stomach lurch. You slung the deer down onto your porch and started walking over. Daryl broke off and met you halfway. You gulped at the tightness in your throat. He looked pale. “What’s going on?”

He wouldn’t meet your eyes and he was chewing his bottom lip anxiously, drumming his fingers against his leg. “Denise,” he croaked, the gravel in his voice even thicker than usual.

You looked up, and the fact that everyone was gathered at Rick’s house and not outside the infirmary made what had happened clear. You felt like you’d been punched in the stomach. Your chest heaved with terrified breaths. “No… H—How?” you whispered.

“That guy with the girls I helped in that burnt-out forest, the ones who ended up fuckin’ me over, takin’ my bike and my bow… He’s one of them now.”

Your eyes narrowed. “The Saviors?” you asked in an undertone, your heart starting to race.

He nodded, finally lifting his blue eyes to yours. “Shot her with my crossbow right in front of us. Right—right in front of me.”

Your eyes glistened with emotion you were trying to hold back. “Oh God. No. No, no, no…” You were reeling. Your wide eyes had an unseeing quality.

Daryl gulped, speaking what was consuming him, a rasp in his throat as he fought emotion. “It’s my fault. I should have killed him. I should’ve made Denise stay back. I should’ve—”

“Stop,” you said forcefully, gently resting your hand on his arm. You stepped forward to look up into his face, which was now contorted with some emotion. “It’s not. Don’t do that.”

“It is. She wasn’t ready and I—I should have known they were there. We shoulda been more careful, not out in the open. I—It’s my fault,” he rasped.

You shook you head, holding his blue eyes. “No. It’s not. Even if you had killed him, we don’t know that anything would turn out differently. We don’t get to know. So, you have to stop.”

“I’m goin’ back tomorrow. I’m gonna track ‘em.” His grief and regret were turning into rage quickly.

“Daryl—”

“I’m goin’. He’s a dead man,” he growled.

Your eyes were wide and fearful. “Please, listen to me. Just wait. We can do this, but we have to be smart about it.”

“What’s smart is trackin’ ‘em before their trail disappears,” he growled. “I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch—"

You shut your eyes, a flash of emotion on your face and Daryl softened a little at the sight. “Just—come over later. We need to talk,” you whispered. You shot him one last look, the worry line you always got by your left eyebrow quite pronounced. You turned and went back to your house to deal with the deer you had shot. Daryl watched you drag it around to the back of your house and he thought that for even the weight of the deer, your steps looked heavy.

It was already late when you heard the front door open from your seat on the couch. “Y/N?” Daryl’s deep voice.

“In here,” you called back. His boots on the wood floor came closer and he appeared in the doorway.

“Ya alright?” he asked. You shook your head.

“No. You?”

He shook his head. “Nah.” Daryl sat down on the other end of the sofa, placing his own crossbow, recovered after the scramble with the Saviors that day, on the coffee table. He could tell you had been crying earlier. Your eyes were a little red. “What is it?”

Your heart was racing and you felt like you couldn’t draw full breaths. It felt like there was a weight sitting on your chest that was keeping your lungs from filling. You couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m—I’m gonna tell you what happened to me. How I know about the Saviors.” You stared down at your hands and he heard you pull in a raspy breath. “I’ve never told anyone this…”

A shadow darkened Daryl’s face. “Alright.”

You sighed and licked your lips nervously. “I had a brother. He was two years younger than me. We were with a small group of people, holed up in some house, scraping in town for supplies. Just a group of survivors who fell together, like yours did. The Saviors showed up. They said they were going to ‘save us.’ Said we had to come with them and if we did they’d keep us safe and fed in exchange for labor. Of course, none of us trusted them. Who can you trust these days? We all knew they just wanted what we had, and maybe even just us, like commodities. We tried to fight. Almost all of us were killed and they got control of those of us who were left.” You passed a somewhat shaky hand over your eyes briefly. “Negan showed up. He executed one of our people in front of us. Bashed his head in with a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire and made us watch. Terrorized the rest of us. Spouted off a bunch of bullshit about how he hadn’t wanted to do it, but we had forced his hand. My brother and I survived, along with a couple of the others. They took us back to their headquarters.” You finally glanced over at Daryl and your striking eyes, looking wide and anxious, met his blue ones. “They call it The Sanctuary.”

Daryl thought of Denise, dying right in front of him. “I’m sorry,” Daryl said.

You shook your head. “I’m not even close to done.”

Daryl’s stomach hardened into a tight pit and he waited for you to go on.

“I knew right away that something was different… with me, I mean. They separated me from the group, from my brother. Shoved me in a tiny, completely dark, barren cell.” Daryl watched your brow furrow. “Just me. Alone. Sometimes I was chained up, handcuffed, sometimes I wasn’t. Every second of every day I just sat in the dark and wondered what horrible thing was going to happen to me the next minute. I didn’t understand why I’d been singled out at first, except maybe that I’d fought the longest. I didn’t know if my brother was alive or dead…” Your eyes grew faraway, detached, and Daryl felt like someone had twisted a knife in his stomach. You went on. “The isolation and hunger was bad enough but they had more in their playbook. They purposely kept me awake for days at a time—lights, loud music. Some real Guantanamo Bay shit. I lost track of time. I thought I was going crazy after a while. It was obvious they were trying to break me. And then one day, he came.”

“Negan?” Daryl asked. You nodded.

“He told me I’d paid enough for trying to fight. That he understood why I had and that I had a few choices in front of me. I could eventually die in that cell, I could work, or…” you trailed off and shut your eyes for a moment. “He told me he thought I was…different. That I was tough, brave because of how I was during the fight and after. He said he’d—he’d taken a special liking to me and said I could marry him, be one of his wives, and live the way we did before the world fell apart. All I had to do was take care of him and his wants and needs and he’d take care of me.”

Daryl was staring at you with a scowl on his face, his stomach twisting at your words. His eyes were narrowed and he was so still he looked frozen. Anger was boiling in his chest. You gulped, hoping to clear your throat but weren’t successful.

“I asked him if my brother was alive and he said yes. I told him I’d work. I just wanted to be with my brother. So, I became one of the workers in The Sanctuary. You work there to earn points, which you use to ‘pay’ for food and whatever else you need, but it’s never enough. It’s slave labor where every once and a while they throw you a peanut. Conditions are terrible. And after a while, my brother and I were both almost wishing we were dead. But at least we were still together.” You settled back more deeply into the couch and sighed. “Negan rules with an iron fist. If someone tries to escape, someone steals, screws up at all…” Your face contorted as you thought about what you’d watched him do. “I’ve watched him do the most—inhuman, horrendous things... unfathomable. I watched him burn people with a hot iron, brand people, beat people to death for not following his orders perfectly… And his men? They’ll do the same things in his name, some of them worse. The whole place is guarded, patrolled, locked down like a fortress. But more than anything it’s the fear that keeps people there… And I was trapped in it because all I wanted to do was keep my brother alive and for us to stay together.”

You stopped for a moment and Daryl watched as you tried to steel yourself to go on.

“It was like that for a while. We were practically starving, always just waiting for the next thing, the next trauma. And then I got sick… Very sick.” Your eyes flitted up to meet his. “A blood infection. I was dying. And they’ve got a doctor, medicine, but if you use them you owe more than you could ever pay—and that means they own you even more than they already did. It’s just leverage to them. My brother—” your voice broke. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment and Daryl could hear you pull in a few slow but ragged breaths. “He tried to steal some antibiotics. To save me. And he got caught.”

You were silent for a long moment, trying to stop yourself from crying. Daryl just waited, feeling sick to his stomach, feeling enraged, wanting to tell you it was going to be okay, but knowing he couldn’t... Nothing he could say was going to fix whatever you were about to tell him. He knew that.

“I ended up in the infirmary anyway. I don’t even know how. I had been so delirious with fever and I can’t remember a lot from around then… But when I was better, eventually, Negan came to see me again. He told me they were going to make an example of my brother. He broke the rules and Negan couldn’t have people thinking you could get away with that. I knew what that meant. Negan would kill him horrifically. In front of me and everyone else.” Despite what you were saying, your voice was somewhat detached. It was like you were on autopilot as you explained, like you had told the story in your head a million times and were just replaying through it. Daryl thought you probably were.

“But he gave me another—another choice,” you said. Your tone conveyed that it was presented as a choice, but there was no refusing. “His offer still stood. If I ‘married’ him and became one of his wives, he’d spare my brother’s life and erase all of our debts.” Just saying the words made you feel sick and Daryl watched as you reached a hand out to clutch onto the arm of the couch as if you were spinning and needed grounding. “What could I do?” you asked, turning to look at Daryl again, your eyes frantic, devastated, shining with tears that you were barely containing. “I just thought—‘I need to keep him alive.’ That’s—that’s all I could think and I would deal with the rest of it later.” You opened your mouth to continue speaking but the words wouldn’t come out and your gaze at Daryl was desperate until you couldn’t look at him any longer.

“Hey,” he said. “Ya had to. S’alright. Ya didn’t have a choice.” He moved closer to you and was brave enough to gently lift your chin so you would look at him again, and the glistening in your eyes hit him like a punch. “Ya had to,” he said gently.

You nodded, shrugging vaguely. “I agreed. And Negan didn’t kill my brother but he cut off his hand in front of me and everyone else.” Your jaw clenched and you shut your eyes against the flashbacks.

Daryl stared at you in horror as you took a breath, trying to hold yourself together enough to continue. His face was growing darker and darker as you told the story.

“But we went on. He worked for points and I—” You couldn’t even speak of it. “For a while, that’s how it was.” You were suddenly silent and Daryl felt yet another twist in his stomach, apprehension about what was coming. You continued, your voice disconnected again. “And then one day Negan came in and told me that my brother—” you gritted your teeth against another wave of emotion. “My brother killed himself.”

You hurried on, afraid you wouldn’t be able to get anything else out if you didn’t rush through it.

“And the thing is—” your voice broke, “even that he didn’t do for himself. He didn’t do it because he was miserable there or because he couldn’t go on.” Your bottom lip quivered. “He did it because he knew that while he was there, alive, I wouldn’t leave. If he was alive, I wouldn’t try to escape. He killed himself to save me, to give me the option to get out.”

Daryl felt a sinking emptiness in the middle of his chest. For a moment he just sat still and watched as you struggled not to go entirely to pieces, but he couldn’t allow you to reel the way you were any longer. “C’mere,” he said gently. He enfolded you in his arms and you sank in against him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He could feel your shuddering breaths and he held you tighter to him, his heart racing, feeling sick waves of horror and anger. He rested his chin on the top of your head. “Ya got out. You’re out. S’alright.” He smoothed a hand over your hair and down your back until you stilled somewhat. You pulled back only slightly to look up at him, your faces mere inches apart.

“Do you understand?” you whispered. “You can’t just go barreling after them, Daryl. You can’t. I—I can’t lose you.”

Daryl gulped, his eyes flickering between yours… But inside he was thinking that everything you just told him was exactly why he had to go...

“I hear ya,” he said finally. He pressed you tightly against him again, shutting his eyes and relishing the feeling of you beneath his hands, even while his mind raced. He held you for a long time, until you seemed to have calmed again. Finally, he pulled back and looked into your face. “It’s—it’s gonna be alright.”

You soaked in the reassurance of him, calmed by his deep voice, his hands gentle on your arms.

“It’s—It’s late… Ya gonna be alright if I go? M’sorry. I don’t wanna leave ya but I wanna check on everybody…” he murmured.

You nodded. “You should. It’s okay. They—they probably need you. I’ll be fine,” you said, knowing it was probably a lie. You were sure you’d have nightmares that night if you managed to sleep at all. You slipped from him the rest of the way and as you separated, he felt like you took some part of him with you.

“G’night,” he murmured, climbing to his feet and collecting his crossbow from your coffee table. As he picked it up, he couldn’t help but think about how the bolt that had killed Denise had left his bow. He should have killed that asshole when he had the chance. “Y/N. Ya should tell Rick,” he said, nodding. “Ya should. If ya can. It’d help him understand, ya know?”

You considered him for a moment. “Okay. I will,” you replied. You watched him across the kitchen as he made his way to the front door, the wings on the back of his vest catching the light differently than the leather, almost looking like they were glowing. With his hand on the handle of the front door, he glanced back at you and gave you a thoughtful look. You managed a somewhat sad smile at him, anxiety still pulling one of your brows inward, and then he disappeared outside.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #sacrifice #daryl dixon series

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st0nesnglitter · 4 years

Text

Womanizer

Singing ”Womanizer” at Sirius after a fight.

[A couple things before you start reading.

1. I know that this doesn’t work with the canon timeline and I also don’t know how wizards play music, so please act blissfully unaware of that when you’re reading.

2. It gets a little spicy, so if you’re not comfortable with that it’s totally okay to skip this one.

3. I’m sure Marlene is a nice girl, but I needed someone to be a bad guy and she was the first name I could think of.]

—————

Being with Sirius Black could be frustrating but today he was particularly annoying. After a hard week of studying you two haven’t talked and all you wanted was to get some time alone with him before Gryffindors celebratory party for their latest quidditch win against Hufflepuff. But the interaction you had with him now was not what you wanted the whole week.

He stood before you, arms crossed and with a stern face.

“I can’t just stop being with my friends” he said bluntly and you sighed.

“I don’t mean that you should stop being with them, I just don’t think you need to be with them every night, especially since you spend almost every second of every day with them” you said and copied his pose by crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh cause you are so keen on being with me” he huffed “your head is always in a textbook, slaving away”.

Your brows furrowed and a gasp left your lips.

“You can’t compare me studying to you being with your friends!”

“I can and I will” he said and took a step closer to you “plus I’m not only hanging out with the guys, I have more friends than that and I need to keep up the contact.” You scoffed loudly and raised an eyebrow.

“You talk like it’s your job! And who, may I ask, are these mysterious friends that are not James, Remus or Peter?” You challenged as you saw his face becoming angrier.

“Marlene.” He stated simply and your face dropped.

Not being the most secure person in the world made it kind of hard dating Sirius. You had no doubt that Sirius was being faithful to you, his love for you ran deep and with his past he wouldn’t be able to stand being the one to hurt you. But that didn’t mean that girls would respect his relationship status. Countless of times girls tried to flirt with him and he always turned them down politetly. One girl you wished he didn’t turn down as nice however was Marlene McKinnon. She was on him as soon as you left his side and she. Wouldn’t. Stop.

”And why would you keep up the contact with her?” You asked with a hard tone.

If you had let down the facade of being angry with him he would immediatly soften and tell you the things he already have tenfold: that she’s annoying him and that he would never leave you, that he loves you dearly. But right now it was one stubborn and angry person against another waiting for the other to drop the act first, and Sirius never gave up a competition.

“She’s funny, likes adventure” he dropped nonchalantly and then added “you know you and Marlene has a lot in common”.

Your face scrunched up at the name and his face gained a look of pride.

“In the nicest way possible, love, jealousy does not suit you” he said and that shit-eating grin wouldn’t leave his face.

“In the nicest way possible, fuck you Sirius” you retaliated and left his dorm.

You had gone to your own room and when you were pulled away from the situation you were simultaneously pulled away from your anger. Your eyes stinged but you refused to let the tears fall as you went to the bathroom of your dorm. The party would start soon and your roommates were already in the midst of getting ready. After one look in the mirror you took a deep breath and decided that you had to play his game to win tonight.

Walking down to the party you felt your heartbeat quicken and before entering you took another deep breath, but you were pulled from your mini meditation by your friends who didn’t want to miss anything.

The music was loud and everywhere there were people dancing, making out and drinking. Someone had casted a spell that made the roof sheen in different colors that lit up the otherwise dark room. The energy filled your body and you could finally let your thoughts about Sirius go. You followed your friends to get some firewhiskey and downed it as fast as possible to catch up with the rest of the people on the dancefloor.

After a considerable time you felt a rush from your legs to your head and you could let go. You slowly neared the floor and you started dancing. You felt a pair of dainty hands on your hips and looked up to find Lilys eyes, her cheeks flushed from the heat in the room and the alcohol she’s consumed. A smile broke out and you started dancing with her with your arms over her shoulders. She started giggling and you furrowed your brows to ask what she was laughing at and she leaned in to your ear.

“Looks like we have a crowd” she whispered and nodded in the direction of one of the couches and you looked over your shoulder.

Behind you James and Sirius sat beside each other, looking deliciously handsome, with whiskeys glasses in their hands and their gazes trained on their girls. The skintight dresses and your dancing hade definitely gathered their attention but they were broke out of their trance when a girl sat down next to Sirius and your eyes darkened. Marlene.

Siriuis turned his head toward her and he gave her a smirk. The way she placed her hand on his shoulder and not so subtly looked at his exposed chest that peeked out from his white dress shirt made you see red and you decided to put the plan you had prepared in action.

You whispered in the ear of the guy who was playing the music and he looked at you quizically but nodded and you mouthed a ‘thank you’ as you walked back to Lily.

“What did you do?” She asked as you started to walk past her and to the couch where your black haired boyfriend sat and you grabbed his wrist.

“Can you come with me please?” You smiled and pulled him onto his feet. Sirius face changed and he tried to figure out what you were doing. As you led him to the open floor the beginning of the song you had requested started playing. You smiled sweetly at Sirius as the first words played out in the common room before you grabbed his attention by starting mouthing the words.

“Superstar, where you from? How's it going?

I know you got a clue what you're doing

You can play brand new to all the other chicks out here, but I know what you are, what you are, baby

Look at you gettin' more than just a re-up

Baby, you got all the puppets with their strings up”

Sirius kept his gaze on you like his life depended on it and he slowly started to realize what this was for, drinking up the words booming from the hidden speakers.

“Fakin' like a good one but I call 'em like I see 'em

I know what you are, what you are, baby”

As the chorus approached you got closer to him, pressing your body against his and placing your hands on his pecs.

“Womanizer, woman-womanizer, you're a womanizer, oh, womanizer, oh, you're a womanizer, baby”

His lips parted and everything clicked as you sang the words with a hard gaze. Instinctively he grabbed your waist and watched you totally mesmerized by your bold actions. He had always seen you as timid, especially when it came to your relationship. Secretly he had wished you would yell at Marlene not only so he didn’t have to but to see you stand up for yourself. But he would be lying if he didn’t admit that he found this both amusing and kind of hot.

“Boy don't try to front, I-I

Know just, just, what you are, are-are

Boy don't try to front, I-I

Know just, just, what you are, are-are”

One of your hands moved up to the nape of his neck and started to play with some of his hair. His grip on your hips tightened and he bit his lip as you pulled slightly. Your lips turned into a pout as you sang the finishing words of the chorus, feigning an innocent look.

“You got me goin'

You're oh so charmin'

But I can't do it

You womanizer”

You had to gather every little drop of self-control to not laugh as you watched his face drop and you started backing away, his hands trying to push you close to him again. A smirk formed on your lips as you leaned against the closest wall and you tilted your head to look at him.

“Daddy-O, you got the swagger of a champion

Too bad for you, you just can't find the right companion”

He got closer and your hand returned to his shoulder, your own eyes following how your fingers moved which made his gaze to follow yours.

“I guess when you have one too many, makes it hard, it could be easy”

You fingers walked down the expanse of his shoulder in time to the beat of the music and your eyes returned to his face.

“Who you are”

His eyes met yours once again. Your finger dragged upwards from the gap between his collarbones, over his adams apple and finally flicked from under his chin, making his head push back lightly.

“That's just who you are, baby”

You mouthed the words with your eyebrow slightly raised as you were hammering your point into his head.

“Womanizer, woman-womanizer, you're a womanizer

Oh, womanizer, oh, you're a womanizer, baby

You, you-you are, you, you-you are

Womanizer, womanizer, womanizer”

As he leaned closer to you, desperate for any attention from you that wasn’t the lyrics of the song ringing in his ears, you started to shift and turned the two of you around. Even though he was taller and in other ways bigger than you you felt incredibly powerful as you pushed him against the wall.

“Boy don't try to front, I-I

Know just, just, what you are, are-are

Boy don't try to front, I-I

Know just, just, what you are, are-are”

Your hands went to fix his collar and straighten out the creases in his shirt.

“You got me goin'

You're oh so charmin'

But I can't do it

You womanizer

You say I'm crazy

I got your crazy”

You grabbed his jaw and made him look into your eyes as you pushed his cheek together to create a pout on his lips as you spat out the last line.

“You're nothing but a womanizer”

—————

I genuinely can’t tell if this is good or not so let me know what you think. I have an idea for part 2 too soooo uuuh watch out for that ig.

#sirius black #sirius x you #sirius orion black #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black blurb #sirius black fic #sirius black angst

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soniaxdixon · 4 years

Text

My Girl

Word count: 1847

Set end of season 3 start of season 4ish

Summary: You and Daryl have an unspoken relationship and when a new girl comes to the prison, you let her know very clearly who Daryl is with.

Warnings: Swearing, TWD gore, reader is a bit hot headed.

Rick bringing the people of Woodbury to the prison was definitely a surprise to you all but in this day and age, strength came in numbers so you were lucky to have this many people now. The governor was still at large and no one had any idea where he could have possibly gone which meant that you all needed to be prepared. Most of the people from Woodbury where either older or didn’t know how to fight which was an issue. You were one of the best fighters among your group along with Daryl, Maggie, Glenn and of course Rick but Rick had other commitments which left the four of you to run lessons. Maggie and Glenn taught the newcomers how to use guns and knives while you and Daryl taught hand to hand classes. Most of your classes involved sparring and it always helped when there were even numbers of people but today Rick had brought in a new person who he had found on the road a few days ago. She was quite small and didn’t know how to fight at all, you wondered how she had survived this far.

Rick brought her over to you and Daryl once she had rested for a few days, she was now ready to learn to defend herself.

“You’re not gonna find better teachers than these two.” Rick led the girl over to you and Daryl, gesturing towards you as he spoke. You both walked up to meet the two of them in the middle of the field. “Mia, this is y/n and Daryl.” Her eyes flicked between the two of you, looking Daryl up and down far too many times for your liking.

You and Daryl had been in love with each other since the day you met, you shared a cell and everything but you still hadn’t technically made things ‘official.’ Your group liked to make jokes about how obvious your feelings were except you seemed to be oblivious to each other for so long.

You noticed Daryl’s breath hitch as her eyes slowly roamed his body, your stomach twisting in knots as you watched her practically undress him with her stare. You broke the silence, drawing her eyes back to you.

“How long you been out there”

“It’s been a while, since I lost my boyfriend I’ve been all alone.”

Her eyes flicked back to Daryl earning an eye roll from you. “Shame.”

Daryl cleared his throat, “Right, we better get started with the rest of em over there. Come on.”

You followed Daryl back over to the group, Mia standing close behind him like a lost puppy.

“Right, today we are working on getting out of someone’s grip. There may be times where someone grabs you, pins you, whatever, you need to be able to get out of it. Watch Daryl and I first, then buddy up and start practicing.”

You walked over to Daryl turning to face the group as he stood behind you, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame, trapping your arms.

“This is where you would kick their shins or slam your head into their face. The shock should be enough to throw them off their game to which you should be able to rip your way out of their hold then turn and kick them until they’re down and keep them down. Your turn, find a partner and get started.”

Everyone had a partner except for Mia, she was walking over towards Daryl before you stepped in.

“Excuse me” She looked passed you her sites still set on Daryl.

“Just practice with me, let’s see what you got.”

“Don’t you think it would be better if I had someone bigger holding me to see if I can really get out of this situation?” She batted her eyelashes towards Daryl as she spoke. Was this girl for real? Couldn’t she take a hint?

“You know what, you’re so right.” Sarcasm dripped from your words.

Her smile grew as she started walking towards Daryl again.

“Hey Tyrese, can you give me a hand here for a second?” Your words stopped her in her tracks, anger taking over her face.

You stood back with Daryl and watched as everyone practiced what you had taught them, all except Mia who just wasn’t getting out of Tyrese’s grip.

Then sun began to set as you wrapped up the classes. “We’ll see you all tomorrow, same time, same place as always.”

You and Daryl began to walk back to the prison as your stomach’s growled.

“Any idea what we’re havin’ for dinner?” Daryl asked you but your mind remained focused on the girl staring at him.

“Hm? Oh um, I think Carol made a stew.”

You ate with the rest of your family before making your way over to the showers, Daryl heading up towards your shared cell. While you were in the shower, Mia took the opportunity to head over to your cell and chat with Daryl.

“Hey Daryl.”

“Hey, Mia right?”

“Yeah, I was wondering if you run one on one classes? I feel like I’ve missed a lot of training here and I thought it might be good to catch up.”

“We usually just run the group classes.”

“Oh. Would you be willing to maybe just help me out a bit then, I promise I’m a fast learner and I’ll do anything you tell me.” She had a devilish look to her when she spoke. Daryl chewed his thumb as he thought about her question. She seemed like she really just wanted to learn and it wouldn’t hurt to have her learn a few extra things.

“M’kay, meet me where we had class today, after breakfast.”

“Thank you!” She squealed as she made her way to her cell.

You got out of the shower, drying off and dressing into your pyjamas before you climbed the stairs up to your cell. By the time you got in there Daryl had changed and climbed under the covers, his arm covering his eyes. You couldn’t help but let your eyes roam over his toned arms.

“I know ya starin’ at me.” You giggled at his comment before climbing over him onto the other side of the bed, rolling over and facing the wall. He rolled onto his side and wrapped his arm around your waist pulling your body flush against his. You traced circles around his arm that was draped over you.

“What do you think about that new girl, Mia?” You asked him, your eyes remaining focused on the wall in front of you.

“She seems harmless.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Goodnight Daryl.”

“Mhm, night.”

You squeezed his arm before letting your arm slide back down onto the pillow under you, drifting to sleep with your archer behind you.

You woke up before Daryl, his arm was still wrapped around you, loose enough that you could slide out of his grip and shuffle off the bed. He stirred slightly as you climbed off the bunk.

“Where ya goin’?”

“I have fence duty, go back to sleep. I’ll see you for lunch.” You bent down and kissed him on the forehead before exiting your cell and making your way down to the fences.

After about an hour of stabbing walkers through the fence you saw Daryl walk out of the prison, you waved at him and he sent a smile your way. You turned back around and continued to take care of the walker issue.

“Hey y/n” The southern drawl you knew so well caught your attention.

“Hey Ricky.” You smiled cheekily, he hated when you called him that but part of him loved it, it showed how close the two of you were.

“How’d that new girl, Mia go at classes yesterday?”

“Not great, she needs a lot of work. Plus, I think she has a thing for Daryl and that’s not on.”

“Well you’re not gonna like this.” Your stomach dropped at his words.

“What?” He gestured over towards the middle of the field where Daryl and Mia were sparring. One on One.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” You glared at the two of them, your stomach twisting repeatedly when you could hear her giggles whenever Daryl would go to grab her.

“Go handle it, I got you covered for a bit.”

You stabbed one more walker through the head violently yanking your knife back out sending blood everywhere as you shook it and shoved it back in its sheath. You could feel your anger rise every time Daryl put his hands on her, you could see her leaning into his touch.

————

“Alright let’s try again.” Mia said, looking at Daryl with a spark in her eyes.

“M’kay one more time.” Daryl went to wrap his arms around her from behind but at the last second she turned and was facing him, her hands pressed up against his chest which caught him off guard as he stepped back. “What the hell?”

“Come on Daryl, we should have a bit of fun while we’re here.” She started leaning up towards him before he took another step back. “Don’t tell me you’re not attracted to me, I know you want me and I’ll give you everything and more. More than y/n can give you.”

“You’re fucking crazy, ya know that?”

She took a step towards him, placing her hands on his shoulder before his eyes met yours, you were now almost standing directly behind Mia and she was oblivious.

“My girl ain’t gonna like this.”

“She doesn’t have to know, I don’t see her anywhere.”

With that, you grabbed her hair and yanked her so hard she hit the floor. “Now you do.”

“y-y/n I-” She struggled to find words before you stood next to Daryl, looking down at her.

“You ever try anything again, you even think about trying anything again, I will personally tie you to a tree and let the walkers finish you off. Do you understand me?”

She gulped, “Yes”

“Good, now go and find someone else to teach you how to fight. I’m sick of seeing your face.”

She pushed herself off the floor and scurried towards the prison building.

Daryl went to grab your hand but you pulled away.

“Nuh uh. Not letting you off that easy asshole. What the hell were you thinking?”

“She asked for a one on one session to help her improve, I thought she was bein’ serious but obviously not.”

“Mhm.” You started to walk away from him before turning back “My girl, huh?” Daryl rubbed the back of his neck. “I like it.” You started to walk back down towards the fence to return to Rick as Daryl’s eyes focused on the swing in your hips.

He smiled sheepishly at the ground before following you like a lovesick teen. He was completely under your spell and would never have done anything with Mia. You knew that but you needed Mia to know who he was with and that he was not fair game.

She understood that now.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x grimes reader #you x daryl dixon #you x daryl #daryl x you #twd #twd fic #twd series #twd fic series #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fic #the walking dead imagine

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hyenahunt · 3 years

Text

Secret Service: GLOBALISM - 2

Writer: Akira

Season: Winter

Characters: Kohaku, Niki

Proofreading: bakemonoremy (JP) & Skyress (ENG)

Translation: haranami

Niki: I’ll pay as much as you want — from Rinne-kun’s wallet, of course!

Location: Osaka

[A few hours later, in Osaka.]

Kohaku: ……

Niki: Huh~? No fair, Kohaku-chan! That looks so yummy!

Thanks to that “Order” or whatever, I can’t even eat the things I want to! I’m on the brink of death here!

Kohaku: ……

…Oh, yeah. Ya came all the way to Osaka, Niki-han, but you’re not allowed to eat anythin’ with flour in it, right? [1]

Niki: Yeah, exactly! I’m low on flour! Somebody, anybody! Gimme some of that sweet white powder! I’ll pay as much as you want — from Rinne-kun’s wallet, of course!

Kohaku: Hey, quit yellin’ things that people are gonna misinterpret... But food made outta flour, huh? The first things that come t’mind are takoyaki an’ okonomiyaki.

Niki: Aghhh, don’t say their names! My tummy’s getting even grumblier now~!

At this rate, I’m gonna lose myself to hunger and rob a kitchen or something! Please, you’ve gotta stop me before I turn into a criminal!

Kohaku: It’s your stomach. You’ve gotta at least be able t’control it on your own… but I can’t say that t’you of all people, Niki-han. It’s basically like a sickness in your case.

You can eat things that don’t have flour in ‘em, right? I’ll buy ya an onigiri from that convenience store over there t’tide you over fer now.

An’ then, the moment the SS preliminaries end, ya can eat takoyaki an’ the like till you’re sick of it.

Niki: But I wanna eat some now! Ugh, at least let me breathe in the scent wafting over from your plate…!

Kohaku: Quit clingin’ t'me, you’re gettin’ in the way.

Rinne-han an' HiMERU-han always act like they’ve got a screw or two loose, but you definitely need supervision too when you’re hungry.

I’ve got a lot on m’plate. That's why I don’t wanna leave Osaka unless I absolutely have to.

Niki: Ahaha! Now that you mention it, HiMERU-kun actually does weird stuff pretty often, huh?

He’s gotten even worse ever since we came to Osaka. Is it ‘cause of his Order? Or is that just how he is?

Kohaku: I reckon that ain’t his true self. HiMERU-han’s actually a pretty jolly fellow.

Niki: Yup. I’m happy that HiMERU-kun doesn’t really put up a front anymore, especially not around us.

Crazy: B’s slowly but steadily moving forward in a good direction.

Kohaku: Yeah, I sure hope so… Though our fans might think that we’re bein’ too obedient an’ not very Crazy:B-like at all.

Niki: Nah, peace is the best! War leads to hungry stomachs…!

Kohaku: That’s true. Back when we were kids, I’m sure we all learnt that fightin’ an’ squabblin’ amongst ourselves ain’t worth it, so I wonder why it’s so hard for us t’let go of the weapons in our hands?

Can’t say I mind too much, though. If everybody stays this way, we’re never gonna be out of a job.

(...Havin’ convinced myself of that, I gave up. I was sure that, at least durin’ my lifetime, nothin’ would end up changin’.)

(But, even though I jus’ donned this title of “idol” on a whim, as a way to protect an’ watch over Bou…)

(I realized that it gives ya a tremendous amount of power — more than I could’ve imagined.)

(If ya make an ally out of an establishment as huge an’ influential as ES, there’s nothin’ ya won’t be able to do. At least within this country, that is.)

(SS is proof of that.)

(They do have the support of the Gatekeeper, who’s got tons of funds overseas, but it’s been one miracle after another ever since SS started.)

(ES has been actin’ like a god would, toyin’ around with this whole country however they’d like — they showed us all how they’ve got enough power t’do so.)

(The average person wouldn’t even notice, though. They’d jus’ keep cheerin’ us idols on without a care in the world.)

(I’m sure the people with sharp instincts have an idea of what’s goin’ on, an’ they’re probably tryin’ to take action. But, if ya wanna overpower ES, you’d have t’be as powerful as a god, too.)

(An’ the fastest way to do that is t’win SS.)

(The premise of the competition has always been that the champion would get the support of the entire idol industry.)

(But the situation’s changed, an’ not in a good way. Getting full backing from ES means being able t’use that godlike authority however ya choose.)

(I’m sure there are people out there who’d use that tremendous power t’fulfill their personal desires, like our Vice Prez-han or Rinne-han...)

(An’ there are also people like the members of Trickstar or Rabu-han who jus’ consider the title of SS champion t’be nothin’ more than a fancy gold medal.)

(But a portion of people have started t’notice that this country is facin’ a real abnormality; these are unprecedented times. Winnin’ SS means that you’ll be able t’make the next era yours.)

(You’ll basically be able t’grant any wish you could dream of. SS is the holy grail that everyone’s been searchin’ an’ longin’ for.)

(I wonder how many people would be able t’hold themselves back if they saw that danglin’ right before their eyes? Right now, we’re gettin’ along, havin’ fun as we do our idol work, just like always.)

(But how long is that gonna last?)

(Desire drives people mad. Hope an’ dreams lead ‘em astray. Love an’ justice tempt ‘em into error.)

(But the gamblin’ den opened its doors long ago. No one can leave anymore… not this late in the game.)

✦✦✦✦✦

Translation Note:

1. Unfortunately for Niki, most of Osaka's specialties use flour in some way.

✦✦✦✦✦

← prev ✦ all ✦ next →

#enstars #enstars translation #ensemble stars #s: secret service #hyenahunttl #era: !!#type: event #kohaku oukawa #niki shiina

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lovemybluebully · 3 years

Text

Danger Room Level 1

Posted this at the beginning of the year on my DA account. Thought I’d throw it up on here. This was my first Wolverine tickle pic in 4 years! O_O

https://www.deviantart.com/lovemybluebully/art/Danger-Room-Level-1-865337680

Wrote a little story to go along with it.

Story is below the ‘Keep Reading’ line.

*/M Tickle Fic (Obviously lol) "Any other surprise challenges for me today, bub? Or is that all ya got?" Wolverine smirked confidently up at the team leader of the X-men, glancing over his shoulder at the pile of rubble consisting of destroyed weaponry and dismembered sentinels and robots of all sizes. Cyclops only sighed as he shook his head and looked down at the Canadian brawler from the control room of their training facility, having exhausted almost every combination of attacks that he could think to throw at him.

These scenarios of Wolverine slicing and dicing up every obstacle and foe were quite predictable and honestly getting a tad boring to watch over and over. Scott decided it was time to try something a little different. "No, this just isn't working. These upper level programs are just all foreseeable for you. Lets try something new. I say we scrap everything and start over from scratch. How about we start you at level 1?"

Logan's smirk disappeared as he frowned up at the other man. "Level 1? Yer kiddin' me, right? That's the program the Professor uses to train the kiddies."

"Trust me Logan it'll be perfect for you. Since you've always skipped over the bottom levels you'll have no idea what they contain so you won't be able to predict them so easily. Hell I don't even know myself exactly what is on each level, but lets give it a shot! Maybe we'll both learn something." Scott actually wasn't lying since he himself had been too competent for those beginner programs when he had joined the X-men. It was likely that Logan would just blow right through them, but he was curious and quite frankly desperate for a change of pace. "Fine. But this is gonna be just a waste o' time," Logan grumbled as he lazily stretched out his arms and cracked his neck. "Don't underestimate the Danger Room and dismiss this program so easily. It may be aimed towards the less experienced, but should still provide its own formidable experience. Remember to stay alert and don't let your guard down." Wolverine just scoffed and blew off his advice like he normally did. "Yeah whatever Slim. Lets get on with it."

"Ok great. Now just a moment here. I'm initiating level 1....," Scott uttered with some fast typing on the control board before pressing one final button, "Now." They waited for a few quiet moments, but nothing happened. Logan was about to quip some sarcastic remark when finally the Danger Room began to show some activity. A compartment on the wall opened and two gloved robotic hands being controlled by metal tentacles began to slowly make their way over to him. Logan snorted in disbelief and shook his head as he looked over the two appendages and noted that they were not holding any kinds of weapons; basically looking completely harmless.

"That's it? This is ridiculous. What's next, a pillow fight? Not that I expected this crap to be any kinda challenge whatsoever," Logan rolled his eyes as he raised his hands into the air and released his deadly claws; ready to dispatch the advancing robot hands with a quick swipe once they closed in. Not even a second later he quickly found his arms ensnared as two metal tentacles had crept in from behind to successfully restrain him much to Logan's shock. He growled as he tried to slice at the tentacles with his sharp claws, but they firmly held his arms away from each other just above his head. The distraction had been just enough that he barely had time to notice that the gloved hands had now reached him as one of them wasted not a moment to grab hold of the hem of his uniform's shirt and roughly jerk it upwards, exposing his bare stomach.

"Hey! What is...?!" He shouted in confusion; his words cut off as the other hand immediately shot forward and buried it's furiously wriggling digits right into his muscular belly.

Logan hadn't listened to Scott. He had let his guard down completely when he had seen this "threat" first enter the room. His overconfidence was now going to be his downfall for mocking the capabilities of the robot hand; the hand that was now ruthlessly tickling him. This tactic was a complete shock to him, and having not put up any of his mental defenses in preparation the laughter exploded out of him as soon as contact was made. "Ahahahaahaa! Wha-Whahahat's goin' ohohohon?! Stahahap thaaat!" He howled out at the mindless hand that relentlessly continued tickling all over his sensitive abdomen; the other hand holding his shirt securely out of the way. Scott too was in complete awe by just what method the program had decided to use, though he couldn't help but grin as he saw the situation that his normally cantankerous teammate was now in. It was already a known fact by the mansion's inhabitants that Logan was surprisingly ticklish as his female team members found it quite endearing and took great delight in ganging up on the burly mutant at times. Heightened senses did have their drawbacks. Still nothing that Scott himself would partake in, knowing that while Logan might put up with it from the ladies he was pretty sure he'd be skewered on the spot if he even made a hint at attempting such a thing. In a way he now felt that he had a sense of power in having Logan in this position. "See? That's what happens when you underestimate the situation, now get to work Logan. Tickling probably isn't a real world offensive that you're going to run into, but no harm in being extra prepared." Wolverine's claws remained out, but he couldn't move his arms enough to free himself. Unable to think straight he continued to fail in his efforts to come up with a strategy to get out of this aside from yelling up at the amused operator in the control room. "Cyyyykehehehee! Tuhuhurn thihis shihihihiiit ohahahahoff!!" Arms bulging he thrashed uselessly in the grip of the tentacles, trying to block the torturous hand from his body by lifting his knee to no avail. He'd been tickled worse than this before, but never had he been this helpless to defend himself. Meanwhile Scott mused over the scene before him. It in fact was a little stupid to be messing with one of the world's deadliest mutant's like this, and he was pretty sure there would be Hell to pay later. His hand hovered momentarily over the button to shut down the Danger Room, but then he pulled back. "No, I think you just need a little more time to figure this out. I have faith in you. I mean, this program is only used to train the 'kiddies', right?" Yup. He was pretty sure Logan was going to kill him after this. "Fuhuhuhuck yooooouuuu!!" Logan cackled as he desperately tried to regain some kind of focus though was only barely able to retract his claws back into his hands, knowing that they were of no use. "Aw c'mon Logan. You're not that ticklish, are you? Can't resist just one little hand tickling you?" Scott couldn't help but tease a bit, having on more than one occasion seen Logan nearly lose his mind from just having his stomach tickled by his teenage sidekick, Jubilee. No sooner had he said that when a third hand began to move in from out of Logan's sight before grabbing the squirming mutant right below his ribs as the fingers playfully dug in over and over again.

"Bwahahahahahahahahaa!! Noooo!! Gehehet 'em offa meeheeheehee!!" Roaring with laughter from the added torture Logan was regretting not taking the lowest level of the Danger Room more seriously. With his arms being held out of the way he couldn't even use them to help guard his body no matter how hard he pulled to free them. It wasn't much longer before his legs began to weaken as he attempted to sink to the floor to hopefully get him a split second of reprieve.

He was allowed to move to the ground, but the hands were unrelenting. With a firm tug the restraining tentacles around his forearms pulled him down onto his back as a few more hands now appeared seemingly out of nowhere to join in tickling under his arms and the other side of his ribcage.

"No!! No!! Stahahahap ihihihihit!! Lemme outtahahaha heeheeheeeere!!" The Wolverine howled as he kicked and squirmed like crazy; his armpits being one of his worst spots. Two other metal tentacles quickly slithered over and grabbed onto each leg to stretch him out and prevent him from curling up in defense. Tears crept out of the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard as so far he had made no progress in getting loose. "Very disappointing Logan. I thought for sure you'd have passed all these lower levels with ease. Well it seems we've uncovered your true weakness. Something that your healing factor won't protect you from. We'll probably have to repeat this level over and over until you get it right," Scott grinned wider, only half serious as he liked to push Logan's buttons at any given opportunity. He was hardly listening though; too focused on the incessant tickle torture. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse two additional hands made their way over and quickly tugged off his boots, revealing his twitching bare feet as Logan's eyes bulged in panic. "HEY!! Hey hey waahaahaait a m...minute!! No don't!! Not the-AAAHAHAHHAHAHA!!" Fingers wildly scratched at his tender soles, tickling from his wide heels to up under his curled up toes with not a thing he could do to stop them. He was laughing harder than he'd ever had as the tears began to roll down his cheeks. He absolutely could not handle having his feet tickled and once had accidentally kicked Rogue for trying. Luckily she is a tough woman though she used it as an excuse to really punish him with his ankles trapped in the crook of her super strong arm while Logan hysterically cried 'Uncle'. This was more than he could stand. Being spread out and tickled in all his most sensitive spots at once with no way to guard himself was where he drew the line. He loathed the thought of what he was about to do, but he couldn't hold back the frantic pleas that came pouring out. "NAAAHAHAHAHAHOOOO!! N-NO MORE!! STOPSTOP!! PLEEHEEHEEEEASE!! I CAN'T..HAHAHAHAHAA..CAAHAAHAAN'T T-TAKE THIHIHIIS SHIIIIIT!!" Scott was just enjoying the show as he chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "Wow. Who knew? All one has to do to defeat Wolverine is to tickle him and he'll be begging for mercy. Better hope none of your enemies ever find out about this one."

And with that he finally pushed the button to shut down the currently running program in the Danger Room. He'd have been more than happy to let it keep going, but even he could feel some sympathy for his frenemy and knew once he started begging that he had had enough. Logan instantly panted in relief as the hands all stopped tickling him while he was gently released from the restraints, everything then retracting back into the chambers that they had emerged from. A giggle escaped him here and there as he still had a phantom feeling of the fingers all over on his body.

Scott slowly clapped his hands in jest from the control room as he grinned down at the seemingly lifeless body. "Not bad, Logan! I think you almost had it there, but I'm sure you'll do better next time! So what do you think? Ready for level 2?"

The middle claw that immediately popped out of Logan's fist crudely gave him his answer.

#tickling #tickletorture #tickle #ticklish!wolverine #ticklish!logan #wolverine #loganhowlett #xtas #dangerroom #ticklefic #scottsummers #cyclops #marvel #tickleart

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years

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Chapter One. Welcome to Sweetland

the scene is set in 1956, a young man moved to Hollywood to follow his dreams of becoming an actor. But with little money and a struggle to keep his apartment, he is approached by a man who offers him a job at Sweetland

a/n: THE FIRST CHAPTER IS FINALLY HERE! this story is loosely based on the Netflix series ‘Hollywood’. just the general concept of it and ofc adding my own twist to it. I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing it! happy reading <3

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The familiar click of his boots onto the tiled shiny floor is what Harry looked forward to all the time.

He found motivation as he walked down the hall as he passed by locals pacing back and forth with their fingernails in their mouths or sitting on chairs against the wall as they nervously chatted with one another. Some of the girls glanced at him seductively as he walked, making his confidence shoot up a bit. Harry took each and every single one of them in; telling himself to not let their anxiousness get the better of him because he was better than them, he was more good looking than them, and he was a better actor than them. At least that’s what his self affirmations tell himself every morning.

The bright light shining from above him as he takes each step made him feel like a spotlight. He put on his best game face and walked confidently as he wore a white crisp button down shirt with a yellow polka vest, blue flared jeans, and red boots. It was his lucky outfit and one of his favorites. It was a stuffy outfit for the hot weather in Hollywood, but he needed to look dashing. Plus they were all a steal in the clearance section!

“Harry! Over here!” He saw Mikey waving over at him at the end of the hall. Harry waved back at him as he hurriedly walked towards him.

“Hey, Mikey. How is it in there?” He asked as they tried peeking into the room everyone has been waiting to have a chance to get into.

“Man, it’s crazy. Everyone in there is so intimidating!” Mikey shook his head as he looked up at Harry. He was a tad bit shorter than Harry, but he was humorous and the camera always loved a funny person.

Harry and Mikey met in front of the gates at Paramount Studios almost a year ago. They were both standing right next to each other amongst the hundreds of people waving their hands up in the air as they tried to get the attention of the casting directors. But in the midst of it all the chaos, Harry had accidentally elbowed Mikey’s head, which caused him to get infuriated and led them to a fight.

“Think you can go fucking around elbowing people, huh?” Failed punches were being thrown at one another as they tackled each other to the ground; a crowd had circled around him. Despite Mikey’s height, he was underestimated. He was feisty, tough and can pretty much handle anyone.

But that fight had been broken up by security, and somehow and some way, the casting directors found that entertaining and picked the both of them to be an extra. They were both ecstatic, not knowing a so-called fist fight would lead them to being an extra on set. Of course, it was hard to work with one another after the fight they had caused. But after throwing looks at one another, they figured it was best to get along and work together.

And they found out they had many things in common and respected each other’s dislikes. Since then, they’ve been by each other’s side.

“I’m sure you did great. Don’t sweat it,” Harry patted Mikey’s shoulder, reassuring him from his audition.

“Oh, oh! They’re coming! Get ready!”

Two older women walked out of the doors of the room that was frightening but exhilarating all at once. Everyone rushed to the entrance of the door, putting on their best smiles and mystery looks as the two women looked around to find their perfect face. Harry stood still, not putting on his best look as a way to tell them he was trying too hard.

“Alright, here’s how this is going to work,” one of the women screamed out to the eager crowd. She was tough as she wore an all black dress that stopped below her knees and 2 inch heels. Her expression was stern, giving everyone a hard look as they listened to her. “I’m going to choose two of you to walk inside with us and you will be given a chance to audition. We want to see the best actors and actresses to give us the performance of a lifetime.”

“Everyone ready?” The other woman in purple said and everyone nodded their heads. “Please get into two lines on both sides of the wall.” The crowd did so. Harry being the first one in the line since Mikey saved him a spot. Nervous was an understatement for Harry. He wanted to be chosen and this can finally be the start of the career he’s been dreaming of.

The two women glanced at everyone as they walked between the lines, looking at everyone’s smiles and anxious looks. Everyone’s heads turned as they walked passed by them, frowns present on their faces as they didn’t get chosen.

After a few minutes, Harry heard their heels clicking onto the floor as they were walking back. He turned his head and saw a girl walking behind them as she beamed in excitement. A small frown was placed on his face, feeling as his hopes have been crushed.

Suddenly, he felt their presence stop walking and stopped in front of him. His head immediately was brought back up to look at them, frown was replaced by a small smile.

“You’re good looking,” the lady in black said with no emotion. Her stare was intimidating, making Harry stutter.

“T-Thank you,” he cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said again more clearly.

“Can you smile for me?” She asked. Harry gave her his best smile. The one that wasn’t too bright nor the one that wasn’t too small. But he gave his charming smile, making his dimples pop out. She looked at him for a few seconds as she stared into his eyes before she said, “Okay, come with me.” And she walked off into the room followed by the other director and the girl that they picked.

Harry couldn’t believe that they actually picked him. He turned towards Mikey and he was smiling so big, giving him a big thumbs up and a pat on his shoulder.

“Go get ‘em kid!” He lightly pushed him towards the door as Harry felt his feet were stuck to the ground from the shock.

Entering the room, he was met by the eyes of three other producers sitting at a long table. They had their coffees in front of them and a notepad with a pen, looking through a list of actors and actresses they’ve come across.

“Okay, just wait here as we prepare. Names?” the lady in purple positioned Harry and the other girl in the center of the room in front of the table of people that would dictate his future as she got their names before walking back to the table.

The room was freezing and Harry shook as he got shivers down his spine.

“Nervous?” The girl said next to him.

“Yeah, a bit. You?”

“Eh, I’m doing okay. Not my first audition,” she said in a bragging tone, and Harry just simply nodded. She was a small petite girl with long hair as she wore a pink pleated skirt with a pink striped top. Her hair was short as it curled up towards the end of it, giving her a more girly and preppy look. “I’m Brandy,” she introduced herself.

“Harry.” They softly and quickly shook hands.

“Say, Harry, how about we have a little fun after this audition?” Harry looked down at her and she gave him a brow raise with a teasing smirk.

“Uh-” Harry hesitated and luckily, they were interrupted.

“Okay, you two. Since we planned on not doing any scripts for this audition, you’re going to need to improvise. Show us your true and natural talent. I’ll set the scene: you two are at a party and are about to break up. Okay? Ready? Action!” One of the producers told them hurriedly, giving them no time to take it all in.

Harry and Brandy turned towards each other, and Harry’s face was immediately met with the palm of Brandy’s hand, giving him a hard and loud slap to his cheek. Harry’s head whipped to the side, covering the sting with his hand.

“What the fuck?” Harry asked in shock.

“How dare you break up with me! You don’t get to break up with me,” Brandy’s eyes were immediately filled with tears, and Harry wondered how she was so quick to make herself cry like that.

“I-I’m sorry. But it’s not my fault I caught you fucking some other guy!” Harry retorted back. Brandy’s tears had fallen onto her face, and Harry’s face remained annoyed.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. It didn’t mean anything. I promise I won’t do it again,” she grabbed his hands as she pleaded.

“No,” Harry started softly, feeling sympathy for his co-partner. “This has to end. It’s for the best-”

“CUT!” One of the men screamed out, interrupting their scene.

“Great, great job guys. That’s all we need. Brandy, come see us. Harry, you’re free to go.”

Brandy squealed beside him, walking towards the table to possibly talk about a contract and a part in a film while Harry slowly walked back to the entrance that was now his exit, feeling completely gutted. He thought he did fairly well; if they had given them more time, he would’ve been able to continue on and show them what they’re really missing. But that was their decision, and Harry had no choice but to try again the next time.

As he exited the room, he was immediately met by Mikey waiting for him with a big and hopeful smile.

“Well? Got that contract you wanted?” He asked.

Harry shook his head in defeat. “Gonna try again the next time. Didn’t fully get to show my talent y’know?” He said as the two friends walked towards the exit of the building. Mikey put his arm around Harry’s body, hand resting on top of his shoulder.

“There will be plenty of more auditions to come. Don’t worry,” Mikey reassured his friend as they walked out the door to be met with the bright shining light of the California sun.

“S’alright. Gotta keep goin’,” Harry said, convincing himself not to give up as he places a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up.

“That’s the spirit! But listen, I gotta get going. The family needs me, but I’ll see you at the next audition! Be there!” Mikey bid him goodbye as he was walking away from him. Harry waved at him, watching his friend walk home to his family.

And Harry needed a drink.

He found himself at a bar close to his apartment. It was midday so no one was really at the bar except about four other people, chatting and playing pool. He was drinking whiskey, downing glass after glass, needing something stronger than a beer as he had a tough and long day.

“Long day, kid?” A man with a full head of grey hair and grey mustache asked. He was very attractive for an old man. Looked very classy and proper, probably had a good job because he just looked fucking rich; while Harry is struggling to find a stable job to pay off his bills.

Harry scoffed, “You have no idea.” He called for the bartender, getting his attention. “Can I get another one of these please?” The bartender sighed, shaking to himself while getting Harry another drink; his fifth one in just 10 minutes. Once the bartender set his drink down, Harry simply picked it up and threw it down his throat as if it was mouthwash.

“What’s got you like this?” The man asked curiously. Harry turned towards him, giving him a look up and down. He’s usually very polite with meeting new people and is usually shy, but with the alcohol in his system on top of the horrible day he had, it was like he was a different person. He’s usually the soft and cuddly type when he’s buzzed or drunk, but again, he just had a bad day.

“Ya wanna know?” He didn’t wait for the man’s answer, but he nodded anyway. “Well, for starters, got a fuckin’ audition earlier because y’know, that’s what I do. I’m an actor. Anyways, I do the audition that they picked me out of, like, 50 people, and this girl who bragged about having plenty of auditions. And when we start, not even 5 minutes as we start actin’, they stop us! Thought they were lovin’ what we were doin’ that’s why they stopped us, but she told that Brandy girl to meet them after and dismissed me, like for fuck sakes!” Harry was seething as he was telling the story, and practically everyone was listening in since he was talking so loudly.

“Sorry about that, kid. But that’s what you do huh? You act?” The man asked, placing his cigar in his mouth.

“Yeah. Tryin’ to make a fuckin’ living and I’ve been struggling keeping my apartment,” he rolled his eyes, trying to remember the next due date was for his rent and electricity bill.

“It’s a tough world out there. But hey, what do you say you work for me?” The man offered and Harry’s brows furrowed.

“Don’t even know your name.”

“Well if you must know, like you didn’t just tell me your whole life story, I’m Daren,” he offered a hand to shake, and Harry takes it.

“Harry. So what exactly do you do?” Harry wondered.

“I work for a candy store,” he simply stated.

“A candy store…” Harry repeated and Daren nodded. “What the fuck am I gonna do at a candy store?”

“Simple. It’s like a self-serve candy store, but my workers serve them instead. Just grab a bag and they tell you what they want, and you get it. Simple as that,” he explained. “You’re an attractive man! Got the face and everything, and considering you’re tall, bet you’re packing down there too,” Daren said nonchalantly.

“Are you offering me a job or you’re gonna compliment my cock?” He wondered why the sudden mention of his cock came to play, but brushed it off. Harry hadn’t realized that he would be working at a candy store when he moved to Hollywood. He had big dreams, and he wanted to follow his dreams by getting as many auditions as he can and be in front of the camera, not work in candyland.

“Both. Just think about it. You’d be making a lot of money working there—hell of a lot more than minimum wage. And I’m talking about starting at $30 for an entire day. You can’t pass that deal up! And you just said it yourself that you can’t afford to keep your apartment. I mean, let’s face it. When are you going to get another audition? You’ve already gotten rejected from the one today!” Harry was breathing out of his nose, practically huffing at him as Daren mentioned the rejection. He knew that what Daren said was right, but Harry was hard headed and didn’t want to believe him.

“Sorry, mate,” he stood from his chair, grabbing his wallet from his back pocket as he set out a $10 bill on the counter. “Thank, but no thanks,” he told Daren, pride getting in the way.

“Well, my offer is still on the table. I’m located on Sunset, so you know where to find me once you get what I said through your ass,” he said louder than usual as Harry was walking away with no look back, exiting the bar and walking home.

When he reached the front of his door, he was met by paper taped to it that read ‘LATE RENT SECOND NOTICE’. Harry sighed, ripping the paper off the door before unlocking it and heading inside. He briskly threw the notice on the table and he sat down on his couch, rolling out his neck and closed his eyes for a moment. His shoulder and neck felt tight—his overall body felt tense, like he couldn’t relax for a tad bit.

He was stressed. The dream of becoming an actor was made when he was a teenager. From auditioning for one of his school plays in comprehensive school and getting the lead role, he felt the rush of being on stage when he was only sixteen. From then on, he wanted to take that dream to the next step, and he was talking about being on camera, on billboard, stepping on stage when he wins and collecting his Oscar. Harry reaches for big dreams, and he was determined to make his dreams come true.

In his state of pondering about lifelong dreams of making it in the industry, the electricity had gone out. It was like he was so in his head about becoming a famous actor that he felt like he was in the clouds and nothing was limiting him, but the harsh reality of his source of light going out had brought him back to the ground.

A groan from Harry’s mouth was heard between the walls of his tiny apartment, frustrated that he can’t seem to find money just to save him from getting evicted from his home. He took a deep breath as his body was stretched across the couch, hands on his face as he debated what to do.

He thought about getting more auditions, which he will eventually try for because again, that was his lifelong dream, but how many auditions did he have to do for anyone to see him other than a pretty face. Let’s face it, Harry knew he was attractive and having a nice face helped him get auditions, although he’s only had two in his lifetime. But he wanted to be seen more than that. He wanted to be seen for his talent, his ability to act, and being the person the camera loves.

Harry then thought about the offer Daren from the bar made him. It was quite random how someone badly wanted him to work for some candy shop when there are so many people who are looking for a side job. Of course he didn’t want to work there, but he did remember Daren saying that he was willing to pay a lot. But who in the world has that kind of money to pay $30 for working at a simple candy store?

Hell if Harry knew, but he knew that he needed to make some sacrifices.

You were sat in the beige booth across from your two friends, waiting on your food as Alice was reapplying her lip gloss and Frances was talking to you nonstop about a boy she had met from class.

It was your usual Friday afternoon as the three of you met up at Mel’s Drive In to have weekly breakfast for lunches. It was a ritual ever since you were in high school.

Having met them your freshman year of high school when you three were in the same dance class, you girls were inseparable. You’ve been through breakups, crushes, and gossip with them; and they were like your sisters. Sisters who talk about anything and everything with no limits or shame.

And now you three were dance teachers at the academy school you all danced at. It honestly worked very well; when a dancer hits eighteen, they graduate and that’s their farewell from growing up and continuously dancing at the studio. A year before you three graduated from college, your ballet instructor, Sally, had told you three that her and the rest of the staff always loved your techniques and stability. And you were all very excited for the journey.

“I swear to god, I was gonna jump him right then and there,” Frances said waving her hand as if she was fanning herself.

“Wait, he did what now?” Alice asked, pausing from putting on her lip gloss. She did it all the time, but you had no idea as to why she was doing that when you were about to eat. But Alice is Alice.

“If you can take one second not eating your lip gloss, then you would have heard me,” Frances turned to her right to face Alice, a frustrated look on her face. It was the same old annoyed look Frances gave Alice and to others, it looked like she was about to start a fight, but to the three of you, it was just pure bickering and humorously messing with each other.

“Anyways, tell us more,” you said, reaching over to Frances, and she excitedly turned back towards you, happy someone was paying attention.

“He just kept flirting with me! Kept saying I looked so pretty and said he wanted to take me out, which I think he’s gonna ask me out the next time I see him because he kept hinting at it, and I’m just so excited! Although I wasn’t sure if I wanted to date another dancer, let alone a coworker, but I don’t care anymore!” She squealed in excitement, and told her how happy you were for her.

“What about you?” Alice asked suddenly.

“What about me?” You asked back, leaning back on the leather cushion. Before Alice was about to answer, their food had arrived and was placed in front of you,

“Any guys or girls you’ve been into lately?” You thought about it, and shook your head truthfully as you dug into your pancakes. “C’mon! There isn’t anyone at all?” You shook your head again, taking a bite. “Not even that Tyler guy?” You rolled your eyes, waiting to swallow your bite before you answered.

“No, no, and no. I don’t know. It’s hard for me to get out there y’know?” You slightly frowned, realizing that you had been missing the affection and attention you wanted.

“Oh, whatever! You’re just saying because you’re too shy and proper to say that you haven’t been fucked in forever,” Frances said too loudly for your liking. You looked around your table to see if anyone had any lingering eyes on the three of you, but everyone seemed to be only paying attention to their business. “Face it, the last time you’ve been touched was Chris—and hell if he did the job.”

“And we know you can get out there. You’re pretty, smart, funny, and you’re a rich bitch! So many guys go after you in the passing!” Alice added.

“Yeah, only cause they want to get to my dad, remember?” You raised your eyebrows at them, and they went silent for a bit, remembering that ordeal.

“Well, those fuckers don’t know what they’re missing,” Frances said back.

“Since when have you used such language?” You faked a dramatic gasp, teasing her as she laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Please, ever since you told us about your kinkful night of sex that one time our freshman year of college, knew you weren’t an angel yourself,” Frances smirked, and a gasp was heard from Alice.

“Oh god, I remember that! It was with that junior Lance Mills! I want to hear that story over again. It was like listening to a sex film.” Alice put her hands under her chin as they both eagerly waited for you to tell the story again.

“Maybe next time. Y’know when we’re alone and I’m not about to devour this pancake,” you promised and they nodded excitedly.

The three of you ate your food as Johnny Cash was playing from the jukebox. You and Frances were minding your own businesses, thinking the subject prior was far gone and over with until Alice spoke up again.

“Y’know…I know something that’ll help you with the whole…” she started waving her hand around you like she was casting a spell, and you were utterly confused.

Your brows furrowed, “With what?”

“Your whole dry spell of not being able to get some,” her brows raised, and your mouth slightly opened.

“I am not on a dry spell!” You exclaimed, crossing your arms once you were finished with your pancakes, but felt satisfied, knowing Mel’s pancakes were the best you’ve ever had.

“Please. It’s been what? A year since you’ve had sex? Unacceptable.” You rolled your eyes at Frances’ statement. “You have everything you want except a good orgasm. Can you believe that?” She turned her head towards Alice in disbelief; the two of them shaking their heads.

“Ugh! I don’t need to have sex to complete my life! I am perfectly fine with pleasing myself and not having someone do it for me, and I am perfectly fine with not having sex… at the moment,” you added the last part in case the universe had some weird way of working, making your dry spell even longer. Frances and Alice laughed, knowing you all too well that you loved having sex and someone to hook up with.

It was like you were contradicting yourself in your head--thinking you were okay with yourself, but wanting someone else. But you honestly were fine with doing the job yourself--you didn’t mind that at the very least, but it is always nice to have someone to do it for you. What you were thinking was: yes, you could do it and reach an orgasm yourself, but you didn’t need someone to do it for you. If someone comes your way and helps you out, great. If someone doesn’t, also great, you’d do it yourself.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Alice spoke up. “One of the girls was talking about some shop that always has hot guys working there and they’re always hiring hot guys.”

Frances turned her body towards her, “Ooh, tell me more.”

“You are about to get asked out by some other guy. Don’t be greedy, this is for her!” You chuckled at them as they fought like a married couple. “Well, she was saying how she met this one guy there and they fucked in her car! She would not stop talking about orgasm after orgasm! And she also said all the other workers there are hot too, so you can go down there and check it out for yourself,” Alice explained. “You can just do it once too--get all that stress out of your system.”

You thought about how long your dry spell has been going for. It hasn’t been too long that you were deprived from having good sex, and you would love to look at handsome men even if that means you wouldn’t get any since you were tired of looking at the boys in your class as you thought none of them were really all that attractive to you. So, you nodded in agreement and Alice perked up.

“Where is this shop at?” You asked curiously.

“It’s a candy shop on sunset. But you need a code to get in.”

You confusingly asked, “A code? Why would you need a code?”

“Don’t know. Probably for some identity reason. But they also serve celebrities as well, so that could possibly be a reason,” Alice said.

“Okay…What’s the code?” You asked slowly.

Frances squealed, “You’re really gonna do this?” You shrugged your shoulders but nodded your head.

“So, the code?” You asked Alice again to see her and Frances smirking at one another. Probably because you agreed to doing this and admitting that you wanted to get laid.

“Cloud nine.”

Harry found himself in front of ‘Sweetland’ at 12 in the afternoon on Sunday.

After much debate, he realized he really needed the money when he was in the midst of a shower and the water had turned off. Just as he got soap in his eyes, he figured he would put his pride aside and take up on Daren’s offer. Because what could be so bad working at a candy store? People have to start somewhere in their life in order to make it.

He had a night’s long of pondering, telling himself that an audition is not just going to pop up out of nowhere, but he couldn’t lose hope just yet. And besides, he probably wouldn’t even get paid that much if he wasn’t under a contract with a big agency. So the candy shop would have to do it for now.

Walking through the door, he was met with a few pairs of eyes from men who perked up thinking he was a customer, but quickly put their heads down.

“Ah, so I see you decided to work for me,” Daren said as he noticed Harry at the entrance of the shop, a smirk placed on his face.

“Yeah. Just really need the money,” Harry replied honestly.

“Well, welcome to your first day, boy! Here is your uniform, restrooms are over there,” Daren handed Harry clothes and slightly pushed towards the restroom to get changed.

Once he finished changing and got out of the restroom, he noticed he was matching with the other workers; wearing a blue sparkly blouse with a pussybow and white trousers. He had to admit that he loved the outfit, but wished everyone had different outfits so he could stand out.

“Everyone! This is Harry. He will be joining our team and will be along with this journey of ours.” He noticed Daren smirk as he introduced him to everyone with a hand on his shoulder. There were about five other guys working at the shop that day, and everyone waved, greeting him.

Everyone working were guys and Harry noticed how good looking everyone was, and there were no women working at all, which confused him at the very least.

“Alright, so your job is to basically serve customers. Easy as that. You’ll just grab a bag,” Daren does so as he speaks, “and whatever you want, just fill it up to however they desire. Simple.” Harry didn’t miss his sexual innuendo, even if it was innocent as candy, but he chuckled, amusing Daren. “Got it?”

“Yeah. Seems pretty easy-”

“That’s the spirit! But first, I’m going to need you to stock some of the candy containers in the back,” Daren grabbed a couple of empty jars that were out on display, and Harry nodded as he followed Daren to the back where all the candy was stocked in large containers. “These have the labels on them, so just fill them with the right ones.”

“Alright,” Harry responded, and Daren pats his back before walking towards the exit. “Hey, Daren.” He stopped him before he was able to walk out. He turned around and Harry gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. Y’know, for the job. I really mean it.”

Daren smiled back, “Don’t thank me yet, kid.” And with that, he walked out as Harry filled the empty containers with more candy.

After 30 minutes of filling jars and sweeping the floor, Daren called him to the front of the store. It was more busy than usual but enough for all the workers to be occupied.

“Ready for your first customer?” Harry perked up, and nodded his head eagerly as he was finally going to help a customer out and serve them. “There she is. Remember to smile, and if they say cloud nine, do as they say.”

“Wait, what’s cloud-”

“Go get ‘em.” With a slight push, Harry was lurched forward, walking towards the woman waiting by the door.

“Hello, how can I help you?” Harry asked with a shy smile on his face.

“Just a bag of candy, please,” the lady said as she looked around the store.

“Sure thing,” Harry grabbed a candy bag and followed her around the store as he waited for her to tell her what kind of candy she wanted.

“Can you put these in there?” She said, pointing to the container of gumballs and Harry grabbed the metal spoon, filling it before dropping it in the bag. “That’s all I want,” she said, and Harry ties the bag up.

“Okay. Anything else?” He asked.

“Yeah. Cloud nine?” Harry was utterly confused when she said the phrase; he didn’t know what to do at this point because Daren didn’t take the time to explain it to him.

The woman slapped a few quarters onto the counter before grabbing the bag of gumballs from Harry’s hands and walking out of the store. He turned around and looked at Daren raising two thumbs up at him and Harry was quick to follow her out.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you want me to do,” he said, still confused on what he was supposed to do. She stopped walking, stopping right in front of her white car, and turned around.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said straightforwardly, and Harry’s eyes widened. The woman was about in her forties with a diamond ring on her finger, flashing in his face from how bright the diamond is and how it clashes with the sun.

“P-Pardon?” He stuttered as his face turned red. The lady’s brows raised and Harry could tell that she was getting frustrated mentally and sexually.

“Isn’t that what you guys do? Fuck your customers when they want to?” She crossed her arms impatiently, and Harry’s mouth opened slightly but nothing came out from it, truly speechless at her words.

“I-I’m sorry…I don’t-”

“Ugh, never mind. Forget it,” the lady scoffed and walked to the driver side of her car and got in quickly before driving away, leaving Harry with an unsatisfied customer, a frustrated him, and possibly an angry boss.

With slow steps, Harry walked towards the entrance as he gave himself a 30 second pep talk before he had to go through the door, hoping he wouldn’t get fired on his first day.

He opened the door, the bell from above ringing from the movement of the door. The first thing that his eyes landed on was Daren’s confused face, and Harry frowned, nerves boiling through his veins.

“The fuck you still doing here?” Daren asked with his hands up. Harry scratched the back of his neck, feeling his blouse getting too tight for his own good.

“I, uh-”

“I sure hope to god you’re about to say you made her orgasm in two minutes. And you better not that you lasted two minutes,” his hands are now on his hips, waiting for his answer. “Well? Gonna give me a straight answer or are you gonna just stand there?” Harry’s brows furrowed in anger; from frustration and desperation of making money.

“You never told me what to fuckin’ do. Just expected me to hear a phrase and fuck someone? A little heads up would’ve been nice!” He snapped, his voice louder than he would like, but figured it’s necessary.

“Thought you already figured it out when I was talking about your cock back at the bar!” Daren retorted back, grabbing Harry’s arm and bringing him to the back, away from the other workers.

Harry yanked his arm back when they were both away from the rest, “The least you could’ve done was tell me straight up.”

“I didn’t think you’d care! You’re a good looking guy that probably wants to get laid. When was the last time you fucked someone anyways?” Harry looked at him and rolled his eyes, not answering his question. “I’m assuming it’s been a while…” he paused, eyes widened as if he made a realization. “Unless you’re a virgin because I’m not sure this is the right job for you—well, it might be depending how you look at it-”

“Yes, it’s been a while and no, I’m not a virgin. Not like there’s anything wrong with that,” Harry interrupted just to simply shut him up.

“Look kid, I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear on what this job offered, that was my fault,” Daren placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, how about the rest of the day, you just work with the candy. You don’t have to deal with customers today, and you can decide if you still want to work here. If you do, then you start tomorrow— actually start tomorrow this time. How does that sound?” Harry took a deep breath and nodded slowly, figuring he has about 3 hours to decide what he wants to do. “Great. There’s a few containers that need restocking and some unboxing in the back.”

Harry got to work immediately, but he took his time to make time somehow go by faster as he was surrounded by sour candies, chocolate, and bubblegum. And he was also thinking on how this whole thing will end up. It was only his first day so he wouldn’t get paid, but if Daren was true to his word when he said he would start out at $40, he may as well end up staying here. Because where else is he going to get that type of money in one day? No where. He’d have to work at least two weeks to get a whole $30 when he can make so much more if he were to stay at Sweetland.

Time did go by faster as his brain was scrambled with thought and his mouth felt like he’s eaten every piece of candy. He threw out all the boxes and stored the candy in its right container before washing his hands to see the rest of the workers cleaning up. He wanted to help out, even though he’s done enough, and grabbed a rag before wiping down the counter and the spaces between the candy containers.

“Hey,” Harry said to the guy, whose name tag read Pete, as he was sweeping the floor of sugar and dropped candy.

Pete looked up and smiled, “How did you like your first day?”

“It was unexpected.” Harry chuckled.

“It is, isn’t it?” Pete smiled, and Harry nodded.

“That’s how he dropped the bomb on all of us. Didn’t say much of what we do besides what we do with the actual candy, but just threw us into the pack of wolves and fed us alive.”

“That’s…descriptive.” Pete laughed. “I mean, is it worth it?”

“If you’re desperate for money, then yeah. The reason why we all stayed was mainly because of that, but we’ve grown to like it a lot, and that’s not because we get to have sex everyday. But because Daren is actually really fun and cool, and we’ve all made friends with each other. It’s an experience, for sure.” Harry nodded, taking everything in. He knew his answer before talking to Pete, but he just needed some reassurance, guidance.

Daren came to view when Harry looked up, walking towards him, obviously for one reason. “So, boy, what do you say?”

Harry thought for the last time. Quickly going over his decisions, and having a full on debate in his head as he imagined pros and cons lists. The pros out weighted the cons, and there was really no question about it. The pros were: lots of money, sex, nice coworkers, and good candy. The cons list was: nothing.

He didn’t think he’d end up like this. Working for a fake candy store, but in the sense it’s not fake because it sells real candy, and getting sex this way.

But again, he needed to make sacrifices in order to keep his place and practically live.

“I’ll stay.”

Your muscles were strained from the amount of hours you were on your feet--more like years since you’ve been dancing ever since you were little. From teaching your students a plie to releve to saute; always making sure yours and their toes are always pointed. Your muscles were aching and you were tired, physically and mentally.

It wasn’t like you didn’t love to dance--you’ve been doing it for years, hell, you were teaching it. But it was the long hours during the day where some days, you had to teach and rehearse for at least 12 hours a day. So, needless to say, you were exhausted.

But that wasn’t even the worst of them all. At the end of the day, you had to go home and deal with your family. They were supportive, but not in the sense where you want them to be. They were supportive in what they want for you, not what you want for yourself. It was something you had to live with--you don’t remember a time you got what you wanted, except when you suggested you wanted to do dance when you were younger.

It didn’t take long for them to agree for them to sign you up for dance classes, but only signing you up for classical ballet.

“Sweetheart, it’s just more elegant. You’ll learn how to be more flexible and fix that god awful posture of yours,” your mother had said when you suggested you wanted to do something like tap dance. You had nodded your seven-year-old head as you sulked back to your room, figuring ballet was better than nothing when you asked to take some dance classes.

Your mother, Jane, wasn’t always so harsh with you. In fact, her attitude towards you had gotten better as you got older, but that was probably because she found your dad, Richard, cheating on her with another woman. And she thought you didn’t know a thing, hence why her attitude changed towards you, but you knew everything.

But you were all Jane had, and it was when you were sixteen, she suggested a girls day with you; talking to you with a soft tone and not making any remarks towards how you look. But you were happy for the change; it bettered and strengthened your relationship with your mother and she sides with you with almost everything once your father comes at you for something so little.

Walking through the large doors of your home, you threw your bags on the floor, the heaviness was making your back and shoulders hurt even more, immediately walking towards the kitchen as you stretched out your limbs and joints.

It was almost 10 p.m and you realized you had so many things to do still. Between coming up with a routine and some new ways to warm up, you were filled with overwhelmingness, and you just wanted to have a decent meal in silence.

But sadly, you didn’t get that--either of that. Instead of silence, laughs were heard from the dining room, and once you walked into the room to see what all the noise was about, the thought of a decent meal was lost from your appetite at the sight in front of you.

It was your father laughing with your ex boyfriend, Chris. The sight was unbearable and you wanted to run out of the room, but first, you wanted to know what the actual fuck is Chris doing here.

“Ah, darling, so glad you could join us. Was just having a laugh here with your dear boyfriend, Chris,” Richard had said once he saw you, calming down from his laughter. Chris was looking at you with a smile, and you never wanted to slap a smile off someone’s face before him.

“Ex boyfriend,” you said clearly, making sure they both heard you right.

“Oh, tomato, tomahto. Same shit. Won’t be long until you get back together with him,” Richard chuckled, thinking he was right. But he was far from right; you have no plans whatsoever getting back together with him nor do you have plans ever associating yourself with him, so the fact that he’s in your house right now is just boiling your blood.

“Father, Chris and I are never getting back together. I mean it,” you tell your father, but looking at Chris as you say so, hoping to get your words engrained to his skull. But all Chris did was smirk at like you were wrong, but you rolled your eyes, not amusing him.

“Sure, whatever you say. How about you sit and join us.” Richard points his hands towards the empty chair next to Chris.

“I’d rather not,” you sighed.

“Not asking you, darling,” Richard gives you a disapproving look as if he’s trying not to lash out in front of his ‘perfect’ guest like he’s a ‘perfect’ host.

“Well, I’m telling you I don’t want to. Besides, I have schoolwork to do.” You told him sternly, completely over this conversation. As you were about to walk away, his voice raised slightly.

“Darling. Sit. Now,” he demanded. He was angry, that’s for sure, and the vein on his forehead looked like it was about to pop from you not cooperating.

Giving him the point, you sighed as you took a seat next to Chris, but left a chair between you two, not wanting to be anywhere close to him. You wouldn’t be in this position if you hadn’t walked in on your father and Chris being buddies, and you wished that you had just ignored the laughter because your night would’ve been much nicer than sitting at a table with the two of them together.

But you were rather proud of yourself for sticking up for yourself. Some parents may call it talking back, but that was nowhere near talking back. You grew a thick skin around him throughout the years. From the countless times of crying in your bedroom because Richard would call you names or tell you that you weren’t good enough, you had to grow that kind of toughness around him. Sometimes you had to fight back for yourself; you weren’t going to let him or anyone walk all over you. Seeing your father do that to your mother just broke your heart, but you told yourself that no one will ever treat you like that.

“So, Chris and I were talking about your futures together-”

You raised a hand up only for it to be smacked onto the table causing the table to make a loud sound. “What did I just say? I am never going to have a future with him.”

“Not after what he planned for us,” Chris pitched in.

“Well, you can shove that plan up your ass if you think I’m gonna let you plan my future!” You said, turning towards your father. You were on the edge of your seat, close to getting up and raising your voice even louder or completely walking out of the room as anger flushed through you.

“Do not speak to me that way! Who gave you the right to even use those words?” Richard’s eyes furrowed as he pointed a finger at you, obviously angry, and not giving a fuck if he had a guest hear his anger.

“Gave me the right? You did when you decided to be an absolute dick to mom and I!” You were fully standing up, hands planted on the table.

“Language! You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“But I do, don’t I? Right, father? I know everything,” you gave him a challenging look, which he was not amused with.

“I’m gonna give you five seconds-”

“Don’t bother,” you scooted your chair back, and walked out of the dining room and up the stairs. You just wanted a peaceful and relaxing night, but you got the exact opposite.

You were headed up the stairs, quickly, furious and frustrated at your father. Stomps on the hard floor were heard that you didn’t even hear the footsteps following behind you.

“Hey,” the voice you recognized was Chris’, and you felt your arm slightly being yanked by him, causing you to stop walking. You turned around, immediately taking your arm out of his hold.

“Don’t touch me or ever grab me like that,” you said, and he thinks it’s the most serious tone he’s ever heard out of you.

“Chill, I was gonna see if you were okay after that-”

“Well, don’t! I never asked for you to check up on me, and stop grabbing me like that--I’ve told you a million times. It’s annoying, not cute,” you rolled your eyes. You were right in front of your bedroom door and you just wanted to go inside and be over with the day, but of course, Chris keeps talking.

“Would you stop being a bitch for once? I don’t understand why we can’t be civil with each other, I’m working with your father,” he said, voice slightly raised, but you don’t let it get to you.

“The only reason why I can’t be civil with you is because I can’t stand being around you. And guess who messed that up? You did,” you pointed at him. “You’re just like him. Can’t have one person satisfy you. Always wanna sleep around and think you’re forgiven,” you shook your head in disbelief, trying not to let the tears cloud your eyes.

It wasn’t like you were still hung up on the situation, but the thought of being that heartbroken again did not make you feel the best. The feeling of your heart sinking into your stomach was something you did not want to feel again. And you didn’t think you were wrong for wanting to protect your fragile heart. You were strong on the outside; not taking shit from anyone, and you think that’s a strong quality to have. But deep down, you still had your guard up. Physically, you were fine connecting with people, but emotionally, it was necessary to protect yourself.

“C’mon, baby, it was one time,” you cringed at the name.

“First, don’t call me baby. I mean it. Second, one time was enough. I’ve witnessed it--still witnessing it with my mother staying with my father when he cheats time and time again. That ‘one time’ shouldn’t have even happened. Now, leave me alone and get out of my house.” You walked into your room, but before you were about to shut the door, he placed a hand on it, stopping you from closing it.

“Y’know, maybe we can just have a little fun. Hate fuck all the anger out of each other. Maybe it’ll help get that stick out of your ass,” he smirked and you rolled your eyes in disgust and annoyance.

“Don’t worry, I have better places to go other than you.”

With that you slammed the door in his face, knowing exactly where you could go to destress.

just a glimpse of what their lives look like! CHAPTER TWO IS COMING ON AUGUST 21!

taglist babies: @froggystyles @outofsstyles @whoschantel @4592222 @groovybaybee @bfharry @wellbafineline @tfonty @bfilipa52 @afire-hes @thorsangel @brrilliant-harry @apples2019

#cloud nine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles ff #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #boyfriend!harry #actor!harry #harry #harry styles #hs #harry styles drabble #harry styles concept

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livesincerely · 3 years

Text

always yours, always mine

Also on Ao3. Rated E.

Disclaimer, this is another A/B/O fic, which I know isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so feel free to skip over this one if that’s not something you’re into <3

00000

“Okay,” Davey says after the third time one of the boys flinches away from him: Albert, this time, who lets out a panicked yelp and all but tucks and rolls, head over ass, in his attempt to keep Davey from touching him. Given that Davey had only gone to clap a friendly hand on his shoulder while they line up to get their papes, this seems like a drastic overreaction. “What aren’t you all telling me.”

They actually have the gall to look surprised—as though they’ve been anything even approaching subtle in the not-quite fifteen minutes that have passed since Davey arrived in the square—and their guilty, hang-dog expressions might’ve been comical if he wasn’t so annoyed.

“Well?” Davey says, arching an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over each of them in turn. “What is it?”

Race snatches Albert’s cap off his head and thwaps him with it. “Nice goin’ Albie, you done gave it away!”

“What was I s’pposed’ta do?” Albert says, disgruntled, rubbing his forehead. “Jus’ stand there?”

“No, but you were s’pposed’ta handle it discrete like, dumbass—”

“Oh, sure, ‘cause it’s just that easy—”

“None of you would know discrete if it socked you in the jaw,” Davey cuts in, his hands making their way to his hips as he stares down at them. “Now, what’s going on?”

There’s a long silence as the boys all glance at each other, shifting guiltily, but none of them willing to be the first to break.

Finally, Racetrack sighs. “This was a stupid idea anyway,” he mutters. He rolls his shoulders back and looks Davey straight on, opens his mouth to speak—

Henry elbows him in the side, hissing, “Race! Don’t tell him!”

“Albert already ruined it, we might as well come clean—”

“I didn’t ruin it!” Albert cries.

“You kinda did,” Finch says with a shrug. “You were really obvious, Al.”

"What was I s’pposed to do!”

“I say we just tell him,” Buttons chimes in over Albert’s protests. “Davey’s gonna figure it out eventually—”

“—and he’s gonna be more upset the longer we keep it from him.” Specs adds. Buttons points at him as if to say, yeah, see?

“You just don’t want Davey to be mad at’cha,” Romeo says, accusatory.

“Do you want Davey to be mad at’cha?”

“....No.”

“I’m gonna tell him,” Race announces to the group at large.

Multiple voices interject all at once, shouts of disagreement and words of encouragement all jumbled together.

“Race, you can’t,” Crutchie says with a shake of his head, his quieter tones just barely heard beneath the others’ bickering. “Yesterday was bad enough and you heard what Jack said! He doesn’t want to say anything—“

“Yeah, well maybe if Jack wasn’t such a moron, it wouldn’t’ve gotten so bad in the first place—”

“So, this is about Jack, then?” Davey asks, loudly, and the silence that falls is so sudden and absolute that it almost seems to echo.

The boys all look at each other, apprehensive. Then Racetrack blurts, “Jack’s in rut!”

“Jack’s… what?” Davey says, startled, because out of all the possibilities he’d suspected, this wasn’t anywhere on the list. “I thought he was sick?”

“He didn’t want us to tell you,” Crutchie admits, apologetic. “He didn’t want’cha to know.”

“Jack’s in rut and he wasn’t going to tell me?” Davey says, confused and a little hurt. “But… why?”

“Because he’s an idiot?” Race offers, rolling his eyes. “He wasn’t exactly forthcoming with any typa explanation but he��s probably freaking out about some stupid alpha thing—”

“Hey,” Mush protests weakly. Sniper just shrugs as if to say fair enough.

“—and he’s been all keyed up since Tuesday, stinking like frenzy and frustration—and not the fun kind,” Racer continues, wrinkling his nose at the memory. “Plus, he can smell you on all’a us when we get back to the Lodging House every evening; he nearly tore Buttons’ arm outta its socket yesterday when he caught your scent on his sleeve, just from wantin’ it so bad.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Buttons assures him when Davey looks his way, alarmed. “Nothing like that—you know Jack would never. But he’s driving himself crazy stayin’ away from ya, and havin’ your scent around without you there with it is only makin’ things harder on him.”

“But, why doesn’t he just…” Davey asks, trying to think of a delicate way to say fuck it out, even as something in his chest bares its teeth and snarls at the thought of Jack even considering a rut partner.

“You’re kiddin’, right?” Race says flatly, thoroughly unimpressed. “Please tell me you’re kiddin’, because I can only deal with one of you bein’ stupid at a time and Jack’s already called dibs on this week.”

“So, what, he’s trying to just wait it out when he knows that I would—“

Davey stops himself, flushing. It’s no secret, how he and Jack have been circling each other—teetering on the brink of becoming more, just waiting for something to finally give—but he’s reluctant to talk about it too openly, the possibility of him and Jack still feeling oh so fragile where it’s tucked away in the deepest corner of his heart.

Because he’d thought that they were on the same page, thought that there was an unspoken understanding between them that one day, eventually… But if Jack didn’t want him to know about his rut, hadn’t asked Davey to keep him company through his cycle… Davey chews at his lower lip, stomach twisting up in knots.

“Didn’t I just tell you not to be stupid?” Racetrack asks—frowning, but with no real heat to his words—and Davey realizes that his scent has taken on a sour, anxious note as his thoughts spiralled. “You can’t possibly think that he’d want anyone but you riding this out with him.”

“Except, he doesn’t want me there,” Davey points out. “You just said that he didn’t want me to know—”

“Yeah, but not ‘cause he don’t want you,” Racetrack assures him, as though this is plainly obvious. “‘Cause he really, definitely does: he’s puttin’ up with the rest of us ‘cause he loves us and ‘cause he don’t gotta choice since we all live together, but he wants you. I think he wants you so bad that it scares him.”

Davey tilts his head, running his tongue over his teeth as he considers Race’s words. But it’s not even a choice that needs contemplating, really, not when it’s Jack.

“I’ll go over and check on him,” Davey decides, a little voice in his head whispering yeshelpprotectfixsoothe. “See if I can convince him to let me help him.”

The boys all sag as one—it’s clear that they hadn’t wanted to go directly against Jack’s orders but are relieved that Davey’s going to step in.

“Thank fuck,” Elmer mutters. “I can’t take anymore of his goddamn pacing.”

“Felt like I was havin’ sympathy pains, watching him prowl around,” Mush agrees, rubbing a hand over his chest like he can feel an ache there. “Don’t know how he’s managed to hold out so long—I can’t imagine tryin’ to get through a cycle without Blink now that we’re together—”

“I’ll handle it,” Davey says, determined, the feeling in his chest crystalizing into something solid and certain and unshakable.

“We’ll let your folks know where you are,” Crutchie tells him, clapping Davey on the shoulder. “Just go an’ take care of him—god knows he ain’t gonna take care of himself.”

“And don’t let him run you off,” Race advises. “You know how he gets.”

“I’ll handle it,” Davey repeats firmly.

00000

Davey smells Jack before he sees him: the air is heavy with his cedar and summertime scent, undercut with the smoky sweetness of his rut, so potent that Davey almost goes dizzy with it.

“Jack?” he calls out, announcing himself out of politeness rather than any real need—he’s positive that Jack smelt him the moment he arrived. “Jackie?”

The hair on the back of Davey’s neck stands on end, his heart skipping a beat in his chest, and Davey turns just as Jack steps out of a side hallway, his face shadowed with tension.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Jack rumbles, watching Davey with dark, dark eyes. He’s only wearing a pair of thin sleep pants, his skin dewy with a sheen of sweat, and even from where he stands, Davey can feel the heat rolling off of him in waves.

“Oh?” Davey says, arching an eyebrow. “Because I’m pretty sure this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“Which one of ‘em squealed?” Jack asks with a growl of frustration, raking a hand through his hair. “No, don’t tell me, it was Racer, wasn’t it?”

“Why didn’t you tell me your rut was coming up?” Davey asks, getting right to the point.

“I didn’t wanna put’cha in that position,” Jack says evasively, gaze falling to the floor.

“And what position would that be?” Davey questions, crossing his arms over his chest.

It takes Jack several seconds to answer. “Didn’t want’cha to feel… obligated or nothin’. Like you hafta be here, like you hafta help me with this, jus’ ‘cause we’re...”

“I don’t understand,” Davey says, watching him carefully, a spark of realization starting to dawn. “How is this any different than you helping me through my heat last month?”

Jack’s spine stiffens, tension thrumming through him like a live wire, but he lets it go just as quickly as it arrived.

“Come on, Davey,” Jack says, voice heavy, his mouth pressed in a thin, unhappy line across his face. “You know what I mean. You know why it’s different.”

“Sweet, stubborn, overprotective alpha,” Davey murmurs with a sad sigh, shaking his head. “Jackie, you’re not going to lose control and go wild just because you’re in rut, it doesn’t actually work like that—”

“Are you sure?” Jack says darkly. “Are you absolutely positive? ‘Cause I’m feelin’ pretty fuckin’ outta control, here, Dave. Feels like I might bust outta my skin any second, my instincts are goin’ goddamn nuts, I can barely sleep, can barely keep my fuckin’ head on straight, and there’s this hollow, empty spot between my lungs that aches every time I breathe, and I can’t— I can’t—”

“Jack,” Davey says, low and soothing. “You have to stop fighting your instincts. I know you think you’re protecting me by holding yourself back, but I promise that there’s nothing to worry about. Let me help you, darling. Please?”

Jack wavers—not like he’s convinced, not like he’s found any sort of faith in himself, but like he no longer has the strength to keep arguing—and that more than anything has the alarm bells going off in the back of Davey’s mind.

“Jack,” Davey beckons, soft but firm. “Jackie, love, come here.”

Jack takes a stumbling, hesitant step forward. Davey meets him halfway and draws him into a tight embrace, one arm wrapped securely around Jack’s middle, the other guiding Jack’s head to rest against the curve of his throat.

Jack’s hands settle cautiously against the small of his back, his nose tucked right against Davey’s scent gland. He takes in a single, shaky breath, then crumples like a puppet that’s had its strings cut, that salty, bitter note of distressed alpha finally fading from his scent.

“Dave,” Jack whines, snuffling desperately at his neck. “Davey.”

“I know, Jackie,” Davey murmurs, hugging him even tighter. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

They stand like that for several minutes, just holding each other—Davey pressing gentle kisses to the top of Jack’s head while Jack clings to him, relaxing more and more with every inhale.

“Can you look at me for a second, love?” Davey asks, craning back as much as he can without letting go. Jack grumbles but obediently tilts his head back—now that they’re closer, Davey can see that his eyes are glassy with fever, his skin flushed beneath his tan. “When’s the last time you ate something? Or had anything to drink?”

“I dunno,” Jack says, shrugging. “A while, I guess. H’ven’t been keepin’ track.”

“Let’s get some food and water into you, okay?” Davey says. “You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.”

Davey leads Jack along the hallway and down a set of stairs into the basement, following the traces of Jack’s scent in the air to find wherever he’s been hunkered down for his rut.

He quickly discovers what must be the Lodging House’s cycle room. It’s cold, cramped, and uncomfortable, not a hint of carpet or wood or anything to cover the wall-to-ceiling concrete that encloses the space, and Davey’s heart aches at the thought of Jack waiting out his cycle here, alone, for these last couple days.

He takes stock of the room: there's a wooden bed frame with a lumpy mattress pushed up against one of the walls, covered in a plastic mattress protector and made up with a cheap set of sheets that are stale with sweat, and a single threadbare blanket to go with it—no pillows. There’s a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter sitting on a table in the corner, a mostly full pitcher of water and a glass next to it, and there’s a stack of towels and linens tucked underneath the table with a wash basin.

“Think you can eat something?” Davey asks.

Jack shrugs again but doesn’t answer. Davey decides to interpret this as a yes.

“Sit down for me, darling,” he says, making quick work of fixing Jack a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of water.

Jack hovers close for a second, then finds a spot right on the floor, leaning with his back against the far wall.

“Go ahead and eat this for me,” Davey instructs, handing over the food. Jack accepts it from him by route, but makes no move to actually take a bite. “Jackie, please. You need to eat something.”

“‘M not hungry,” he mutters.

“I know you aren’t, but that’s just the rut talking,” Davey says, running a hand gently along his arm. “You’ll feel differently once you’ve got some food in your stomach.”

Though he’s clearly not thrilled about it, Jack manages to choke down half of his sandwich and two glasses of water. Once that’s taken care of, Davey starts stripping the dirty sheets off the bed, piling them into the corner to be washed later, then remakes it with a fresh set.

“Do you want to try laying down for a while?” Davey asks as he finishes, smoothing away a wrinkle near one of the mattress corners. “You said you haven’t been sleeping well—”

“I think you need to leave,” Jack interrupts, the words coming out in a low, gravelly rasp.

Davey goes very, very still, a sudden flare of heat prickling low in his stomach.

He slowly turns around. Jack rises to his feet with all the grace and power of a jungle cat, his eyes shaded dark with hunger and his scent burning like a wildfire, staring at Davey like he might devour him whole, the air between them growing heated as the next wave of his rut kicks in.

Davey barely resists a whimper, his own scent spiking sugar-sweet in response as desire pulses through him. He wants to rub himself all along Jack’s front, until that smoky-spicy-cedar scent is imprinted into his skin. Wants to lick the taste of it right out of Jack’s mouth.

“David,” Jack growls. His eyes are scorching. “You gotta go, sweetheart. You gotta leave right now.”

Davey swallows around a suddenly dry throat, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, but his voice is remarkably steady when he says, “What if I don’t want to leave?”

Now it’s Jack’s turn to stiffen. “Davey,” he says sharply. “I know you’re tryin’ to help, but trust me, this ain’t like your heats. You don’t wanna be here for this.”

“You haven’t actually asked me if I want to be here for this,” Davey points out, taking a single step forward. Jack’s hands ball into fists at his sides. “You’ve just assumed that I don’t.”

“Because you don’t understand how—” Jack’s jaw snaps shut as he cuts himself off, expression tight.

“Answer me this then,” Davey says when Jack doesn’t continue, stepping closer and closer until they’re standing toe to toe, chest to chest. Jack’s nostrils flare, the muscles in his arms tensing and flexing, and that mouth watering scent spikes even stronger. “Do you want me, Jackie?”

“Of course I want’cha,” Jack groans, and one of those big, hot hands finally curls around Davey’s waist—not pulling him any closer, really, but like Jack just can’t help himself. “What kinda question is that? This ain’t about not wantin’ ya.”

“Then why is it so hard for you to believe that I want you too?” Davey asks. “That I want you like this? That I want everything you’re willing to give me?”

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” Jack insists, stubborn. Davey would admire his dedication if it wasn’t so exasperating. “I’m— I can’t control myself as well when I’m in rut, I get rough, possessive—”

Davey rolls his eyes.

“You’re my alpha, Jackie,” he says dryly. “Possessive kind of comes with the territory.”

Jack’s eyes go wide. Two seconds later, Davey realizes what he’s said: this is the first time either of them have openly acknowledged what they are to each other, and voicing it aloud, saying it so plainly… something in Davey’s chest thrums with energy, with connection.

“You... “ Jack’s throat works for a moment. “You think of yourself as mine?”

“Jackie, I’ve always been yours,” Davey says, cupping his hands around Jack’s face, so true and so tender that he aches with it. “And, I think you’ve always been mine.”

Jack pulls one of Davey’s hands away from his face and curls his own around it, pressing a kiss to Davey’s knuckles, then to his palm, and then to the inside of his wrist, his gaze growing more heated with each one.

“Mine,” Jack growls, a hint of teeth scraping against Davey’s pulse as he pulls away. “You’re mine.”

“Yours,” Davey breathes. “All yours.”

Jack’s eyes flash red, then he’s drawing Davey in for a hard, demanding kiss, pressing a thigh between the hot space between Davey’s legs. Davey gasps at the first brush of Jack’s lips against his neck, the slide of Jack’s hands shifting down to palm at his ass, his fingers digging into the swell of Jack’s biceps for purchase.

“Take these off,” Jack growls, yanking Davey’s shirt out from where it’s tucked into his pants. “Take them off before I tear them off you.”

Davey fumbles for the buttons on his shirt, liquid heat pooling low in his stomach. Jack’s hands trail greedily at every bit of his skin as he uncovers it, thoroughly distracting and too good to ignore, and after several minutes of scrabbling, interspersed with long, frenzied kisses, they eventually manage to get their clothes off.

“Bed, cielito,” Jack says. “We need to— Bed.”

Davey hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t move, his face buried against Jack’s shoulder, biting at the skin there until it bruises.

“Dave,” Jack tries again.

“I’m busy,” Davey mumbles, mouthing at the sharp line of Jack’s collarbones.

“And I’m about two seconds away from pushing you down and fucking you right through the floor,” Jack says, voice laden with promise. “So get on the goddamn bed.”

“I really don’t see what the issue is,” Davey teases, still not moving an inch. “The floor is closer, isn’t it?”

Jack snarls, curling a hand around Davey’s nape and pulling him back up into another frenzied kiss.

“Mouthy— little— smartass—“ he pants, his teeth dragging along the tendon in Davey’s throat. “I’m gonna eat you out ‘til you cry.”

He wraps his hands under Davey’s thighs and hoists him up and back. Davey lands on the mattress with a soft bounce, barely given any time to situate himself before Jack is on top of him, pinning him down with rough hands and spreading him wide before following through with his threat, tongue lapping at Davey’s entrance in broad, greedy strokes.

“Ah,” Davey gasps, fingers tight in Jack’s hair, scrabbling for some kind of anchor as Jack licks him open.

Jack lets out a low rumble of approval that vibrates right against where he’s most sensitive, his body growing even wetter, even slicker at the sound and feel of it. Jack swirls his tongue around his opening, making Davey’s toes curl against Jack’s sides, then presses in—Davey cries out, a harsh, desperate sound that tears out of him as he grinds up into the sensation.

“Jack,” he gasps, mindless, hips jerking uselessly in Jack’s unrelenting hold, body pulled taut and stretched loose at the same time, pleasure coiling in his belly. “Jack, I’m— I can’t—”

One particularly filthy swipe of Jack’s tongue has Davey’s breath hitching in his chest, head thrown back as the feelings swell and crest, and it only takes one more teasing flick before Davey’s coming with a broken moan.

“Jack,” he croaks when his lungs reinflate. “Holy shit.”

Jack’s mouth and chin are shiny with slick, his pupils blown wide and shaded with satisfaction.

“Told you,” he says smugly.

Davey tugs him down into another messy kiss, needing to lick that handsome smirk off his face. Then he rears up and flips them over so that he’s the one on top now, kneeling over Jack with his legs straddling Jack’s lap.

“My turn,” Davey murmurs, reaching down and taking Jack’s length—thick and hard and wet at the tip—in hand, lining it up at his entrance.

Then he takes a breath, leans back, and sinks down onto it in one slow, smooth downstroke.

“Mmn,” Davey sighs, his eyes slipping shut as his body adjusts to the stinging stretch of finally being filled. He’s thrumming with tension, with heat, his thighs quivering where they’re spread wide around Jack’s hips, hands splayed against Jack’s chest for leverage, and it feels so good he could almost choke on the pleasure of it.

Jack’s hands flex jerkily against Davey’s sides, then go wonderfully, bruisingly tight, thumbs pressing hard against the divots of his hips.

“Fuck, Davey,” he groans, staring up at Davey with dark eyes tinged with red, lovely and wanting. “You’re gorgeous, sweetheart. So fucking gorgeous and absolutely perfect for me.”

“For you,” Davey agrees, grinding down in a tight, deliberate circle, ass flush against the cradle of Jack pelvis, and Jack’s scent burns even brighter, smoky and sweet. “And you’re all mine, aren’t you darling?”

“Always,” Jack promises.

Davey rises up then drops back down, carefully at first but quickly finding his rhythm, rocking his hips in a steady back and forth motion that sends liquid fire sparking up his spine. Every slip and drag of Jack’s dick inside of him feels like being shaken apart and pieced back together all at once, aching desire coursing through him with every slap of skin against skin.

“Davey,” Jack pants, his hips bucking up to meet Davey’s own as he rolls down again, and Davey moans through the bursts of bliss that explode behind his eyelids. “Oh, fuck, that’s good.”

“Jack,” Davey gasps, leaning forward to tuck his nose against Jack’s neck, nipping at his pulse point as he grinds down in his lap, the scent of summer and cedar and mate, mate, mate anchoring him even as he goes a little scent drunk on how right it all is. “Jackie, I— oh, yes, just like that.”

Jack pulls him down into the next thrust, hard and fast, and Davey cries out, twisting his hip as he sinks into it.

“Perfect,” Jack grunts, those hot, rough hands squeezing tight. “God, Davey, you look absolutely incredible. So fucking pretty, sweetheart, feel so good riding my cock.”

Davey works his hips that much faster at the praise, so much so that the bed starts rocking underneath them, the squeaky creak of the wooden frame echoing through the room in time with his own heaving breaths. He’s so wet now that he can hear Jack fucking him, hears the slick, dirty squelch of Jack’s knot pressing a little deeper inside of him every time they clash together, driving closer and closer to completion.

“Harder,” Davey pleads, his thighs burning from the effort of keeping up his pace but still needing more. “Jack, please—fuck, alpha, please—harder.”

Jack snarls—a low, rumbling, dangerously sexy sound—and his eyes bleed red, his scent washing over Davey like blazing fire. He leverages his legs up, bending them at the knee with his feet flat against the mattress, and when he thrusts up into Davey on the next roll of his hips, it feels so impossibly good that Davey’s mouth falls open around a broken, guttural little keen.

“O-oh,” Davey says, the word catching in his throat, barely able to think with how completely and utterly Jack is destroying him, his knot starting to thicken and swell against his rim as their bodies meet again and again. Davey arches his back, planting a hand against one of Jack’s bent knees for balance, chasing blindly after his pleasure, and Jack makes a noise like he’s going out of his damn mind, a possessive growl tearing its way out of his throat. “Oh fuck.”

“Say it again,” Jack orders, eyes on fire.

It falls out of Davey’s mouth, desperate and true: “Alpha, alpha, my alpha—”

“My omega,” Jack says, his voice low and gritty, rut and desire clouding his gaze. “Mine.”

They’re both teetering on the edge. Jack’s knot is catching on every thrust, fucking him open in torturous, delicious increments, and Davey wants, wants, wants.

“Jack,” Davey’s head hangs heavy between his shoulders, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he pants and sighs. “Jackie, yes, give it to me, give it to me, please, yes—”

Jack’s hands slide lower, clench harder, and Davey has one second to delight in how much he loves the feel of those big hands curled around him before the world spins and he lands flat on his back again with Jack braced above him, his eyes wild and vivid red. He grabs the backs of Davey’s thighs and pushes his knees up towards his ears, hardly faltering at all before he’s driving back inside again, fast and hard and so, so deep, and Davey’s boiling, blistering from the feeling of Jack, always Jack, pulsing inside of him, etched right into the seams of his heart.

“Mine,” Jack growls again, nipping viciously at the base of Davey’s throat, tongue swirling over his scent gland like he’s already trying to taste his claim. Davey tilts his head back with a needy whine, unable to do anything except offer himself up to him, freely and wholly. “Mate. Mine.”

“Jack,” Davey whimpers. “Jack, I— I’m—”

“You’re going to come for me,” Jack orders, pistoning his hips even harder, and the new angle means that he’s tagging that sweet spot inside on every other thrust, fierce and relentless.

“Yes,” Davey moans, sparks flying at the edges of his vision. “Yes, I’m— Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t—”

Jack presses him down, snaps his hips forward, sharp, and his knot finally catches, swells, and locks inside of him. Heat thrums, then surges through him, white hot, at the searing stretch of it and Davey comes so hard he goes lightheaded, body rippling and writhing through wave after wave of pleasure. Jack manages a couple more filthy grinds of his hips before he’s tumbling over the edge right after him, capturing Davey’s mouth in a breathless, bruising kiss as his orgasm rocks through them both.

When he feels like he can move his limbs again, Davey lets his legs slip down to wrap around Jack’s waist, looping his arms loosely around Jack’s neck. He turns his face towards Jack’s temple and inhales, smiling softly when he catches the smoky, spicy, cooling-embers scent of a sated, happily exhausted alpha.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Davey murmurs, brushing Jack’s sweaty hair off his forehead with a gentle touch. “Alright?”

Jack mouths something unintelligible against his collarbone, a solid, grounding weight sprawled bonelessly on top of him. Davey cups his hand around the nape of Jack’s neck, then strokes soothingly down his back, his mind a wash of hazy contentment.

“‘M good,” Jack grunts. “I’m… fuck, Dave.”

Davey huffs out a laugh, then presses a kiss to the high point of Jack’s cheek. “Fuck,” he echoes hoarsely, still recovering from his high.

“You?” Jack asks, nuzzling clumsily at the column of Davey’s throat. “Feelin’ okay?”

“Better than,” Davey decides, his body aching deliciously around the hot, hard knot pressed inside of him, stomach sticky with with own release, his thighs wet with slick and come, neck littered with marks, the air thick with their combined scents, spring and citrus and cedar and sweet melded perfectly together, and he feels totally, entirely, completely— “Feel claimed.”

Jack’s body twitches, his knot throbbing as he spills another burst of pleasure deep inside of him. Davey hums, pleased, some base omega instinct purring with satisfaction at how wonderfully full he is.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” Jack eventually gets out, voice rough and raspy and wrecked. “You can’t just— Have mercy on your poor alpha.”

“My alpha,” Davey agrees. “All mine.”

#newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #*editor's note #*the writing desk #*final cut #tease series #yep yep yep yep #I’m sorry for nothing

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hiyorisarugaki · 3 years

Text

Letters to Muken

@keikakudori from here:

Hiyori does not receive mail in Seireitei. Any messages or hell butterflies are specifically addressed to Shinji. He has a job and several connections here. All she has are those fierce little allies that she cannot let go of in this- or any dimension. So imagine her surprise when she receives something addressed to her. It bears an official seal on it and she is loathed to touch something that could be shinigami-related. She does not want to deal with any of that. She only wants to live her life now.

But then, after some deliberation, she is compelled to read the letter. The handwriting is foreign, but clear. The words are alien– but as soon as she gets through the first few lines, a chill runs straight through her spine. She’s lost the feeling in her legs and she’s quite glad nobody can see her fierce self lose composure over some words.

Did… she expect her perfect little life to one day shatter? Yes. But has she expected her random letter ever to be answered? No. None of her letters were answered before. After all, she who hated writing and formulating responses… had written until her fingers were sore and bleeding. She had sent many a tearful letter to Kirio, begging almost at the end to take her with her… Not a single answer had been given.

But now she has a reply. A neat, prim reply. Familiar words are dancing around the page. Words from someone a long, long time ago.

This is not the reply she expects. If she has wanted a reply… she wanted it filled with a burning challenge. Some fancy, flowery lines where he mocked her and asked her to bide her time until he returns to ruin everything.

But what she got instead was… a conversation. And his dialogue compelled her to pick up a piece of paper and respond in kind. She wasn’t here to offer him something as magnanimous as forgiveness. Hiyori is not an angel. And she certainly is no shinigami. She is no longer a pure dweller in the court of purest souls. She cannot offer things like forgiveness.

But all she can offer him is her own confusion. Her fingers trembled, gripping the pen too hard. She has not picked up a writing brush in decades. She uses a small thing like a pen now, scratching out harsh letters on pages that begged for some ink.

Sosuke,

Ya really goin’ crazy in there if ya like readin’ yer hate mail.

… Hirako-Taichou. At least ya remember that name. Guess ya already know he’s a captain again. Restored his name again. Took 100 years for him ‘ta take back the position after you stole it from him.

Why d’ya do that? Yer clever and yet ya steal Kisuke’s Hougyoku. Ya steal Shinji’s position. Ya steal souls from Rukongai. Ya steal arrancar and turn ‘em into Espada. Is Kyoka Suigetsu really yer zanpakuto? Is that really yer own soul cutter or did ya steal that too?

What’s actually yours?

I remember those times at the fifth division too. Faker than yer fuckin’ prescription glasses.

I ain’t yer friend. Ya don’t got any friends, Sosuke. Ya don’t get ‘ta use that word when yer out here ruinin’ people’s lives for yer own grand plans.

And it’s good that yer feelin’ some remorse in that shithole. This is a punishment, since ya can’t apparently die. I still think that’s fake news too. Seireitei is full of shittygami and they can say what they want and everyone’ll believe their packs of lies. Of course, ya know all about that. Ya played ‘em for so long.

Yer lyin’ now, ain’t ya?

sp- prudent? What the fuck does that mean? Stop usin’ fancy words. Even now, yer bein’ shitty!

Ya sayin’ ya knew my weaknesses? Big fuckin’ deal. I am the first ‘ta attack anyway. It ain’t some amazing observation, genius.

Ya used me ‘ta hurt Shinji? That’s fuckin’ dumb. Ya could’a just started fighting him. And it wasn’t even you that attacked me- that shitty Gin kid did!! It hurt like a bitch btw, since ya didn’t ask.

Uhh. Don’t believe ya. Ya were his lieutenant. Yer fuckin’ job was ‘ta PROTECT him and ya hurt him? And this conveniently came with yer sneaky plans ‘ta become idk… wtf was even yer plan? Soul King or sommat?? Sounds like yer lying. Yer obviously lying. And I ain’t gonna ask Shinji anything. He already somehow feels like yer shitty decisions are his fault. Like who knows ya enjoyed a lil hollowfication with yer wagashi on the side? Fuck knows.

Don’t butter me up with compliments. I ain’t a child!

And the only reason I was even aware of anythin’ that night– - I was so fuckin’ ashamed! My zanpakuto had cut Shinji! I’d sonner cut my own head!

Don’t talk about my heart. Don’t talk about what ya learned. Are ya confusin’ yer victims? I ain’t no Hinamori. I’m Hiyori. Did she also send ya letters? She looks the type.

Don’t talk about my loyalty and shit that ya know nothing about. Ya got no loyalty, so how d’ya know if I am loyal? Ya ain’t scared of anythin’. Ya ain’t scared of bein’ overpowered or hurt or losin’ yer mind. So how the fuck d’ya know what being brave is like?

I ain’t a good woman. I’m permanently disfigured.

I can’t go back ‘ta bein’ who I was. But I’ll never let ya hurt my friends again. And don’t pretend ‘ta worry about Shinji. He’s havin’ the time of his life now that he’s got a cute lieutenant.

I hate you. Don’t simper, it’s pissing me off.

-Hiyori

#.letters #!aizen #keikakudori

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franklyshipping · 4 years

Text

When The Past Comes Back To Tickle ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

HERE WE HAVE ANOTHER GORGEOUS ANON PROMPT THAT’S GOING TO FEATURE OUT FAVOURITE EX-JAIL LAD! LET’S DO THIS!

TAGGING: @warden-the-ultimate-ler

Warden Murder-Slaughter could not have been happier right now, because what he was seeing right now was something he had never thought would happen, even though he had always hoped it with all his heart. Despite his brash exterior and the fact that he could be stern, at heart he was kind. He had to be stern, he was the warden of a strict penitentiary after all, but he couldn’t help but become invested in the lives of everyone who ended up living behind his bars. And one person he became particularly invested in, was Yancy. Yancy at first had tried to present himself as a tough cookie, but underneath all the sass and the tightly-folded arms was a kind-hearted, musically talented man with aspirations of a better, prosperous life….and it was one of the best days of the Warden’s life when he got to release Yancy and get him towards that life.

It had been a long while since that fateful day, and now the Warden was excited beyond belief because he was going to see him again! Yancy was settled in some kind of manor with a myriad of others, a “slap-dash family” Yancy had called it, and he’d invited the Warden over with great excitement because he wanted to show him everything he’d accomplished. So now the Warden was knocking on the door, and when that door was opened by a brightly grinning, tattooed man with a gleam in his eye and his hands settled boldly on his hips….the Warden knew he was going to feel so proud.

‘My God Yancy….you look so damn well!’

‘Hey as do yous Warden, as do yous, c’mon in c’mon, I’ll show ya round, give ya the grand tour!’

Yancy was like an excited kid as he showed the Warden around the manor, especially when it came to showing him the dance studios that he worked in. The Warden felt his heart warm with pride as Yancy told him all about how he was a choreographer, working alongside Wilford Warfstache and Bim Trimmer with their productions and TV shows. The Warden met them both too, and they both seemed perfectly eccentric and just the type of people the Warden had imagined Yancy getting close to. Eventually they sat down together in one of the living rooms, slumping on the couch, and the Warden grinned at Yancy.

‘Yancy, buddy, I gotta say…..I’m so damn proud of ya. You’re finally settled, with a strong, free community all around ya…..it’s incredible.’

Yancy beamed, and was so happy at seeing the Warden so happy, because to him, the Warden was family. Of course though, in this new environment Yancy had been granted time to develop a new confidence and cheekiness, especially with there being no-one to reprimand him. He nudged the Warden as he replied playfully.

‘Oho don’tcha get all soft on me now Warden, don’t want those back at the penitentiary thinkin’ you got a tender, emotional little heart in there.’

Yancy poked the Warden’s chest with a chuckle, making the Warden narrow his eyes playfully at Yancy as he smiled. He was glad to see this confident side to Yancy, however, that didn’t mean he was just going to let himself be teased.

‘Now, now Yancy, ya may not be in my establishment anymore but that don’t mean ya can get cheeky with me.’

Yancy grinned even more, because from his perspective he thought that he could be as cheeky as he damn well pleased.

‘Oh but I can Warden, you’re in my digs now after all! Bless your sweet little loving heart!’

Yancy winked at the Warden with a bright laugh, and the Warden pursed his lips a little out of embarrassment….but it didn’t take him long to have a little epiphany as he thought back on when Yancy was in his penitentiary. Now the Warden smirked, because he knew just what to do to remind Yancy about good manners. He stepped his hands on his knee now as he looked at Yancy, his smirk sly.

‘Y’know, this confidence of yours reminds me of when ya first came to my establishment. So sassy and cocky….d’ya remember what we used to do to ya down in solitary to help you get a more polite sense of propriety?’

At the Warden’s words, Yancy felt his confidence diminish, and he gulped….because oh yes, he remembered all too well. He tried to maintain a calm façade as he replied.

‘Yeah, well, I don’t see why yous gotta bring it up-‘

‘Oh I’m bringing it up, Yancy, because I think you’ve slightly forgotten about those good manners we taught you…..and I’m in just the mood to remind you.’

Before Yancy could react…..the Warden had him. Just like when he’d gotten dragged off to solitary. The Warden had him pinned down on his back, and was digging his fingers ruthlessly into his ticklish belly. Yancy let out a shocked howl of laughter, his limbs immediately flailing as he was reminded with a shock of a) his ticklishness, and b) the Warden’s proficiency at tickling.

‘NOHO-AHA W-WAHAHAIT W-W-WAHAHARDEN NAHAHA!’

The Warden chuckled that deep, sinister chuckle of his as he kept on tickling, grinning wolfishly down at Yancy as he replied gleefully.

‘Heheh, still ticklish as hell huh? Y’know, you’re still the most ticklish person I’ve ever met.’

Yancy immediately blushed, whacking at the Warden’s arms as he tried to curl up his sensitive body, yelling with adorable desperation already.

‘WAHAHARDEN C’MAHAHAN! STAHAHAPPIT!’

The Warden simply laughed, and made Yancy snort by squeezing his lower stomach as he taunted.

‘Ihis that all the beggin’ you got? It’s gohonna take more than that to get to me to have mercy, you should know that Yance.’

Yancy threw his head back with mirth as he writhed, the memories flooding back. Sometimes the guards would hold him down as the Warden tickle-tortured him in solitary. Yancy had always had to beg and beg and beg for mercy, the Warden was a classic sadist. Although….since it was tickling, Yancy had never actually minded. Nor did he mind now.

‘YOHOHOHOUS IHIS AHAN EHEHEVIL BAHAHASTARD!’

The Warden raised an eyebrow at the insult, before smirking. His memories kept flooding back too. They’d never talked about it explicitly, but the Warden had always known that Yancy loved to be tickled….and when he wanted more, he always got sassy and insulting. Well, who was he to deny his ex-prisoner what he wanted?

‘Ohoho you think I’m evil now?’

Yancy gulped, and yelped when the Warden took his flailing hands and pinned them above his head with only one of his own hands. Yancy then started to tremble and giggle nervously as the Warden loomed over him, always so intimidating.

‘Clearly you really need reminding of just how evil I can be….’

Yancy then gasped, and let out a strong of embarrassed whimpers as the Warden’s fingertips started tracing slow, light circles in one of his bare hollows. His face burned red as he spluttered.

‘N-Nohoho ohoho f-fuhuhuck nahahat thihihihiiiiis!’

‘Ohoho yes this, you just can’t handle your poor pits being played with like this, can you?’

Yancy shook his head frantically, gritting his teeth as his giggles got more and more high pitched; gentle tickling like this was torture for him.

‘Ihihihit’s fuhuhuckin’ t-tohohorture! Ohoho gahad c-c’mahahan!’

The Warden leant in, cocking his head at Yancy and getting right in his face as he gleefully teased him.

‘Awww c’mon what, huh? I’m barely touchin’ you and you’re goin’ crazy…..say, do your new buddies know how ticklish ya are? Maybe I should tell ‘em, maybe I should show ‘em.’

Yancy let out a legitimate flustered whine as shudders went down his spine, imagining with embarrassed horror all the egos finding out about his ticklishness. He struggled adorably, letting out more and more whines and squeals as the Warden traced his other armpit now.

‘NOHO! Y-Yohohou c-cahahan’t! Thehehey’d g-gehet mehe Ihi’d fuhuhuckin’ dihihie!’

The Warden chuckled in amusement, fluttering his fingertips all over Yancy’s hollow as he teased.

‘Then you’d better get to beggin’, cuz otherwise I might have to get ‘em in here to give me helping hand….or twenty.’

Yancy was shaking his head as he got teary-eyed and adorably frantic.

‘N-Nahaha yahaha cahahan’t! Plehehease yahaha cahan’t!’

The Warden smirked, and then buried his face in the crook of Yancy’s neck so he could rub his evil bristles against the sensitive skin. Meanwhile, he released Yancy’s wrists so he could scratch both of his armpits at the same time with his blunt nails.

‘C’mon Yance, beg for me.’

Yancy’s eyes nearly bugged out of his sockets as he shrieked with laughter, batting at the Warden brightly; he certainly needed no further prompting. His laughter was loud and boisterous and oh so happy as he cried.

‘NAHAHAHA PLEHEHEASE-FAHAHACK PLEHEHEASE!!’

The Warden chuckled, really enjoying getting Yancy like this. He growled into his neck.

‘Tickle-tickle-tickle Yance, kitchy kitchy coo!’

Yancy wailed, the baby-voice and the cooing combined really breaking him down and making him cry out amidst all his cute laughter.

‘NAHAHAHAAAA PLEHEHEASE IHIHI’M BEHEHEGGIN’ YAHA!!’

The Warden smirked brightly, it had been too long since he’d heard those adorable words from Yancy. He let out a musing hum as he listened to Yancy’s mirth for a few seconds more, before rearing up and having mercy on him. Yancy was left gasping and giggling residually as the Warden replied to him warmly.

‘Alright, I think you’ve earned my mercy….for today.’

Yancy kept giggling, and hid his face in his hands as he curled his body up, making the Warden chuckle fondly. He ruffled Yancy’s hair, making the ex-prisoner grin and peek through his fingers at him, and the Warden felt his heart warm when Yancy mumbled.

‘I-Ihi’ve reheally missed ya…..’

The Warden grinned, and scooped Yancy up into a fierce bear hug, which Yancy instantly reciprocated as he buried his face in the Warden’s chest.

‘I’ve missed ya too, ya cheeky buck.’

Yancy giggled again, and the two of them just basically hugged it out for the rest of the day. You know you’ve got a real connection with someone when, even after so much time apart, even after so much time not talking or touching….the moment you’re together again, it’s like nothing has changed. And even though Yancy was a free man and so much had in fact changed….their friendship most certainly hadn’t.

WOOOO HOPE YOU ALL LIKED THIS FIC LEMME KNOW IF YA DID WOOOO LUV YOUS XX

#markiplier #markiplier egos #sfw #platonic #yancy #warden murderslaughter #warden #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #prompt #ego fic #ego fanfic #tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #luv these bois

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