#I promise the next chapter is the last chapter it's snowing :p

[greenplumbboblover]

Life is Sunniest in Sunset Valley - Chapter 8

Or read it here: Simblr.cc

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 15- She Shoots, She Scores

Summary: You and Javi go to visit your family in Chicago. Javi gets his first chance to see snow, the two of you are tasked with unexpected baby sitting duty, and your family is... well, your family.

Word Count: 13.3K (I mean like... Could be worse?)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), creampie, praise kink, big ole breeding kink (you watch Javi hold a baby, what do you expect), talks of building a family, grief/loss of a family member, trying to talk about death/loss with a child (UGH sweet little Olivia), mentions of eating, mentions of drinking/being hungover (your dad had a rough night out with his besties), there is literally so much future dad!Javi content in this chapter and I am not sorry about it at all

A/N: Okay I am not gonna lie, the self indulgent part of me was SO excited to get our girl out on the ice in some hockey skates and kick ass 🤪 There are so many things that make me smile about this chapter besides that- the fact that Javi has probably never seen snow before this trip, Javi and Osita babysitting together and being the cutest future parents (please excuse me while I SCREAM into a pillow) and Osita's family just being who they are. Nothing really holiday themed about this chapter at all, just some good, old fashioned midwest winter fun!

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“Baby, I’m telling you, you’re gonna wanna pack warmer stuff than that. I don’t think you understand how cold Chicago is this time of year.” You laughed to yourself as you peeked over at Javi’s suitcase, sitting on top of yours to try and cram as many sweaters and sweatshirts in as possible to brace yourself for the reality you knew was winter in the midwest. 

After spending the first half of your winter break together in Laredo, you and Javi had agreed to make your way out to your family to spend the second part of the holidays with them. As much as you had grown to love everything about life in Laredo, there was something about Chicago at Christmas time that filled you with a warmth and happiness you couldn’t wait to share together with Javi. The only problem was, Javi had never once experienced weather colder than your last trip to Chicago in October, let alone the brutal Illinois winter he was in for tomorrow when your flight landed, and the temperature was about to drop 40 degrees. 

“Osita, I find it hard to believe that it’s that fucking cold. I have plenty of stuff packed that I’m sure will be fine.” Javi smirked, now laughing at you, wrestling with the zipper you had barely managed to close from your overflowing outfit choices. 

“Javi. It’s Chicago. In December. It’s fucking cold. But who am I to say anything? I’ve only spent every winter in Chicago since birth, so what would I know?” You groaned, overdramatically rolling your eyes at Javi, who you had spent the past few days trying to prepare for the bitter cold and snow that he was drastically unaware of. “Will you please put like, a few more sweatshirts in there? I promise I’m not trying to be overbearing, I just know you have literally spent your entire life in the sun and if you thought 50 degrees was cold in October, you’re about to be in for a rude awakening, mister.” You snickered, plopping yourself down on the bed next to Javi’s suitcase he found himself hovering over before looking at you, shaking his head. 

“Fine, I will put a few more in there.” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on your head before heading back over to his drawer to throw a few more sweatshirts and long sleeved shirts in with the rest of his clothes. “I am actually really excited for the snow.” Javi smirked, a boyish grin growing across his face. 

“God, it’s so weird to me that you’ve never seen snow before. It’ll get old fast, believe me. Especially when you have to spend all morning shoveling it out of the driveway before you can go anywhere, or when I kick your ass in a snowball fight.” You reached over, giving him a playful punch before squealing as Javi lunged on top of you, making you bounce on the bed as he peppered ticklish kisses across your neck and chest, leaving you giggling and swatting beneath him. 

“Yeah, really? You’re gonna kick my ass? How the fuck do you kick someone’s ass at a snowball fight, hmmm?” He questioned between pecks of his lips against your skin before finally pulling away, letting you catch your breath from your laughter. 

“You’ll find out once you have a big ole snowball in your face, won’t you?” Leaning back against the headboard of the bed, you crossed your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at Javi, giving him a little shrug. “Don’t think I’m taking it easy on you because you have no snowball making experience. This will be an all out war, Peña.” 

“I don’t think I’d ever expect anything less from you, Osita.” 

Javi was just as thankful as you that this trip to Chicago seemed to be less nerve wracking than your first one a few months ago- for the sake of your own sanity and the bones in his hand, considering your only slightly eased death grip around it on the 3 hour flight leaving Laredo. The O’Hare International Airport was buzzing with the hustle and bustle of holiday travelers, people dashing through the terminals, crowding at gates, and fighting for taxis. You couldn’t believe how busy it still was after Christmas had passed, considering the fight it had been to try and hail a cab to get to your parents house. 

The drive to your childhood home from the airport had felt starkly different than the one you and Javi had taken in October, a sense of comfort and relief washing over you in having ripped off the band aid that was your first trip back home since Patrick’s death, which was approaching almost exactly a year ago. To be honest, there was a part of you that was expecting this trip to somehow be more painful- having to face your first Christmas without your brother- your last one being only days before he had passed away, getting dumped by your ex, and running half way across the country to try and forget anything and everything you could about the life that had crumbled at the seams beneath you. But as you ran your thumb gently over your ring finger, pressing against the delicate gold band that had made its home there since Thanksgiving, staring at your future husband, excitedly looking out the window at the thick flakes of snow falling from the sky, you couldn’t help but smile at just how lucky you were. You also couldn’t help but think how happy your brother would have been for you, too- to know his death hadn’t meant that your life had ended either. Truth be told, it was only just beginning. 

“What do you think?” You asked, biting down on your lip as you gave Javi’s hand a little squeeze, taking in the cuteness that was watching him watch the snowflakes gently drift through the winter breeze before landing in the already massive piles lining the streets below. His eyes lit up with a childlike glow, trying his best to contain his giddiness as he looked out the window before looking back over at you. 

“It’s… Fuck, it’s beautiful.” Even though you knew he was talking about the soft, white flakes falling behind you, the way his eyes never left yours as the words fell from his lips made your cheeks warm in a way that would have melted any snowflakes that would have landed there. “I’m so glad that our kids will be able to grow up knowing what it’s like to have snow.” 

“It is a lot prettier when you know you only have to be in it for a week, and not multiple months.” You laughed as you shook your head, admiring the snow covered suburbia outside your window. It made your smile just a little bit wider as you watched kids playing outside in their front yards, rolling giant snowballs for snowmen or, digging holes in the snow plowed piles along their driveways to make forts, knowing that one day, your children would get to do the same with you and Javi. “Yeah, it is nice that they’ll get to have both. Unless they inherit your warm weather genes, and complain every time it’s colder than 70 degrees out. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to teach them well so we can gang up on you for all the snowball fights.” Javi looked over at you, smirking to himself as he reached across the backseat to grab your hand, intertwining it with yours. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

The rest of your drive was spent quietly, hand in hand, as you admired the snowfall from your windows, gently music playing softly from the car radio as Javi’s thumb rubbed against the soft skin of your knuckles, taking an extra few moments to touch the beautiful ring forever wrapped around your finger, excited for the winters ahead he got to spend with you.  

“Listen… I’m not trying to say I told you so but-” 

“Yeah, it’s fucking cold, okay? You win, Osita.” You tried your best to keep from bursting out into laughter as you could see Javi visibly shivering, pulling out your suitcases out of the back of the cab, trying his best not to drop them in the slush covered streets of your neighborhood. The beautiful facade of the winter wonderland Javi had been admiring through the window of the taxi quickly faded as he stepped outside to face the reality of a true Chicago December. Grabbing your own bag, you hoisted it up over the pile of snow on either side of the walkway up to your house, making sure to take an extra big step over the mound at the edge of the curb you had learned over the years that your dad was too lazy to shovel to avoid ending up with a shoe full of snow.

 “Oh fuck me…” Javi sighed, now ankle deep in the pile you had forgotten to warm him about, frantically shaking his foot to try and get the snow off his foot. 

“Like I said, I’m not trying to say I told you so…” You grimaced, looking down at Javi’s snow soaked foot before looking back up at him, giving him a sarcastically sympathetic shrug. 

“Pendejo. Can we please go inside before we fucking freeze out here?” 

“But I thought it was so beautiful? Have you changed your mind, you warm weathered, sun spoiled baby?” You teasted, giggling to yourself at the annoyed look on Javi’s face before turning back around to head towards the house. 

Almost to the door, you practically froze in your tracks, your jaw hanging open in shock as a cold, hard thump hit the back of your jacket, whipping your head back around the see Javi pulling his hands out of the snow, wiping them on his jeans before glancing down to see the little white blob that had slid down your back, landing by your feet. “Did you just throw a fucking snowball at me?!” You yelled, a devilish smirk spreading ear to ear across Javi’s face as you stared at him in disbelief. 

“It was just so beautiful, I couldn’t help it.” He mocked, raising an eyebrow at you before finishing the rest of the journey up the pathway to your door, giving you a playful nudge as he passed you. 

“You’re the worst, I hope you know that.” 

“You’re the one who said yes.” He smirked, gesturing down at the ring on your finger before placing a quick kiss on your rosy cheek, opening up the front door. 

“Hey you guys we’re-” 

“Oh thank God you’re here.” Charlie sighed, frantically shoving an oversized diaper bag in your arms as he ran down the stairs next to the entryway of your parents house. 

“Good to see you too, Charlie? Thanks for the diaper bag? Where’s everyone else?” You questioned, a puzzled look growing across your face, as Charlie rapidly ran back up the stairs, only hearing his voice shout down the hallway. 

“Natalie! They’re here!” You looked up at Javi, the two of you stumped as to what was happening before Charlie was speeding back down the steps, the sound of little feet following behind him. 

“Auntie Bear, Auntie Bear, Auntie Bear!” Olivia squealed, her tiny feet pattering down the hallway, outstretching her arms to be picked up for a hug. Quickly setting down the diaper bag you had been handed to avoid getting run over by your niece, your arms mirrored hers, scooping her up, giving her a big hug. 

“Hi, cutie pie!” You grinned, giving her a big kiss on the cheek before setting her back down, Olivia then swiftly making her way over to Javi. 

“Hi Uncle Javi!” She beamed, wrapping her little arms around his waist, hugging his hip. 

“Hey, Olivia!” Javi smiled widely at his new title, rubbing his hand against her head, ruffling her hair. 

“Hi Awnt Bawwwww!!.” A little voice screeched, Brianna waving her tiny hand at you as she tumbled down the stairwell, following her sister. 

“Hi Lil Miss! C’mere, sweetie!” You giggled, picking up your other niece and hosting her on your hip, planting little kisses across her face, making her squeal, before gently placing her back on the ground. You were so focused on your adorable niece’s hugs and greetings, that you hadn’t been paying attention to Charlie scurrying through the living room, cleaning and gathering items that had been scattered around your parents house by his daughters. Swiftly making her way down the stairs with the newest addition to your family, your new nephew Lucas, Charlie’s wife Natalie was already handing him off to you as she fixed the earring she was trying to place before helping Charlie in the living room.  

“You wanna tell us what’s going on?” You questioned, laughing at your brother and his wife frantically running around the house as you carefully held up Lucas, melting at his sweet, rosy cheeks and messy blonde tufts of hair, finally getting to see him in person for the first time. “Oh my God, aren’t you the sweetest thing? Hi, little Lucas! What are your crazy mom and dad up to, huh? What’s happening that’s got them running around like psychopaths?” You giggled, talking to him in a high pitched voice as he babbled, resting his tiny head against your chest. 

“Can you guys babysit?!” Charlie paused, shoving a few more items into Lucas’s diaper bag sitting by your feet, a pathetic and guilty look growing across his face. 

“Wait, babysit? Where are you two going? Aren’t mom and dad-” 

“Well David was supposed to, but he got called into work today because they were short staffed. Natalie’s work Christmas party is tonight. Our idiot brother told Mom and Dad that you guys weren’t coming until tomorrow, so they planned dinner with the Kolawski’s tonight, and our babysitter is out of town for the holidays so we don’t have anyone to watch the kids.” Charlie grunted as he shoved the last of his shoe on his foot, standing up and looking at you with pleading eyes. “Mom and Dad were watching while we were at work and when we found out you guys were actually coming in today, we stayed hoping that you could watch them, too. Please Cubby?” 

“Well, I think your first mistake was trusting David to relay any accurate information at any point in time.” You rolled your eyes, readjusting Lucas, cradling the back of his head. 

“If you could, it would mean so much. I’ve been looking forward to finally going back to see everyone at work for this party. I know it’s so last minute. I’m so sorry you guys, if you can’t it’s okay, we don’t have to go.” Natalie smiled sympathetically, leaning down to give Olivia a quick kiss on the head as she wrapped her arms around her mom’s leg. 

“Please Auntie Bear? Please, please, please, please?” Olivia begged, looking up at you with big puppy dog eyes. 

“I don’t see why we can’t? Is that okay with you, Jav?” You shrugged at Charlie before looking over at Javi, eyes wide as he stared at you bouncing Lucas in your arms, your words seeming to go in one ear and out the other watching you hold your nephew. 

“Hmmm? Oh yeah. Yeah! Yeah, of course we can babysit.” Javi visibly shook his head to snap himself out of whatever daydream he was having as he looked at you, bringing himself back to reality. 

“Yay! Auntie Bear and Uncle Javi are gonna babysit!” Olivia squealed, squeezing Brianna in excitement, the two of them giggling and bouncing up and down before running off into the living room, heading back to whatever toys they were playing with before your arrival.

“Oh my God, thank you so much, Cubby. We owe you big time.” Charlie reached over, giving you a quick side hug before reaching for his and Natalie’s coats behind you, hanging by the front door. 

“It’s not a big deal at all, Charlie, we’re more than happy to. Anything special we need to know with this lil cutie? The other two I’ve got down pat.” You leaned over, kissing Lucas’s soft, feathery hair as you held him. 

“Keep him alive? I don’t know, Cubby, he’s a baby, it’s not that hard. Feed him and put him to bed when he falls asleep.” Charlie raised an eyebrow at you, shrugging as he put his coat on. 

“You’re not the one that question was directed towards, idiot.” You rolled your eyes, looking over at Natalie, laughing to herself as she shimmied her coat over her arms. 

“I just fed him an hour ago, so you can feed him at 8, diaper bag has everything he needs in there, his pack-n-play is set up in the spare room, and if he’s fussy, put him in the baby rocker and he’ll fall right asleep. You can call Charlie’s cell if you need anything, and I’ll answer.” 

“Thank you for that helpful information, Natalie. Crazy that I’d wanna know those kinds of things before having a 3 month old baby dropped in my care.” You jabbed at Charlie, oblivious to your remark as he was already opening the front door. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Thank you Cubby, we’ll be back at like, 10? Okay, bye you guys, be good for Auntie Bear and Javi, love you!” Charlie half shouted as he booked it out the door, Natalie following behind him. 

“Thank you guys, so much. I’d apologize for Charlie being the way that he is, but…you already know. Bye girls! I love you both, Daddy and I will see you later, okay? Have lots of fun!” Natalie gave you a quick hug before waving goodbye, following Charlie out the door, leaving Olivia, Brianna, Lucas, in your care for an unexpected night in on babysitting duty. 

“Is this okay? I’m really sorry, I know we just got here, I wasn’t gonna say no, but I-” 

“Hermosa. Of course it’s okay.” Javi smiled, cutting you off as he placed his hand on the small of your back, his thumb tracing soft circles along your jacket you still had yet to take off from your arrival.

“Okay. You sure? You were giving me a weird look when I asked you at first.” You questioned, raising an eyebrow at him before pressing a soft kiss onto Lucas’s head as he cooed. Javi looked back at you, letting out a sigh, biting down on his lip and he leaned down to give you what you thought was going to be a kiss on your cheek, before he stopped at your ear. 

“Maybe it’s because watching you hold that baby is making me wanna put one in you right now.” His words sent a shiver down your spine, his breath hot and heavy against your neck as he pulled away, giving you a quick wink while your eyes just about popped out of your head from his unwarranted comment. 

“Jesus Christ, Javier Jesús Peña. You cannot just be saying things like that to me, or I’m gonna throw my fucking birth control out the window and spontaneously combust.” You sighed, jabbing his side as the two of you laughed to yourselves. 

“Auntie Bearrrrrrrr! Me and Bri Bri are hungry! We want dino nuggies, pleaseeeee!” Olivia shouted from across the room, waving one of her many stuffed animals at you to get your attention.

“Okay, cuties! Let’s go in the kitchen and we can make some dinner, alright?” You called back, thankful for your niece’s impeccable timing before you melted into a puddle from Javi’s suggestion. “You’re a menace, you know that right? This is about to be the most challenging night of babysitting ever because of you. You haven’t even held Lucas yet, and just the thought of it is making me want to do unspeakable things to you.” You sighed, making your way towards the kitchen, trying your best to not even look at Javi before you completely fell apart. 

“Is that a threat, or a promise?” Javi smirked as he followed behind you, making you whip your head around, giving him a stern look for the sake of your sanity. 

“A menace, I swear.” 

Olivia and Brianna had somehow charmed you and Javi into convincing the both of you that they needed not only dinosaur chicken nuggets, but also mac and cheese, compromising with carrots as the required vegetable to go with their meal if they wanted the hot chocolate they had also requested for after dinner. 

“Uncle Javi, will you play reindeer with us while Auntie Bear finishes cooking?” Olivia asked, dangling her legs off the counter where Javi had put her after her request to help with placing the chicken nuggets on the baking sheet before they went in the oven. You smirked at Javi, holding Brianna on your hip as she fumbled with a noodle you had given her to play with while you stirred the mac and cheese. 

“Reindeer?” He asked, leaning against the counter next to Olivia, hand on his hip as he began to intently listen to her explanation. 

“Before Mommy and Daddy left, Bri Bri and I were reindeer and Daddy was Santa and he had to chase us back to help get ready for next Christmas!” Olivia stated, matter of factly, as if everyone should have already been aware of how to play. 

“Yeah, you dotta wun weeeellyyy fast!” Brianna chimed in, finally plopping the stray noodle into her mouth, chewing loudly in your ear. 

“What, are you saying I’m not fast enough, Missy?” You smiled at Olivia, making her giggle as you set Brianna down before giving her sides a tickle and picking her up off of the counter and placing her on the ground next to her sister. 

“No, it’s because Uncle Javi has to be Santa and you have to be Mrs. Claus so you can watch the baby elf.” She told you, pointing over at Lucas, sound asleep in his rocker, a mischievous grin on her face. “So Uncle Javi has to chase us or else we won’t be playing it right. Please Uncle Javi, will you play reindeer with us? Pleaseeeee?” Olivia pleaded, looking up at Javi, pouting her bottom lip, quickly joined by Brianna, stomping her feet in excitement. 

“Do we have enough time to play reindeer?” Javi grinned, raising an eyebrow at you as you stirred the pot simmering on the stove, looking over at your timer. 

“You guys have 6 minutes before dinner is done, got it?” You smiled at the girls as they began to squeal in delight. “But… Reindeer are extra fast if they eat carrots, so one carrot for each of you before you play okay?” You grabbed two carrot sticks from the bag on the counter, holding them out to the girls who gladly agreed at their newly promised speed. 

“Okay!” They chomped, Olivia stopping mid-bite, pointing towards Javi. “Doesn’t Uncle Javi have to eat a carrot, too?” She questioned, now debating the fairness of your carrot trick. 

“I thought Santa just got to eat cookies…” Javi grumbled, trying to get out of paying your carrot toll. 

“Oh, that is a good point, Olivia! Santa should have to eat some carrots, it’d be good for him.” You snickered, holding out a carrot stick for Javi, grimacing as he crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to take it from you, knowing that you were well aware of his disdain for this particular vegetable. 

“Last time I checked, Santa doesn’t like carrots.” 

“Last time I checked, Santa was a good role model for his reindeer who ate his carrots and didn’t complain about it.” You shoved the carrot in Javi’s face, laughing to yourself as he rolled his eyes, painfully taking it out of your hand, looking at it with regret before taking a bite. Javi tried his best to hide the disgusted look on his face as he chewed, letting out a gulp as he swallowed, trying to play off how much he had hated every second of what he had just done. 

“Wow, SO good.” Javi glared at you as the two girls took off running out of the kitchen, screaming and screeching for Javi to come catch them while you looked back at him with a smug smile, shrugging playfully. “You make me eat another carrot and I’m on the next flight home to Texas.” 

“UNCLE JAVI YOU HAVE TO COME CATCH US NOW!” Olivia yelled from the next room over, you and Javi peeking out from the kitchen to see her and Brianna doing laps around the living room. 

“You are such a baby. A 3 and 6 year old complained less than you did. Now go, you have some very fast reindeer to catch, Santa. Don’t make me give you another carrot.” You giggled as you pressed up on to your tiptoes, cupping Javi’s cheek as you gave him a quick kiss, Javi wrapping his hand around the back of your head to hold you there a moment longer, his voice low and hushed as his lips barely parted from yours. 

“Careful what you ask for, baby. Can’t give you my North Pole later if I’m all the way back in Laredo cause you made me eat another fucking carrot.” With a wink and another quick peck on your cheek, Javi pulled away, making his way towards the girls in the living room as you gave him the most over dramatic roll of your eyes you could conjure. 

“JAVIER PEÑA. You are the most ridiculous person I have ever met, I swear to God.” 

You had most definitely let more than your promised 6 minutes go by as you stood in the entrance to the living room, watching Javi chase Olivia and Brianna in circles around the couch, the 3 of them laughing and smiling as he would purposely let them pass him, only to grab them both a few moments later, tossing them onto the cushions before the girls crawled over the sides of the sofa to escape again.

 It was a good thing you hadn’t watched him hold Lucas yet, because the sight of him playing with your nieces alone was enough to have you weak in the knees, thinking about how goddamn sweet he was with them, and much sweeter it would be once it was your own kids, not just Olivia and Brianna. 

You were so in love with this man, it physically hurt. 

The four of you chatted away at dinner, listening to Olivia talk about her class party at school, what gifts they had gotten for Christmas, and what toys they were most excited to show you from Santa. Your reindeer trick had worked wonders to get them to eat the rest of their carrots, along with their nuggets and macaroni, the girls both very adamantly reminding you that they could get their hot chocolate now that they had finished all of their dinner. 

You and Javi had agreed there had been plenty of reindeer chasing for the night, and with it starting to get late, that you all could pick a movie to watch while drinking your coco as the last activity before getting the girls to bed. You helped Olivia and Brianna get changed into their pajamas and put Lucas down for bed while Javi finished cleaning up the rest of dinner and starting the hot chocolate. 

As the girls paraded back out into the living room in their matching snowman pajamas, they shrieked in delight to see that Javi had somehow managed to find every spare pillow and blanket in your parent’s house, making a giant, cozy nest in front of the couch, complete with the glow of your parent’s Christmas tree in the background, and mugs of hot chocolate resting on the TV stand waiting for them. A few minutes later after putting Lucas down to bed, you followed behind, hearing their giggles and squeals as they nestled into the comfy pile on the ground, Javi sitting on the sofa waiting for you. 

“Auntie Bear, look! Uncle Javi made us a blanket pile! And he put extra whipped cream in our hot chocolate!” Olivia beamed, whipped cream smeared across her face as he smiled at you. 

“Da hot chocwate is weelllyyy yummy!” Brianna joined in, her whipped cream mustache almost as thick as Javi’s real one. 

“If they’re up at midnight, I’m telling Charlie and Natalie it was your fault.” You whispered to Javi as you sat down next to him, Javi automatically wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you curled up in the broadness of his grasp. 

“You’re the one who promised them hot chocolate, Osita.” He whispered back, giving you a little nudge and a wink. 

“Not hot chocolate and half a can of whipped cream on top.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing to yourself as you watched the girls chug the rest of their drinks, passing Javi the remote to the TV. “The girls voted for Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.  I told them I met some really cool reindeer earlier, but they kept trying to run away from Santa. I wonder if they’re in this movie too.“ 

“Oh my goodness, Olivia and Brianna are my favorite reindeer that pull Santa’s sleigh, you saw them earlier? I’m so sad I missed them!” You and Javi smiled as Olivia and Brianna broke out in hysterical giggles. 

“No Uncle Javi and Auntie Bear, that was us! We’re not really reindeer, Uncle Javi was just being silly.” Olivia laughed, her cheeks turning pink and rosy from her grin. 

“He is very silly, isn’t he? You ready for the movie, my favorite little reindeers?” 

It wasn’t long before the giggles and sing-alongs of Rudoplh had quickly turned to soft, sleepy snores from Olivia and Brianna, curled up in their blankets and snuggled up with their stuffed animals long before the film had finished. 

“I think you wore these reindeer out, Jav.” You smiled, looking down at the girls sound asleep, tucked away in the piles of pillows around them. 

“I think those reindeer wore me out. Jesus, I gotta stretch before I do that next time or I’m gonna throw out my back.” The two of you quietly laughed to yourselves, Javi resting his hand on your thigh, squeezing it gently. The two of you turned your heads as you heard a muffled cry coming from the baby monitor you had set on the end table near the couch, realizing that Lucas was awake, and needed something. 

“You wanna come with me to check on him?” You grunted, pushing yourself to stand from the couch, carefully stepping over your nieces, tucked away in the sea of pillows and blankets at your feet. 

“You sure they’re okay out here by themselves?” Javi gestured over to the girls, both sound asleep. 

“Jav, I’m pretty sure a tornado could blow through this house right now and they’d sleep through it. C’mon.” 

Sneaking quietly down the hallway into the guest room, you gently pushed open the door to the sounds of a wailing Lucas, writhing in his pack-n-play, tiny fists shaking in the air. “Oh c’mere, handsome.” You cooed, reaching down to pick up Lucas, hugging him against your chest as you bounced him up and down. “What’s the matter, bub?” You continued rocking, giving him a little kiss on the head as you held him. “Well, it’s not his diaper, and I just changed it after the girls put on their pajamas.” You shrugged, talking to yourself, tilting your head down to sniff near his tiny bottom, free of any suspicious scents. “I fed him then too. The little guy was out cold after that. What’s goin’ on, sweetie? Maybe you need to be burped again, ya little gassy monster. Here, Jav, can you hold him while I go get the burp cloths from the diaper bag?” 

The way you had picked Lucas up, you had your back to Javi, talking to your little nephew without even looking over at your fiancé. You figured he probably just hadn’t heard you, and had mistaken your question for him with the babbling you had been doing with Lucas. “Jav?” You asked again, this time turning around to face him, greeted by the awestruck look on Javi’s face, eyes wide and jaw slack as he stared you up and down. 

“Hmmmm?” He asked, shaking his head, letting out a loud gulp as the Adam's apple of his throat bobbed in his neck. 

“Can you hold Lucas while I go get something from his diaper bag?” You smirked, raising an  eyebrow at him, dying to know the thoughts swirling in his brain that had his face looking as dumbfounded as it did right now. 

“I uh, yeah- um, yeah, I can.” Javi responded, now looking flustered and nervous as you outstretched Lucas towards him. “Do you trust me to hold him?” He asked, reaching his hands out to take Lucas from you, his question quiet and sheepish. You cocked your head in confusion as you stared back at him. 

“Baby, of course I do? Do you not wanna hold him? You don’t have to if-” 

“No, I do, I just- He’s- I don’t wanna hurt him or anything- I don’t- I don’t think I’ve ever held a baby this small.” 

Javier Peña was a man who had faced many dangerous things in life- the cartel, violence, drugs, literal life or death decisions- Things that would make the average person tremble in fear, that Javi had learned to deal without a second thought. Yet, the prospect of holding a tiny, 3 month old baby in front of his future wife had Javi more nervous than he could remember being in the past decade. 8 months ago, he had no plans of ever finding someone, let alone plans to get married, or to have children of his own. Now, he wanted nothing more to give you a family- fuck, he’d give you all the kids you want, but that meant the reality of this future prospect was finally starting to sink in with Javi. 

He was terrified to be a dad. 

Not because he didn’t love you. Not because he didn’t want to be (because fuck, did he want to be), but because the idea that the tired, worn, and damaged man he’d written himself off to be was supposed to raise, protect, and nurture the tiny, little person the two of you would someday bring into the world scared the shit out of him. And all it took was you outstretching your crying newborn nephew in front of him for that earth shattering reality to sink in. 

“Javi…” You sighed, almost laughing to yourself with how worried your sweet fiancé was about being so careful with Lucas. “Baby, it’s okay. Here, why don’t you go sit down on the chair that’s over there and I’ll hand him over to you. We can take standing out of the equation if it makes you feel better.” Javi nodded, quickly sitting himself down on the oversized, cushioned chair in the corner of the guest bedroom. Bouncing Lucas a few more times to try and ease some of his tears before handing him over to Javi, you passed him off to his outstretched arms, carefully cradling him along his chest and shoulder. “You got ‘em?” You smiled, watching Javi’s eyes light up as he held Lucas, his tension visibly starting to ease once he was in his grasp. “I’ll be right back, okay?” 

You had no choice but to hightail it out of the guest room without looking at Javi for too long, knowing you would very much need to brace yourself for the image of Javi holding a baby before returning, considering you were going to absolutely crumble like a piece of paper the moment you really got a good look at him. 

As soon as Lucas was settled in Javi’s arms, his crying immediately began to ease, Javi gently rocking him in hopes that it would help to settle him down more. “Shhhhhh, hey, it’s okay, big guy.” Javi whispered, grinning to himself as he gazed down at Lucas’s bright eyes and rosy cheeks. “Fuck, you are cute. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t swear in front of you. Well, I don’t know, you’re a baby, you can’t understand anything I’m saying, can you?” Chuckling to himself, Javi leaned further back into the chair, pressing Lucas’s weight against his chest, resting the width of his large palm over his tiny head and back. “You think your Aunt’s gonna let me give her one of you soon? I sure hope so.” 

Turning the corner down the hallway back into the guest bedroom, you were 100% correct in realizing that there was no amount of mental preparation you could have done to brace yourself for the sight that was your future husband, snuggling and smiling with your nephew, who on top of everything else, had also gotten him to somehow stop crying. 

Jesus Christ, you were so fucked and needed him to give you 14 children today.  

“Wow, I leave for 30 seconds and you get him to stop crying?” You smirked, biting down on your lip as Javi looked over at you leaning in the doorway, holding your stack of brightly colored cloths from Lucas’s bag. “I didn’t know you were a baby whisperer, too.” 

“I didn’t think I did anything, I just held him and he stopped. He’s been fine since you left.” Javi shrugged, gently combing his fingers through the wild, sleepy ends of Lucas’s hair. 

“Alright, message received loud and clear, Baby Lucas, you like Uncle Javi better than me. A little rude, but alright.” You giggled, making your way next to Javi, standing beside him as you leaned down to press a kiss onto Lucas’s forehead before doing the same to Javi. “Well, I guess whatever was wrong, he’s fine now. He must have just needed you to hold him. Which, I really can’t complain about.” 

You should have felt at least a little guilty for subjecting your infant nephew to the now palpable tension flooding the guest room, completely lost in your own world as you soaked in every ounce of watching Javi cradle Lucas in his broad grasp, using all your self restraint to keep from pouncing on him. You were so lost in your fantasy, that you hadn’t even heard Charlie and Natalie make their way back through the front door, down the hallway and into the guest room. 

“You babysat and knocked both the gremlins on their asses out cold? Man, I really do owe you two.” Charlie’s voice startled you, making you gasp as you whipped your head around to see him standing in the doorway. “She’s got you on baby duty too, Jav? Goddamn, I owe you a beer, man. Honestly something stronger than that. Here, I’ll take him.” Charlie laughed, reaching out to grab his son as Javi slowly stood, carefully holding Lucas as he rose out of his seat, passing him off to your brother. “Thanks, man. You lookin’ to throw down tomorrow? David’s got the day off, and since dad’s retired, he has put every ounce of time and effort into the ice rink since the weather has gotten below freezing. I think he’s hoping the NHL will come and scout him for his backyard rink building skills.”

“Uh, yeah- yeah, for sure. We’re up for whatever.” You replied, still distracted by the sight of Javi, not even holding your nephew anymore, but the image still fresh and burning in your brain. “Hey, uh, did Mom and Dad say when they were gonna be home?” Watching Charlie collect Lucas’s things from the guest room in his free arm, you shot Javi a desperate look, filled with need and want, biting down on your lip to see his gaze match yours. 

Unaware of yours and Javi’s silent exchange, Charlie picked up Lucas’s bag, shuffling it on his shoulder as he responded. “Uh shit, I don’t know. I mean, they’re going out with Gary and Marcella, which means at this point, that Gary’s got dad 6 Irish Car Bombs deep and Mom and Marcella are probably asleep on the bar, my guess is not for a while.” He chuckled, giving you a suspicious look as you nodded in agreement, Charlie looking back and forth between you and Javi, now picking up on the undeniable tension. “Just don’t fuck in my old room, okay?” 

“Fuck off, Charlie. Your room still probably reeks of all your old hockey gear you refused to wash anyways.” You sighed, grimacing at him, trying to keep your face from turning any brighter red than it already was. 

“Night lovebirds. Thanks again for watching the gremlins. See you tomorrow?” He smirked, winking at you and Javi before slipping out the door, leaving you two standing alone in the guest room. 

“Good night, you guys! Thank you again!” Natalie shouted from down the hallway, you and Javi still standing frozen in place as you heard the front door open and close, locking behind your family traveling out of it. 

From the moment you knew the door was closed, you practically pounced on Javi, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt as your mouth met his with an electric intensity. Your lips crashed together as Javi ran his hands down your body, grabbing you under your thighs as your legs wrapped around the small of his back, hands tugging at the dark curls of his hair. “I need you so bad.” You moaned, your words barely escaping your lips above a whisper. 

“You sure your parents are gonna be home soon?” Javi groaned, making his way out of the guest room before carrying you down the hallway, your kisses still rushed and frantic as he made his way up the stairs towards your room. 

“What are we, 15? Charlie’s right, they’re both drunk off their asses so they won’t be back for hours, and even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t care. Fuck, watching you hold that baby did things to me.” Using his back to push open your bedroom door, Javi threw you down onto your bed, already shedding his shirt as you bounced on the mattress, a hungry look in his eyes as he reached down to practically rip your clothes off your body, tossing them in a heap on the floor. 

  “Yeah?” He smirked, hovering over you, trapping your body under his as he planted his hands into the mattress on either side of your head. He dipped his head down, slowly kissing his way up your body, his lips hot and heavy on your skin as they traveled up your stomach towards your breasts, swirling each pebbled nipple with his tongue, releasing with a wet pop, taking his sweet time as he worked his way up the exposed skin of your collarbone. “You like that? The thought of me putting a baby in you? Making me a dad?” You could feel his devilish grin pressed against your neck between his nips at your pulse point, basking in the power he knew his words had to make you lose your mind before even laying a finger on you. 

“Holy fuck…” You whimpered, already writhing beneath him, the ache building between your legs desperate to be filled even before Javi had begun whispering sweet nothings against your skin. “Javi, please, Jesus Christ.” You could feel yourself growing impatient as he toyed with you, working you up to the point of becoming unbearably needy before his hands had even met your body, getting you exactly where he wanted you. 

“Please what, Osita? Don’t think I heard you answer my question yet.” Javi mewled, a smug grin spreading across his face as he began to trail his kisses back down your body, finally bringing his hands to knead at the soft flesh of your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, making you gasp, now only finding it harder to find the words for a coherent sentence. 

“Yes. Fuck. Fuck, I want you to put a baby in me so bad. Jesus, I’ll have as many of your babies as you want.” You paused, lifting your head up to watch Javi, sinking down to his knees at the end of the bed, nudging your legs open as he draped them over his shoulders, now satisfied with your answer. He looked up at you, noticing the equally big smirk on your face as you bit down on your lip. “You really want me to make you a daddy, huh?” 

Two could play at this game. 

As much as you joked about it, that one sent the blood flow straight to his cock, now painfully straining against the denim of his jeans, making him have to bite his tongue to keep from audibly groaning. “Fuckk meee.” He whispered, shaking his head before locking his arms over your legs, scooting you closer to him, now coming face to face with the worked up and dripping mess you had already become. “Seems like the answer to that question is already between your legs, baby. Pretty fucking pussy’s soaked and I haven’t even touched you yet.” 

“Javi, Jesus Christ, pleaseeeee.” You moaned, nearly bucking your hips at him in your desperate state. 

“Please, who?” Javi smirked, darting his eyes up at you, making you tremble as you felt the strong arch of his nose bump against your clit. 

“Seriously?” You huffed, rolling your eyes at Javi 1- for making you wait any damn longer, and 2- knowing the answer to his question, even if you only used it jokingly with him. Javi raised an eyebrow at you, letting out a little shrug that lifted your legs draped over his shoulders, waiting for your response. 

“Please, daddy.” 

“There ya go, baby.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Wasn’t planning on venturing there today, but can if you want me to.” 

“Jesus Christ… Javi, for the love of God, please, just fuck me. I am dying up here.” You sighed, laughing to yourself to ward off the impatient mess Javi had turned you into with his antics. 

“Wow, someone’s needy, hmmm? You want me to fuck you, sweet girl? Sure you don’t need me to-” 

“I need you so bad, Javi.” Sitting up on your elbows, you reached in front of you, trying to bend over the edge of the bed to prompt him to stand up so you could tug at the waistband of his jeans and unbutton his pants. Following your request, Javi rose up, now almost as frantic as you as he began to push his pants and his boxers down his legs, letting them pool around his ankles before stepping out of them, cupping his his hands around your cheeks, pressing his mouth against yours as his tongue swiped along your bottom lip. Just like that, his cool and collected facade had faded, leaving him just as worked up and wanting as you, his hands roaming every inch of your body before gently pushing you down to lay with your back on the mattress, prompting you to bring your knees to your chest as he stood at the edge of the bed. Reaching down to stroke himself, Javi lined his cock up with your dripping heat, collecting your arousal as his tip slid through your folds before pressing into you, the sweet stretch making you whimper. With how worked up you’d been, Javi slid in easily, flushing his hips against yours, his tip brushing along your cervix, pausing for a moment, buried deep inside of you. 

Before you could say anything, he pulled back out, setting a pounding pace as he thrusted in and out of you, his fingertips gripping at the meat of your thighs as they pressed against your chest. The fullness of his cock ramming into had you whining, your jaw going slack as stared up at Javi’s broad body hovering over you, the muscles of his arms flexing as he leaned further into you, snaking one of his hands between your legs to circle at your clit. “This what you wanted, Hermosa? Fuck you like the good girl you are? Fuck you like I’m gonna fuck a baby into you?” 

You nodded frantically, your mind going blank with each push and pull of his length sliding from your heat and rub of his fingers against your throbbing bundle of nerves, relishing in the sweet sound of Javi’s thighs slapping against yours, over and over. “Yes- fuck- oh my god, yes. Fuck, you feel so good, Javi. I want more. Baby, please, fuck me harder.” 

Your request had Javi’s eyes going wide, letting out a low groan through gritted teeth, his pace still relentless as he gazed down at you, watching you nod your head in silent reassurance. “Fuck. Turn around, Osita.” He hissed as he pulled out, watching you flip over as your chest laid on the mattress and stuck your ass out, Javi instinctively gripping his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips as he guided himself back into your cunt, the both of you moaning as he filled you with the delicious sting of his cock. He began snapping his hips against your ass, feeling you press yourself back deeper onto him with each thrust, knowing he was buried well within the spot that would have you teetering on the brink of coming undone. The lewd noises between your bodies fill the room- your hungry moans, the slapping of your skin, the wetness of your throbbing cunt as Javi pounded into you repeatedly, the filthy words falling from his mouth as he dug his fingers deeper into your hips.

“Fuck Javi, oh my god. Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop baby. Fuckkkk.” You whimpered, feeling the delicious tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine and your pussy starting to flutter. Javi wasn’t sure what it was- maybe it was the fact that you had practically begging him to fuck you, then give you more. Maybe it was watching you all fucked out and moaning beneath him. Maybe, it was the fact that watching you hold that baby made him want to give you your own. Whatever it was, something feral, almost primal ignited in him, reaching his arm underneath you to pull you up, pressing your back against his chest, wrapping his hands around your body, like he needed you as close as he could have you. One hand grasped at your breast, squeezing the plush skin between his fingers while the other draped across your waist, the heel of his palm rubbing against your throbbing clit as he feverishly fucked into you.  

 “I’m not gonna stop, Osita. Not gonna stop until you cum around my cock and I fuck myself so deep inside of you, I’m dripping out of you for days. Fuck myself so deep inside of you, maybe’ll fucking beat your birth control, huh? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

You could feel your body beginning to tremble as the coil in your belly snapped, your orgasm ripping through you with an intensity that made your back arch against Javi’s chest, and legs shake, screaming his name as your cunt clenched tighter and tighter around his cock as the pleasure washed over you. It was only a few more thrusts before Javi was chasing his own high, ramblings of incoherent Spanish and English falling from his lips as he spilled deep inside of you, milking himself of every last drop with one final pump, feeling the mixture of your spend dripping down your thighs as your chests rose and fell in sync, the two of you trying to catch your breath as you hunched over against the bed. 

“Holy fuck…” You whispered, quietly laughing to yourself, laying face down on the bed as Javi grabbed the box of tissues from your dresser, unfamiliar where anything else was to help clean the two of you up, gently wiping the mess between your legs before throwing the wad of kleenex into the trash can. You crawled under the covers, smirking at Javi and biting down on the tip of your thumb as he made his way back to you. 

“What’s that look for?” He asked, chuckling to himself, sneaking under the covers next to you, squeezing his way into the cramped space that was your full-sized childhood bed. You draped your arm across his waist, resting your head on the bare skin of his chest, tracing gentle circles on his side as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in tighter. 

“Holding that baby really did something to ya, huh?” You giggled, giving him a little playful shake in your grasp. 

“Did something to me? Says the one who was literally begging me to fuck her from the moment your brother picked up the kids and left.” Javi chuckled, gently stroking the messy ends of your hair through his fingers, nudging you back. 

“Okay, but can you blame me? Have you seen yourself hold a baby? Jesus Christ, Jav.” The both of you laughed, laying together for a moment before you felt Javi take a deep breath, your face rising and falling with the exhale of his chest. 

“Do you- Do you ever worry that I’m not gonna be a good dad?” Javi mumbled, his shaky voice barely above a whisper as he fidgeted with his fingers, his thumb carefully running over his knuckles. You paused for a second, almost wondering if you had misheard him, tilting your head up at him, shocked by the genuine concern pooling in his dark brown eyes. You pushed up on your elbows, resting your hand on his cheek to force his gaze onto yours. 

“Javi… Baby, are you serious?” You couldn’t help but almost laugh at the question, wondering how in the world Javi could be asking it with sincerity. He sat silent for a moment, his eyes darting away from yours, a small frown drawn between his lips. “Javi. Of course I think you’re gonna be a good dad. Why- Jav, why would you think that?” You brought your other hand to his face, drawing his attention back to you, trying to reassure him with your soft and sweet voice. 

Javi let out another sigh, anxiously chewing on his lip. “I just- I don’t know. I’ve done a lot of fucked up things. Things I’m not proud of. Holding that baby today made me realize how goddamn terrified I am that I’m gonna do something to fuck up. I’d do anything for you or our family, I just- fuck. What if it isn’t enough? What if I’m not good enough?” 

You could almost feel your heart shatter from the dismay of Javi’s words, immediately wrapping your arms around him and squeezing him as tightly as you could to comfort him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Javier Jesús Peña. Look at me.” You grabbed his face again, forcing him to let out a little laugh at your sarcastically stern tone. “Javi, there is no one else on the face of this earth I want to be the father of my children more than you. And not just because you’re gonna be the hottest dilf I’ve ever seen.” 

“Dilf?” Javi raised an eyebrow at you in confusion. 

“Dad I’d like to fuck. Jav, you are the sweetest, most thoughtful man I have ever met. You are so good with Olivia and Bri and Lucas, the Murphy girls, even my class of buffoons you were so patient and kind to. The fact that you even care enough to worry about these kinds of things tells me you’re gonna be the most amazing dad. I love you, Javi.” You smiled softly, pressing a tender kiss onto his lips, twisting your fingers through the dark curls at the nape of his neck. 

“I love you too, Osita. God, you’re gonna be the best mom. Our kids are gonna be so fucking lucky.” Javi grinned, gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face, the tension beginning to release from his body. 

“Oh believe me, I worry all the time that I’m not gonna be a good mom either. Knowing what a little menace I was as a kid, plus all the crazy little demons I’ve worked with throughout teaching… I’ve learned a lot of ways to not be a good parent, but I still always worry that I’m gonna end up raising a little Miguel who tries to hot glue his hands together or shove crayons up his nose and makes his teacher wanna cry everyday.” The two of you laughed, shaking your heads thinking of some of the many horror stories Javi had heard and you had witnessed over the years from children you were very glad were only your responsibility for one school year. 

“I hope our kids are like you.” 

“Really? You want our kids to be sarcastic, stubborn pains in our asses?” You teased, giving Javi a little nudge. “They better get your good looks if they’re gonna have my personality.” 

“Shut up, you dork.” He sighed, prodding you back, gently tickling your ribcage, making you giggle and squirm before wrapping his arms back around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. “Sometimes I still can’t fucking believe it.” 

“Believe what, ya goof?” 

“This. You. That I’m gonna fucking marry you. That you wanna give me a family and spend the rest of your life with me. That you fucking love me. I’d thought I’d given up on all this shit a long time ago. I’m really glad I didn’t have to.” 

“I’m really glad you didn’t have to either.” 

“Jesus Christ, could you not be so loud?!” Your dad whined, scrunching his brow in pain as he rubbed his temples with the worn callouses of his fingers as you and Javi made your way down the stairs, meandering into the kitchen. 

“Good morning to you too.” You laughed, reaching up to grab coffee mugs for you and Javi, as he leaned down, patting your dad on the back to greet him. 

“Hey, good to see you Mr.-” 

“For fucks sake, please- Jav, buddy, I love ya, I swear to God, if you keep talking so loud, I’m gonna sock you in the face.” A dramatic wince spread across your dad’s brow, pinching the bridge of his nose, holding up his free hand to stop Javi from speaking any further. 

“Fun night last night?” You snickered, setting down a warm cup of coffee for you and Javi as the two of you pulled up chairs at the kitchen table where your dad was sulking. 

“Well someone seems to think that every time he goes out drinking with Gary, he’s 21 again and isn’t going to suffer the consequences of endless Irish Car Bombs the next day.” Stumbling into the kitchen to join you, your mom grumbled as she wrapped her robe tighter around her chest, her look equally as disheveled as your dad’s. “Good to see you two, but what your dad said, not so loud, please.” Your mom sat down next to you, letting out a loud groan, reaching over to steal a swig of Javi’s coffee. “Sorry honey, you’re family now, and I’m hungover as shit.” 

“The coffee’s all yours.” Javi chuckled, pushing the mug over to your mom. 

“So what are all you idiots up to today?” Greg mumbled, taking a sip of his own coffee, trying his best to be interested in your presence, despite his pounding headache. 

“About to put that ice rink of yours to good use, old man.” David laughed, hands outstretched for high fives from you and Javi as he burst through the front door towards the kitchen. 

“Will you keep it down, you motherfucker? You won’t be alive to make it to the backyard if you keep screaming like that.” You could feel the annoyance radiating from your dad as he buried his face in his hands.

“Love you too, dad.” David snickered, giving your dad a hearty slap on the back, playing into his post-drinking pain. 

“Do you guys actually have an ice rink in your backyard?” Javi asked, trying to peer out the window over the kitchen sink to see if this was just your family trying to pull one over on him. 

“Yes, actually. Since we have such a big backyard, my dad decided to build one when Charlie first started skating, and it’s been there every winter ever since. I’m pretty sure Dad loves that rink more than he loves his own kids.” You laughed, rolling your eyes as Charlie slapped your dad, making him let out a long, exasperated sigh. 

“Honey, that is not true, your dad loves you very much!” 

“Right now I love the rink more than them. You know why? Because the rink is silent. It’s not yelling in my goddamn ear. She’s a beauty this year. Best it’s ever looked.” Your dad nodded, a slight grin building under the pain of his hangover. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Gregory.” Standing up out of his chair, David grabbed your dad by the shoulders, giving him another hardy slap on the back before heading back to the front door, returning with his skates, hockey gloves, and stick. “You guys ready? Charlie and Olivia should be here soon too.” 

“Only if you’re ready for me to kick your ass.” You smirked, joining David as you stood, leaving Javi still sitting in his chair, looking utterly terrified. “C’mon!” Outstretching your arm towards Javi, encouraging him to stand up with you and your brother, he slowly pushed himself out of his chair, wearily looking back and forth between the both of you. 

“I don’t uh- I don’t have any skates?” Javi grimaced, trying to think of an excuse for the inevitable embarrassment he knew he would be subjected to if anything other than shoes were on his feet. 

“Don’t worry, you’re not getting out of this one so easily, Jav. If there is one thing my parents will never get rid of, it’s skates, and I’m pretty sure we have at least one pair in every size known to man in the basement. You two go change, I’ll grab the gear.” David snickered, sneaking his way between you two towards the basement stairs, loudly pounding down each step. 

“Not so loud David, Jesus! Your feet are made of fucking cement!” Greg sighed, laying face down into the table, you and Javi trying to contain your laughter as you headed back upstairs to change. 

The forecast for today called for sunny skies and just below freezing- the type of day that was made for outdoor fun in the snow that came few and far between in Chicago’s cold and cloudy winters. Shuffling through your bag, you pulled out your thickest pair of leggings, along with a heavy heather gray hoodie, topped with one of the 3 Blackhawks jerseys still stashed at home in your childhood bedroom and your favorite Blackhawks beanie that had gone untouched since you had moved to Texas, not feeling the need to bring warm weather accessories with you. 

“Do you put the coat on over the jersey?” Javi asked, shuffling through his suitcase, looking for another layer to add over his long sleeved shirt, trying to brace himself for more than 30 seconds out in the cold. 

“Nope, no coat. It’s a balmy 29 today, Jav, that’s no jacket weather. Welcome to a midwest winter, babe.” You laughed, pressing up on your tiptoes to give him a quick kiss as you readjusted your hat on your head, making your way out the door, letting out a squeal as Javi brought his hand down to your ass, giving it a playful slap. 

“You look fucking hot in that jersey.” Javi bit down on his lip as he looked you up and down, raising an eyebrow at you as you whipped your head back around. 

“If you think trying to butter me up with compliments is gonna get you out of putting skates on, you are sadly mistaken, Mr. Peña.” You giggled as Javi pulled you back in, wrapping his arms around your hips, planting another soft kiss on your lips, his hand cupping your face. 

“A man can try, can’t he?” 

“C’mon, goofball, it’s hockey time.” 

“Auntie Bear, Auntie Bear! Watch me do my backwards skating! Watch, watch! I’m getting so good!” Olivia squealed as she watched you and Javi make your way out to the backyard through the path that had been plowed from the house to the homemade ice rink, which, all credit to your dad, looked better than any year you could remember it before. You and Javi clapped and cheered as you watched Olivia clumsily glide backwards across the ice, making it about halfway before plopping on her bottom and falling. “Oops! Okay, Auntie Bear, pretend you didn’t see that part!” 

“Nice job, Missy! You’re gonna be skating faster than me soon!” You grinned, sitting yourself down on the worn picnic table that had been your family’s skate tying station for more than 2 decades, pulling out your skates, gloves and stick, along with the pair David had picked out for Javi. You kicked off your boots, slipping on your skates and yanking the laces, the familiar squeeze of your foot inside for the first time in over a year bringing a childlike grin to your face. “You want any help?” You asked, looking over at Javi, unconfidently lacing up the rest of his skates. 

“I can help you, Uncle Javi! I’m helping Bri Bri learn how to skate since she doesn’t know how to either!” Olivia shouted from the other side of the rink, waving her arms at the two of you. 

“Just need help not getting my pride bruised by a 6 year old who can skate better than I can.” Javi sighed, pressing his hands on his thighs as he stood up, trying his best not to wobble at the lack of stability. “You have to promise not to laugh at me…” Taking another step towards the rink, Javi mumbled under his breath, looking over at you. 

“I promise… To only laugh a little.” You smirked, speeding off across the ice, using your stick to grab one of the pucks from the pile that had formed along the edges of the snowbank walls. Dragging it along the frozen surface, you weaved it between Charlie’s legs without him even noticing, speeding past him before he even had a chance to stop you. David, who could now see you coming, put himself in the way of your path, holding his stick out to try and snatch your puck for the rest of your lap. Cradling it in your stick, you shuffled the black rubber back and forth, giving it a backhanded nudge, spinning around and taking the puck with you as you flew past your brother. Making your way around the last curve of the rink, you swooped around, facing yourself towards the net, drew your stick back and slapped the puck into the goal. 

“She shoots, she scores! Go Auntie Bear!” Olivia squealed, pumping her fists in the air as you skated back around to grab her, hoisting her up off the ice, giving her a little shake before gently setting her down and making your way back to Javi. 

“Showoff…” Javi laughed, trying his best to roll his eyes despite his genuine admiration for how impressed he was with what he had just watched you do. 

“Sorry, I’m done now. Gotta put everyone back in their place now that I’m home.” You smirked, giving Javi a little shrug as you nodded towards the rink. “C’mon-I promise I won’t laugh at you, I swear. At least for the first part.” 

You weren’t sure if it was Javi trying to muster every ounce of athletic talent that he had in his body, or simply the fact that he was just as stubborn as you (even if he wouldn’t admit it), but after only a few wipeouts (and some helpful tips from Olivia), Javi making his way around on skates well enough to not be completely embarrassed for his first time on the ice. It didn’t take long for skating to turn into grabbing fist fulls of snow from the edge of the rink, pressing them into snowballs and hurling them at one another, all of you slipping and sliding across the ice in laughter and hysterics from your battle. After a quick break inside for hot chocolate, Olivia had somehow roped you and Javi back outside to build a snowman before she went home, insisting that her Uncle Javi needed to learn how to make one since he never had before.  

3 hefty balls of snow and several carefully selected sticks later, your snowman was nearly complete, You, Javi and Olivia taking a step back to admire your work, assessing what final touches needed to be added before you could call your project completed. “Alright, cutie pie. What else does our snowman need so we can finish?” You asked, shaking Olivia’s shoulders as she took her mitten covered hands to scratch her head, deep in thought as she analyzed your creation. 

“Hmmmmm. It still needs eyes… and a nose… and a name!” Olivia beamed, looking up at you and Javi. 

“Well, I think we can find some rocks for eyes, and I bet you can ask Grandma and Grandpa for an extra reindeer carrot for the nose, and we’ll let you decide on the name, Little Miss!” You smiled as Javi draped his arm over your shoulder, pulling you in closer to press a little kiss onto your beanie while Olivia had turned back around to gaze at her snowman. 

“I think… I think that his name should be Uncle Patrick! So that way he can still be here because I bet he misses playing hockey, and he’s really close to the ice rink. Do you think he misses us, Auntie Bear?” 

Over the past year, you had learned to deal with the comments and questions about your brother with less pain and suffering and more acceptance and forgiveness. Unfortunately, there was nothing from the past year that could have prepared you for the sucker punch that was your sweet, 6 year old niece, who didn’t even fully grasp the concept of death, let alone the reason why he was gone, to ask if your dead brother missed her. You took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself before you spoke, fighting back the tears that had instantly begun welling in your eyes and pit growing in your stomach. 

“I uh- yeah, um. Yeah. I do think he misses us, Olivia.” You mustered everything you could to spread somewhat of a smile as Olivia turned back around towards you and Javi, a puzzled, sad look growing across her little face. 

“Then why did he have to leave if he misses us? Did he not love us?” 

You weren’t quite sure how a tiny voice had left such a big hole in your heart. You tried to find any words to answer her innocent question, racking your brain for ways to provide any explanation that you could rationalize to her, or yourself. 

“Well, um…” You paused, taking a moment to get down on her level, almost as if to try and find a way to buy yourself more time to formulate your response. “Um- Olivia- Your Uncle Patrick… he was really sick. Not in a way that you get sick when you have a cold, or the flu, but sick in a way that makes your brain and your heart really sad. He did love us. He loved us a lot. But sometimes- sometimes when people are sick like how Uncle Patrick was- It… it doesn’t matter how much they love you, or you love them. Their heart hurts so much that they can’t see it. It- it hurt his heart less to leave than to stay.” 

A bitter silence hung in the air, the wetness from your eyes cold against your cheeks from the sting of the December breeze. You could feel the weight in your heart tugging towards the pit of your stomach from your painful admittance. You took a shaky breath, waiting for someone to say something, anything, before the hurt in your own heart built enough for you to lose your composure and burst into tears. You could almost hear the gears in Olivia’s little brain turning, her head gently tilted to the side, leaving you holding your breath as you waited for her response. She let out a little sigh, staring at the ground before staring back up at you. 

“I miss him, Auntie Bear.” 

“I miss him too, Olivia.” 

Reaching her arms up, Oliva wrapped herself around your waist, tightly hugging your hip, pressing her face into your jacket. The two of you stood there for a moment, tears welling in your eyes as you engulfed your niece in your grasp.

“Olivia! Time to go, munchkin! Momma’s gonna be mad if we’re late for dinner!” Charlie yelled, peeking his head out of the doorwall to the back porch, the glow of the house gently shining into the snow against the slowly darkening sky. 

“Okay, Daddy!” Olivia called back, lifting her head up from against your coat where her face had been resting. “Bye Auntie Bear! Love you!” 

“Uh-yeah, yeah, bye Cutie. Love you, too.” You stammered, choking back your tears, staring at the unfinished snowman in front of you. 

“Olivia, why don’t uh, why don't I take you inside, okay?” Javi chimed in, gently wrapping his arm around Olivia’s shoulder, ushering her towards the house, shooting you a sympathetic smile, trying to find a way to give you a moment to yourself. The two of them made their way back to the house, stomping through the snow as you were left alone, silent sobs heaving from your chest. The longer you looked at the three snowballs piled on top of each other, the wetter your face became, the unfinished piles of snow, just as unfinished as the life Patrick could have had ahead of him. So caught up in your grief and tears, you hadn’t heard Javi trudge his way back, immediately wrapping his arms around you as soon as he could reach you, holding you tightly as you sobbed into his coat. 

“Why’d he have to go? Why did it have to be him? It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. I miss him so much, Javi.” 

“I know, baby. I know.” Javi sighed, pulling you in closer, pressing you against his chest, letting you soak his jacket with your tears until you didn’t have any left, your breaths becoming slow and deep as you finally looked back up at him with your red, wet eyes. 

“Does it ever get easier? Does it ever stop hurting so much?” Your voice trembled, sniffing between each word, trying to pull yourself together. Javi paused for a moment, letting out a long exhale, his hot breath fogging against the cold December air. 

“It’ll- it’ll always hurt. I don’t know if it ever gets easier, but you learn how to live with it. But if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that being mad about it only makes it hurt more.” 

“Well I am mad at him, ‘cause he’s a fucking idiot.” You managed to let a small huff of laughter out between your tears, bringing your hand up to wipe your face, cheeks red and wet from your crying and the cold. “Sorry, I just… Olivia hasn’t talked about him a lot since he died, it- I was trying really hard not to think about it. Tomorrow will be one year since he’s been gone. It kinda all just hit me at once. Stupid fucking snowman.” 

 “Osita, you don’t have to apologize. It’s okay, baby. And hey, I think whoever made those snowballs did pretty good fucking job.” He smirked, giving you a little shake in his grasp, as the two of you looked back at the snowman.

“Yeah, he did alright.” You let out a little laugh, poking fun at Javi’s work before turning as you heard David’s footsteps clunking his way through the snow, making his way towards you. 

“Olivia make you cry about the stupid snowman, too?” David sighed, gesturing at your messy wet face before nodding back at the snowman, the 3 of you silently laughing to yourselves. “God, I miss that stupid motherfucker.” 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

“You missed out on the best rink Dad’s ever made, shithead. Your loss. You’re lucky your niece is nice enough to still want to include you. Serves you right she left you with skinny ass twig arms and an unfinished face.” David huffed, playfully kicking a pile of snow at the snowman, crossing his arms over his chest. “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m shit talking my dead brother beyond the grave through a fucking pile of snow.” 

“Like he wouldn’t do the same for you?” You smirked, giving David a punch on the arm as he rolled his eyes at you, shoving you back with enough force to make you stumble, toppling you over into a laughing heap in the snow. Sitting up, you looked over at the hockey rink, shimmering in the overcast of the porch lights, covered in the pucks and sticks that had been left from earlier. You smiled, pushing yourself out of the snow, making your way over to the ice and picking up one of the hockey sticks, dragging it back with you before propping it up against the frame of the snowman to make it look like he was holding it. “Can’t say we didn’t at least try to include you, jackass.” 

You let out a long exhale, nodding to yourself, a small smile drawn between your lips as you looked back at David and Javi, giving them a reassuring grin before turning around to head towards the house. Giving their own silent nod to the snowman, David and Javi followed behind, the 3 of you trudging through the white, fluffy snow, crunching under your boots.

The rest of your time at home, you couldn’t help but find yourself peeking out the back porch window, a silent smile creeping across your cheeks as you watched gentle white flakes fall on the snowman sitting in your yard, hockey stick resting in its twig hand as it sat next to your rink. It was a sight that somehow hurt and healed you at the same time. It pained you to know that a half-assed snowman in your backyard would be the closest you’d ever get to having your brother around again- that just like him, one day, as the weather turned, your snowman would start to fade away, melt into the earth, and disappear, never to be seen again.

But, just as seasons come and go, bringing change with each new month, you couldn’t help but feel your heart grow warm as you looked out at the rounded piles of snow stacked on one another- Patrick’s passing had forced you to change, to grow, to become a stronger person than you were a year ago. Change that had started off as fear and heartache, that somehow turned into the best thing that could have ever happened to you. Change that helped you find the love of your life when you least expected it. While Javi could never replace Patrick, his presence in your life, and your family’s life, had filled a void that all of you didn’t know you needed until he was in it. And while you’d never stop wishing you could have changed the end to your brother’s story, you knew he’d be smiling looking down on you, knowing the end of his story helped to change yours for the better.

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @blackfemalenerd @deppydelta @beware-my-thorns

[spookykoolkat]

the red j.m. | chapter five

CHAPTER FIVE: FORFEIT

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter |

pairings: older!joel miller x plus sized!younger!reader

chapter summary: joel has been acting colder than usual towards you since your encounter in his living room, and when it turns out that tommy paired you up with joel for a last minute adventure on your first day of patrol rounds, you were infuriated.

warnings: 18+ age gap (joel is 57, reader is turning 26), inappropriate thoughts, sexual language, teasing, touching, x-rated descriptions, crude language, mean!joel, mean!reader, mentions of past su*cide attempt, brief mentions of breeding, dacryphilia, cockwarming, p in v, oral. descriptions of sex acts, explicit. MDNI!!! minors r not welcome on my page

wc: 7.6k

na: the smut will be coming soon i promise. lioterally next chapter. I TOLD YOU IT WAS SLOW BURN! but omg i think this is one of my fav chapters lol

MONDAY DECEMBER 23RD, 2024

YOU

the weekend was dreadful. naively, you believed somehow it was a miracle that joel gave you the attention he did on saturday night. no, you just realized it was something he strongly regretted. sunday morning, he woke up without a sound and left as swiftly as he could. 

he was avoiding you. 

it was so bizzare to you. everything happened so fast and life became as domesticated as it could be for you in this world.  you were living with a man and a girl, and now there’s an odd sexual tension between the two of you that you were possibly misreading. it was inevitable, you were deathly attracted to this man. joel miller. 

it’s like somehow being around him and ellie almost healed a part of yourself, you didn’t know what but you felt you could be yourself again. honestly, being in jackson sort of healed a part of you. you were finally getting the chance of finding yourself, finally figuring out what being you meant and who you are, and it was because you were here in jackson. because you actually had two people in your life that you could actually try to begin to trust.

but that doesn’t mean he never pissed you off. and it doesn’t mean that he was never an asshole. 

it was four thirty in the morning when he slammed the door shut on his way out, and forced you to get up and grab all your shit for your first patrol shift. it was supposed to be from six in the morning to eleven in the morning, giving you the first shift of the day. you noticed joel had been taking nights with tommy occasionally, leaving at six in the evening and coming back close to one in the morning. 

he chose to be on the lookout longer, searching longer, doing more than he needed. he was thorough, and for that you respected him. besides his hostile attitude, he was a natural hunter, killer, forager. of course, you could only assume. you hadn’t seen him in action the way ellie and tommy have.

tommy told you to meet him at his house on your first day, and you complied. you were expecting to see tyler standing with tommy outside of his house when you walked up, but this man was not tyler. the thick coat he wore would’ve made it impossible to figure out who it was, had you not seen that coat before. but it was in fact the coat you brought home for him after a shift down at the local buy and trade shop, something you picked up because it was in his size and you knew with the torn hoodies and sweaters he had, none would suffice to keep him safe when he’s out in the cold.

this was the man that made you clench your thighs when he was angry with you, the man who saw you as vulnerable as you were that night, the man who spoke nothing but dirty things in your ear then left you high and dry, ignoring you even as your footsteps crunch in the snow.

“where’s tyler?” you said loudly over the heavy winds and snow, getting closer to the broad figure. it was the man you’ve thought about since saturday night, the man that ignored you even now. 

“me and maria decided you needed an expert ‘stead of a rookie, but since maria is pregnant i wanted to stay, so i put ya with the second best of jackson,” he said clamping down on his brother’s shoulder, “my big brother,” his smile was way too big for this early in the morning, and you internally rolled your eyes. 

“i don’t need an expert, i’ve been out there by myself for years. i can handle myself,” you spit sourly. even joel felt it slash through him a bit, the pure disgust on your voice wasn’t easy to fake and a part of him felt bad. but he knew what he was doing and why he was doing it. 

tommy looked between you two, facing opposite from each other. “just precaution, don’t need ya gettin’ lost.” you could tell tommy felt some sort of sympathy for you, understanding how cruel his brother could truly be.

you scoffed. maybe tommy did feel bad for you, but if he did you wished he would keep the faces he makes to himself. you didn’t need pity. you needed to not be stuck with joel for a couple of hours.

just great.  “i need y’all to search this abandoned town a few cities back, ain’t that far, maybe two hundred, two fifty miles west. figure’s it’d be better takin’ the horses,”  so not a couple of hours.

tommy practically gives the two of you a list, a list of things that he and maria needed, and places to search for the infected. 

“we need soap, and medical shit like gloves, anythin’ works,” he said and you nodded. this seemed a little less like patrolling and more doing duties for him. maybe it was both, but you were a little disappointed. 

“baby steps, a’right?” tommy said, sensing the disappointment on your face and rubbing your arm to warm you up a bit. 

“joel’s got you,” 

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oh it was torture. you and joel would be on this mission for two days. this wasn’t patrol, this was a favor. this was a job taken on by those who weren’t fighters, but could protect themselves. the people who scavenged abandoned towns, homes, cities near jackson to see if it’s worth expanding or if there’s anything they would take. but this wasn’t what you wanted to do, you didn’t want the soft version of what joel did. 

whether you wanted to or not, you worried that he didn’t look at you as capable since the first time he met you you were lying face down in blood soaked snow that formed into a ring around your body. not only that, but when you finally awoke, you tried to take your own life in front of him. you couldn’t blame him if he thought that way, it just made you more weary about your strength and if he would be right to think that way. 

you were desperate to prove yourself to him, for no particular reason. you just wanted him to see that you didn’t need him like he thought you did. 

“where are we gonna sleep?” you asked as the click clack of the horses began to pick up. you rode right next to him, following his lead with the map. 

“wherever we can,” he muttered, unhappily might you add. 

“i mean, what are we doing joel? this is not me patrolling,” you argued to yourself, and he sighed loudly as he looked back down at the map. 

“no, it ain’t. but it’s a taste. stop tryin’ to kill yourself,” he spit and you closed your mouth quickly. you were actually a little offended. he actually got you to shut up, and it felt like shit. 

because he was right. you jumped into everything so fast, getting yourself hurt when you told yourself it’d never happen. so, you just shut up and listened to him when he told you where to go. you didn’t want to fight with him because really, you couldn’t take it. you’d want him to take you with the fury in his eyes. maybe you were mentally deranged for being so distracted by him lately, figuring out that everything about him sends you into a frenzy. this was ridiculous, you were ridiculous. 

you know it’s wrong. but joel made you feel something that nobody else has. he challenged you. he wanted you to snap back at him and bark your insults at him. he may not admit it, but he liked that you had something to say to everything. your attraction was only growing for him, and you were ashamed of it. the man won’t even look at you and you’re ready to open your legs from one glance? 

the sun was rising at this point, passing empty farms and abandoned shacks while joel inspected the map tommy gave him. he was frustrated, you could clearly tell through his grunts and swear words that he spilled. so far, it’s been clean. no infected, no people, nothing but emptiness and nature covered in snow. your gun was still in your hand, ready to aim and shoot but for now you just watched joel. 

he refused to ask for your help because he felt like he was lost. maybe it was his sight, but he truly thought that he mistook a walking trail for a road, derailing the two of you. he was a proud man, and was embarrassed to ask help from a twenty something year old.

he refused to be the one needing help on this globetrotting the two of you did. 

“joel?” you talked for the first time in two hours, and he shot you a glance over his shoulder, you riding a little behind him now. 

“what?” he grumbled, and you sped up to catch up to him. his heart picked up when he heard you so close. 

“are we lost?” 

it was hard for him to be angry with you when your voice fell so soft for him. he noticed the way you spoke to people you didn’t like, or didn’t care for. bored, short and cold. just like him. but even when you didn’t notice, he heard the gentle tone you used with him. maybe it’s because you’re a live fucking wire who kills everyone you ever loved and she knows you’ll blow up on her too.

“no, just-” he stalled and you followed as he flipped the map around, acting like that will solve the issue. you quickly reach over to snatch the map from him, shaking your head and not listening to his noise when you start reading the lines. 

“just stop,” you said and halted your movements. you moved the map around and found your location now, and the circled location on the paper. joel watched you with frustration and embarrassment, but you wouldn’t know. you weren’t the best at picking up social cues. 

“just go straight. it should take you to a road, and turn right then.” you answered, shoving the paper back into his hands and continuing your journey. you waited for him to ride off first so you could trail a little bit behind him, and he did, not giving you a second glance.

it was one hour, then it was two, and then it was three. three turned to five, and finally a break was taken. joel wanted to go as much as he could before he needed a rest, to take a piss, relax his joints. you, on the other hand, wanted to keep going. 

“get there to and back faster if we keep going, just wasting time.” you mumbled to him as you leaned against a tree while he came back around from one, adjusting his coat. the two of you stopped in the middle of the woods that you were forced to cross through, snow falling slower now. the trees were still, and as was the shallow river nearby. 

“do you ever stop complaining?” he finally spoke, but nothing but annoyance dripped from his words as he leaned against another tree, collecting himself. 

“only when i don’t have shit to complain about,” you bit back, rolling your eyes as you watched the stream of water rush. 

“you don’t have shit to complain about,” he argued and you scoffed. 

“alright joel. just, let’s go. the sooner we’re there the faster i can get the fuck away from you.”

“we live together,” he said matter of factly. 

“no shit joel, oh my god, can we just go?” you were so fucking irritated with him. the only thing that came out of his mouth to talk to was to just piss you off even more. he acted like he wasn’t practically breathing down your neck not even three days ago. 

“you’re so damn irritating,” he mumbled as he gathered his things from the snow and swung his backpack over his shoulders, along with his rifle. 

“oh, yeah, right because you’re a real fuckin’ joy to be around.” you spit. you quickly left without him, being much quicker on your feet than he was, and got to your horse before he did. 

“don’t do that shit again, “ he spit at you when he reached his horse. of course, referring to the fact that you went off without him. joel was, needless to say, pissed off. and of course, again, you seem to be the root of his anger. you couldn’t lie, and you fought hard to keep the smile from creeping on your face at your realization. you actually enjoyed when he was angry  because of you. you felt strong enough to have that power over him, at least some sort of power. you just knew how to press his buttons, and he knew how to press yours. 

but just as you took joy in pissing you off, he enjoyed to watch you bite back and get equally as angry as he does because of you.

“it was fifteen feet joel. I know what i’m doing.” 

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it was nightfall when you got to the small town outside of jackson. tommy was off by fifty miles or so. so far, still not running into anything that could kill either of you. taking the horses cut down the travel time by half had the two of you walked, and suddenly you were grateful because joel still won’t talk to you after the little spat in the woods.

it was bothering you an insane amount. you had no problem being unwanted and unwelcome, but this was excruciating for you. you just wanted to knock him off his horse and force him to be nice to you. 

you were behind joel, a little off to his right when you rode further into the eerie town. 

it wasn’t until you and joel stopped in front of a supermarket, tying the horses to nearby trees. the two of you walked into an abandoned supermarket that greeted the entrance of the city, stepping over the frame of the automatic doors that were broken. and as reckless as you were, you just so happened to step on the broken glass of the automatic doors that crunched under your boot. joel shot you an angry look, in a way that says ‘way to fucking go, smart one,’ when the snarling came from the back of the supermarket and you shot one right back. you start to see the pale figures running towards the two of you down the aisle in front of you. 

you and joel hadn’t shared a word since you helped him with the map, so when he tells you to get behind him you don’t listen. you hear angry words, but you don’t listen. a part of you was still angry even when your very life was being threatened, it was true that maybe you held grudges for way too long. you weren’t paying attention to him, you fell into fight or flight and moved to the side of joel and around the cash registers to shoot bullets at two of the angry bodies running at you full speed. 

the thing is, you didn’t want him to have to save you. you didn’t want him to have something to shove in your face later on, a debt you had to repay to him. you also didn’t need him to survive, you didn’t need his protection. even if you wanted it. you knew he might just throw it in your face one day.

joel was distracted, and caught off guard. of any time he could be distracted he chose now, too distracted by the way you quickly maneuvered around him without even noticing. too distracted by the way you just proved you could handle yourself, and then some. and too angry that you never listened to him.

and his stillness was because joel felt the same anxiety, the same nervousness he felt seeing you hold a gun to your own head, and actually felt his chest grow tight. he just froze. this wasn’t like joel, he was always on his toes, eager for bloodshed. but now, it’s pure fear and anxiety. you saw it when you finally noticed the clicker that was close enough to take him apart, and wondered why he wasn’t shooting and instead gripping at his chest. you called his name out, getting his attention and the clicker, raising your gun you shoot three times to watch the clicker drop to the floor.

“what the fuck joel?” you hushed as you tried to breathe normally again, trying to make sure there weren’t any more infected either on the way or here in the store. 

“are you okay?” 

“you didn’t listen to me, goddamnit,” he spit and quickly ransacked the store for whatever he saw on the list. you felt your head spin. was he mad at me? you thought.

“joel are you okay? that was, that wasn’t,” you didn’t know how to say it without making him look weak, ignoring the anger that took over his body. you didn’t even care about the tone and how enraged he sounded, you were worried about him. 

“stop talkin’ and keep watch.” he was so sharp, so cold. 

you sighed and kept watch like he said, walking around the front entryway as joel rushed to grab what was there. you were sure that the sound of the gunshots would’ve sent a plethora of clickers your way, but it was nothing but the sound of wind. 

you were just so angry at him. his very existence and the fact that he still treated you like you were hardly there, it sent a certain rage to your body. you didn’t understand how this was your fault. how anything was your fault.

you had no choice but to follow him, so when he pushed past you with a fuller backpack you followed his lead. you could feel the heat coming from his body as he walked by you, and you knew he was angry. you tried to rack your brain what for. you just basically saved his life. 

he was angry that he just proved again that he failed you. he got lost on the way here because he couldn’t see, and felt a sudden rush of fear hit him all at once. he was weaker, weaker than he’d been when he was traveling with ellie.

it wasn’t long before the two of you rode  into a neighborhood and found streets of abandoned houses, cars still in driveways and swing sets still in the front yard. it was so eerie, creepy. this was somewhere people lived, created families here. now it’s a ghost town. it was nothing. 

after the two of you tie up the horses again, he finally speaks.

“we’re gonna check all these houses, and sleep in one. listen to me for fuckin’ once and stop acting like a fuckin’ kid. come back here if shit goes south.” he demanded ugly, and you glared at him, actually taken aback. 

“you know what joel-” you started but he waved you off. 

“go.” 

you were angry. god were you so angry. looking through house after house, floor after floor, room after room and all you could think about was telling joel off. you occasionally found something tommy and maria were looking for, batteries, a bottle of soap here and there, gloves, alcohol. but, you took everything after you made sure the coast was clear. 

it might’ve taken you and joel about three hours to check every house on the block, some being too destroyed and in ruins to even search through. you looked at the watch on your wrist and the time flashed 12:56AM. and you were still angry. not only were you angry, but you were very much sexually frustrated.

how dare he act like that one night and act like i dont exist the next? you were fuming.. 

joel waited for you as you walked back to the first house on the street where you split up, and as he watched you walk towards him he noticed a scowl on your face. anger in your eyes and irritation, but he didn’t care. 

“nothing. i’m going to bed, goodnight.” you spit, telling him there were no threats and no harm. you walked into the small house and went into the back rooms to look for a bed, finding one bed and couches in the living room. when you walked back to the living room, joel was already standing inside. 

“you need to listen to me when i tell-” he began but you groaned and threw your backpack on the floor, taking your gun to put it in between the cushion of the couch where you plan to sleep. 

“no joel, i’m not doing this shit with you. i’m capable, alright? you’re so fuckin’ angry at me for no reason and want me to just let you take it out on me,” you said loud enough for it to be taken as hostile.

“what the fuck happened? you didn’t,” you breathed, “you didn’t shoot or anything you just froze joel, what’s wrong with you?” your voice was rising, heat rising to your face and you just stared at him. 

“you’re gonna get us fuckin’ killed, you’re just a fuckin’ brat.” he spit at you, and you scoffed. 

“yeah okay joel, i’m a brat. i don’t know shit, i’m just a little stupid girl that doesn’t know shit, right? keep deflecting, keep saying nothing’s wrong when you look like you were having a heart attack,” you say, “you know you’re one to talk, you’re fuckin’ childish you know that?” 

“i’m childish?” he asked, surprised. deflecting. 

“really? that’s what you have to say? nothing about the fact you almost died?” 

“yes you’re childish. you come onto me, and can’t even face me after it. you’re angry at me and for what? didn’t talk to me this whole way and why? cause you regret it? man the fuck up joel, i don’t care if we talk or not but what a fucking partner you’ve been. aren’t you the one supposed to keep me safe? not the other way around?” 

he didn’t respond. you just saw his eyes go dark as you threw pillows off the couch for more room. he knew you were right, and you didn’t want to argue with joel right now. not when you had another day to spend with him, and having to go back home with him. but you were still so angry, at the audacity he had to call you a kid earlier. to act like you were the problem, you couldn’t help it.

“I act like a kid? please,” you scoffed even louder, “I saved your fuckin’ ass back there, really you should be kissing my fucking toes. you have some nerve, man. you might scare everyone, even your brother, but you’ll never fuckin’ scare me. you’re crazy if you think you do.” you laughed genuinely, shaking your head to rid yourself of the redness in your cheeks from your rage. and before you stopped going in on him, you had to top it with the cherry.

“maybe if you weren’t such a prick all of the time, ellie would actually want to spend time with you.” 

“shut the fuck up,” he seethed and you laughed again. that might’ve not been the best idea, but you weren’t know to have the best ideas. his fists were clenched at his side as he stepped closer to where you stood, you just waved him off.

but he knows who his anger is really directed at. he couldn’t be angry at you, well he could, but not forever, he knows. he was angry at himself, angry that you had to risk yourself to save him. angry that you had to do anything for him actually. he was supposed to be your protector here, and now you were his? he felt weak. he felt, almost useless. if you can protect yourself and him, you would never need him then. he was angry at how right you are, and how right you’ve been. 

“i don’t regret it,” he said as you sat on the couch with your back facing him. 

you sat in silence for a bit before you responded, wanting to make sure you heard right. 

“what?” you asked, turning to face him. 

“i don’t regret it.” 

you truly didn’t know what to do. you didn’t know if making a move was the right move, and you felt like you were going to do something you regretted.

you stood up again, and walked to stand in front of him. you needed to see him, to watch him as he watched you. 

“you don’t regret what, joel? touching me?” you asked, getting another not so smart idea. maybe one that would flip the entire dynamic of this bond you had. “then touch me, joel.” 

he was taken aback more than you thought, and you saw the internal fight he put up with himself as he looked over your face and body. 

“i can’t do that, sweetheart.” was he really denying you right now? asking him to finally touch you and he says no? 

“why not?” you said, reaching for his shirt. you didn’t care anymore. your anger was turning  into desire for every minute you were alone with him, and you wanted him to take you in this abandoned house more than anything. maybe it was pathetic, but you couldn’t help the wetness that was pooling in your panties from his soft glare.

“i’ma mean old man, you don’t want me to touch you, don’t think i’d be too nice with ya,” he said with fake confidence. he wanted it so bad, he wanted to let you take his hands and put them anywhere he wanted. and even in your black hoodie that zipped up with your tight jeans on, he wanted to feel every inch of you. he wanted to believe he was doing the right thing by saying no you, but fuck it did not feel right to him. what would feel right is if he was buried in that cunt of yours for as long as he wanted.

“nice? you’re never nice, actually you’re jackson’s biggest asshole, but i was never expecting nice from you. i’ve wanted,,” you breathe and let your palms rest on his warm stomach, the small pouch he put on while he was finally eating meals under your touch. he was so warm underneath, knitting your eyebrows together in irritation when you realized he could’ve been keeping you from freezing all night. you didn’t care if he was nice to you anymore. you could handle mean, roughness, you could handle anything he wanted to give you.

“you’ve wanted what? talk to me, sweet girl,” he whispered, giving in to your needy tone, taking his fingers and grabbing your chin to look at him, his eyes. god his eyes. the wrinkles around them creased with every facial movement, usually his eyes were a brown, hazelish glaze but now they’re pitch black. something else in his stare. desire and lust. he couldn’t help but indulge himself when he heard you wanted something from him. because he wanted to give you everything. 

you weren’t angry anymore. you were in admiration. you were enjoying being this close to him to see every detail and line and crevice on his face. you wanted to rub his cheeks, feel his skin under yours, but you couldn’t let go of the coat he had on.

“i’ve wanted you to make me feel good. but, you’re just so fucking angry all of the time it’s like you hate me. so i hate you more.” you rolled your eyes at him and he just stared at you. 

he was soaking your words in. his thumb was rubbing over your chin, too close to your lips when you avoided his gaze. even now, you were still spewing your snarkiness at him and all he wanted you to do was beg him to make you feel good. but even being a brat, you looked so fucking pretty to him. eyes wide, mouth parted, your hands rubbing over his chest and abdomen—he needed your touch everywhere. he knew you could only be a brat for so long with the way you were leaning into his touch.

he was cracking, and so were you. 

“i could never hate you, doll. could never tell a pretty girl like you no, ya fuckin’ kill me,” he softly chuckled, leaning into your face close enough to feel his breath on your lips. his hands move from your chin, slapping himself for taking back his word, and letting them fall on your wide hips.

“jus’ always so eager, ain’t that right? bloodthirsty little thing you are,” he teased, referring to the way you looked almost excited  to pull your gun out and use it earlier. he liked it, and in his mind he felt like he was the only one who could tame you. the only man that could be man enough to handle all of you the way you deserved. tyler would never be able to pick you up and throw you face down on the bed, he’d never be able to even touch your pretty pussy the way she deserved. 

his lips grazed the skin of your neck, and you felt something wet glide across the salty skin. his tongue was eager to taste you, so substituting your pussy for your neck was his best choice. if you weren’t already wet, you were now. 

“joel, just, god you’re so fucking frustrating,” you grunted as you curled your fists into his sweater. your wetness was soaking your panties at this point and the throbbing of your clit was making you frustrated.

he just chuckled. “what do ya want baby,” he breathed, now dangerously close to your lips after he trailed small kisses from your neck to your cheek.

you didn’t really know what you wanted now that he asked, and really you were too damn nervous to say the words. i want you to fill me up. pump me full with your cum. tell me i’m yours and you’re mine. what if you scared him off with that? what if you said it out loud and it made everything so much more real? not just touching and flirting? it was too much to ask for. to even ask for anything from him, you felt like a burden. 

“fuck you joel,” you breathed and whimpered, “you know what i want, just fuck me already, or are you too old to take me how i want?” you were desperate for him even if you were being mean about it, and he was loving every minute of it.

you needed him, his cock, his fingers, his tongue inside of you. and you saw how your neediness made him smug, his anger dissipating into nothing but adoration for you. he lightly tapped your ass at your old man remark, and narrowed his eyes at you, but relaxing them again when he saw a long overdue smile on your lips. 

“fuuuuuck,” he drew out with his southern accent, “why are you so fuckin’ hard to say no to when you’re such a pain in my ass?” he asked himself. you felt him grow hard against your abdomen as you clenched your thighs and pulled him tighter to your chest. you needed the friction, but you needed it somewhere only he could give it to you. 

“because i’m askin’ so nicely?” you suggested playfully, distracting yourself from the burning in your core. he practically smiled against your lips. 

“that was nice?” he asked and you hit his chest playfully. 

“i can’t do this with you, it just ain’t right,” he tried to resist again.

“you don’t seem like a man who does the right thing, joel.”  you said smartly and he rolled his eyes at you before sighing. 

“don’t fuckin’ do that, don’t try t’ guilt trip me. you’re fuckin’ trouble.” he’s saying it roughly, but the hard on he has pressing into you says otherwise. before you could take your hands to his cock, he’s grabbing them to remove them and pushing back from you, retracting himself. his self control was thinning, he wouldn’t be able to resist you if he was standing that close to you for another second. 

“you’re an asshole, y’know that?” you said sharply, moving yourself away from him with the sting of rejection on your heart. you turn on your heels and start to walk away from him, wanting to escape to the dirty bathroom. 

“it ain’t like that and you know it,” he defended from behind you and you shook your head. 

“yeah i can tell! let me see, you make me tell you how i want to fuck you and call me baby and sweetheart and all this bullshit, then you tell me you want to do the right thing.” you paused and looked at him, “you get upset because i almost fucked someone, put your hands down my panties, and the next day you hate me. then you’re always fuckin’ mad at me, and then say i’m tryna guilt trip you into fucking me,” 

“i mean what the hell joel. all you have t’ say is you don’t want me and we can fuckin’ leave it at that,” you spit and turned around. he just stared at you still with a hard look on his face, but something on his face that reads he isn’t exactly upset at you.

the silence thickens and a minute after a stare down between the two of you, he looked away. the switch that he had flipped so quick, and you’ve seen it before. how could he act so normal when he was throbbing in his jeans and you were staining your panties wet?

he kind of thought you were going to look away first, but now that you were so angry with him he could use it as a way to keep his distance. he knew exactly what he was doing. he was white fanging you. and he was doing it successfully. 

“goodnight.” he said quickly without looking at you, and he walked past you to the back hall. you were turning back to sit on the couch as he took the bed until he came back out with all of his things in his arms. 

“take the bed.” he ordered and you huffed. 

“i’m fine out here,” you argued. 

“take the bed.” he wasn’t budging.

so you gathered your things and huffed away to the bed, still thinking about the way he spoke to you when you decided to just leave your shoes on and sleep. you thought about why he’d trade you for the bed, it being this comfortable you figured he’d take it for himself. he was an old man, looking for comfort in anything he could.

you wondered why after all this he was still insistent on doing the right thing. you felt like doing the right thing was out of the question already with the way he spoke so crudely to you. you knew he wanted you too, you knew he was fighting himself to not touch you how he wanted. 

but he had that instinct. the people he cared about before him. always. he couldn’t let himself delve into the possibilities of what would happen if he did do exactly what you wanted. he knew he was no good for you even if you tried to put this image of being a tainted person up. he knew that though you might think the two if you are similar, that he was far worse than you thought. 

he couldn’t compete with the idea you created of him, that he was this holy protector that did everything to keep his loved ones safe. while he did protect, he was also taking. he could take no credit of the hero title, he never felt like one. to protect his family, he tore people’s families apart. 

he didn’t know how, or when, but he knew he was going to hurt you if he let himself be smitten by you. he was going to make you really hate him if he gave into you, if he let you control him the way he feels like you do. he couldn’t let it happen. not tonight. 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

DECEMBER 24TH, 2024

joel was right when he said you’d be home by nightfall had the two of you left before sunrise. the two of you were back before midnight after awkwardly gearing up and leaving promptly at four in the morning. it gave you time to explore the surprisingly empty city, yet still managed to have most of what tommy and maria needed. 

to occupy your mind from joel’s eyes burning holes into your back as you took the responsibility of holding the map, you thought about what could’ve happened to that small town. it was eerily empty. something about being there made you feel like your stomach was churning, like someone was watching you. 

you wanted to bring it up to tommy and maria when you met back with them that night, and even bring it up to joel when the two of you finally settled back into the house you hadn’t been in. but no words were spoken again, leaving an uncomfortable silence between you two that ellie noticed. 

it was just the two of you once again in an empty house as ellie left to spend the night at a friend's house again. joel told her this time to tell someone before she leaves, if she left. 

the clock struck twelve in the morning the minute the door slammed behind you, and without saying a word you trudged  upstairs with a sigh and slammed your bedroom door. it felt childish, but that’s what this whole thing was. 

you were throwing a fit that he wasn’t even acknowledging you unless he had to, yet you didn’t even know if you fully wanted him in the way you thought you did. the thought of having a companion, in this hypothetical situation let it be joel, and having someone that close to you again scared the shit out of you. 

you’ve always had commitment issues. always had a fear that you’d duck and run before something bad could happen between the two of you. some people call it self sabotage. 

you threw all of your gear sloppily in the closet that was on the same wall as your door and rummaged through the suitcase to grab a pair of panties and a shirt. you needed a shower, and you were desperate to just lay your clean head against a pillow and black out. you couldn’t bring yourself to think of joel anymore, and as you mindlessly walked to the bathroom that was on the second floor you heard the door to the bathroom open.

unfortunately, it opened right as you were grabbing the knob and before getting the chance to look up at the familiar scented man after the door swung open, the hand that gripped his towel around his waist unclenched. 

you didn’t know if it was your surprising appearance that caught him off guard, or the fact that he didn’t expect anyone to be there in general, but he stilled and his hand involuntarily flexed, dropping the plush towel from his hips. joel felt the breeze before he even realized his fingers let it slip, but still kept his eyes on you. 

you were staring. you knew you were staring, of course you knew you were staring, but you couldn’t give a shit. he was hard. you saw the throbbing immediately, the way it jerked and hit his abdomen when the towel dropped, how disgustingly big he was compared to anything you’ve seen. realistically as you practically drooled over his cock, you thought it was eight inches max, but the girth somehow made it look more swollen, more to take.

if you were any other random woman he was housing for the time being, he would’ve immediately picked up the towel to cover and excuse himself as he scurried embarrassingly to his room. if you had been any other woman that had tried to throw advances at him and purposely tried to see him in the shower, he would’ve hated the look you were giving him. 

he wanted to hate it even more because it was you, but fuck do you look so sexy and you made him feel sexy. it wasn’t often he felt desired since he was an older man, and now that you’ve given him a lick of it, he was addicted to how you were put into an immediate trance. you were looking at all of him in all of his glory. and with your help. joel had been jacking off in the shower before he got out, stroking his angry tip to the thought of putting it between your lips. 

he was going to allow himself to indulge just that one time. he promised himself. but he wasn’t a good person. he wasn’t a good, honest man. he was a liar, and a sweet talker, someone who knew the power of persuasion. he could have you if he wanted to, could’ve had you on your knees in the shower for him while he rubbed a thumb over your cheek. 

he knew what he was capable and yet, he settled for fucking his hand thinking of your cunt. but the good man in him, the honest man in him was pleading to escape. plotting his escape.

you couldn’t stop gawking at his cock. it was peppered with long veins, one specific one trailing down from the tip to the base of his cock, and you could actually see the precum dripping down his angry, throbbing tip.

to him, you stared as if he was the last man on earth. and he enjoyed the attention so much he wanted to show you just exactly how much he appreciated the way you desired him.

it took self restraint from dropping to your knees right now, to feel his tip hit the back of your throat so he can shove his way into the tight walls of your throat. you imagined the noises he made, how he would talk to you, how he’d praise you. you craved it now. 

you were in awe, maybe even a little scared. all of your fantasies and imaginations finally had something to base off of, and now that you saw how girthy and long he was, you were intimidated. there’s no way he’s that big. god, he’s almost 60!

finally, after what seemed like an hour but really was just a minute or two, you closed your eyes shut and cringed at how you must’ve looked, how obvious you liked seeing him like this. and how smug joel must look with how easy it is to get you to surrender yourself to him.

you memorized the way he looked though. the dark curls that gathered at the base of his cock, trailing up to his stomach before thinning out right below his belly button and the little straight line of sparse hair trailing up his stomach a bit. the way his thighs looked so thick and strong, perfect for you to take a seat if you wanted because you’d have no doubt about not hurting him with your weight, the way his rough hands clenched into fists at his sides and the way his stomach wasn’t the most toned but was firm and still wet, tan. 

you knew if there was any chance of being able to actually sleep with the man, it'd take some finessing to fit all of him in any of your holes. but even though the size was intimidating, you could just tell that the stretch he'd provide sliding inside of you would be everything you've ever wanted.

you wanted to feel his body under your fingers while you sunk onto him, watching him watch you. you needed him, and you couldn’t fucking understand why this desire and urge was coming out now. to feel so strongly about him that it frustrated you to tears, it was morbid because this was based on pure attraction.

he didn't know you, you didn't know him. not really.

you were inching closer and closer to your downfall with every look over of his body. but he was loving it.

“i’m, god, i’m sorry, i was just—shower, i needed to, wash uh,” you breathed as you opened your eyes again and looked away as he grabbed the towel from the ground. “just, you know. get clean, wash certain uhh–areas, and stuff.” 

joel was thoroughly amused. you actually managed to shift your eyes around to see that he was fully covered again and he was in fact grinning smugly at you. you’d never seen joel express any other emotion other than negative, and it sent heavy fluttering to your core and throughout the tendons of your thighs.

“‘s all good, honey,” his voice was hoarse, raspy and god did it make the slickness start to run down your cunt and into your panties. “go ahead,” 

joel slide between you and the door frame, breathing you in without shame and letting you feel him graze the cloth covered throbbing length against you, smiling to himself at your body’s reaction. 

you quickly shut the door without looking at him again, releasing a long breath that you had been holding. again. you were angry because he knew exactly what he was doing. he was torturing you, and took all the pleasure of doing so.

joel actually expected you to fold right there, in front of him while he was hard all because of you. he expected you to break and ask him why he’d been ignoring you, again, and tell him how you want him. he honestly expected more than just a stare from you, he couldn’t read your face exactly so he couldn’t tell if you enjoyed the view or not. 

but after your babbling and messing your words up, he knew it wouldn’t take much more to break you. suddenly, the urge to stay away from you so he wouldn’t bring harm to your life was overpowered by the urge to ruin you in every way possible all in one day. he wanted to see your hard shell crack because of him, before you cracked his. 

because whether joel wanted to admit it or not, he met his match with you. and god, he wanted to prove to you that maybe you weren’t as strong as you seemed. his sick, twisted mind wanted to see you crying for him, begging him, pleading for him to make you feel good. he wanted to see you break for him, he wanted to be the only one to see you fucked out for him. he accepted the fact that being away from you and not being able to touch you as he pleased wasn't going to last any longer.

he was just waiting for the right moment.

[uncouth-the-fifth]

pythia, a supernatural rewrite. phantom traveler, p.3

read it on ao3.

words: 14k notes: hello!!! on the wings of an absolute ARMY of betas, here is a fresh new chapter for you!! since the last one was a little short i took the time to really flesh this one out. I'm a shy idiot who is SO bad at responding, but i see your comments and they mean the world to me. i literally have a folder on my computer full of the sweet words this fic has been given, and i think i've re-read the comments in that folder at least a million times over by now. ty so much for reading, and i hope you enjoy!! bloody mary is next! a very special thank you to my beta readers, bear, M, venice, feeb, and daff, who easily made this my best chapter yet. thank you specifically for keeping me coherent and sane lol <3

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 4th.

You don’t have to be psychic to know precisely what your mother is going to say when she answers the phone. She’ll pick up on the fourth ring with an occupied, scathing drawl and say, Look who finally has cell service.

Alright. So you’re not the best, most communicative daughter in the world. You call when you can, you honestly do, but there’s not exactly loads of emotional bandwidth to spare on the road. Peeling off all the layers of case anxiety and Winchester grief takes a while, dammit!

Maybe you’d feel less guilty if you vented to Sam or Dean, but it’s kind of lousy to bitch about Mom-stuff to, uh. Yeah. The boys. You could use a simple, uncomplicated statement like, talking to my Mom reminds me of how much of a disappointment I must be to her, and Dean would hear matricide instead. Sam’s blank, uncomprehending look wouldn’t be much better. Looks like you’re alone on this one.

When there’s a natural break in the day’s long research-fest the three of you are riding, you slip away, pace beside the Impala for a while, then finally bite the bullet and call her. Cars whisk through the slurry of snow on the road. Your phone charms rattle in the icy breeze. One ring, two rings… She knew you were going to call, she could sense it, but of course she has to torture you… three rings, four.

“I didn’t know cell service was so hard to come by in Pittsburg,” Beth greets you, sounding preoccupied. Damn, do you know her well or what?

“Hey, Mom,” you sigh. The wind is loud, so you pull your phone further down your face and try to come up with an excuse that is even halfway reasonable. “Sorry I haven’t called. It’s been ages since I’ve been around the boys, and I guess I get a little caught up with them sometimes.”

This is objectively true. She used to have a rule about you getting your homework done before they came over, purely because you forgot about everything and anything else the second Sam and Dean entered the house.

“Forget those losers. You’re my baby, I love you most,” Beth gushes, and you understand that this is her way of saying that you’re forgiven. Both of you have fallen victim to the Winchester spell before, so she can’t exactly blame you.

You’re a little embarrassed by her mushiness, but a relieved, bubbly laugh jumps out of you. “Alright, consider them forgotten. Now… I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m gonna ask you a question, and I need you not to freak out or overthink it, kay?”

Beth snorts. “You mean my two jobs as a mother? Go ahead, shoot.”

This is not the kind of question that you just “shoot,” though. It takes you a moment to string together how you’re going to ask this, and of course, you’re nothing but graceful and delicate about it. “...What do you know about demons?”

Your mother doesn’t say anything for a long, yawning second. Still, you can sense her rising swarm of questions and outrage all the way from Pennsylvania, and you try to stop her onslaught before it starts. “Hey! No questions! Just answers. I promise I would tell you if this was outrageously dangerous.”

“Then you’ve already broken your promise,” Beth utters, slipping into her Sage Grandmaster Psychic voice. Just hearing it makes you deflate. She predicts, “...Let me guess. You’ve felt nauseous. Suffocated. Hungry, but everything you eat comes right back up again.”

You toe a chunk of ice on the asphalt with your boot, grumbling, “...Yeah.”

“Then you’re lucky,” she reveals, her words still ringing with the same crystal ball clarity from your childhood. “That means you haven’t come into direct contact with it yet. I’d hope you never would, but… you are your father’s daughter…”

You know your mom. You know that’s just her way of warning you about the kind of danger you’re in, here, but all the comment does is bolster your resolve. Damn right. You are his motherfuckin’ daughter.

“Tell me,” you push.

Beth sighs through her nose. There’s a squeak on the other line, and you can imagine her at home, dropping heavily into the massive, millennia-old armchair she always took her readings in.

“Demons… well, I won’t explain to you what you can already guess. They’re unlike most legends we know of, because everything that’s written about them is utterly true. Most spirits that walk the natural earth are here to feed—vampires, werewolves—or to take care of unfinished business. But demons… they come to earth to steal, kill, and destroy.”

Welp. Your mother is truly a pillar of optimism. You’d been hoping she’d say something along the lines of, don’t worry, sweetheart, they’re just really messed up ghosts. Instead of, y’know. The most evil creatures man encountered in the bible. Bible, capital B. An uncomfortable, existential shiver rolls down your spine. Now this was something you could bitch to Dean and Sam about.

You’d grown up surrounded by the idea of demons. Even before you’d fully understood that monsters were real, sometimes you’d slip into your mother’s reading parlor while she was gone and play a game with the strange, segmented star pattern on the giant worn-smooth carpet. Don’t hop on any of the lines! Only step in the points of the star! Or, jump from sigil to sigil!

The one time you’d gotten carried away and played for too long, your mother had appeared through the beaded curtain with a stiff frown on her face. Don’t play on the devil’s trap. It’s not a toy.

There was the fraying devil’s trap in your mother’s parlor room, which was one of the hundreds of sigils burned into your mind at a young age. You’d shaken hands with demon hunters before. Most of the rituals your family practiced were in Latin; and the list went on and on into oblivion. You’d always known demons existed, but as you pace the parking lot and take in what Beth is telling you, the ramifications start to stack. Demons. Actual, literal demons. The thing that took down flight 2485—the suffocating, unimaginable presence from your vision—was a real-life demon. When you’d stood in the skeletal remains of the plane and reached out with your Gift, you’d been sensing the lingering presence of a fucking creation of Lucifer. What the actual fuck.

In a strange, backward way, you’re kind of relieved. Anyone would be fainting all over the place in the presence of an actual, real-life demon. Especially somebody like you, with all their senses turned up to 100. It makes sense that you were having such intense reactions before.

What the fucking fuck. You’re suddenly grateful to be on the phone with your mom.

You wandered toward the Impala, (checked first that you weren’t wearing the kind of jeans with the little studs that would scrape the paint), then leaned against it. “...Um. Okay. That’s just… awesome… How do they get… up here, then?”

“I’m not sure,” your mother hums, thinking. “Your great-great-aunt Miriam wrote in her records that they find their way top-side on their own. Bugs through cracks, that sort of thing. Apparently, there used to be a whole lot more of em’—in Miriam’s day it was a Proctor’s job to shove them back where they belonged, but… I dunno.” Beth helpfully jokes, “Maybe we got most of them.”

You huff out a laugh, but it’s not the most sincere. “Maybe we did,” you cough. “But, um, do we have any Proctor family secrets that could help me out here? Did great-great-aunt Miriam have a trunk somewhere full of demon-killing grenades or something?”

Beth smirks. “Great-great-aunt Miriam turned the house into a brothel and carved terrifying sigils in all the ceilings. That’s all we got from her.”

Of course. How could you possibly forget? “Oh, huh. I was wondering why we have old chains and whips in the basement. That fills in a lot more for me, thank you.”

Your mom barks out a laugh at your joke, which gets you laughing too. The sound trails off. There’s that funny pause where you both remember what you just said, then start giggling all over again—and man, does it feel good to just have a moment with your mom. The boys both have an unforgiving radar for “bonding,” and the second they realize that you love them and they’re your friends, they creep right back into their shells. Neither of them were very good at absorbing that sort of thing.

Your mom is just as skilled at spoiling the moment.

“But, seriously…” She stresses. “Please be careful. Avoid contact with these things at all costs, especially with your Gift. It’s made to find the truth, and demons are made of lies. Not a good mix. They’ll rip into your mind… take you apart if they have to. This is a lot more hands-on than you should ever be with your Gift, ____.”

“...Right,” you say through your teeth.

This is the part where you start awkwardly shoving in a goodbye without coming across as an asshole. You open your mouth, about to say something stiff and unsure, when you sense a spike of alarm ripple out from where the boys are still researching in your motel room.

Phone call forgotten, you jolt off the Impala and whip towards the door. Not a second later, Dean’s slipping out onto the stoop and sweeping the parking lot with a calm, guarded stare. He doesn’t look at you—just gestures you inside, holding the door open. Even from the parking lot, you can make out the insane amount of notes and papers Sam has coated your motel room with.

“Jerry just called,” Dean utters. “The surviving pilot from 2485? Chuck Lambert? …He just went down in a plane crash.”

You snap your phone shut and follow him inside.

-

The three of you head to the site of the next crash as fast as you can. But first, you have the pleasure of watching the boys play Winchester Telepathy when you insist on coming along. They’re still worried. You would be too, in their position. (In fact, if the roles were reversed, you’d probably chain Sam to a radiator and call it a day.) But Chuck went down in a twin plane, not a massive, two-hundred-person graveyard, so your Gift should have the legs to handle it.

…And knowing what you’re dealing with has steeled your confidence. You weren’t slashing at the dark anymore, even if what was in the dark was, um. Proof that hell exists. After days of being totally screwed over by this thing, you finally had even the slightest leg up on what was going on. You were going to take that win and run with it.

Chuck’s twin plane was hardly a twin anymore; both the engines had been shredded, the white body of the cockpit twisted like a wrung-out washcloth. The plane had dove so hard into the farmland that the snow around it had melted. You still kind of felt like tossing your lunch, but more out of sympathy than psychic backlash. People had been in that plane. The thought made you taste bile.

Sam and Dean only hover a little bit (a lot) while you open your Gift to the wreckage. You take your glove off with your teeth and touch your right hand to the ashen, snow-soaked remains of the pilot’s chair… and there it was again, the leeching, seeping, violating presence from the vision that’d brought all of you to Pittsburg. A demon.

Your Gift wrings out another scraggly, disconnected vision for you. Chuck was beyond anxious to get back in the saddle after 2485. The co-pilot, Lou, had pep-talked him like any good friend would, reassuring him that the flight would go smoothly. After that, everything—gassing up the engine, takeoff, and the brutal, horrific crash—was blotted with poison ink. Every time you tried to steer towards Chuck with your senses, it was as if the strip of film playing your vision had been burned away. His face had been scratched out of every frame. He had become something else; something terribly familiar.

The research Sam had compiled began to link with what you’re seeing. You could feel, even through the leftover wisp of the demon’s presence on the plane, that it had done this many times before.

You jolted to your feet, scrubbing the palm with the eye tattoo off on your slacks. Dean and Sam reeled back, since they’d both been looming an inch behind you as you worked.

“What’s the verdict, doc?” Dean said, bracing himself.

You turn from the wreckage and bee-line straight for the road, eager to avoid a repeat of last time. The boys follow your lead. They fall into step on either side of you, and for once you feel like the specialist Sam always said you were, complete with stern-faced bodyguards.

“Full-on Pazuzu, just like last time,” you confirm, cursing. You shove your glove back on and stomp through the snow. “I-I get it now. God, it feels so fucking obvious. It’s—it’s playing. It finds these disasters, or it makes them, and then it picks off all the survivors one by one. Chuck Lambert, George Phelps. It possessed them. Like some sort of twisted cosmic-order thing.”

Sam pulls a face. “Final Destination style?”

“Minus the hot girls and the tanning beds, apparently,” Dean pouts.

“It’s trying to finish them off, boys,” you say, swallowing hard. “That’s something we can work with. If it’s only using disasters to do the job, then…”

“...then we need to see if any of the survivors are flying soon,” Sam realizes, finishing your thought.

The second the Impala’s on the road again, Sam is fishing out the passenger manifests from the first flight and chasing down any phone numbers he can find. There is a part of every hunt where your run is forced to become a sprint, and this is that turn-over moment, tensions ramping high. What once was seven people is now five.

As Dean hauls ass back to Pittsburg, you and Sam get to calling. You thank the Mother Goddess above for shitty, awful customer service, because posing as some lousy Delta Airlines representative has Dennis Holloway sitting in seat 21A and Kathleen Willard (seat 25E) swearing off flying for good. Sam uses a similar tactic on Blaine Sanderson (seat 14D). The two of you take the safe bet that the parents of Ava Struder (seat 1C), an unaccompanied minor, aren’t fucking idiots dumping their kid on another flight the second she survives one. That leaves you with Amanda Walker. A flight attendant on 2485… because of course, this job can never be easy.

Sam tries her phone. While it rings, you cross your fingers and hope that she has quit her job and started a new life as a dedicated couch potato. Sam’s forced to leave a message. He snaps his flip phone shut with a curse and throws it into the footwell, where it clatters against his boots.

You curl a cold hand around Sam’s shoulder, soothing, “Gimme the list, baby. I’ll try her emergency contact, at least find out where she is.”

Sam sulkily passes it to you, never once shifting under your hand. You do get a small, grateful look from him over his shoulder, and the urgency and anxiety there makes your gut twist. It would be more than easy to comfort him, to stroke your fingers through his hair, to rub his collar and tell him everything’s going to be fine.

But you’re a shit liar, so you open up your phone and make the next call. Sam’s lingering gaze ducks back down into his lap.

-

Of course, your luck continues to flourish. Amanda doesn’t answer her phone. But her sister does, and she informs you that Amanda, being a flight attendant, is in fucking Indianapolis for a flight. Indianapolis. As in, a good five-hour drive from Philly—and in the complete opposite direction of where you were going. Dean barely waits until the road is wide enough to turn the Impala around. The u-ey he hits sends you, and all your stuff, careening from the right end of the bench all the way to the left.

The drive is not fast. Staring ahead and silently revving yourself up can only waste so much time, so you pull out the mini sewing kit from under the seat and do your best to patch a rip in Dean’s jeans, struggling to thread the needle even more than usual. You feel a bit like a bad hunter distracting yourself from what’s ahead, but just one of you stuffing the car with anxious brooding is enough. Sam passes back a sudoku booklet for you and then goes straight back to his thousand-yard stare.

He used to be excellent when things came down to the wire like this. After years spent in empty motel rooms, counting pennies and waiting for John and Dean to come home, Sam’s patience was unimaginable. But losing Jess… had tilted his axis. These last few hunts, you’ve noticed how crazed he gets on the last couple steps to the finish line—when none of you are sure if there’ll be anybody to save. It happens. But you’re scared of what another round of it could do to Sam, even with a stranger like Amanda; he cared so much…

Dean isn’t happy, either, but he at least has something to do. He alternates between playing brain-melting Metallica or forgetting to reload the tape, so the drive is a strange mix of music you can feel in your eardrums and silence that’s just as loud. The first piece of levity you get is thirty straight minutes of Dean over-explaining the album to you. And, thank god you ask, because Dean rattling on about the “bass and drums feeding off each other” and the “musical integrity of a locked-in rhythms section” bring Sam out of his trance. He pries his eyes away from the rolling fields of snow, scrunches up his face, and sighs, “Can we at least listen to ‘...And Justice for All?’”

You’re an excellent tactician, so you use this opening to nudge them both toward the most surefire argument starter in the Winchester handbook: What’s the best album of all time? It would’ve been harder to lure flies into honey. Dean argues more with himself than he argues with the two of you, dancing indecisively between Zeppelin II, Dark Side of the Moon, and at least twenty other albums that you are vaguely aware exist. Sam outlines that there is a difference between someone’s favorite album (Californication in Sam’s case) and the best album objectively by sales (Thriller).

All three of you play into the argument more than usual. Guess you’re not the only one desperate to think about something other than the two hundred other people who might die tonight. By the time there’s enough of a break in the conversation for you to throw your hat into the distraction-ring, you’re thirty minutes from the Indianapolis International Airport.

“Both of you are wrong,” you decide. “There’s only one reasonable answer to that question, and it’s Rumours.”

Dean audibly grumbles, and when the Impala jams to a stop in front of a red light, he dramatically points at you in the rear-view mirrors and declares: “You are obligated by hippie, witchy-girl bullshit to love that album, Proctor. And it’s good, but it’s not the best. It’s mostly…” he flashes you a mean, big-brother smile, “girly music.”

You know you’re right, so his comment rolls right over you. Cooly, you remind him, “Nuh-uh. Sam loves Fleetwood Mac, too.”

You’d figured that was a good counter-point, since Sam was hardly girly. The hand he was using to keep his notepad on his knee was all kinds of veiny and calloused, and on top of being taller than Dean, he was a lot more comfortable with his masculinity. He didn’t have mile-long lashes or glazed donut cheekbones, either.

Sam hums in agreement, like you knew he would; the two of you listened to Go Your Own Way and The Chain endlessly before he left for school. Sometimes he’d even dance around the attic at home with you.

Dean side-eyes his brother, then barks out a hearty laugh. “Case in point.”

Sam elects to pretend he didn’t hear that, and instead turns around to talk straight to you: “I mean, the end of Silver Springs alone…”

…Maybe if Dean listened to more “girly music,” he’d have more women melting over him the way you melt when Sam says that. Even though you’ve gotten used to having him in front of you again, there are moments like these where you’re stunned by how similar the two of you still are. Dreams would play in your attic and Sam would already be offering you his hands, gangly and shy and bright red for you and only you…

You listened to Silver Springs a lot after Sam started dating Jessica.

INDIANAPOLIS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - Dec. 4th, night.

All three of you must’ve been hyper-planning what to do the second the Impala parked, because you fan out as soon as Dean jams the break.

Sam uncaps the travel-sized hand sanitizer from your purse and empties it out onto the pavement. You’re a little sad to say goodbye to pumpkin cupcake, but then he starts pouring as much holy water as he can into the teeny bottle, and you’re reminded how clever he is. When Dean gives him a weird look, Sam explains, “3.4 ounces or less per liquid item, dude.”

“Shit,” Dean curses. Right. Travel size restrictions. That cuts your only physical weapon against the demon in half—or into a fucking fifth, I guess. But it’s something. “At least he’ll fuckin’ smell good when we send him to hell. Great.”

You give Sam the marshmallow pumpkin latte sanitizer, too. You’re going to look painfully suspicious walking into an airport with nothing but hand sanitizer and an occult journal, but there’s nothing you can do. There’s no time to check bags or trudge through security lines. Hopefully you won’t have to board, but knowing your luck…

You’re about to go peeling out of the parking lot at top speed, when you turn your boot and feel the warm piece of metal pressed against your ankle. Shit. “God, this is stupid,” you curse, and drop onto a knee. You lose the pocket knife in your boot, then dig around for the loose rock salt shells rolling around in your pockets. There’s a visible pout on your face when you abandon your iron knuckles. Anything that’d be caught by security or picked up on a metal detector goes straight into the trunk.

When you pull your butterfly knife out of your bra, Sam is suddenly very interested in the color of the sky.

The boys follow suit. By the time you’re through the doors and among the harried, criss-crossing crowd of travelers, you’ve lost ten pounds in weapons each. Dean grumbles the whole way about feeling naked. Everything in the airport is overstimulating, even at this time of night. The long, endless squares of glass looking out over the runway reflect the too-bright lights in big glossy spots, and the air is flooded with a constant stream of intercom updates and civilian chatter. You duck and weave all the way to the departure schedule, which is just the right font size to make you anxious.

Sam scans the chart. “They’re boarding in thirty minutes.”

Shit. You wrack your mind for something that could coax Amanda off her flight. But the gears in your head are suddenly muddy, and Dean’s faster than you, anyway. His eyes dart around the floor of the airport. “Okay… we still got some cards to play. We need to find a phone.”

Sam and Dean dart off like twin bomb-sniffing dogs. You move to follow them, but something tethers you in place. The buzzing, bustling commotion in the air pitches up, and then your ears are ringing, and your whole body is stinging with the ugly leeching feelings from before. The demon. It’s close.

You blindly walk in the direction your internal Winchester compass gives you, and just when Dean’s about to take a courtesy phone off its hook, your body extracts the phone from his hand on autopilot. For a brief flickering moment, you’re not yourself. Your powers talk through you.

Your Gift foresees, “That won’t work. Your only option is to board the plane.”

The boys exchange an unsettled look. For a second you’re confused why they’re giving you their Freaked Out faces, then you feel the hollow plastic of the phone in your hand, and you realize you’re a whole twenty feet from where you started. Man… you hate the whole psychic-possession thing. Just for fun, your Gift loves to take over and course-correct you when it thinks you’re being stupid. You drop the phone back on its hook with a heavy click. It takes Dean a second to answer, and he’s still giving you that look. After a long pause, he knocks up his chin and not-so-happily mutters, “...Uh, okay.”

Sam, at least, has learned to roll with your weird psychic bullshit. His voice is soft with conviction. “Fine. Plan B, then. We gotta get on that plane.”

You run your palms down your face, then steel yourself. There’s no other way, and no time to second-guess. Even your Gift has decided it’s your best plan. “Okay. Fuck it.”

The usual authority in Dean’s voice hikes up with a note of panic. “Uh, woah. Let’s just hold on a second–”

“Dean,” you wince, and your hands drop heavily at your sides. “We gotta. I’m sorry.”

Sam, per usual, reads Dean’s hesitance as something else. “That plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board. And if we’re right, it’s gonna crash. We have to–”

You watch as they have their usual back and forth; Sam, eager to throw himself at this, and Dean gnawing on the inside of his cheek. It’s easy for you to sense the steam of real, nail-biting terror radiating off your best friend. You feel Dean’s fear all the time–and even then it’s hard for you to picture him being afraid of much of anything, much less planes. It’s even harder for Sam to look past his little brother glasses.

“...Flying?” Sam puts it together. His voice is understanding, but super confused. “You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Dean flails. He fists his hands as he talks, swaying back and forth to try and work up the nerve. He glances at you, the only other witness to his weakness, just once. “Why do you think I fuckin’ drive everywhere, Sam?”

Sam is genuinely stunned. Slapped-in-the-face stunned. But he takes it in stride, and, also glancing at you only once, he blurts out: “Alright. Uh, I’ll go.”

The anticipation of boarding the flight is making your skin prickle with anxiety, and you can’t help but inch back toward the ticket counter as they talk. But when Sam says this, without question or complaint, you’re instantly stepping up to his side and demanding, “Then I’m going with you.”

You brace yourself to shut down the argument you know is coming, but this Sam continues to be different from the guy you knew four years ago. This answer is just as easy for him, too. “Okay.”

Not, you’re staying here, or even, I won’t let you risk yourself like this. Just a plain and simple, okay. It bugs you. You don’t even have time to dwell on it, though, because Sam’s blatant courage tugs Dean over his fear.

“Man…” Dean utters, face twisted with nervousness. He gives in with a helpless scrunch of his shoulders, and taking that as permission, Sam twists around to buy your tickets not two seconds later.

You both watch him rush off, neither of you over the moon about this situation. Dean’s so anxious that his hands are clammy, and you can tell because he clutches at the sleeve of your jacket like a little kid. He knocks his forehead down on your shoulder with a groan, and your palm automatically loops around to give his back a soothing rub.

“This is fucking… awesome,” Dean gripes. “No guns. Can’t even bring a damn bottle of holy water. Is there some kind of psychic Xanax you can give me?”

Maybe some of your Gift drains into your voice when you promise, “We won’t have to worry about that. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Dean doesn’t make his Freaked Out face this time. He does, however, bump his forehead against your shoulder again, and sink into your touch with a rough sigh.

FLIGHT 424 - Dec. 4th.

You’d felt bad for Dean the whole time he’d struggled to get on the plane. Now, you kind of felt like choking him with your bare hands.

So many people crammed into one space was enough to flatten your Gift with the weight. Adding Dean to the mix, shoved shoulder-to-shoulder against you with his jitters ramped up to eleven, made you feel like picking your brain out with a fork. Your Gift ping-ponged between Dean and Sam, making you bounce between chattering your teeth with fear and thinking things like, wow, I just love the Dewey decimal system.

Maybe it was a good thing. You’d much rather be in one of their heads than yours.

All day, you’d done a pretty good job not obsessing over the things your mom had said over the phone. It was hard with so much time to marinate in the car, but the massive weight of the existence of demons only slammed on top of you once or twice. Boarding had managed to keep you occupied, but then the colossal body of the plane had shuddered and heaved its weight off the tarmac, leaving all chances for escape behind on the ground.

A part of you was resigned to it; it is a simple fact of your life that evil things are real. So what’s one more, right? But at the same time, you thought about the cross Sam wore under his shirt… you thought about being one of those things, being “made of lies,” like Mom had said. That, too, had been gnawing at you—what had she seen to learn all that? How did she know that a demon would “tear into your mind?” The Vague Psychic Thing is fun, until you’re on the receiving end.

“Can you sense who it’s possessing?” Sam’s smooth, calculating voice interrupted your thoughts.

…Oh, right. You’d gotten so swept up in your own head, no doubt influenced by Dean’s incessant foot-tapping, that you’d totally forgotten to scan the plane. Tilting away from Dean and his panic, you subconsciously shifted toward eerily calm, level-headed Sam. Just catching a wisp of the clean cologne he wears cools you down a little bit. Okay. No more freaking out—it’s game time.

You’d hoped that the white noise of the flight would settle your nerves, but the air tasted painfully sterile, dry, and cottony against the back of your throat. Everything felt like cold metal touching an open nerve. If the demon’s influence wasn’t making your powers touchy, then the woman across the aisle definitely was, oozing with homesickness as she watched Indianapolis shrink far below—or maybe it was the guy two rows back, replaying an argument again and again in his head—or maybe the other two hundred fucking people stuffing the plane with their boredom and their tiredness.

You push your knee into Sam’s. He pushes back.

After a tense beat, you whisper to him over the chatter of passengers, “Too many people. There’s no way I can narrow it down to one person—not unless they’re right in front of me.” Sam’s gaze turns expectantly to Dean, who’s still in full-on dissociation mode. He’d spent the whole boarding process humming tracks from St. Anger, and you knew he was really going through it, purely because he’d stopped and restarted Some Kind of Monster three different times now. Poor guy.

One of the things that made the three of you such a natural team was your ability to rotate leadership. In moments like these, with Dean way too wigged out to take charge, you’d usually step into his shoes without much trouble. But Sam has fielded your fainting spells and panic attacks all week, so he’s already got a pep-talk prepared for the two of you.

“...Okay.” Sam checks his watch. His voice still has that touch of classic Sam softness, probably because he knows how hard this is going to sound: “Stay focused. We got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, figure out who it’s possessing, and perform a full-on exorcism.” You’re about to make a comment about how blissfully easy he makes things seem, but Dean beats you to it. He snipes, “Yeah, on a crowded plane. That’s gonna be easy.”

You snap one of your bracelets against your wrist a few times, thinking. “Who would it want to possess?”

This gets Dean’s head in the game. Easily, he recites: “It’s usually somebody with some sort’a weakness, y’know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or emotional distress.”

As he explains this, you unlatch Dean’s claws from their death-grip on your arm and give the top of his hand a little soothing pat. Your gaze remains fixed on the pattern of the seat in front of you. “For a regular demon, maybe. This thing might not even need a chink. It wants maximum damage here—so maybe it’d go for the pilot?”

This is not a soothing thought. Checking his watch again, Sam suggests, “Or Amanda… Surviving a crash like that? I’d be pretty messed up if I was her. We should check both.”

You’re happy to spend the little time you have left wisely, so you’re quick to push out of your seat and get moving. Dean puts on a brave face and follows your lead. There are only two ends of the plane to check—this thing can’t hide forever. Just when you start to do an awkward side-shuffle to nudge Dean out into the aisle with your hip, the whole plane thrashes top to bottom, and there he goes, dropping like a rock back into his seat. His spike of panic is so genuine that you end up dropping with him.

“Come on!” Dean hisses through his teeth. “That can’t be normal!”

You and Sam immediately get to shushing and soothing him, and suddenly you understand how married couples feel when their kid starts crying on a flight. Shifty eyes in other seats pretend they’re not glaring at you. Summoning as much strength as you can to share with him, you drop a hand on Dean’s shoulder and order: “Breathe, dude. You’re okay.”

“I’m not fuckin’ four,” Dean whisper-shouts, sulking flat back into his seat.

“She’s right,” Sam whispers back. Should it be worrying you how much he’s been agreeing with you lately? Stern, he says, “Listen—if you’re panicked, you’re wide open to possession. So you need to calm yourself down. Right now.”

A weird part of you is grateful that Dean is having a rough go of it, because it’s giving you something to focus on. You’re usually pretty good with planes. But for a minute there, when the turbulence had hit, your mind had defaulted to oh shit, this is real, we’re all going to die. A slideshow of the last crash had blitzed through your thoughts. Thoughts that had nothing to do with the anxiety you were picking up from Dean.

You know you despise it when Dean uses his Parent Voice on you, so you try not to use it on him when you urge, “C’mon. I think Amanda’s in the back of the plane. I’ll check up front.”

Dean gives an unconvinced, “I’ll go talk to her,” then makes grabby hands at Sam’s pockets, “pass me one of the hand-sanitizers. Fuckin’ uh, pumpkin latte—don’t gimme that face, _____, not all of us can tell with just a look. What if it’s in her?”

“It’s a bit more than a look—” you begin to clarify, but Sam stops your back and forth with a shake of his head. He pulls out the little orange plastic container of your pumpkin cupcake holy water and passes it to Dean.

“We should try to conserve what we got,” he warns, passing you the only other weapon against the demon (marshmallow pumpkin latte). “Go more subtle—if she’s possessed, she’ll flinch at the name of god.”

Now that you’re running out of both time and options, the second Dean unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out into the aisle on coltish legs, you take the opening and bolt out of your cramped middle seat. Anything you can do to get closer to finding this thing will make you feel loads better.

You start down the aisle. As the chatter of the boys fades into the all-encompassing thrum of the plane behind you, you take slow unhurried steps past each row of seats, soaking up what you can get. A girl listens to music in her headphones. A businessman clicks away at his laptop. Each of them you comb over with your powers, and each pass feels like scooping your hand into a bowl of tacks and waiting to get stabbed.

They’ll rip into your mind… take you apart if they have to, Mom had said. You waited for that moment, steeling your nerves the closer you came to the cockpit. If the demon’s on this side of the plane, and it sensed you, would it immediately press into your mind? Would just being near you snap its presence to you like a magnet? You didn’t like the mental feeling that gave you; the stark secret-seeking white of your Gift clashing with the black choking smoke that’d been chasing you all week. When you spoke to a spirit through your Gift, it felt like you were touching fingertips through a curtain. Would it be like that? Would this demon press its claws through the veil and dig around for something to tear, to grab?

The other flight attendant on board pushes past you with her cart, leaving no barrier between you and the cockpit. Behind you, bobbing in a sea of blurry people, your Gift could distinctly make out Sam (practicing the exorcism) and Dean (talking to Amanda). You’re just a few paces from the front exit of the plane when a man emerges from the bathroom cabin, and—

He twists to meet eyes with you. Expecting you.

You’re flashed a clever, haunting smile, then—a set of glossy void-black eyes.

You wait for it. And in its own way, the presence of the demon does overpower you, bringing the heavy-as-the-sky, parasitic feeling from your visions into the real world. For a long ringing moment, you are blasted with dark leeching power hot enough to singe the entire front of your body—like a nuclear bomb had dropped down just a few steps from you. It is spidery and vicious and knowing and awful—

…but the conquering sensation never comes. Beth had said that it would root into your mind, that just feeling it with your Gift, as you are right now, would tear you to pieces. Yet all that really happens is you staring at it and it staring at you, before it shoulders its way through the cockpit door and disappears inside. The only thing you really experience is the shock of seeing it in somebody, puppeting around a person with dreams and thoughts and memories.

For a few moments, you suck down heaving breaths through your nose and stare at the closed door.

Something about it nagged at you. Besides the obvious—how different it felt compared to what your mother had described—you swear you felt something else, some ringing sense of strangeness that you just couldn’t put your finger on. Maybe it was the fact that you’d just made eye contact with a real creature of hell, an evil spirit, whatever. But you made eye contact with evil spirits all the time. This was… closer to home than that. Underneath the writhing mass of bloody, black ink that made up the demon, your Gift had recognized something unimaginably familiar.

Sensing the demon in person had reminded you of… of a sensory memory, almost. It smelled like… warm static. The old staticy TV in your house, the ancient one that sat square and unattractively on your Mom’s slanting sideboard in the living room. You remembered her crystal ashtray propped up on the top, the fizzy sound the TV made when you’d shut it off…

On the nights when it was just you and Sam home, and the house felt so big and empty that the silence throbbed in your ears, the two of you would set up a fort in front of that TV and watch old horror movies well past your bedtime. The silly effects and the dated acting were easy to tease together. You’d much rather watch movies on the newer screen in your Mom’s room, but for whatever reason, Sam insisted on the clunker in your living room.

Y’wanna know somethin’ cool? He’d asked you once, running a finger through the film of static bubbling on the surface of the glass. A little bit of the static in TVs is actually radiation leftover from the Big Bang. How weird is that? Something so old and powerful, picked up by this random piece of junk.

Sam always crashed first, leaving you alone with the white static the TV defaulted to when the movie ended. You could vividly remember how your shoulders bumped against the hard floor through the thin sleeping bag the two of you had shared—how Sam’s warmth had seeped into your shirt where he was curled up behind you, his soft sleepy breaths tickling your hair.

When you’d pulled his arm around your waist to snuggle, a spark of static had shocked you through his touch. When you’d closed your eyes and tried to go to sleep, you swore that the ancient, cosmic hum of the static in the TV ebbed and flowed at the same exact time as Sam’s breath.

In. Bzzzsh. Out. Bzzzsh. Crackling as he breathed.

It wasn’t the demon you were scared of anymore. The ancient, ever-present sting of static you’d felt deep down inside it… that scared you a million, a billion times more, because—

You felt that static every time you felt Sam.

_

It’s like trying to describe the smell of your childhood home.

Logically, you know your house must smell like something. But when you’re in one place long enough your brain filters it out as background noise, and it becomes something you can only notice after a long time away.

You’d known Sam since you were in diapers. Back then, the meager threads of your Gift were already taking him in and absorbing him into your memory. Eventually, you felt him so often that all the pain and optimism in his core, all the stuff that made Sam himself, had smoothed out into warm, familiar background noise to your Gift.

Then he’d left for Stanford. Four years passed, and the only exposure your Gift had to him was the flimsy thread stretched two thousand miles down to California. Because it’d been so long since you’d sensed him in person, hugging him outside his apartment had been like stepping into your home after a long time away—for a brief moment, the filter over your psychic perceptions of him had lifted. You’d sensed for the first time what had always been there, buried deep. The Static.

At the time, you’d gotten so swept up in Sam, Dean, and the adventure of finding their Dad, that it was easy to get sidetracked. Things came up. You got used to Sam again, and his Static faded to background noise.

Until you’d felt that demon with your Gift.

A demon. A creation of Lucifer. You’d always remember what Sam felt like—you’d never forget the smell of home—but in one of them?

Your mind whirls with so many questions that it flat-out pops, failing you. Pulled along on a cloud of white noise, you somehow manage to turn away from the cockpit and start back down the aisle. The demon is possessing the pilot. You have forty minutes, less than, to exorcize it and save the two hundred people on this flight. These are all truths floating around in your head, but no matter how much you try to circle back to one, the static of the demon overcomes you again.

Static. You think of Sam, the crackle of his soft raspy voice through the phone. Your heart is pounding in your ears, thudding away in your chest like a piston. The static had burned in the demon, burned like busted speakers and smoking plane wreckage. Little pins all over your skin pressing in. The space you have until you make it to Sam’s seat seems to yawn, your footfalls sluggish and shivery. Why do they feel the same? Why does he feel the same? The static of the demon worms under your fizzing skin, bubbling, boiling—

You stop in front of Sam’s row, and he’s already looking at you when you get close. He asks you a question. You stare at him, the whole world filled with that awful roaring buzzing, the air tight and dessert dry in the back of your throat. Even though he’s right in front of you, you feel like you barely see him—just the vague burning outline of him in your powers.

Sam reaches out to grab your wrist, tugging it away from the long marks you’re viciously scratching into the flesh of your arm. The touch of his hand causes a literal static shock to jolt from his fingers to yours. You yelp in surprise, but it’s—

It’s different. There’s a similarity, definitely, between what you sensed in the demon and what’s always been in Sam… but his Static is hot chocolate warm and fuzzy and so good. Melt-in-your-mouth good. Your surroundings filter back in, and there are his soft, worried eyes looking up at you under his brow, and his big hand soothing over the irritated skin you’ve scratched raw. Sam. The same Sam he’s always been.

…Whatever it is, whatever weird connection you’ve just made, you’re sure there’s a lot more to it than Sam having something in common with a demon. Right?

Sam takes one look at you, your insane reaction, and your mysterious reappearance, then easily puts two and two together: “One of the pilots?”

“Co-pilot,” you tell him, and one of your absent-minded hands drifts up to scratch at your arm again.

And again, Sam fishes his fingers around your wrist and pulls it away. Now that you’ve noticed it, you can’t un-notice it. His touch makes your fingertips and the ends of your ears tingle, and not completely in the boy-crush way. In the psychic way.

He asks, “You gonna be okay? We got twenty-two minutes.”

That jolts you back to life. Twenty-two minutes until this plane is smoking ashes in a Pennsylvania cornfield. Though the last ten minutes have easily overcomplicated all twenty-four years of your life, you won’t have a life period if you don’t see this job through. When Dean returns from investigating a very un-possessed Amanda, he feels the exact same way.

Your resolve hardens, and you manage to give Sam an absent-minded smile. “I’ll be fine.”

There’s no time for arguing. Dean and Sam unanimously agree that the only possible place to exorcize the demon would be in the back, where Amanda is, since you can’t exactly jump the guy in the middle of economy. You don’t exactly like the idea of roping her into this, but Amanda’s the only one who could potentially lure that—thing to the rear of the plane. It is the world’s shittiest ambush. But by the time the three of you decide what to do, you’ve burned ten whole minutes on anxious chatter. A shitty ambush is the only plan you’ve got.

Dean starts down the aisle for the back of the plane. You stare at nothing for a beat, and only remember to get out of your seat when Sam nudges your elbow. He presses his lips together like he wants to ask you the million-dollar question (“Are you sure you’re okay?”), but there is literally no time. In a haze, you shuffle out of your seat after Dean and make a feeble attempt to get your head into gear. Sam does not make it easy. One of his broad hands brushes against the small of your back as you both squeeze out of the row, and you feel like you’ve just gone down one of those static-charged plastic playground slides.

Your Gift is exaggerating it. It has to be, right? Making big connections out of little things, picking at a fresh bruise. For weeks, you’ve been crammed into a little car with Sam, into teeny motel beds with him with no room between you. Why hadn’t you felt it? Why now? Not when you were four, napping in the same bed after playtime—not when you were twelve, and Sam was the first person outside your family that your Gift had connected with. Had it always been there, living inside him? Had you missed it?

You reach the back of the plane. Amanda is there, a pale, blonde flight attendant straight out of a commercial. You are dully aware that you have twelve minutes left before the demon makes its move, always on the forty-minute mark (...and you don’t like the line suddenly drawn between Sam and such an old, biblically evil thing).

The boys talk. A familiar conversation occurs over your head, which might be why it’s easy for you to tune out. Your mind returns again to thoughts of Sam, so intense and loud in your head that it all fizzles out to nothing, and you’re left standing there with the air pressure making your ears ring. Sam. The demon. It’s stupid and intangible and you’d have no fucking clue how to explain it out loud, but your Gift is made to find the truth. Something inside that demon exists in Sam, too. Something.

You try to reassure yourself that maybe, just this once, your Gift is wrong. Maybe this is the demon getting into your mind—learning your deepest fears and bringing them to life.

Sure enough, Dean’s charm and Sam’s earnest face must win Amanda over, because she flits out of the back room like a frightened bird. The boys peer through the curtain to watch her go, the two of them as still and sharp-eared as twin watchdogs. You’re slapped back to life by the sudden tension in the room, and quickly scuttle up behind them. Right. Amanda’s getting the co-pilot. These next ten minutes will determine the rest of your life.

In the same beat, you and Dean ready your holy water, and Sam gets the written exorcism from their dad’s journal out in front of him. There’s no need for the three of you to say a word. An understanding passes between each of you, hammered in from years of hunting as a team. Sam slides up next to you and Dean gives you a firm nod, squashing your last wisps of fear. You’re here to do a damn job.

A man’s voice floats toward the closed curtain to the back room, followed not-so-closely by Amanda’s. You’re glad she’s not the first one into the room—because Dean instantly slams a fist into their face.

The co-pilot—or really, the thing inside him—goes sprawling. You’ve got a strip of duct tape bridled over his mouth before he even fully collides with you, and for the blissful moment you have him pinned, Dean gets another fierce hit in.

While he’s still stunned, you whip the co-pilot to the grated metal floor. Dean clambers on top of him and keeps him there with a firm fist twisted in his rumpled button-up.

Amanda panics, “W-what are you doing? Y-you said you we-were gonna talk to him—!”

“We are gonna talk to him,” Dean grits.

Then, you’re hosing him down with holy water, splashing it brutally in the man’s pain-twisted face. Your gut clenches with empathy. Did the demon leave his body already? You’re terrified for a moment that you got the wrong guy… until you smell the smoke. It’s not just sulfur, but full-on dead body bloat, steaming up from the big black boils that spring up where the holy water hits skin. You get a mouth and noseful vile enough to make you gag. This thing fighting you? This is definitely not a man.

Amanda watches the demon’s skin sizzle, the usual terror and confusion on her face. “O-oh my god, what’s wrong with him?”

You pour all the psychic clarity and calmness into your voice when you whip around and tell her: “It’s going to be okay. Be calm, go outside the curtain, and don’t let anybody in. Can you do that, Amanda?”

You don’t stop to listen to her answer. Sam’s already tearing through the opening to the exorcism at ninety miles an hour, his pronunciation punchy and fatally clear. That had been one of the less exciting parts of the five-hour drive here; when Sam had run through it over and over, re-training himself. One misspoken word could get everyone on this plane killed.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…”

The demon thrashes viciously in your grip, twisting and contorting under Dean in ways the human body can’t bend. Bile rises in your throat as you hear a snap, then two, as the demon does everything it can to buck Dean off. By the time you go to stun it with another splash of holy water, it’s more of a dribble. That’s your first mistake.

Two people are not nearly enough to keep this thing down. It gets a hand loose that instantly sends Dean flying, and before you even see where he lands, it cranks your head all the way to the left in one vicious slap.

Your whole face is blasted with red, stinging pain. You go down hard, smashed sideways into the cramped wall.

The pain stuns you out of the headspace you built to distract yourself, and all at once the presence of the demon is thrust upon you. The black, molten psychic power of it crackles through your body, filling your nose and mouth with the same terror hanging in your visions all week. Until you realize— It fucking backhanded you.

Trying to see past the dots swimming in your vision, you mindlessly shove off the wall, snarling with rage. No fucking way.

And then it speaks (to Sam?), and in the fizzing noise of pressure in your ears you hear it promise, “I know what happened to your girlfriend!” The constant stream of Sam’s exorcism stops cold.

When the demon speaks again, its voice, a spectral twist of the co-pilot’s and something older, drooled with pleasure. “She died screaming,” it rasped, “Even now, she's burning.”

A lot happens in the next precious seconds. First, the little circular light flushed flat to the back cabin’s ceiling explodes. Just—bursts, in shock, spraying sparks and glass all over the little room. You’re stunned enough as it is getting hit in the face, so one more thing to fuck up your vision doesn’t help. But you heard what the demon said to Sam. Through the suffocating evil flooding your mind, you feel the sharp spike of hurt and rage and grief in your best friend—and that’s the precise moment when you decide that you’ve had e-fucking-nough.

These last few days have not been winners. And though you live a pretty shitty life with an impressive amount of shitty days, even before you got to Pennsylvania, your streak of bad luck had only just gotten started. This demon has screwed with your Gift on an unimaginable level. Your last few nights have been plagued with nightmares straight from hell, and your days haven’t been much better, riddled with useless visions that get more and more disconnected every time you faint. It made it even more obvious than usual that you’re deadweight for Sam and Dean. They had to handle your boiling water burns and your freakouts, not to mention your mood swings and your unhelpful visions.

The demon hurt Dean, which is enough to get your teeth grinding. And Sam—it had cut him much deeper.

You wanted to tear it apart. You wanted to reach into it the same way it had reached into you, dig in with your nails, and rip something out. Your mom’s words buzz in your head: contact, truth, lies, rip, apart. Rationally, you know you should listen to her warning. If just looking into its eyes has forever changed your view of the man you’ve loved since you were little, then looking deeper could kill you—scramble your mind. You know that. But beside the rage and exhaustion fizzing under your skin is this desperate need to know.

Demons are made of lies. What if it was lying about Sam? What if it had screwed with your Gift in some new way, tweaking the image of him in your mind? It had to be lying. The Static in him, as warm and as good as you swore it was—it came from something evil. Sam. The man you love, the boy you’d fallen in love with, his soft sleepy breaths as he lays on the floor beside your bed, his freckly arms swimming in his too-big sleeves. How could any part of him be evil? He couldn’t be. N-not your Sam. How could he ever have something like that inside him?

You need to be sure. Consequences be damned.

As the demon rears up to keep snarling in Sam’s face, you slap a hand over its forehead—reach in—and start ripping.

_

She died screaming.

Sam can’t pull a full breath in. The words burn through his body like a syringe of poison, spreading from limb to limb. The demon snarls up at him, its foamy spit hitting Sam’s face and its teeth snapping around Jess’s name—until.

_____’s hand seals over the demon’s face. The demon’s jaw snaps shut. There is a terrible hanging moment where Sam’s brain struggles to connect the touch to what she’s doing; she never, ever psychically connected with the full face of her palm tattoo. Even with her mom Sam knew she put up a barrier, reading Beth with the smooth back of her knuckles instead.

Shit. Another fresh shot of horror lances through him. What the hell is she doing to it?

The effect is instant. Whatever button _____ had just hit, it activates every horror-movie, Exorcist-level instinct in the demon’s body. Surprised yelps echo down the back of the plane as the lights violently flicker. In electrified, strobing flashes, Sam sees it. The co-pilot’s body is diagonal on the floor one moment, and then it’s arching its back three feet in the air, lurching up into ______’s palm like she’d hit it with a defibrillator. The demon floats up and stays up.

…Until Dean brings it smashing back to the floor again, throwing his weight on top of the co-pilot. He barks, “Sam!” Right. Whatever she’s doing to it, it’s the only working distraction they’ve got. Slapped back to focus, Sam stutters out where he left off: “...O-omnis congregatio et secta diabolica—” It’s a blessing that he makes it through the next lines of the exorcism. Sam pours all of his willpower into keeping his eyes on the stained notebook page it’s written on, no matter how many times his gut begs him to check on her. All he can do is have faith. This is what she does—when Dean’s not strong enough and Sam’s too weak, she finds a damn way, come hell or high water. Sam has always had endless faith in that. So when the whole plane gives that terrible shudder that he was expecting, and then tips, and tips, and tips into a full pitch forward, Sam grips that faith with both hands. The demon’s power ripples through the rest of the plane. Everything descends into chaos. Past the curtain, the lights go out in one silent burst, followed by the explosive, concussive screams of the passengers as the oxygen masks drop. Movies are unfortunately good at capturing this precise moment, but nothing could ever replicate the way Sam’s belly swoops as all five hundred tons of the plane heads straight for the ground. Sam and Dean both go flying, crashing sideways into the walls of the back cabin. The turbulence rips the journal from his hands, and of course, with their fucking luck, it goes skidding through the curtain and down the aisle to ricochet under the seats. “Grab it!” Dean screams.

Sam can’t hear him. He staggers into the open doorway of the back cabin, clutching the frame for dear life. A terrifying, unnatural howl whistles through the cabin, even louder than the wails of the passengers. Its wind flutters his hair around his face and sends luggage toppling out of the overhead bins. For a moment, Sam wonders if the plane’s been hit or the demon has done something—but no. It’s her. He flattens himself to the floor—or rather, gravity flattens him—crawling on his belly towards the shadow of the journal under the seats. The passengers sob and shriek. The air is singed with smoky fear, and riding that same fear, Sam surges ahead, lunging for the book where it’s lodged between tossed luggage. He has to twist to get his hands on it, and it’s then that he feels it.

Down the aisle behind him, the wind drags luggage and loose papers into the void-like darkness of the back cabin—where the great, cleansing, sweeping power of her is fighting the demon. Sam believes in what he’s seen; Sam believes in angels.

She’ll buy him enough time. He knows she will.

Sam’s hands don’t shake as he pries the journal open to the right page.

“Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus,” he shouts, and the words ring as clear and clean as a bell. The plane tries to toss him again, but Sam grits his teeth and persists, “audi nos!”

He waits. Sam sees it more than he hears it. Deep in the blackhole darkness of the plane’s cabin, something red and fiery flashes to life… flickers… and dies.

Maybe he’s imagining it, but he swears he feels the demon fizzle out. The heaviness in the air melts away. The lights, which Sam realizes had been snapping on and off, turn on for good. The hissing of the turbines spins to its normal hum. The plane swooshes back up with a slow coasting motion, then sets itself back on its peaceful forward track.

Gasps and sobs of relief chorus all around Sam, and sprawled in the middle of the aisle, he finds himself doing the same. Overhead, the pilot’s voice crackles reassurances over the intercom. As big wuffs of air cycle in and out of Sam, he waits for the moment for his heart to stop thumping, for the big “we won” moment to wash over him—but it never really does. It sits with him. For a long terrible moment, he is on the bed in his apartment in Palo Alto, Jessica’s blood boiling holes in his neck.

Even now, she’s still burning.

INDIANAPOLIS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - Dec. 5th, early morning.

Somehow, amid all the noise of swarming paramedics, feds, airline authorities, and stunned 424 passengers, Sam manages to remain lost in his own head. He clenches his jaw til’ his ears pop. How had it known about Jess?

The terminal is quickly packed. He’s not in airports often enough to know whether they should be packed at one in the morning, but he’s gonna guess not. It is all background noise for him. Passengers whirl past, getting cleared by cops to go home, and Dean subtly nudges the three of them into the leaving crowd. Sam has a vague notion that he’s putting one foot in front of the other, but everything feels distant and hazy. His neck blazes with that terrible tingling feeling, and he digs into it with his nails until Dean stops him.

“Sam,” Dean orders, dipping his head towards the direction of the parking lot. Apparently Sam isn’t cooperating well. “Let’s get the hell outta’ here.” For a brief moment, the awful burning feeling covering him in a fog parts long enough for him to think, and Sam realizes that he doesn’t know where _____ is. Panic lances through his chest so fast that he sobers all at once, and he opens his mouth to panic more—until he sees her, scrunched up behind Dean.

Well, clutching Dean. Left shameless by whatever she saw in that demon’s head, she’s got Dean’s hand and wrist in a deathgrip, trailing him so close that her shoes catch the heels of his boots. She does not look good. Her eyes are big and wide and she looks straight through everyone and everything, still tethered to the other dimension her powers live in. She’s got her elbows pressed into her ribs and her body bunched up so tight that Sam can almost feel her psychic overstimulation from where he’s standing.

“S’okay, sweetheart, ” Dean hushes, the first in a long, quiet string of reassurances.

Sam stares at her. Even if she’s in her own world, she must be able to feel it, ‘cause she physically leans out of his way. That should hurt him—should make him burn with sympathy—but instead, all he can think is, she would know. She would know if the demon was lying. Sam’s connected with her like that—there’s absolutely nothing to hide, even if you wanted to, so there’s no way she couldn’t see if the demon had been telling the truth.

The line of people seeping through security to get out of the airport slows to a stop, making way for the pack of paramedics hauling 424’s copilot away on a stretcher. The black boils from the holy water have left his body entirely.

He’ll ask her once. He has to try. Sam lets the two of them in front of him, Dean, then _____, almost pressing her face into Dean’s back. When they’re stopped in line, Sam lifts a hand to touch her—but stops himself, not wanting her to feel any worse. “_____,” Sam swallows, trying to keep his voice even. “What did you see? H-How did it know about Jessica?”

Before she even has the opportunity to answer, (if she can even hear him), Dean swings around to shoot Sam a pained look. “Dude, look at her. Now is not the fuckin’ time. Let her get a full breath in before you start with the interrogations, okay?”

Sam recoils. The gnashing, rebellious fire he usually saves for Dad pours out here, instead, and before Sam knows it he’s snarling back, “I can’t ask one question about my dead girlfriend?”

It lasts only for an instant, but Sam gets to watch in real time the way that hit lands. He’s aware that it’s deeply fucked up of him to enjoy throwing Jess in Dean’s face, but it is his backward, comforting reminder that she was a real person; not a four-year-long fever dream he invented to escape. No one says her name but him anymore. At least, when he talks about her, someone else is forced to feel something too.

Dean sets his jaw. He makes the mistake of trying to turn towards Sam, which _____ thinks is an attempt to shake her off—and she lets out this awful, hoarse sob sound that stops them both cold.

Sam feels like a rail spike has been driven through his chest. Dean gives him a look, then mercifully drops it.

Immediately, Dean’s wheeling her back in and soothing her. The angle at which she’s clinging to him is awkward for all three of them, so he endures her trembling and hitching little sobs as he peels off her hands and re-arranges them. Dean loops an arm around her back so he can stroke her shuddering shoulders, uttering, “S’okay, kiddo, s’ all over… ain’t nothin’ gonna hurt you…”

And of course, because Sam can never exist in peace, he watches the way ______ drops all her weight onto Dean and feels his chest squeeze. Suddenly, he’s very aware of what four years have changed between her and his brother.

The rush back to the car is silent, but for _____’s little sniffling breathes. After making it out of the blistering lights of the chattering airport and out into the peaceful snowy parking lot, things calm down.

Four separate times Sam thinks about reaching out to comfort her. The Gift always leaves her freezing cold, and early December in Indiana on top of that has her making audible little shivering sounds as they walk. Sam’s boiling under his coat. He unzips it, then zips it up again, unsure if she’d even want it. Dean gets her in the car and puts a warm blanket around her before Sam can get over his indecision.

They just saved two hundred people. In hindsight, that’s a massive win. Maybe if the demon hadn’t said what it’d said, and maybe if it hadn’t reduced her to this, Sam could celebrate. Seeing her so messed up always throws him. Less than an hour ago, she was the powerful psychic that used to have Dad clutching his telepathy-blocking charm under his shirt.

Sam scrubs his hand down his face, staring blankly at the trembling lump of blanket lying across the backseat. Now, she’s… whatever she saw in that demon.

Dean tucks her feet up onto the seat, then nudges the door closed with his hip. Sam stares past him, through him, at her silhouette in the Impala’s dark glass, because that’s somehow easier than looking at Dean.

The smattering of snow growing on the asphalt makes the whole world sound muffled. Sam feels like he’s talking to empty air when he croaks, “It knew about Jessica.”

“Sam,” Dean calls, softer this time. Asking for Sam to look at him. When he manages to heave his head up, Dean’s face is firm and reassuring. “These things—they read minds. They lie, just like Beth said. That’s all it was. Don’t let that thing get into your head, okay?”

Sam forces himself to nod. They both spare the shaking shape in the backseat one more look, then Dean’s rounding the car for the driver’s seat, and Sam’s sliding in next to him without another word.

PITTSBURG, PENNSYLVANIA - Dec. 5th, night.

Green. It had to be the ugliest color a motel room could be, Sam thought as he stared at the empty room. The walls were this sad limey green color that managed to look awful even in the dark, some parts made even limey-er by the huge neon green vacancy sign right outside their window. Their room was parked right next to it, so there was no escaping the sign even with the curtains pulled shut.

You and Dean, who were positioned right under the ugly green light, had somehow managed to fall asleep anyway. The only sound in the whole world was your soft breathing across the room and the crackle of the ancient TV.

Right now, it was playing a rerun of some televangelist in a big shiny white suit. He paced the screen on mute as Sam watched, curled on his side, laying diagonal to face the screen. Nightmares were so common for him now that the hardest part of the battle was getting to sleep in the first place. His strategy was to get so bored and so tired that his body would simply have nothing else to do but crash. Bored was the key word—Sam had tried reading, sudoku, and counting cars as they whisked by, but all of that occupied his mind too much to work. Tonight was another night where his mind was just too full to sleep.

He hoped Dean was right. He prayed that the demon had just been lying, lips pressed to the cross he kept under his shirt. Most days, Sam dropped into bed and sent off a brief prayer before the fight for sleep began. Tonight, though—tonight was one of those nights where he clasped his cross in both hands and poured his heart out. Sam prayed for his brother, his Dad, and for you, like usual, pleading for protection and strength. Sam prayed for Jessica, too.

(But never for her forgiveness—he knew he didn’t deserve that).

When Sam had first started getting comfortable with prayer, he’d always worried that he was being greedy or selfish by asking for so much. Health, food, lunch money, for Dad and Dean to get home okay. Now, it’s a natural comfort to him. To open yourself up to something higher than you, to give up your pride and ask for help—that is a mark of holiness. Goodness. Sam closes out his prayers and feels clean.

Across the room, Sam hears the covers in the opposite bed shift. He squints sleepy eyes at your silhouette, and even sluggish and drained, the shifting colors from the TV and the vacancy sign illuminate you like something not entirely from this world.

You pad over to his bedside. A soft, ice-cold hand shakes his arm. When you get up close and realize Sam’s awake, you scuttle back in surprise. “Uh.”

Sam shoves his face into his pillow. With his mind still on Jess, it’s hard for him to look at you right now. “What is it?”

It’s funny. From the moment you got off flight 424, you’d been glued to Dean’s side. Sam had kept his teeth pressed together through the entire thing, watching from a distance as you reached for Dean, spoke to Dean, took the food Dean gave you. If Sam didn’t know any better, he’d figure you were avoiding him. Now you’ve decided you want something from him?

The second you touch his arm, every wisp of jealousy in Sam dries up. Not at all in the mood to be touched, he squirms out from under your hand and hoarsely repeats, “What?” You speak to him for the first time in hours. You sound rough and broken, and the edge of that awful sob from earlier today threatens to tip into your voice. “Can I…?”

Sam keeps his face planted in the pillow. At first he’s unsure what you’re even asking for—until you drop a hand on the mattress and he feels your weight tilt closer, wanting to… to lay with him. Like when you were little. When you share beds on the road, there’s often space left between you. That’s not what you’re asking for. If that’s what you wanted right now, you’d be in Dean’s bed.

The soft, choked little voice he can’t resist begs, “I just need to feel you.”

The last sliver of guilt and self-loathing that Sam has been holding onto instantly slips out of his grasp, hearing that. For the millionth time since this morning, he’s reminded of how awful he was to you. You’d been brought to the brink with your powers in a way they hadn’t seen in years, and Sam chose that precise moment to freak out. He wished he’d been better to you. Maybe he can’t pray for Jess’s forgiveness, but he can work to earn yours now.

Sam shuffles back on the mattress and opens the covers for you. “C’mere.”

As quiet as a mouse, you duck under his arm and slip under the covers. Sam immediately realizes that he should’ve fucking braced himself or something, because holy shit, you are so close. He accidentally gave you very little room in the already small bed. To keep from tumbling off the mattress and onto the questionable carpet, you reasonably and logically slot right up against him, your back against his chest and your heads on the same pillow. Holy shit, he did not think this through. Sam has very few gentlemanly places to lay his arm. And even if he found one, your icy cold hand picks up his warm one and—right, okay, you take it and wrap it right around your middle. That’s fine too. Cool. Awesome.

Okay. Forgetting every way he could sabotage this for himself for just a moment, Sam realizes that he missed this. God, he missed it so much. You wiggle back into his body and Sam gives you a big, indulgent squeeze around the tummy, earning this watery little sigh that makes his already racing heart zing out into orbit. Friendly snuggling became a lot less friendly when you were pushing seventeen instead of nine, so Sam hasn’t allowed himself to properly, um… cuddle you… in ages.

That isn’t even the best part. That little squeeze makes him realize just how pleasantly cold you are, a wonderful ice cube in blazing hot soup. Sam’s practically cooking under the covers—and that must be perfect for you and your chilly hands, because you make the same pitiful happy noise that Sam does as you get comfortable against each other.

Maybe if this were any other moment, after any other day, that would be something you might laugh about together. Instead, Sam’s prayers are filled with you and your incredible burden. He hesitates to go all in and hold you like he wants to… until your breath makes that tight, hitching sound again, and Sam’s sure you’re holding back tears. Screw it, Sam thinks. He’ll take care of you this time. Sam presses his face into your hair and entwines your hands on your belly, unsure of what to say and yet wanting to say so much. Dean can’t hold you like this—this is something you only want from Sam.

You both go still. Sam feels you hold your breath. His legs are itching to shift under the covers and your hand awkwardly holds his, the two of you afraid to disturb the magic.

Your thumb slowly caresses along the flat side of his hand. His heart leaps into his throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to relax. You need this. Finally, it’s his turn to comfort you.

Sam swallows hard. There’s no way you can’t feel his heart thudding away, inches from popping clean out of his chest. Neither of you are stupid. If Dean were to wake up, you know exactly what this would look like to him—to the cleaning lady, to the strangers out on the street. But right now, in this frozen moment, there’s no one awake in the world but the two of you and the TV. It is so, so wrong. But when you touch him, Sam feels clean.

Bit by bit, you adjust to one another. Your breath syncs up. The whole time, your eyes never move from the TV, but if Sam focusses he swears something washes over him—that same great, sweeping, cleansing power from the plane, as light as moth wings on his skin. He has to bite back his smile. If you did that to anyone else, they’d find you creepy as hell.

After what feels like forever, you plainly croak, “It was lying about her. It was made of lies.”

That hits Sam like a slap to the face. That’s… yeah. That sounds right. He absorbs the impact as best he can, because although his faith was thin, Sam trusted Dean’s word and he trusts yours, too. There’s—so much that he feels about that, but he doesn’t want any more of his grief to overwhelm your Gift. Sam’s not naive. No matter how good of a person you are, no matter how considerate and understanding and empathetic you can be, Sam knows that talking about Jessica brings you some level of pain. It hurts him, too. And he has zero clue where that conversation would even begin, so he stores his shame and his loss and gives a shaky nod.

Instead, Sam asks, “...What did you see? When you looked into its head?”

Right. Cause’ that was such a better question to ask her, Sam.

You go silent. It’s a weighty, knowing silence, one that chokes the whole room. Sam readies himself for whatever you’re about to share with him. Admittedly, he’s curious. When the Gift was something new in your life, Sam used to pile on question after question about what the world felt like to you. ‘What does it feel like when Dean’s happy?’ A car motor turning on. ‘What does my happiness feel like?’ Dimples and a mystery being solved. ‘You’re joking.’ Not even a little. It fascinated Sam—how does a demon feel in comparison to a regular spirit?

“...It was just an evil spirit, Sammy,” you dismiss. “That’s all.”

Sam highly doubts that’s true. If it was just a spirit, then why did it screw with you so deeply? What had you seen in its head that had scared you? You, of all people, who was built for this? He knows there’s something more here, but after this week and all the ways you’ve fought to avoid being a burden, the fact that you’d crawl to Sam for comfort is a sign of surrender. You’ve given up. Clearly, you don’t want to talk about it. Sam isn’t going to push you. God knows he’s done that enough.

When Sam doesn’t push you, you shudder out a wet sigh and pick up his hand. At this point, Sam expects you in this state to do something weird—and sure enough, you do. You pick up Sam’s hand and you just stare at it. Just stare. Your thumb presses into the meat of his palm, almost like you’re looking for something. Feeling him. Sam’s heart gives another pathetic, noticeable throb. Feeling him and being close to him is, after everything, still a source of comfort for you. His cheeks burn.

Just to fill the silence, Sam whispers, “I’ve lost a lot of my calluses.”

Per usual, his little creep says nothing. You’re still feeling him. Your other hand comes up to investigate too, adding even more soft gentle touching to Sam’s already overloaded system. Your thumbs press into the center of his palm (reading it, maybe?), then over each bump, confirming for yourself that Sam’s real.

Maybe he’d be a bit more resilient if you were doing this to him in a crowded diner or a rowdy college party. Instead, Sam can feel the rise and fall of your breath through your thin shirt, and it’s the only sound in the dead world besides the buzzing static on the TV.

Your gaze turns to the TV. The fingers caressing his hand stop cold.

Sam says your name. He can feel your heart thud thud thudding deep in your chest, like rabbit’s feet hitting snow.

Again, absorbed completely in your own task, you don’t answer him. You roll over very suddenly under the covers. Sam hopes for a minute that being face to face with you will give him some answers, but the flash of your face he sees only serves to scare the shit out of him. You give him no time to process before you’re full-body hugging him, shoving a hand between his side and the mattress and fisting one in his shirt to bodily haul him against you. Sam sputters out a sharp noise and awkwardly slopes his hands down your back. The sudden intimacy gives him a whole world of shameful butterflies and freaks him out enough, but…

You looked terrified. The same bone-deep horror you had on your face after you saw the demon in person—when you trudged up to Sam with those haunting Proctor eyes, staring straight through him and right at his future. What had you seen in that demon?

Sam tries to speak, but you talk over him, just as haunted as you’d been on that plane.

“I love you. So much, Sam. You know that?”

It’s not a sweet, reminiscent kind of question. It is a genuine, unironic, please-tell-me-the-truth, You know that?

Sam’s brain stalls. “...Yeah. O-Of course.”

In case that wasn’t worrying enough, your hands needily grasp at his back, refusing to let Sam go as you duck your face into his shoulder. Sam can feel your entire body trembling from head to toe, can feel your hot breath on his neck choking back tears. “You’re a good person,” you tell him, insisting. “The best to me.”

“That’s—”

“I can feel it, okay?” You snap. One of your hands slips up his chest to smooth over Sam’s heart, and you squeeze him against you, promising, “Here. Right here.”

…Okay. Consider him officially freaked out. Sam manages an unconvinced, “...Thank you.”

You’re so wound up that you’re gritting your teeth, digging your nails into his shirt and clawing him as close as possible. This has to be an effect of what you saw. Which is strange, because that… whatever that was, did not feel like psychic possession or a psychic panic attack or any kind of psychic anything. It felt like you, trying to convince Sam that he’s a good person. It strikes a cold, dark chord somewhere deep within him that he doesn’t like. You’re just… you’re just reacting to what the demon showed you. You’re overwhelmed from stretching your Gift so thin. T-that’s. Yeah. Regardless, you’re scared. You need him. That, at least, is something he can work with.

“Shh,” Sam coos. He rubs a warm hand from the base of your scalp all the way down your back, then up, and back again, repeating the soothing motion until his arm goes numb. “You’re tired. Let’s go to sleep.”

You mumble something non-committal under your breath.

Sam hushes you, blindly reaching for comforting things to say. “S’ okay. You’re okay, baby. You can fall asleep on me.”

Maybe the demon showed you visions of Sam getting hurt. Something. That would explain this, maybe. He fixates on it, purely because it’s a problem in front of him that is much easier to think about than how scared he is for you, and worse, how much he loves this. Being your person. It’s a stupid, selfish thought to have in a moment like this, but—Sam wishes he could take care of you like this all the time.

As your frantic breathing smooths out into a clear, easy in-and-out, Sam wonders, wherever Jess is, what she would think if she saw this.

He closes his eyes and tries to steady his own breathing, the TV still crackling away on the dresser.

In. Bzzzsh. Out. Bzzzsh.

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydennyy @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1 @pplanetcaravan

[misguidedasgardian]

The lovely Hallows (I.I)

I. Diagon Alley

MASTERLIST

Chapter Summary: Your godmother takes you to buy your list of things for Hogwarts, is it a nightmare, luckily, you find your best friend 

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (platonic), reader is a reader insert EXCEPT FOR her last name, I need something to call her by, except for that, she is un-described 

Warnings: Cursing, magical objects, Mugglephobia (?), that is what i’m going to call for racism against muggles 😂😂with Draco we are going to have a lot of that

Wordcount: 3.0 k

Notes: I’m so excited for this, it took a lot of thinking because first they are children and it’s kinda boring, but I love Harry Potter! I’m a late Potterhead bloomer haha, anyways… here they are! 

Your godmother was more excited than you when she woke you up the very day before school starts. You needed to go to Diagon Alley to pick up your things for your first school year. So you got dressed in a nice skirt, blouse and sweater, and she grabbed your hand as you used the Flu powders inside the house’s chimney

The apparition was immediate and just like that, you were in Diagon Alley, your godmother immediately summoned a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped your face from any cinder or ash.

You had accompanied her to the Alley before, and you walked through the busy street as looked in awe at the owls, the wands and cauldrons, and this time, they will finally going to belong to you 

“I want nothing but the best for my little niece”, you heard your aunt speak out loud, “for her first year at Hogwarts”, many families were walking up and down the alley with smiles on their faces, many first years, and some older, you saw the Weasley family from afar, they were very identifiable with their bright red heads.

You entered the store they just left, for your books, as your godmother gave the list to the store clerk, and as he handed her the books, she started passing them on to your poor house elf that had come with you to help with the shopping. The pile of books became too much, surpassing the poor servant, and you had to take the rest, soon they surpassed you too.

And you exited the store without being able to look at anything.

Luckily Meek teleported itself back to your house, to leave the books, came back to you to grab yours and repeated the action.

“Thank you”, the elf didn’t speak much, he just nodded and apparated out and back again

“Can I get the nimbus 2000?”, you asked your godmother, “please? I’ve been saving coins…”

“You cannot my dear”, she said, pushing you down the street, “we were reminded that first years cannot bring their own broomsticks, maybe for next year”, and it sounded silly, but you wanted to cry, it meant that no quidditch for you

You bought in other stores the brass scale, a telescope (of course the black one with silver details), the cauldron and a beautiful set of antique crystal phials, now you were only missing your wand, and your familiar, and for the last one, you really wanted an owl, even though your godmother had given you that look, she preferred a cat, they were cleaner, but you promised you would clean after your owl.

So when you looked up at your godmother, and found her distracted speaking to an old friend she encountered, you took the opportunity to grab your small purse, and enter the first owlery that was closest to you. 

The store was a little bit run down, and you immediately got hit by a strong smell of bird waste and hay, and the hoots of the beautiful birds, you look at each and every one of them, they were big, small and medium sized, brown ones, even a beautiful snow white one… but a big set of orange eyes caught your eyes

“Are you here to choose your familiar little girl?”, an old man said behind a wooden desk, making you jump, “A owl?”, you nodded, enthusiastically, looking back at your aunt through the glass, she was still speaking to that friend, “Owls are fascinating creatures, very smart, and this ones are already trained to fetch letters and packages”, he said, he pointed to a Barn owl with huge black eyes

“Yeah, I love them”, you said, admiring the bird, but your gaze returned to a silvery cage, at the back of the store, as you looked closely, you noticed those enchanting orange eyes belonged to a big black owl, it’s feathers were ruffled, and she looked a little scruffy, but she was gorgeous, the store manager followed your gaze and smiled nervously

“She is… strange”, the Owl handler said, and you looked at him, “but you felt a bond didn’t you?”, and you nodded

“I want that one”, you said, and he only nodded, walking towards the back of the store and brought you the magnificent creature 

“She is a Southern white-faced owl, but with a strange condition that is called melanism, turn her feathers black you see”, he explained, and she was so beautiful, “Be careful little witch, she bites”, he said, concern when you opened her cage, and he was amazed when the bird let you touch her feathery head

“I’ll take her”, you said with a wide smile

You got out of the shop holding the cage with difficulty, and when you saw your godmother’s face, you knew you had made the right choice

“What is that?”, she asked, pointing at your familiar

“my owl, I just bought it, do you like it?”, you asked simply

“That is not…”, she wanted to fight you but when she saw your “innocent” smile, she knew it was a lost battle already, “I love her”, he said, with a weird fake smile, she sneaked a finger through the bars to pet her, and she bit her

“She bites”, I warned, clearly late, and she just scowled at me

“Let’s get going”, she said, losing her short patience, and you walked behind her, happily

“Miss, let me take that for you”, said Meek, the house elf sworn to your family, but to make the task easy, you opened the cage and let your own perch on your shoulder.

“Thank you”, you said with a shy smile, and then you directed your attention to your owl, how were you going to name her?

“Basilik!”, you heard, behind you, you turned to meet Draco, your very best friend

“Hey Draco”, you said, smiling softly, he reached you, walking down the alleyway, and his mother walked right behind him. 

“You got your familiar I see, my father bought me an Eagle Owl, fearsome creature”, he said 

Draco eyed your big black owl, with round orange eyes

“Weird creature”, he admired, you giggled

“Be careful!”, you warned, when you saw him try to pet her, “She…”

“Au!”, Draco whined, looking at his bloodied finger

“... bites”, you said, smiling apologetically. Draco just glared at your owl and changed sides, walking to your left 

“I heard we will have an unusual amount of mudbloods this year!”, he said, poking his tongue out in sign of disgust

“You are only acting like a tosser because you fear they might be better than you!”, you mocked, trying to change the subject. Draco was your best friend, but when he spoke like that of people, you felt guilty, your chest tightened, you didn’t liked it 

“Yeah sure”, he said bitterly

“Here children, let’s go to Olivander’s”, said Narcissa, grabbing you both by the back of your necks to lead you to the most famous wand maker in the country

The man didn’t even doubt when it came to Draco, he nodded signaling you both to wait with his bony finger, and he went looking for his wand in the back of the store, when he returned, he had in his hand an spotless black box, when it opened, it revealed a perfect shaped wand with a silver handle

“10 inches, hawthorn wood, unicorn core”, he resumed, offering the wand to Draco, he took it, you saw concentration in his hand and the entirety of the wand shined with a golden light. He nodded with a smirk, he had found his wand and it looked like Olivander had made it for himself especially, but you guessed that it was it felt like to everybody

When you looked at the wand maker, he was looking right at you.

“Let’s try this one”, he directed himself to a shelf behind him, he came back with a whitish box in his boney hands

I grabbed the wand he was offering me, it was strange looking, I gave it a wave and a complete book case fell off the wall. You gasped, dropping the wand like it burned 

“Too unyielding”, he said, not even surprised, “strange”, because I was with Draco, he believed me to be deserving of an unyielding wand? I didn't even know what that meant. He looked at you one more time, giving it some thought, and then he went to the back of the store. 

The wand he offered you looked like an ordinary branch picked up from under a tree, you grabbed it in your hand gently, you pointed at no place in particular, and the single flower that was in a pot nearby, died, like immediately, your owl in your shoulder hoot nervously, flapping its wings hitting you in the face 

“NO!”, he said quickly, taking the wand from your hand 

“Sorry”, I whispered, even if it wasn’t my choice. His cloudy eyes met your face one more time, he seemed to be deeply analyzing you

“Let’s see”, he said, waggling his finger, he grabbed a box from a pile on his desk, and he gave it to you, it was a dark brown wand, it look like two branches had come together, twirling, melted together, the handle had metallic details imbedded in the wood. It was quite breathtaking

You held it and you looked at it, you felt as it had a life on it’s own, and it had taken to you, it shined just like draco’s

“Funny”, the man muttered, looking at you through his piercing blue eyes, “I just sold one just like this one, to the little boy before you, it’s twelve and half inches, very pliant, maple wood, dragonstring core”, he resumed, “the maple wood is considered for adventurous wizards, it will polish and nurture  itself as greater it becomes, just like the witch learns new spells”, he said, and you felt pretty proud, this was your wand, it was pretty cool, and the dragonstring core it turned it even cooler 

“Thank you Sr”, you said with a wide smile, admiring your wand 

“Remember little witch, the wand chooses the wizard, this wand called me this morning, knowing her owner was close”, he smiled and you, and you thanked him

“What a bunch of bollocks”, mocked Draco just as you closed the door of Ollivander’s behind you, “you don’t believe that do you?”, he mocked

“I don’t know, sounds pretty cool to me”, you giggled. 

As we were walking down the street, Narcissa and my Godmother behind us, we almost collided with an entire family that was coming out of an old bookstore

“Careful!” 

“Auch!”

“Look where you are going!”, many words were exchanged, not in the best of tones and when you made sure your owl was still perched on your shoulder, you looked up and you found yourself meeting with the Targaryen family

“Targaryen”, greeted Draco, but squinting his eyes and scrunching his nose, like when he did when he didn’t like something in particular

“Malfoy”, the smallest of the three, Aemond, took a step forwards to face him

“Narcissa”, what it looked like to be their mother, showed up behind them, placing her trembling hands on the shoulders of her two older children

“Alicent dear”, you looked up at aunt Narcissa and she was wearing one of those fake smiles that made you cringe, like when you two had done something mischievous but we were in front of someone else and she had to wait to get home to punish us

“Draco has gotten so big”, admired the auburn haired woman, who look as constipated as Narcissa did, even though they were at her house only yesterday

“I believe your youngest starts tomorrow as well?”, she asked

“Yes, Aemond”, she said, “Well only little Daeron is left, but he will start next year”

You looked at the strange looking children, they had even more silver hair than Draco, you’ve hair it was a common trait amongst really pure blooded wizards. The only girl catch you staring and smiled at you, you smiled back

“I’m Helaena”, she was just in front of you so nobody else heard, “she is cute”, she said, she moved a finger to caress my still nameless owl and for your surprise, she didn’t try to bite her

“Thank you, I’m (Y/N)”, you said smiling

“I’m in Hufflepuff, but I think you are going to be in Slytherin”, she muttered

“How do you know?”, you whispered, but you were interrupted, as the adults were saying their goodbyes

“I’ll see you around”, the strange interacted ended before it began, and suddenly you were being dragged again by your Godmother trough Diagon Alley

“My father says they are all blood traitors”, Draco said mockingly, whispering in your ear

“What do you mean?”, you asked back

“They are known for associating with mudbloods and muggles”, he said with that disgusted face you feared was going to get stuck on his face. “Their older sister, Rhaenyra, married a mudblood, Harwin Strong”, he mocked, “It’s embarrassing really, is even more embarrassing the fact that they practiced inbreeding for many generations”, you didn’t know what to make of that 

“Oh”, you looked back to watch the three silver heads walking in the opposite direction, they didn’t look like traitors to you, they didn’t look weird to you, but you didn’t dare to say anything

“We have an appointment with the tailors, sweety”, called my Godmother, “to make your robes for school”, she said excitedly, squeezing your shoulders, “and for merlin’s sake, put that bird away!”, she screeched, Meek appeared by your side with the cage and you reluctantly gave away your owl. 

And you turned to one less busy street, and soon you were before an impressive seamstress shop, elegant and classy. A small bell rang when you entered, and behind a counter a lady with dark hair, glasses and a handmade suit were waiting for you

“Ah! Narcissa darling! so good to see you! Is that Draco? a good little man he has become”, her voice was thunderous and high pitched, it made you want to cover your ears

“Isn’t he? we are here to get his robes for his first years at Hogwarts”, she said proudly, and then, she looked down at you

“And who is this sweetling?”

“(Y/N) Basilik”, presented your aunt

“She is so delicious, come, come!”, 

And as this lady placed you and Draco in a literal pedestal and took your measures, pieces of fabric flied from the shelved and to your body, you giggled when a turmoil of thread, fabrics, and silver needled all guided by that woman dressed you in your school uniform

“Will they go to Slytherin?”, she asked

“Of course”, is the only thing you heard 

 Then Narcissa took you to a Belgium tea shop, where of course Draco and you indulged in Belgium chocolate, drinking it, and eating as much as you could.

And then your godmother took you home

You lived in her house, mansion more like it, your godmother was a close friend of your family, your mother’s sister, and she was named your godmother when you were born.

And when your parents died, she became your guardian, she took you in when you were barely a baby, your father on his side had no known relatives, and your mother only had her after her parents passed when you were little. And you were being raised in your family home.

She has given you a comfortable life, your family lineage on your mother’s side assure her, you and many generations to come would live comfortably without having to work a day in your life.

Your aunt liked to move in amongst pure-bloods, amongst wizarding royalty, and that is how you were brought up, with Draco as your best friend, living in luxury.

You liked this life

Your parents died when you were barely a baby, in the first Wizarding war, they said they were death eaters, but your aunt never liked to discuss it, and you didn’t want to even ask. You felt something was wrong, she’d say she will tell you about it when you are older 

So you never asked again.

Deep down you preferred, living comfortably in a gray line between wrong and right, light and darkness, goodness and evil

But you didn’t want to dwell on this.

Tomorrow, you started at Hogwarts.

School for witchcraft and wizardry

You were excited, so excited you could barely sleep.

Tomorrow your godmother was taking you to King Cross station to take the Hogwarts express, you always liked trains, you were looking forward to it.

You were longing to burst out of that bubbled your aunt has created around you, you wanted to meet new people, make friends, but most of able, you were dying to learn spells, use magic, make potions, you were looking forwards to it

Your owl hooted by the window where you placed her cage, and you looked at her huge orange eyes. How were you going to name her?

Umbra

It meant shadow in Romanian 

You liked that, she looked like a shadow, perched in her silver cage. 

You were so nervous you actually prepared everything for the next day, what you were going to wear, you prepared your trunk with all the things you had bought, you couldn’t wait, you were so excited.

Tomorrow, it was going to be the start of a new life. 

[imaginespazzi]

Niviii, bestie, how are you? Hope life’s treating you well, and especially as well as you treated us with part 6!

As always, my thoughts:

Was waiting on when Katie would make an appearance again and you did not disappoint! Someone needed to finally talk some sense cause god knows we were getting nowhere leaving it all to those two dumb gay idiots (affectionate) to figure it out.

But for real, I loved this scene between mother and daughter and hearing others acknowledge that the bond between them was always just different. More. Katie’s like “honey please, it was too obvious”.

As always, I love when real events bleed into the story so absolutely loved draft night getting incorporated here. I could feel the tension as Paige inched closer and closer to Azzi on the carpet like oof the writing was- *chef’s kiss*.

Then them escaping to finally get that moment alone together again and Azzi finally giving in 🥹. Also, their dramatic ass goodbye being only two weeks or so prior to this LOL. Were just absolutely kidding themselves thinking they could really survive staying away from each other.

You already know how I feel about a Drew cameo!! Pleassseee, the whole “you are gonna get married right?” killed me in the best way. He will accept no other outcome, that’s his pookie for life and P will absolutely not mess that up for him again!

The UCLA team finally welcoming P with open arms- we really have come so far.

But omg this whole scene – them finally getting to have the date. What dreams are made of. But P was so done with Azzi here lmao, the NBA quip (tbh, Azzi definitely has a case cause like how is she meant to know that games start late October and not early October?! Like ntm on pookie now 😩). And then the stray that P’s Lebron posters caught – very valid.

For real though, that scene was so healing after everything we’ve all been through with this fic 😌. And P flying all the way to Cali during school – DOWN BAD.

And then just when I thought you’d written my favourite fluff scene, you go ahead and write the dancing in the snow scene.

I don’t even really have much more to add for that specific scene because I wouldn’t be able to do it justice. Just know that dancing in the snow/kissing in the rain scenes have my whole heart and this was no exception.

Then the final scene. I was actually wondering whether you would have Azzi winning the natty because I didn’t know if you could do that to UConn, even if just in a fic, but I appreciate you doing it for the plot (I know it must have killed you a lil writing them losing- and NOT EVEN MAKING IT TO THE NATTY GAME) 😭.

But it was only fitting that we got Paige in Azzi’s jersey this time around (side note: something I badly need to see irl at some point).

And the ending – THE ENDING – look, that may also be how I’ve imagined next season panning out irl (the kiss) but obviously with them both on the court… and since I know there’s almost no chance it would actually happen, I’m glad we got to live it out here.

What’s next?

First of all, I can’t believe we’re coming to the end, like from one offhanded comment about “what if Azzi had chosen UCLA?” being my roman empire to this? Insane.

Not that I had a single doubt but whatever expectations I had coming into this, trust, you more than exceeded every. single. one.

I’ll prolly go on a much longer thank you after the last chapter or epilogue so I’ll save it for then!

But yeah, in terms of what’s next, imma leave it to you, Nivi.

The “or so she hopes” at the end has me a little worried, but remember “everything changes, except the ending” and you did promise us a happy ending 😌.

Favourite lines:

Taking the picture is a task, both of them bickering about angles and lights. It’s unnecessary arguing, in true Paige and Azzi fashion really but there’s something so mundanely domestic about it that Azzi finds herself wanting to memorise this moment too. They finally get the frame just right, somewhere in between what they both wanted. Azzi smiles at the camera, her Paige smile, as the blonde in question presses her lips against her cheeks.

Bonus (also because this is how I want it to play out irl next season when they win the natty lmao): 

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad would kissing you right now be?” Azzi asks, still a little breathless. 

A myriad of emotions flicker through Paige’s face before settling on a mischievous smirk, “probably pretty bad but you should do it anyways.”

Alternate lyric/song (I fucking love arms tho, that song just fits this entire fic so perfectly):

In the darkest night hour, I search through the crowd. Your face is all that I see, I’ll give you (I've given you) everything, baby, love me lights out.

Side note: I was a little high when I first read part 6, and it was an experience (in the best way)!!!

As always, thank you. You already know.

Much love,

-🙋‍♀️

Bestieeeee, I'm good love, thanks for asking and I hope you're good too! Can you believe I finally wrote a chapter without breaking your heart?

If we left it up to Paige and Azzi, this fic would end up running in circles for another 10 chapters but thank god for Katie and common sense. I really love Katie and Azzi's relationship and she felt the perfect person to make Azzi see sense

The draft scene is probably my favorite scene to have written throughout this whole series, an accumulation of everything else and I'm so glad you liked it because I wanted to do the confession justice and I hope I did

LMAO okay so I was fully gonna drag it out a little longer cause 2 weeks is so short but a) I wanted to include the draft and b) let's be honest these idiots definitely are the kind people to only make a dramatic goodbye last barely 2 weeks

I love Drew so much so you know I had to add him in here but yeah that's their no.1 supporter and you best believe he will drag them to the aisle if he needs too

I threw in that UCLA team line for you, I knew you'd appreciate the growth!

Even though I've been teasing my anons with sadness for most of this fic, the date recreation was always gonna happen from the minute I wrote the call lol.

Honestly as much as I love writing angst!Pazzi and fluff!Pazzi, bickering!Pazzi is my favorite and I just had to add that in

I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKED THE SNOW SCENE. It truly adds nothing to the plot but it popped into my head and I was like fuck it, the people deserve their dance in the snow moment lol

You know me too well. It physically hurt to write UConn losing (at least they'd already won in this universe) but for the plot, and because it's Azzi, with a heavy heart, I wrote another team winning it all.

I put all my hopes and dreams for next season into that ending and yeah look it's not happening, but life imitates art right? Why not manifest?

I have to go back and find your ask because man I can't believe we've come this far. WE DID IT BESTIE! We lived your roman empire out just a little bit and there's just a little bit left to go!

Alright, there's maybe just a little bit more turbulence to come but I think you're gonna like the actual ending I have planned (you have to or I will actually cry)

XO!! Fantastic song choice!

LMAO I love that for you babes! And thank you for always, always having such a detailed review for me. They mean the world to me and I appreciate it so much. Til next time my love <3

[crackspinewornpages]

Space Prison 4/4 -Tom Godwin

PART 2 

Bill looks over the maps of the plateau Craig made and names it after him, when Delmont tells him the last Old One, Lake, died during the night. “Now he was gone-now a brief era was ended, a valiant, bloody chapter written and fininshed.”p.60 Now as the new leader Bill would write the next chapter, they have a lot to do to prepare for spring. Back when he left his bear behind, he promised himself he would kill the Gerns and not give them mercy. As he grew, he knew hatred alone was futile, they have to leave the planet, have weapons, everyone else needed to help. He had to be their leader and studied for eleven years to be the best. Now the first goal was complete, now to leave Ragnarok, for many it was wishful thinking, for him it was the driving force of his life. “There was so much for them to do and their lives were so short in which to do it. For as long as he was leader they would not waste a day in idle wishing...”p.60 

Bill told the group they are better adapted than the Old Ones so will continue their work in expediting for metals in early summer. They would have to time it to avoid prowlers and unicorns as they migrate. Their longbows were too slow, so Bill assigned George to invent stronger crossbows. They made groups and discussed the need for gunpowder. If they don't find metals for a ship they’ll find a different way to leave, they can't do it now as the odds against the Gerns would be ten thousand to one,but will if everything else fails. 

After four prototypes George made and approved crossbow that can shoot an arrow per second. George wants to bundle it with ten arrows so you can fire forty in twenty seconds. “If he can make something like that out of wood and unicorn gut, what would he be able to give us if he could have metal?”p.61 With George’s genius he could make an alternate plan for leaving Ragnarok if necessary. 

After months the last snows were gone as the prowlers and unicorns, so no chance to test the crossbows. They explored the canyon and mountain only to find quartz mica in the creek bed. They followed it to find the source to a small spring, it took days to reach the summit and the chasm. At the bottom they could see smoke and wondered what it could be so climbed down, the heat from the spring increased, and they only found little pits. (dude they’re geysers would think you can do something with steam and thermal heating) After fifteen days they found red stratum of sandstone no iron and Bill felt the death of a dream. As they stopped for an evening Bill went to take a drink from the stream and found a gemstone deposit of ruby, sapphires and diamonds. “On a civilized world what you see there would buy us a ship without our having to lift a finger. Here they’re just pretty rocks.”p.64 

They reached where they saw the vapor, a valey of greenery, they explored and saw a system of caves in the valley walls. They didn’t see life until Bill saw a mound of corn by a cave like something would come back for it. He went to the cave crossbow ready, when six things came to meet him, they looked like squirrels. (I imagine them more like ferrets) A yellow one looked at Bill and said he’ll eat him for supper and Bill thought he went insane. Bill asked the creature about it when someone ran up, he also encountered the things and Bill guessed he thought about eating it and this one reported it, they’re telepathic. Perhaps evolution made them telepathic and to report the danger, since they mocked him Bill calls them mockers. 

The mockers could be eaten but were so friendly and trustful Bill couldn’t eat them, they had plenty of corn any way. (well at least they won’t go the way of the Dodo) The rest of exploration of the chasm became impossible so they stayed in the valley until the fall rains came. Then they resumed the journey with corn and two mockers, as they chattered Bill wondered if they could partially understand human minds. As they climbed up the mountain the mockers became silent and Bill knew they wouldn’t survive the elevation and they died the next morning. “The only things on Ragnarok that ever trusted us and wanted to be our friends-and we killed them.”p.67 They went on falling with more frequencey and Barber breathed his last. 

When Bill reached the spring he rested for two days, when he continued up a gentle roll and face three unicorns. He rained arrows with the crossbow, two died and the third fled in pain, Bill quickly continued south as it would bring reinforcements. That night he reached the caves and told George it was just stains, no one found anything, they’ll have to try again next spring. George says it seems all Bill lives for is to kill the Gerns, as long as he’s leader that’s what they all live for. 

That fall they went to the lowlands and found crawlers, venomous (they say poisonous but it’s wrong) centipede creatures (I just imagine those giant prehistoric centipedes that got like twenty feet long) that ate their prey alive. They killed one with a longbow and a band of twenty prowlers that could have killed them passed them by, perhaps to show appreciation for killing a crawler. They found nothing in the lowlands and on the way back found the barren valley where the Gerns abandoned them, the stockade and graves. 

The corn they planted died before maturity and the other scouting party found nothing, Bill decided time was too precious, now to use the alternate plan of a hyperspace transmitter. They’d need a lot more supplies than they have, they need eight hundred pounds of metal. “The years went by and each year there was the same determined effort, the same lack of success.”p.69 By year thirty Bill had to admit vengeance was a luxury he couldn’t have and what of the future generations.  

He remembered talking to Julia, childbirth might kill her but she hoped to leave a life more important in her place. (well...) She told him if he’s ever the leader it’s through the children they will survive, protect them, teach them to fight, never let them forget the Gerns will come again and they must be ready, they will adapt to survive. “But all the generations of the future would be potential slaves of the Gern Empire, free only as long as they remained unnoticed.”p.70 The Gerns will come back, maybe in centuries while on Ragnarok they’ll develop a false sense of security with myths of the Gerns that are no longer believed. “The Gerns would have to be brought to Ragnarok before that could happen.”p.70 

George could build a transmitter without a receiver, the signal would reach Athena in two hundred years and the Gerns would arrive in forty days. Bill wil have the generations remember with the treat coming in two hundred years, they knew what happens if you forget the threat. (he was only five but he remembers) They melted guns and everything iron to make a generator, carrying water, breaking down electronics. In five years it was ready for testing, in year thirty five Bill sends one message, Ragnarok Calling. What is done cannot be undone, it will cause a lot of Gerns or people to die, it will be the Gerns. “I have to believe it because that’s the way I want it to be. I hope we’re right. It’s something we’ll never know.”p.71 

The generator was operated daily until winter froze the water wheel until spring and the prospecting parties continued. The suns continued south and springs later, falls earlier, in spring forty five Bill made a decision. There was only sixty-eight of them (out of four thousand) and they had to prepare for Big Winter. They bult stoves, inner caves prepared for occupation with doors and ventilation. In year fifty there was sixty of them, (out of four thousand) they did all they could for what’s coming. 

Bob Craig and Bill spoke by a Stove, not many Earth born were left but the Gerns would take them all since the younger ones are stronger. “There are dangerous jobs where a strong, quick slave is a lot more efficient and expendable than complex expensive machines.”p.71 Jim Lake says they would be cut open to see how they adapted and would still be alive for it. Dan Chiara says it would be better to all die than the Gerns get them, no one made an alternate suggestion until one says in the future there’ll be more of them, it’ll be different. “On Earth the Gerns were always stronger and faster than humans but when the Gerns came to Ragnarok they’re going to find a race that isn’t really human anymore.”p.72 If they don’t come too soon, but they had to take a chance and Bill again wondered if he had given them a death sentence. “Yet, the future generations could not be permitted to forget...and steel could not be tampered without first thrusting it into the fire.”p.72  

Bill was forty six and woke with Hell Fever, he was the last of the Young Ones and would leave forty-nine (out of four thousand) to face Big Winter and the Gerns. He wondered if he lead them to execution but Julia’s words came back to him, teach them to fight never let them forget. Each generation would be stronger and he set in motion an opportunity for freedom, their destiny to beat and humble the Gerns. 

Year eighty-five, it was one hundred and six below zero, Walter Humbolt watched from the cave for the sun to return after weeks. The transmitter was taken into the caves but the water wheel and generator where frozen, the glacier covered the plateau's southern face for ten years. There was no place but the caves, if they moved to the equator they would have to leave everything behind that might save them from this prison. Fred Schroeder told him they discussed if they stayed the snow will stay for years, if they leave they’ll have to go back to the stone age. They decided to stay as long as it’s possible to survive. (tough out an ice age for a generation or reduce society back to square one and start all over) 

Howard Lake listened to his teacher reading off Walter Humbolt’s Big Winter history from thirty five years before and the decision not to migrate from the caves. (can tell they blame him for their terrible life) Then the teacher talks about the transmitter to call the Gerns, their history and how to take them out. Some of the children get scared by a passing meteor thinking it’s a Gern ship and Howard felt disappointment. 

Ten years later Howard was the leader there was a hundred and fifty of them now, (out of four thousand) big Spring was on it’s way to Big Summer. There was a lot more to do now, in a few years they could continue prospecting but a bigger project was communicating between groups, the solution, the mockers. Five years later the snow receded and Howard lead a party of eight, they made sealed cages with an air pump and pressure gage. They brought back four mockers, corn and diamonds and the journey back up only took a day when Bill’s previous group took three. 

They would release the pressure on the cages over weeks, two survived and had offspring and like Ragnarok children they were more adapted, the same with the corn. By the fifth year the mockers were adapted to the elevation but susceptible to pneumonia from the cold. After fifteen years of training they could transmit on command and where directed. They had communication, they had weapons, they were adapted to the gravity and had quick reflexes. There were eight hundred and nineteen of them (out of four thousand) by year one hundred and fifty, ready for the Gerns, by the time they could arrive it’d be Big Winter again. A hyperspace transmitter would need metal they don’t have and even then it’s a long slow job to build one at least fifty years with what they have but it would still bring the Gerns before Big Winter. 

Howard sent out a team with mockers to look for iron, once they had to eat herbs to combat deficiency but like Hell Fever it was unknown to this generation. They followed the wood goats up the plateau, in a vale Howard splits the search teams. Howard’s mocker Tip was annoying him demanding food, Howard gave him some herbs and comments he thinks the mockers are on the verge of becoming a new intelligent life. At night he camps and calls the others, they had no luck and they might have lost one to unicorns. Weeks went by, they saw piles of bones of animals that got caught in previous blizzards and the days were getting chilly. A few days later Tip was quiet until he repeated Chiara’s mocker, Goldie, is dying of pneumonia, Howard tells him to turn back and comforts Tip for his lost mate. 

Tip was lethargic for two days, on the third he refused to eat and Howard finally found iron clay on a dead wood goat. He sends the location to Schroeder as he goes ahead in case he gets caught in a blizzard. Days later the snows was heavy when he found the spring with a vein of iron clay. He calls Schroeder, he’ll build a monument and won’t make it back and to continue the project. He lays Tip down in a jacket and built up boulders as high as he could. He then couldn't find Tip in the snow until he calls back that he’s cold. Howard put him inside his shirt, Tip had pneumonia, Howard walked down the hill, he can’t make a fire and he fell in the snow thinking it’s warm (that’s the end stage of hypothermia) his only regret being Tip. It might have been his imagination when Tip sent back that he’s no longer cold, they’ll sleep now, it’s all right. (don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry cry lots) 

PART 3 

That spring Steve Schroeder was leader, they were going into Big Summer, a renaissance that would last fifty years. Then Big Fall would come and destroy all their work, then the Gerns will destroy them, it was his job to make sure they would survive. He went with nine men to retrace last summer’s route, they found the monument and Howard’s bones a few miles south of it and buried them. They used a diamond drill to mine the ore and made plans for the next year, they captured and hobbled ten unicorns, loading them with sacks of ore. They mounted the unicorns, they bucked as much as they could but spears to their sides forced them to comply. Every day they were pushed until exhaustion after they rested they resumed to fight, for days this was the routine until they reached the foot of the hill and unloaded. 

George told him they have a new problem, the little aluminum they have is low grade, they can’t refine it. The generator and smelter are working but they need aluminum ore. The prospecting parties found none, but Steve swore to find it, to smelt aluminum oxide before summer was over. Then he saw the answer they all overlooked; he saw children playing. “Rubies were of no use or value on Ragnarok; only pretty rocks for children to play with...”p.82 Rubies and sapphires were corundum, pure aluminum oxide. He sent a party to the chasm to collect as much as they could. The generator went to life, the smelting box was fed crushed rubies and sapphires. “Molted aluminum flowed out into the ingot mold in a little stream; more beautiful to them than any gems could ever be; bright and gleaming in its promise that more than six generations of imprisonment would soon be ended.”p.82 (imagine that something so precious to us is so worthless children use them as playthings then it was discovered how precious they were no monetary wise but usefulness)  

They exhausted the gems in the chasm but it was enough for the aluminum wire. It was year one hundred and fifty-two in eight more the suns would drift south and not be seen for another one hundred and fifty years, no time to waste. They made ceramics and glass, spun clothes from goat wool, parties explored to the lifeless oceans. (really no fish seaweed or anything when all life begins in the seas) In year one fifty-one the corn could be grown in high elevations and climate of the caves, enough for this winter and next year’s seeds. It was also enough to be made into bread, the first time they ate anything but meat. They could be less reliant on hunting, what they could bring on Gern battle cruisers. 

The look for metal was trouble whenever they had to build machines or weapons but they did manage to build a rifle. A flintlock with ceramic bullets, more dangerous to the operator than effective. The goats were corralled, the young kept through winter, the old slaughtered, each generation more resistant to cold. The next year they trapped two unicorns attempting to tame them. The last twenty years there was a truce with the prowlers, they wouldn't attack if the men stayed away from their travel paths but a truce is not friendship. Three times young prowlers were captured but they paced in their cages until they starved to death and wild prowlers attacked each time. “To prowlers, as to some men, freedom was more precious than life.”p.83 No sign of any common ground except the will to fight, it wasn’t until year one hundred and sixty-one that the gulf was crossed. 

When Steve was coming from a trip to the canyon a storm caused a flash flood, as he sought a way out he spotted a prowler running but not fast enough. He readied his crossbow on the ledge and he watched it struggle to climb a rock. Steve grabbed it by the scruff and pulled it up as the water rushed by with debris and other animals caught in it. Steve and the prowler watched each other on that narrow ledge, the prowler had a look of disbelief. They climbed out of the canyon and watched each other again trying to understand the others thoughts then the prowler left. “It was something they could not know-they were too alien to each other and had been enemies for too long.”p.84 

Steve walked into the trees to a glade when he saw a unicorn, Steve shot at it but the bow string broke. Steve tried to dodge and was injured, he fought back losing his spear and knife, as he tried to find it in the tall grass the unicorn charged again. Then something behind him shot past and the prowler got the unicorn by the throat and the two were in a death match until the unicorn died, Steve guesses the prowler was watching him from the ridge. Steve set his broken arm and the prowler licked its bloody shoulder, that little bond made them brothers, a little bridge. When they’re done Steve says they’re even and thank you, the prowler made a sound too and left. “Ragnarok was big enough for both men and prowlers. They could live together in friendship as men and dogs of Earth lived together.”-”Perhaps he never would...but the time would come on Ragnarok when the children would play in the grass with prowler pups and the time would come when men and prowlers, side by side, would face the Gerns.”p.86 

The next year there were two incidents were a prowler could kill a man but didn’t. unknown if it was the same prowler or the whole of them knew. Steve decided not to try stealing prowler pups it would destroy whatever this was, it would be better to wait in the short time they had. In fall one hundred and sixty-three his daughter Julia was the last to be born in the caves, there were plans to build a town, the goats were domesticated but the unicorns were still deadly.  

In year one hundred seventy-nine Steve’s wife died, Julia was sixteen and married to Will Humbolt, that spring four months later she was pregnant, (what is it with old books being like yup sixteen just the right age to get married and start having kids) she’ll name him John and he’ll be the leader when the Gerns arrive. Steve remembers what Dale Craig wrote, that they can never forget what made them survive. “an unswerving loyalty of every individual to all the others and the courage to fight and die if necessary.”p.87 (remember the first few years when someone was hiding food) No one will help them when the Gerns come but if they have courage and loyalty in the future the Gerns are already defeated. 

The era of danger was over for a while, the next generation grew up during peace, the Gerns wouldn’t shatter it but peace didn’t soften them. Julia was reading a book on a hill, he had warned her that unicorns were still migrating but she wouldn’t stay confined by the town. A unicorn spotted her and charged, Julia dropped the book and picked up her spear and thrust it under its jaw and neck killing it. Steve reached her as she was collecting the scattered pages of the book she was trusted to take care of but now the pages were torn and unreadable. She at sixteen killed a larger than average unicorn and was more devastated by the book she was intrusted with declaring she’s not a bemmon. (ah language evolved new metaphors) He tells her to make her case to the council and privately smiled as this generation still had courage and loyalty. 

Julia later almost lost her life saving a child, they were playing under a half built canopy when a gust of wind knocked it over, she flung him out but got caught under it. Her chest and throat were torn by broken poles and for a day she was almost gone, by the third night she woke asking about her baby who was born five weeks later perfectly healthy. She couldn’t feed him while her breasts healed but for once they had spare milk from goats, it would be little but would last until the goats could give more. 

Johnny was a month old when they got their allies, late at night Steve heard unicorns, the wild ones had migrated, the penned ones were sleeping, and the sound grew closer. He followed it to a clearing a half mile from town, a prowler was fighting two unicorns, one prowler and unicorn already dead. Steve killed them with arrows and the injured prowler fell, Steve went up to it, it looked at him like it wanted to say something before it died. Steve saw the scar on its shoulder and knew it was the prowler he had met fifteen years before. 

Steve went to the female prowler she had piups recently and had been dead for two days, back legs were previously broken and almost useless that’s why they were so far behind. The mates took care of each other then she gave birth then the unicorns caught them. Steve found the pups still alive under tree roots, too weak to eat meat their father hunted, he knew the prowler was asking him to save them. He took the pups home but the goats wouldn't have milk for two weeks, maybe they’ll try broth. He names the female Sigyn (the wife of Loki who started Ragnarok) and male Fenrir, (the giant wolf son of Loki who fought alongside him at Ragnarok) he kept trying the broth and different kinds, by morning it all failed and they were too weak to cry. “They would be dead before the day was over and the only chance men had ever had to have prowlers as their friends and allies would be gone.”p.89 

Julia came to her father’s house with Johnny and a bottle of milk, he never had enough. “Johnny was hungry-there was never quite enough milk for him-but he was not crying. Ragnarok children did not cry...”p.90 (that’s just sad) Julia saw the pups and he told her what happened nineteen years before but the pups will starve by the end of the day. They stirred at her fingers and she felt compassion and she tells Johnny they can’t let them die, he’ll share his milk and one day they’ll fight for him. Johnny started to protest as his milk was given to them but one touched his hand and he had sudden understanding. He waited for his turn and accepted them as if they were his brother and sister. 

Steve watched his daughter and grandson, his role was nearing its end, the last generation was being born, they would meet the Gerns witrh an ally. This day was like a prophesy, Johnny was from a line of leaders, whose mother killed a unicorn at sixteen. He wasn’t hungry to share with a savage species that would be beside him when he led the battle against the Gerns. 

PART 4 

John Humbolt was the leader in year two hundred, Big Summer was over, the Craigs already covered in snowfall for years to come. Two children herded goats while guarded by prowlers, as the summers grew shorter there was less food for the goats, soon they’ll be back to hunting exclusively. From forty-five they were now six thousand (you went from four thousand down to under fifty and up to six thousand within two hundred years how genetically bottlenecked is this population) almost civilization but decline was coming with Big Winter. They would have to migrate either as nomads or in Gern ships, they were almost ready. The hyperspace transmitter was almost complete, weapons ready, mockers trained, prowlers waiting and the unicorns wanting to kill. 

Sigyn and Fenrir went to greet John, the prowlers had a kind of telepathy with their masters and understood complex instructions, more intelligent than mockers despite their lack of speech. (so this planet’s fauna developed telepathy what evolution made that possible and are the unicorns also telepathic) John grew up with the two and felt there was nothing they couldn’t conquer together. A messenger prowler came up with a mocker, they need John at the council, the transmitter is complete. The Gerns would arrive in one hundred days, the fighters would grow out their beards and dress in animal skins to appear primitive inferiors. An underground passage would hide the women and children, the town already built near the landing site where the unicorns and prowlers would be hidden in the woods. 

The generator was done by day nineteen, the transmitter working and John sends, Ragnarok Calling. It was a long summer of anticipation and the prowlers grew restless for their masters enemy. On the hundredth day the Gerns arrived as John was starting to worry they would have to face Big Winter. As warning calls sounded in the town and everyone got in their places, “There was no way of knowing what might happen before it ended. But whatever it was, it would be the action they had all been awnting.”p.93 

The cruiser landed where it was expected to Charley Craig (they keep reusing names and it's so confusing) and Norman Lake lay in concealment with their prowlers and mockers as others got to their stations. A few men milled about in sight as a lure to the town, near dusk finally thirteen Gerns left the ship. (their only real description is them having black skin but I just imagined them looking like the evil aliens from Galaxy Quest) John made sure everyone was in place as the Gerns blasted the stockade and struggled in the gravity. The Gern, Narth, tells his communicator that the descendants of the abandoned Rejects adapted astonishingly, they could be used for labor. The Narth ordered the strong ones taken, intelligent ones to be interrogated and the young to be experimented on, he doesn’t believe someone so primitive sent that message. 

The men didn’t respond to the command in terran to come over, when they went to force them John gave the order and the startled Narth ordered them to be killed. The gravity made their moves too slow and they got arrows in their throats. Narth orders them to drop their blasters and quickly they were bound in their own chains, the men weren’t impressed by them. John gives orders to his mocker Tip (a descendant of the first Tip) and Sigyn, Tip was to be a spy and listen to the Gerns and come back when they call. The Gerns flashed search lights on the town before more armed Gerns poured out of the ship. Through Tip they learned a full force is on its way and the blasters are programmed to explode when used by a non Gern now. (a precaution from Schroeder I would assume) John orders the signal to attack, the Gerns were too slow to defend themselves efficiently and took out more of their force than the men. 

The Narth orders a retreat and for the ship blasters to kill them, the unicorns arrived to kill them with their spear wielding riders. John orders Craig and Lake into the ship followed by twenty more men and fifteen prowlers. A warning sounded and air locks closed, only nine men and four prowlers made it through as Gerns came to kill those trapped. They split to take the drive room and controls and nine waiting Gerns fired at them. Fenrir and Sigyn had it delt with in seconds, in the corridor only Lake and Fenrir were left standing and Sigyn had a serious injury. John, Lake and Fenrir took the control room killing several surprised Gerns. 

Before Fenrir could kill the commander John halts him to disarm him, the stunned commander is in shock, if they surrender, he’ll free them, Lake slaps him and tells him never to lie. (yeah they remember what came of the last time the Gerns spared people) He checks on Craig, two of them made it to the drive room, Lake checked the viewscreen, they won. “But there was no feeling of victory, none of the elation he had thought he would have.”p.99 Sigyn was still alive waiting for them, John managed to stem the bleeding, it would take weeks to recover, it was then he felt victory. 

Lake asked the Gern how the war is going, they’ll have Earth soon, Athena is still enslaved. John has him order the other Gerns to leave their weapons and remain in quarters or he’ll break every bone working his way up. John and Lake looked at each other, wearing animal skins they took over the ship and it worked to catch the Gerns off guard. “You weren’t supposed to survive.” “I know,’ he said again. ‘We’ve made it a point to remember that.”p.100 (rule number one make sure your enemy is actually dead before you leave the room) Left on a planet with no resources but dangerous animals, they adapted and were made stronger than the Gerns, they made allies of the prowlers and took control of the ship. For two hundred years they had plans for it, in sixty days they’ll have Athena, that’ll be the beginning and the Gerns will help them. 

For six days the ship was busy, interrogating Gerns, patrolling, after a mocker was killed by an angry Gern then that Gern was killed by a prowler the mockers were safe. One Ragnarok boy was held hostage and killed, Lake then killed three Gerns with their own knives. (eventually) The operation of a Gern cruiser was similar to Terran ships most of it manual for slower reflexes. On the seventh day they left Ragnarok, by then the Gern commander was no longer useful as he was confined to his compartment and went delusionally mad. Narth had become cooperative and by day twelve they let him have what he thought, he was sneaking access to a transmitter. After that he let his hatred show and anticipation evident. “The thirty-fifth day came, with Athena five days ahead of them-the day of the execution they had let him arrange for them.”p.101 

John watched the red dots appear on the viewscreen and he changed course, the increased gravity caused Narth to sway. He reveals to Narth they knew, Narth tells him the new battleship is three times the size of the cruiser, they plan to make it a flag ship. Narth believes their fools paradise is at an end and they’ll televise what they’ll do to the village to all Gern worlds as a reminder what happens to those that resist. John warns the Gerns to strap in for the accelerated maneuvers, they already have plans. They’ll hand over Athena to the humans, the Ragnarok men will be given ships and with Earth ships they can capture the Gerns in the solar system.  

Normally a space battle is blasting and dodging, the acceleration has a safety limit for the crew, but the Ragnarok crew is accustomed to high gravity, so it’s been disconnected. As Narth says they’ll kill them all John accelerated and cut him off, knocking him around in his seat until he lost consciousness. Even John strained under the weight as they dodged past the battleship blasters. The maneuvering continued closer to the battleship and tightened the spiral and the magnetic grapples fastened to it. John then gave an ultimatum to the battleship commander, the acceleration limiter is disconnected. it’s powerful enough to thrust both ships more than one gravity worlders can endure, surrender or be killed. “If you surrender we’ll do some what better by you than you did with the humans two hundred years ago-we'll take all of you to Athena.”p.103 They surrender. 

Narth awoke with John beside him and no Gern rescuers, they captured the battleship, it wasn’t hard. (if it wasn’t so serious I could see John going what like it’s hard) Narth asks what good it will do them to have Athena and Earth, they won’t escape the consequences the Empire has dozens of worlds. John says they’re not like the Gerns, they wont delay for posturing, they’ll have a fleet when they leave Earth, they’ll cripple and capture the Gern fleet and destroy the Empire. “When a race has been condemned to die by another race and it fights and struggle and manages somehow to survive, it learns a lesson. It learns it must never again let the other race be in position to destroy it. So this is the harvest you reap from the seeds you sowed on Ragnarok two hundred years ago.”-”For two hundred years the Gern Empire has become a menace to our survival as a race. Now, the time has come when we shall remove it.”p.104 

John watched Athena’s sun in the battleship viewscreen, one more day, two hundred years later they’re coming to what was supposed to be home. John wondered, “Have any of us ever thought of that-that we’re all different to humans and there's no human world we could ever call home?”p.104 Lake has been thinking, “We could lie on human worlds-but we would always be a race apart and never really belong there.”p.104 Craig supposes they’ve all thought about what comes after, not Earth, Athena, they won't go back to Ragnarok. John says there's a lot to do but the battle is already won, a peaceful life won't be satisfying. Taking out the Gerns will only take ten years. “Where is there a place for us-a world of our own?”p.104 There's a whole galaxy, thousands of worlds, maybe races like the Gerns, maybe races like they used to be and need help or maybe things no one’s ever imagined. They’ll go, some will want to stay, always restless ones, out there are homes for all of them. It was settled, the battleship and cruiser driving on as the Constellation two hundred years ago. 

“A voyage had been interrupted then, and a new race had been born. Now they were going on again, to Athena, to Earth, to the farthest reaches of the Gern Empire. And on to the wild, unknown regions of space beyond. There awaited other worlds and there awaited their destiny; to be a race scattered across a hundred thousand light-years of suns, to be an empire such as the galaxy had never known. They, the restless ones, the unwanted and forgotten, the survivors.”p.105 (and there it is the original title of this book) 

(so that gives a lot to think about it’s been generations as they adapted to a hell planet and form their lives around survival escape and killing their jailors it almost becoming a religious doctrine after they achieved that what’s a society to do they are now displaced and no longer have a goal to strive for what comes next)  

FIRST

[artsyhobi]

Cursed

Divine Gods!BTS x reader

series masterlist

Chapter one, Calico Cat.

characters: mortal!fem!reader, god of the moon!park jimin, god of the sun!jung hoseok, god of death and darkness!min yoongi, god of the four elements!kim namjoon, god of time!kim seokjin, god of nature and life!jeon jungkook, god of mischief!kim taehyung.

a/n: hello ! i hope you enjoy this first chapter, i actually took inspo from Goblin (which is a kdrama i absolutely loved ;;) and i'm sorry in advance for my poor writing, but english is not my first language ...

trigger warning: mentions of blood, violence and death, curse words.

tag-list: @greezenini, @fangirl125reader, @motherofbludgers

Min Yoongi sat on the throne, his legs elegantly crossed as he rested his forearms on the armrest. He slightly raised his left arm so that the tip of his index finger could lightly brush against his lower lip, his eyebrows mildly furrowed in a focused expression.

The black-haired man continued playing with his lip, then reached for something in the pocket of his silk pants and held the object in the palm of his hand: it was a vintage pocket watch entirely made out of gold, with a ruby located right at its center. The hands of the watch moved mechanically, producing a “tic” sound that resonated in his mind like an irritating echo.

Yoongi hated time. What was ironic, though, is that he had too much of it: he had an Eternity.

Yoongi glared at the antique object once more. A satisfied smirk appeared on the corner of his lips, depicting anything but an innocent smile. He stood up, adjusting his coat and grabbing his black bowler hat in a swift movement before taking some steps forward: as he walked, the dark throne room surrounding him became gradually more distant and, in a matter of seconds, the man was walking in the busy and snowy streets of Seoul. The snow crunched under the soles of his shoes, the snowflakes that landed on his coat immediately melted, and as he passed by, nobody seemed to notice his presence.

The street was crowded with people rushing to purchase the last Christmas presents, couples holding hands, and kids eating strawberry cotton candy. Disgusting, thought Yoongi as he curled his nose.

“One minute and thirty-three seconds.” He murmured to himself, turning into a deserted alley after checking the correct street name on a brick wall nearby. As he walked, the bright white snow became dirtier until there were just a few clusters of it on the side of the path. It started snowing heavier.

“Fifty-eight seconds.”

“I told you there were consequences!” A hoarse male voice shouted in the distance. Yoongi stopped hands into the pockets of his coat. “You’re a worthless bitch!”

There was a loud bang, followed by two others, and a feeble female voice asking for help. No one could hear her, and even if her cries reached someone’s ears, no one would help her since - according to Min Yoongi - humans were nothing but greedy mortal souls that enjoyed the sufferings of others. They were too occupied with spending their money on materialistic goods and developing toxic, violent, and possessive relationships. They were human beings but had no humanity left in their hearts.

He approached the poor woman laying on the ground, her hand resting on her stomach: blood was gushing out of her bullet wounds, dripping down in a pool of crimson absorbed by the snow. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered the same words over and over again, “Help me”.

He crouched down beside her and tilted his head, observing her like a detective inspected a victim. He knew that her time was up and that she was destined to die there, alone, desperately waiting for someone to find her.

“S-Sir…” She mumbled, some blood running down from the corner of her mouth. “P-please help me…” Her hand desperately clutched the hem of his coat, smearing it with her blood.

Yoongi sharply exhaled and rolled his eyes, turning his head to the side.

“Fancy seeing you follow me everywhere I go, Jungkook.” He stated, reluctantly standing up to face a man leaning against the brick wall, his arms crossed.

“Did you miss me?” Jungkook grinned.

He seemed almost like an angel since the clothes he wore were entirely white. His blond hair brushed against his shoulders, and a pair of long crystal earrings hung from his ears, sparkling as soon as they moved. Yoongi, on the contrary, was his polar opposite: his short wavy locks were as black as pitch, and although his eyes were a dull brown, they almost felt like looking into two holes, black as a night without stars.

“Seokjin sent me here to stop you from reaping her soul,” he affirmed, playing with the many rings he wore on his fingers, “It’s not her time yet.”

Yoongi scoffed, slightly amused at his statement. “Don’t you see the three holes on her stomach… Or do you need a magnifying glass? I am the one who decides if she dies today, not that Doctor Strange wannabe.” He took some steps toward him until his face was a few inches away from his, “I don’t take orders from a teenager.”

Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows, the slight grin disappeared. “These are not my orders but his, and you know you must obey him.” He lightly shoved Yoongi’s shoulder without interrupting eye contact with him, trying to remain calm. He kneeled beside the woman and caressed her hair, a sad smile depicted on his pink lips, while Yoongi stared angrily at the two.

“Don’t even think about it, Jungkook, her soul is already mine.” He said through gritted teeth.

“It is, you’re right.” The blond whispered and delicately put his hand on the woman’s chest. “But not now, Yoongi, you will have to wait.”

“Wait!?” Yoongi exclaimed in disbelief, and then frantically ran a hand through his black locks, “This has to be a joke, is Taehyung with you?”

“He is not,” He responded as a gleam of light formed under the palm of his hand, turning brighter by the second, “I haven’t seen him in ages.” This time his tone was lower, and his expression had darkened. Yoongi nodded, having no interest in knowing what had happened between the two friends.

“I suppose you won’t tell me why Seokjin wants to spare her life.”

“He just told me to stop you, nothing more.”

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “Lies,” he snarled, “you are his little obedient puppy, Jungkook, we all know it.”

Jungkook inhaled the sharp, cold air and smiled as the woman opened her dark eyes. “I’m not here to fight, Yoongi, so you can insult me how much you want.” The blond took the now conscious woman into his arms and glared directly at his former friend. “But nothing will change the fact that you’re on your own now.”

Yoongi turned around, ready to argue back, but there was no trace of Jungkook.

The black-haired man remained still as he watched the empty spot, sighing, a strange feeling at the pit of his stomach.

20 years later

“Chung-Ae, we’ve already talked about this!” You groaned in annoyance, sinking your face into your Pikachu plushie. “I’m happy here!”

Chung-Ae sat on the counter, her arms supporting her as she gave you a stern look. You peeked, escaping the protection of your plushie, noticing that she wore purple lenses - although her stare was as scary as it had always been -.

“You’re a twenty-two-year-old living in an old house, with your three cats, and working in a cat-café.” She emphasized the “and” as if working in such a wonderful place was something to be ashamed of.

“That’s the best life!” You exclaimed as you sat comfortably on your sofa. “I mean, why would I need to move to Seul with a bunch of horny people when I could just spend the rest of my life in peace?”

Chung-Ae sighed loudly.

“They’re not just a bunch of horny people. They are my friends.”

You parted your lips to respond, wanting to remind her about the last party you both had attended, but she cut you off.

“Y/N, you live alone in such an abandoned area, it’s dangerous; it even takes you more than an hour to reach the café.” She slid down from the counter and sat next to you, putting her hand on your shoulder. “Trust me, I know that you’re attached to this place, but it doesn’t work for you anymore.”

She was right, you loved that place. Your grandparent’s house was located in the countryside, in a small rural village that was scarcely populated. The few young people remaining had started moving to bigger cities such as Seul or Busan, but not you. You adored waking up to the sound of birds chirping in the morning and the gurgling of the river. You got used to being alone, and you didn’t mind it. You couldn’t understand why Chung-Ae tried to force you to move with her, but she was rather determined, and you knew she was going to insist.

“Chung-Ae,” you reached for her hand and squeezed it delicately, a small smile forming on your lips. “You know I can’t leave, I promised my mother I would take care of this house.”

“You have to stop living in the past, Y/N.” She firmly stated. “This house is falling apart, and so is your life. Moving to Seul with me is your best option.”

Her eyes stared into yours for a few seconds, and you felt unreasonably guilty. You knew how much she cared about you, and you were constantly giving her “no” as answers. She retracted her hand, reaching for her purse right beside her, before standing up. “You still have time to think about it. You know that, right?” Her hand was on the doorknob.

Your mind wanted to decline her offer, but your heart told you otherwise, so you just nodded.

“Take care, Y/N.” And with that, she closed the door behind her, leaving you alone once again.

You finally took a deep breath running your palms down your face in an exasperated manner. Chung-Ae was your childhood friend, and she had always been by your side. You had met her in elementary school: she was popular amongst your class since her father was a renowned lawyer who worked for big celebrities, but you - on the other hand - weren’t as popular. You weren’t a social butterfly and preferred spending your time playing with the stray cats in your neighborhood.

You stood up and walked toward the kitchen, deciding to make yourself a homemade chicken noodle soup. You put the ingredients on the counter and started to chop the carrots into strings. As you were about to grab something, you heard a strange noise coming from outside: you reminisced Chung-Ae’s words and felt a shiver run through your spine, but you shook your head, mentally reassuring yourself that it must have been a wild animal.

You grabbed the celery from the fridge, deciding that you would drink some strawberry milk while waiting for the soup to cook. However, when you closed it, you were taken aback by a calico cat sitting on the floor, right in front of you. Your eyes were wide open in surprise since your three cats were all black, and you crouched down. “Hello, little one,” you gently smiled as you observed the little creature staring at you with a pair of light blue eyes, “I wonder how you got in…”

You inspected the room looking for any open windows but soon discovered you had closed everything. When you turned your gaze back to the cat, it was gone. Puzzled, you stood back up, massaging your temples. Am I hallucinating? You asked yourself before resuming your dish.

After literally devouring your delicious meal and doing the dishes, you headed to your room, where you found the windows wide open. You didn’t remember leaving them like that, but you also didn’t mind the fresh breeze coming from outside. It was a quiet night of July, and the moon was shining vividly in the sky, its brightness being the only source of light in the room. As you approached your bed, you couldn’t help but notice the shape of a cat on the window ledge, but when you came near, it had mysteriously vanished.

"Okay, Y/N, you're probably tired." You told yourself while sitting on the bed. As you laid down, feeling the freshness of your newly washed sheets, you heard another sound and then a chorus of meows coming from the living room. You sighed, reluctantly standing up, wearing a hoodie before walking down the stairs.

"What is it, guys, did you hurt yourselves?" You asked as your three black cats, Luna, Mars, and Pluto, continued meowing toward the front door. You groaned, "Alright, I will check."

You weren't ready for what you were about to see: you expected nothing but pitch darkness or that calico cat that was apparently haunting you now. But as you opened the wooden door, you froze on the spot at the sight of a man leaning his arm on the doorframe.

Because of the darkness, you could only see his silver hair reflecting the moonlight and a pair of light blue eyes staring at you in curiosity.

"Hello, little one."

[mandoalorian]

Hot Springs [Din Djarin x Reader] SMUT

SPOILERS FOR THE MANDALORIAN SEASON 2, EPISODE 2. [CHAPTER 10].

Summary: when The Mandalorian crashes his ship into a barely habitable and unfamiliar ice cold planet, he has to spend time on repairs. Little does he know, his bounty (you), has sauntered off into the depths of the crystallic cave, finding a hot spring to lounge in. When he discovers you pleasuring yourself amongst the thermal blue waters, he just can’t keep his hands of you. 

Warnings: SMUT (duh...) m receiving oral, p in v, lots of touching and affection.

Word count: 3k

Rating: 18+ only

Authors Note: The devil works hard but I work harder. Chapter 10 was literally released three hours ago and I’ve already knocked this up. The scene with the hot springs gave me ~thoughts~ and well, I hope you enjoy!

MASTERLISIT | Submit a request!

The Mandalorian was just about finished the repairs on his ship when the cooing of his child interrupted him. He put down the soldering iron, and turned to face the little green bean who was knee deep in fluffy white snow. After a few beats of silence, the child let out an incoherent garble and Din sighed. "Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to make yourself useful?" he quizzed, gesturing towards the Razor Crest. The child blinked momentarily and Din let out another huff of annoyance before returning back to solder together some pieces of wire

The child's next garble came only a few moments later and when Din turned around, he noticed that his son was gone. Din dropped the iron once more and raised to his feet, walking around the perimeter of the Crest until he saw the child again. The child turned to his father, babbling and pointing his finger. When Din followed the directions of the child's small claw, he realised that his son had been trying to alert him of something. Din flicked the tracking switch on his visor which highlighted the footprints through the snow.

"She's gone?" he questioned himself out loud. "Wait here." he told the Child, who slumped down in the snow and began to roll snowballs with his small hands.

Din followed your footprints through the depths of the ice cold caves until finally he found you. There you were, lounging naked in what could only be described as a pool of steaming tranquil water. It was a vibrant blue colour, comparable to the beautiful lakes of Naboo or rivers of Alderaan.

"I told you to wait by the ship." The Mandalorian's voice was low and dark through his modulator. There was something sultry about it. If you weren't engulfed in warm water, you might have sworn his voice alone could do things to you that no other man has ever. 

You took in his broad stature. Tall, wide shoulders, and covered in the most pristine Beskar armour. And he was just standing there, watching you.

"Just about all ice planets have hot springs," you informed the Mandalorian, dodging his statement only slightly. "They're almost always in crystalline caves, just like this one. They're heated by underground volcanic activity. I know what you're thinking— volcanoes on an ice planet? But trust me. Legends says they have healing powers and well, I believe them. The natural oils that these thermal waters possess make my skin so smooth." you drew out, kicking your leg out the water and rubbing your hand along your calf and up your thigh, humming in delight at the touch.

"Stars." Din gritted out as he watched you touch yourself. You noticed upon his entrance to the springs, he had completely stiffened up, not moving an inch. His eyes were locked on you. But you didn't mind. In fact, you kind of liked the attention from a Mandalorian. "So you knew about the hot springs here?"

"I knew there'd be hot springs, sure," you shrugged, continuing to drag the warm thick blue water over your skin. The oils in it made it slippery but all the more appealing to the Mandalorian. He shuffled in his boots slightly, dragging them across the thick snow beneath him. "I got bored waiting on the ship. Not much to do for entertainment."

The Mandalorian scoffed, but he couldn't exactly argue with you. "You could've put yourself in danger." he muttered, looking around. Your eyes followed his.

"Do you see anything?" you prompted him. "No? Exactly. It's safe here, I promise." After a long beat of silence, you took a deep breath and inhaled the fragranced air around you. "Join me." you murmured.

The Mandalorian was taken aback, but your offer became harder to refuse by the second. Maker, his cock was throbbing now, constricted and feeling tight under his pants and armour. He tilted his head slightly and watched as you let your hands grace your body and squeeze your own breasts. You knew exactly how to lure him in. You gently closed your eyes at the sensation, a sweet moan escaping your lips.

Of course, the opaqueness of the turquoise water left very little visible to the Mandalorian's eye but judging from the way you were positioned and the slight slushing sound of the water, he knew you were touching himself. 

The Mandalorian wanted to hear that moan again. If that sound was the noise you made when you touched yourself, then he wanted to hear the noises you could make when he touched you.

You were utterly a sight to behold. He wanted to engrain the image of you, lounging in the hot springs, for the rest of his life. 

The thought of you pleasuring yourself in front of him created a fire in his stomach. He felt his already hard cock twitching at the sight of you. Your hair wasn't completely wet, but damp from the condensation in the air, sticking slightly to your skin. Pearls of sweat beaded across your hairline and as he trailed his vision down, he noticed the way it glossed over your collarbones— defining them.

"If I join you," the Mandalorian gulped. "I might not be able to control myself." he warned, a strong level of sterness in his voice.

You bit your lip and extended your arms, propping yourself up in the tub so he could see the way you spread yourself out for him. "Consider this an invitation." you gazed up towards him, fluttering your eyelashes which framed your doe-like eyes.

The Mandalorian discarded his armour one by one, the Beskar of his chest plate and knee pads clanking as he dropped them to the rocky ground beneath him. As he undressed himself, he didn't take his eyes from you, and so, you decided to give him a little show to watch.

You hopped up on to the side of the tub, exposing your naked body. You even heard Din's breathing hitch when he took sight of you. You crossed your legs over, not wanting to show him too much yet, but dropped your head back and your breasts together. The sudden coldness in the air hardened your nipples and made them sensitive as you ran the pad of your thumb over the little bud, pinching it now and again. You dipped your hands back in the water and gently let the warm, oily water drip down your body. Din watched, completely enthralled as droplets dripped down the curve of your breasts and pooled in your belly button. He wanted to spread you out— take you now. Fuck you fast and hard in the snow if he could.

But there was something so delicate about the way you performed for him. The way you gently touched yourself and your whimpers which echoed throughout the crystallised caves. It struck something inside of him. He wanted to take it slow, touch every part of you like it had never been touched before. Grace his finger along every edge and dip of your body.

It wasn't long until the Mandalorian had stripped completely down, his clothing pooled on the floor amongst yourd. You let out a small gasp as you took in his manhood which was hard and pressed against his tummy. Dark brown hair trailed from his belly button down to his crotch and you swallowed a lump in your throat that you didn't realise you were holding. You knew he couldn't take his helmet off, but seeing the colour of his hair on another part of his body awakened a primal feeling inside of you.

He stood there, awkwardly, almost like he was awaiting your instruction. His hand dropped to his cock and he began to rub his length slowly, up and down. It was in that moment you got an eyeful of the precum that was beading at the dark pink tip. Oh Maker…. he was desperate for you.

"Come here." you gestured with a finger that beckoned him to walk around the steaming hot tub. Still jerking himself, he walked to the edge of the tub where you were sitting and you continued to swirl your feet into the water.

When he stood before you, you took his hand and gently removed it from his cock. The loss of Din's grip made his cock bounce forward. You looked down at it, taking in the sight of all the bumps and veins and licked your lips at the thought of how he would feel inside of you. He was big, you knew he'd stretch you out, but you had hope in the oils from the springs that maybe they'd lubricate you before that time came. "I want to taste you, is that alright?" you asked, dipping your hand into the warm water and taking it back out before rubbing his length.

"Y-yes," he stuttered, jerking his hips deeper into your first. You tutted and slowly shook your head at his lack of patience. The oils from the thermal water had made your hands slick and wet.

You rolled your hand to the bottom of his girth and cupped his balls before skillfully swirling your tongue over his pink tip, earning a groan from him. Your lips curved into a smirk as you continued with the kitten licks, savouring every drop of precum that he had created. You wanted to be vocal for him, making sure you moaned when his salty seed hit your tongue. Licking your lips, making sure you could devour every last drop. "Tastes so good," you cooed before taking his full length in your mouth and bopping your head.

On impulse, Din grabbed a fist full of your hair, holding your head in place as you took him as far as you could. With his remaining length, you lifted your hand and began to pump him. You slowly drew back from his cock, a line of your saliva mixer with his precum drawn from the tip of his cock to your swollen lips.

"What are you doing?" Din growled, pushing your head back on his cock. 

"Cmon, I know you want to fuck my mouth. I see the way you jerk your hips. And I want it too. Fuck my mouth, Mando," you commanded, reaching up and pressing a hand along his v-line.

You parted your lips only slightly, but enough for the Mandalorian to push his length inside of you. You immediately found yourself hollowing your cheeks as he began to fuck your mouth, illicitng curses in what you could only assume to be Mando’a. You grabbed onto his hips, fingernails pinching into his ass as he thrusted inside of you. "S-such a good mouth for me," he praised. "Good girl. Take me so well." It wasn't long before you felt his cock twitch in your mouth and you drew back, not wanting him to cum just yet.

"Join me in the water," you pleaded, hopping back into the tub and letting the wetness engulf you. The Mandalorian sat on the edge of the tub and carefully slipped in, the water rising to his chest. He shuddered at the heat and you couldn't help but smile. "You like it?" you asked him, and he nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah, haven't felt anything this nice since- since-" The Mandalorian couldn't finish his sentence because you were already dragging him through the water and on top of you.

Once again, you leaned against the side of the tub and brought the Mandalorian warrior in between your legs. You hooked your legs around his waist and the water pushed his cock against your wet folds, a soft moan escaping your lips. Liking what he could hear, the Mandalorian teasingly rolled his cock over your clit, and your fingers dug into his back.

You didn't think it was possible, but somehow you managed to get closer to him. You pressed your breasts up against his chest and rested your chin the crook of his neck. He pushed the hair out of your face, revelling in your beauty.

In one swift motion, he pushed himself inside of you, desperate for some kind of release. You screamed, fingers digging into his tan skin. His back was strong and muscular and he held himself there, inside of you, warming his cock. You traced his back, enthralled in the way he was using his upper body strength to hold you up against the side of the tub.

"Move." you begged, pressing your lips into his shoulder blade. The Mandalorian groaned at your soft kisses. He hadn't felt such affection from anyone before. His hips moved slightly but his cock still filled inside of you, throbbing as your walls contracted around him. You bit down on his skin at the sensation. You loved how long and thick he was. You loved the way he filled you up. "Move." you repeated, but this time it was a cry of desperation.

The Mandalorian obeyed your order, slowly and somehow pushing himself deeper inside you. His cock curved and hit your sweet spot with every thrust. Fuck, he was good. You whined, rolling your hips and meeting his every thrust. 

"Stars, you're so tight," he cursed and you clenched around him once more. He was certain you'd milk him from his seed shortly.

"Mando, you don't have to be gentle. I need you to fuck me hard and fuck me fast." You whispered, your breath tingling his skin. He wasn't going to say no to that.

The Mandalorian increased his speed, and his thrusts became more erratic. As the oils of the thermal waters seeped into your cunt his actions became sloppier and he had to clutch onto you like he was afraid you'd break beneath him. The waters of the hot springs rolled over the edges of the tub and splashing noises, as well as your moans and his grunts echoed throughout the caves.

"I'm close," he warned. "Fuck. Your cunt is so soft. Ngh- feels so good around me."

"Mando," you wailed, your hands wrapped around his helmet for support as he continued to messily thrust into you. He lowered one hand under the water and found the bud of your clit, rubbing at it as he continued to fuck you. "Shit, don't stop that. I'm gonna cum."

"Yes baby," The Mandalorian growled. "Cum for me like a good girl."

The words spurred you off and you dropped your head back, your entire body shaking as he fucked you through your climax. Your walls clenched around his cock and he started twitching inside you. "Fuck!" he cried out, holding you by the shoulders.

"I'm safe," you gasped, as he continued to thrust deeper into you. "Please cum inside of me. Please."

"You take my cock so fucking good." He praised, his modulated voice echoing through the cave as his hips snapped into yours. His hands drop as he holds your lower back and the pressure feels sharp. He's rough, he's hard just like you had requested of him. You could feel every edge and vein of him as he slammed inside of you, groaning out your name with each savage thrust.

Before long, Din spills inside of you. And he was containing a load. You feel his sticky heat rope your and coat your walls as you yelp in pleasure. He stays inside of you, letting the cum bury deep within you before he softens and gently pulls out. You whine at the loss of his fullness, your eyes fluttering shut as he doubles back.

Both of you are a heaving panting mess, standing before each other in the hot springs. Your legs felt shaky, like he just fucked every last beam of life out of you. You grabbed onto the edge of the tub and pulled yourself up, letting the cool air dry your body.

The Mandalorian took another good look of your body and he felt himself get hard again. Fuck, no credits could amount to that experience. There was no way he could return you now. You were his to keep.

Permanent taglist:

@goth-topic​  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria

[sidespart]

The Fall of King Romulus Part 8

Summary: Twin Princes Remus and Romulus are cursed at birth with Honesty and Obedience. When Romulus, who cannot disobey any order, is told to kill his brother the next time he lays eyes on him, he changes his name to Roman and runs away. Roman joins up with a misfit group of adventures and plans to never return to his homeland. But the fae have other plans for him…

Warnings (for whole fic not necessarily individual chapters): Violence, mind whammying/memory altering, curse of obedience related consent issues, references to sex, references to war related injuries/PTSD, references to child abuse/neglect (YMMV on that one but just in case), antagonstic-but-not-exactly villian!Janus, Extremly-moraly-dubious-but-not-exacty-unsympathetic-Remus

Feedback appreciated.

NOW ON AO3 :D

Prologue Chapter 1   Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

“From today, you shall have your own rooms.”

“But why?” Remus wails “it’s not fair!” Remus looks up at him, his small faced scrunched and red, tears threatening to fall, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I-“ Roman frowns. He feels too big. Shouldn’t he be the same size as Remus?

“You’re the future king, Remus” their father rumbles, “Your training needs to begin - without distractions.”

“Don’t cry.” Their mother tells him as Remus’ tantrum echoes through the room. She runs a cool hand over Roman’s forehead soothingly.

“I wasn’t.” Roman murmurs.

His mother’s hand turns cruel, pushing his head back, another hand gripping his chin.

“You need to drink, c’mon Roman drink this down for me, please?”

Roman chokes, twisting away. Hot liquid scalds his throat and drips down his chin. There’s a hand in his hair again, stroking gently until it grips tight, forcing his head back “He doesn’t look much like the Prince.” Marcus grunts.

“The mad Prince – Remus of Notaleveale!”

“But.” Roman whimpers, “that’s not-“

“Is he awake?”

“Your father is sick.” Julius tells him. The practice room is high in the north tower, always just too cool to be comfortable, but Roman feels hot. For some reason, water is rushing down the walls. Droplets splash onto his skin and sizzle where they land.

“We’re going to find a way to fix this my Prince, I promise.” Julius smiles at him, his eyes kind and unlined by age.

“What if you can’t.” Romulus whispers, voice breaking. He is the right size now he thinks. He had to tilt his head to look up at Julius who hesitantly pulls him close, letting the boy muffle his dry sobs on his shoulder.

“Then…we will find a way to help you live with it – and I’ll always be here to help you.”

He pulls back to smile at him again, but it’s not kind anymore. The skin flaking away reveals the rictus grin of the skull beneath, and Roman howls, trying to twist away whilst large hands hold him down -

“It’s okay! Roman, it’s okay!”

- he feels something cool on his eyelids, a strong scent of mint mingling with the rot of Julius body-

“Sleep.” a voice murmurs.

When Roman wakes, it’s somewhere he doesn’t recognise. Scratchy sheets pin him down to a bed as effectively as chains. A pale man with violet eyes is pulling at his arm, his arm which hurts. Roman whines, trying to tug the limb out of the pale man’s grip, but his body feels too heavy to obey.

The pale man is trying to talk to him but nothing he says makes sense to Romulus, it’s like listening to a foreign language.

“<My dad’s dead.>” he tells the pale man, because that seems important.

“Roman? Are you awake?”

There’s a hand on his forehead, the voice is saying something about water but Roman ignores it, trying to chase the thought.

If their father was dead, then why was he still Prince Remus?

The next time Roman woke up it was dark. The pale man had disappeared, but there was another figure lying in the bed next to him. The man’s bulk caused the mattress to dip towards him and his snores were so loud they made the whole bedframe vibrate with each exhale.

Turning his head carefully, Roman found himself looking at a face full of scars and freckles. A pale shaft of moonlight from the open window illuminated the man’s ripped ear and a nose that had obviously been broken at some point in the past. Even in sleep, he looked fearsome.

‘Patton’ Roman’s tired mind supplied, and he felt a relieved smile twitch over his face. It pulled at the cut Niki left him, making him bite back a whimper of pain.

He let his head fall back against the pillow. Everything felt heavy, even the air. The room seemed to melt at the edges. But if Patton was sleeping then they must be somewhere safe.

He dozed for a time, listening to the comforting rumble of Patton’s snores, until a withered pair of hands reached for him. The lady of the house began to gently wipe the sweat from his face with a cool cloth.

“<Am I dying>?” he asked her in their own language.

“<You can try.>” She told him dryly, “<Those three will probably end up chasing you down to the underworld too.>”

The lady brought some extra cushions and stacked them behind him, helping him to sit up. From his new vantage point he could see Logan on the floor, one giant book open on his lap and three more stacked beside him. He looked like he had fallen asleep mid study session, his head tilted back against the wall with a thin string of drool hanging from his open mouth.

Roman thought of the last time he had seen him, pinned to Lucius' chest, his eyes wide and frightened behind his glasses, and had to close his eyes. He breathed deeply through his nose until his panic subsided and glanced at Logan again.

He was so relieved to see him whole that might even forgo teasing him about the drool.

The lady brought him a pewter mug filled with something warm that smelt pleasantly of honey and helped him to lift it to his lips when his hands began to shake.

“<When I invited you for tea, this isn’t what I pictured.>” she teased him with a smile.

Roman didn’t smile back, eyes still roaming the room.

“<Where->“

“<Your elf is fine>” she told him, sounding amused “<I sent him on an errand. He would have worn a hole in my best rug if he stood here pacing much longer.>”

Roman did smile then, grip loosening on the mug which she deftly caught before it hit the blankets.

“<I lost my brother.>” he told her, eyes growing heavy again.

“<That was careless of you.>” she said, “<What are you going to do about it?>”

Roman didn’t answer, falling back asleep with the honey still coating his tongue.

The next time Roman woke up, daylight was streaming trough the open window and the last tendrils of fever seemed to have left him. Whilst he still felt tired, the unnatural heaviness was less and his mind was clear.

Unfortunately, his clear mind immediately occupied itself by cataloguing every single way his body was in pain.

His cheek throbbed, the small cut from Niki having been split wider by the force of the hit from Julius’s walking stick. His back and shoulders we’re equally bruised, and protested every tiny movement he made as he tried to resettle himself against the pillows. By far the worst was his hand, which felt like it was still burning.

Choking down any whimpers of pain he focused instead on the strange pressure on his chest.

Opening his eyes revealed the culprit. A grey cat with snow white paws was sitting primly on his sternum. Mittens looked deeply put out by Roman’s attempt to get comfortable and gave him an unsatisfied meow of protest when he continued to move.

“Good morning” Roman whispered, giving him a conciliatory head rub with his good hand, “Did you happen to count how many horses ran me over?”

“Roman!” The bard looked beyond Mittens to see Patton perched on the end of the bed, beaming so wide it almost distracted from the redness of his nose.

“You’re -ah-achoo – you’re awake!”

“Yeah.” He smiled, attempting to rearrange the pillows one handed. “Hey Pat’.”

“Guys!” Patton called, “Ro – achoo – Ro -acHOO – he’s awake!”

There was a thundering of footsteps on stairs and then Virgil all but exploded into the room, eyes wide “How awake is he? – does he recognise you? Patton I told you to put the damm cat outside!”

“Aww but it’s his hou -ah -ah -house,” Patton pouted.

“He recognises you.” Roman added, giving Virgil a half-hearted wave “Also his voice works.”

“Shame.” Virgil snarked but the grin on his face was too wide to hide his relief.

“You. Go bother the pigeons’” he shooed the cat as he came to sit on the edge of Romans bed. Mittens gave him a pointed meow before slinking out of the room, pausing only to rub against Logan’s ankles as it passed him in the doorway.

“How’s your head?” Virgil asked - he reached over to a small beside table and picked up a glass of water, holding it up for Roman to sip.

“Fine.” Roman whispered hoarsely, taking the water from him and drinking greedily.

“What about your hand?” Patton asked, kneeling on his other side, “I’ll ask Mama Tay to brew you some more willow tea, for the pain.”

“Great.”- Roman handed the glass back to Virgil shrank against the pillows as they both peered at him – “but I’m fine, honestly don’t worry yourselves-“

“Fine?” Virgil rolled his eyes, “You look like you went three rounds with a centaur and lost. Badly.”

“Okay, well, that’s rude.” Roman rolled his eyes right back, lifting one arm to try and bat Virgil’s hands away as they reached for him “Get off, Virge I’m fi-“

“Roman.” Logan was the only one who hadn’t come forward to paw at him. He stood in the doorway, most of his face obscured by the shadow. “Let Virgil check your injuries.”

Roman sighed, the fight going out of him. Obediently, he dropped his arms and tilted his head towards the half-elf.

“Oh sure,” Virgil murmured, running skilful fingers over the cut on Romans cheek and the surrounding swelling “you’ll listen when Logan tells you.”

“It’s the glasses,” Roman joked, his voice tired, “gives him authority.”

Once Virgil had finished his inspection of Roman’s face, he insisted at poking and prodding at every inch of him see how his other injuries were healing. Roman sighed but put up with his fussing with as much grace as he could. Virgil removed the bandages on his hand, packing fresh herbs next to the skin and rewrapping it gently with new cloth. The bruises and welts on his back and shoulders had begun to heal, turning from purple and blue to a sickly looking yellow. Virgil smeared something that smelt horrendous on the few welts that hadn’t scabbed over before stepping back, declaring the injuries extensive but, for the most part, superficial.

“Like your lyrics.” he added slyly, which got a squawk of protest from Roman and a giggle from Patton.

His hand was the most concerning. Virgil had him gently flex his fingers -causing Roman to hiss with pain despite his best efforts – before helping him into a sling and giving him strict instructions to hold it still until the herbs had done their work.

As Virgil worked, Patton kept up a running dialogue; happily filling Roman in on the day to day running’s of Mama Tay’s house. How she’d let him use her kitchen to cook for all of them and let Logan take over her small library (although the scholar was still only permitted to call her Mother Octavia). He giggled his way through a story about Mittens’ on going attempt to court the tabby cat who lived across the street – apparently he had attempted to show off by taking on street rat twice his size and spent the rest of the day sulking in the pantry after being summarily chased off.

Between Virgil’s gentle ministrations and the soothing sound of Patton’s voice, Roman found himself slowly relaxing.

Remus wasn’t in the city. His friends had come for him. They’d beaten the bad guy and got away.

He knew he couldn’t just ignore everything that had happened. His friends were eventually going to want some sort of explanation. The thing that had worn Julius face had been able to find him once – he didn’t know how, or how to stop I happening again.

Most importantly, he was no longer sure that Remus was safe.

But for a little while at least, he was with his family. He was safe. Things could start to go back to normal.

“Roman.” Logan said. He was leaning back against the closed door, a look on his face Roman couldn’t quite decipher. “Stand up.”

“Slowly,” Virgil added as Roman rose to his feet. The healer cast a glance back at Logan, confused, “what’re you-“

“Roman.” Logan cut him off. “Stand on one foot.”

Romans whole world seemed to narrow down to the glint of light reflecting off Logan’s glasses.

The rush of blood in his ears sounded very much like the rush of water in the pipe room.

Julius looked at him coldly, ready to categorise each whimper of pain as his leg began to shake, muscles cramping -

Patton’s hand suddenly griped his elbow as he wobbled, breaking the illusion.

Mama Tay’s bedroom was far more cluttered with blankets and knickknacks than Julius practice room. Logan was the one in front of him – face full of gleeful satisfaction as his theory was confirmed.

“I’m right aren’t I.” he breathed, looking dazed – “You can’t diso-“

Remove yourself from anyone who might ask you about your curse. Put as much distance between you as you can.

Roman attempted to fling himself towards the door- immediately realised that this was a bad decision as he still only had one foot on the ground – and pitched forward towards the floor, free arm pinwheeling crazily.

Patton dived to catch him, one big hand grabbing his injured shoulder casing Roman to yell out in pain, which in turn caused Patton to instinctively release him. He found himself falling again, this time crashing into Virgil, who had come running to help. His injured arm exploded in pain as he fell against the other man’s chest.

“Roman! What the hell- Logan?”

“I’m sorry!” Logan’s delight at being proved right had quickly turned into alarm “Stand properly – I mean, stand however you think you should. Um-“

“Roman are you okay?” That was Patton, gently easing him off Virgil “Oh gosh I think you’ve opened your stitches again!”

Roman groaned.

A few moments later Roman was, once again, propped up on the bed. Patton sat next to him, holding his good hand loosely whilst Virgil smeared more of the horrifying smelling salve over the reopened cut on his cheek.

Logan, hands firmly clasped in front of him like a guilty school boy, was filling them in on what he thought he knew.

“Roman cannot disobey a direct order – when Lucius Amata met us on the stairs he was able to compel him not to move.”

“Who?”

“The Marquis of Orenlla!” Logan huffed, exasperated – “The kidnapper!”

“De.” Roman muttered.

“What?”

“Marquis de Orenlla.”

“Hmm,” rather than start an argument of etymology, Logan simply pulled a square slip of card from his waistcoat pocket and started crossing something out with his quill.

“Seriously?” Virgil asked, exasperated “Flashcards?” He twisted the lid back onto the salve pot with rather more force than was necessary “Logan, you didn’t even believe in magic until yesterday and now you’re saying – what exactly are you saying?”

He glanced at Roman, almost fearfully ‘That he’s -that he’s under a spell or cursed or- what?”

“Roman,” Patton’s voice was gentle. “Is that true?”

Roman met his eyes. Patton’s face was as kind as ever. For now.

Never tell anyone about your curse.

But they’d never set rules stopping him discussing what people already knew.

Even so, he braced himself for pain before he nodded.

Patton looked like he might cry.

“So –what?” Demanded Virgil, who had started pacing back and forth down the short length of the bed. “He did that? This Lucius guy?”

“How do we stop it? Do we….kill him?”

“Patton!”

“Well I don’t know!”

“It wasn’t Lucius.” Roman muttered.

He risked a glance at Virgil who was nodding fervently, shaking both hands out in front of himself as he tried to process everything, “No. He – you had it before right? That’s how he was able to get you to go with him.”

Slowly, Roman nodded.

“Was it before we got to the city?” Logan asked. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the door, a thoughtful frown on his face as he gently rotated the flashcards in his hands.

“The forest!” Vigil yelped before Roman had a chance to respond. “When you disappeared right? I knew you were out of it that night! That’s when it happened?”

“Oh, Roman.” Patton gasped, “You poor thing. Has this has been going on for days?”

Roman couldn’t help it; he started to laugh. Drawing his knees to his chest he hunched over them, his shoulders shaking. “No.” he managed to gasp out. “No, not the forest.”

“So…when did it happen?” Patton asked uncertainty. Roman could easily picture the three of them glancing at each other, trying to put the pieces together. He kept his eyes firmly on his knees. He didn’t want to see the moment of realisation.

“Before the forest?” Virgil asked hesitantly. Roman nodded without looking up.

“When I met you…” Virgil continued after a moments silence, “you wouldn’t come back into the tavern with me – you said you didn’t want the innkeeper to tell you to play another night.”

“I remember that.” Logan said “You met us on the road. I thought that was odd at the time. I assumed you were going to lie in wait to rob us.”

Roman could hear the understanding seeping into their voices. He’d been cursed since they met him. He’d been a liability since they met him – they’d hired someone to protect them who could be ordered to throw his sword down by any foe who happened to try. They were going to feel so betrayed. They were going to be so angry with him.

How could he have not told them?

“Oh, Roman – how could we have not noticed?”

Romans head shot up. “What?” he croaked.

Now Patton really did look like he was going to cry, his eyes suspiciously watery. “You’ve been dealing with this all by yourself for – for years?”

“So- “ now Virgil was the one shaking – “So any time I’ve told you to ‘shut up’ you-“

“If you don’t give a timeframe it doesn’t matter much.” Roman blurted quickly, wanting to remove the look of horror from Virgil’s face – “I mean when I was younger it maybe would have but, but I’ve learned work around it so –“

“Younger?” his rambling did not seem to be soothing Virgil’s panic. “How young?”

“Er. Well.” He glanced between the two of them “From when I was a baby. I mean, I don’t remember not being like this.” Patton and Virgil were staring at him with identical slack jawed expressions. Roman wished the bed would swallow him up and spit him out onto he street. “But hey – I was apparently a very agreeable baby – stopped crying so soon as you asked!” he grinned awkwardly, give them a thumbs up with his undamaged hand.

They did not look reassured.

“So, have we ever –“ Patton started,”-have we ever made you do something you didn’t want to-“

“NO! No, Pat - you’re always so polite and if, if it’s not an order it doesn’t count so-“

“I’m not polite.” Virgil muttered.

“You don’t order though.” Roman said quickly, “You’re too-“ he tried to find a nice way to say ‘too riddled with anxiety to give directives’ – “awkward.” he finished sheepishly.

Virgil bristled. “I told you to get lost.” He snarled. “In the forest.”

There was a silence. Roman found himself staring at his knees again and forced his head up to meet Vigils gaze.

“Well. That was unfortunate. But it was fine – you’re both good trackers, you found me easily enough so-“

“But what if we hadn’t!?” Virgil all but yelled, “What if you’d just been lost in the woods till you starved to death or-“

“Virgil.” Patton soothed, “Calm down, he’s fine.”

“He’s not! He’s not safe with us! How many times have we done something to, to-”

“It’s fine.” Roman announced calmly, cutting Virgil off before he could work himself up any further. “You don’t have to worry anymore.”

“What doe that mean?”

“It means – I won’t travel with you anymore. You don’t have to worry about protecting me I’ll just-“

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Roman no!”

“Are you going to order me to stay?” He snapped.

That shut everyone up.

He glared at the pair of them. “Well?”

“No.” Patton said calmly “Of course not. It’s just that-”

“What happens if you disobey an order?” Logan interrupted, causing the other three to jump.

The scholar had been standing so still, gazing off into the distance whilst the argument went on around him, that Roman had almost forgotten he was there.

“I cant.” He answered eventually, trying not to feel resentful of Logan for causing this whole mess.

“But what if you try?” Logan said, “If I told you to raise your hand and you tried to keep it down – “

“It would hurt.” Roman gritted out.

“Hurt how? Can you describe it?” Logan tucked his flashcards away and pulled out a notebook, quill at the ready. Roman gaped at him.

“Logan.” Patton interrupted, “I think maybe Roman needs a break from questions right now-“

“But if we don’t know the parameters of his condition then how are we supposed to fix it?” Logan argued.

“I’ve tried. To fix it.” Roman growled out.

“But you were by yourself before.” Logan said dismissively “Now you have me, well, all of us, working on the problem. I’m sure we will be able to –“

“I wasn’t by myself.” Roman said coldly.

Logan really did remind him of Julius sometimes. They had the same stubborn determination to get the answers they were seeking. But Roman was not going to be anyone’s pet experiment again.

“I am Prince Romulus of Notaleveale.” he announced grandly, as If he was reclining on a throne instead of uncomfortable bed. “I have had the finest minds of the fae and human worlds look into my curse, I hardly think a failed apprentice and a couple of backwater deserters are going to have more success.”

He swept an imperious gaze over all three of them, amused to find they had finally been shocked into silence.

“I will be returning to my kingdom. Your services will no longer be required.”

Part 9

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Summary and Ch.1

A Salvatore Moreau x Female!FishMutant!oc fic based on this idea I had the other day that a very specific subset of the fanfom went absolutely apeshit for, which I'm here for and decided to act on. I can't make any promises for consistent uploading or even a finishes product by the end of this, but so long as im still interested in working on it, I'll keep working on it, and if im not, then I wont, plain and simple. Anyways, here's the summary and chapter 1, please let me know what you think of the story so far, i hope you all enjoy (you'd better all enjoy), and I can't wait to see you all again for chapter 2. Bye! <333 (Link to ao3 posting will be in comments so check there if you want to read it there instead)

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

Summary:

Now, I’m sure everyone already knows the ancient tales that tell of a beautiful young woman slowly falling in love with a horrific monstrosity of a man. The pure and true love this innocent beauty comes to feel for him, despite his terrifying appearance, is the key that breaks the cruel and twisted curse under which he’d been kept prisoner. This allows the man behind the monster to not only return to his true human form, but then go on to live his Happily Ever After with the beauty who saved him. Everyone already knows of these tales, as well as the messages behind them, however that is not quite the way this particular tale plays out.

The tale I am about to tell bears many similarities to the one above, however there are also quite a few important differences. For while the original detailed a beauty falling for a monster because of the kind and loving man he was behind his hideous exterior, this is a tale of a beauty, with a few monstrous qualities of her own, falling in love with a kind and loving monster, not at all despite his grotesque appearance, but rather, in part, because of it.

This is a tale, where the Beast still falls for his Beauty first, but the Beauty is the one who will be pursuing her Beast.

Chapter 1: Mother's Gift

Few of those who lived isolated from the outer world, high up in the mountains of Romania, would expect anyone of reasonable sanity to be out traveling in this hellish sort of weather. The wind howling a demonic high pitched tune; snow, sleet, and hail pounding into the ground like an endless shower of bullets from the heavens; and hungry lycans still roaming the area, tirelessly looking for their next meal, would be enough to incentivize even the strongest of mortal men to seek shelter away from the deadly conditions of the outside.

A man by the name of Salvatore Moreau however, one of the 4 lords of this mountain region who lived in the reservoir just past the windmills, did not appear terribly concerned with what other people thought of the traveling conditions. Completely unbothered by the horrifying weather and threat of suddenly being ground into doggy food, the hooded man trudged his way through the dark and barely maintained snow paths. Starting at the reservoir and making his way toward the village, Salvatore moved as quickly as his deformed body would permit, an unusually chipper spring added to his lumbering hobble of a walk.

Mother had a gift for him.

Yes, a truly joyous day it was whenever Mother Miranda called upon him to join her and the other lords for a meeting. Miranda was usually so busy with her experiments that she rarely had time to visit her children outside of these ‘family meetings’ they’d been having recently. However, it would appear as though Mother has come up with a solution of some kind to this problem and wishes to share it with them in person. Whatever this solution is, the mutated man has no idea, as Mother Miranda had been quite vague in her message, however the fact that Salvatore was being given the chance to see his radiant mother AND receive a gift from her, all in one day, was more than enough to make up for how agonizingly lonely he’s been these last few months since winter set in, as well as how agonizing it was for him to walk in this weather.

Salvatore arrived at the usual meeting site just as the clock struck 8pm, precisely as Mother had instructed. However, much to the hooded man’s confusion, when he turned the handle on the large wooden door to enter the room, he quickly realized that he was currently the only one present. This was especially strange considering that, usually, at least one of his siblings was always present a little earlier than necessary, usually Alcina or Karl, but occasionally Donna with Angie in tow.

Mother had clearly said in her message that she wanted to start the meeting at 8pm sharply, so where on earth is everyone?

“Moreau” Mother Miranda’s voice called out, immediately pushing all thoughts from Salvatore’s brain as her powerful, yet lucious voice echoed against the halls of the room like a choir of angels.

“Y-yes! W-what… is it… M-mother Miranda? I-i-i came to you… j-just like you asked” Salvatore responds, bowing his head in reverence as he slowly crosses the room and approaches the otherworldly woman.

“So you did, though I suppose you coming exactly when I call makes the most sense. You always were the most obedient of my children” the woman remarks with casual disdain, her voice devoid of any sort of motherly affection or tenderness. Despite the clear disgust and disregard with which Miranda regards the hooded man standing before her, her words light Salvatore’s soul ablaze, filling his mangled body with intense feelings of heat and desire that melt his heart of the cold, icy frost that had frozen it over the course of the long winter.

“Y-y-yes, y-yes of c-course, Mother M-Miranda! I-i would… I would do any-anything... for y-you. A-anything you s-say... anything y-you n-need… I’d d-do it... f-for you. W-without question!” The deformed man says, practically getting on his hands and knees and crawling as he neared closer and closer to Miranda, stopping only when he’d arrived just in front of the steps the raven mother stood upon, his gaze trained at the ground as he knelt at her feet, awaiting his fate at his mother’s hands.

“I know you would, Moreau,” Miranda says cooly, gently brushing the palm of her hand against the black fabric that covers the top of Salvatore’s head, “which is why I’ve called you here today; to reward you for your loyalty and service to me thus far.”

Salvatore sinks sharp and jagged teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood as he desperately tries to silence the needy whine that wanted to tear its way from the back of his throat. His body shivered and twitched in unimaginable delight from the sudden tender caress to his sensitive skin. How long had it been since someone had touched him so gently? How long since someone had spoken to him with such kind and soft words. Took the time to gather presents as a reward for years of faithful servitude? How long since someone had loved him like this?

‘Too long’ the disfigured man sighed to himself, reveling in the soft, gentle contact for as long as he is able.

“Moreau. Look at me” Miranda commanded firmly, and despite not wanting his beloved Mother to be forced to bear witness to his hideous face, he complied, lifting his head up and back to allow his gaze to lift from the floor and up at the glowing figure that was his Mother, his beautiful, incredible, intelligent, majestic mother.

The light shining down from above illuminates Miranda from behind. From Salvatore’s perspective on the floor, the light darkens her face and most of her torso and waist, giving a softened, almost ethereal glow around Miranda’s figure. This, along with the rest of her garb, makes Mother Miranda appear even more like the holy woman that Salvatore naively believes she still is. Despite her less than affectionate treatment of him thus far, Salvatore still stared up at the darkened face of Mother Miranda, his eyes shining with reverence, love, desire, and unending devotion.

“Y-yes... Mother?” Salvatore breathed, barely able to speak above a whisper as Miranda stepped away, gesturing for him to follow.

“Are you ready to collect your gift now?” The raven mother asks, speaking more softly than before and even holding her hand out to Salvatore, her pose and appearance mirroring that of a powerful god taking mercy upon her wretched follower, reaching out to reward the years of faithful servitude and worship.

Salvatore, barely able to keep himself calm as he stumbled to his feet, did not grace Mother Miranda’s question with a proper response, instead practically racing to take the woman’s outstretched hand in his own.

“I’m ready Mother… I-I’m ready for... my g-gift now… can I… c-can I have it n-now… p-please?” Salvatore begs, pulling at Miranda’s hand like an overly excited child, seemingly unaware of the disgusted twist of her face when the hooded man’s cold, slimy fingers firmly latched onto hers.

“Of course, my child” Mother Miranda says, pulling her hand back from Salvatore’s and instead placing it along the man’s hunched back, beginning to guide him to wherever it was the raven mother had hidden his gift.

As Salvatore limped next to Mother Miranda, the deformed man couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it was that Mother had gotten for him. Was it a new cloak, to replace the worn one he was currently wearing? Perhaps a new set of romance films so he didn’t have to rewatch the ones he already owned over and over again anymore? Or maybe it was something to help with his digestion?

It would be nice to get his chronic acid reflux under control again.

Regardless of what the gift actually turned out to be however, Salvatore was merely pleased that he was finally getting a chance to spend time with Mother Miranda all by himself for a change.

Maybe, if he was lucky, she’d even agree to hold him, just like she always did back when he was still undergoing cadou treatment.

Oh how wonderful that would be!

[random-tinies]

Crowza - 2

Hey, I’m on AO3 too! It’ll be the first thing updated when I finish a chapter from now on, but only by like, a few hours. :P I’ll be updating this fic on the first of every month so you guys know when to expect it next. This was sitting in my Docs almost done for weeks and I finally sat down and went “I’m writing the rest of this.” and did it, so here’s chapter two!

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AO3 Link 

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Sunlight filters through the branches and leaves of the old oak. Phil lifts a wing over his face, grumbling about how the sun is always at the perfect angle to blind him every morning. Of course, he does this song and dance every spring. He’s not exactly an early bird, which is why he never blocks it. It helps him get up in the morning.

The tiny bird hybrid resigns to his fate and sits up, blinking blearily at his old home. A torn picture of his boys hangs on the far end of the hollow. He grins, happy to be greeted by their faces. The photo had been yoinked last year when it fell out of Tommy’s jacket during one of his more daring excursions. Always so chaotic, that one, Philza chuckles to himself as the thought crosses his mind. Good memories.

He walks to his stash of nuts and jerky and various other bits of food he collected and preserved the autumn before migration. He crafts a quick granola bar, thanking his lucky stars that chocolate is so easily preserved, and enjoys a sweet homemade breakfast. Pleased chirps escape him as he basks in the perfect simplicity of it all.

Today is full of plans. A lot can happen in a few months and Phil needs to make sure there’s no new predators in the area that might get the jump on him, so he’s going to patrol the area. His territory needs to be safe. He’s always very careful about going about this. It’s rare, but if humans decide to start building near him, he’d need to know.

That and he needs somewhere to get coffee. He’d think that centuries of drinking the stuff would convince him to invent a tiny coffee machine, but why create something that will break eventually when he can just sneak into a human’s house and borrow enough to last him a month of two? Of course, he won’t be borrowing that much today, but the next time all three boys leave the house, he’s certainly going to stock up. Today, he just needs a little pick-me-up.

Phil walks to the edge of his home and ducks under the branches protecting it from outsiders, then hops up them like a staircase to get the best vantage point to take off flying. A low mist hovers over the pine forest, the sun’s rays burning away at it and painting the morning in brilliant hues of gold. Phil launches himself into the air, powerful flaps disturbing the mist and sending him high above the trees. The sky above is void of clouds as he spreads his wings and coasts. The air he breathes chills his lungs but the morning sun provides a warm contrast to the feeling. Appreciation for the peace fills his chest as if it were something physical.

Spring truly is his favorite season. The crisp scent of pines and melting snow permeates the air. A few shy birds send their song up, declaring their presence to the world. This is home, this is where he loves to be, where he longs to be every winter when he has to migrate south. Occasionally, a crow joins him in the air, lazily flapping in the soft breeze.

Phil casts his eyes towards the ground, watching for any stray movements. He’d heard of mountain lions moving into the area from Kristin. They’re fleeing the forest fires west of them, she’d said. She thought maybe they were the cause of the odd feeling she has and Phil was inclined to agree, but you can never be too careful. Eventually, after finding nothing, he flies to the humble house his boys call home.

When the birdman reaches the cabin that houses his boys and nothing is amiss, he decides to land in a nearby tree and rest. The sun had climbed to about midday and he has yet to find anything that would tip him off. He fluffs his feathers as a chill sets in, the branches and needles of the tree warding off the sunlight, and takes out some squirrel jerky he packed for lunch. Perhaps it simply isn’t time to find this ominous omen Kristin gave him and he’s jumping the gun.

The door to the home opens and two people step out. It’s the blonde and brunette from the previous day. Philza watches them as they talk about something with low voices. It’s a bit odd to hear the youngest one talking so softly. Tommy’s usually boisterous and loud, throwing banter back and forth with Wilbur and giving the occasional sibling shove.

Philza hums as he takes another bite of jerky. When he goes on his coffee run inside the house, perhaps he’ll look for any clues. The thought that something could be wrong with them twists a knot of worry in his stomach. A chill goes down his spine as he realizes he hasn’t seen Techno out and about these last few days. He forgets any plans to raid the house later and throws all caution to the wind. Oh Ender, please let him be okay and not deathly ill or something.

Tommy and Wilbur climb into the red pickup next to their house and drive away. Phil immediately swoops down out of his tree and soars the short distance to the old cabin, flapping to slow himself so he can land quietly. It was his saving grace that they like to decorate the windows so he doesn’t crash into them all the time. He flap-hops around the house until he finds a window cracked open and slowly opens it further so he can crawl inside. It’s harder to find open windows further into the season since so many bugs come out.

He listens hard and looks around for any movement, staying stock still.

Nothing, the house is silent, save for the crackle of the fireplace.

He carefully steps in further, wings poised to take off at any given moment. The inside is just as cozy as the outside. The walls are decorated with photos of the trio, of a family Philza has watched grow up over the years. It’s surprisingly clean, the hand-knitted rainbow blanket folded over the back of the old leather couch. It smells like pine smoke and coffee, and bacon. Phil would find it funny if he wasn’t so worried for Techno at that moment. He hops about the living room, making his way towards the kitchen. If he can’t find anything here, he may as well get some coffee.

There’s nothing amiss on the coffee table. Phil’s claws leave tiny indentations on the softwood as he walks across it. The lamp next to him offers a little bit of light but he can see fine with the natural light coming through the windows. There’s an ad for an animal shelter in the newspaper, a comic making fun of teenagers with phones, news of the new president, and an article about a pipeline being built sometime next year. The birdman frowns at that, making a mental note. He’ll need to put an end to that before it ruins his home. He shakes his head. Right now is not the time! He needs to see if there’s anything wrong! His gaze gets caught by the fashion magazine open to a page on robes and turns a few pages, admiring the modern clothes that differ so much from his own- Oh right! Techno!

He flaps into the kitchen and trots across the counter towards the calendar hanging on the fridge. Today is circled in red with the word “ADOPTION” in messy, bold lettering. Adoption? Techno and Wilbur aren’t married, right? They can’t adopt children, right? Confusion replaces the worry in his mind but he shrugs. As far as Phil can tell by all the clues, Techno isn’t in any danger and it’s safe to get some coffee from the pot on the counter opposite of him. He hops over and crouches on the edge, dipping his rabbit-skin waterskin in and filling it full of the delicious drug.

There’s a cough from upstairs in the attic and Philza nearly jumps out of his skin. His feet slip on the edge of the pot and his wings flare out to make up for the sudden loss of balance. The mug next to him falls off the counter and shatters on the linoleum flooring with a loud crash. Oh god, oh fuck. There’s no way Techno didn’t hear that. The bird hybrid quickly reaches into the pot and retrieves his waterskin and swiftly flies back to the window, heart pounding.

He knows he’s leaving a few feathers behind, but it doesn’t matter as long as he himself doesn’t get caught. He can hear the telltale creaks of a ladder as he takes off into the open air again, inhaling deeply and landing back in his tree. What was he thinking?! Going to check on one of the beans?! He put himself in unnecessary danger just for some person he got way too attached to!

From the safety of his branch, Phil watches Techno shut the window he’d made his escape from. The piglin hybrid seems fine, no hint of any severe illnesses. The cough didn’t even sound that bad, like he was just clearing his throat. That was too close. He can’t let it happen again. Phil takes a swig of his coffee and flies off to keep scouting out his territory. I’m going to give myself a nice preen tonight, he thinks as he coasts over the trees. That nearly gave me a heart attack.

He goes back to doing his routine check-ups and patrolling around his territory, promising himself he would do better to keep himself safe. Surely he’s not losing his edge, right? Surely not…

[dadolorian]

Seven Days of Valentines, (Diamonds and Daddies side story) Whiskey x F!Reader CH 4

A/N: Thanks to @talesfromtheguild​ for Beta reading and helping me with many ideas for this! This will be a weekly series leading up to Valentines Day

I try to keep Readers physical appearance as open as possible for this story, but please note in these chapters shes going to become more of a ‘character’, some specific interests of hers are going to come into play.

This is canon to the main Diamonds and Daddies story, but i am uploading as its own thing. You do not need to have read Diamonds and Daddies to read this, just know its a fic about Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels being a Sugar Daddy and the reader is a professional Sugar Baby.

Fandom: Kingsman the golden circle Ship: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x Cis F!reader Warning/tags: established relationship, P in V sex, fingering, Oral ( F receiving) , multiple orgasms, over stimulation, dirty talk, Daddy kink, DD/LG/BDSM style relationship, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl) checking of safe word, possessive language, aftercare, toys, squirting, pussy slap, nipple/clit pump, some mild fluff

Let me know if i forget anything

Word count: 6K +

My master list Seven days of Valentines masterlist AO3 LINK Buy me a Kofi

Summary: Whiskey whisks his Sugar baby away for a romantic Valentine’s getaway. Day four, jack gift Honey Bee a special gift. 

Thursday 12th of February

As promised, you were left with a very sore and tender pussy. 

You awoke in uncomfortable pleasure with Jack's face buried between your legs, devouring you as if he hadn’t had his fill of you less than eight hours earlier. 

Lazily, you tried to push him away with your hand, in a feeble attempt to fall back to sleep, however thanks to your lingering sensitivity and the skill of his tongue he managed to coax you to orgasm despite your meager attempt to recede back into sleep.

You whimpered, grogginess clear in your high whines, as Jack lapped you up, savoring your taste before beginning to kiss his way up your body, pushing up his t-shirt you still wore to kiss at more of your soft skin. He gravitated towards your lips finally, lazily melding his mouth to yours. You tasted yourself on his tongue, alongside that taste you couldn’t describe as anything other than Jack. You moaned together, as if relieved to be connected once again finally.

Strong, familiar arms wrapped around you and lifted your hips to his, he hissed into your kiss as your soaked core rubbed up against his erection through his sweatpants.

“Is your sore pussy up to taking Daddy this morning?” he asked when you finally separated your lips from one another. His voice was raspy with sleep and need.

“If I'm not too sensitive for you to eat me out before I’ve even woken up, then I’m sure I can take your cock Daddy,” you cooed, giggling at the way his eyes darkened and the  hungry look he gave you as he quickly hooked his sweats under his cock and balls.

“If you can still take me after last night, then clearly I didn't do a good enough job,” he teased before he pushed himself inside you with a satisfied groan.

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Even with Jack’s morning distraction he had the two of you out the door, before noon, dressed ready in warmer clothes than usual due to the reported snowfall.

He took you to Piazza Navona, it was beautiful, even with the overcast gray sky, thanks to the cold February air it was not as busy as you expected, giving you and Jack plenty of space to roam about the decadent square to observe the beauty of the architecture and fountains.

Snow covered the ground, which did not dampen your experience in the slightest. Jack promised to ‘make up for it’ in the future by taking you back in warmer months, but you silenced his worries with a kiss. 

“I am thrilled we are here, even if it's cold, I don't need blue skies and sunshine to appreciate any of this Jack.” 

He gave you a soft smile in return, feeling some of his worry lift.

“I still want to take you back here Sugar, one day.” 

“I would love that, I just don't want you thinking I'm somehow disappointed because you took me here in late winter. I love it Jack, thank you.” 

You shared a deep kiss in front of one of the fountains, as the only two people in the square. 

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You were equally as excited when Jack took you to your next location for the day, and found it was just as empty as Piazza Navona. Trevi fountain was covered in snow, the blanket was growing steadily thicker as snow began to fall, Jack was grateful he had the foresight of an umbrella that day, opening it up and pulling you to his side as you both made your way over to the famed fountain.

“This is amazing, that we get to experience such a place, just the two of us” you whispered, leaning your head on his shoulder, huddling closer to him against the cold.

“It seems surreal Darlin,” he hummed beside you, kissing the crown of your head. “It’s like we’re the only two people in the world.”

You giggled. “Hmmm, and is this what we would do? If we were? Travel around, seeing the sights?” 

“If it were just the two if us, I would want nothing more than just to explore the rest of the world with you, Honey Bee,” he smiled. 

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You flipped through photos you had taken that morning on your phone as you sat in the passenger seat, Jack beside you holding your free hand as the driver took you to wherever he had planned for your lunch. 

You giggled at one particular photo, Jack was pulling a face into the camera as he would often do when in a playful mood.

“Send me them when you get a chance Darlin,” he said warmly beside you, smiling at your smile. You gave him a nod before swiping through more. 

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Lunch, as it turned out, was very similar to yesterday's lunch, as Jack had surprised you with another workshop. However, this time you were taking a pizza class. 

Your stomach growled as you entered the warm Pizzeria, shrugging off the thick winter coats you wore and hanging them up. You were grateful for the change in temperature as you both cleaned off the snow clinging to the rest of your clothes before joining the small class. 

You decided to spend the time this lesson enjoying the experience more than teasing Jack, who seemed just as agreeable to the notion as you stood side by side at your station, listening to your instructor. 

You had a lot of fun, Jack kneaded the dough for you as you stood to the side, admiring his arms as he rolled up his sleeve and got to work. As the dough was stored away to rise, you cleaned your station together, sitting down to decide what toppings you each wanted. 

Your pizza base was an uneven circle, Jack rolling it out once they were all deemed acceptable. You giggled at the lopsidedness of it, taking a quick photo of Jack’s pout as you giggled over your lumpy pizza base. 

Together you made the sauce and spread it on your base, before you were finally allowed to decorate it with toppings. Before you could start, Jack made an equally uneven heart shape out of your shredded mozzarella, and with sauce bottle in hand,  he managed to write  a very messy “JD ❤️ HB” 

You ‘awwed’ at the gesture, quickly snapping a picture of Jack next to his creation, smiling proudly. 

“How very ‘cheesy’ of you,” you joked lamley, making Jack groan.

You finished putting the rest of your toppings on before you were finally allowed to deliver your pizza to the pizza oven. Jack was thrilled to get to use the large wooden pizza peel, and you made sure to take a video of Jack putting your pizza in the large oven to cook with help from the instructor. 

While your lunch cooked you cleaned everything up, leaving your station as spotless as you found it. When the food was ready you and Jack sat at the tables, alongside other couples, chatting away happily as you all ate together, his arm around you lazily. 

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You were surprised when Jack led you back to the hotel much earlier than you expected, having just finished lunch and bundling back up in your coats to brave the increasing snow.

You weren't complaining though, as you entered the lobby just as the snow had started to become a blizzard, more than happy to escape the cold for the rest of the day. 

You were taken back to your room, and perhaps a little disappointed as you entered the bedroom, finding no gifts laid out. 

Jack took notice, chuckling and kissing your cheek.

“Later Honey, we’re only stopping by to get rid of our winter gear,” he said warmly, shedding his coat once more and changing into some comfortable lounging clothes. He encouraged you to do the same, so quickly you dressed into a large baggy sweater dress, warm leggings and soft ugg boots. He took your hand once you were ready, and just as quickly as you had arrived to your suite, you were swept away to some unknown part of the hotel. 

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You were delighted when you passed through two large glass doors to what you could only describe as a mini spa resort. 

The air was warm and misty, smelling vaguely of vanilla and pine, tiled floors made shoes click as they passed over it, the walls were gray, with a large mural walk behind the tall reception desk. The hotel's logo stood out on the mural of trees, and sitting underneath, behind the desk were two petite young women who greeted you with a smile. 

“Mr Daniels?” one of them asked in a strong italian accent. 

Jack smiled and nodded, pulling you with him as you were led down a short hallway to the side, and then into a changing room where robes and towels waited for you. 

You both undressed in your cubicles, putting on the towels and plush white robes provided for you. Jack took your hand back once the two of you were ready for whatever treatment you were about to get. 

As usual, Jack had spared no expense, and the two of you were treated to a full spa experience. Jack had even gone the extra mile to give you a full beauty treatment as an added bonus. 

You were able to relax in the Sauna together, your head resting on Jack’s shoulder as the heat sweat away your stresses. That was followed up by your beauty treatment. Mani and pedi, facial, exfoliation, face mask, eye mask, you experienced the full works, all while Jack cooled off in an Ice bath.

You enjoyed your pedicure along with a small sample of fruits and sandwich , followed up with a delicious slice of decadent cake, and a glass of champagne. 

And the entire spa experience was topped off with a couples massage. 

Jack reached across the small gap between your tables whenever he could to hold your hand in his. Any tension you had in your body melted away thanks to the expert hands of your masseuse and the scented oils coating your skin. 

Sighing, you closed your eyes, trying hard not to fall asleep due to your extremely relaxed state, waiting to enjoy the feeling as much as possible by not drifting off. 

You giggled, along with your masseuses when Jack's steady snore revibriated along the tiled walls, his hand relaxing in your grip as he drifted off, completely and utterly relaxed.

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By the time your massage had ended you were feeling more loose and relaxed than you had ever felt in your life, you rolled your shoulders with a content sigh, loving how loose your muscles felt. 

“Damn Darlin, I didn't even realize my back was hurting so much until the pain went away,” Jack sighed beside you, taking your hand as you made your way back to the changing room to shower off the oil still coated to your skin. 

“You enjoy your beauty treatment?” he asked, taking your hand in his once you were dressed, inspecting your manicure and affectionately stroking your fingers with his. 

“Yes,” you nodded smiling at him. “Thank you.” 

He smiled back and kissed your forehead. “Not that you need a beauty treatment Darlin, you’re already stunning,” he said, making you blush. 

Washed, dried, and dressed you made your way back to your suite together.

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As he had promised earlier, gifts were now laid out on the bed, you bounced over to them excitedly, making Jack chuckle at your eagerness. Three boxes, with no clothes set out that evening, which surprised and intrigued you. As expected, one of  the boxes contained a lingerie set, red and lacy, but unlike the other set the had bought for you so far, they were not intended to be practical, usable underwear as well, as the cups of the ‘bra’ were not there, the lace would perfectly frame your breasts, leaving them exposed for Jacks viewing pleasure. The ‘panties’ were matching, crotchless, this set was purely to wrap you up nice and pretty leaving everything open to Jack so he would not have to remove a single piece from you to get what he wants. 

He growled softly behind you, wrapping his arms around you to kiss at your neck. “Gonna look so good in that Darlin,” he said, voice deep with lust already at the thought of you wearing it. 

“Open the others” 

You placed the first box down back on the bed, reaching for the next closest box and lifting the lid. Instantly you felt yourself growing wet at the sight of its content. 

“I hope after last night you won't be too sore to play with these tonight,” Jack’s teasing voice tickled your neck as you stared down at the toys in the box. 

So far, in the short time you had been together you had experimented with toys only a handful of times, and so far, they had been simple bullets and vibes. Evidently tonight, Jack wanted to be a bit more, experimental. 

One simple, silver bullet vibe, a finger vibe, a silicone egg attached to a silicone string you could only guess vibrated, and the largest dildo you had ever seen in person. Your heart was beating fast in anticipation, and you were sure Jack could feel it with his lips latched to your pulse point. 

“Open the last one,” he rasped.

You almost dropped the box as you opened it, overwhelming anticipation making you shake as you stared down at a toy you had only ever dreamed about being used on you. 

Nipple and clit pumps, you were certain Jack was planning on a night just as intense as the last night, and you were more than looking forward to it. 

“Go, get changed, I’ll be waiting for you.” 

You were quick to change in the ensuite, touching up your hair in the mirror and re-applying Jacks favorite mascara. When you came back out to the bedroom, dressed in the exposing red number, Jack was laid out on the bed, even more exposed than you, completely nude as he lay back with a cocky grin, slowly pumping his hardening cock. 

You feigned feeling bashful, hiding half of your body behind the door frame and avoiding his eyes. He chuckled, becoming you over with his finger. 

“No need to feel shy Darlin, you look good enough to eat,” he hummed, still stroking his cock slowly with one hand while the other was open to you in invitation. You padded over the soft carpet, still pretending to feel shy. As soon as you were in reach he pulled you to the bed, pushing you onto your back and bending over you to give you a kiss. 

“I really could eat you up, you sexy little thing,” he teased, his fingers dancing across your skin to the lacy edges of your ‘bra’, the pads of his fingers brushing against your bare breasts as he played with the lace. 

“These,” he said, squeezing your breasts, weighing them in his palm. “A meal fit for a king,” he continued, growling before dipping his head further to mouth at your breasts. He lavished attention to them, making sure to toy with the one not currently in his mouth with his hand, squeezing, kneading the flesh in his large calloused hands, and tweaking your nipple while he licked and suckled on the other one. 

You moaned, already aroused just by looking at the toys he had selected for that night, but even further so now. You felt your arousal leak out of you, with no barrier to hold it thanks to the lack of material covering your centre. 

Jack switched, making sure each of your breasts felt the attention of his mouth, you looked down at him, and found him staring back at you with intense, dark eyes, watching your every reaction, every gasp and moan. 

“Fuck, I love your tits,” he moaned agaisnt your skin, placing a few soft kisses to your peaked nipples before pulling away. His hand stroking the flesh of your thigh as he sat up, erection proudly twitching against his stomach. 

“Which of those toys caught your attention most, baby?” He asked, positioning you gently further back on the bed. 

“T-the pumps,” you answered truthfully, rubbing your coated thighs together in anticipation as Jack got up off the bed to collect the boxes. 

“Yeah? You want Daddy to torture your nipples and poor little clit?” he asked, setting the boxes beside you on the bed. 

You nodded up at him eagerly. 

“Daddy will do just that,” he promised, picking out the finger vibe from the box and sliding it over his index, switching it on so it buzzed lightly. “But I want to try them all out on you baby.” 

His finger started at your nipples, trailing slowly down your body until he reached your clit, circling it gently so the vibrations barely tickled you. You whined, lifting your hips , trying to gain more pressure to your clit, but Jack slapped your thich in warning. 

“You take what Daddy gives you,” he reminded you, torturing you further by rubbing his vibrating finger over your clit directly, so lightly you could only just feel the promise of the vibrations against your swollen bud. 

“Daddy please,” you whined, pouting when he chuckled at you, not taking pity on you. 

“Patience is a virtue sugar,” he teased, leaning over to rasp in your ear. “Daddy will will make you cum so hard so much it fucking hurts if you be good for me.”

You moaned, knowing full well Jack always kept his promises if you behaved for him. 

“Imagine that big one inside you,” he continued, knowing full well his words could turn you on just as much as his touches. “I wanna see your sweet little peach of a pussy stretch around that, your hungry little hole taking that massive cock, fuck, I bet it would hurt to cum around that thing, your cunt stretched so much and tightening around that, fuck I could cum just imagining that.” 

You moaned again, nodding your head and silently begging for just that, wanting to please him, wanting that painful pleasure. 

Your eyes were closed, imagining his little fantasy, how good it would feel when he surprised you by pushing the vibe right onto your clit, making you yelp. 

“We’re gonna start small, and make our way up,” he said, sitting back up to watch you writhe under the pleasure of the vibe. “It’s going to be another long night Baby girl.” 

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Jack had successfully made you cum with the finger vibe without ever sliding anything inside you, and had slowly worked you open with the small silver vibe, pumping it in and out of you slowly, bringing you back to the edge of pleasure before abandoning it to the side. You whined in frustration as he took his sweet time picking the next toy, much to your annoyance. There were two toys left in that box and you knew he was going to end with the larger one. He was simply trying to rile you up. 

Deciding you were being just a bit too bratty with your complaints, he gave your pussy a harsh slap.

“Patience Baby,” he warned with a growl. “That's your second warning!” 

You bit your lip, trying to silence yourself as he pretended to decide which toy to use. 

Eventually he picks up the silicone egg and returned to his previous position between your legs, laying on his stomach so he could watch up close. 

He turned the egg on, feeling it buzz in his palm before slowly pushing it inside you, cooing gently about how good your pussy looked, framed by your panties as it stretched around the widest part of the egg. Shoving it inside you as deep as it could reach he watched with fascination how slick leaked from you with each powerful buzz. 

“Remember, you can’t cum until Daddy says you can,” he laughed before licking up your arousal with a moan. You heard him whisper against your folds how you tasted so good. 

You were focusing hard on not cumming until he said so, but that was made far more difficult when he took a hold of the silicone ‘string’ attached to the toy, slowly pulling it down your channel and stretching your hole again. 

You keened, arching your back and trying so hard to wait for his permission. He repeated the action, pushing the vibrating egg deep inside you before slowly pulling it out, stopping when you stretched around the widest point. He watched entranced, growling hungrily every time your entrance stretched around it. 

He kissed your clit, circling his tongue around it, drinking up your moans. 

“Fuck baby, watching my sweet little cunt stretch like this, just makes me want to see what else I can fit in you,” he moaned, lapping up at your folds now. “Im gonna buy the biggest fucking toy I can find when we get home, we’re gonna find your limit one day.” 

His lips latched onto your core, eating you out vigorously, and still playing with the toy with his hand, he was struggling to grip it securely with how much you were leaking. 

He shoved the toy back inside, pushing up right against your g-spot as he began suckling your clit. 

You shrieked, trying not to wriggle too much as you begged, helplessly, for permission. 

“Daddy! Please! Please! Pleasepleaseplease!” You wailed. Looking down at him, between your legs, eyes watching you intently again, you saw him nod. 

Permission. 

You thanked him with a cry as you arched further off of the bed, pushing your hips up into his mouth as he drank down your release, tongue lapping at your hole beside the silicone still hanging out of you. You clenched down around the toy, shaking as your walls contracted  around the vibrations. 

“Daddy!” You whined, slowly rocking your hips into his face as you rode out your orgasm. As the waves of pleasure washed away, Jack ever so slowly pulled the toy out of you, kissing your clit in praise as he did so. You whimpered, sensitive as he kissed you there. 

He cooed again as you stretched around the toy, watching as he pulled it out at a snails pace, enraptured at the sight. 

“My pretty little pussy,” he praised, diving to lap up at you again once the toy popped out of you. You mewled, lazily trying to push him away, but he wouldn't be denied his sweet treat. 

Jack tossed the toy to the side and crawled up your body, lifting your thighs around his waist. Teasingly, he rocked his hips so his cock, now leaking pre-cum onto your skin.

“Daddy wants to be inside his pretty little pussy,” he rasped. “I know you’re sensitive baby, oohhh but daddy wants to make you a creamy mess before you take that big one, I need you slick with both our cum before I stretch you out with that thing.” 

He was rambling, but watched your expression carefully as he lined himself up with your hole, smearing his pre-cum around your folds, waiting for any kind of refusal before pushing his hips forward and filling you easily thanks to his attentions with the egg. 

“Fuck, there we go,” he groaned when the flesh of your ass met his thighs. Bottoming out inside of you. You moaned loudly as he filled you up, feeling his tip meet your innermost wall. “I aint ever been in a pussy this good Baby.”

Having neglected his cock for so long, choosing to pleasure you ahead of himself, Jack didn’t bother wasting time building up a slow and steady pace. He pounded into you hard and fast as he always did when chasing his own release and slaps echoing in the room. 

He crashed his lips on yours, noses bumping together as the taste of your cum flooded your mouth. The kiss was sloppy, and messy, but Jack desperately seemed to need his mouth on yours as his hips rammed yours. You could tell by his desperation he would not last long, he rarely did when he had aroused himself so much by pleasuring you.

Once, twice, three times he bucked into you hard before warm cum flooded your insides, he pulled your bottom lip into his mouth and bit hard, but not hard enough to draw blood, groaning loudly. 

You didn’t complain about the fact that he had sought his own release as he lazily pulled out of you, pushing his seed back inside you with his thumb, knowing full well he intended to make you cum at least once more that night. 

“Baby,” he sighed, licking his thumb clean of your combined releases. “What's your color? You still good to try take that big one?”

“Green Daddy,” you sighed, settling into the pillows comfortably, preparing yourself for the challenge. 

“My perfect girl,” he said proudly, kissing your cheek and retrieving the toy. 

You knew there were larger toys out there, but this would be the largest you had ever taken personally, it was bigger than Jack, who was already an impressive size himself. He placed the toy beside you on the bed before opening the bedside drawer for a bottle of lube.

“I know you’re wet Darlin, you’re always wet for me, your horny little cunt’s always up for more, isn’t she? But we still need to prep you” he said, coating his fingers in lube and putting two in you straight away. The artificial lube, mixed with both of your cum made obscene noises as Jack pumped his fingers and stretched you open. 

“Daddy can get hard again on that noise alone Honey Bee,” he chuckled, laughing harder as your eyes widened as you glanced down at his spent, wet cock that was already twitching with interest.  

You bit your lip and wiggled slightly, stopping when his eyes cut back to your face in warning. 

“Are you going to take me again Daddy?” You asked as a third finger pushed inside you. 

“Ohhh, you can bet on it Baby,” he moaned, watching your hole stretching around his fingers. When he managed to fit a fourth, large finger inside you, he stretched you wide open so he could stare into your hole, groaning at the sight. 

“My perfect little cunt,” he whispered before spitting into your hole, giving you an obnoxiously cocky grin before pulling his fingers free and shoving them in your mouth to clean. 

Obediently you lapped them up, cleaning your combined cum and lube off of his fingers while his free hand opened the bottle again. Once he deemed his fingers acceptably clean he pulled them out of the hot cavern of your mouth and picked up the toy, coating it generously in lube. 

“You sweet little pussy’s gonna look so good taking this,” he growled, shoving your legs apart as wide as they could go and lining the tip of the toy up at your entrance. He was extremely careful, as he pushed it forward, watching your reaction carefully for any sign of discomfort. Even with the stretching and copious slick from the lube and cum it was a struggle to take, the stretch was burning and so far he had only pushed  the tip in. Jack paused, waiting patiently for your face to relax as he slowly pulled the toy out, then back in, pushing just a little bit deeper each time, pausing, waiting for you to adjust each time you grimaced. 

It took a lot of hard work, but with both your efforts the toy was eventually pushed as deep as it could go. You both moaned in unison once the toy could go no deeper. Jack laid down on his stomach, between your legs, staring longingly once again at the stretch of your pussy. 

“Baby,” he cooed in adoration, running this finger around the toy where your hole stretched around it, making you whimper. “Look at that, fuck, just imagine how much we could get to fit in you with practice. Your sweet, tiny little pussy’s stretched so wide, Can’t wait to make you cum on that, bet it’s gonna hurt, make you cry, sweet thing.” 

You were stretched so wide that the arousal you felt at his words could not escape, simply filling you up further, making you whine. 

“Wait here, hold your legs open,” he ordered getting up off the bed, you noticed he was hard again already, having worked himself up watching you stretch around the new toy. 

He picked up the last box.

Oh. 

You had forgotten about that.

Jack gently picked up the pumps before returning to you, gently attaching the suction cups to each nipple and your clit. He loved how your breasts look, framed by the ‘bra’, pump attached to your nipples. 

“Gonna make you cum so hard, it’ll hurt so good baby,” he rasped, voice deep and gravely with lust. 

He squeezed the pump gently in one hand, watching how you would react with fierce intensity and hunger. The first pump was just enough to feel a slight suction, a mild sensation, but he continued to pump away slowly, watching the way your nipples began pulling up into the clear cups. He groaned at the sight, and once your nipples and clit started to feel the tight suction you whined loudly in both pain and pleasure, unintentionally squeezing around the large toy inside you still. 

Without warning Jack repeatedly squeezed the pump hard and fast, startling you with the sudden, constant suction.

“Ahhhh! Daddy!” You yelped, struggling to keep still for him.

“You know your words,” he reminded you. “They’re there if you need them.” 

You shook your head no, wanting that painful orgasm he promised you and was intent on giving you. 

You were sobbing as he pumped away, clit and nipples red and raw as they were pulled up into the cups, there would be marks in the morning, no doubt about that. 

It was painful, but incredibly arousing at the same time, they had never been this sensitive before, this abused and your head was swimming in the delirium of it. 

Jack jerked himself off with his free hand above you, as you squirmed beneath him, the painful, burning stretch of the toy, and the constant and the arduous suction on your most sensitive parts were driving you insane. 

To torment you further, Jack placed the pump down but did not release the suction, instead, grabbing onto one of the cups on your nipples and tugging at it. You cried, the pain agonising but it just made you anticipate your orgasm all the more. 

Proud of the reaction he pulled from you, his hand moved to the suction cup on your clit, repeating the action. You shrieked, louder than you ever had before and Jack abandoned his cock to cover your mouth, as he repeatedly tugged at the cup, muffling your shrieks. 

“Normally I love your noises Baby but we don't need people coming to investigate that now do we?” he teased. “Now I'm going to let go and you’re going to cum for me. You understand?”

You nodded into his hand. 

“Good, you need to scream like that, do it into the pillow,” he said before pulling his hand from your mouth to grip the toy filling you up by the base and jackhammering it inside of you, still tugging at the pump on your clit. 

It was instantaneous, and as painful as he had promised. Your hole was stretched as wide as it could possibly go right now and gripping hard on the toy that was stuffed inside you. Jack growled, watching with rapt fascination as your poor abused hole rhythmically clenched around the artificial cock. 

You didn't shake as much as you thrashed, pulling the pillow to your face to scream your voice hoarse as tears escaped your eyes due to the pain you were drunk on. 

Wet squelching, screams and Jack’s praises and curses filled the room as you came and cum gushed from you. Your body was both trying to milk the toy and push it out of you at the same time, and you realized the toy was being forced from you because you were squirting around it. Jack seemed unaware given how big the toy was, but he was preparing to enter you the second he pulled the toy from you, the hand previously tugging at your clit pump was stroking his cock while the hand still on the toy quickly pulled it out of you, coating him in the cum still squirting from you. 

“Fuck Baby!” he shouted, surprised for just a moment before he growled and quickly shoved himself in your gaping pussy before you finished. Pounding into you at a brutal pace, unintentionally but happily massaging that spot making you squirt, drenching his front in even more cum before your body could take no more.

“Fuck I didn’t think this would be how I made you squirt the first time, but Im not complaining,” he groaned in your ear, ripping your pillow away from your face and pounding into you, holding your still thrashing body tightly to him, ignoring the pump still on you as his cock destroyed your hole. Over and over again.

His pace was brutal and you cried, from the intense pain and pleasure of your orgasm, from the suction still on your nipples and clit, from the overstimulation of him pounding into you before you had even finished, how tender and swollen your sex was that was continuing to be abused, and the words that dripped from his mouth. 

“My fucking pussy, this is mine,” he growled, his voice sounding feral and animalistic. “No ones ever going to please you the way I do, fill you the way I do, every inch of you is mine!” 

“Y-yours,” you eeped out, voice faint after screaming so loud. 

That was all he needed to push him over the edge, shouting his release as he pulled you up into him and he pushed in as deep as he could go, ignoring how the pump dug into both of you, hitting your cervix, making you cry out as he came.You felt it leak out of you, your abused hole unable to hold it in as he pulled out. Pausing a moment to free you of the pump, making you hiss in pain and relief before Jack collapsed on top of you with a groan, resting his head between your breasts and wrapping his arms around you. 

You weren't sure how long the two of you lay there, clinging to each other, hearts and breath slowing down and sweat cooling from your skin as you stroked his hair. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eventually, once he was no longer panting, Jack sat up, hair clinging to his sweaty forehead as he took survey of the mess on yourselves and the bed. 

“You good baby?” he asked, the need for sleep clinging to his voice. 

“Yeah,” you whispered. “That was…”

“Intense?” he supplied with a weak chuckle, getting up off of the bed. “Come on baby, let clean up and get you sorted.” 

You whined in complaint, rolling to your side, back to him. 

“I know you’re tired,” he cooed, gently picking you up and carrying you to the ensuite. “But you’ll regret waking up in a wet bed, covered in cum and sore as all hell.” 

“Fine” you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck, more than happy to let him do all the work, and you knew he was more than happy to do it. 

He took extra care with you that night, cleaning you up, removing the lingerie from your body, soothing your sore abused nipples with ointment, changing the bedsheets and praising you as you snuggled to him every chance you got. 

You were already asleep by the time he put you to bed and tucked you in beside him.

Taglist: 

@thats-one-tender-foot  @luminescentlily @nuttybeardetective @ishqinbbc @ben-is-a-hoe @calamity-queen @phoenixhalliwell @talesfromtheguild @the-arctic-violet  @jeeperky @mando-amando

[magicforjournals]

The Green Dress (A Story About Loki) Chapter 3 : What a mess

Warning : Not really any. In the next chapters, we'll have more Loki and reader interactions.

Three days had gone by since Maria’s birthday party… since you shared a passionate moment with Loki in a dark hallway. It was all you could think about throughout your weekend, at the grocery store, grading history tests, having dinner and drinks with Nat - you just could not stop thinking about him. You also were not certain if you should tell Natasha about the kiss, knowing how she viewed him. Quite honestly, you were unsure about your feelings regarding that night, or him. All you knew was that every night since, you couldn’t help but touch yourself as you thought about his lips on yours, his tongue wrestling in your mouth, his hands gripping your waist tightly. You could still hear his voice, moaning and whispering your name. And to think that this God had shifted your entire world that night with a single look. How could that be? You had been in relationships before, had been attracted to other men before, but none of them had ever completely and utterly fucked up your universe as this man had. You needed to see Loki again, not only because you desperately craved his touch, but you undeniably had to figure out what your next move was going to be, and how he felt about you. Oh, what a mess you had gotten yourself into.

It was snowing when you walked outside that night, after a long day at work. Not that the phenomenon was uncommon for April, but you didn’t especially like the cold and desperately wished for summer to come. You were surprised to notice that it was already dusk out, how long had you been working tonight? You started to make your way towards your car, when you noticed a tall figure, leaning against the front of it. Steve.

“What are you doing here Rogers?” You sigh, as you approach him.

“Natasha said I’d find you here. Why do you work so late on Mondays?” He asks.

You knew that you did work late on Mondays, always wanting to get all your prep done for the week, early on, and that meant staying late. You didn’t know, however, that it had become a habit of yours, and certainly not something you thought your friends would’ve noticed.

“I just have a lot of work to do I guess,” You shrug, putting your bags in the trunk of the car, and walking to the driver’s door. “You didn’t answer my question though, what are you doing here Steve?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Steve says, standing in front of you.

“All ears,” you groan. You hated how he was tiptoeing around the subject.

“I changed my mind.” He announces bluntly. “I want you.” HE WHAT?!, you think, your body reacting to the shock.

“Y-you what?” You manage to stutter out.

“I want you, I want to be with you.” He repeats, holding your hands. You gasp and yank your hands away. “I know it’s a little late, but I can’t stop thinking about you. When I saw you Thursday night, it only made everything that much clearer for me. I want you to be mine, only mine.” He adds, getting closer to you, pinning you against your car.

You can’t breathe. This is all so sudden. In the past, you would’ve given anything to hear Steve utter those words to you, but now, with everything that had happened between the two of you, was it too late? Where was all this two years ago?

“Steve, why are you doing this now?” You whisper, thinking back to all the innocent flirting he had done with you before Natasha had intervened. “I thought you didn’t want any kind of commitment.”

“I know, I know.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, really. I was wrong. And when I saw you at the party, exchanging looks with Loki, the way he looked at you… it drove me absolutely mad.” He growls. “I can’t bear thinking of another man having their hands on you. I want you,” he says again before lifting your chin up and kissing you aggressively.

OH HELL NO. In what world does he think he has the right to do this? To just take what he wants? No. You put a firm hand on his chest and push him away, rage bubbling up.

“No Steve. You can’t do this.” You almost scream. “You can’t just come waltzing in my life after shooting me down and expect me to let you have me?! No. You just can’t do that. I don’t care what the excuse is, that you’re jealous because Loki and I LOOKED at each other or not. I look at a lot of people every day, you know? It’s unacceptable for you to think of me as something to own.” You’re absolutely furious now. All you want to do is get as far away from him as humanly possible before you punch him in the face, and you know you’ll break your hand if you tried. “I have to go.” You spit out as you open your car door.

“Wait,” Steve says, grabbing your hand again. “I made a mistake last time. I don’t want to let you go again.”

“You already did it once, shouldn’t be too hard.” You hiss at him, and get in your car, slamming the door in his face. Your blood is boiling as you pull out of the school’s parking lot, dialing Nat’s number.

“Hi, what’s up?” She asks, picking up almost immediately.

“He kissed me,” you say through your teeth.

“Holy shit!” Nat screams.

“Not now Nat, I’m absolutely fucking pissed. Where are you, I need a drink.” You say, hoping she’s at the compound.

“Home, I’ll get the wine out of the fridge.” She answers.

“Be there in 5,” you add before hanging up and speeding to her place.

You pull up to the gate, notifying F.R.I.D.A.Y you were here to visit Natasha. As you park your car, you take a moment to try and calm yourself down, quite unsuccessfully. You decide to get out anyways, grabbing your purse and making your way to Nat’s apartment. You don’t even waste time knocking, you just burst through the door, dropping your things in the entrance and making your way to the couch where you collapse, whining into a pillow you cover your face with. You feel Nat tap you on the foot for you to make some room on the couch, and you bring your legs up before setting them back in her lap once she sits down.

“Loki kissed me,” you announce, your voice muffled by the pillow still on your face.

In a fraction of a second, the glasses are on the coffee table, the pillow is gone and you’re being sat up on the couch.

“What?!” Natasha cries out.

“Loki kissed me at Maria’s party.” You repeat. “And well... I kissed him back.”

“Y-you… Loki… Ok, hold on” She says, trying to make sense of what you just told her. “How did this happen? You should’ve stayed away from him like I told you to. Did he force you? No, you said you kissed him back. How was it? Wait, it’s Loki!! ” She adds, all in one breath.

You’re blushing, you know it. You were never embarrassed to tell Nat these kinds of things, but for some reason, you were as embarrassed as a student that got caught cheating on a test.

“It happened by the washrooms, I was getting out, he was going in. We started talking, he asked if he could be honest with me, I said yes. He told me he couldn’t stop looking at me, that he liked how I looked in my dress. He asked if I was afraid of him, I told him I wasn’t, that I felt like he was probably cast aside as a child and was acting up now, and then he kissed me. And I kissed him back.” You’re talking so fast, giving Nat a rundown of those 10 minutes with Loki that you have yet to forget.

“Wow.” Is all that comes out of your best friend’s mouth as she leans back on the couch, absorbing all the information you literally just threw at her.

“Are you mad at me?” You ask, after a very long moment of silence.

“Oh no, I’m not mad. I’m … shocked.” Nat answers. “I didn’t expect that. You made out with a God! Oh my God, you made out with Loki!” She starts giggling.

You start laughing with her, grabbing your glass of wine and sipping on it. As you laugh together and get over the shock of the confession, she asks you for all the details of the kiss. As you’re rambling on about that night, she stops you suddenly.

“Wait, Steve kissed you tonight. What happened with that? How are you feeling?”

“He came to see me at school, I guess you told him I was there. He said, and I quote, ‘I want you. I can’t bear thinking of another man having their hands on you’. And then he kissed me. It was really rough, I pushed him away and yelled at him.” You reply, feeling the anger rise again.

“I can’t believe that! I see why you were pissed. You almost threw yourself at him two years ago and now he what… wants to claim you or something? What the hell is wrong with Rogers?” She exclaims. “I know I said I wanted you and Steve to date, but he can’t turn you down and expect you to wait around until he’s ready to date. That’s just insane!”

“Tell me about it. I don’t want to see him for a while,” you tell her.

“Understandable. I’ll try to keep you two apart the best I can. You hungry?” She asks as she grabs her phone.

You guys end up ordering dinner and talking about Loki and Steve for a while longer. She agrees that you are clearly infatuated with Loki and need to make sense of the situation. Although she might not revel in the fact it was Loki, she trusts you to be safe and smart, Natasha knows you wouldn’t do anything stupid. She also understands that sometimes, following your heart is what is best.

You get home a while later, having been dropped off by Maria who had been working late at the office. Nat promised you that your car and teaching material would be in the parking lot at school before you even got there. As you’re getting ready for your shower, your phone pings on the bathroom counter. Probably Nat just double-checking you got home safe. With half your body already in the shower, you grab your phone to check and your mouth falls open.

An email. How ridiculous was that? Did you really just send her an email? Loki can’t stop beating himself up, debating whether jumping off the Bifröst is a good option. You were the only thing on his mind lately, and he wanted to see you again. He didn’t know how to reach out to you. Thanks to Thor, he had learned which school you worked at and he had gotten your contact information. There were so many ways for him to talk to you, but he was afraid. Afraid of rejection. Never before, in his many years, had he been so taken by a mortal. He spent two days after meeting you - kissing you - trying to get you out of his head. He drank, lashed out, picked a fight in a bar too, everything he could think of to stop thinking about you. But the taste of your lips, your smell, the way you moaned under his touch, as soon as he was alone, all those memories came rushing back to him. He had to see you again.

He knew it was late, and that there was a very high probability you were already in bed, seeing as it was a school day, but he typed up an email regardless. After spending over 3 hours debating whether to email, text or call you, Loki settled on an email, thinking it would be more appropriate to reach out that way. He had been overthinking everything way too much, you drove him absolutely insane.

Good evening, I hope you are doing well, my darling. I, on the other hand, have been suffering. I must admit that I can not stop thinking about you. You are the only thing on my mind during my every waking moment, and at night, when I close my eyes, I can still feel you in my arms. I know this all may seem very forward of me, and I do apologize. Nonetheless, I need to see you again. Would you do me the honor of sharing dinner tomorrow night? Lovingly yours, Loki

[love-fireflysong]

howdy there! 11 and 22 for those writer asks, perhaps? ;P

11.   What’s something you have learned as a writer?

That I’m not as bad as I think I am lol. That, and it’s really nice (if not extremely frustrating sometimes) to get all these ideas I have floating around in my head, *out* of my head and not really onto paper, but you get my meaning aslhasdad

22.   Care to share any future WIP ideas you have lined up?

God I have so many. Aside from the outlast au full chapter thing I’m always gushing about, I still have 3 kiss prompts sitting in my inbox that I have to answer oops, and a d&d chrashley piece. And just because this seems like a perfect time to share it, I’ll post under the cut the ideas I had for the rest of the bingo tropes (that may or may not be written depending on whether people bully me into writing some of them or not)

Found Family: likely something to do involving the Phantasia crew

Fluff: the idea I had where ash accidentally kept one of chris’s sweaters and after she purposely takes a second one, chris finds out when he goes to ask her if he had left any there recently and finds her wearing one

Snowed In: ash and chris find themselves stuck together in the guest cabin when a heavy snow storm blows in

Comedy: chris and ash debate keeping their 10+ year old promise to name their first born kid after josh when they discover that ash is pregnant with twins (this one would have been next on the list if my laptop hadn’t started crapping the bed (i’m so sorry kenzie! you finally managed to land on one of the parent/kid fics and i couldn’t even fill it!))

Slice of Life: josh babysits six year-old joshlynn

Body Swap AU: cress and the gang find out that dhaos’s teleporter did more then just send them into the prison cells in the basement of the castle

Coming Out: ash panics and blurts out that she’s actually ace when her and chris are about to have sex for the first time, and after some miscommunication from both of them chris reveals that he is also ace and also really relieved that they’re not gonna do this anymore

Crossover: ud/zombie (last of us?) with climbing chrash as a focus, chris injures his leg badly in a supply run gone terribly wrong and find themselves recuperating in an abandoned department store

Free Space: due to chester grabbing on to arche’s broom when they go though dhaos’s teleporter, they find themselves sharing a cell and with no way to escape and nothing else to do they talk about plans and what ifs for the future (this one was also on the to-do list, and if I do write it it will be because this ideas been in my head for over six years now...)

Holiday Fic: chris and ash getting ready to take recently turned one year-old joshlynn trick-or-treating for halloween

“There was only one bed”: chris, josh, and ash finally meet back up in the outlast au and spend the next few minutes trying to find an empty room in the administration block so they can sleep together for the first time in six months (original ending of the outlast au, but other plans have made this ending an impossibility now. I’m still super attached to the idea though so I refuse to just chuck it away into the trash bin lol)

Horror/Dark: teenage joshlynn manages to find videos of the events that had taken place on blackwood mountain when trying to find trivia about her new fav horror movie and realizes that her parents haven’t told her everything about their past, or the ‘friend’ they named her after

Amnesia: chester hits his head/gets hit by a spell that makes him lose his memories starting from just before toltus is destroyed

(Un)Happy Ending: sole survivor ashley, the original idea I had for the ‘story’ prompt last year

Supernatural/Paranormal AU: guy tries to rebuild the lodge years after the events of ud, and is finding a lot of problems due to the fact that it is super haunted with all the ghosts of the kids that died that night the lodge burnt down

Fake Dating: in trying to stop a classmate from asking ash out all the time, josh lies and tells the guy that the two of them are already dating, and things get complicated when the guy spots her having lunch with chris and both claim that all three of them are dating actually

Mystery Solving: ash knows that chris and josh always try to throw her a suprise party for her birthday, but when she can’t find any clues or hints she is more determined then ever to find out what they’re planning

Road Trip: continuation of ‘there was only one bed’ and how chris, ash, and josh manage to escape

Celebrity AU: a famous movie director, a best-selling author, and a triple a game developer walk into a bar…

Rare Pair: climbing chrash definitely, might use the highschool shop class fic but still unsure

[kilojulietsierra]

Seis Dias - Prologue & Chapter One (Frankie Morales x OFC - Triple Frontier meets Six Days Seven Nights)

I watched Triple Frontier and Six Days Seven Nights in the same day awhile ago and... this happened over the weekend lol

It was a lot of fun to write and I hope y'all enjoy it too!

Notes - my Spanish is a work in progress, if there are any mistakes they are mine. Rating is lower than usual for me (T - on Ao3) but I have an idea for a bonus chapter at the end that would bump that up. Canon typical violence and language.

~~~~~ Summary~~~~~

A well known photographer on vacation with her new fiance just got called in on a once in a lifetime, last minute job for one of her biggest customers. Promising her fiance that it'll be a quick 2-3 day trip from the south american resort they're staying at to the job and back. With an overnight bag, her camera and a bribe for the... quirky pilot that flew them to the remote vacation spot, she takes off to the shoot.

A storm rolls in while they're in the air and the quick trip takes a dangerous turn.

Forced to land in the middle of the night when lightning strikes their plane the pair find themselves in the middle of the South American jungle with a wrecked plane and no way to get help and no way out of the jungle but to work together.

They survived the crash but that's the least of their concerns, the jungle has more than one danger lurking in its shadows.

~~~~~~ Prologue`~~~~~

Joanna was grateful to be out of the slush and snow but her annoyance with the February weather soon turned to annoyance towards the crowd of people in the lobby which she had found her shelter in. She shoved and excused her way through the frigid New Yorkers to the front desk, "Hi, I'm here for an appointment with," She was cut off by someone knocking into her camera bag, causing her to sway on her feet and clutch at the strap to keep it from slipping, "Excuse you. Anyway, Robin Monroe? Can you let her know I'm here"

"Floor seven, elevator bank is to your right." The receptionist had no clue that Jo had been here a dozen times already this month. She only glanced up to point to the general direction of the elevators as she reached for the phone receiver.

"Thank you." Joanna squeezed through the gap in the crowd and made a beeline for an elevator just opening. Her and the other elevator riders stood in silence, slowly filtering on and off as the floor numbers climbed. At the seventh floor Joanna took her leave and soon heaved in a deep breath at the wonderfully empty foyer of Ms. Monroe's publication office.

Making her way through the desks and design tables Joanna waved and greeted the familiar faces until she came face to face with a photo shoot set up in complete chaos. Backdrops set in disarray, layout mock ups scattered on the floor, makeup and hair assistants scurrying back and forth and in the center of it all Robin trying to direct the melee. "So... how's your day going so far?"

Monroe turned around in a snap and visibly sagged "Oh Joanna, you'll never believe!" She fell into the long and winding story of how the talent for this particular shoot had fell through and now everything, absolutely everything, was a disaster.

Joanna took a deep breath, situated her camera bag on her shoulder and pulled out her phone to shoot her boyfriend a quick text that she would probably be late getting home tonight.

Later when everything had calmed down and the shoot was completed, a success as far as Jo was concerned, Robin walked her to the foyer where one of the assistants met them with a huge bouquet of flowers. "These came awhile ago for Jo." The young girl informed them, giddy to see what the card said. "They're from Kyle," She grinned and bounced on the balls of her feet while Robin inspected the exotic flower arrangement.

Jo read aloud, "A surprise after a long day, love you, Kyle." She flipped the note over to find a reservation card for one of her favorite restaurants.

~~~

"Fancy flowers, fancy restaurant, what's going on?" Joanna teased as the hostess guided them to their table.

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Don't ask questions, it'll ruin the surprise."

Kyle was a handsome young man, tall and lean, blonde close cropped and perfectly styled hair, bright blue eyes and a worked as a shockingly successful stock trader for someone his age. He and Joanna made a striking couple and they both knew it. Especially Kyle.

Once they were seated and had placed their drink orders Jo pressed again, "Ok, you know I'm not a patient woman Kyle. What's up."

"Okay fine," he chuckled as he reached for the inside pocket of his suit jacket, "Close your eyes."

Jo balked slightly but at his insistent stare, did as he asked. When she was finally allowed to open them she gasped.

"Two weeks from now, you, me and six days, seven nights in paradise." Kyle swiped through pictures of an out of this world, boutique, trendy, South American beach resort."

"Oh my God." She watched as he swiped through the promotional photos; lit, edited and laid out in such a way that she could nearly feel the sand under her toes and the sun on her skin. When he put his phone away she turned to face him, "Kyle, you're not serious! That looks amazing! Are we really going?"

"We're really going. You always say you miss travelling and that I need to take more time off so... tada!" He said with pride and matter-of-factness that was his trade mark. "Are you excited baby?"

"So excited." Jo leaned in to give him a kiss and mentally begin counting the hours.

---

Day One

When they landed in Bogota Joanna swore that she felt a weight lift and her mind clear. All she could think of was being able to enjoy herself, truly, for the first time in a long time. She reached out and grabbed Kyle by the back of his shirt, "Wrong way." As he turned outside the terminal towards security and away from where they needed to go, to collect their luggage and then towards the charters.

"What?"

"Seguridad." she laughed and pointed at the sign he was about to walk under, "We want maletas, and then we have to find the charters, she pointed in the opposite direction. "This way."

Without saying anything he trailed along as she led the way, following the signs, correctly this time. Eventually they found themselves walking thorough the doors and onto a paved tarmac where two men where leaning against a small plane chatting and laughing.

"Disculpe me,"

Jo approached them and Kyle muttered under his breath."I always forget you can actually speak Spanish."

Joanna ignored him. The two men by the plane glanced up as Joanna continued, "Ayudame, por favor? Estamos buscando por..." she paused to pull up the name of the charter service, "Aire Tropical?"

The two men stood up a little straighter, the taller, scruffier of the two cocked his head as he looked her and Kyle over. "Well you found it." He said in a very American accent. He was tall and broad, his arms bulged slightly through the sleeves of his button down shirt. His jeans were faded and worn, so were the cowboy boots on his feet and the Standard Oil cap on his head. He slapped the other man on the back and then stepped up to Kyle and Joanna. "Franciso Morales." He extended his hand to Kyle and then Joanna, "Mucho gusto."

"Mucho gusto," She offered a small smile and was glad to see it returned.

"So you're the pilot?" Kyle asked, incredulous.

Franciso pulled his worn out cap off his head, ran his hand through his shaggy hair and placed it down again, "Umm, yeah."

"And you're American?"

The other man scoffed, short and silent, "Yeah, for the most part anyway. If you're ready to go, I am." He glanced over his shoulder to the plane.

"Great," Kyle interjected before Jo got the chance, "Could you grab the bags?"

Franciso looked to Kyle, his head cocking to the side again as he chewed thoughtfully on a piece of gum.

Joanna cringed, worried Kyle had offended their only ride to paradise.

His eyes jumped from Kyle to Jo and then back. When he smirked it was not in the pleasant friendly way it had been when they shook hands. "You bet."

After the pilot, Francisco, had grabbed their bags and took them to the plane Kyle pulled her aside. "I'm not sure how I feel about this hillbilly flying us anywhere."

Jo smacked his chest with the back of her hand, "Kyle." She glanced towards the pilot to see if he had heard, "He works for the resort. It's fine."

A shrill whistle interrupted them. "Angelica, vamanos!"

A leggy woman with perky breasts and a big smile came bouncing out of the charter hangar. 'Coming!" She giggled as she joined their little group, "Hello!" Her accent was thick and not from South America but Jo couldn't place it. "You must be the couple coming to the resort. I'm Angelica, I work their and I promise you are going to love it!"

For a brief moment Jo doubted that was true, but beside her Kyle was nodding enthusiastically.

~~~

The flight went perfectly well and Jo couldn't stop leaning to look out the small window at the jungle as it passed by beneath them in a blur of green and random villages on their way to the remote section of coast where the resort resided. At some point Francisco must have noticed her excessive staring, "Este es la tierra de los dios, no?'

Jo glanced back at him, seeing him watching her over the rims of his dark aviators and under the bill of his cap. She couldn't help but smile, "Verdad. Es... es increible. No tengo los palabras."

Francisco nodded. "Verdad." He smiled and turned back to the windscreen. everyone remained silent the rest of the flight.

~~~

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." It was all Joanna could say upon setting eyes on the bungalow that would be theirs for the next week. The beach under her feet, the sea in front of her, jungle behind her and a bright blue sky above her. She was in paradise. Truly.

"I know right." Kyle dropped the bags by the door and joined her outside. "It's perfect." He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing the top of her head as she leaned back into him. "This is perfect."

~~~

The first thing Joanna did was put on her bikini and a pair of shorts, grabbed her camera, and headed for the beach. For a change it wasn't model wannabes, actor hopefuls, suburban families or Instagram influencers in front of her lens. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken pictures just for the enjoyment of it. It was the most amazing feeling. Without even thinking about it she spent the whole afternoon wandering the beach and the resort snapping pictures. The ocean, the jungle, the mountains, young couples playing in the surf and lovers cuddled in the shade.

Joanna hadn't realized how late it was until she came back to the bungalow to find Kyle dressed for dinner in pastel shorts and a linen shirt. "Was beginning to wonder if you got lost or something. Got out of the shouer and you were gone."

"Sorry." She shrugged out of her camera strap, "Wanna see what I found?" Jo clicked some buttons on her camera and turned it so Kyle could see the screen.

"I made reservations at the restaurant for us tonight. Why don't you go get ready."

~~~

Dinner had been amazing and when the restaurant served drinks and desert a band had started playing. Couples all around them were attempting their best Tangos or Cumbias but Joanna was worried about Kyle. He had been off ever since Bogota and she worried her wandering off hadn't helped matters.

Just when she was about to ask him he took a sip of his cocktail and cleared his throat. "Joanna." He leaned forward, "Do you know what tonight is?" He took her blank stare as a no, "This is our anniversary. Well unofficially at least, it's the anniversary of the day we first met. Three years ago."

Realization hit her, "Oh, the cab! We fought over a cab and I called you an asshole." She chuckled.

"It's okay, it was worth it. All part of the journey." He stared at her, clear blue eyes glinting in the candles and tiki torches.

Joanna smiled, unsure of what to say. Instead she just stared at his handsome face. Then out of nowhere he was kneeling in front of her, staring at her, his hand reaching into his pocket as the diners around them all collectively began to notice, and look their way.

"Joanna..." He looked as if he was considering his words carefully, hoping to be long and eloquent but found nothing, "Will you marry me?"

Awestruck Jo blinked at him, heart in her throat and forgetting to breath. Now she was the one at a loss for words. So, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him while the rest of the diners applauded and cheered.

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Chapter Two/Day Two - Read Here!