#On the one hand I didn’t know Cake By The Ocean wasn’t about cake

[moltengoldveins]

Y’all ever gotta, like… remind yourself you’re ace when it comes to humor?

Like not in a ‘oh no! While I wasn’t looking, I started wanting to bang ppl!’ But more like a ‘there is, to all outward appearances, a fine line between aesthetic appreciation and one-way tickets to Horny Jail and, for fun and profit, I do a lil dance on it daily.’

#I enjoy confusing my friends #On the one hand I didn’t know Cake By The Ocean wasn’t about cake #On the other #I have the filthiest humor imaginable #It’s great #theyre terrified daily #asexual

[nurse-sainz]

Broken Promises - Part 2

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Anon request: I wanted to make a request for an angst by Charles Leclerc, where they have an argument because he has been very distant but he doesn't want to accept it and end up saying hurtful things without knowing how to fix things later.

I took this request and ran with it deciding it would be a good continuation of this fic

Warning: mentions of crash, ICU and hospital stays. Angst with a sweet ending.

The evening spent with Max had been amazing, if you were being honest you dreaded going back to your apartment to the loud noise and people and just wanted to spend it by the ocean with him. He managed to convince you…or maybe it was the birthday cake that was waiting. It was definitely the cake. 

He led you back to your apartment and you managed to sneak back in, Arthur and Lorenzo had kept your guests entertained and told them you needed a moment. Turns out the break was exactly what you needed, and of course you were still mad at your brother but it didn’t matter tonight. You smiled as Max brought out your cake and you made a wish before blowing out your candles. The pair of you cut a slice to save to enjoy later when all of your guests had gone for the night. 

The next morning you woke up to a text from Charlies and your bad mood started all over again. 

Charlie: I hope you enjoyed the night, Arthur and Lorenzo said it was good. I’m so sorry once again. 

You didn’t care for his apologies. You were done with him and his promises. 

He must have seen that you’d opened his message but didn’t reply because the next thing you knew his caller ID was lighting up your screen. 

“What?” 

“Is that any way to speak to your brother, sœurette?” 

The tone of his voice just irritated you in a way only one of your brothers could. How could he speak to you like that after how he treated you yesterday. 

“What do you want, Grand frère?” You almost spat the pet name you use for him. 

“I told you I was sorry, y/n. Did you have a good time?” 

“No, Charlie. I didn’t. I wanted you there. You promised me. Arthur and Lorenzo were there and Max. The only reason I didn’t cancel was because he convinced me.” 

Charles knew there was no point arguing with you further when you were like this and he’d been beating himself up ever since he’d sent that text; but duty called. He had to work and he couldn’t get out of it, especially with how last minute his team had called him in. 

He sighed, “will I be seeing you at the race this weekend?” 

“Yes. Unlike you, I keep my promises. I’ll be there, but not for you Charlie. I’m going for Max.” 

“Y/n wait-” 

You didn’t bother listening to what he had to say, “goodbye Charles.” You hung up, cringing at the use of his full name. You never called him Charles. 

Max walked into the kitchen where you were sitting at the breakfast bar and kissed you as he passed. “Was that Charles?” 

“Yeah, just asking if I was coming to the race this weekend.” 

“You need to for-” 

“If you say forgive him so help me Verstappen,” you warned slightly playfully but also not wanting or willing to forgive your brother just yet.  

He held his hands up in surrender, “just, don’t give him too much of a hard time, he’s probably been beating himself up over it.” 

You knew Max was right, but still he’d hurt you. Two days later as you made your way through the paddock holding onto Max’s hand you decided to forgo seeing Charles, he was probably too busy anyway. You both made your way to the Red Bull hospitality tent avoiding Ferrari and Charles at all costs. 

Luck, however, wasn’t in your favor. Charles had heard about your arrival and seen it on his socials. He’d seen you in your Red Bull jacket and baseball cap, not a hint of Ferrari red on you. Usually you’d have a piece of merch from both of the drivers in your life, wanting to support the pair of them; but you knew this would piss him off. This was a final act of defiance to show how much you were still angry with him. 

You knew you’d gone too far when you saw a red shirt moving through the crowd of blue. Charles was in your face before you had a chance to react,  “Why are you doing this?” your brother asked. You’d never seen him look so angry and hurt; maybe now he’d understand how you felt the last three years. “I’m your brother and you’re not even supporting me, how is that going to look to the fans?” 

“To the fans? Is that all you care about? Maybe now you know how it feels to have your own sibling not show up for you. Besides, I’m not here to only support you Charlie, Max is my boyfriend and I support him too. He is just as important to me.” 

His face fell, “you know what? I’m done. Do whatever you want y/n but just don’t expect me to be okay with it.” 

You couldn’t help the tears that welled up in your eyes as you watched him walk away. 

The few people who were around for your argument slowly went back to their business leaving you alone. Charles nearly slammed into Max as he left the tent to prepare for the race. 

“Charles?” He called but his friend ignored him. He turned back to see you nearly in tears and rushed to your side. 

“What happened?” he asked as he put his arm around you to lead you to somewhere more private, where prying ears couldn’t listen in. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just get you ready for the race, yeah?” You wiped your tears and turned your attention to him. 

You made your way to the monitors and placed the headset on your ears, standing with the rest of the Red Bull team as the formation lap began. Then it was lights out. 

Max pulled away first, closely followed by Lando, Carlos and Charles. They battled for first place as they inched round the first corner. It always made you nervous seeing your brother so close to the other drivers but thankfully they made it through unscathed. 

You could tell Charles was driving aggressively, the way he inched closer to the McLaren’s on the corners and pushed his car to the limit as he overtook them. You watched nervously, trying to focus on enjoying the race, Charles knew what he was doing. 

Suddenly, a gasp went through the room and time seemed to go in slow motion as Charles' car clipped the back of Lando's, sending it into a horrific flip. Charles’ car somersaulted through the air before it finally crashed down and skidded to a halt, only stopped by the wall. 

Your heart was in your throat as you waited for any signs of life. “What’s going on? Is he responding?” You asked as you all watched on in shock. 

“We don’t know.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” You called back, you wanted nothing more than to rip the headset off and run to the Ferrari garage. You heard the red flag being called and the cars were called back to the garage, but your focus was on the screens as you watched the medical car rush to the scene. 

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but Max had made it back and was at your side. He walked you over to the Ferrari garage where you were met with red rimmed eyes as they tried to get any information from the track medics. Max could tell you were in shock. He kept tight hold of you, his touch a grounding presence as you waited for any news. 

One of Charles’ engineers made his way over to you and Max as he noticed you standing there. “The medics are with him now, he’s alive but he’s unconscious. They’re working on getting him out.” 

You finally let the tears you’d been holding fall. If it weren’t for Max holding you up you would have fallen to the floor right there. The race was called off, none of the drivers wanting to continue after that. 

You were in a state of panic, your breaths coming in short painful gasps. You wanted nothing more than to be with your brother. “I need to go with him. Let me go!” You cried. 

Max held you tight against his chest, his own face etched with concern for his friend. “We’ll go to the hospital. I’ll get us there, okay? He’s going to be okay. I promise.” 

“You don’t know that,” you looked up at him, tears still streaming freely down your face. Your mind was a whirlwind of guilt and worry. The last words you’d both spoken to each other ran over and over through your head. You couldn’t let this stupid argument be the last thing you both said to each other. 

When you got to the hospital, the news wasn’t what you wanted to hear. You wanted nothing more than to go into his hospital room and see him sitting up; to be able to tell him how sorry you were and how you hated fighting with him. The news wasn’t good though. Your brother was in the ICU, unconscious and his condition though stable was critical. You sat in the waiting room, your hand in Max’s as you waited for a nurse to bring you back to see your brother. 

Hours felt like days before a doctor and nurse finally approached you and Max. They updated you on his injuries and you were finally allowed to see him. Your heart broke as you saw him through the window hooked up to various tubes, machines and wires. 

You hid your face in Max’s chest as your tears fell once more, not being able to look at how broken he looked. You weren’t sure how you even had any tears left to shed. 

“I should have been there for him. I shouldn’t have said those things. He wouldn’t have been driving so recklessly -“ 

Max cut you off, “we all drive like idiots sometimes, it’s the nature of the sport. This wasn’t your fault. He knows how much you love him.”  

You nodded, knowing he was right but the guilt was still there. 

“Do you want to go in and see him? I can come with you or stay out here?” Max asked. 

You nodded and gripped your boyfriend's hand tighter as you both entered his ICU room. All you could do was sit and wait and pray. Pray for Charles to wake up, pray for a chance to make things right. 

You sat by his side, never leaving. You barely slept, your eyes fixed on your brother, willing with everything you had for him to wake up. As the days went by the news was getting better, the machine breathing for him was removed and he was showing signs of recovery, but he still hadn’t woken up. 

It was late into the third night when you felt his hand tighten around yours. You thought you had imagined it at first but your heart leapt when his fingers twitched around yours once more and his eyes began to flutter open. You jumped to your feet, tears flowing down your face once more but this time out of relief. 

“Charlie?” You called hopefully, your voice thick with emotion. 

Charles blinked against the harsh bright lights, disoriented but a small smile came across his lips as his gaze landed on yours.  

He coughed weakly, his voice raspy from disuse, “y/n?” 

“I’m here. I’m right here, Charles,” you reassured, smoothing his hair back. 

He looked at her with a small smile playing at his lips despite everything he’d just been through, “you’re wearing a Ferrari hoodie?” 

You let out a shaky laugh, tears still streaming down your face, “couldn’t exactly be representing Red Bull at a time like this.” 

He laughed, followed by a groan. 

“I’m sorry, Charlie. I am so sorry for everything. For my birthday and the fight…” 

Charles squeezed your hand weakly, “I’m sorry too. I should have been there, I promised and the fight at the race…I just wanted your support as well. I didn’t realize how much I’d hurt you.” 

“None of that matters now. I’m just glad you’re awake. I just need you to be okay.” 

Charles nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’ll be okay and I promise I will make it up to you,” he held up his pinky which you linked with yours. 

You both stayed like that for a moment, your hand clasped in his. Max stood at the doorway happy to see his friend awake and the pair of you making up. 

As the doctors finished their checks and left the room, you sat down beside Charles, holding his hand. 

“You scared the shit out of me, you know? Why were you driving like a dumbass?” 

Charles let out a small chuckle, “not my finest moment, huh?” 

“No, but you’re going to be okay and that’s all that matters. We can figure everything else out later.” 

Charles nodded, his grip on your hand growing a bit stronger. “Yeah, we will. Together.” 

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Together.” 

The road to recovery wasn’t going to be easy for him but you knew he’d be back to racing and annoying you in no time. He was going to be okay and you two would work through your issues when he was better. That’s all that mattered.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #leclerc!reader #max verstappen x leclerc!reader #mine #beth writes #my writing

[whitexwolfxx310]

Hi. Request. A bucky or sebastian x fem reader. Soft wedding smut. Fluff. NO daddy or mommy kinks, for the love of God. NO! Thank you

Yes!!! I have been so excited to write something like this! I couldn't help but dive right into it! I hope you enjoy ♥️

||You're My Home||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: Your wedding night!

Warnings: Spicy content! 18+ only! Oral sex F receiving, unprotected penetration, praise kink, FLUFFFFFFF!

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This isn't a part of the BBWWS, but let me know what you think!

Spending the last year planning the intricate details of a wedding had you completely drained. Centerpieces, invitations, flowers… it sounds fun in theory, but was utterly exhausting.

Bucky did everything he could to be by your side every step of the way. Even the late nights when he came home from a mission to find you crying in the middle of the floor- that was littered with glue, glitter, ribbons, and card stock that was going to somehow come together to make the seating chart you had imagined in your head. He had this magic about him that would take the stress away, reminding you that the very core of all of this was your love for one another. He’d offer to help, and seeing him in all black leather covered with glitter was a sight to behold. You teased your fiancé, saying he should pitch that idea as a new uniform.

You held onto those little moments to help push you through the craziness of wedding planning. After all, the endgame was becoming Mrs. Barnes. And even though the big day got closer and closer, you never got over the sight of Bucky’s mothers ring on your finger.

But it all came together on a beautiful fall evening as you each stood at the end of a plush grass isle. That had been his one and only request- to be married outdoors in a wide open space. Bucky didn’t look when you first appeared, he was afraid. It wasn’t until the music played and Steve gave him a reassuring grip on his shoulder, did he brave a look.

He didn’t smile at first. His eyes took in every small detail; The bold white sheath dress that hugged your curves, the plunging sweetheart neckline that accented your breasts, the floral patterned lace that disappeared the further it fluttered down the dress. No, he didn’t smile. Not yet. Instead his teeth clenched and his lips slightly twitched as you started to walk towards him. Bucky’s ocean blue eyes now had a watery sheen to them, conveying just one simple word: ‘mine’.

When you were only just a few feet away from the sunflower and marigold decorated alter, he stepped forward to meet you. To hold your hand in his as you both take your last steps as each others fiancé. Standing face to face in front of a large group of people that suddenly seemed to disappear, you could only focus on the man in front of you. His pearly white teeth that gleamed as he now smiled, his eyes as bright as you’ve ever seen them, his infamous nose scrunch in excitement that made you fall in love with him in the first place, and that tanned, God-like skin that practically glowed under his all black suit. Every feature was enhanced from the too perfect watercolor sun as it started to set during your vows.

The minister hadn’t even finished the conclusion of the ceremony by saying ‘you may now kiss the bride’ before Bucky gently cupped both sides of your face and gave you the sweetest, heartfelt kiss. The beaming smiles on both of your faces almost made it impossible to press your lips together. Cheers and clapping erupted from the crowd, causing him to take you into his arms, dipping you down low as he maintained the kiss for show.

The evening was full of clinking utensils against glasses, music that had everyone dancing (even Bucky), and the ever so slightly guilty conscience you had from wasting such an amazing tasting cake by smushing it into his face. It went by so fast that it was practically a blur, and over far too soon.

Everyone sent you off in the picture perfect way; people lined up on both sides of the main entrance and held sparklers that just felt as though they were illuminating the newly married glow coming off of you both.

Driving back to the rented cabin for your wedding night was painfully slow. Bucky’s hand rested on your thigh as he drove, giving the occasional squeeze when his thumb wasn’t grazing against the soft white fabric.

Pulling into the drive, you can feel that the night has cooled. He quickly turns off the car and slightly fumbles as he runs around to open the car door for you. Holding out his hand, you take it into yours and allow him to help you out. After all, wedding dresses aren’t well known for their ability to move with you. Bucky picks you up, now holding you in traditional bridal style to bring you through the threshold. He kicks the door lightly, opening it and walking through, making you giggle as you held onto him.

“Thank you, husband.” You enunciate. He smirks, gently placing you back into your feet.

“You’re welcome, wife.” He reiterates the title also. You both laugh.

His eyes find yours, portraying the same look of adoration he has given you through the entire day, making you feel like the happiest and luckiest woman in the world. Your smile mirrored his own- but one side of your lip tugged into a smirk as you slowly started stepping backwards towards the bedroom. The faint clicking of your heels against the floor being your silent invitation.

Those sky blue eyes set ablaze, and without hesitation, he pulled at his black tie, shimmying the knot down until it was undone and fell to the floor. Bucky’s midnight black tuxedo jacket followed suit, starting to leave a trail of his clothes as he followed you into the bedroom.

He places his hands on each side of your waist and encourages you to turn around. Now with your back to him, he steps in close- the front of his body now pressing into yours. As you expose your neck, Bucky's lips kiss your collarbone, almost making you visibly shiver under his touch. He inhales deeply, as if somehow your scent has changed now that you're officially his. His lips leave small, butterfly soft kisses that trace up to your ear. Instinctively, warm fingertips trace along the lace seam on your lower back.

"You looked... so beautiful today," he breathed, as his fingers clasped the tiny zipper. "But, I would be lying if I said that I haven't been thinking about getting you out of this dress, all day." Your hips impulsively press back against his at the words. The fabric became less taut the more he pulled the zipper down.

That familiar combination of his warm and cool touch started to line your curves. Turning in Bucky's arms to face him, the dress pooled around your feet on the floor. After helping you out of the mesh layers, Bucky drops to his knees in front of you as he admires your new revealed outfit- a strapless, shortened, white flower patterned corset with a matching lace thong and garter belt to hold up thigh high stockings. Placing a firm kiss on your stomach, his head tilts up so he can look at you through hooded eyes- his lower lip still tugged down against your belly slightly.

"God, you're gorgeous. Just...perfect. And mine." The last word changed his tone from admiration to instant primal. He was back on his feet, hands already starting to roam your body. In return, you grip the collar of his dress shirt, pulling his face down closer to yours. Even in heels, you're significantly shorter than him.

"I love you, Bucky. You're everything I've ever wanted, needed, and more." You say, in a small voice- your lips so close to his that they just barely touched with each word you spoke. Not even waiting for a response, you purse your lips to his as you start to fumble with the buttons of his dress shirt.

His warm tongue skims against yours- and now you're even more impatient that his naked body isn't already on top of yours. Taking a fist full of the shirt from both sides, you pull as hard as you could- buttons flying, leaving his chest bare. Bucky's lips didn't leave yours as you pushed the shirt down his arms, letting it drop to the floor.

Stepping forward, he supports your body- laying you down on the bed. His hips press firmly between your legs, and even through his dress pants you could feel that he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him; Causing the recognizable throbbing in your lower core to make it's first appearance. His palm presses flat against your upper chest, feeling your heart as it starts to beat faster, for him.

Using his palm as guidance, his lips now trail behind his hand as it coasts lower on your body. Your sternum, beneath your ribs, your belly button, and just above your underwear. While his lips left creamy, soft kisses- the small amount of stubble on his chin tickles, causes you to wriggle slightly under his touch. You exhale all of the air out of your lungs as he plants one faint kiss on top of the thin fabric between your legs. The warmth from his breath has your body completely in his control; your back arching off the bed, aching for more of his touch.

Moving the fabric to the side, he gives one more exposed, tongue filled kiss- causing your breath to hitch. You force yourself to look down, taking the upmost gratification of seeing this man's, your man's, face between your thighs. Bucky ran his warm pointer finger through your folds, grinning with approval of how wet you already are. His ribbed tongue swirls as he licks and sucks smoothly- your hips grind softly, working with his motions.

At first your moans are sigh like and gradually turn into small whimpers. It's a small game Bucky likes to play- teasing and edging almost to the point it will drive you insane. But the orgasms that snowball through you over and over again make it so worth it. He glides over that one sweet spot that makes your entire body tense.

"Don't stop," You sigh, struggling to maintain breathing as your nails start grabbing into his full head of hair. He gives a small 'Mmm' in response, the hum from his throat practically echoing in your rib cage.

Keeping the gradual brushing of his tongue, your entire body starts to come off of the bed. Your toes point downward as you fail in remembering how to breathe- Bucky's arms tense around your thighs as you start to wriggle, holding you in place as you ride through the wave of pent up tension.

A combination of his name delicately wrapped in moans escape your mouth. Even after what seems like relentless energy waves rolling through your body, his tongue doesn't stop- but instead becomes softer and silky, twirling so gently around your extremely sensitive and swollen clit. Only once does your body shudder at each pass of his tongue does he stop.

The coolness of the air replaces where his mouth was as he kneels on the bed. Bucky pulls on his belt buckle, the metal rattling as it comes undone and gets thrown onto the floor. At some point, your thong had been ripped off. Being the skilled lover that he is, his pants are already being tugged off as he moves to hover over you. His sweet- yet salty, lips are on yours; his tongue massaging your own as you both taste yourself through the kiss.

Reaching down between your legs, you grasp and start to stroke him slowly. He breathes into the kiss at your touch and as you adjust your body underneath him. You guide the tip of him to your entrance, rubbing it maliciously slow up and down your folds to lubricate him, with you. The most delicious sound reverberates in his throat as his hips gently press forward, his silent plead. Not being able to resist much longer yourself, you start to guide him inside of you.

A unanimous moan is breathed out between the two of you as he presses in. In an attempt to make himself slick, Bucky pushes in, and then pulls out- repeating this movement until the majority of his length is inside of you. You're so tight that he can't fit in all the way just yet.

His hips rock gingerly against your own, starting off gradually as your internal walls expand to adjust around his intimidating size. The abdominal throbbing didn't stay dormant for long once Bucky found his rhythm. He breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead into your own. His breathing becomes heavier as your whimpers morph into moans- moans transform into broken 'oh's'.

This being your second orgasm makes it more intense; and Bucky knows well enough to keep his pace. Changing anything in the moment could cause him to start over again. Not that he would mind.

"Just like that," he breathes, and gently strokes your cheek. And you start to crumble all over again at the smoothness of his words. Your nails dig into his slick and muscled back for stability- your stomach re-living that rollercoaster drop feeling. The sounds coming from you are becoming shaky and high pitched. Bucky presses his lips back into yours, swallowing your sharp whines of pleasure.

He doesn't allow you time to come back down from this high; instead he repositions you both. Bucky is now slightly leaned back on his knees with you straddled on top of him, nice and close.

"One more?" He asks with a smug smile, already taking on the challenge regardless.

Your throat is so dry, your vision still semi blurred- and yet, how can I say no?

His hands grip onto your hips- your bodies forming a V. No movement involved, you can feel the incline of him in this position- with every tiny motion, his tip is going to caress against your G-spot in this alignment.

The first, slow grind makes Bucky hiss. He's deeper, you feel tighter. This isn't going to take long at all... for either of you.

Allowing his hands to guide your hips, you move along to his pattern. The combination of both internal and external stimulation already has you unable to think straight. Your body shudders a little more fiercely this time- Bucky's fingers dig into your skin more as he grunts through his breath. You can feel the pulsing, warm sensation inside as he comes- making him feel even more slick. His body convulses slightly until all that is left is excessive breathing and sticky, sweaty skin between you both.

Bucky's hands cup your face- the cold from his metal hand being more than welcome. "God, I love you." He says, then presses his lips against yours. And in this moment, you realize that every night for the rest of your lives could be like this. This intense, this passionate- forever.

If you enjoyed this, please check out my Masterlist! Requests are open!

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @floralwsloki @erinallene @fafafalafel @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @winterassisin84 @cjand10

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fluff #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky smut #bucky barnes fic #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky imagine #winter soldier #the winter soldier

[its-the-pilot]

Waves | 5 | Rooster x Reader

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | Waves Masterlist | Masterlist |

Thanks everyone for all the support so far, hope you're liking it!

Summary: You and Bradley meet up after work. (Mav's niece!reader)

Warnings: swearing, adult banter

Length: 2.8k words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Message or comment to join the taglist!

Chapter Five

As the sun set over Coronado, you strolled along the beach with Bradley, heading toward the cantina. The weather was perfect, with the day’s heat giving way to a gentle breeze that played with the loose strands of hair from your bun. There was a comfortable silence between you, no need for words, no reason to rush. You were simply enjoying each other’s company and the breathtaking sunset.

When you arrived at the cantina, you were welcomed by its cozy atmosphere. “This is really nice,” Bradley smiled, pulling out your chair as you settled in, gazing out at the ocean.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” you quipped, appreciating the gesture as he took his seat across from you. The server arrived a moment later to take your drink orders, allowing you both time to peruse the menus. “I’ll have a margarita and a shot of tequila.” Bradley flipped to the beer section of the menu and looked it over. “A Modelo for me, thanks. And some chips for the table?”

The server nodded and left you alone at the table. The deck was full of patrons, the ambient music and conversations at the perfect volume for you to talk. 

“How was your day? Not too stressful, I hope.” Bradley inquired, tucking his Ray-Bans into his tank top’s collar again now that you were seated. His eyes remained fixed on you, even though the Pacific Ocean’s sunset was just to his left. “Getting aviators to talk about their feelings isn’t always a walk in the park.”

You shook your head and chuckled. “No, it’s never easy, but getting them to talk about themselves is a piece of cake. The day wasn’t bad though, just long. Actually, it went a lot faster after you texted me.” 

“Really? I’m glad,” he replied, thanking the server when he brought your chips and drinks to the table. He popped the cap off his beer and took a long pull of it, watching you intently as you downed your tequila shot followed by a sip of your margarita. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, soaking in every detail of your appearance, comparing it to the memory he’d held in his mind for the last fourteen years. “You’re gorgeous, you know?”

“Oh, stop,” you snorted, rolling your eyes. While guys had complimented your looks before, you’d never seen it in yourself. Compared to the women chasing tags around the Hard Deck you felt ordinary, but it didn’t really matter. Your career was your priority, and you’d long given up on relationships. “I’m sure you’ve got more attractive women swarming around you back home.”

Bradley shrugged, taking another drink as he contemplated your words. “Sure… but not ones that mean anything.”

You took a long moment to process his answer, looking down at the menu. Thankfully before you felt pressured to say anything the server returned, taking your orders for food. “I’ll have the skirt steak fajitas and another margarita, please.”

“I’ll try the chile relleno,” Bradley ordered, handing both your menus over. He decided in that moment that he would remain sober so he could get you home safely, distinctly remembering your low tolerance for alcohol. But you were an adult, and not his to lecture. If you wanted to drink, he would let you. “And a couple waters, if you don’t mind.”

Nodding, the server disappeared into the crowd again, giving you the opportunity to change the subject. You ran your finger over your upper lip and then pointed to his mustache, smirking. “When did this happen?”

He touched the hair on his lip and chuckled. “Five, six years ago, maybe,” he replied. “Tried it out and it stuck. Why? Is it bad?”

You shook your head with a soft smile. “No. No, I like it. It suits you.” Finishing your margarita, you set it to the side for when the server returned before continuing. “Reminds me of those pictures of your dad that Uncle Pete had around the house.”

“Thanks,” he smiled, only for it to fade as soon as you mentioned your uncle. Maverick was still a touchy subject that made his blood boil, even after so many years. He looked out to the water as he worked to control his temper, the pinks and oranges in the sky fading into purples and blues as the sun dipped below the horizon. 

He noticed you fidgeting with your napkin anxiously in his peripheral and cursed himself for causing your discomfort. Swallowing his pride, he turned his attention back to you and reached across the table to gently still your hand with his own. 

“I’m sorry,” you replied quietly, meeting his hazel eyes. “I didn’t--”

He stopped you with a shake of his head, his calloused thumb brushing the soft skin on the back of your hand. “Don’t worry about it. I… I shouldn’t get so upset. Especially not at you. He’s your uncle, it makes sense for you to talk about him.”

You turned your hand over beneath his, giving it a reassuring squeeze as you shrugged. “We don’t talk much anymore,” you admitted, reluctantly releasing his hand when the server arrived to set your plates on the table alongside your margarita and the waters Bradley had ordered. Once you were alone again, you continued. “He’s somewhere in the Mojave, Ice manages to get us together at Christmas but that’s pretty much it.”

“He's trying to be the peacemaker, I guess,” he commented, taking a bite of his food. “He calls every so often, letting me know how you and Maverick are doing. Conveniently left out that you were here though.”

“Yeah…” you shook your head, taking a long drink from your margarita. “He also failed to mention that you were coming. Now I wonder if he did that on purpose.”

Bradley laughed, finishing his beer. “So he’s pulling a Parent Trap on us.”

“Sounds like it, doesn’t it?” You chuckled, shaking your head at the thought. “I guess it shouldn’t surprise me, he’s always trying to fix things.”

A comfortable silence fell over the table as you both turned your attention back to your meals, enjoying the atmosphere of the restaurant. You couldn’t help but steal glances at the man across from you, a stark contrast from the boy you had known all those years ago, yet still the same in so many ways. It was in these moments, while he was focused on his food, you noticed the scars on the left side of his face and neck, curious as to their origin. 

Bradley felt your eyes on him and looked up, offering a questioning look when your expression changed. “Do I have food on my face?”

“Actually, you do a little,” you said, reaching out with your napkin to dab a bit of sauce from his chin. “But I… I just noticed your scars.” The last part came out quietly, and part of you hoped he hadn’t heard it, unsure of whether or not he was self-conscious about them. 

His hazel eyes didn’t leave yours as you cleaned the sauce from his face and asked about his scars. He knew it was only a matter of time before you asked about them, and he wasn’t going to lie about their origin. “I, uh… I spiraled a bit when I was at UVA. Drank a lot… did a lot of stupid shit that I regret now, but I didn’t know how to cope.” 

Bradley paused for a moment, gauging your reaction before he continued. You had moved your hands back to your lap, listening intently as he told his story. “When I was a sophomore, my friend was driving me home after I got blackout drunk at a party and he crashed the car. I don’t even remember what happened that night, but the doctors said I was lucky that I wasn’t hurt worse.”

“Bradley…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you covered your mouth with your hand. Tears welled in your eyes, his experience bringing back memories of losing your parents in a car crash when you were a kid. “This… it wasn’t in your file.”

Seeing the tears in your eyes, Bradley moved his chair closer and reached out to hold your hand, understanding that his story had touched a nerve. He knew that you were thinking about your parents, and he wanted to offer comfort in any way he could. “I was in school, so I didn’t report it. The scars pretty much healed on their own and no one asked any questions.”

Taking a shaky breath, you raised your hand to gently trace the scars on his cheek and neck, barely brushing your fingertips over them. “I’m okay,” he reassured you, his voice rough with the feel of your fingertips on his skin. “They don’t hurt.”

You bit your lip, continuing to trace the scars for a moment before letting your hand fall back to your lap. The combination of the emotional conversation, the margaritas, and your close proximity to Bradley left you feeling lightheaded. “I… can we…”

Before you could finish your thought, Bradley signaled the server for the check. “Here, drink this,” he said, pressing your glass of water into your free hand, recognizing that you needed to sober up a bit.

When the check arrived, he quickly settled it by tossing a few bills on the table. Then, he stood and offered you his hand to help you to your feet. “Ready to go?”

Nodding in agreement, you took his hand and stood. His touch sent a shiver down your spine as he placed a gentle hand on the small of your back, leading you down to the beach to start the walk back toward the Hard Deck. The sun had fully set, successfully hiding your flushed pink cheeks as you moved away from the light of the cantina. 

It couldn’t hide when you stumbled into a hole in the sand, however, sending you into Bradley’s side. His sharp reflexes aided him in steadying you, his strong arm wrapping around your waist. “Woah there, you okay?”

“Oh, God… I’m such a klutz,” you grumbled, looking up to him with a shake of your head. “I’m fine, just beginning to think that the last margarita might have been more than I needed.”

He stood with his arm around you until you pulled away, patting his chest in thanks before starting to walk again. “Careful,” he warned, staying close to your side.

You chuckled, looping your arm through his to ease his worry. “Are you this sweet to all the girls back home?”

“Hey, I’m a nice guy,” he replied, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Wait… are you asking if I’m single?”

You scoffed, turning your attention to the waves for a long moment in an attempt to prove you didn’t really care one way or the other. It failed miserably when you looked back up at him, deciding you needed the answer after all. “Are you?”

“I… uh…” he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand as he thought about his response. His relationship history wasn’t something he was proud of, and it certainly wasn’t something he bragged about. “Well, I’ve had, you know… partners, I guess. I mean, no… nothing right now.”

The walk continued in silence as you processed his reply, the alcohol in your system making it difficult to focus while simultaneously emboldening you. “So… have you ever been in love?”

There wasn’t any hesitation this time before he answered honestly. “Yeah, with you.”

Your head turned to look up at him again, surprise written across your features. “That was fourteen years ago, B.”

“What can I say?” he chuckled, looking down at you. “You set a high bar.”

“Are you seriously suggesting I’m the reason you’re alone?” you asked, stopping in your tracks and pulling away.. 

Bradley stopped when you did and turned to face you. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” he teased. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the all too familiar way your cheeks reddened when you were frustrated, which really only made you more upset.

“What? Why are you laughing?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched him. It was mind boggling to you, especially in your inebriated state, that he could blame you for his relationship problems after he was the one who left. 

He was still chuckling as he replied. “I don’t know, I guess I just… I miss this. Our banter. You care so much, Dimples. You can’t help yourself.”

You huffed in frustration and began walking again, brushing past him. “I should go.”

“Wait, what?” he asked, following after you, his height giving him an advantage in being able to catch up. 

You continued walking, paying no mind to whether or not he caught up, your focus solely on getting home. “This is dangerous,” you admitted, your body tingling from the alcohol earlier. “We’ve had drinks, and somehow you’ve managed to get better looking with age, which is so annoying. You couldn’t have gone bald or gained weight or something?”

“Stop, stop.” Bradley reached for your arm, gently putting an end to your rant. Once you turned toward him, he pointed off to the side, revealing that you had arrived at the Hard Deck. “C’mon, let me take you home.”

“I can walk, it’s not far,” you insisted, feeling a little embarrassed by your outburst.

He lifted your chin with his thumb and forefinger, locking eyes with you. “You’re drunk, I’m not letting you walk home this late by yourself,” he said firmly, sending a warm shiver down your spine with his voice. 

Nodding was all you could manage at that point, letting him lead you to the parking lot where his Bronco was waiting. He opened the passenger door and helped you inside before taking his place behind the wheel. The familiar scent of the truck and the soothing rumble of the engine brought a smile to your face. 

“Lots of memories in here,” you mused, running your hands over the leather seats as Bradley followed the GPS on your phone to your house. Reaching up to pull down the visor, you flinched when a photo fell out, hitting you in the face just as the truck came to a stop outside your bungalow.

Flipping the picture over, you bit your lip and brushed your thumb over it. It was a photo of you and Bradley at his senior prom, you in a dark red floor length gown and him in a tuxedo with a matching bow tie. “I can’t believe you still have this,” you mumbled, looking over at him when he opened the passenger door.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, taking your hand and helping you down from the truck. He accepted the photo when you handed it back to him, tucking it safely back into the visor. “It’s one of the only pictures I have of us together.”

You remained silent as he walked you up to the door, taking your keys when you fumbled them and unlocking the door for you. Handing you back the keys, he leaned against the column, his hands in his pockets. “I had a great time tonight.”

“Me too,” you smiled, tucking the keys back into your bag and stepping toward him. Your eyes slowly traced his face before leaning in and giving him a tender kiss, your hand resting against his strong jaw. 

He didn’t move, allowing you to control the pace of the kiss. When you pulled back and put your fingers to your lips, he removed a hand from his pocket and reached up to stroke your cheek. “You sure this is what you want?”  

You nodded, leaning in to give him another kiss, your fingers gripping the collar of his Hawaiian shirt. His hand slid up to cup your neck this time, thumb brushing the sensitive spot behind your ear.

When you finally broke away, he searched your eyes with his hazel ones. “You okay?” he asked, shaking his head when you only nodded once again. “Need to hear it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I just… need to take it slow,” you admitted, your fingers playing absently with the collar of his shirt. 

“It’s okay,” he promised, brushing his nose against yours before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight, Dimples.”

Leaning into his soft lips on your forehead, you smiled. “Goodnight, Bradley. Thank you.”

He reluctantly pulled away and carefully stepped off the porch backward on his way back to his truck, never taking his eyes off of you. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I’d like that,” you replied, watching him climb into the truck and start it up. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you waved as he backed out of the driveway and headed down the street. As his taillights disappeared, you turned and went inside, knowing that this marked the beginning of a new chapter. 

Chapter Six

#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #rooster top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun

[nerdieforpedro]

Lunch is happening right?

Part two of Two Hearts by the Ocean

Javier Gutierrez x Abigail (plus size OFC)

This part is for general audiences - rating will depend on individual parts. Overall will be 18+ MDNI

Word Count: approx 2.1k

Warnings: Javier being a sweetheart, anxiety, overthinking, more fluff! 🥰

Summary: Our kind pair meet up and go for lunch…eventually. Once they do, they finally eat and it leads to an important question that Javier needs answered.

Notes: Nerdie is fully in her soft fluffy marshmallow era. This fic so such a joy to write. I’m glad people are enjoying the softness. Some of you may be surprised to know that I do enjoy the fluff at times. ☺️ Hehe!

Main Masterlist/ Javier Gutierrez Masterlist/ Two Hearts by the Ocean Series

Javier returned to his compound and checked in on the chef who kept it simple by making grilled chicken, a blue cheese salad and sliced some bread he bought from the market in town with garlic butter. Javi requested for regular butter instead, just in case. Not an expectation of course, but it never hurts to plan for these things. After squaring things away with the chef, he returned to his quarters and undressed, showered and put on his favorite red relaxed button down shirt with tan slacks and brown loafers. He checked on the chef once more and went to inquire what was for dessert when he saw a chocolate cake coming out of the oven. The question of whether to frost the cake or not was put on hold as Abigail texted Javi that she was ready. Gutierrez left it up to the chef as he headed to his golf cart, replying that he was on his way to get her.

Abigail stood in front of the resort where Javier had parked the golf cart not too long ago. Her excitement was matched by her anxiety over putting herself out there and agreeing to lunch with a man she didn’t know. But it was fine, right? Treat it like a date, at his enormous compound, villa house that has a private beach. That happens every day. She did text her girlfriends and let them know that she wouldn’t be at the beach or resort. That she was out exploring, which was as vague as she could be. She thought about it and added that she would be touring some of the buildings and architecture of the island, she might be back late. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. She brought a smaller tote back which she stuck her sunscreen, a bottle of water, her phone, wallet, charger, her notebook and a few pens, hand lotion and sanitizer. Javier appeared to be a sweet man who was kind enough not to kick her off his beach and was inviting her to lunch, things should be fine. Great even, when’s the last time she had lunch with someone who wasn’t a friend, family or for work?

Pulling up to the curb, Javier spotted Abigail holding her brown tote back in front of her. She was wearing the same yellow wide brimmed sun hat from earlier but this time, she wore a strapless blue dress that was the same light shade as the cloudless sky above. Her red matching nail polish on her fingernails and toes stood out against the quiet blue of her dress. She wore simple brown thong sandals and waved when she saw him. He returned her wave as he slowed the golf cart to a stop and practically beamed, “I have come back for you Abigail. I take it you have an appetite for lunch now?” He asked as he got out of the cart and rushed to the passenger side to ensure she was in all the way along with her dress that rose above her knees when she sat down. Once settled in, she nodded and smoothed out her dress, patting her thighs softly to remain calm. Javier was back behind the wheel, but didn’t take off yet.

“So you did Javi. I certainly am hungry. Um, what are we having for lunch?” His hand covered her left one and squeezed, her patting stopped. Javier could tell that she was nervous, he didn’t want her to be. His cousin’s frightening one, not him, though they do not know each other and hopefully never will. The smile he had on his face waned a bit as he turned toward her.

“Abigail, are you sure you still want to have lunch with me? You do not need to feel pressured into doing so.” The woman’s head shook quickly and she placed her right hand over his hand that held hers.

“No, no! It’s not that I don’t want to have lunch with you. I’m just nervous. I tend to anticipate the worst, but I know you’ve shown me none of that. I’m learning to let go and relax. I find it difficult. Please, let’s eat lunch Javier.” Her face still showed some reservation to Javi, but he would see how lunch went at the very least, she appeared a little less anxious than when she first got in the cart. With a nod, he released her hand for a moment and started the golf cart, then held it again.

“Alright Abby, but please, if you feel uncomfortable at any point let me know. You are going to be my guest in my home so it is my job to make sure you are at ease. Yes?” His face was serious as he informed her of his expectation. The view of his home was even more impressive from the front given the long driveway and lush greenery. She wondered how many landscapers it might have taken.

“Yes, I’ll make sure to let you know, I-I think I should be okay now though. Sorry about that.” Abigail apologized again, she may not have needed to, but it was very clear that he was much kinder than even she initially thought and understanding. He added that she didn’t need to apologize for how she feels, that it’s alright.

“I must confess that I feel nervous as well. I’m going to have lunch with an enchantingly gorgeous woman this afternoon. My day has improved greatly.” Javier pulled to a stop near the bottom of the steps that lead to the front door of his home. The heat to Abigail’s face was not from the sun. What had he been nervous for? He’d be able to convince a leopard that they would look perfect with stripes. Should I be concerned with my lack of concern? Might have something to do with the fact that I can see nearly all his teeth in that pretty smile he has on his face. I might be staring…that’s rude, but I also feel like he knows how attractive he is.

“…And that makes him all the more alluring. Such a stunningly warm man.” Her thoughts spilled from her lips. Javi’s smile turned to a grin.

“Do you mean me Abby? You find me alluring? This makes me swell with joy and relief.” He stepped out of the cart and walked over to the passenger side where he extended his hand. “I suppose I did take to you rather quickly. It may have been the work of your polka dots and red bathing suit at first, talking with you is a delight.”

Keeping further thoughts on any swelling he mentioned, Abby placed her hand in his. “Yes you are Javi. I believe you know that though.” She chuckled, stepping out of the golf cart and walking up the stairs with him to meet two towering cherrywood doors that a butler opened. “I enjoyed seeing you in your speedo too and I like the burnt orange against your skin. You look amazing with and without clothes.” They stepped across the threshold and her grip tightened on his hand. That was way too suggestive, we haven’t even eaten yet. That’s not the impression I wanted to give him.

“You have quite a way with your words Abigail.” Javier added a playful rasp to her name and brought her hand closer so he could hold it with both hands. “I understand what you meant. Do not fret. Tranquilízate (calm down) Abby.”

Javier gave Abby a brief tour on the way to the dining room to which her head turned in every direction to marvel at the house itself, the artwork, the hardwood and marble. Arriving in the dining room, Javier pulled out the chair for her, which she was momentarily confused by but sat down. His seat was set on the far side of the long table, but Javi picked up his place setting and moved it to the chair next to Abby.

“It appears to be a bit silly to be all the way over there. This is much better, do you agree?” He took his napkin and placed it in his lap as she nodded giggling. This is good, Javier thought to himself, she almost looks as she did on the beach. Ella está tranquila (She is calm).

The chef and a maid brought out the meal and served the pair. Abigail complimented the chef and thanked both him and the maid before starting in on her chicken. She was actually hungry and if she chewed a bit slowly, she may not say anything else embarrassing to this nice handsome man. Just act like you’ve spoken to another person Abby. It’s not that hard. Small talk was made over the meal about the food, the beauty of the house and beach. Her throat cleared when Javier asked how long she would be in Spain. She hadn’t been expecting the question, but it wasn’t a strange one, especially since it seems like he wanted to get to know her. “We arrived this week, Sunday, so we’ll be here for the next rest of this week and two additional ones. It’s a miracle we were actually able to coordinate our schedules.” She explained, it sounded like a joke but it wasn't. The group, half thought they were imagining things when everyone had the same block of time available.

“So Javi, I take that to mean you’d like to have other lunches?” Setting her fork down after finishing her chicken and half her salad, she was curious.”With me?” She maybe didn’t mean to add that last question, that was out of her own shock. They hadn’t finished lunch yet.

Javier took a few sips of his water and used his napkin to wipe his mouth though Abby didn’t see anything on his lips. She had been keeping track, and trying to be subtle about it. Not that she was quite sure what that looked like. The man has these beautiful strands of chocolate-cinnamon swirls that match his facial hair along with his large nose that fits his face. Though, where else is it supposed to fit? Focusing on another part of Javier didn’t work so well either, his neck has a vein that kinda jumps out at times when he’s chewing and-

“I am unsure who else I would be having lunch with Abby.” The soft chuckle matched with a mischievous look in his eyes had her palms flat on the table near her plate. She was more aware this time so she didn’t move them. “I do have a question for you, it is of the utmost importance.” Javier clasped his hands together and set his chin upon them, pausing for dramatic effect. “Have you seen ‘Paddington 2’?” Blinking, she tilted her head to see if he was going to say he was kidding. The man across from her did not appear to be, he was waiting for her to answer.

“I have not. Is this a dealbreaker Javi?” Her mind is still trying to catch up. She knows of Paddington, she hasn’t seen either movie, her nieces had been into Monster High and the Bratz so she didn’t take them so see it.

“Not if you are open to watching it with me.” His eyes remained trained on Abby, curious to her answer.

“I haven’t seen either Paddington movie. Should we watch one today and another one another day?” She proposed, if he wanted to watch a movie or two, that was more than fine with her. She might even suggest a couple herself. She wasn’t prepared for Javier to pop up from the table and knock his chair back. He took both her hands into his and planted one kiss on the back of each.

“You would be willing to watch both of them with me?! My enjoyment of this day has increased tenfold! Vamos al cine! (Let’s go to the movie theater)!” Abigail was up on her feet and with Javier’s arm around waist before she realized her point of view had changed. He was guiding her out of the dining room as she looked up at his bright face.

“Espera (wait) Javi! ¿Qué pasa con la comida?! (What about the food?!)”

“I can tell them to bring whatever you like! Estoy muy contento porque voy a ver la película contigo (I’m excited to watch the movies with you)!”

Moving quickly down the hallway, all Abigail could do was mutter to herself with a soft smile that Javi missed in both his explanation of why he enjoys the movies, especially Paddington 2 and hurry to make it to his private theater.

“Eres un cielo (You are very cute) Javi. Estoy metido en un lío (I am in trouble).”

Part One Part Three

Peeps who pass the Paddington 2 test 🧸: @innerpersonunknown @trulybetty @tinytinymenace @maggiemayhemnj @megamindsecretlair @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @grogusmum @secretelephanttattoo @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @morallyinept @lady-bess @readingiskeepingmegoing @gwendibleywrites @avastrasposts @bitchwitch1981 @missladym1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @inept-the-magnificent @i-own-loki

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier gutierrez #Javier Gutierrez x OFC #plus size OFC #Javier Gutierrez x plus size OFC #A Nerdie fic #two hearts by the ocean

[ok-pop-1]

cracked earth // rising light

note: talks about death, don't read if that's not your vibe

 “What do you think happens when you die?”

Wild blinks. Glances up at Rule, who’s just squatting there, fondly watching a fairy as it wanders around in a nearby bush.

Rule turns back to the truffle they’re digging up. “I know it’s a weird thing to ask. But I wonder, sometimes. I think we’ve all gotten close. Had our ways of coming back from the brink, all tasted it just a bit. But what happens when you fully cross that line? When you can’t be brought back? You can only answer that once. I’m not ready to answer it, but I still just... I want to know.”

The earth around the truffle is hard, layered and caked in its dryness. Rule’s Hyrule has always been like that. Harsh, tough, but with a gentle core. It’s not hard to find the core; crack open the surface, peel it away with your hands, and you can find the soft, loamy dirt underneath.

Wild sinks his hands into it. Feels the cool, fresh dirt. It’s not as wet as it should be, here. It doesn’t smell as fresh as it should, here. The lingering scent of malice sinks into the dirt, staining its scent in his nose. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s fresh dirt. Because there is fresh dirt. There’s a hardened shell of a land, but it has life within it. A life that can be coaxed back, in time.

It will take a long time.

It will take a century.

But they have a century.

His own hand is hard, too. Stiffened, toughened with the eternal callus of the burn. A burn that could not be healed. Wild knows that if he peels the skin back, that if he pokes the muscle underneath, it’ll be fresh, firm. Not as strong as it should be, not as capable as it should be, but it doesn’t matter.

‘I used to think it was like going to sleep,’ he slowly signs to Rule. ‘Even if it’s painful, even if it’s scary, you eventually close your eyes and become nothing. You don’t lose anything. You just don’t notice that you stopped being.’

Wild knows he was scared, once. That day when he was protecting Zelda from the guardians, when he was injured more than he’d ever been, when he knew there was nobody there to heal him, he’d been scared. Scared of the fact that that was it. Of the idea of ceasing.

It was a bit strange to think about, in that moment. Of his own body failing, of his own injuries piling on so thick that he couldn’t distinguish between them. It hurt, and he was scared, falling to nothing but the surface of the earth. Felt the grass on his cheek and the rain on his hair and noticed it, for the first time. Pushed his face into the ground and thought, I’m going to miss you. I’m scared.

And he’d closed his eyes. At some point, it was all he could do. Say that he was scared, and do it anyway.

And he didn’t go to sleep.

It’s impossible to know what happened. He knows he lost his memory; knows that that’s one memory he can’t trigger back. Not from dying.

But every single time since then... it felt different.

When he slipped just wrong on the cliff, when he fell to the ground and felt his body break under him, some intrinsic part of him knew he wasn’t going to sleep. He’d close his eyes and saw light, blue light. Not the light of the Sheikah, but of the blupees. Something soft, fragile, scared. But it watched him, beckoned him. Guided him into the depths. Into the cool, cold, loamy embrace of... something.

And he’d woken up at the bottom of the cliff, in his own body, feeling the rain wash the skin of the earth off of him.

Or when he swam too long in the ocean. Fell into the depths, lungs crying, bursting. And when he eventually closed his eyes, he just... kept sinking. Cracked open the ground below him, peeled it back with shaking arms, and sank into its embrace.

He knows when he was fighting the horde on Death Mountain, when Zelda was a princess and hiding in a crevice, that he died. That a lynel sword toppled him, that a spare fairy brought him back up. And he knows that he didn’t feel anything, then. Didn’t feel anything beyond the cold of the sword in his chest, the pounding of his heart, and the dead scream in his throat at the fact that he was scared.

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s been put back in. Maybe he’s just always closer to death than he once was. Maybe it’s the memory of it-- maybe it’s that he’s seen it, and it doesn’t feel the need to hide itself anymore. It’s happy to say hello, to see if, this time, he’ll follow it again.

Wild’s hand finds purchase. He digs out the truffle. It’s like the land around it; hard, ugly, precious.

Dusting it off, he hands it to Rule. Shrugs. ‘It’s something else. I’m still working out what.’

Rule stares at him for a long time. Holds the truffle.

“...That’s not a good thing.”

Wild smiles, and says nothing in reply.

---

read on ao3

#linked universe #legend of zelda #lu wild #lu hyrule #i dunno i was just kinda hit by a vibe and wrote this #i have no explanation or answers

[ichijager13]

Finally home

You finally convinced your boyfriend Oda sakunosuke to buy a house near the ocean and move in with the kids to start a new life together.

You were standing next to the step ladder on top of which he was, you looked up smiling at the tall man fixing the curtain rod. You handed him the ivory-white curtain you chose for the living room. You can’t believe you are finally done. You bought this cottage about a year ago and started renovating it step by step. With the money you both put aside it wasn’t that hard. You have done most of the work yourselves asking for professional help only for rebuilding the porch, changing plumbing and electricity. You have decided to take it slow and enjoy the process and some of his friends offered to help from time to time.

When he was finally done, he stood behind you holding you in his arms admiring the results of months and months of work.

“We’ve done it”. He breathed against your ear.

You nodded smiling, “Our house”. You whispered overwhelmed. You put your hands on top of his and embraced the sight offered to you. The red of the fireplace’s bricks, the chunky grey throw that rested on the ivory couch. Pictures of Kousuke, Katsumi, Yu, Shinji and Sakura decorated the wall next to your bookshelves. The room was spacious but that didn’t prevent it from being warm and cozy. The French windows occupying two walls bathed the place in soft light. Feeling the steady rhythm of your lover’s heartbeat you closed your eyes and let the moment imprint you.

You felt Sakunosuke’s head rest on your shoulder, you smiled and turned to face him. “Finally”. He sealed your lips kissing you softly. The sound of the waves crashing against the rock the house was built on top of, the smell of salt floating in the air and the sunlight drawing shapes and shadows on your frames. If heaven exists it must resemble this moment.

He was still kissing you when you remembered the kids haven’t visited your home yet. When you parted you turned and placed both hands around his shoulder. Faces merely close and lips reaching for each other, you let yourself melt in his embrace. When he kisses you again your heart skips a beat. No matter how many times you had him like this it will always feel like you are brought back to life each time your lips connect. “The kids will love it”. You spoke against his lips. “Especially the swing and the tree house in the backyard”. He nodded smiling as well.

“I’m glad I listened to you and purchased this cottage”. He rested his forehead against yours. “Thank you, darling. This all became possible thanks to your support”.

You buried one of your hands in his red lokes. “It became possible because of our hard work”. You emphasized the word ‘our’. “Besides, it’s you who gave me hope that both of us can have the peaceful life we have always sought. Thanks to you I know I deserve to be happy”. You hugged him tighter. “Thank you, honey”.

He shook his head, “You’re the one who saved me not the opposite”. The day you met Odasaku he was sitting at a table in the café you used to work at. He was lost in his thoughts after a brief exchange with a middle-aged man.

You placed a piece of cake on his table. “I haven’t ordered anything”. He said looking at you confused. The moment your eyes met, he felt butterflies all over his stomach and everything that surrounded him went slow.

You smiled kindly. “It’s a gift, nothing a good chocolate cake can’t fix”. Your smile was the most breathtaking thing his eyes landed on. Your smile must be one of the wonders of the world, otherwise, nothing would make sense in this dark twisted world. It was your smile that made him understand why the sun rises every day, why rainbows appear, why the sky is blue and why flowers blossom. All good things happened because in a café in the middle of some city in Japan worked a beautiful young lady with an angelic smile. “Do you mind if I join you?” you asked face blushing and eyes looking down. “My shift is about to end and I…”. you were stumbling over your words. “I thought you… you might use some company”. You looked up a shy smile adorning your features. He slowly nodded. You went to the locker room; you took off your apron and hung it. You glanced at the small mirror, you detached your hair and smoothed it. You took a place at the stranger’s table. His blue eyes were fixed on you, you don’t know why but you felt like the weight of the world was crushing the man’s shoulders. His eyes were cold and empty like there was nothing but void behind them. You wondered what kind of things someone as young as him has experienced to have such a vacant stare.

While lost in his eyes he pushed the cake into the middle of the table. “Care to share it with me?” his deep voice resonated through your soul. You accepted his offer with a smile. He told you about the book he spent the last months reading over and over. He told you about his new dream, he wants to be a novelist he said. He didn’t say what he does for a living or mention if he has a family or someone somewhere waiting for him to come back. All he spoke about was the world he wanted to write about and the stories he wanted to narrate. And you found it endearing how a stranger was telling you about his dreams and fears.

“Sorry I monopolized the conversation. I haven’t even asked what your name is”. Reaching his hand for you he spoke. “Let’s start all over again, I’m Oda Sakunosuke and I am pleased to meet you”. your hand met his at the middle of the table introducing yourself. He pronounced your name once, twice three times smiling the last time. “Such a beautiful name”. your chest felt tighter and your cheeks were burning, you darted your gaze away. You remained silent for minutes before he asked questions about you. what you like, whether you had dreams or not, family and what you do with your free time. And the conversation went on and on and on until you heard the owner clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation kids, but it’s late and I must close”. He spoke to Odasaku. “Make sure the young lady arrives home safe”.

“You can count on me, sir”. He answered. You wished your boss and co-worker good night and left with Oda. On the walk home, you picked up your conversation where you left it. By the time you arrived, you grew familiar with each other.

“That’s where I live”. You were shifting your weight from one foot to another wondering if he might kiss you before leaving. “I gotta go, thank you for walking me home”. You smiled; he doesn’t remember how many times you made his heart flutter smiling like this.

“Thank you for the cake and the lovely evening”. He was wondering if he should shake your hand. No that’s so awkward after all the time we spent together he scolded himself. Maybe I can give her a hug, or leave a kiss on her cheek. He didn’t know what to do. He knows he has to cease his chance but he wasn’t sure if you could cope with the life he leads. You were still standing looking up at him with soft eyes. He leaned and planted a kiss on your forehead. “Good night y/n, I hope we can meet again”. His voice was low and deep. You breathed in his scent and tried to memorize the tone of his voice. He didn’t leave until you got to your apartment. You turned one last time and waved goodbye before closing your apartment’s door.

One month later he showed up at your workplace holding a bouquet of flowers. You were in the back shop for your pause.

When the owner saw him, he smiled. “She’s eating, should I call her?” he glanced at his watch. “She will be back in minutes”.

Oda shook his head. “It’s alright I’ll wait”. You haven’t noticed him right away when you came back. You went to his table to take his order thinking he was a customer.

“Good afternoon, sir; what can I get you”. you asked smiling.

When he looked back at you your breath caught, holding a hand to your mouth you searched for your words but nothing came out.

“I would like to have a date”. He simply said handing you the flowers. “I’ll pick you up this evening if you don’t mind”. Still surprised you nodded eagerly.

After that first date came along other firsts. First embrace, first kiss, first night and love confessions. And now you were standing in the middle of your house in his arms savoring his lips.

“I love you Sakunosuke”. You whispered feeling him smiling against your neck. And sooner the smile became a kiss and the kiss became a soft bit. Regular breathing became heavier, heart rate faster and kisses slopier. His hands were everywhere, caressing, molding and kneading your soft skin. His hair became a mess thanks to your hands and the buttons of his black shirt discarded. He only detached his lips from yours to take off your blouse giving himself access to your cleavage. He freed one breast from your bra’s cup and rubbed the nub with his thumb and index causing you to gasp. Your hands were trailing up and down his large back and toned torso caressing and kissing each scar. He brought back his lips to yours and guided you to the couch. He laid on top of you after getting rid of both of your pants.

“We are finally home”. He spoke as you cupped his cheek and smiled at him. with one expert hand he unclasped your bra. He dragged his mouth from on top of yours along your neck, pausing to nibble your earlobe and earning a soft moan from your now glistening and swollen lips. Then moved to your shoulders leaving marks behind him down to your chest. He run his tongue in the valley between your breasts and then circled and tilted each nipple until they became hard. Lifting his head slightly ‘til your gazes locked he parted his lips and captured one of your nipples with his teeth.

“Sakunosuke”. You moaned when he started sucking your now sensitive nipple. The sound in the background and his mouth made the experience ethereal. With each swipe of his tongue, you felt like were dead and then brought back to life. Your cheeks were red and burning, your eyelids felt heavy and your breathing grow harder with each passing second. Surprised your back arched when two fingers slide past your wet folds. The movement caused your breasts to bounce in a way that caused him to twitch in his briefs.

“So pretty”. He breathed watching you reacting to his digits inside of you. “And so wet for me”. He curled his fingers brushing your sweet spot causing your last bit of sanity to shatter and wash away.

When you finally rode out of your euphoria you tugged at his arm. “Let’s stay here honey”. He pulled himself out of you, brought the blanket that was on the other couch and laid next to you. He shoved you closer until half of your body was on top of his after cleaning you. Chest pressed against his and one of your thighs placed between his legs, he covered your nudity with the blanket. You nuzzled his neck and closed your eyes. “When will you bring the kids to live here with us?” you inquired.

“Tomorrow morning, I wanna spend the rest of the day alone with you”.

“Let’s remain like this forever”. You asked.

“I’ll never leave your side”. He kissed your hair. “I love you”.

#bsd odasaku #odasaku x reader #oda sakunosuke #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs odasaku #domestic fluff #established relationship #fluff #smut #bsd smut #odasaku lives

[ejzah]

A/N: Based on a few responses in favor of it, I decided to go ahead and write a little epilogue for this fic. Hope you enjoy!

***

An Error in Judgment, Epilogue

Apparently incurring septicemia in the course of fieldwork tended to scare people. Deeks was granted a full four weeks of medical leave, after he was released from the hospital. The first week or so wasn’t much fun, but once his wounds and the infection began to dissipate, and his energy returned, it was almost like a paid vacation. Aside from the frequent doctor appointments.

He’d had a multitude of visitors in that time, including all of the team. Eric and Nell had come bearing a massive gift basket, balloons, and tickets to a show Deeks had wanted to see. Roberta’s visits were fraught with varying levels of hysteria and overwhelming mothering. Even Kilbride dropped but one day for a very awkward encounter.

While he hadn’t enjoyed the first part of the whole endeavor, he was healthy again and nearly back to normal. More importantly, he felt more secure in his abilities and position with NCIS than he had in years.

Now exactly four weeks and six days after he’d collapsed, Deeks walked into the bullpen, Kensi by his side. There were met by the entire team, and a variety of greetings. Based on Kensi’s smirk, she’d had forewarning about this little get together.

Deeks had just enough time to register that was back before she rushed toward him. He bent down for a hug, her arms tight around his back.

“You are not allowed to get hurt while I’m gone again,” she ordered, giving him an extra squeeze. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too.”

“Looking nice and tan there,” Sam commented when Deeks and Nell parted. He pulled him in for a one-armed hug.

“Hey, I hear sun’s supposed to be good for your health. Vitamin D and all that,” Deeks said with a grin.

Sam snorted. “Right. You spent every day in the ocean, didn’t you?”

“Oh, he tried,” Kensi divulged. “I had to remind him he was recovering from a major infection.”

“You are looking a little skinny,” Callen said helpfully. “Way better than the last time I saw you, though.”

“Thanks, man. I missed you too.”

“I can get you back to fighting weight,” Sam said, the offer somehow slightly menacing.

“Well, I think you look great,” Eric said from his perch on the edge of Kensi’s desk.

“I’m feeling pretty good. Thanks for everything you’ve done while I’ve been out. The visits, the food. The life-size CHIPs poster.” Deeks nodded at Eric for the last. “I’ve really appreciated it.”

“Like we’d let you languish at home,” Fatima said, getting to her feet. “Now, c’mon and get some cake.”

“Cake?” Deeks repeated, vaguely bemused.

“Yeah, we wanted to celebrate your return,” Rountree explained. “Do you want banana, chocolate, or vanilla?”

As the discussion of cake flavors continued, Nell taking charge of the cutting of said cake, Callen intercepted Deeks, and wordlessly handed him a coffee.

A few minutes later, they all had plates with slices of cake covered in a thick coating of red and blue icing.

“Well, well, well, so the conquering hero returns,” Kilbride drawled, strolling into the bullpen, hands tucked into his pants pockets as he eyed the cake.

“Admiral,” Deeks said.

“Morning Sir, would you like a piece?” Fatima offered, managing to keep a straight face somehow as she held out a slice of garishly covered cake. From what Deeks had gleaned, she’d been a little frosty towards Kilbride since Deeks’ collapse.

“No thank you, Agent Namazi. We have a new case, so I suggest you all finish up this little get together and head upstairs,” Kilbride said.

“We’ll be right up,” Callen said.

“Good.” Kilbride started to walk away then paused, turning back around. “It’s good to have you back, Deeks. You were missed.” He caught Deeks’ eye with a knowing, measured look. Deeks returned it was a single nod. Then Kilbride was off again, grumbling under his breath.

“Ok, what the hell was that?” Nell wondered loudly once Kilbride was out of earshot. “Did he just give you a death glare?”

“No. When I was in the hospital, Kilbride and I had a discussion. I guess you could say we’ve reached a new stage in our relationship.

“What does that mean?” Kensi asked.

“Progress,” Deeks said, tugging Kensi into his side.

***

A/N: Two years after starting it, this story is officially done. Thanks so much to everyone who has stuck with it, offered their thoughts and comments, and been so supportive.

On to the next story!

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #and team #only fluff to be had here #an error in judgment #epilogue #ejzah fanfiction

[skz-streamer]

A Lost Cause -2/3-

<-Past - Next->

Pairing: Felix (skz) x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, slight smut?

Warnings: mentions of suicide, scarred wrist, pain, car crash, PTSD, abusive/toxic boyfriend, substances, abuse, bruising, crying, um... lmk if I missed anything else❤️

Notes: Finally!!! This chapter is a little shorter but it is a little more juicy ;) Im not sure when chap 3 will come out, possibly Thursday? Anyways I thought Hannah's new song fit this chapter pretty well, I tried to include some ocean vibes in there :)

Summary: After an abusive relationship you head to the bar for refuge...only to find yourself in another relationship, but is this one "A Lost Cause"?

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

Word count ~1.5k ;)

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A week later

You walk out of the large glass doors, finally out of the hospital you think. You can only imagine how messy your apartment must be, the leftovers in the fridge, the unmade bed. It wasn’t a welcoming sight to envision, especially after your situation. You ended up getting discharged with a broken arm and some painkillers, not to bad…I mean it could’ve been worse. You brush your hand over your cast, your hand traces higher and higher up your arm.

Suddenly you feel a sharp pain in your shoulder, even though it had been a week the nail marks that your ex had left in your shoulder were still there, small little scabs concealing a deep trauma inside. But then again there was him….Felix. To be honest what happend with him at the bar was a blur, so you decided to start new with him. He was a nice guy, well more then nice he was caring, sweet, compassionate, cute, loving…shit. You could’ve kept listing words that described him, but snapping you out of your trance was your ex. 

“Come here sweet cakes” he said, annoyed? You couldn’t tell the tone of his voice. How did he know you were out? And just as if he were reading your mind he spat out “ forgot I’m still your emergency contact?” Fuck, you were stuck with him as your ride back. Your car was absolutely totaled and had been sent to a junkyard, and you had no updates about insurance or money back. Everything was just piling up- “Get. In. The. Car” his words sent a shiver down your spine, you really really didn’t want to get into his stupid car with his dumbass self but…

It was a quiet drive home, infact too quiet. You had got in the car and he had turned on the radio. All that went through your mind was the repetitive words of ‘you’re his ex, and he’s yours’. Even though you were the one who broke up with him, were you the only one that felt pain? Was he really just a jerk? You sit on your couch. The only not cluttered place in your apartment. Maybe it would be nice to have a roommate, it was a random thought but at least there would be company. It was hard without your ex, you admitted it. In some way you felt like you needed him but no. You couldn’t go back to that relationship again. Ex means ex.

Trying to snap yourself out of your brain rotting thoughts you decide to go to bed, it’s only 8:00pm, which is quite early to sleep for you but you're tired as hell. Your messy bed welcomes your fragile figure as you lay down, letting the mattress pull you in. 

Your eyes snap open, the clock on your bedside table reads ‘5:00am’ shit. You had a feeling this would happen, sleep early and wake up early. You grabbed your phone giving up the thought of trying to go back to bed again, you had tried that already and it didn’t work. Like at all. Nothing was open at this time. Ugh what were you supposed to do now? You drag yourself out of bed and slug to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. You get your cast off in another week, it was kinda depressing to look at actually. Usually most casts would be decorated with hearts or names and even little messages, but yours was just a plain white. In fact it was starting to get a little gray around the edges. Maybe if you were with your ex he would’ve- the coffee pot loudly beeps interrupting your thoughts, goddd why were you so hung up over him?

You decide to go out for a walk, maybe some fresh air would be good for you, there is actually a really pretty bridge near your house. It overlooked the ocean. It was pretty nice in the morning, known for providing a beautiful view of sunrises and sunsets. You quickly change into a messy outfit, you just throw on some jean shorts and a tank top. You grab a jacket and head out, looking at yourself in the mirror for the first time in a while, you look different. It’s a cleaner look, smoother skin with no bruises or scratches ruining your skin. Your top perfectly showed the little inward curve your waist had, you didn’t have an ‘hourglass body’ but you were happy with what you had. 

Gladly the bridge was a walkable distance from your apartment, you still didn’t have a car. Gosh there were so many things to sort out. You really tried not to think about all of the things you needed to do…not to mention your job, you hoped you hadn’t lost that. All your worries were blown away as soon as you felt the cold breeze hit your hair. You loved the ocean, the idea that so much was hidden in it scared you and intrigued you at the same time. You felt inclined towards it. You continue to stroll down the bridge, the waves crashing against nearby rocks, the sounds of seagulls, it was all beautiful to you. 

Not looking where you’re walking you bump into someone, sending your coffee to spill all over yourself. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry” you stutter out. “No I should be sorry, look at yourself” he replies, it’s a familiar voice almost like Feli- you find yourself looking straight into his eyes. You had tried your very best to not think about him, especially since what happened in the hospital, it was a mistake. Mistake? That didn’t seem like the right word, maybe an accident? You didn’t mean to lunge at Felix after your ex left, but you felt safe with him, warm. 

Three days ago (Flashback)

Felix had been coming to see you every day since the day you were checked into the hospital, you werent sure why but it was nice to have some kind of company. - 

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear a knock on your door, “come in!” you say excitedly, hoping that its felix who is standing outside. And your hopes were right! Felix walks into your room sitting down on the chair next to your hospital bed, one hand behind his back. “SURPRISE!!!” Felix screams, louder then he expected to, making you jump a little. You giggle at his antics before looking down at what he was holding. Its a tiny rubber ducky, you look back up at him. He is smiling so much that there are little creases next to his eyes, you smile in response it was a silly gift, especially for someone your age but… it was cute, and it was sweet that he got you something in the first place. 

Felix gently holds your hand so that he could place the duck in your palm, gosh why were you getting so flustered… He closes your palm and pushes down, the rubber duck creates a little squeaking noise sending you and Felix both to a loud laughter. Felix wraps his hands around you, pulling you in for a hug. You could feel his rock hard chest flush against yours as he squeezed you into the hug harder, you practically melt into his chest as he starts rubbing small circles on your back.

Your laughs quickly turn into muffled sobs, in response he pulls you away and stares you straight in the eyes. You quickly sniff and try to wipe away your tears but he swiftly grabs your hands, pressing the into the soft mattress below. “Why?” is all you manage to whimper out, you werent sure what you were saying why to. To Felix and why he stayed with you for hours on end? To yourself for loosing a relationship with your ex? To your ex for treating you like shit? Why…why did it have to be you. You knew making connections with felix would be a lost cause but…

Felix removes his hands from your wrists now cupping your face, hes staring into your eyesbut your eyes are staring directly at his lips. His thumbs swipe over your cheeks, wiping off your fallen tears. “Whats there to cry for? Promise me you wont cry again…atleast not without a proper reason” he says, almost in a whisper like tone, trying to match yours from earlier. All you can do is nod in his hands, still focusing on his pretty pink lips. He notices that your eyes are somewhere else and pulls you in closer, you feel his hot breath against your face. Fuck it.

You smash your lips against his, catching Felix by surprise. You feel as he eases into the kiss, he slightly smiles tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. You wish you could stay like this forever, just the two of you. You really liked Felix, he was always there for you even though you barely knew him. Actually now that you think of it you didn't know anything about felix besides that he was a bartender. You wish you could know everything a bout him, you wished that you had met him instead of your dumbass ex. But i guess not, all you had was this one kiss.

Permanent tag list: @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @ot8skz-wifey

lmk if u wanna be added to the tag list ❤️❤️❤️❤️

#lee felix #skz fic #skz stay #skz writing #stray kids #spotify #skz fluff #skz hurt/comfort #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz x reader #skz x female reader #skz felix #skz fanfic #skz fandom #Spotify

[andicat23fan]

Ocean Eyes (Eren x Reader)

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Prologue

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11/3/23

“See you later Er-“ Brrrringgggggg. The sound of my alarm jolted me awake I picked up my phone and it read 12:00 p.m. “OH CRAP!” I yell. Today is November 3rd a.k.a Armin’s 17th birthday/ surprise party and I’m running late. I shoot out of bed and quickly get ready. I decided to wear my hair down and throw on a nice yellow assymetic top on that complimented my dark complexion as well as some dark colored bootcut jeans along with my new balances and leather jacket. Then I was out running through the streets of Shiganshina, trying to get Armin’s as quickly as possible.

Thud. I bumped into someone sending them tumbling into the ground, and before I can apologize I see Hannes on the ground mumbling cruses. Now I don’t feel as bad since it was that drunk idiot. “Wow not even going to land me *hic* a hand *hic*” Hannes says. I give him a look, and he chuckles while getting up then proceeds to point to his watch and say “ You better hurry Aurelia or else you’re going to miss the surprise party it starts in fifteen minutes”. I shove past Hannes and continue on my journey to Armin’s house.

10 minutes later

I burst into Armin’s home with 5 minutes to spare trying to catch my breath. Once I was able to catch my breathe I noticed Jean, Connie, Reiner, Annie, Levi, and Porco just staring at me with annoyance, and I didn’t really blame them either, my tardiness could’ve ruined the surprise. The silence continued until Jean finally said with a sly smile“Nice of you to show up Aurelia”. “Shut up Horseface! At least I got here before Armin, and that’s all that matters!” I retort causing everyone to laugh and even made Levi smirk a little. Jean just sat on the couch looking like a toddler having a hissy fit. The laughter is interrupted by Mr and Mrs Arlert shushing us, saying Armin’s coming. I quickly turned off the lights and hid behind the living room couch, along with everyone else and waited until the door finally open. As soon as Armin flipped on the lights we a jumped from behind the couch and yelled in unison “HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARMIN!” While his grandfather brought out a cake from the kitchen. We all sang happy birthday to him, but before Armin can take the first slice Sasha is already a step ahead of him and eats Armin’s slice in one clean bite. “Really Sasha?!” Both Connie and Jean say. “What Armin was taking way too long to eat that precious cake, and I couldn’t let that cake go one more second without being eaten that wasn’t right” Sasha whines. We all smack on heads in unison at Sasha’s greediness. “Well let’s just enjoy this party everyone!” Says Armin.

Music blasts throughout the yard everyone catches with one another about their lives. I observe from a far all of them chatting as it makes me happy to see everyone so lively. All of sudden I feel an arm snake around my waist and I know exactly. “Hey Rennie” I say followed by Eren giving me a kiss on the cheek and mumbling into my skin “Aurelia what’s wrong?” I sigh and turn to him, while looking down at my toes“I had that dream again” I mumbled. He cups my cheeks and moves my head so I have to look directly in his beautiful teal eyes that hold so much emotion. “Was it the one where you chop of my head to save humanity again?” He says with concern in his voice. I slowly nod causing Eren to sigh “how many times have I told you it’s just a dream and dreams aren’t real” Eren says. “ I know but I- I don’t know I just-“ I say before Zeke comes over and slings his arms around Eren and I causing me to roll my eyes . “ Well if it isn’t little Eren and Aurelia, as much as I like to see you be all lovey dovey everyone is looking for you and Carla made her famous brownies so let’s go back to the party.” Both Eren and I agree, I let Eren and Zeke get head start back as I wanted a few moments to myself. I lay in the grass let the gush of wind hit my face peaceful. “Aurelia”*boom* “Aurelia”*boom “Aurelia danger is coming to the world you and your friends must stop this threat once and for-“ “Aurelia! Are you okay?” Zeke and Eren say as they stand over me with worried glances. That was weird I thought, I could’ve sworn I was a the paths with the Founder Ymir who was telling me of a danger could it mean- “Aurelia!” Eren says. “Ohh sorry I must’ve drifted off for a second let’s head back.” I say and so we head back to the party to celebrate Armin, but thoughts still linger on the message Ymir sent me and could it have to do something with that dream I keep having. But to understand how I got to this place I guess have to start from the beginning.

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Hey guys this is my first story and please be nice :) Also story should update every day for the next week or so then every Monday and Wednesday.

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#eren x reader #eren yeager #eren x black fem!reader #zeke yeager #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #attack on titan #reiner braun #pieck finger #levi ackerman #connie springer #jean kirstein #sasha braus #ymir #historia reiss #ymir fritz #erwin smith #hange zoe

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

Ice Cream on the Beach

Words: 1, 522

Summary: I’m giving Dieter’s tattoos an origin story! And I’ve added a few more of them and we’ll learn all about them over ice cream

Warnings: teeny tiny hints to suicide if you know the meaning behind the semi colon tattoo

Check out masterlist here

The heat of summer snuck through the window like a creeper. You were hoping that watching a film based in the snow would trick your mind into thinking it was cooler than the hellscape you were living in. Unfortunately, the antics of the so-called protagonists were putting you off your viewing. The soft buzzing of your phone easily distracted you.

“Hi, Dieter.”

“Hey honey cakes. So…what are you doing?”

“Not much. Just watched Frozen.”

There was a long pause of disbelief, “You did not.”

“I did.”

“You watched the animated film Frozen?”

“No, I watched a different film called Frozen?”

“They haven’t done a weird horror version have they?”

“Oh, I’d actually watch that. But no, this is just some thriller which happens to have the same title.” Dieter gave a noise of interest, so you continued, “Some idiots get stuck on a ski chair lift and they can’t get off because wolves.”

“How did they get stuck there?”

“Circumstances that I hope to never be in.”

“Speaking of Frozen, do you want to go get some ice cream?”

“You know I’m always up for ice cream.”

“I know, that’s why I asked. Are you free to go get some now?”

“Absolutely. Where are you?”

“Look out the window.”

You got up off the couch and looked out the window. What could be mistaken for a homeless man was none other than your boyfriend. You gave a little wave, and he waved in return. You quickly changed into something suitable for going out, grabbed your bag, and almost ran down the stairs. Trying not to run in to him over excitement of seeing him, you gave Dieter a hug, inhaling his manly smell which you missed.

“You just happened to be outside knowing I’d be home?”

“I wasn’t stalking you, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“You don’t seem the stalking type.”

“Oh good. I’ve had one too many to know the type.”

“What?”

“We should get going.”

*****

You ambled over to the beach, people traffic not amounting to much which suited you as you didn’t like crowds much and Dieter preferred not getting swamped by fans. Although he was hard to recognise as he was wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, hiding his face from all but those closest to him. To the unsuspecting and unobservant, you were just a cute couple holding hands and walking to the beach for some ice cream.

The choice over what flavour to choose was one which was met with much pondering from you but not from Dieter. Finally, you decided on mango hibiscus.

“Do you want a cup or cone?”

“I think a cup because I take forever eating ice cream.”

Dieter had chosen two huge scoops of Kit Kat in a waffle cone. Now you were both sitting on the sand, well actually, Dieter removed an outer layer to act as a makeshift blanket. People were still out on the ocean, sailing past on boats or jet skis, the occasional windsail flying about the horizon.

You were not looking at the ocean, you were distracted looking at Dieter attacking his cone. The way his mouth sucked up a piece of Kit Kat or the way his tongue expertly manoeuvred ice cream from the cone to his mouth, occasionally licking his luscious lips. You tried to distract yourself and looked at the ocean activity for a talking subject.

“So, you do any extreme sports when you’re not hanging out with me?”

“No, doing my own stunts is bad enough. I was once with this guy who liked to do it while bungee jumping and…”

“You did not!”

“It was once and once was enough. Thankfully I came out undamaged, but I was sore for days afterwards.”

“Yikes.”

Dieter looked over at you and forgot what he was about to say. You were slowly licking off your spoon and he found himself staring at your tongue. Your lips were tinted slightly red from the hibiscus making them very tempting to kiss.

“So,” he coughed, “Are you into sports?”

“Oh god no. Made me really stand out.”

“Yeah, I stood out at school. I was a theatre kid getting picked on by the football team.”

“I was the weird art kid at school. And not liking football added to my weirdness. Except this was Australian football.”

“What’s the difference?”

You could only shrug and take another spoonful of ice cream. Dieter had finished his ice cream and leaned back, his arms getting some sunlight, his tattoos on full display.

“Dieter, do you mind if I ask the meaning behind your tattoos?”

“No, go ahead.”

“So, what’s the meaning behind the triangles?”

“Nothing. They’re triangles and nothing more.”

“Oh,” you took another small scoop of ice cream, “Maybe I should’ve asked the story of how you got them?”

“Now that I can tell you.” And he sat up as if to regal a story to a gathered audience, you nodded to him waiting in anticipation. “I’m pausing for dramatic effect.”

He leaned over, showing you the triangle on his left wrist, “So, I was with this tattoo artist girl, and she convinced me into getting a traditional style tattoo.”

“Is that where they hammer little needles into you?”

“Yeah, well, I was high at the time I agreed to it, but not when I was getting it done and turns out she wasn’t that experienced, and it hurt, and I stopped before it could get any more elaborate than this triangle.”

You could only wince at imagining the pain his wrist went under. You gestured to his other arm. “And the other triangle?”

He moved his right arm into your hand, showing the solid triangle on his forearm. “Now this is me learning the hard way to not get anyone’s name tattooed.”

“Oh?”

“I tried getting it removed but could only afford two sessions at the time and it really hurt and took a while to heal in time so decided to just get it covered with this triangle.”

“Was it the typical heart one?”

“So typical it’s embarrassing! But I was young and stupid at the time.”

“Do you have any other tattoos?”

“I may have a tiny Dumbo tattoo somewhere, I’ll have to show you one day” he teased which made you laugh. You noticed a tiny tattoo on his right wrist. It was a tiny Mickey Mouse silhouette above a coma.

“What about this one?”

He got a bit quiet, “That’s a semi colon.”

“A semi colon? Why a semi colon?”

“You don’t know?” you shook your head, he gently removed his arm from you hand and started touching the small tattoo, “Um, it’s nothing really. What about you? Do you have any tattoos?”

You knew he changed the subject on you, but you didn’t pressure him about it. “I do actually. I have one on my lower back.”

You leaned forward and lifted your shirt a little to reveal the tattoo there. Dieter peered and then asked, “Is that a bat?”

“It is!” you leaned back, noticing Dieter looked a little dejected at not seeing that sliver of skin anymore.

“Why a bat?”

“Why not? Bats always seem to get this bad reputation from horror films but really, they’re cute and fluffy.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah, like you.”

You both stared at each other for a while. The hue had changed from warm yellow to soft orange showing how long you two had been sitting talking to one another.

“Fuck, I didn’t realise how late it’s getting.”

“I think sunsets are quite romantic.”

“They are honey cakes. But then I also know you watch too many films where bad things happen after sunset.”

“That is true.”

“Can I walk you home?”

“Of course.”

*****

The soft orange was slowly turning a darker hue and the dark blue ink was bleeding through the incoming night sky. Your hands were once again intertwined, you leaning into him a bit more than before. Headlights caught your attention and you turned to look at a car crawling along behind you.

“Dieter is that car following us?”

He turned to look “Yeah, but it’s my driver so it’s okay.” He kissed the top of your head to reassure you and it helped. “Just making sure you’re safe honey cakes.”

“Well, I was taught to just outrun the weaker person in case of danger.”

“What?”

“But I won’t in this case.”

You both stopped outside your apartment. You felt very reluctant to let go of his hand, almost going as far as inviting him up to stay in his company. He must have sensed that you wanted to but kept up his gentleman barrier even though he himself wanted to stay in your company.

“Well, I don’t want to keep my driver waiting all night,” you were avoiding looking at his face in case it was sad, “Can I kiss you goodnight?”

You had to look up this time, nodding, blinking tears away that were threatening to form. Dieter gently cradled your face and gave you the tenderest kiss, as soft and warm as the orange fading in the sky.

Film referenced: Frozen (2010), Frozen (2013)

Lovingly tagging @boliv-jenta @simpingcowboy @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @brilliantopposite187 @chaithetics @myloveistoolittle @cevans-is-classic

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #dieter x honey cakes #love of horror fanfic #love of horror #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter fanfic #dieter x reader #dieter x f!reader #dieter bravo #the bubble netflix #the bubble

[vgilantee]

carmine red varnish {bradly "rooster" bradshaw}

rooster bradshaw x reader

requested: n/a

words: 795

a/n: carmine is a shade of red that is not exactly like rooster's helmet, but it's close enough and is more interesting than "dark red". also this is... so short for me lmao. i think i'm gonna write more of this reader and rooster relationship in a different fic because i have many ideas

warnings: n/a

pronouns: [none used]

You always cherished the days Rooster could spend with you. Sometimes you didn’t know how long you could have him, all to yourself. But you selfishly took that time, grasped in both hands. The pair of you weren’t together, not in an explicitly defined relationship. If someone asked, you would say you were friends, but there was an unspoken something more. So often, on his first day back from a mission or a job, he found his way to your place. 

The jetlag was clear as Rooster sat on your sofa, half-turned with one knee resting on the cushion below him. You were sat cross-legged facing him, gently holding his left hand while his right rested on your knee. 

Though the TV was on, neither of you paid much attention to what was playing. You were busy concentrating, tongue poking out ever so slightly as you carefully applied the red varnish (the colour chosen to match the same shade as his helmet). Rooster’s attention was entirely on you, watching with a tilted head as your eyebrows occasionally creased further or your tongue would disappear, only to make its appearance again moments later. He was also vaguely telling you about the deployment he had just returned home from. 

There was obviously a lot of information he could not tell you, but the specifics of the orders never interested you anyway. You loved hearing about the people - his friends and coworkers - who helped both keep him alive and made his days on whatever base or ship he had lived on more bearable. 

“There’s just something grounding about watching a sunset over an ocean and eating a very okay cake with your legs hanging off the side of a naval ship. It was a very fitting thing for Phoenix to want to do for her birthday.” Rooster spoke softly as if making sure not to disturb your concentration. Out the corner of your eye, you glanced up at him, a half-smile as you imagined him swinging his legs against the side of a boat and laughing with friends. 

“It sounds very nice.” He nodded and his eyes - for just a moment - looked past you as he remembered the view. 

Carefully, you placed his hand on your other knee before twisting the cap onto the bottle of nail polish. You gave the nails a silent once-over, making sure there was no red on his skin and that his nails were painted neatly. Once you were sure they were done, you gave a final, satisfied nod.

“Perfect.” At your assessment, Rooster raised his hands carefully - fingers stretched far apart to make sure he didn’t bump any colour - and looked at each nail in turn. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but still, once he had checked every nail, he mirrored your nod. 

“So…” he lowered his hands back to your knees, “how long do I have to wait for this to dry?” 

“‘Bout an hour.” You replied with a shrug. “Unless you want to risk smudging them or making them bumpy. Then it’s only half an hour.” You moved to turn off the sofa, to collect all of the bottles of nail polish that were scattered on your coffee table, but his fingers dug in slightly. 

“If I’m stuck here for the next hour, then you’re not going anywhere either.” The corner of Rooster’s mouth twitched upward as you opened your mouth slightly to retort. As he tilted his head, your already weak resolve dropped completely and you rolled your eyes.

“Fine.” You dragged out the ‘i’ sound in faux defeat. Leaning over, you picked up the same bottle of red that you had just painted Rooster’s nails with and got to painting your own. 

It was things like that, the complete lack of hesitation in choosing to match with him, that fit into the blur of the definition of your relationship. Although you knew that his helmet was red (the exact shade of the nail polish, though you’d never tell him that it was on purpose), it wasn’t a colour you used often. But at that moment, with his hands resting on your knees and nails painted with careful precision, there was no other colour that made sense.

Even after the hour was up, Rooster kept his hands on you, watching as you painted your own nails with the creased-brow concentration that you had when painting his until finally, your nails matched his; a glossy, strong red. Once again, the cap of the varnish was tightened with finality. 

Carefully, as to not smudge the fresh paint, you placed your hands on your thighs, fingertips brushing Rooster’s ever-so-slightly. 

“There. Now we match.” It just made sense, that you and Rooster would match. Two parts that naturally fit together.

reblogs and kind words are appreciated!

taglist:

@disgustingtoast

(i only tag mutuals who have asked to be tagged, everyone else should refer to the posting schedule!)

#rooster x reader #bradly bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #char writes #top gun rooster x reader #top gun x reader #rooster x you #rooster x y/n #bradly bradshaw x you #bradly bradshaw x y/n #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradly rooster bradshaw x reader #bradly rooster bradshaw x you #bradly rooster bradshaw x y/n #rooster bradshaw/you #rooster bradshaw/reader #bradly bradshaw/you #bradly bradshaw/reader #rooster/you

[fuckthisshitimin]

[ID: A poem.

How to stop feeling alone.

1. Call your mom. Tell her you’re sorry, lie if you have to; you have to listen to her breathe and ask what she’s eating tonight. Tell her you grew up too fast and she looks so small now, tell her she should be sorry (you probably don’t have to lie) and if she still won’t say your name out loud or if she never remembers what you remember or sounds like an automated pre-recorded voicemail occupied line out-of-space tune, I am sorry.

2. Meet your grandfather at a park. It’s spring. If you don’t have a grandfather and can’t use a Ouija board safely, meet your ex-boyfriend’s grandfather, or, your coworker’s grandfather, any grandfather that lives near the sea and has a painting of a sailing ship in his living room will do. Ask him to teach you about knots and learn every way his skin is thinner than yours; the veins blue all over like the ocean’s claimed him already, how soft and fragile the back of his hands, maps and rivers. Ask him about his dog, who died before you were born. Write a good speech for his funeral. Again, I’m sorry.

3. Cry on the bench you met with the grandfather that might or might not have been yours to cry. You don’t have pictures of him so you have to draw him. If you can’t draw, write him; write a thousand poems about grief and loneliness and old age and post them online because sad poetry’s definitely engaging, right? Hearts that bleed seawater in pixels like idiots and no one answering the call — listen to me. The only good place to cry in public is a women’s bathroom in a nightclub around 2AM.

4. Call your mom again. Leave a message pacing in your room, tell her everything, absolutely everything, that the poems didn’t work and that you hate that you were foolish enough to hope they would, that you miss her — that you miss everything she could have been for you. Just for you.

5. Ask your friends for help. Help is something you deeply need yet you don’t have the vocabulary to make your request intelligible, like a baby crying — something is terribly wrong and mama’s starting to feel the edges of a headache piercing her skull inch by inch. Maybe if you’d stuck with the poetry — Now why are you alone in the first place? Surely it wasn’t always like that. Surely there was a time you were so smothered with love you didn’t even know what loveless air tastes like on the back of your throat, so what happened? What did you do? The hands on your shoulders, did you run away from them? did you push them away? did you say something like “you wouldn’t get it” when you were thirteen and your sister was ten? Oh, angel. Did you ever apologize?

6. Okay. Bring an offering. Come up to your friend’s apartment with a cake, poorly decorated, in the elevator mirror make sure to arrange yourself so that your hair falls right, soft bangs hiding the desperation in your brows but not your eyes kiss their cheeks at the door: “hey how are you?” “I brought a cake!” you conveniently don’t have to answer the question and I am sorry to say you Fucked Up Big Time. Watch how they eat and feast on their smiles and praises, etch their indulgent chuckle at your terrible icing skills in your brain, it feels good, so good, and now every time you come up empty-handed you will miss that and why are they even letting you in when you didn’t bring anything to the table? You sip the tea their offer with guilt and everything tastes like ashes. You can’t burden them with that, of course, so you grow silent and coil around yourself and if they ask how you are you can’t even say you brought a cake.

I have a feeling this is not working. Are you sure you’re trying? Maybe you just weren’t meant to be loved. You sure don’t make it easy. Maybe you’re alone because you have to be.

7. Laugh. Now.

8. Write another poem. If you’re sad enough, maybe it will be good enough. Force your very soul into a mold of words and verses and relish in the agony that comes from being bent and squeezed and embraced at last by a sweater-shaped casket. This is you. People like it, and they are too late; now you want to be left alone and isn’t your pain what attracted them about you? Resent them, resent everything you make them stand for in your head, hate a single person like you hate every single person that came before them: your seventh-grade history teacher your first best friend Sigmund Freud your mom all of them in one fell sweep.

9. When you run out of hate, choose one single person to hate less than the rest of them make sure they know how special that makes them. Take every gram of love they can produce, and keep it be their teacher and make them unlearn love for everything that isn’t you or like you. When they are materially as alone as you feel and still smile at you hate them with all you have, because they have a reason; and you still don’t. You’ve been their dragon, who’s yours? Yourself? Me? I’ve been talking you through this because you asked me to, you could’ve just stopped reading, and what else do you have? Blame your mother because you hate Freud but you hate your mother more, also, Freud can’t watch you kill your father and ask “is this my fault?” Freud won’t cry when you look her in the eyes and say “yes.”

10. Buy a self-help book! They are more thorough than this, how to stop being the dragon in seven steps, how to kill a dragon, how to find a hibernating dragon and slaughter it in its sleep, how to convince your village that the man you slaughtered was a dragon, how to be a man. “Man” here is not a gender; it’s a status you achieve by hating enough people, hating the right people. The main two ingredients for “Man” are power and hatred. “power” is money “hatred” is fear with a sword. To be Man you must hate everything that is not Man — White is Man Strong is Man Rich is Man Hero is Man Spring is NOT Man Pills is NOT Man Help is NOT Man Scared is NOT Man To be Man the first thing to hate is yourself, but I think you’ve got that one covered.

11. Fuck the squires, Marry the princess, Kill the dragons. How did we get there? You’re way too old to believe in fairy tales and this metaphor is out of touch with everything around you. You’re not a hero, you’re not a dragon, you’re not a princess. You’re a baby and everyone knows it takes a village. Start over. Call your mom. Of course she’s not enough. Nobody is a village. Look.

12. Be weak and don’t die. Sorry for tossing you around like that. It’s that you remind me of me. Everybody in the world reminds me of me. I don’t have the cure for loneliness and there isn’t one because loneliness, like many pains, is just information. It’s a signal. There’s nothing you can achieve that will rid you of feeling alone. That’s other people’s job. I’m sorry but there’s no other way to do this, you gotta get okay with your own dependence on other people. You’ve never been alone a single day in your entire life. Read your poems to your friends. See them misunderstand. Try to explain, and understand this will never be enough; Realize they are not enough. Realize you are not enough. Realize no one should ask you to be.

13. Count aloud from one to ten. Nothing happens.

Signed, M. Mikhaïl, 01053023

End ID]

Okay it should say 2024. We're in 2024. I know that. Of course I know that.

#poetry #mikhail writes #poem #long post

[sage-nebula]

STH — Beyond Oblivion, ch.2

Notes: And here we are with chapter two, a mere two days before Frontiers comes out. This chapter is a lot longer than the first one, but that's because I needed to get some necessary world building in there. You know, flesh the reality Sonic has found himself in out a bit more.

If you read this, I hope you enjoy it! Oh, and here's a link back to Chapter One, if you missed it.

- - -

Most people wouldn't think jumping from an airship mid-flight was an easy, or even possible, feat. But fortunately for just about everyone, Sonic didn't fit neatly into the category of “most people.”

Leaving the Flying Battery was, for him, a piece of cake. There were no parachutes on-board (which made sense, Sonic thought, if Tails was supposed to be the only occupant), but the mountain range that Sonic had used to hitch a ride in the first place stretched underneath the Battery’s flight path for much longer than he’d thought. Even without a parachute, picking a high enough peak to jump safely onto even with Tails in his arms had been easy enough. And then—using the gift of high altitude to get a bearing on his surroundings—he’d set off for the place that was both the nearest and (he hoped) the safest: Windmill Village.

As he neared, though, he hesitated. Windmill Village was a peaceful, friendly place, but also one that had (in Sonic’s reality, at least) suffered directly at the hands of Eggman. Was this Windmill Village the same? And if so, had Tails been involved? The idea was inconceivable to Sonic, but then again, so was the idea of Tails working for Eggman and fighting Sonic tooth and nail when it came time to leave. Anything seemed possible here, no matter how hard to believe it was. Sonic had to play it safe.

Windmill Village was bordered by a forest, and through the forest ran a river that ended at the ocean. Sonic wasn’t remotely interested in going near the ocean, if it could be avoided, but the stream would come in handy for when Tails woke up; he was still pretty grimy, and the mats in his fur wouldn’t come loose easily. They’d need the water to help comb (or, worst case scenario, cut) them out.

With that in mind, Sonic wove his way through the trees until he found a small clearing that was near enough the stream for the sound of water flowing to be audible, but near enough the village so Sonic wouldn’t be too far away while on his supply run. It wasn’t ideal, leaving Tails alone in the forest—but it would have to do. Sonic carefully laid Tails on the grass in the middle of the clearing, mindful not to leave his head crooked at an odd angle. Once Tails was positioned in a way that Sonic had personally seen him sleep so many times before (arms and legs sprawled, with his tails draped over his stomach like a blanket), Sonic turned, and booked it to Windmill Village.

The first thing Sonic noticed about the village as he reached its border was the first thing everyone else did: the namesake windmills, peacefully rotating against the skyline as their blades were caressed by the wind. Despite his time crunch (he didn’t know when Tails would wake up, but knew he had to be there when he did), he allowed himself a moment to admire them, a small smile on his lips of its own volition. Windmills were nice, the way they let the wind carry them. And if they were in good repair, that meant that the rest of the village probably was, too. As he let his eyes skim the various buildings—the houses, the general store, the community center—he saw that his hunch was right. Windmill Village was, at least at the moment, no worse for the wear.

But any relief that he felt at that faded as he made his way into the village proper, and noticed the second thing about Windmill Village: the villagers themselves.

He recognized them—or at least, some of them. Some of them were villagers he’d encountered when he first visited to investigate rumors of Eggman’s possible return (and had instead found “Mr Tinker”). Others he recognized, but in a distorted way, and an uncomfortable swoop flipped through his stomach when he realized it was because he had seen them as zombots, rather than their normal selves. But what was strange was not how he recognized them, but how they stared at him. An older cat grabbed her small child’s hand, and tugged him close to her, staring at Sonic with unmasked apprehension. A group of kids around Charmy’s age huddled together in a small circle, whispering to each other behind their palms. When they saw him looking at them, they bolted, tripping over each other in their haste to get away. More than one person ducked inside the nearest building; others clustered together as the children had before, casting him wary glances when they thought he wasn’t looking.

Sonic paused just outside the general store and looked back the way he’d come, his quills on edge. Windmill Village was fine—no one seemed hurt. No buildings were destroyed. So what was the problem?

“Hello there, stranger! Is there something we can help you with?”

The familiar voice—deep but raspy, with a light wheeze—might have been enough to settle Sonic’s nerves, if the word stranger hadn’t been paired with it. Sonic turned, and voiced a grin at the mayor of Windmill Village, an old mountain goat who smiled just as easily back as he leaned on his walking stick. Two people trailed behind him; one a tall bird with feathers as dark as his scowl who looked a handful of years older than Sonic himself, and the other a petite, middle-aged mouse, a shawl clutched tightly around her shoulders.

Sonic laced his arms behind his head. “Nah, but thanks for checking in, Mayor. I was just in the area and thought I’d hit up the general store for some supplies. Y’know, food, maybe a couple sleeping rolls. Things like that.”

The mayor blinked, taken aback. On his left, the mouse tugged her shawl more tightly around her as she asked, “How’d you know he’s the mayor?”

“Ain’t it obvious? He’s one o’ them Empire scouts,” the bird spat, his voice dripping as much venom as his glare. Sonic’s quills went rigid, his fingers balled into fists. “Finally come to snuff us out, have you? Well we ain’t goin’ down easy, I’ll tell you that much.”

The mayor raised a hand to quell his neighbor’s fury. “Now, Oz—”

“I don’t know who you take me for, but I’d die before I’d work for any ‘empire,’” Sonic snapped. “I told you, I was just in the area and I need some supplies for me and my brother. That’s all.”

Oz snorted. “Sure. And you know he’s the mayor ‘cause—?”

Because I’ve met him before, Sonic wanted to say, but one look at the mayor’s face—one thought back to how the mayor had addressed him as stranger—told him otherwise. This Windmill Village’s mayor had no more of an idea who he was than this reality’s Tails had.

So instead of digging himself into a hole where he’d have to waste more time than he had explaining the situation, Sonic said, “Lucky guess. His clothes, that fancy walking stick, the fact he was the only around here who’d talk to me . . . I just took a guess and got it right.”

“Well, that settles that then, doesn’t it?” the mayor said, and glanced to each of his neighbors in turn to give them each a placating smile. Neither looked very mollified. “You’ll have to forgive our wariness, stranger. We don’t get many visitors ‘round these parts, and what with the Empire’s spread . . . well. Can’t blame folks for bein’ cautious.”

“Yeah, I guess not.”

Sonic crossed his arms, and glanced over his shoulder at the general store. He needed to get supplies, and fast. There was no telling when Tails would wake up, and if he was alone when he did . . . well, odds are he wouldn’t still be there by the time Sonic got back. But as much as he needed supplies, there was something else he was missing that was almost as important, and something told him Tails wouldn’t be as forthcoming as he needed. Sonic tapped his foot as he weighed his odds, and then bit the bullet and took the chance.

“But hey, if it’s not any trouble, could you tell me about that?” he asked, and when the mayor raised his eyebrows in question, Sonic clarified, “This ‘empire,’ I mean. I’m guessing it’s Egg—Robotnik’s, right? How far’s it spread? What’s going on with that?”

The mayor and the two villagers exchanged bewildered looks. When they looked back at Sonic, their expressions were no less baffled.

“Are you . . . feelin’ okay?” the mouse asked.

“He’s not a scout, he’s a loon,” Oz said. Sonic fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Or a damn near idiot—”

“Look, I’m not from around here, okay?” Sonic interrupted. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but—”

“No, no,” the mayor said, and the hand he held up this time was to placate Sonic instead. “We can help. It’s only that—well, it’s hard to believe, someone not knowin’ about the Empire.”

Sonic cracked a wry smile. “I’ve encountered my fair share of hard to believe things today, Mayor. Seems to be a running theme.”

The mayor nodded, and then gestured for Sonic to follow him as he started toward the general store’s door. “Come with me, son. It’ll be easier for me to show than tell. Poppy, Oz—I can take it from here.”

“You sure?” Poppy asked, as Oz said, “You outta your mind? Anything could happen—”

“I said,” the mayor said, a hint of stone behind his smile as he turned back to them, “that I can handle it. Kindly go about your business, and advise your neighbors to do the same, if you’d please.”

Poppy nodded, and avoided meeting Sonic’s eyes as she turned and skirted away, head bowed. Oz looked less mollified; his shoulders were stiff, his eyes mutinous. But he didn’t say a word, instead casting Sonic one last scowl before he turned and stomped off, following Poppy.

The mayor sighed. “It wasn’t always like this. But after the past four years . . . well. Can’t blame ‘em, as I said.”

Four years. If this Tails was eight—and he looked it, for the most part, though he was a little smaller than the Tails back home—then that math would line up with when Eggman grabbed him. That meant, what, that Sonic’s initial worries were right? That Tails did do something, if not to the people of this village, then some other people somewhere else?

“Right this way,” the mayor said, and Sonic started as he was pulled from his thoughts. By this point the mayor had the door to the general store open—Sonic hadn’t even noticed the little bell above the door chime—and he shrugged his shoulder to indicate that Sonic should follow. Sonic nodded, grabbing the door himself so the mayor wouldn’t have to hold it open for him.

The general store was staffed by a single clerk behind the counter, whose customer service smile was belied by the alarm in her eyes. Sonic gave a little wave and what he hoped was a reassuring grin as he and the mayor headed toward the counter, the mayor pausing by a magazine rack to slip a folded world map from the top row. He spread the map open on the counter, and then held his hand out toward a pen cup sat near the register.

“Penny, if you would please—” the clerk palmed a pen from the cup, and placed it in the mayor’s outstretched hand, “—thank you kindly.”

Sonic leaned against the counter as the mayor, pen in hand, began to circle different locations on the map. The United Federation, Adabat, Spagonia, Apotos, Shamar . . . Sonic felt his stomach drop to his feet as the mayor continued, circling every single location where, as far as Sonic knew, humans resided.

“These ones are the worst of it, s’far as we know,” the mayor said, tapping the pen against the map once he was finished circling. “’Course it’s hard to say for sure what with not having been there personally, but we’ve heard through the grapevine that the humans all answer to the Empire now. Their cities plain aren’t safe for folks like us.”

“You couldn’t pay me enough to go near Central City,” Penny said, and a full-body shudder ran through her. “Would rather stick my foot in an open fire, an’ that’s the truth.”

“As for us . . .” The mayor quickly drew Xs through smaller islands that Sonic recognized as holding only very small, if any, populations: South Island, West Side Island, Christmas Island . . . just about every small island ended up crossed out, and Sonic didn’t need the mayor to explain what that meant. Once the islands were marked off, he started circling the cities: Sunset City, Metal City, White Park, Seaside City, Emerald Town . . . “Well, depends really. These bigger cities, they’re the ones most likely to have Empire scouts and sympathizers. More remote villages on the mainland like ours tend to be safe . . . for now. No tellin’ when that will change, but we do our best to keep our folks safe.”

“Scouts and sympathizers?” Sonic frowned, his foot tapping against the floor. “Since when does Egg—Robotnik employ people? And who the hell would want to work for him, anyway?” Besides the two-tailed fox unconscious in a nearby clearing, anyway, but Sonic wasn’t about to let the people of Windmill Village in on that.

“You’d be surprised,” the mayor said, folding up the map. “’Course, like I say, we haven’t had any out here so far. We’ve been lucky like that, bein’ so remote they don’t come out here. But we’ve heard tell of folks willing to make deals. Maybe they want in on the riches the humans have. Maybe they’re just tryin’ to save themselves. I don’t know, and I don’t care to know. I just don’t want them out here.”

“None of us do,” Penny said.

“Which is why Oz was so hostile toward you.” The mayor smiled, the expression somehow sad, as he held the map out to Sonic. “You’ll have to forgive him, it’s been a tough four years, and it don’t show no sign of slowing down. We’ve all got families we’re just trying to keep safe.”

“. . . Yeah,” Sonic said, as he took the folded map from the mayor. “I get it.”

The mayor clapped Sonic on the shoulder, and cleared his throat. “Well now, you said before you needed supplies, didn’t’cha? We don’t have much out here, but we’d be happy to load you up with what’cha need. And if you need a place to stay, I have a guest bedroom in my home you’re welcome to use.” He tilted his head. “You mentioned somethin’ ‘bout a brother? He’s welcome too, of course.”

“Oh, uh—thanks, but we’ve spent too long cooped up inside as it is,” Sonic said, and he flashed a grin as he tapped the map against the side of his head. “It’s how I missed out on all this. We’re just gonna be enjoying the great outdoors for a while. So on that note, if you’ve got any sleeping bags . . .”

The mayor smiled. “Come with me, and I’ll see what we can do.”

- - -

By the time Sonic left the village, the mayor had been able to do more than enough. Despite Sonic’s credit stick not working (a hazard of interdimensional travel, he guessed), the mayor had still seen fit to load him up with two sleeping rolls, two canteens, some smoked meats, some fruits, a few cans of chili, spoons, and a small cookpot. Sonic tried to talk him down—one sleeping roll for Tails would’ve been enough, he didn’t need the cookpot to heat the chili since his speed would let him swipe the cans from the fire without getting burned—but the mayor wouldn’t hear of it.

“These days, we’ve all gotta watch out for each other, don’t we?” he had said. “So you just take care, and if you and your brother need a safe place to settle down, give us a holler. It’d be no trouble to have a couple more friendly faces ‘round this village.”

He and Tails wouldn’t be settling down in Windmill Village any time soon, but Sonic did know this for sure: So long as he was in this reality, he wouldn’t let anything happen to the village or its residents.

When he returned to the clearing where he’d left Tails, he was relieved to find him still out like a light, his tails draped over his stomach while his chest rose and fell with each soft breath. After setting their supplies down, Sonic unfurled one of the sleeping rolls, and then gently moved Tails off the grass (one arm supporting Tails’ head, the other under his knees, just like if he’d fallen asleep while watching a movie) and onto the sleeping mat.

Tails didn’t stir, even to shift into a more comfortable position. Sonic felt a little needle of worry in his gut that he tried to ignore, opting to pull the blanket that had come with the sleeping roll over Tails instead. That accomplished, he turned away to setup their campsite, so everything would be ready when Tails woke up.

The problem, of course, was that he didn’t know when Tails would wake up. The relief he’d felt when he’d returned to the clearing and found Tails safe and sound was now being nibbled on by the idea that maybe, without meaning to, he’d hit Tails too hard. He didn’t think he had; Tails had been through way worse and had come out the other side just fine. Heck, he’d crashed an airship into Neo Metal Overlord and came out the other side with nothing but a minor concussion. He was fine! Yet as Sonic rolled out his own sleeping roll (for later; he felt too wired to even think of sleep now), and then started building the pit they’d use for their fire, he couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at Tails. He really did look smaller than Sonic’s Tails. Not shorter, necessarily (though maybe a little bit), but definitely thinner. Sonic’s Tails had never been heavy, but although he’d used both arms to carry this Tails, he was light enough that Sonic thought he could have just used one. He could feel Tails’ ribs pretty easily through his fur when he held him. And his fur was in such bad shape, too; not shiny at all, caked in motor oil and dirt and grease, mats all over the place—

The sticks Sonic had been rubbing together to spark a fire snapped, and huffed a short sigh before he tossed them aside. There was no shortage of kindling in the forest, that wasn’t a problem. It was just annoying. He was annoyed, not worried. Annoyed.

He glanced up at Tails again, his jaw set so hard it was a little painful at the sight of Tails so still on the sleeping mat. Then he tore his eyes away, grabbed a pair of fresh sticks, and set to work making the fire again.

By the time Tails finally stirred, four hours had passed and the sun had already set. Sonic had a small campfire going, and had heated up some chili for himself in hopes that the smell of food would bring Tails back to the world of the living. It hadn’t, and Sonic had assured himself that it was fine, that Tails just needed his rest—but even he couldn’t deny the flood of relief that cascaded through him when Tails rolled over on his side, a sleepy groan escaping his throat. Sonic snagged one of the canteens before he jumped over the campfire and to Tails’ side.

“Hey bud,” Sonic said, smiling a little as he slipped a hand under Tails’ back to help him sit up. “You good?”

Tails didn’t answer. He licked his lips as he looked blearily around the campsite, blinking unfocused eyes. Not wanting to push Tails too hard (and figuring that he might be thirsty after his impromptu “nap”), Sonic thumbed the lid off the canteen and held it out. Tails stared at it for a second, uncomprehending, but when Sonic nudged the mouth of the canteen against Tails’ snout, Tails got the message and took the canteen in unsteady hands. At first, he took a couple small sips. But the water seemed to flick a switch in his brain; without any prompting Tails tossed his head back and guzzled the water down with enough fervor that Sonic wondered if he was dehydrated on top of being half-starved. Only when the canteen was almost empty did Tails finally stop, pushing it against Sonic’s chest to make him take it again . . . before he flopped back down on his sleeping mat.

A bemused smile quirked Sonic’s lips. “Uh, Tails? Don’t you think you should eat someth—” Tails grabbed the blanket and yanked it up over his head. “. . . Ooookay. Never mind.”

Tails needed to eat something, if what he’d said earlier about not having eaten since the day before was true, but Sonic had firsthand experience with how cranky Tails could be without enough sleep, and so he knew enough to leave him be. After taking a quick trip to the stream to refill the canteen that Tails had nearly emptied (and the stream looked clean enough, thankfully; whatever pollution Eggman had put into the world hadn’t affected this particular water source), Sonic settled down onto his own sleeping roll for the night. Now that he knew Tails hadn’t suffered any serious head trauma, the fatigue of the day hit him like a brick wall. As he laid back and closed his eyes, he kept one ear perked just in case Tails woke up again. He had always been a light sleeper, a “gift” granted to him by virtue of never knowing when Eggman would strike again. Usually it was annoying, the smallest sound waking him even when there was no danger. But now, he was grateful for it; it would come in handy if Tails woke again before Sonic himself did.

Which he did, a little after sunrise.

Sonic startled awake to the sound of hacking coughs following a gasp, and was on his feet before he registered what was happening. He looked over in time to see Tails, nearing the end of his coughing fit, scramble to his feet . . . and then trip over his blanket, landing smack on his face in the grass.

“Whoa, bud! Take it easy.” Sonic hopped over their (now extinguished) campfire, and held out a hand to help Tails up. Tails finally kicked free of his blanket, and when he looked up at Sonic, it wasn’t with a grateful or friendly smile. Instead, he scrambled backwards, ignoring Sonic’s proffered hand in favor of looking frantically around him.

“Where am I? What did you do to me?” He scooted back another pace, and used a tree to help himself to his feet as Sonic’s smile faded to a frown. “I’m—what—what time is it? How long has it been? How—how did I—what did you do?!”

“One question at a time,” Sonic said, and he held up his fingers to tick each of them off. “You’re in our campsite a little ways outside Windmill Village. I knocked you out—sorry, by the way, but you left me no choice—and got you safely off the ship. It’s . . .” Sonic looked up at the sun, and then confirmed the time on his wrist communicator. “. . . a little after 6 in the morning, so it’s been about fourteen hours. And I think I already answered what I did, so . . .” Sonic shrugged. “There you have it.”

Tails didn’t look mollified. Instead, with each new piece of information his eyes grew wider, and by the end of it he was leaning heavily on the tree for support, his breathing shallow as he stared at the ground.

“Fourteen hours. I’ve been—I’ve been gone for fourteen hours. And—and I—everything was . . .” He placed a hand against his head, eyes scrunched together. “Everything was broken, wasn’t it? Because you broke it. Everything was broken and the ship was destroyed and I didn’t fix it and I’ve been gone for fourteen hours.” Tails looked back up at Sonic. “Did you crash it? The Flying Battery. Did you crash it, or did it make it to port?”

“I didn’t crash it, no. I was going to, but I kinda forgot when I learned you were on the ship and needed rescue.”

“I didn’t—!” Tails yanked on his bangs with one hand, and shoved the other into his mouth, biting down so hard he yelped around his fingers.

“Tails! Stop!” Before the words even left his mouth Sonic bounded forward, his own fingers snapping around Tails’ wrist so he could pull his hand free of his teeth. This was as bad of an idea as it was good. Free of his jaws though Tails’ hand now was, the rough removal arguably worsened the bite; Sonic could see little beads of blood through the renewed puncture in Tails’ glove.

Tails wasn’t thankful for the assist, in any case. He threw his body weight against the tree, head cracking against the bark, and as Sonic pulled him clear of any other trees he could use to hurt himself, he dropped to his knees and twisted his wrist in an attempt to break free of Sonic’s grasp. As another wail threatened to break loose from Tails’ throat, he made to shove his other hand into his mouth, and this time, Sonic reacted quickly enough to grab that wrist, too.

“Will you stop trying to hurt yourself?” Sonic snapped, harsher than he meant to. Tails shook his head, eyes screwed shut, mouth clamped tight against the building whine in his throat as he pulled back against Sonic’s hold. “Tails—!”

“This is nothing,” Tails rasped, voice thick with what Sonic now saw were tears spilling fast from his left eye. “He’s—he’s—I’m—the—the Flying Battery was—was destroyed and I’m gone and he’s going to think I did it—!”

Sonic felt his stomach drop, and Tails trembling violently in his grasp.

“—and that I’m a terrorist and a traitor and I—he’s—he’s gonna kill me—!”

“No!” Sonic hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but it did the trick; Tails drew up short, hiccupping over his tears, and Sonic released Tails’ wrists to hold his shoulders instead. He stared straight into Tails’ eyes: one wet and shining, the other dry and glassy. “I will never let that happen, you hear me? Never.”

Tails stared back at him, eyes wide, for a long moment. Then his expression settled into a baleful glare, and his ears flattened back against his head as his hackles raised in a snarl.

“All you’ve done is break things and kidnap me and ruin my life,” he spat. “You can’t do anything.”

Hearing Tails, of all people, say that stung more than Sonic would admit, but he shoved the feeling down and forced a lopsided grin. “Well as it turns out, breaking Eggman’s things is something of a specialty of mine. So believe me when I say there’s nothing in this or any other world he could throw at me that has any chance of getting through to you. He won’t ever hurt you again so long as I’m around, and that’s a promise.”

Tails said nothing. He continued to glare at Sonic, and his tails batted against the grass in low, taut, anxious swishes. But his breathing was more even now, the flood of tears reduced to a trickle. Those, at least, were good signs.

“Okay,” Sonic said, releasing a slow breath in an exhale. “I think the first order of business is to whip up some breakfast. I got some things yesterday while you were, uh, sleeping, but to make ‘em I need to have use of my hands. And before I can do that, I need to know that you’re not gonna try to hurt yourself again, deal?” Tails turned his scowl to the grass under their feet, so Sonic ducked down a little to meet Tails’ eyes despite his resistance. “Deal?”

“Fine,” Tails snapped, and he pulled back as Sonic tentatively released his grip on Tails’ shoulders. “Whatever.”

“Okay,” Sonic said, watching closely as Tails sank to the ground and pulled his tails tightly around himself. He was twisting them too hard to be comfortable, but he wasn’t drawing blood or causing himself to yelp in pain, so leaving him be was probably a fair compromise. For now, anyway. “Thank you.”

Tails shot him a look, but otherwise didn’t respond. He sniffed, and scrubbed the tears under his left eye. He looked thoroughly miserable, and while an uncomfortable part of Sonic suggested that might partially be his fault, he also knew that there were few miseries food couldn’t help, if not outright fix.

“All right.” Sonic clapped his hands together, and smiled apologetically as Tails jumped at the sound. “I’ve got a few things we could have for breakfast. We have fruit, some smoked meats, and a few cans of chili that a couple minutes above a fire will heat up to perfection.” As he spoke, Sonic tossed more kindling into their campfire pit; whether or not Tails wanted chili for breakfast, Sonic knew that he did. “Since you’re the guest of honor, you get first pick. What sounds good?” Tails looked at him askance, yet then looked away again, and Sonic sighed. “Tails . . .”

“Stop—!” Tails’ ears were flat against his head again, and he yanked his tails so tightly around himself it almost looked like it would be hard for him to breathe. But the sharp exhale through his nose suggested otherwise, and he gritted his teeth as he said, “Nothing. No thanks.”

Sonic shook his head, and gathered a water canteen, some fruit, and some of the dried meats in his arms. “Hate to break it to ya, but ‘no thanks’ isn’t an acceptable answer here. If what you told me yesterday was true, you haven’t eaten in over a day, and that’s not healthy.” He skipped over the firepit and laid the provisions out in front of Tails, who looked at them, but made no move to take them. “So come on, at least try with some of this. And if there’s something else you want instead, just tell me and I’ll go get it. Could be anything, from anywhere. I’ll be back before you have time to wonder where I’ve gone.”

Once again Tails eyed the selection of fruits and meats, and for the tiniest of seconds it looked like he was going to go for them. But then he shook his head, and—knees drawn up to his chest—hid his face in his arms, mumbling something muffled by his fur.

Sonic poked Tails’ knee. “Mind sharing that with someone other than your tails?”

Tails growled a little, but after a second lifted his face just enough to say, “I said, I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t? Are you allergic to any of this stuff?” Sonic asked, bemused. He looked back at the assortment of food, but no, he couldn’t remember Tails having any food allergies. Well, he did have a strong intolerance to a kind of sugar substitute used in some sugar-free foods, but since trying to keep Tails away from sugar was like trying to keep Sonic himself away from chili dogs, that wasn’t an issue that cropped up too often.

Tails shook his head, as best he could without raising it. “I didn’t finish my work yesterday.”

“Okay . . .” Sonic raised his eyebrows, beseeching Tails to continue. “And?”

Tails threw Sonic an annoyed look without lifting his head. “So I can’t eat.”

“I’m not following.”

Tails heaved a sigh, and said with the tone of explaining something to a small child, “A meal at the end of the day is a reward for work well done. I didn’t finish my work. So I don’t—I can’t—I didn’t earn it.”

Sonic stared at Tails, unable, for a moment, to put together a response to the utter nonsense he just heard. Tails, for his part, seemed to find nothing wrong with it; he shoved his face into the crook of his arms again, tails still bound tightly around him. Sonic opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. Then opened it, then closed it. He took a deep breath, and then, choosing his words as carefully as he could:

“No offense, because I know you’re a literal genius, but that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Tails lifted his head again to glare at Sonic.

“Look,” Sonic tried again, and he swiped an apple off the grass and held it out. “What you did or didn’t do—none of that matters here, all right? You have to eat something. Work or no work, I don’t care about that. You just need to eat.” Tails made no move to take the apple, and Sonic lowered it back to the grass. “Bud, come on. Don’t make me force you . . .”

Not that he had any idea of how to go about doing that. In all his years looking after Tails, getting him to eat had never been a problem. Oh, sure, there were some foods that he didn’t like. Cauliflower, for instance, as well as citrus fruits. But aside from that, Tails had always shoveled down food like it was going out of style. Between the pair of them, they could clear a dinner table in minutes. Even if it wasn’t the healthiest food—and Sonic would be the first to admit that he didn’t always make the healthiest choices when it came to mealtime—Tails had still eaten something, no problem. Refusing food altogether . . . that was new, and not something Sonic knew how to work with.

But Tails wasn’t budging. He chewed on the tip of his tail, an act that looked more hungry than harmful, but made no inclination toward any of the food that Sonic had offered. Whatever messed up ideas he had surrounding whether he was allowed to eat or not held him firm no matter what Sonic said. Shoving the food down his throat would do no good; at worst he’d choke on it, and at slightly less than worst it’d make Tails hate him even more than he already did. But Sonic couldn’t just leave him like this, either; he had a feeling the reason why Tails had chosen to sit on the grass rather than try to flee was because he didn’t have enough energy to move.

Sonic took a deep breath, and released it in a fast exhale.

“Okay,” he said, and Tails watched him warily as he stood up. “Tell you what. I’ve gotta go grab something. I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

Before Tails had a chance to respond, Sonic booked it back to Windmill Village.

For the most part, Sonic wasn’t a fan of stealing. At least, not when it came to stealing from innocent people. But time was of the essence here; he couldn’t risk getting into another lengthy discussion when Tails was awake and starving back at their campsite. So with a mental promise to the villagers that he’d return what he took later, Sonic breezed through the community center to grab the toolbox he knew was stashed in the storage closet. Toolbox in hand he made his way back into the woods, a decent distance away from the campsite where Tails was waiting for him, and slipped his communicator off his wrist.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said, to the Tails waiting for him back home. “But Other You really needs this.”

Sonic brought his hand up, and smashed his communicator hard against the bark of a nearby tree.

When he returned to the clearing less than two minutes after he’d left it, Tails had shifted so that he was laying down again, curled in a little ball on his sleeping mat. He was still awake—his eyes were half-lidded instead of all the way closed—but he looked more than a little out of it. Sonic hated what he was about to do—the kid needed food, not chores—but given that this was the only way to accomplish that . . .

“Hey.” Sonic nudged Tails’ foot with his own, and smiled back in the face of Tails’ scowl. “Since you don’t wanna eat, I was wondering if you could fix something for me.”

“. . . What?”

Sonic sat down beside Tails’ sleeping mat, and set the toolbox beside him. He then held out his broken communicator. Tails sat up, peering at the communicator with wary interest. “I broke this on the ship yesterday. Since you’re a tech whiz, I was wondering if you’d fix it for me. I got some tools you can work with from the nearby village.”

Tails studied the communicator for a second before he looked up at Sonic with suspicious eyes. “It’s smashed. Weren’t you just wearing it?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like I have any pockets handy, and it makes my quills feel weird when I store it there,” Sonic said smoothly. When Tails continued to scrutinize him, he shrugged. “Hey, if you can’t fix it . . .”

“I never said that.” Tails swiped the broken communicator from Sonic’s hand, and Sonic fought to bite back his smile as Tails pushed the lid of the toolbox open. “Gimme a few minutes.”

“You got it.”

Tails set to work on the communicator, and if it weren’t for things like his damaged ear or eye, Sonic could have almost believed he was watching his Tails tinker with something back home. Tails deftly separated each part of the communicator with a screwdriver, laying them all out separately on the grass so he could get a clear look at each piece. He rooted through the toolbox to find different things he needed; replacement screws, for instance, which he also scattered on the grass nearby. A few times, he mentioned not having something he needed—a new faceplate, replacement gears. Each time, Sonic left to retrieve what was needed as quickly as he could, once again making a mental note to replace the wristwatches and other items he “borrowed” along with the toolbox later.

“How do you do that?” Tails asked, fixing the wires of Sonic’s communicator in place.

“Do what?”

“Leave and get back here so fast. I’ve never seen anyone move like that.”

“Super speed. It’s kind of my thing.” Sonic grinned when Tails chanced a glance up at him. “You’ll get used to it.”

Tails hummed, though whether it was an agreement or not Sonic couldn’t be sure. He lapsed into silence after that, focusing on his work.

All told, with Sonic leaving periodically to get whatever supplies Tails needed, the repair took about forty-five minutes. When it was completed, Tails frowned at the faceplate, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“You still don’t have a network connection,” he said. “I could connect you to the RoboNet, but—”

“No thanks,” Sonic said, and deftly palmed his communicator out of Tails’ hands before he snapped it back around his wrist. “I’ll make do without it.”

Tails nodded as he shut the lid of the toolbox, evidently not feeling up to arguing about it.

“Anyway.” Sonic clapped his hands together again, and grinned as Tails met his eyes. “Now that that’s out of the way, whaddya want for breakfast?”

Tails scowled. “I told you. I can’t—”

“You just fixed my communicator, good as new,” Sonic said, and he tapped it to prove his point. “That’s work well done, wouldn’t you say?”

Tails stared at him for just a moment, his eyes wide. “You . . . you tricked me!”

“What, me? Trick a super genius like you? Noooo, never.” Though Sonic had to say, of all the tricks he’d played over the years, tricking a kid into eating instead of starving himself had to be the kindest trick he’d ever played. “Tell you what. You get started on some fruit, and I’ll heat up some chili for us. We’ve also got two canteens full of water if you’re thirsty.”

As he spoke, Sonic moved back to the firepit, and set to work sparking a fire to heat some chili. He pretended to be wholly focused on his work, but he kept an eye on Tails in his peripheral vision—and after a few seconds, during which Tails looked like he thought the fruit might shock him if he touched it, he saw Tails cautiously pick up the apple Sonic had offered before and start nibbling on it. Sonic grinned. Good.

It didn’t take long for the chili to warm up, and when it was done, Sonic removed the cookpot from the fire and brought the whole thing over to where Tails sat, setting it between them. Tails hadn’t finished his apple, but his ears perked up as he sniffed the chili, his tails swishing behind him in curiosity.

“Here you go,” Sonic said, and he held out a spoon. “I put three cans in here, so I figured we could share. You can have as much as you want.”

“What is it?” Tails asked, and he poked the chili with his spoon.

Sonic laughed. “It’s chili. You’ve never had it before?” When Tails shook his head, Sonic nudged the chili pot closer to him. “Go on, have a taste. It’s good, I promise.”

Hesitantly, as though he still wasn’t sure about it, Tails scooped up a spoonful of chili. Then, before he could change his mind (or think to blow on it so it was cool enough) he jammed it in his mouth. His eyes widened, a shudder running through him that made his fur look a little puffed out.

“You okay?” Sonic asked. “If it’s too hot, we’ve got the water—”

Tails shook his head, and slowly pulled his spoon from his mouth. “No. It’s just—I’ve never had anything so . . .” He tapped his spoon against the rim of the cookpot, then shook his head. “It has so much flavor.”

Sonic didn’t know what to make of that, besides that the food in Eggman’s empire sounded as bad as he had always assumed it would be. “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from. Eat up; you can have as much as you want.”

Tails didn’t need much more encouragement. He scooped up another spoonful of chili, and when he stuck his spoon in his mouth, his tails swished in happiness behind him. Sonic felt warmth in his own chest that had nothing to do with their breakfast, and joined Tails in eating in companionable silence.

Well, silence for a time, at least. There was still so much Sonic didn’t know—so much he felt he needed to know, to get a better grasp on the situation he was in. And while he didn’t want to give Tails the third degree, Tails was likely his best source of information. So after they’d eaten in silence for a few minutes, and Tails looked moderately more relaxed, Sonic decided to start with what he hoped would be an easy question. “So, Tails—”

Immediately, Tails went rigid. His ears went back, and he squeezed his spoon so tightly it almost looked like it would bend. “Stop calling me that. I told you, my name is Miles.”

Sonic held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry, sorry. It’s a habit.”

“A habit? You only met me yesterday,” Tails said. Sonic wanted to say that wasn’t exactly true, but before he could, Tails spoke over him. “Whatever, I know what you’re doing. You’re just like the others. But you can cut it out, okay? I already know I’m a freak. You don’t have to rub it in.”

“Whoa, what?” Sonic felt like he’d run straight into a tree. “That’s not what I—you’re not a freak.”

Tails scoffed, and stabbed moodily at the chili with his spoon. “Yeah, sure. Because everyone knows foxes have two tails.”

“Most foxes don’t, you’re right,” Sonic said. “But that doesn’t make you a freak. That makes you cool.”

Tails rolled his eyes—or his left eye, anyway, his right one remaining mostly still.

“I mean it,” Sonic pressed, pushing down the discomfort he felt at the sight. “I can’t believe you’d ever think otherwise. I mean, come on—you can fly! Without a plane or anything. Your extra tail lets you fly. How cool is that?”

Tails shrugged, and twirled his spoon through the chili. “It’s all right.”

“‘All right?’ Dude. It’s better than ‘all right.’ It’s amazing.” Tails finally looked back up at him, and Sonic held his gaze. “I mean it. The fact that you can fly is awesome. You can do something most people can only dream of, if they don’t have extra tools to make it happen. That’s not a bad thing, or something to be ashamed of—it’s a gift.”

Tails stared, wide eyed. The tension dropped from his shoulders, along with the defensive curl of his lips. Despite being actively engaged in conversation, the look on his face suggested he had never seen Sonic before that very moment, like he didn’t know what to make of him.

Sonic cleared his throat. “But that said, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. So if you really don’t want to be called that, I’ll try—”

“No.” Tails blinked, and then looked back down at the chili, moving his spoon through it again. “It’s—if you’re really not trying to be mean, then—it’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Tails shrugged, and popped another spoonful of chili in his mouth. His next words were a little muffled, spoken around the spoon. “It’s fine.”

Sonic grinned. “All righty. But if you change your mind, lemme know. It’s no big deal to me either way.”

Tails frowned, as if something was strange about that statement, but evidently chose to ignore it as he popped his spoon back out of his mouth. “What were you going to say before?”

“What? Oh, right.” Sonic downed another spoonful of chili himself, and then said, “It’s about the badniks back on the Flying Battery. When I was busting them up—” Tails scowled, and Sonic quickly moved on, “—I noticed that there weren’t any little animals hopping out of ‘em. No flickies or rickies or—anything.”

Tails raised his eyebrows. “And?”

“And so I was wondering—what’s that about? The Eggman I know always powers his badniks with little animals. It’s weird that these ones weren’t.”

Tails made a face. “I don’t know anything about this ‘Eggman’ of yours, but Dr Robotnik’s badniks aren’t powered by living batteries. We haven’t used those for years now. They’re inefficient.”

Something told Sonic that he didn’t want the answer to this, but as often happened when there was danger right in front of him, he plowed ahead before he could stop himself. “Inefficient?”

“Well, yeah.” Tails waved his spoon through the air. “Living batteries only work as long as the body holds out. With small animals, that’s a really short amount of time; they’re too small and weak to handle being drained like that for very long. And even with bigger animals like us—we’re too big to fit in standard-issue badniks, and bigger machines run into the same problem that badniks do with little animals. They just drain too quickly to be useful.”

Sonic scowled, something twisting in his gut. “‘Bigger animals like—’?”

“Plus once the energy runs out, you have to open the casing and remove the body, and . . .” Tails’ ears lowered, and he wrapped his tails around himself. He suddenly looked a little sick. “It’s—it’s just not worth it. It’s inefficient, and—and there’s a better way.”

“Oh?” Much as Sonic wanted to press into what exactly Tails meant by ‘bigger animals,’ he also didn’t want to put Tails off his breakfast too badly. “And what is that better way? I didn’t get a good look yesterday.”

The subject change, however slight, did the trick. Tails perked up and smiled. “Chaos energy.”

Well. Tails might have gotten his appetite back, but Sonic felt his disappear completely. His quills stood at attention as he set his spoon down in the chili pot. Bigger animals, chaos energy . . . the fact that Sonic himself didn’t seem to exist in this world . . .

“And where exactly do you get that from?” Sonic demanded, voice hard.

If Tails picked up on Sonic’s agitation, he didn’t show it. His tails swished happily behind his head. “The Master Emerald, mostly. But we have the seven smaller ones, too.”

Sonic heard the sound his shoes made when he skidded to a stop in his head. “Say what?”

“The Master Emerald,” Tails repeated, and he spread his arms wide. “It’s this big emerald—”

“No, no, I know what the Master Emerald is.” Sonic waved off Tails’ explanation, and Tails frowned in annoyance as he took another bite of chili. “I mean, how does Eggman have it? Where’s Knuckles?”

“Who’s Knuckles?”

Sonic held a hand above his head. “Tall guy. Red quills. Likes to punch things—”

“Ohhh, you mean the former guardian.” Tails looked back down at the chili, his eyes unfocused, as if he wasn’t really seeing it. The hand that wasn’t holding his spoon toyed with his left ear—the ear that had a large, crescent-shaped chunk cut out of its outer edge. “Yeah, I don’t know. Haven’t seen him since we got the Emerald, and that was . . . well, it was a couple months after the Doctor took me in, so I guess it’s been four years now. Almost five.”

Sonic’s heartbeat was always fast, but now it felt like it did after he’d finished sprinting a few marathons in a row. “Tails,” he said, and he kept his voice as steady as he could manage, “what happened to Knuckles?”

“I told you, I don’t know,” Tails said. His finger traced the crescent outline in his ear. “I haven’t seen him since—”

“Then just start from the top. How’d you guys find Angel Island, what happened—”

“Why does it matter?” Tails tilted his head. “Was he a friend of yours?”

Was. Sonic hated that word used in this context. He drummed his fingers on his knee. “Something like that. Will you tell me? I’m just curious.”

Tails’ expression was dubious, but he sighed and set his own spoon down in the now-lukewarm chili pot all the same, still toying with his injured ear.

“Like I told you, using living batteries in the badniks and other machines is inefficient. The Doctor was still using them when he took me in, and it . . . I didn’t like having to . . .” Tails swallowed hard, and pulled one of his tails around his stomach. “I just figured there had to be another way, a different energy resource we could use. And it was still so soon after the Doctor took me in, and I hadn’t contributed much . . . so I figured, if I found another energy resource, that would be two apples with one stone. We would have a better energy source for the badniks and machines, and the Doctor would see I was useful and wouldn’t regret taking me in.”

Sonic worked his jaw, but said nothing so Tails would continue.

“It took a little while, but after tinkering with the Doctor’s scanners, I found this huge output of energy from what looked like some random point out in the ocean. But when we went there, it wasn’t in the ocean at all, but above it, on a floating island.”

“Angel Island.”

“Yeah. We sent some badniks to do recon, but not all of them came back. The ones who did showed footage of someone there . . . someone who was guarding the Emerald.”

“Knuckles.”

“I guess. Anyway, the Doctor sent me ahead so I could talk to the guardian, see what was going on. He was kinda scary at first . . . but he didn’t attack me right away. He talked to me, and I got him to show me around the island. And while I did that—”

“—Eggman took the Master Emerald.”

Tails nodded, and ran his tongue along his teeth. Once more his eyes looked distant, faraway; if Sonic had to guess, he wasn’t really at their campsite just then, but instead on Angel Island four years ago. “When the Doctor took the Master Emerald, the island started to fall. We didn’t—I didn’t know that would happen. But the guardian freaked out. He tried to go back to the shrine, but the Doctor had told me to keep him away from there. So I got in his way to stop him, and when I did that I guess he figured out what was going on . . .”

Eggman stealing the Master Emerald was no joke. Anyone stealing the Master Emerald was no joke, but Eggman especially. Sonic knew that, would agree with Knuckles on that any day of the week. But four years ago, Tails was four years old. Knuckles would’ve been twelve, maybe thirteen depending on when in the year this took place. Sonic couldn’t imagine a situation—any situation—when Knuckles would intentionally throw hands with a little kid, even a situation as dire as “the little kid has helped a mad scientist steal the giant emerald that keeps Angel Island in the air.” But from the sounds of things . . . from the look of Tails’ ear . . .

“Did you fight him?” Sonic asked, even though he knew it wouldn’t be much of a fight.

Tails shrugged, not looking up, still toying with his ear. Sonic wished he would stop. “Not really? He knocked me out of the way. I tried to stop him again a few times after that, and one of the times one of the spike things on his glove caught my ear . . . but the island was in free-fall, it was hard to keep our balance. And when I saw that the Doctor had the Master Emerald, I figured it was time to go anyway, so . . . I ran, and jumped off the island.” Tails shrugged again. “I thought maybe the guardian would follow me, but . . . I don’t know if he did. I don’t remember much of that part. I just remember jumping off the island, hitting the water . . . and then I woke up in the Egg Carrier. I never saw the guardian again after that.”

For a long moment, silence enshrined their campsite, broken only by the sounds of flickies chirping elsewhere in the woods. While it was something of a relief to know that this Knuckles hadn’t been so far gone that he would willingly engage a four-year-old in a fistfight, that did little to soothe Sonic’s nerves. Knuckles was gone. Maybe not dead—Tails didn’t know what happened to him after Angel Island fell. But if he wasn’t dead, how did Eggman still have the Master Emerald? No way he would have let that stand. And if he wasn’t dead, and Eggman still had the Master Emerald, then . . . what? Was he imprisoned somewhere? Surely Tails would know about that if he was, wouldn’t he? So then that meant—

Well. So far Sonic hadn’t thought much about future plans aside from “get Tails off the Flying Battery” and “get him to eat something since he hadn’t eaten in over a day and was clearly weak from hunger.” But now that Knuckles’ probable demise was brought up, he had to admit that “find Tails a suitable guardian” would have been next on his list. And unfortunately, it seemed that his first choice of suitable guardian was no longer an option. This reality just kept getting better and better.

Sonic channeled his tension through squeezing his hand into a fist, releasing it, and squeezing it again. Squeeze, release, squeeze. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something, and it would have to do until he got the chance to sink his fist into Eggman’s face.

When he felt marginally calmer, he looked back up at Tails. Tails was no longer toying with his mutilated ear (thank chaos), but he wasn’t eating, either. Instead, he was looking around his sleeping roll, checking around the trees and, after a minute, under the mat itself.

“What are you doing?” Sonic asked, bemused.

“Looking for my tablet,” Tails said, without looking over. He picked up his blanket and shook it out. “I thought I’d show you the schematics for the generator I made that lets us harvest the Chaos energy from the emeralds while simultaneously recharging them so they don’t get depleted, but I can’t do that without my tablet.” He let his blanket fall back onto his sleeping roll, and looked back at Sonic. “I always have my tablet on me. Didn’t I have it on me? I know I had it on the Flying Battery. I know I did.”

“Uh . . . sorry, but no,” Sonic said, and Tails’ shoulders slumped, his expression crestfallen. “I didn’t see anything like that yesterday.”

“But I had it. I know I had it. I had it synced to the Battery’s network so I could play my—” Tails froze, and then dropped to his knees on his sleeping roll. “I had it behind the engine. I left it behind the engine. When you came in and distracted me, I . . .”

Oh. “Sorry, bud,” Sonic said, and he meant it. Back in his reality, Tails rarely left home without the Miles Electric in hand. He could only imagine the same was true for this one. “But tell you what, if we’re ever in the proximity of the ship again, I’ll go back in and get it for you. Promise.”

Tails shook his head, and pulled his tails around to his lap, fingers digging into them. “No,” he said, tone bitter. “The Doctor’ll have found it when he went through the ship to see what happened. He’ll go through to harvest all the data I had on the projects I was in charge of. There’s no hope of saving them now. They’ll be gone for sure.”

“They?” Sonic asked, before it clicked. “Oh, you mean your projects.” Tails didn’t respond; he only dug his fingers harder into his tails, a wince crossing his face as he did so. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. You can make a new tablet. And you don’t have to worry about those projects, either; you’re free now, so—”

“I wasn’t trapped in the first place!” Tails snapped, and once again tears were welling up in his left eye. God, Sonic just couldn’t stop making this kid cry, could he? “That was my home, my only f-family—and you ruined it—”

“That is not a home, and Egg—Robotnik is definitely not family,” Sonic said firmly. “Family doesn’t treat each other like how he treats you.”

Tails glowered at him. “Yeah? And how would you know?”

“I know because I pretty much raised my little brother, and he turned out great. Better than great, even. He’s the best kid there ever was,” Sonic said flatly. “And I would never think to treat him the way Robotnik treats you. Not even for a second.”

Tails looked away, a low scoff in his throat. “Well, that’s great for you. But your experiences aren’t universal.”

“Yeah. Obviously.” Sonic huffed a sigh, and seeing as Tails wasn’t going to speak up again (and that he just kept twisting his tails between his fingers, grimacing on each turn), he said, “Look, I don’t want to fight with you. If you’re done with breakfast, then we should probably get you cleaned up.”

Tails blinked, and then looked up at Sonic with a furrowed brow. “Why?”

“Beeecause you’re dirty?” Sonic said, and flung a hand in Tails’ direction. “No offense, bud, but you’re covered in oil and grease. Your fur’s pretty matted, too. We should get that taken care of.”

“Why?” Tails asked again, and before Sonic could respond, added, “It’s not like it matters. I won’t be seeing the Doctor any time soon, unless I can figure out a way to convince him I’m not the one who trashed the Battery and come up with something good enough to make him think taking me back is worth it, so—”

“It matters because mats hurt,” Sonic said, speaking over Tails. “And because if you’re dirty for too long, you can get sick. So come on. There’s a stream nearby you can use to get cleaned up.”

Tails’ sullen expression didn’t fade, but he didn’t put up a fight, either. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet (noticeably steadier now that he had some food in his system), and followed Sonic through the trees to the stream. The water looked as clean now as it had earlier, and Sonic gestured to it.

“There you go, bud. Go ahead and get washed up; I’m gonna go grab something to help us with the mats.”

“How do you know how to do that?” Tails asked, and Sonic raised an eyebrow. “Deal with mats, I mean. Your fur doesn’t look long enough to get them.”

“Nope,” Sonic agreed. “But my little bro’s is, and he’s had to deal with his share before when we were younger. I learned how to help him get them out.”

Tails furrowed his brow. “Your brother’s not a hedgehog?”

“Nope.”

“How—”

“Hey.” Sonic put his hand on Tails’ shoulder, and gave him a gentle nudge toward the stream. “Bath time now, questions later. I’ll be right back.”

Tails looked distinctly dissatisfied, and like he wanted to protest—but he didn’t. Instead, he stripped off his gloves, and set to work on his shoes. As he did that, Sonic doubled back to their campsite.

He wasn’t lying when he said that his Tails had his fair share of mats when they were little. Back when he and Sonic first met, and started traveling together . . . well, this Tails had a point. Sonic hadn’t known anything about mats back then. And Tails, being only four, didn’t really know how to care for and groom himself yet either. So when they spent a week camping outside, and Tails didn’t comb through his fur, he’d end up with mats behind his joints and in his tails. And from the winces that crossed his face and little whines that escaped him when moving made the mats tug on his skin, they hurt. At first, Sonic hadn’t known what to do. But after a little trial and error, they had figured it out, just like everything else.

Sonic scanned his sleeping roll, and grinned when he found three quills stuck in it. He plucked them out, and spread them between his fingers like a comb.

As it turned out, hedgehog quills were pretty handy when it came to working through mats in fox fur.

When he made it back to the stream, Tails was already standing in the water, scrubbing the oil and grime from his head. He didn’t duck his head in the water, which Sonic found a bit odd; his Tails had no problem diving under, no matter how much the idea made Sonic himself shudder. But Sonic didn’t comment on it; he instead just turned his eyes to the sky, watching the clouds overhead as he gave Tails some measure of privacy in the stream. And then, when Tails was done (and it took a while, given how much grime had built up in his fur), Sonic patted the grass in front of him.

“Come over here and take a seat,” he said. “Sonic’s Salon is now open for business.”

Tails didn’t laugh at the joke, but after he wrung the water from his tails, he did as instructed and dropped down onto the grass in front of Sonic, facing the stream.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked, as Sonic rolled the quills between his fingers back into comb shape. “It’s not a big deal, we can just cut them out—”

“I’m sure I know what I’m doing,” Sonic said. “I did this for years. But don’t worry; if there are any we can’t comb out, we’ll cut them. I’m doing my best not to hurt you, here. You can trust me.”

Something in the set of Tails’ shoulders told Sonic that he didn’t agree with that, but that was fine. Sometimes trust had to be earned, and Sonic had no problem earning it.

He pressed his fingers to the base of one of the mats on the back of Tails’ neck, holding the root of his fur against his skin. “This is going to tug a little, but I’m going to make it as painless as I can,” he said. “Just hang in there, okay?”

“Mmhm.” Tails squeezed his fingers in the grass, his lips pressed tightly together. He was as ready as he was going to be, Sonic thought. And with that thought in mind, he started gently combing through the mats.

#sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #unbreakable bond #fic fix #this chapter is so long . . . was for real worried i wasn't going to finish it before Frontiers #but i had the power of lo-fi and caffeine on my side #so i did it in the end #the name Oz comes from osprey - type of raptor #Poppy comes from poppyseed - and also a book i read as a kid that had a mouse named Poppy as the protag #Penny is just a random name tho lol sorry Penny #sth

[aarcanechaoss]

Spectrum: Secrets

Masterlist

Max’s past isn’t one she likes to talk about but she’s willing to let Buggy in.

Warnings: murder / execution mentions

Tags: @lovepony5122 @1ndigowitch

It was her thirty-fourth birthday today.

Not even the caked on white makeup could make the tear stains vanish as she stared out at the open ocean- unresponsive to all trying to talk to her.

Max’s birthday was not a happy one, not when it was the day of her fathers execution as well, not when the Marine’s forced her and her little brother to watch the public take down of the man. Not that he remembers, he was only a baby afterall and she had been barely fifteen.

She can still hear the sickening sound as his head landed on the wooden deck.

Max’s only joy on this day was the sharply scrawled letter only her brother would send- simply saying “have a day big sis” in mismatched letterings.

“Have a day?” She heard the clown of a Captain tut as he leant over her shoulder, chest pressing against her back. “Big sis?”

“My younger brother enjoys sending me notes.” She shrugged against the unexpectedly toned chest. Buggy grunted as he moved to lean on the railing, no longer pressing that warmth of his body against her, no longer shielding her from the chilling air.

“Something is wrong. Tell me.” He demanded. She raised a brow at him causing him to sheepishly grin instead.

Buggy didn’t need to hide behind that bravery of his with her, she knew it was just for show, just to be the flashiest he could be for the rest of his crew. Max’s eyes met those sea glass blue ones, ones that echoed through memory like an unforgettable song.

“It’s my birthday today.” She said softly, now staring back at the sea. Wishing she could dive in and forget the world, wishing the harsh cold of the ocean would wipe away all her memories.

“That’s not a good thing?” He was confused, birthdays are joyous- especially on his ship.

“Not anymore.” She replied, willing to let him in just that bit- he was taking her home after all. “My father was executed on this day and the marines made me watch, made my one year old brother watch too.”

Buggy’s eyes widened and she heard the soft pop as his hand disconnected from his arm, moving to rest on her lower back in comfort.

“Not a good day.” He said. She wasn’t the kind of woman who liked pity, or wanted sympathy nor needed anyone’s empathy but understanding… understanding Buggy could do.

“He was a good man Buggy. It really fucks you up to hear blades cut through your father’s bones, to hear the way his head crashed against wood.” She admits. “Would rather eat a devil fruit and never be able to swim in the ocean again than have to hear those noises echo in my memories.”

“No doubt.” The Captain grunted. “My old Captain went out the same way. Marines made us all watch and right as he was giving his speech about the One Piece… dead.”

She shot him a look of knowing, of understanding. She remembered that day well, everyone did.

Buggy then shot her a grin, something mischievous and sly. She raised a brow.

“Well Max… you know how when we met a year ago you said I’d meet people on my way to the one piece I gotta ask- those people that’ll piss me off is that gonna be any time soon or?” A change in topic. Good.

“Not yet Captain Buggy.” She smiled. “A couple of years to go.”

“Fuck.”

Max snorted. “Patience is a virtue Captain.”

“It’s also boring.”

“Well I suppose that’s true too.”

#one piece #one piece live action #buggy opla #one piece buggy #op buggy #one piece oneshots #one piece oc #Max OPLA #one piece angst #one piece fluff #opla angst #opla fluff

[talktomeinclexa]

The Marriage Pact

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warning: None

Status: WIP

Summary: Two childhood best friends swear to marry each other if they are still single by 34. As the years pass and no one else seems good enough, the deadline approaches. Will they go through with it? Can one marry their best friend and truly be happy?

***

Chapter 2: Teenagers Get Confused

The music projected by the subwoofers made the windows of Jasper’s house tremble, announcing the party within a two-hundred-yard radius.

“Jeez,” Lexa said with an amused smirk at the sight of the other teenagers singing and dancing in the front and backyard. “I hope Mr. and Mrs. Jordan are on good terms with their neighbors. It would be a shame if the police came to shut it all down before we get to party.”

Clarke shrugged, her hand already on the front door handle. “Jasp said it’s cool. They are mostly old and a bit hard of hearing. Plus, his parents invite them to barbecues and whatnot regularly, so we should be fine.”

“I can’t believe they let Jasp have a party. Don’t they know him at all?”

Everybody would agree Jasper was a sweetheart with his heart on his sleeve. One of those humans who had to have been a labrador in their past life. Unfortunately, he also retained some of their puppy overexcitement and mischief. A school year wasn’t a school year at Arkadia without him and Monty — his best friend and the other school’s official cinnamon roll — being sent to the principal’s office over a prank.

“I guess they would rather we all party here and stay over than hear about someone getting into an accident on the way back. And don’t forget he roped us all into cleaning tomorrow.”

“Still, I wish my mom were that lax.”

Clarke offered her best friend a sympathetic smile as they zigzagged through the people standing in the living room. Since the divorce seven years before and Drogo’s return to Europe, Dani had raised Lexa alone. And although she trusted Lexa and gave her a fair amount of freedom, as long as her grades didn’t slip, Dani would always be stricter than the Jordans. But then, most parents were, Clarke’s included.

“I know what you mean. I had to bargain with Mom for hours before she let me come. Remind me to buy Dad his favorite cake the next time we go to the mall, by the way. To be honest, I’m surprised Dani allowed you to go to a party knowing there aren’t any adults around.”

Lexa offered Clarke a red cup before grabbing one for herself from the kitchen counter. “Cheers. Honestly, she tried to see if Anya would tag along and keep an eye on us first. But I survived three weeks in Europe with Dad without getting in trouble. And she knows many people drink alcohol below 18 there.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me about those three weeks. It was the longest summer ever without you. Next time, I’ll hide in your suitcase.”

Clarke leaned against Lexa’s side, a pout firmly in place. She was glad her friend had a good relationship with her father. Despite the ocean separating them, Drogo made sure to keep in touch with his only child and often video called and texted. Of course, when he invited her to spend part of the summer with him, Lexa went. But selfishly, Clarke had wished time would move faster — a heresy during the holidays. Nothing was the same without her best friend by her side, and she carried a Lexa-shaped hole in her heart until her return.

“Hey, you know I missed you too.” Lexa wrapped one arm around Clarke’s shoulders and pulled her closer. Between Clarke’s heels and her flats, the size difference wasn’t in her favor, and instead of the kisses she loved to leave on Clarke’s forehead, she placed a peck on her cheek before nuzzling her hair. “I’ll bring you along next time; I promise. Dad won’t mind. He loves you too.”

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#Clexaweek23 #Clexaweek 2023 #Day 1 - Childhood friends #Childhood Friends #Friends to Lovers #Marriage #The Marriage Pact Clexa