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imagination-of-a-thirsty-weeb · 4 years

Text

Alluring || Hisoka x Reader

Prompt: Hisoka finds Y/N to be a very strong contender,,

Pairing: Hisoka x Reader

Word Count: 2.153k

Warning: blood!kink

Crossposted

"You see," Your unexpected visitor starts, hands stilling in their play with the deck of cards he held. "I came out to watch your match and your bloodlust," His tongue runs over his lips, a shaky moan leaving his lips. "Your bloodlust is alluring." The cards disappear from his hands, his eyes narrowing into playful slits. He watches you with a predatory gaze, almost as if he blinked or looked away you'd slip through his fingers. "I've rarely been able to meet someone who's bloodlust matches my own," His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, a sharp inhale and exhale following the action. "It's too much, oh so much."

"Hisoka, I've just fought a very formidable opponent and needless to say, I'm a little worn out so if you could," You trail off, pointing to the door. You're standing before him in nothing but a towel, having just gotten out the shower. Your hair falls in curled lockets that frame your face, droplets of water falling down your cheeks, pooling at your chin to drop on the floor. The central air flowing through the room is enough to have you shaking with little protection from the towel. "Hisoka." You say his name with little interest, turning to make your way back to your room to finish out your nightly routine. You drop your towel before disappearing into your room, Hisoka's eyes following you with more interest than you had put into him.

"No one likes a tease," He hums, standing from the couch to follow you into the room. He finds you rubbing cream into your skin, your foot placed on the bed. "Hmm, such a sight," Hisoka's appearance doesn't startle you and you do little to cover yourself, even switching legs to apply more cream. Hisoka leans against the doorframe, eyes following your hands, watching as your fingertips dig into your tense muscles. "I could help with that," Hisoka says nonchalantly, stepping into the room, his foot closing the door behind him. Your ears perk up at his offer and you think of the things his hands were capable of, the knots he'd be able to get out with those talented digits of his.

"You know, I should be kicking you out of my room, you psychotic magician." You giggle, tossing the can of cream in his direction. His fingers wrap around the can, holding it up to level with his face so he could read the label on the can. "I mean sneaking into my room, watching me lather myself in cream," You tsk, wagging a finger at him. "I can taste it," You sneak your tongue over your lips, humming when you come to your final realization. "Your arousal, you know," You turn so your back is to him, and nod him over. "It's as thick as your bloodlust, the two are almost interchangeable." Hisoka makes a noise of approval, joining you beside your bed. "I felt you watching," You sigh when his hands meet your shoulders, "Out of all the eyes on me, I could feel your gaze on me, even more so than my opponent's."

"As I said, your bloodlust was alluring, almost overwhelming." Hisoka's fingers are agile as they move over your body, fingertips digging into what tense muscles he can feel. His efforts are rewarded with soft sighs, his fingers digging deeper to hear more of those sweet sounds leave your lips. "I couldn't help myself, growing more aroused the longer you fought. I saw the way you moved, I watched you very closely." His words drip from his mouth like honey, each word wrapped in his own arousal. He tosses the cream to another area in the room, wanting to keep the bed clear. His hands pull you into him and you can feel his arousal pressed hotly against your back. "I thought about being in that ring with you." He moans, hands forming a steady grip on your hips. "I thought about fighting you. Killing you." He says his own fantasies aloud, his talk so casual as if he were complimenting the decor of the room.

"Hisoka," You turn in his arms, pushing his hands back to his sides. "The both of us know if you wanted to kill me, you would've tried already." Your hands leave your sides to run over his shoulders, one hand on the back of his neck to bring his ear down to level with your lips. "It wouldn't be easy though." Your other hand snakes down his back, pulling him impossibly close. "Not when I know all your tricks," You run your tongue along the shell of his ear, pressing a hot kiss to the skin below his lobe. "Hisoka, I think I know you better than you know yourself." Your hands find his once more, pulling them back to your sides, engulfing yourself within his arms. Your e/c orbs stare into his golden ones, noting the way his eyes grew heavier the closer you stood to him.

"Is that so?" Hisoka lets out a small chuckle, amused by your tactics. "Better than I know myself?" His hands move down your sides, lips quivering into an amused grin when you shake under his touch. "I can't say I doubt that." Hisoka's hands grope your ass, pulling your cheeks apart to expose your slickened core to the cool air of the room. "We have had our fair share of meetings." Hisoka's hands push and pull at your ass, using his grip on his ass to pull you flush against him. "It's been a long while since our last meeting." Hisoka pulls away and takes a step backward. Before you can question him he's turning you around, pushing your upper-half flatly against the mattress of the bed. "And I've got to say," Hisoka's hands are pulling at your ass once more, pulling you apart for him. "I've been dying to have another taste."

"Hisoka," You go to warn him only for your sentence to be ended by the meeting of his warm tongue between your folds. "Fuck." Your fingers grip the white sheets below you, hips involuntarily pushing back against him, begging for more. Hisoka's grip is strong, the pads of his fingers bruising the skin he held, he uses this grip to pull you closer to his mouth. His tongue explores, running from your engorged clit to your clenching hole. "Hisoka!" You cry when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking the aching bud into his mouth. Hisoka's tongue is quick, aiding in the process as it flicks messily and mercilessly over your clit. "Fuck!" Hisoka hums as your resolve slowly melts away. Your knuckles turn white as you grip the sheets harder, fucking yourself back into his mouth. One of Hisoka's hands leaves your ass and two of his fingers slide into your entrance, pushing the two digits deep enough to satiate your hunger to be filled. "I'm close, Hisoka! Fuck, I'm so close." You cry, burying your face in the sheets as he brings you to your edge.

Hisoka wants to praise you, beg for your release so he can lick every drop you have to offer him but his mouth has no will to pull away and so instead he's pushing himself closer. "Yes, oh yes," You cry, hips fucking your against his fingers, against his mouth. Your knees buckle and if it were not for Hisoka's hold on your lower-half you would've collapsed at the side of the bed. "Hisoka, enough-enough," You try to pull away from him, still feeling his tongue moving up and down your slit. Your thighs shake as he continues to lick at your heat, his tongue restless as he finds himself lost in the taste you offer. Hisoka finally finds himself satisfied and pulls away with your juices coating the bottom half of his face.

"Delicious." He flips you over with one of his hands, and the look on his face has you shuddering against the cool sheets. His eyes are hooded, tongue licking his lips. "Here." His hand grips your chin and forces your mouth open, his other hand bringing his two fingers to push past your lips. You know what he wants and so you suck your juices from his fingers, watching him with wide eyes. "Yes," He moans, "Oh yes," He repeats your earlier phrasing and smiles when you release his fingers with a loud pop. "Such a dirty girl." Hisoka chuckles, eyes refusing to leave your trembling body, basking in your orgasm as much as you were. "I know I don't usually ask but I'm feeling generous tonight so...cards or blades?" He holds up a card and nods toward the knife on your nightstand. You can't help the wanton moan that slips past your lips when you realize what he's asking.

"Actually," You reach forward and pluck the card from his fingers, tossing it to the side. "I was thinking of claws." Hisoka makes a small noise as if questioning your proposition but the look in his eyes tells you all you need to know. Hisoka reaches forward and wraps his hand around your throat, nails digging into the soft flesh, breaking the skin. Your eyes shake at the pain, beads of crimson rolling down your neck and pooling in the dip of your collarbone. "Thank you," Your lips curl into a delirious smirk, begging for more. Hisoka can feel his cock twitching in his pants as he watches the beads of blood roll over his fingers. "Hisoka I need you, I need you to fuck me." Hisoka wastes no time in disregarding his clothing, his hand briefly leaving your throat to grab at your hips.

"You're such a good little plaything." Hisoka pushes into you with a quick snap of his hips. "So tight," He's big, his simple thrust nearly splitting you in half. "So eager and greedy." Hisoka watches the way you take him, the way you swallow every inch he has to offer and it's too much for him to handle. "I've never had a plaything so eager to be hurt." His claws dig into your hips, breaking the skin once more. He can't help himself as he's digging his nails further into the skin of your hips, the blood that pours out has his eyes rolling to the back of his head. His hips a blur as they begin a relentless onslaught of pushing into you. Your juices spill over his thick shaft, coating the heated skin as he continues to split you in two for him.

"How's it feel?" His eyes flicker to yours and much to his surprise you're a mess. The blood from your wounds seep into the white sheets, your juices seeping into the sheets. "Hisoka?" You cry, pulling him so he's flush against your bare chest. "How's it feel? How does my pussy feel wrapped around your cock?" Your words are spoken in a soft manner and he knows if you speak any louder it'll break you. Hisoka hums in response, hands leaving your hips to plant themselves beside your head. Your hands grab the sides of his face and your lips plant themselves firmly against his. You needed to taste him, feel him, every inch of him you could get your hands on. Hisoka's tongue slips past yours, circling yours when you meet his in a rush. Hisoka brings a hand between your legs, fingers expertly moving over your clit.

"Y/N," Hisoka whispers your name and it's the only thing you need to finish around him. Your walls are greedy as you tighten around him, juices hushing out against his thick member. "Hmm," He moans, pressing his forehead against yours. "You feel so good. So tight. So wet." Hisoka buries himself deep inside you until he's finishing inside you. His cum shoots out in thick ropes, filling your needy hole with every drop he had to offer. Hisoka's moans fill the room, creating a sweet melody with your heavy breathing. His voice is soft, beautiful as he pushes his hips flush against yours. "Hmm." He whimpers and pulls out, his seed gushing out around him as he leaves your empty. "Y/N," He rolls over to your side, eyes closing as he basks in his post-orgasmic state. "That was amazing indeed." He rolls to his side and slings an arm over your mid-section. "I'm afraid I won't be able to wait another two years until we meet again." You hum in response and turn over so you're face to face.

"Well, if you keep showing up unannounced like this, we won't have to wait another two years." Hisoka seems intrigued by your offer. "I mean, wouldn't want your plaything to slip into the wrong hands. Hisoka can only chuckle at this. "Yeah, yeah, I already know what you're going to say...don't bother."

"I'm sorry my darling, I'm afraid no one can please you as I can."

#hisoka #hisoka smut #hisoka scenarions #hisoka x reader #blood!kink #hunter x hunter #hxh #hunter x hunter smut #hunter x hunter scenarios #hunter x hunter imagines #smut #anime smut #anime scenarios #anime x reader

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nite-shay · 3 years

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My Neighbor: Hawks - (Takami Keigo / Hawks x Reader

Funny Idea: Your neighbor is hawks.

Winged hero: Hawks. One of the fastest and youngest heroes pro heroes. Number 2 in hero ranks and number 1 in most eligible bachelors in all of Japan.

And drum roll, please! *Drummy sounds* Tada! He is your neighbor! Shocking, I know, right? The title totally doesn't give it away! Nope, not at all!

Anyways, you might be wondering, 'Nite! How did that happen?'

Well.. ya see... that funny story…

Also, sorry for any typo :)

Enjoy!

Notes: reader is 20+. No warning. Mild rating.

****

"Please be fixed. Please be fixed. "You quietly prayed as you hesitantly reached for the handle that leads to the lobby of your apartment building.

The leasing office sent out a mass email earlier, letting all the tenants know that the central air was 'currently out of order' and they are 'working quickly to resolve the issue.' At least they were 'extremely sorry for any inconvenience this may cause and appreciate the patience of all tenants.'

They also explained how per the lease agreements, no discounts would be provided for maintenance issues and that the full rent would still be due.

I really need to move…

It just had to go out right smack dab in the middle of summer. And on one of the hottest days on record, no less!

You took a deep breath and pushed open the door into what could only be described as a magma cavern. Nope, you weren't on a tropical island; this was just the lobby. Damn, if it was this hot here, you can't imagine what your apartment must feel like.

You trudged your way through the muggy lobby grabbing your mail on your way over to the stairwell. By the time you made up to the very top floor, you were out of breath and drenched in sweat. Honestly, it looked like you just took a dip in a pool. Your clothes clung to every part of your sticky, overheating body. Hell, you were just happy you didn't have a heat stroke by the time you reached your front door.

You prayed your apartment would be cooler.

It wasn't!

It was giving the stairwell a run for its money.

Oh, hell no... NOPE! Not dealing with this.

You marched through the doorway, making sure to lock the door behind you, not like it would make much of a difference. You didn't see or hear anyone on the trip up or in the hallways. No doubt the other residences did the smart thing and retreated for someplace much cooler. You tossed the stack of mail on your end table without checking it. You'd deal with it later. More than likely, the postal carrier had mixed them up again with the tenant next door.... again...

Later problem for later me! Cool now!

You barely made it to your living room before you started peeling your sweat-soaked clothes off. Thankfully you lived alone, so you didn't have to worry about shocking anyone as you made your way to your bedroom. Tossed your clothes in the hamper before slipping into the thinnest shorts and tank top you could find. You would have said to hell with clothes in general at this point, but if you were going to cool this place off, you need to get some airflow in this place asap. That means windows and doors need to be open.

And for the next hour, that's what you did. Every window you had was open as far as they would go, along with the sliding glass door that led to your balcony. The breeze that flowed through your home was still hot and muggy, but it was then nothing. You also gather any and every fan you had, even the pitiful little desk fan that sounded like it was on its last leg. If it ocellated or moved air in any way, shape, or form, that bitch was on high!

It took a little bit, but it felt like you could breathe as the temperature started to drop. Of course, by then, you were on the verge of dehydration and also contemplated, more than once, curling up in your fridge until that accursed flaming ball of gas in the sky went down.

But you had food in there, and you can't waste food. Damn it.

Speaking of food...

You enjoyed a large bowl of ice cream and about three glasses of water. You reveled in the coolness of the sweet treat in your stomach, which gave you motivation for your next venture.

A nice cool shower.

You let the cool water flow over your whole body for what seemed like forever. Letting it wash away the stress, heat, and sweat of the day right down the drain. By the time you were done, your fingers were pruney, and the sun had descended entirely.

Damn, you were tired.

You lazily dried yourself and considered just going to bed as you were. You were on the 15th floor of your apartment building, so it wasn't like you had to worry about anyone peeking in your window. But you still didn't feel comfortable sleeping naked with your windows opened, and you really didn't want to close them.

After a short debate, you settled on a thin tank, and underwear was a good compromise.

Your body felt sluggish as you made your track to your bedroom. It was still relatively early, but between your job and the heat, you were completely and utterly wiped.

Bed... Sleep...

You showed your bed no mercy as you tore the covers off the nicely made bed and tossed them across the room. Then with no grace whatsoever, you let yourself collapse into the cool embrace of your mattress. Between the comfort of your bed and the white-nose of the fans, it didn't take long for drifted off to sleep.

***Later that night

The summer night air was hot and humid as the Wing hero: Hawks, flew high above the city. Even at the higher altitude, the air was so thick, it felt like he was swimming in a dense swamp rather than soaring through the sky. His whole body felt sore and heavy, so much so that he was actually an effort to keep himself afloat.

Damn, that villain really did a number on me. One more hit, and my goose would have been cooked.

The shift today had been long and hard, thanks to a tough group of villains that left him banged up and exhausted. He ended up having to get patched up at a hospital. The doc that ended up putting him back together tried to get him to stay, but he managed to talk him into agreeing on releasing him. Though, he would have flown the coupe either way. He couldn't stand hospitals or clinics. Not that there was anything wrong with those places. They just reminded him too much of the commission. Orderly. Sterile. Functional.

Which is nice for a hospital, not for life. He has almost 20 years of experience with it to make him an expert on that subject.

Shit got old quick….

Though honestly, it wasn't like his place was much better. It was a simple bed, one bath apartment. Top floor, of course, with a balcony that looked over the inconspicuous neighborhood it was built in. Now being the number two hero, you'd think he makes enough to live somewhere a bit more… well, expensive. But while he did live the high life, it was nice to have a place he could go and just be Keigo, not Hawks.

And speaking of, he could see his balcony coming into view.

He swooped down over the rallying, stumbling a bit in the landing. It was pitch black, and his eyes felt as heavy as his body. Thankfully, though, he didn't fallout then there. Camping wasn't his thing, and while the balcony was rather spacious, his bed sounded much more comfortable.

Ahh, home sweet home.

That's weird. Did I forget to lock the door again?

He shrugged, not giving it much thought. He'd been in a hurry this morning, getting called in for an emergency issue downtown. And it wasn't like the first time he'd forgotten to lock the door behind him. Plus, he lived on the top floor; it's not like he had to worry about people just walking in off the streets.

Lot easier targets than his humble abode.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Damn, it was hot. He must have forgotten to turn the AC on this morning. The apartment was hot and muggy, but he honestly couldn't have cared less. An oven sounded like a good place to take a nap at this point. His body started moving on its own towards the bedroom, stripping out of his hero costume along the way.

Bed. Sleep. Bed. Sleep. Bed. Sleep.

His mind chanted over and over, clothes would be tomorrow's problem. He didn't even bother turning on any lights as he maneuvered through the living room and down the hallway. He'd lived there for over a year, so he knew the layout like the back of his hand.

By the time he made it to his bed, he was down to only his boxers. He was about to pull those down, too, but the moment his legs came in contact with the mattress, it was like whatever energy was left was drained out of him.

He sighed and let his body fall forward across the bed that would give him the sweet relief he so desperately needed.

Thump!

Huh? Why did his mattress feel all lumpy?

A loud shriek jolted him back to life long enough to realize that he was not alone. That the lumps in his bed weren't his covers, but a body.

There was a person in bed.

He shifted his weight, forcing himself up as the body under him started to trash and yell.

"Huh? What are you doing in my-" He managed to murmur out before a sharp pain to the side of his head finally did him in, and his mind gave in to the darkness of unconsciousness.

********

Your dreams were a God sent.

You were in a winter wonderland. Cool snowflakes danced all around. A cool breeze would blow every now again. It was like you could hear the clinking sound of ice hitting the window. Oh, what was that? The sound of heavy snow falling from the tree limbs? How wonderful!

So wonderful. So peaceful. So cool.

But everything changed when you were jolted awake by something pinning you to your bed. Whatever it was, was large, heavy, and sweaty.

You shrieked as you realized it was a person! There was a person on top of you! You trashed about trying to push the weight off of you, but you couldn't seem to get them off you. You screamed louder and struggled harder until their weight shifted.

"Huh?" The voice above you was drowsy sounding definitely that of an adult male. Your panic doubled as he shifted again, giving you a little more wiggle room. You still couldn't get free, but you took the opportunity to reach for something, anything to defend yourself with. Like hell, you were going down without a fight! Finally, you managed to wrap your fingers around something large on your bedside table. "What are you doing in my-?" You didn't let your attacker finish as you bashed the lamp into the side of his head.

He let out a loud 'off' as he rolled off the bed, giving you enough time to scrabble to the opposite side of the bedroom, hitting the lights.

Were those....wings?

Peaking over the side of the bed was, in fact, crimson feathers.

Who or what the fuck is that?

*******

Hawk's head pounded as he slowly stirred.

Shit, did he get drunk last night?

Slowly he opened his eyes, wincing from the light flooding the room along the memories of the night before. That's weird; he didn't remember turning on any lights.

Was it morning already?

He went to stretch his sore, aching body but quickly realized he couldn't.

He glanced down at himself and saw that yeap he was in his boxers and tied- wait.... were those power cord and... belts?

He blinked. What the hell? His upper body was bound in what looked to be a mix of various power cords and belts. Did someone break into his place and attack him?

Who in their right mind would break into his house? He was a hero! One of the top in the country!

He sighed as he tested the 'ropes.' Well, if this was a robbery, it was poorly planned, to put it mildly. The assailant left his wings completely free, and the binding was so poorly tied that he could slip right, with little effort.

A squeak of a floorboard caused his head to jerk up and glare at his attacker. A person carefully stepped into his view. And well, of all the things he'd been prepared for... you weren't it. And certainly not you, in nothing but your underwear, a tank top, and wielding a lamp like it was a baseball bat.

Well... this is... unexpected.

He could only stare at you in confusion that years of training couldn't even stop. Huh? You didn't look like a villain, much less a burglar. Honestly, you didn't look like a fighter at all.

If you weren't a villain, then...

He mentally groaned.

Great. You were a fan... and a crazy one at that.

Over his career, he's had a few run-ins with crazy or obsessed fans of his. He couldn't count the number of times he's had to change his phone number or move his safe house. Even with the commission on his side, his info still got out!

Maybe they should start hiring them instead...

Well... at least you were easy on the eyes. He thought as he gave you a once over. Your hair was a mess, and was that a bit of drool on your chin?

Yeap, just another crazy yet fairly active fan.

"Hey there." He greeted you with a warm smile, causing you to jump. He needed to play this out some. Escaping wouldn't be a problem, and he already had a few feathers at the ready in case you tried something. But he was hoping it wouldn't come to that. As irritated as he was at you, he didn't want to hurt you. You weren't a villain, just... confused. "It's not every day, I wake up to beauty like you. How about you untie me so I can introduce myself properly."

He gave you a charming smile as he watched your face go from nervous to confused and then to anger.

"L-Like, hell, I'm telling you my name after what you did!" You took a step forward and raise your weapon up slightly higher, ready to strike. "And don't flirt with me, you creep!"

Hmm, that usually works.

"My bad. I didn't mean to offend you. If you untie me, I'm sure I can figure out a few ways to make up for it." He winked, keeping his smile friendly and inviting. He needed to figure a way out of this that didn’t involve him hurting you or land him on every news station in the country.

*****

"You're seriously fucked up in the head, you know that! I am not untying you!" You yelled as a blush slowly crept over your cheeks. You were shocked at the stones this guy had! He broke into your home and attacked you while you were asleep. And now he was flirting with you?! Like this, a date or something!

Something in his eyes flashes for a split second, and you saw one of his wings twitch.

Why did he keep looking at you like that?

"D-Don't try anything! The police are on their way!" At least you hoped they were. You hadn't been able to call them, cause stupid you forgot to put your phone to charge when you got home. It was completely dead. You could only hope one of your neighbors who stayed had neared the commotion and called for help.

"Police?" His golden bird-like eyes went wide for a moment. Did he really think you wouldn't call for help?

"Yes, the police! You broke into my home and attacked me in my sleep! What did you just expect me to call for a parade?!"

"Wait…" You could see the gears turning in his head as he glanced around your room. His eyes suddenly went wide.

"So… you're not one of my fans?"

"Fan? WHY THE HELL WOULD I BE A FAN OF A PSYCHO LIKE YOU!?!"

"Wait! This is just a misunderstanding!"

"How the hell is breaking into someone's home, attacking them in their bed in the middle of the night a 'misunderstanding'?"

"Look, all I remember is flying home. Walking through my…" The man trailed off. "Wait, what address is this?"

"Like I'd give my address to a villain?" You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

"I'm already here like it's really going to make a difference?" He growled before giving you a glare. You watched as his wings poofed up a bit. "Also, watch the insults. I'm a hero, not a villain."

"Likely story." You deadpanned. "You could at least come up with something more believable than that..."

"W-wait... You don't recognize me?" You gave him a once over. "Take a really good look at me." His wings stretched out a bit. "Anything thing ring a bell?" You just stared at him blankly. Granted, he was good looking, and if he wasn't a criminal, he could easily be on the cover of a magazine. "Seriously?"

"Pretty convenient of you to pick the home of someone who doesn't follow heroes, huh?"

"More like, inconvenient. If you did, you'd recognize me in a heartbeat." He sighed. "Look, just check my pants pocket. You'll find my credentials."

"How do I know this isn't just a trick? Or maybe they're fake."

"It's not a trick! Look, if you're that worried, just get your phone and google me. I'm the wing hero: Hawks." Huh? Why would he suggest that? He wouldn't know about your phone... so why would he tell you to get it? You could call for help. That should be the last thing he wants. You pondered for a moment.

****

"Fine, I'll check. But this better not be a trick," You paused. "cause if it is, I got another lamp with your name on it!" He watched as you gradually made your way towards his discarded clothes. While you searched for his wallet, he glanced over to the shattered remains of what he assumed was your first weapon.

Well, that explains the small blood trail on the side of his head and his headache.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you found it. You made your way back to him as he watches you juggle, keeping your on him, holding the lamp, and reading his ID.

"Hero license, Hero: Hawks, Name: Takami Keigo." You mumbled as your eyes darted between the ID's picture and himself. He could still see the doubt in your eyes. Damn, if this didn't work, he was going to have to free himself. Hopefully, he'd be quick enough to do that and subdue you without hurting you much. "Wait… Takami… Keigo.." Your eyes went wide, and he had to admit, his name sounded a little too good coming from you. "Wait! That's the name on the mail that keeps getting put in my box!" A look of realization and shock washes over you. "You're my neighbor!"

"Ah, so you're the one that's been slipping my mail under my door!" He couldn't help but smile and sigh internally. Finally, somethings going right! " Nice to finally meet you! Sorry I haven't had a chance to introduce myself before now. Work keeps me pretty busy."

"You're a hero… and you're my neighbor…." Your eyes were wide as you stared at him.

"Looks that way."

"THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU BREAK INTO MY HOME!"

"It was an accident! I swear! I was exhausted and just flew to the wrong balcony. Honest. The glass door was open, and I didn't even realize I was in the wrong place." He tried to reason with you.

"Didn't you think it was a little strange that the furniture wasn't yours, or how about the fact that I was IN the bed?"

"Like I said, I was exhausted." He just shrugged before mumbling. "And well, let's just say you wouldn't be the first time a fan found where I lived and tried to surprise me in bed."

".... so you thought I was some psycho who broke into your home just to try and sleep with you…" You glared at him, clearly annoyed. "You realize I'm still holding a weapon right now, and remember..." You gestured with the lamp. "I gotta pretty mean swing..."

"Easy there, Chickadee. I'm joking. And I wouldn't call you psycho just... A little touched in the head." That earned him a glare that made him chuckle. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

"You like pissing people off, don't you?"

"I've been known to ruffle some feathers from time to time."

"Look," You sighed as you tried to process everything that just happened. "This is just... too much..." You sat the lamp down finally. "Damn, I'm sorry."

"No worries. This one on me." He made a move to stand.

"Oh, here, let me..."

"All good, I got it." He stood up, letting the restraints fall off of him like they weren't even there, let alone tied.

"H-how did y-you?"

"Oh, yeah. Word of advice, ya might wanna work on knots." He chuckled as he stretched.

"Y-You could have gotten free at any time… why didn't you?"

"Like I said, I'm a hero." He walked forward while you moved to the side, eyes still wide-eyed." If I'd freed myself before you realized who I was, you would have freaked out. Honestly, the last thing I want is for you to get hurt or you to go screaming down the hallway in your underwear." He informed you as your face turned beet red, and you then tried to pull your shirt down. He laughed at the poor attempt to hide. "Well then, gotta say this would make a hell of a story, but I'd really appreciate it if we kept this between us." He could help but tease you more. You looked so damn cute when you're flustered. "Not to brag or anything, but I'm a pretty well-known hero and have a reputation to uphold." He sent out a few of his feathers to help gather his gear while he talked to you. You were so entranced watching his feathers work that he had to repeat himself again.

"I-I-I… Yes!" Your eye finally snapped back into focus on him. "Of course! Just between us!"

"Great! Glad that's settled." He took a step towards you and held out his hand. You finally got the message and handed his wallet back to him. "My superiors and PR would have my tail feathers if this got out." He ginned. "Well, would you look at the time!" He grinned while making his way to the sliding glass door and out to the balcony, his floating clothes trailing behind him. "Best be on my way. I have an early shift in the morning. Sweet dream angle." And with that, he stepped out to the balcony and fluttered over to his.

Damn, what a night!

*****

Extra:

The next morning.

You woke up late, groggy and sweaty. The AC was still out, and your apartment was slowly heating up.

With a heavy sigh, you forced yourself out of bed, put on shorts, and headed to the kitchen.

Last night was a hell of a night.

Your neighbor is a hero...

What are the odds of that?

You reached up into your cabinet and pulled down your favorite cereal.

Whatever, he can't be that good if he made that big of a mistake, right?

You quickly made your breakfast and headed for your balcony. There was a slight breeze blowing that morning, making it almost bearable outside.

Almost...

Huh? What's that?

There was a large brown bag sitting on your patio table.

That wasn't there before...

You sat your bowl down and picked it up. Whatever it was, it was a decent size and heavy. You opened the bag, and the first thing you found was a note.

'Sorry again about last night. Here's a little gift for you to make up for it.

Bet you could do some real damage with this one. Batter up, chickadee!

Your neighbor,

-Hawks'

You reached further into the bag and pulled out... a lamp?

It was made out of wood and metal, making the damn thing large and pretty heavy. It was well made and couldn't have been cheap! You pulled it further out of the back, and when you saw the shape of the body, you couldn't help it: you busted out laughing. The damn thing was in the shape of a roaster!

Your neighbor... is a hero... and a strange one at that...

********

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

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katehuntington · 4 years

Text

Title: In Bad Waters - part fifteen Word count: ±6250 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part fifteen summary: The hunt is over, and Zoë and the brothers go separate ways. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons. Also a deep bow to @fangirl-and-medstudent-help who was very patient with me when I asked about a hundred medical questions. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

The lights of the suite switch on when Zoë slips the keycard in its holder by the door. After the assault she suffered earlier today, the Hampton Inn hotel management provided her with a bigger and better accommodation. Although she doesn’t plan to spend another night in Paragould, she took the generous offer. Dean enters the spacious room as well, Sam following close behind, in case his brother needs assistance. It bugs the hell out of the older sibling, who has grumpily told him that he’s fine a couple of times already. Yet, he allows the hovering, because honestly; he doesn’t feel so fresh.

On the way over, Zoë told him to lose the soaked shirt, which contradicted Dean’s instincts, because he has never felt this cold in his entire life, despite the heaters blowing air into the Chevy at level inferno. Even now, he can’t stop himself from shivering, his teeth clattering every now and then, despite his favorite leather coat that he’s wearing, the only clothing item that didn’t get drenched.

Exhausted, he plops down on the kingsize bed, to out of it to comment on the luxurious suite. Closing his eyes for a second, he rubs his forehead, trying to rid himself from the throbbing inside his skull. He coughs again, the involuntary action burning his lungs. It’s a painful yet ironic sensation, because he didn’t expect to feel like his airway is on fire after drowning in a fucking lake.

“Get out of those wet clothes, Dean,” Zoë tells him sternly, nodding at his jeans while slipping her Harley Davidson jacket on a coat hanger. “We need to warm you up.”

Normally, he would have had at least three sly remarks ready, but not this time. Instead, he nods with a sniff, bending down to untie his shoelaces with shaky fingers. Sam drops one of their duffel bags on the other side of the bed, pulling out a clean pair of jeans, one of Dean’s henley’s, a hoodie, socks and underwear. “I’m gonna take a shower first,” Dean says, pulling off his soaked boots.

“Absolutely fucking not,” Zoë intervenes, setting up her extensive medical kit on the nightstand. “I made quite an effort to bring you back to life, so it would be an awful waste of my time if you go into shock and die on the bathroom floor.” Sam raises his eyebrows at that, much like Dean, who lets his hand slip from his face. “How else am I gonna get warm, ‘cause I’m fucking freezing,” he returns, his voice still hoarse. “By raising your temperature slowly. Sam, can you grab a towel and fill that hot water bottle we got from the front desk? And get the extra comforters from the other bed.”

While the younger Winchester goes to collect the required items, Zoë opens the lid and takes out an ear thermometer from the metal briefcase, placing a clean probe tip on the end while she sits down next to the battered hunter. Dean flinches away from her when she cups his face firmly to hold him in place, earning an annoyed glare from the former med student. “Would you like me to use the regular one? Because I’ll give you one guess where I’d have to stick that. Now, sit still,” she orders, pulling his ear back to insert the device into his ear canal. “Jesus, you’re not the one for bedside manners, are you?” Dean mutters, but cooperates either way.

Zoë doesn’t respond, waiting for the thermometer to beep. She retreats it when it does exactly that and reads the display. “You’re at 95.2.” “That low?” he says, unpleasantly surprised. She nods, placing the small device on the side table. “That’s what happens when your main generator loses power. The central heating shuts down real quick when your heart stops beating.”

Dean sniffles, very much aware of the fluid that is still creeping up his throat. He fights the urge to cough again and clears his throat uncomfortably, when Sam returns with the hot water bottle under his arm, white towels with the Hampton Inn logo on them in one hand and two thick duvets in the other. “Dry yourself off and put on something warm, then wrap yourself in these.” She takes the comforter and lays it on the bed next to the older Winchester, before folding the water bottle in one of the towels. “Here, keep this close to you. Don’t lay down and don’t fall asleep,” she warns. “I’m gonna freshen up.”

She gets up and muffles a grunt behind gritted teeth, her cracked ribs once again reminding the huntress of her current fragile state. Adrenaline pushed down the pain in the midst of action, but now that the dust has settled, it’s back at full force. Picking up her bag on the way, she heads to the spacious bathroom, locking the door behind her. Not really ready for the sight, she peels her wet top from her skin while she stands in front of the nine ft. wide mirror. Dark bruises greet her when she discards the tank top, her bra following suit. They match the colorful display on her right cheekbone and the black and blue fingerprints on her neck.

“Wonderful,” she muddles, continuing to strip down, the soaked through fabric smacking against the nature stone tiles. She has no idea how she’s gonna ride all the way up to the Canadian border with an injury like this, but she doesn’t have a choice. Time isn’t exactly on her side.

After a shower, Zoë runs a towel over her head and blow-dries her brown locks quickly. Usually, she allows her curls to dry naturally, but wearing a helmet on wet hair is anything but pleasant, not to mention that she will have to deal with a fogged up visor throughout most of the trip.

She puts on clean underwear and hoists her leather biker pants up her legs, cursing under her breath at the ache that sears through her side with even the slightest movement. Something needs to be done, because she won’t last an hour on the Harley. Before she steps outside the bathroom, she secures her bra clasps. Not bothered to put on her top just yet, she pops her head from behind the door. “Sam?” The tall young guy looks up and for a second she wonders if he can actually see her through the fringe of brown damp locks. “Can you grab me some KT tape from my med kit?” she asks, nodding at the briefcase next to Dean, who is huddled up in the exact spot where she left him, wrapped in the thick comforters. “Sure,” Sam obliges, getting up. After rummaging for a few seconds, he finds what he’s looking for and turns to the bathroom to hand it over, but apparently she has different ideas. “Get in,” she tells him.

Perplexed, but not brave enough to hesitate and give her a reason to scold at him, he enters the large room, which could easily be considered a mini spa. A large jacuzzi is situated in the corner, a walk-in shower next to it. There’s even a sauna, the wooden benches shielded off by a glass wall. It’s nothing like the shabby motel rooms he and Dean usually coop up in. His admiration for the luxury comes to a sudden stop when his absent gaze lands on Zoë. Like a virgin teenager who walked in on his friend’s older sister, he stares at her for a short second, eyes wide and blown away. Shit, she’s not wearing a shirt.

“Done gaping?” she responds, bored, placing her hand firmly in her unharmed side. “I need to tape my side and I can’t reach properly.” Feeling caught, he shifts his attention to the KT tape in his hand. “Uh… y-yeah, sure,” he stammers, fiddling to open the package. Rolling her eyes, she snatches the small box from his hands and opens it. “I swear to God, Sam, get yourself together. You’ve seen me in less.”

Uncomfortably, the younger Winchester runs his fingers through his hair. Why is he being so awkward? Or maybe the better question is; why can’t he keep his eyes off her? He tries his best not to stare, but when he does, he notices the dark bruises on her ribs. “Damn it, Zo. She got you good,” he huffs, worry replacing the uneasiness. “It’s not that bad. I just need to secure it before I hit the road,” the tough woman mutters, peeling the plastic away from the sticky coating. She turns her back to Sam, moving her brown wavy hair over her left shoulder and out of the way. “You need to place the first strip diagonally and downward, starting from just below the scapula. You might need to lift my bra a little.”

Somewhat nervous, the thoughtful guy rubs his hands together first, not wanting his touch to be cold. After handing him the medical tape, she lifts her right arm, hissing at the stretch. “Right here?” he asks, lifting the wing of her lace bra, before sticking one end of the strip right below her shoulder blade. She nods, breathing out a shuddering breath. “Yeah.”

Sam handles her gently, the pads of his fingers not as rough as she expected hunter’s hands to be. In silence he works, focussed on his task. Zoë watches him in the mirror, a small smile of amusement pulling at the corners of her mouth, despite the discomfort. His eyebrows are knitted together in concentration, hazel eyes tracing her bruised form. After a few more instructions, he secures the second strip with the same precision. Zoë can’t deny nor ignore the current that his touch sends through her body, and it has her intrigued.

“One more. Vertical along my side,” she says, her voice softer than she has spoken to him all evening. The younger Winchester tries not to gulp visibly, holding the enchanting woman still, while he smoothens the final strip down her bruised rib cage. He’s careful to prevent pressure on the sensitive area, not wanting to hurt her, but she shivers anyway. When he directs his gaze on her in their reflection, Sam notices it’s not pain that has her shuddering, because her challenging eyes tell a different story. They behold a hint of curiosity, interest... lust even.

Not sure how to cope with the tension that hangs in the air, he clears his throat and lets his finger slip from her beautifully toned and proportioned body, averting his eyes from the mirror. “I’m - uh - I’ll let you get dressed,” he stutters, awkwardly pointing his thumb over his shoulder before he heads to the door. “I’ll be right out,” she promises, picking a clean shirt from her bag.

Zoë watches him leave, smirking at his behavior. He really doesn’t know how to act around her, and it’s highly entertaining. There is a definite pull she experiences towards him, an attraction that she can’t quite place, but it’s not something she can dwell on. This case will be the last one they worked together and tonight will be the last time she ever sees him. But before they go separate ways, she needs to give his brother a thorough check up, even though she doesn’t like his company half as much as Sam’s. Suck it up, Zo. You’ve got work to do.

Refreshed and dressed, she enters the master suite again, Dean still on the side of the bed, wrapped up in comforters like a burrito. Zoë’s plump lips press together in a thin line, because now is not the moment to make fun of the hunter, who without a doubt feels miserable.

“Alright, let’s give you your physical exam so I can hit the road, huh?” she suggests, sitting down next to the older Winchester brother, taking her stethoscope from her briefcase and hanging it around her neck, after which she picks up a blood pressure gauge as well. “Stretch out your right arm.”

He shrugs the heavy comforter off his bare shoulders, silently obeying his physician’s orders. Again, Dean misses the perfect opportunity for a dirty comeback, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Although Zoë hasn’t known him for long, she did pick up on his usual demeanor, lightening the mood with a witty comment and some dark humor. Now, the joker is awfully quiet.

“Y’know, you guys can have the room for the night,” she offers. “It’s paid for anyway.” “Nah, I feel fine. Besides, if we don’t leave tonight, we’re gonna be late for our wolf hunt,” Dean replies, watching her strap the cuff around his upper arm. Sam leans against the wall, observing the skilled woman as well. He hates to admit it, but Dean has a point. “He’s right. Today was the first night of a full moon, we won’t have much time if we stay any longer.” “I’m just saying it might not be a bad idea to rest up,” Zoë points out, squeezing the rubber pump that’s attached to the cuff, filling it with air until circulation is cut off. “But you two kamikaze morons do what you gotta do.” Sam scoffs at that. “You’re one to talk.”

Her head cocks in his direction, staring him down intimidatingly, but Sam doesn’t budge and arches one eyebrow at her knowingly. His attitude annoys Zoë, and yet she doesn’t bite his head off. If circumstances were any different, she would have gladly spent at least the night in this luxurious suite and added several more, but she simply can’t. Wanting to avoid the reasoning behind her departure by all costs, she drops the matter.

Instead, she pulls the stethoscope from behind her neck, widens the headset and places the tips in her ears. She then continues to place the diaphragm just above the crease of the elbow, while allowing the cuff to deflate. Blood begins to flow through the brachial artery again, causing a beat to thud against Zoë’s eardrums, and she reads the systolic pressure on the meter. Once the blood vessels remain open and the pounding sound stops, the closest what the Winchesters have to a doctor reads the meter again.

“Your BP is 125 over 80. For a guy who lives off gas station food, pizza and burgers, that’s pretty damn healthy,” she comments, hooking the stethoscope around her neck again. “Great. So can I go now?” Dean is about to rise up from the bed, but Zoë grips him on the junction between his neck and his shoulder, pushing him down to sit on the bed again. “Did I say I was done?” she snaps back at him.

Dean bites his tongue when he feels her nails dig into his shoulder. He wants to yelp and call her names, yet he doesn’t, because Sam shoots him a warning glare. He argues with his little brother in silence, the younger sibling’s wide eyes sending death threats when Dean’s upper lip twitches while hinting at the woman who currently has a tight hold on him. He then shakes his head and gives in, too tired to have this discussion.

Zoë ignores the tension all together. “Well, if you aren’t gonna stay, do you mind starting to load up the car, Sam? I wanna check out as soon as I’m done here,” Zoë states, giving him something else to do other than lurking over her shoulder. “Sure,” the tall hunter says, and begins to gather their things, including the wet clothes Dean discarded earlier.

When Sam has left, the tough Winchester drops his head, blinking a couple of times, clearly not feeling his best. Zoë monitors him closely; she had a hunch he was keeping up appearance in order not to worry his sibling. “So now that your brother is out of the room, how are you really feeling?” she asks, removing the cuff from Dean’s arm. “And cut the bullshit. No one expects you to feel fine after flatlining.”

The hunter looks up at her from under heavy eyelids, trying to figure out what her intentions are. He assumes she’s asking to determine further medical action, and so he drops the act. “I - uh… I feel off, man,” he admits, pinching the bridge of his nose again. “Headache?” she wonders, storing the sphygmomanometer away. He nods, swallowing hard. “Let me guess; you’re experiencing dizziness, decreased muscle strength, and feel like you could sleep for a week?” Zoë fills in for him. “Sounds about right,” Dean sighs.

Zoë puts in the ear tips of her stethoscope again in order to examine his heart, holding the bell between her second and third digit. She places the diaphragm on the right of the sternum, tracing his ribs under her fingertips to determine the right spot in order to hear the aortic valve. A stillness falls over the two, as Zoë concentrates to dissect the sound of Dean’s steady heartbeat, her other hand still holding him by the shoulder, her touch much more gentle this time around.

Not wanting to disturb her focus, the older Winchester brother allows his gaze to wander, spending this rare moment without them yelling at each other to admire her. Whenever the tough as nails huntress boils his blood, he tends to only see the ugly side of Zoë Sullivan, but right here in this peaceful serenity, her beauty stuns him. Her face is slightly turned away, the profile of her sharp jawline and slightly upward pointed nose brought out by the warm light on the nightstand. She’s close enough for him to smell the coconut shampoo lingering in her freshly washed hair. Only now does he realize that his shivering has stilled, but he’s not sure if it actually has to do with his body temperature steadily going up, or that her soft touch is what calms his tremors. He’s not used to kind contact, a hand on his shoulder, a sweet ruffle through his hair like his mother used to do, but deep down, he craves it.

When she shifts the bell of her stethoscope to the left side of his chest, Dean glances to her hand still gently gripping his tattooed arm, which is decorated with a short sleeve that fans out over his shoulder blade. Shades of black display what he stands for, symbols and sigils mixed with personal references to his life and the people who mean the world to him. He only now realizes she has been studying the piece of art forever edged in his skin, while she was listening to his heart.

When Zoë is sure the pulmonic valve of Dean’s heart sounds normal as well, she slides the bell of her stethoscope to listen for the heart sounds on the right, but when the hunter flinches under her touch, her eyes dart up at his. “That hurts?” “A bit. It’s fine,” he claims, shifting somewhat on the edge of the bed. “Sure I didn’t break a rib?” she ponders, feeling the tender area in the center of his chest, where the first stage of a bruise is surfacing. “I worked your chest pretty hard.”

Dean looks up at her, perplexed, as if it only now dawns on him what lengths Zoë went to save his life. She performed CPR on him, used all her capabilities to bring him back from the infinite darkness that was about to swallow him whole. Capabilities Sam doesn’t have, simply because he’s not trained to give medical aid. It hits Dean like lightning; if she hadn’t been there, he would have died.

“Zo?” The huntress shifts her attention from the sound of the mitral valve opening and closing, to her patient’s genuine eyes. The twenty-six year old tough guy seems that much younger all of a sudden, not sure how to get across what he wants to say. “You - uh... If it wasn’t for you, I… y’know--” “Don’t mention it.”

Dean carefully glances up at her, meeting a small smile. A silent huff leaves his lips when he realizes she just returned his own words to him. Words he spoke in response to the huntress, when she tried to express gratitude for his rescue, earlier this afternoon. “Well then, guess we’re square,” he comments. “Too bad I wasn’t conscious for the mouth-to-mouth action.” “Ah, there he is. I was wondering when you were gonna feel good enough to start behaving like a jackass,” Zoë sniggers. “Your heart sounds fine, I’m gonna check your lungs now. Take slow breaths, okay?”

With an amused smile on his lips, Dean does as told. Concentrating, the woman who would have aced med school listens to his respiration, using the stethoscope as an amplifier. Like she was taught, she starts at the left upper zone, then the right, comparing the two sides, before she moves down. “Can you inhale a little deeper for me?” she requests.

The hunter pulls in a big breath through his mouth, the action igniting a fire in his chest, similar to the time when he was a teenager, when he had a neglected cold that turned into something worse. He tries to fight another hacking fit, but loses the battle, quickly turning his head away from Zoë and coughs violently. When he settles, she continues the examination. “Pain?” she wonders, although she has an idea what the answer might be. “Burns,” he manages to say, his voice hoarse. “Try again, take it easy this time,” Zoë encourages.

After moving the diaphragm across her patient’s bare chest, she removes the medical instrument and takes a seat on the side of the bed as well, placing the bell on his back now. Staring at nothing in particular, she lets the sense of hearing take over completely. Brown eyes slightly shift from left to right, narrowing at a certain point. “What?” Dean wonders, noticing a hint of discontent in her expression. “Your lung sounds are a little faint; you still got some fluid in there,” the huntress explains, putting her stethoscope away. “It should clear by itself, your blood will absorb it, but if that cough gets worse, you're gonna need to see a real doctor.” “You seem like a real doc to me,” he shrugs, covering the compliment by clearing his throat. “Haven’t had a check up in years.”

Zoë casts her gaze down, appreciating the words, but unable to thank him for it. “Let’s keep it that way. Take these.” She takes a small plastic bottle from her briefcase, a prescription on the side. “With the swamp water you took in, you’re likely to develop pneumonia without antibiotics. Take two tonight. The coming days, one in the morning, one in the evening, never on an empty stomach, until the bottle is empty, alright? If it hurts, you can take Ibuprofen, but don’t go over the maximum dosage. You want me to pack you some?”

Somewhat stunned, Dean nods and takes the bottle between his index finger and his thumb. The doctor role Zoë is fulfilling right now, brings out an attentive and empathetic side of her, which he hasn’t seen yet to this extent. His injuries aren’t downgraded, he’s not told to man up and keep going, like his father so oftenly does when he suffered an injury on a hunt. He’s not used to this kind of care, but he values it.

“Thanks.”

The simple word that falls from his lips in a whisper has Zoë shift her eyes to him in surprise. She clearly wasn’t expecting a ‘thank you’, but doesn’t call him out on the sentiment. Her smile grows a little wider and for the first time since their reunion, Dean sees the innocent Californian surf girl he remembered from back in the days.

The huntress takes out the thermometer one last time, inserting it in his ear. He doesn’t move away this time, but slightly leans into her. The device beeps and she pulls it back. “96.8; you’re getting there. If you want you can take a shower now, just not too hot.” She removes the tip and gets up, throwing it in the trash can. “You’re all set.” “Alright,” he says, putting the water bottle aside and picking up a towel and his clothes.

He retreats to the bathroom and appreciates the spacious rain shower, and returns to the main suite, dressed in a warm hoody and dry jeans. His brother is back as well. “Ready to hit the road?” Dean nods, putting on his leather coat and straightening the collar. “Let’s go.”

The three hunters check out and walk out towards the parking lot five minutes later. The Impala is parked in front of the building across from Linwood Cemetery, the black paint job shimmering beautifully in the pale moonlight. Zoë approaches her bike, carrying a saddle bag over her shoulder and her helmet in the other hand, as the boys walk over to their car. Instinctively, Dean moves around to the left side of the car, but Zoë stops him. “You’re not driving,” she decides, as if it’s her call to make. “Unless you wanna be a road hazard.” “Oh, c’mon,” the owner of the car complains, redirecting a glare from the woman in their company to Sam, who is waiting for the keys with a smirk. After rolling his eyes, he tosses his brother the keys and drags his feet to the passenger side. “Sleep upright for a night or two,” the med student suggests. “Why the hell would I do that?” Dean returns, puzzled. “Because I reckon you don’t want to suffocate during the night.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s called secondary drowning, asshat.” Dean scoffs. “That’s a thing?” Zoë chuckles at his obliviousness. “That’s a thing.” “Noted,” Dean says, shoving down his warm jacket coat.

“You made your deadline,” Sam reminds her, leaning his arms on the hardtop while looking over as she checks the time. “Not yet, but at least I’ll make it in time for the big show,” she smiles faintly. “What about you two? Texas?” “Yep, Waco,” Sam specifies. Zoë nods. The Winchesters can tell from her reaction that she knows the place. “When you’re in town, stop by at Honeybee Ham & Deli. I tell ya, their ham and turkey is awesome,” Zoë recommends. Dean smiles happy as he pictures the plate full of juicy meat. “Will do.” “What about you?” the younger sibling wonders. Zoë climbs in the saddle of her Road King, which faces the two men. She doesn’t put her helmet on just yet, though. Her small smile disappears when she’s confronted with what’s coming. “I’m going up north,” she answers vaguely.

A silence follows and Dean glances at Sam over the top of his car. They can both sense that something’s up. “If you need a hand--” Sam starts carefully. “No, I don’t. Really guys, you need to stay out of this one. It’s not your fight,” Zoë says, stern. “Complicated case?” Dean comments. “It’s just something I need to take care of. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the help you gave me here, but this is personal business,” she answers, looking from one to the other. “Whatever you do, don’t follow me.” “We have our own personal business to take care of,” Sam assures. “Your Dad?” the huntress assumes. “We want to find him. He’s probably after that thing that killed Mom and Jess by himself,” Sam states, determined.

For a moment Dean observes his brother, aware of the strong mindedness in his voice. He could fight him. Hell, he can start an argument with him right now, but what would it matter? Sam isn’t easily convinced otherwise, not when it comes to this. He wants to find Dad and kill whatever brought so much misery upon them so desperately, that it’s becoming an obsession. When he returns his gaze Zoë, he’s caught off guard by her, who stares directly at him. She has been reading him all this time. “Seems like you do have your own personal business to take care off,” she states wisely, hanging her helmet on the handlebar.

“Sure you can ride?” Dean checks with her. Zoë glances at him, but he isn’t mocking her, the oldest Winchester son actually has a solid point. She doesn’t feel great at all. Her head is still throbbing from the blow she took during her physical fight with Laura; she probably suffered a mild concussion. A 520 mile bike ride isn’t going to improve the ache in her bones either. She would love to go back into the Hampton Inn and get some sleep, which she normally does after an exhausting hunt. This time things are different, there’s just too little time. “I don’t have much of a choice,” she sighs. “I should get going.” “Be careful,” Sam offers. Zoë only responds with a smile and looks down at her biker boots. It’s funny, all this time she has been fighting the Winchester boys, but now that she’s about to leave, she’s lingering.

“I hope you’ll find John,” she says out of the blue. Surprised, the brothers take her in. Where did that come from? The huntress notices the surprise on their faces, because she continues to explain herself. “He’s your father. I know he can be a pain, but he’s family. Treasure that as long as you can.”

Sam watches Dean nod agreeing, and he too realizes that she’s right. The last time he saw his father, they had a huge argument. Ever since, he has been afraid that he might never see his dad again, that he will never get the chance to say he’s sorry. That’s what he is, because he regrets yelling at him, he regrets picking a fight. He knows he’s not the only one to blame, but he bailed on both his brother and his father and chose his own path. He stands by that decision still, but he does realize how much his actions hurt them. The youngest Winchester is done fighting his Dad, he just wants to make sure he’s alright. Zoë knows loss. She lost her father in an unforgivable and certainly unforgettable manner. It’s that fact that makes both Dean and Sam understand that these wise words are coming straight from the heart.

The huntress looks at them with a calm expression on her face, a satisfied one, and yet a glint of sadness is noticeable in her eyes. She doesn’t expect to see them ever again. Not wanting to wait until the goodbye becomes sentimental, Zoë kicks the ignition, the characteristic Harley Davidson rumbling loud in the night. Before she can put on her helmet, Dean calls out for her. “See you around.”

As he watches her response, Zoë keeps quiet. Not likely, she realizes, not pronouncing the words out loud. She gives them a last nod, pulls the helmet over her head, turns the throttle, and with a loud roar her Harley hits the highway. The brothers watch the single red taillight get smaller, then she disappears out of sight. Silently, they stare at the road ahead, both thinking about what she just said. Sam is the first one to reply to it.

“Did she just… say goodbye?” he checks, making sure he didn’t just interpret her words wrong. Dean doesn’t respond and forks his fingers together while leaning his forearms on top of the car. Pondering, he stares down the street. “As in… for good?” Sam adds.

He glances at his older sibling, who opens his car door. Sam takes his example and settles in the driver’s seat. Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac sounds from the speakers as soon as the younger Winchester turns the key in the ignition. “Are we going after her?” Sam wants to know, before he drives off. “No,” Dean responds, annoyed by the fact that for a split second, he was thinking about it himself. “She’s a big girl, Sam. She can take care of herself.” “That’s what you said last time,” his sibling bounces back. “That was just bad luck. It’s not our job to protect fellow hunters, it’s our job to protect innocents,” Dean brings to mind. “If Zoë's in trouble, she's innocent.” “Believe me, Sam. I believe Zoë is everything but innocent,” the oldest of the two disagrees.

“I don't know, man. I think she’s after something big, or something big is after her,” Sam sighs, staring through the windshield in the direction where Zoë vanished just moments ago. “So she’s onto a big fish,” Dean returns nonchalantly. “If she needs our help, she’ll call.” The driver scoffs. “No, she won’t.” Dean glances aside and observes his brother for a moment, confused by his brother’s motives. “I thought you were so determined to find Dad?” “I am,” Same confirms. “Then why the fuck do you care so much for some girl? We have better things to do. There’s a werewolf on the loose last time we checked and I don’t see why we should be bothering ourselves tracking down a hunter who’s fine on her own and is not keen on our company,” Dean rambles annoyed, after which he quotes her. ‘Whatever you do, do not follow me’. Her words, dude.”

Sam gives in with a huff; maybe he’s right. Zoë made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want them on her tail. Maybe they should just let her be. But deep inside he feels it eating at him. His gut tells him that something bad is going to happen to her. Contemplating on the choice, he stares ahead. “Seriously, if you want me to believe that you don’t have a major crush on her, you’ll have to do better than this.” Dean’s brows are raised as he looks aside.

His younger brother glares at him, but decides not to respond. Dean is making fun of it, but he’s not sure himself how he feels about Zoë. She’s such a mysterious girl, with a dark sense of humor and a peculiar personality. She’s fierce, rapid on the counter, sarcastic, confident, smart. An amazing huntress with a big heart, even though she might act like she couldn’t care less. He can’t help but to be curious about her. Why? He can’t put his finger on it. There’s a connection between them, if they like it or not.

Sam decides to change the subject, determining their new destination. “So? Waco then?” “Waco it is,” Dean agrees. Sam turns the Impala around, when they hear a strange clunk coming from the back of the car as he drives over a speed bump while exiting the parking lot of the Hampton Inn. Uh-oh, he realizes, assuming his brother heard it too. “What is that?” Dean says out loud, looking over his shoulder. “Did you close the trunk? Stop the car.”

Sam does as told and in the middle of the exit, Dean gets out. Sam stares in his back mirror, waiting for the inevitable. He already noticed the damage when loading up the car, but didn’t have the courage to tell the person who loves the Impala so dearly. That, and he wanted to give Zoë a head start. When he rolls down the window and pokes his head out, he sees Dean, boiling in rage. “What’s going on?” Sam asks, pretending to be unaware. He gets out and joins his brother, beholding the back of the Impala. The paint of the trunk is scratched, leaving the Chevrolet damaged by the shovel that Zoë used as leverage to break open the trunk. For a moment, Sam just stares at the car without saying a word. Dean, on the other hand, grits his teeth so hard that his brother can hear them grinding. His face looks like a volcano that is about to erupt as he clenches his fists, trying to contain his anger.

“Insulting Baby is one thing, but this -” Dean hisses furiously, “this is unforgivable. I’m gonna kill her, I am so gonna fucking kill her!” “Calm down,” Sam tries to ease him. “Calm down?! She fucked up MY CAR!!!” he shouts as he turns red.

He slams the trunk and pushes it down hard, but it doesn’t lock as it should. Then he strides back to the front and gets in on the passenger side again. Quickly, Sam sits down behind the wheel, not wanting to piss him off even more. Dean is about to detonate; one wrong move, comment or facial expression and he will explode. “Get the fuck going,” the owner of the classic car growls, squeezing the blood out of his hands around his cellphone, tempted to call perpertrator. Sam gulps, surprised that the device doesn’t break in half, and uncomfortably leans back before he hits the gas. The day that Dean got this car from Dad, he learned a very important lesson; if you mess with the Impala, you mess with Dean.

“For the record,” the older Winchester starts off. “This isn’t the last time we will see Sullivan.” “It isn’t?” Sam carefully questions. “Oh, we’ll see her again,” he snaps. “And I’m gonna kick her fine little ass when that time comes.”

Poor Zoë, Sam can’t help but to think. She’s probably laughing that same fine little ass off right at this very moment, as Dean so poetically described it. A part of him hopes they will indeed never run into her again, because she is going to feel his brother’s wrath. What are the odds anyway? America is a big country; she is only one of over 320 million people in this nation. Sam glances ahead into the dark night and grins, because something tells him that their paths will collide again. Maybe even sooner than expected.

Well, that’s it! Episode 2 is wrapped up, now on to the next one.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Supernatural OFC #Supernatural #Dean x OFC #Sam x OFC #dean winchester x ofc #Sam Winchester x ofc #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Zoë Sullivan #STSS #In Bad Waters #1x02 In Bad Waters #Kate Huntington

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littleredlie · 4 years

Text

Derailed (S1P1)

Series Masterlist | Master Masterlist

Chicago Med x doctor!OC Morgan Fitzgerald is a doctor at Chicago Medical. On the day of Med’s reopening Morgan is in the middle of a tense situation as old friends from the past come back and form uneasy relationships with newer friends. Based off S1E1 of Chicago Med.

3.9k+ Words

Featuring: Morgan Fitzgerald, Will Halstead, Natalie Manning, April Sexton, Maggie Lockwood, Ethan Choi, Daniel Charles, Sarah Reese, Sharon Goodwin, Connor Rhodes Warning: This might be complete shit, I don’t know. I tried my hardest with the medical stuff, a lot might be inaccurate. A/N: Let me know how you like it

The alarm clock that sat on the nightstand beside Morgan’s bed rang as it changed to 4:45 AM. At the sound, the weary woman’s eyes blink open with great difficulty. She does not move for a moment, letting the alarm to ring a bit more before slapping her hand against the off button. Pulling herself up, she peeks out the open window to her right, noticing that Chicago was slowly coming to life for the day. It was November now, she had to turn the heat in the apartment soon though her roommate has been telling her to do it since August, but it always got hot in Morgan’s room. She hears a train nearby rumbling along the tracks and she can see a light tinge of blue sitting on the horizon. She had been back in Chicago for three years, but the mornings still entranced her. When a bird flies past her window, Morgan takes it as a signal to start getting ready for work.

Turning on the lamp, her small room becomes illuminated and the picture of her sister that sat on the nightstand beside the alarm clock came into view. It was taken during Morgan’s graduation from medical school about a month before their lives changed. Tearing her eyes away from the frame, she slips the bonnet off her head and places it on the vacant pillow to her left. The bun her hair was in unwraps into a ponytail, the ends of her braids tickling her upper back. Throwing the blue covers off her bare legs, Morgan slips her feet into the slippers beside her bed and trudges towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway. However, before she could get there, she noticed a light peering out from under her roommate’s door. She stops and softly knocks, pushing the door a little without waiting for a knock.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Morgan’s eyes sweep over Hayden’s body and she is immediately given her answer. The reporter was slumped over her desk, papers scattered over her bed and on the floor. Hayden looks up to Morgan, her glasses sitting on top of her head and bags stacking under her eyes.

“I’m about to get a huge lead about a sex trafficking group operating around Garfield Park and Humboldt. People are going missing and I know that I’m getting near, I just need –”

“What you need is rest” Morgan interrupts her leaning on the doorframe. “You cannot keep pushing this hard or your body is gonna crash”

“But–”

“No buts.” Morgan pulls the pen out of her roommate’s hand. “Get some rest please, doctor’s orders.”

“You know you cannot keep using your occupation over me, you don’t see me saying investigative reporter’s orders.” Hayden leans back in her chair, arms folding over her chest, a soft smile on her lips.

“Well, when I go chasing sex traffickers in Central Chicago than you can pull that shit.” She smiles back. “I’m gonna go get ready for work, I don’t need the car today so I’ll leave the car keys on the counter.”

“It's reopening today right? After ya know.” Hayden shrugs. That night was rough, Morgan was running on fumes before the explosion and after the lockdown she was trying her best not to tip over.

“Yeah, it’s being televised,” the doctor forces a breath out. “I hope today’s easy, cause these last few months have not. I’ll see you later.” With that Morgan closes Hayden’s bedroom door and heads to the bathroom. Soon the shower head is pushing out water and steam is beginning to fog up the mirrors. The clock in the bathroom reads 4:57 and Morgan knows that she has to hurry if she wants to make it to the hospital by 5:45. She was glad that they found this apartment not too far from the hospital that she’d been working at for the past three years.

When a shower cap is put over her braids, the dark skinned woman puts herself under the warm water, her shoulder muscles relaxing just a little. Almost instinctively, her hand grazes over the surgical scar that was just under her belly and it lingers. Pulling her hand away she focuses on the rest of her body until she is done. She dries herself and applies lotion quickly, wanting to bring the attention to her makeup. Morgan did not do much when it came to makeup, she’d put light foundation and do her eyebrows. She decided to leave her box braids in a high bun reinforced bu two scrunchies. With a towel wrapped around her body, Morgan heads to her room to get dressed.

Her maroon scrubs and white lab coat were folded on top of the ottoman at the end of her bed. Slipping on a pair of black boxer briefs and a black sports bra, she knew that she had no one to impress. It’s been a bit of a dry spell since she broke up with her detective ex-boyfriend last spring. It wasn’t like it bothered her much, she was busy with work and had been focusing on her family. There wasn’t time to date (and she couldn’t deny that it took a bit of time to get over him). Glancing at the clock again, she sees that it was 5:20. The train station was about five minutes away, so she had to hurry. She’ll eat when she gets to the hospital. Throwing on her sneakers, jacket, scarf, and hat, Morgan then grabs her phone and her well prepared backpack.

A chill danced down her spine the moment she stepped outside and made her way to the train station. She waves to the lady opening the flower store to her right as her steps reverberate off the concrete steps. Putting in the headphones connected to her phone, Morgan starts an audio book, her focus only on the words of the story and her destination.

It wasn’t long till she got there, recognizing familiar commuters and passing a few smiles to those who were willing to accept. The ride was uneventful, but Morgan was not focusing on everyone else. She was either listening to the book or her mind was wondering about the day that laid out in front of her. Working in an emergency department was unpredictable, it could be a day filled with easy answers and wins or it could be tragic, long, hard, stressful. Morgan’s been at Chicago Memorial for three years, finishing her residency for emergency medicine and then accepting an attending position. After graduating from University of Colorado’s M.D. program, she decided to come back home after 11 years and applied to a few hospitals in Chicago. Chicago Memorial was her first choice and when she got it, it was like she was starting over. That was until everything happened.

The train stops at her destination and the doctor shuffles off with a few others. Briskly, she makes her way to the hospital, arriving the same time as Dr. Will Halstead. Yanking the headphones from her ears, she walks up to him and nudges him slightly, bringing a small smile to his face.

“Ready for today?” She asks him and he looks down at her, nodding slightly.

“I was so excited I couldn’t sleep last night,” Morgan laughs at his tone and he laughs with her.

“Okay, let’s just get through the day.” Together they walk through the lobby where people are beginning to set up for a press conference. In the doctor’s lounge, Will diverts his attention to Natalie while Morgan heads to her locker. She hangs up her backpack on the hook, pulls out her white coat to put on, and pulls out her purple stethoscope, stuffing it into the left pocket of her white coat. She makes sure her pager is on before stuffing it into her right coat packet.

Soon doctors, nurses, reporters, administration and more are standing in the lobby listening to Mrs. Goodwin speak praising remarks for the mayor. There are cheers and claps resonating around the room and the air is light. It isn’t like that for too long. The second Goodwin cuts the ribbon for the new emergency department, various pagers and cell phones begin to ring. Morgan looks at Dr. Choi when he pulls out his pager and soon after hers begins to ring. She pulls it out and glances down to it, her eyebrows furrowing together. She sees the Mayor being ushered off before Maggie walks out through the automatic doors.

“CFD Plan 2, mass cas. Multiple trauma patients, minutes away.” She yells. “Let’s go!” She urges and medical personnel begin to push themselves through the doors.

❦

All of sudden the emergency department is busy and there are sirens nearing the hospital. Maggie immediately begins delegating as paramedics pour through from the bay. Morgan is pushed to Trauma 1.

A young teenage girl who’s clutching her arm to her chest sits on the gurney. Morgan peers down and sees her tibia poking out of her shin and knows that the girl is in pain.

“Let’s start a morphine drip!” Dr. Fitzgerald yells out, a nurse fulfilling her orders. “Transfer on my count, gently,” everyone surrounding the girl clutches at the sheet, preparing to move her onto the treatment table. “One, two, three,” with a soft thud the girl is finally on the table.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Fitzgerald, what’s your name sweetie?”

“Grace,” she breathes out, obviously having trouble breathing. “My name’s Grace.”

“Alright Grace, we’re doing everything we can to help you.” Morgan flashes a light in front of her eyes to see her pupil’s reaction. “Pupils are reactive to light, blood pressure and sats are normal, heart rate is increasing. She’s tachy, let’s push 3 of Ativan.” The room moves around Morgan as they tend to the patient who is crying in front of her. Morgan puts a nasal cannula on Grace’s face so that she could breathe easier.

Moving to her head, Morgan takes off the collar and looks down. “Grace, I need you to do something for me real quick, okay?” Morgan nods and places her hands to each side of Grace’s head. “Alright, can you touch your chin to the chest?” Grace does so and Morgan then has her move her head side to side. “C-Spine’s clear. Doris, get me Xray and Ortho down here.”

“On it!” Doris leaves the room momentarily, before returning back to help. Morgan walks down to Grace’s feet and checks it’s pulse.

“Need any help in here?” Dr. Halstead’s voice comes up from behind Morgan and she gives out a sigh of relief.

“Dr. Halstead, I need you to help me reset her tibia before it leads to any deficits.” She says to him, not taking her eyes off of Grace. “Where the hell is that xray?!”

“Should be here momentarily, they’re all used up,” Will heads to the side of Grace’s right leg and nods to Morgan.

“Hey Grace, this is going to hurt a lot, but we need to do this, okay?” Grace goes into panic mode and starts shaking her head, tears ferociously gliding down her face.

“No, please no!”

“Grace, I understand how you might feel right now, but Dr. Halstead and I need to do this. I promise, it’ll take just a few seconds and then we can fix you up.” Without waiting for confirmation from the teenage girl, Morgan nods towards her colleague and together they work. Morgan pulls down on Grace’s leg, maneuvering the tibia back into her leg. Grace lets out a scream, tears moving down her face at a faster rate. “Alright, Grace, we’re all good now.” Xray finally walks in and everyone who is void of a lead apron, moves out of the way.

In the background Maggie reports another incoming, and it pulls the attention of the two doctors. “You got this from here?” Will looks down, aiming the question at Morgan.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. I’ll be there to help you when I get Grace up to the OR.” She nods and he places a gentle hand on her arm, her replying with a soft smile. Will walks away from her and she turns back to her patient. Morgan and Doris work on calming her down and prepping her for her trip upstairs.

“What do you got for me?” Someone from surgery walks up behind Morgan, slightly starting her.

“She has an open fracture to her tibia, we cleaned the wound and maneuvered the bone back into her leg. Her arm has a closed fracture, due to her Xray I’d say she just needs a cast. Her leg, she’s definitely going to need surgery for realignment.” The surgeon, Dr. Lasonde, nods and both she and Morgan work to get Grace upstairs.

Soon Grace is on her way upstairs, her leg and arm placed into splints, and Morgan is throwing her gloves to the ground as she watches Lassonde push the gurney, a frightened Grace on top of it. Running a hand through her hair and giving a sigh out, she thanks the team around her before being rerouted to another person coming through the doors.

❦

Later, as she works at the computer filling out paperwork for Grace, Morgan peers up and notices someone stepping out of Trauma 4 and talking to Mrs. Goodwin.

Connor?

Before Morgan can approach him another team of paramedics walk in with Jamie and Goodwin sends them into a treatment room. Morgan looks down and finishes typing up her charts. “Hey Sharon!” Morgan yells to grab the administrator’s attention and she stops, stepping beside the curious doctor. “Was that Connor Rhodes?”

“Yeah, he’s the new trauma fellow. You know him?” She looks between the room he stepped in and Dr. Fitzgerald.

“Yeah, I do.” She says absentmindedly, “ Huh, I wonder why he didn’t tell me?” Morgan wonders for a moment before looking back down to the computer screen. “It’s fine, I don’t want to bother him while he’s with a patient.”

“I don’t have to worry about anything do I?” Sharon asks, hoping that drama wasn’t gonna arise between them.

“Oh, of course not! Connor and I have known each other since we were kids, he just didn’t tell me he was being transferred here. Don’t worry Sharon.” Goodwin nods and walks away from Morgan. Then Maggie walks up with a distraught, older white woman. “What can I do for you Mags?” MOrgan finally turns away from the computer and gives the duo her full attention.

“Dr. Fitzgerald, this is Grace’s mom, Candace.” Maggier introduces and Morgan smiles at the woman, holding out a hand for a handshake.

“Is my daughter okay?” Candace asks, fear in her eyes and Morgan does her best to calm her down.

“I can assure you that your daughter is okay. She had a closed fracture in her arm that just needed a cast and her leg had an open fracture. That’s a little more complicated, but she just needs her tibia realigned so she’s in surgery.”

“Surgery?”

“It shouldn’t be too long now, and I am willing to walk you up to wait for her.” Morgan places a gentle touch on Candace’s forearm and beckons her to follow. “Thank you, Maggie. I got her.” Maggie nods and continues her job as a charge nurse.

As the doctor and patient make their way, Candace begins to ramble. “Grace wasn’t supposed to be on the train today, I was supposed to take her. This is all my fault.”

“Candace. Candace.” Morgan pulls the woman to a stop and looks her in the eye. “It is not your fault, these things just happen. But that’s not what Grace is worried about right now, I’m pretty sure that she just wants to see her mother.” Candace sniffles and reluctantly nods, letting the doctor take her to the waiting room outside Grace’s OR.

❦

After doing a few more rounds in the emergency department, Morgan sat herself in the doctor’s lounge, still not able to find time to talk to Connor. Morgan isn’t paying attention to the conversation happening between Natalie and Will, instead focusing on the charts of another one of her patients on the tablet in her hands.

“You meet the new guy yet? Rhodes?” At her friend’s name leaving Natalie’s lips, Morgan’s head snaps up.

“You could say that.” Will answers back. “Likes to throw his weight around.” He leans back in his chair, his body still facing Natalie. “I don’t know, strikes me as a little arrogant.”

Natalie gives him a little look as she contemplates the words he just said to her.

“Hey, I am not arrogant.” He scoffs at her, a teasing smile on his face. Morgan rolls her eyes and feels herself getting a little defensive over her old friend.

“No, no. Not at all.” Natalie says, sarcastically, to his remarks. “You just happen to know more than anyone else.”

“Hey,” Morgan grasps the attention of her friends and colleagues. “I promise Connor isn’t always like that. It was just a stressful situation to be making introductions.” She says, barely looking up to her colleagues.

“Woah, Connor?” Will questions at the familiarity that Morgan had with his name. He glances at her, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, Dr. Rhodes. He’s an excellent doctor and he’s great to work with.”

“Have you ever worked with him?” Natalie asks, taking another sip from her water bottle.

“No, I haven’t. But I know him and I promise, he isn’t a dick.” With that Morgan makes her way out of the room, she smiles at Nat and doesn’t spare a look at Will.

❦

A few hours later, Morgan makes her way up to see Grace. She’s up and talking to her mom, a smile on her face. Morgan knocks at the entrance of the recovery room, peering her head in to take a view at her patient.

“Dr. Fitzgerald!” Candace exclaims, waving the young doctor in.

“How’s everything going Grace? You look a lot better than when I first saw you.” Morgan glances over her vitals and chart before walking to the unoccupied side of the bed.

“Yeah, I’m doing better. The pain meds are really helping out.” She grins.

“That’s good. It looks like you’re okay for being discharged tomorrow morning. And I will try my hardest to come by and see you off.”

“Thank you Dr. Fitzgerald.” Candace reaches over and clasps Morgan’s hand. “For helping my daughter and for helping me.”

“It’s no problem, really.” She squeezes back before pulling away. “You two have a good night, and just let any of the nurses know if you need anything.” With that Morgan delivers one more smile and heads out of the room.

Now that it was the end of her shift Morgan decided to make finding Connor her number one goal.. She was ready to give up but finally spotted him standing outside a recovery room. She sneaks up beside him and peers in, Jamie is off of the ventilator and Dr. Charles sits beside him watching something on a tablet. Morgan had heard about the operation Jamie had and she could tell that he looked so much better.

“So, when were you gonna tell me that you were coming back to Chicago?” Connor jumps, whipping around to look at the owner of the voice.

“Morgan!” He chuckles out, pulling the doctor into his embrace. She hugs him back before pulling herself out and raising an eyebrow at him.

“So, were you just going to end up on our front doorstep hoping we were gonna take you in?”

“No, I was going to surprise you. I just wanted to come back, ya know?”

“Yeah, I do. Welcome home Connor.” She gives him a small smile, looking at the one he was returning to her. “Hey, I heard about your comatose patient, sorry about that.”

“Yeah, it was tough, but he helped us save Jamie.”

“That’s good, Jamie’s a good kid. He deserves it.” They both look inside the room for a moment, before Morgan looks down at the watch sitting on her wrist. “Hey, there’s this diner that’s open 24 hours, wanna grab something to eat? Catch up and give you a bit of a rundown on how things are run here at Chicago Med.”

Connor looks down at Morgan, her head still facing Jamie and Dr. Charles. “Yeah, sure. You buying?” She finally looks up at him with a scoff.

“Yeah right.” The fellow laughs at her and she leads him back to the doctor’s lounge in the ED. Stripping herself of her stethoscope, she places it in the locker, taking a glance of the family picture she had pinned up alongside the picture she had with Connor from her undergrad graduation.

“You hang that up in here?” He gawks at the picture, noticing how much the two of you had grown in the last 7 years.

“Yeah, I did. You are my best friend, besides Hayden of course.” Morgan hangs up the white coat on a hook in the cubby under the locker before continuing her answer,“but even when we were miles apart, you were always there for me.” She softly closes the locker.

“Huh.” He looks at Morgan, coming to the same realization about her.

“Let’s go, I am dying for their mashed potatoes.” He smiles and grabs his belongings before heading out of the lounge with his friend. On the way out the door, they pass Will.

She urges Connor to continue walking as she looks up at her other friend. “Hey Will, I’m sorry for getting all snappy at you earlier. Just got a little overprotective.” Morgan shrugs, placing her hands in her jacket pocket.

“It’s alright, I understand. I’m sorry for putting you in that position.” He nods, looking over the soft smile on her face.

“You’re okay, Connor has his moments.”

Will and Morgan were an enigma. They worked well together, everyone could agree on that. And outside of work, they proved to have a level of care for each other as well as always having each other’s backs. With the amount of affection they always seemed to portray to each other, everyone also wondered why they weren’t together. They made a good pair and the blinded love they had for each other was glaringly apparent to outsiders. The two doctors however, never saw it. Will was too hung up on his crush on Natalie and Morgan wasn’t looking for a relationship (the fact that she also dated his brother didn’t help). For now, they would be friends and if the universe allowed for something to happen, the universe would prevail.

“Want to grab something to eat?” Will asks, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his scrubs.

“Actually, I’m the welcoming committee for Dr. Rhodes so I’m taking him to the diner up the street.” Will nods, but dashes his eyes to where Connor is standing. “But tomorrow morning, I’m bringing coffee.” Morgan says, bringing a bigger smile on her face and chuckle to Will.

“Alright then, have a good night Morgan,” he says.

“Night Will, see you tomorrow.” She gives him a quick, small pat on his arm before turning away and walking up to Connor. They two old friends resume their conversation and Will watches the smile on Morgan’s face as she continues walking with the new doctor.

Part Two

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

Take it Slow - Part Seventy-Six

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff, and smutish

It was nearly the end of June, it was sweltering, and you had your period. You were thankful your apartment had central air. Harry often found you standing above the vent, with your head pressed against the wall.

“Babe…what…why do you keep doin’ that?”

“I’m sweating.”

“We can just turn the A/C up.”

“No, it’s not enough. My hormones…they’re making me sweat more, and I feel disgusting. So fucking disgusting. And I hate working when it’s this humid out.” You turn to look at him. “I feel like a sausage casing every time I put a dress on, and I can’t really wear my sundresses because they’re not appropriate, and we’re not even allowed to wear Bermuda shorts. What’s inappropriate about a Bermuda short? They’re the least attractive shorts out there!”

“You know what you need? A chocolate milkshake. I’ll just run to McDo-“

“A milkshake? A milkshake?! I just told you I felt like a sausage casing in my clothes and you want to get me a milkshake?”

“A…smoothie then? I could make you a smoothie?”

“I don’t want anything to eat! It’s swimsuit season, any extra calories are bad calories Harry!”

“Just tell me how to help you!”

“Go take Buster for a walk!”

Harry grabs the leash and whistles for Buster. He texts Niall to meet him downstairs. It was 8:30 at night. Niall comes rushing out.

“Thank god you texted me. Sarah’s goin’ bananas.”

“So is Y/N.”

“She got her period too?”

“Yeah! I offered to go get her a milkshake and she yelled at me. She’s really hot, I thought it would cool her down.”

“Never offer a woman food on her period, you have to wait until she asks you to go get her somethin’. I thought I made a kind gesture to Sarah once, and she freaked out and called herself fat. Sarah, for Christ’s sake, called herself fat!”

“I can’t listen to Y/N when she talks shit about herself. It breaks my heart.”

“Mine too. I feel so bad when Sarah does it. She’s perfect to me.”

“Same with Y/N!” He sighs, and Buster yips at him. “Mummy’s scary sometimes, huh Buster?” He looks at Niall. “I’m afraid of what I’m goin’ to walk into. She’s not like this all the time, I just think the heat is gettin’ to her.”

“Same with Sarah. We’ll survive this like we do every month.”

Harry gets back upstairs, and finds you sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream. He wants to say something, but he knows he’d be dead if he did. He sits down next to you and he smiles. He sees tears streaming down your cheeks.

“What, uh, what are yeh watching?”

“Um, I made the mistake of rewatching Glee, and…it’s the first episode, and oh god they’re singing don’t stop believing! Corey Monteith had the voice of angel!” Your voice cracks as you sob.

“Do want me to put somethin’ else on?!”

“No leave it! I love this show so much!”

“I think…I’m gonna go read.”

“No! Please stay, I want you near me.”

“Okay.” He moves closer to you.

“I said near me, not on top of me.”

“Okay.” He sits there and faces the TV.

He really didn’t want to watch Glee, but he had no idea what else to do. You had never been so worked up on your period before. Buster sits between his legs, and he mindlessly pats at his head. You finish the pint of ice cream, there wasn’t much in there anyways. You stand up to go throw it out, but you feel a sharp pain.

“Ow! Oh god.” Harry looks at you as you start to crouch and then lay on the ground. You start crying again. He stands up and stands over you. “I took some ibuprofen with the ice cream, why is this happening, Harry?”

“I don’t know, love.” He sighs and sits on the floor next to you. “Where does it hurt the most?” He asks softly.

“Like right in my lower stomach, feels like I’m being stabbed.”

Harry’s heart breaks for you. If he could take all your pain away and endure himself he would.

“Okay.”

He scoops you up and carries you to the bedroom. He lays you down and leaves.

“Harry?”

“One second!”

He returns shortly with a hot water bottle wrapped in a rag. He gets on the bed and presses it lightly on your lower stomach. You wince and then you relax.

“My sister used to do this when he cramps got really bad.” He strokes your face. “Is it helping?”

“A little, yeah. Thank you.” Your eyes get watery again. “I was so mean earlier, I’m sorry.”

“Please, Y/N, I can’t watch you cry anymore. It’s okay, I know you can’t help it sometimes.”

“I don’t deserve you.” You sob.

“Please, honey, please, just take a deep breath.” He gives you a reassuring smile. He presses the bottle a little harder and you close your eyes.

You eventually fall asleep and Harry sighs. It was like having to calm a child down. You were never like this, ever. He wondered if it was the heat, or if you were just having a particularly heavy flow.

Harry was in absolute shock at your bright attitude the next morning. You got up, showered, took Buster out, and made breakfast. It was like you hadn’t gone psycho at all last night.

“I’m so excited to have a long weekend soon. We’re still going to Hull right, you’re okay with it?”

“Uh, yeah…how are you feelin’ this mornin’?”

“Great! Why?”

“You, um, well…”

“Did I scare you last night?” You chuckle.

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I’m sorry.” You sigh. “I don’t really know what came over me. Just a rough night. Good news it, it’ll be gone in time for the party so we can go swimming.” You smile. Your phone goes off. “Oh shit, Niall’s downstairs, I gotta get to work. Taking Buster with you today?”

“Yup.” He kisses you. “Have a good day.”

“You too, my doll.”

You head down to the car, and Niall looks frightened honestly.

“Good morning?”

“Mornin’.” He starts to drive.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep much last night. Apparently, I don’t fold my socks correctly, which resulted in Sarah reorganizing my entire dresser and closet.” You burst out laughing. “It’s not funny, it’s like a demon possessed her.”

“She and I are the same person sometimes I swear. I wasn’t too kind myself last night.”

“Heard you were cryin’ like a baby.”

“How nice of the two of you to compare notes about your girlfriend’s periods.”

“If you compare notes about sex with us, then it’s only fair we compare notes on that.”

“You got me there.”

“Then this mornin’ she got up before me and made me breakfast. It was very confusing.”

“It’s because you’re not actually the problem, you’re just in the line of fire. I feel like every year, every month I just angrier. Like I have to deal with this easily for another thirty or so years, and then what? I get all dried up and get reminded I no longer can produce life, great.” You scoff. “It’s a shit deal.”

“I remember when my mum started havin’ hot flashes and shit, no Bueno.”

“Exactly. My mom didn’t have hot flashes, she just had a mid-life crisis and left my dad.”

“Jesus, Y/N.” He laughs.

“Sorry, too dark?” You laugh.

Your stomach felt better, but the same could not be said your breasts. They were super sore and felt like hard rocks. You ripped your shirt off the second you got home, including your bra. You let out a large sigh. You threw on some athletic shorts, and filled a bag full of ice, not even bothering to wrap it in a towel, and pressed it to your chest.

“Mother of god.” You say to yourself. “What is wrong with me this month?”

You drag yourself over to the sofa and turn the TV on. You put Glee on, hoping you don’t cry again, but fuck it if you did. You had leftovers from last night’s dinner in the fridge. You didn’t have the energy to make something new, Harry could just eat that if he wanted.

He comes home with Buster around 6PM. He runs right over to you and you pat his head. Harry stops short when he sees the water from the ice dripping down your chest.

“Hi.” He says, cheeks growing red.

“Hey.”

“What’s all this?” He gestures to the bag of ice.

“My boobs really hurt, so I’ve been icing them.”

“Is it helpin’?”

“It’s numbing, so a little.”

Harry sighs and thinks for a second.

“How do they hurt?”

“They’re just really tender, and they feel heavy.”

“Alright, how about I give you a little massage?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “A genuine massage, nothing more.”

“Okay, well, that actually sounds nice.” You smile.

“Come on, it’ll be easier if you lay on the bed.” He extends his hand out to you and you take it.

He stops in the kitchen quick to throw the bag of ice in the freezer. He strips down to his boxers to cool his own body off, getting used to the A/C.

“It was so hot out today.”

“I know, baby.” He looks at you for a second. “Lay with your head towards the end of the bed, then I can stand over you.” You do as he says.

He grabs your lotion from your night table and rubs it in his hands. He starts with the back of your neck and your eyes flutter closed. He kneads his thumbs into your shoulders and works his way down your chest. You wince slightly, but you relax at his gentle touch. Your nipples were already pebbled. Harry could feel how hard your breasts were and he felt awful. He grounds his knuckles in and then slides his palms over you. You let out a sigh.

“So nice.” You whisper.

“Feels good, babe?”

“Mhm, thank you.”

Harry continues to massage you. He moves his hands back under your neck and you arch up a little so he can get at it better. He remembered you raving about this part of the massage when you went away at that weekend. He smooths his hands back down to your breasts and you groan.

“Is it feeling better?”

“Much, yeah. You’re the best.”

He smiles and continues to work on you. He spends a full thirty minutes massaging you before your hands get tired. You sit up and start to tear up.

“What, what’s happening? Why-“

“It’s just.” You sniffle. “You came home from work and didn’t even get to eat or relax, you just jumped to take care of me, and for what? What do I even do for you?”

Harry’s mouth falls open. How could you not know what you do for him? You do everything for him? You do his laundry, fold it, and put it away. You iron all of his clothes and make sure they’re hung up. You make him breakfast every single morning, and make sure his lunch is fully packed before you leave for work. You take care of him in so many ways, how could you even ask that?

“Y/N.” Harry sighs. “You do a million things for me every day, I can’t even begin to list everything.”

“But you were probably busy all day.” You hiccup. “And you were probably tired, and there I am being a big baby, and-“

He grabs you by the back of your neck and cups your cheek with his other hand, crashing his mouth to yours. You needed to calm down, and he didn’t know what else to do at this point. You sink into his touch and kiss. Your eyes flutter closed when you feel his tongue enter your mouth. He could feel your tears against his own cheeks, and could taste the salt from them. He lets go of you slowly, and uses his thumbs to wipe your face clean. You press your forehead to his.

“I really need you to calm down.” He says lowly. “Can you do that?” He says looking at you, and you nod your head yes. “Okay, did you eat yet?” He lets go of you.

“No.”

“I’ll go heat up the leftovers. Go get comfy on the sofa. Buster’s been missin’ his mummy all day, I’m sure he’d love to sit with you.”

“Okay.” You go over to your dresser and grab a t-shirt to throw on. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He gives your bum a smack and you squeal as you both leave the bedroom.

Harry washes his hands and makes up dinner. He comes out with a bowl for you and you happily take it.

“So, what did I miss on Glee?” He asks and your smile brightens. You pause the TV.

“Okay, so Sue, Jane Lynch, doesn’t like that Will’s club is taking from her funding, and Rachel has a crush on Finn, and he likes her too, but he’s dating this cheerleader…”

Harry let you go on with the synopsis so he’d be caught up. He could have cared less, but it made him happy to see you get so excited to talk about a show you loved so much. And there were a few songs he actually didn’t mind. And sometimes you’d sing along to certain songs, which he loved so much.

The next morning you get up and cheer happily, waking Harry up. You burst out of the bathroom.

“That bitch is gone! Fuck you Aunt Flow!” You cackle, and Harry gives you a thumbs up. “Get your ass up and come shower with me, I’m feeling frisky.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, he got his ass up and joined you in the shower.

Harry closed the studio for the fourth of July. It was a Friday anyways, and no one had booked anything. He didn’t get to see what bathing suit you put on before you put your blue coverup dress on. He could tell it was white from the knot peeking out, but that was about it. You put a hat on and pulled your ponytail through it. You and Harry packed a cooler and a bag of things you’d need. Buster would be spending the day with his Uncle Isaac at his apartment.

You meet Sarah and Niall down on the street. Sarah had a red coverup dress on with a blue bathing-suit on underneath. One could assume Rachel probably had a white coverup dress on with a red bathing suit. Harry had his yellow trunks and a white T on. Niall had on a pair of green trunks and a white T. Everyone looked summery and ready for a day at the beach. You and Sarah decide to sit the back together as Harry drove off towards Hull.

“Check out this air bnb at the Cape.” Sarah shows you on her phone. “Not terribly expensive, and it would fit all of us.”

“Yeah! I saw that one too. I think we should book it. Rachel said she could get the time off that weekend, and I already have it off.”

“Friday to Monday right?”

“Yup.”

“Alright, I’m booking it.”

“Oi! I’m supposed to do that.” Harry says.

“Snooze you lose.”

“But now they’ll have your credit card, and-“

“Harry, I promise, you can just Venmo me later.”

“Oo yeah put him in his place, Sarah.” Niall says winking at her and she makes a kissy face towards him.

You arrive at Seth’s parent’s house just when Rachel and Mariah do. Mariah had a one piece bathing suit on with a cute pair of jean shorts on over.

“Yay! Now we can all take a picture!” Sarah squeals. “See, we’re red, white, and blue.” She hands her phone to Niall and three of you line up.

You smile brightly and then giggle, getting a good and a silly picture out of it.

“Where should be put all our stuff?” Niall asks. “Should we just leave all our spare clothes in the car?”

“Yeah, for now.” Sarah says. “I’ll just bring this bag with our towels in it.”

You all walk up to the house, and around the back. The three of you had been here before, you knew where to go. The house was huge, and had its own private beach. There were a ton of hard games set up and a volley ball net. There were plenty of people there already, and a ton of food out. Seth had set up a bar on the deck for drinks.

You look over and see the tall boy with light brown hair and hazel eyes. He was shirtless and you notice a new tattoo from the last time you went swimming with him.

“That’s Seth.” You point him out to Harry and he nods.

“Look, there’s a bunch of lawn chairs, we can go put all our shit down and claim a spot.” Mariah says. “I’m already ready to get in the water.”

You all walk over to the open chairs and put your things down. Seth notices you, Sarah, and Rachel and jogs over to you.

“You all made it!”

Seth was handsome, there was no denying it. In a way…he was your first Harry-esque kind of guy. He has a deep voice, paints his nails black, has tattoos, and he has small hoop in his bottom lip. But he as sweet as all hell. And one of the funniest people you had ever met. Before you can stop him he’s hugging you three.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I can see you’re setting up shop, that’s great. Bar’s up on the deck, help yourself to whatever and however much you want. Plenty of food too. The water’s actually warm too, it’s great. Got some extra sunscreen too.”

“Thanks Seth.” Rachel says. “This is my girlfriend, Mariah.” They shake hands.

“Great to meet you.” He looks over at you and then to Harry who was just taking his shirt off.

“This is Harry.”

“Hey man, heard a lot about you.” They shake hands.

“Same here.”

“And this is Niall.” Sarah says.

“Welcome. Well, uh, I better keep playing host. Really glad you all are here. Max and Ben are here too, they’ll love to see you.”

Oh god. You swallow hard and give Sarah and Rachel a look as he walks away. You take your hair out of your hat and shake it out. You decide to just put it half up.

“You all want drinks before we head into the water?” Niall asks, taking his shirt off.

“Sure! Why don’t you all go up and grab some of whatever, we’ll go test the water.” Sarah says.

Harry, Mariah, and Niall all head up to the deck.

“Oh my fucking god.” Sarah says. “I haven’t seen Ben since we broke up! What am I gonna do?”

“What are you going to do? Max is here too!”

“Times like this, I’ve never been so happy to be a lesbian.”

“You’re not helping.” Sarah glares at her.

“Relax, it’ll be fine, we’re all adults now, right?”

The three of you rid yourselves of your cover ups. You all help each other put some lotion on your backs and shoulders. The sun was strong today.

Harry, Mariah, and Niall were busy making drinks when Mariah gasps.

“Oh, I could kill her.” She says.

“What?” Harry asks.

“Look at them!”

The three of you had the same bikinis on. You all looked cute, but Harry was hoping you’d wear something a little more modest for a party. Plus, you were wearing a white bathing suit, which just made your skin look even better.

Harry and Niall’s jaws fall open as they watch the three of you walk into the water.

“It’s going to be a long day, isn’t it?” Niall asks.

“Yup.” Harry says. “Good thing there’s plenty of free liquor.”

“Bro, is that Sarah?” Niall whips his head around to see a couple of guys talking.

“Looks like it.”

“She looks good. I didn’t think she was still friends with Seth.”

“Yeah, and that looks like Y/N, damn…”

Harry’s jaw tenses immediately. He did not like college friends, nope, not one bit. He sighs heavily, and the three of them come down with the drinks. The three of you turn around and smile at them.

Mariah takes her shorts off and goes into the water. Harry walks right in and grabs you, lifting you up, making you squeal.

“Harry! Please, I don’t want to get my hair wet!”

“Should’ve thought about that before comin’ to the beach.”

“Please! Please don’t drop me!” You cling to him and wrap your legs around him as he wades deeper in the water.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha.” You move around him so he’s giving you a piggyback ride. “That’s a nice bathing suit.”

“Okay, so I know it’s a little revealing, but we all wanted to wear red, white, and blue. Are you mad?”

“Nope…just know a lot of people are gonna be lookin’ at you.”

“Don’t worry, anytime I’m not in the water I plan to have my coverup on.”

“Okay.” He loosens his grip on you.

“Harry, I mean it don’t drop ah!”

He drops you in the water and starts laughing hysterically when you come back up.

“Not funny!” You pull the scrunchie out of your hair and flip it over.

“Come on, now you’ll have those beach waves you’re always after. You’re looks so nice when you leave it naturally.”

“Fuck you.” You flip him off and walk back towards your friends.You stop when you see a soaked Sarah.

“Niall just did the same thing to me.”

You feel a hand clasp on your shoulder.

“Are you really mad?”

“No.” You sigh. “What did you bring us to drink, I’m thirsty.”

“Vodka tonics.”

“Perfect.”

You all get out of the water and sit down on the chairs. You put your sunglasses on and sip on your drink. Once you’re dry enough you put your coverup back on.

“Hey Y/N!” Seth says.

“Yeah?”

“Will you come be on my volleyball team? We need another person.”

“You know, I haven’t played since college…”

“So, it’s just for fun.”

You look at Harry. He nods towards the net and you stand up.

“You all can come play too, you can play winner.”

He puts his hand on the small of your back as he leads you over.

“She played volleyball?” Harry asks Rachel and Sarah.

“She was on an intramural team, that’s how they met.” Rachel says. “We used to go to her games.”

Harry turns around and watches you laugh and say hi to the other people.

“Alright, so let’s go watch.”

Everyone gets up to stand near the net and watch you play.

“You serve first.” Seth tosses the ball to you.

You wind up and jump to hit the ball, and the people on the other side miss.

“Yes!” Seth turns to you and gives you a high five. You turn to your friends and they all give you a thumbs up.

You serve the ball again and someone calls base so you run to your actual spot and watch the ball. You bump the ball so someone can set, and Seth spikes it.

Harry had never seen you so…athletic. You worked out, but the two of you never worked out together. You never even went for runs together, and you certainly never went to the boxing gym with him. He was impressed.

“Hey Sarah.” Ben comes up to her and she immediately loops her arm around Niall’s.

“Oh, Ben, hi.” She gives him a fake smile.

“Didn’t know you and Seth were still friends.”

“Sure, yeah, we talk from time to time.” Niall looks at the man talking to Sarah. “This is my boyfriend, Niall.”

“Hey mate.”

“Boyfriend? Wow, good for you. Hey man.”

“Yeah, we’ve been together for like nine months.”

Niall notices how uneasy Sarah is and hooks his arm around her waist.

“How do you two know each other?”

“Friends from school.”

“Right, because dating for a year is totally just what friends do.” He smirks. Harry looks over to make sure everything’s okay.

“You know what? You’re right, I’m sorry. Niall, this is my verbally abusive ex-boyfriend, Ben. Ben, this is my incredibly wonderful amazing love of my life Niall.”

“Sup.” Niall says smiling.

Harry focuses his attention back on you. Your team was about to win. Seth sets the ball for you and you jump to tap it over the net, securing the win. Your team cheers and Seth nearly lifts you to hug you but you shake your head no and push him back. You awkwardly shake his hand, and walk away from him. You jog over to hug Harry who happily takes you in his arms.

“You were incredible.” He says.

“Thanks. Think I’m done though.” You look at the situation with Ben and Sarah and you storm towards him. “Ben Richmand, walk the fuck away.” You say crossing your arms.

“Chill, Y/N, we’re having a pleasant conversation.”

“No, you’re trying to cause trouble, look at her, she’s shaking.” You get in his face further. “I’ve beat your ass before, and I’ll gladly do it again.”

Sarah and Rachel burst out laughing.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“No?” You step towards him and he steps back. “We all came to have a good time, so please, do everyone a favor and just leave us alone.”

“Dude, are we playing Polish horseshoes or not? Y/N…hi.” Max rubs the back of his neck.

“Hi.”

“Please, if you’re gonna beat up Ben again, make sure you tell one of us so we can get it on video.”

“Can do. I’m hoping it won’t come to that. Think you can keep him away from Sarah? She’s clearly here with someone.” You point to Niall.

“What about you, you here with someone?” She smiles smugly and you blush.

“Um…yeah…Harry?” You turn to him and wave him over. Max smirks and shakes his head. “This is my boyfriend, he own a dog together, it’s pretty serious.” He starts laughing.

“How’s it going man?” Max shakes Harry’s hand. “Wish I knew all it took was a few tattoos.” He smirks. “Come on Ben, let’s head over to the game.”

“I…have so many questions.” Mariah says. “You beat that dude up?”

“Let’s go back down to our chairs, too many people around here.”

You all make your way back down and you all sit together.

“Okay, so there was the four of us. Me, Kate, Rachel, and Sarah. Then we had the boys. Kev, Seth, Max, and Ben. Kate and Kev got together, and later Sarah and Ben got together. But what none of us realized was that Ben is a sick fuck, and poor Sarah was too scared to say anything. One night Rach and I got back from a party and we heard Ben violently yelling at Sarah, which in turn set me off because my father used to violently yell at me. So-“

“Y/N tore Ben away from me and broke his nose.” Sarah says. “It was awesome.”

“I thought I broke my hand when I did it. It was like right before we all graduated. Rachel called campus police and got him out of there.”

“You’re a little badass.” Mariah says.

“You broke his nose?” Harry asks. “You must have really socked him.”

“She did! Cried like a baby.” Sarah says.

“You never told me, Sarah.” Niall says concerned.

“It wasn’t something I wanted to talk about.” She shrugs.

“Man, you girls have so much bullshit to deal with.” Niall shakes his head. “I’m glad you all have each other to lean on.”

“So what’s the deal with Max then, is he your ex-boyfriend?” Mariah asks you.

“God, he wishes. He had a thing for me, but I didn’t like him like that, and I made it very clear.”

“Oh please, Y/N.” Rachel scoffs. “That boy did everything you asked, all you had to do was smile at him.”

“I did nothing on purpose, nor did I lead him on. I told him I wasn’t into him like that, and that I just wanted to be friends.”

“Wait, do you remember when he walked in on you and Seth.” Sarah starts giggling. “Think that made it really clear you just weren’t that into him.”

“And could you have been more obvious before? Uh, hi this is Harry, we have a dog together.” Rachel laughs. “You’re a bitch.”

You mouth falls open. At first the boys and Mariah aren’t sure what do to, but you start laughing and whip the lime from your drink at her.

“As if you didn’t fake being straight to get Max to tutor you in math.” You say.

“Look, it’s not my fault that he’s the type of guy to only be friends with girls because he think he might have a chance. And thanks to him, I was able to graduate.”

“So this guy had a crush on you, and he accidentally walked in on you and that other guy?” Harry asks.

“God.” You groan. “It was so embarrassing. I had accidentally spent the night at their place…and…”

“How do you accidentally spend the night at someone’s place?” Niall laughs.

“Oh, this was Y/N’s thing, it was so smooth, honestly.” Sarah says. “The master of getting what she wants.”

“Okay, can we get a drink refill please?” You say.

“Yes! Let’s get fucked up.” Mariah says. “I love drinking with you guys.”

You all get new drinks and go back to where you were to tell stories.

“Okay, please explain, what exactly were you the master of?” Mariah asks.

“Nothing!” You giggle.

“Shut up, you did this all the time. If there was a guy you wanted to hook up with, you did one of two things. You either asked them to walk you home, if you knew you’d have the room to yourself, or you’d get them to play video games with you until you were the last two people in the room.”

“Video games?” Harry smirks.

“Oh sure, I’m pretty good at NHL, and Mario Kart.”

“You’re a savage as Smash Brothers too.” Rachel says.

“Thank you.”

“That’s how she finally scored Seth. I was dating Ben, so I didn’t really care that she wanted to hook up with him. We were at a kickback at his place, and she got him to play NHL. Everyone else had left after a certain point.”

“And we were both too tired to walk me home.” You say. “So he let me crash in his room with him, but no one knew. And we when we both woke up in the morning we started fooling around, and poor Max walked in because Seth had Max’s phone charger.”

“I think he knew you were in there and he wanted to get hurt.” Rachel says, sipping on her drink.

“I don’t understand why you had to work so hard to fuck some guy.” Harry says. “Look at you, how did he not just say hey let’s go?”

“He didn’t know if it would be weird for Sarah. Seth’s a really nice guy.”

“I think Harry, Louis, and I all had sex with like ten of the same women when we were in school.”

“Probably more.” Harry says.

“I secretly wish we all could’ve gone to the same school. You two totally would’ve hooked up back then.” Rachel says to you and Harry. “I just wonder who would’ve made the first move.”

“I’m sure I would’ve had to work to get his attention with so many girls probably trying to hook up with him.” You nudge Harry and he shakes his head. “I would’ve stayed across the room and made eye contact occasionally. And then at the end of the night, I would’ve walked up to you.” You turn to face him and he looks at you. “And said, I know this is your party, and you probably don’t want to leave all this, but I can’t find my friends, and I don’t feel safe enough to walk home alone.” You bite your bottom lip. “Could I ask you to walk me?” Harry starts grinning, his dimple popping out.

“As much of a prick as I was, I don’t think I could’ve said no to that.” The group starts laughing. “That’s a pretty good move.”

“It worked just about every time I wanted it to.” Harry pulls you into him and kisses the top of your head.

“Well, it would’ve been my honor to walk you home.”

You were so happy he was being chill about everything. Sometimes your friends had zero filter with bringing up stories. You all decide to grab some food and mingle with some other people. You all swim for bit, and eventually decide to change once the sun starts to go down. You had a pair of capri, cuffed jeans on with one of Harry’s sweatshirts. You hair was really curly, but you used your sunglasses like a headband and it actually looked cute.

Someone gets a bonfire started and you all sit around it. Seth comes around with blankets for everyone.

“When we watch the fireworks later, we’ll go down closer to the water. Sand might be wet.” He says to you with a smile.

“Thanks Seth.”

“Having fun, Harry?” He asks, genuinely.

“Yeah, your parents have a great house.”

“Thanks, it’s just a summer home. It was actually my grandparent’s. We rent it out a lot to make some money back on it. It’s super expensive to take care of.”

“I bet, lot of square feet to take care of.”

“Hope you’re taking good care of this one. She’s special.”

He gets up and walks around to other people to keep giving out blankets. Harry throws his arm around you and you lean into him.

“So you two never actually dated?” You look up at him.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“We were just better as friends. It was our senior year, neither of us wanted to get into something when we didn’t know where our lives were going.”

“If it had been better timing do you think-“

“Harry, why all the questions?”

“I don’t know…would you like me better if I had my lip pierced?” You burst out laughing. “You clearly have a type.” You laugh harder. “No really, I see it. Tall, tattoos, I really am just missing the lip piercing.”

“His tongue’s pierced too.” You both laugh.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“That’s why you and Sarah wanted to keep hookin’ up with him.”

“Because he had his tongue pierced?”

“A straight guy only get his tongue pierced to do one thing with it.”

Sarah overhears the conversation, and takes the opportunity while Niall is getting more drinks to chime in. She leans into Harry.

“He also has a huge, thick cock, so there’s that too.” He pats him on the shoulder.

“Sarah!” You swat at her and she laughs.

“I don’t feel bad saying it because Harry has nothing to feel self conscious about, do you Harry?”

“I don’t know Sarah, you tell me.”

“Oh, are we talking about Harry’s dick?” Mariah says as her and Rachel sit down. They had gone off to change. “Cause it’s huge.”

“Oh my god.” He groans. “How the fuck would you know that?”

“You used to wear the tightest fucking pants when you started, dude. Your bulge was just always there.”

“It’s true mate, you used to wear some tight jeans.” Niall says, pulling Sarah into his lap.

“You all are just jealous that I know a thing or two about fashion and you don’t.”

“Yeah, that’s what it is.” Mariah says.

“Anyone hungry?” Seth asks. “Did we have enough to eat?”

“Seth, relax.” You say. “Everyone knows where the food is. Chill, enjoy your party.”

He laughs and nods. He nudges your shoulder and walks away. Things for s’mores get passed around as everyone hangs out around the bonfire. You had some melted chocolate on the corner of your mouth.

“Babe, you got some..” Harry taps his mouth.

“Oh, do you have a napkin?”

“No, but I’ll do you one better.”

He pulls your towards him and sucks the chocolate off your mouth. You giggle while he does it, realizing you’ve barely been able to kiss all day.

“Alright you two.” Sarah says. “Don’t be gross.”

“I was just helpin’ her get some chocolate off her face like a good boyfriend.”

“Mhm, you’re so considerate.”

Eventually you all head down closer to the sand and find separate spots. It was dark enough where you could all cuddle openly. Sarah sat against Niall’s chest with his arms wrapped around her. Mariah and Rachel were laying on their backs holding hands. And you were laying on top of Harry. You both were giggling and talking. You start kissing and he rolls you both over onto your sides.

“Fireworks start in two minutes!” Someone yells.

You both sit up and he has you move between his legs like the way Sarah and Niall were sitting. He rests his chin on one of your shoulders and keeps his arms around you to keep you warm. You take your phone out so you can take a selfie.

“Oh look, Isaac texted us a picture of Buster…he’s home now in his little bed.”

“We’ll be home to him soon, babe.”

“I know.”

You pull up your camera and take the selfie of the two of you. Harry sticks his tongue out and you make a funny face too. A firework goes off and you both look up. A few more start to go off and you both lay back so you can see better without having to crane your necks.

“These are amazing.” Harry says.

“Yeah!”

Harry looks over at you and smiles at the way you look at the fireworks and the way the light your face up. The grand finale starts and everyone cheers when they’re done. Harry helps your up and you grab the blanket. You all head up back towards the house and you throw the blankets on the stairs that lead up to the deck. Seth was drinking beers with his friends.

“We’re headed out.” Rachel says to him. He frowns and stands up.

“So soon?”

“We’ve got like an hour drive back to the city.” Sarah says.

“Oh right…”

He hugs Rachel, and then Sarah. He looks at you.

“Are we shaking hands again, or can we hug?”

“We can hug.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and his go around your back. He squeezes you close to him and lets you go.

“It was great to meet the three of you. These are probably my three favorite girls, and it seems like they’re all in good hands.”

“Thanks for a great party, mate.” Harry shakes his hand, and so does Niall. Mariah waves goodbye.

You hug Rachel and Mariah goodbye as they get into Mariah’s car. You and Sarah sit in the back seat again. Harry lets Niall drive back. You and Sarah lean against each other and slowly fall asleep.

“They’re knocked out.” Harry chuckles.

“Got a lot of sun today.”

“You know what’s nice?”

“That we both kept our cool today?”

“That, and…this is the part of growin’ up I don’t mind. Goin’ to parties with our girls, you and I still gettin’ to hang out.”

“Yeah, I like when we all get to do this. Gotta make time for fun.”

You and Sarah wake up to the sound of Niall and Harry laughing about something. You were parked in the garage of your building.

“What are we doing?” You ask.

“We were waitin’ for you to wake up.” Harry says.

“I’m…so tired. Niall carry me up.”

“Alright babe. Can we grab our shit outta your car tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Harry shrugs.

Niall gives Sarah a piggy back ride and heads across the street. You and Harry walk hand in hand up to your place. Buster wakes up when you get int and you squat down to love on him for a few minutes before letting him get back to sleep. When you get into your bedroom you wrap your arms around Harry.

“Can we just shower tomorrow? I’m exhausted.”

“Course, honey.” You say looking up at him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You were unbelievably cool today, and I appreciate it.”

“It’s like you’re always sayin’, I’m the one sleepin’ with you not them. I know I have no reason to be jealous.”

“Nope. Cause at the end of the day, you’re the only boy I want to trick into walking me home so I can bang him.”

You both giggle and he presses his forehead against yours.

“You know, you didn’t ask me what my move was.”

“My apologies, what was your move?” You step back from him and cross your arms.

He puts a hand on your shoulder and looks at you.

“That’s it? An intense stare?”

He keeps looking at you and then he licks his lips and smirks.

“Yeah, I can see how that worked.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Harry.”

#take it slow #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut fic #harry styles fluff fic #a long one tonight kids #did we like?#our babies are growing up

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nosferatvpussy · 4 years

Text

distorted lullabies [chapter VII]

Word count: 6,292

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

AO3 link

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I hope you do too while reading it. Side note 1: I reference a few movies here and there. I would advise you skipping one or two paragraphs to avoid spoilers if you still mean to watch it. But, I'm assuming everyone reading this has seen it already. Site note 2: Anne Rice will find a way to sue me if this somehow finds its way to her (it won't, who do I think I am) Side note 3: if you haven't yet, watch every movie and read every book mentioned here. They're all great.

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I had a huge grin on my face as I left the courtroom. My client grabbed my arm and shook it, chuckling.

“You won!” she squealed.

“ We won,” I corrected. I stopped walking and faced Mirriam. Her make-up was smudged beneath her watery eyes and her lips were quivering. “I’m happy for you.”

She pulled me into a hug, knocking the breath out of me. Both my hands were occupied, carrying my briefcase and purse so, I had no choice but to stand there, unable to hug her back. Mirriam sobbed, her arms tightening about my neck ever so slightly as she thanked me. Over her shoulder, I saw Judge Llewellyn leave the courtroom, still dressed in his robes. He looked at us, the perpetual crease between his eyebrow softening. Mirriam exclaimed and released me abruptly. The squeals of happy children echoed down the hall and I turned to see Mirriam make a run for the two kids sprinting towards her.

“Congratulations, Miss L/N,” said Llewellyn. I turned my head to see him standing at my side. “You did well.”

“Can you repeat that, please? I didn’t quite catch it,” I said, grinning from ear to ear.

His lips tugged up as he glanced away. When he looked at me again his face was serious.

“Don’t try your luck,” he extended a hand toward me. “I’m looking forward to seeing you at practice in my court again.”

Any moment now my cheeks would tear from smiling so much. I let go of my purse, not caring that it almost tipped over, and shook his hand. Although his fingers were long and bony, his handshake was firm.

“Thank you, my lord.”

He nodded and made his way to the opposite direction, presumably towards the judges’ chambers. I watched him go, his robes swaying after him and then turned the other way, taking in Mirriam on her knees, laughing at whatever her children had said. Yeah, I did well. As I picked up my purse, I felt it vibrating. I stuck a hand inside it, searching for my phone as I made my way out of the Royal Courts of Justice.

“Hi, Zoe.”

“Any news?” She asked on the other end.

“None.”

“It’s been over a week since he took you out. Shouldn’t he have called you?”

“Maybe he’s lost interest,” I countered, frowning at the twinge on my chest.

Out in the open, I lowered my head to protect myself against the drizzle as I walked.

“That’s absurd. He wouldn’t go to all the trouble of bribing someone--”

“I still regret telling you that.”

“Nevermind who he is, that was impressive.”

An outsider could hear our conversation and think we were complaining about some guy giving me the cold shoulder, not plotting against a five centuries old vampire.

“Zoe, I don’t care why he hasn’t called as long as he leaves me alone. Maybe he met someone else,” as I talked, I managed to make eye contact with a cabbie inside a passing taxi and nodded. “I saw you two days ago. I’ll call if anything changes. When do you want to meet again?”

“Let’s make it Sunday. It’ll be the fourth set of samples and I want to keep the every 2 days pattern we’ve got going on until your bite fully heals.”

The taxi stopped next to me and I juggled all my stuff in order to open the door. I glared at the cabbie, hoping that he would be moved by my anger and help me open the door. I could be Queen Elizabeth and he wouldn’t care.

“Fine,” I said as I managed to open the car door and get inside. “61 Marney Road,” I told the cabbie and he accelerated. “St Thomas Hospital again?” I asked Zoe.

“Yes. 11am. Call me if Dracula--”

“I know, I know. Bye.” I ended the call before she could keep talking.

Once I settled my belongings next to me and made myself comfortable, I leaned my head on the window, watching as London’s lights started coming to life in the nearing dusk. Getting complimented by Judge Llewellyn deserved to be celebrated. A good film accompanied by popcorn and lots of chocolate appealed to my body overridden by PMS. Add an hour in a hot bath and then I would have the perfect Friday night. How would Count Dracula spend his Friday night?

I lowered my shirt’s high collar and touched the scar on my neck. It was nothing more than small scabs now that the bruises were gone but I still wore turtlenecks to conceal the strangulation marks. I hadn’t felt the tingling sensation on it ever since my date with the Count and I wondered if it would react at all to him now that it was almost healed.

“Miss, you alright?”

I removed my hand from my neck like I had been burned.

“What?”

“Are you feeling alright? It sounded like you were out of breath,” he spoke the same way someone would if they were addressing an elderly person.

My entire face went hot and I thanked him silently for not being one those cabbies that always had the rear view mirror turned to the back seats in order to watch the passengers.

“I have, uh, asthma,” I shut my eyes as I spoke, overcome by embarrassment. “But I’m fine now.”

Had I gone mental? Rubbing my scar to test if it was still reactive to touch in the back of a taxi was just plain stupid, especially considering that I’d gotten so utterly lost in pleasure that I had been panting loud enough for the cabbie to hear me.

“Tragic, innit?”

That my bond to Count Dracula paired with PMS had made me become a dog in heat? Yes.

“Sorry, what?”

The cabbie leaned forward and a second later the whispering voices coming from the car speakers raised to an understandable volume.

“ Surrey police has no leads so far ,” was all I heard from the narrator before a song started playing.

“What happened?”

“Two students were found dead this morning in Surrey University. Bright youngins, can you imagine what they could--”

I straightened on my seat.

“Murders?”

“Makes no sense, how brutal. Police says it appears they were having a movie night--”

“How were they killed?”

The cabbie took hold of the rear view mirror and angled it at me. I smiled dryly at his frown.

“Professional curiosity,” I told him. “I’m a defense lawyer.”

That answer did nothing to soothe the crease on his large forehead.

“Police isn’t sure yet. But I heard from a pal from Surrey,” he lowered his voice, like he was confiding in me, “that the person that found ‘em threw up and so did a coppa. Looked like a scene straight from The Shining, I bet. Nasty stuff.”

I nodded, relaxing against the window again. Taking he referenced The Shining, that probably meant that there was a lot blood. Dracula wouldn’t waste a drop, I supposed. Odd horrific murders came about once in a while, sadly, and all of them committed by humans. Besides, would he really go all the way to Surrey just to murder a bunch of uni students? London was stacked with several student halls for him to pick from without the trouble of traveling across counties.

“First what happened at that company and then this… This is a bad, bad week. My gran used to say that everything comes in threes. I assure ya, miss, there’s more-”

“Which company? What are you talking about?”

“Ya haven’t heard?” he questioned, glancing at me through the mirror. “Why, miss. Two nights ago the, whaddyacallit, the big corporate cunts in charge of a company- oh, excuse my mouth, miss-”

“The board of directors?”

“Yeah, those blokes. Murdered, the whole lot of ‘em, inside a meeting room!” he started whispering again.

“Was this here in London?”

“Central London,” he nodded. “Can’t remember the name of the company, now-”

“Like the murders in Surrey? Bloody?”

“Nah, don’t think there’s been news about that. Cameras were dead, caught nothing of it. They were found by security at almost midnight after a wife of one of ‘em called looking for her husband.”

“Cause of death?” I asked and he looked at me. “Just answer the question.”

“Stab wounds to the neck, all of ‘em. Apparently some of them put up a fight because there were broken arms and fingers. Scotland Yard said that it’s prolly more than one murderer, other than that they’ve been quiet about it… They’re investigating it,” he made air quotes, “that’s code for we don’t know shite.”

He continued ranting for the rest of the trip but I wasn’t listening anymore. I doubted that Netflix would be able to salvage my mood after that conversation.

Once I paid the cabbie, I bid him a nice weekend and jumped out of the taxi. Compared to how he had barely cared about my struggle to get in the taxi, he was nice enough to wait until I got my door opened. Now that the night had come, the automatic light above my front door had turned on and I could only make out the shape of his hand waving at me from inside the car. I waved back as a thanks before going inside.

I went straight upstairs after I locked the door. With how wired I was, I forgot all about my intentions of taking a bath and took a shower instead. Considering I was humming a tune to myself after thirty minutes under a steady stream of hot water, I was making a quick recovery. I was still singing when I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel about my body. I opened the door, tendrils of steam spilling from my bathroom into my bedroom.

“Ohmygod!”

Count Dracula grinned at me, lying on the middle of my bed with both arms folded beneath his head. I pressed the towel to myself, desperately seeking more cover.

“I was starting to wonder if you would ever come out of there.”

“I wish I hadn’t!” I exclaimed. “I locked my door! How the hell did you get in?!”

“Window." He pointed one long finger at it.

Deadbolts. I’d have to get deadbolts on every single window in my house.

“Couldn’t you have texted in advance?!”

“I did. You didn’t reply.”

I stared at him, waiting for something else to come out of his mouth. Instead, his gaze slid down my body, a crease appearing between his eyebrows as he inhaled sharply. I knew exactly why he was whiffing the air. Thank God my body was flushed from the hot shower, otherwise I would have gone bright red in anger.

“Ugh, leave!” I said, projecting my voice like I was in court.

I stretched an arm out, pointing at the window. The sudden movement almost caused the towel to open and I immediately took hold of it again with a little squeak. Count Dracula was up at once, circling the bed towards me. I gulped. His gaze pulled me in and for a moment my anger sizzled down.

“I’ve missed you,” he said and a shiver went down my spine.

I stepped back into the bathroom to put some distance between us.

“Too bad, go away.”

A smirk tugged the corner of his lips.

“You’ve missed me, too.”

“Absolutely did not.”

“Your heartbeat says otherwise.”

“It’s called anger.”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“‘I’ll go wait downstairs,” he said before turning away from me and slipping out of my bedroom.

My knees almost gave out when he left and I rushed to sit on the edge of the bed. I held my head as I tried to concentrate and take deep breaths. Had he stayed any longer I wouldn’t put it past me to lock myself in the bathroom and remain there until morning. Not only I had to deal with him, I also could feel cramps coming. I wanted nothing more to curl up in bed with a heat compress and chocolate. Summoning my courage, I got up and went to get dressed.

As I went down the stairs, Dracula peeked his head out from the living room.

“You’re going out in your nightgown?”

I stopped for a second, frowning and then continued down.

“I’m not going out. I’m tired and uncomfortable and I’m staying home,” I forced a smile, batting my eyelashes just to annoy him. I rounded the staircase, giving my back to him and heading for the kitchen. “I do hope you haven’t wasted your money bribing someone else to grant us entrance to another museum.”

I swiped at the switch and soft lights came on over the kitchen island and at the corners of the room.

“I haven’t. There’s no problem in postponing tonight’s date.”

I turned around to see him standing on the other side of the island, staring at me.

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

“No.” He smiled. “Like I said, I’ve missed you.”

I leaned down and opened the cabinet under the sink. I pushed a set of pans to the side, looking for my heat pad.

“Been busy for this past week?” I asked, my voice echoing inside the cabinet.

“Unfortunately.”

I found the heat pad and stood up, closing the cabinet door after me as I put it inside the microwave and set 5 minutes. I turned to face him, propping my hips on the kitchen counter. I pulled on my courtroom face. If Count Dracula squinting at me meant that he saw me do it, then I needed to work more on my tells.

“Reading Jules Verne or killing a board of directors?”

One of his eyes twitched before he smiled.

“Both. Although I haven’t finished the book yet.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Not finish the book?”

“Dracula-”

“I was bored." He waved his hands on the air, dismissing my hard stare. “Please, I did the world a service! Yes, I went after them on a whim but as soon as I drank from one of them… I killed them on principle.”

“Principle? You’ve got that?”

“Is it that hard to believe?” He put his hands on top of the island and leaned forward, the light above his head creating shadows on his face. “The first one I bit was a child abuser. It was in his blood so, forgive me if killing him offends you. I broke his neck because I didn’t have a stomach for him. The rest of them… were palate cleansers. Although it didn’t do much good. Incredible how many of them had raped women and beat their wives.”

We stared at each other, frozen in place.

All my anger from before vanished and I had to struggle to keep my courtroom face on. In another world, one where there was no law binding me, I would have done the same. Was this the good in him I had been searching, however twisted it was?

The microwave chimed, prompting me to blink and break eye contact.

“I hope you hid at least some of the evidence,” I said, pushing back from the kitchen counter. “I’m not sure how representing a vampire in court for murder would look on my resumé.”

“No need to worry.” He grinned.

I grabbed the heat pad from the microwave, juggling it between my hands to avoid getting burnt until I dropped it to the counter.

“What about the students in Surrey?”

“Surrey? No, I haven’t been there.”

I nodded, somewhat relieved. I turned my back on Dracula to conceal my face as I broke the façade. He wasn’t responsible for the murders on Surrey as I suspected but after killing those ‘corporate cunts’, as the cabbie had put so appropriately, he probably went somewhere else to find another palate cleanser. Somebody else was dead because of him but for the life of me I couldn’t find something inside me to care enough. He had indeed done the world a service.

I rounded the island, past the Count so I could reach the pantry. From there I took popcorn and a bar of chocolate I had hidden, from myself, behind a set of spices. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time I moved and I fought the urge to steal a glance of his face to try figure out what was on his mind.

“I’m surprised you made an appearance,” I said in the unnerving silence.

“Are you, really?”

“Yes.” Hugging the popcorn and chocolate to my chest, I moved past him, congratulating myself for not looking at him. “No, actually. I was fairly positive you would come looking for me again, much to my dismay.” I chuckled. “One would think what happened at the museum would encourage you.”

My back burnt with the weight of his gaze. I started tearing the popcorn package frantically, making as much noise as possible to distract me. It was almost working but after I put the popcorn inside the microwave and closed it, I saw his reflection on the microwave mirrored door, moving towards me.

“It’s not very nice to sneak up on people,” I said, holding my ground.

He met my eyes through the reflection.

“I’m not nice.”

He had a reflection. I blinked, turning at once to face him. He was directly behind me, less than an arm’s length.

“You can be.”

“Do you want me to be nice?”

“No. It makes it harder to hate you.”

He smiled.

“I believed that for a second, really did. Especially when I found out that you had been asking our dear friend Renfield about me.”

I gulped.

“He wasn’t very forthcoming, if that makes you feel better,” I said and he chuckled but when his face grew serious again, I wondered if he forced that laugh. “Is that why you disappeared? Because Renfield gossiped about me to you?”

“Amongst other things,” he acquiesced, stepping back and supporting his body on the island much like I had done on the counter.

By his evasive answer, there was more to it but if he didn’t want to tell me it was fine. He had his secrets and I had mine.

“What do you know, boys really do gossip as much ladies do.”

He gave me a lopsided smile, one I judged was genuine, unlike his chuckle before. The microwave beeped again and I inhaled the delicious scent of done popcorn. I retrieved the popcorn with the tips of my fingers. I placed it briefly on the counter and then offered the heating pad to Count Dracula.

“Take this for me, will you?” I said and he did. I grabbed a glass of juice for me and then the popcorn and chocolate. “Come on. We’re watching a film.”

Count Dracula followed me into the living room. As I settled myself on the sofa, he gave me the heat pad and then occupied himself with analysing my library. Library was a kind word. It would take up the entire wall behind the telly if the fireplace had not been there. I wouldn’t say it was an impressive collection to a connoisseur but it was my collection and I had love for every single book in it, even the ones I didn’t like very much. Count Dracula had his hands laced behind his back and his head tilted as he admired it. I stopped myself from turning the telly on when I heard him whispering the titles to himself.

“Oh, would you look at that ?” He stepped forward and reached for the second to last row of books closest to the ceiling. I usually had to climb on the armchair to reach that far up but all he did was extend his arm up and pluck a book from up there. He turned around, showing me the gold cover with white and red lettering between his hands. “A vampire book?”

Of course he would find that. At least I should be thankful he didn’t find Story of O or Venus in Furs. If he had and then decided to flip through the pages, I would be doomed.

“Be very careful with that,” I warned. “It’s first edition and it was a gift. It’s sort of a classic.”

“Really?” he grinned, tipping his head up to the row from where he retrieved it from. “Are all of those classics?”

“Anne Rice might say so but the rest of the world wouldn’t,” I scoffed. He looked at me. “She thinks very highly of herself.”

“We would probably get along wonderfully,” he smirked. “Perhaps I should pay her a visit to give her real inspiration.”

“She’s an old woman now and would die of excitement if you actually visited her,” I laughed. “There’s a film for this one,” I pointed at the book in his hands. There was gleam in his dark eyes. “Do you want to watch it?”

“You’ve seen it already,” he said as he placed the book on the shelf.

“Yes but I can’t deny myself the irony of watching a vampire film with a real vampire,” I said, grabbing the remote control and turning on the TV. “We’ll watch this one and then you can choose the next one.”

I gazed up at him, waiting for an answer. He traced his tongue inside his lower lip, giving my body all sorts of ideas my brain was not agreeable with. My hand tightened around the remote. Count Dracula took off his blazer and threw it on the armchair beneath the window. I almost asked him if all his shirts were missing buttons because the top ones were undone like the last time I’d seen him but then he started undoing his belt. Popcorn spilled on my lap.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I exclaimed.

“Getting comfortable,” he replied with a frown, like I was ridiculous for asking. He rolled the belt around his fingers and then placed it neatly on top of the fireplace. “Like you are,” he gestured at me.

I was sunken back on the sofa between pillows and cushions, with my feet on the coffee table and popcorn all over my nightie. Technically speaking, I was indeed comfortable, especially because of the heating pad on my lower abdomen relieving menstrual cramps. I was less comfortable with Dracula undressing in front of me while my body was working against me in every way possible.

“Fine,” I said between gritted teeth. My eyes widened as he started moving towards me. “W-wait, no, no, no, you’re sitting over there.”

His smirk widened into a full grin as he sat by my side, letting out an exaggerated breath, he kicked off his shoes and stretched himself in the same position as me.

“What happened to personal space?”

“I thought we’d gone past that already,” he raised his thick eyebrows.

I clenched my jaw. His gaze fell on my neck. All he would need to do was lean to sink his teeth in me, if he wanted. His lips parted and I was reminded of their softness when he had kissed me.

“Stop it,” I all but whispered.

“I’m not doing anything,” he said, eyes fixated on my neck.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.” I started picking off popcorn from my lap, hoping that would show him that he wasn’t affecting me. “Let’s just watch the film.”

I endured his stare as I clicked on the remote to bring up Netflix and started searching the catalogue for Interview with the Vampire. He decided to focus on the telly once Louis started talking to Daniel. As the film went on, he laughed with Lestat and cursed at Louis constantly for his sentiment. More than once, Count Dracula was literally at the edge of his seat. He nodded approvingly at Claudia at times and at Lestat’s flare for the dramatics, making his critiques here and there about how Anne Rice had gotten it right or wrong.

“That’s Haydn,” Dracula said, eyes glued to the screen as a corpse-like Lestat played the piano and Louis and Claudia watched in horror.

“Good ear,” I commented. “Not that I’m an expert but it took me a few google searches to find out where this piece was from.”

“Good appetite,” he countered without looking at me, raising his forefinger.

I paused the film and he turned to me with an indignant look on his face.

“You ate Haydn?”

He grimaced.

“Ate is a poor term.”

“You did!” I accused, mouth falling open. “Who else?”

“I didn’t kill Haydn, that would be outrageous. I would have deprived the world of Mozart and Beethoven. I just stole a few sips to understand his genius. Chopin, however, I did kill. He was a prick, and so was Mozart. Bach, too, was unbearable but I didn’t get the chance to off him,” he shrugged. “Paganini was a riot, though. I tried turning him but he was committed already to a long time friend, you could say.”

I stared at him for a long moment. I didn’t know where to start but him saying that about Paganini, very subtly, confirmed people’s suspicion at the time that the man had made a pact with the Devil to have been that good. Finding myself unable to form another coherent thought faced with that, I simply pressed play again.

The film was doing a fantastic job of keeping the Count’s attention and I started relaxing because I didn’t have to be on guard, even if he was laying by my side. That is, until we reached the scene on a theatre where Armand drinks from a woman on stage in front of unsuspecting humans. My heart had begun hammering inside my chest as soon as Louis and Claudia stepped inside the theatre because I knew what was coming.

Though I kept my eyes on the screen, I was suddenly hyper aware of how close I was to Count Dracula. An entire side of my body touched his, down to where my leg ended. Had I grown that comfortable and not noticed it? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Count Dracula swiveling his head to stare at me.

“You’re missing the film,” I told him, jamming popcorn in my mouth to keep myself busy.

“Your pulse is more interesting right now,” his words tickled my shoulder.

I snuck a glance at him. His eyes were still bottomless pools of black. The heat in his eyes was just as worrying if his eyes had been red.

“Don’t,” I warned.

The human girl was on stage now, screaming and begging for mercy. Soft, cold lips touched my shoulder and I swallowed dryly. Another kiss marked his path up. I forgot how to move, caught in the rapture of his touch. I could have at least this. Nevermind that I was being touched by the man who meant to steal my life. My chest heaved as his kisses became sloppier, less sweet. My entire body shuddered in anticipation as a kiss landed on the curve of my neck.

“I--”

A hand delved into my hair with a demanding tug and I shut up. The popcorn bag crumpled between my hands. Armand was on stage with the woman, hugging her and providing comfort before her death.

“Say it,” his lips brushed my ear.

“I won’t.”

His lips brushed my scar and I released a shaky breath. His mouth descended on my neck and a cry tore out of me upon feeling him sucking on my skin. Another hand laid on my chest, creeping slowly towards the shoulder strap of my nightie. I closed my eyes, letting myself be consumed by pleasure and forgetting every reason why we shouldn’t do this.

“Be mine,” his words were muffled as he continued his assault on my neck.

Sharp teeth grazed my skin.

This couldn’t happen, not if I wanted to live. The minute he bit me he would know about my plan. I had to summon every ounce of control on my body to resist the sensuous ripple of pleasure coursing my body. I dodged his hands and shot up to my feet. Dracula caught himself on his elbow before he fell between the cushions. His eyes were still every bit as dark as before but his mass of hair was tousled, as mine probably was.

“I think--” I took a breath. “I think you should leave.”

He sat up and I noticed that another button on his shirt had come undone, revealing more of his chest than I had seen before. I didn’t dare look any lower. I almost cried in frustration. My body demanded him despite the fact that giving myself to him meant danger.

“I want to finish watching the film,” he said, gazing up at me as he buttoned his shirt again.

“I’m sure you’ve got Netflix at your place.”

“I do but I don’t have the pleasure of your company there.”

“Dracula--”

“I’ll behave if you do,” he put his legs on the coffee table again but I didn’t fall for it. No way I was looking below his waistline. “ Promise .”

Would I make it if I ran upstairs to my room? But what use would it be if he could simply climb through my window? I wasn’t ten years old anymore to run away from my fears, hoping they would disappear if I didn’t acknowledge them. Then again, Dracula wasn’t the monster under my bed. He was more likely to be the one on top of it. Jesus, focus! Mind over matter, come on. Up until that point he was being good company. If he was toying with my self control or not, I wasn’t sure. Besides, I couldn’t push the man away any time he made me nervous. I needed to lead him on until Zoe and I found a breach.

“I’ll hold you to that promise. You stay there,” I pointed a finger at him. “I’ll sit over there.”

Grabbing the remote and the bar of chocolate, I tiptoed my way between the remains of my popcorn and curled myself up on the armchair. I started unpacking the chocolate, doing my best to keep my eyes on the telly. Louis and Claudia were now below the theatre, in Armand’s chambers.

Feeling the Count’s gaze on me, I said, “Are you watching the bloody film or not? Because I think I would rather watch something else now.”

After I started chomping at the chocolate bar like there was no tomorrow, Dracula paid attention to the telly. I managed to breathe normally again once he seemed to be engrossed by the film and made conversation about what was going on, like we had been doing before. He celebrated Louis’ revenge by clapping at him and I laughed at the joy on his face as Lestat popped up from the backseat of Daniel’s car and bit him. I mouthed the words to Sympathy for the Devil as the credits rolled and Dracula stayed with his eyes glued to the screen.

“I must talk to this Anne Rice woman,” he muttered.

I chuckled.

“Leave her alone. She hasn’t completed the series yet and I need to know how much dumber Lestat can get in the next book.”

“He’s not dumb,” Dracula said, frowning at me.

I chuckled again. God, he’d grown attached to him.

“You haven’t read the books yet. You might loathe him as much as you did Louis if you read them.”

He groaned.

“Let’s watch another one.”

“Another vampire film?”

“Yes.”

“Narcissist,” I accused and he smiled.

After searching through the Netflix catalogue, I found a vampire film that didn’t seem so ridiculous called Byzantium. It seemed like a better alternative than Lost Boys or Fright Night. I could just imagine his outrage at Twilight so I spared him of that, too. Twenty minutes later, however, Dracula was rolling his eyes at the TV and asking for the remote. He chose Silence of the Lambs and I thanked the heavens for it. I wouldn’t be able to sit through another sexy movie with him.

“He’s a great actor,” I commented as Dr Lecter and Clarice talked through the glass prison.

“How many times have you watched it? You quoted that to me before, word for word of what he just said.”

I shrugged.

“An unhealthy amount of times,” I admitted. He looked at me. “It won four Oscars, c’mon. It’s fantastic.”

I refused to tell him the reason I loved it so much was because of Hannibal Lecter. The Oscars excuse was better. We didn’t say much after that, that’s how fascinated Dracula was. Afterwards, he chose Crimson Peak, at last, one I hadn’t seen. Resting my head on the armchair and using Dracula’s blazer as a blanket, I closed my eyes for a brief moment when Edith met Thomas.

Sleep’s warm embrace had me floating and I sighed happily. Something hard and cold pressed at my cheek, making my eyes flutter open. Dracula’s face hovered above mine. I wasn’t floating, if his arms around me and his hard chest on my cheek meant anything. My heart hurt like someone had squeezed it.

“I’m just putting you to bed,” he said in a low voice, sparing me a glance.

I was too tired to argue with him and simply rested my head on his chest again.

“You’re cold,” I complained, holding onto his blazer.

“I’m sorry.”

The harsh lights of the telly made me squint at it with drowsy eyes. Rachel Weisz was on the screen now and I frowned, trying to remember if she appeared in Crimson Peak. Had he started another movie?

“Did the sleep- huh.” I furrowed my brows and tried again, “did I the movie- no,” I sighed.

Hearing his laugh inside his chest made me smile sleepily.

“You slept little more than 2 hours,” he replied, maneuvering me out of the living room.

“You understood,” a yawn, “what I said,” I giggled and patted his chest. “Well done.”

He flashed me an amused smile before looking ahead again. I wrapped my arms around him when he started going up the stairs, afraid that I would fall. I tried listening to his heartbeat - something I enjoyed doing to people whenever I had chance - but there was no sound coming from his chest. Oddly, that was just as comforting as not hearing soft thump-thumps. But maybe that was just my sleep-addled brain.

“Tell me what happens in Croms- ah, whatever, in the film.” I frowned, mad at how stupid I sounded when I was sleepy.

He laughed again.

“A lot.”

I rolled my eyes before surrendering to my heavy eyelids and closing them.

“Be nice, tell me,” I mumbled.

“I thought you didn’t want me to be nice.”

“Right now, I do.”

He started telling me but the rumble of his voice coming from inside his chest, so close to my ear, made me drift back to sleep again. I woke up when he was laying me down on my bed. The bedside lamp made me squint. He set me in the very middle of the bed and perched next to me. I rolled on my side to face him and fluffed the pillow below my head, hiding my face from the light.

“So Edith and Thomas got married, huh?” I asked.

“You got nothing of what I just told you.”

“Not a word." I shook my head lightly.

He pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen on my face and his fingers hovered over me for a moment before caressing my temple.

“You were married,” I blurted. He dropped his hand and frowned. “When you were human. Weren’t you?”

“What does it matter?” He went to get up but I grabbed his wrist.

He glared at my hand.

“It was just a question,” I told him. “Don’t be mad. We bicker all the time, already.” I raised my eyebrows at him. His gaze fell on mine, indecipherable. “We don’t have to talk about her. Forget I said it.”

For a second I thought he would storm off. Dracula looked out the window, staring into the night. I waited for him to say something, waited until sleep started creeping again. My fingers slid down his wrist, resting on the back of his hand.

“She was nothing like you.”

My eyes fluttered open. He was still staring into the dark. I had to choose my words carefully if I wanted him to keep talking.

“How was she like?”

“Fragile and fearful of… everything. Deeply religious and foolish, at times. She smiled whenever she looked at me, even when I had done horrible things. In her mind, all that I did was in the name of God. There was this one time when I came from battle and I had blood on my face and armour-" he stopped, shoulders sloping and then stiffening "-she kissed me.”

“She wasn’t that fragile, then.”

He scoffed.

“I suppose not,” he conceded.

“Did you love her?”

“More than I thought I was capable.”

I had a feeling I knew the answer to my next question but asked it anyway.

“What happened to her?”

Finally, he turned his head to look at me. For the first time I saw a semblance of real emotion in his eyes and it broke my heart.

“I happened to her.”

I furrowed my eyebrows and took a breath to ask more but he stood up, his hand grazing mine briefly. I watched as he closed the curtains and then picked up the duvet at the bottom of my bed, unfurling it on top of me. I retrieved his blazer from beneath the covers and handed it to him. When he met my eyes again, his expression was devoid of all emotion. His hand reached behind me and turned off the bedside lamp, plunging us into darkness. I couldn’t make out his face anymore.

“Thank you for keeping your promise,” I whispered but I wasn’t sure if he was still in the room to hear me..

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idabbleincrazy · 4 years

Text

Warming Up

Rating: E

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 3306

Warnings: Sharing a Bed, Sharing Body Heat, Bedsharing, all the trope-y cliched goodness, Smut, Fluff, borders on crack in some parts, Awkward Sam Winchester, Awkward Boners, Morning Wood, Morning Sex, motel sex, multiple orgasm, Multiple Sex Positions, Dirty Talk

Summary: Sam and Reader get stuck sharing a bed in a freezing motel room. let the cliches begin!

A/N: Originally posted March, 2019.

~~~~~

“Sam look, it’s late, I’m tired and in desperate need of a shower after that hunt. I don’t care that there’s only one room left. I’ll sleep in a chair if I have to. Please, just pay the man.” You turned and walked back over to Sam’s car to get your duffle out of the trunk as he went back into the motel lobby to settle up with the clerk.

You had meant what you said. You didn’t care if you had to sleep on the floor at this point. All you cared about was that the shower worked so you could wash the layer of grime and blood out of your hair and changing into clean clothes. After that, you didn’t care if the boogeyman kicked the door down, you were getting at least five straight hours of sleep. You grabbed your bag and Sam’s, and closed the trunk before heading towards the lobby. Sam came out the door just as you reached the sidewalk and took his duffle bag from you, leading the way to the room.

God, this place had to be one of the most rundown motels you’d stayed at to date. It took three tries for Sam to get the key to unlock the door. When the two of you finally entered the room, you immediately began to shiver. It was freezing. You tossed your bag on the coffee table in the center of the room and sought out the central air controls.

“Uh, yeah. The desk clerk said the thermostat is stuck and the repair man won’t be able to fix tonight.” Sam set his duffle by one of the rickety chairs and began looking through it.

“Great”, you groaned sarcastically. “Well, I’m gonna take a shower. We can figure out the bed situation when I get out.”

You grabbed the ratty pair of sweats that you slept in and an oversized shirt along with your toiletries and headed to the tiny bathroom. The small room didn’t look much worse then what you’d come to expect from years of hunting. Toilet bowl a bit rusty, shower handles a little stiff with age, the usual. At least the water was hot and the towels were clean. You spent a few extra minutes soaking under the running water, letting it relax your muscles. You made sure to leave Sam just enough hot water; he hadn’t gotten nearly as splattered in vamp guts as you had.

You dried yourself off and slipped into your change of clothes before wrapping your hair up in a dry towel. You regretted not packing your blow-dryer, at least then you’d have something to battle the freezing room. You quickly washed the blood out of your jeans and flannel shirt, draping them over the empty space on the towel rack before heading back out, teeth gritted in anticipation of the onslaught of cold air.

“Fuck, it’s cold.” You walked over to your duffle and rummaged through it, looking for anything thick and long-sleeved to slip on over your shirt. “How do want to decide who gets the bed? Roshambo or flip a coin?”

“Look, it’s freezing in here, and there’s no extra blanket. The clerk’s probably closed up the front desk; why don’t we just share the bed? It’s big enough for the both of us without it needing to be awkward.”

“Fine.” You sighed, too tired and too cold to press the issue. You gave up on looking for additional layers to wear and crawled under the sheets as Sam went to take his turn cleaning up.

You were still shivering under the covers by the time Sam came out of the bathroom. He was wearing only his boxers and a thin undershirt. You felt a shudder go through you that had nothing to do with the cold. You shook your head slightly to clear it; you’d seen him like this before, why was it affecting you now? He turned off the room’s main light quickly crawled under the sheets and you huddled into your side of the bed, trying to stifle your shivering.

“Good night, S-Sam”, you stuttered out before reaching to turn out the bedside lamp. You sank further down and tucked the sheets around you as best you could.

“Night, y/n.”

You felt the bed shake slightly as he shifted around. It felt like forever before you were finally able to drift off. It didn’t last long. After what felt like only minutes, though probably closer to two hours, you woke up in a cold sweat, Sam gently shaking your shoulder.

“Y/n, it’s okay. You were just having a nightmare. You’re okay.”

“Sorry, Sam. Should’ve figured I’d have one tonight of all nights. Didn’t mean to wake you.” You shifted onto your back, looking over at the hunter, his worried face lit by the moonlight filtering in through the window blinds.

“It’s fine, y/n. I doubt there’s a hunter out there who doesn’t have a nightmare at least once a week.” Sam kept his hand on your shoulder, his fingers squeezing sympathetically. “Look, it’s still really fucking cold in here, even under the sheets. You wanna just…huddle together for at least a little bit of extra warmth? Might help you sleep better too.”

You hesitated, taking in the small blush in Sam’s cheeks. On the one hand, this would blur that very strict line you’d always toed with the younger Winchester; sure you flirted with Dean all the time, but that was just that, flirting. Neither of you considered the other as anything more than close friends. But with Sam, you tried to keep everything strictly business. You knew that given the chance, you’d fall for the tall brunette and never get back up. On the other hand, it really was too cold to get any real rest. A few hours in his arms wouldn’t send you tripping over that line, would it? Of course not, you reasoned with yourself.

“Sure, Sam. Thanks.”

Sam slid up closer to you as you turned back onto your side and tucked up into his chest. His body heat made an immediate difference and you felt yourself relax into him as his arm wrapped around you carefully. You heard him let out a soft sigh of contentment.

“Much better. Sweet dreams, y/n/n.”

“You too, Sam.” You drifted off surrounded by his warmth and the solidness of his body and slept through the night this time.

~~~

You woke up the next morning, unsure of what exactly had pulled you from your slumber. You shifted slightly, not wanting to wake up the hunter sleeping behind you. When you tried to pull out of his embrace, Sam’s grip tightened around your torso automatically. Still sleeping, he pulled you closer against him, a sound halfway between a sigh and a moan spilling from his lips. The next second, you stilled. Pressed up against him as you were, you could feel his hardened length pressing against the small of your back.

You swallowed down a moan of your own as he bucked against you. You let out a soft gasp as he moaned again, your name a plea ringing in your ears. You bit your lips as the urge to grind back against him washed over you.

“Sam”, you whispered softly. “Sam, wake up.”

“Mm…y/n….fu…oh, shit. Y/n/n, I’m sorry!” Sam jolted out of his dream and scrambled to pull away from you. “Really, y/n, I’m so sorry. Fuck, so much for not making this awkward. Please…”

“Sam, it’s okay, really. Morning wood happens, don’t sweat it. If it makes this less awkward…I’ve dreamt of you before too.” You turned to face him, your cheeks flushing as you gauged his reaction.

Sam’s eyes darkened slightly as he stared back at you. His eyes flashed down to your lips and back up, his own plush lips parted as his chest heaved. You swore you saw a glimmer of what you could only describe as hope in his eyes. He slowly leaned toward you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip and his eyebrow quirked up in a silent question. You nodded and let your eyes flutter closed as he closed the space between you, his lips pressing softly to yours.

The kiss was more tender than you had ever imagined it would be. Slow at first, then building up to something more passionate and unrestrained. Sam’s tongue flicked out across your bottom lip, a silent request for permission. You parted your lips and he swallowed your moan as he deepened the kiss. Your hands wound themselves around his neck pulling him closer to you, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Fuck, y/n, wanted to do that for so long.” Sam pulled back, panting. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure. Trust me Sam, never been more sure of anything.”

Sam sat up and took his shirt off before swooping back down to capture your lips. Your hands explored the planes of his torso, sliding over his muscles around to his back as your legs parted around him. He settled between them and teased you with a shallow thrust of his hips, his erection pressing against your clothed crux.

“Too many clothes, Sam”, you muttered against his lips.

Sam broke the kiss to let you pull off your shirt and bra, his hands trailing down your sides to the waistband of your sweats. He looked up at you as his thumb dipped beneath the fabric, skimming along the lace of your panties.

“How long till check out?”

“Long enough to care of what your dream caused, at least”, you replied, a smirk pulling at your lips.

Sam scoffed a laugh and scooted back enough to remove the rest of your clothes, maneuvering his tall body to ease off his boxers. He stared down at your bare form, a soft smile on his face.

“God, you’re just as beautiful as I imagined, y/n. Uh, um..condom?”

“I’m on the pill. Wanna feel you, Sam.”

Before he leaned back over you, you’d gotten a quick glance at him in his full glory. You worried for a second if he’d even fit, but you trusted him not to hurt you. You spread your legs a bit further as he hovered over you, arching into his touch as his hand ran over your body. His other hand settled on the pillow beside your head, supporting his weight to keep from crushing you. You let out a moan as he cupped your breast, his head dipping down to catch your nipple between his lips.

“Sam, oh fuck.”

He chuckled against your skin, the vibrations traveling straight to your core. His hand continued down your body, one long finger dipping into your center. You bucked into his hand and whimpered as he gave a few testing pumps.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already, y/n.”

“Need you, Sam, so fucking bad.” You push eagerly against him, rolling your hips in search of more friction.

“Shit, baby girl, me too.”

Sam added a second finger and thrust a few more times before pulling them out. He moved back over you, swooping in for another deep kiss as he lined himself up, his hard cock teasing at your folds. He swallowed down your moan as you pushed against him.

“Now, Sam, please.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I got you.” He eased himself into you, giving you time to adjust around his girth. “Fuck, you’re so tight, y/n. Ah, shit, you feel good.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he slipped further into your core, your heels pushing at his hips and urging him deeper. Sam nipped his way along your jaw, up to your ear, his teeth grazing at your earlobe in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. Your hands flew up to tangle in his hair and you keened out as he gave a small testing thrust.

“Shit, Sammy, yes. Need you to move, Sam. Fuck me.”

“You sure you’re ready, baby girl? Don’t want to hurt you. Ah, fuck!”

You thrust your hips up at the same time as you dug in again with your heels, sheathing his thick cock further within you. “Fuck. Me.”

Your demand seemed to flip a switch within the hunter; Sam pulled back enough to look down at you, his eyes lust-blown, a wolfish smirk playing at his lips.

“Fuck, you are eager, aren’t you, y/n? Want me to pound this tight cunt hard, huh? Make you scream my name as you come on my cock, that what you want baby? Tell me, y/n, tell me what you want.”

“Oh, shit. Yes. Make me come, Sam. Fuck, make me come so hard and loud, they hear it in the lobby.”

Sam thrusts into you quick and deep, one hand gripping tight at your hip. You moaned loudly as he pumped into you, your hand roamed over his broad back, nails scraping, gripping as you let your head fall back. He took advantage of the exposed expanse of skin, his lips pressing hot kisses at your pulse point, teeth nipping at the curve of your neck.

“Fuck, baby girl, you feel so good around me. Shit, should’ve done this so long ago. Ah, y/n, fuck you’re so beautiful like this.”

“Mm, Sam, fuck. Baby, don’t stop. Shit, make me come Sammy.”

You soon let out a surprised whimper as he pulled out. He quickly maneuvered the two of you so that he was laid out beneath you, his hands gripping you tightly as you hovered over his aching cock. You wasted no time in sinking down on it, drawing out a groan from the hunter as you took him completely. You ground down on him before lifting up, your walls clenching around him, and you began to ride him in earnest.

“Oh, fuck, y/n. Such a good girl, baby, taking my cock like this. Fuck, here I thought I’d have to be careful with you.” Sam reached up and pinched your nipple, his hips thrusting up into you. “Damn, you’re just fucking perfect.”

“Sam, fuck. Like that, baby, just like that.”

Sam ran his hand behind your neck and guided you down to him, snagging your bottom lip between his teeth, his tongue soothing over the sting he left behind. The new angle allowed him to hit that sweet spot inside you with each thrust; you moaned against his lips as you pushed back.

“Sam, I’m close, baby. So fucking close. Fuck me, Sam. Make me come, need to come, Sam, please.”

“Fuck, I could listen to you talk like this forever. Shit, y/n. You gonna come for me, baby girl? Gonna let me see you fall apart around me, full of my cock?”

“Yes. Please, Sam.”

Sam’s hand reached between your bodies and slipped down to where you were joined, seeking out your clit. You bucked into his touch as he began rubbing small circles, swiveling your hips down on him. You pulled back up to your knees, Sam following, his free hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. He bit at the crux where your neck met shoulder, thrusting into you at a rapid pace.

“Fuck, that’s it. C’mon y/n. Come for me, come for me baby. Let me hear you sing. Fuck, sweetheart, gonna come so hard. Shit, so tight baby, come on, let me feel that sweet cunt choke my cock, beautiful. Wring me dry.”

“Sam, oh fuck, Sammy. Yes. Fuck, yes! Gonna come, baby. Gonna…fuck, gonna come. Come with me Sam, please. Need to feel you fill me up, need…”

You gripped at his shoulders, his hair, whatever you could grab hold of as you felt the coil within you snap. You screamed out his name as your walls clamped down on him, pulling him over the edge with you. You rocked against him as you felt rope after rope of warm cum filling your womb. Sam continued thrusting into you even as he came, drawing out your orgasm as he rode out his own.

“That’s it, y/n. That’s it, let this whole place know who’s fucking you. Shit, baby. I’m never letting you go now. Should’ve made you mine ages ago.”

“Sam. Oh, fuck, Sam, shit…! I, fuck, I love you, Sam.” The words slipped out before you could think to bite them back, but at that moment you couldn’t care less. You meant it, you loved him, more than you had ever admitted to yourself.

Sam let out a growl and quicker than you could register, pulled out, flipped you over onto your hands and knees, and entered you once again in one swift stroke, his cock hard once again. As your mind tried to catch up with your body, he began thrusting into you, his tall body curved over you. He angled your head back to nip at your jaw, biting his way along it up to your ear.

“Shit, I love you too, y/n. Oh fuck, do I love you. Loved you since the day I saw you.”

He kissed his way down your neck and along your shoulder, his hand working along your body, making it way back down to your clit. His thumb pressed against it, rubbing slow circles as his thrusts slowed and deepened. You cried out when he found that spot again, your hips pushing back to meet him every time.

“Oh, fuck, Sam. ‘M close, Sam. So good, shit…Sam!”

“Come for me, y/n. Come for me. So beautiful, let me see you fall apart again.”

You let out a breathless cry as your second orgasm washed over, your body trembling beneath him as you rode it out. A few more strokes and he spilled into you once more, a roar ripping from his chest as he pumped into you. He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, his chest heaving as he struggled to keep from collapsing against you.

“Oh, shit, y/n. That…that was, fuck.”

“Yeah. It was.” You let out a small chuckle and cast a quick glance at the clock radio on the bedside table. “Oh shit. We’ve only got about fifteen minutes till check out.”

Sam huffed a laugh and pulled out slowly, groaning as he fell back against the bed. You laid out beside him, your arm snaking across his torso as he pulled you close. He ran his hand soothingly along your back and leaned up to kiss you; where as before his kisses had been full of fire, all want and need, this time you felt a deeper passion pouring from him as he explored you. You broke the kiss, breathless and grinning like a dope.

“Well, that certainly warmed me up. Seriously though, we need to get cleaned up and outta here. ‘Sides, sooner we get back to the bunker, the sooner we can do this again.”

Sam heaved a dramatic sigh and placed a quick peck to your forehead. “Fine, if we must. Share the shower?”

“Only if you promise to behave. I don’t think I can handle another round and still be able to walk normal.”

“Promise. But soon as we get home, we’re heading straight to one of our rooms and making up for lost time. Still need to see what you look like when you’re coming on my tongue.”

You moaned at the thought and shook your head to keep from jumping him as you climbed out of the bed and made your way to the bathroom, the smirking brunette following close behind.

“You’ll be the death of me yet, Sam Winchester. At least I’ll die happy.”

#lemon #sam x reader #bed sharing

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icarusbynight · 4 years

Text

After shower

A/N: Something else concerning my favourite couple that I wrote and forgot to publish. Forewarning, this gets really explicit near the end. So if that makes you uncomfortable, please dont go further.

Woosh

Rickey smiled as the basketball sailed through the air and through the hoop. Across the gym, floor basketballs lay scattered as evidence the last four hours spent practising. His shoulders ached, and sweat covered both his face and stained his sweatshirt, but he felt…good.

The sound of clapping reverberated throughout the gym and Rickey turned towards the sound, wiping his face slightly with his shirt.

It’s funny how a few weeks of working together could change a person’s perspective on another. That was how Ricky found himself smiling, rather than frowning in irritation, at the clapper: E.J. Caswell.

“Well that was better than the last hundred attempts”, E.J said, walking towards him and kicking away the balls that were in his way.

Ricky snorted, and rolled his eyes, “Maybe if you were a better teacher, I would have gotten it the first ninety-nine.”

Who could’ve known that getting the role of Troy Bolton would have actually required him to improve his basketball skills? Ricky Bowen was a skater, and some skills really weren’t that transferable. Thankfully, that was where E.J had volunteered his services as perhaps the most athletic member of their drama troupe.

And it had worked, the last few days spent after rehearsals in the gym had seen Ricky move from missing every shot, to only missing half of them. Another plus side was that he found E.J less annoying. To quote perhaps one of the greatest films of all time, E.J was like an onion, and the younger teen was discovering that there were indeed layers to him.

E.J had his phone in his hand: “Carlos texted me. Everyone’s meeting at his place for the night.”

Ricky nodded, beginning to clean up the stray basketballs, “Alright sweet. So we’ll just finish cleaning up here, I’ll skate home, shower, and meet you guys there.”

Moving to help him, E.J raised an eyebrow almost incredulously, “Why go through all that?”

“What? I stink dude” he laughed, as he pushed the ball cart to the back of the gym with E.J in tow.

“What I mean is that you don’t have to skate all the way home. You literally live in the opposite direction” E.J countered, unlocking the gym’s storage closet, “I have extra clothes, plus there are showers here.”

Ricky blushed, he hadn’t even thought of the school showers. Even in gym class, they were something he tried to avoid; the gross floors, the never knowing whether you were going to get hot or cold water, the mass of bodies…

“…and besides its only me and you here”, E.J was still talking, and the sound of his voice jostled Ricky out of his own thoughts.

“Oh”, he mumbled out, “I mean yeah…sure no problem, in and outright?”

E.J grinned and punched him lightly on the shoulder, “Yep, in and out.”

It was often hard to remember that East High was an old school. Built originally in the ’30s, the building had gone through so many changes and upgrades, that it looked like any new school in the greater Salt Lake area. That was of course, until you reached the gym showers, which looked as if they hadn’t seen construction since they were first installed. They were completely open, blue tiles covering the walls and the slightly downward-sloping floor that led to a central drain. Slightly rusted showerheads lined the walls, and during regular hours it was a mystery which one would actually work.

After locking away the remaining basketballs, this was where the two teenagers found themselves. Leading the way into the locker room area, E.J had already begun to undress. With a swift motion, he removed his t-shirt, and Ricky could practically see the muscles in his back flexing.

‘Fuck’

E.J had unlocked his locker, pulling out a towel, soap, and shampoo. With a turn of his head, he looked back at Ricky standing there, “You getting undressed or what dude?”

Ricky blushed and turned around. ‘What the hell is wrong with me? I feel like Big Red whenever he’s trying to talk to Ashlyn’. Behind him, he could hear the sound of E.J unbuckling his belt, and of clothes being dropped.

There were many reasons why Ricky didn’t like the gym showers, and chief among them was the proximity. That’s not to say that the skater was afraid of closeness, although Nini might disagree, the gym showers were different. It was like entering a world where nothing made sense.

With a sigh, the younger teen began to undress. Running a hand through the sweaty mop of curls, Ricky quickly removed his sweatshirt. His sweatpants followed, leaving him only in his boxer briefs. The showers were located in East High’s basement, and the damp air that always seemed to blow through now left goosebumps trailing down Ricky’s neck. From the corner of his eye, he saw E.J move towards the showers, a flash of skin darting past.

Feeling heat once again rise to his cheeks, and slightly self-conscious, Ricky grabbed his towel and shucked off his underwear. Beyond the wall, he could hear the sound of the shower starting, and his E.J’s laughter was reverberating throughout.

“Get in here, man, the water’s great.”

Leaving his clothes behind, and covering his crotch with his hand, Ricky entered the showers. Steam had started to rise up from the warm water, but even with that, he could clearly see the older teen standing beneath one of the showerheads. E.J’s head was under the rush of the shower faucet, his fingers rubbing in a sweetly scented shampoo. Water ran down his back, along his butt, and legs dark with hair. Every single muscle of the older teen was on display, and a warmth that had for now only seemed to stay in his cheeks, travelled further downwards nestling in his stomach.

‘This is going to be uncomfortable’

Taking his eyes off of E.J, Rickey moved further away from the boy. Grabbing one of the valves along the wall, he turned and sighed as the hot water fell on to his body. The heat from the water seemed to release the tension that had been building up in his shoulders, and the younger teen sighed and closed his beneath the warm cascade.

“Shit”, E.J cursed, and Ricky dared to open one eye in the direction of the other boy.

“What’s wrong?”

“You know how these showers go. If you’re getting hot water, somehow that cuts off my heat.”

Ricky smiled slightly and closed his eyes again to enjoy the feel of the water against his skin, “Sorry about that dude, I won’t be long. You can just take this showerhead when I’m done.”

“No need, sharing is caring, right?”

Ricky nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of E.J’s voice being so close. He hadn’t even heard the older teen walking over.

E.J had placed an arm around Ricky’s shoulders, and was grinning at him, “I mean we’ve technically also shared a girlfriend, so sharing a shower seems like the next step.”

“I’m sure this isn’t the type of bonding Miss Jen had in mind.”

Ricky kept his eyes closed, trying to focus on finishing his shower as quickly as possible. Yet he could feel E.J’s presence behind, could practically his breath on the back of his neck, and could hear the sound of E.J soaping up his own body. The idea of the other boys wet, and soaped up body was giving Ricky a weird feeling. The warmth in his stomach had now travelled further south, leaving an all too familiar sensation in his groin. He was beginning to get hard.

‘Oh, no, no, no’. Ricky was panicking now, and his mind was desperate to think of except the wet boy behind him. He thought of his parents having sex, or of his grandma naked. A glance downwards only showed that his dick was only rising further, jutting from his pubes at a straight angle.

He was thinking of that time that he and Big Red had found a dead cat at the skatepark, of the sight of its poor body flattened against the pavement. With some relief, he could feel himself softening and sighed as he continued to wash himself without fear of embarrassment.

The seconds seemed to stretch on, and the silence between the two boys interrupted only by the soft patter of the shower.

“Your hair is really curly y’know”

“Mhm?” Rickey asked, rubbing into his hair his own shampoo.

“I mean it’s really curly, like even when wet you can still see them” E.J was laughing now, and Ricky could only grin in response.

“I just want to run my hands through it.”

Ricky let out a low groan, as he felt the blood rush to his dick. “That’s a weird thing to say E.J.”

“Is it?” he could hear the chuckle in E.J’s voice, but also something else.

A hand touched his shoulder, and heat coursed through him. Ricky knew he couldn’t even begin to blame this on the temperature of the shower.

E.J pressed against him, and Ricky could feel the older boy’s hardness pressed against his lower back. E.J’s other hand had glided across Ricky’s abdomen and was slowly inching its way downwards.

“Wait..wait…stop”, he said, painfully aware of how loud his voice was even over the din of the shower. E.J’s hand stopped its descent midway.

“What? Don’t tell me Ricky Bowen has never had a handjob before?”

Well, that’s certainly not true, and his mind flashes to sleepovers with Big Red. On the one hand, he certainly wasn’t going to share that with E.J, and on the other hand, he really didn’t want to come off as inexperienced.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see what you guys get up to on the Water Polo team” as he says this, Ricky lowers his voice, “What if someone walks in?”

E.J was still straddling him from behind, one hand wrapped around Ricky’s stomach, the other resting on the side of his neck.

“I mean we are the only ones here…”

The hand of the other teen inched further down. Ricky didn’t need to look to know that his cock was utterly and achingly stiff.

“…but if someone comes in”, E.J was whispering now, and a shiver flew down Ricky’s spine, “they can watch.”

And just like that Ricky felt his willpower crumble completely, as E.J gripped him in his fist. It was like being struck by lightning, and he could feel the precum leaking from his tip. E.J grip was firm, and he drew his fist upwards, smearing his thumb against the tip.

Ricky writhed under E.J’s touch, and a gasp escaped him. E.J had pulled him in tighter, and the older teen had his face buried in the crook of Ricky’s neck, biting and licking at the bare skin there. He could feel E.J grinding into him before, the older boy leaving a trail of his own precum against the other’s lower back in a desperate attempt to find friction.

“How does that feel?” E.J asked, his voice husky.

Beneath E.J’s firm hand, Ricky felt as those he was in a fog; one that was impacting his every thought. Every single stroke was sending was send waves of pleasure coursing through his body, he had to even admit that E.J hand felt better than his own.

The seconds seemed to stretch on and feeling that all too familiar sensation Ricky reached out to grab E.J’s wrist. “Wait”, the desperation in his voice was clear. Reaching forward, he shut off the shower, and turned around, “Do you want me to…?”

The question hung in the air as he trailed off taking in for the first time the full sight of E.J. He had seen E.J before in states of undress, but this…this was different. E.J was athletic, and his body showed. Muscles made lean from years of swimming practice. His hair lay matted against his forehead, wet from the show, and his was face was flushed red. Ricky’s eyes trailed downwards following the light brown treasure trail that panned out into a thick growth of hair at the base of E.J’s cock. The large purplish head oozed a trail of precum that seemed to hang precariously in the air.

“Do you want me to to…yknow?” Ricky asked again, nodding downwards to E.J’s own erection.

E.J nodded, and Ricky closed in, his own hand wrapping tightly around the other’s hard dick. The skin was soft and smooth, and also feverish to the touch. A gasp escaped E.J’s lips, and his hips bucked into Ricky’s enclosed fist.

Ricky had never seen E.J like this; usually he was so composed and so cool. But now…his eyes were closed, and his mouth hung open as if caught in a silent scream. Ricky continued to stroke him, his fist moving quickly over the older teen’s length, mimicking what had done to him earlier and swiping the head with his thumb, using the precum as lubricant. The sounds escaping from E.J were obscene and hot. His own cock throbbed in response, untouched.

“You sound like your about to bust dude.”

E.J opened his eyes and grinned back at him, “This feels fucking amazing.”

Leaning forward, he reached out for Ricky’s own neglected erection, and Ricky groaned as he felt E.J touch him once again. His hips jerked reflexively, and he leaned forward, resting his head against E.J’s shoulder. In unison their fists moved, squeezing and stroking from base to tip.

“Faster” E.J managed, and Ricky obliged. The sounds of heavy breathing and skin rubbing against skin filled the shower room. Almost instinctively Ricky found licking and biting into the side of E.J’s neck, leaving a similar mark to the one that had been left there earlier on his own. E.J had pulled him closer, both of their fists were forgotten in favour of simply grinding against each, cocks wet with precum, each boy desperately chasing his own orgasm.

Hesitantly E.J turned to look at him, completely glassy-eyed. Ricky leaned forward, pressing his lips against E.J. Feverishly E.J kissed him back, plunging his tongue into the younger boys gasping mouth, sending a shiver down Ricky’s spine.

‘Oh, fuck.’

He was cumming, harder than he had ever done so before. He grunted and moaned, and with every spurt, he could feel his toes curling as the tension that had been steadily building within was released. E.J thrust one final time, and shuddered, releasing against Ricky’s abs.

Exhausted the two disentangled, collapsing shakily on the floor of the shower. Both boys were sweating and breathing heavily. E.J glanced at him and smiled.

“We definitely need to do that again.”

#ricky bowen #ej caswell #ricky x ej #caswen #gay smut #fanfic #Joshua Bassett #matt cornett

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plaidbooks · 4 years

Text

Everyone Deserves Love chapter 8

A/N: This starts with a little bit of fluffy cuteness, but don’t let that fool you! Jenkins coming in hot, and then it switches to angst. And it stays angst. So heads up, it’s gonna be angst for a bit haha.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: none, outside of feelings, oh, I guess minor character death that was mentioned in one line

Words: 6k+

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba (lemme know if you want to be tagged!)

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Saturday, May 2nd. 5:00am

Devon woke up at 5am sharp, as usual, even after being up over 24 hours the day before. She uncurled on the couch, stretching while standing, then went through her morning routine: exercise, shower, dress. She tried to be as quiet as possible, since Barba was still asleep, and she planned to let him sleep in a little, their deal from the previous night. Normally on weekends, he would stumble out of his room around 8am. Glancing at the clock, it was still early; only 6:30. Devon planned on making coffee to go with the breakfast, so she decided that 8am would be the safest time to start it. Until then, though, she’d work on the abandoned report from last night, while trying to ignore the thoughts that had stopped that report. Having those types of thoughts helped no one and was wildly unprofessional. So, she shoved her feelings away, focusing on the events from the past two days instead.

Time flew by and 8am came faster than she thought it would, with no signs of life from Barba’s room. She still got up from the couch, report done, and started the French press. While waiting for the water to heat up, she went to the FBI database, trying to check on the last 12 Aces in the city. She looked up from her laptop when she heard Barba’s door open; she didn’t even hear him shower, yet his hair was still damp from the spray. He was in nice slacks and a plain polo shirt; his “casual” attire, unlike his “weekend” suits. It was always a little treat seeing someone who was normally in expensive suits dressing in something…not as expensive. Casual. He still looked damn good, though.

“Good morning,” Devon chirped, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Coffee?”

“Please,” he grumbled. Even when he slept in, Rafael Barba was not a morning person. Devon grinned, pouring him a cup, and adding the appropriate amount of sugar that she knew he liked. She noticed, somewhere deep down, that she liked their almost…domestic tendencies. It made sense, with how much time they spent together, but it was still nice to have these little shared things. It was like his home was hers’, too. Which was comforting. And absolutely terrifying.

“Here you go,” she said, passing him the hot liquid. He gratefully took a deep pull, letting the caffeine waken him. He went to the fridge, pulling out an assortment of vegetables and a carton of eggs. He set about making breakfast, an omelet with sautéed vegies; Devon hovered in the kitchen, but her attention was on her laptop, still researching.

“So, what time were you up today?” Barba asked casually.

“Uh, 5am?” Devon replied.

Barba shot her a look. “I thought we agreed to sleep in today. Why were you up so early?”

“I—I’m always up at 5. I have an internal clock, wakes me up,” she explained.

“Everyday?”

“Correction, almost always. Sometimes I’m up at 4.”

Barba looked shocked first, then concerned. “We go to bed so late; why the hell do you wake up so early? And how the hell are you so perky in the morning?”

Devon thought about it. “I’ve been waking up before the sun for a while, now, couple years, actually. Guess it’s just habit.” She gave him a playful smile. “The perkiness is all me, baby.”

Barba ignored the joke, all serious. “Years? That cannot be healthy. Have you talked to anyone about this?”

Devon took a sip of coffee, swirled it in her mouth before swallowing. “After doing a UC, it’s mandatory to talk to a therapist. So yes, I did ‘talk to someone’ about it…. Especially because it seemed to start a week into that assignment.” Barba flipped the omelet he was making. It looked like he was going to question further, so Devon cut him off. “Yes, both my therapist and I believe that it’s from stress. I—I think I’m just…” she took a deep breath; saying it out loud was acknowledging it. But it was also good to get it out of her mind. “I’m just afraid; my brain needs to be on alert at all times. I know it sounds silly, but people like you—victims--deserve to have 24/7 protection, but I can only give you 20 at most. I’m a light sleeper; anyone breaking in and I’ll hear it. But I don’t think that’s really good enough; it leaves at least 4 hours where you’re open, exposed, especially with the fire escape in your room.” Barba took the omelet out of the pan, placing it skillfully on a plate, and passing it to Devon. She took it gratefully, blowing on it before taking a bite. It was delicious. Is there anything he can’t do?

Barba sighed as he went back to the pan, starting on his own food. “Devon, I know that no one wants to hear it, but you are human. No one, including you, can stay awake and alert 24/7. Hell, even 20/7 is insane. I’m glad that this whole mess is almost over.” He flinched inwardly as soon as the words left his mouth. And the look on Devon’s face was a punch to the gut; it was only there for a split second before she went back to a neutral expression. But he felt it, too; as much as he would like life to go back to normal, he really didn’t want to lose her, lose this. Not yet.

“It will be nice to sleep in my own bed again,” Devon joked, though her voice fell a little flat. She knew that it was inevitable; she’d have to leave him eventually, go on with her work and life. But she really, really, didn’t want to think about that. She was disappointed that he was already there in his thoughts, that he was wishing for it.

Barba finished cooking his own food, standing at the counter next to Devon. They ate in relative silence, besides complimenting each other on the food and coffee, and idly talking about heading to the park afterwards.

“Oh shit, I need to call Liv,” Devon said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Olivia picked up on the second ring.

“Hey Dev, everything alright?” she asked.

Devon chuckled, shaking her head. “Of course. Just wanted to let you know that Barba and I were going to Central Park for a little. Get some fresh air after the mess from the past couple days.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? You don’t think that you’ll be sitting ducks?”

“There’s only 12 Aces left, and I think after what happened with Marco, we should be good.” Devon waited a moment before adding on, “I’ll be armed, we’ll be safe.”

Liv sighed. “For one thing, I forgot to text you last night; we caught 5 more Aces in a raid last night. So now the magic number is 7. And second, I’ll station some extra unis in the park, just to be sure. The remaining members may be getting desperate, since there’s not many left.”

“That’s good to know. I’ll let Barba know, and I’ll keep my eyes open,” Devon replied. She hung up, then, and relayed the information to Barba.

“Hm, SVU must be busy; Liv doesn’t normally forget to inform us like that,” he said.

Devon agreed. “We can always stop by later today, see what’s up.” Barba nodded.

They finished their food quickly, suddenly eager to get out into fresh air. Barba’s loft was only two blocks from Central Park, so it was a short walk there, but before they even hit the park, they were already more relaxed, basking in the warm, sunny day. There’s something about getting out of the house, even for a simple walk, that was refreshing. It seemed like the tension, the heaviness, from the last two days lifted, and they joked and laughed, conversation flowing easily. They made it to a trail that went by the water, and just enjoyed each other’s presence. They talked about nothing, really, just idle small talk. Devon did surreptitiously watch every person within eyesight; she saw at least 6 cops the first ten minutes there, two on bikes and the rest on foot. But no one looked suspicious, only suburban moms with their strollers, joggers, couples walking through the park. They wandered the trail for about an hour, slowly getting closer together, though neither of them noticed. It wasn’t until Devon’s hand brushed against his that they realized how close they were. They stopped walking, half turning to each other, Devon’s cheeks flushing, an apology on her tongue. Barba opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a woman screaming.

Devon was a flurry of movement, embarrassment from the simple touch forgotten. Her first instinct was to shove Barba behind her, turning towards the noise. It took a moment for the woman’s words to process in her adrenaline-clogged brain.

“Help! He stole my purse!” she yelled, pointing. A man dressed like a burglar from a shitty movie, complete with loose jeans, a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, and dark sunglasses, was running on the path that Devon and Barba were currently on, a tan purse clutched in his hand. As the man tried to push passed them, Barba stuck out his leg. The man got caught on his foot and went down, slamming into the ground, glasses flying off his face.

“Great reflexes,” Devon said, jokingly, giving him a half-grin. She knelt down, grabbing his hands and pulling them behind his back. “Senior Special Agent Motely, FBI,” she informed the man. She grabbed the purse from his clutches and handed it to Barba.

“Did you doubt me?” Barba smirked back. He took the purse, looking towards the woman who had alerted them. She was on her way over, as well as the two bike cops. Barba handed over the purse, and Devon let the unis cuff the man. Devon noticed Barba’s hands were shaking; he must still be feeling anxious from the past couple days for this small action to affect him so.

“Come on,” Devon said, giving him a soft smile. She took Barba’s shaking hand, ignoring the jolt of electricity she felt from touching his burning skin, and led him away from the scene at a slow jog. She was hoping that a short jog would burn off the extra energy coursing through both of their veins. She led him out of the park and towards a small café across the street; one of her favorite spots.

“That was…surprisingly fun,” Barba chuckled, trying to catch his breath. Devon laughed with him; at least he had stopped shaking.

“Oh no, please stay as a lawyer. Don’t switch to cop,” Devon replied, feigning concern at his life choices.

“Why not? Afraid that I’d take your job?”

“No, but I think the power would go to your already inflated head.”

Barba scoffed as if offended. “Don’t lie; I’d outrank you in a week.”

“And there’s that ego I mentioned.” They chuckled, before a waitress came out to them. They both ordered a coffee—Devon got a pastry, too--and resigned to people watching while they waited for her to come back.

“To be honest, though, I am glad that we were able to help that woman out,” Devon said.

Barba agreed. “We got lucky that he ran towards the two people in the park that could help her.”

“That’s a little rude to the cops working in the park.”

Barba smirked. “But am I wrong?”

“Not at all,” she replied. Their coffee and food came just then, and they sat in silence, drinking and sharing the pastry. Devon broke the silence. “Today’s been really fun. I’m glad we decided to do this.”

“Me too. It’s nice getting out of the loft every now and again. To not worry about cases, files, rapes, murders, and traffickers.”

Devon nodded. “It does get…taxing, after a while. You have to find a balance in this line of work. It’s not always enough to just go home at the end of the day.”

Barba thought about what he wanted to say, how he wanted to say it. “I—I couldn’t imagine doing what you do. At least I get to go home at the end of the day. You just finished a three-year undercover op before this; you didn’t even get to go home. You didn’t get to talk to friends, hell you didn’t even have your own name. That sounds like a type of torture. And now, you still don’t get to go home.”

“At least I have some good company,” she smiled at him. She took a small bite of her pastry, then continued, “sometimes, it feels like torture. But you have to get so into your character, your fabricated life. You have to be invested in your fake job, fake friends, fake relationships. Sometimes, none of those things feel fake anymore. It’s just life…. I’ve learned that you need to have something, anything, that can pull you back to your real life.”

“What…what did you have?”

Devon’s cheeks turned red, though she tried to hide it by drinking her coffee. “You, uh, you got to promise me you will not tell a soul,” she said after putting her coffee down. She locked eyes with him. “I’m serious; no one must know of this, especially Olivia.”

Barba kept his face neutral, trying not to smile at how flustered Devon got, how cute she was when her face got all red like that. Was it really that bad? “Okay, I promise.”

Devon took a deep breath, let it out. Then she reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone. She popped the case off, pulling something out. In her hand was a small square of what looked like folded paper. She went about unfolding it, and Barba realized it wasn’t a piece of paper, but a photo. It was so worn, so creased, that it was obvious how often she had needed to look at it during her time undercover. Once unfolded, she handed it to Barba, looking away sheepishly, sipping at her coffee.

The picture was faded, even though it was timestamped as only four years ago. It was a snapshot of what looked like a fun night in a dark bar. Devon was on the left, wearing a plastic top hat that read “Happy New Year’s! 2010” and with a drink in hand. She looked like she was laughing in the picture. Hanging on her, arm wrapped around the people on either side of her, was Olivia. It looked like she was trying to have them hold her up, but her face showed that it wasn’t happening. The photographer must have gotten her mid-fall—her mouth was open in a comical “O” shape. Barba only knew the man on the right because Olivia had showed her pictures before; his name was Elliot Stabler, Liv’s old partner. He wore a hat matching Devon’s, and it looked like Olivia was taking him down with her. His mouth was open in surprise, though a smile tugged at the corners. It was a great picture of three friends enjoying the start of the new year. Barba hated that he felt a pang of loneliness and jealousy looking at it. He looked up from the picture to find Devon watching him, cheeks still red.

“That was the first time since my childhood that I had celebrated my birthday; that I even had friends to celebrate with,” Devon explained, taking the photo back and gazing at it lovingly.

“Your birthday is New Year’s Eve?”

“Day, actually,” she corrected. She took one last look, then folded it up, stuffing it back into the phone case, popping it back on and replacing it in her pocket.

Barba wasn’t quite sure what to say. He was glad she had people to celebrate with, but also felt sad that it took her so long to find that kind of acceptance in her life. “Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said softly. There was nothing else to say. He was touched that she had opened up to him, had shown him something so personal.

Like in the park, they were both so enraptured in their thoughts that they stopped paying attention to their surroundings, especially their body language. They both had the same, stupid grin on their faces, as they stared into each other’s eyes. Barba had his hand on the table between them, and Devon didn’t even realize that she had placed hers on top of it. They were slowly leaning closer to each other, lost in the depths of their eyes, the closeness that they felt. Thinking about how today was a perfect date, yet neither would admit to the other that it even was one; it was just a walk in the park between friends. Sharing an intimate secret between friends. Holding hands, sharing a pastry, leaning closer, heads tilting, eyes closing…as friends….

Devon’s phone started ringing loudly, and they both jumped back, ripping their hands off the table. Devon fished her phone back out of her pocket, heart beating wildly. What just happened?

Barba looked flushed and a little…disappointed, grabbing his coffee and taking a sip, adverting his eyes. Devon looked at her phone screen, seeing her boss’s name lighting up across it.

“Uh oh…” she mumbled before answering. “Motely.”

“Is there a reason that NYPD’s Internal Affairs just handed me a file on you shooting a man two days ago?” Jenkins asked. He wasn’t angry; he just sounded tired.

Shit. “Oh, I meant to call you about that, sir,” Devon replied, heart still pounding. Her mind was going a mile a minute, stuck between thoughts of shooting Marco, IAB, and almost, maybe, about to kiss a certain counselor who was still avoiding her eyes. “You see, it’s a long story….”

“Well, you’d better come in and explain it to me, then.”

Devon looked to Barba, sipping innocently at his coffee. How much coffee does he still have? “Uh, permission to bring a civilian?” He finally looked at her at that, brow furrowed.

Jenkins sighed; he knew better than to ask questions. “Granted. Get here. Now.” And with that, he hung up.

Devon slowly put her phone down. She looked deeply into Barba’s green eyes. “Ever wanted to go to the FBI Headquarters?”

FBI Headquarters

Saturday, May 2nd. 12:37pm

Devon led Barba into the elevator leading to her boss’s office, his visitor badge bouncing off his chest.

“This is not what I had planned today when we agreed on a day off,” he mumbled, the doors closing behind them. Devon smirked.

“Sorry about this. I could’ve left you with a detective, if you really wanted. Or you can go back to the lobby; one of the field agents can watch you.”

Barba scoffed. “I’m not a child for you to pass around.”

“Then stop complaining like one,” she replied. He glared at her, and she stuck her tongue out in response. The elevator doors dinged and opened, and Devon led him down the long hallway to Jenkins’s office.

“Come in,” he said before she even had a chance to knock. Barba gave her a look, eyebrows raised. She shrugged in a yeah, that’s normal way, then opened the door for him, following him in. Jenkins kept his office space neat, tidy; a desk with two monitors, a couple of full bookshelves, and a small conference table in the corner. Although he was the Assistant Director, in charge of multiple sectors of field agents, he still didn’t spend much time in his office, usually only resigning to the space at night or on weekends to do paperwork. Much like Olivia, he worked his way up from field agent, and his heart and mind were still out in the field. He had trouble sitting still for too long, and was often out of the office, running teams or even in the field himself as much as possible. Which was why everyone respected him, whether they liked him or not.

“Counselor,” Jenkins said in his deep voice, nodding to Barba, before turning back to Devon. “Motely, report.”

Devon took a deep breath, then filled him in on everything that had happened since the end of January, starting from the night she met Barba, to talking to Olivia, to accepting the 24/7 protection of the ADA. “I honestly didn’t think it would be this…extensive,” Devon finished, lacking a better word. It was true, though; she knew what 24/7 protection was like, but she had only ever done it for a weekend at most. Never for months at a time. And though she knew that there was the chance of it lasting longer than she thought, it was different talking about it and actually doing it.

“So, this shooting of Marco Sorrel was in defense of Mr. Barba here,” Jenkins replied, looking at the case file from IAB.

“Yes sir.”

“And this protection order is still in effect? That’s why you brought him here, I take it?”

“Yes sir.” Devon felt Barba tense next to her; she had almost forgot he was there. He had said nothing since coming into the office. He knew when to bite his tongue.

“For how much longer? I need my top agent back to work.”

That knocked the wind out of Devon’s sails. It was the confirmation that after this was over, she would be going right back to work for the FBI. She wasn’t surprised, but it did solidify her resolve; she could not have a relationship with Barba, regardless of their feelings. She basically already told him as much that one day they talked a little too loosely about relationships.

“To my knowledge, there’s only 7 more Aces active in the city. Once they’re arrested, and the hit on Barba is off, I’ll be cleared for work again, sir,” Devon informed him.

Jenkins smirked. “Only 7? Tell that SVU Sergeant that I’ll make sure it’s taken care of before the weekend is over. I want to see you here, bright and early, on Monday morning; there’s a sex-trafficking ring I need you in on.”

Devon felt her stomach drop, her world crumbling. But she kept her face neutral, her voice steady. “Y-yes sir,” she said. Hearing the dismissal in his voice, she turned, Barba following suit, and left the office.

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Saturday, May 2nd. 3:05pm

“So, are we going to talk about it?” Barba finally asked from the kitchen. They both had been silent leaving the Bureau, and even more distant on the ride back to Barba’s loft. They tried small talk, but it sizzled out after a couple words. They both resigned to doing their own thing; Devon researching on her laptop, Barba doing the dishes from breakfast.

“Talk about what?” Devon replied, but she knew. Of course, she did. But she wanted to hear him say it.

Barba sighed, turning off the water. He placed the last pan on the drying rack, drying his hands off before coming to stand in the doorway. “Let’s be adults about this. Please. You know what,” when Devon stayed silent, Barba continued, “about what happened, well, what almost happened at the café. About the fact that you’re going to be leaving soon. About…about where that leaves us.”

Devon’s heart fluttered when he said “us.” God, she wanted there to be an “us” so damn badly. But she couldn’t force herself to take that leap, to fully commit to him. How could she, when both of their schedules were so busy, so crazy? Jenkins said it himself; she was about to go right back into the field. She could be gone for months, years at a time. She could be hurt or worse. How could she possibly hurt Barba like that, put him through that?

“The café was a mistake,” she said as flatly as she could. She stared at his chest, not able to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, Rafael, but there isn’t an ‘us.’ This is a job, and once it’s over, I’m back to working with the Bureau.” Devon was glad that there were no tears in her eyes; her years of training, of becoming personas were coming in handy, even if her own heart was breaking at her words. She dared a glance into Barba’s face.

He was crestfallen, his face falling. He had been sure, was positive, that she had felt the same way about him. Especially when they brushed hands in the park, when they almost kissed in the café. It took him weeks and weeks to build up the courage to make a move, and when her hand had enveloped his at that table, he knew that that was his moment. Then that damned phone call happened. And then, that damned meeting with her boss! And now she was going to leave him, by tomorrow if her boss was correct. That’s why he had to tell her, he had to know if she had felt the same.

“I thought you said that we were friends. That you cared about me,” he said softly. God, he sounded desperate, pathetic, even to himself.

Devon’s eyes softened, if only for a moment. “You are, and I do. But Barbs, we can’t be any more than that. You know that, right?” Her resolve was shaking under his intense stare. She could see him caving in on himself, his shoulders slumping slightly, his head falling, knees bending. His whole body language just screamed defeated. And she was the one delivering the blows.

He took a deep breath, stiffening his spine, raising his head; the prosecutor heading into a losing battle. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be putting you in this kind of situation. Forget I mentioned it.” With that, he made his way down the hallway and into his room, closing his door softly behind him. Devon opened her mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say.

Great, she thought. There goes that friendship. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, though; it made things a little less awkward. And it made her leaving easier. Plus, it’d be just like one of her many one-night stands anyways. No attachments: just cut all ties when she left. And leave the broken pieces of her heart behind.

As if the timing couldn’t be more perfect, Devon got an incoming call, from Olivia.

“Motely,” she answered, trying to sound professional.

“Devon! Great news: all the Aces have been rounded up and delivered to the NYPD. Did you call in the Feds to help?” Olivia asked.

Devon smiled grimly. “No, but my boss did offer his assistance after getting IAB’s report.”

“Well, he certainly assisted. Also, I just got a report that said that an hour ago, the Aces in Rikers got in a fight with the 32nd street gang in the prison courtyard. Jorge Ramirez was killed in the scuffle,” Olivia paused, letting her words sink in. “To our knowledge, the hit on Barba has been called off; you can go home, now.”

Devon sat in silence, trying to figure out what the hell the bombardment of emotions she felt was; it was all too much, too quickly. “Devon? You there?” she heard Liv say.

“Yeah, yeah sorry, I’m here. That’s…that’s great news, Liv. I’ll be sure to tell Barbs; I’m sure he’ll be relieved.”

They talked for a few more minutes before Devon made an excuse to hang up, citing the fact that she needed to pack and go grocery shopping before heading home. She sighed heavily, rubbing her hands over her face, but she stood and started collecting her small number of possessions.

“It’s done, isn’t it?” a voice came from down the hallway. Devon stopped, but didn’t turn to look.

“Yes; all the Aces have been arrested. Plus, Ramirez was shanked in a prison fight, so the hit’s been called off,” she turned to look at the man now, “congratulations, Barbs. You’re no longer a marked man.”

The door to his bedroom was wide open and Barba was leaning casually against the doorframe. Well, as casually as he could; his body was tight with tension, as much as he tried to hide it, and if Devon looked closely, she could see a small red ring around his eyes. He gave a stiff nod, peeling himself off the doorframe and coming out into the living room. Devon finished packing her things, zipping up her grip and slinging it over her shoulder. She felt a slew of emotions run through her; she needed to get out of there, but she was rooted to the spot.

“When will I see you again?” Barba murmured. It was barely a whisper, so quiet that it was hard to tell if he actually said it, or if Devon imagined it.

She gave him a soft smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure we’ll end up working on a case together at some point…I do help SVU from time to time,” she replied quietly. He gave her another stiff nod, not trusting himself to speak. She no longer trusted her own voice, and turned away, unable to look at his face anymore. She felt tears spring to her eyes, and she blinked them away rapidly, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Devon made her way to the front door, unlocking it, opening it slowly.

“Wait,” Barba finally choked out. Devon froze at the door, one foot already in the hallway. She looked over her shoulder at him, eyes softening for a moment. His mouth opened and closed a couple times, but no sound came out.

She gave him a small smile. “Stay safe,” she whispered, and then she was gone.

*********************

Devon didn’t go straight home. It was still early in the evening; the sun still hadn’t set, and it was still warm out. She also didn’t call a cab; instead opting to simply wander the streets, the grip slung over her shoulder soon forgotten as her mind, too, began to wander. She made it a full block before the tears began to flow, slowly at first, but then soon falling freely. She let them, ignoring the stares from strangers she walked by. It was good to let it all out, especially here, outdoors, rather than in her own space. She did wander in the general direction of her apartment—she lived about a 30-minute walk from Barba’s loft—and she took her time, weaving in and out of the streets. Finally, with the sun setting, and her shoulder growing sore from the weight, she made her way home.

*********************

Apartment of Devon Motely

Saturday, May 2nd. 7:35pm

After her undercover op in California, Devon had the cleaners from the FBI clean her place so that it wasn’t dusty or gross. This was not the case with the past three months with Barba; the place had obviously not been inhabited. Dust covered every surface, there was a weird smell that wasn’t there before, and it was stuffy. Devon sighed, having no motivation to clean anything, emotionally drained. She looked at the clock and sighed again, realizing she hadn’t eaten anything besides breakfast and the little pastry at the café by the park, right before everything fell apart. She should eat, but she didn’t feel hungry. She didn’t really feel anything right now except for emptiness…a longing, and a loneliness that she hadn’t felt in years.

She went to her room and checked her bed, sniffing the sheets. They smelled musty, and she knew she couldn’t sleep in that. She stripped the sheets and threw them on the floor in the corner; that was a tomorrow problem. She went to her closet and pulled out her back-up sheets but couldn’t bring herself to make the bed. Instead, she threw them on the bed in a heap and made her way to the kitchen. Hungry or not, she should eat something, especially if she planned on drinking—and she did plan on drinking; maybe it would help lessen some of the emptiness, though she knew, deep down, that that was a load of crap.

First things first, she looked in her liquor cabinet, finding some cheap whiskey. Fingers crossed, she looked in her fridge and, hallelujah, she found an unopened bottle of Coca Cola. She quickly made herself a strong drink, then took another look in the fridge. No food to be found. She checked her pantry next. A couple cans of soup and some long-expired rice. She winced, remembering that she had been gone for over three years now; she really needed to go grocery shopping tomorrow.

Sighing, she grabbed a box of instant rice and opened it. It wasn’t fuzzy or discolored, so she presumed it was fine. The alcohol she was drinking would kill anything in it, anyways. While waiting for the water to boil, she unpacked her grip, throwing the clothes in a laundry bin, plugging in her laptop, and taking out her toiletries, to be replaced with new ones tomorrow. She went back to the kitchen, grabbed a notepad, and started making a list of foods. Once done, she had a thought, and went to her supply closet. After checking the small amount of cleaners she had, she added ones she needed to the list too. She was on autopilot, thoughts blank, afraid to stop moving. Actions kept her thoughts at bay. Speaking of moving, she realized that she could finally go back to the gym tomorrow morning, something that she thought she’d be excited for, but in this state, it was a dull thought. She dreaded the pain she’d be in tomorrow—her little morning routine wasn’t intense enough to replace a gym workout—but knew it would be worth it in the end.

Satisfied with her list, Devon took her food and drink, then sat in her living room. She didn’t like how the apartment didn’t seem…familiar, not in the way she was used to, or how his had felt. Even with her work, she had lived in this apartment for about seven years now, and it was always a welcome relief coming home. Now, it was like a piece was missing. Suddenly, the silence was pushing in on her, deafening her. She lunged for the TV remote, turned on whatever sports station she could find, and sat there, picking at her rice as the announcers were droning on about…the Mets. It didn’t really matter what was on, as long as there was continuous talking, hence, sports.

It didn’t take long, though, before the monotone voices seemed to tune out of her consciousness. Devon finished her food and drink, went back to the kitchen to dispose of her dishes, and brought the whiskey and coke back to the couch with her. She quickly lost count of drinks, thinking more and more about, well, everything that happened the past couple months. She remembered the first night she had met the ADA, before she knew who he was. She thought about how he didn’t want her help at first, how he had told Olivia that he didn’t need her. How she had made a deal with him that she’d never bother him again afterwards.

She thought about those first few weeks together, about how they were awkward around each other, learning about each other. She thought about how fascinated she was the first time she watched him in court, the pride and awe the first time he won a conviction. She remembered how his eyes lit up, how he set his jaw when he ran through his arguments with her in his office. She remembered how his green eyes conveyed concern when she got stabbed in the shoulder. She remembered his little smirk when he found something amusing. She wondered when she noticed all these little things about him.

She was shocked when she felt the tears on her cheeks, didn’t notice them pooling in her eyes. So, what if she loved him? It wasn’t going to work; she knew that! She had to move on with her life, let him move on, too. He deserved someone who could love him with their whole heart, who could be there for him when he needed them. She couldn’t be that person; she was always on call, and it was never a guarantee that see would come home at night.

Devon let out a loud sniffle, trying to control her emotions. It was final; she would forget about Rafael Barba. She would get a good night sleep, clean her apartment tomorrow, and then go back to work on Monday. And that was that. She finished her drink, wiped the tears out of her eyes, then went to her room. She saw the sheets clumped on her bed and let out a frustrated scream.

#everyone deserves love #edl #rafael barba x oc #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #everyone deserves love chapter 8 #edl ch 8 #fanfic #my writing #angst

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mushyjellybeans · 4 years

Text

Baby Please Come Home Part 2 (Bucky Barnes)

Pairings: Bucky x reader, Wanda x reader Warnings: A little angst, language (sorry Uncle Stevie), FLUFF, Mushy Bucky, angst with a happy ending, Mushy ending. A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! Part 2/2 of the request sent in by @stuckonjbbarnes enjoy my lovelies!

MushyMasterlist

Part 1.

Two months, that's how long it has been since you wrapped yourself up in his strong arms, protecting you from the dangers of the world.

Two months since you heard his gruff voice, kissed his soft lips.

Tossing and turning on the sofa Wanda had put up for you due to short notice, you rested your forearm under your head and gazed up to the ceiling.

Your heart clenches with thoughts of him with his new woman, you were so sure he was having an affair. Who hides their phone if they have nothing to hide? What did she have that you didn't?

You didn't run far, you actually just went to her one-bedroom apartment to talk to her about it and it was her insistence you stay here for a while until you figured things out. She lived just a couple of blocks from where you and Bucky lived.

"He's not having an affair," Wanda spoke from the doorframe, flicking the light switch on your eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the light, your head perks up to the direction of her tired voice.

"How did you-"

"Your mind is really loud and I'm trying to sleep." She sighs. Of course, you had to choose to crash in a mind reader's room. "His secrecy was something else." She whispered.

Your eyebrows furrowed, "what do you mean?"

If there was an award out for the quickest dressed achievement, you would be confident you would win it.

The rain poured heavily when you stepped out of Wanda's apartment building. Immediately regretting not wearing a jacket. You were just dressed in your comfiest sweater with an old pair of skinny jeans and your favorite shoes as you walked down the deserted path in need of some fresh air.

You walked to central park, taking a seat on an empty bench. Raindrops falling from the end of your tendrils onto your clothed shoulders, you tucked your hand between your crossed legs as you sat there thinking over everything Wanda had just told you.

"The secrecy is for a whole different reason. Trust me on that."

"But how do you know Wanda? What is he hiding from me?" You breathed, running your fingers through your hair and tugging at the ends.

"It's big, but it's not what you think." She wasn't giving you the answers you were looking for, making you more frustrated in the process.

"Alright. Then why is he snappy? Why does he choose to argue with me on the smallest of things?" Wanda had just shrugged her shoulders.

"I can only give you so many answers Y/N. If you wanna know, go and talk to him."

You sighed heavily, your chest walls feeling as though they were collapsing.

"I'm going out for a walk." You put on your shoes and walked out, leaving a frustrated Wanda behind.

You didn't notice what time you left her apartment, but by the constant shivering of your body, you were gone for more than an hour. Stupid for not bringing my phone either!

The park was clear, just a couple of random people walking past usual hand in hand. It was close to home, you would think back to those times you and Bucky would walk the same path, hand in hand, giggling like teenagers and talking about everything and anything.

Wiping the droplets from your cheeks with your damp sleeve, you sniffled a few times and decided to go back to Wanda's. You would think about what you would say to Bucky tonight and go and see him in the morning, you had to hear him out if nothing else.

It seemed to take you longer to get back to the apartment than it did to the park. The walk did very little to clear the confusing thoughts of your mind.

The lights from the outside were turned off when you looked up to Wanda's front-facing window. That's weird you thought as you ascended the never-ending flights of stairs.

"Hey Wanda, what's wrong with your light-" you stopped mid-sentence as you walked in the door, all of the lights were turned off and from the hallway, you could smell the delicious aroma of French vanilla candles, some scattered on the sideboard as you entered. Your favorite Christmas song was playing in the background. A small sad smile creeps it's way to your lips as you quietly shut the door behind you kicking your wet shoes off. You decided to take a shower, figuring she had invited Vision over for a romantic evening and didn't want to intrude.

But this is Christmas, yes, Christmas my dear The time of year to be with the ones you love.

As you stepped into the living room, you were frozen in your spot. Eyes wide open, mouth agape and your heart beating loudly in your ears.

The fire was roaring, heat erupted around the chilly air, more candles were scattered around the room, on the fireplace, the mantelpiece, the windowsill. But also around the nervous man kneeling on the rug in front of you with a velvet box next to him.

"What are you... what are you... oh my God Bucky you’re here." You sobbed, not believing your eyes. You missed him, he was the missing part of your heart.

"I called him and told him to come." Wanda strolled in with her arms folded and a smirk on her face. You blinked a few times, gaze going from Bucky to Wanda's. "This was the secret." She whispered in your ear. winking as she left the apartment to give you two privacy.

"Is this... is this a dream?" You whispered but the pinch on your arm told you otherwise.

"I hope not." He finally speaks, his voice hoarse and he looks so tired. "Y/N come closer." He held his hand out and you hesitantly took it. His thumb rubbing the top of your soft hand as he looked up at you.

"I have something to say and I don't want you to interrupt me." He speaks softly.

You nod your head and he clears his throat before continuing.

"Y/N Y/L/N. I fucked up, really bad. I just... with everything that happened with Steve and me not knowing what to do with emotions I didn't know what else to do. I treated you so badly but I love you so so much and I'd rather die than not have you in my life. I can't live without you, not now - not ever. I would never do anything to hurt you, I would never cheat on you. This was my secret, I didn't want you to find out and I got scared because this is real. I haven't had a girlfriend for over 70 years and I've never had a wife but I want one and I want you, I want kids, I want the picket fence life. I want it with you. I'm so sorry for everything I've done. I should have handled it differently, I love you so much and if you don't want me I do understand, I haven't been a good boyfriend." Both of you are sobbing by this point.

You squeeze his hand tenderly. "I do, I do want you Bucky. I'm sorry for wanting to invade your privacy and the accusation. I'm sorry I didn't help you."

"Doll, listen to me. You're the best fucking thing I've had and got in my life. I won't keep anything from you ever again, I promise."

He smiles up to you, the corners reaching his eyes, you're lost in his blue eyes and you feel like you're floating on air. You return the smile.

"Oh, I almost forgot." He laughs nervously. Scratching the back of his neck, picking up the velvet box beside him as the record scratches to a new song.

"I don't wanna make us mushy. But I meant everything I said, I'm willing to give you the best life I possibly can, I'll keep you safe I'll keep our children safe. I'll never let you down, so doll. Will you make this 100-semi-stable brooding old man the happiest on earth and be my wife?"

You pretend to think for a minute, tapping your chin with your free hand before speaking.

"Well, Mr. Barnes. If I look as good as you when I'm 100 I'll be happy." You laugh. "And yes, of course, I will. I love you."

He stands at your answer, picking you up by the waist and spinning you both around. Your squeal echoes through the apartment followed by lots of giggles and happy sighs. You pull back to look at him and press your lips to his for the first time in two months.

"Don't you ever leave me again, doll." He whispers against your lips.

"I'm not going anywhere Buck, I promise."

He puts you down, slips the ring on your finger and admires it.

"It's gorgeous." Your comment.

"Wanda helped. She was the girl I was texting." He smiled.

He looked down at his shirt and pulled it away from his body noticing the wet patches on the shirt.

"You're soaking darling." He pats your wet sweater, "let's get you showered and I'll make some hot chocolate for us."

"Sounds perfect." You said leaning against the doorframe and admiring your fiance. "It's perfect." You whispered to yourself, a smile never leaving your face as you undress in the bathroom.

Bucky walks in minutes later startling you slightly and undresses.

"Thought you were making hot chocolate?" You asked, amused and impressed by the speed he takes his clothes off.

"It can wait. I've missed you darlin'" Pulling your back to his chest as he guides you into the shower. The hot water cascading down on the two of you on Christmas eve.

Christmas and New Year's will find you home There will be no more sorrow, no grief, and pain And I'll be happy, happy once again

Ooh, there'll be no more sorrow, no grief, and pain And I'll be happy, Christmas once again

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lantur · 4 years

Text

royai week 2020: day four, “crackle”

summary: The Colonel and the Lieutenant have an unusually candid conversation.

rated: t for teen

tags: pre-canon

words: 4384 | read on ao3

Identifying and interviewing candidates for the State Alchemist program requires travel all over the Eastern area of Amestris. A lot of soldiers - hell, even most of Roy’s unit - dislike travel. They’re reluctant to leave the comforts of home and put up with questionable accommodations and questionable food, not to mention the practical annoyances. The long rides in trains that are either too hot or too cold, and the inevitable delayed connections that turn a four-hour trip, one way, into a six-hour trip.

Roy loves to travel. He always has, ever since he had been a kid accompanying his aunt on trips outside of Central to meet with her network from outside of the capital city. The inconveniences are, well, inconvenient, but they don’t bother him much. They are considerably outweighed by the fascination of seeing the rest of the country firsthand; striking up conversations with locals (or overhearing conversations between locals) and listening to them talk about how they live, about what their thoughts and concerns are.

Employment is an issue in the northeastern sector of the East Area, and has been ever since the mines closed. Import of food and other necessities to the southwestern area is sketchy and unreliable. The farthest west areas of the Eastern region have a significant problem with drug-related crime, due to its proximity to Central. Roy notes all of this down in his travel journal during the train rides for later reference.

I like to keep my finger on the pulse of the people, he tells his unit. They agree that his phrasing is “a little creepy,” but also agree that this genuine interest in the populace is what makes him a good leader.

This month’s trip has taken Roy and his Lieutenant to Liore, near the border of the North Area. It’s quite a bit colder than it had been in East City, even though it’s hardly a week into October. Their appointment with this potential State Alchemist candidate - Robert Gotha - is at eight the following morning, leaving them with just about twelve hours of downtime when they check into their inn.

The rooms are side-by-side on the first floor. All Roy wants is a hot shower and dinner, in that order, but Riza insists on doing a sweep of his room first, as she always does, and making him wait outside for his own security.

“Nobody outside of Grumman’s office and our unit knew of our travel plans,” Roy points out, risking her displeasure by opening the front door a crack. Riza is inspecting the interior of the room’s small closet. “There are no explosives under the bed or under the sink. I’m willing to bet that there are no assassins hiding in the bathtub, either.”

She throws him a glance, and a frown. “You never know, sir. You remember Major Rosen. The bomb was strapped to the back of his nightstand. We shouldn’t take any chances.”

Roy does remember Philip Rosen, the Bone Alchemist, blown to bits a year and a half ago by a survivor of the Ishvalan massacre. He nods, somewhat abashed. “I appreciate your diligence, Hawkeye.”

“Of course, Colonel. Now, please close the door. You can wait in my room, if you want to set your things down somewhere.”

Riza’s room is even smaller than his. Maybe the reminder of the Bone Alchemist’s fate had set him on edge, but Roy walks the perimeter of her room, checking in the bathroom, pulling the closet door open. The last thing he needs is for someone who planned on attacking him to find Riza instead. Everything seems safe, but drafty, and he frowns, noting the lack of fireplace in the room.

Riza returns in a few minutes, and draws her coat closer around herself the moment she walks in. “Clear,” she says. “The locks are flimsy. I suggest bracing your chair against the door, just in case.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Your room is secure too.” He sees the surprise on her face, and he’s rewarded with a small smile. “It’s cold, though. You don’t have a fireplace. Do you want to switch?”

Riza shakes her head. “That won’t be necessary. I sleep better when the temperature is a little lower.”

“At least have dinner and do your paperwork with me, then.” Roy walks to the door. “Your food will go cold in a couple of minutes if you eat it here.”

Riza hesitates, and then nods. “Thank you. I’ll go get dinner for us now.”

He doesn’t have to tell her what he would like. She already has his preferences memorized, as he does for her. Roy gives her the key to his room, and the first thing he does when stepping in is to light a fire in the fireplace. It warms the room instantly, and he sighs with relief.

The shower has dreadfully weak water pressure, but at least it’s hot. Roy towels his hair dry, pulls on a pair of dark pants and a white button-down shirt, and then steps out, releasing a wall of steam into the small room. Riza looks up from her paperwork. She had changed into civilian clothes too, a long skirt and a white button-down like his, and settled into one of the armchairs near the fireplace. The warm glow of the firelight does lovely things to the color of her eyes and hair, loose around her shoulders. The heat brings a faint blush to her cheeks. It isn’t the first time he’s seen her sitting in front of a fire, but the sight never gets old.

“I bought kebabs with chicken, eggplant, and bell pepper.” Riza gestures to the foil-wrapped package in the chair across from her. “I had mine already. It was even better than the ones we had last month in Meox.”

Roy flings himself down in the chair, unwrapping the kebabs. They smell wonderful, and he’s glad that they had opted against the cold sandwiches sold on the train. “But are they as good as yours?”

Riza continues writing, and a tiny smirk touches her lips. “No.”

Roy wolfs down his dinner, making no effort to be decorous. “Why do I have all this paperwork on this table next to me?” he says, with his mouth full. “Isn’t it enough that I spent all of this morning and afternoon in meetings that could have been memos?”

“It’s because you spent all of this morning and afternoon in meetings, instead of getting any work done. And because you refused to make up for any of those hours while on the train, in favor of testing out that new long-distance radio with Havoc.”

Roy bites back a laugh at the memory of his and Havoc’s increasingly ridiculous codenames. “Right.” He balls up the foil packaging and tosses it into the garbage can in the corner of the room. “What are you working on, Hawkeye?”

“Figuring out your schedule for next week.” Riza taps her pen against the paper. “You have two weeks’ worth of meeting requests in one week’s time. I’m trying to make sure that you still have enough downtime to get your paperwork done.”

“Paperwork and downtime don’t go in the same sentence.” Roy picks up Breda’s most recent intelligence report and rifles through it. “Just plan on me working late on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. That should do it.”

Riza makes a note. “So, I assume I’ll be working late on those nights as well.”

“You assume correctly.” Riza gives him a displeased look, and Roy twirls his pen through his fingers, unable to resist teasing her. “What? Are you upset about missing out on the coming week’s date nights?”

“Hardly,” Riza says, impassive. “I figured that would be more of a concern for you.”

“It isn’t. I’m giving it up.”

Riza raises an eyebrow, managing, as always, to convey a great deal with that small gesture.

“I am,” Roy insists. “It’s all getting to be a little much. And it’s pointless.”

Riza raises both eyebrows, this time. “Pointless? With all due respect, this doesn’t sound like you.”

Roy shrugs, and the expression in Riza’s eyes softens somewhat. “I’m sorry if you had a bad experience, sir.”

She’s speaking to him in the gentle, pitying way one would address the recently heartbroken. The same way she talks to Havoc, for heaven’s sake. Roy runs a hand through his hair, flustered. “It’s not like that, Lieutenant.”

Riza tilts her head to the side slightly, intrigued without pressing, and he has to elaborate. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant. But the women I’ve gone out with know of my rank and reputation. The Flame Alchemist, the Hero of Ishval,” -- Roy’s voice takes on a faintly mocking air -- “and the youngest Colonel in decades. I’m practically guaranteed to be a Brigadier General by the time I’m thirty-five, if I continue to play my cards right. Do you follow me?”

He sees a flicker of amusement in Riza’s eyes. “If I understand you correctly, you’re implying that your dates would prefer to be more than just dates.”

“Exactly. They don’t just want a couple of nights out. They want a real relationship, Hawkeye.” Roy sighs, rubbing his temples. “They want to be a General’s wife, someday, and live in a fancy house with large, manicured lawns, and a couple of nice cars, and a couple of nice kids that will go to Central’s best private school.”

Riza makes a sound that’s almost a laugh. “The dream.”

“I can’t provide that,” Roy says tersely. “I have no intentions of living that life. I have no intention of living a long one, after becoming Fuhrer and implementing the changes that we want. If there’s any justice at all, I’ll be held accountable for what I did in Ishval. I don’t want to leave a widow and a couple of kids behind. That’s not an option.”

Riza inclines her head. “That’s fair.”

He shrugs, momentarily lost for words. “It’s starting to feel...wrong, to take what I want from these women, when I know that there’s absolutely no chance of them getting what they want. They want the third date. They want the relationship. They want to be the girlfriend, and then the fiancee, and then the wife. And I’ll never make that happen.”

“So, nobody’s happy.”

“Basically. Which is why I’m finished with that.” Roy leans back in the armchair, stopping the pretense of working, setting his stack of paperwork on the side table. He regards her thoughtfully. “What about you?”

Riza tenses up slightly. “What about me, Colonel?”

“Oh, you know.” Roy waves a hand casually. “You may not be as highly ranked as I am, and you don’t have the reputation that I do outside of military circles, but you’re a beautiful young woman. That carries its own weight. I’m surprised you’re not beating men back with a stick. Or your pistols.”

He had intended it as a compliment, but Riza glances at her lap, momentarily downcast. “That’s it, sir. That’s all that men see when they look at me. Just another blonde that they’d like to buy a few drinks for, and then take home for the night.” She sounds resigned. “They don’t see me. It feels a little dehumanizing.”

This is all news to him, and Roy stiffens. It’s stupid, it’s hypocritical, to be so stricken by men doing the exact same thing to Riza that he’s done to other women.

“Even the nicer ones, the ones that ask me out to dinner first…” Riza trails off. “They don’t know about Ishval, and the things I did there. They don’t know the burden I carry.”

“Hmm.” Roy considers this. There’s still a knot in his chest at the idea of anyone being foolish and shallow enough to see his Lieutenant - thoughtful, empathetic, kind, intelligent Riza - as nothing more than a conquest. “You could tell them.”

Riza shakes her head, at once. “They wouldn’t understand. Or they would think I was a monster.” She pauses. “Similarly, I doubt they would understand my goals, and what I’ve dedicated my life to.”

Roy feels a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I figure that most men would struggle with the idea that their girlfriend spends every day, and some evenings and nights, in service of another man’s ambitions.”

“Exactly.” Riza looks at him steadily. “Besides, I’m in the same position as you. I intend to be held accountable for my actions in Ishval as well.”

They’ve talked - argued; even fought outright - about this before. About the fact that he has no intention of prosecuting her at the same level that he would seek for himself and the other State Alchemists. Riza’s entire kill count in Ishval had been a mere fraction of what his had been. She had vehemently disagreed with his position. “Hawkeye--”

Riza gives him a quelling look, and Roy falls silent. “I don’t want to leave behind a husband or children, either,” she says. “I don’t want to be in a relationship that will go nowhere. That can go nowhere. It seems dishonest - like I would be holding the other person back from the happiness and uncomplicated life they deserve. I would rather dedicate myself fully to work.”

Somehow, with everything else they have in common, he’s not surprised that they share this perspective as well. “We’re both in a similar predicament, then.”

Riza exhales slowly, and then looks into the fireplace, at the flames crackling there. She looks so far away all of a sudden.

“What is it?” Roy asks, and she glances at him, startled, as if she had forgotten he was there.

“Nothing, Colonel. It’s nothing.”

That piques his interest, and he leans forward. “Don’t lie to me, Lieutenant. It violates our unit’s code of conduct.”

Riza narrows her eyes at him, but finally, she gives in. “You pointed out that my commitment to you and our cause doesn’t leave much space for another man,” she says, but then she hesitates, and stops entirely.

“Well?” Roy prompts, his curiosity getting the better of him. Over the years, they’ve come to know one another so well - as well as they know themselves, he would guess - but this is the one thing they’ve never talked about before. About serious romantic entanglements, and their lack thereof.

“I’d rather not say.” Maybe it’s just the fire, but Riza’s complexion is a little warmer than it had been several minutes ago.

“Come on, Hawkeye.” Roy gives her his most charming smile; slides into his most persuasive tone. “My curiosity is killing me.”

Riza sniffs. “That sounds like a personal problem.”

“Unfair, Lieutenant. I told you what was on my mind.”

She sighs again, exasperated, a little resigned, keeping her eyes determinedly trained on the fire. “Fine. You know, you’re like a dog with a bone sometimes.”

“I am a dog of the military, after all,” Roy says sardonically, and his Lieutenant rolls her eyes.

“You’re such a significant figure in my life,” Riza says, at last. “And you have been, for so long. I worry that would open the door to...comparisons. That wouldn’t be fair to whoever else was trying to find a place in my life. ”

Well, he hadn’t expected that. The words are so unexpected, so sweet and so sad, that Roy blinks, lost for words. “Hawkeye,” he says, trying to inject some levity into his tone. “I’m flattered.”

Riza doesn’t have a dry retort for him. She just looks at him with somber eyes, and Roy relents. “I feel the same way.”

He doesn’t tell his Lieutenant that when he’s looking into his dates’ eyes, he expects to see amber-colored ones looking back at him. He doesn’t tell her that when he leans over to tuck a lock of hair behind their ears, he’s expecting to see her blonde locks against his fingertips. He doesn’t tell her that when they laugh at his jokes (usually too long and too loud for what the joke actually warranted) he expects to see her small, wry smile instead. Or an eye-roll, or that look she gives him sometimes, the one that mingles exasperation with affection.

He doesn’t tell her any of that. But from the expression on Riza’s face, he thinks that he doesn’t have to.

Roy clears his throat, breaking their gaze, looking into the fire. “Well, Lieutenant. I think our close professional relationship has put us in an unfortunate situation.”

“As always, you have a gift for understatement, Colonel.”

It had been a typical Hawkeye deadpan, but when Roy looks back, he sees a tiny, reluctant smile on her face. It gives him a shot of courage, or recklessness; he isn’t sure which yet.

“You know,” he muses, “I have a thought exercise for us to work through.”

Thought exercises - running through hypotheticals, from the mundane to the far-fetched - are one of his favorite things about leading his unit, and they are at least a once-weekly event when the unit is together in East City. Riza sets her pen down for the first time, giving him her full attention. “Yes?”

“It would solve a lot of problems if you and I could...”

Roy trails off, his meaning clear, and Riza sits up straighter.

It’s bold, even for him. It doesn’t just cross the line; it sprints across the line. It isn’t the kind of thing he would have said if they were back in East City. But the sheer distance from the imposing figure of Eastern Command, from superior officers, from anyone else who knows them and might see or overhear something they shouldn’t - that has opened doors. That all feels so far away, here in Liore, sitting by the fire in his room.

Riza shifts in her chair - not in discomfort, but consideration, drawing her legs underneath her, tucking them to the side. “It’s interesting that you think that. I think it would create a lot of problems.”

Her tone is mild, though, and there’s no hint of affront on her face at the outrageous suggestion. Riza seems utterly unfazed by being propositioned by her commanding officer. Which isn’t that surprising, now that Roy thinks about it. He has discussed treasonous plans to overthrow and overhaul the existing government with her for years. Compared to literal, actual treason, the prospect of a sexual relationship seems considerably less shocking.

Additionally, she hasn’t yet threatened to shoot him in the foot, which is promising. She hasn’t stopped this little thought exercise that he had started.

“I argue that it would solve more than it creates. We’re both unable to pursue relationships, due to the barriers we’ve discussed.” Roy straightens his collar, feeling rather like an attorney beginning opening arguments in a case. “On the other hand, you and I understand our situation perfectly. We know where our lives are headed and where they will end. We know that we aren’t looking for marriage and children.”

He doesn’t have to say the rest. We know one another and what we’ve done in the past better than anyone else could. There are so many conversations we don’t have to have with one another, that we would have to have with others.

The truth of what they are striving towards and why, and their vision for their personal futures and the future of Amestris. The years in Ishval and what they had seen and done there. The ugly truth behind the harmless, bloodless epithets of Flame Alchemist and Hawk’s Eye. The nightmares.

Riza inclines her head slightly, wordlessly allowing him to continue.

“Pursuing anything with anybody else would distract both of us from our goal, which isn’t an option.” Roy studies her, trying to judge her reaction.

His Lieutenant’s expression gives away nothing. “What makes you think we wouldn’t distract one another?”

“Because I know us, Hawkeye,” Roy replies patiently. “I know that there’s nothing we’re more committed to than reforming this country. You and I both know where this work ends. We always have. Nothing and no one is ever going to make us change our course.”

“That’s all true,” Riza says, her voice steady.

He hears the rest of her sentence, and sighs. “But?”

“There’s one issue you haven’t addressed. The anti-fraternization regulations.”

“Oh, that.” Roy dismisses her point with a shrug. “It’s not an issue.”

Riza glances skyward for a moment. “Please elaborate, Colonel.”

“The anti-fraternization regulations prohibit personal relationships between officers and enlisted members within the same chain of command, as they are prejudicial to good order and discipline,” Roy recites, with no effort. He and his Lieutenant are both very familiar with the regulations, after all. “Romantic relationships, cohabitation, and marriage fall within the umbrella of personal relationships. We wouldn't be living together. We wouldn't be getting married. And it wouldn’t be a romantic relationship, Hawkeye. It would just be--” He pauses, searching for the most tasteful word choice. “Some companionship, as we need it. To help us make our way down the long road we have ahead. And we would be discreet about it. Nobody would ever know.”

Riza props her chin in a hand, mulling it over, and Roy watches the firelight flickering in her eyes. “No pressure, of course,” he says, with an easiness he doesn’t feel. The adrenaline and boldness has worn off, leaving him with an uncharacteristic case of nerves. “It was just a thought exercise.”

Riza glances back at him and then stands up, gathering her paperwork. “I think I’ll turn in for the night, sir.” She sounds so calm and even, as if they had been discussing the logistics of how to implement democratic voting in the most rural areas of Amestris.

Roy stands automatically and opens the door for her. “Good night, then, Lieutenant.”

“Good night.”

Roy watches until she closes her door behind her; until he hears the lock click safely into place. He closes the door, locks it, braces a chair against it, as Riza had suggested. Then he collapses onto the bed and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, all the breath leaving his body in a long sigh. Hughes has always called him a risk-taker and chastised him for being impulsive. That’s nothing new. Tonight, though, he had taken that to an entirely new high. Or an entirely new low, depending on how one looks at it.

They return to East City the following day. A week passes, and Riza gives no indication that their conversation in Liore had ever happened. She treats him the same way she always has, both when others are around and behind the closed doors of their office, after everyone else in their unit has left for the evening.

“I asked Elizabeth if she’d like to start something up with me,” Roy tells Hughes on the phone, on Saturday night. He’s supposed to be working, but it’s half past eight already, and he hasn’t been working with his full attention span for two reports now.

Hughes makes a strange sort of spluttering noise; it sounds as if he’s choked on his sandwich. “No way.”

“It’s true.” Roy winds the phone cord around his finger absentmindedly. “I don’t think she was interested in the idea, though. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. She's the only one I've ever really wanted."

“Roy--”

Riza walks back into the office then, carrying an armful of files from the archives, and Roy is forced to improvise. “I have no interest in your services, and don’t call this number again,” he orders, in his most forceful tone. He slams the phone down, before giving his Lieutenant an apologetic smile. “Telemarketers. I have no idea how they get their hands on the military lines.”

“Please give Lieutenant Colonel Hughes my regards before you hang up next time.” Riza sets the files on her desk, and then picks up her coat. Roy notices that she’s changed back into civilian clothes, a dark skirt and a silk blouse. “We could head back for the night, since we got quite a bit done today.”

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day, Lieutenant.” Roy stands up hastily, before she can reconsider, and picks up his coat. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

They live within a couple of streets of each other, about twenty minutes from Eastern Command. They pass the time in quiet conversation, speculating about how Breda’s undercover mission in Mouhed is going, and the upcoming joint training exercise at Fort Briggs. As always, Roy feels an irritating pang of disappointment when they reach the back parking lot of his Lieutenant’s apartment building. He spends every day with Riza, and many evenings and nights, too, and yet he never tires of her company.

“Sleep well, Hawkeye.” Roy throws her his most appealing look. “Any chance you’ll bring in coffee on Monday morning?”

“I could be persuaded.” Riza crosses her legs, and Roy tries to ignore the slit up the side of her skirt. She studies him for a couple of moments, and he catches the faintest flicker of apprehension in her eyes. “Would you like to walk me upstairs, Colonel?”

She’s never asked him that before. It takes the words - the offer - a moment to register. Roy shifts the car into park as soon as it does, more roughly than he should. “I would,” he says, realizing that he can’t remember the last time he had to fight back an actual shiver of anticipation. “Very much. Oh, and Lieutenant?”

Riza’s hand stills on the door. “Yes?”

“You should call me by my name, when we’re upstairs.” Roy remembers, then, that Riza’s apartment building doesn’t have an elevator, and they’ll have to make it up four flights of stairs like civilized adults.

“Of course, Colonel.” Riza holds his gaze, and Roy’s mouth goes very dry. “I think I’ll be able to do that. When we get upstairs.” She pauses and adds, almost as an afterthought. “You can call me whatever you want.”

Riza. It’s how he refers to her in his mind, but never out loud, not for years. It makes his throat burn, how much he wants to say it. To whisper it as he lets her hair down from its updo, and brushes his fingers against her collarbones. Roy exhales slowly. “We should go up. Now.”

Riza gives him a small smile. “Yes, sir.”

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

notes

Writing from Roy's POV is always an interesting and amusing exercise. I had a bit of a laugh while I was writing this because it's basically like

Roy: What if... we fucked... ahaha, just kidding Lieutenant, it was just a thought exercise, just running hypotheticals...unless...?

I hope you enjoyed reading; I'd love to know what you thought! Royai Week has been super fun so far, both with reading others' amazing and creative responses to the prompts, admiring the gorgeous art, and sharing my own stuff. I'm hoping to have Day 5's prompt posted sometime tomorrow, but it might be a day late if I don't get it up in time.

#royaiweek20 #royai #royai fanfic

19 notes · View notes

alloveroliver · 5 years

Text

Gavin x MC “I Had A Dream You Were Mine.”

Rating: Smut

WC: 6,088

A|N: This fic has a confession, then establishing a relationship, first-time sex, shower sex, and some fluffy moments.

Summary: Gavin's AC goes out, and you're the first person he calls. He asks if he can come over, but there seems to be something weighing on his mind. As he finally opens up to you, your day off takes a wholly unexpected turn.

Mr. Love Queen’s Choice Fanfic

The coffee machine roared to life. It spurted hot water over the freshly ground coffee beans nestled in the filter. You yawned, stepped back, and relaxed your hip against the countertop. Arms crossed over your chest, you felt your mind start to wander. Relaxing, you allowed yourself to wake up gradually. The window in the back of your studio apartment spilled rays of sunlight onto the plush carpet below. You watched the white chiffon curtains flutter as the AC circulated cooled air into the room.

The vibration of your phone made a harsh buzzing sound. A text came in brandishing the phone against the tiles of the kitchen surface. The unexpected noise made you blink out of your sleepy stare to eye who the text was from.

Gavin (10:45 AM): Are you home?

Your left brow rose at his blunt question. You hoped he wasn’t waiting downstairs again to whisk you away somewhere so early in the morning. You peaked at the clock and pretended you didn’t see the numbers 10:45 AM.

‘Oversleeping was a form of self-care,’ You recited to yourself like a mantra as you typed back.

You (10:46 AM): Good Morning. 😊

You(10:46 AM): Yes I am. Why?

Gavin: [...is typing…]

You waited for the three dots to stop bouncing, but his text was taking far longer than it should.

You were quickly losing a bit of patience with the dots stopping and going on the screen. Setting down your phone, you walked over to the cabinet. A larger than average mug stared you straight between the eyes. You were compelled to grab the monstrosity for your own overindulgence. It could have been misconstrued for a small cereal bowl, but you weren’t the type to judge yourself. Consuming copious amounts of coffee was welcome on days like this where you took time off work.

The tips of your slippers drug across the linoleum, making your way to the brewing coffee machine. The scent of warm grounds permeated the kitchen, sending you to your happy place. However, the happy place was quickly shattered when you assessed the kitchen. Seeing some of the dishes piled in the sink along with a full trash bag you needed to take out was all a massive buzz kill.

Trading the giant mug for your phone, you check Gavin’s text.

Gavin(10:47 AM): Can I come over?

Gavin (10:49 AM): My AC went out last night, and the heat index is rising.

You (10:50 AM): Sure, that’s not a problem.

You (10:50 AM): Do you have a mechanic going over to fix it?

Gavin (10:50 AM): Okay. I’m actually already downstairs.

“I knew it.” You murmur to yourself with a sly smile.

You (10:51 AM): Give me a minute to change. 🙏

You darted off to your bedroom at once. Throwing your phone onto the bed, you kicked off your slippers and took off your oversize t-shirt. Tossing them to the floor, you didn't care where they landed. You hopped out of your drawstring shorts and hobbled over to your closet. Without turning on the light, you tug a red flower printed dress from its hanger and pull it down over your head. Your heart raced faster than usual. You tried to excuse it with the sudden running you did in your sleepy state, and not correlate it to the hot guy making his way over to your house this very moment.

Dating Gavin had been an adventure in it of itself. He still seemed unreadable between those planned occurrences. It was beginning to get hard to tell how much he truly liked you. Today was obviously a meeting out of necessity, right?

Having your AC go out here, in the middle of the summer, was brutal. Your car seat belt felt like it would give you 3rd-degree burns if you let it touch your skin. Just walking outside was hell. No clouds in the sky meant you were an egg, and the world was a frying pan. You recalled seeing on the news that AC units all over town were going out. Their hardware was unable to keep up with the sudden heatwave.

Shaking your head out of a sudden yawn, you run your fingers through your hair to smooth down flyaways. A few loud bangs against the front door made you wince. He was already off the elevator that fast? You rush to the living room, transferring all your hair to one side.

Scanning through the peephole, you spot Gavin ruffling his hair. He pushed up the sweaty locks then, shaking his head, pushed it back down. You crack to door open and smile at him.

“Please tell me you weren’t just waiting in the hallway this whole time.”

“Okay. I won't.” His face remained unreadable as he locked eyes with you. You let the words sink in as you imagined him sitting against your front door for the past five minutes waiting on your text back.

You sigh. “Alright well come in. It’s cooler in here.”

Gavin held his motorcycle helmet under his left arm. He then picked up a duffel bag off the floor and carried it in his right. The black bag was adorned with his police unit logo and looked sturdy enough to last a lifetime. He passed the threshold, moving ahead of you. The back of his light blue shirt was dark down the center, slick with sweat from the scorching heat.

“What’s the bag for? You planning on staying the night.” You laugh, but the chuckle got caught in your throat. “You’re not trying to stay the night are you?!”

“No.” He plopped the bag in the entryway and hung his helmet up on the coat rack. A smile touched his lips, and he fluffed up his hair again. “This is a change of civilian clothes and work clothes if I get called in.”

“Oh, are you on-call today?” You shut the door and locked the deadbolt before walking Gavin into the central area of your home.

“I’m sort of always on call, actually. Due to the nature of the department I work for.” Gavin stuffed his hands in his pockets as he made his way to the kitchen.

“That kind of sucks. Never knowing if you are going to have a whole day to yourself or not.” You remembered how this was supposed to be your day off, but this turn of events wasn’t as bad as being called into work unexpectantly.

“It’s my duty. I don’t mind helping people that are in need. Even if it takes away from my free time.”

“Of course. I admire that about you...” You bite your lip and gesture to the coffee pot. “Do you want some coffee? Freshly brewed.”

“Um,” He paused under the vent. The faint breeze from the AC unit tousled his hair, making the sweaty ends shimmer around his face.

“Wait, that was a dumb question.” You let out a small chuckle. “How about a glass of ice water?”

“Yes. That sounds amazing.”

Grabbing a glass, you mull over the past few minutes in your head. What a strange day this has turned out to be, and it’s only begun.

“Was there nowhere else you could have gone? No other friends or family?” You blurt out, making small talk as you pull open the freezer.

“I-” He placed his hand on his hip and shuffled his feet. “I had to see you.”

“Oh?”

The ice clinked into the empty glass, filling the dead silence.

“I had a dream about you. It was, well I think it was a fever dream but-”

“Fever dream? Are you sick?” Your tone was full of worry. You couldn’t let him get sick if he was going to be called into work at any moment.

You filled the cup with filtered water from the refrigerator and handed him the glass.

“No, The air conditioner went out while I was asleep this morning. It got so hot, and my dreams became so vivid…”

He took a long gulp of water. The ice rearranged as he tipped the glass up, downing half of it in one breath.

“What was your dream about?” You watched him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand after coming up for air.

He looked off to the side with a thoughtful pause. Gavin set the drink down on the countertop, and his gaze followed the sweat from the glass dripping down to the side

“I had a dream you were mine.”

“What?! Yours? What do you mean.” Your heart went from resting to sprinting in one second flat. You could feel the tips of your ears begin to heat up.

Gavin closed his eyes and turned towards your form. “That you were my girlfriend and that we were happy.”

You brows shot up but couldn’t stop the smile that spread over your face even if you wanted to.

“Oh like that…” You bit your lip, failing to hide the grin that lit up your features.

“I know I’ve taken you out on many dates, yet we’ve never really solidified anything.” He nodded, locking his amber eyes with yours, and taking a step closer towards you.

With his sudden proximity, you took a step back, pressing your lower back into the countertop. However, you reached out for him at the same time receptively. Gavin’s cheeks were pink from the heat, but they grew rosier with every inch he neared.

“Does that upset you? That I never told you how I feel?”

His salty scent permeated the space. His hands rested on either side of your hips while he brought his forehead down to yours.

“I’ve not been upset, no. I just didn’t think you were ready to take a more… serious step.”

“You don’t think I'm the kind of man that can be serious with the women he cares for?” He spoke softly, not accusatory in any way.

“I don’t know what kind of man you are entirely.” You confessed, and Gavin narrowed his eyes down to you. “But I do know that I’d like to learn.”

He seemed to like this answer. His hand moved up to tangle in your hair while the other rotated your hip against him. Beads of sweat from his nose tickled yours. This wasn’t the first time you two had ever been this close. Each date you’d been on, there was some type of hand holding or, more rarely, a goodnight kiss. But, after every date, there was also the radio silence.

Gavin would be caught up on a new mission, or too exhausted to call you back. You didn’t blame him, though. His job was hard on him, mentally and physically. It was amazing that he was still alive after all the dangerous shit he’d put himself through.

In typical Gavin fashion, he wasn’t waiting for your time together to grow comfortable. In his sudden closeness, he wore his emotions on his sleeve. He inched closer at a snail's pace, making sure there were no signs of you wishing to run away. You wondered how much your heart could take as it sped up double time.

The warmth of his lips was surprising. You didn’t realize just how cold you were in the apartment all alone. Compared to his temperature, you were an ice cube. Gavin’s hand drifted to the back of your head and pressed his lips firmly against yours in a blistering kiss. He held you to him, slanting his lips over your dumbfounded ones.

You were so shocked by his display of affection that you stood there grasping at his t-shirt, eyes wide. His fingers drew patterns on your hip, tiny heart shapes you noted.

“Gavin.” You whispered between his lips. He paused with his mouth hovering just above yours to hear you out. Heat flared in the pit of your stomach. His touch filled the lonely void in your heart, and all you could do was stand there like a deer in headlights. “Oh, Gavin.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your lips back into his. Gavin made the kiss more demanding as if he were asking you to feel what he felt in equal measure. His heart was bared to you, yours for the taking if you were to choose to accept.

Gavin’s hand trailed up the line of your spine, curling you against him with every heated second that passed. The tip of his tongue preyed on the smallest part in your lips. He teased the seam while entering slowly. His warm tongue mingled with yours, minty from the toothpaste you used minutes ago. It was a slow, searing kiss that made your head spin and knees weak.

His hair began to tickle your face the further he bent you under him. Your heart slammed against your ribcage. It beat against his firm chest while your skin tingled with giddy excitement. Gavin inhaled, turning his head to the opposite side to kiss you deeper. Your hands move up his neck, tousling his sweaty hair, cold to the touch from the short time in the AC.

The coffee machine spurt and drained the rest of the water reservoir onto the grounds. The machine made a short jingle signaling its completed its brewing process. With an audible click, it shut off automatically. Gavin broke the kiss and stood you up, clearing his throat.

He turned on his heel and stole his glass of water off the countertop. The cup emptied down his throat in an instant. He took another breath and placed his hand on his hip.

“Can I take a shower here?” He ran his hand through his hair again, making it stand in all directions.

You licked your lips and nodded slowly. “Of course. Um, let me show you where the towels are.”

Absently, you began to twirl a piece of hair between your fingers trying to will your red cheeks away. Gavin rushed off to the walkway and picked up his duffel bag while you walked to your bedroom. Your hands were shaking as you twisted the knob to the on-suite bathroom.

“Right. I got it. Thanks.” You heard Gavin’s voice from the other room, then the quiet beep of him ending a phone call.

“Is everything okay?” You call out.

“Yes. Everything is fine. That was the AC repairman.” His calm voice filled your bedroom. The implications of him being inside your private space were enough to keep the blush on your cheeks fresh. He tossed his cell phone onto your bed next to yours then dropped his duffel at the end.

“The towels are under the sink.” You whisper, stopping when you notice his hands begin to pull at his collar. “And….” He tugged the damp fabric up his frame, revealing the taut muscles of his lower abdomen. “Soap…”

“Soap is under the sink?” He asked candidly, removing the shirt from his sweaty body.

“Uh.”

He tossed it to the floor and unzipped the duffel bag. You watched his back muscles constrict and flex as he dug through the items. His shoulder blades moved under his skin, rippling the back muscles. His side obliques stretched and flexed deliciously as he shuffled around.

“No, in the shower.”

Gavin pulled out a folded shirt from the bottom of the bag. He turned to look at you over his perfectly carved shoulder. You were ogling, how could you not, and Gavin caught you in the act. You pulled your finger out of your mouth and hid your hand behind your back. Rubbing your thumb over the jagged nail you just bit to shreds you gazed back at him.

“Does it smell like you?” The softness in his voice caught you off guard.

“The soap? Err, I guess it would. Yeah.”

Gavin’s face lit up with a smile. “Okay then.”

He took out another folded item and stood to his feet. He slipped off his shoes next to his bag, balancing himself on the mattress. Gavin walked past you with a calm smile and leaned toward you.

“Oh-” You squeaked before he planted a wholesome kiss right on your unsuspecting lips.

His stance seemed to have meant it to be a quick peck, but the kiss lingered. The longer your lips where locked, the harder it was to excuse yourself and step away.

Your hand slipped up his bicep, not so subtly feeling him up. The man was so tempting it was downright sinful. Did he know what he was doing to you? Did he care? It seemed you also did things for him that you didn’t quite understand. Gavin hadn’t said what he thought was so alluring about you, in fact, he kept his crush on you a secret for almost a decade.

He moved his clothes to one arm and wrapped his other around your waist. He nibbled on your bottom lip, then pressed many kisses along the line of your jaw. You held your breath, resting your hands on his shoulders. Gavin kissed your ear, and you jerked, biting your lip to stave off a moan.

“Ah- I’m sensitive there.” You warned, pushing your shoulder up to defend yourself. Gavin made a noise and moved to your neck instead. You realized he was laughing, but the chuckle shortly dissipated into breathlessness.

The room was a blur as your feet left the floor. You were soon in your bathroom being placed atop the counter next to the sink. Gavin tossed his clean clothes to your side. The sunlight poured through the small window in the shower, and the afternoon glow highlighted his handsome features. He had a boyish charm about him yet the body that someone godlike chiseled out of marble.

Gavin pushed you against the mirror, moving his body between your legs with ease. He let out a quiet frustrated groan, and a pang of fear ran through your chest.

“Are you okay?” You ask, cupping his cheeks. You waited for a response, but there wasn’t one for a long moment. “Gavin?”

“Is this-” He started, then paused. He screwed his eyes shut and took a breath. “Are we together now?”

“I, I, I-” You stuttered, embarrassed by his oddly timed question. “Are you asking me to be your... girlfriend?”

He nodded expectantly. His eyes searched your face while he swallowed thickly. “Yes. Will you?” His voice was lower, more soothing as he asked his question again.

You blinked many times, wondering if this wasn’t some elaborate dream your mind came up with and you’d yet to leave your bed today. But, his warmth was real, his tender eyes were real, and all his kisses were very real.

“I’d love to be, Gavin.”

The warm moment shared in the small room swelled your heart. Gavin’s eyes lit up with a huge smile. He moved to hold you in an embrace, crashing his lips into yours in celebration. The kiss was playful, with a nip here and a nuzzle there. However, the giggling and smiles soon melted away, and passion replaced them.

A roll of warmth lit up inside you as his hands began to roam your torso. It wasn’t until his fingers flexed over your breast that you realized you forgot to put on a bra. There was a moment where he froze, but then he continued, and Gavin didn’t seem to mind. Soon the lack of undergarment proved to be more pleasurable than realized. A happy accident you noted. The silky fabric felt good against your skin as Gavin’s fingers tantalized you.

It became clear he knew precisely what he was doing. Gavin pinched the erect nipple, gently rolling it between his fingers. A light gasp escaped you, and he kissed you with quirked up lips. He looked pleased with himself, happy to pleasure you.

You held him close, running your fingers through his hair. Your tongues swirled together playfully fighting for dominance. Gavin’s lips tore from yours and moved down the line of your neck. He kissed the dip in your shoulder then proceeded to nibble the lobe of your ear. This time you moaned unabashedly, and he sighed with contentment. As he latched on to the skin under your ear, his thumb circled faster over your sensitive nipple.

Gavin began adding pressure. He sucked on your delicate skin before you realized what was happening. A small sizzle of pain registered in your head the moment Gavin removed his lips from your neck. He’d left a small hickey beneath your ear, easily hidden from others by a curtain of your hair.

He groped your chest, moving his lips to your mouth. His other hand resting on your hip began to move down towards your knee. The kisses came faster and faster until lips smacked and gasps escaped.

Trembling fingers moved beneath your skirt. Gavin began retracing patterns, this time on your inner knee. You weren’t sure if it was a silent question, Gavin asking how far you were willing to go. Or if it was that he was setting boundaries for himself. Either way, you tossed all fucks out the window and parted your leg further. This invited him to move closer to your center if that was what he wished.

He moved his hand quickly down your leg and squeezed your thigh in delight. He exhaled like a weight was lifted from his mind. The kissing picked up again, and you didn’t know how much more of this you could take before it was no longer deliberate. Was he trying to rile you up like this? Or were all his movements due to the heat of the moment?

You broke the kiss, hoping to cool off for a second to gain clarity. Gavin rested his forehead on yours, puffing air. You took in a deep breath, hoping to pause long enough to make sure this was what he wanted. His hand continued to caress the bare skin of your parted thigh.

With a gulp, you clear your throat. “A-are you going to take a shower now?”

The low hum of the vent rumbled behind you. The sun slowly lifted in the sky as time passed. Gentle rays of light began to spill into the tiny bathroom, reflecting off the white subway tiles. There was no need to turn on the light switch since the sun lit the room plenty.

“Are you going to join me?” Gavin narrowed his gaze quizzically.

All the air in the room became thick, hard to breathe. You sat there, eyes wide and mouth hung open at his question. A notable booming filled your ears as your heart pounding out of control.

“What.”

What, indeed. What was he saying? Join him? You shook your head and closed your mouth to not drool all over the place.

“Join me in the shower.” Gavin proposed quietly. His heart rate escalating was proven by deep red tinge that spread over his cheeks and burned the tips of his ears.

You were frozen. Words died on your tongue with any retort you jumbled together in your brain as thoughts raced a mile a minute. Could you manage hand gestures? Mime your answer?

In your mind, you threw together an elaborate performance full of over exaggerated facial expressions and hand movements to express your absolute agreement when words failed you. But, a simple nod was all it took to give Gavin the answer he needed. He moved quickly towards the bathtub and pulled the faucet nozzle. Water began to spray over the shower curtain, making a loud enough noise to force a jump from you. The nervous excitement was the one to blame. It awoke the butterflies in your stomach and set your heart of in a runaway beat.

Gavin turned and approached you, sporting some stray water droplets on his bare shoulders. He scooped you off the countertop surface and sat you gently atop the plush rug. His hands lingered over your hips while his lips met the crook of your neck, kissing the fresh hickey he gifted you. Your body swayed with his, curving around his warm touch.

Your breathing picked up as you looked towards to running water. Was Gavin really going to see you naked this soon? You’d just agreed to be his girlfriend and Gavin was all for taking it to the next level. You weren’t going to complain. You’d dated long enough that this was something that was past due. Yet, it still felt exhilarating all the same.

Another rush of heat engulfed your body, something more than the simple jitters. Excitement, nervousness, a hint of rebelliousness all mixed together making your blood pressure spike. He stood behind you and trailed his fingertips up the center of your spine. It felt nice while his nails scratching the part of your back you could never reach, bringing chilled bumps to the surface of your skin.

Gavin found the zipper to your garment and pulled. Soon the fabric covering your shoulders went slack and the dress easily pooled at your feet. Gavin gulped close to your ear before kissing your newly exposed shoulder. He was keeping his cool quite well, except the fact that his hands were trembling as they cupped your bare breasts.

A resounding sigh fell from your lips as you twisted in his grip. Gavin’s amber eyes drank you in before capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Your feet shuffled, and your dress rustled around your ankles. The question of whether to help him out of his clothes or not came to mind. He did relinquish you of your main garment. It was only fair that you help him, was it not?

Decidedly, you ran your hands down his firm stomach towards his jeans. His muscles flexed, reacting to your soft touch as you met the band of his pants. Gavin didn’t speak as you began pulling the button loose from the slit. His chest seemed to rise and fall exponentially faster than before.

The button came loose, and Gavin took over. He moved back and pushed the pants down to his feet along with the boxers he wore. His eyes looked up and down as he stood against you again. He kissed you while walking you back to the tub. Gavin swallowed thickly and pushed the band of your panties down the roundness of your ass with lightning speed. They fell to your ankles, and he lifted you out of them and set you in the shower basin. Your arms wrapped around his neck just as he tugged the white shower curtain closed.

He let the water pour over the two of you while your lips were locked. Your fingers ran along his scalp, helping the water soak through his sweaty tresses. Your heart still raced, but the warm water soothed your muscles, helping you to relax. Despite being entirely bare with Gavin for the first time, it was a welcome calming sensation. He twirled you around to allow the brunt of the water to soak through your hair next.

His hands began to roam the curves of your body and you, in turn, did the same to him. His skin was soft, pulled tightly over solid muscles. His body was sculpted and rigid in every place you could get your hands on. A droplet of water fell from your hair and ran along the crease of your eye. You broke the kiss to wipe your face to prevent discomfort. Gavin helped by angling you away from the shower-head and moving your wet hair out of your face.

The starfish-shaped grips on the bottom of the tub proved viable at this moment. They kept both of you from slipping and sliding around the slick wet surface. Gavin moved your back against the wall, bending to kiss down the side of your neck towards your chest.

His lips felt electric over your tender skin. He kept his arm around your waist and captured your nipple between his sensual lips. The swirl of his tongue over the delicate nub brought the first sound out of you in several minutes. A gasped turned exclamation when he used his teeth to tug lightly.

A wash of pleasure flooded your body, heightening the touch of his hand that held you close. Water droplets ran down his cheek as he switched sides. He lapped at the other nipple greedily, more aggressively than the prior. Gavin’s hand moved from your waist to grasp your ass. It was too much, but not enough all at once. His hot mouth ran along your chest, up towards your lips again.

He moved his hand from your ass to your thigh and pulled your leg up to wrap around his waist. It wasn’t until his moment that you realized just how turned on he was. Gavin's erection slid along your core as he rubbed himself against your sex. His tongue delved between your lips while his hips bucked. Pushing his solid cock against your helpless clit, he groaned,

“Oh my god,” You moaned between kisses. Gavin rotated his hips, pulling your leg up further to spread your center apart more. “Oh- fuck.” Words left you in sensual cries.

You felt your core heat with each jut of his hips. You essence doubled, coating his cock as it ran along the center slit of your puffy lips. Gavin’s throat flexed, holding back sounds that leaped to his lips. He breathed laboriously into the kisses, moving faster between your slickening thighs.

The warm water was hitting the cooled air making pillars of smog that rolled over the small room. The humid air kept your skin warm enough to be out of the direct spray from the faucet. The temperature was perfect for you, especially in Gavin’s warm embrace. Your hands ran through his hair affectionately, teasing the back of his neck.

Your eye peaked open while kissing when a guttural sound made its way from his throat. The angle of his jawline was sharp and handsome, even this close up. His cock slipped effortlessly along your core, coated in your combined desires. His hips wavered with each of your answering thrusts.

A blush deepened in your cheek as you brought words to your lips. “I’m ready.” You managed a tone just above a whisper.

Gavin’s deep honey eyes shot open as he looked down at you. He nodded, then left a sweet, lingering kiss to your temple. It was a stark feeling compared to the heated kisses he had been giving you. But the docile kiss was just as desired as the rest. His fingertips moved along your skin lovingly and longingly. The small gestures swelled your heart, making you feel safer with him than you did before. You knew you were special to him and he didn’t even have to say it.

His hand stroked your thigh before he moved it up his hip an inch and angled himself downward. His cock prodded your entrance, moving with the rhythm of his hips to ease himself inside you gently. You pressed up on your tippy toe and took in a deep breath in anticipation.

The intrusion felt like a pinch for an instant, then bliss the deeper he pushed in. Your walls desperately clenched against him, eagerly accepting him into your needy cunt. Moans from you both echoed off the tile walls. His voice rang true in each grunt and mewl. Your lips begin to seek one another as if you were in perfect darkness.

He crashed his lips into yours and held them there unbreakingly as he sped up his hip thrusts. The feeling of fullness was intoxicating. Each time he pulled his length out of you, you yeared for him again, bucking your hips toward him anxiously. Gavin’s arms wrapped around you protectively as he let his inhibitions go.

His pumping increased along with his ragged breaths. Gavin broke the kiss and cradled your writhing form closer to him in a tight embrace. He nuzzled his nose against your ear, pushing your wet hair out of the way. He gained speed with his new position, moaning louder into the crevasse of your neck.

Your nails dug into his back, leaving tiny marks in his skin. The pressure built within your core and you didn’t know how much longer you could outlast him. Your leg slipped on his hip, but he held you tight with his large hand. The water washed away the sweat that coated him. It left behind a gentle scent of his unadulterated musk. His touch, scent, and the sounds he relinquished helped aid your impending release. The coil in your core began to tighten impossibly tight.

“Gavin-” You mewled his name, making his hips falter. “I’m close, I think…”

It was hard to tell how much more it would take for your body to snap. Either way, letting him know that he was doing a great job at bringing you there was what was important.

He hissed through a groan, pushing you hard against the wall. His hand came up and cupped your chest, rolling his thumb over your pert nipple. The sensation shot straight to your sex, making your hips jerk. Gavin filled you deep with every stroke, stretching your pussy deliciously to the brim.

Once, then twice his thumb teased your chest before a rapid heat engulfed you. It began in your core, making you clench your walls helplessly around his girth. Your volume increased to a loud strangled version of his name.

“I’m- I’m… cuming.” You managed to gasp to beg him not to stop. “Keep going-”

You moved your hand behind you and patted along the wall. As your back arched towards him, your hand found the sill of the tiny window. You used the ledge to brace yourself as your body pulsated with each surge of pleasure.

His hips swayed, but he never ceased his thrusting. He let out a low groan from deep in his chest, pressing his head into the side of your neck. It wasn’t long after your initial pulsing you felt his heat fill your body. Gavin’s dick throbbed hard against your clenching walls. Then sensation transmitted a wave of pleasure straight through your entire being. Your jaw slackened as you closed your eyes and let his powerful arms become the only thing holding you up.

It was a defining moment between you two. Both were giving your all to the other in a moment of absolute confidence that the other would cherish it. The ripples of pleasure soon stopped, leaving you in an afterglow of emotion and ecstasy. Gavin caught his breath, pulling out of you gradually before letting your leg drop back to the ground.

He held you tight still, giving you a moment to let your leg muscle stretch out. You shifted your weight, testing the stability of your other leg. A sticky warmth began to trickle down your thigh, making you somehow more bashful than before. It was proof that what just happened wasn’t some kind of fever dream and you, in fact, made love to the man of your dreams.

Gavin let out a long sigh and stood up straight. He smiled down at you and stretched his arms above his head, walking back under the shower head. His muscles were more defined than earlier, having gone through a sort of work-out to activate them. Once rinsed off, he gestured to where you relaxed against the wall in a blissed out state.

“Get over here. Let me help you.” His voice was a considerate command.

With a grin, you walked toward him. You and Gavin began taking turns cleaning one another. He washed your hair for you, giving you a scalp massage in the process. He flirted a bit, mentioning the gorgeous speckles of color your eyes. It reminded him of the night sky and calmed him every time he was frustrated.

You reached up as far as you could and washed his hair with your lilac shampoo. Gavin bent down due to the height difference so you could gain access to the rest of his head. He kissed your forehead, tip of the nose and lips in the process. He was far goofier than you’d ever seen him, but it was a welcome sight to behold. The loofa filled with scented coconut soap was passed between the two of you as the shower continued. The water ran cold long before either of you brought up getting out.

Thanks for reading! I appreciate you all!

Also, holy shit that word count intimidated me. This is my longest fic to date! I hope you guys enjoyed the read!

Masterlist is at the top of my blog~

#mr love: queen's choice #mlqc #mlqc gavin #gavin x mc #mlqc smut #gavin smut #mr love: queen's choice smut #mlqc gavin smut #smut

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