#I FUCKED MY PEDAL WITH THE WRONG EQUIPMENT

[corntort]

THE GODDAMN POLARITYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

[tunatoge]

pairing: s. gojo x reader | next part >

when megumi asks gojo to teach him how to ride a bike, he panics–how would he teach a kid how to ride a bike when he doesn’t know how to ride one either? instead of admitting that, however, gojo goes out and buys a kids’ bike with training wheels, reassuring megumi that ‘of course he knows how to ride a bike, he’s the best cyclist in the world’! megumi doubts him the moment gojo’s confident facade falls and he eyes the bike weirdly. 

you’re in the bath at your small apartment when gojo calls you, saying he desperately needs you. you immediately jump out of the tub and dry yourself as you attempt to simultaneously throw on your uniform. when you get to gojo’s place, you quickly look around in fear that something is wrong only to find little megumi and tsumiki crowded around a gaudy blue bike. megumi looks up at you, a bike helmet a size too big pulled over his messy hair. 

“are you going to teach me how to ride a bike?” he asks as he scratches at the velcro straps on his knee pads. 

huh?

everything clicks into place when gojo comes around the corner with unnecessary biking equipment piled high in his arms. you grit your teeth. of course gojo would ask you to teach megumi how to ride a bike, you and suguru were the only ones who knew how to ride one in the first place. you didn’t think it was too useful of a skill when you and your classmates were younger, especially after the young gojo clan head had called you a country bumpkin for knowing how to ride a bike, but you suppose it was important enough that gojo would deliberately go out of his way to get you to teach a kid how to bike. 

as gojo deposits everything in his arms, you crouch down to megumi’s height with a smile on your face, pushing your still wet hair out of your eyes. you reach forward and adjust megumi’s helmet. 

“how long have you been biking with training wheels?” you ask, pulling the helmet straps a little tighter and clipping them into place. 

megumi purses his lips as he looks away to think. “a few weeks,” he says, “i want to be the first one in my grade to know how to ride a bike without training wheels, though.” you let out a little laugh as megumi tucks his chin away from you, his cheeks a soft pink. 

“alright, megumi, i’ll make sure that you’re the first person in your grade to ride a bike.” you extend your pinky towards him, “i pinky promise,” you say, tilting your head with a bright smile. megumi shyly links his pinky with yours as your smile widens. 

teaching megumi how to ride a bike is hard. gojo hovers over your shoulder as you run behind megumi as he pedals on his bike, watching with a small unhidden grimace every single time you let go of the back of the blue bike and tell megumi to ‘keep going’! not only does having gojo next to you make it significantly harder to instruct megumi, but you also have to listen to him attempt to console and give wrong advice to the kid. 

you groan outwardly as megumi topples over on his bike a few feet away from you. as gojo begins to walk towards him, you bring your arm up and block him. 

“satoru,” you warn, “if you continue to give megumi wrong advice again i will fucking punch you.” you turn towards him and glare sharply. “let me do this.” 

you walk towards megumi and gojo falters, watching as you take the boy into your arms and pat the dirt off of him and make sure his knee pads are on tightly. the evening wind blows through your and megumi’s hair as you crouch down and pick up the ugly, scratched bike and help megumi settle back onto it. tsumiki stands up from the park bench she’s seated at and makes her way towards gojo, watching as you and megumi begin to race even further down the park’s bicycle only section. you let go and cheer loudly as megumi finally gets the hang of it, jumping up and down before bounding after him as he bikes around and around. 

“i like them,” tsumiki tells gojo, letting gojo reach down and pull her hair out of her face as the wind begins to pick up even more.

“me too,” he admits softly, watching you and megumi turn around, listening as your and megumi’s elated laughter fills the empty park.

[unholyverse]

awsten knight in kerrang! issue #1654

(full text under the cut)

THE ULTIMATE ROCKSTAR TEST

AWSTEN KNIGHT WATERPARKS

HOW DO YOU BECOME HEIR-APPARENT TO POP-PUNK'S THRONE? EAT CIGARETTES AND BREAK YOUR FEET…

ON ROCK'N'ROLL…

YOUR ALBUM'S CALLED DOUBLE DARE. WHAT'S THE STUPIDEST THING YOU'VE EVER DONE FOR A DARE?

"One time I lit my pants on fire. I was sitting on the couch with my friend, playing with matches, and he said, 'I bet you won't set your pants on fire.' I said, 'Fuck you', and I did it. We freaked out because the flames were getting really big, so he went and got a wet towel and squeezed it out over my pants. Another time I ate a cigarette in a graveyard while we were out there playing with a Ouija board.""

WHAT'S THE MOST OUT-OF-CONTROL SHOW YOU'VE EVER PLAYED?

"Back when we used to play just locally in Houston, we used to play a lot of small places. They were the sort of places where there was no security and no barricades, and a lot of the time people would basically be on the stage. They'd be stepping on pedal boards and stuff, so there were times when we had to ask them to please step off our equipment. It was all good fun."

HAVE YOU BEEN INJURED BECAUSE OF THE BAND?

"We saw this setting we wanted to take some new pictures by. Basically, we had to do some trespassing to get to the spot, and there was a 15-foot fence. When I jumped off it I landed very wrong and busted up both my feet. I don't remember what it's called, but there's this thing that connects the front and back of your feet, and I tore both of them."

We presume you mean tendons, but it could have been your socks.

FAILS AND F UPS…

WHAT'S THE MOST EMBARRASSING THING TO HAPPEN TO YOU ONSTAGE?

"I don't really get embarrassed, and if I do fuck something up it's usually on purpose, whether that's singing a part in a weird, goofy way or anything else. I can't even recall falling over onstage. There was one time I nearly went off a 10-foot stage at a House Of Blues venue somewhere. I was spinning round and went right to the edge, but I didn't die, so that's good."

WHAT'S THE WORST SONG YOU'VE EVER WRITTEN?

"I've written plenty of bad songs, but with Waterparks I'd say Bones Of '92 or Easter Egg. I just don't like Bones Of '92—it's not a very good song. With Easter Egg, it doesn't flow well and it doesn't make sense."

Did you hear that, everyone? No Easter eggs for Awsten this year…

LIFESTYLES OF THE RICH AND FAMOUS…

WHAT'S BEEN YOUR WEIRDEST-EVER FAN ENCOUNTER?

"There have been so many weird ones, but the one that made me feel the weirdest was when a mom came up and asked me to take a picture with her daughter. The girl was crying but I thought, 'Okay - sometimes people cry when they meet the bands they like. Then the mother said, 'She's sad because one of her best friends just died. Now take a picture with her, smile.' I was like, 'What the fuck is happening?" I was trying to talk to the daughter, the mom was oblivious and it was just the most awkward situation I've ever been in."

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WERE STARSTRUCK?

"The time I went to Pete Wentz's house. He was having us on his radio show for an interview and I couldn't believe I was there. He brought us out water in boxes, which was really weird. I was just sitting there going, "What the fuck, I'm at Pete Wentz's house!" It was nuts."

Water in boxes, eh? How the other half live…

ON THE HYPOTHETICAL…

GOOD CHARLOTTE ASK YOU TO GUEST ON A SONG, BUT WHAT THEY PLAY YOU IS SHIT. DO YOU TELL THEM?

"I would, but I'd definitely still do it. It might have been shitty on purpose, and if that was the case I could go and be shitty on purpose and get with that vibe. That could be really funny"

WOULD YOU RATHER BE ABLE TO SPEAK TO ANIMALS OR SPEAK EVERY HUMAN LANGUAGE FLUENTLY?

"Animals, easy. I talk to enough people as it is, and I love animals. I went to a pet adoption thing a couple of days ago and there was this dog looking at me. I felt like he loved me more than any human had ever loved me and he'd only just met me. If I could hear the love that he was expressing I would be completely fulfilled."

Get a dog-translator app-there probably is one now. Then feel the love…

SPIRITUAL HEADMELTER…

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS?

"Yes, I do. I told you I ate that cigarette when I was in a graveyard with a Ouija board, and we used to do that a lot. We'd seek out haunted places a couple of times a week. I had to stop because I got too freaked out. It's really fun to do all that but then when you're alone afterwards, that fucking sucks."

Imagine how the ghosts feel when you leave…

"I USED TO GO LOOKING FOR GHOSTS A COUPLE OF TIMES A WEEK" - AWSTEN KNIGHT

WORDS: PAUL TRAVERS PHOTO: ANDREW STUART

[gacorley]

As a professional transcriptionist, I need to talk a little about just how much work Mina apparently does in the latest Dracula bit.

On September 29th, we find that Mina Harker transcribed Dr. Seward’s phonograph diary. According to my calculation, that diary, is just shy of 30,000 words by the time she transcribes it.  https://script-timer.com/ puts that at around 3 hours and 18 minutes of audio.

Now, here’s the deal. The standard rate for transcription is 4 hours of labor per one hour of audio transcribed. Realistically, it often gets higher than that, depending on the quality of the audio and the difficulty of the task. I’ll assume that one man with a familiar accent deliberately speaking into a phonograph will be relatively easy to transcribe, so let’s keep it at the 4 hours.

This means that, giving a very generous time frame, Mina would have to work for almost 14 hours to transcribe everything that appears in the book up to that point.

And this is ignoring that the time I’m citing is with modern equipment. Lucy has a nineteenth century phonograph and typewriter. No foot pedal. No easy error correction. No fucking ergonomic keyboard, that’s for sure.

Mina would weep for my setup.

Either my calculations are wrong, or Mina Harker is a beast.

Or Bram Stoker had no idea how long it takes to transcribe audio. That’s probably it.

NOTE: When I originally wrote this, I did not remember that they destroyed Lucy on the same day and that Jonathan was investigating the boxes of earth. Real eventful day to also have Mina staying up all night typing.

[the-punforgiven]

God it's like every time I try to do something god himself's just like

No

[e-jaegerenthusiast]

lurk~toji fushiguro x reader

(part 2 to u&i bully!megumi)

art by sab_xcvii

I am respectfully looking down. down.

had to down a couple of beers to get through this bro—

all characters are of age.

based on the song ‘lurk’ by the neighbourhood

warnings/tw; smut, cheating?, age gap, rough sex, choking, daddy kink, spitting, size kink, slight dumbificantion, degrading, praise kink, nipple play (both receiving)

summary; what happens when you learn more about megumi? and believe it too.

w.c; 6k

you’d been thinking about megumi all weekend. his face and all the events from the prior day swirling inside your head as you pondered them over and over, trying and hoping to find an apology in midst of all the pants shared between you both. of all the words he said to you.

just a simple apology. an apology to ease your heart, an attempt to clear all the things he put you through. all the times he humiliated you, all the times he embarrassed you and made you feel unimportant, unwanted. that’s all your beating heart wanted from him.

yet he never said those two words. not as he kissed you, not as he led you to the backseat of his charger, not as he slid in your mouth, or not as he fucked into you.

your chest filled with anxiety, he used me. curling up in your comforter as you tried to push away your negative thoughts with the soft music playing in your ears.

that was until your phone gave out a ding. picking it up, the light of it filling your dark, depressing room as you read the text with an unknown contact.

‘hey, bunny’ it read.

you squinted your eyes, where had you heard that nickname before? ah yes. the parking lot. the devil himself.

you groaned, locking your phone and wrapping yourself in your warm duvet again. your phone lit up again with the sound of his text. you blinked a few times as you shook your head and unlocked it again.

‘forgot to tell you’ as you read that, you pressed the contact and saved it as “megs </3”

your heart filled with a sense of hope, the little burnt flame igniting within you again, it died down as soon as it had been planted in you as you read the next text,

‘i got your number from one of your friends’

you sigh, so that’s what he forgot to tell you. not fuckin-

you were brought out of your thoughts as another text popped up

‘hello?’

‘y/n?’

‘did that bitch give me the wrong number?’

you wish you could just type out a lie, saying he got the wrong number, and forget that megumi fushiguro ever existed in your life. sure, maybe it was petty of you to hold a grudge against him for not apologizing even after the sensual acts that took place between you both the day prior. however, it was important to you. you needed to know he actually felt guilty those times. you need to know he felt as shitty as you did on the inside. you needed to know he wasn’t just using you. he technically never said that either, just told you to not say it.

nevertheless, you’re typing away before you can stop yourself. you should have.

‘hey ‘gumi’

‘no you got the right number’

you don’t really know what else to say. waiting patiently as the 3 dots start moving, signaling he’s typing.

‘good.’

‘i’ll pick you up in 30. be ready.’

you glance at the time on your phone, 5:30. you had enough time.

‘okay’

‘see ya cutie’

you get out of your bed quickly. taking a quick shower as the warm water helped you relax. you wear some jean shorts and a tank top with a silver necklace hanging lowly on your neck. you do some light makeup, only a little colorless lipgloss and mascara, as you tie your hair up in a ponytail. a few strands coming loose, not really being bothered to re-do it, you head down the stairs and go outside to sit on the porch, waiting for megumi.

in a couple minutes, his black charger comes to a halt infront of your house, you get up, grabbing your phone and your small purse, sliding it around your neck as you make your way to his car.

he leans to the passenger side and opens the door for you, giving you a smirk as you get in, gaze faltering on your jean shorts as he licks his lips. you give him a small smile, “hi.” your voice is soft as you observe him, the smell of rough lavender fills your nose this time instead of the cedarwood and musk, it seems gone now. his raven hair is damp atop his head, signaling he just came out of the shower.

he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, his hair brushing your forhead as he pulls away. a blush creeps on to your cheeks, “hey, beautiful.” he smiles as he fixes his gaze on the road and presses the gas pedal.

he puts his hand on your upper thigh, “how are you?” you bite the inside of your cheeks, “fine.” his gaze stops on you for a second before looking back at the road, “you’re lying.” you sigh, trying to come up with an excuse. how could he tell whenever you’re lying? “I uhm.. I just have a bit of a headache.”

he hummed, “if you say so.” he gave you a smile as he squeezed your thigh. you decided to push all your thoughts away for now and only focus on him. you put your hand on his, “where are we going?” he looked at your hand with a smile, “my house.”

your gaze fixed on him, “why not outside?” he looked over to you, “I lost my phone somewhere at the house.. but if you don’t wanna go there I don’t mind. we could just hang outside.” he said with a shrug.

you thought it over for a few seconds, he was offering you a chance to see his house, where he spent most of his childhood in, so if you got the chance to see more of him, you would be a fool to not take it. you gave a soft squeeze to his hand on your thigh, “no, yeah let’s go to your house.”

he smirked as he made a sharp turn into a street, his knuckles flexing on the wheel. this was pretty far from your house, the houses in the neighborhood were all a fair distance away from eachother, each one looking modern and rather large.

he pulled into the parking way of one of the houses, as you looked up from your window, you could see the house was just as big as the others, glass panes covering one whole side of it instead of walls. the parking garage’s door slid up with a press of megumi’s finger on a remote. he parked the car and you both got out. a sudden feeling of anxiety swimming in your chest as you saw the big black ram next to where megumi had parked, was his dad home?

megumi grabbed your hand in his, holding you close and interlocking your fingers as you both made your way up a small flight of stairs. “my dad’s not home, I think he’s at the neighbors’ house, he’s his friend.” you swallowed, your shoulders relaxing as you nodded.

he let go of your hand as he opened a door that led to the huge living room, mostly black and dark grey furniture everywhere, it was calming in a sense. he twirled around with his arms open infront of you, “as you can see the house’s pretty fuckin huge. I hate it— so I’m not gonna give you a tour or anything. but,” you frowned at his words, fidgeting with your fingers. he moved towards you, smiling, “how about you give yourself a tour as you call my phone and try to find it? please? I need it for this one senior assignment I’m getting today.” you nodded slowly as he flashed you a big grin, kissing your cheek before storming off and yelling, “my sister needs my help with something! I’ll be back!”

with that, he left you alone standing in the large empty living room. you sighed, finding his phone seemed to be pretty important to him. you got your phone out of your purse, starting to dial megumi’s number as you wondered around the house. he didn’t seem fond of this house, it was really big though so you thought family members could easily ignore each other for days. that’s probably what megumi would do.

you dialed his number over and over, looking around the vastly sized kitchen, the dining room, and some other rooms downstairs. megumi had left upstairs so you thought that’s probably where the bedrooms are and he had most definitely looked around in there. so you decided to take the stairs that spiraled down instead. 

as you made your way down the stairs, a faint sound of the bass of music hit your ears. you followed it down the narrow hallway that was filled with empty white vases and fake plants. the music was getting too loud for it to be a ringtone. it led you to a big white door, you opened it as you stepped inside.

you were met with an even bigger looking room than any of the ones you had seen on the main floor, mirrors were covering all its walls, the music loud as it blasted through the soundproof ceiling, there were lots of equipment and machines, oh. it was a gym. was it bigger than the living room and kitchen combined? probably.

you dialed megumi’s number again, walking around the gym, staring at everything with wide eyes. how fucking rich were they? their own personal gym right under their penthouse, you scoffed at the excessive wealth they had, or his dad had.

you heard a light vibration, going towards it as you could see a faint light on the ground next to a towel, right under the mirrors on the wall, you bent over to pick it up, megumi’s phone. finally.

as you stood back up, your eyes set on a huge, tall body in the mirror standing behind you, before you could even look up to see who it is, you screamed and turned around, jumping back against the mirror, closing your eyes as you brought your hands in front of you offensively, as if you could do any damage with them.

you slowly opened your eyes as you heard a deep chuckle, toji fushiguro stood infront of you. tight workout shorts sticking to his legs, bringing out his huge thighs, a black tank top sat upon his chest, a slight wet ring formed around the front of it as his body was covered in sweat, glistening.

his body was beyond huge, making you look so insignificant standing before him. he ran a veiny hand through his damp hair, bicep flexing as he did so, “done staring, pretty thing?” your mouth went dry, as if you weren’t practically drooling seconds before.

you could hear your heartbeat in your own ears, you were about to fucking black out. and you didn’t know why, his presence was so intimidating, the smell of cedarwood and musk filled the aroma around him, making you dizzy. so that was his smell yesterday in the car.

he towered over you, licking slightly at the scar on his lip, “cat’s got your tongue? or has megumi got a deaf plaything this time?” at the mention of your hearing, you tried to focus on the loud song playing instead of your unsteady heartbeat. the song was a forgein rap, turkish maybe? as it blasted through the gym and bounced off the ceiling.

you cleared your throat slightly, not trusting the power of your voice right now, “I uhm.. no.. I was just looking for fushiguro’s phone, and I uh.. found it here.” you waved the phone in front of your face, trying to show him.

he raises a brow, turning around and moving towards what seems to be a cable crossover machine. he grabs the hem of his black top with one hand, sliding it over his head as he dries the sweat around his neck, leaving the shirt there like a scarf. you stand there, staring at his muscular back. pressing your thighs together, why were you pressing your thighs together? this was megumi’s dad.

megumi’s phone kept buzzing in your hand, you looked at the screen, notifications on notifications showing there, you couldn’t see the texts unless it was unlocked but you could see the contact names, most of them were not saved, the rest being emojis.

“7 notifications from 💥”

“4 notifications from 👅”

“3 notifications from 🧜🏻‍♀️”

you could feel the rage settling in your stomach and all the way to your head, having a tight grip on his phone. the sound of weights bumping into eachother made you jump, looking up at where toji stood in between the machine, his arms working with the cables as his pecs flexed and unflexed.

the man glances at you from the side of his eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat. he keeps opening and closing his arms with the wire, his gaze not leaving you as you practically have a staring contest. he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, opening them as the scar on his lip tugs upwards with his smirk.

he stops moving his arms, making you flinch again with the sound of the weights hitting the metal, you find yourself pulling away your gaze from his crotch. when did you start staring at the bulge in his shorts?

you felt dizzy again as he started walking towards you slowly, his manly perfume filling your nose again. taking the damp black top around his neck and tying it around his forhead, he makes it into a makeshift headband as he pulls his hair back out of his forhead and up. you gasp at the sight, looking down at the ground in as your face starts heating up.

he stops a few inches infront of you, holding his large palm out to you as he motions for you to give him megumi’s phone. the loud forgein rap seems to fade away as his deep voice rings in your ears again, “explosion one’s ‘bitch that sucked him off real good,” he scrolled through megumi’s notifications with his thumb. the big phone looking tiny in his large hands, he held a bored expression on his face as he made your heart clench with each sentence, “tongue one he went down on,” he scoffs and chuckles darkly, “damn brat, the mermaid one must be the girl he fucked in my pool last night and denied of ever doing so when I busted his ass.” he twisted the phone in his hands and held it out to you.

a horrid expression filled your eyes as you kept your gaze on his chest, “oh and you must be the sunset girl, hm?” you looked up at him, tears brimming your eyes, “w-what??” he leaned forward and tucked megumi’s phone in the back pocket of your jean shorts, his big hand covering the majority of the cheek of your ass, making you shiver as your nose was practically in his neck, his musky scent making you dizzy.

as he pulled away, he whispered in your ear in a voice you could only recognize as seductive scary, “you look smarter than to be used by my excuse of a son, doll.” you blinked a few times. trying to register what just happened before quickly getting past him and making your way out of the gym and upstairs.

your head was swarming with thoughts as you sat in the living room, clutching megumi’s phone in your hands. you stared at the spiraling stairs that would lead you up to where he probably was. you were trying to mentally get yourself ready, should you ask him about it? should you even mention it? toji’s voice clouded your brain, he called you megumi’s plaything. was it true? were you just like all the other girls? getting used by him and getting lost between the many ‘emoji’s’?

you took a deep breath, heading upstairs and calling for megumi. his head plopped out of one of the rooms, hair in fluffy spikes as he smiled at you. “did you find it?” you nodded and walked towards him.

giving him his phone, he motioned for you to join him in his bedroom, sitting on his chair in the corner of the room as you sat on his bed in the center, looking at him anxiously as you gripped the bedsheets beneath your palms.

he was focused on his phone, scrolling through something with furrowed brows and an amused expression before he looked at you standing up and grabbing what seemed to be his car keys from his desk.

“hey uhh.. I’m sorry one of my friends is in big trouble, I gotta go but I’ll be back okay? do you wanna stay here until I come back?” he waited for your answer, lightly bouncing his foot as if he couldn’t wait to get out of the room and to wherever he was going.

you felt like you could cry any moment now, you just needed him to go away, to not be here to witness your pathetic tears and emotions. you bit on your bottom lip, should you wait for him? or go home? “uhm, yeah I’ll wait..” you said as his ocean blue eyes stared at you in anticipation, you couldn’t say no to them.

a wide smile came onto his face, giving you a salute and a small “thank you” before he hurried out of the room, getting downstairs with fast steps that you could hear.

you took a deep breath, falling back down on his bed, it smelled like him, like lavender. god what where you doing? your eyes felt heavy like your heart, why did you give him a chance to slither his way into you heart? he was supposed to stay your bully.

before you knew it, you fell asleep on his bed, your brain too swarmed by your thoughts that you wanted to just push away. you felt like you were half asleep, still being aware of your surroundings.

you opened your eyes to a vibration, it was your phone in your hands, you looked at the time, it had been almost an hour since you laid on his bed, not even aware if you were fully asleep or not.

you sighed, getting off his bed and out of his room, you looked around for a bathroom, finding it not too far from megumi’s room, in the same hallway a few steps down.

when you came out, you turned around only to bump into a chest, looking up, you covered your mouth with your hands, “I’m sorry! uhm...” it was megumi’s dad, he had a grin on his face, his hair damp atop his head, his chest bare, and a towel hanging around his torso.

he gave you a look up and down, “you’re good, where’s megumi?” he waited for your answer, but saw you fidgeting with your fingers and pouting, “he left you didn’t he?” you nodded weakly.

he brought his hand to his own chin, rubbing at it as he seemed to be deep in thought of something, then his gaze caught yours, your eyes dilating as a devilish grin made its way accross his lips.

before you could blink, your back was pressed against the wall of the hallway, his large hand around your throat as he towered over you. leaning his face close to yours as your eyes fluttered with his minty breath in your face, “then how about,” he tightened his grip on your throat, making you choke on a breath as he continued, “we get some revenge on him, yeah?”

you were speechless, this all felt like a fever dream. that’s it, maybe you hadn’t even woken up yet, maybe you were still sleeping soundly in megumi’s room. but the wetness pooling between your legs as he parted them with his knee said otherwise.

he smashed his lips onto yours, kissing you at a slow pace until your small hands were grabbing at his chest, pushing him away to look up into his dark eyes, “t-this is wrong— what are we—“

he sighed, “your little boyfriend is out fucking someone else right now, please don’t tell me your little teenage heart is in love with him or some bullshit.” he was right. you were nothing to megumi, you never had been. so why shouldn’t you act like he was nothing to you?

his eyes were searching your face, his brows scrunched together. you grabbed a fist full of the back of his hair and brought his lips down to yours, you could feel his smirk against your lips before he started to kiss you back again, this time rougher.

his tongue pushed against your lips, and you opened your mouth for him, letting him taste you. the smell of musk was all around you, making you dizzy as you grabbed at his hair. the kiss was a sloppy mess, his tongue dominating yours and biting at your bottom lip as he pulled back.

he pressed his bulge against your center, making you let out a small whimper as you looked up at him with doe eyes. he leaned in again, but this time his lips went to your neck, his tongue pressing against your pulse point as the beat of your heart got faster and faster. you could feel him sucking and nibbling on the skin of your neck, leaving trails of crimson and rosemary all over your collarbone as you shuddered and small pants left your mouth.

his large hands were pressing into both sides of your hip, the towel around his torso shuffling as he practically grinded your clothed center onto it. on of your hands was laced through his hair, grip tightening as his mouth traveled down to your chest, pressing wet kisses right above your boobs that were still covered by the material of your shirt. your other hand held onto the large muscle of his bare bicep tightly, crescents forming from your nails as he bit the hard bud of your nipple from above your shirt.

your hand on his bicep traveled to his chest hesitantly, so hesitant that when your fingers accidentally brushed against his left nipple, he hissed, a shudder running down his spine and pulling back from where he was marking you up. you studied the loon on his face closely, his eyes were filled with lust, looking you up and down as he towered over your small form.

you looked back at the hand that was resting on his pec, his nipple hard right between your index and middle finger. you took a deep breath, slowly moving forward towards his chest, he watched you as you pressed a kiss to his nipple, his arm twitching from on the wall, the fingers from his other hand tightening around the flesh of your tiny hip. he wanted to stop you, let you know who’s in charge, but he decided to wait, wanting to know what you’re up to.

you pressed another kiss to the bud, only this time, your tongue pressed against it as you pulled away, earning a grunt from him. you stuck out your tongue circling his nipple in slow movements as your other hand trailed down his defined stomach, grabbing onto the self-made knot of his towel as you attempted to pull him closer than he already was.

the way your tongue was swirling around his nipple as you sucked slowly, kissing it after each nibble had him weak. he was god awful thankful that you couldn’t see his face right now, because his expression was not him. his face was burried in your neck, the tip of his nose a light pink that dusted his defined cheekbones too. his eyes were scrunched shut, his nose upwards as his mouth was agape, small pants and broken breaths leaving his pretty lips.

when you finally got the knot of his towel free, the white material going loose around his torso, you bit down on his nipple gently. that was his breaking point, the rope that finally snapped. hearing a deep growl from him, you could feel large hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you up so you were flush against him, both your legs locked around his waist and your hands tight around his neck as you hid your face in between his two large pecs.

you were so lost in the strong smell of the shampoo previously used on his chest that you only felt his girth in between your legs when he started walking you both down the hallway. your eyes widened, looking down in between you and at the generous amount of manhood he had to give you with a gasp. you were dumbfounded, stuttering over your words as you tried to form a sentence, he was walking you both somewhere, a deep chuckle vibrating from his chest as you pressed your head to it again.

“ssshh don’t worry about that, doll.” he said, rubbing circles onto the flesh of your ass with his thumb. you pulled your head back from his chest as you felt his hands shuffle, throwing you onto a bed as you bounced a few times, your hair fanning around you as you closed your eyes, trying to prepare yourself for whatever is to come.

your eyes opened wide as your nose picked up the now familiar scent of lavender, looking around you in a haste, you were on megumi’s bed.

you looked forward, the sentence you wanted to scream at toji dying down on your tongue when you saw him crawling towards you with a malicious grin, the veins in his large biceps flexing with every moment, his cock standing upright under his stomach, the tip red and angry as precum dribbled onto the lavender-smelling sheets below you both.

his large form is above you, hands on either side of your head as he leans down again, grabbing at your shirt in an animalistic manner, you thought he was gonna tug it over your head, closing your eyes. you opened them back up when you heard a loud shredding sound. he had ripped your top to pieces, the fabric ripping in two beside you as your naked chest was exposed to him.

he raise his brows, the side of his mouth where his scar resided rising up into a half-smirk, “no bra? fucking dirty.” he grabbed one of your boobs, rolling your nipple in between his fingers as he took the other one his mouth, humming around it as his long eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, his gaze coming back to stare you in the eyes as you watched him. “were you prepared to get fucked by him again?” he said in between pressing his tongue against your nipple, earning small pants and whimpers from you.

“didn’t expect to be splayed out like this under his dad instead did you now?” his voice was deep, he sucked on your nipple repeatedly, making sure to give the other one the same attention as he rolled the other bud in between his large fingers. you moaned out loud when you felt his sharp teeth biting into your chest, “speak when you’re fucking spoken to.” he said as he landed a slap on your other boob, you whimpered, nodding your head “y-yes— I mean— n-no I didn’t—“

he gave out a dark chuckle, his hot breaths driving you crazy as he switched between your boobs, sucking and biting on the other one as he held them both in his hands, “haven’t even fucked you, yet you’re all dumb under me already.” he said with another chuckle as he hummed around your nipple.

he came back up to your lips, his huge cock pressing into your clothed center. you felt his fingers wrap around your throat, rising your head slightly from the pillow and bringing your face closer to his, your nose touching his, his gaze feral as it pierced you, his lips inches away from you as you could feel his hot breath over your lips.

he gave you a passionate kiss, his tongue diving into your mouth before he pulled away, your lips following him to get more, but he only chuckled darkly again, looking down at where his cock was practically twitching against you. “you gonna take your slutty fucking shorts off? or should I rip them as well huh?” you shakes your head rapidly, “n-no.” you squealed.

he raised his brows, his gaze moving between your eyes and your lips, his hand tightening around your throat, “no, who?” he nearly growled out. you squeezed your eyes together, breath catching in your throat as you whine out “n-no… daddy.” he smirked, giving a single smooch to your parted lips before loosening his hand around your throat, “atta girl, now c’mon, do as you’re told and I’ll play nice on you ‘kay?”

your hands were shaky as you lifted your hips, sliding your shorts down halfway to your knees, struggling to get out of them under his dark gaze. he groaned, rolling his eyes as his hands replaced yours, tugging the shorts down fully and throwing them somewhere on the floor.

he looked down at you, licking his lips. a wet patch had formed on your panties, his large hands coming to your hips, grabbing onto the waistband of your underwear before he groaned again, “too much fuckin work.” you heard another ripping sound, he had tore your underwear too, disregarding the pieces that remained on the bed as he ran his fingers along your inner thigh, his eyes coming back up to your face to watch your every expression.

“oops.” he muttered, snickering at you, before his face turned into one of— concern? your lips were trembling, tears prickling your eyes as you tried to blink them away. he moved up again, his hand coming up to hold your face in his palm, his thumb wiping at your wet lashes. “what is it, doll? are you scared?”

you sniffed, shaking your head grabbing his other wrist in your small hands, shakily bringing it to your lower stomach. he smiled, humming, “you want me touch you? take real good care of you?” his fingers inched closer to your clit, but still not touching, only grazing the upper part of your pussy.

you nodded, “uhh huh— p-please, fushiguro.” he chuckled again, the sound becoming familiar to your ears as you wanted to hear it more and more. “please??” he said in a teasing tone, his voice dropping a few octaves down if that was even possible.

“p-please toji—“ he laughed, the noise making your cunt flutter around nothing. “wrong answer, doll.” he slapped your clit, the action catching you off gaurd, making you let out a choked whimper. his hand still on your cheek, going down to grip your jaw as he hummed quizzically. “please, daddy.”

“mhhmm,” you felt his palm graze your clit as one of his thick middlefinger fingers entered you, your back arching and hips bucking up towards his hands as you moaned. “there you go, right there?” the pad of his finger pressed against the perfect spot inside of you, your thighs shaking around him as you nodded and moaned, his chuckles feeling your ears again.

your hips were bucking up against him in a circular motion, your walls tightening around his single finger as you felt the knot in your stomach begin to unwind, right then and there, he pulled his finger out of you, snickering as you whined. you looked down at him, his finger that was in you seconds ago now in his mouth as he hummed around it, “you taste so sweet, doll.”

he leaned down, taking his large cock in his hand, stroking the base a few times before lining it up right at your entrance, he was on his knees, looking down at you with a raised brow, “I’d ask you if you’re a virgin but,” your eyes widened as you felt his head move into you, your hands gripping the sheets and your knuckles growing white as you whimpered. “you’re a naughty little— fuck— slut. but still tight.”

your walls fluttered around him repeatedly as he tried to fit in more of his cock, stretching you open almost painfully, but god the stretch felt amazing. you felt like you could rip the sheets any moment now with the grip you had on them, you could barely keep your eyes open, nuzzling your head into your own neck and whimpering.

until you felt his fingers wrap around your throat again, looking at him as your mouth hung open, soundless breaths leaving your mouth and onto his face as he smirked, his cock was spreading you open so wide, you could feel every vein, every ridge of it brushing against your tight walls, and eventually his big balls tapping at your ass when he bottomed out.

he stilled inside of you, letting you let out your choked breaths until your hips were rutting against him, he groaned, “I’m trying to be nice here, give you time to get used to it, and you go and grind against me while I’m balls-deep inside of your tight little cunt?” your eyes rolled back as he gave you his first thrust, hard and unrelenting. making your tits jiggle up and back down again, your hands going to his wrist that is around your throat.

you hold his lower arm with one of your small hands, and the other around his wrist, pressing down on your throat until a squeak comes out your mouth, his cock twitches inside of you, and you clench around him as he gives you another hard thrust, “want me to choke you? you’re dirty like that?” his fingers tighten around your neck, and your around his arm and wrist.

his thrusts are hard, fucking into you with all the power in his hips and pulling out agonizingly slow, just to ram back in again. you moan out and let out incoherent babbles, he hums quizzically, and you lol your tongue out, his thrusts slow for a few seconds, chuckling darkly. he spits in your mouth, right on your tongue, and you can feel his thrusts speed up again as he grunts out “swallow then.”

and you do, you take all that he gives you, your cunt flutters around him again, your orgasm close as you claw at his large biceps, whimpering and moaning out, “f-faster, please daddy.” he groans, taking both his arms and balancing himself on top of you, but closer.

his hips move faster, not hard and agonizing anymore, but he listens to you. the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room and mixes with the ragged breaths coming out of his mouth, and then loud moans you’re giving out, your hands go to his hair as you feel the knot in your stomach snap, scratching at his scalp and pulling at the back of his hair.

he moans, the sound cutting short as he presses his lips to yours, it’s messy, just a wet battle of tongues as you both swallow eachother’s sounds. a string of saliva connecting you both as your pussy gushes all around him, cumming with a scream and another pull on the raven strands of his hair.

he keeps giving you sloppy thrusts, helping you ride through your orgasm, “fuck— yeah, cum on daddy’s cock baby, just like that.” his voice is shaky, the words coming out between broken breaths and grunts. he gives you one last thrust, making your whole body shudder as he fills you up, his warm cum painting your insides, as he moans repeatedly, his brows scrunched and his forhead resting in the crook of your neck as he tries to calm himself.

he lays on top of you for a while, but slowly pulls away as you start groaning, his body weight crushing you. with a chuckle, he pulls out, and it’s the most beautiful sight you’ve seen. he’s on his knees between your legs, holding the base of his own cock as he pulls out slowly, one side of his hair is in the air, messy around his head and beads of sweat decorate his chest.

you whine out at the feeling of being so empty, and he snickers, shaking his head and leaving the room before you notice. did he just leave you? you lay on the bed, and try to get up before his cum can stain megumi’s sheets. your legs are shaking as you try to make it to the bathroom, your lower stomach burning with an unfamiliar pain, you had never taken a dick this big before.

you washed up, getting out the bathroom with shaky legs, holding the wall for support. until you bumped into a chest, again. you looked up, he looked the same as when he left the room, “you really need to stop doing that doll. unless you want me to destroy your cunt.” toji says with a smirk, making your cheeks heat up.

“why did you get up?” he asks with a raise of his brows. you struggle to stand, your knee buckling as his gaze goes down to your trembling legs, chuckling as he has you in his arms in the blink of an eye, carrying you back to megumi’s room. “you can’t even walk now can you?” he says teasingly. and you huff, furrowing your brows as he sits you back on the bed.

“I went to bring you a shirt. since ya know-“ you look up at him, your eyes sparkling as he holds a black shirt in his hands, giving you a smile, “arms up.” you obey, putting both your arms up, waiting for him to put his shirt on you. he licks his lips, grinning as he gives out a chuckle, looking at you tits being stretched up with your hands, you didn’t even notice. you squeak, putting your arms back down and on your chest, trying to cover them as he chuckles again, his green eyes hooded and dark as he watches you, “hiding them from me as if— how adorable.” he shook his head.

he threw you his shirt, “go on, megs will be here soon.” you wear the shirt, the fabric big on you, the musky smell filling your senses again. you couldn’t face megumi now, not in his dad’s shirt.

toji chuckles, moving his hand through his hair as he clicks his tongue, “don’t think he can see you like this can he? or would you want that?”

your cheeks grow red, and you nibble on your bottom lip as you shake your head.

he sighs, “come down to the garage after you put your pants on. or don’t, that’s even better.” he leaves the room with a chuckle.

what did you just do?

•••••••••••••••••••

taglist? @medusa1111 (@itadaklmasu cuz your reply said part 2 heh) @emilykcoxx @calamariie (cuz you guy replied to part 1, hope you like this too <3)

© all content belongs to e-jaegerenthusiast, do not repost or copy any of my work

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (12)

word count; 8943

summary; you and newt are called to another unusual call.

notes; this is the first half (technically) of a mini sub-plot. the end comes in the next part.

warnings; violence, gun use, description of injury, slight gore, intentional harm, attempted murder, reference to drowning.

“I feel disgusting.” You mumbled, water still dripping from your arms as you stood, shaking yourself odd a little and groaning at the chill that was beginning to sweep in. The lights on the firetruck were flashing, equipment still being loaded back up, and Newt was standing on the other side of the ambulance, a water bottle Minho had given him sitting in his hand as he took another large sip, gargling the water loudly and frothing it around his mouth before spitting it out onto the concrete and grimacing.

“I think I swallowed, like, half the lake.”

You felt bad for him, you really did, and you tried to peel the wet material of the shirt away from yourself. Unbuttoning it slowly, you frowned, wet hair plastered to the back of your neck in the ponytail you wore, and Newt choked on his drink, laughing loudly and spitting up water again. He patted at his chest, turning away from you, his cheeks going red as he tries to hack up water that had gone down the wrong pipe, and you patted his back, startled at his sudden reaction.

His eyes were watering when he recovered, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “You know, if I was straight, I’d be very flattered.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your nipples.” He beamed, and your brows furrowed, before you glanced down, noting the hardened peaks from the cold, showing clearly through your tank that had gone clear enough in its pale grey colour to show off the plain design of your bra, and you scoffed. “Truly, it’s an honour, but it’s doing nothing for me.”

“Oh, no, whatever will I do now?” You mused, voice flat of any emotions, and he only laughed again, peeling off his shirt, and ringing it out, goosebumps rising along pale skin as the chill of the air washed over his skin. The lake was clear now, a group of kids who had stupidly enough decided it would be a good idea to jump off the edge of the dock before realising the wall was too tall and slippery with algae to get out, beginnings of hypothermia and ingestions of dirty water before anybody had wandered past close enough to hear them calling for help.

Sometimes, you really hated teenagers.

“Think if we’re fast enough, we can get back to the house before the firefighters? First dibs on the showers with the best water pressure, and guaranteed hot water.”

His eyes twinkled a little as he lifted a still damp but no longer sodden shirt back onto his shoulders, grimy and covered in green and brown stains from the water, no bothering to button it back up. “I take that as a challenge, and I accept.”

You climbed in through the back of the van, pulling open the bottom drawer and finding the plastic seat coverings, chucking one of the sheet packages to Newt for his own chair, before he slammed the doors with you in the back, and rounded to the driver’s side. Smoothing the plastic over your chair to make sure it was covered, your shoes squelched a little as you collapsed down into it. Newt did the same, and the second the keys were twisted into the lock once he was shuffling uncomfortably on the plastic, you were flicking the heating on to the highest temperature you could get it.

The downside of working in a van filled with drugs and medicine? The heat didn’t get very high in order to keep what needed to be refrigerated at the temperature is was required to be at. His eyes checked the mirrors as he reversed, noting the firetruck that was beginning to back out, the Squad truck leaving first, Gally and Fry still milling around to talk to the cops, and so you and Squad had a head start.

It would seem that they had the same idea, because Minho had a positively dangerous look in her eyes as she pulled up towards the entrance alongside you both, and Newt smirked, hand on the gearstick as he switched gears and pressed his foot down on the pedal. He surged forwards, the van moving faster than the trucks due to their added weight, a delay in its start-up, and the pair of you shot across the uneven gravelly path towards the main highway.

The red truck wasn’t far behind, and yet you were laughing a little at the determined look on your partners face, what had been a modest challenge was now becoming a battle between yourselves and the Squad team. You had the edge, being a lightweight vehicle, easy navigation and more speed, but they had the edge, the big red truck was more noticeable to other driver’s and they tended to move out of the way more for firetrucks than they did for ambulances.

As you met the junction for the highway, Newt flicked on the indicators and swerved onto the highway in a gap between cars that was too small to be considered safe. The move left you pressed into the side door of the ambo’, turning to look at him as his eyes stayed fixed on the road, a smirk on his face as the red truck was left in the dust, having to wait much longer to be able to pull out.

“Alright, Vin Diesel, settle down.”

“You want a hot shower to get clean? Or do you want lukewarm water with weak pressure that takes hours to get you clean?” You considered it, knowing that the more the showers were used, the weaker the water pressure got and the colder they ran as the hot water was distributed out, and you weighed out the pros and cons. You gave in with a reluctant sigh, watching Newt weave between cars, and he let out a triumphant noise. “Exactly. So, be a good co-driver, and play something exciting.”

“This is an ambulance, Newt. We have the classical jazz station, the news station, the emergency radio, or static and silence.”

“Sing something.” He offered, and you laughed loudly. “Maybe just yell exciting things at the top of your voice like it’s a James Bond movie. You can be my Bond woman.”

“Exciting things? You mean like ‘Quick, Newt, watch out for the rock slide’ or ‘Oh my God, Newt, he’s shooting at us’?” He hummed, rolling his lips together a little, and looking into the mirror where the red van wasn’t all that far behind anymore. “Oh, okay, I got it. How about ‘Quick! Newt! The bomb that will destroy world peace and the alien trade federation is about to go off, hurry so you can disarm it and save the galaxy!”

“That’s the one!” He shouted back, laughter taking up the cabin between you both as he picked up a little more speed, growling under his breath as distant wailing took place. “Did they just turn the fucking sirens on?”

“That’s illegal! A crime! Disqualified!”

Only a moment later, the truck was passing you by, Thomas lounging in the front seat with a smirk on his face, not even bothering to look at the two of you as he held up his middle finger, feet popped up on the dashboard, before they were pulling ahead, and you gaped at it.

“He flipped us off!”

“He did what?” Newt sounded like he had been told that Thomas had run over his dog, before his face was growing stormy, and he peeled off towards one of the exits, and you sat up a little more in your seat.

“Newt, this isn’t our exit, why are we slowing down? This is war now!”

“We’re taking a shortcut! I think.”

You pouted, watching as he pulled off onto the quieter roads, already resigning yourself to the loss. The van moved slower, not by much and certainly still considered fast for these roads, and you didn’t recognise the area you were driving through until you were almost at the house, coming at it from a completely different angle. It was a side that the trucks would be unaware of, the roads on this side of the house too narrow for the trucks to navigate on, but an ambulance could definitely weave and dodge along them.

You were expecting the grey garage to already be stained with bright and shiny flashes of colour, but as you approached it, the bay was still empty, and you gasped.

Unclipping your seatbelt before the vehicle had even rolled to a halt, and as soon as it was in park, haphazardly and slightly wonky within the designated space but still inside the lines, and Newt was ripping the keys from the ignition. You didn’t even bother peeling away the plastic overs, both hopping down from the van, doors slamming, uncomfortable runs in wet shoes from the vehicle to the changing rooms, the door practically bounding from the wall with the urgency that you forced it open.

Your fingers were trembling with both the cold and the adrenaline as you opened your locker, grabbing for the towel and washbag that sat on the middle shelf, slamming the metal canister shut a second behind Newt, and on the other side of the room, you heard a shower curtain swipe open, before the water spray was coming on.

Kicking off your shoes onto the white tile, your socks were ridden with water, and you stopped into the basin, flimsy curtain closing behind you. Switching on the water, you didn’t care about clothes getting wet as they were all drenched regardless. The water was hot and strong, pouring down over you as you let out a breath in relief, sighing out at the feeling, and stripping the partially unbuttons shirt the rest of the way down.

Dropping it to the floor outside, your vest followed, bra dropping by your feet for modesty, not all too thrilled about the idea of the entire team seeing your underwear. One fireman was plenty enough. Your trousers came next, panties following your bra, and socks lastly, before you were freeing your hair from its bobble and scrubbing dirt from the tendrils. The water was murky as it pooled around your feet, and you grinned through the suds as you heard the locker room door open up.

“Nice of you guys to finally join us!”

Newt laughed at your words, and you scowled at the taste of shampoo that got in your mouth, eyes squeezed closed tightly, but you couldn't hold back your laughter at the several complaints that burst out.

The shower next to yours clicked into gear, a slight dip in the flow of water as it adjusted, and it was steadily growing weaker as the firemen all changed and climbed into a shower, but you had already shampooed, only some soap and conditioner to go.  

“How the fuck did you guys beat us here?”

“We played by the rules, Bren! Flicking on sirens, that was cheating.” You tutted, the girl scoffing from the cubicle beside you.

“Uh, playing it smart isn’t cheating!” She retaliated, and you scrubbed a bar of exfoliating soap over your skin, the extra shrub helping to rid you of the feeling of grunge from the lake away from your flesh. “But seriously, how the hell did you beat us here with so much time?”

“Newt knew a short cut, apparently.” She made a vague sound of agreement, the boys all chatting loudly from the other side of the room, and the build-up of steam was beginning to give you a headache. Running some conditioner through your hair and combing the knots out quickly, you finished up, switching off the water and finding your towel, hand fumbling outside of the stall for the material, before you were finding it, and wrapping it around your body. Wringing out your hair, you pushed back the shower curtain and stepped free.

Newt was at the lockers, pulling a shirt over his head, almost fully dressed, the plastic washing basket from the corner was sitting outside him, water pooling through the cracks to the floor as his clothes dripped, and you scooped up your own, dropping them in with his and flashing him a grateful smile as he all but nodded in a promise to load them into the washer.

His fluffy hair was almost dry already, messy and sticking up from his towel, and you envied how quickly he could get ready again. How quickly all men could get dressed, really.

Taking your kit over to the sink, you fastened your towel a little tighter around yourself again to make sure it would stay tight, before wiping a patch in the steamed-up glass to see your reflection. Running a collection of moisturisers and serums over your cheeks, keeping it at it’s best despite the smoky and dirty conundrums you found yourself in on a day to day basis, you rehydrated and cleansed your skin, before moving on to your hair.

Heading to your locker to get a new set of clothes, you lifted the catch open, the door swinging as you gathered belongings, checking you had everything for a new uniform in your back-up bag, before placing it down on the bench. As you closed it, you jumped, a body leaning on the metal on the other side, and a mumbled curse fell from your lips at the shock. Reaching up to clutch at the edge of your towel and ensure it didn’t fall, you glared at the laughing attacker.

“You fucking suck. Why are you scaring me when I’m in a towel? Dumbass.”

“Oh, ouch. Cranky today, huh?” Thomas teased, reaching out a finger to poke at your stomach through the towel, and you jumped, slapping his hand away as he chuckled more.

“I’m cranky when I’m in a towel, and risking flashing the entire team because you wanna’ startle me!” He smirked, eyes scanning over your body particularly slowly, as if to make a point, and you rolled your eyes, despite the heat forming on your face. Adjusting your towel again, he watched your fingers move, and you kicked at his shin, watching him hop around in his towel at the aggression.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You know what that was for!” You held your fingers up, pointing them from your chest to your eyes, and he got a wicked grin once again as he clocked onto what you were saying. “Go away so I can get dressed in peace!”

“So now you don’t want me around? That’s not how you felt a couple of weeks ago.” You glared at him again, crossing your arms and stomping your foot a little, knowing what he was referring to, and he hadn't been any less affectionate since. At the action, though, he gave in, hands held up in a surrender and his laughter following him all the way around to his locker on the other side, leaving you alone.

Members of the team were still wandering around, and so you tried to be as quick but as discreet as you possibly could, tugging your panties and trousers up under your towel. Your spare shoes were uncomfortable and tight, barely worn in as opposed to your regular ones, and you were cold as you put on the clothes that had been chilling in the metal canister, bag ready to be taken home to refill.

Rubbing your towel across your hair to dry it out better, you left it as it was, towel folding in the bag to be taken home, and you placed it all back inside. Adjusting your fresh uniform to sit a little more comfortably on your body, your fingers smoothed along the collar and flattened it down, before sweeping still damp locks away from your clothes.

The men were all filtering from the room, a faster turn around as they dried, all carrying dirty and sodden uniforms to the laundry room to try and get them sorted, hoping to find themselves with one less task to do when they go home, and not wanting to stink up their cars with the foul smell that came with the water from the dock by trailing the wet garments home.

The dull buzzing of the only hairdryer the fire station had was already in use by Brenda, shorter hair looking a little crazy as she only had her fingers to come through instead of her usual styling brush, and she was scowling at her reflection in the mirror as her hair curved up in the wrong directions at the edges, bangs looking untamed. She glared at your snickering as you approached, finger flipping over the switch to turn it off, clearly deeming the effort good enough, and she stuck her tongue out at you and handed it over, letting you start it up to reduce some of the water trapped in your own hair as she tried desperately to do something to control it a little better.

“Why don’t you just comb it all back?”

“And look like a starring member from ‘Grease’? Want me to start singing ‘Go Grease Lightning’ on the top of one of the fire trucks, huh?” She was so over-dramatic, and yet you loved that about her, shaking your head and smirking a little as she continued to struggle. You weren’t all that bothered about getting it completely dry, just enough that you wouldn’t catch a chill from it. You didn’t really feel like facing the next few weeks with a sore throat and a blocked nose.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you that I’m pretty sure I have a curled brush in my bag?”

She paused her work, arms crossing over her chest, hip leaning on the porcelain of the sink, and you could feel her burning glare on you as you continued to keep your one hair tame just with the use of the machine and your fingers. “You’ve had a blow-dry brush this whole time and you let me suffer?”

“Uh, first off, it’s not a blow-dry brush. It’s just a round brush. Make do. Secondly, you make it sound like I had food and you’ve not eaten for three days.”

“Same thing.” She hissed, playfully through it all, and she didn’t wait for permission, before she was meandering to your locker over hers and letting herself in, beginning to dig through the items in there to find the brush. She let out a triumphant little noise, and as she all but skipped back across the room, you decided you were close enough to dry, shaking your head to tame fly-aways and handing her the dryer back. You turned, walking away from her, and she let out a sound of complaint. “You’re just gonna’ leave me in here, alone?”

“It’s the changing rooms, not a back-alley at a nightclub at 3am.”

“What if I get lonely?” She pouted, turning the heat up and power down, the whirring going quieter so neither of you had to shout quite as loudly to one another, and you shrugged, backing away from her a little more, and smirking.

“Talk to your reflection. I’m going to make a snack.”

She huffed, but smiled, turning back to her plans, and you were the only one to what your soft chuckle as you left, the chill out in the corridor being shocking as you stepped from the steam-filled room to the breeze-filled hall to the main bay, shuddering as goosebumps rose over your arms, and you crossed them across your chest to keep your heat in.

Thomas was standing at the entrance of the laundry room, a basket full of wet clothes, nose turned up a little as Newt and Jeff loaded the machines, and you didn’t envy them at all. The doors to the common room were sealed shut tightly, presumably to keep in the warmth, because Fry had turned on both of the space heaters, and the room was already warming up to being hot. The smell of garlic bread was filling the room, some kind of cheesy pasta following it, and Fry was already singing loudly to the song playing over the radio, almost drawing out the television as Gally watched a movie that was so old it was in black and white, but he wasn’t paying attention, rather, he was texting on his phone and enjoying the background noise.

Minho was sitting beside him much the same, fingers moving swiftly over the screen, and Clint was chewing on a pen at the table as he filled out the puzzles in one of the newspapers from last week's stack.

“What’cha making, Fry?”

“Chicken and mushroom pasta, you want some?” Your face screwed up, shaking your head, and he laughed. “Let me guess, you don’t like mushrooms?”

“They’re gross and slimy. No offence to your pasta.”

“They’re delicious, and healthy.” He corrected, and you grunted, opening the fridge, and pulling out a loaf of bread, shuffling through the contents of the fridge to find a topping you wanted. As you searched, a soft bumping at your ankle caught your attention, a sharp and chipper bark to follow it, and you glanced down, finding a wagging tail and a ball of golden fur staring up at you expectantly. “That dog is a bottomless pit of food!”

“He’s a growing boy!” You waved the cook off, taking a packet of ham out and peeling a slice off from the inside of the pack, holding it up at about waist height, and watching as the dog shuffled backwards, staring up at it and preparing himself. “C’mon, Scoot, jump!”

The dog did so, a happy yip sounding from him as he did, snatching half of the slice as it tore in your hands, and chewing down on it happily, pieces falling from its mouth and onto the floor, and he was quick to lick those up too. “He’s never going to learn any tricks if you pamper him like that.”

You looked up, Thomas having come through the doorway, Newt following behind him, your partner raising his shirt to his nose and sniffing at it, trying to determine whether the stench had transferred to his uniform just from doing the laundry, before collapsing down in the armchair. “He just did a trick! He jumped!” Scooter did it again, snatching the rest of the ham from your fingers, and you gasped as teeth brushed over your fingers, your hand snatching back, and Thomas chuckled, coming to a stop before you and taking the ham from your fingers.

“He did not jump on command, he just jumped for food.”

“Fine! You try!” You raised a brow, and Thomas took the challenge, a smirk forming.

“Scooter!” The dog’s head snapped to face him, from where he’d been occupying himself with pawing at one of your undone laces, now focused on Thomas. “Scooter, sit.” The dog remained still for a second, your lips pursing as he continued to pant and wag happily, stood on all four paws.

“What was it you were saying?”

Thomas’ eyes flicked up to you, narrowing for a second, before he was trying again. “Scooter, sit.” Your jaw was slack as the dog did exactly as told, sitting neatly and letting his tail brush over the flooring patterns, hearing the fridge behind you opening and closing, jars and tins rattling as Fry continued to cook. “Good boy, Scoot! No, lay down.” Thomas clicked his fingers, pointing at the floor, and the dog flattened out, staring up at Thomas expectantly, and you huffed. “Good boy. You want a treat?”

A bark signalled that, and Thomas rolled up a piece of the honey-glazed delicacy that Fry was snatching back a second later with mumbles about it being wasted, and Scooter stood up to snatch it, running away across the room in a pitter-patter of movements, scurrying away to his bed in the corner.

“See?”

“How the hell did you do that?” You demanded, washing your hands under the tap and drying them off, before going back to the sandwich you’d been preparing, and Thomas seated himself on one of the island stools with a shrug.

“I’ve been practising. Wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, consider me surprised.” You offered, grabbing a knife from one of the drawers, and Fry groaned beside you, shooting you both a dirty look as you began to spread the butter.

“Consider me revolted.” He gagged, and you rolled your eyes, swinging your foot out to kick at his shin, Thomas flipping him off despite the heat that was building on his cheek, and the chef wasn’t deterred from mimicking your conversation. “Seriously, get a room.”

“We have a room. It’s this kitchen. Two out of three, we win, majority rules.”

“Nice.” Thomas grinned, holding his hand out, and you slammed your palm against his in a satisfying high five, before pressing the knife down and cleaning it off, sealing the butter back up and putting it in the fridge, before grabbing your fillings. Layering them on carefully, you started slowly, constructing your sandwich carefully, and building it on your plate, before slicing it evenly down the middle, starting at your lunch proudly.

You only had a second to appreciate it, before a large hand was picking up a piece of it, taking it away and biting the corner off or it happily. “Hey! Who the hell said you could eat my sandwich?”

“Sharing is caring, sweetheart.” He winked, taking another large bite and speaking through his food, hopping down from the stool, and your face screwed up. You took your now half a sandwich, walking towards the empty couch and hearing Thomas trail after you, the couch the wrong way to the screen, but you weren’t all that bothered about what was happening in this movie anyway, and so you faced away from it, spreading out along the couch. “Move your legs.”

“Give me my sandwich back!”

“It’s half gone now!” He held it up, showing you the evidence of the half-eaten piece, and you shrugged. As if to prove a point, he pushed the rest of it all into his mouth at once, cheeks feeling with food and lips barely able to close, before he was brushing crumbs from his shirt, and picking your legs up at the ankles, lifting them up to be able to sit down.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Yep.” His words were muffled, your feet being laid back down across his lap, and you took a more polite bite of the remaining half. His fingers moved to your shoes, finding the undone laces and wrapping them around his fingers, before pulling them tightly and looping them into neat knots. He repeated the same on the other foot, before slumping back into the couch a little, still trying to chew the whole mouthful, and you wiggled a little as you got more comfortable, sliding further down until it was your calves in his lap instead of your feet, and your shoulders could rest on the armrest.

His hand rested on your knee, thumb smoothing over you lightly as his other hand produced his phone from his pocket, beginning to swipe at it absentmindedly.

“You two are honestly sickening. I have toothache.”

“Oh, cut the crap, Newt. You spent a half-hour on the phone to me two days ago talking about Derek.” Newt looked shocked for a second, pale cheeks flushing with warm colour, before he was shrugging it off.

“Yeah, well, at least me and Derek have never cuddled in a waiting room at his job.”

“We aren’t cuddling right now!” You scoffed, taking another bite of your sandwich, and chewing it as you process what to say next. “Besides, it would be unprofessional to cuddle in a waiting room where patients could see. This is totally different because we’re inside the house, an-”

Your words went flat as you heard the siren overhead go off, even Thomas’ thumb on your knee pausing its motions, everybody going silent, only the sounds of sizzling oil and the muted television static to go as the alarm went off. You deflated, only yourself and Newt being called for, and you heaved yourself to a sitting position, Newt already beginning to peel his body back up out of the comfy chair he’d seated himself in.

“At least it’s only a local call, we’ll be back before the shift even ends.”

Your partner’s words did little to comfort you, and he chuckled as you continued to glare, before forcing yourself into action.

Swinging your legs down to sit up, you looked mournfully at your only half-eaten meal, before handing the plate to Thomas, who beamed at the offering, your fingers tousling his hair before you were wandering away, and attempting to pull your hair back into something that resembled a pony-tail using on the bobble on your wrist and your fingers.

Newt grabbed the keys, ready to set off, and you followed after him as the doors remained yet to even start swinging shut in his haste. Reaching the van, you hesitated as you neared climbing in, stripping away the plastic over your seat and dropping it down into the footwell of the van, watching Newt do the same. Starting up the ambulance and fastening your seatbelt, Newt flicked on the SatNav, the machine taking a second to load up, before it was programming in your given destination and beginning to guide you.

“So, that’s something pretty new.”

“What is?” Your eyes flickered over yourself, the same uniform you always wore clad on your body, and a pair of sneakers, your brow raising as you turned to your friend, the silence saying everything, and he scoffed. Switching gears as he pulled out onto the faster roads, he spared you a look, dubious and unbelieving of your confusion.

“You know what.”

“I assure you, I don’t.” You shuffled a little, the radio crackling, but none of the chatter directed toward the two of you was coming through yet, and you waited.

He sighed, flicking on the indicators and pulling out onto the highway. “You and Tommy. That’s what I’m talking about. What’s up with you two?”

Heat flushed over your face, and you sank back a little further into your seat, but your lips wanted to form a smile, and you had to bite down on the inside of your cheek just to contain it. “I’m not totally sure.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Well, I kinda’ know. It’s all so new. It’s scary, but exhilarating.” Newt only smiled, eyes flicking to the mirror to check over everything he was looking at, before taking another turn following the SatNav, a side road to leave the highway, and you were still waiting on call details to come through on the radio. “I mean, I know it’s something. He knows that, too. We’ve talked about it, but we’re just, sort of, waiting.”

“Waiting for what, exactly?”

“The right time, I guess.” You sighed, realising how odd it all sounded out loud, to be talking like a teenager to your friend about a guy you liked, but it also felt natural and right. “Everything has just been crazy lately. I don’t think we would be like we were without the craziness, and it’s kinda’ weird to think that this job has changed my life so much, that this house has changed my life so much, when none of the others did before. I think we’re just waiting to see if it’s real, or just an in-the-moment emotional deal.”

“Seems pretty real to me.”

You smiled, knowing that Newt’s words were intended to be soothing, but instead, they made your heart race a little more.

Everything made your heart race nowadays, like you were in overdrive all the time, you were constantly on the edge, and not in an anxious way. You’d spent so much of your life feeling closed off and locked down that you weren’t used to how it felt to be on the opposite end of the scale. You had anxiety, and fear, and loneliness, that was your normal status, but since settling into Firehouse ‘21, everything had been turned upside down.

Your heart would race with thrill and excitement, and the heat flushing over you wasn’t so much from rage - after you’d sorted your problems with Thomas, anyway - but from flustered shyness. On the days when you felt lonely, when the urge to be around someone else was stronger, your phone was there, lighting up with notifications from a group chat and you knew you had friends you could call, someone who would spend time with you, when they weren’t on duty.

It was all still new, and a little scary, and still thrilling.

Then, there was Thomas. You weren’t sure what it was with Thomas, because you had nothing to compare it to. Your previous relationships had been quick and spinning. A fling that ended just as fast as it started, almost always ending after a first date with tumbling into bed and shutting down when the first signs of intimacy began to rear their heads. You moved around and you never stayed put long enough to invest in something, but you had no plans of leaving Firehouse ‘21 any time soon, and so you’d allowed yourself to let Thomas in before you’d even realised it was happening.

Intimate and emotional, a connection that wasn’t physical yet, you didn’t even know what it felt like to kiss him, and yet it still made you feel a little breathless and lightheaded to imagine it because there was a weight and meaning hanging to it now. There was something deeper than you’d ever had, a relationship that wasn’t pinned on sex and quick connections to chase away the cold sheets when you felt truly alone, but instead, left you feeling warm and loved even when no one was around.

“So, what about you and Derek?”

It was Newt’s turn to be embarrassed, the gravel and shale under the tires crunching loudly as the two of you began to trail up abandoned dirt roads, the rickety and deafening sounds of the trains of the metal bridges overhead shooting past were like the banging of metal against metal, hitting a spoon against a pan or steel-tipped work boots on metal platforms.

Pale skin turned dark pink, and he flashed a cheesy grin, eyes sparkling a little, and you already knew how excited he was. “That good, huh?”

“Things with Derek are awesome.”

“I take full responsibility for that awesomeness.” You teased, and he chuckled, the van coming to a halt, and your brows furrowed, amusement disappearing and confusion over as you stared out at the empty scene. The SatNav on the dashboard clicked green and shut down as you reached your destination, clearly telling you both that this was the correct location, and yet there was nothing, and nobody to be seen. “Put a pin in that conversation.”

He only mumbled his response, equally as confused, and the two of you stepped out of the car, a chill sweeping over you as it became eerily similar to the last case you’d received with nobody present, still so recent that the police investigation into it was still open, the court case over Chuck’s death was yet to be closed and the arson investigators hadn't even completed their analysis. “Check the radio. Is it turned on?”

You moved back in, knowing that it was because the static had been playing lowly in your ears all the way through, but there was nothing else. Normally, at a call on the edge of a town like this, the two of you would be greeted by someone, a frantic pedestrian, friend or family member, the person who had made the call would arrive to lead you to the person, and even as you listened, you couldn't hear anything.

No loud groaning or yells of pain, no mangled screams for help or even a blood trail to guide you. There was absolutely nothing to suggest why the two of you would be here, and it all became more and more suspicious as each second ticked by. Newt tucked his hands into his pockets, and you picked up the receiver, sitting sideways on your seat and turning the dial, before pressing the button down on the side.

“House ‘21 ambulance, calling in. We haven't had any more details, can we get an update?”

You waited for a second, eyes narrowing as the machine clicked you through to an operator, and there were muffled voices in the background of the call centre, before a clearer voice rang through. “‘21 ambulance, can you confirm your location, registration number and ID for me.”

Newt smirked at the frown on your face, knowing that every so often a caller came who actually required you to cite the information. While you couldn't deny that it was protocol, and they should be doing it every time, most of them took it simply at your word of being the paramedics, because they knew that most robbers wouldn't be bothering to call in on the radio of they were stealing from an ambulance, they’d just clear out all the medicines and run.

Listing off the information she requested, you listened and waited, the sound of long nails typing quickly at a keyboard sounded out, and you turned up the volume, holding the device out from you a little, so Newt could hear more clearly, even as he wandered a few feet away, looking around some more. “Still there, ‘21?”

“Yep.” You paused, hearing a few more clicks, before the woman was sighing.

“My files don’t have much. The caller didn’t leave a name or an identification, the only notes here are the address, and that you’re looking for a stab wound victim.” Newt's brows raised as he heard the words, and you only felt more confused. If someone had been stabbed, there should be a trail of blood or someone calling for help, you should be able to see them, they couldn't have gotten far without leaving a pathway of where they were, and yet, there was nothing here except the trains on the bridge overhead. “That all?”

“That's all.”

She hung up not long after, and you grabbed for your go-bag, chucking Newt his bag too, and he only just managed to catch it as the breath was knocked from his lungs, sticking his tongue out at you childishly as you grinned, before slamming your door back shut, and letting Newt lock it up, the van chirping and flashing as it sealed.

Swinging your bag onto your shoulder, your partner mimicked you. Wandering away together, you paced a few minutes from the van, staring out across the empty area, and crossing your arms. “I gave up my lunch for this shit.”

“You go left, I’ll go right, we’ll sweep around, and in ten minutes we meet at the van?” You only nodded, kicking at a particularly large pebble under your foot, and turning to face the direction you were told to go in. You heard Newt stepping away, pebbles shifting underfoot, and you followed suit, glancing back at the blond over your shoulder for a second. “Yell if you find something.”

“Will do.” You saluted, a grin thrown over his shoulder to you, before fixing your gaze ahead of you once again.

There were a few old houses, run-down and abandoned, nobody having lived in them for at least a decade. Broken windows were boarded up and front doors were hanging on their hinges, spray paint that was old and faded, drips and chips on the wood that was stained with years of abandonment, and wire fences with chains on that had been long since cut away. The grass was dead, yellowed and brown and overrun with weeds, and spoke spots ere charred blank with ash, where you suspected kids had come to light fires and get away from parents when they were bored; empty bottles of booze and cans of pop littered the ground, among wrappers and boxes for things too old to see the labels on.

You checked every garden, standing in the gate and calling out to offer help, but nothing except for silence came back. The rusty metal creaked as you stepped out from the last row, three random houses in an area of town that had clearly been skipped in the surrounding gentrification, left to fall into disrepair, and you didn’t blame it. The constant source of trains of the tracks overhead was already beginning to give you a headache, there were no real roads built to this area, and it was miles to the closest bus stop or shopping centre.

Turning back around, you didn’t walk straight back to him, but you walked a little to the side, taking an angle back towards the van just to be sure you were covering the maximum space that you could, checking over it all thoroughly, and just as you’d been giving up, your eyes caught the flicker of movement in your peripherals. When you focused on it, it took you a second to find it again, the trembling of metal stilts holding the bridge up forty feet above you disguising it, but then there was a twitch again.

In the shadows, easily missed, but then there they were. Sitting, leaned up against one of the bars from the other side, hand-pressed weakly over their stomach, head lolled to the side. You weren’t even sure if they had moved, or if they’d simply slumped forward because of the vibrations of the rickety bridge legs, and you felt a jolt of adrenaline race through you as you tried to jump into action.

“Shit!” You muttered, a slight rise on the hill before you as you tried to climb up it, the dust forming clouds behind you as the stones slipped at the sudden and uncoordinated movements, before you were stumbling closer to the person. “Newt!”

Another train shot overhead, drowning out the sounds of your shouts, and you hoped Newt had actually heard it, because you’d walked so far that he was more like a blur away from you, and you certainly couldn't hear his yells as he offered help anymore, they’d faded away a few minutes ago, but you couldn't be occupied with it now. The second the train had passed, you tried yelling again, out of breath and panting as you dropped to your knees before the person.

Their head was lying forward, chin pressed to their chest, fresh red blood seeping out between their fingers in weak bursts, and at least you knew they were still alive. Cupping their face, you pushed their head back, skin sickly pale and flushed with sweat, a very quiet groan leaving his lips, and hooded eyes cracked open barely at all to look at you. “Did you make that call?”

“Call?” He echoed, seemingly confused about what was even happening, but with the amount of blood that was staining the pebbles around you and clumping in the dust and dirt as it turned dark, you weren’t all that surprised.

“Alright, buddy, we’ll get you all sorted out, okay?” You circled a hand around behind his neck, the other on his side, and you needed to lay him down just to be able to get to the wound, because you couldn't see anything with him slumped over like this, daylight partially blocked out from the bridge overhead and shadows forming over the man. “I need to get you laying down, think you can handle that?”

He didn’t even nod, simply made a broken hum under his breath that you decided to take as an acknowledgement, before pulling him forwards. He let out a louder cry this time, the pain taking him over, and you heard the rapid-fire crunches of Newt running towards you, slightly uneven footsteps on his hurt leg, but you didn’t pay any attention to it, grateful that he’d heard you, but focusing on your patient.

His hands had fallen away from his wounds, and you fumbled for your torch, the light designed to check eyes did little to light up the wound but blood was staining the pale shirt he wore, leaving wet red patches as far up as his ribs. Newt skidded to a stop behind you, a hand running through the longer fringe in his face as he pushed it back, eyes wide.

“Well, shit, I’ll be damned.”

“Knife wound, pretty deep, can you hold the torch for me?” He nodded, stains of red smeared across it from where you’d already got blood on your fingers, and you pushed up the edge of his shirt, getting a look at the wound. He sank to his knees, holding the light over it more clearly, and you hoped he could sense your silent appreciation. It helped you to see, but didn’t clarify much, because blood was smeared over his skin and gave illusions about where his injuries started and ended, bubbling blood still leaving the gash. Dropping your bag down to your side, you opened it up, fumbling through for a pair of rubber gloves, and a tissue to be able to wipe away the blood with.

Snapping the latex onto your wrists and taking the folded clump of paper, dragging it delicately but firmly over the spot to try and get a better look. A second, maybe two, was all you got of clear skin before blood was beginning to fill the space once again, the man’s shallow pants and groans getting lighter and weaker, and you knew you had to hurry, lost time in having to search for him taking its toll now, but it was long enough to get a good look.

“We’re going to need some stuff from the van, probably the stretcher, but I don’t know how well we can wheel him across that gravel.”

“I can just pull up the van?” He offered, clicking off the torch to hand it back to you as you put the correct pressure down on the wound to stop the bleeding, pinching around the edges and holding tight to seal the wound, and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s good. Pull up the van!”

He nodded, brushing dust from his knees as he stood, and you used your other hand to begin searching through your bag for the disinfectant spray you needed to start cleaning up his wound so you could put a provisionary seal on it.

You found the canister, shaking it carefully and trying to squeeze the lid with two fingers to get it off, a ‘pop’ sounding before the fading footsteps Newt was making came to a sudden halt.

“Woah, woah, woah..” You looked up, eyes widening and blood running cold at the sight. Newt had his hand held up, a man who’d ace you couldn't quite see behind the baseball cap and the hood he had pulled up to obscure his features, sleeves reaching gloved hands, and a gun in one hand, finger pressed over the trigger as Newt took a few steps back toward you both and stumbling slightly, his leg going weak as he stood unevenly on a rock, and you couldn't help the gasp in fear that left you. “Look, man, we don’t want any trouble. We just got a call, for that guy.”

He reached out one hand, pointing to where you were kneeling still, and you leaned forwards, moving very slowly as you tried to press down gently on the top of the canister, spraying gently on the wound, but as the man let out a sudden and pained noise, the gun moved to you, and you froze, jumping back from the actions and dropping the can.

“I know, because I made the call.”

“You made the call?” You repeated, the face of the shadowed man becoming a little clearer, a large tattoo taking up one side of his face, and you shifted, the uncomfortable stones digging into your knees making you wince as you tried to hold still, an ache in your muscles as your heart raced with fear once again. “If you made the call, why can’t we help him.”

“You’re not here to help him, his wound is just to get you here.”

“You stabbed a man to get ahold of a paramedic?” The gun clicked, the safety catch off, and you swallowed thickly, internally berating yourself for asking such a question when the moment was so tense. “Look, we’ll come with you, we’re more than happy to, but just let me help him and then we’ll go wherever y-”

“Lady, if you don’t stop talking, I will blow your fucking brains all over these stones.” Your jaw snapped shut, heart freezing in your chest entirely, and you nodded dumbly. “Great, now get the fuck up, grab your bag, and walk over here real slow.”

You hesitated, only for a second, before lifting your hand from the man’s wound, hearing him groan out a little, and you ducked your head, knocking your bag over and the contents falling out across the gravel. “I don’t know if you’re even sentient enough to hear me right now,”

Your words were as low as you could get them, hoping then standing a few metres away wouldn't pick them up as he focused back on Newt, and you packed away slowly,

“If you can, I’m leaving the antiseptic and some gauze here. You need to pinch the sides of your wound, lay still, take deep breaths, and hold as much pressure as you can. In about forty minutes, we’d be due to make a call in, we’re supposed to every hour we’re out; when we don’t report in, they’ll send another ambulance. Just hold on, alright?”

You nudged the items a little further into the shadows, hoping the man had caught your words and had the strength to hold on, before you were peeling off your gloves, tucking them into your bag, and zipping it up to sit on your shoulder. Holding your hands up to show they were empty, you stepped beside Newt, the look on his face silently questioning if you were alright, and you gave him a subtle nod, raising a brow in return, and he ducked his head once in reply.

He stood behind you both, pushing the edge of the gun against Newt’s head to urge you both forward, and you matched his steps, the three of you walking slowly as you allowed yourself to be guided. There was a sleek black car pulled up, one you’d missed when arriving, and you suspected he’d driven away and waited somewhere for the ambulance to go past before pulling up again, because it wasn’t exactly hidden.

“Look, we’re going willingly, alright? No fight here, I’ll help. Our ambulance is right there,” You pointed to it, hands still raised up, arms beginning to ache and tire, and Newt folded his, resting his hands behind his head, and turning to look at you as you spoke, “Just let me call in for someone else to come help the other guy, they won’t even get here until after we’ve gone anyway, it’ll t-”

Your ears were ringing, the sound of the bang going off, the rush of air, and the way it felt like an explosion had gone off inside of your own head. You stumbled, falling to your knees at the impact as your entire body went weak, and your vision went black for a second as you tried to process it. You couldn't focus, everything seeming a little blurry, and you could feel Newt’s hands on your shoulders, shaking you, a very muffled shout of your name, before it was all torn backwards once again, and you felt nauseous as the shock swept through your body.

The man crouched down, pulling his hood back and directing an angry gaze straight at you as you blinked to clear your vision, barely able to hear a thing. “That was a fucking warning shot, speak again, and the next bullet won’t miss.”

You had to read his lips for half of the words he said, barely processing them, the bullet that had flown past your ear was making everything fade around the edges, and you were hauled roughly to your feet by a hand under your arm, leaning you against Newt as you staggered the final few feet to the car that was your destination. You could barely clear your head, shaking it a little bit finding even that action was too painful.

Blood was rushing, your headache felt like it was about to split your skull in half, and your shoulder ached as you were tossed down roughly into the open boot, unable to catch yourself in time. Newt followed, the lid slamming shut, darkness surrounding instead. You could feel Newt’s hands on you, the flash of light from his keyring over your irises making you wince, his fingers pressing along your jaw and around your ears, checking for any signs of a ruptured eardrum or any bleeding, but as the car rumbled to life, peeling out of abandoned area everything felt like it was slipping.

Your fingers scratched at the flooring of the car, nails digging into the felt, grains and dirt stuck under your fingernails, and then the car jolted, dipping into a pothole on the road, your head hitting against the floor of the car, and everything you were still clinging to was lost as well as you blacked out.

[grimmseye]

Test Flight

Read on Ao3 Here

Rating: Gen

Fandom: She-ra

Relationships: Hordak & Entrapta, Hordak/Entrapta (pre-relationship)

Chapter Characters: Hordak, Entrapta

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Season 2, Time for Entrapta’s thoughts and feelings about Hordak for 3000+ words

Tumblr don’t fuck up my formatting challenge

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As far as Entrapta could tell, Hordak rarely left his lab.

Lord Hordak. Hordak. She was supposed to bow, wasn't she, Catra definitely said a lot about that and she definitely used to but then she’d forgotten so — so maybe it wasn’t an issue. Hordak would have said if he cared, about the bowing or the Lord or anything else, he certainly had no issue huffing and puffing as she fixed the wiring in his lab.

So it was a rare sight, Hordak emerging from his sanctum. Entrapta sat at the edge of the transport they’d ordered, watching as the people of the Fright Zone skittered in a wide berth around them. Hordak stood tall, looming over her. She had to crane her head back just to look at him. When he caught her looking, one of his brow-ridges lifted, and she waved.

It was kind of cute, really, to think about him like this compared to just a few nights before: big, scary Lord Hordak who smiled when he told her about the stars.

This was their first joint project, not getting straight to the portal but testing their compatibility in the lab on something less important. The results so far had been promising. She’d gone as far as to add Hordak to her logs, finding that:

One, he’d quickly surpassed Glimmer, Mermista, Perfuma, and Adora on all levels.

Two, he had an advantage on Catra and Scorpia in common interest.

And three, he’d swiftly surpassed Bow in time spent together. That added up to a grand picture of Hordak being her friend, didn’t it? The data certainly said so.

As for their ability working together? Entrapta felt a warmth welling up in her chest, so strong she had to kick her legs against the edge of the transport until she was bouncing in place.

It was amazing.

Her bots had been the only things that came close to the role Hordak played now, handing her tools and stabilizing loose pieces while she bolted them in place. The first day she’d shown up in his lab, there’d been an apprehension in her chest. How many times now had she thought she’d made a friend, only for the next time around to go all wrong. She’d really thought she’d made friends — three friends, five, six of them.

And then they’d left her. Every one of them.

But walking into the lab that morning, she found Hordak hunched over a desk with her blueprints open on his data pad: another project sent for approval that she actually hadn’t started yet. He’d turned it over to her and said, “We will be building a prototype of this design.”

And then they had. Just like that.

Both of them fumbled at first, she thought. She kept bumping into him, he groped about on a table for tools that were in her hair. And then he said, “Put the tools on the table if you are not using them.” And she had said, “Tell me when you’re behind me so I don’t bump into you.”

And then they had done that. Both of them. And by the end of the working day, they were working smoothly around each other, the silence broken by Hordak’s grunts of “Behind you,” and the shuffling of tools on the workbench.

They built a prototype, criticized and refined its design, her suggestions were met with questions, counters, and proposals, his methods met her awe and her criticism—

“If you wire it that way, it’s going to burn out,” she’d told him, and when he glanced up and growled there’d been a pang, a seizure of anxiety in her chest and a voice that chanted you shouldn’t have done that.

“What would you propose?” He rumbled.

And he’d listened.

They’d done it. Together. And now it was time to test it.

And all of that meant that she had a lab partner. She had a lab partner. Sometimes that thought made her so happy she couldn’t contain herself. Sometimes it filled her with enough panic to gnaw her nails down to the quicks when she thought how she was only there to build weapons, only good as long as she was useful.

But that couldn’t be true, could it? None of the others told her about the stars.

And not just because chances were that they didn’t have any idea what stars were.

“Lord Hordak, sir!” A man ran up and snapped a salute. “We finished loading the transport. It’s fueled and ready for departure.”

Hordak grunted, “Hm. Good. You are dismissed.” He twisted a hand and the technician bolted, interaction done in a few quick seconds. She didn’t really get it — he was big and tall, sure, and his armor was impressive, but for all he growled and knocked tools off the table, he’d never done a thing to hurt her. Quite the contrary, she might be the happiest she’d been in her life.

Whatever their reasons, the soldiers scrambled to carry out his orders. There was a clatter as the hangar doors opened. Taking that as their cue, Entrapta swung herself through the open door of the transport, Hordak stalking behind.

The transports were pretty exciting: a wheel and pedal to steer but a data pad built into the dashboard that logged coordinates and known surroundings, scanned the area for threats. And the one they were taking wasn’t earthbound. Then she had to consider the amount of propulsion it would take to get this machine off the ground and keep it in the air — it made her eyes shine.

Hordak looked at her and she realized she was squeaking again. She bounced towards the controls, saying, “You have to give me the blueprints for these. Flying transportation could change the world! How does it work, tell me everything!” A thought struck her brain and she gasped, pushing herself up by her hair and into Hordak’s face. “Can I fly it?”

He narrowed one eye, stepping backwards. “I will handle launching while you observe,” he announced. “I can certainly explain the mechanisms at work once we do so, but for now it is not safe to fly without training first.”

Entrapta deflated for a moment, trying not to let her disappointment show on her face. Then Hordak cleared his throat. When she looked up, he was straight-based, arms folded behind himself and head tilted up and to the right, eyes directed away from her. She knew that posture well. “Once we are in the air, however... I believe it would be safe to let you take over the controls until we reach the landing point.”

“YES!” Entrapta leaped up, propelled by her hair. She grabbed the seat beside the pilot’s after that, throwing herself into it. “Let’s go, come on come on!”

She swore she heard him laugh at that, just a quiet chuckle as he took his seat beside hers. “Safety belts first,” he reminded her, as he clipped his into place. The seats were equipped with five point harnesses that fed over the chest and lap and between the legs. “Only the lap belt is required at all times,” Hordak explained. “The other three are for takeoff and landing, so you will need to wear all of them before we proceed.”

“Gotcha!” Entrapta buckled herself in. She knew objectively that her own lack of safety procedures were questionable — Hordak was regularly scolding her for getting too close to volatile machinery, even if the data said there was only a zero point zero zero three percent chance of destabilizing. But he’d put his foot down about it, and he was good at catching her when she got too excited to remember to put on the heat insulated gloves before grabbing a freshly-fired laser blaster.

When they were both strapped in, Hordak reached for the controls. A slow rumbling started up, making her heart flutter. She watched as Hordak began the takeoff sequence, walking her through each part in his low, raspy tones. He really had a pleasant voice, she mused.

Initially, Hordak was going over things she understood: fuel combustion, admittedly on a scale larger than she was used to working with — and a shortage of adequate fuel was part of the reason they could so rarely use these heavy transports. But she knew the mechanism behind it, and it gave her time to sit and observe him.

The more she looked, the more it made sense that he wasn’t Etherian. He didn’t match any of their known peoples, a face that resembled bone but was soft and pliable enough to speak and emote and could replicate a wider range of sounds than she knew possible in any humanoid species. His natural vocalizations included clicks and growls, occasionally even making a sound similar to a chirp to perform what Entrapta could only compare to echolocation. He’d found a bit of loose wiring deep inside their device that way. Despite that, he could speak Etherian common without issue, as well as the roaring language that Rogelio and the other lizardfolk used.

It would probably be rude to inquire about his vocal anatomy, right? Right?

Maybe she’d ask later.

She refocused as he started to get to points she wasn’t familiar with, leaning forward and watching eagerly. Those working in the hangar cleared the way, lights illuminating the path down to the opened gates and into the sky.

She screamed with excitement when their rolling forward began to accelerate, rapidly picking up speed to the point she was leaning back in her chair, eyes wide as the sky raced towards them.

Then they were out in open air. The jagged shape of the Fright Zone spilled out below them, and beyond that was the sea, glittering and blue.

She leaned as far forward as her safety belts would allow, giving a soft “Wow,” as she took it in. She unclipped all but her lap belts to get closer to the windshield, beaming as she said, “I’ve never been to the sea before!”

Hordak made a sound of acknowledgement, and Entrapta continued, “I’m not much for biology but there’s just so much down there that we haven’t explored. Actually much of Etheria in itself is unknown, when you consider the vast depths of the ocean, space, and then unexplored terrestrial locations such as the Crimson Wastes and the Whispering Woods, and even the Kingdom of Snows has only expanded so far.”

“That the denizens of this planet barely understand the rock they dwell on tells me all I need to know about them,” Hordak rumbled. Entrapta leaned back to look at him, finding herself smiling.

“It’s kind of fun, though,” Entrapta commented. “I mean, if all the discoveries had already been made, there’d be no questions to ask. Not knowing what’s in the Whispering Woods is what makes you want to explore it, figure it out! Maybe we’re a little behind the greater universe, but every discovery is worthwhile to me.”

Hordak glanced at her for just a moment, his ears perking somewhat. “... Perhaps,” he ground out. “Your perspective is…” He went quiet for a few moments, before settling on, “different. Personally I am content to stay far away from those wretched woods, as well as the ocean. However, I suppose that someone would find intrigue in unlocking their secrets.”

They were both silent for several moments, until Hordak said, “We are in a clear zone, if you would like to steer —”

“YES!”

Hordak took over the landing sequence, regardless of Entrapta’s wheedling. His face had pinched and his voice went low and growl-y enough that she bristled her hair at him but still backed away from the controls. At least she’d figured out how to launch the ship into a spiral, and she swore she’d heard Hordak laugh.

They might have even more in common than she’d believed, even if he refused to let loose. If Hordak was going to be the one who insisted on safety parameters, Entrapta could be the one to push limits.

For now, safety parameters won out once again and she watched Hordak bring them down on the offshore testing site. It was a desert island, and even from above she could already see the patches of burned or empty space where other weapons had been tested. A landing pad received them, the transport’s doors creaked upon, and Entrapta seized the data pad to link up with their very first invention.

“Introducing!” Entrapta announced, lifting up on her hair, recorder trapped in a tendril, “The very first joint project between myself and Hordak, designed to adapt to land, sea, and air via a series of problem and solution protocols, I have named her: Patty!”

She clapped her hands twice, and on cue Patty lurched forward. Entrapta flitted around Hordak to watch over his shoulder, barely catching how he tensed and shifted away in favor of Patty’s first steps. Or, first revolutions of her treads.

“Patty has three forms. The first, terran form, features treads that can move over all terrain: over rocks and mud and sand and ice, and ideally underwater! However, if necessary Patty can deploy thrusters in both its aquan and aerial forms! And oooooh she’s a beauty.”

Patty was a transport, the engine formed similarly to the skiffs with a body that was more sturdy, allowing its riders to use it for both movement and cover. This would advance the Fright Zone’s ability to expand into less favorable terrain, and potentially aid them in future battles against Salineas, Mystacor, or the Kingdom of Snows.

She looked over to Hordak, who was still observing Patty. “Bring it down to the shoreline. We will test first its aerial and then underwater capabilities.”

“You got it!”

They boarded a skiff — again, at Hordak’s insistence. Better, in his view, to use tech they knew was stable than to risk Patty giving out with them on board. They tracked her as she rolled down towards the shoreline, easily climbing over rocks and onto sand.

“The overland speed without obstacles is adequate,” Hordak began, and then tipped his head to speak into the recorder as Entrapta held it up, “however I believe we should attempt to increase its average speed without overtaxing the engine.”

“The problem with that is slowing down in time to get over the obstacles,” Entrapta pointed out. “Buuut… if we were to integrate some of the bots’ sensors into it —”

“— It could automatically detect these obstacles and adjust to the need without risk of driver error,” Hordak concluded.

They looked at each other, each with a smile. Entrapta’s was broad with delight, Hordak’s sharp and keen. It dropped away a moment later as he swiveled his head back to Patty, clearing his throat before saying, “Why don’t you activate its aerial mode now.”

“Right!” Entrapta leaped to it, chattering into the recorder as she issued the command. She bounced between her feet, laughing with joy as the chassis shifted and shuffled, making room for wings and thrusters, treads sinking into its body and replaced by wheels. The thrusters burst to life, and she watched Patty sail off the edge of a stone outcropping, into the air above the sea, and then into the sky.

She shrieked, utter delight swelling in her chest. “It’s working! She’s flying!”

“She —” Hordak made a face. “It is hanging severely to starboard.”

Entrapta puffed out a dismissive breath, flapping a hand at him. “We can fix that. The point is that she’s in the air on the very first flight.”

“Of course she is,” Hordak sniffed. “She is a product of both of our expertise combined.”

And there it was again. That swelling, too-big-for-her-chest sense of joy. She could hug him, considered doing it against her better judgement before discarding that. She tended to grab and pull without thinking, but he’d made his distaste for that clear. And he didn’t even shout when she inevitably forgot and grabbed at him again, just growled out her name and a reminder and she’d let go and it was fine.

Working with Hordak was simple in a way she found difficult to articulate, only that she felt different around him. More real, more herself, like she didn’t have to think about her actions, didn’t believe she’d understood him only to realize too late she was wrong.

The Fright Zone as a whole was a lot like that. Not quite as much as Hordak and his Sanctum were, but the bare truth was she’d felt more at home there than she ever did in Dryl.

The Horde was home to the outcasts of Etheria, she’d concluded. Their first allies had been the Scorpionoid kingdom, a family long ostracized by the other nations. The reptilians whose vocal chords couldn’t shape around Etherian common could speak and be heard here. Her own kingdom had slotted perfectly into place, a kingdom without a runestone given value.

She knew better than to think that what they were doing was good. It didn’t have to be good, it just had to feel good. She liked this place, liked Catra and Scorpia, liked Rogelio who lended a hand without a word when she needed to move something heavy, liked Octavia with the boisterous laughs and inquiries into experiments she didn’t fully understand.

She liked Hordak. She liked working with him. She liked knowing she’d get to do it again tomorrow, and again the next day, and that they’d keep working together to make something amazing, something that would let her see the very stars he’d told her about.

Entrapta tried not to dwell on the past much. The past was only useful to learn from the mistakes you’d made. But when she did, at night when there wasn’t something else to occupy her mind before she fell asleep, she came to one conclusion: she had never been happier. She had never felt more at home.

She drew in a deep breath and smiled as she puffed it out. “Ready to test the underwater capabilities, partner?” She asked.

Hordak paused for just one moment before answering, “Ready.”

It was scary, to think about ever losing this, to think about the ever-pressing what-if. What if this was just like before, like every other person coming to Dryl just for the weapons, never for the people and only for what they made.

But maybe this one would be different. It already was different, really, a brand new variable to take into account:

She’d never had a lab partner before.

[waywardbeanie]

A Man of Letters - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: It started as a simple hunt for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t realize that this single case would change his life forever. Now they are on the biggest mission of their lives, and without the use of cellphones, the only way he can communicate with the love of his life is through old fashioned letter writing. He has done everything in his power to keep her safe, but will it be enough? Word Count: 6931 ish

Series Warnings: Language, slow burn, angst, smut, alcohol consumption, fluff, SPN typical violence (individual chapters will contain relevant warnings) a little meta Chapter Warning: humor (Is that really a warning?) and a little bit of sweet.(Always), angst, spicy (smut), unprotected (ish) sex

A/N: I want to thank everyone who has read so far, thank you for sticking with me!  All of the comments and reblogs mean so very much! THANK YOU!

Thank you to my beta’s @winchest09 and @whatareyousearchingfordean​ without them I would be sunk!

MASTERLIST A Man of Letters

If you’d like to be tagged, my list is open. Just send me an ask HERE: **Make sure you check out the playlist, it is updated every chapter and an essential part of the story**

Spotify Playlist : A Man of Letters

Catch up here >>>>>>> A Man of Letters Masterlist

This series is ongoing!

No Gif’s are mine

                                   Dean “Tongue Magician” Winchester                                                     PO Box 323                                               Sioux Falls, SD 57101

Dear D,

You were right, I got both letters the same day. It was a really nice surprise. I hope that “Sam” likes the brownies. I’m sure they are stale, but I made enough for everyone, so please share them because I know they are for you. Sam literally eats one brownie when I make them. Work has picked up, and my schedule is full most days. I’m happy to be busy when you are gone, it makes the days go by faster, but my bed is too big and empty without you. I’ve slept on the couch a few times since you’ve been gone, I just leave the pillows on, and I can almost convince myself you are here.

I was thinking about the couch night, but now you have me thinking about the bed night, and damn, you are too far away to dwell on that for too long! Also, do not talk to me about me moaning your name in letters because I swear to God I will write you a note that you will have you locking yourself in Baby to read!

Things are pretty quiet here as usual. I went to the farmers market today and bought vegetables. I’m trying to figure out some new recipes to try. I know you said that you were up for anything, just no more butter beans because they taste like mud (which, for the record, they do not!), so we will see what I can do. I saw Mark from the garage there, and he told me to tell you “Hello” and that he is almost finished with the body of the 1971 Plymouth Hemi Cuda. He wondered when you would be back because he could use your help with the new paint job. I told him that the job you had was going to last longer than most but that I’m sure as soon as you got into town that you would help him.

D, I know we talked about the future before, but are you sure you want to walk away? I’m here no matter what, I’m not going anywhere. You need to be sure this is what you want to do for you. With that being said, I am selfish enough to say I want nothing more than to fall asleep in your arms every night and to wake up next to you each morning. I’m glad you wrote it in a letter because I can read it over and over. Sometimes, when you are gone, I just start questioning things and can be a bit insecure about all of it, but you knew that already.

I guess I should wrap this up, I’m sorry you guys are doing more research, but, as always it will pay off in the end. I’m not surprised you set up training for everyone, that is definitely your thing, and it gives you an excuse not to read those dusty books. You guys be safe and come back soon. I miss your face.

I Love You, Your Initial

3 Years Ago

They were a little over halfway back to the bunker, driving through Hastings, Nebraska, and Sam started to worry. Dean had not spoken 5 words this entire trip. He didn’t even want snacks when they stopped for gas. They have been driving for almost two hours, the radio on low, the only thing consistent is the tapping of his thumb on the top of the steering wheel, lost in his own thoughts.

“Dean.” He broke the silence

“Huh?” pulling himself from his thoughts, glancing at Sam.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What? Nothing,” raising his eyebrows, he shook his head briefly.

Flicking his eyes to the backseat, Sam confirmed the vamp was still out cold. “Ok, I’ll start. I know that you knew where these vamps were hiding out long before I told you. Instead of helping me, you continued to point me in the wrong direction.”

He rubbed his hand down his face with equal amounts of irritation and embarrassment. “Sammy, it’s not like that I-,”

Annoyed Sam cut him off, “Dude, it is exactly like that, but the funny part is I’m not even mad anymore.”

“Fine, you know I don’t want to talk about this, but you get one question and one answer and don’t get all chick flick about it either because that’s not happening.”

“Great,” Sam smirked, “What’s Y/N’s favorite color?”

Without missing a beat, Dean answered, “It’s a tie between navy blue and dark grey.”

Sam threw his head back with a laugh. Dean’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile, turning up the radio as “Ramblin’ Man” by The Allman Brothers blared through the speakers. Laying his foot on the gas pedal, a little heavier to get back to the bunker to get answers from the comatose vamp tied up in the back seat. 

Dean and Sam had left Y/N’s house 2 days ago. The first 24 hours she didn’t go anywhere without her phone, that got old quickly. She began to feel like it was a leash; finally, she went about her day and left it plugged in on her nightstand. Today was Saturday, she didn’t have any clients this morning; instead, it was all the things to catch up from the week. Mowing the lawn, cleaning the house, grocery shopping, stripping the sheets, and doing laundry.

She put her hair in a messy bun, threw on her Neil Diamond t-shirt with denim shorts, grabbed her BlueTooth headphones, linking them to her tablet, and set it outside on the deck and connected it to her playlist. Greta Van Fleet’s “Highway Tune” burst into her ears as she yanked the pulley to start the lawnmower. She chuckled to herself as she began to mow the backyard. Dean had mentioned a few times that he wanted to do it, but that was not going to happen. She had put them both out enough, and besides, it was a good exercise for her. Finishing up in a little over an hour, she put away the lawn equipment, grabbed a bottle of water from the “beer fridge” in the garage, and jumped in the Jeep. She wanted to head to two destinations,  the grocery store and the gardening store to buy  more plants and flowers. Working in the yard kept her hands and mind busy, and right now, that is precisely what she needed.

As she was perusing the freezer section for her favorite Ben & Jerry’s flavor,  she ran into her friend Jennifer. They had met just a few weeks after Y/N moved to Lincoln and they had become fast friends. After a brief hug, they agreed to meet later on that evening for drinks on Y/N’s back deck to catch up. She stopped and bought some more daisies and headed back home, looking forward to spending the evening with her friend.

After planting the flowers, she ran in the house to quickly shower and wash her hair, scrubbing off the dirt and grime of the day. Finishing up, she wrapped her hair in a towel and dried off when she noticed Dean’s black flannel hanging on the door hook. He’d accidentally left it behind the last time he was here. Walking over, she brushed her fingers lightly over the material and as she brought it closer to her nose, she could still smell his woodsy maleness clinging to the fabric. She rested her head against the door, thinking about how much she missed him already and realizing how ridiculous it sounded.

With a sigh, she left the bathroom walking down the hall to her bedroom, pausing she looked at her phone lying face down on the nightstand. She was torn; part of her wanted to see if Dean had called or texted, but an overwhelming part did not want to be disappointed when he didn’t. She made a deal with herself, she would get dressed and dry her hair, and THEN she would look at it. Y/N did silly bargaining things like this with herself all the time, almost like bargaining with the Gods to turn the odds in her favor. She pulled on a pair of grey shorts and a and white Garth Brooks shirt, chuckling to herself, thinking of when Dean accused her of having more band shirts than he did.

Sitting in front of her mirror with her flat paddle brush, she began drying her hair in pieces, after finishing she put on a bit of mascara, eyeliner, and colored lip balm. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she was pleased with the results, standing with a huff, Y/N went to check her phone. Picking it up, she expected nothing. However, she slowly lowered herself to the bed as her screen lit up, her eyes growing wider with every missed notification.

Dean 3 Missed calls

Dean: Hey, Babe, been crazy with you know what. Just wanted to hear your voice.

Dean 4 Missed calls

Sam 1 Missed call

Dean: Y/N. Is everything ok? Call me when you get this.

Dean 2 Missed calls Sam: Tink, would you PLEASE call Dean? I might kill him soon if you don’t. Jennifer 1 Missed Call Dean: ok, I’m trying to keep my shit together right now, I’m FUCKING WORRIED. I’m just telling you right now if I don’t hear back from you in 2 hours I’m driving back.

Just then, her phone lit up in her hand, Dean’s face popping up, the ring scaring her so bad she dropped the phone. She scrambled to pick it up, pushing the speaker button quickly. “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice boomed through the speaker.

“Hey Dean, I’m so sorry-” she began.

Dean cut her off, “Are you good? Jesus Fuck, I was like a crazy person down here. You’re good, right? I mean you are answering the phone, so you’re alright. Right?” She could hear a slamming car door in the background.

“Dean!” she raised her voice to get his attention, “I’m fine I just left my phone plugged in all day, and I was busy.”

“Shit, right.” She could hear him running his hand over his scruff, “I’m sorry Babe, I know, I sound like a lunatic. We just haven’t been able to get anything out of this vamp, when you didn’t answer, my mind just started going to a dark place.”

“I promise, I’m really fine,” she soothed, “I mowed the lawn and went to the grocery and bought some flowers; just busy. I even saw my friend Jennifer today. She’s coming over tonight, and we are going to sit on the deck and have a couple beers.”

“Honestly, that sounds great Y/N/N, I just wanted to hear your voice and tell you to be careful. We don’t know who sent those vamps yet, and until we do, you just need to watch your back.”

She didn’t want to roll her eyes, but she couldn’t help it. There were only so many ways she could reassure him, she didn’t want Dean to worry about her, Y/N just living her life, maybe she was naïve. Hell, no one has worried about her since her parents’ death. It was a strange feeling.

“Dean,” she began, “What can I do to make you feel better?”

She could almost hear the sheepish shrug in his voice “I don’t know” pulling himself out of that quickly, his voice became stronger. “Could you just carry your damn phone with you?”

Dean heard the laughter through his phone, and he couldn’t help but smile, hearing her laugh warmed his insides. “Of course, I will! I do have a question for you, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Were you really going to drive back up here if I didn’t answer?” The silence on the phone went on for so long that she had to double-check to be sure they weren’t disconnected. “Dean?”

“Yeah,” came a gruff reply, “I was in the garage when I thought I would call you one more time before I left.”

“Oh Dean, I’m sorry.” Guilt niggled at her as she thought of him dropping his plans.

“Y/N, maybe I overreacted a little, but I’m so far away that, if shit went down, It would take me 2 ½ hours to get there.”

“I’m just living, Dean, but I will be careful, I swear. I don’t want you to worry about me. You have enough to worry about without adding me to it.”

Oh, Babe,” he chuckled, “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“So, I thought I would come back up on Thursday night if that’s ok.”

“More than,” she replied with a soft smile, “I miss you.”

“Same,” he replied gruffly, “see you Thursday, then.”

“Bye, Dean,” she whispered. She pushed the end button and flopped back on the bed, heart pounding in her chest.

She missed him, but the idea of him coming back had her stomach in knots. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to have sex with him when he came back. She could barely keep herself in check before he left. It had been a long time since she had been intimate with anyone, what if she forgot how? She had been fine just shoving her sexual frustrations to the bottom of her priority list, life got its hooks in her, she was more interested in getting her business off the ground, fixing up her house and making a life for herself. He was the first person in recent memory who made her look twice. Now he was coming to stay with her. This time she knew that the couch was not going to cut it.

Dean’s POV

Bracing his forearms on the driver’s side window frame of Baby, he tossed the phone on her roof with a sigh. It’s taking all of his internal strength not to jump in the car right now and head back to Lincoln. In his mind, he knows that she is safe, but his chest still ached. This is why he didn’t involve himself in this type of bullshit. Sticking to the random hook up fitted his life. What the hell was he thinking, dragging her deeper into a life that she has no business being within a 1000 feet of? She is too sweet to get involved in his shit show of life. He was tossed into it the day his mother was roasted on the ceiling. Y/N deserves so much better than he could ever offer. If he had a brain cell left in his head, he would man up and text her right now to tell her to forget it, he wasn’t returning to Lincoln. He and Sam would track down whoever was after her and take care of it. Y/N could move on with her life and forget all about him and the nightmare life he leads. Exhaling loudly, Dean grabs his phone, shoving it in his pocket and pushing himself off the car, the adrenaline of his fear and anger  still pumping through his veins. He knows she deserves better than a text. When he drives up on Thursday, he will tell her that it’s best for her.

Eventually, the stabbing pain in his chest will go away and if it doesn’t,  maybe this is just what it would be like now that he really knows what he will be missing when he walks away.

Jennifer and Y/N embrace at the door when she arrives promptly at 7:00. It was an evening of a few too many beers and laughs. Jennifer switched to Diet Coke after two. Although she was a little more than tipsy, she was careful to keep most of the secrets when Jennifer started to question her about the black muscle car parked at her house when Y/N was MIA for a few weeks, no one knew she was hiding a bruised and swollen face.

Travis had kept his mouth shut as promised. Sam and Dean stopped in to talk to him about the “guys” who followed Y/N home and assaulted her. He wanted his bar as far away from that controversy as possible.

They ended the evening with more hugs and promises to get together again soon, Y/N made her way to her bedroom, phone in hand, drunkenly stripping off clothes all the way down the hall. Climbing under the sheets, she started to plug in her phone but changed her mind.

Dean’s phone buzzed with a text message at 1:17 a.m, he was sitting in the library nursing his third whiskey of the night. Picking up his phone, he thumbed it open to see it was a text from Y/N. As he opened the message, his mouth slowly began to gape open. Staring back at him was a selfie. Y/N was laying down, her hair fanning around her on the pillow, a sweet smile playing on her lips. He could see the curve of her breasts, turning the phone back and forth he was sure he could have seen her nipple. She was totally naked in that massive bed without him. The simple text accompanying the picture is what truly did him in.

Babe: Wish you were here

“FUCK!” he groaned loudly, closing his eyes, throwing his head back

Thursday came in a blink of an eye for both of them. Dean had texted Y/N to let him know he would be leaving around noon. It was 10:00 a.m. now, his anxiousness already kicked into high gear. Sam walked into the war room, a mug of coffee in his hand, still in his blue and black plaid pajama pants with a grey long sleeved T-Shirt. His hair pointing in every direction, bare feet smacking against the tile floor. He stopped abruptly when he spotted Dean pacing a path back and forth. He was already dressed in jeans and boots topped with a dark grey T-shirt underneath a burgundy and grey flannel. An empty coffee cup sitting on the map table along with his duffle bag. 

“Dean?” he questioned.

“Yeah?” he responded, continuing to pace.

“What’s the deal? What are you doing?” He fully entered the room, placing his mug on the table studying Dean.

“I’m thinking! What are you doing? I just got shit on my mind,” he barked back, continuing to pace, stopping to look at his phone, before beginning his walk again.

“Aren’t you going to Y/N’s today?” Sam questioned, “I thought you would be happy. Instead, you’re stalking around here like an angry bear.”

Dean’s angry gaze snapped to Sam, confirming his characterization. “I’m coming back tonight.” Sam paused in the middle of sitting, standing back up, “Dude, WHAT?”

Running his hand roughly over his face, he sighed. “I got some space; after the other day, when I couldn’t reach her, it made me realize she doesn’t need to be dragged into this life. It’s too much.”

“And there it is” Sam threw his hands in the air, frustration written all over his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean growled.

“Every.Fucking.Time,” he emphasized each word pointing his finger at the older Winchester. "Whenever you find a little bit of happiness, you start sabotaging yourself, it’s always something. This life sucks, you’re too busy, it’s the apocalypse, someone or something needs you more, you just shut down and tell yourself it’s not worth the trouble.”

Dean just stared at his brother as he continued to ramble.

“Just once Dean, just one time can you put yourself first?” he gestured toward him. “Yes, I know Y/N was a case and you are pissed off that the vamp won’t talk, you’re worried that your life is going to splash on her. She is stronger than you think, you think you need to pile all of this on your shoulders, you don’t. I have never seen you, my own brother, let his guard down around someone before.”

“She’s too good Sammy, she doesn’t deserve-”

“What?” Sam questioned, gathering momentum again “She doesn’t deserve to be happy? She doesn’t deserve to have someone care about her? You-” he pointed at him once more, “are both crazy about each other. I could see it on your faces every time I was in the same room with you both. You have earned the right to be happy.”

Dean crossed his arms contemplating Sam.

“Just do me a favor, would you?” Go up there and just see her, stay the three days, like you planned, see what happens. Promise me you won’t go up there halfcocked trying to tell her, like you always do to everyone, that you know what’s best. Leave your bullshit baggage here and just go see her.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled, hiking his bag on his shoulder as he picked his keys off the table, striding towards the garage, “I think you need to mind your own damn business.”

“When has that ever happened before?” Sam called after him.

As Dean began to drive to Lincoln, Y/N was running around nerves and excitement, twisting her gut. She had showered, shaved everywhere, lotioned up, fixed her hair, letting it flow down her back instead of the ponytail or messy bun look and she had applied light makeup. Looking down at her bed, almost every article of clothing she owned was spread out. Y/N picked up all of her dresses and hung them back in the closet. If she wore a dress, he would know that she was trying too hard.

“This is ridiculous!” she thought to herself as she started shoving clothes back into drawers. She settled on a pair of denim cutoff shorts and a sleeveless black and white blouse that cut in at the shoulders and tied at the back of her neck, flowing to mid-hip. Picking up the remainder of clothes strewn about, she muscled them back in her closet, slamming the door. She checked herself out in the mirror, happy with the tan legs and arms on display. Walking out into the living room, she started to feel fidgety. She had serious thoughts about going to work in the garden, but she would have to shower all over again. After wandering around the house, she checked her phone at 1:00. She had two hours left. Flopping on the couch, she flipped on the television and began channel surfing, trying to zone out.

As Dean sped up the highway to Y/N’s house, the conversation with Sam this morning was a consistent loop in his head. Actually, it was more of a Sam tirade. Dean knew what was best, right? Nip it in the bud before one of them could get hurt. She really wasn’t what he needed in his life, he told himself. Unattached works best for him. An after bar closing fling to get rid of the itch, then back to living life. No expectations, no texts, no I’ll-call-you-laters. But if that is what he wanted, then why did it make him sad and angry all at once?

Twenty minutes outside of Lincoln, he stopped for gas, seriously considering calling her to say he couldn’t make it. Sure, she might be disappointed, but she would get over it, wouldn’t she? No, he chastised himself, he would do the right thing and tell her face to face. He owed her that, at the very least. Looking at his watch, he realized that he had made a good time between leaving the bunker early so Sam would quit bitching at him and no traffic or cops on the 2 lane highway. He would be at her house at 1:30. Jumping back in Baby, he cranked the ignition “The Real Love” by Bob Seger blared through the speakers, it was a slow one, he reached down to flip the channel but paused but as the lyrics began to speak to him.

I think I’ve found The Real Love Genuine and true I think it’s really come my way today Babe I think it’s really you

I remember moments looking in your eyes Could have sworn I saw the spark of love babe Flickering inside

I’ve been around this track And the only thing I lack Is The Real Love

Placing his hand back on the wheel, his knuckles turned white as he squeezed, the pressure in his chest overwhelming him as he blinked back tears. His mind and heart screaming, “Don’t do this!!” Angrily, he threw Baby in drive, grinding his teeth together and snapping his jaw. He jammed his foot on the gas, leaving tire treads next to the pumps. The Impala fishtailing as he exited to the street heading towards Y/N house. The pain crashing through him as the verses washed over him.

Every time I see you, every time we touch I can feel the way you feel for me Babe And it means so much

And every time you look at me It’s just the way it all should be In The Real Love

Oh darlin’ darlin’ darlin’ Stay with me stay I long to see you in the morning sun Everyday Everyday

So until that moment When I take your hand I’m gonna try to do my very best Babe To prove that I’m your man

I’m gonna do my very best I’m not gonna rest Until we’ve got The Real Love

He was in agony, convincing himself it was what he deserved thinking about what he was about to do.

Hearing the deep rumble of Baby, Y/N sat up on the couch, flinging the remote on the coffee table. Her heart began thundering in her chest as she looked at the clock 1:28 p.m. “It’s too early, it can’t be him. He said 3:00” she thought. Her feet had a mind of their own, carrying her, almost unwilling, afraid to be disappointed that it was another car, but she knew. She would recognize the sound of his car anywhere. The screen door opened with a squeak as she stepped on the porch as Dean drove up the driveway. She shoved her hands in her front pockets to appear calm, but she could not wipe the huge grin off her face nor the heat burning her cheeks.

Dean turned off Baby and sat there for a moment, squeezing the steering wheel, flexing his jaw as he tried to get his bearings together. He knew what had to be done, he couldn’t draw it out. “Just cut to the chase, short and sweet. Get it over and done  with and let her live in peace,” he told himself, until he glanced out the window and saw her on the porch.

The ice that he tried to form around his heart cracked wide as he looked at her beautiful, smiling face. Never in his life could he recall someone so thrilled to see him. She was pure sunshine that spread light through him as he looked at her. Pulling the metal handle, he got out of the car, slamming the heavy door behind him. Her hands were in her pockets, but she was so happy she was almost vibrating. As he walked towards her, all he could hear was Sam’s voice yelling in his head, “leave your bullshit baggage here! You have earned the right to be happy!”

Each step that he took melted the ice a little more, stopping in the grass, he matched her smile and opened his arms. She was off the porch running to him. She jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist as he locked her in his embrace. She buried her face in his neck as he nuzzled her hair, breathing her in.

“You know,” she whispered, smiling into his neck, “when I thought about today, I always imagined I would have been much cooler.”

Chuckling, he pressed a kiss against her temple, “I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.” The truth is, had she been calm, cool, and collected, Dean would not have questioned his stupidity until he was headed back to the bunker. By that time, it would have been too late, and he would have had to live with his decision no matter what the ache in his chest told him.

Setting her on her feet, bending, he pressed a firm kiss on her lips, lingering as the last bits of ice melted around his heart. He wanted to tell her what he had driven up here to do; he just couldn’t yet. What if he scared her? What if she stopped looking at him with unconditional acceptance? After everything he had shared with her, the killings, the monsters, and the Mark of Cain, she rolled with it all as if he was telling her how he changed the oil in Baby. She was interested and asked questions but never judged him. Telling her most of his secrets on the couch was never what he meant to do, but she pulled it out without even trying. What if telling her he was going to look at him differently? He couldn’t handle that, his chest hurt to even think that. What if it broke what has been so carefully built. What if it broke her? He couldn’t do that. The thought that he was actually going to come up here and tell her it was over made him feel lightheaded.

Pulling back, she took his hand in hers with a smile. “I hope you’re hungry tonight. I made steak, twice baked potato, corn on the cob and...” she drawled, wiggling her eyebrows, “pecan pie.”

“Wow,” he chuckled “you didn’t have to do all of that.”

She lifted one shoulder, slightly embarrassed, “I wanted to.”

Squeezing her hand, he murmured, “thank you.”

Smiling bright at him, she opened the screen door, Y/N entering and pulling Dean with her. The house smelled like pie. He didn’t realize how much he missed being with her in her space until he walked in the door. The smell, the feeling of hominess solidified his decision to listen to Sam’s advice. Maybe his little brother knew something, after all.

Dean grabbed two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator, walking out on the back deck. Just being close to her, he could feel a weight lifting off him as he comfortably settled back into their little routine. He would always twist off the bottle top for her and hand her the beer. Even if she brought the beers out, she gave them both to him. When both bottles were open, they would clink the bottlenecks together before their first drink. It was the little things like this that made him ridiculously happy.

Sitting on the deck, they shared different things from the week, there were no awkward moments or pause in the conversation. It just flowed as it did on the couch. Dean tried to keep it light, telling funny stories about Sam as Y/N’s laughter rang out, filling him with a warmth he never knew he needed., She would reach out and touch him, brushing her fingers against his knee or grasping his arm when she was making a point. He looked forward to each touch, desire shuttering through him every time. As the afternoon slid into the evening, Dean would graze her upper arm with a smile, just to see her shiver. He felt powerful that it was his touch doing that to her.

Time flew by as the cold beers went down smoothly. Soon it was time to light the grill and cook up the steaks as she put together the side dishes. They decided to eat at the pub table on the deck, lighting the lanterns as the sun began to set and soft music played through the hidden speakers. Y/N watched Dean eat dinner as she moved the food around her plate. She watched him as they talked through dinner, either he wasn’t nervous or could chew through anything. She was hungry but only took a few bites here and there. The later it got, she began to get keyed up. She felt like she knew how the evening would end; however, her insecurities made her start to question everything. After dinner, they loaded the dishwasher and made coffee for both of them. It was very domestic, like all the pieces were snapping into place. Dean sat down his mug as the crisp sound of an acoustic guitar wafted through the sound system. “Give Me One Reason” by Tracy Chapman. The notes carried into the darkness as the deck was illuminated by the hanging lanterns.

Reaching out his hand he beckoned to Y/N, “dance with me.”

With a shy smile, she accepted his hand as he led her to the middle of the deck and took her in his arms. Her heart began to double-time in her chest as she looked into Dean’s eyes and saw the heat reflected back down on her. He pulled her close as they moved through the song and she could not help but to be struck by the lyrics.

Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Said I don't want leave you lonely You got to make me change my mind

Ducking his head to brush his lips to hers, the sizzle that has built between them all night, ignites. He wants this woman more than he has ever wanted anyone in his life. In a rush of uncontrollable desire, Dean cups Y/N’s face and pulls her to him, crashing his lips greedily to hers. The first touch of his mouth on hers and she threw her arms around him, pressing her body against his. The intense desire exploded between them; the compelling need to claim her, lick her, have her, drove him to the brink of insanity. He opened her lips with his, his tongue sliding into her mouth, bringing out a throaty moan that almost pushed him over the edge. He glided his hand down her back, cupping one of her round cheeks with his palm as he roughly pulled her against his erection; she gasped with pleasure as she began to grind herself onto him, her own arousal dictating her actions.

Picking her up, she wrapped her legs around him as he walked them into the house, down the hall into the bedroom, their mouths only moving apart to gasp for air before devouring each other once more. The dance of their tongues did nothing to quench her thirst for him since they had initially started, and she found herself rubbing against him in an attempt to ease her aching core. Setting her down on her feet in front of the bed, she looked up to see Dean’s eyes had changed to a dark smoldering green; the lust reflected back to her, making her tremble with yearning.

“I need you so much,” he rasped.

“God, me too,” she whimpered.

A smile spread across his face as he hooked his index finger along the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down her tan legs to her ankles. On his knees in front of her, he placed a soft kiss on her belly button, his tongue flicking her hoop piercing.

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs as her skin erupts in goosebumps, a shiver of excitement moving up her spine as she runs her hands through his soft brown hair.

Gently pushing her back on the bed, he pulled her to the edge, his mouth mere inches from her slick heat. Moving his face slightly, he brushed the inside of her thigh with his scruff, pulling a moan from her lips. She could feel his warm breath against her clit and began to squirm.

“Please Dean,” she begged. He lay his muscled forearm across her hips, pinning her to the bed.

“Shh,” he whispered as his eyes met hers, his intense look scorching her skin. “I want to look at you, I’ve done nothing but think about you like this for weeks, just want to enjoy the view for a moment.”

She let her head fall back on the mattress, laying her arm across her closed eyes, her body buzzing as it pleaded for relief. Every second that ticked by, the intensity coiled in her belly, convincing her that she will burst into flames any second. She jerked as she felt his flattened tongue lick upwards along her damp slit, teasing her. His lips stopped at her clit, humming in satisfaction.

“Jesus, Dean,” she moaned, grasping the sheets on either side of her, “I can’t do this, it’s too much,” she cried with frustration.

Chucking, he licked her again before swirling his tongue around her sweet spot. A sound ripped from her throat that was a mix between a whine and a curse. “That’s it, Y/N,” he growls against herm “let go, I want to feel you cum.”

“No, I want to feel you inside me.” Her arms stretched to reach him, but he leaned back, just out of reach.

“You will,” he promises “but I need this first.” His tongue delved into her wet sweetness as he buried two fingers inside her, coaxing her to climax. She felt the white-hot heat building inside her as he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking one last time, hurdling her over the edge while crying out his name. Dean was relentless, lapping up everything Y/N had given him before he glanced up at her writhing form, his chin glistening in the dim light. It was a sight that made Y/N swallow hard, the man between her legs had given her an orgasm in less than a few minutes so her mind was reeling with else he had in store for her.

“I need you, Dean.” Those four words that bled from her lips sent Dean into a frenzy.

In haste, he removed his boots, socks, jeans, and boxers before he climbed up the mattress, pulling Y/N along with him. Situated in the middle of the bed, he settled between her legs, his hard length nudging at her. Resting his forearms on either side of her head, he brushed his lips over hers as she moved her hands to entwine her fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. Her legs then wrapped around  his waist, urging him to enter her but he held back, his body taut with the effort.

“Protection?” he asks softly. “IUD,” she answered breathlessly, desperate for him to fill her. “Oh god.””

“It’s Dean” he husked playfully, his voice deep and gruff.  

Kissing down her neck; cupping her breast in his hand, he rolled her taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger, a hiss of pleasure rushing from her lips as he took her nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the bud before nipping it gently with his teeth. He moved to the other breast giving it equal treatment. Steadily he slowly made his way back up her body, peppering her skin with kisses as he reached her mouth, claiming her lips again in a searing kiss as he lined himself up. He slowly pushes his impressive shaft inside of her as her body stretches around his girth, tightly squeezing and slowly accommodating him.

“Y/N,” he breathes between clenched teeth, “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you feel so damn good.”

She murmured her approval as her hands wrapped around him, her fingers digging into his rippling back muscles with each thrust. She had fantasized about this so often, but the reality eclipses anything her imagination had come up with. His mouth moved down her exposed neck as her hands blindly explored his body. Their dual moans mingled in the bedroom as their sweat-slicked bodies met. She gripped his shoulders as they both barreled towards release.

“Babe, I’m so close,” he grits out, his rhythm stuttering. She plants her feet on the bed, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Dean!” she cries as another orgasm rips through her body. She comes undone, her insides clench and twist around him as she digs her fingers into his back as he feels her flutter around him. Groaning her name, he buries himself deep inside her, allowing euphoria to wash over him as he coated the inside of her walls.

Breathless, he nearly collapsed on top of her but managed to hold himself up on shaky arms as she ran her fingers through his sweaty hair with a smile. He leaned down to place a sweet kiss on her mouth before laying on his back next to her as they both tried to catch their breath. Turning his head, he saw her blissed-out face staring back at him with a sleepy smile playing on her lips. He gathered her still shaking body to him, wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head on his hard chest with a satisfied sigh. She snuggled into him as he reached down to pull the sheet over them both falling into an exhausted sleep. He was so glad he didn’t listen to his own thoughts and allowed himself to enjoy being with her. The woman that had turned his life upside down.

Chapter 8

Tags: @winchest09​ @katehuntington​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @emoryhemsworth​ @flamencodiva​ @superfanficnatural​ @deanwanddamons​ @janicho88​ @talesmaniac89​ @anathewierdo​ @compresshischest09​ @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @jensengirl83​ @this-is-what-im-reduced-to​ @ellewritesfix05​ @moron225​ @foxyjwls007​ @hobby27​ @unicornqu33n17​ @swinchester27​@ @deans-baby-momma​ @squirrelnotsam​ @clumsy-nerd104​ @sarahbaker2010​ @supernatural-love14​ @akshi8278​ @lyarr24​ @angelhearts1012​ @nothinbuttrouble2​ @cookiechipdough​ @lady-pswrld​ @peachyafshawn​ @notan-applepielife​

[16ruedelaverrerie]

Hi Nat, I'm arriving with a question✨ Who is more fun for you to explore in fic: human!Gavin or android!Gavin? 👀

Ah Karol you are bounteous as ever in giving me the chance to ramble on about fic-related subjects :'((( AN ENABLER OF THE HIGHEST CALIBER... AIDING AND ABETTING MY CRIMES AGAINST THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE... Thank you for letting me indulge in thinking about the things I love to think about!

And now that I've said that, I do have to admit that the actual answer is the most boring kind of "I LOVE ALL MY CHILDREN EQUALLY" kld;hglk Because they really are both fun to play with in their respective ways! Of course, one of those children is a feral trash mongoose who lives in a garbage can and the other one is a funky lil jazz android who has done nothing wrong, ever, in his life, BUT I LOVE THEM BOTH

Even though my take on Gavin and GV is that they are more or less two completely different characters who inhabit different tropes and set up different readerly expectations, it does seem that I don't necessarily think of different stories as stemming FROM them; rather, I tend to work backwards, in that I start with the thing I want to say and then try to figure out how that character interacts with -- or builds toward -- the thing to be said.

For example: I think one of the core thoughts I keep returning to when writing for DBH is the notion that ~being alive is fundamentally messy~. With Gavin, that core thought is approached from the inside, in that he's already intimately familiar with how messy life can be. He's always been knee-deep in it! With GV, it's more a process of encountering and entering the core thought from the outside, in the sense that he discovers how messy life is by undergoing deviancy and realizing that it didn't actually solve any problems at all, in the end. Life with free will is just as unmanageable as life under strictures of code (more unmanageable in a lot of ways, perhaps).

This realization is something I like to imagine as an issue for androids in general, not just GV; I think it's also RK900's experience of deviancy in Les Mignardises! But the difference between GV and RK900, perhaps, is that I always think of Gavin -- human or android -- as being less equipped/inclined to see a way out of this quandary. That is, I gravitate towards envisioning RK900's reaction to the problematic as "I don't know what to do yet" and Gavin/GV's reaction as "SHIT, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO, FUCK, GODDAMMIT".

Or maybe the difference isn't so cut-and-dry all the time! Maybe it's not even true, what I'm saying about myself! Certainly, GV and RK900 in Fata Morgana bear more of a resemblance to each other in the things that hinder them and the ways that they respond-- perhaps because they're both androids? I don't know! THE FACT THAT I'VE ONLY FINISHED TWO FICS FOR THIS FANDOM, ONE OF WHICH DOESN'T EVEN REALLY COUNT*, ONCE AGAIN RETURNS TO HAUNT ME AND PREVENT ME FROM BEING ABLE TO REACH ANY CONCLUSIONS WITH SURETY

Life has thrown a lot at me in the past couple of weeks and the final chapter of Fata Morgana is incredibly overdue, but it shall emerge from its cocoon at some point and then I'll have finished a grand total of three... fics... one of which doesn't even really count............... In the meanwhile, I am grateful that you are here with your extremely generative questions Karol v v v

*I seem to have made a habit out of being mean towards Pedal to the Metal, but I stand by my assertion that it is a beast of a different nature, and that it deserves to be castigated

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Not What It’s Cracked Up To Be ch.6 (baon)

Summary: Edge and Stretch are finally getting back on an even keel. Edge’s broken leg is healing well, Spring is finally here and the flowers are close to blooming.

Be a shame if anything disturbed their domestic bliss.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Fluff, Chickens, Depression

Notes: As a heads up, this chapter includes a depiction of depression.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Read Chapter 6 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

By the time Edge made his way back to the car and was headed for home, Red’s prediction about his leg singing was coming true, going from an enthusiastic Ave Maria to operatic scales in no time. He was long past the doctor’s instruction of only spending two hours at a time standing and the twinges of pain were running into a constant throb.

Sitting in the driver’s seat was somewhat better. It took his weight off his aching limb and driving at idling speed kept him from having to press too often on the brake or gas pedal. Even so, when he pulled into his own driveway, Edge was sweating through his shirt and working at breathing through the discomfort. Time to get this finished and get his leg up, because re-injuring it was not going to help Stretch’s depression in the slightest.

Next to him, Nugget’s basket was carefully buckled into the passenger seat and he noted wryly that at least one of them was enjoying the journey. She’d kept up a stream of warbling chatter the entire drive that was rather reminiscent of her owner.

“All right, time to get you back home,” Edge announced. He reached over to unbuckle the seat belt, guiding it back against the seat since he didn’t trust this comedy of errors not to continue by knocking the poor creature out with a badly timed buckle retraction. “I’m sure Noodle and Dumpling will be happy to see you.”

And if they weren’t, Stretch certainly would. He hoped.

Edge took a steadying breath and climbed out of the car, grimacing as renewed pain shot up to his femur. Damn the blasted thing, anyway, he was going to have to ice the cartilage for a while and he certainly wasn’t going to be up to making anything for dinner. Asking Stretch was out of the question, which meant he might need to call for reinforcements.

Even the idea of asking anyone for help, particularly in the kitchen, made Edge’s hackles rise, but better that than having Stretch see him hurting or worse, having to go back to the doctor and admit that a mere two days after having his cast removed, he was already disobeying their instruction.

Blue would probably be the best option and of course he was certain to be so incredibly pleased about the situation…Edge cut the bitter thought off hard, dismissing it firmly as unworthy. Whatever frictions existed between him and Blue, they were still friends, and all Blue ever wanted was for his brother to be healthy and happy. Whatever issues he’d had with their relationship, he’d never tried to interfere or dissuade Stretch from it. It would be petty to hold his concern against him, even if he could occasionally be aggravating and normally Edge wouldn’t even indulge the thought. Today, though, ah, today he was tired from his broken sleep the night before, riled by his brother, aggrieved by his aching leg, and worried about his husband. If his control was running a little ragged, today of all days it could be excused.

Nugget flapped her wings, resettling into the basket and startling Edge from his thoughts. He shook his head, opening the passenger door to retrieve poultry and basket alike. He’d deal with dinner when the time came, for now he had a recalcitrant chicken to return home.

The side gate was a shorter path than through the house and Edge limped through it, leaning heavily on his cane as he went to the coop.

To his dismay, Noodle and Dumpling did not come running out to greet him when he opened the fence. Edge frowned, setting the basket inside the gate and went to check the coop doors. He’d left them unfastened that morning, but the coop itself was empty, no eager chickens to greet him while demanding pets and treats.

“Stretch,” Edge said aloud, all his worries coalescing into a hard ball in his chest as he grabbed up Nugget again and headed for the house. He left Nugget in her basket just inside the sliding glass door, trusting that she wouldn’t wander from her makeshift nest or her ‘eggs’.

The stairs were somewhat painful to navigate but worse was finding their bedroom empty, the covers thrown carelessly back. So was the bathroom, the guest room, and panic was starting to take hold when Edge fairly stumbled back down the stairs, half-ready to call his brother and demand he locate his husband, where would he have gone—

A suspiciously chicken-y sound coming through the kitchen door derailed his fears. Edge paused and listened closer, and yes, that was a loud caw coming from his kitchen, along with the skitter of scaly feet.

His relief was dizzying, leaving him leaning weakly on his cane. Edge sighed inwardly and went to the door, carefully pushing it open.

The pair from the Embassy team had done a decent job at cleaning away most of the detritus of Red’s ‘accident’ from the kitchen. They’d cleared away the broken table and chairs, cleaned up the worst of the paint, and left his kitchen if not as it was then at least usable until they had a chance to remodel it.

There by the center island was Noodle, curiously inspecting the tiles and Dumpling was on the other side, pecking lightly at the paint-dappled cupboards with great interest. Their claws clicking on the hard floor as they scampered around, inspecting their temporary quarters. In one corner was Stretch, sitting curled up where their dining room table used to be. He was dressed somewhat haphazardly, his dirty feet bare beneath the legs of his track pants and swaddled into an elderly sweatshirt washed to a faded pastel. He didn’t look up at Edge, only sat watching the chickens, a lit cigarette dangling from between two fingers. As relieving as it was to see him out of bed, Edge couldn’t help but see the stains of exhausted orange beneath his sockets were deep, an advertisement of a sleepless night followed by a restless day.

Edge stepped in further, the rubber tip of his cane squeaking against the tile and only then did Stretch look up, his pale eye lights skittering nervously back and forth between Edge’s and the floor. A cylinder of ash dropped unnoticed from the tip of his cigarette, joining a scattering already on the tile and Stretch swallowed convulsively, ducking his head as he muttered out, “i know, i know they can't stay, but i thought, just for today maybe, they can stay here and be safe, right? i thought it would be okay for one day, please don't be mad—"

“Love, I'm not angry, not at all,” Edge told him softly. The words went unheard, Stretch rambling on desperately.

“…and it's only for today and maybe some of tomorrow, i know they have to go back out, but i couldn’t stop thinking about it, i couldn’t, and i’m not fucking up again, i can’t, not today—”

“Papyrus,” Edge said, sharply, and that cut through his babble. His head jerked up, eye lights too-wide and diffused. “You didn’t fuck up the first time, listen to me—”

“i know that!” Stretch burst out. He curled up tighter, drawing his legs up, his face pressed into his upraised knees and his arms wrapped around his skull, muffling his words. “i know, there was nothing i could have done, what even could i? i’m not a fucking fox hunter, i didn’t know. my soul knows it so why does my head keep telling me i’m wrong? why won’t my head shut up, why does it always have to tell me i’m a bad friend, a bad brother, i’m awful, why am i so awful?”

Stretch’s shoulders shook, his voice going thick and wet with tears and the sound of it was ripping at Edge’s own soul like jagged claws. All right, then, if Stretch wasn’t going to let him talk, then drastic measures might be best.

Edge spun around and left the kitchen, even if his soul protested vehemently at leaving his husband weeping alone. It was a matter of moments to snatch up the chicken-filled basket and bring it in, hauling it grimly despite the warning throb in his leg. Right back through the swinging door to plop the entire thing right in front of Stretch’s bare toes.

That blasted cigarette of his was dangerously close to burning a hole in his sweatshirt, but Nugget’s happy coos made Stretch jerk upright, staring disbelievingly at the small black chicken who only tilted her head inquisitively as if to ask what was the big deal, here she was, ready to join the party.

“oh,” Stretch mumbled. The still smoldering cigarette fell unnoticed from his fingers, shedding ash as it rolled across the tile. Edge hastily retrieved it and flicked it into the sink. He turned back just as Stretch reached out cautiously, disbelieving, settling his bare hand on Nugget’s back before Edge could call out a belated warning. But perhaps Nugget was growing more accustomed to returning to society or perhaps she simply trusted Stretch more to not lift her away from her so-called eggs. She chirruped contentedly, leaning into his touch as he gasped, sockets going wide. “she…how did…you…”

“It seems she was better equipped to defend herself against the fox than we thought,” Edge told him. It seemed better to leave Red’s interference out, at least for now and likely forever. “She ran off and was nesting out in Old New Home.”

“you brought her back to me,” Stretch whispered, in pained wonderment. A fresh wash of tears fell from his sockets, pale orange trickling down, gathering to drip from his chin.

“Love, don’t—" Edge tried. He started to sit and nearly fell in his attempt, luckily unnoticed as his leg finally gave out, and Stretch only sagged into his arms, his hand still resting on Nugget’s soft feathers.

“you found her,” Stretch choked out. He buried his face into Edge’s shirt, hot tears quickly soaking through the thin cloth. “you found…” Then, to Edge’s dismay, he shuddered out, “i’m so sorry. you shouldn’t’ve had to, she’s my responsibility, i should’ve gone looking instead of making an ass out of me assuming. sorry, i’m sorry—” He didn’t resist as Edge pulled him closer, only leaned against him and kept up that whispered litany, “sorry, should’ve and didn’t. just feels like one more thing i failed at.”

Edge tightened his grip and gave Stretch a little shake, almost rough as he said fiercely, “You didn’t fail at anything, certainly not this.”

“but—"

“No. Why do you expect so much from yourself?” Edge demanded softly and he wasn’t surprised to not get an answer. “I don’t know what’s going on in that troublesome mind of yours, but I’m telling you, it’s wrong. You have a great deal on your plate just as the others do and we both know people have been keeping certain things from us because I am supposed to be convalescing and you are supposed to be helping me. So, whatever is bothering you, we can discuss it if you want or not discuss it if you don’t, but you haven’t failed at anything, do you understand me?”

Stretch nodded, but his grip on Edge was still too tight, knuckles flexing convulsively. He whispered into Edge’s shirt, his voice was barely audible. “sometimes i feel like your life would be a lot easier without me.”

Simply hearing those words forced Edge to close his sockets, breathing through the roil of frustration that lit hotly in his soul. Stretch needed his understanding, not his temper, his internal demons were doubt, not of Edge, but of himself. The automatic answer was, ‘of course it wouldn’t.’ But that would be disingenuous, a lie of the kind told to children to soothe their hurts. Stretch was not a child and he would not be fooled by pat answers.

Instead, Edge took the time to consider it. Recalled his life before Stretch, the long days of work at the Embassy and then evenings at the Y. His brother stopping in for aggravation and dinner as Edge slowly learned more about cooking than Underfell could ever teach him. Movie nights and gardening days, uncomplicated pleasures coupled with satisfying work.

“That’s true, it might be easier,” Edge conceded. He held on tighter when Stretch stiffened, trying to pull away. “But it certainly wouldn’t be better. Plenty of things could be easier, I could stay here in this house, collecting my stipend and have my groceries delivered. I could tend my garden and might never need to go out again. That would be easier, if easy was all I wanted.” Gently, he slipped two gloved fingers beneath Stretch’s chin, urging him to look up. He met that teary gaze with his own steady one as he said, “Easy isn’t happy, love, and nothing has ever made me happier than being with you.”

Because he’d learned that pleasures were better with complications, when his gardening was interrupted by unexpected hugs, when his dinners were filled with excited chatter instead of silence or sarcasm. That he looked forward to leaving work when there was someone to come home to, and that stars were lovelier when seen through the lens of Stretch’s sight.

Stretch was blinking too hard, sniffling accusingly, “you sap.”

Just like that, the pained tension in him eased and Edge let out a chuff of laughter, shaking his head.

He drew Stretch back down to his chest and reached over to take Stretch’s hand in his own, his thumb skimming over slender fingers. Stretch was wearing one of his silicon rings, not the metal band with precious stones that Edge gave him when he pledged to love and cherish him, but the simpler one given for practical reasons, in bright day-glo colors to make him smile. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Some time ago my brother told me I could be happy if only I wanted to. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time. You helped me understand and the only place I ever want to be is with you. You can’t fail at that, you can’t fuck that up, so long as you’re here, with me. All right?”

“yeah, okay,” Stretch sighed out. He snuggled in closer and if his voice was still tremulous, his words were stronger, “can we stay here a little longer?”

“Of course.” Edge shifted until he was leaning against the wall, pulling Stretch to lay in between his legs and holding him tightly against his chest, over the soft pulse of his soul.

The kitchen floor was designed for easy cleanup and aesthetic, not for sitting and his tailbone was already protesting. He needed to ice his aching leg, the chickens needed to be shut back into their coop, and they could both use a real nap before figuring out what to do for dinner.

But that could all wait, just a little longer.

-finis

[saywhatjessie]

Toss a Coin to Your Spin Class

I did a Fandom Trumps Hate and had a great time. Witcher gym au, fuck it. 3.3k [Ao3]

Yennefer collapsed in the wrong direction on the weights bench next to him and Geralt didn’t even turn his head. 

She let loose a huge dramatic groan of agony, her usual lead-in to gym-time conversation. Geralt grunted in response. His usual response to everything.

“I despise the double standard of conventional beauty requirements more than I could possibly say,” she started. “For you it’s completely fine to bulk up like some barely sentient mountain but for me I must add cardio and endurance training to my weightlifting regimen if I’m to maintain any kind of toned physique as is required of me by our terrible misogynistic society.”

Geralt grunted in response.

Yennefer sighed and flipped over, back to the weightlifting bench so she could at least look as if she would be using the equipment properly. “I took that spinning class they keep advertising on the front bulletin board. It kicked my arse.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow but paid her no attention beyond that, continuing with his reps.

Yennefer generously waited for him to place his bar back on the rack, letting him take his time to respond to that clearly outrageous statement.

“I have seen your arse, Yen.” Geralt responded, finally. “I have to imagine you’re exaggerating.”

Yennefer preened a bit at the compliment but let loose another sigh. “I’m not. The relentless twink who teaches is a vicious tyrant. He picked on me immediately.”

Geralt’s attention had already been caught by Yennefer’s specific mention of a twink but the last bit about being picked on compelled him to respond with words. “Picked on you? How?”

Yennefer groaned again, theatrically flipping her hair over her shoulder in a respectable display of defeat. “He called me out as a weightlifter straight away and wouldn’t leave me alone all class, telling me that I wouldn’t last a day in his world and yelling at me to keep up. He was more than lovely by the end when I had actually managed to hold on for the whole class but I was so exhausted I couldn’t move. He laughed at me even as he helped me out of his room.”

There was far too much in that to unpack, Geralt just latched on to the first part. “He thinks weightlifters are weak?”

Yennefer shrugged. “It’s not like he’s wrong. Look at me.”

“Yes, but you’re…” Geralt trailed off, Yennefer’s expression working like a spell to dry his words right up.

“Yes?” She prompted, poisonously.

Geralt grunted in a way that would have sounded like someone clearing their throat in embarrassment if Geralt ever did anything as pedestrian as that. 

“I’m not weak,” he answered, simply.

Yennefer hummed. A dangerous sound. The rattle of a snake before it lunges.

“Well,” she said, flipping her hair the other way, to punctuate her ‘well’. “Care to place a bet on that?”

Geralt found himself scanning his gym pass that next Wednesday at 6 o'clock in the morning.

This wasn’t unprecedented: Geralt worked from home, so most of his self-appointed socialization came from visiting the gym. And he often went early in the morning because, even if the gym was mostly empty, it still counted as socialization to be in a place other people were. 

The difference was, instead of heading straight to the rowing machine to warm up or the weightlifting benches for his daily reps, he waited, glumly, outside the dark, glass-encased studio where the spin class was supposed to take place.

He took Yennefer up on her bet. He hadn’t wanted money: he was mostly doing this for pride (and bragging rights), but if Yen won, she got to pick Geralt’s outfits for the week.

Geralt’s outfits usually defaulted to the gym clothes he worked out in, seeing as that was his only reason to get dressed, and that consisted mostly of black cutoff sweats and a black muscle tank. Which is what he wore now.

The assembled crowd seemed to be mostly chattering moms, here for an early morning workout before they had to get their kids to school. Or there were some professional looking women, getting their class in before a day at the office. Mostly women.

There were at least two other men, speaking to each other, but from what Geralt could guess, they were likely here to ogle the twink spin instructor Yennefer had mentioned rather than any desire to ride a stationary bike to music for an hour.

All of them gave him a wide berth. 

The doors opened at exactly 6:15, a mousy looking brunette guy peeking his head out with a grin. “Okay, true believers, who’s ready to sweat?”

Some of the moms sent up a practiced sounding “Whoo!” but the professional looking women just offered the guy a smile and made their way past him through the door, beelining toward the bikes in the middle.

Geralt hung toward the back, letting everyone head in before him, sure there would be a bike in the back corner he could claim when he got in there.

The mousy guy stopped him at the door with a hand on his chest.

“You’re new,” the guy said, looking up at Geralt with a teasing curiosity.

Geralt didn’t bother to reply. What he’d said hadn’t been a question.

The guy grinned, taking a step back and crossing his arms, blocking Geralt’s entrance to the studio. His frame was slight but muscled, his outfit a neon-hooded but sleeveless crop-top and a pair of running shorts like something out of postcard from South Beach from the 90’s. This was definitely the twink Yennefer had mentioned. 

“And not very friendly,” the guy observed, looking Geralt up and down. “What, were you planning on sitting in the back of the room to brood?”

Geralt grunted. It was close enough to what he’d come to do.

The guy grinned wider. “I’m afraid that won’t do. You see we like to welcome every new student to my class of spin with a featured front row seat. That way I can best review your performance and decide what best to focus on in upcoming classes.”

Geralt grunted again, showing his teeth in a way that was more sneer than smile. “I just came to finish one class.” he growled.

The guy’s eyebrows hitched up and he actually let out a surprised little scoff. “Oh, you think you’re going to finish class today?”

Geralt grunted in a way that couldn’t have more clearly conveyed ‘Obviously’ if he’d said the word aloud.

Mr. Twink Spin Instructor clicked his tongue sceptically, again looking Geralt over, his eyes lingering on his shoulders and neck. “We’ll see about that.”

  Geralt felt like he was going to die. 

“That’s right everyone! We’re feeling it, we’re loving it, and now get ready to kick it up! Here we go! Everyone off your seat!”

Geralt attempted to stand in his stirrups but his legs gave out immediately. His tailbone connected painfully with the seat of the stationary bike.

The instructor had been perfectly accommodating at the start, leading Geralt to a bike at the front and helping him adjust his settings. He showed Geralt how to adjust the bike’s resistance and helped strap his feet into the stirrups that were in place of pedals. For safety.

Or just to keep him as a prisoner as he struggled and was verbally abused for it.

“Everyone is doing so wonderfully except our lovely blond mountain up front. Come on Mr. Grumpy, where’s your spirit?”

Geralt didn’t even have enough breath to grunt. He had no idea how this man could talk so much.

“Couple more pushes and then we have our decline. Then we’re onto sprints!”

Geralt huffed in a way that only vaguely resembled the word ‘fuck’.

He finished the pushes but couldn’t physically sit up in his seat for the decline. He was collapsed on the handlebars and couldn’t move.

He’s not sure when his legs stopped, only that the instructor was very loudly making fun of him.

“And it looks like our big strong muscle man is down for the count. Now, friends, let’s not mock him. It’s unkind to lambaste someone’s weaknesses.”

Geralt couldn’t pick up his head, but he curled four of his fingers down in a very weak approximation of the bird. The instructor laughed, jovially.

Geralt’s breath evened out in time, but his limbs would not cooperate with him as he tried to pick up with the workout. He managed to undo his feet from the stirrups, his arse slipping off the seat, slick from his sweat. He got his feet on the ground and stumbled out from the dark and loud room to spare himself the second half of the class. And his torment.

The instructor did take a parting shot as he left: “Excellent work finishing class, Mr. Muscles! Please do come back soon.”

  Yennefer was extremely smug.

Geralt was nothing if not a man of his word so he arrived at the gym the next day and took her proffered garments without comment, ducking into the locker room to change.

It was the loudest leopard print jumpsuit he had ever seen. Geralt was disgruntled and impressed: where had she even found something like this in his size?

He did his workout as normal. He noted the extra stares he got from surrounding lifters but they said nothing so neither did he.

Yennefer talked a mile a minute, her breath not even stuttering with her reps, and all Geralt could think about was that damn twink who’d made fun of him. How had he instructed that whole class and still had the energy and breath to talk and cheer everyone on the entire time? He’d never even paused in his litany: constant encouragements and critiques and instructions and, in Geralt’s case, cheerful insults. It would have been admirable if it hadn’t been so annoying.

Perhaps there was value in such high intensity cardio.

  Geralt scanned his gym card at the same time the next week, back for the spin class.

This time he had brought a 32 oz water bottle, a sweat towel so he wouldn't slip off the seat (again) and even more resolve.

He was also wearing an obscenely tight and tiny crop top and booty shorts with “Are u Nasty?” printed across the arse. This was the last day of Yennefer’s punishment and of course she’d saved the most ludicrous outfit for last.

The outfit did make him more interesting to the assembled crowd, it seemed, but all it took was a sneer from Geralt and they were minding their own business again. Or they weren’t outwardly gawping, at least, which was something.

When the instructor peeked his head out to welcome them to class that week his eyes instantly caught on Geralt and he positively lit up.

“You’re back!” he said, not even bothering to greet the other students. “I did not think you would be! Much less dressed like this.”

“Lost a bet,” Geralt volunteered for no reason he could discern. He didn’t need to explain himself to this guy. Nor justify what he was wearing. What business was Geralt of his?

“I’ll have to thank the bet commissioner should I ever meet them.” the guy mumbled, his eyes lingering on Geralt's exposed sternum. It really was an extremely short crop top.

Geralt just grunted, watching the instructor watch him.

“I didn’t properly introduce myself last time,” the instructor said, dragging his eyes up from Geralt’s navel to his face. “I’m Jaskier.”

Geralt grunted again but, after a moment of consideration, answered “Geralt.”

Jaskier grinned. “Glad to be acquainted,” he said. “Shall we begin class?”

Geralt was able to grab a bike in the back this time for which he could only be grateful: he knew his arse was falling out of these shorts and he was reluctant to subject the others to it. 

He did better in this class. He drank water when they had a moment, though the guzzling of it did serve to make him feel ill. He wiped his sweat at intervals but dropped his towel halfway through and had to do without it for the rest of class. He couldn’t bend far enough to the floor to pick it up.

Even if Geralt was doing better, Jaskier still picked on him, even in the back of the class. Jaskier seemed to have decided he liked him. He told Geralt to lift his knees higher or try to hold his core and not bounce as much or “Do this bit without holding the handle bars”.Geralt followed his instructions, because he wasn’t a quitter, but he was sure each time he tried he embarrassed himself more.

He made it longer this time but still found himself collapsed over the handlebars before the end of class, unable to move. He didn’t bother dismounting his bike and making his way out this time, knowing he’d have to walk all the way through the other bikes to get there: the door was at the front of the room. And Geralt was happier to wait out the class than suffer that humiliation again.

So Jaskier teased him for his useless vanity muscles again (and, seriously, why were all of the insults about his muscles?) but by the time Geralt was officially spent, Jaskier didn’t linger on his presence for long.

By the time class was over, Geralt was feeling relatively back to normal if not completely sore all over. He undid his stirrups and bent to retrieve his towel, coming face to face with Jaskier when he stood back up.

He was grinning, of course. “You did better today.”

Geralt grunted, ignoring the dirt and grime from the towel’s time on the floor and using it to wipe his neck. “I always aim to improve.”

Jaskier smiled wider. “An admirable quality in a man.” he winked.

Geralt grunted again, turning his attention to his water bottle, unscrewing and re-screwing the top. “Any tips?”

Jaskier hummed, leaning against the front of Geralt’s bike. He was dressed similarly to last week, but this time with a blue-purple color palette, more berry look than the lemon-lime of last week.

“Try doing cardio between classes, too,” he answered, his eyebrows arched in a superior looking way. “Build up your endurance.”

Geralt grunted in a way that could have been construed as a ‘thanks’ before pushing off the bike and making his way out.

He heard Jaskier call out behind him: “See you back next week!”

Jaskier did see him back next week. And the next week, and the week after that.

After those first two classes, Jaskier got extremely, weirdly supportive. Every minute longer Geralt made it in class from the week before, Jaskier would praise him and give him compliments. Geralt was equally put off and flattered by it. Once, Jaskier said "Look at this white-haired Hercules, moving his muscle around. He's struggling but he's getting there!” when he’d had them do a lot of increased resistance sprints. And another time, during a speed run, he’d said “How do you move your huge body so fast? You're doing amazing!" Which was at once patronizing and nice to hear. He did not need to be babied, to be treated like a toddler just learning to ride a bike. But the way the spin instructor smiled at him did make him feel as if he’d achieved something. 

Whether that something was an achievement with spin classes or something else was hard to say and no one’s business.

Yennefer had not been keeping up with Geralt’s continued attendance of the spin class. She was not usually at the gym that early and didn't catch Geralt until he was well into his workout, so she didn’t even know he’d been practicing cardio. She herself had been weighing the merits of taking up lap swimming which, while with the unfortunate side effect of making her feel like she’s drowning, also meant she could show off her fabulous physique and look sexy coming out of a pool, which were both extremely important to her.

Geralt, as someone who was fond of watching Yennefer get out of a pool, supported this. He also supported this as a way to steer her away from the spin classes, but one ulterior motive was enough. Yen wouldn’t go looking for another.

It wasn’t until the fourth class – a full month of failure and doing cardio as a warm-up before he lifted in the days between classes – that he could make it through a full class, not only having completed the exercise, but not feeling as if he wanted to die.

Jaskier made the whole class clap for him. Geralt gave them an awkward wave in acknowledgement.

His goal was to make it through an entire class. And now he had. He could give up the secrecy: there was no reason to come back.

Except Jaskier was skipping over to him after the class, smile wide in congratulations.

“Well done Mr. Muscle Man!” Jaskier said, clapping Geralt on each shoulder, shaking him a bit with his enthusiasm. “Oh what a journey it’s been! And now here you are!”

“Here I am,” Geralt growled, but in a fonder way than he’d thought himself capable of.

This instructor was extremely annoying. But somewhere along the way Geralt had become incredibly endeared to him.

“You really have done great,” Jaskier told him, his face less bright and more soft. He stood with his hands on his hips, swaying a bit as if the loud music from the class were still affecting him. His outfit was softer today as well: a forest green rather than neon monstrosity. It matched closer to Geralt’s usual black. “I do hope you come back.”

Geralt grunted. He didn’t have any reason to come back. He’d proven he could make it a whole class. He’d done what he’d gone there to do.

But–

“It’s not like I have anything else going on at this time,” he admitted, voice low.

Jaskier’s answering grin was loud.

“Excellent! Now I don’t have to do something stupid like ask you on a date just to see you again.”

Geralt blinked, fumbling his water bottle, the lid of which he’d been carefully unscrewing and rescrewing.

“Why would you do something like that?”

“Haven’t I just said?” Jaskier answered, his eyes glittering with the same mischief Geralt had seen when they’d first met. “To see you again.”

Geralt grunted, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. “But now I’ve said I’ll come back to class you’re not interested in a date?”

Jaskier cocked his head, his sweaty hair falling past his eyes. “Are you asking?”

Geralt blinked again, biting his lip. He felt like he had been tricked, but he wasn’t completely angry about that.

“If I did,” he started, his already deep voice going deeper as he took half a step closer. “What would be your answer?”

Jaskier looked up at him, his neck stretching back the further he had to look up. “Why don’t you ask and find out.”

Geralt growled and Jaskier just continued to grin at him. The spark in his eye had become a smoldering fire and Geralt was becoming more and more interested in being consumed.

“Let’s go for a drink.” He said, his voice getting even lower, stepping even closer.

It wasn’t a question but Jaskier grinned and answered anyway.

“Yeah, okay.”

Jaskier didn’t take a single step back. He didn’t lean away. He stiffened his chin and met Geralt’s eye.

Yennefer was going to be so smug.

[shadowofmytime]

>> some of my absolute favorites ! like and reblog if you save and enjoy ! happy reading and give some kudos to these amazing writers ! always feel free to send me some of your favorites ! ! <<

>> There is a bit so for your convenience they are in alphabetical order ! The ‘s’s are some of my all-time favorites ! ! <<

>> min yoongi x park jimin <<

All the seasons of your love - 5k+ [college au]

The movement in the library was still slow in the first week, so Yoongi could easily remember the few people who came by. That's why he pays so much attention to a certain dark-haired freshman who walks in on a Wednesday afternoon - or at least that's what he tells himself. He goes over to the front counter and asks Yoongi for directions to the Economy 101 session and, God, his voice is as sweet as his eye-smile.

Or how librarian Yoongi fell head over heels for cute freshman Park Jimin who, unfortunately, was very much straight - or so Yoongi thought.

Bon Voyage - 47.9+ [tourist! au]

Yoongi was meant to be taking the trip of a lifetime with his boyfriend. But now he's in Paris, alone and miserable. That is until he collides - quite literally - with one Park Jimin.

Boys who talk shit - 26k+ [college au]

When Yoongi enrolled in BTS (aka Boys who Talk Shit) Boarding School, he wasn't really expecting to be the only 'straight' (to be read sarcastically) guy in a room of seven geniuses (aka children aged five to ten, honestly). Plus four pet spiders. Yes, plural.

Chaotic episodes in A Place of Love and War, where Yoongi learns all about True Love via Park Jimin, Music and Marriage. Sort of. Brain bleach and earplugs are strongly recommended.

Conflicting arrangement - 162k+ [fake boyfriend au]

"Absolutely not," Yoongi deadpanned. "Namjoon-ah. I value you as a friend, and I think I'd even go as far as to say that you're my best friend, but absolutely fucking not."

"You owe me," Namjoon pleaded. "Come on, Yoongi, it's not a big deal."

"Your boyfriend's best friend's best friend needs a fake boyfriend to come out to his family this Chuseok, all the way in fucking Busan," Yoongi repeated drily without pause, making Namjoon wince. He flipped a page of his textbook, picking up his highlighter. "Not a big deal, Namjoon. Amazing."

Cotton Candy - 240k [high school rock band]

"He could get used to sitting next to Yoongi like this. To have him around. To have the band around. To smile and feel happy. To see Yoongi sitting in front of an instrument and having him play just for him.

'If this was my happy ending,' Jimin thinks, resisting the urge to lean his head on Yoongi's shoulder, 'if I wasn't who I am, I'd just let you have me whenever you want. You could have me anytime.'"

As spring turns into summer, school band Cotton Candy unexpectedly loses its singer and the members are forced to look for a new vocalist. Six boys find one in the form of the promiscuous pink-haired boy Park Jimin who makes a home in their hearts and finally finds a place he belongs

Daegu drift - 53k+ [motorcyclist / playboy au]

Jimin stops in Daegu for a big motor show and gets caught up with the locals. Specifically one Min Yoongi.

Sneak Peek:

Yoongi has his arms folded as he stares Jimin down.

“Are you going to join the rally, or not?”

Jimin takes his time answering because he likes the way Yoongi is looking at him. “Sure. I guess it could be fun. But you do realize none of you have a chance against a Bugatti, right?”

“It’s not the car that wins the race,” the other man says. “It’s the driver. You could have the fastest, best-equipped car in the goddamn universe, but if you’re a shit driver, it doesn’t make a difference.”

Goodbye from lonely - 65k+ [uncle yoongi!]

Park Jimin works two jobs that he loves and is going to college to get his teaching degree.

Min Yoongi is a personal assistant who hates his job and spits in his boss' coffee every day.

Kim Taehyung has been infatuated with his clueless co-worker for the better part of a year.

Jeon Jeongguk has a three-year-old daughter that he'd do anything for.

Somehow the tiny human brings them all together.

Or

Tae is in love with Kookie -> Kookie's daughter takes Jimin's ballet class -> Yoongi is Kookie's stepbrother -> Jimin and Yoongi meet because of Kookie's daughter.

In your eyes (it’s where I wanna be) - 5.5k [coffee shop! au]

Jimin pauses with his marker inches away from the cup, because — is he really going to do this? Isn’t it a bit old-fashioned to write something flirty on a coffee cup? But no matter what his churning gut says about the danger and what the hell are you doing do you want to die, this guy is — with no better way to put it — totally Jimin’s Type with a capital T.

(Or: Jimin accidentally starts a nickname war with the cute blonde who likes his coffee way too bitter.)

Inked flowers - 6.4k [tattoo artist / florist au]

Something stopped him. A sound of a piano. He looked around and saw a light coming from the window on the other side of the street. On the third floor was an open window. A light and the sorrowful sound of a piano flew out of the room. Jimin looked closer and saw a figure or at least a top of someone's head.

The melody was so sad and sorrowful that Jimin wanted to cry. He started thinking, what could possibly go inside that person’s head? What were they thinking? Jimin just hoped that they weren’t sad and alone.

(let me see you) get high then low - 4k+ [photographer/model au]

"The light-haired model is the kind that fascinates Yoongi, and at the same time, he prefers to steer away from. He's all smiles and flowers, drawing you in with his cuteness until he's not anymore. Suddenly, he’s something else entirely; he's that false calm, the ocean that looks smooth on the surface but will drag you down to its depths if you dare to touch it."

or

Min Yoongi works in a photography studio with some (very questionable) friends that can't get any work properly done without making a bit of a fuss.

Park Jimin is a model handcuffed against his will and bored. Also a little bit horny, maybe.

Math Tutor - 11.7k [bad boy! yoongi]

Min Yoongi is the school's resident Bad Boy™. He's covered in tattoos, is pierced, curses like a sailor, smokes like crazy, doesn't give a shit about anything, possesses a hot temper that has people steering clear of him, and is desperately in love with Park Jimin, the adorable math nerd. When Jimin is tasked with tutoring Yoongi in math, who is in danger of failing the class and being held back a year, both boys are hesitant. Yoongi because he can't think straight around the boy with startling red hair, and Jimin because Yoongi is scary as hell and looks like he can easily kill someone. Gradually, though, the two grow closer, and Jimin finds that Yoongi is nothing like how he'd imagined.

Maybe I hate you can be our always - 35.9k [enemies to lovers]

When Yoongi thinks about it, really gives it genuine thought, it's possible that Park Jimin isn't the worst person in the world.

//

(Or, Yoongi and Jimin get off on the wrong foot.)

Ode to yoonmin - 4k+ [texting]

yoongi and jimin are in very much in love but they're the only ones who don't know it

OR

chat fic with a bunch of bad jokes and memes ¯\_(ツ)_/

Out of my system - 101.6k+ [one night stand]

Yoongi likes one night stands and he understands how they work. What he doesn’t understand, however, is how he ended up in bed with a probably-not-legal kid crying in his arms about his broken heart, because he’s pretty sure (and correct him if he’s wrong) that a babysitting job was not what he was looking for when he went to the opening of his friend’s new club

Standing on the brink of 376 - 42.9k+ [street racing]

When Taehyung woke him up at three AM to go to a street race—an illegal one, no less—claiming it would help his social anxiety, Jimin never actually expected it to do much for him, except maybe make him cry hysterically. He found that he really wasn't too far off-kilter with that assumption, but it was only after he'd suffered through countless bouts of insecurity that he realized, hidden behind each stuttered breath, every inevitable tear, every spark of unavoidable fear, and even the customary cloud of cigarette smoke itself, lay a tremendous amount of affection for a certain platinum haired street racer that he can't even begin to justify. But when his opinion of fact, fate, and even life itself continues to blur with each push of the gas pedal, he thinks he just might be able to forgive himself for falling in love with a criminal, when the nonsensical moonshine of the present mutes the anxiety that had been a constant within his heart up until this November.

Strawberry lube - 82.7k+ [college au]

Yoongi remembers little to nothing of their crazy drunken night out. But of two things he's absolutely sure, one: he's not gay, two: he just slept with Park Jimin

The Paradiso Lounge - 192k+ [photographer/stripper au]

“Do I have to pay you for that service?”

This isn’t a dream (let me love you) - 26k+ [highschool au]

As captain of his high school’s basketball team, Min Yoongi dedicated all of his attention to his team and their games. His focus on the game never waned, not once for anything or anyone.

Well, until head cheerleader Park Jimin flashed his abs during a solo cheer and made him fuck up his shot

Trying to Behave (but you know we never learned how) - 329k+ [non-idol! au]

It's been years since Yoongi's last seen him and the younger boy is a shell of his former self in a way that makes his heart twist in his chest. And yet, after all this time and countless days of convincing himself to let him go, he's still unconditionally, head over heels in love with Park Jimin.

(Jimin and Yoongi grow up together.)

Valentino Summers - 657k+ [‘80s gangsters]

Whether or not Jimin was smuggling drugs really didn’t matter. He was hustling, and these days that was all there was to it.

Hustle and survive or struggle and die.

Y/N masterlist  << check it out !! xoxo

[ottorocket808]

Chapter Nine: The Gate

Ahhh!!! Their reunion is so fuckin cute and sweet and here comes Hop to fuck it all up. What would give you the indication that he would be mad at El? She wanted to see him she did go see him and you threw a fucking hissy fit. YOU got in the way all he wanted was to know she was safe he would’ve done anything to know that she was alive. I’d be pissed at him too you let me believe she was dead for a year and you want me to understand?

Aww group hug!!! She noticed Dustin’s teeth! No more purring Dustin we do this in the mirror before a date or dance. Skip Max not sure if that was leftover from seeing them at school or because she doesn’t already know her. Joyce with that motherly love she’s been lacking. You already know she’ll let you see him you saved his life. We have our final puzzle piece to close the gate.

Karen... why did you answer the door like that? Billy stop flirting with married women that’s how you get shot! I always hate that line obviously older woman I didn’t know so and so had an older sister heheh lame ass line Karen you thought he was here for Nancy meaning that you can tell he’s young control your hormones. Todd only pays bills there he can’t be slangin pipe with any type of accuracy if she’s being this obvious with a child.

Now ain’t the time Dustin. STOP UNDERESTIMATING HER!! She destroyed your cabin without even trying she’s the one who opened the gate in the first place if anybody can close it it’s El. It’s interesting that it took this long to connect that dot

Fuck you mean you not leaving Mike?! You did it earlier for a day and a half and before anybody says anything about her not knowing she didn’t even ask. Steve you were never a shit boyfriend she played with your heart because she didn’t want to be alone if she couldn’t have Jonathan and she should’ve said something to that effect instead of letting you feel like it was you.

Dammit Hop can’t you let these kids be cute together for a minute without you interrupting?!

Yup that mild coronary you’re having because she hitchhiked home you deserve but you can tell that she learned and grew a lot since she left she needed to leave regardless because of what happened while she was gone. I get it Hop but if you hold too tightly you’ll kill her spirit and she’ll resent you instead of loving the safety you provide.

Bitchin’

Dammit Dustin we just wasting good food? After all this if they just set it on fire I’d be pissed. That thing is stupid slimy it sounds disgusting.

Just let him pace in peace he literally just found out she’s alive and now she’s tossing herself back into the fray with hundreds of Demodogs runnin loose anybody would be worried especially when you have to sit on your hands and hope that everything goes ok.

This is the start of a trend with Max that pisses me off El isn’t a pack mule or a work horse yes she’s strong as shit but she bleeds just like the rest of us backup and assistance ain’t ever been a bad thing when fighting a war.

It ain’t a fact until it happens. Here comes Billy!! ‘If he finds out I’m here he’ll kill me, he’ll kill us.’ Proceeds to post up in the window where he can clearly see her?! The sucker punch was a bitch move Hargrove.

I’m pretty sure that part of the reason that he doesn’t want Lucas around Max is that it’s hard to control someone with friends if I know you have nowhere to go you won’t sneak out and if she does it’d be to the arcade which is probably closed by now so she’d be on her way back if she wasn’t here. Will he actually strike her is my question he says he’ll kill her will he really? Or is she just being dramatic not wanting to get in trouble for sneaking out?

Another trend is that they don’t help each other literally one has to be being beaten half death before anybody moves to help.

It really seems like the hype of Steve got to Billy way more than Steve himself did. I’ve never heard Steve refer to himself as King Steve other people do that. Screaming that Billy’s gonna kill him is so far from helpful it’s painful. How much of that shit is lethal she could kill him. It doesn’t really work like that Max if his dad says come get you because you snuck out of the house again he has to collect. What the hell is Billy supposed to tell Neil when he finally wakes up? His dad doesn’t seem like the type to accept failure.

Ok isn’t the word I would use determined is better.

I would freak the fuck out too she’s 13 and driving a car with me in it while not actually knowing where she’s going and speeding down a dark road with a box on the gas pedal because she can’t actually reach it.

That high pitched scream was for sure Lucas.

They’re heating the woods around the house too because the windows need replacing because Hop made a El cry like a big ass bully.

Well Steve he has a point.

Mama Steve makes a good point too.

It kinda pissed me off seeing Hop out El to the Doc at the drop of a hat he could forge a birth certificate and drag her to another lab and it would be his fault for trusting the wrong person.

The inflammed Butt Hole strikes again people should really stop shining light at it. How did it get in your mouth past your mask? Where the hell did they get this equipment??

Jonathan would let The MindFlayer live in his brother indefinitely Joyce wants it out and she wants it out now. Jonathan doesn’t have a do whatever it takes mindset and he would’ve messed everything up. He was quick to turn that heater down but Joyce is currently being choked and I hear him say ‘mom!’ But see no hands entering the frame to help her.

We will never speak of this Mama Steve.

In an interesting twist Nancy saves his moms life. I wonder if Will has a scar because of that. So nobody wondered where the inter dimensional blac smoke went?

RUN BABIES AND MAMA STEVE RUNNNNNN!!!! Protect your baby Mama Steve!

It’s like they don’t even realize they’re there maybe it’s a priority thing El is the more pressing threat so even though they’re in pain gotta stop her.

She’s damn near face to face with it and even though she’s disintegrating his tentacle he’s still trying to take her over and stop her. Even though a lot of people didn’t like The Lost Sister Chapter it helped El to boost her power using her own pain and anger therefore helping her close this massive gate my baby is growing up and she’s so strong I’m so proud.

Sweet El/Hop moment I still don’t like him but he means a lot to her.

Hawkins lab is closed but vulnerable. Again if this was real Nancy would’ve destroyed her entire family. But it’s a plot line so I let it go.

Hey Hop her name is Jane Ives you didn’t actually adopt her this still really feels like kidnapping.

Aww it’s Snowball time

Will learning to dance is adorable, I don’t think Mike will ever like forced pictures, Lucas is gonna toss Erica out the window and Max looks cute Billy looks kind of lost he needs to learn proper communication gotta get that hair right Dustin.

Steve is the big brother we all wish we had. Dustin is a dork and I love him. Don’t be talking about my baby’s Steve inspired mullet. She enjoys torturing this boy. I don’t think calling someone Zombie Boy is a good way to show interest Will looked scared and he’s been to The Upside Down. I still wanna fight these girls he’s a sweet kid a bit of a dork but he is a good guy and they made him cry. This is the best thing Nancy does all season. ‘Girls this age are dumb.’ You led your 1st boyfriend on for a year still dumb.

Hardcore RIP BOB moment.

This song is so damn creepy. They are like puppies in love it’s adorable look at them go ah it’s so sweet. And now I’m pretty sure the creepy song is for The MindFlayer being gigantically creepy in The Upside Down.

[the--blackdahlia]

You’re All That I Need Chapter 2 (Tommy x Nikki)

Title: You’re All That I Need Chapter 2

Summary: It’s the early 80’s and Nikki Sixx is in need of a band. There’s one condition: no other alphas. That should be fine, since he found three betas to fill up the lineup to become Motley Crue. Or, at least he thinks they’re all betas.

Series Warnings: M/M smut (18+ only please), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, mpreg, language, slight drug use, protective Nikki, (might add more as we go)

“What the fuck is that?” Nikki groaned as the beta who was playing guitar went way too slow. Tommy sighed and threw his head back before heading outside to get some cigarettes from his car. Nikki’s eyes followed him. He told Robin to take five and he would be back.

“It’s...unique…” Tommy sighed as he lit up his cigarette and took a drag before passing it over to Nikki.

"It’s shit," Nikki growled. “We can’t do that with him man.” He took a puff before passing the cigarette back to Tommy.

Tommy opened his mouth to reply when his attention was grabbed by the ugliest car he had ever seen pulling up to the curb. The car was unceremoniously thrown in park and a short, angry looking beta got out. 

“Dude, get a load of that,” Tommy nodded to the car. Nikki stayed put on the patio, sizing him up, while Tommy went down to help him get his equipment out of the car.

"Going by the looks of you two, this is where the band tryouts are?" He grumbled as he pulled his amp out of the back of his borrowed hatchback. 

"Yeah, I’m Tommy. I’m the drummer. And up there is Nikki. He’s the bassist,” Tommy explained to him. Mick looked Tommy up and down before nodding.

"Mick Mars, give me a second and we can get started."

“Okay, cool dude,” Tommy helped him get an amp out of his car, feeling Mick size him up. He was obviously a beta, but Tommy felt the chill of an alpha staring at him.

“Pretty scrawny for a drummer,” Mick commented after a couple beats of silence.

“Well, I was in Suite 19,” Tommy was pretty proud of himself. Suite 19 had played at the Roxy not too long ago. And he loved to brag to the guys he went to school with about it. Nikki had London and Sister, Tommy had Suite 19.

“Suite 19? Shitty band,” Mick told him, pretty much crushing Tommy’s heart when he said that. Nikki just shook his head.

“Did you ever even see us play?” Tommy asked.

“Don’t need to,” Mick told him. “Shitty name? 10 times out of 10, they’re a shitty band. I should know. I’ve been in plenty of bands with shitty names.”

"Here let's do this," Nikki said handing music to Mick and Robin once Mick got settled and hooked up inside. Tommy smiled and got ready to play, but it all felt like it was going way too slow. That was until Mick hit the pedal and started blasting into it. Nikki looked back at Tommy. They both had the biggest grins on their faces. Until Robin stopped playing and turned to Mick and asked, "can you turn that down? I can't hear myself?"

Mick walked over to Nikki and Tommy, "what's with this hippie? Can he go?"

Nikki smirked, "you want him gone, tell him yourself."

Mick looked over to where Robin was trying to work out the chords. 

"Hey," Robin looked up, "you need to go, there is only room for one guitar in this band..." Mick said brusquely. 

"What.... Nikki?Tommy? Really? I was here first...." Robin was close to tears as he packed up and left. 

"Who's gonna sing, it definitely ain't me" Mick asked, turning to look at Nikki and Tommy as Tommy got beers from the fridge to celebrate the forming of the trio.

“No way dude,” Tommy told him. “I gotta focus on my drums. Plus my sister lovingly tells me I sound like a bear going through a woodchipper.”

“I gotta meet this sister.” Mick laughed. Tommy shook his head.

“What about you Nikki?” Tommy asked. “Think you could sing?”

“Voice is too deep to get the sound we need,” Nikki admitted. “We need someone who can stand up there, belt out the words and bring the chicks in. Think we could still Diamond Dave from Van Halen?”

“I don’t think that’d go over too well.” Mick shook his head. “I don’t have any singers in mind.” Tommy’s eyes lit up then and he had a big smile that spread across his face.

"I know a guy I went to highschool with, I think he's in a cover band now, but they're playing at a party tomorrow we should go check it out." suggested Tommy.

“Depends,” Nikki told him. “Is he a…”

“He’s a beta,” Tommy told him. “I know you said no alphas. He’s a very, very slutty beta. Trust me on this one. He can bring girls in like an alpha, but he shouldn’t be fighting you like an alpha, you know?”

"Ok, let's check him out," Nikki agreed. 

******

“What are we doing here?” Nikki asked, groaning a little as he heard the music being played. “This...doesn’t look like our kind of place.” He saw all the tan girls walking around with shirtless guys. Then he looked at himself and Mick; pale as could be, wearing long sleeves and leather jackets.

“Free booze I think is our kind of place.” Mick told him, nodding to the bar. Nikki marched over and grabbed a bottle of Jack from a guys hand before heading back over to Mick and Tommy.

“There’s fucking Billy Squire playing,” Nikki groaned, taking a big swig of the booze. “Please tell me that’s not him.”

“Hell yeah it’s him!” Tommy said, excited. “Dudes, isn’t he awesome? I went to high school with him. He’s exactly what we’re looking for!” Tommy wrapped an arm around Nikki’s shoulders. Tommy smiled at Nikki before walking away, heading towards the stage where the skinny blonde fucker with moves was dancing and singing.

“His voice is good.” Mick stated. Nikki nodded.

“Look what he’s doing to those chicks.” Nikki pointed out, watching the way that all the girls at the party were just drawn to him.

“I think he’s having that effect on Tommy too.” Mick chuckled, his eyes falling to the drummer who was watching the blond singer with intensity.

“Thank you! We’re Rockandi!” The band got done with their set and Tommy followed with the swarm of girls, heading towards the bar where the singer was heading.

****

“Tommy Bass?” Vince asked, his eyes lighting up as he saw his friend from school. He pulled Tommy in for a hug.

“It’s actually Tommy Lee,” Tommy told him.

“You got married? Who’s the lucky guy?” Vince teased with a smile on his face. Tommy laughed and shook his head.

“No man. Just dropped the last name. Sounds cooler,” Tommy smiled. “I’m in a band with those guys right there!” Tommy said excitedly, pointing at Mick and Nikki. Vince looked over at the pair. By the way Nikki was standing, Vince just knew he was an alpha. The other one, he wasn’t too sure about.

“Right…” Vince nodded. Tommy held out a homemade tape.

“This is us,” He told him. “My number is on the label. Listen to it and call us. And, just ignore mine and Nikki’s singing. It’s not pretty.”

“Okay, okay,” Vince laughed, taking the tape. Tommy smiled and headed back to Mick and Nikki, giving them a thumbs up.

“What’d he say?” Mick asked.

“He said he’d call us!” Tommy smiled. “Isn’t that exciting?!”

“Fantastic. Can we go now?” Nikki asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go,” Tommy had a big smile on his face as they left.

****

A week later Vince called them up and came by to audition, he'd gotten into it with his other band mates about the direction of the band. Vince showed up with a leggy blonde he called Lovie. Nikki handed him a sheet with some lyrics as they made their way in and Lovie settled herself on the couch.

“Live Wire?” Vince asked, looking over the words.

“Yeah dude! Nikki wrote it! He’s like, So-crates or something.” Tommy told him.

“It’s Socrates,” Mick rolled his eyes. “Dumbass fucking teenager.”

And the band started, they'd barely gotten 2 minutes in, when Lovie called for the band to stop, complaining that the sound was too heavy for Vince. Tommy could see Nikki’s alpha starting to get angry.

“She’s right. It is heavy.” Nikki smirked an angry alpha smirk.

“We could drop and raise these chords.” Mick said, pointing at the crudely drawn up music.

“And play it louder.” Tommy added with a big smile on his face.

“Just hit these lyrics here like you’re punching a fucker in the face,” Nikki told Vince, who nodded. “And muzzle that.” He added, pointing over at Lovey.

“Hey asshole! He doesn’t tell me what to do! I…” She was cut off by Mick’s guitar then. She was silenced as she watched the song come to life before her eyes. She sat back down, watching as the guys completely changed the song from what she had just heard. “Woah.”

Tommy looked up at Nikki after they finished the song. He expected anger for him suggesting things to change the song, but there was nothing like that there. Joy, amusement, and a little bit of lust was all mixed up into those green irises. 

And Tommy felt his cheeks gets hot.

“I’ll be right back,” Tommy told them, heading to the bathroom to get a drink of water.

"Let's take 5,” Nikki commented as he watched the drummer walk away. He felt a strong urge to check on Tommy, worried that something was wrong. Nikki knocked on the bathroom door, "Tommy? You ok?" 

"Yea, Nikki, I'll be out in just a minute," Tommy called. He was sitting on the floor, trying to pull himself together. Nikki's look caused him to get hot, and start dripping.... That wasn't good he would need to start doubling his suppressants. 

He reached into his pants pocket to a small bottle. His parents had always taught him to keep it with him just in case. He took a couple of the emergency pills and swallowed them down with water from the tap. He closed his eyes as he felt them working. He always felt sick after using them, but he’d rather do this then jump Nikki. He opened the door, a little surprised to see the bassist standing there.

“Oh, hey,” Tommy told him, offering a smile.

"You sure you're good to keep going? You don't look so good?" Nikki questioned, he wasn't sure where this was coming from but he felt he needed to make sure the teen was ok. 

“Yeah dude! Let’s get through this. I wanna take a nap,” Tommy joked with Nikki as he headed to his kit. Vince and Lovie were making out and Mick looked disgusted. But, then again, Mick looked disgusted by everything, so it wasn’t just Vince and Lovie.

"Let's get to this" Nikki directed, getting Vince's attention, " Let’s just keep doing the suggestions from earlier, but with this song.” He handed Vince the lyrics to “Take Me to the Top”. “I want “Live Wire” and this one to put on our demo to send into the labels. I think they’re our two top songs.”

“Sounds good,” Vince nodded, reading over the words. “Good song here So-Crates.” He gave Nikki a smile before Tommy started the drumroll that would kick off the song.

The band kicked into gear, and with Vince's vocals it was like magic - Lovie was certain they were gonna be huge! 

And suddenly, everything fell into place. 

Forever Tags:  @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk

Motley Crue Tags:  @primal-screamer @waywardprincess666 @twistnet @saint-of-los-angeles @vader-kai @motleyfuckingcruee @sharon6713 @kawennote09 @2dead2function @nikkisixxwiththebass @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @jayprettymuchomw @charlyallise @you-know-im-a-dreamer @livingdeadharley @estxxmotley @arianareirg @the-normal-potato @nikki-sixxtynine @jjjjjjjoshdun @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @stella20131991 @tarahell @wowilovenikkisixx @i-want-to-shoot-myself @motleycrueee @sams-serialkiller-fetish @getbackhonkycatt @are-you-reddie54321 @flamencodiva

[btsjustkillmealready]

Don’t Smile To Me, Lie to me (Part 1)

Summary: you and him argue uver something stupid and he snap at you, you got in an accident a lost your memories, he fights to prove his love

You looked at your wristwatch and sighed, it was late, again, and your boyfriend wasn’t home yet. You knew he was a workaholic, in a way was good, but in the other was bad. You knew he wasn’t going to come home any time soon, so you put your thick clothes on, got the keys, elevator and entered your car.

You stopped at some 24/7 convenience store and got tow cups of expresso, if he wasn’t going to sleep, at least you could do him some company, you thought. It wasn’t unusual, this used to happen from time to time, especially near comeback times

But it was fine, you bought coffee and watched him work, as you tried to keep yourself entertained with your phone or some video game, your attempts were good intended, but you always failed, morning came and your were passed in some corner, Namjoon bringing a blanket and telling you to keep yourself warm as you complained about your stiff neck.

“You’re so cute, waiting for me and stuff” He used to say

“No problem” you replied

“You should get a proper sleep”

“Well, you too”

He laughed and kissed you and rewarded you with some massage for you pain neck, some times cleaning his schedule so he could spend the day with you, his shoulder was better than any pillow and his embrace was warm and so much nicer, no blanket could made you feel that way.

So you stopped in front of that familiar door and entered the password on the metal rectangle on the side. You opened the door and Namjoon immediately turned to see you, a huge smile covering his face, he dropped his earphones so he could greet you.

“Babe” he said

“Hi, baby, I-

You started saying, but then you tripped on some cables scattered on the floor and the cups flew from your hands, you went face first on the floor, but your eyes didn’t leave the cups. Your heart raced, your eyes went huge and for a moment everything stopped, but all in the wrong way.

The cups landed on Namjoon’s computer and keyboard, the equipment spat some sparks and then shut down completely and for real. You stood up, everything happened so fast, you both were in shock, but your mouth was fast.

“I’m so sorry, Namjoon, oh my gosh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to” You started saying quick.

He ran to his gear, clicking the mouse and pushing all the buttons, hopping something gave some signal of life. But he soon went hopeless as nothing worked, all screens were black.

Namjoon finally responded, many emotions passed his face, many muscles working there. His breath was erratic, and you cupped your face, not knowing what to do. You knew he was thinking at sped to light. The, he raised his head and turned to you.

“What did you do?”

“Namjoon, I’m sorry, I’ll pay for everything, it was an accident” You tried “Look, I know you’re angry, but-

“Angry? I’m way past angry, Y/N!” He shouted, startling you “All my work, hell no, I don’t even know how to name how I’m feeling.

“I’m sorry, please, let me help you, I’ll clean it all” you offered

He rubbed his face and went a hand thought his hair, frustrated.

“No, you already did enough” He said “You better go”

You didn’t move an inch, your feet rooted on the floor, tears started to flood your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away, you didn’t want him to think you were weak. But more tears came, and you couldn’t wipe all of them fast enough.

You saw this before, it was one of your worst nightmares, paranoia that you always tried to push away to the farthest corner of your mind. You knew this and it was happening, your every limb was shaking, fear and panic making you sink more and more into your own form.

“Now!” He screamed “You ruined everything, so just go for fuck’s sake!”

“I think you won’t forgive me, but I’m still sorry” you said.

“This is the worst say of my life, I can’t believe it, and it’s your fault, you caused this, what else will you do!?”

He crossed his arms in front if his chest, face unreadable.

“You know what, I’m done, I’m done with you!” He said

“What?” You said still in shock.

           “You’re deaf?” He said sarcastically “I said we’re done, fuck off away right now!”

           You started walking to the door, you heart completely shattered, a big lump in your throat.

           “Look, If I leave, I’m never coming back” You said, heart sank to your stomach

           “Great, finally you’re doing something right” He said quietly.

           This wasn’t how you imagined that you and he ended, you always imagined a happy ending for you both. you didn’t want to believe, so you ran as fast as you could from there, like you could leave the pain behind. Some people looked at you, but you didn’t care that they saw what a mess you were.

           You went straight to you house, your arms around your torso, like a shield that you could use to protect yourself, but it was no use since you were already hurting, a bleeding heart in your hands, waterfall from your eyes and head low. focusing on the floor, leaving your hair to cover your face, like a drapery that could hide your so honest feelings.

           Only that you couldn’t, you wish you could be a better liar and tell things were fine, stuff happens, isn’t?

           As if even the skies didn’t have any mercy on you, a heavy rain started hitting you right on the face. But in some way made you feel better, like the sky took pity on you and was crying with you, making you feel outside just like you were inside, cold, stiff and broken.

           But you were lied to, the skies remained merciless and you walked almost at the corner of a street and a car splashed more water at you, which only made you feel more miserable, life laughing right at your face, pointing finger and all.

           You shut the door behind you, doesn’t minding hearing how loud it was, because your screaming chest was louder. You just wanted to let yourself fall on the floor, curl yourself in a ball of tears, sobs and misery.

           But you used your last bit of strength to get yourself through a shower hotter than hell, your skin burned, but your heart remained freezing, each step was like an ice picker at your heart. And you walked feeling like the floor was a thorn mat, and only havens know how you made to your bed.

           But what mattered was that you did it, you finally let your tired body fall into the soft mattress and fluffy comforter, you felt safe there, which was good, because you felt safe, duh. But also, was bad, because you cried a lot more, no judging eyes around, not knowing from where so many tears could come from, but to you, now nothing mattered unless it was your broken heart.

           Everything felt like a haze, your head was already hurting from crying so much, but you finally were graced with the unconsciousness of sleep.

           Next day you woke up you had ten seconds of blissful ignorance, a dumb smile planted on you face, your happy dream quickly vanishing and leaving you with a bitter taste in you mouth.

           You dreamed about Namjoon, which wasn’t new, he was a constant presence in your dreams, and you liked to tell him what you dreamt of. Only that this time you couldn’t, your memories reminding you of what happened. You wanted to cry, but there were no tears left to cry, only a numbing feeling that filled every part of you that was hurting.

           That was good, you weren’t feeling anything, that meant you were healing, right? Wow, that was fast, you liked, healing fast was good.

           Because of habit, you went straight to the kitchen and to the coffee machine, your hand almost touched the thing, but you stopped and took a deep breath, more of yesterday. You couldn’t drink coffee after what happened, and you didn’t know when you would be able to drink it again.

           You still had to go to work, the world wouldn’t stop just because you did, stupid cruel world.

           You grabbed your things, stepping outside was hurtful, inside felt so safe, so nice, you just wanted to crawl back to you bed and sleep the pain away. But you couldn’t, if you didn’t pay the bills, no one would.

           Not after your parents disappeared and you were left alone with your older brother, that one day went to find a job in another city and never came back. Those were your thoughts as you walked. Work wasn’t far from home, but it was an unpleasant sweating walk.

           You asked yourself why you couldn’t do things right, or why people always left you. Your parents, your brother and now Namjoon. Thoughts louder than the world around you again made you not listen to the car that honked at you and the blinding lights.

And that was the last thing you saw before your limp body flew through the street and hit hard the floor. You stayed right where you landed.

Not very far from there, Namjoon received a call from an unknown number, he usually declined, but it could be a Collab propose, you never know.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Min Namjoon-ssi I’m talking to?” it was an unfamiliar voice

“Yes, that’s me, who are you?”

“This is from the hospital. We checked and you are her emergency contact”

“Her?” He asked “Who?”.

“L/N Y/N.” She woke up “We tried to contact her family, but we failed “So we’re calling you now”

Namjoon stood up from his chair faster than ever

“What happened to her? Is she hurt?”

“Yes, but her condition got a lot better and the doctor going to wake her up today, so you can come and take her home.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m on my way” said him hanging up”

Namjoon ran to his car, turning on the engine and stepping as hard as he could on the gas pedal, car on the speed of light.

It's been three months that he last heard from you, yes it was that dreadful day, which he regretted everyday since.

He shouldn’t have said that bullshit to you, but he couldn't control his cursed mouth and now you were hurt.

And even though he thought he got over you, he was wrong. That wildfire that he thought is was extinguished it wad only a little flame, but now it was burning again.

Burning his skin, heart and soul. He craved you touch like a thirst man lost in the middle of a desert, no oasis in sight.

He ran inside the hospital and heard his shoes squeaking when he abruptly stopped in front of the counter.

“hi, I’m looking for Y/N” said him almost too loud for a place like that.

“Ah, sure. What's the last name?”

“It’s L/N” Suddenly a memory came to him. Sweet times when he wanted so bad that you last name wad the same as his.

And now he was trapped in a reality where this could never happen, and he fucking hated.

“Room 912” said the girl in white behind the desk

“ok, thanks” said him quickly before sprinting to the elevators area.

Inside the elevator was hell, you were so close yet so far. It was like hell waiting, time seemed to pass excruciatingly slower as each floor passed.

He was frantic, changing his weight to one foot to another, feet itching inside his shoes. He put both hands on his head a took a fistful of his own hair, pulling until it hurt.

He allowed himself to have a moment to just drown in his own misery.

Finally the door snapped open and he trued to seem calm, even though he was like a hurricane inside. The staff didn’t have to know how dumb he was.

He knocked on the door before entering.  He saw you seated on the bed, a lot of pillows supporting your back. A lost expression on your face and glassy eyes.

You were still slow, so you took a little long to notice his presence.

“Hey” he said carefully “how are you feeling?”

“My head hurts, I mean, everything hurts” you said, “Can’t you prescribe me more painkillers, doc?”

“doc?”

“yes, please, give me painkillers” you said.

“Y/N, I’m not a doctor”

“Oh, then call one, my head is spinning”

“Y/N, it's me Namjoon” he said

That got no reaction from you at all. You just looked tired and bored.

“You don't recognize me, don't you?”

You slowed shook you head.

“Oh shit, that’s bad.

“Bad?” you repeat “it feels like you’re important”

“Yeah, I suppose”

On that moment, Namjoon was grateful that the real doctor entered the room, so he could pretend heart didn’t shattered in a million pieces. He knew he said stuff he wasn’t supposed to, he knew the fight was really bad, it was like hell. But you didn’t even know him and he could tell himself that you were pretending not to recognize him on purpose, but he just had to look into your eyes and he knew the truth that smashed his heart: he was a completely stranger to you.

“So, Y/N, I’m glad you’re finally awake, I know you just woke up, but I think its better if I update you about your condition. The thing is that you got in a car accident while walking on the pedestrian strip. Then you arrived mumbling something about “missing him” and your condition was so bad that we had to put you into coma, so your system could recover and by the results, it made a great job” Said the doctor. Y/N was sure that she didn’t processed even the half of it

“But you hit hard a certain part of your head and that damaged a part of your brain, it’s nothing serious, you don't have to worry. But it’s the area responsible for the memories, so some of than may have gone, but I’m sure that with time they will come back within the brain healinh itself”

On the other hand, Namjoon was listening to everything very carefully and his shattered heart shattered even more.

“When did you guys put me in coma?” You asked

“It was on the last day of September” Said the doctor

“Oh my god” you said

“Well, now that you know what happened and you condition is pretty well, I have no more reason to keep you here, I’m just going downstairs to fill your discharge, but you can already be going” Said the doctor leaving the room

You rested your head on your hands dragging Namjoon’s attention, he moved closer to you, sitting on the chair besides the bed.

“Oh, hell no” You said “I can’t believe, I lost the whole winter, I lost my favorite season. Christmas, new year. Shit.

‘Hey, it’s okay. There will be others” He said “So, I bought some of your clothes”

“What?” You took the bag from his hands and opened, it was indeed your clothes, that you well remembered that was supposed to be in you wardrobe and not in some stranger’s hands “How did you got them?”

“Ah, I went to your apartment and bought them. What? Should I have chosen something different?”

“How do you have access to my place? You said

“Well, I still have the key that you gave me?”

You were a very distrustful person, and you wouldn’t trust anybody with a key to your place, because, well, it was your place, where there were many meaningful things to you

“Ok” You said trying to accept reality “And I gave you the key because…?”

“Because I’m your boyfriend” he said