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#but i certainly need to let my mind rest and my body to recover

coralinnii · 4 months

Note

Can I ask for Vil, Took or Malleus (any of them, or multiple depending on how cool you are with it) when they find their s/O gives them cute handmade gifts? Baked treats, books, paintings and such. I completely understand if you can't get to this, but if you decide to take this up, It'll be really really cool! Thanks and have a great day!

‎‧₊˚✧Made with Love✧˚₊‧

↳ Reader S/O who made him handmade gifts

feat: Vil ❋ Rook ❋ Malleus genre: fluff note: no pronouns used with the reader, established relationships, nicknames were used for readers (spudling, mon tresor, dear, child of man), probably bad grammar and usage of French because of Rook,

To anyone who were wondering for my sudden MIA status…I got sick, like hella sick. I’m not the greatest at taking care of myself and apparently my body decided to teach me a lesson for that by leaving me down for the count for 2 weeks then giving me migraines if I spend even 20 minutes in front of a screen for another week. To be fair, I could have recovered quicker if I actually…rested and took care of myself but hey, lessons were learned.

I literally started this a month ago but now I need to relearn the characters because my brain can’t remember anything, so I’m sorry if it isn’t the greatest T_T

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

To say he was suspicious was an understatement. Vil was a man of routine and he could tell when something was amiss as the days went by. Little differences were of no cause of concern, but when his little spudling is just acting too skittish, the blond just couldn’t let it go.

At first, Vil was content with scolding you for the little bad habits you started. He caught you too many times hunching your neck and back, and the eyebags forming under your eyes were too concerning to him to ignore.

He had to physically hold in his gasp however, when you refused to come over to his dorm for a skincare date. He tried to be understanding when you claimed you had too much homework to come over, but he could do without Rook having to point out that he was sulking.

Yes Rook, Vil is very aware he could get early wrinkles.

Frustration turned to concern as Vil was quick to pick up that you were hiding something from him. Occasionally, he could see you quickly hiding something from his sight before smiling.

Insecurity soon struck him as alarming thoughts swirled about his mind. Was he the problem? Or is there a problem but he was too undependable to you to confide in?

Not one to beat around the bush, he approached you.

You were surprised that your lover requested to see you so suddenly. But, you thought the handsome blond sounded uncharacteristically solemn so you agreed, which led to you sitting in the lounge of your dorm/home.

Maybe you misread the tone of his voice, because the man before you certainly didn’t seem solemn. Sitting next to you on the sofa, Vil watched you silently with his arms crossed and a leg over another.

“So, Vil…how was your da-”

“I know you’re hiding something from me, spudling.”

From your flinching and awkward avoidance to meet his eyes, Vil’s suspicions were correct. Upon closer inspection, Vil spotted small cuts littered about the skin of your fingers. His lilac eyes softened somewhat, but he kept his voice stern.

“I admire you for working so hard for yourself,” Vil made it clear to you as his eyes gazed towards the small cuts on your fingers, “But, I hope I’m not someone so incompetent that you can’t rely on me, especially when you’re needlessly hurting yourself so.”

In a smooth motion, Vil raised his manicured hand towards your face, gently grazing your cheek to keep your attention to him. “So spudling, no more secrets…what has gotten you so busy and reckless?”

The gig is up, you supposed. Sighing, you asked for your blond beloved to wait as you quickly rushed to your room. Upon your return, there was something in your hands to which you nervously handed over to your upperclassman.

It was a soft ribbon with a charm attached to its end. The deep purple ribbon was embroidered with what seemed to be golden leaves attached to vines twisting and curling across the length of the ribbon. The charm was of a crown, a cheap trinket that was clearly inspired by the Fairest Queen.

“I know how hard you’ve been working for classes so I made you a ribbon bookmark, something you could use while you study or something.” you explained, a little embarrassed. “But I haven’t been getting the pattern right, so I couldn’t give you until I got it perfect.”

Vil has been gifting you so much, from customized skincare products of his creation to matching outfits that enhanced your beautiful form. But it’s not just fancy clothes and luxurious products. Vil worries for you, takes care of you, and helps you to see the potential in yourself and to strive for it.

He gave you so much, so you wanted to give him something in return. Something thoughtful, something that shows how much you cherish Vil. More than for his looks, more than for his fame.

“This didn’t turn out as well as I wanted, but I’m working hard so I can make a new one and get the embroidery just right,” you assured him as you reached for the bookmark. “So, please be patient with me.”

But, Vil kept your gift out of your reach. He examined your handiwork with such focus, taking note of the effort in every stitch. It was by no means the level of professional, but he could see how you thought about him. From the color of the ribbon and thread to resemble his honorable dorm, to the consideration of his dedication to his studies rather than his looks. Your gift told him that you saw not Vil Schoenheit the actor, but Vil your hardworking boyfriend.

Seeing your nervous expression, Vil chuckled as he finally spoke, the cute bookmark firmly in his grasp. “If this is for me, I believe It’s for me to decide if it’s acceptable.”

“I-I guess?”

“Good, because I’ve decided to keep this.” Closing the gap, Vil placed a kiss upon your face, teasingly close to your lips. With a confident smile, Vil took pleasure with your burning cheeks.

“Thank you for the gift, my cute spudling.”

If it wasn’t already clear to everyone, Rook’s primary love language are words of affirmation. You could sneeze and suddenly he has written a sonnet about how beautiful the cringling of your face was.

I’m only slightly exaggerating.

Rook is by no means afraid to show his admiration for anyone, least of all his beloved. All of his words and actions are all done without an expectation of getting something in return.

But lately, you have become a bit of an enigma to him. You would spend hours upon hours with him, smiling and capturing pictures of the two of you. Other times, you would swiftly leave back to your dorm, excusing it as needing to study but you would vehemently decline his offer to help you.

Don’t get him wrong, watching your concentrated gaze is gorgeous, the way your heartbeat steadies and letting out soft but longer exhales as though you’re making decisions secretly in your mind. Rook couldn’t help but wonder, what is it that captures your attention that has you gazing off away from him?

“Rook, can I visit you today?”

Oh my, it has been a while since you last requested such a thing. Partially because you both knew his Housewarden would have a fit if he wasn’t aware. But eventually, Vil gave you special permission, mostly because Rook would have found a way to either sneak you into his room or he might sneak in the middle of night to see you. Vil knew Rook would never have gotten caught but he’d rather let you stay than have the migraine of a vice-housewarden breaking curfew and ruining his beauty sleep.

“Oui, mon trésor. I would request approval from my Housewarden immediately.” Rook could never deny you of anything, especially if he means you could have more time to admire you in the comfort of his room.

When night fell and the two of you were alone, sitting on the hunter’s bed. You were nervously wringing the handles of the bag in your hand. Doubts filled your head as you wondered if the gift was even slightly capable of living up to your boyfriend’s expectations, regardless of how silly that sounded.

You knew that whatever you would give him, Rook would love and appreciate it with full sincerity. But, that doesn’t mean you weren’t nervous. The gift should be considerate, you thought. Something that shows the love you had for the eccentric blond and his odd… let’s say interests.

You looked to said odd man, who’s piercing green eyes caught your gaze. Rook noticed your nervousness and the mysterious bag but said nothing. Instead, he kindly waited for you as you calmed yourself, soothing you with gentle touches to your knee. The huntsman can be a lot to some, but he’s also patient and so supportive.

Finding your strength, you presented your gift to Rook. Curiously, Rook took what seemed to be a journal from your hands. It was only when he opened the book to see its content was he surprised.

Him. He saw him in a multitude of photographs that decorated the pages of the journal, lined with cute frames and drawings. Some photos were of moments he remembered, such as days where you visited him during his club, cute dates around the town, or simply just moments of serenity between the two of you.

Rook felt his cheeks flush as his eyes caught the little captions written near the photographs, dates and words written in your handwriting.

“My handsome mad scientist” “His dashing profile is so cool” “His warm arms around me ♡”

“I realized the last time I came to your room that you only had photos of other people” you had glimpses of the wall of photos that consist of people he admired the most, you included. “So, I wanted to give you a photo album of what I find beautiful…you.”

Your boyfriend scared you as the young blond suddenly stood up from the bed, eyes sparkling with excitement as he scanned through the pages filled with memories. “Mon tresor, this is absolutely exquisite! To think my beloved has been watching me with such an unwavering, loving gaze fuels a pleasurable delight within me. Oh, très bien!”

But Rook worriedly commented on something notable. “But, there are still pages left unfilled. Were our moments too few and rare to fill the album?”

“It wasn’t that.” you rubbed your hands as you felt the nerves return. “I was hoping that we could fill the last few pages together…like a couple.”

It was then the hunter kneeled before you, his hands reaching out to grasp yours as he looked into your eyes with a special loving gaze only shown to you. You couldn’t tell if you were captured in his devoted gaze or if it was Rook that felt compelled to hold you, to comply with each and every one of your wishes.

“You speak as though I would dare to deny my precious beloved. I’d be honoured to make more memories with you, now and far however long you will have me.”

With constant surveillance from his wards *coughSebekcough*, Malleus’ moments with you were rare but still meaningful. Some nights, Malleus would wander near your dorm, especially when he noticed the lights of your room, signifying you’re there and awake. And like always, you would open your doors for him with a sweet laugh and inviting smile.

But lately, Malleus has seen that your bedroom lights would be dimmed, and that you would take notice of his presence slower than usual. Once or twice would be of no concern to him. But, as it slowly became a habit, he began to worry.

He spoke of his concerns with Lilia, perhaps in the older fae’s experience he came across a similar predicament amongst humans.

Only for the veteran fae to be of no help, instead chuckling in amusement before giving his young dragon a cryptic comment “You will understand soon enough. My, how you are in for a treat~”

Malleus chose not to question further, nor did he question the odd coincidence that you asked him to visit you that very night.

“I don’t suppose there is a hidden agenda to your invitation, dear?” As Malleus made himself comfortable in your guest room, he noticed some changes since his last visit.

Firstly, the furniture were arranged to be more spaced out, although the TV was still quite close. Then, there were almost an absurdly large amount of pillows and blankets, to the point that some have started to pooled onto the floor.

“Hmm, you sound as though I’m being suspicious” you laughed good-naturedly, “But I do have a surprise for tonight.”

Coming from the kitchen, you pulled out a stacked fairly large, cold container. With Malleus’ keen senses, he could pick up a very subtle sweet scent mixed with a chilly sensation, and a familiar delight came to mind.

“Ice-cream?”

You nodded. “Made by yours truly. I asked Lilia if there was a particular flavour you like, but he said you weren’t really picky.”

Unceremoniously, you sat down next to the tall fae before handing him an ice-cream container. “I was trying out different recipes and ideas all week, tweaking it along the way.”

The results of your work appear to be a multitude of flavours with varying degrees of sweetness. From classics such as chocolate and vanilla to more subtle sweet flavours such as coffee and pistachio. Some were swirls of combinations with fruits or nuts, and some were flavours unique to his hometown, which he imagined were hard to procure.

“I may not be able to shower you in riches, or protect you like your knights…” you gave an embarrassed smile and gaze at your silent companion. “But I could at least make you something sweet, just so you could smile even a little.”

Behind your nonchalant smile, you do feel anxiety swirling as you worry your efforts pale in comparison to the luxuries your powerful boyfriend owns. Malleus is a fae of the highest standing and thus, his actions have more impact than the average man or fae.

But…he was your amazing boyfriend nonetheless, who smiled softly back at you.

“Thank you, child of man. Knowing the effort my beloved has done for me alone, I shall cherish this feeling for centuries to come.”

Your cheeks burned slightly over the sincerity, so you quickly diverted the conversation. “W-Well, just giving someone ice-cream would be too boring, so I thought we could spend the night watching bad rom-com movies while we eat. Call it a human custom of sorts.”

“Is it imperative that the movies must be bad?”

You shrugged “Not really, but it usually is.”

Setting the movie up, you returned to the makeshift nest of comfy blankets and pillows with Malleus sitting by you. The confused fae watched as you handed him a tub of handmade ice-cream and a spoon before picking a container for yourself, a strange feeling of intimacy unfamiliar to him…but not an unpleasant one.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #rook hunt #twst rook x reader #rook x reader #rook hunt x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader

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occamstfs · 2 months

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Wouldn't It Be Funny?

Back again with a longer military tf, Hope you enjoy! - Occam

Curtis and Joseph were bored out of their minds. After growing disenchanted with university life the two were well into a gap year and have been finding progressively less stimulating ways to waste away their time. Without assignments piling up and biweekly mandatory lectures they were firmly adrift as the days of the week blur together. Curtis continues scrolling on his phone while Joseph, phone ever-so-recently dead, tries to think of anything to do while it charges back up.

“Wait! I think my brother left a stash of beer last time he visited!” Curtis looks up and squints at his friend, “the best thing you think we could be doing right now is day drinking alcohol your brother left here months ago?” Joseph makes a motion inviting Curtis to produce a better idea which goes unanswered as he rolls his eyes and gets up to accompany Joseph on this ignoble quest.

Joseph leads Curtis to the hall closet where he had apparently thrown everything his brother, Nick, had left after staying over for a couple weeks. There is some deodorant and other toiletries scattered about although the floor, first and foremost however, what catches Curtis’ eye is an army uniform laying in a heap, in the corner of the closet. There is just something about it. Any time he starts to move his attention away from it another question pops into his mind requiring a deeper inspection of the jacket. He wonders how durable the uniform actually is? It looks as if it's never been worn though he knows that Nick has certainly done some training in it. He simply must have a closer look.

Before he could act on that, the jacket he so craved was chucked at him as Joseph found his bottled quarry underneath. “Score! It’s almost full too, we can have two each and rock, paper, scissors over the last one.” Joseph heads to the kitchen well on his way to some palatable lukewarm beers as he continues to chat busily at Curtis. His roommate doesn’t hear him however as the only thing on his mind is the scratchy jacket in his arms.

He almost blushes looking down and feeling it in his arms, quite a bit heavier than he thought it would be. Surely he should toss it back with the rest of Nick’s things but it’s such a nice jacket. Quite a shame it's gone so long just sitting in their unworn. Maybe he’d just toss it on as a prank. Yeah Joseph would love that, seeing his friend in this massive jacket. His body acts quicker than his mind though, swiftly putting it on, pulling the hem down to straighten it out and pulling the sleeves up so you can just see his hands out the end.

Curtis hears his friend opening bottles in the kitchen and grins as he pictures the look on Joseph’s face as he sees him wearing this. He zips it up and struggles to get wrinkles out of the pockets before the grand reveal. No reason to not try and look legit. For it to really be funny it needs to look good. As soon as the thought that this would be funny enters his mind however he has a sharp headache and groans. No longer able to recall the incongruity of the situation as he steps out to see his friend.

Rounding the corner Curtis quickly starts what is meant to be a comedically poor salute but instead executes one with the precision of a machine. This only heightens the comedy of it all from where Joseph is standing however, halfway through a bottle of beer he chokes and spits up the beer all over the counter. He takes a moment to recover from this waste of beer before looking up once more and laughing so hard he can’t stand up straight.

Curtis in turn clenches his fist hard enough to pop a joint as he feels aggressively defensive. Why is his friend laughing at him. His back tenses with more effort than he has sustained in months, and more strength then he has wielded in a lifetime, as he cannot let this slight go unreciprocated. “What’s so funny, Kid.” Joseph looks up to see Curtis with an expression of rage more genuine than any emotion he had seen of his friend in months. It is immediately met with a flinch and a recoil as Joseph can’t bring himself to his friends’ burning gaze, “Jesus Curtis is everything alright? I thought you were doing a joke?”

A Joke? Curtis’ neck spasms breaking him out of his statuesque posture and upon rubbing a neck more muscular than he thought possible, he remembers, of course he was doing a joke! Why else would he be wearing Nick's Jacket! Smiling as he remembers how good it landed, he heads over to his friend, “Sweet you already opened a bottle for me! What’s the move now, did you want to game?”

Joseph, shell-shocked by this return to spirits, assumes that the whole thing was now some shit joke, hands his friend a beer and heads to set up his PS5, “sure whatever dude, can you get the lights?” Which Curtis quickly does, not noticing his arms definitively stretching much further out of the jacket than they should. Waiting for his friend to finish the setup Curtis paces behind the couch, each step louder than the last as he grows less careful of his footing and he continues to ever so slightly grow into this jacket.

“Can you chill dude?”

“Oh! Sorry did-”

“And why are you still wearing my brother’s jacket!”

“Your brothers-” Curtis pauses to look at the name stitched onto his chest and is also shocked that he’s wearing Nick’s jacket though decidedly not for the same reason that Joseph assumed. “Woah sorry kid? I guess I was cold? Do you want me to throw it back in the closet?”

“Just take it off dude! And stop calling me kid,” puffing as he sits back on the couch and starts to play some game Curtis feels like he should recognize before taking off the jacket and heading to put it in the closet. He scratches at his chin as he tries to work out what feels so off right now. Hanging up Nick’s jacket, sure not to leave any creases, he remembers that he’ll probably need to shave soon so he doesn’t get a mark at the next inspection, his rougher hands feeling around his sharper jaw to check the damage.

Returning to the living room he trips over what he assumes is his own feet but is embarrassed to find; Ah! It’s his jacket! Thank god he let his discipline slack here and not back at base. He picks it up as Joseph turns around hearing the stumble and begins to hurry him back before instead asking, “did you do something with your hair?” To which Curtis tilts his head like a dog before Joseph shouts once more, “Dude! Are you wearing my brother’s socks!?”

“No of course not they would never fit.” He says looking down to see the same army green socks he always wears, not Nick’s. “Well my feet do seem larger than I thought they were.” continuing as he bends down to inspect his feet, Joseph scrambles over to do similarly, though neither notices as they slowly inch even larger across the carpet. Instead Joseph is immediately thrown for a loop hearing a loud groan from his friend as he stands back up. Now almost a head taller than he was before bending down.

“Fuck dude you’re so tall!” Joseph reaches up to put his hands on his friend’s shoulders. Curtis was always taller, a fact Joseph was already none too pleased with, but this was ridiculous. He almost has to strain and as he does finally get his arms up he immediately finds thick traps under his friend’s strained shirt, “Asshole! Have you been working out without me!?”

“Of course not. When would I? Or who would I even-”

“I mean, with recruiters right?” Joseph offers forth without the thought even consciously entering his mind. It made no sense to him but it was true. Suddenly it's as if some form of static fills the minds of both the men, a warm static buzzes through Curtis’ mind and body as he starts to unconsciously put the newly reclaimed uniform back on himself. Joseph experiences something far harsher in his own mind, the static is unbearably cold and punishing. He claws at his head, no longer able to hold two ideas of who Curtis is in his mind. And it is clear which reality is prevailing as Curtis slides his thicker arms into the jacket, flexing to make sure his uniform is fitting just right.

As he begins to zip up the jacket his pecs begin to make themselves well more than apparent. His decidedly larger nipples poking out as the apparently nylon shirt hugs his defined chest and he struggles to get the zipper closed without being uncomfortably tight on his pecs before deciding to just leave it unzipped for now. “Why would I be working with recruiters, lil’ dude?” He looks confused at his friend, or his friend’s little brother? Before smirking and seizing the chance, “If anything you’re the one who should be working with them, gotta be bigger than that to join up with us!” He puts a hand on Joseph’s head messing with his hair, jolting Joseph back to this new reality.

“Curtis! Do you not think something weird is happening here!”

“Oh? Did your brother not tell you I go by Curt?”

“My brother? Fuck dude! It’s his jacket! You’re wearing his jacket again!”

“Ah no lil’ dude this one here is mine, check it!”

Joseph looks at the clear name tag on his chest clear as day with Curt’s last name on it, not noticing as he seamlessly uses Curt’s apparent preferred name. Instead he stares at a symbol over the center of Curt’s chest clearly also different than the one on his brother’s uniform. Curt smirks as he points to it himself, “Impressed kid? I’m already a Private First Class, not too hard to outpace Nick though. I mean love the guy but come on! Show some hustle! We enlisted together for a reason dude!”

Suddenly Joseph feels that this statement was a bridge too far. He feels a pit in his chest as he feels he has just lost something greater than he can understand going to slap the exemplar of a man in front of him, “Snap out of it!” Before even nearing a strike however his wrist is snatched out of the air and held fast above his head. Curt stares daggers into Joseph at this sign of aggression, this challenge. His eyes darken as his stubble grows out even more. Joseph feels Curt’s grip grow even darker watching as the hair on his arms darkens spreading out from the sleeves. He brings in Nick’s little bro closer to his face as his warm, heaving breaths distract Joseph from the pain in his upheld wrist before he lets go and guffaws, “You’ve gotta be quicker than that kid if you want to enlist with us! Where is your brother anyway? ‘S why I came over right?”

Joseph is perplexed as Curt lets him go, also unsure as to why this mammoth of a man is in his living room. They are quickly assuaged as Curt gets a text from Nick. “Oh you need a ride did ya kid? No problem! He just wants you to bring over the jacket he left over here and we’ll head on out.” Curt struggles to shove his feet in his combat shoes before finding himself distracted as the shoes push out to fit his ever larger feet.

Joseph’s mind remains a battlefield but it is clear which side is soon to rout as he heads to the closet where he just wanted to grab some beer. Inside he finds not only his brother's jacket, expertly hung, but a second one that looks almost supernaturally comfortable. He pauses before reaching out, feeling an existential aversion to the jacket hanging in his closet. before there’s a brisk breeze through the house and he shivers. Joseph quickly grabs his brothers and slides into the latter jacket, a tad too big but the world around him feels much warmer now that he has it on.

After suiting up Joseph quickly rushes back to his brother’s friend, quite wanting to make a good impression on the private first class. As he rushes his footsteps quickly grow in volume as his tennis shoes thicken into pristine combat shoes and grow far wider as his feet race to keep up, filling their increased space. Barely avoiding tripping over his now massive feet, he sees that Curt is of course not a private at all but his Corporal, as he freezes and salutes. His biceps straining his sleeves as his stained white shirt begins to slowly make room for the soldier’s expanding muscle. “At ease Joe, Let’s go ahead and head on out.”

Curt leads Joe out to his lifted truck and has him get in before loading a few more things into the bed of his truck. There is a load of clearly dirty towels in the back seat as Curt clearly has an issue bringing in laundry after his workouts. Although he doesn’t make it a habit of driving recruits so it’s not usually an issue. Sitting in the musky cabin does immediately cause issues for Joe however, as he puts the seatbelt on he feels his body start to expand in every direction it can. His pecs push against both his shirt and the seatbelt. He pulls his tight shirt down, straining it to the brim as he feels a sudden itch in his crotch. His hand already down there and finding it impossible to bring his attention anywhere else he sees his bulge push out, almost doubling in size as he scratches his increasingly overgrown pubes. He struggles to cover the impossible to miss bulge forcing his brother’s jacket over his crotch, the added pressure and warmth overwhelms him as Curt notices from outside

Curt watches as his new recruit’s shoulders broaden and his jaw widens. He slightly shifts in his seat, almost gyrating, running the hand not shoved in his pants through his hair, leaving behind a respectable high and tight demanded of any respectable recruit.

Curt slowly opens the door giving the recruit the briefest of chances to at least perform decency. Immediately wrenching the hand from his pants to salute, shouting “Sir!” towards his Corporal, eyes growing deathly serious as he touches a visibly sweat covered hand to his brow. Curt’s eyes glint as he notices the action flung Nick’s jacket off and exposed Joe’s still expanding bulge and unzipped pants. The two feel a hunger starting to grow in their chests as Curt hops into the driver's seat. Adjusting his rear view as he juts up once more in height, his jacket making it apparent to all he is now a sergeant, Curt begins to drive off towards the base.

Curt puts his hand on Joe’s inner thigh, overstimulating the private who roughly clenches his jaw trying to keep it together. He feels pre start to soak through Joe’s fatigues as he starts to rub his thigh. Grunting as he too feels a powerful stirring in his crotch, his cock forcing itself further down his leg. “Wouldn’t want to stop at my place first, would ya’ Joe?” Joe stares at the sergeant ahead of him with a lust deeper than the can understand, and a hunger to grow even larger. Curt chuckles, “gotta release some of this energy before we break the new to Nick anyway.” He turns his car and begins to race towards his apartment on the base.

As the heat in the car begins to fog up the windows the two men could not remember anything besides who they were since joining the army. After an anything but quick fuck, they would get back to work on the base. Curt distracts himself as he commands his troops and Joe gets ready for his promotion ceremony, ready to rub it in his brother’s face that he was already going to be higher ranked. The two follow orders flawlessly as they always have, performing their duties with rigor. The only thing more present on their minds than dedication to their fellow soldiers being the excitement for the next time they are to fuck.

#masculinization #mental change #male tf #army tf #male transformation #muscle tf #reality change

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 5 months

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My dear lgbt+ kids,

An underrated health and wellbeing tool is play.

When you think about playing, you may immediately picture little children - but by definition, play describes “any activity engaged in purely for enjoyment and recreation with no definite practical purpose” and those activities stay important throughout your whole life.

Why are those activities important?

Play is good for your body. Intentionally doing something just for fun helps to activate the “rest and digest” mode that is necessary to recover and heal from stress. It signals that you’re safe and helps your body relieve tension.

It’s also good for your brain. It can stimulate your imagination, visualization and critical thinking skills, which can help you build skills like resilience and adaptability.

Play can also foster empathy and understanding of others as it can help you see things from another’s perspective.

Playing can make you laugh, and laughter comes with a whole sleeve of health benefits, such as decreasing blood pressure and even improving your immune system!

Playing together can strengthen relationships. Positive, fun social interactions are important for your emotional wellbeing.

Now some of you may think “that’s all nice, but how do I even play as an adult?”. While play is a natural behavior of human beings, many adults need to re-learn how to play - it depends on your specific environment and social circles but you may feel a lot of pressure to be productive all the time and play is by its very nature not productive. So, the first step in re-learning play is to give yourself permission to just *be* instead of *do* (and that can be a huge step!).

Some ideas on how to ease back into play:

Think about your childhood. (Or if you can, ask a parent, sibling or childhood friend, that can be a great way to bring back memories!) What were your favorite ways to play back then? What did you love about your favorite game? Does any particular memory immediately give you that “I wish I could do that again” feeling? (You may not necessarily find anything that you want to just replicate as an adult as-is, this is just meant to kick-start your imagination!)

Gameify everyday tasks. Try to spot as many yellow items as possible on your commute to work. Make up a silly song about laundry while putting away the laundry. Pretend to be on a cooking show while making dinner. Do what you always do, just allow yourself to be silly about it!

Do something creative, even (and especially) if you’re not good at it. You may not think of drawing, writing etc. as playing but those are activities you can do for pure entertainment!

Moving your body doesn’t need to be purposeful exercise (and certainly not hating yourself in the gym), it can also be playtime: Do a silly little dance to your favorite song! Tippytoe, crawl, jump, walk backward.. from your bedroom to the kitchen, just for the fun of it!

Rethink toys. While it is fully okay for a grownup to buy, own and play with toys, and we should abolish the negative stereotypes about it (it’s creepy, it’s inherently a sign of poor mental health etc.) these stereotypes do exist and you may simply not feel comfortable. Luckily, there are a few toys that are generally considered socially acceptable for adults or are even marketed towards adults, such as board games, stress balls, adult coloring books, certain Lego sets or fan/collectors toys (like action figures). And when there are no judgy eyes watching, you may also have fun just playing with household items such as cardboard rolls! No need to go out and buy something!

Keep in mind that play isn’t a competition to win. You can’t play wrong - that’s the beauty of it! Just let your curiosity and enthusiasm guide you.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

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meyousing · 1 year

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𝙸𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚒, 𝙰𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: after illumi removes the needle from your head, he must wonder if this was the right decision. little did he know that the after effects of it all was just what he needed to get his way.

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: part three to subservient! yandere illumi, nsfw, manipulation + dirty talk, mentions of future impregnation. any sexual nsfw will be below the cut.

part one | part two

You couldn’t recall another time in the past when you had a headache this severe. Waking up and immediately being met with fierce throbbing in your temples, blurring your eyesight, an odd sore spot that was holding onto most of the pain right at the crown of your head. You could only try to whimper Illumi’s name, reaching out blindly for him in hopes that he was actually there and hadn’t left to complete his job of the day just yet. Relief filled you when you came into contact with his arm, clutching it desperately. He didn’t ask you what was wrong, he remained silent which you assumed was time given for you to explain yourself.

“My head,” was all you could get out, wincing at another sharp pain and clutching where the sensation had erupted. All he offered was an indifferent-sounding hum, a noise that would have bothered you greatly from how it suggested his inattentiveness to your suffering, had you not been so distracted by that same suffering.

“It would be best to spend your day in bed, recovering.” He took your hands in his to encourage you to lay down again, helping you onto your back. Recover from what exactly? Trying to decipher his words only bothered you further, though, so you shook that question away. Resting your head did not immediately alleviate anything, though putting your body into such a lax position certainly helped you feel less strained overall.

You thanked him for his assistance, voice raspy and indicative of the low state you were in. You wanted to rest your arms over your forehead, covering your shut eyes from any light as it burned through your eyelids, but Illumi had yet to let go of you, even putting up some resistance as you tried to pull yourself away. You peered at him curiously, squinting immediately after from the tension it caused.

“Will you be okay on your own today?” His tone of voice didn’t sound very concerned. He was rather curt, business-like, trying to get your answer as soon as possible to make arrangements so he could be off to tend to more pressing matters. The thought of any matter aside from your health existing at the forefront of Illumi’s mind hurt your heart, but you pushed that feeling aside and instead focused on answering his question.

“I don’t know, I don’t feel any better yet.”

He hummed. An appraising sound; you were starting to get sick of trying to guess the emotion behind every sound and word he communicated, the uncertainty was only making you feel worse. You chewed your lip, tears suddenly threatening to spill past your waterlines. Today had begun for maybe a few minutes, yet it was already off to such an awful start. A whimper escaped you, fists clenching at the show of weakness that you didn’t want to draw attention to in the first place. Illumi’s hands squeezed yours, his fingers over the top of your fists. He remained wordless as he watched you struggle to hold your whimpers back, letting go of you but quickly rejoining your body as his fingers met your waist.

“You had a rough night. It would be unwise to leave you in this state before I leave” he spoke thoughtfully, but any thoughts were regarding his plans, of course. Not your well-being. Again, you put some of your own thoughts into his words though; now that you tried to think about it, what happened last night? You couldn’t remember anything. Surely whatever did happen was the cause of your current pain, which would only become more unbearable the longer you used your brain.

A beat of silence passed, then you felt Illumi’s cold lips on your neck. You couldn’t help but flinch, the kisses unexpected but not unwelcome as one of his hands began roaming to your hips and then your front. His hair tickled you as he pulled back, you could see his head tilt while he scanned over your body from head to toe. Or rather, head to hips.

“Your health is of utmost importance right now. I’ll need to ensure that you’re relaxed before I go out.”

His intentions on ensuring that were rather obvious by now, making you blush as his thumb traced down your nightgown until it hovered over your generously covered clit. Your bud remained that way very momentarily, he exerted no effort into pushing the thick gown up and your panties down, letting them stay stretched around your thighs rather than pulling them off entirely to spend as little time here as possible. Getting you off quickly rather than valuing passion and intimacy was expected, though you couldn’t help but desire the latter after dealing with such an extended feeling of vulnerability since you had woken up. No matter, the disappointment of knowing that wouldn’t happen was soothed over rather soon when Illumi’s thumb met your bare clit once and for all, his other four fingers pressing down against your lower stomach while his thumb pushed the hood of your clit back and pressed right onto your sensitivity with purpose and calculation. His motions were perfect, he knew just what to do to make your back arch and nerves tingle right away. That tingling extended to your head, replacing the aching that had been there previously with a pleasantly lightheaded feeling instead. Lightheaded, as if you were floating on cloud nine.

“Good, good” he murmured hushedly. You bit back a moan as he continued on, letting him throw both of your legs over one of his shoulders. He leaned forward to expose your pussy to him further with the new position, his other hand joining in as he curled his middle finger over the index, flipping his hand palm up and pressing them inside of you. His ministrations on your clit left you wet enough to let him slide in with ease, joint fingertips pushing into your soft spot right away with his usual precision that you should have expected but did not this time given how fast he moved.

You whined out, thighs trembling against him as the sensations were so faultlessly satisfying that your peak approached rapidly, too rapid for you to handle as your chest heaved and your hands reached at his forearms, gripping them brutally as if to help your body acclimate to such intense pleasure. You vaguely watched through teary eyes as one of his brows raised once you had done this, though he must not have cared too much since he continued fucking you earnestly as if you had done nothing at all. Your fingernails dug into his skin, and the amount of pressure and the ferocity of the motions left you shaking with one last cry before you came, pussy squeezing his hand further inside of you and soaking him as your hips churned to match his pace. He continued on for the entirety of your orgasm, allowing you to ride it out to its fullest until you had slumped into the mattress bonelessly.

He withdrew his fingers when he could feel your muscles loosen beneath him, pulling himself off of you to stand near the bed. The release made your legs fall to your side, the rest of your body following the movement. You pressed your cheek into the pillow under you tiredly as you turned over, heaving to catch your breath. The material of your nightgown was pulled off to the side, you could see Illumi wiping his fingers off with it in your periphery. He placed the skirt back over your legs when he seemed satisfied, his chest lifting as he took in a breath and watched you, his expression bored as ever.

“Now, I’ll have a butler assigned to you for the day until I get home. Call for them when necessary, they’ll be waiting in the hall beside your door as per usual.”

Before you could respond, his back was already facing you. You blinked once and saw much less of him then; only the ends of his dark hair following him out of the door, which closed promptly. You blinked again, taken aback by how quickly he was gone after such an intense experience. Well, clearly it was not intense for him, maybe it wasn’t even pleasurable for him to see you that way at all. The idea of this made you feel a bit insecure, your knees subconsciously tucking into your chest as you shut your eyes in an attempt to tune that idea out and away, hopefully for good. Despite there being a chance of that, one good thing to come of this was the immediate dissipation of your headache.

Even though you felt much better without the headache, fatigue hit you like a truck after the energy you exerted into your intercourse. You were out once your eyes had been closed for a couple of seconds, unknowing that you would end up sleeping the day away. You were still not certain about what had incited the headache and major fatigue, and you weren’t sure if Illumi would know either. You didn’t want to ask him and start something, it could have been nothing. Perhaps just some random, short illness, even though Illumi was so doting about your health and wellness (if this morning was not enough of an indicator) that this shouldn’t have been a possibility. You were glad that the thought of bringing it up again left your mind before you fell into your slumber.

Unlike most days, this one was just utterly full of Illumi. You hadn’t expected to sleep so deeply that you would be waking up as he arrived home from his hit, walking through the door and announcing that dinner would be ready soon, that you had to get up now. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, not feeling very rested despite your situation. But Illumi was here! It almost felt like he never left you at all, what with being here before and after your sleep. This rarely ever happens! The strength in his presence was what energized you, even encouraging you to get up and walk over to him. He was facing the dresser, now shirtless with his toned back on display, his newly bloodstained shirt discarded to the hamper.

Illumi’s body went taut when your arms wrapped around his torso, hands clasping over his abdomen and your warm cheek squishing into his chilled shoulder blade. You couldn’t help but embrace him, even giving a little squeeze as you desired such closeness.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

“What do you mean? This isn’t the first time I’ve been affectionate with you” you frowned, a frown that could have been audible given your sour tone.

“I’m aware. But it usually isn’t of your own accord.”

That was… true. You wanted to say that this was only partially true, but it was fully, though circumstantial. Illumi rarely being home was nothing new to you, of course, but when he finally came back you were always too tired from doing nothing to do anything other than eat dinner and follow him to bed. Any affection woven in between those parts of the routine was initiated by him, in front of his family, for an impression. It only got as major as holding hands or a protective arm around your waist, as minor as a glance in your direction with direct eye contact. Intimacy beyond that was sex intended for expanding the family, therefore making it lack intimacy when you knew Illumi’s only desires about you were for your eventual impregnation, nothing like your body or noises.

This morning was a pleasant change from that, though. Your grin began to twitch upward as you remembered the events evocatively, the feeling of Illumi’s skillful fingers buried inside of you. It reminded you of your teenage years, made you feel like a rebellious young girl frolicking beneath the sheets with the guy she knew that she shouldn't like or be with. A quickie, ending almost as soon as it started yet still leaving you so elated and fluttery inside from it being something new, something refreshing. You sighed contentedly, releasing Illumi but still keeping your hands on him as you slid to his front, leaning in to press your chin against his chest and look up into his eyes. He stared back down at you, his face flat.

His eyes were hypnotic in spite of how blandly he looked at you. So devoid of anything, yet so beguiling like a mystery you had to solve. Just what was he thinking? What could those eyes convey, if he allowed himself? What could you get them to convey? After he made you feel so good, you wanted to return the favour.

“I want to have your baby, Illumi.” These words were not spoken from a place of dishonesty, but you still wanted to see what they would do to him even if you didn’t mean it just yet.

His lids lifted slightly. That was something. Something that made your insides stir, familiar with what you felt earlier today. Your desire to make those sensations mutual with him amped up, and you couldn’t stop yourself as you ran your hand down from his back and to the side of his thigh, gripping it for a moment before dragging your fingers in with the intent to hover them over his cock.

His hand stopped yours before it could get beyond your sides, and now he looked at you inquisitively, but he still said nothing. He must have been able to tell that you weren’t done just yet.

“Don’t you think I’m ready? I’ve stayed away from the heavy training, I’ve been staying relaxed for you. Ready for you.” Your voice was more like a purr, a tactic of seduction that probably wouldn’t even work on Illumi, yet your inhibitions were far too released for you to let rationality take over. You were telling him everything that he wanted to hear, that alone should have had an effect if your voice couldn’t.

Nothing happened for a moment, the room was so quiet now that you were sure if Illumi was ever clumsy enough to allow one of his pins to drop, it would do so and sound loud.

But then his lips met yours in a slam, intentionally gentle yet powerful by comparison to the standard you had set from previous kisses with Illumi. What usually made you feel like paper now made you feel unbreakable, perhaps you had finally reached the peak that Illumi wanted you to, allowing him to use such ferocity without thinking that you would shatter from it. His grip on your hand relented so he could grab the sides of your face instead, his fingers weaving back into your hair after he had kissed you to the point of breathlessness, and pulled his lips away with a wet pop. Your eyes fluttered open, panting as you looked up at him; those short breaths now hitching as you could swear his own eyes were now swirling as they bore into you. He turned and began walking you towards the bed, hardly enforcing any effort considering how complicit you were with his movements right away. His eyes were just so hypnotic right now…his voice sounded muted to you when he began to speak, with how little focus you put into anything but maintaining your shared gaze. Your knees met with the mattress and you collapsed, seated as Illumi massaged your scalp, his fingertips focusing on the crown of your head, and his next words were loud and clear.

“I knew you would reach perfection eventually. What a good little wife you are to me, Y/N.”

Problem solved.

#✧meyou #✧musinghxhmasterlist #illumi #yandere illumi #illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck x reader #illumi zoldyck #hxh #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh illumi #hunter x hunter x reader #illumi x y/n #illumi x you #illumi smut

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fortheharbingers · 2 years

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characters: dewdrop/sodo, gn!reader

cw: blood ment, finger sucking, suggestive content – minors dni

a/n: the bloody guitar thing? he did it for the blood kink girlies he did it for me he is all my mind can think about right now have this short little thing<3 (also hi i still dk whether to call him dew or sodo LOL)

you can hear the sound of a guitar long before you make your way to the familiar chambers, the front of the door you've grown a bit too accustomed to and the firey ghoul residing there.

when you knock on the door firmly, once, and open it right after without even waiting for a reply however, you do not expect for the sound to triple– much more passionate ...and aggressive, enough so that you can feel your ears, your head and hands hurting.

and in the midst of the chaos, stands tall and proud Dew, as always, either unaware or uncaring of your arrival.

the sudden shift of his playing morphing into a mini impromtu guitar solo and you think 'yep, definitely the latter.' whenever he has the opportunity, he makes sure to show off, especially to you at all times– maybe top it off even, with a hand sliding down or fingers moving in ways not a single soul could deem 'innocent'.

walking past him, making sure to brush against his side, reeling in the fact that his playing stirs, even if just for a second; you make yourself comfortable on his bed and enjoy the show.

in his element even off stage, he holds your attention on him and him only, hands trailing down his body, his arms, the way he bounces his legs in sync with the melody, how he sways and moves and lovely, lovely fingers working their magic–

red.

your eyes spot it once and that's all they can see now, reminding you why you've decided to pay the ghoul this early visit in the first place.

jumping from his bed and rushing all the way to him, you catch the ghoul off guard with how sudden your mood shifts.

okay, maybe you should've been a little more careful and not haste because grabbing his hands and pulling them down to yourself, all the while on your knees certainly do not make up for the best of sceneries.

and he makes sure to remind a tiny partion of your mind that, with a low chuckle and quick joke about how you're so eager to kneel before him tonight.

sending a stern look his way gets him to shut up quickly, and so does the worried look on your face maybe.

though the worry is appreciated, ('aw, you like me that much, sweet thing?'), he brushes off all your comments to follow– about how he should be resting his hands, take it easy, let them recover and so on and on... and oh dear satan, doesn't that hurt? sting? demon or not you've got to have some pain receptors, no? well, what about making a mess, huh? surely it should be tedious to clean all up all that blood–

"you can always help with that, you know."

and he brings your train of thought, more like train of rambling off apparently, to a stop abruptly.

"well? no?" he speaks up when you stay silent for too long, "and here i thought you'd always be here to help– from what you've told me countless times before, at least." he teases you.

you'd probably hit him on the bicep or nudge his belly and trail off to find a first aid kit of sorts in regular circumstances.

but being on your knees in front of one fiery ghoul, his hands in yours, the scent of blood so sharp, heavy and delicious and his equally bloodied guitar as well as the crotch hidden behind it now– the circumstances are far from what your usual requires.

your grip on his hands loosen but gets more preceise. he can feel your fingertips ever so slowly moving against his skin now, tracing the bleeding areas, the lines of his palms, every small curve and vein– have you hands always been this cold?

and if so, why do they seem to burn now?..

raising your eyes from his hands to hold his gaze, you look up, not even needing to bat your eyelashes, parting your lips oh so slightly, donning that innocent look... oh no, the sight of you on your knees, with some of his blood already smeared on your hands, making you smell like him, is more enough to send him off.

"you're right, my apologies." your soft words fill what little space left between the two, ah, the pleasantries, always the pleasantries with you when you know you've got him hooked.

"i am a person of my word, after all. please," your words clouding him, your fingers going up and down his hands all the way to his wrists leaving him wanting. "allow me to help you."

he settles for a nod when words seem to fail him– your scent mixing with his not helping the situation at all.

he has had you in positions more obscene than this, surely, so what is it with now that has his senses overdriven with you, you and only you?

slight movements abandoned, you stroke a hand over the back of his hands with a hum, seeming to inspect the current damage his hands have endured. "we should get these cleaned up first, no?" you inquire, no caring for his replies.

turning his hands up and down, letting your nails slightly graze against the skin, dew watches your every move intently. "i doubt you have anything lying around to help with that." you talk more to yourself than anything.

"guess we've got no choice but to–" before he can ask 'but to what?' you bring a hand you were holding to your face and suck on a finger, he watches as two phalanges get lost behind your lips.

if your breath hot and fawning over his skin wasn't enough, your lips closing around the digits and rolling a tongue over certainly does the job.

dragging the fingers out, you turn the hand a little again, a frown making its way to your face. "what is it, pretty thing?" he finds himself asking.

"it's not working as efficiently as I've hoped," you say with a pout, now holding the hand with both your hands and dragging a tongue over the knuckles, slowing your movements when you taste the blood, eyes closed and your face carrying an expression he knows to be of 'content'.

at the contact of skin and saliva, your tongue and his bruises, open wounds, dew barely holds back a hiss.

opening your eyes, you look up to him again, a faint smile forming on your now blood stained lips.

"i'm afraid this will take longer than i anticipated."

bringing his other hand to cup your cheek and letting it fall slowly, his index linger a tad longer, dew tilts his head to the side.

"it's a good thing the night is young."

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yourtoocleverfox · 7 months

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"Yes, sir."

Those were the words you found falling from your lips more often than anything else these days. His life was your life now, and you lived solely to be at his beck and call.

It was rough at first. He didn't trust you an ounce, so he kept you close. Whenever you moved, whenever you spoke, his eyes were on you- watching, analyzing, assessing.

"Find a better way to do that."

"These are tasks you should be able to handle without my input."

"Look at me when you're speaking. I need to see your eyes."

And you did as he wished, always and without question. You were damn good at what you did. You wanted him to know, wanted him to see just how hard you worked for him. You longed for the moment when his perfectly sculpted lips formed the words:

"Good girl."

Your body felt hot at the thought. Slim fingers found their way into your pretty, lace panties and buried them deep into your warm, wet heat. It was wrong, so wrong, and beyond inappropriate, but all reason fled your mind as you traced tight circles against your sensitive clit.

"Let me see the accommodations you've made."

He'd sat down hard in his chair, eyes screwed shut with fingers pinching the bridge of his noes. He'd been in a mood all day, a state that only worsened after an unproductive meeting full of 'morons' and 'asshats'.

Dutifully, you'd placed your tablet on the desk before him. He was due in Monaco for a conference in just one months time, but as usual he'd expected arrangements organized at the earliest possible convince- convince for him, not you.

But it hadn't mattered. You knew what to expect. You tailored everything to perfection, just for him. Luxury suite in a world class resort, dinner at a restaurant that served his favorite (you made sure to ask twice), seated at a private table with ocean views. You'd even scheduled-

"A massage?"

He'd quirked a skeptical eyebrow at you.

You had simply nodded in response, hands neatly folded in your lap. Originally, he'd been booked for a meeting over golf, a pastime that he hated, with an executive from a small pharmaceutical company whom he also hated. You'd taken pleasure in canceling that session, using your diplomatic nature to leave the abandoned party feeling less than slighted.

His eyes traveled the rest of the schedule you'd laid out for him, and after a stifling moment, they'd finally come to rest on you.

"Well, look at you."

You held his gaze, steady and sure, just how he liked. He'd seemed to appraise you as you waited there with carefully concealed anticipation. There had been the hint of something in his eyes, but what it had been, you never could quite tell with him.

"You've done well by me. Continue this pattern and I assure you, I'll be more than pleased."

So simple, so simple, yet those words had you working your body in a frenzy. When had you become like this? So desperate for approval? For this man's approval?

You didn't know, and you certainly didn't care, as your aching core clinched and tightened around nothing. You reached for your previously forgotten pillow and mounted it, desperate for friction between your legs. You moved your hips back and forth, rhythmically dragging you soaking pussy over the cotton fabric, a breathy sound escaping your lips each time your clit hit it just right.

You thought of him, imagined for a second what it would be like if he were the one under you instead, and instantly felt the heat of embarrassment. But it was too late. You were already cumming hard, body collapsing onto the mattress as you rode the wave of pleasure overtaking you.

You laid there in the silence of your bedroom, chest rising and falling at a steady rate as your body recovered from its high. Light filled your dark bedroom and you glanced over at your glowing phone on the nightstand. A text.

From Miguel O'Hara: Apologies for messaging you this late at night, but I need you to come in early tomorrow. There is a last minute meeting in Conference Room B which is mandatory for all C-Level employees. Make sure we have everything we need. I trust you'll have it done to my standard.

You propped yourself up un your elbows and quickly typed out a response. It was quick and to the point, basically muscle memory by now.

You: Yes, sir. You have nothing to worry about.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #ceo!miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman

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soaps-hoe-141 · 11 months

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Drowning In The Depths

IT'S FINALLY DONE. HALLELUJAH!!!!!! I did it, I made it, holy shit I'm sorry it took so long, but finally it is here. Enjoy your meal my lovely readers.

Also the art is from @foreverrunningfree We love to see a good ole southern boy Speck just chillin in his cutoff jeans. Thanks for letting me use the art for the chapter Bones!!! Been waiting to put it on here so everyone can see this beautiful work.

Part 10

Pairing: Captain Price x Male!Reader

WC: 20.2k

Synopsis: We got a lot going on in this one, I ain't gonna lie. Pretty much just the aftermath of Soap and Ghost walking in on them (barging and running in on them) and Speck finally trying to deal with his past (in a healthy and productive way).

Warnings: Some NSFW towards the end and just the usual descriptions of past abuse for Speck. I'm passing out Speck lore like ain't nobodies business.

Water slid down your face, the warm air around you drying the light sheen from your shower too fast now. You'd hoped it would keep you cool at least for the walk back to the bunkhouses but that didn't seem to be a possibility. Not with the way the sun was glaring down at you from on high in the dry heat of eastern Iran. Damn you wanted to get out of here. A sudden nostalgia for home rang in your mind. A desire for the pine barrens of the south, the red clay that stuck to everything and could destroy a brand new pair of boots in a matter of minutes, and would undoubtedly destroy every item of clothing you owned.

There was a sigh from you as you pushed the thoughts back, no reason to think about a place you'd never be going back to, right? That ship had sailed a long, long time ago. About the same time you'd signed your new contract and sold yourself to the highest bidder. A decision you were starting to regret, but it wasn't all that terrible. Especially considering it had led you right into John's bed, led you to the man who was starting to change you so completely in body, mind, and soul you weren't sure you'd ever recover from him. You certainly wouldn't ever recover when you eventually had to leave.

Opening the door of your bunkhouse with a sigh at the thought you glanced around the room, tossing the towel and the pair of clothes you'd changed out of onto the growing pile by the door. The room was devoid of life, no Lieutenant, no Sergeant, and no Cerberus. How in the hell had they even gotten your dog? Had you left him in the bunkhouse last night?

God you couldn't even remember the course of events yesterday. Your mind was so scrambled after the intense anger of losing your talisman and then the morning you'd had with John. You'd been at every end of the emotional scale in the last thirty six hours and it was taking its toll on your memories of the time. And you didn't even have Cerberus here to ground you, hell you didn't have anything to help keep your mind from wandering right now. You were going to have to track them down if you wanted your dog back it seemed. Couldn't afford to lose Cerberus too.

With another sigh you headed out again, glancing up at the sun with a tilt of your head. There was a moment of stillness as you considered the bright, frustratingly hot orb sitting in the sky above. Your internal thoughts pondered for a quick moment, there was so much you needed to fix. Get Cerberus back, find Wade and apologize, and then handle Ghost and Soap before they decided to blabber everything to the rest of their team. If they even could be handled, that is, you didn't exactly have much leverage on them and their Captain wasn't here to give it to you. Hell it'd probably be worse if he was there with you.

Where the hell would they even be right now? It was the middle of the day, they could be anywhere. The gym, Soap and Gaz's bunkhouse, the squad room, the mess hall- The thought crossed your mind then as you muttered to yourself, "That hungry bastard's probably is in the mess, who am I kidding?" You'd seen the way Soap ate at every meal. The man was an actual garbage disposal, the Scotsman would eat absolutely anything, anytime, anywhere. It was almost impressive. He was constantly shoving as many calories as he could down his throat as if someone was going to steal his food. To be fair though you did the same thing, a bad habit of growing up with siblings. You ate whatever you could whenever you could otherwise you'd be starving.

Glancing down the path you made for the mess hall, mentally preparing yourself for the blackmailing you'd have to start doing in order to keep the Lieutenant's and Sergeant's mouths shut. Sure while you were in the moment you'd kept your head on straight. Kept yourself from going red in the face. You'd even kept yourself from mouthing off and showing the embarrassment and frustration of being caught ass up in their Captain's bed. Your face was burning just at the mere thought of them seeing you naked next to their just as naked Captain. You'd never been caught doing anything like that, and especially not with a man. Good God it was downright shameful, this whole situation was and it had your anxiety flaring about what they'd think of that imagery.

You'd had to go to take a shower just to keep yourself from having a damn panic attack when you left the Brit's bunkhouse. Now John he'd been upset, sorry, almost apologetic before you'd been forced to leave. He'd been telling you he was sorry and that he'd wanted to tell them the right way after everything was settled, not like this. Not getting caught almost in the middle of the act, well right after the act anyway, you weren't as bad Ghost and Soap were. And then right in the middle of his apologies and that sinfully passionate kiss the man's phone had gone off with a string of notifications. It was a crime how often the two of you seemed to get interrupted, but it had happened again like it always did. His phone had buzzed and he was off answering the call of duty like he was supposed to, like it was expected of him to do.

While John had been sorry it hadn’t seemed like the fact that they had found out was what had irked him. He'd been sorry about how they'd found out. But you? The second you left his bunkhouse you’d been all nerves and jittery anxiety. In your experience the military didn’t exactly support…your lifestyle. Hell, no one you’d ever really known before supported your choices…your desires…the way God made you. But then weren’t Ghost and Soap doing the same thing? Hell you’d literally caught them doing it. You’d quite literally walked in on them together and then saw Soap's preening afterwards. Huh, you hadn't thought about that fact until just now. Maybe it was ok then…doubtful.

At least with them you didn’t have to worry about the backlash of someone finding out you were gay. What about the rest of them though? God and you'd been with their fuckin Captain. With the Captain John Price. Veteran SEALs told stories about that man’s black ops. The CIA operatives you’d met in your life working with the Navy and the contracting company worshiped the ground he walked on. You may not have known much about him before you’d met him but you’d known he was a man that deserved respect. Hell if you’d been given the opportunity when you were still in the Navy you’d have jumped at the opportunity to work with the man. It was a career high. A phenomenal way to further your career was to get yourself into an operation with that man.

You’d certainly gone far past just working with him though, hadn't you? So far past working him it was laughable, and it felt good to do it too. Well in the moment anyway. Afterwards you always felt a little bit…worried maybe? Concerned? No, those weren't the right words. Ashamed was probably a closer approximation to the way you always felt afterwards. It wasn't that you regretted finding your way to his bed every time, but it wasn't exactly easy for you to admit how much you enjoyed finding yourself there. Maybe it was guilt? Price was the only man you'd ever been with before, the only person you'd ever actually enjoyed being with and it made you feel guilty for always enjoying your time with him when you never could have done the same with your ex-wife.

With a shake of your head you pushed open the door to the mess hall and pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. You couldn't think about that when you had to handle Ghost and Soap. There was work to be done and you were a master at compartmentalization. You could keep things packed away until it was a better time to deal with it. You'd kept the death of your team packed away for two years, shame and guilt about fucking a man should be a walk in the park in comparison. Right?

Countless bodies were milling about inside the mess hall. They were shoving past you to head outside and grazing against your back to head inside as well. It was a mess of soldiers in their uniforms right now. A packed out lunch rush that made your eyes widen for a moment at the sheer number of people inside right now. There were even more people in here than the last lunch rush you'd experienced with them. There were so many people it was hard to even see through the throngs of them. At your first glance over the crowd you didn't see anyone you knew but your stomach growled at the smell of food. Your nostrils flared as you took in a deep breath and went straight for the line, following the need of your stomach.

As you stood in the line your eyes scanned the bustling room. A guy as big as Ghost should stick out. The guy wore a big ass skull mask everywhere he went for fuck's sake. Not to mention he was absolutely huge, like a billboard on the side of the damn road, he was impossible to miss. The Lieutenant should have stuck out like a sore thumb and yet you didn't see that big bastard anywhere. Nor did you see the Scottish jackass he was always with, nor did you hear his laughing voice. At this point you weren't even standing in line to scope out the area anymore, you were just standing here to waste time.

But honestly could you even leave now? You'd just gotten your tray and the man behind the counter was scooping some of the food onto it. It would be a shame to waste a perfectly good opportunity to eat now. Stopping to get a tray of food wouldn't slow you down all that much anyway, would it? So you finished moving through the line, letting the men and women behind the counter shovel out whatever the hell they wanted. You weren’t picky. Hell you couldn’t afford to be picky. Not the way you grew up and especially not in your line of work. You never knew when or where your next meal might come from.

Stepping out of the line with the tray you scanned the mess hall again, pursing your lips in thought when you didn’t find the two men you were so desperately looking for, even now after giving it more than a few minutes. A quick glance around one more time and you made the quick decision that you weren’t about to eat in a room full of strangers who all had their own social groups. Not while you were completely alone. Might as well just go and eat outside, at least then you wouldn’t feel like you were back in highschool and were the weird kid who did have any friends. Fuck that.

Making for the door you hurried through the crowded bodies. As you opened the door, a shoulder slammed into you and caught you completely off guard as you scrambled to balance your tray of food in one hand. Pulling it towards your chest before you focused on stopping the wild sloshing of the cup of water in your other hand.

Turning a hard glare on the passerby you stared at their back as they walked further into the mess hall, the bitch didn’t even turn to look back at you. What the hell is wrong with some people? You backed up a step with a sigh and a shake of your head in annoyance and watched the door shut. As it did you turned with a quiet, “Some people ain’t got manners,” and slammed directly into a brick wall of a body.

The tray of food spilled all down the front of a long sleeve black t-shirt and a pair of khaki cargo pants. Your eyes went wide as you stared directly at the chest in front of you. Slowly your gaze slid up the tall form to look up at the tall German. An imposing form with his dark green eyes, dark red hair, and black face mask that obscured all his other facial features aside from a couple scars around his right eye and across his forehead.

“Scheisse! Pass auf, wohin du gehst!” The tall man stepped backwards with an angry glint in his eyes. His dark red brows knitted together as he looked down at the ruined shirt and pants. Konig smacked desperately at the food clinging to his clothes, trying to clean himself off with desperate flicks of his hands all over the front of his body. Of course you’d run into one of the masked ones, couldn’t be someone who wasn’t over a half a foot taller than you, could it?

Your ears perked up at those first three German words, you knew what those meant right there and you could use your context clues to figure out that he was telling you to watch where the fuck you were going. Which honestly was a bit fair considering you’d just spilled an entire tray of food and full glass of water all over his pants, the man looked like he’d just pissed himself now. His shirt was clinging to him now as well, and pieces of steamed broccoli, mashed potatoes, and some kind of mystery meat were stuck to his pants. Your eyes were wide as you looked him over quickly and gave him an apology, “Oh shit Konig, my bad.”

This whole situation would have been hilarious probably if it wasn’t for the fact that he looked so pissed off. And the fact that the guy had already knocked the wind out of you just trying to “help” as he’d called it. God you could still feel the sting of his palm between your shoulder blades. The urge to run began to edge its way into your mind. You couldn’t have overpowered the German but you could at least make a break for it, and you were confident you could hide long enough to keep yourself from getting turned into mince meat.

The second you spoke though Konig was lifting his face to actually take a look at you. The tall man glanced one more time down at his clothes and then back at you before the frustration melted away and he waved it off, “I did not realize it was you, Speck. Do not worry about it, my friend. You just surprised me, I’m sorry for running into you.” His hand lifted to run across the back of his neck, and his eyes had crinkled at the corner as if he was smiling.

Was he nervous? You looked a bit closer, your own brows furrowing in concentration as you studied his expression for a split second. That was definitely nervousness you just heard in his voice. God this tall motherfucker just kept getting stranger and stranger. He could have decked you right then and there and to be honest you would have just nodded because that would have been fair. Instead he seemed almost anxious to have upset you or something, he was so strange. Though to be fair everyone on this team had some kind of weird quirk. Some of them more than others, the image of your new roommate flashed in your mind as you smirked.

Konig’s head tilted somewhat when he saw the corner of your mouth tilt up as the thought crossed your mind. Then you saw his eyes widen the tiniest bit in concern, the green hues shifting down to look at himself and then back up as he asked, “What? Is it the food? Should I change? Soap said the meeting was urgent though…” He seemed to be debating and for a moment you weren’t listening all that much truthfully. However, the second Soap’s name came out of his mouth you were all ears.

“Soap called a meeting?” Your eyes narrowed curiously at the tall man. The tall man gave a quick nod and a little hum of affirmation as his attention returned to his clothes. He was still working to wipe the food you’d spilled on him off, pieces of whole broccoli laying in the dirt now. “He can do that?” Your face scrunched up questioningly and there was a slight tilt to the tall man’s head in response. He obviously didn’t quite understand what you meant.

It seemed to dawn on him a few seconds later what you meant and he quickly went red across the top of his cheekbones right above where the mask cut off his face, and he shook his head, “No, no, not a meeting as in a mission briefing. This is more of a…well a gathering? Of friends I guess? He just sent a priority alert to the group chat so we are expected to answer the call…Or the text as it were." He glanced towards the door of the mess hall and then back towards you with his head tilted curiously as he asked, "Did you not get the text?" He seemed confused as he watched you. Those green eyes for once were holding eye contact with you unlike how he usually looked just past you or down at the ground.

A sigh left you as you shook your head in answer, "Kinda hard to get a text when I don't have your phone number." Konig seemed to realize the blunder immediately and he looked away and you noticed the red flush of his face grow a bit more where you could just barely see it. Finally you added with a huff of amusement, trying to defuse his obvious tension, "Don't have a phone neither, so…you know. Kinda hard to get any kind of text without that one man." Your smile turned up the corner of your mouth again, doing your best to put him at ease, but that wasn’t exactly your strong suit.

Konig laughed nervously a bit as he gave you a sheepish nod, “I forgot about that. I am sorry. It feels as if you have been here a lot longer than just over a week.” When you just kept looking at him for a moment he shifted on the balls of his feet and glanced towards the mess hall once more. Then he was clearing his throat as he said in a bit of a deeper voice, almost as if he was starting to regain his confidence, or trying to do so at least, “Well if you would like to come I am sure the others would not mind. Come!” His hand moved towards your shoulder but stopped just shy of making contact as he gestured with a nod towards the door you’d just come out of.

They were in the mess hall? You’d just come from there though. There’s no way they were actually in there. He didn’t seem to be willing to let you question him on this though so rather than make a big deal about it you just shrugged and moved towards the door again. Stepping back into the mess hall you tossed the now empty tray onto the others where they were stacked next to the trashcan before turning back towards Konig to follow him.

The tall man hadn’t even stopped, obviously not noticing that you’d stopped for a moment. Now he was halfway across the mess hall and you were about to lose sight of him through the crowd. Good Lord he was fuckin fast. Pushing through the crowd you basically had to jog to catch back up to him. By the time you got back to him he was already opening a door you hadn’t even noticed and was stepping inside. Before you even stepped inside though you heard Watcher’s voice asking Konig, “How’s ya got yer pants wet? Were ya gettin pished without me?”

Konig laughed nervously before he answered, “Ah nein. Speck,” he stepped further into the room so you could look around what was almost just like the squad room with some chairs around a table though it lacked all of the appliances. It was almost like a little mini mess hall with just enough room for all of the guys. Konig continued as you finally caught sight of the short, young, ginger man, “He spilled his food on me, it was an accident though. Just a little collision when he was leaving the mess hall. I figured if we were having a team meeting though I should bring him along. He is part of the team, yes?”

The moment that the German stepped out from in front of you though you stopped paying attention to what he was saying, otherwise you probably would have given him another apology about the food. You, however, were now too busy staring directly at Soap and the big Lieutenant who was beside Gaz and who was still holding onto Cerberus’s lead with a tight grip. It was reminiscent of when Ghost had done just that while Price was interrogating you as Cerberus lunged against his lead excitedly. The only difference was that this time he didn’t have a muzzle strapped to his face.

Ghost glanced down at the dog and then back at you before you saw the hint of amusement in those eyes as he let the lead go. Cerberus shot forward like a rocket, slamming into you with the full weight of his body as he lunged at you. The powerful Dutchie slammed into your chest full force, knocking the wind out of you before you even really knew what was happening. Your eyes widened as you barely had time to lift your arms in time to catch him. You were standing there holding the dog now like he was a toddler as he squirmed in your arms and his tongue slid along your face. Covering your skin in saliva, and he caused your teeth to slam together more than a few times as he accidentally headbutted you.

Now typically a little bit of dog drool wouldn’t have been all that interesting to you, you would have just wiped it off with the back of your hand and kept going about your day normally. You’d been dealing with hyperactive dogs your entire life, drool was nothing to you…usually. Now though you were contemplating dropping Cerberus to wipe it all off as it clung to your growing beard and cheeks. “Nein! Pfui!” You were straining to say the words as you turned your head away from the dog’s mouth, the last thing you wanted was Cerberus’ tongue finding its way past your lips. God no.

Whines escaped the dog’s maw as you grumbled again, “Nein.” At the word being spoken again the whines only grew in volume as if you’d just smacked the poor Dutchie across the face. Your eyes shot up to Ghost who was snickering under his mask, just barely audible as he sat back in his chair at the table. The man seemed to be having the time of his life right now watching as you had to hold the dog in both arms. Cerberus’ head on your shoulder and his paws hooked over each shoulder like he was hugging you around the neck and whining as if he was begging you never to leave him alone again.

To be fair you’d never actually left him alone with anyone else to take care of him so he probably was begging you to never leave again. You however were now dripping with dog drool while using your shoulder to wipe it all off and glaring at Ghost. It didn’t even phase the other man though as he continued to snicker behind his mask while you sat the dog back down on the ground and gave him a few rough scratches on the head. A vain attempt to calm him as best you could.

Cerberus continued to dance nervously on his paws even as you took in the sight of Ghost kicked back in a chair with his feet propped up on the table. Gaz was sitting next to him eating a sandwich while Soap was on the other Sergeant’s side with a wide, very telling smile on his face like he was in possession of the world’s juiciest piece of gossip. And after a quick moment of thought you realized he probably was after the morning you’d had.

Oh just fuckin great.

“Hell naw,” you muttered under your breath and just barely managed to suppress a shake of your head. You had Cerberus back, you didn’t need to be here any longer. He could tell the rest of the team without you needing to be here. Fuck this. Turning on a heel you started back out the door. It wasn’t even a second later a hand grabbed your arm and stopped you dead in your tracks. Glancing down at the skeleton gloves you groaned aloud, already so done with what was no doubt going to be the most stressful situation of the week and you’d defused a bomb a couple days ago.

Cerberus’s nose pressed into your thigh seeking your attention, his tail wagging as he looked up at you with bright eyes. Taking a deep breath you turned to find Ghost who was, without a doubt in your mind, smirking behind that mask. His eyes flicked to the table and he gestured with a jerk of his chin to an empty chair before he let go of your arm for a moment. For a quick moment you considered making a run for it. Why not, you know? You were already at the door, you had your dog with you, and you’d already proven you could beat all these sons of bitches in a footrace.

A voice at the back of your mind stopped you though. It told you that it would only make things ten times worse if you didn’t go over there and just deal with it. Smile and nod right? That’s how you got through twenty years of a marriage you had despised. What was five minutes of bearing the shame of being Captain Price’s bitch? Just get it over with, rip the bandaid off. Fuck it.

So you took a seat at the table, with Cerberus finding himself a spot underneath your chair, and you were unable to suppress the shaking of your head this time. Ghost took his seat next to Gaz once more, while Soap sat up in his chair to slide a little bit closer to the tray of food in front of him. Watcher and Konig didn’t miss a beat as they took their seats next to you on either side. As soon as you sat down Konig turned his green eyes back to Soap with his head tilted, “Why are we meeting here Soap? You said it was urgent.”

In an instant, at the German’s prompting, the Scotsman snaked his arm around Gaz’s shoulders and his hand raised in an arc as if he was painting a rainbow in the air. “Picture it. Price drops a fuckin dog off at our bunkhouse in the middle of the night, isn’t that right Gaz?” His eyes shot to the man he was currently holding close to his side. The other Sergeant was quick to nod back, lifting his sandwich to his mouth to take another bite even going so far as to hum a soft affirmative. Soap turned his eyes back to Watcher and Konig as you set your elbows up on the table, hiding your mouth behind a clenched fist, your other hand holding tight to your bicep as it was crossed in front of you.

The older Scotsman’s mouth was set in with an innocent storyteller look, his eyes wide and lips just slightly parted as he continued his story. “And I asked him, I did. I says to him, ‘Price why tah fuck are ya leaving a bloody dog with us, ya cunt.’ And he didnae like that but that man was on a mission. So he left a dog with me and my mate Gaz here.” He jostled Gaz as the man tried to lift his glass of water to his lips. Your brows raised as it spilled over the sides and the young Brit huffed in annoyance before shifting his gaze to Soap who wasn’t even paying attention to the mess he was currently causing.

Still though Soap persisted with his story, “Well Gaz he was back out in a fuckin second so I took the dog, as one does, straight to Ghost. I hate those howlin bastarts and Ghost likes the little things, so.” You glanced down at the dog between your legs whose head tilted the second you found his eyes. Your free hand reached down then, releasing your bicep from its iron grip in favor of petting the expanse of fur along the top of the Dutchie’s head. Cerberus’ tongue lolled as you did and you listened to him whine happily about the attention he was currently being paid by you.

Gaz turned to Soap then with a curious tilt of his head, “Oh so that’s where you went. I was wondering why you were gone this morning.” Soap’s blue eyes stared a hole in Gaz’s head then as the Brit returned to eating while he smirked. A small smile pulled at your lips despite the dire situation you were currently in. Did Gaz know? How could he not know? The man was Soap’s roommate and if Soap failed to lock the door as often as you were beginning to believe he did then it was very possible Gaz had walked in on them before.

Ghost was glaring at the Brit with narrowed eyes at the man’s other side as well. All the while Gaz studiously kept his eyes on the food that he was currently bringing up to his mouth again. Unlike Soap though the young Brit had no ability to keep the smile completely from his face. His lips were struggling to keep from curling upwards now, nearly breaking your own anxiety ridden mind. It nearly made you laugh at the humorous sight, but Gaz’s spell was broken in the next few moments as Soap made his next move.

Suddenly the hand around Gaz’s shoulder let go and smacked across his shoulder blades with a resounding ‘thwap’. Dark eyes bugged for a moment before he fell into a coughing fit, trying to swallow the mouthful of the sandwich he’d just taken. Very nearly choking on it after the hard slap on his back. Soap didn’t miss a beat though before he was continuing his story while Gaz tried to keep himself from choking, “So there Ghost and I were this morning trying to figure out where tah fuck this cunt had wandered off to.” He gestured towards you, glancing at both Watcher and Konig in turn to emphasize his words.

Glancing down at the table in front of you, you pursed your lips before letting out a sigh and asking, “Do ya really gotta do this Soap? Like is this really what you wanna do?” That beaming smile fixed on you the second that you asked the question as he nodded quickly in response. Clearly this was something that he was currently living for and the telling of it in such dramatic fashion was bringing him joy beyond your comprehension. Taking in a deep breath you wondered if it was even worth it to try and stop him.

Might as well just take this hit with your chin up at this point. Even if you did successfully manage to stop him the others had already heard enough to draw their own conclusions. Another sigh and you shrugged your shoulders before waving a hand at him, “Fine. Get on with it kid, I don’t got all day.” Your arms crossed over your chest as you sat back in the chair, watching him with an even and hardened look.

The Scotsman cleared his throat dramatically then before he continued with an even wider smile, “So we took wee Cerby out ta go find this cunt. Nowhere. Hee haw.” He looked pointedly at Watcher as he said that, before he kept going with his dramatized version of this morning’s events. “Nowhere to be seen. It was like the daftie had gone an’ disappeared.” He paused for a moment to smile at you. It felt almost like he was giving you one more chance to stop him. To give him something else to get his mind off of what he’d seen in John’s bunkhouse. Like he knew how much it was burning you up right now to have to listen to this.

You didn’t waver as you watched him with narrowed eyes. Fuck it. Just get it out there. It was harder to hide what you and John were doing at this point. Easier to just deal with the shame and embarrassment on what was almost your own terms rather than let them see how much it irked you. “Ghost and I were gettin’ a wee bit worried at tha’ point so we went to go find the Captain. And you’ll never guess what we found in the old man’s bunkhouse.” Soap glanced around at the three men still left unawares before he finally blurted out, “What’d we find but wee Speck here heid doon arse up in Cap’s bed.” Jaws dropped around the table just as eyes turned slowly from the Scotsman and to you.

Your cheeks burned hot, but your hand covered the lower part of your face. Keeping them from seeing the physical reaction to Soap’s words being uttered. “Blödsinn,” Konig murmured beside you even as Gaz’s face scrunched up in disgust across from you. And, in the corner of your eye, you could just barely see Watcher too stunned to say anything even as a nervous smile lit up his face and he glanced around at the others to see their reactions to the news as well.

The young Brit across from you turned a look of disgusted annoyance on Soap before slapping the back of his hand across Soap’s shoulder and feigning a gag, “And your first thought is to tell us!? To tell me!? I don’t want to know what Cap does in his spare time. Jesus Soap, I definitely don’t want to know who he does-” The statement was cut off by another gag as he reeled backward in his chair and scrambled off, trying to get away. “Oh, mate, I’m gonna be sick,” Gaz took off towards the door all the while Soap crossed his arms over his chest and watched you with his chin lifted and pride written plainly on his face.

Even Ghost was giving a deep quiet laugh behind his mask as his shoulders shook with the effort. You stared straight ahead at the Scotsman, unwavering in the face of your shame and embarrassment. “Now that you’ve put my relationship out there for all of ‘em to see, may I go now? Or is your boyfriend gonna stop me this time too?” More stunned gazes shot around the group, Ghost’s laugh stopping immediately and his eyes narrowing into a glare. Soap gaped at you, clearly stunned speechless now.

Your voice stayed so even in tone it was honestly kind of impressive as you stood from the chair, “Good, I’ll see y’all later.” Sliding out of the chair you made for the door, muttering a quick, “Fuss,” and then tapped a finger to the brim of your black hat with a forced smile. Turning on your heel you made for the door right behind Gaz, just get the fuck out with what little bit of dignity you still had left. Just go, go, go…

And so go you did, all the way back to your bunkhouse as you shut the door behind you and your head tipped back against the door. “Good God. Only me. Only I would end up in a mess like this. Goddamnit.” Cerberus was watching you as his head tilted again and you shook yours in response at him before pointing a finger at his wide eyes, “Don’t you start with me. I’ve already gotten enough shit from everyone else, keep your thoughts and your goddamn trauma to yourself.”

The dog’s tongue lolled as his tail wagged on the ground behind him. Again you shook your head, your jaw tensing before you let out a breath and glanced down at the empty bowls beside your bed. “Hungry, Cerb? Did they feed you this morning?” You grabbed one of the bowls and scooped some food out for the Dutchie before setting it back down. Cerberus watched you until you gave him a small smile and pointed down to it, “Go on, eat up,” and the dog lunged forward, digging into the bowl of food eagerly.

Filling the other bowl up with water you glanced around the room, eyes landing on the gear still sitting on the table you had yet to return. If you hadn’t threatened to kill him you were certain he would have already shown up at your door with that clipboard of his and the exhausted expression he always seemed to wear while he pleaded with you to give it back before his numbers came up wrong. But you had threatened him. Hell you had nearly ripped his whole fucking arm off in the process of doing so. And you would have, in that moment, done it without another thought.

You lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose, tension building slowly inside of you. Deep breath in, deep breath out. He hadn't meant it. He didn't know what he was doing. How could the guy have known? He doesn't even know you…None of them know you…Hell you don't even really belong here do you? You were here because John had picked out your face in a crowd. You were here because your one job, to blend in everywhere and stay completely unnoticed and unidentifiable, had been a complete failure.

There was a contract still held over your head by your bosses back in America. Whether they had attempted to kill you or not was still up for debate but you definitely still had to answer to them at some point. Hell you still had a year left on that fuckin contract and there was no way you could afford to lose it now. A passing moment of curiosity wondered if they were still depositing your paycheck into your bank account.

At that thought though the corner of your mouth lifted in amusement because you knew full well that if they weren't still depositing that money your ex-wife would have already tracked you down by now on her own. There was never a week that went by that she wasn’t taking your money without regard for how you would survive the week without it. Hell with how much money she got every month out of you there was no way she'd miss a single one of those deposits. You were her cash cow now and she would never miss a chance to collect.

God forbid you miss a single alimony payment to her or a child support payment for your son. And even your daughter had direct access to it too in order to pay for college, or whatever the fuck else she wanted. You were lucky if you ever saw a single fuckin dime of your paychecks. Lucky as all get out if you could afford to feed yourself through the week when you weren't on a base like this.

Especially since you still had to feed Cerberus and there wasn't a way in hell you were gonna let him go hungry while you were eating. The meals you'd been getting here on base were the best damn things you'd had in months, that much was for sure. The family of vultures you had made for yourself would pick and eat at every single morsel they could pull out of you. Not having any money for them wasn’t even an option.

It was…depressing. At one point you'd have said without a doubt that they loved you, or at least thought about you sometimes with a hint of care. But now? Now you doubted that you'd even crossed their minds. Not even your daughter probably thought about you anymore. You were undoubtedly the last person that they ever wished to think about again. The father they would cry to their therapists about and the ex-husband your wife would one day tell her new husband about amidst tears whenever something went wrong. You were Lucifer himself to them. A stain in their past that none of them wished to remember and to be quite honest you didn't entirely blame them.

You wished on occasion you didn't remember them either. It would have been easier not to rather than to feel this deep ache whenever you thought about them. Especially when you thought about your precious daughter and son. God you'd have done anything for them, hell you still would if they asked. They were your children, your babygirl and your pride and joy. You loved them even now. Even after they'd left you completely alone in that hospital while you were recovering from that stupid fucking explosion.

Stop thinking about it, it wasn’t going to fix anything. It was just going to put you in a bad mood, better to just get on with your day and try your best not to think about them. With a sigh you moved towards the table and picked up the vest before running your thumb over one of the metal d-rings. You really should get all this stuff back to Wade. It was only right after what you'd done to him, besides you still needed to apologize for exactly that.

Grabbing it all up in your hands you glanced towards the bowls where Ceberus was and said, "Hier!" The dog lifted his head and trotted over to you before you issued another command, "Fuss." As soon as he was attached to your hip you opened the door and the both of you headed out for the armory, supply room, and the cages where you were almost certain Wade spent just about every waking moment unless he was told otherwise. With the bags under those eyes? The guy definitely spent most of every day there.

As you stood outside the building though you saw the gross miscalculation you had made. It was locked. Everything on this fuckin base was locked. Setting the equipment down for a moment you glanced between the keypad and the door. God this was so inconvenient. You kept doing this too, it wasn't like it was the first time. Though you had learned your lesson not to attempt to kick this door down at least. With your luck you'd plant another foot right in your poor Angel's chest again. The man seemingly had an endless well of patience with you but if you did it again you were sure he'd have a few choice words for you. Once is a coincidence, twice though and he might start thinking you were actually aiming for him.

Letting out a sigh you glanced around as if by some miracle one of the men with a code would see you standing here helplessly. Needless to say though, they didn't. "Son of a bitch…" You rumbled low and you saw Cerberus' head tilt in question. It was a phrase you said often when you were frustrated or annoyed and he'd probably picked up on that over the nearly three years you'd had him. "Not you buddy, you're a good one," the dark tail wagged in response and you smiled a bit at him.

At least until you heard a deep rumble behind you, "Who's a good one?" For a moment your eyes widened and you had to force yourself not to jump in surprise. Holy shit that had really caught you off guard. You hadn't even heard the man coming up behind you, he was truly too quiet for being as big as he was. Turning a quick glance over your shoulder you spotted the skull mask behind you and those narrowed hazel eyes with their hard glare.

You turned slowly to look up at him before clearing your throat and gesturing to the dog beside you, "Cerberus. He’s, uh, he's a good one," Ghost nodded quietly in his agreement as he watched you. Hazel eyes flicked down to the equipment now on the ground and back to you before narrowing them with a silent question. Following his gaze you answered his unspoken question, "Oh yeah I've gotta get this crap back to Wade. Don't wanna throw the guy's numbers off, you know?" You gave him a half smile as you watched him.

The gaze seemed to inspect you for a moment, you might have overplayed your hand in regards to his and Soap’s relationship. You could have sworn his hands were about to come up in an attempt to strangle you. Then without a single word he stepped by you towards the keypad and answered you with a hint of amusement in his words, "Worried about his numbers? Heard you tried to kill him yesterday, weren't too worried about his numbers then, eh?" The light on the keypad turned green and he turned the handle on the door, opening it as he stood with his back against the door watching you.

Watching him for a moment you picked up the gear and set a narrowed gaze on him, "Scuttlebutt is you and Soap are breaking those oh so important fraternization rules, don't hear me telling every Tom, Dick, and Harry bout that though do ya?" You shot back at him, maybe you were overplaying your hand but you weren’t exactly accustomed to having people question your actions so much.

Stepping by him into the building as his hazel eyes narrowed and he followed you with his harsh gaze. A strong grip around your shoulder stopped you though, a momentary thought that you were about to meet your doom crossed your mind, but you stopped to turn around towards him anyway. "Don't worry about it, roomie. Not like everyone else in that room didn’t already know. I’m not gonna tell your Captain or anything, not my shit to tell." The big man continued to watch you for a moment, considering your words and the knowledge you'd somehow acquired.

When he finally gave you a hesitant nod and turned towards the cages you watched him go for a moment. Ghost didn't even bother to turn back around though as he unlocked his cage, so you backed up to the supply and armory door and knocked the toe of your boot against it hard enough to get the attention of whoever was inside. The other side stayed quiet as you and Cerberus shifted awkwardly in front of the door. You could feel eyes on your back but you suppressed the urge to turn around. The urge that always persisted whenever Ghost was around and just barely out of sight.

Finally though the door in front of you opened and Wade's tired, bloodshot eyes stared back at you. The immediate reaction was the widening of the shorter man's eyes before the door was hurtling towards your face. Your brows rose in surprise even as your foot slid forward to block the door from slamming in your face. It jammed against the toe of your boot as you started to shoulder your way inside with Cerberus right behind you, "Wade! Hey man!" The door hit you in the shoulder and you huffed in pain as the heavy object slammed into your stitched up limb. It’d been feeling better but after that hit you weren’t sure it would stay that way for long.

The smaller man on the other side continued to try and close the door as your own eyes widened and you tried to reason with him, "Wade! Would you stop!?" The blonde only pushed harder against the door on the other side, trying to slam the door shut even with your body currently jammed in the middle of it. "I'm not here to kill ya man!" It still did no good but now even Cerberus was in on the fun as he reared back to put his paws on the door. His thunderous barks drowning out the words of the other man. It seemed the big Dutchie thought this was some kind of new training scenario, but with his added weight you could feel the door shifting in your favor. So you tried again, "I'm tryna return your damn gear, you jackass!" The weight on the other side stopped struggling.

In the next second the counterweight on the other side disappeared and you fell backwards still clutching all of your gear to your chest. A loud yelp of surprise left you as you hit the ground and the furry dog circled you a few times. Looking up with shock in your gaze you stared into the pale blue eyes of the skinny supply officer as he asked, "You're bringing the gear back?" He almost sounded just as surprised as you looked now as he reached down to grab the vest, helmet, and small pouch you had in your arms. The man didn't even attempt to give you a hand up, he just turned and set himself to organizing the contents you'd brought back for him.

With a deep sigh you sat up, rubbing your back to soothe the spark of pain there as you heard the door shut. Watching Wade turn away your face scrunched up in confusion and you shook your head, "Well yeah I brought it back. Figured it was better late than never, right?" Wade grunted as he finally turned to look back at where you were pushing yourself back to your feet. The two of you watched one another quietly for a few awkward and tense moments.

Wade was watching you with narrowed eyes, his arms crossed protectively over his chest, "Yes I did ask you for that. I didn't actually think you would do it though. All of you operators are the same and you never listen. Especially surprised that you are after what happened yesterday." You continued to watch him for a few tense moments. Your eyes darted down to where the bruises had already bloomed on his wrist in the shape of your hand.

Nodding you let out a sigh, "Yeah, about that. Listen I'm sorry man, about trying to rip your arm off and the whole threatening thing. I didn't mean to hurt ya I just." You paused, a hand lifting to the back of your neck as you scratched at it awkwardly, "I just needed that shirt…a lot. It wasn’t like you knew that though, so my bad man.” Now there was a look of shock that could rival a cat who just saw a cucumber for the first time.

The pale blue eyes went so wide it was almost like they were going to pop out of the man’s skull. It was obvious the man didn’t hear many apologies working with the 1-4-1, or any probably based on the way he was staring at you like you’d just grown three heads. “It- Did you just-” He seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment before he cleared his throat, his hands moving to clasp behind his back before he gave a sharp nod, regaining his composure. “It’s quite alright. I actually have some good news on that front.” He looked you over one more time, as if he was searching for some kind of sincerity in your gaze.

Apparently he seemed to find it a moment later as he turned towards what looked like his desk and squatted out of sight for just a moment. When he stood back up he held up a balled up shirt, torn in a few places and covered in old, dried blood. Covered in your blood. Your mouth parted slightly in shock before you crossed the open space in less than a heartbeat and pulled it from his grasp. The objects hidden beneath the fabric ran under your fingertips and relief washed over you immediately. A strain on your heart being lifted the moment you felt everything secured inside.

Your talisman had been returned to you. Your history, your reason for life, your very soul was back and safe with you. It was like a missing piece had been slotted back into your heart. The relief felt like a boulder had been rolled off of your chest. Even your breaths came easier. How had he found it? Why did he look for it after what you’d done to him? Thank the good Lord above he’d looked for it though because never seeing this stuff again might have actually broken you in the long run.

In an instant your eyes were back on Wade’s, “Shit man you actually found it?” There was a light in your eyes now that hadn’t been there the previous day as you gave him a look of disbelief. Wade merely nodded with a small smile on his mouth, “Thank God, I thought it was gone forever. Thanks Wade,” you didn’t even know the words to properly get across just how much you appreciated him finding this ratty old shirt. “Really man, thank you,” there was a bright look in his eye now as the man seemed to perk up.

A quick nod came from him as you stepped forward, offering your hand to shake in thanks. The ultimate gesture of appreciation you’d been taught. Wade glanced at it for a moment before his fingers wrapped around your hand and you gave it a firm shake as he replied, “You’re welcome, Speck. I’ve actually got the rest of what you asked for if you’d like to sign it out.” Immediately the light in your eyes began to die as you looked at him with a deep breath in and the blonde quickly changed his statement, “Or I can just ask Captain Price or Agent Laswell for their signature whenever I see them next.”

You smirked in response and nodded, “That would probably be wise, Wade.” He sighed as he rubbed his fingers against one side of his temple and cleared his throat. Until he turned and unlocked the chain link door behind him before disappearing into the bowels of his domain. A few moments later he returned with a phone, a lighter, and a few packs of cigarettes in one hand and a pair of work boots in another.

He held them out to you and watched as you took them slowly with the balled up shirt now secured under your arm. “The phone is secure so you don’t have to worry about anything with that. You didn’t say what brand you liked with the smokes so I just requisitioned whatever would get here the fastest. And the boots, well I checked the size of your other pair so I hope they fit.” You inspected each item as he detailed it and watched as he tilted his head and asked, “Anything else you needed?”

Looking down at the items you shook your head with an appreciative smile, “Naw man, this is perfect. Thank you.” He gave you that look of slight surprise again though he was getting better at hiding it now. Thank yous were apparently not all that common for him either. You gave him a quick nod and started to back up, “I appreciate it.” Shifting the items in your hands you held up the balled up shirt to show him, “All of it.” He gave you a quick nod in answer as you made your way out of the armory, glancing once towards Ghost’s cage where he was cleaning a few knives and his rifles.

The Lieutenant didn’t even look up though as you kept going out the door with Cerberus at your side. You shoved the cigarettes into your pocket along with the phone, you could mess with the new technology and the smokes later. Right now you had something much more important to do. Something you'd been putting off for far too long now. Something you should have done years ago. It was time to face reality instead of hiding from it.

Stepping inside your bunkhouse you tossed the shoes into the corner where your duffel bag was at the end of the bed. Then you sat the balled up shirt on the table, staring at the dried blood spatters that decorated the fabric in its heinous violence. Reaching forward you hesitated, the cigarettes and the phone in your pocket digging into your thigh to remind you that this was real, what you were about to do you could never undo. If you weren’t actually ready when you opened this thing up then you could never take it back.

With a huff you pulled both items out and tossed them onto the table just beside the shirt. Again you tried to reach forward and again your hand stalled just above touching the fabric one more. Just seeing the object made your stomach turn as you swallowed down the bile trying to rise in your throat. Come on Speck, you could do this. You were a grown ass man. There were countless confirmed kills under your belt, countless war crimes you’d committed in supposed defense of peace. Why was this the thing that could make you stop and hesitate?

Quietly you cursed under your breath as you paced in front of the table. You thought you were ready to face these demons. You'd been sure you were ready to put all of this to bed now. And yet here you stood unable to untie the shirt and gaze upon the items you'd stuffed inside for safe keeping nearly three years ago. It was laughable how tumultuous your emotions were when it came to those you had lost and the past you hadn’t the stomach to face. Snatching up a pack of cigarettes you opened the container and slid one between your lips. In the next moment the lighter was in your hand as you flicked it, the flame dancing to life before you stopped your motion to light it, glancing to the other side of the room with a sigh.

Maybe it was best not to smoke in a room when you barely even knew your roommate. Sliding the phone into your pocket along with the rest of the now opened pack of cigarettes and grabbing the shirt you headed out the door. You certainly weren't going to leave the shirt laying around where just anyone could take it now. Hell you doubted you'd be able to let it leave your sight now after the suffering you'd felt the day before. It’d nearly killed you and an innocent man when you’d lost it, the last thing you wanted to do was face that reality again.

Standing on the landing you leaned over the railing as you finally lit the cigarette between your lips and took a deep drag as your eyes shut at the feeling of the smoke sitting heavy in your lungs. It was soothing and sure it was a terrible habit but at least you weren't an alcoholic right? This had always been your safest coping mechanism, especially when you'd been with your ex wife.

Going home smelling like cigarettes was the easiest way to keep her away from you. She could handle the taste of whiskey on your breath. Hell she could even handle the taste of dip and chewing tobacco, but smoke? That woman detested the smell of smoke in all forms. Sure it would get you yelled at but at least she kept her hands off you whenever you smoked those things.

After all that time smoking them though you just couldn't seem to shake the habit whenever you were feeling jittery or anxious or just plain ole upset. It was almost like once you smoked them you knew you would be alright, at least until the smell started to fade anyway. A conditioned response like one of Pavlov’s dogs. Heh more like one of Rachel’s ex-husband’s. You took in another deep drag, with a smirk even as you sighed and exhaled the smoke in a great plume. Letting the cigarette rest between your lips you held up the balled up shirt in front of you, your forearms resting on the railing as you stared at it.

Two years, nearly three, you'd avoided this moment. Two years you'd kept it all bottled up inside and somehow it had been John Price who had gotten the story out of you. It was your Angel who had figured out the source of your nightmares. The men you saw die every night that kept the wound so fresh in your mind even as you ignored them with every waking moment. He'd gotten you to tell him everything, the only person who'd ever successfully gotten you to open up about anything. Where was he now though while you were standing outside the bunkhouse holding what appeared to be trash to anyone else.

Holding the shirt in one hand you continued to inspect it closely, your lips tilting the cigarette between them up and down as you lost yourself in thought. Another deep breath in and then out through your nose and you raised your freehand up to grab it and tap the ash off the end before returning it to its place where you could let the smoke dull your senses once more. How could you bring yourself to open this thing after so long now? It was as much a bad habit as your smoking was.

The sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs beside you caught your attention and you glanced to your left just in time to see John climbing up the stairs. The man’s head tilted as he saw the object in your hand and then he turned his gaze to your face before moving it down to your lips. “Those things’ll kill ya, love.” His blue eyes slid over the expanse of your lips and then met your eyes once more with an amused smirk hiding beneath that brunette beard. Narrowing your eyes you gave him a shake of your head and muttered back, “Like you don’t smoke? I smell it on you all the time John. Cerberus isn’t the only one who has a nose.” You spoke around the cigarette as you reached a finger up to tap your nose with a half smile. The brunette watched you for a few more moments as the dog laid by the door content and quiet.

He leaned over the railing beside you as he glanced at the shirt you were holding before he gestured to it with a slight nod, “Right…So what’s all this then, love?” A brunette brow rose curiously at you. Your own eyes slid back down to the shirt as you squeezed at the objects beneath the thick fabric. John sounded so British when he said things like that and it made you smile even despite the memories accompanied with the shirt in your hand and their trying to stamp down what little amusement you could currently find in your situation..

You turned towards him, leaning on one elbow on the railing as he mirrored the stance. The two of you faced one another as you held up the shirt between yall and you turned your eyes down to it with a tight-lipped smile, “Wade found it. I thought after our…talk last night I’d finally be able to open it again.” A dark huff shook your shoulders as you looked back up at him, “Thought wrong, I guess.” The Captain pointed with the hand he was currently leaning against the railing with and raised a questioning brow to you as you answered with a silent nod.

An impressed look came over his face and his brows rose a bit as he nodded, “So that’s the shirt that you survived in?” Huh, that was an interesting way to put it. You’d never thought about it like that before. It’d always been the shirt you’d lost everything when you were wearing. The shirt you were supposed to die while you were wearing, but saying it like that almost gave it a different connotation.

When your eyes found those blue hues still affixed to you, you managed a slow nod as you answered, “I’ve never thought about it like that, but yeah I guess you’re right. Sure is the shirt though. In all its bloodstained glory.” Finding the ground with your eyes you stood up from leaning on the rail and pulled the cigarette out of your mouth tossing it over the railing with a sigh.

John was watching you, you could always feel his eyes when he was staring. Hell you were starting to believe you could feel exactly where he was looking every time as well. Right now that gaze was watching every minute expression you were making. Clearing his throat he stepped a bit closer, “Can I help, sweetheart?” The pet name made your face run hot as you turned a small smirk up at him.

Shrugging your shoulders you felt his fingers graze lightly against the small of your back and his head tilted slightly. He was close enough now anyone who walked by would know something definitely not platonic was going on here. Did it matter though? The only ones who mattered knew now. Not to mention how the light touch made you feel as your chin tilted up and you glanced up at the sky. It felt almost as if he was feeding you confidence through the mere touch of his hand through the fabric.

The feeling was freeing. Standing up a bit straighter your jaw tensed for a moment before you glanced back down to the the balled up shirt and muttered, “You know what?” Your eyes turned up to the brunette and his piercing, albeit confused, gaze, “Fuck it.” You shoved the shirt towards him and he looked down at it with a raised brow as John smirked at the bloody and slightly torn up shirt.

“You want me to do it, eh?” Nodding a quick affirmative he stared at it for a few more heartbeats and for an unsure moment it seemed like he was going to refuse. He had the right to do so though. The damn shirt even had your blood covering it, no doubt he wanted to avoid touching that, which was fair. Not to mention these weren’t exactly his demons to face. But then he gave a quick nod and took the balled up shirt from your hands, testing the weight in his hand, “Bit heavy isn’t it?”

A quick nod of your head and he gave a low grunt as he looked down at it with that piercing blue gaze. Finally he gave a slow nod and stood up from where he was leaning on the railing, his now free hand coming up to pat your shoulder before he looked across the path to his bunkhouse, “Mind if I open it in there?” It felt almost like a protective suggestion. Almost like he knew that at any moment while those memories were crashing over you like a tidal wave you could break down. John knew, despite barely even knowing all that much about you, that you weren’t the type to put something like that on display.

Nodding at him his mouth lifted just barely in a small smile as he gave a firm nod and turned to head back down the stairs. The both of you headed across the path and up the stairs of his bunkhouse with Cerberus glued to your hip, your ever present protector. John unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding the door open as you made for the table and the two chairs in the room. Cerberus slipped under the table quietly, laying down with a huff as he went back to his light and quiet napping.

You and John sat down together as you leaned an elbow on the table and then your chin rested in your palm as you watched him handling the shirt carefully. Still cautious and flicking his gaze up to you every now and then as he made sure you were still okay with this. You merely watched with a tense jaw as he began to pull at sleeves where it was tied up.

It took him a few tries to get the knot to start loosening before he finally was able to start pulling it apart. “Bloody hell. You really paid attention in those knot tying classes the Navy gave you, eh?” You smirked a bit at him as he struggled with the next tight knot, his face looking almost exasperated by the time it started to loosen as well. “When you said you couldn’t open it I really thought it was more of a mental thing, but now that I’ve been trying for the past five minutes I’m starting to think you meant you physically couldn’t do it.” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you tried to suppress a smile, catching his eye as he too seemed to be amused.

The humor helped to put you at ease in a situation that would have been extremely straining on your carefully constructed mental dam if it hadn’t been there. Finally though he got the last of the knots untied and started to carefully pull it open. Swallowing hard, you took in a deep breath with your nostrils flared, doing your best to maintain neutrality in the face of everything that had haunted you for so long now. Your entire body felt tense as you watched the bloodstained shirt open to him, revealing your past in the small things you’d kept with you for so long now.

He set the shirt on the table to keep from dropping anything inside and leaned forward to inspect the items. Your shoulders tensed as he pulled at a piece of metal that was hidden in the folds of fabric and pulled it closer to look at it. A metal tag shined in the light, coated in burn marks and warped almost beyond recognition as he tried to read the damaged tag and the name on it. Giving up he finally turned a questioning look at you, asking a silent question.

Your jaw tensed in response as you cleared your throat, feeling like a frog was stuck in it before you answered, “Xena’s. She had it on her collar when she died.” Raising a hand to rub your fingers over your mouth you leaned closer to him, reaching a hand out for the metal tag. He dropped it into your open palm as you sat with your elbows on your knees. You turned the tag over between your fingers slowly and looked up at him.

His gaze was still on you with a sympathetic look in his eyes as he watched you carefully. “Still good, love?” You nodded quickly before you sat up and placed the tag back on the thick, bloody fabric. He watched quietly for a moment before moving on to another item. The Brit pulled out an old bible and turned it over in his hands. He inspected it for a moment before he flipped the pages quickly like you would a magazine, notes written in the margins of just about every single page to reveal what the reader and owner had been thinking when they’d been reading it. “You’re a church boy then?” There was a hint of a teasing smile on his mouth as he asked and you could see the humor in his gaze then.

Looking at it you smiled just a bit before answering, “No. Not for a long, long time.” There was a quick pause and you clarified, “I used to be, before the Navy and the whole gay thing.” He chuckled a bit but he still looked curious as to why you would hold on to it even if you didn’t believe it. “My grandfather is a pastor. He's always known I was gay I think, ain't never judged me for it though. He's a good man. When I enlisted he gave me the bible he used to preach out of, said he loved me, that he was proud of me, that he was scared for me…” Swallowing hard you felt the emotion welling up with the memory of that day before you’d been shipped off to boot camp and ended your childhood much too early, “Said he hoped it’d keep me safe, that it did for him when he was in the marines.” You sniffed a couple times as you wiped at your nose with the back of your hand.

John finally gave you an understanding nod and you tried to keep your eyes dry, though you were failing miserably. Taking a deep breath your hands ran over your thighs as your eyes flicked up to him almost nervously. He laid the bible next to the warped metal tag as he nodded slowly and asked, “Sentimental then?” A quick nod from you of affirmation and your eyes shot to the floor where Cerberus was laying underneath the table just in front of your feet.

It took a few moments for you to get the lump out of your throat before you sat forward in the chair again and looked at the items scattered over the shirt. Reaching out your fingers closed around a yellowed piece of paper, the edges frayed from someone obviously having looked at it many times before it was tied up inside that shirt. The image on it was nearly gone like someone had been rubbing their hand over the crayon marks. And as your fingers ran over the piece of paper it was easy for the brunette sitting next to you to figure out just who had been paying so much attention to it.

His head tilted slightly before he leaned forward and asked, “What’s that then, love?” Your eyes flicked up to his face. His brows were tilted upward and there was a curious look in his eyes with the softest expression you’d ever seen on that beautiful face. Slowly you handed him the yellowing piece of paper, the image of a terribly drawn dog scrawled on it. John smirked and glanced up at you, a hand running over his mustache and then down into the shorter hairs of his goatee, “I don’t get it. A shite drawing of a dog?” There was a hint of humor in his tone and those ocean blue eyes that only seemed to grow the longer he looked at it.

Sniffing quickly and letting a small smile shine through, your arms crossed over your chest, “It’s not all that bad.” John’s face contorted and he snorted as he looked back down to the drawing and back up at you. “Ok yeah it’s terrible, I’ll give that one to ya. But,” you held up a finger to him, preparing yourself mentally to dig up your past. “But, my daughter drew it for me when she was four. Right before I went on deployment. It was my dog at the time, a Doberman named Cooper.” Looking at the drawing again you gave him a tight smile, “She always loved that dog.”

John nodded as he folded the drawing back up, following the creases that were nearly twenty years old now. As careful with the piece of paper as he would have been with his sniper rifle. He picked up a photo next, you and your old team, fresh off a black op with blood and dirt still in the wrinkles of yalls face and the creases of your clothes. Your vision went blurry as you looked at it, tears welling in your eyes as you fought to control the spike of pain that went through your heart. Their faces struck hard at your memories, resurfacing the good and the bad.

Hell five minutes before that very picture was taken you’d chewed out Suarez so bad the two of yall had nearly come to blows only one step off the damn helicopter. The Brit inspected the picture closely, before you took it from him feeling the tears as they trailed down your cheeks. Wiping a fleck of the dried blood off the picture that had come off the shirt at some point. You shook your head with a pained look in your eye and struggled to mutter, “Damn, I miss them. The good and the bad, ya know what I mean?” Quickly you glanced up at John who was watching with a knowing look. Of course he knew, no doubt he’d lost men before, and you’d lost men before them as well, but it was different when you lost everything…

He gave you a thin smile, sympathetic to the tragedy you’d suffered. “I do know, I’ve lost men before and it’s never easy. It’s especially not easy when they’re all gone in a matter of minutes.” Your eyes turned down again to look at the picture, as you sniffed hard again. An attempt to stop the tears would have been in vain even if you’d tried. What hadn’t come out yesterday seemed bound and determined to come out now. And to be honest you weren’t making all that much of an attempt to stop it now, John had already seen you at your worst might as well just let it out at this point. It was better for him to see it than some poor other soul.

And so they fell. You stayed completely silent though. These weren’t the devastated and pent up sobs of the man who had still believed that if he just didn’t talk about it or think about it then it never really happened. No, these were the quiet tears of knowing you couldn’t change what had happened despite wishing you could have. It wasn’t quite acceptance but it was somewhere on the road to it. That was a step at least. Right?

Not even John existed at that moment. It was just you stuck in your head. In the overwhelming memories of every good and bad thing you’d ever done. You wiped at your face with the back of your hand and took in a shaky breath, laughing as the good, for once, began to outweigh the bad. Handing the photo to him you pointed at the short stocky man beside you with his Bravo Two badge on his shoulder. His arm was thrown around your shoulders as well as your Bravo Three, Suarez’s shoulders.

McCann's smiling face had brought out yours and Suarez's smiles as well, despite the two of you being at odds a few moments before. "He was my best friend. Ryan McCann. Man was about to make E9 and even get his own team. Dario Suarez," your finger moved to point at the other man McCann was holding onto. "Dario had just had a kid, a little boy. The baby was a month old when we left for this mission and he was getting too cautious. Nearly got our Four killed, Levi Knox," you pointed to the young man standing beside where you and Xena were.

John was holding the photo in his hand as he seemed to take it all in. His head tilted as he asked, "How long before it happened was this taken?" You tensed up as he asked, another wave of tears trying to well up in your eyes. When John looked up your tears were not lost upon him. His fingers found the growth of beard along your jaw. The rough fingertips catching at the short hairs as he tried to soothe the heartache you so obviously still felt.

Leaning into his gentle touch you cleared your throat as his thumb stroked your cheek, taking the tears with it. Finally you managed to answer him, "This was taken two months before it happened. Three weeks and Ryan would have had his own team…" The brunette nodded slowly as he held the picture between the two of you. You took it back from him with those silent tears still dripping. John's hands fell from your face though, one finding the top of your hand where it was resting on your thigh. The other found your thigh as he gave both a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Letting you know he was still there even without having to say it aloud.

Those hands were warm and comforting. Especially when his fingers tightened and dug into the muscle of your thighs for just a moment. Despite the tears still in your eyes you smiled at him, and he returned that pained look that he saw on your face. He could feel your pain just as much as he could see it. The fact that you could hurt him and you didn't even have to say or do anything inherently malicious was a bit disconcerting for you. It was a power you'd never known before. Others had held that power over you, hell all your daughter had to do, even now, was just look like she was upset and your heart was hurting for her. This was the first time you'd ever held this power over someone else though.

He cared…Holy shit he cared. Not only did he care though, you cared. Oh God you cared. Not good, so very not good. Why did he care though? Did it matter why? Of course it never mattered why things happened. It only mattered that it happened and that it was true. Your brows furrowed and your jaw tensed as you cast your gaze down to the hands that now clung to you. Examining the dark hairs that decorated his long, toned forearms and up towards his biceps which disappeared underneath the short sleeved shirt.

Swallowing hard you pulled your hands away, feeling a bit of panic in your mind at the knowledge you could hurt him. That was the last thing you wanted to do. That was something you couldn't even handle the thought of. His head tilted as he sat back in the chair, watching you for a few moments. He let out a deep breath, unsure what he had done but knowing he had done something to make you cautious. Finally he turned to look back at the shirt and the rest of the items he still had yet to inspect inside.

Moving the other photos around on the fabric you watched as he caught sight of the other moments of your life, all of them pulled out of the depths of time. Your daughter, your son, your parents, and even your ex-wife had been hidden in this time capsule. You'd forgotten how much was hidden within this bloody fabric. It was a burden you'd chosen not to carry for the past few years, a burden you happily hid away to save yourself the agony of reality. The moments trapped within those pictures almost made you forget the dead feeling in your very soul that had come along with those people. It framed your family as happy, loving, and from the outside looking in it had been.

There had been so much no one else outside your household had ever seen. The only ones who had seen it hadn’t cared enough to say anything. Mainly your parents. And it hadn’t been any of your teammates' place to say anything. They’d been helpless as they’d watched you suffer at the hand and tongue of a woman who’d have sooner seen you dead to collect the life insurance policy. You swallowed hard as your eyes zeroed in on the woman, your palms starting to sweat just seeing her face right now.

You didn't even notice when his hand stopped shuffling through the items you were so wrapped up in your past. At least not until he uncovered the photo a bit more and slid it over the tan and green fabric closer to him. You leaned closer but a large hand blocked your view of whatever photograph he was looking at. John seemed like he was frozen though, his ring and middle finger resting on the edge of the photo while his index tapped on it slowly. When you looked up at his eyes though you could see interest, as he picked it up and held it to where the photo was side-by-side with the visual of you sitting in the chair.

John's mouth twitched, his mustache flaring up with the movement as his jaw tensed. When the Brit's head tilted, inspecting you closely, his eyes seemed to light up a bit and he smirked something fierce. His voice deepened a bit and that gravelly tone made your own eyes light up with interest, completely forgetting the anxiety you’d been suffering a moment before. "I like this one, sweetheart. Mind if I get myself a copy of it?" The tears you had been shedding before still spilled down your cheeks but you couldn't help the laugh that came along with his question.

Sniffling you wiped a hand over your nose and then your cheeks before you let out another chuckle and leaned forward to take the picture, "A copy? A copy of what?" You flipped the photo around and your cheeks started to warm at the sight of it. The photo had originally been taken on a dare when you were eighteen. By the same woman you'd gotten pregnant and eventually married. Some of your rodeo buddies had told you to cut up a pair of jeans and see how long it took for someone to say something. So you'd done it at the last rodeo of the season, you couldn’t participate anyway since you’d just enlisted in the Navy. You brought your gear, your horse, your hat and boots, and cut your jeans into a pair of shorts so tight you'd basically been walking around naked at that rodeo.

It hadn't taken long for you to get thrown out of that particular rodeo that day. You'd just signed your enlistment papers with the Navy though a few days before, dropped out of highschool, you had a baby on the way, who cared about what those rodeo guys thought at that point. The fuck it method had already been in place by the time you enlisted, the Navy only watered the seeds of your self-destructive mentality for their own gains. Hell if it hadn’t been funny as all get out though.

Never dare a southerner to do something you aren't completely sure you want them to do. There's not a single one worth their salt who wouldn't do it just to prove a point. Smirking, you shook your head and turned your gaze back to John, "You want a copy of this? I'm barely even wearing anything." The light grew in those ocean blue hues immediately at your reasoning.

John nodded as he smiled, "I'm well aware. What in the hell possessed you on this particular day to get you into a pair of cutoff jean shorts anyway, sweetheart?" Humor was in his eyes now and your own held just as much amusement as your cheeks heated and you scratched at the back of your head in embarrassment.

A tight-lipped smile took over your face as you tried to suppress it. “I, uh…” You hesitated for a moment as John’s head tilted with that humorous look on his face that made your heart skip a beat at first sight. “My buddies dared me, it’s a southern pride thing. You can’t refuse a dare, especially if you’re a stupid eighteen year old with nothing else to lose, and I was one of the stupidest. Especially if you asked my parents.” You huffed out a laugh as his eyes narrowed curiously at that comment.

The Brit’s hands shot forward to grab the photo even as your hand pulled away. But his fingers wrapped around your wrist before you could escape and plucked the photo out of your hand, just a heartbeat faster than you. Both of you lifted your brows curiously at one another as those ocean hues flicked back to the photograph in his hands as he took in the sight once more. When his eyes flicked back to you he asked curiously, “Why do you have the hat on?”

John’s eyes flicked back up to you with bright eyes as you shrugged and answered, “Whaddya mean why do I have the hat on? It’s a cowboy hat, John, and I’m from the South. Why do you wear that damn boonie hat everywhere?” His cheeks started to go a bit pink before he steeled himself while he watched you. After a few moments of silence you finally sighed and gave him a real answer, “I was on the rodeo circuit before I enlisted. Remember that dream I told you about in that bar? Yeah, well that was mine.” John nodded slowly as he listened but when you stopped he motioned for you to continue.

Your lips pursed as you watched him before you shot forward to grab the photo from the taller man. The Captain moved faster though, completely prepared for your sudden burst of speed as he spun out of the chair and waltzed out of your path. You stopped short just as your knee touched where he had been sitting moments before and spun to look at him as he smirked at you with that tilted head. Photograph still in his hand he waved it at you and asked, “You did rodeos? Like horses and bulls and lassos eh?” Slowly you gave an affirmative nod as your eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.

He didn’t seem to be satisfied with just a nod though. God was he expecting a verbal answer even when you two weren’t in the middle of fucking like rabbits? Taking in a breath you were about to comply until he then asked, “You still got the hat? And the shorts…” He paused for a second as his gaze flickered back to the photograph and he added quickly, “The saddle too and the boots. Shite, I want to see you like that now. You were cute then but now? Shite, sweetheart, now I think I’d have a heart attack seeing you looking like this.” You felt your face heat up at his words, your body responding without your permission. At least before you chuckled lightly and shook your head at him, almost not believing how much he was enjoying staring at that particular photograph.

“I don’t have any of that stuff now. It’s sitting at my parent’s house locked away like it has been since I enlisted and left rodeoing twenty-two years ago. Navy don’t like the idea of their property getting damaged by a bronc buckin em off.” John looked almost disappointed when you said no. Like you'd just crushed his hopes and dreams for the future. It made your heart hurt to see that disappointment in his eyes. Tilting your head you stood a little taller though and asked, “Why? What would you do if I still had all of that gear?” The blue eyes narrowed at you from where he stood and John took a step closer.

Those pure blue eyes were alight with interest now as he started to answer, “There’s a lot I want to do to you, love. Where do I even start-” Before he could continue though you stepped forward to close the distance between the two of you. At first he pulled the photo backwards. As if he thought you were about to lunge for it again despite having failed the first time.

Shaking your head a bit more you gave him a small laugh of incredulity and asked, "You like the gear?" You could see his breaths stop for just a moment as you got just a bit closer to him. The bright, curious gaze turned dark and heated with lust and focus. He was a sight to behold, you had to admit. Every muscle was seemingly tense with anticipation right now. John was an apex predator, and his main course…you.

That heated look never failed to turn you into a puddle of need at his feet. When he finally hummed an affirmative to your question you leaned back against the table with an inviting smile in response. His hand reached out for you but you caught his wrist in a quick grip and your other hand shot out to snatch the photo away from him before you danced out of his reach. A deep sound came from his chest, another low humming noise that rumbled like thunder from him. Holy fuck that was hot…

Apparently you'd said that out loud because in the next moment he was chuckling a bit and shot back a quick, "So is that picture. Now bring it back over here, or I’m going to come and get it myself." When you hesitated John stepped closer again and you hurriedly hid it, as if he wasn't watching every move you made, in your back pocket. Blue eyes narrowed in feigned annoyance with your actions, his brows lowering to cast a shadow over those now dark depths.

An innocent look overtook your face as you blinked up at him, tilting your head, the inside corners of your brows lifting, while your lips parted slightly in an ‘o’ shape. He took notice of that feigned innocence, and ignorance, as you shook your head in confusion, "What photo, Angel?" Was that a flash of amusement? He wasn't flustered this time when you used the pet name. Instead he seemed amused, probably enjoying your amazing acting at playing the innocent young man. Though you both knew that you were anything but innocent now.

Another step forward and John was near arm's length now, even as you took a step back and your knees hit the bed. The Brit still looked almost amused though it was becoming shrouded by his gaze which was heated with something much more primal now. A prickle of nerves ran up your spine at that look, and you had to force down the nervous smile. His deep, gravelly voice spoke up finally, "You're playing innocent with me? Might want to rethink that one, I know what you like for me to call you when I'm fucking you rough, sweetheart." Now that had your face flushing, warmth tingling every nerve ending now.

Your brows were nearly in your hairline at that statement though. There was no keeping your cool when it came to John. He could turn you into a mess with a few simple words. Especially when he had a look like the one he had right now. The pampering was over it would seem. He knew what he wanted and he was going to take it, and it wasn’t hard to see that you wanted him to do it. God, when did you not want him to do it. He could fuck you over a fallen tree in the middle of the woods and you’d be more than happy to go along with it. Fuck it.

You pulled the photo out of your back pocket then, looking down at it in your hand for a moment. Holding out the photo towards him with a tantalizing wave of the object you gave him a poorly suppressed smile and answered, “Take it then.” Those blue eyes narrowed just a bit and then his hand shot forward. You pulled yours back, his fingers wrapping around only thin air this time. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip even as you smiled and gave a short, suppressed chuckle. Oh you were gonna pay for this so good…

In the next moment though, everything turned into a blur of motion. John sprung forward, his strong arms wrapping around your waist trapping you against him and at the same moment you heard a chair fall over as Cerberus lunged out from under the table with blinding speed. Your eyes went wide as you watched the Dutchie open his maw as he was about to take hold.

Cerberus was about to tear John a new one as he perceived a threat in the actions. Friend or not he would protect you from all dangers, both seen and unseen. “NEIN!” Your voice rose to a shout just before those jaws snapped shut on what you knew were thickly muscled thighs and ass cheeks. A string of whines came from the dog in response as he immediately paced nervously back and forth the moment he heard your command.

John whirled around in surprise to look at the dog, the arms he’d wrapped around your waist releasing you in a heartbeat. His blue eyes were wide as he glanced at you with seemingly just as many nerves as the big Dutchie was currently displaying. Both of them glanced at one another and then towards you, neither really understanding what had just happened. “Shit…I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d do that.” Price’s wide eyes found you as you saw the calm slowly wash over him, hiding his nervous expression behind that carefully crafted persona of The Captain Price he always wore. For a moment it had been down, that strong, nearly unbreakable wall had cracked to let you see the softer man beneath. He had feared those strong, unrelenting jaws just as any man did.

Your own gaze was full of worry now though as you sat back on the bed and forced calmness into your tone as well as your expression before you said, “Hier, Cerberus.” The Dutchie’s ears were pinned back to his head, whines still escaping him as he pressed himself between your thighs. Cerberus had not been playing though, there were no sneezes or perked up ears. His tail was tucked, his ears were pinned, and he was panting nervously as he found comfort in your warm and familiar touch. The Dutch Shepherd knew that he had incorrectly evaluated the situation and to have heard such a loud negative command come from your mouth was almost as if you had struck him with your fist.

Cerberus hid his face between your thighs as you worked to calm him down, John watching on quietly with his inspecting gaze. Finally though the brunette asked, "He thought I was going to hurt you, didn't he?" A slow nod was your only confirmation as one of your palms rested on the top of the Dutchie's head and the other between his shoulder blades. You didn't pet or coo at him, he didn't need to be coddled. The only thing he needed right now was to know you weren't angry, he needed his confidence to be restored and that could be achieved without praising an incorrect response. So you merely sat there on John's bed quietly, even as the Brit took a seat beside you.

"Is he ok?" That deliciously worried voice asked, shit he even cared about your dog. You were both in far too deep with one another now. Slowly you gave John another nod of affirmation. The whining had stopped as well as the panting. Cerberus had fallen silent once more as he looked up at you, ears still pinned back before he glanced away towards John. That big head tilted, his eyes filled with so much confusion it was akin to the confusion you’d see on a child’s face when they were being reprimanded for doing something they didn’t quite understand.

Catching the dog's attention with a single light click of your tongue against the roof of your mouth had his ears perked up. Cerberus was visibly at attention now, tense and awaiting your command. With a sigh you kept your eyes on the dog but spoke to John with that calm tone, "You have no idea how close you just came to losing an ass cheek." The man beside you seemed to stiffen but you didn't know if it was from trying to hold in his amusement or from his surprise at your statement.

A few quiet moments and then you said sharply, "Sitz." The dog's butt hit the ground in a heartbeat and you awarded him with a soft smile. At first you weren't sure how to proceed, how to correct the behavior. You'd never had to do that before. No dog had ever gone after someone you were about to have sex with so this was new territory. It vexed you for more than a few moments as you watched Cerberus with an even neutral look. Even while you were confused it was imperative he didn't know that, he needed to have confidence in you and your decisions.

Finally you turned that even gaze on John and held out a hand to him, "Remember how I introduced you the first time?" John gave a single nod that he did in fact remember before you held your hand out, palm facing up. "Well then let me see your hand again. He's gotta learn, and he's gotta remember this time, not to go after you without being instructed. No matter the situation." The look on the Brit's was far past skeptical now. He made it very clear that he didn't like it by the furrowing of those dark brows and hard set line of his mouth.

It didn't seem like he wanted to relent on this. Maybe some gentle and sweet coaxing would do the trick. Dropping your hand to your thigh you tilted your head and leaned towards him a bit, smirking at his obvious hesitation. His heated gaze from a few moments ago was gone though. He was ice cold now with a steeled look as you asked, "You don't trust me? You've already done it once, what's one more time?"

John gave a stubborn harrumph before he answered, "I trust you…But it didn't stick last time though, what makes you think it'll stick this time?" He turned a cautious look towards the big Dutchie sitting on the floor. Your smirk turned a little more into a warm smile then, Cerberus eyeing John and vice versa. It was an amusing sight to be quite honest. The two seemingly were at odds when it came to you, especially at this very moment.

You shifted back on the bed, drawing both of their eyes to your movements as you slid behind John. He tensed a bit as you did, your chin resting on his shoulder as you settled against him, your chest flush with his back. Those blue eyes turned to find you for just a moment, considering your closeness with restrained interest. Your arms were wrapped around him from behind with your fingers laced together, your palms pressing against the strong planes of his stomach. When you shifted against him his eyebrows raised, unable to hide the quick intake of breath that was just shy of a gasp.

Slow and steady wins the race with this one it would seem. You had a horse like that once. A snort almost left you at that thought, especially when it occurred to you that you still had a horse like that. Just a bit taller than you with blue eyes, brunette hair, and the nicest beard to run your hands through. Wait Speck, hold on, back it up. You had a job to do. Gotta keep John from losing one of those perfectly rounded butt cheeks you loved to look at so much. Otherwise Cerberus might just take it off the next time when he inevitably went at him faster the next time.

Your fingers released one another, one hand sliding up his side, running over the t-shirt slowly as you felt his intercostal muscles in their ridged fashion just beneath the fabric. His arm raised instinctively then, providing your hand more room to explore as you tilted your face down to press a gentle kiss against the peak of his shoulder. John hummed appreciatively as slowly your fingers traced along the underside of his upper arm. Skimming over his bicep and then his tricep before continuing their slow path down to his forearm. The short dark hairs of his arms caught against your calloused fingers before you wrapped them around his wrist and turned his hand over slowly.

Until then he had been fairly oblivious to what you were doing, distracted by the slow and distracting ministrations of your hands. The second he realized though John tensed and narrowed those blue eyes at you over his shoulder. You held that same calm look though, despite the little jump in your heart when he leveled that gaze at you. Pressing another kiss to his shoulder you whispered with an even tone to him, "Trust me, Angel. I've got you." He melted back against you the second you said that little pet name and you cupped the back of his hand in your palm as you leaned him forward on the bed.

Cerberus, who had been sitting patiently at the edge of the bed while you coaxed John into doing this once more, was already leaning forward himself. The big, black head tilted before you said in a louder, but still calm, voice, "Duft." His long muzzle pressed immediately into Price's palm, sniffing for a few moments before he gave the man a few cautious licks. John couldn't have cared less about the dog though, he was still watching you.

Deep blue eyes leveled at where you were, just behind him in his peripheral view and tantalizingly just out of sight. He could feel you shifting behind him now, your hips occasionally sliding against where they were settled against his backside. There was a red tint to his face now and he didn't seem to give two shits about what Cerberus was doing until you whispered, "Gotta look at him, John. He knows you're not paying attention."

Silence prevailed for a few long moments, his beard twitching around the corners of his mouth before he rumbled out, "I'm paying plenty of attention, love." You smiled a bit before you leaned towards his cheek and pressed your lips just behind his ear. Satisfaction vibrated through him in what had to have been a purr, you’d have sworn it in front of your momma.

You shook your head and answered him quickly though, forcing yourself to stay focused now that John was a lost cause, “Not enough attention. Look at him, not at me, alright?” The brunette was pressing back into your chest now, leaning his cheek closer to yours so you could feel the scratch of his beard against your skin. Great, you’d given him just a bit too much and now he couldn’t pay attention to a damn thing you were saying. This man’s head was in the clouds and if it wasn't for the fact you were so focused on correcting Cerberus you probably would have been just as out of it.

However you had a job to do. You were forward focused on the task at hand. At least until his free hand drifted from where it had been over the back of yours still pressed against his stomach. You felt his fingertips graze over your knee before sliding up the length of your thigh. Oh he was on a warpath today. “Again? Really?” The corners of his mouth raised in amusement as he shifted the swell of his backside against your clothed member.

His fingers dug into the flesh of your hip behind him as he answered you, “As if you weren’t just begging me for it five minutes ago.” John pulled his other hand out of your grip, away from Cerberus’ sniffing nose as he started to turn on you. There wasn’t exactly anywhere else to go though, your back had already been pressed between him and the wall as he found your eyes. That burning desire was back as he edged closer to your lips, sitting sideways on the bed with your legs still framing his body. “Besides I can’t get enough of you, sweetheart.”

John pressed closer, the tip of his nose grazing against your skin as he added with a whisper, “Can’t stop thinking about you.” His beard was tickling your lips now, barely any distance now between the two of you but he wouldn’t close it. Just sat there watching your eyes, waiting for something. What was it he was waiting for? He seemed to know pretty well what he wanted so what could he possibly be waiting for you to do?

Too many questions and this was taking too damn long. He could make requests another time. Rather than wait for him you closed the distance. And the second you pressed your lips to his something started beeping. An angry growl came from deep in his chest as he pulled away. It wasn't anger with you, it was anger for yet another interruption. Yall were always getting interrupted. Every fucking time. He pulled his hands away from your already burning skin to fish around in his pockets until he pulled out his phone. Though even as the beeping continued the screen stayed dark.

Now not only was John angry he was confused as well. To be quite honest, so were you and you couldn't blame him. Confusion controlled your expression as you watched the phone stay stubbornly dark all the while the beeping continued. Until finally it cut off and both you and John glanced at each other until he muttered under his breath, "What the fuck?" You huffed in forced amusement and shook your head, obviously agreeing with that short synopsis of what had just occurred.

However you still had many other things on your mind after you had seen his obvious desire twice now. So, rather than let your thoughts run rampant about the ghostly beeping in Captain Price's bunkhouse you focused back on what you had been doing before it started. Taking his phone from his hand you tossed it on the small table beside the bed. He watched with a smug smile, his brows raised before you grabbed his hand and whispered, "Shut up." John let out a light chuckle as he turned a bit further on the bed towards you.

Your fingers wrapped into the collar of his shirt pulling him towards you. His hands braced on either side of you, caging you in with those strong arms. Impossibly large thighs were settled underneath one of yours causing your knee to hitch up just a bit as he stopped you from pulling him all the way. The brunette's head shook slowly, his lips just out of reach as he continued to give you that smug smile. "Eager now, aren't you?" Fingers grazed over your hip where your shirt had risen up just a bit. Shifting closer to him he pulled his lips away from yours again, keeping them just out of your reach. John's head shook once more as he stated simply, seemingly unbothered by that needy look on your face, "I asked you a question. Don't make me ask again…" His words trailed off, and every single word from him lit a fresh fire in your nerves.

A soft hum left your throat before you managed to get out, "Sorry. I just, I need you. Please," the Brit tilted his mouth towards you before he nodded and leaned forward finally. Letting you have the small satisfaction of his teasing mouth against your own. It was a bandaid for the burning of what felt like your very soul whenever he was near. John could consume you just by being in the same room as you, and it didn't matter whether he was even paying you any attention. It was a deep-seated need for him that seemed to drive every thought and decision you'd made lately.

Not even the burning shame could stop you from wanting this man. His beard no longer prickled against the sensitive skin of your face as much now, your own growing beard providing a little barrier of protection against the beard burn. Still though you could feel the familiar tickle of it against you. Smiling, you leaned further into the slow kiss. John shifted against you turning to face you completely now, his knees finding the bed and his hips settling between your thighs. He was rutting against you through the fabric that kept you from one another.

Your head was craned painfully against the wall but it didn't matter, not right now. Not while John was so close, and especially not when it was him pressing you back into it. Slowly you released his shirt from your strong grasp, sliding your fingers down the front of his chest and then his stomach, scratching his skin through the thick fabric that separated you from the skin beneath. Stopping at the waistband of his jeans you hooked two fingers into them, feeling him buck into you. As he did you could feel his awakening erection just below the fabric and it only fueled your own interested member.

Humming against your mouth he finally pulled his lips from yours, smiling down at you as your hips pushed up to return the favor of the friction against him. His tongue swiped out to wet his lips before he leaned down again, bypassing your lips and headed straight for your ear. Lips pressed against the shell before finding their way down to suck at the lobe of your ear for just a moment before he finally whispered, "Want me to fuck you then, love? Want me to fuck you rough?" Christ his voice vibrated your ear drums just right, driving you wild just through simply asking you a question, it didn’t even matter how dirty his words were.

You arched into him and nodded a few quick times, his lips now suckling at the skin just behind your ear. His teeth nibbling at you like you were a tasty treat he was savoring and you could feel him smile against you. Shit answer him, he's gonna stop, open your mouth and say something. It took you almost too long, you could feel him slowing down, about to pull away again to reprimand you somehow before you finally managed to whisper, "Yes. Fuck me. Please fuck me, rough and dirty. You know how I like it," his tongue darted out to soothe a harder bite against your neck before he nodded slowly. His breath whispering over the sensitive skin that was just above your pounding pulse, goosebumps rising along the skin in response.

"Want me to make you beg? Fuck you like you're my whore, eh?" God yes, yes you did. That's all you could think about. Please, yes. Your desperate nods and the pleading sounds from your throat seemed to satisfy him as he continued to kiss and suckle at your neck for a few more tension building moments. And then he pulled away so suddenly your eyes widened in surprise as you found his hard, blue gaze. His chin jerked towards the head of the bed then as he slid back and off the bed, "Not fucking you against a wall…Not today anyway. Get up there, hurry up." Your groan of annoyance had the hands he'd started to use to unbuckle his belt stalling before he got it undone. "You got a problem with that? Got a problem with doing what you're told?"

Immediately you shook your head, voice springing from your throat just as quick, "No!" His dark brows had furrowed by now, staring at you with that same hard look before you repeated, "No, no problem at all." John's jaw tensed before he gestured with a jerk of his chin to the head of the bed again as his fingers resumed undoing the buckle of his belt again. Sliding hurriedly up the bed you laid on your back, starting to work on your own belt, button, and zipper.

John didn't give you the chance to even start pushing the pants down your thighs before he was moving back onto the bed. One of his hands grabbed your wrists tossing them to the side before he had you by the waist and was flipping you over onto your stomach. The man was jerking you around as if you weighed nothing. Like you were as light as a feather. As hot as that was he didn't stop there though.

Strong hands gripped your hips pulling them up until you felt his cock rutting against your still clothed ass. Glancing back at him you could see he hadn't even bothered to shove his pants and underwear down either. The pants were still hanging around his hips as he leaned down, snaking a hand around to your front. His fingers worked quickly on your button and zipper, his other hand still guiding his leaking cock over the fabric of your jeans. The man didn't even look at you, focused on his own needs right now and it just felt so much more dirty than anything you'd ever done with him. Why was it so hot to be about to fuck with all your clothes on?

It was because you knew, even if neither of you were saying it, that he was about to use you, wreck you, with little regard for your own needs. And Christ if getting used by someone didn't make your erection throb something harsh. The jeans scratched harshly against your skin as John shoved them down, just barely enough so that he could see your entire backside. The familiar feel of his length sliding between your ass cheeks had you turning your face back into where your forearms were braced in front of you, a soft hum escaping your lips.

Just as you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance the both of you froze, hearing it again. That insidious beeping that was quickly becoming your nemesis even more so than all the keypads scattered around this base for which you had no code. Pushing yourself up off your elbows you glanced towards John's phone, your brows furrowing as the screen was still dark. Still you grabbed it, pressing the button on the side to light up the screen just in case but it was just a regular old screensaver. "What the hell is going on?" John voiced yalls question before you even had a chance.

Blue hues darted around the room, his eyes following his ears as you both tried to find the source of the interrupting beeping now. When he glanced down at you he growled out quickly, "It's coming from you. What the fuck, Speck?" His frustrated look turned a bit softer when he saw the clear confusion in your eyes. It was clear to see you had no idea what the fuck was going on anymore, your head was in the clouds.

Shrugging your shoulders you muttered, "It is?" Sitting back on your heels you patted your chest before moving your hands lower quickly until you hit your pocket. Your eyes widened as you let out a few quick curses and dug into your pocket. Pulling out the phone Wade had given you, your eyes went wide at the caller ID on the phone. 'Laswell.' You blinked blankly at the screen for a heartbeat before you slowly slid the answer button and held the phone up to your ear, "Hello?" John huffed behind you his forehead falling forward to land on your shoulder. His frustration was obvious right now, and he wasn’t happy in the slightest.

You'd honestly forgotten about Wade giving it to you, and you wished you'd just left it in your bunkhouse now. The woman's voice sounded on the other end of the line though as she said rather blatantly, "I need you to come in for the interrogation of the mother and son. They don't speak English and you already have a history with them. We're losing too much time now. Al-Mustafa could move at any point. Meet me at the interrogation room in five minutes." She didn't even give you a chance to say anything before she hung up the phone.

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the-badger-mole · 1 year

Text

Hallmarks of the Season: Part 6

"Zuko!" Katara launched herself into her fiancé's arms before she even realized she'd moved. Zuko was taken by surprise, but he recovered enough to pull her into a tight embrace. Katara buried her face in the crook of Zuko's neck and took in a deep breath. She was shaking and a moment later, Zuko realized she was crying.

"What's wrong?" he asked, horrified. "What happened? Are you hurt?" Katara shook her head and wiped her tears away hurriedly. Zuko fished a handkerchief from the pocket of his leather jacket- because of course he had a handkerchief with his casual clothes- and pressed it into Katara's hand.

"I just had an awful day," she told him. Zuko pulled her into a hug again and rubbed her back.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair. "What happened?"

"You didn't call me back," Katara choked out a wet laugh. "It's always a bad day when I don't hear from you." Zuko drew back and searched her face for a sign that she was joking.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I got done sooner than I thought I would, so I moved my flight up. I was going to tell you, but Haru thought a surprise would be more romantic, and-and its sounded like a good idea at the time..."

"Remind me to have a few words with Haru," Katara laughed again.

"I'm really sorry." Zuko pressed his forehead against Katara's. She shut her eyes and took in a deep breath.

"It's fine," she said. "This was a wonderful surprise. Just...don't go radio silent me? You didn't have to say you were coming, but I tried to call and you weren't responding to my texts."

"Never again," Zuko swore. He leaned in to kiss Katara, but she flinched away. Zuko's brow drew down, confused and hurt. An apology was already on Katara's tongue when the door of the house swung open to reveal Katara's family watching the couple with wide grins.

"Zuko!" Hakoda's deep voiced boomed out into the night. "Great to see you again."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Zuko was swept into the house in a flurry of laughs, loud welcomes, and jarring hugs. Kanna had arrived sometime while Katara was out, and she needed to be introduced in person. Sesi watched everything from between the banister rails. When Zuko smiled and waved at her, she waved back with a loud giggle and rushed upstairs to her room. Sokka shrugged at Zuko.

"She's pretending to be shy now," he joked. "Give her a couple of hours, and she'll decide you're her new best friend

Sokka, of all people, was the one to remember that they had someplace to be. When he announced that it was almost time to leave, and extended the invitation to Zuko, Katara's heart leapt into her throat.

"Zuko just had a really long flight," Katara reminded her brother. "Maybe we should reschedule."

"No way!" Sokka protested. "Su-I mean, everyone had to rearrange their schedules for tonight. I thought you were all anxious to drag Zuko around to everyone we know."

"I will!" Katara said, folding her arms. "But how about we let Zuko get settled first? He must be tired."

"I'm fine, actually," Zuko cut in. "I got some sleep on the plane. Besides, jetlag is telling my body that's it the middle of the morning still." Katara blanched. Her mind raced for a plausible excuse not to have to go to the bar that night. She had nothing.

"Alright," she relented. "Let me go get changed, then we can go." Katara fled the living room, praying that no one noticed her reluctance.

Katara grabbed fresh clothes and then went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She sank to the floor and dragged her hand through her hair. Maybe they would cancel if she said she was sick. Zuko would, she knew. The prospect of staying home and watching movies with Hakoda, Kanna and Sesi would appeal to him. Then she could get through the rest of this visit without seeing Aang again.

Sokka would ask questions, Katara reminded herself. And Zuko would notice her being evasive. Aang might not even show up. Or if he did, he would certainly not try to speak to her with Zuko there. Katara climbed to her feet and turned on the shower as hot as she could stand it. The steam had settled into a thick fog when she finally stepped into the shower, and she relished the the close feeling it gave her. She couldn't see much clearly aside from her own limbs. The water struck her skin almost painfully, but she welcomed it. She hadn't been able to get warm since she'd gotten home.

Katara got out of the shower before Sokka could start complaining about how long she was taking. When she went downstairs, her face still red from scrubbing so hard, she found Kanna and Sokka entertaining Zuko while Sesi helped Hakoda make snacks in the kitchen. The urge to just cancel the evening and stay home intensified. This had been all she'd wanted since Zuko said he'd join her family for the holidays. Sokka, though, was anxious to get going. In spite of herself, Katara was amused. Sokka had put on the best of his casual clothes. He was wearing a deep blue turtleneck sweater that played up his lighter blue eyes and warm brown skin. He was trying very hard to look good, and Katara was certain he wasn't trying to impress Toph or Zuko.

Not that Katara could claim her choice of clothes was completely coincidental. She was wearing a red blouse. Zuko had told her a few times that red was his favorite color on her. The way his eyes lingered on her as she walked down the stairs made her feel justified in her choice.

"You look pretty," Sesi said when she saw Katara.

"Very," Zuko concurred. Katara blushed and bit her lips to keep from grinning like an idiot. Still, Hakoda, Sokka and Kanna exchanged amused glances.

Zuko's reservation at the inn in town wasn't able to be moved up a day. He would be staying at Hakoda's house on the couch.

"I'll have a bigger bed in the guest room the next time you visit," Hakoda promised him apologetically.

"It's fine," Zuko assured him. "I did a lot of traveling volunteer work when I was in college. I've had a lot rougher sleeping arrangements than a comfortable couch in a nice home." Kanna sidled up to Katara and nudged her in her ribs.

"I like him," she whispered to her granddaughter. Katara grinned at Kanna and nodded.

"Me, too."

Sokka drove them to Toph's barcade. The Bind Bandit was only two years old, but it had become a staple among the young adults of the town. That evening the place was packed, but Toph had reserved a private booth for her friends. She was already waiting with Suki when Katara, Sokka and Zuko arrived.

"Hi!" Suki greeted them with a friendly wave. Then she turned to Toph and informed her of the trio's arrival.

"You don't have to give me a running commentary," she told Suki with a sardonic grin. "I can figure stuff out by context."

"Sorry," Suki apologized sheepishly. Toph's grin widened and turned mischievous.

"Oh, you're going to be fun to mess with," she said. "I can tell already."

"She's blind," Katara whispered to Zuko. "And she loves teasing people about it." Zuko nodded, then stepped forward.

"Hi," he greeted the women. "I'm Zuko." Then he stuck his hand out to Toph and waited a beat.

"Did he just put his hand out for me to shake?" Toph asked drily. Zuko, realizing his mistake, immediately shoved his hand into his pocket as the group erupted into laughter. Zuko even managed an embarrassed chuckle.

"Sorry," he said. "Force of habit." Toph grinned wolfishly and turned in Katara and Sokka's direction.

"Yeah," she said. "Tonight is going to be lots of fun." Then Toph clapped her hands and rubbed them together. "Alright, folks. Here's what's going to happen. You're my guest tonight to food, drinks and games are on me. Go bananas!"

"Alright, Toph!" Sokka cheered. "Suki, you have to try the banh mi sliders."

"That sounds good," Suki said. "I was looking a the fried cheese sticks earlier."

"Go up and tell the bar tender what you want," Toph said. "Tell them is for the boss's table."

Sokka and Suki volunteered to put in the orders for everyone and bring back some starter drinks. They were gone before Zuko could volunteer to help Sokka instead. Katara poked him in his side lightly and shook her head. Zuko's face lit up in understanding, and he winked at Katara. She let out a snort of laughter.

"It's so much fun when people have silent conversations around me," Toph drawled sarcastically.

"Sorry, that was rude," Zuko said, sliding into the booth behind Katara.

"I was just letting Zuko in on the little seeds of romance being planted," Katara told Toph.

"Those two?" Toph cocked her head towards the empty seats. "Yeah...I could see it. Suki's super into him."

"She said so?" Katara asked, her eyes widening in excitement.

"Not in words," Toph said. "But it's pretty obvious. She came in asking for his party and she kept casually bringing him up. I like her. Ex-military and she runs a martial arts studio, so you know she's no wimp."

"Sesi loves her, too," Katara said. She leaned into Zuko. "I really hope this works out. Losing Yue was rough on him. He hasn't been out with anyone since."

"Shh!" Toph nudged Katara. "They're coming back." Zuko turned and saw Suki and Sokka coming back carrying pitchers and a tray of shots. He turned back to Toph with a bewildered look on his face.

"How did you-?"

"I have my ways." Toph grinned, fixing her unnervingly sharp, sightless eyes on him. Zuko looked down at Katara, who just shrugged.

"You'll get used to it," she assured him.

Sokka placed two full pitchers, one beer, one soda on the table and stepped back to let Suki set her tray down.

"They're going to bring the food to the table," he said. "In the meantime, I think it's time to toast and get toasted."

"Hey, big brother," Katara reached over and pulled the tray of shots away from Sokka. "Did you forget you're our designated driver tonight?"Sokka's face fell instantly.

"Rookie mistake," Toph clicked her tongue. "You should've taken a cab."

"What if we leave the car here and take a cab home?" Sokka suggested.

"I'm not running a parking garage."

"Come on!" Sokka pleaded. "I never get to do stuff like this anymore." Toph thought for a moment, then a slow smile spread over her face.

"Alright," she agreed at last. "I'll let you leave your car here. Both out of the goodness of my heart, and because Sesi isn't going to understand that you have a hangover." Sokka blanched at that. He looked from the beer to the shots to the soda.

"Maybe..." he cleared his throat nervously. "Maybe I should get us a round of water. Just to stay hydrated." He hurried back to the bar, chased by the sounds of his friends laughing.

"So, Zuko," Toph turned towards him. "I already got the low down on Suki, here. Tell me about you."

"Well..." Zuko glanced around nervously and shrugged. "I'm not really sure where to start."

"Katara said you two met in Ba Sing Se?" Suki offered. "Were you born there?"

"No, actually," Zuko said. "I'm from Caldera. I moved to Ba Sing Se about ten years ago."

"Wait," Toph cut in. "Caldera? You're Zuko Kaji? As in The Kajis? As in the Sozin Inc. Kajis?" Zuko's face flushed a bright red.

"I haven't been associated with Sozin Inc in a long time," he said. "But yes, that's my father's company." Toph shook her head and let out a low whistle.

"I've met your dad," she told him. Zuko raised his brow expectantly. "He sucks." Suki choked on her soda

"Yeah, he does," Zuko snorted. "How do you know him?"

"My parents run a cyber security firm," Toph said. "They have a contract with Sozin."

"Oh!" Recognition dawned on Zuko. "You're a Bei Fong. Small world."

"Microscopic."

"Toph, I told you ages ago that Zuko was from Caldera," Katara reminded her friend. Toph just shrugged.

"I didn't put two and two together," she said. "I've heard about you. You stood up to your dad when he wanted to lay off a bunch of people to pay for a shinny new headquarters, then left the family business to do your own thing and took a lot of the people who'd been laid off with you. I'm impressed. That took guts."

"You did?" Suki asked. "That's really cool."

"Zuko's the most selfless CEO I've ever met," Katara said, beaming at him proudly.

"It wasn't all that," Zuko grumbled, drawing his shoulders up to his ears.

"And he's modest, too," Katara laughed. Zuko leaned in to kiss her, but Katara turned away at the last moment. Sokka returned with the water, distracting everyone. He set the pitcher down and looked around the table in confusion.

"Aang still hasn't shown up?" He checked his watch and frowned. "What's keeping him? Did he say he was going to be late when you stopped by his shop?" Katara could feel her cheeks heat up with consciousness. She shook her head uncertainly.

"Maybe he changed his mind about coming tonight." Sokka shrugged. "Still, you think he'd call or something." Katara made a noncommittal sound and poured a cup of beer.

"Why don't we grab a game or something?" Katara suggested.

"Not that one with the song lyrics," Toph said. "I cannot listen to Sokka's off-key butchering of whatever song he half remembered from the top 40 chart." Suki slid out to let Katara out. Zuko hurried after her. They passed a row of noisy arcade games to the wall of board games in silence.

"We need to pick something that Toph can play," Katara explained. "There are games with braille on them in that corner."

"Are you okay?" Zuko asked suddenly. Katara froze and turned to him with wide eyes.

"What do you mean?" She busied herself looking for a game. Zuko caught her hands and guided her around to face him, but Katara kept her eyes on their intertwined hands. She ran her thumb over his knuckles absently.

"You've been off all evening," he said. "Are you mad at me?" Now Katara met his eyes with a gasp.

"I'm not mad at you," she told him.

"You keep pulling away from me when I try to kiss you," Zuko pointed out. "You only do that when you're upset with me." Katara blinked hard against tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes.

"It's not you," she assured him. "I'm not mad at you. I just...I don't want to talk about it here."

"Did you want to stay home tonight?" Zuko asked. "I can tell everyone the jetlag caught up with me, and we can get out of here." Katara took a deep breath and hugged Zuko tight.

"I'm okay," she said firmly. "I want you to get to know my friends." Zuko hesitated, rubbing circles between Katara's shoulders.

"Alright," he said at last. "But let me know if you change your mind about leaving." Katara smiled into his chest.

"I'm sorry I made you think I'm mad at you," she murmured. "You haven't done anything wrong. You're wonderful."

"That's good to hear." Zuko pulled away and gave Katara one last concerned look over. Then he took her hand and brought it to his lips. Katara allowed him to press a quick kiss to her knuckles. Zuko started to lead the way back to the table, but Katara stopped him.

"We're supposed to be picking games," she said with feigned exasperation. They grabbed a trivia game, a comparison card game, and a block stacking game. This last one Zuko looked at with uncertainty.

"Toph is scary good at this game," Katara told him. "You'll see."

Katara was recounting one particularly epic game night when she and her friends were in high school, where Toph managed to pull the last brick from a row without toppling the precarious stack of blocks above it.

"To this day, no one can figure out how she did it," Katara said as the rounded the corner to the table.

"Hey, look to finally decided to join us," Sokka said, gesturing at the other end of the table. Katara's heart stopped, knowing exactly what was about to happen. Aang popped his head from around the booth and smiled at Katara.

"...hi," Katara said awkwardly. She cleared her throat and glanced around awkwardly and set the games she had been carrying on the table. "Um...Aang, this is Zuko, my fiancé. Zuko, this is Aang..."

"Hi," Zuko greeted him. "Great to meet another friend of Katara's."

"Yeah," Aang laughed. "I mean we were a little more than friends at one point." That statement landed with a thud. Zuko's smile faded a bit and Katara was sure her friends could see that she wanted the ground to swallow her. Thankfully, Toph saved the moment.

"Oh, please," she snorted loudly. "You dated her for two months in high school. That's a very little more than friends." Sokka and Suki laughed a bit too hard at that. Two angry splotches of red colored Aang's cheeks, but he slid out to let Katara into the booth. He started to sit beside her, but Katara grabbed Zuko's hand yanked him in behind her, nearly knocking Aang over in the process.

"Sorry about that," Zuko said in a way that seemed...less than apologetic. An awkward silence settled over the table. This time Suki stepped in to break the tension.

"So, what games did we get?" she asked. "And can we turn them into drinking games?"

"We got the tower game," Katara said, grinning at Sokka and Toph. "How about whoever knocks the tower down takes a shot." Sokka inhaled sharply.

"Slow down!" he said. "My liver can only take so much abuse."

"If we're going to do this, we'll need more than a round of shots," Toph said. She stood up and headed towards the bar. She came back a moment later with a full bottle of soju.

"You're trying to kill me," Sokka groaned.

"I thought you wanted to get toasted," Toph said innocently.

"Toasted," Sokka repeated as he took the blocks out of the box. "Not black out drunk. That's okay, though. I've been playing this game with Sesi for years now. I've gotten a lot better."

"Make sure you eat plenty," Katara said, pushing the plate of banh mi sliders and barbeque wings towards her brother.

"Did you guys order anything without meat?" Aang asked crossly, looking at the greasy meat sandwiches on the table.

"We have fried cheese sticks and onion rings coming," Sokka told him.

"Great..." Aang folded his arms and scowled. "That'll fill me right up."

"Simmer down, Aang," Toph said. "I have a whole vegetarian menu. Go order whatever you want. It's on the house tonight."

"It would have been nice if someone had thought to order something for me," he grumbled, climbing reluctantly to his feet.

"Well, maybe if you had shown up on time, you could have asked," Toph retorted, unsympathetically. "Stop whining and go get your food." Aang snorted irritably and went up to the bar to put in his order.

"What's his deal?" Sokka asked, scrunching up his nose.

"No idea," Toph said. "But if he doesn't snap out of it, I'm going to make him go stand in the corner." That got a laugh from the table.

Aang managed to find a better attitude by the time he returned to the table. He poured himself a shot from the soju bottle when he sat down. Once the game started, he took another shot, and he seemed to even be back to his normal cheerful self. He chattered on about memories from high school, and cracked his friends up with anecdotes from his misadventures over the years before he returned to his hometown. He even made an effort to get to know Suki, and not so subtly talk up Sokka in their conversation. To Katara he said little directly. To Zuko even less. As the evening went on, the slight was becoming more noticeable. Katara did her best to keep Zuko from realizing by keeping him involved in discussions with everyone else and encouraging her friends to ask him questions. Aang would huff and sigh and then turn the conversation in a different direction. At one point, Sokka stood up and announced it was time for another round of drinks.

"Aang, come help me," he said after he'd gotten everyone's orders. Aang agreed after a moments hesitation and slid out of the booth. With them gone, the conversation migrated around to Katara and Zuko's engagement and wedding plans.

"We haven't settled on a date yet," Katara was telling Suki and Toph when Sokka and Aang returned. "I think I'd like a spring wedding, though."

"I don't have a preference," Zuko said with a shrug. "But, I don't really want a long engagement."

"Gran-Gran said the same thing," Katara told him with a wide smile.

"What's the matter Zuko?" Aang asked, addressing Zuko directly for the first time. He reached across the table to grab his drink from the tray. "Afraid she'll change her mind?" Aang gave him an exaggerated wink and nudged him just slightly too hard in the ribs.

"Not at all," Zuko replied gamely. "I just don't want to wait too long to be able to call her my wife." Suki, and to everyone's surprise, Toph cooed at that.

"That's really sweet," Suki said. "I'd love to find someone who feels that way about me, someday." Sokka choked a bit on his drink at that.

"Are you alright?" Katara asked. Sokka was flustered, but he nodded yes and ran a hand through his hair.

"Whiskey just went down the wrong pipe," he said. Katara caught his eye and wriggled her brows at him. Sokka shot her a dirty glare and then pointedly looked away from her, but Katara was not to be deterred.

"You know, Sokka here is great at that dance game," she said.

"Really?" Suki asked, turning to Sokka. "I love that game."

"Oh...?" was Sokka's intelligent reply. "That's cool. A-are you any good at it?" Suki's mouth turned up into a smirk.

"Well, I was three time champ at my barracks," she told him. "I'd say I'm pretty good."

"Impressive..." Sokka cleared his throat and took another swallow of his drink. "Would you be up to a friendly match?" Katara could have cheered for her brother, but she settled for bumping her shoulder against Zuko's in excitement. Suki accepted the challenge and they ran off to the game. They didn't ask for an audience and no one offered to go with them. Katara and Toph joked and laughed a bit over the situation, and made predictions about how long it would be before Sokka and Suki were dating. Katara was going to suggest going over to peek at how the contest was going, when a server rushed up to the table, looking nervous.

"Um...Ms. Bei Fong," the jumpy young man gave a slight bow.

"I'm not working tonight," Toph told him.

"I-I know," the server stammered. "But...there's a situation in the kitchen."

"Whatever it is, you guys can handle it." Toph folded her arms stubbornly. The server shifted nervously on his feet, unsure of what to do.

"Okay," he said at last. "We'll try, but...the fire extinguisher is missing." Toph froze for a beat and then growled in irritation as she dragged herself from her seat at the middle of the circular booth.

"Honestly, what do I even pay a kitchen manager for?" she muttered. The server gave Toph his elbow and guided her back towards the kitchen. Zuko watched her go in alarm.

"Should we start making our way out of here?" he asked.

"Nah," Katara said waving off his concern. "It's probably just a little grease fire. But I do need to go to the bathroom." Zuko started to ask Aang to get up so he could let Katara out, but Katara told them to stay where they were and slid the long way out of the booth. Katara glanced back at the table, uncertain of whether to leave Zuko alone with Aang, but her bladder reminded her that she had a more pressing issue to attend to. She wouldn't be gone long anyway.

Aang was standing outside the bathroom when Katara emerged a few minutes later. She paused when she saw him, but moved aside to let him into the bathroom.

"I...um...came to speak to you, actually," he said. He swayed on his feet, and it was clear that the three shots and his drink had caught up with him. Katara glanced around nervously.

"We can talk at the table," she said.

"Please!" Aang begged. "I need to speak to you alone. It'll just take a moment. I just wanted to talk about...well earlier."

"Aang, honestly, it's fine," Katara fidgeted on her feet. "Just forget it, okay?" She started to walk away when Aang moved to block her.

"I don't want to forget it," he said. "Katara, that kiss was...amazing. I know you felt it, too." Katara's eyes widened in shock.

"I did not," she told him bluntly.

"Of course you did!" Aang insisted. "You kissed me back!"

"No, Aang, I didn't," Katara huffed in irritation. "Let's not discuss this now. You're drunk."

"You did, too!" Aang reached for her shoulders again, but Katara backed away. "I know you're confused now with him here, but you can't deny there was something in that kiss." Katara gaped up at Aang.

"Do you think that because I didn't pull away, I was kissing you back?" she hissed. "I was surprised! You started an argument with me! I had just told you that I love Zuko! How did that seem like the right time to kiss me?" Aang seemed genuinely poleaxed, which only served to further confuse Katara.

"But...earlier at the shop," he said. "You told me that you were upset because he hadn't texted you because he was too busy at work."

"Yes!" Katara shook her head. "Because I missed him! I was worried he wouldn't make it in time. What on earth would make you think I was angry enough to dump him over that?"

"He takes you for granted, Katara!" Aang stepped forward unsteadily, and Katara took a step back. "He's not good for you! Why don't you see that?" Katara glanced around again, but no one was coming down the corridor for the bathroom.

"I think I'm old enough to decide what's good for me," Katara scowled at Aang. "It's real presumptuous of you to think you can come back into my life after a decade and tell me how to live my life. I'm with Zuko. I'm going to marry him. If you're my friend, then act like it. Be happy for me!" Aang balked, and searched Katara's face for...she wasn't sure what. Uncertainty? A sign she was lying? Then after a moment, his face fell.

"So...yesterday in my office?" he asked. "Today, when you said you wanted an excuse to see me? That was nothing? You were just leading me on?"

"No," Katara scoffed and folded her arms. "Yesterday and today was me doing you a favor as a friend. I was just trying to help you with your business because I'm your friend. Me coming to see you was an an excuse to get out of the house. If you read more into it than that, then I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention." Aang shook his head in disbelief. Katara was going to attempt to push past him again, but he was quicker this time. Aang grabbed her arms at the elbows and pulled her forward.

"It wasn't nothing," he insisted, and leaned in to kiss her.

"Aang, stop!" Katara pushed against his chest and turned her head away from him. Then, suddenly, he was off her. Zuko had him pressed against the wall with his forearm braced against his collar bone like a barricade.

"She told you to stop!" he said darkly. Katara scrambled behind Zuko and clutched the hem of his sweater. Aang was startled. He blinked at Zuko owlishly and made a feeble attempt to push the less drunk and much stronger man away. For a moment, Katara thought Zuko was going to hit Aang, and she wasn't sure she would stop him. But the moment passed. Zuko took a deep breath and grabbed shoulder of Aang's shirt, dragging him out of the narrow corridor and back into the bar room. Katara was close on their heels. Sokka and Suki noticed what was happening and rushed over.

"What's going on?" Sokka demanded. He looked from Aang to Zuko to Katara and back, trying to make sense of the situation.

"He's had too much to drink," Zuko said, shaking Aang. "We need to get him a cab and send him home." Sokka turned to Katara, with a questioning look. She turned her gaze the floor and rubbed her elbow.

"He-he tried to kiss me," Katara told him. Several emotions flashed over Sokka's face before he landed on anger. He yanked Aang from Zuko's grip and shook him, which Katara was certain wasn't helping his inebriation one bit.

"Are you serious, dude?" Sokka demanded.

"I was just-" Aang tried to say. "You don't understand, Katara is supposed to be with me." Sokka let go of Aang shirt and pushed him away roughly. Aang staggered back and bumped into Zuko.

"I know where he lives," Sokka said. "I'll get him a cab." Aang resisted as best he could, but Sokka dragged him out of the bar with little trouble. Suki wrapped an arm around Katara's shoulders and guided her back towards the table.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Katara nodded her head and swallowed hard against a lump in her throat.

"No, I'm fine," she said. "He didn't hurt me or anything. He just-" Katara sank into the booth and sighed. Zuko sat beside her and took her hand. Suki looked up at the door with her lips pursed.

"I'm going to go wait with Sokka," she said. "In case something escalates." Katara wanted to tell Suki that Aang wasn't a physical threat, but she found she didn't have the energy. Then she was alone with Zuko.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Katara was going to say she was fine again, but the words wouldn't come. She took a sharp shaky breath before falling into Zuko's arms. In a scene reminiscent of his arrival earlier that evening, she cried into his shirt. Zuko murmured comfortingly and rubbed her back while Katara gathered herself.

"I'm sorry," she said when she could speak again.

"For what?" Zuko asked. "You didn't do anything wrong." Katara shook her head. She knew he was right in her head, but the guilt and shame lingered. She told Zuko what had happened earlier that day. About the first time Aang kissed her. How she hadn't pulled away because she was too surprised. Understanding dawned on Zuko's face.

"And that's why you didn't want to kiss me?" he asked.

"I just felt wrong," she confessed. "It doesn't make any sense, but I felt like kissing you after that would've been...I don't know. A betrayal or something. I know it doesn't make sense-"

"That's...normal," Zuko said. "When someone you trust does something that hurts you, it's normal to want to try to blame yourself. But, Katara, it wasn't your fault. You did something nice for Aang, and he chose to read more into it."

"You're not mad at me?" Katara asked. She curled into his side and rested her head on his shoulder.

"No," Zuko assured her. "Although, I think you shouldn't be alone with Aang anymore. I don't trust him with you." Katara let out a snort of laughter.

"Not a problem."

"Crisis averted," Toph announced as she walked up to the table. "I had to go over how to handle a grease fire to my crack team of kitchen experts." Toph felt her way to her seat. "So! What did I miss?"

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

The evening ended shortly after Sokka and Suki came back from putting Aang in a cab. Sokka was still fuming. After she had been filled in on what happened, Toph was equally as angry. She had the rest of the food they hadn't eaten packed up in to-go boxes and pressed them on Katara.

"You're always feeding people when they're in crisis," she said when Katara tried to refuse. "Let me return the favor."

Hakoda and Sesi were already asleep when Sokka, Katara and Zuko returned home. The couch had already been made up for Zuko, to everyone's relief. Sokka went up to check on Sesi, and then went to bed himself. Katara and Zuko lingered in the living room.

"I'm sorry this evening was such a mess," she said.

"I was having a great time, before that Aang guy went and ruined it." Zuko reached out and ran his fingers through the ends of Katara's hair. "I like most of your friends. I'm glad I got a chance to meet Toph and Suki." Zuko paused thoughtfully and rocked on his heels. "I was thinking... this town is pretty cool- well, what I've seen of it. Maybe we could have the wedding here?" Katara was stunned for a moment. Then she smiled.

"I think that's the best idea I've heard." She said good night and headed for the stairs. Then the paused and turned back.

"Forget something?" Zuko asked.

"Yeah," Katara nodded. She stood on her toes and kissed Zuko. "I love you."

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Thanks to a combination of the night's early end and Sokka's diligence in keeping everyone hydrated, no one woke up with an insurmountable hangover. That was fortunate because, as Toph predicted, Sesi had no concept of hangovers and was up bright and early, and ready for her day with her Auntie Tara. Katara shrugged at Zuko helplessly as Sesi prattled on excitedly about all the fun things she and her aunt were going to do that day.

"I didn't know you'd be here," Katara told him. "And I did promise Sesi."

"You can come with us, Uncle Zuko!" Sesi suggested. Zuko preened at his official title, and he seemed to be ready to take her up on her offer, but Hakoda clasped his shoulder.

"Actually," he cut in, "I think this is the perfect chance for you and I to get to know each other better. It's a father-son tradition to crack open a couple of beers and watch the game. What do you say, Zuko? Want to join Sokka and I?"

"I-I'd love to," Zuko seemed genuinely moved.

The doorbell rang as the family was making final arrangements. Sokka got to it first and was greeted by a large platter of baked goods. He looked up from the tray to the owner, and his face lit up.

"Suki!"

"Hi," Suki smiled uncertainly. "I wasn't sure if anyone would be up for company, but I wanted to see if Katara was okay. I brought some sweets."

"That's never unwelcomed," Sokka said. "It's cold, though. Why don't you come in?' Suki shook her head.

"I have a class in an hour," she explained. "I have to go set up. I just wanted to check in."

"Oh," Sokka tried to keep the disappointment from bleeding into his voice. "Well, thank you!" Suki nodded and started to turn away, but then she paused, and turned back to Sokka.

"We never decided a winner last night," she said. "How about a rematch?" Sokka straightened up and puffed his chest with a cocky grin.

"Name the day," he said.

"How about Thursday?" Suki suggested.

"You're on!"

"And maybe after I win," Suki continued. "We can have dinner?" Sokka almost fell over in surprise.

"Yeah!" he agreed quickly. "Winner treats?" Suki raised brow at that.

"Isn't it usually the loser who treats?" she asked.

"Yeah," Sokka shrugged, "but I don't plan to lose." Suki laughed and waved goodbye to him.

"I'll call you."

Sokka went inside and found his family watching him with interest in the foyer. Hakoda was grinning, Zuko gave him a thumbs up, and Katara just looked smug.

"Daddy?" Sesi tugged on Sokka's shirt. "Were you flirting with Sifu Suki?"

the end

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

#atla #zutara #sukka #hallmarks of the season #anti aang #anti kataang #tw assalt #tw sa #nothing graphic but it might be enough to make some people uncomfortable

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spoonyglitteraunt · 8 months

Text

Sooooo.

I just checked something on mobile, and that means having to deal with the ads which, sure ok I guess. Usually I either ignore them, or grumble to myself if they are particularly teeth grindy like the diet ads. Because really, Tumblr? Can we just not? Can we just yeet these and their fatphobic bullshit into the nearest trashfire? Just sell me gadgets and gizmos aplenty or something.

So normally I would have zero inclination to share one of these. The less seen of them the better. But I'll make an exception this once. Because, well.

Tumblr, I have questions.

I just...

Ignoring the bullshittery of the topic with the barely legible 'meal plans" that I'm sure are to die for. (As in they'd kill you if you actually followed them for real.) What in the seven fandom hells even IS this. 😂

Just look at that thing and let it sink in for a second.

So you start with the 45 to 55s.

Weird place to start, but ok. You get dude who looks like he ran away from a conan the barbarian game with a woman where the only thing they did to make her look "older" was to give her sort of vaguely grey hair. Has the designer ever seen a woman in their 40's early 50's? Or seen any humans in that age range? Any humans at all even? That bicep is bigger than her whole head. Also why are they naked? And why are they the only ones that look computergame rendered compared to the more "photorealistic" ones next to them?

Not to mention none of these "people" look particularly happy or excited about this challenge they are trying to sell you. What is the message here? Take our challenge and be so miserable you need naked hugging times in space to recover? I mean, that's more honest than most diet ads then.

So we move onto the 25 to 33 bracket.

Weird age to cut it off at, but sure. I guess this age group can expect to suddenly feel the urge to have "supportive Bro time" as part of their need to recover from the hells of depriving the body of natural energy sources. But look at that manly support. Look at the nuzzling, I mean the smelling of eachother's manly musk, I mean the bros will be bros solidarity with definitely no subtext as displayed on the subtext site.

On to the 33 to 44 aged.

I guess if you are 33 you can pick your fighters meal plans. But not if you're 44 or 45 then you only get ONE! This one is the most ambiguous and thus boring. Is it a particularly muscly lady, a msclady if you will, or just a well hidden second dude? Or could they actually have tried to appeal to beyond the gender binary, quickly confused themselves, and then just went meh throw in some muscles hide the head and it will probably be fine. We'll never know. So let's put this down as ambiguous snuggles and hope that dude goes to see a doctor for whatever AI art went wrong with that arm.

Now all of that was vaguely nonsensical and stupid, but nothing that would compel me to share. No that's for our next contestants age groups.

So, my 55+ dudes. No ladies mind, the only feminine presenting people allowed in this challenge need to be between 45 to 55, maybe 33+. The rest of you ladies get to escape the challenge and find your own reasons to do some sad naked cuddling.

But my 55+ dudes, you get the chance, nay the unexplainably privilege of tenderly embracing a lion.

Was the lion rewarded to him by the challenge as a comfort animal? Was he already in a committed partnership with the lion? Was the lion just nearby and got caught up in a moment of emotion? And what has any of this to do with diets? Who knows? Certainly not me that's for sure. But our totally real and not badly AI photoshopped apex predator is clearly making the most of snuggling up to the muscly 55+ dude who incidentally looks younger than the two previous categories. Conclusion: cuddling lions in your time of need may in fact be the source of anti aging. Let's all not try this at home.

And then we arrive at the whippersnappers amongst the lineup of tender manly dudes.

You get to gently kiss a panther on the head. As one does with an apex predator, obviously. Funny though how there are more feline paramours than any other category what with the ambiguous third. So furry is clearly the ultimate relationship dynamic for sad naked cuddling in the aftermath of their product. Maybe they should have given them all cats then. Although I must say the panther seems far less pleased to be used for comfort than the lion did. Maybe they didn't feel photogenic that day. Maybe it's a relationship on the rocks. Maybe they were not paid enough to deal with this shit. Neither were we, my friend. Neither were we.

So, as I said. Tumblr, I got questions.

But I don't suspect you have any answers.

#sometimes you just have to ask why #even if you know you won't get an answer #tumblr ads #but seriously fuck diet ads #find better ads Tumblr

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squishablesunbeam · 10 months

Text

Consequence of Action Pt. 13

Finally official chapter! Thanks for playing! I adore you all! Also, the first and last bits are from Prim's perspective. I know that's different but I couldn't help myself!

TW: recovering whumpee, panic attack, flashback, vomiting, mentions of past noncon, executions, death of minor characters

Prim couldn't tear her eyes away from the monstrosity.

She'd been helping her crew clear out the dead when Lopez found another body deep in the lower deck. It wasn't the man with his empty eyes frozen open capturing his last moments of terror or his crushed throat that held her attention.

It was the cage.

She'd heard some of what the prisoners had been saying about what had happened on this ship. The vile obscenities they spewed about Quinn in particular certainly painted a horrific picture that she wished were exaggerations but, deep down, she knew were not. She'd heard enough to make her blood boil before she had them gagged or else she'd skin them alive herself for what they'd done to that man.

They'd also mentioned a cage. This was undoubtedly it. With its rough edges welded together with clear intent to inflict agony upon its occupant. There was dried blood on the teeth of the grating that covered the bottom as well as a fair amount soaked into the floor beneath.

Her eyes trailed back to the body Lopez and Freely were currently preparing to transport to the incinerator.

Quinn had been flogged, recently. He was barely able to stand on his own two feet when she'd come upon him and Collins in the hallway. There was no way he would have had the strength to crush a man's throat in his state.

That meant-

They'd put Collins in that cage. God, how did he even fit.

Her mind morbidly attempted to imagine herself stuffed into that small space and a nauseating wave of claustrophobia washed over her. She immediately shook the thought from her mind.

Collins had been her team leader for just over a decade. They'd seen each other through the worst that human beings could do to one another and they always came out the other end just a little worse for wear. She was even part of the team that had gone in to rescue him after he was held captive by the enemy for three months. Prim had thought she'd seen him at his absolute worst many times over.

So why did seeing him with that collar around his neck fuck with her head so much?

They'd collared him, and put him in a cage. She was pretty sure they'd even-

Prim allowed anger to seethe throughout her body, for only a moment. Righteous or not, anger dangerously clouded her judgment. She knew that well enough. If she had her druthers right in this moment, she'd flog each one of those men in her custody to within an inch of their lives and force them to beg Quinn and Collins for their pitiful lives before tossing them into the incinerator along with the rest of them. They deserved nothing less, and maybe so much more.

The choice wasn't hers to make.

“Ma'am.”

Prim very deliberately let the anger slip through her fingers.

She turned to Freely. “I want this deconstructed immediately. Tear it down to its bolts. I don't want a single piece of this cage left on my ship. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Freely acknowledged assuredly.

She let out a breath and nodded. He'll take care of it.

She turned on her heels and headed back up to the main deck, swallowing the urge to speed up her pace just to get away from all the horrid memories that undoubtedly haunted the corners of that godawful room.

She headed for her new office, dispensing orders as she went. This ship had just begun to fall into disrepair while being under poor leadership and a skeleton crew it seemed. There was a lot to be done.

A few hours later, Prim called for Collins and Quinn to join her. She needed to discuss what to do with the prisoners, their possessions, etc. They also needed to track down any of Quinn's possessions as well, if they hadn't already been destroyed. This all could technically wait, but if she was being honest, she wanted the prisoners dealt with and off the ship as soon as possible.

She fussed at the desk while she waited, stacking piles of papers and log books that must have been the ship's former captain's, practically useless now. Most, if not all, would be burned.

The office was large but impersonal. She'd already taken the time to shift around the placement of furniture to make it more open and inviting. She dimmed the glaring overhead light and made a note to grab some of those warm light bulbs on their next stop at a safe planet. She would have to bring over some of her more personal items from the other ship as well.

A knock pulled her out of her thoughts and she turned, hitting the button that slid open the door.

"Commander," Collins greeted her with a warm smile, Quinn by his side.

She grinned wide, clasping arms with Collins and then Quinn.

"Prim is fine. You know that well enough."

Collins already looked so much better. Much more himself. She couldn't stop herself from casting her eyes briefly to his neck, assuring herself that the collar had actually been cut away and he was free from its weight.

She stepped back to allow them into the room, noting the soft hold Collins had around Quinn's hip.

It looked so incredibly natural for a man who rarely ever displayed even a hint of affection in the many years she'd known him.

A smile quirked up her lips.

She didn't know exactly what was going on between these too but it was clearly something, and it was only growing stronger. As far as Prim was aware, Collins had never had a significant person in his life, at least he'd never spoken of it if he had.

Seeing him so casually tender with Quinn was, well, it was adorable.

Prim gestured them into the office.

“Please, have a seat.”

She stopped short, her eyes flicking to Collins as the blood drained out of Quinn's face.

Oh, shit.

–

He'd already had a brief moment of panic in the hallway once he realized where they were headed but he'd convinced Collins that he was fine. Of course Prim would have taken the Captain's office. She was the highest ranking member of the crew after all. It made perfect sense.

Except right now, nothing made sense.

He was certain he'd be okay, stepping confidently into the room after watching the familiar exchange between Collins and Prim.

But then, Quinn laid eyes on that looming brown desk and his world just slipped right out from under him.

He saw himself, clear as day, curled up on his knees under that damn desk. Naked, his hands bound to his thighs like they always were the first however many times he'd been forced to open his mouth and obey.

It was as if he was watching from a far away corner of the ceiling but also not. He could feel it all. The way the hard floor bit into his knees and the coarse rope constricting his thighs and tearing at his skin.

He shook his head to try and clear the image but it wouldn't jar loose. The taste of the Captain's fingers filled his mouth and he gagged, choking on nothing as the taste turned to something so much worse.

His head felt thick and his world narrowed.

He felt like he might be falling but he couldn't bring himself to care. The room buzzed loudly in his ears and washed itself over him. He could feel all of its edges pressing against his body, forcing him to fit into the tight space under the desk.

Something pressed against his back and there was pain there, but also, it was good. The pain felt good, in a way. It sparked sharply through his mind and cleared some of the fog away. He dropped his head and tried to remember how to breath, clinging to that pain like a lifeline.

His entire body was suddenly shook, just once, and his eyes managed to lock into place, the spinning world around him suddenly centering on one point of focus.

“Collins?”

A hand touched lightly against his own and he looked down at himself, realizing he had pressed his wrists to his thighs. He could feel the ropes keeping him in place but he couldn't see them. He gasped his mouth open and tried to pry them up off his legs. It felt as if he was attempting to merge two worlds that simply weren't meant to coexist. He finally succeeded in detaching his hands from his legs and held them up in front of his face.

They were shaking.

He was shaking.

He still couldn't breathe.

Warm fingers brushed against his face and the here and now flooded his senses, coming back to him far too fast. His body prickled with sweat, his mouth filled with saliva.

“Oh my god,” he pressed a hand against Collins' shoulder and lurched to the side, vomiting onto the floor beside them.

“Oh my god,” he said again, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth before pulling it back and looking at his wrists, fully expecting to see marks from the ropes indented into this skin.

His thighs weren't bare. He was wearing pants and a button up shirt he found in Collins' closet.

Quinn dimly heard himself muttering Collins' name under his breath.

“You're alright. I'm here. Just breathe.”

His eyes numbly tracked Collins' movement as he wrapped his fingers around Quinn's wrist and rubbed his thumb back and forth over the thin skin.

There still weren't any ropes there, holding him in place. He kept his eyes on Collins' hands, each painless pass of his thumb a reminder that he was safe. Collins was here. The Captain was dead.

Quinn gasped out a harsh breath as the image of him shooting the Captain in the head flashed before his eyes.

He looked up, his eyes wide and wet with stinging tears as he searched Collins' face, too many memories battling for his attention at once.

“He hurt you, Collins, he-” Quinn said, his voice strained and panicked.

“Hey,” Collins drew their foreheads together, holding onto the back of Quinn's head. “I'm okay, Quinn. You saved me, remember? You killed him, Quinn. He can't hurt you anymore. He can't hurt either of us anymore. We're okay.”

Quinn drew in a shaky breath, and then another. Collins' hands were like an anchor, holding him to this reality, his shoulders firm and solid and real under his own hands. He breathed, his breath mixing with Collins' as the world slowed down to a manageable rhythm.

He became aware of another presence in the room and his eyes slid to Prim, sitting on the floor with them, just a few steps behind Collins with her arms draped over her knees.

“Holy shit,” Quinn said, pulling back slightly and breathing out a shocked breath, “That's never happened before. Not like that. I could see it. I could feel it.”

He held tight to Collins as Prim sat forward, crossing her legs underneath her, “Ironically, it's because you are actually safe now that this is happening. You're mind is trying to process everything. Collins can teach you some tricks to help you stay grounded, or I can. We've both been through it.”

Collins nodded sympathetically, scratching his fingers over Quinn's leg in a predictable, soothing rhythm.

It was helping.

“Grounded, yeah,” Quinn leaned his head back on the wall behind him, only now realizing that was where the pain was coming from. His sore back was pressed right up against it.

“God, I'm so sorry,” he groaned out, looking down at the mess he'd made next to him and trying to fight back embarrassment from swallowing him whole.

Prim waved her hand absently. “It'll clean just fine. Go rest. We'll talk later, okay?”

He nodded and leaned heavily against Collins as they moved to stand, Prim immediately moving to join them. They were both standing right in front of Quinn, blocking his eye line to the desk. He couldn't quell the need to look, just once more, to assure himself that the other him wasn't still trapped there, under the desk.

Collins moved to help him to the door and he stole a glance over his shoulder, breathing out a breath of relief only once he was assured the phantom was gone.

He didn't know why he felt the need to ask but he stopped himself before heading out the door, “What did you want to talk to us about anyway?”

She started to wave her hand in dismissal but paused, drawing her eyebrows down, seeming to study him carefully. He felt Collins' solid presence at his side.

“I was going to ask if you wanted me to have the prisoners executed. I thought the airlock might be appropriate but I didn't want to make that decision without you both.”

Whatever fear that had just sunk its teeth into him morphed into anger at the mention of the prisoners.

Jackson, Hawkins and Gibson.

It wasn't enough that the Captain was dead. Quinn's every waking memory was corrupted with the thoughts of these men. He could barely eat without the image of Jackson forcing his dick into his mouth through the cage before he gave him any food. Hawkins tore at his flesh and left behind too many scars for him to ever forget. And Gibson- Quinn shuddered, the pain of his care still a bright and sharp memory.

Quinn didn't want to think twice about it. He just wanted them gone.

“Do it,” he said, swallowing down the knowledge that with those two words, he just sentenced three men to their deaths.

“Would you like to be there?” Prim asked.

Quinn looked to Collins who shrugged, squeezing Quinn's hand once. “As long as they're dead, I'm okay with it,” Collins said plainly.

“I think I'm okay too,” Quinn said, looking back to Prim, “Will you do me a favor though?”

“Name it,” she said with a sincerity that put a weak smile on his face.

“Just, maybe, don't tell them what's going to happen. Don't say anything to them at all. Just take them to the airlock and open the door.”

The silence was always the worst part. Being led through the ship, never knowing his own fate before being shoved through an open door.

Quinn thought it fitting.

Prim apparently did too, if the look on her face told him anything.

“I'll make certain of it.”

“Let us know when it's done,” Collins added, him and Prim both sharing an understanding between them as she nodded her assent.

Quinn felt the warmth of Collins' hand at his hip and he let himself lean against him. He focused on carefully matching his breath to Collins' as they wove their way through the hall and back to the quiet and safety of their room.

–

Prim had done exactly as Quinn asked. She informed her crew to bind the men and take them to the airlock without a single word spoken.

It was admittedly gratifying to behold. She watched as Gibson lost it first. He screamed and thrashed against Freely as they were led down the halls, demanding to know what was going on and proclaiming his innocence.

Hawkins was next.

He fed off of Gibson's fear and spewed vile threats at herself and her crew. Mostly though, he cursed Quinn's name and screamed at the top of his lungs the horrific things he was going to do to him.

Except he was never going to have that chance. He was going to die. He was going to be tossed away like trash, without a second thought.

Jackson held out until they were all kneeling in the airlock and the door was being sealed shut between them. He launched himself up at the last minute and sprinted toward the door, hurling himself again and again at the thick glass that kept them safe from the vacuum of space.

Prim stood silently with her crew, all of them expressionless as the prisoners made their pleas and useless threats.

With a signal to Freely, he slammed up the lever and the screams of the three men died with them as they were sucked out into nothingness.

It was the most feared end for those who made their lives out in this vast emptiness. As much as they all craved it, loved it even, the enduring, ever expanding endlessness of space was utterly terrifying. Like the vast oceans back on Earth, space was to be respected and feared in equal measure.

These men respected nothing.

The silence that followed the closing of the outer door had a finality to it that she found both deafening and soothing in the same moment.

It was done.

Freely and Lopez headed back to their respective stations without a second glace and Prim headed to inform Collins and Quinn, hoping that they sleep just a little bit easier now.

“Come in,” Collins called from inside the room. Prim was surprised he didn't meet her at the door as was decorum. Not that she expected it or enforced that kind of nonsense on her crew, it was just Collins' way. Too many years spent in the service and not enough spent living his own life.

She realized why the moment she slid the door open.

Collins was propped up on a few pillows with a book in his hand and Quinn soundlessly asleep with his head on Collins' stomach.

The sight made Prim smile.

“He's good for you,” she whispered, easing quietly into the room.

Quinn flinched a little in his sleep and Collins moved to card his fingers through his hair for probably the hundredth time.

“Too good,” Collins whispered back, taking off his glasses and setting them on top of the open book by his hip.

He looked tired himself, and worried.

“Is he okay?”

“No. He's not," Collins said. He wasn't harsh about his words. He sounded sad.

“Are you okay?”

Collins sighed and finally look up at Prim, “No.”

She pursed her lips and nodded, “If it makes you feel any better, they died terrified.”

Collins frowned deeply as he looked down at the man in his lap, his head rising and falling gently with every one of Collins' breaths.

“I would have had them skinned alive,” Collins said, not looking up from where his fingers were curled into Quinn's hair.

Prim huffed out a laugh, “I had a similar thought. But at least it's done. Maybe there's some peace to be had from that?”

“I hope so,” he said, “He deserves it.”

“So do you, Collins,” Prim said, knowing full well that he didn't believe a word of that. “And for what it's worth,” she gestured between the two men, “whatever you've got going here, it's cute as fuck. You deserve that too.”

Collins actually laughed, a wide grin splitting his handsome face as a blush seeped into his cheeks.

He'd be okay, she thought. They both would be okay, she'd make sure of it. She'd fold them into her little family and give them a change to find their footing again.

She headed back towards the door, “You need anything at all, you let us know, you hear me? And when you're ready for a distraction, I've got plenty of work for you to do.”

“Will do, Commander,” Collins said, the smile on his face coming just a little easier, “And Prim, thank you. For everything.”

“Of course, sir.”

She left them to rest and turned to head back up to the bridge, her mind already on the myriad of tasks on her plate and plotting their next course through the skies.

Taglist: @peachy-panic, @ladygwennn, @whumplr-reader, @hold-him-down, @monochrome-episode, @dogface3000, @skyhawkwolf, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @whumpterful-beeeeee, @maddam-redder, @susiequaz12, @pigeonwhumps, @starlit-darkness

#recovering whumpee #rescued whumpee #mentions of past noncon #panic attack tw #flashback tw #emeto #execution #death of minor characters

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toujokaname · 1 year

Text

HiMERU Idol Story 2

Author: Akira

Characters: HiMERU, Kohaku

"(Let's get properly involved with the world, "HiMERU".)"

← Previous ✧ Directory ✧ Next →

Season: Summer

Location: Seisoukan Common Room

HiMERU: ~...♪

Kohaku: Mm? O~i, HiMERU-han, what're ya doin' this late at night?

HiMERU: —Oh? HiMERU could say the same to you. Are you out on a walk at such a late hour... Oukawa?

Kohaku: Koh koh koh ♪ I'm jus' happy I'm able to walk 'round freely.

Also, when I was at home, I got used to stayin' up late, so sleep don't come to me easy at this time of night.

I keep thinkin' "I oughta go to bed early," but I can't.

That bein' said. If we both don't go to bed soon, it'll have an effect on tomorrow, 'cos human beings can only recover through sleep.

HiMERU: —Is that so. HiMERU's view differs from that, and Shiina, for example, would most certainly hold a different opinion.

Kohaku: Yeah. That moron's a special case in that he can't recover from anythin' that ain't food.

As we spend more and more time together, I've unavoidably learned that he's like a single-celled organism that'll put anythin' and everythin' in his mouth.

He's eatin' all the time. I lose my appetite jus' by lookin' at 'im.

HiMERU: —Fufu. Shiina would surely be unhappy about that, since he seems to love serving food to others.

Kohaku: For real. That guy's like, his whole life's centered 'round his stomach.

HiMERU: Fufu. To HiMERU, that is an enviable thing, to have something so irreplaceable—things like that.

Aah, what does the world look like to such a person?

—Anyhow. To answer your first question, as you can see... HiMERU is writing a reply to a fan letter he received.

Kohaku: Fan retaa[1]?

HiMERU: Yes. HiMERU takes pride in his long career history and is a popular idol in his own right.

Letters from fans arrive in boxes, and all of them are piled up here.

Kohaku: Oh? Really, all of these?

Haah... I can't help but sigh. I'm still unfamiliar with idol culture, so this's new to me, y'know?

It's real impressive that they're all handwritten, even in this age of the Internet, ain't it?

HiMERU: Yes. HiMERU is very grateful for it. Even then, these don't include those that were slanderous in nature. The agency censored and removed those.

Kohaku: Huhh~... And despite that, there's still these many left. HiMERU-han must be a real popular guy, huh?

HiMERU: Rather than it being a result of his popularity, HiMERU is one of the rare types of celebrities who reply to letters. His fans are likely to know this, and thus, they send him more and more.

Anyone would be happy to receive a reply to their letter, after all.

Kohaku: ...That's right. Communication's only possible when you speak or write and get a proper response.

To communicate with someone can be a pleasure hard to come by. Screamin' into the abyss will only hurt yer throat, and nothin' worthwhile's gonna come of it.

HiMERU: —Oh dear. Oukawa, you look a little hurt. Apologies, did HiMERU unknowingly tread on a sensitive topic for you?

Kohaku: Hm. It ain't good to be too sharp, HiMERU-han.

...No need to worry 'bout it, I'm fine. I was jus' thinkin' 'bout an old pen pal of mine.

Hm. Even though I thought I'd come to terms with it and forgotten 'bout it, the wounds in my heart'll remain unhealed and hurt forever.

Oh, well. Sorry I called out to ya while you were workin', HiMERU-han.

I'm goin' back to my room to rest. When it comes to yer letter writing... there ain't anything I can do to help ya, anyway.

HiMERU: Indeed. The senders of the letters, the fans, would most certainly want to receive a reply from their favorite idol written by the person in question.

HiMERU cannot ask someone to write on his behalf, so even if he gets tendonitis, he will have to write them all by himself.

Kohaku: Hmm, "the person in question", huh...?

HiMERU: —What is it?

Kohaku: Nothin'. If you've convinced yourself of that, then I've nothing to say. ...Jus' be careful not to break yer body or mind by overdoin' it, HiMERU-han.

HiMERU: —Yes. Thank you for your concern, Oukawa.

Goodnight, have a pleasant sleep ♪

Kohaku: Koh koh koh ♪ ...Though that surprise attack was meant to shake ya up, you didn't even tremble a lil while you were writin'. I gotta praise ya for that.

You've got a calm face and guts, I'm glad I can rely on ya as a unitmate.

Welp. For real now... G'night, HiMERU-han ♪

~...♪

HiMERU: (...Hm. It looks like he's gone. That made me break out in a bit of a cold sweat.)

(It's the same for you. You have a cute face, but I should never be too careless around you... Oukawa Kohaku.)

("Oukawa". I've heard rumors that they have a family history of single-handedly taking care of dirty work...)

(Sure enough, the more someone wants to hide something, the more likely it is for it to reach their ears.)

(But. Even if you heard about the secret that "I'm" carrying, you should've pretended to be unaware of it.)

(And yet, just now, you deliberately gave me a warning, as if to say, "I know"—why?)

(Maybe you were so sleepy that you slipped up, or maybe you didn't mean anything by it...)

(Was it a threat, or a sign of trust as a colleague? I don't know. There's not enough material to speculate, either.)

(Aah, it's really... interesting. Communication, that is.)

(That which is called life! Overflowing with pleasant discoveries and emotions, the most valuable treasure room in this world!)

HiMERU: (—So. "You". You can't keep averting your eyes and pretending you don't see it... Let's get properly involved with the world, "HiMERU".)

Kohaku repeats this in hiragana, indicating his unfamiliarity with the term.

In his inner monologue at the end, you can notice I didn't make HiMERU talk in third person. The reason why is that in most of his dialogue, he actually omits personal pronouns entirely. In those cases, translators default to making him speak in third person. However, given the context of what he's saying, I felt it appropriate to make him use first-person pronouns. In the Japanese script, he only uses "ore" once, where it's in quotation marks.

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#akira #idol story #himeru #kohaku

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beantothemax · 1 year

Note

dreams ARE my fic inspiration

There were 5 things Temenos realised that night.

The first one: Crick was really cuddly.

Of course, Temenos had anticipated as much. They hardly got to see each other, and the last time they did, Crick had been brought back from the brink of death by Castti's capable hands. So of course he was bound to cling to Temenos like a lost lamb.

What Temenos hadn’t anticipated was how his body would react.

As soon as he slipped himself underneath the bedsheets and into Crick’s arms, he relaxed. Curled up. Leaned into Crick’s touch when he began gently running a hand through Temenos’s hair. When he felt gentle lips press a kiss to his hair, something next to his heart stirred, blearily mumbling Crick’s name. When it saw that Crick was being so gentle with Temenos, it began breathing in time to his beating heart, and settled down once again.

The second thing was: Crick was gentle. Very gentle.

“I am not a-”

“Flower that needs protecting. I know, Temenos. But- please, just this once, let me. Let me protect you, let me be gentle with you. You may think you do not need it, but every living thing, flower or not, needs some tender care.”

Temenos had fallen silent, trying to think of something to say in retaliation, but all argument was lost when he heard Crick’s voice utter a single word, tone full of emotion that he couldn’t decipher.

“Temenos...”

Temenos was scared- terrified- to allow Crick to see him. What lay inside. He didn’t want Crick, his darling little lamb, to turn away. He was scared that he might lose the one person who he had allowed a glimpse of the truth. But regardless, he sighed, and allowed his heart what it craved. He allowed himself to be loved, to be wanted. Crick wanted to be there, cuddling him. He loved Crick, and the thing that stirred desperately wished Crick would feel the same, hoped he did.

The third thing Temenos realised about Crick: He was no pushover.

He was gentle and kind, could certainly be naïve at times, but he wasn’t a pushover. Temenos had seen the fierce way he fought against Cubaryi. He ignored all his injuries, fought like the gods themselves were on his side. He threw himself in front of Temenos and the other travellers any time a blow would be landed on them, took it for them or blocked it.

He protected them and fought well, but Cubaryi had still struck his sword arm, piercing the flesh with her wicked blade. In retaliation, Crick had simply switched hands and continued to fight. He switched between his sword and a hunting knife he had, strong and sturdy, made for flaying things with tough skin and bones. At one point, Crick had blocked Cubaryi’s sword with his knife, and sliced her hand so she dropped her sword. That had been the final straw of the fight.

Crick had threatened Cubaryi with torture if she did not confess the whereabouts of her higher-up, Kaldena. He threatened to keep her on the brink of death, never quite dying but never feeling fully alive either. The prospect of nearing death but never achieving it seemed to terrify the deputy more than actually dying, as she had hurriedly told them where Kaldena resided. Crick had granted her a small mercy by ending her life quickly after that.

The fourth thing Temenos realised: He had rubbed off on Crick.

Crick no longer praised the gods and the Sacred Flame as much as he used to, and often vocally challenged the rule of the gods, much to Temenos’s secret pride and delight. He, too, still believed in the gods, but often questioned whether or not they had the good of humanity in mind. Of course, he’d never go so far as some of the heretics, but he most definitely was not a pious man. It seemed Crick had become of like mind, only praying to the Sacred Flame when he was about to do something truly horrendous- like killing Cubaryi. He had asked for even the barest forgiveness under his breath as they all departed back to the inn to rest and recover. Mainly because Castti would have all their heads if they gathered the other travellers and continued on their merry way covered in injuries.

Crick’s prayer for forgiveness intrigued Temenos. In the beginning, Crick would have been choking on his own tongue begging for mercy from the gods. Now, all he spared them was a humble request not to smite him for killing someone.

The last thing Temenos realised: They loved each other.

“Temenos...”

Crick’s tired voice pierced through the quiet darkness of their inn room, and Temenos hummed in acknowledgement. “Hm?”

“I have something I must get off my chest. I doubt I can sleep otherwise unless I tell you.”

Temenos rolled over to face Crick. His warm brown eyes were darkly circled, his strawberry-blonde hair fell in waves around his face.

“I love you, Temenos...” He breathed, an edge of anticipation to his otherwise lovestruck tone, and the thing that had stirred inside him roared in glee.

Temenos brought himself closer, and pressed a gentle kiss to Crick’s lips.

“I love you too, Crick.”

AAAAAAAAAAA BWFHSGS?????????? AUH. TGISB IS PERFECT

CRICK BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF CUBARYI YEAH WOOOOOOO GET HER ASS!!

and th sweet lil ending as always… im very normal about these two btw.

#asks #gods. wish I could have vivid dreams about octopath ships to fuel fic ideas…

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morocosmos · 2 years

Text

FFxivWrite Day 6: Onerous

I had another idea in mind at first, but then I remembered that it’s @sezja‘s birthday today, so here’s a little something for you :>

“Were you able to collect the signed paperwork from everyone for the replacement uniforms?” Sanson asked from where he had dutifully remained in their (currently not) shared bed, still sounding a good few degrees more hoarse than Guydelot would’ve liked.

“I most certainly did. Even managed to hand it in to Domitien before he left for the Canopy,” the bard replied, shrugging off his coat and tossing it with nary a care for where it might land. He’d almost acquired a headache, what with all the extra running around he’d had to do today in the captain’s stead, and in the near dead of Gridanian winter, no less. Effort. Guydelot stretched, feeling soreness go all the way through his back and his very bones as he exhaled.

“And did you also confirm with Piers about our approval to use the clearing by Sweetbloom Pier for the new drills? He should have gotten back to us yesterday….” Gods alive, how does he do it? Even confined to resting at home with what might be the worst cold Sanson had ever had in the years they’d known one another, the man was still somehow capable of fulfilling some of his duties – namely by ensuring through him that everything was still going according to plan.

“Aye, Chief. All sorted. Now let me not talk and just rest a moment, eh? Or my own head will be fit to burst.” Guydelot couldn’t help the edge that snuck into his words as he collapsed onto the couch in an undignified heap of body and limbs, huffing loudly as he sank into the soft, timeworn leather. That’s better.

His eyes remained closed, and he relished in the simple joy of merely being able to exist in peaceful quiet after a long day. This was something worth feeling every once in a while, he supposed – the sort of unique satisfaction from knowing he’d pushed himself further than he normally would’ve, and succeeded for it. It was a feeling he’d seldom had the desire to put himself through until….well, until he’d met Sanson.

Something lightly touched the back of his hand from where it dangled off the couch; Guydelot couldn’t help but grin as Sanson slipped his fingers through his to hold them gently. The bard curiously opened one eye, and found Sanson gazing at him with a softer look than before.

“Thank you, Guydelot.” It was as simple as that, but that was all he needed. Warmth bloomed in the bard’s chest as their eyes met.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to lean into it a little. “A ‘thank you’ is all well and good, but how about something more to show for it?” he asked teasingly, turning to face Sanson and indicating to the empty space behind the hyur with a glance. “Like letting me back into the bed, for instance.”

Sanson laughed, shaking his head. “You know I am far too ill for that still. We can’t have us both unable to attend to our duties,” he pointed out.

Guydelot sighed, covering his face with the back of his free hand in dramatic resignation. “Didn’t hurt to try.”

“Soon.” Sanson squeezed his hand. “When I’ve recovered some more….I’ve missed having you here, too.”

Definitely worth the effort. “That’s a promise.”

#kae scribbles #sanson smyth #guydelot thildonnet #ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite

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0perfectimperfections0 · 1 year

Text

Reborn: Part 3

The screen came on and spared no mercy for Lou. No time to gather what courage was left in his new body. It wouldn't have mattered anyhow. Those human blue eyes found his immediately amongst the group of dolls that stood around him. Slick, black hair had a few bangs loose from their gel, reflecting some sort of internal war raging inside the man. The scowl on his face was only disturbed by a small curl of his lip, showing the teeth underneath. "You filthy, wretched piece of trash..."

That was a nice welcome. Lou could certainly feel the love.

His creator continued. Lou didn't dare try to interrupt him. "Do you have any idea how much of my hard work you threw away? I spent days making you...just for you to throw it all away. I have half a mind to make the robots drag you to my office and let me tear you apart. Maybe I can salvage what parts of you are left in that machine."

Lou's legs went numb, threatening to collapse beneath him. The fear nearly forced him to throw up. Breathlessly, he pleaded, "Sir, please...I'm sorry-"

"Shut up!" The command made Lou's jaw snap shut. Hands clasped in front of him, head bowed. Submissive. That was what the man wanted. Lou had no room for boldness to try and deny him that. "You don't talk back, understand?" Lou swallowed, throat tightening. "Louis."

"Yes, Sir." His voice was quiet.

"Some of the robots sorted through the recycle." He might as well have been giving the weather report. "Lucky for you, some of your old scraps have been recovered. We'll start with that hideous brown eye of yours-"

Oh...God...

Lou couldn't hear anything else. It drowned in white noise. Something in his gut twisted, and heat rushed throughout his body. The understanding of what the man was going to do to him urged his stomach to throw up. Lou's breathing picked up, eyes burning into the carpet floor, brows scrunched as if trying to mentally will away the images.

"-and as your punishment, you'll be awake the whole process."

Legs buckled beneath the white-hot rush pulsing through him. He didn't register Mandy's arms catching him, leaning back so he could rest some of his dead weight against her.

The Uglies revolted at the man. Lou couldn't hang onto any of their words. Ox's voice rang loudest amongst them all. Yells were exchanged. Threats made -- promises, Lou knew.

Nothing truly reached his awareness. Splotches of light faded in and out of Lou's vision as the heat got worse. It was cold and hot at the same time. No, that was the floor. The bathroom floor. His knees rubbed painfully against the tile, hands bracing himself up. Mandy was holding him around his torso, chin resting on his back. Something jolted in his stomach and it was then he finally became aware that his body had given into the need to regurgitate.

It was suffocating. The fear, the sickness, the noise-

"I'm right here." It was the calmest thing he could recall hearing so far today. That overwhelming heat was strangled, its hold releasing just a bit as Mandy eased the sweatshirt over his head when he caught a break. A wet rag was wiped over his mouth and a different heat pressed against him. Mandy drew him into her lap. He was adorned in just the pants now as the flush of heat began traveling down his neck and shoulders. The worst of it began forming in the pit of his stomach.

His throat burned. Every swallow was painful, but he had no way to stop himself from doing so. His mouth hung open loosely as he panted, eyes fluttering and unable to focus.

Mandy used a different wet rag to wipe his face, keeping it behind his ears for a few seconds before switching to the other ear. The flush wasn't going away.

"What do I need to do?" Nolan was kneeling down in front of her. She hadn't even heard him walk in. Wordlessly, she handed him the rag, and he resoaked it in cold water. The task was lifted off her shoulders as he pressed it against Lou's neck and ears.

"Where's Ox?"

"Still giving that guy a piece of his mind. We might regret it later, but I'll let Ox say what he wants." The flush gradually ebbed away. Nolan resoaked the rag once more to wipe it across Lou's chest and back. A shiver finally coursed through the doll. "You with us now?" He gently tilted Lou's head to face him. Bleary, mismatched eyes met his. A small noise came from the boy, nothing coherent. Nolan grabbed the sweatshirt and helped Mandy slide it back over Lou.

Shivers now assaulted him. The heat was gone, thank God, but now his whole body trembled. Mandy pulled his legs up into her lap, arms wrapping around his curled-up frame. "He can't go back in there." Mandy pressed her mouth lightly to the crown of Lou's head. "I'm taking him back to the bedroom. Can you get his breakfast?

Insides coiled at the mention of food. Lou allowed his eyes to fall shut, body completely drained. Nolan was gone. He must have gone to do as Mandy had asked of him.

Once again, lifted into trusting arms. He had faith in these arms now. Not that he had the energy to rebel anyway. Mandy carried him upstairs to Ox's bed again. Such little time had passed since he had woken up this morning, but already too much had happened. The covers were still tossed, unmade.

A different direction was taken. Lou watched the bed move to the side of his eyesight as Mandy sat down with him in the recliner in the corner. She settled him beside her, still with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other rubbing his leg. "We're just gonna chill for a while. Things will calm down in a minute." He didn't know if she was referring to his stomach or the chaos downstairs. Maybe both.

They rocked silently. The motion didn't unease his stomach for some reason. He gave Mandy credit for that. "I thought you were a stylist?" He spoke lowly, head resting against her shoulder.

"I am."

"Then how do you know how to take care of people?"

That made her giggle softly. That was a pleasant noise, too. "I just do what seems right. When you're sick, the best thing to do is eat soup and saltines. Water and ginger ale is best, considering you're dehydrated now. Y'know, the basics."

"Oh." Why didn't he know this? That seemed important.

"But don't worry about that. You don't need to know that. I'll take care of you."

"You won't always be here."

"I will. We'll always be here whenever you need me or the others."

I always will need you. I will always need someone. I always needed Ox, yet he still left.

"I am scared." Was what he said instead.

Arms embraced him tighter. Was that all it took? Such simple words of confession, and he was graced with the presence of warmth and love. Had it always been that easy? He refused to believe he had been so close to comfort all these years.

The bedroom door opened. Nolan set a plate that had once been Lou's breakfast down on the bedside table. A napkin covered the top of it from where it had been reheated. Something was mouthed between the brunette and Mandy. Whatever it was, Nolan shook his head, frowning.

"Check you're phone," Nolan said, kneeling in front of Lou's line of sight. While Mandy did so, he smiled small at the doll. "You probably don't feel like eating, huh?"

"Not really," Lou grimaced. Nolan nodded understandably, glancing at Mandy while she read.

Her heart dropped to her stomach. Ox had messaged her.

Mandy waited for him to continue.

She still didn't respond.

Mandy finally looked up at Nolan. He was already staring back at her, crestfallen. It was then she noticed the strange device in his hands.

She glanced between the device and Nolan. He raised a brow, extending it a ways toward her as if asking if she wanted to do it.

Lou noticed it, eyes widening a smidge. "What's that?" He glanced between the two dolls.

"It's nothing," Mandy spoke softly. She set her phone down and cautiously took the device from Nolan. Ever so gently, she turned to face Lou, cupping his chin. "Just relax, oka-"

"No, Mandy, please!" Lou recognized it. The robots used it to silence him. It was one of his punishments for disobeying orders. He gripped Mandy's wrist, the one holding his chin. Tears spilled from his eyes. "P-Please don't do this! I can't go back there!"

"Lou, shh, it's okay-"

"No, no, it's not!" He sobbed. "You lied! You said you'd take care of me!"

"And I will-- I am--"

"This hurts, Mandy! It hurts! Please, don't make me go back!" He gripped onto her like a lifeline. A lifeline that was about to send him somewhere dark.

But he didn't make a move to push her hand away that held the device. He didn't coil away while she held his chin, head tilted to expose the place where Nolan had instructed her to use the device. He clung to her. Begged. Pleaded.

Even as she was about to send him to his worst nightmare, all he wanted was someone to hold onto.

The device was shoved back into Nolan's hands. He frowned at her. Teary, gold eyes looked back up at him. "I can't...you have to do it." Her voice quivered, soft. She let Lou wrap his arms around her neck, holding onto him. He clung onto the back of her shirt, chest heaving as he sobbed. She shook her head at Nolan. "I'm sorry, but I just can't."

The brunette sighed heavily, running a hand down his face before rubbing the back of his neck. He looked down at the device in his hands and then back to Lou. Nolan stood, walking to lean over the recliner arm behind Lou. He brushed back the curls of mixed hair to expose the spot.

"N-Nolan, please," came a watery plea. Once again, Lou didn't try to fight back or move away. He held on all the more to Mandy.

"Lou," Nolan had to look away for a second. "Please don't make this harder than it has to be." Nolan closed his eyes and pressed the button.

The arms around her neck loosened drastically. Sobs silenced, and all that was left was steady breathing.

#uglydolls #lou #nolan #ox #mandy #hurt/comfort #tw throwing up #part 3 #fanfiction #writing #series

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sunkeeperxiv · 8 months

Text

FFXIV Write Day 14: Clear

Late post! I completely scrapped the way I was going with this halfway through, so it took a little longer, hah.

EW timeframe/spoilers; ~900 words

Daca'li isn't the worst patient imaginable... but some aspects of convalescence do wear on him, and he's never been shy about showing his frustration.

Daca’li flattened his ears and let a low growl escape his throat. It had been miserable enough to have been confined to a bed for the past two full weeks, not even counting the time he’d spent drifting in and out of consciousness. Since their return from Ultima Thule, he hadn’t had the energy to fight anyone on that restriction, not the Sharlayan chirurgeons, not the Scions, and certainly not any of his visiting family members.

Some indignities, however, he could not permit to continue, and the strict diet of archon loaf and clear broth he’d been placed on sat securely on the top of that list. Even now G’raha sat by his bedside, outright brandishing a thick slice of that awful concoction the Sharlayans called food at him. He had gone to some effort, it was true - it was toasted, and he’d spread butter and jam on it in an effort to make it more palatable. All the effort in the world wouldn’t help, though.

G’raha’s ears were down, a tired expression on his face. “Come, Daca’li. You must replenish your body’s stores of aether to recover your strength. Please, I know you dislike it, but it will help you." His gaze flicked upward briefly, but Daca’li ignored it, his attention fixed firmly on the bread slice.

“I can replenish my body’s aether just fine with real food,” he retorted. “Bring me some o’ that and I’ll eat whatever you want. But I can’t bear any more o’ that shite.” G’raha sighed and shook his head.

“The chirurgeons have recommended this. I promise, when you are well you may have whatever you like, but for now just put up with this.” Daca’li offered no concession, and a crack appeared in G’raha’s patience. “I have eaten this myself, you know. Many times. It is not nearly as bad as you are insisting it to be.”

“That’s no reason to force it on me! Just give me actual soup with actual bread!”

“You may have whatever you want when you are recovered enough.” The barest hint of a growl crept into G’raha’s own voice as he repeated himself. “For now, eat this. Surely, after all you have been through, this is among the least of the difficulties you have faced.”

That gave Daca’li pause. G’raha wasn’t one to growl, typically. He was intent on getting Daca’li to eat, and Daca’li knew better than to think G’raha wanted him to be miserable. “Why’s this so important to you? I’ve got all the time I need to recover, right? There’s no new crisis looming over us. I can take it slow if I need to.” G’raha frowned and drew his hand back, staring down at the slice of bread in it.

“I— Aye. There’s no reason to rush you, no. I only—“ He paused, biting at his lip. “I realize you are no stranger to injury but, this time was… extraordinarily severe.” He wouldn’t meet Daca’li’s eyes, but Daca’li knew the degree to which G’raha was understating the ordeal he’d just been through. “We were worried enough after we managed to revive you on the Ragnarok, but when you collapsed again, I— we all were worried we would lose you once more. Even now, your recovery has been so slow. I do not wish to do anything that might cause it to be slower… or cause you not to recover at all.”

Daca’li hummed thoughtfully. “Would it ease your mind to know I have been feeling better over the past week? I won’t deny it’s slow, but I am recovering, bit by bit.”

G’raha straightened a little, his expression softening. “That… is indeed reassuring. Still, your recovery is proceeding, not finished. Rest, medicine and food all remain integral to your well-being, and Archon loaf is uniquely nourishing, however much you dislike it.” The look on his face was downright pleading now. “It won’t be forever. Please, just for now, put up with it.”

Between G’raha’s obvious upset and his own infirmity, Daca’li was running out of willingness to argue. G’raha was smart enough to run circles around him in any argument besides, and stubborn to boot. “Can we strike a deal, then? I’ll put up with the Archon loaf for one meal a day, if I get real food for a different meal?”

G’raha appeared pensive, then held out the slice of bread to Daca’li again. “I believe I can acquiesce to that.”

Daca’li took the bread and decided to push his luck. “An’ maybe I could sit in a chair from time to time? Mayhap near an open window, before I forget what the sky looks like?” He braced himself and took as large a bite of the toast as he could, swallowing it with the bare minimum of chewing. Wicked white, but it was awful.

At this point G’raha seemed to be supressing laughter. “Perhaps such a thing could be arranged. If you keep up your end of the bargain.” Daca’li forced a smile and choked down the rest of the bread as quickly as he could. G’raha reached out and rubbed at one of his ears. “Thank you, love. I promise I’ll have something more palatable when I return.” Daca’li forced a purr in return.

“I’ll be better soon enough, don’t you worry,” he assured G’raha. “If only to be rid of this soddin' abomination of a breakfast. That’s a promise.”

“I’ve no doubt, truly,” G’raha replied. “But I’ll be right here with whatever you need, just in case.”

#ffxiv fic #ffxivwrite2023 #fic snippets #wolgraha #late but done

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