#MY BULLSHIT IS ADDING HALOS TO EVERYTHING!!!!!

[splickedylit]

One by one, the Nobles will come only to discover the remains of those who worshiped them.

--

[==>beta]

[pygmi-cygni]

Playing Favorites

poe dameron x reader

summary: your position as resource agent isn't high on the christmas card list for most, but you take it seriously. As seriously as you can, while still having to scold grown men for their....antics.

@brighterthanlonelywords REMEMBER THIS THING WE TALKED ABOUT IDK IF YOU DO BUT I SWEAR I DIDN'T FORGET!! in my poe dameron post like three weeks ago lmao you gave me this idea

content: sexual innuendos, pining, flirting, banter, angst...it's a poe fic like you know why ur here

there is a brief scene where reader is harrassed, it isn't sexual or anything dw

reader is afab, described w braidable hair, texture not described/racially ambiguous

You'd taken the job for the scenery. Being from Kamino, you hadn't seen much farther than your window, let alone anything other than rain. Your parents had told you stories of the skies, promising to leave the soggy planet. In the end, you escaped on a ragtag Rebel ship recruiting pilots. Immediately upon landing at the lush landscape of D'Qar, you'd known it was the right choice. The view floored you every time.

But nothing could compensate for the amount of utter bullshit you experienced as a resource agent.

So...you decided to do barrel rolls in an unregistered X-Wing?

Uh, yeah.

Without a helmet or a pilot's license?

uhhh....

You were the epitome of a short fuse. Resource agents were essentially the Resistance's HR team. Strange, because absolutely nothing about the Resistance followed 'protocol', but you supposed there needed to be some kind of discipline in place.

No, your crew wasn't making many friends in the Res, nor were you the most celebrated, but somebody had to do it.

Though, you wished it was somebody else.

Mind melting to a thoughtless mush as you listened to a cadet stumble over excuses, you flicked through the remaining meetings scheduled.

Team training, team training, briefing with Organa....fuckkkk.

Your favorite piece of shit, Poe Dameron, had another protocol screening set for his next mission. You gotta be kidding me.

Normally, pilots had a protocol training at the beginning of their enlistment and then once every six months. It was long and tedious; going through safety maneuvers and briefing procedure to make sure everything was up to date. But, because Dameron was special and liked to play by his own rules, General Organa had started mandating his for every mission.

Which meant three hours out of your day because somebody didn't read the Terms and Conditions.

This is such bullshit.

Schooling your expression into neutrality as the bumbling cadet finished his story, you tried to stop your fingers from crushing the tablet in your hands.

Being the equivalent of a galactic HR meant that you weren't gonna be on anybody's Christmas list. Yeah, the job was tedious, but you weren't good enough at plying to be a pilot and couldn't fix a droid to save your life, so you used your skills to help in the way you could.

You were here to stop a war, not make friends.

You could feel Dameron before you saw him. The ego that shone like a halo around him was sparkling like a disco ball as he loudly bantered with his crewmates. General Organa had already arrived, and shot you an amused glance as you rubbed your temples.

Inside voice, Dameron, for the love of Hoth.

"Evening, Commander," you said briskly, gesturing towards the prep room doors, "you know where to start."

He made eye contact and grinned. "Right to business, I like it. Cute hair, sweetheart," he added smoothly. You bit back a frown and followed Organa into the small briefing station. Initially you'd been excited to wear your new braids, but his incessant flirting dampened your pride.

"Flirting with an HR officer is awfully brave of you," you fired back.

"I like a challenge." His smirk sparkled in the low light.

General Organa, used to your bickering, waved at the holo above the console.

"This mission is simple, Dameron, a recon on the Mid Rim. You'll be out there for around two standard days. You are required to check in every twelve hours, and return with the information here," she explained, highlighting a small map underneath the mission summary. Dameron leaned forward, brow set.

"A map....of Abelor? That's a spice trade port, General, why does the Resistance need to be involved?" His confusion mirrored your own. Organa held up a hand, continuing.

"There have been rumors that First Order informants are using the spice port to smuggle information planet-to-planet without needing to go through protocol checks. This is merely a recon to stake out the area. You'll be meeting with an ally, Rhett Mosley." A lanky man popped up next to the summary. He was mostly covered in tribal tattoos, and a pair of thick goggles hid most of his face.

Poe nodded, copying the info on his personal tablet.

"Any questions?"

At his subtle shake of the head, she gestured to you and bowed. "Continue with the protocol, ten hours until takeoff."

You both murmured a farewell and she left with a swish of her cloak. For a moment, Poe was suspended in his own head, gaze distant and stricken. Awkwardly, you shuffled around, hoping to rouse him.

He snapped out of it, and his trademark grin spread across his face. "Just you and me now, sweetheart," he said, bumping your shoulder.

"Just get in the fucking X-Wing."

You sat by, bored as Poe droned about the processes in his ship. He knew the steps, you knew he knew the steps, but because of this stupid loophole in the system, you both had to sit here for another hour.

"Maker- look, Dameron," you sighed, scrubbing your hand over your face, "I know that you're more than capable of doing this mission. I'll sign all your papers, I just want this to be over."

He paused in the middle of showing you the intricate seamwork on the inside of his security belt. A mock look of abhorrence crossed his face.

"What! You wound me, baby. I thought you loved our time together," he bemoaned, batting his dark lashes.

Your filter was slowly coming loose. "Yes, how could I forget, Dameron, how enjoyable it is to listen to your terrible pick-up lines while you bullshit your way through a protocol exam?"

This earned a small chuckle. To your dismay, a small part of your ego preened at the sound. You liked making people laugh. And if Commander Dameron happened to be the one laughing....well, that was okay too.

"No it's not," you snapped. You hated him. This was-

"What? Yes it is, I just showed you." Poe was looking at you, head tilted in confusion. You blushed, realizing you'd said that out loud.

"Right. Er...sorry, Commander, continue. I didn't...nevermind," you muttered, willing your cheeks to stop flaming. He wiggled his brows at you again.

"Feeling a little hot and bothered, Lieutenant?" Poe grinned, the pink tip of his tongue poking out. You scowled at your feet. Since childhood, your cheeks flamed like hell at the slightest embarrassment.

"That's alright," he continued his conversation, "I know I have that effect on people. Sorry to inconvenience you, honey, I know you still think you hate me."

You aggressively signed off on his report, shoving him the document and wiping the growing smile off your face.

"Good luck, Commander, you're cleared for takeoff."

"Can I get a goodbye kiss?" he called after you.

The mission, by all accounts, was a resounding success. You didn't care; still riding the high of being Dameron-free for at least a few days. The base had been, to nobody's surprise, remarkably calm and quiet for the weekend.

But, like clockwork, our favorite flyboy was marched into your office at 7 sharp, sporting a black eye and a toothy grin. His droid, a cute BB unit, was beeping frantically, occasionally rolling into his feet.

You looked up from your caf, unamused.

"Early bird gets the right hook, I see," you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face.

"Left, actually," he said sheepishly, rocking on his heels. The corrections officer that led him in rolled her eyes, snapping a salute and walking off.

"Dameron, we've had this conversation too many times for me to pretend like you didn't deserve it."

As if on cue, he threw himself across from your desk, hands folded. "No, no, listen," he wheedled, "look, it's a long story, and I wasn't trying to start anything, swear-"

"BB-8, recent log information, please," you asked crisply. Poe shot his friend a desperate look.

"Beebs," he hissed, "come on, stick with me on this one, dude!" BB-8 blinked, then rolled over to you and stuck out his little thumb drive.

You thanked him, kindly patting his tummy. Preening, the little droid circled his pilot friend tauntingly. Poe glared balefully. "I give you tummy rubs too," he grumbled.

A grainy camera feed pulled up. Dameron and another pilot, clearly drunk, were getting heated over something you couldn't make out. Truthfully, the other guy swung first, but Poe was not clear of fault.

"You slapped him with a plate," you deadpanned, rewinding to watch it again. Poe rubbed his neck.

"Well, yeah, but..." he trailed off, searching for a good excuse.

"I do recognize that he punched first, but you still antagonized him. I'll send you to my advisor and they'll do a case review for you." Eager to get on with your morning and shove Poe off your desk, you waved at him to leave.

His lower lip pushed out. Goddamn the puppy eyes, I swear to Maker.

"But why won't you clear it for me?" His voice was small, pleading. Beebs, clearly unamused, thumped against Poe's knee.

"I don't have the authority."

"But...wait, wait. I could take you by the cantina and you could ask the people that were there, and maybe...I'll buy you a drink, and we can chat for-"

"Dameron," you said again, tone gentler. "I'm sorry. But I'd lose my job."

"I've heard my company is worth it," he winked, then winced, for he'd winked with his bruised eye. BB-8 booped wearily. You felt for the little guy. Opening a desk drawer, you pulled out a small tube of varnish and gave the droid a shine for his efforts.

"Stop pampering my droid and pay attention to me," Poe complained, "he'll start picking favorites."

You sighed, looking at the pilot with a tired expression. Even though he gave you trouble, Poe was a good pilot and a good friend. He teased and flirted and drove you up the wall, but he was a good guy. You didn't want his record to be tainted, he wouldn't come around anymore.

Woah, where did that come from?

"Poe," you said slowly. He noticeably brightened at his name, putting as much into his smile as you'd ever seen. "I cannot clear you from this...event. However, if you write a written apology and an explanation I can...forget it."

He threw his arms around your shoulders and crowed in success. BB-8 whirred in surprise. You didn't lean into the embrace, too shocked to do anything. He smelled...nice. Like metal and cinnamon.

"Thanks, honey," he whispered, "I owe you one." Pulling away, he poked BB-8 in in the tummy and smirked.

"Told you she'd listen," he whispered smugly. As he whistled and strolled off, a faint blush dotted your cheeks.

He really was a sweetheart.

Night time was your favorite on base. It was quiet, solitary. Walking past the housing on your nightly check, you smiled at the sounds of muffled laughter coming from the bunks. It was like a family. Dysfunctional, yeah, but it was home.

It had been a long day. You had two hallways to go before you could collapse in your own bed. Tomorrow was your day off - you could finally sleep in.

You were playing with the zipper on your jacket as you rounded the corner.

A solid block of person collided with your cheek. Stumbling, you caught yourself on the wall.

"S-sorry, I didn't mean to-"

An unfamiliar scowl glowered down at you. Your apology trailed off. This guy was huge, probably six feet tall and heavyset. His face looked familiar, what with the sharp cut across the bridge of his nose.

Oh. This was the guy Poe had been tussling with.

"Sorry, sir, I need to get by," you said, shaken from the impact. He didn't move. Thompson was printed on his breast pocket, with a green insignia. Green Squadron.

"Heard you had something to do with this," he snarled, jabbing a thumb at his rank. Suspended.

"I..." a rush of panic swelled inside you. This is why you didn't play favorites. You buckled one time and now this guy was gonna wreck your shit. Fucking Dameron, shit shit shit-

"I..I didn't do your intake," you stammered, balking at his imposing figure. "It wasn't my case-"

"No, but pretty boy gets to fly tomorrow, and guess who took his?" Thompson was seething, eyes narrowed to slits. You were amazed that Poe had the balls to smash a plate on this guy. You wanted to curl up and cry.

Help. Help. Somebody help me oh my god I'm going to die.

There were rows of doors on either side of you. You could knock on any of them, but he'd surely grab you before you made it. If you screamed, maybe somebody would-

Stars and pain exploded and you were catapulted backwards, crumpling against the doorhandle. The wind had been knocked out of you so sharply not even a gasp had escaped your lips. Choking and heaving, you scrambled backwards. Pain was everywhere. You weren't sure where he'd hit you.

I'm going to die.

Thompson sneered down at you, making a grab for your collar. Desperately, you scratched at his face, tearing open his smashed nose. The reopened wound gushed, sticky red trickling down your fingers and into his raging mouth. You gagged, but quickly cowered as he swung again at your face.

His fist smashed against the door, and you mentally apologized to whoever was trying to sleep. Air was becoming harder to swallow, and you realized his hand was twisting your shirt too tight around your throat.

uh oh uh oh fuck you sputtered and gasped and tried to smack him off, but he grabbed your wrists

fuck-

You fell backwards; rolling out of his grasp and into a dark room. Something yanked your shoulders backwards and you were shoved into darkness. Finally able to suck in a breath, a bloodcurdling shriek ripped from your bruised throat.

A large hand clapped over your lips. You wailed louder, trying to escape the sweaty palm.

stop it stop it HELP stop stop SOMEBODY FUCKING HELP

A ringing in your ear, punctuated by a loud male voice.

"Stop it," he hissed, removing his hand from your mouth. You panted and struggled against the forearms bracing your stomach. The first punch had landed on your sternum, and the entirety of your torso was screaming in pain.

"Hurts," you whimpered, trying to shove away. The man let go and you collapsed forward, gagging from the pain. A small night light glowed in the corner of the room, highlighting a familiar mop of curls.

"Poe," you wheezed, sitting up against the door. A muffled commotion could be heard outside - likely your fellow officers finally detaining the rogue Green pilot.

He nodded, wiping his brow. Grabbing the light from his desk, he brought it over to look at you. The warm light added a softer glaze to his eyes. He looked bleary. You'd probably woken him up.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, gently coming to sit next to you. You sniffled, still shaking.

"Don't move," he whispered, free hand coming up to carefully inspect your face. You didn't look at him, ashamed to be in this state. The light he was holding was for a child - shaped like a small cartoon Bantha. Cute, you thought listlessly.

Trembling, you could still feel Thompson's hands around your throat. You choked again, throat constricting around nothing. Fear still pierced your bones, and you folded forwards, sobbing into your knees.

Poe, surprised, swore and set the light down. His hands fluttered over your back, unsure of where it was okay to touch. He settled for your hair, petting the plaits gently as you cried.

The sounds outside had long quieted before you ran out of tears. A cold bottle was pressed into your hands. Cool water trickled down your throat. You swallowed gratefully. The room, still dark, brightened again as Poe flicked on another night-light.

Your lower lip was trembling, this time with embarrassment. You could feel Poe's concerned gaze tracing your face.

"You need to go to the medbay?" His gravelly, sleep-warm voice was quiet, hand still running over your hair.

You shook your head.

"Anything broken?"

Feeling around your ribs, you winced. Bruised, nothing broken. Again, you shook your head, clutching your water.

Poe nodded, scooting to sit next to you. You sat together, slowly coming down from the cortisol spike. Your limbs still shook, heartrate erratic against your aching chest.

"You're okay in here," Poe murmured, "Thompson may be strong, but he can't break through doors." You shivered, ducking your head into his shoulder. He understood, falling quiet again

Your throat was raw, and bruises pulsed under your skin. Eye contact was impossible, the embarrassment forcing your eyes down. You looked like a wreck - hair falling loose and bruises littering your body. The spot on the back of your head throbbed from the impact with the door.

Poe's fingers traced lightly, and you whimpered when they hit the sore spot. He retracted his hand quickly, apologizing rapidly.

"Hang on, hang on." His warm shoulder disappeared, and you sniffled at the loss. He returned a moment later with an ice pack, which he gently settled on the back of your head. The cold was soothing.

"I'm sorry," he said, gaze mournful. "This is kinda my fault, isn't it."

You squinted at him in the low light. "What?" Your voice was raspy.

"I made you get him in trouble, right? If I hadn't..." he gestured off towards your office, "y'know, then...well, you'd probably be on Thomspon's nice list."

You huffed a dejected laugh. "No, it's-" you cleared your throat, taking another sip of water. "it's okay." It wasn't, not really, but you didn't have the energy to be mad.

"I see why you don't play favorites," Poe said, smiling sadly. You gave him a half smile.

A soft beep came from your left and you turned. BB was tilted questioningly, large eye blinking.

"Hey, beebs," you whispered, reaching out to poke his antennae. He whirred and nudged your hand. "I'll be okay, it's just a couple bruises."

Your mind was still reeling. Poe scratched his friend's tummy then turned back to you.

"Why don't you stay here for tonight?" His eyes were genuine and concerned. You looked at him wearily. His hair was ruffled and cheeks flushed from sleep. Cute.

What?

"I won't try anything, promise," he reassured, hands raised placatingly. "I just don't want you walking around like this."

You swallowed and nodded. Poe took the water and the ice pack, setting them nearby. He hooked his arms under your shoulders and lifted you gently, stabilizing you when you swayed.

"You should really get checked out," he said, frowning."

"It's okay," you rushed, stumbling back. Poe grabbed your elbow to keep you from falling.

"It's okay to need help, you know. Nobody's gonna get mad." His eyes were gentle. Your lip trembled again, and you tried to pull away. Instead, Poe pulled you into a hug.

Your sob was muffled against his sleep shirt. He shushed you, hands tracing warm circles over your back. It's okay. It's okay. You'll be okay. Don't worry.

He really did smell good, you thought groggily. Cinnamon was comforting, and you started to sag in his arms. Poe carefully laid you on the lower bunk, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Which do you want?" He asked, pointing to the wall. Fighting to keep your eyes open, you blinked.

"Huh?"

"Which night light? I have a bantha and R2-D2."

At your blank stare, he blushed sheepishly. "I'm scared of the dark."

You snorted and pointed to the Bantha. Poe nodded, "a respectable choice," and placed the little light next to your pillow.

He sat at the foot of your bed, pulling out a tablet. You watched him, eyes growing heavy, as he pulled up a muted holovid, his hand stroking gently on your calf. Sleep came swiftly, and you drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

You woke at noon, shuffling under a thick warmth. A familiar warm smell curled around you like a blanket. Blinking blearily, a black mass of curly hair was crammed into your shoulder. Poe's head was three inches from your chin, and he was snoring like a bear. He was laying on top of the blanets, hand fisted over your chest. He reminded you of an infant, snuggled against any source of warmth.

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you petted his head and drifted back off.

join my taglist if you want, just comment or message me! it didn't mean to become so angsty lol idk what happened

xox bye bye

[netscapenavigator-official]

I FEEL you so hard. Have had my iphone XR since 2019 and it works ok (battery life is still ok and it doesn’t crash ALL the time) but i can’t wait until it’s practically a brick so i can switch to an android without guilt. The faceID kills me and I’m practically never using it (got a thin scratch in the glass above the selfie camera 2 years ago, so i have to make sure no light is randomly bouncing on the scratch when I unlock my phone, or the halo blocks everything) and it’s like having a babysitter version of a phone. I’m not allowed to use any applications not vetoed by Apple Inc. and almost all features are so much less customisable… sure, and iphone is great in some regards (5S and XR have been surprisingly good models in my experience) but for the past 3 years I’ve felt soo limited by Apple’s philosophy

Well, good news (or bad depending on how long you want to keep that phone), the iPhone XR is most likely next on Apple's chopping block of support. The iPhone 8, 8 Plus, and X were all dropped with the release of iOS 17, last September. If Apple keeps on their linear path, this September, with the release of iOS 18, the iPhone XR, XS, and XS Max will all be dropped. Apple usually gives phones two years of security patches after they're dropped, however, so it depends on what you consider a "brick." I, unfortunately, have an iPhone 12-series phone, so I've got at least two more years of updates left, four if I wanna push my goal to the security update deadline.

Also, for the Face ID issue, idk if you've tried this, but try doing a rescan. Go to Settings > Face ID & Passcode, and click "Set Up an Alternate Appearance." I don't know if all iPhones have this. I think they may have added it for the iPhone 12-series and newer, but if you have it, give it a try and see if it helps smooth over Face ID. By teaching it what you look like with the scratch interfering, it may be able to better compensate for it. If you're phone doesn't have that, you could always try tapping "Reset Face ID," too, to force it to re-scan. Although, with damaged glass, I don't know if it'll let you.

The App Store is another point of contention for me, too. I have a 2011 MacBook Pro that's been "obsolete" since 2017, when macOS High Sierra stopped getting updates. I wiped the drive clean and put Linux (Zorin OS) on it, and it's actually been really great. It runs like it's native. The problem, though, is that using Linux has opened my eyes to just how few free & open-source apps support iOS because of Apple's bullshit App Store requirements and $99/year developer fee. A lot of the apps I use on this computer are great, and they support Android, but they don't support iOS. It's a real bummer, and I'm just tired, in general, of not being able to do the things I want with my phone, so unless Apple decides to get really cool, really fast, this will certainly be my last iPhone. (Especially with iOS 18 coming with RCS Message support, almost entirely eliminating the difference between iMessage and Android to iPhone messaging.)

And I'm not trying to shit on Apple too much because Google is worse in plenty of ways. I have plenty of Apple devices from an iPhone, to an M1 iMac, to an Apple TV, etc. Apple makes really good hardware (with the exception of its repairability). Their problem is that they hold themselves back with their own greed. We've seen it with plenty of devices. The Apple Vision Pro is a great example. Apple thought they could use their brand image to make the device successful, but they recently had to cut production in half because demand fell off so steeply. If VisionOS was open and easy to develop for, then I'm sure it could've been a success, but Apple's desire to control everything has gotten in its way. I mean, who wants to develop for a $3,500 headset where you have to pay $99/year for a developer account, and then $400 for an Apple Vision Proprietary Port to USB-C adapter?

The Mac is honestly in the same boat. I saw a YouTube Short of a developer explaining why they dropped Mac Support, and it makes sense. To make an app on each platform you have to:

Windows

Have a PC

Code the app in any application of your preference.

Compile for Windows

Linux

Have the same PC

Code the app in any application of your preference.

Start a Virtual Machine and open the project inside it.

Compile for Linux

macOS

Buy Mac hardware ($600 for the base model Mac mini)

Pay Apple $99/year for a developer account

Code the app in Apple's Xcode

Acquire and add a Code Signature to the app so that macOS doesn't throw a fake error when attempting to open it.

Compile for macOS

If you want to upload your app to the Mac App Store, get Apple's blessing that it follows their guidelines.

Wait at least 24-hours before updates are published so Apple can approve them.

Give Apple a 15-30% cut of any money made from the App.

I used to thing that macOS had shit app support because developers just didn't want to support a niche market, but now I know it's the opposite that is true. Even if Linux has an even smaller market, it's as easy as clicking another button or booting up a free Virtual Machine and then clicking said button. You can use all the same hardware and programs. It's literally free to compile for Linux, and it expands your user base.

Meanwhile, for macOS, you have to spend a minimum of $700 just to make the app. Then, if you're not an A-List developer, you have to give a portion of your proceeds to Apple so you can put your app on their App Store for the exposure. Who the fuck would wanna do that?

Apple's death grip on their products worked for the iPhone and Apple Watch because they were both relatively new products to their respective category, but in a market where technology is starting to plateau, I'm simply no longer interested in supporting this behavior, mostly because I want to be able to use my favorite FOSS on all my devices, not just the non-Apple ones.

[yunatheintrovert]

shot through the heart (and you’re to blame) | Chapter 2 [Russell Adler/Female Bell!Reader Soulmate AU]

I hear the drums echoing tonight 

But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation She's coming in, 12:30 flight-

“Change of plans?” you guessed, pulling your headset down to rest at your neck. You could still faintly hear the familiar sound of Toto’s Africa coming from your Walkman’s headset.  It took something for you to set down your Walkman. 

And upon seeing the expression on Lazar’s face, you knew it was one of those times.

After all, it was either that or someone had just broke the news to him that hamburgers were not on the menu in the outpost. Either one was important. 

Hamburgers were not breakfast food. But at this point, you’d take whatever the hell you could get. 

“Sandstorm forecasted to move in before the scheduled exfil.” Lazar explained as he leaned against the wall next to you, “Time frame’s been moved closer.”

“How soon?” you asked, already bracing yourself for whatever the hell Hudson and Adler had decided on. 

"Zero six hundred hours."

“No shit?” you sighed. The one lesson you learned in Cuba was that the devil was in the details. There had been a rush to get there. Limited intel, high risk. It was a mess from the start. 

You did not want another Cuba. 

“And that’s not even the start of it,” Lazar said agitatedly, “We’re not just parachuting in, we’re doing a damn HALO jump.” 

“Well,” you said with a sigh, “I’ll try to convince the cook to make hamburgers for the two of us while you’re gone.” Lazar had past HALO experience. Although, he never did quite like parachuting after Cuba. 

“Nice joke, Bell. We’re all going.”

“...I’m cleared for this mission?” That surprised you for more than one reason. Aside from being an agent the CIA had barely spared, you were also not cleared for a goddamned HALO jump. 

No formal training.

...Well, there was Vietnam, specifically those “memories”. You could easily recall the vivid memory of falling through the heavy fog over Laos during one of the MACV-SOG operations you were in on with Adler. 

But that didn’t count for a goddamn thing. 

This didn’t make any sense whatsoever. 

That’s all you could think about as you stood from your seat quickly and secured your Walkman at your waist as you pulled your headset back to rest at your ears. 

“Good luck with Doc, Bell,” Lazar said, already knowing what you had in mind. 

You said a quick thanks to him before making your way through the halls of the command wing of the outpost. 

After all, you sure as hell were going to need it. 

I bless the rains down in Africa Gonna take some time to do the things we never had (ooh, ooh)

It hadn’t taken much time to find the man in question. After all, outpost Libreville was a modestly-sized outpost located near the borders of Angola in Gabon. The airstrip built and improved over time made it ideal for special forces operations and those of the clandestine nature. 

You had found him in the once empty corner office that belonged to an officer on leave. The small space of the corner office allowed smoke to curl and cloud around the room. Despite that, you easily noticed the schematics of the satellite and reports on the predictions of the timing of the satellite's crash scattered on the desk.

“Need something, Bell?”

“Sir,” you said tensely before bracing yourself and adding, “The HALO jump...I’m not cleared for it.” 

“I cleared you for it. We’re CIA, not military,” Adler said before adding, “You’re having second doubts.” 

“I’ve never done a HALO jump in my life, sir,” you explained, “My...memories of Vietnam didn’t count for anything.” 

“Now, that’s just bullshit.” 

“What are you talking about-”

“The feedback you gave on that HALO operation over Laos. No untrained person would have been able to replicate that kind of detail,” Adler took a drag of his cigarette before adding, “The scripts, Bell. I gave you the outline, you filled in the details.” 

“With all due respect, sir,”  you said tensely with a bit too much emphasis on the honorific to really be respectful, “That doesn’t mean a single damn thing when I don’t remember any of that.” 

“Bell,” you felt yourself stiffen under his gaze. He was always wearing those sunglasses and you could never tell his emotions or who he was even looking at times, “I pulled a hell of a lot of strings to get you back here. I trust you won’t disappoint me and the team.” 

You fought to stifle your shock. 

Russell “it was never personal” Adler, the very man who put a round in your chest point-blank, was the one to request your reassignment to the team?

And of course there was that damnable feeling that lingered in your chest. 

Everything about you was linked back to this team. It was your anchor in this new life of yours. And it felt...good to be back…

And as much as you wanted to deny it because really it was just such a damnable foolish feeling-

“I...I won’t let you down, sir.” 

-you couldn’t help but feel relieved that Adler wanted you back.

And really wasn’t that just pathetic? 

You felt the stinging sensation in your palm as nails pressed into your gloved palms. The sudden tightness in your chest made for a sudden urge to just get out of that small corner office. 

It was the smoke, you told yourself. It lingered heavily in the cramped space. Of course, it would cause your chest to tighten. 

Despite the sudden, desperate urge to just leave, you remained rooted to the spot at the front of Adler’s desk. 

“If the main chute fails to deploy and affects the reserve chute, how am I supposed to react in time?”

“Do whatever it takes to get it open,” Adler simply answered before adding, “If that doesn’t work...well I would say aim for the bushes. But we’re going to be in the fucking desert. Aim for a sand dune and pray it’s quick.” 

“Good advice,” was all you could quietly say. 

...sometimes it still felt as if he wanted you to die. 

“Anything else, kid?”

You took a breath. If you were going to die...well-

“About my Walkman…” 

You were going to go out the way you wanted. 

Lazar must have known your little conversation with Adler in his corner office wouldn’t take that long as he was standing in the nearby corridor with a rather grave look. 

“Come on,” he had simply said, “I need backup in the cafeteria. Apparently it’s Chili Tuesday…” 

Food was the last thing on your mind. 

So honestly you hadn’t paid much attention to that little bit of information. 

Although, you had bothered to switch out your mixtape which had long since stopped playing with the only other cassette you had on your person. You vaguely trading with one of the soldiers on the military transport you flew in on to get a new cassette tape. You could only bring a limited amount of items with you and you didn't want to risk breaking any of your priority cassette tapes. And you needed a song that you hadn't listened to before...even if it wasn't what you normally lent towards. 

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and filet gumbo 'Cause tonight i'm gonna meet ma cher amio PIck guitar, fill fruit jar and be gayo-

Of course, it just happened to be about food. 

Trying to stop yourself from muttering about how your Walkman had to be cursed, you had just nodded and followed him down the corridors to the cafeteria. It was a fairly-sized open space with the usual setup. 

Although, strangely there weren’t many soldiers there. It was almost time for meal service. 

“Still on for the mission?” Lazar asked as the two of you sat yourselves down on the same table Sims had situated himself at. 

“Yeah," you admitted before adding, "I swear he’s trying to kill me.” Although, you didn't really want to think about that. It was out of your control at this point.

“Well, you are Adler’s protégé,” Sims casually commented, looking up from his plate of...food?  “I heard lions throw their cubs off cliffs to make them strong or shit like that. Maybe Adler’s doing the same to you.” 

“I’m not his-” you cut yourself off. There was something more important you noticed, “Wait how did you get that?” 

It was baked beans. Perfectly normal and cooked beans. 

Nothing remarkable but it was normal, the standard canned kind. 

“Heard about Chili Tuesday, specifically this one. Apparently, they’re serving 20-year old rations to us due to a supply shortage. They’re quite stingy-” 

“How did you get it, Sims?” Lazar interjected. 

“I have my ways of procurement.” And as you heard the exchange prices Sims listed, your jaw dropped. 

You already had to pay for all those mixtapes and cassettes you bought on a weekly basis. You weren’t going to spend that much on some cans of beans at an outpost in the middle of nowhere. 

Yet as you saw the churning red mass somehow called chili put on the cafeteria pans, you felt your stomach roll. 

The idea of eating that before a HALO jump in the next few hours-

“Where are you going?” Sims asked as you stood from your seat abruptly. 

“I have a mixtape to make.” you said, hurriedly excusing yourself. You’d rather have hunger pains than eat that before jumping off a C-13 Hercules at 30,000 ft in the air. 

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and filet gumbo-

Nope, you thought fervently as you pressed pause on your Walkman. You did not want to be thinking about food right now. 

Although, truly what you told Sims wasn’t quite a lie. 

If you were going to go HALO jumping with no conscious experiences whatsoever, you were going to at least die trying with your Walkman. 

All you had to now was make a whole new mixtape in the three hours you had remaining. 

[orion-paxs-sex-toy]

I posted 781 times in 2021

285 posts created (36%)

496 posts reblogged (64%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.7 posts.

I added 421 tags in 2021

#miroxons bullshit - 299 posts

#optimus prime - 21 posts

#transformers - 20 posts

#roadtrip - 18 posts

#doctor who - 12 posts

#chicago - 12 posts

#john 117 - 10 posts

#halo mcc - 10 posts

#doom eternal - 10 posts

#payday 2 - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 105 characters

#i had been running on nothing but soda candy icecream and spite so i was ready to fight god or die trying

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Y'all I found this TikTok by TikTok user ultracinematic. AND MY FUCKING HEART CANT TAKE THIS I THOUGHT I EMOTIONALLY RECOVERED FROM THE LAST EPISODE OF THE MANDALORIAN SEASON 2 BUT I WAS FUCKIN WRONG😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

29 notes • Posted 2021-09-25 01:07:46 GMT

#4

I wanna punch myself in the face, this just popped up in my brain after reading something and I-

So in this AU that just popped in my head sometime after the events of Halo 4 the Sanghelil betray the UNSC and go back to working with the Covenant and during a battle between some covenant (including the Arbiter) and Blue team with fireteam Osiris the Arbiter yells for retreat as he realizes they are losing so as the remaining covenant retreats:

Buck, yelling: Hey Arbitard, you guys won't win against us if you end up always retreating.

The Arbiter, yelling back as he leaves: I FUCKED YOUR CHIEF, ASSFACE!

Buck: *slowly turns to Chief*

Buck: he didn't mean that, right Chief?

John:....

Vale: naw...

Buck: he's lying, right Chief?

John:.......

Kelly: Jesus fucking christ John

39 notes • Posted 2021-04-26 01:20:56 GMT

#3

Payday 2 police, dozers, snipers, clokers and swat: *set up a perfect perimeter around the bank so the robbers can't escape*

Some shitter in a doge mask at the front entrance: *destroys everything with a fucking rocket launcher*

41 notes • Posted 2021-06-24 14:32:54 GMT

#2

Am I doing my homework that's overdue?

No.

Am I drowning myself in content of ALL my favorite ships such as: dinluke, Radiodust, Pentniss, doomvega and many more?

FUCKING YES!!!!

70 notes • Posted 2021-02-01 03:42:37 GMT

#1

Spider-Man: wade, for the hundredth time, I don't kill people!

Wade: narrator voice; about two hours after Spidy said he doesn't kill people he proceeded to yeet a motherfucker off a building.

157 notes • Posted 2021-01-17 04:26:02 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[yamisnuffles]

Blitzed

On the night a church is bombed and books are saved, Aziraphale gives in to what he wants. Crowley can't understand it but is more than willing to follow wherever the angel will lead him.

Rated E. Read on Ao3

Based on my art.

- - - - - -

Crowley was deeply familiar with pain. Every demon was baptized in that sulfur pit, their former grace a smouldering ruin. There were myriad other examples each and every one of the Fallen could list, bother utterly merciless and utterly mundane. Crowley had gotten used to most of it. He was up on Earth and free as he could hope to be, barring some unforeseen miracle. Could maybe be a little better off but that would require him to be without his own very unique brand of suffering. A near century long nap had taken some of the edge off hard denial. Off fraternizing .

The problem was, as familiar as he might be with pain, he wasn’t the best at handling it. That was why he’d added a fresh layer in the form of charred feet. It was why he was talking too much. He tended to do that, he knew. Unfortunately, knowledge of a problem didn’t magically cure it. If it did, his life would be much easier and he wouldn’t be rattling on about decades he knew nothing about firsthand because he’d been asleep and Aziraphale couldn’t know he’d been asleep. If the angel noticed he was bullshitting, he didn’t let on. Didn’t really let on to anything. He’d been about silent since Crowley handed over the books and currently looked a bit like he might be sick as he clung to those same books.

Were the books a mistake? Probably a mistake. A step too far. He was always overstepping and ending up with his foot in his mouth. Or his… everything in that pit of boiling sulfur. And so he talked to stop from thinking, even if Aziraphale wasn’t listening. Especially if Aziraphale wasn’t listening.

He very nearly sent up a prayer when they reached the bookshop at last. Instead he said, “Here we are.”

Aziraphale still didn’t say a word. Crowley dared a proper, straight on look rather than the surreptitious side-eye he’d been giving. Just above a powder blue shirt collar was a pulse that looked to be going faster than the Bentley had a moment before. Neat fingers gripped the handle of the case of books like Aziraphale was afraid he’d fall right off the face of the planet if he let go.  Wide, mirror eyes reflected what little light there was in that bomb filled night and then were hidden behind fluttering lashes. Then, with no warning or obvious cause, Aziraphale stilled completely. Closed eyes. Not a single breath.

When he finally moved again it was to just about throw himself bodily from the car. Crowley made a more measured exit. His eyes were glued on Aziraphale’s every hurried step and a good thing, because the angel nearly fell on his face tripping over the curb. Wouldn’t have been nearly at all if Crowley hadn’t caught him.

Worry overcame his usual restraint and he held firm to Aziraphale’s shoulders. He dipped his head so that he could look Aziraphale in the eyes. “Are you alright?” One thunderous beat of his heart and Crowley pushed further. “I can stay. If you need me to. Want me.”

Aziraphale started doing that rapid blinking thing. Something too complicated passed over his face and was replaced by surety before Crowley had a chance of understanding it.

“Yes. Yes, I think you should stay.”

Crowley’s heart drummed again. When Aziraphale turned, smiled, Crowley forgot all about the need to breathe, the pain in his feet, anything that wasn’t a smile so bright it felt deadly in the middle of a blitz. This close he could smell hints of the near century between them. There was a new cologne and old books, life during a war and peace in the back of a musty old shop. Crowley wondered if he still fit in somewhere amongst all that. He was frozen in that moment, pondering, until he realized the thing grounding him there was the solid weight of Aziraphale against his palms. He quickly removed his hands and shoved them deep into his pockets.

“After you,” he said with a nod toward the door.

“Right, of course. Silly me. I should unlock that, shouldn’t I?”

Aziraphale finally broke eye contact and Crowley felt like he could finally breathe again. He shuffled a careful distance behind. He slipped inside as smoothly as he could given the pain of each step. The moment he was able, he leaned against a wall and tried to arrange himself in a way that surreptitiously took pressure off his feet.

Aziraphale locked the doors and, just like that, the world outside ceased to exist beyond the blacked out windows. Lights in the back of the shop sprang to life with a snap. Apparently no miracle was frivolous in a time like this. Or maybe Aziraphale had stopped caring so very much. Crowley wished he’d been around to find out which.

“Would you care for some wine?” Aziraphale asked, already winding back through the shelves. “I for one could use a good drink after tonight. I have a lovely Cheval Blanc that I’ve been saving.”

“Don’t open it on my account. Can’t imagine it will be easy to get a replacement anytime soon.”

Aziraphale clicked his tongue. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t seen you in nearly a century. I think this is as good an occasion as I’ll get. Besides, I don’t know about you, but I could use an excuse. I’ve had few enough recently.”

“Well then,” Crowley said, “don’t let me stop you. Demon. Meant to inspire you to indulgence.”

Aziraphale bit the inside of his cheek and gave a smile that strained to be bigger regardless of his best efforts against it. “It’s settled then.”

He puttered off, deeper into the shop, and Crowley was pulled inexorably after. It felt like walking through a dream to be back in the shop with Aziraphale happily chattering away about everything that he’d been up to in the last seventy odd years. How many times had Crowley had that very dream? And yet not a one of them matched up to the reality. He never could have guessed how it would feel to step back into a life so changed. Yes, the world at large was different and he was glad to have woken up with time to figure it all out. The thing, though, that got him was how his memory matched up to the current reality of the shop.

There were new books. New furniture. But it was all only new to him. There was love written into well handled texts. Chair cushions showed where Aziraphale had sat countless times over years, if not decades. It was all thoroughly lived in and every minute of that life devoid of Crowley, all because of a stupid argument and an even stupider decision to sleep his despair off, as though it was something to be quickly gotten rid of.

Aziraphale hadn’t settled into any of his well loved furniture nor had he retrieved the bottle of wine. Instead he was floating about, putting his books of prophecy down one place only to immediately pick them back up and put them somewhere else. Crowley flopped down into the corner of a leather sofa and watched as the angel flitted to and fro.

“Are you hot?” Aziraphale asked. “It seems rather a bit too hot in here.”

Putting words to action, he immediately stripped off his coat and tossed it on the couch next to Crowley. His hat followed soon after. Crowley tried not to think too much about that golden banded halo, so thoughtlessly discarded. Instead he let his eyes flick over to the coat rack and then back to the angel who was currently toeing off his shoes. At this rate, he’d be down to nothing in a minute or two. Crowley swallowed over his increasingly dry mouth.

“Are you sure you’re alright, angel?”

Aziraphale stopped, fingers on the buttons to his waistcoat. “Yes. Absolutely fine. Finer than a frog's hair split five ways.”

“Finer than…? Do frogs have hair?” Crowley shook his head. He took off his hat and placed it delicately next to Aziraphale’s and then pushed out of his seat. His feet screamed at being used again but he grit his teeth and ignored them. He put a hand on Aziraphale’s wrist. “Just stop for a second, would you?”

And he did. When he looked at Crowley, the blue of his eyes had gone grey under a furrowed brow. He stilled completely for a moment and then reached up to take the sunglasses from Crowley’s face. He folded them, gently opened Crowley’s coat, and placed them in a pocket there. His hands lingered on the lining and moved up to the lapels where they stayed.

Crowley’s feet could have caught on fire in that moment and it wouldn’t have been enough to get him to move. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. When he saw Aziraphale track that movement, his breath was aborted in his throat and he was fairly certain he blacked out for a moment. When his brain started again, words tumbled out too fast to stop.

“Are you- What is- You seem like… Was it the thing about the frogs? I know frogs have- don’t have- hair. You know what, maybe I should just leave. Survived one bomb tonight and so I’m feeling pretty good about my chances out there.”

“Crowley?”

“Yes?”

“Please shut up for a moment, would you?”

“Yep. Shutting up. Now.”

The moment Crowley shut his lips he found them covered by Aziraphale’s. The first thing he thought was that he couldn’t believe he had Aziraphale’s lips on his own. The second was that there was a word for that and that word was kiss. He was kissing Aziraphale. Or, at least, Aziraphale was kissing him. Finally came the thought that he really ought to be kissing Aziraphale back. Like many of his best thoughts, it came too late.

Aziraphale released Crowley’s lapels and broke away. “I’m sorry, Crowley. I shouldn’t have presumed. It’s only that, with my books…”

Crowley let one of his incisors dig deep enough into his lip to draw blood. “Was that all that was? Some way to thank me for the sodding books?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “No. Of course not. I only realized, well I’ve felt it for so long that I’d almost stopped noticing, but tonight confirmed it.” Those lips that had so recently been pressed together in a kiss, curled up into a beatific smile. “You lo-”

Crowley swallowed the rest of the word with a kiss. He couldn’t hear those three words, not said for him and certainly not if Aziraphale wasn’t going to say them back. For an excruciating moment, he thought Aziraphale wasn’t going to kiss him back now that he’d had time to think better of it. That moment fell away when the angel sank into it with a small, sweet whine. Crowley tried to focus on that, on the noises he could draw out and the taste of ethereal lips, instead of anything that might have been said or wouldn’t ever be said.

With his wits about him this time, he was able to appreciate just how blessedly soft everything about Aziraphale was. His lips were pliant. His stomach and thighs filled in every bony gap Crowley had. Then there was the worn velvet of his waistcoat under one hand and a cloud of curls under the other and Crowley gripped both as tight as he dared. Some foggy corner of his brain wondered if he pressed himself close enough if he could lose himself entirely in Aziraphale. Only way to find out, he supposed, was to try.

He pressed his tongue to the seam of Aziraphale’s lips and was granted entry with a soft moan that grew louder as he roved ever deeper. He was suddenly glad they’d skipped the wine because now all he could taste was Aziraphale and it was the only thing he wanted to taste for the rest of his innumerable days. He pressed tongue to tongue and licked along even teeth. He was too intoxicated by it all to realize that his own heady, hungry sounds were being added to the chorus.

Crowley could never have imagined he’d want more but there was so much more of Aziraphale and he wanted it all. He kissed along the gentle curve of an angelic jaw. He nipped, testing, at an earlobe and licked down, over tendon, thrumming pulse, and to the small peak of his Adam’s apple. He let his tongue fork slightly over that charming colloquial, just enough to savor the irony and cause Aziraphale to let out a needy whine. Or maybe it had been Crowley himself. He was no longer particularly interested in finding that line where one of them ended and the other began.

Nor, it would appear, was Aziraphale. He all but ripped off Crowley’s jacket and cast it aside before fumbling with his tie. While Azirphale went high, Crowley went low. Aziraphale himself had already done away with his waistcoat while Crowley was occupied elsewhere, so it was a simple task to unclasp braces and flick open the button to his trousers. They fell into a pile around Aziraphale’s ankles. Crowley worried it was too much— he was too much— and yet, for all his softness elsewhere, Aziraphale was half hard already and rolling his hips in search of friction. Of Crowley.

Crowley gripped the flesh and tugged Aziraphale closer. Head to head and mouth to ear, he asked, “Tell me, what do you want, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale dug his fingers into short cropped hair and tugged so that they were looking each other in the eyes. This close there was no mistaking how much black had overtaken stormy blue. “You.”

That one word shuddered through Crowley and undid millennia of hedging and denial.

“Fuck.”

Breath ragged, he surged forward to close what scant distance remained between them. He could feel desire rolling off Aziraphale in waves and he wanted to drown in it. Instead of letting it wash over him, he lapped up every bit. It wasn’t pretty. Noses bumped and teeth clashed. It was frenetic and sweaty. It was, in a word, perfect. That should have been Crowley’s first sign that it all was gonna go to shit.

In the midst of all that twining of tongues and limbs, Aziraphale stepped onto Crowley’s foot. Not hard. Not the sort of thing he would have noticed any other time but this time, when he had a cock pressed against his stomach, this time of course he had scorched feet. He jolted and hissed in pain. He bit his tongue, hoping his pain somehow had gone unnoticed. It hadn’t. Of course it hadn’t.

Aziraphale stilled and stepped back. “Sorry. Clumsy of me to step on-” His eyes widened in horrified understanding. “Oh! Your feet! Why didn’t you say anything? How could I forget?”

“It’s fine. Just… twinged a bit when you stepped on them.”

Aziraphale paced in place, over one step and back, as though he didn’t have his cock out. Crowley was tempted to grab it and make him forget all about his stupid, bloody, inconsiderate feet.

He realized he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate it. Appreciate any of it. He’d always imagined, when he’d dared, taking things slow and relishing every article of clothing removed. Instead, he barely remembered half of it. He felt certain he would have remembered stripping away Aziraphale’s boxers and yet, there they were, in a pile on the rug with his trousers. He was caught staring at them when Aziraphale stopped fluttering about like a very fussy butterfly.

“Come here,” Aziraphale said.

The Principality didn’t wait for a reply. He put one arm behind Crowley’s knees, the other behind his shoulders, and lifted him as though he was nothing. Crowley flailed in surprise.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to take care of your feet.”

“ Now ? We were sort of in the middle of something.”

“That can wait.”

“It can-” Crowley sputtered, losing the war for words in the haze of his lust addled brain. “I think your dick, which is poking me in the back right now, by the way, would argue otherwise.”

Aziraphale ignored him and carried him across the room, back to the couch. He was gently deposited on top of some of their discarded clothing. “Stay there,” Aziraphale said.

“Stay- where are you going?”

“I need to retrieve a few things.” Aziraphale only made it a step before he came back to prop Crowley’s feet on a chair. “There. Stay right there.”

There was a small edge of divine command that Crowley was certain Aziraphale hadn’t intended but which made the skin on the back of his neck tingle. It also triggered that part of him that very much wanted to disobey every firmly given order. Had it come from anyone other than Aziraphale, he probably would have, no matter the damage to his own feet in the process. So he crossed his arms and had a good sulk. He tracked Aziraphale’s movements by the tremendous amount of noise he made, first turning his kitchenette upside down and then crashing through his flat upstairs.

Aziraphale returned with an assortment of fluffy towels over one arm and a large ceramic bowl held out before him. The bowl was placed on the ground with enough care that the water within it barely rippled. The largest of the towels was spread out next to it, and then Aziraphale lifted Crowley’s feet and moved the chair they’d been resting on aside.

Crowley watched it all unfold, strangely transfixed, until Aziraphale started to untie his shoes. “I can take those off myself, you know.”

“Nonsense. They need to be removed with care. Your socks as well.”

“Aziraphale-”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale’s voice was sharp but it softened right along with his expression. “Let me take care of you. Please.”

“Hrnngf.”

Aziraphale rightly took that as assent. Crowley could hardly watch him but he also couldn’t look away. An angel was kneeling at a demon’s feet. An angel with a flagging but still very much present erection, without a stitch on below the waist beyond a ridiculous pair of tartan socks and even more ridiculous garters to hold them up, and pale skin marked by the drag of blunt nails. And somehow that was all nothing next to the gentle curl of kiss stained lips or eyes that sparkled with something private and warm and liable to kill Crowley on the spot if he looked too deep.

Luckily there was pain to distract him, a far more familiar distraction than... whatever that had been with Aziraphale not long ago. Or was going to be before his traitor feet had interrupted. He was tempted to spend the rest of eternity as a snake just to spite them for their impudence.

“Sorry,” Aziraphale said when a hiss escaped from between Crowley’s clenched teeth.

“It’s nothing.”

No matter how easily the lie came to Crowley, the sibilance of it gave him away. Probably Aziraphale would have known anyway. He pursed his lips as he slowly rolled up the bottom hems of Crowley’s trousers.

“The shoes were the easy bit, I’m afraid.” His hands were on Crowley’s ankle, the thumbs rubbing gently over the bone. “Perhaps I should get that wine after all. To help with the pain.”

“Just get it over with, angel.”

Aziraphale nodded and peeled off the first sock. The fabric clung to Crowley’s raw sole. He clenched his teeth until he heard them creak in his jaw. Once one foot was bared, it was lowered delicately into the basin of cool water and Aziraphale was on to the next foot. Crowley sighed at the immediate relief the water brought.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Erm, thanks.”

Aziraphale fiddled with the rolled trousers, though the hems were in no danger of getting wet. “I suppose you already tried to heal them yourself?”

“Yeah. Think something about the consecrated ground. Divine retribution or some such. Can’t fix it with a demonic miracle.”

“Right. So I thought.” Crowley shivered as Aziraphale ran thoughtless fingers under the water and to the edge of wounded flesh. “Do you mind if I try?”

“Sure. What’s the worst that can happen?”

The water could, he suppose, get accidentally blessed and reduce him to a steaming pile of nothing goo. Not that he would say that. He didn’t think Aziraphale would appreciate the visual. Aziraphale must have had a similar idea because he pulled Crowley’s feet out of the water and went so far as to push the bowl aside.

Hands once more gingerly cradling Crowley’s ankles, Aziraphale closed his eyes. The miracle probed gently, slower and more tentative than Aziraphale usually worked. His miracles always left a taste something like honey and paprika on Crowley’s tongue, sweet with enough of a kick to make things interesting.

“There now, that’s better.”

Aziraphale kept his hold on Crowley’s legs but lifted one so that Crowley could get a better look. The soles were the bright, slightly dewy pink of new skin.

“They’ll still be tender for awhile, I’m afraid, but your trespass has been forgiven,” Aziraphale said with a chuckle to punctuate.

Even knowing it was meant in jest, there was a squirming in Crowley’s chest that he didn’t care to examine. He wriggled in his seat but that movement only served to tighten Aziraphale’s grip on him.

Crowley frowned. “Gonna keep me here forever?”

“I don’t think,” Aziraphale said slowly, rubbing circles over protruding ankle bones and working his way up to Crowley’s calves, “that I’m quite done taking care of you. If that’s alright with you, that is.”

“Hrnf. It’s whatever.”

Aziraphale shifted his grip so that he had more freedom to move. If Crowley cursed moving too fast to savor things earlier, he’d changed his tune. Aziraphale was looking at him like a buffet and Crowley felt a mix of awe and terror at being on the menu. He held his hands aloft, not sure where to settle them. Yes, Aziraphale had his nose pressed somewhere just east of his cock but he couldn’t put his hands on him. So he started with his fingers digging into his own scalp and stiffly moved to drape arms over the back of the couch in a show of false bravado.

He wanted to protest. No, he didn’t want to do any such thing but he felt like he should protest. Should at least want to protest. There was Aziraphale, bent in reverent supplication and handling him like the most cherished thing in the world. No matter what he did, he made sure to hold Crowley’s legs in a comfortable position, his feet never so much as whispering over the carpet below. He kissed over the exposed edge of sharp hips, up along lean sides, and then down. Every press of his lips was a benediction that only burned for the rush of blood that followed.

With his hands occupied, Aziraphale was forced to use his mouth to do everything. When meandering progress brought him back to Crowley’s now rather tight trousers, Crowley moved a hand to intercede.

“If you’re going to be so precious about my feet, at least let me get that,” he said, waving at his fly.

“Don’t you trust that I have everything well in hand?” Aziraphale asked. “Or, I suppose I should say, in mouth.”

And then, as though it was just the kind of thing he did all the time, Aziraphale used his teeth to undo the straining button and caught the zipper pull between his teeth. He slowly dragged it down, all the while maintaining eye contact with Crowley.  That was the nail in Crowley’s proverbial coffin. He let out a fully undignified keen, the pitiful pitch of which he couldn’t be fucked to care about.

Once freed, his cock sprang out with a sort of eagerness that might have been mortifying if he had a spare thought beyond the heat of Aziraphale’s breath and his intense gaze. Why was Aziraphale staring? Was there something wrong with his cock? Was it all the garishly red hair around it?

“Look, you don’t have to-”

Aziraphale’s tongue hit the base and moved slowly up. Crowley’s eyes slammed shut involuntarily as his head flew backward. He forced them open and forced his head back up. He wanted to paint that image onto his retinas. He didn’t ever want to see anything else. He’d seen that mouth around food, around forks, around fingers even. Now-

“Fuck,” Crowley panted.

Aziraphale let out a pleased hum that turned Crowley’s insides molten. His whole world reduced to the feeling of that mouth on him. That tongue. Those lips. In even his wildest imaginings he had never thought to see this, to have Aziraphale between his legs sucking him off. And he was entirely at the angel’s mercy. His hips ached to move, to get more , closer , but the angle of his legs didn’t allow it. He needed something, though, and so he finally relented and put his hands on Aziraphale. His fingers dug into the meat of Aziraphale’s shoulder and tangled in his curls. It had to hurt but Aziraphale only moaned and smiled around Crowley’s cock.

Crowley couldn’t understand any of this. He couldn’t fathom Aziraphale actually wanting this, enjoying this . How long had Aziraphale wanted this and why had he finally acted tonight of all nights? Was Crowley going to have to don his best suit and burn his feet every night from here to the end of the world? Because God knew he would. Oh, what he wouldn’t have given to be in Her head at that moment, to know what She thought about the Guardian of the Eastern Gate sucking down the Serpent of Eden’s cock like it was the Cheval Blanc that was still collecting dust somewhere.

That thought made his muscles spasm. Contract. “Aziraphale, I-” I love you. Have for the past six thousand years and maybe you’ve finally found me out. Maybe that’s all this is. Pity. And maybe it’s just tonight. But even if it is, I’ll love you still. Always. Always. Always. “I’m close.”

Aziraphale moaned and took him deeper.

“Fuck. Aziraphale. Fuck. I-”

His jaw snapped shut with a clack, his back arched, and his eyes closed against the explosion of color behind them. A supernova, he thought somewhat deliriously. He’d had his hand in a few, back when he’d been good for creating things. Now, Aziraphale had as well. Or a mouth, rather. Maybe Crowley would suggest he name it. The humans only ever gave them a series of numbers and letters.

Crowley melted into the couch, panting. He opened his eyes just in time to see Aziraphale licking his lips as he stood.

“Jesus Christ.”

Aziraphale only smiled as he took Crowley’s legs up with him and swung them around so that his feet could be propped up on the arm of the couch. Crowley was too insensible to protest. What he did protest was Aziraphale stepping away. Crowley quickly sat up and caught the fleeing Principality by the wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I was going to fetch our clothes and then perhaps finally break open that bottle of wine.”

“Aziraphale.”

Crowley looked pointedly at Aziraphale’s flushed and leaking cock. Aziraphale’s cheeks turned a similar color before he turned his head away.

“Tonight was about you. I wanted to show you how much I… how thankful I am.”

Crowley’s heart twisted, a flaming sword to the chest. “Yeah, well, I’m feeling really fucking thankful now, so come here.”

He didn’t give Aziraphale time to make excuses. He used his grip on the angel’s wrist to pull him down on top of him. Aziraphale yelped in surprise but did nothing to fight against it as Crowley adjusted them both so that Aziraphale was between his legs. Crowley rested his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

One by one he undid the buttons of Aziraphale’s shirt. Every stretch of skin unveiled was a thrill. He ran a thumb over the pert, pink flesh of one of the nipples. He swept his knuckles through the near white cloud of chest hair and followed its trail down, over a soft stomach, to the place where it darkened to blond in the juncture between thighs. He let the pads of his fingers sink into plush flesh, not yet moving to his intended target.

“Why did humans ever invent clothes?”

He hadn’t expected an answer because he hadn’t entirely meant to say that aloud. Aziraphale gave one anyway. “I believe it had something to do with a tree. And an apple. And a snake.”

“Right. Well, time to do my penance for that, I suppose.”

He took Aziraphale’s length in hand. Aziraphale drew in a sharp breath and pressed back into Crowley. A guttural sound escaped Crowley’s mouth before he buried half his face in the thick muscle of Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Crowley had some hands-on experience. As in, his own hand on himself. He knew what he should do, in theory, but the reality of having Aziraphale in his grip, both hard and velvety soft all at once, was a different thing altogether. What did Aziraphale like? Did he enjoy the same pressure? The same speed? Crowley prided himself in being a quick study of things Aziraphale enjoyed and he was damned sure he was going to get it right. He was willing to spend all the time in the world to find out. He carefully catalogued every reaction, each wiggle, moan, and gasp until he had Aziraphale panting in his lap.

“ Oh .”

He sounded so surprised to find himself cared for. It spurred Crowley onward. He slowed the pace just enough to get Aziraphale thrusting up into his fist in search of more. And Crowley would give him more, give him whatever he wanted. That Aziraphale wanted him only served to make Crowley’s head swim.

He was going to lose his mind. He grabbed onto Aziraphale’s chest with his free hand. There was fat there, that wondrous softness that he adored, but also muscle. Strength. He remembered how easily Aziraphale had hefted him up earlier. So damn strong and so damn much. He’d let himself be pulled down and he was letting Crowley control things now.  Everything felt suddenly hot and hazy.

“What do you want?” Crowley asked, desperate for a focus.

Aziraphale put his hand around Crowley’s and guided him. “Like that,” he gasped. “Just like that.”

Crowley followed his lead to the letter. Aziraphale bucked upward and it was all Crowley could do to try to hold him close. He could feel all those glorious muscles tense on top of him. Crowley’s own hips stuttered in rhythm with Aziraphale’s movements.

“Crowley.”

A demonic name sent up like a prayer. Aziraphale said it like he’d never had anything more blessed on his tongue. Crowley blinked away the moisture that had gathered in his eyes. He buried his face deeper into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

Aziraphale’s entire body shuddered and in another moment, Crowley’s hand was painted with the wet heat of him. Crowley rode the crest of that wave with Aziraphale and did his best to guide him down again. He felt entirely boneless by the time it was all over. It was all he could do to snap away any mess so that Aziraphale wouldn’t fret after it and would, perhaps, lay with him a moment longer.

Aziraphale shifted but didn’t get up. Instead he pulled an exceedingly rumpled suit jacket from underneath him. “Oh dear.”

“Don’t worry about it, angel.”

“But you looked so dashing in your suit.”

A small squeak escaped Crowley’s mouth and he cleared his throat. “Eh. If it makes you feel any better, think I’m sitting on your waistcoat.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Aziraphale scrambled up to his feet. Crowley might have been offended by being cast aside in favor of a piece of clothing, but he was too distracted by the fact that Aziraphale had lifted him up to retrieve said clothing.

Aziraphale put Crowley back down and then held out his waistcoat to examine it. “I’ve had this for nearly a century and now look at the state of it,” he said.

“It’ll be fine, angel. Just get it laundered.”

Aziraphale looked at him with his bottom lip wobbling and Crowley sighed. He gathered up what energy he had left and snapped his fingers again. Aziraphale was dressed tip to toe once more in regular immaculate fashion. He was about to do the same for himself when Aziraphale caught his hand.

“Let me clean them for you,” he offered as he gathered up the discarded clothing. “You really shouldn’t be back on your feet just yet and I can take care of them while you rest.”

“Rest,” Crowley repeated. He blinked. “Wait, you mean here?”

“Well, not there, precisely. I have a small flat upstairs that you can use. I assume the bed would be more comfortable than the couch but I haven’t used it, myself, so I can’t speak definitively.”

“Right. Here. Sleep. Uh…”

He felt like he should say something. There were a lot of unsaid somethings hanging in the air between them still but he was worried if he mentioned any of them, whatever little bubble they were currently in would burst. It couldn’t be too bad to shove that all under the rug for one night, could it? He’d lived through a lot of pain and would gladly live through more if it meant just this one night in Aziraphale’s good graces. Even if it made a space inside him ache so keenly he thought he might split in two.

“Yeah, sure. Why not? Lead the way.”

Aziraphale stooped and gathered Crowley up into his arms once more. “Your feet, remember?”

Crowley’s brain rang with the high pitched squeal of a tea kettle. Once he was sure it wouldn’t escape his mouth when he opened it, he said, “Right, just go ahead and manhandle me. When have I ever gotten in the way of what you wanted to do?”

Aziraphale beamed at him and pressed a featherlight kiss to his temple. “Never, dearest.”

That one word had the power to fell Crowley and perhaps tomorrow it would find its place amongst his many handpicked scars. For the time being, though, he thought he could forget to hurt.

[willowser]

hi, what are some of your favorite books? :)

hi there :)

so i admittedly don't read as much as i should or wish i did, but these are the books that come to mind when answering this question:

gone girl, gillian flynn

“It’s a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless Automat of characters.”

“Give me a man with a little fight in him, a man who calls me on my bullshit. (But who also kind of likes my bullshit.) And yet: Don’t land me in one of those relationships where we’re always pecking at each other, disguising insults as jokes, rolling our eyes and ‘playfully’ scrapping in front of our friends, hoping to lure them to our side of an argument they could not care less about. Those awful if only relationships: This marriage would be great if only… and you sense the if only list is a lot longer than either of them realizes.”

“I often don't say things out loud, even when I should. I contain and compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of rage, despair, fear, but you'd never guess from looking at me.”

“You are a man. You are an average, lazy, boring, cowardly, woman-fearing man. Without me, that's what you would have kept on being, ad nauseam. But I made you into something. You were the best man you've ever been with me. And you know it. The only time in your life you've ever liked yourself was pretending to be someone I might like.”

sharp objects, gillian flynn

“Sometimes I think illness sits inside every woman, waiting for the right moment to bloom. I have known so many sick women all my life. Women with chronic pain, with ever-gestating diseases. Women with conditions. Men, sure, they have bone snaps, they have backaches, they have a surgery or two, yank out a tonsil, insert a shiny plastic hip. Women get consumed.”

“The face you give the world tells the world how to treat you.”

“A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.”

“I'm here, I said, and it felt shockingly comforting, those words. When I'm panicked, I say them aloud to myself. I'm here. I don't usually feel that I am. I feel like a warm gust of wind could exhale my way and I'd be disappeared forever, not even a sliver of fingernail left behind. On some days, I find this thought calming; on others it chills me.”

frankenstein, mary shelley

“I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.”

“There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.”

“Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he may suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet, when he has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.”

“Nothing is more painful to the human mind than, after the feelings have been worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of inaction and certainty which follows and deprives the soul both of hope and fear.”

“If I see but one smile on your lips when we meet, occasioned by this or any other exertion of mine, I shall need no other happiness.”

letters to a young poet, rainer maria rilke

“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”

“I beg you, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

“So don't be frightened, dear friend, if a sadness confronts you larger than any you have ever known, casting its shadow over all you do. You must think that something is happening within you, and remember that life has not forgotten you; it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall. Why would you want to exclude from your life any uneasiness, any pain, any depression, since you don't know what work they are accomplishing within you?”

“In the deepest hour of the night, confess to yourself that you would die if you were forbidden to write. And look deep into your heart where it spreads its roots, the answer, and ask yourself, must I write?”

the hobbit, j r. r. tolkien

“There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.”

“So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their endings.”

“May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks.”

“There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”

invisible monsters, chuck palahniuk

“Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known.”

“If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character...Would you slow down? Or speed up?”

“Don't do what you want. Do what you don't want. Do what you're trained not to want. Do the things that scare you the most.”

“You can only hold a smile for so long, after that it's just teeth.”

fight club, chuck palahniuk

“At the time, my life just seemed too complete, and maybe we have to break everything to make something better out of ourselves.”

“I’ve met God across his long walnut desk with his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him, and God asks me, “Why?” Why did I cause so much pain? Didn’t I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness? Can’t I see how we’re all manifestations of love? I look at God behind his desk, taking notes on a pad, but God’s got this all wrong. We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens. And God says, “No, that’s not right.” Yeah. Well. Whatever. You can’t teach God anything.”

“Tyler lies back and asks, "If Marilyn Monroe were alive right now, what would she be doing?" I say, goodnight. The headliner hangs down in shreds from the ceiling and Tyler says, "Clawing at the lid of her coffin.”

[whumpqin]

Perfect the Way You Are

Next official chapter installment! This one was a little more difficult to write than I thought, but I pushed through and wrote it. This one’s kind of rough, heed the warnings!

Elisha tag! @faewhump @imagination1reality0

CW: Pet whump, creepy/intimate whumper, noncon touching (non sexual), dehumanization, knifes, torture used as punishment, fantasy racism, victim blaming, mentions of abduction, mentions of broken bones, lotta icky language in here by the whumper

Word count: 2,243

The knife slid into his stomach, cool metal biting against his warm, inflamed skin. Elisha keened, swallowing thickly against the scream that threatened the escape from his lungs.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” the devil’s voice whispered above him. A constant reminder of the hell he was in. “Jeremiah was right about one thing, you do take pain well. You take everything so damn well. Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that fiery head of yours that makes you so reserved.”

“Pl-please… it, it hurts…” A hand was placed on the side of his face, smearing his own blood against him. 

“Shh, I know, pet.” Aridai pulled the blade out, finally letting him breathe without worry of further injury. That’s what they had told him to do, breathe. “It’s supposed to hurt. Now… recite your rules for me while I work on this next bit.”

This was the worst day of his life.

He hadn’t expected it to get any better, of course. They had abducted him. People who do that generally don’t have good intentions. But, for the most part, they left him alone in the dark to either starve or go crazy from the lack of human interaction and stimulus.

Today, Aridai clearly had other intentions. They had wanted a “de-stress” session, and after Elisha had affirmed his false name and his new rules they had gotten right to work cutting off of his shirt and sinking that knife into wherever they felt necessary. Even with the permission to use his voice, no amount of begging aided him against Aridai’s cruelty. Everything went unheard and there was no mercy granted.

“O-one. My, my Masters should, hnnk! Should always be ah, ad-addressed as Ma-Master..!” Elisha’s voice cut off in a shrill cry, unable to keep quiet any longer as Aridai’s knife dipped into his skin again. Terrified tears slipped from the corners of his eyes freely.

Elisha was humiliated at first when he was exposed. Embarrassed that someone else saw his thin frame besides the plants that sat next to his mirror back home. He had always been a private person, and this was just a violation of the boundaries he had put in place for a reason.

It was clear that Aridai had no boundaries. None besides the rules they set for everyone but themselves; a free spirit that rose above the masses of normal folk. 

“Good boy. You’re being so good for me,” they said, pleasantly smiling as if Elisha couldn’t see the metaphorical horns peeking from underneath their cardboard halo. “Keep going, Caleb.”

Two, hnk!” He squeezed his eyes shut as a long draw of the knife cut across his chest, continuing the pattern that only Aridai could see the product of. Like he was some carving of theirs. “Nev-never, hh, question your, nn, m-my Masters.”

Aridai had been angry with him. Elisha’s fear was so intense that he couldn’t stop himself when he tried to squirm out of their grasp, thrashing his tail around in unspoken anxiety. It was hard not to be afraid of someone approaching you with a knife, especially when your hands were tied behind your back and you were chained to a wall.

They had dragged him to the ground and straddled him, effectively preventing him from being able to pull away anymore. Then, Elisha had to face their ire, and he quickly learned that the only thing worse than Aridai was their vicious temper.

“Th-three. Do wha-what I’m, hnn, told, regard… regardless of the- ah, consequences..!” He gazed up to Aridai, pleading, and they only watched him with satisfaction.

“Good. That’s one you’re still working on, isn’t it?” They asked, a light tilt to their head. “Do you feel bad for being mean to me?”

“Ye-yes..! Yes, I do, please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I won’t pull away again, I won’t, I won’t..!” Bloodied hands found their way to his face again, this time with a thumb resting over his lips.

“No, you won’t, will you? You’ll learn to know better than to pull away from your Master. And you can stop that mumbling, now.” The thumb rubbed across his lips, gently, inviting for all the wrong reasons.

There was nothing that would provoke a Cambion’s instincts better than to wave a hand in front of their face. It was like asking them to bite you, an instinct whose origin was long forgotten to the old days. It was a lesson that Elisha remembered learning from his mother when he was young and naive and definitely not prepared for a world like this.

Everyone, who was smart, knew this. But most humans who knew well to avoid such things often spread rumors about the dangers of a Cambion’s bite. Elisha knew all it did was break the skin and draw blood, but everyone feared that their devilish nature would seep into them like a venom, tainting their bloodline and cursing their children. Like they were a wild animal.

What Aridai was doing was dangerous, but it was also a challenge. They were daring Elisha to bite, to go against his Master. They were waiting for another slip up.

Instead, Elisha shivered from the cold, wounds weeping blood as he stared up at them like an injured puppy. He merely swallowed, the only giveaway that he was thinking of anything at all, and made no move besides the occasional flick of his gaze as Aridai’s leg shifted. 

Finally, they smiled. “You’re so strange, Caleb. Though I guess that is the appeal.” Aridai’s hand withdrew and instead braced against his chest, preparing another series of cuts to complete their “carving”.

“Wha-what does..?” Elisha clamped his mouth shut, unsure if that was considered “questioning his Masters” or not. He didn’t want to chance it after he had already made them so angry.

“What? What was that? Did you say something to me?” Their gaze landed on Elisha, and he couldn’t tell if their expression was full of curiosity or fury. He couldn’t tell anything about them anymore. “Go on. I’m listening.”

“I-I’m sorry, I ju-just…” Elisha’s gaze frantically searched for something so that he could give them an excuse, something that would make them less angry. But his mind was already burning from the pain, as he quickly realized that he was out of options when Aridai laid the knife on a portion of his skin. “I-I don’t, don’t know what-what you mean…”

“What I mean? Oh! You mean your appeal? What makes you so interesting?” When Elisha nodded nervously, they laughed. Aridai was always laughing for some reason or another. “Oh Caleb, don’t sell yourself so short. You were like a little diamond in the rough.” A pause, a little light flickering on in their head. “I’m gonna call you that now. But, anyway, just a moment.”

They carefully carved more sections into his skin, finishing their work. This next part was more quick than the others, and Elisha was able to take some strange comfort in that. When Aridai pulled away they took some fabric out of their pocket and pressed on his wounds, and he felt parts of his ribs shift in a way they definitely weren’t supposed to. He keened, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t allowed to.

“Had to finish before I lost the image in my head. Now we can have a chat. So! I guess… you’re asking why you of all the easy pickings of the world, huh?” They tilted their head as Elisha nodded with a whine. “Way to be nice to people, Caleb.” The guilt was immediate, and added a further tightness to his chest that he didn’t think possible. “Poor little diamond… so lost on why it won the lottery when it picked stupid numbers on purpose, huh?”

What does that even mean? Elisha’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Hm… Too ambiguous for you? Alright, lemme dumb it down for you.” Aridai learned close, uncomfortably so, to Elisha face. They used their free hand to brace themselves beside his head. “You were perfect, Caleb. You don’t even realize how long it took for us to find someone as perfect as you. No friends, no family, no one to look for you when you disappeared. When we were watching you, you seemed so much different than other Cambion. They tend to be the talk of the town, y’know? People notice when they leave, because they’re so damned relieved that they’re gone.. But you…” They shifted, removing their hand from the fabric to touch his face again. He resisted the instinct to pull away like he had stupidly done before. 

“Absolutely no one would miss you when you were gone, besides the people who would want money from you.”

Elisha swallowed, trying to not let the immense weight of Aridai’s words crush him.

“Now, I’ve met a fair amount of Cambion. They’re feisty creatures, and way too stubborn for their own good. But you’re different than your kind, Caleb. You’re tamed.” Aridai ruffled his hair, staining it with blood. “You’re so nice and reclusive. Not at all like all the other ones I’ve cut up before.”

A flicker of fear flashed in Elisha’s eyes as he fought to breathe. They had seen Cambion before? Did they kill them?

They tilted their head to the other side. “I guess… in thinking about why you were taken… I guess you were just perfect the way you were. You were practically begging to be taken.” Aridai finally leaned away, pulling the bloodied fabric from his chest. “Jeremiah said it was all an act. Fake, or something. But I can tell. You try too hard to be pretending. You actually think all that nice and kind bullshit makes a difference in the end..”

He felt sick. Elisha didn’t want to believe that what they were saying was right. It all felt wrong.

This wasn’t his fault. There was no way that they were looking for someone like him. He was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and they took him. 

Elisha had been trying to change. He had to believe that it was worth it.

“S-someone… they-they have to. Some-someone will look,” he argued quietly, voice wavering from tears unshed. “It’s, it’s the right thing to… to do.”

Aridai laughed again, plenty amused. “Who’s going to look for you, Caleb? Name someone for me.”

He tried to search his mind. His mother? No… he hadn’t talked to her in years. Elisha couldn’t remember the last time he talked to his neighbors… and the only person he carried a conversation with outside of plant life was the grocery clerk at his local store when he craved some sort of interaction from people.

“My, my landlord, sh-she’ll know I’m, I’m missing, she’ll call the, um, the police.” Elisha felt confident in that regard. The police took care of things. They found lost people and brought them home to their families.

“What do you think the police are going to do? Track you down, bring you back home? Let you live comfortably in your house again and lock up the poor, bad people who did this to you?” Aridai’s eyebrows upturned in mock pity. “I’ve been skating underneath their radar for years. They’ll give up after a month or so, and mark you down as another cold case that never gets solved. That is, if they give a Cambion like you the time of day.”

They moved, finally getting off of him and settling into a crouch next to them. Elisha tried to look away, he didn’t want to see their face anymore, but Aridai reached forward and forced their eyes to meet.

“If you had told anyone about yourself, then maybe. Maybe you would have a chance.” They grinned, sinister and cold. “Face it, Caleb. No one is going to look for you, because you’re a nobody. And you only have yourself to blame for that.”

The tears that threatened to fall finally made food on their claim. Elisha gasped, trying to force down the inner hurt that he felt, but he knew that bits floated to the surface. He bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, but the taste wasn’t enough to get him to stop.

It felt like Aridai had cut them with broken bits of glass, mentally and physically. He wanted to curl up in a ball of shame but he couldn’t even move to get away, even if he was allowed to. Don’t break down in front of them. Don’t do it. Don’t show weakness.

For once, he agreed with his instincts.

It was a blessing when Aridai finally stood up. “I think I’m done here. This was really fun, Caleb. Maybe we’ll shape you up enough to participate, hm?” They let out another series of lighthearted chuckles, and the sound was like nails on a chalkboard. “I’ll send in Jeremiah to clean you up. Honestly…” Aridai held up both hands, which were covered in Elisha’s own blood. “We’re both a pretty mess.”

They quickly retrieved their implements, looking him over one last time, before ascending the stairs to the rest of the house. The top of the basement shut with a loud slam, and he caught the sound of a lock as it clicked into place.

In the dark, Elisha finally let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and felt the cracks underneath his skin that were beginning to show deepen.

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 16 Pt 1

He’d snuck out of Sildie’s apartment early. He didn’t want to but he needed to work the bag and meditate, clear his mind so he could enjoy their time together. He left a simple note for her so she wouldn’t worry.

She woke to an empty bed and frowned. It wasn’t like Gustaf to be out of bed before her. As she sat up the note crinkled under her hand.

It’s been a few days I had to hit the gym. See you in a little bit love, I can’t wait to see those moves.

She smiled and rested her head against the headboard. It was so normal, and sweet. Could their lives be normal she wondered. Lily brought her back to reality with a dad dad and made her smile even though she choked up.

“You got mum mum for a bit little miss.” She soothed. “Dad dads at the gym.” She said and had the lovely vision of Gustaf all sweaty lifting weights or punching a bag. Watching those muscles ripple and strain as he honed them. Imagining him fucking her on the gym floor. “Lord!” She breathed out. “The man makes me wet just thinking about him.” She changed Lily and dressed her for the day smiling and giggling with the tiny girl. Picking her up she snuggled Lily in.

One handed she collected her lingerie and tossed them into a bag along with her silk robe. She grabbed the red soled six inch heels from the bottom of the closet and smirked. There was something about those fuck me heels that made her wet. Gustaf was going to lose his fucking mind when he saw her.

She got the kids ready for the day fed and fielded questions as to where Gustaf was. They needed to be reminded that he had a life outside of the five of them. She called Alice and asked if she could be over thirty minutes earlier which wasn’t a problem, the woman was amazing. This would give her enough time to change before he got home from errands.

He felt like shit for leaving her bed without waking her but he needed to go a round or two with the bag. He was full of doubt and anger at himself. The self loathing and anxiety had flooded into him and pulled him under.

“How fucking hard is it to tell her you love her?” He roared at the bag as he pounded his fists into it. “How fucking hard?”

He thought of Ana. How she’d manipulate him, the mind games, the emotional blackmail. The nights she’d leave him emotionally exhausted, a husk of his former self. She’d sucked his soul out. “Why did you have to destroy me you fucking bitch. Why did I deserve that? I gave you EVERYTHING.” He screamed.

He collapsed to his knees and held the bag as the sobs came. He’d been hammering the bag for over an hour now and his muscles were screaming at him.

“I gave you everything I am.” He wept. “I’m so sorry Sildie, I’m no fucking good for you.” Leaning his head against the bag he let it pour from him. “How could you love someone like me? You don’t deserve my demons.” He purged it all as he took the gloves off and peeled the wrappings from his hands.

He sat until the anger subsided and felt some semblance of calm before taking a shower. In jeans and a sweater he sat sipping tea while he watched the sun come up thinking Sildie would be up by now and would have found his note.

He hadn’t lied, he had gone to the gym, his home gym. He wanted to be the man she deserved and he knew he had a lot of work to do. Calming his mind further he sat for meditation and let the emotions of the last week bubble up. He dealt with them head on, not comfortable or willing to let them fester any longer.

“Be the man she needs you to be, yourself.” He repeated softly. “You are more than enough.” He said and opened his eyes at reciting words Sildie had said to him more than once. “For me.” He added. She’d said it over and over and he knew deep down she meant every word.

He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. Once he’d gone through his nine breaths he was considerably calmer. He sat for another tea and closed off his mind to that part of his life. The demons were dealt with for today and he had to shut them away before she came around.

By the time he was stepping out the door at nine thirty he felt lighter and more himself. He’d try again today, try for those three little words she deserved to hear him speak.

She heard his keys in the door and waited in his bedroom with a grin. She’d only just made it in before him so she had enough time to slip into the corset and suspenders she’d worn for the last picture she’d sent him and drape her body over the bed. She closed her eyes and waited until he found her, the anticipation already making her wet.

I left something in your room to play with until I can get there.

Her text chimed his phone and he looked at it as he set his messenger bag on the counter. Intrigued he left his phone and keys on the bag and went to find what she’d left for him.

He was planning to go another round with the bag before Sildie got here, that was until he opened the bedroom door and saw the erotic sight before him. Sildie was laying on her back, legs resting up the headboard, in the same black corset, g string, lace top stockings, and heels as the last photo she’d sent him. His throat went dry and swallowed hard, damn she was sexy as fuck.

“Something to play with indeed.” He growled and saw that smirk tug her lips as she turned her head to look at him.

Those eyes he thought, how he’d missed those eyes and how she looked at him.

“You’re going to have to wait.” He said softly and saw her body ripple at his voice.

“Not even a kiss?” She asked sweetly knowing he would play her game.

“Not even.” He could play the game and she was about to learn he played it well, played it hard, and played it long.

“What time do you have to be back for the kids tomorrow?” He asked stripping slowly, her eyes watching his every move intently.

“At five so we can have dinner and get ready for school Monday.” She said and toyed with her hair. Damn he was fine to look at she thought, all muscle and height, and all hers.

“Do you work Monday?” He grinned playfully as he let his briefs fall to the floor.

“Yes.” She nearly moaned at his hardening cock knowing she’d have him inside her soon.

He knelt at the edge of the bed and let her fingers reach out to caress his scruff.

“Happy birthday love.” She said softly, the genuine sentiment punching him in the gut.

“Thank you.” His fingers tangled into her hair that had cascaded over the sheets.

“You ready for your birthday present?” She prompted, resisting the overwhelming urge to touch him, kiss him. She knew this turned him on as much as it did her, the sensual game of seduction.

“Soon.” He was content drinking her in and making her wait just a little longer.

“You have such kind eyes love.” He said tenderly. “No anger, no judgement, no resentment, no bullshit. Just kind, sweet eyes.” He took her fingers in his and brought them to his mouth, kissing them lightly. The feel of them brushing over his lips was something that made his cock twitch. He loved the taste of her.

He looked into those eyes as they watched him.

“You’re beautiful Sildie.” He breathed, ice blue looked back.

“Only to you.” That sly smirk played at the corners of her mouth.

“Sexy as fuck when you dress like this, I might add.” He growled and bit her finger when she sucked that bottom lip in to capture it between her teeth.

“One day love. One. Fucking. Day.” That tone of a long held promise he’d make good on soon shooting to her heat.

He sucked on that finger and rolled his tongue over it, pulling it out slowly. Kissing her fingers again he stood up. He heard the moan as she saw him rise to his towering height, manhood already erect. He walked to the bathroom and grinned. She’d planned this out and he couldn’t wait to see what she was going to do.

“Good things come to those who wait.” He called from behind the closed door, her laugh was the only reply. How he loved that laugh.

She lay there still in the same position and let her thoughts drift. Did she tell him? Those three little words, did she just blurt them out? She wanted to say them, with all her heart, but she wouldn’t hurt him when he was still healing.

She saw the apprehension under it all, the pain from Ana that still lingered. One day she thought, one day she would see that pain gone. She flinched as his knuckles grazed down her arm, she hadn’t heard him finish in the bathroom.

“I love watching you when you’ve drifted off somewhere in your mind.” He murmured. “What were you thinking?”

“This and that.” Her smile playful. “Mainly how desperate I am to kiss you.”

“Desperate are we? How desperate?” His eyes twinkled.

“It may be detrimental to your health if you don’t, desperate.” She chuckled lightly and reached for him.

“Well that would ruin the day now wouldn’t it?” He took her hand and bent to kiss it. He liked playing with her.

“It would.” She whispered and he nipped her knuckle playfully.

“And what do you plan to do with me today now that you have me naked and all to yourself?” He asked softly, that grin spreading across his face as he climbed onto the bed. Fuck me he thought, she was a vision, his goddess in black lace and her sinful halo of copper.

“Have my way with you.” She kissed him and nipped his bottom lip as her hand drifted down his chest, fingers flexing over it.

“I like the sound of that.” He growled.

“Do you now?” Her grin was equally mischievous.

“I do.” He kissed her seductively. “I love seeing your moves.” He whispered as his hand wandered over lace and skin.

“Then roll over and let me have you.” She said turning his own words back on him.

She pushed a finger gently against his forehead as he went to kiss her again and his chuckle had her smiling.

“Lay back.” She breathed before kissing him in that way he craved.

He did as she asked, moving to lay with his head resting on the pillows, legs stretched out. She rolled off the bed and he laughed when she left him there to go to the bathroom.

“Good things come to those who wait.” Echoing his words from moments ago.

“Such a tease.” He called out, letting let his eyes close, he was slightly drained from the morning workout but so happy, to be home, to be with her, to have this week done with, to help her heal.

He drifted while he waited and only opened his eyes again as he felt her climb onto the bed. Opening his eyes he let out a groan. She was a sight on all fours prowling toward him like she did in the photo, lethal jungle cat. His eyes feasted on every part of her as she moved to him.

“You have no idea how incredibly fucking erotic that is.” He murmured as she stopped just shy of kissing him, those lips smiling a breath away from his. “Watching you crawl to me like that.” Her fingers rested on his wrists pinning them beside him gently, as his eyes roamed hers. Damn she was fucking gorgeous.

“I’ve wanted to do this for you for a while now.” She whispered as her lips ghosted his.

“You’re too good for me Sildie. You deserve so much more than I am.” He looked at her, it was the truth. She deserved someone better than he was, someone without his demons.

“I don’t want more Gustaf, I want you. I’ve always wanted you.” Her kiss took him under, that seductive touch that melted his brain. “Let me have you.” She whispered and started to kiss a trail down his throat, her teeth grazing sensitive skin.

“You have me love, all of me.” He sighed out as her tongue tasted the dip at his collarbone.

He relaxed back and let her clever mouth arouse and seduce him, fingers just as busy. As he watched her travel south he felt that surge of love for her bubble up, that love for her that threatened to spill out before she was ready for it.

When she had kissed down to his navel she stopped and climbed off the bed. She stood at his feet and nudged them apart with her hands for her to crawl between them. Her hands caressed his thighs and he groaned as she sat on her heels and lowered her mouth to his hardening member. Looking down his body was a sight, the sweep of her spine, the curve of her ass, her mouth poised to take him in, those firm ripe breasts contained by the corset wanting to spill out.

Her hot breath on his cock was maddening. He wasn’t fully erect yet but he would be soon, especially as her fingers continued to inch closer to his manhood. He choked a breath as the tip of her tongue licked him from balls to tip before she wrapped her lips around his mushroom tip and gently sucked.

She sucked and pulled off him with a pop as she kept moving forward so his cock was cocooned by her cleavage. She playfully bit his abdomen with just enough teeth to hear the hiss, feel him flinch. Once she started she wasn’t going to stop until he’d come in her mouth, she wanted to taste him.

She teased him relentlessly, kissing and touching him everywhere except his cock, it was maddening. One lone finger traveled up and down his torso, feeling every dip and curve of muscle. It trailed dangerously close to his shaft and then away again and he let out a struggling groan.

With a sly grin that finger traced a line up one inner thigh and down the other until he was breathing hard. Fingers gently caressed his package as she took him into her mouth.

“Sildie.” He groaned and she felt him tense with the sensation, it was his turn to fist his hands in the sheets, his turn to lay there and take what she gave.

Her mouth felt incredible around him, slow and seductive, tongue swirling, lips sucking, her fingers playing with his package only made him harder. As she continued he looked down at her.

His goddess at his feet pleasuring him, head now bobbing up and down in a slow steady rhythm as she took him to the back of her throat. That halo of copper fanned out beside her whispering against his skin. Could she be any more beautiful, sexy, erotic?

Groaning, he gently fisted his hand in her hair as her mouth devoured him, urging her to take him, take what she wanted.

She could sense he was losing control as the fist in her hair tightened, the slight thrust of his hips met her strokes, her name on his lips as she went down on him. Her hand stroked his base as her mouth destroyed him, long smooth strokes that had him on the edge.

His legs shifted, feet trying to find purchase as his fingers tangled in her hair tight, hips thrusting with more urgency. He had to fuck that beautiful mouth.

“Sildie.” His growl was a strangled warning as she continued. She stayed the course, content on him coming in her mouth. With a groan that rumbled deep from his chest he gripped her hair tightly and thrust hard while he came. She took all of him, everything he gave her.

She released his softening member and let it nestle in her cleavage as she kissed his abs and belly. With his hand still tangled in her hair he guided her up his body to crush his mouth to hers, tongue teasing.

“You’re too good to me.” He murmured as she stared down at him. His fingers toyed with her hair now instead of gripping it.

“No more than you are to me love.” She she smiled, and his hands splayed out over her back holding her to him as she rolled off to lay in his arms. The feel of her against him made him sigh.

“Happy birthday and welcome home.” She said softly as a finger stroked his jaw. “You would have had today sooner had Lily not torpedoed my plans.” She laughed.

“I think the timings perfect.” He tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her tenderly. “So back to the normal work week next week?”

“Yeah, me to work, kids at school. The time off is nice but we have to get back to our routine. It’s stabilizes us I think. What about you?”

“Reading, lots of reading. I have seven new scripts to get through to see if I want to audition for them.”

“Busy times.”

“It is, thats why days like yesterday and today are so important. Time to reconnect.” He kissed her lovingly and she deepened it.

“How do you want to do this week? Do you want me to stay over every night or a few nights here and there?” He asked hoping she’d say every night but knowing he’d be sleeping alone at some point.

“I’d like you to stay as much as you can, but I know you have your life to live too. We have to be smart about this. Too much too soon for the boys might shoot us in the foot.” Damn she wished he could stay every night. The thought of sleeping alone without him to curl into was daunting. And when, miss, did you get so fuck needy, she growled at herself?

He nodded slightly. “Can’t say I like that idea but you’re right.”

“I don’t like it either but I have to think long term and how it affects them. Maybe come over for dinner or when we get home and then play it day by day? If they’re ok with you staying then stay but if it’s a rougher day maybe go home?” She looked at him, she was winging it here, she had no clue how to handle this or integrate him into their lives fully. “I’m winging it Gustaf I have no clue how this is going to pan out and it scares the crap out of me.”

His slight smile and chuckle eased her mind. “I feel the same way love. I’m so not equipped to do this anymore than you are but we’ll work it out. Together remember.”

She blew a breath out and kissed him. That slow burn of a kiss that melted his brain and any thoughts he had floating around in it.

“Illegal.” He quipped and her peal of laughter echoed around the room.

“Still gonna do it. It’s ok.” She purred. “I know a good lawyer.” His laugh lifted her heart, that gorgeous laughter of a carefree loving man.

“So do I and she’s in a rather remarkable outfit right now.” He said dipping a finger into her cleavage, toying with the idea of whether to take it off or leave it on her. “I’m loving this.” He murmured, as his finger trailed the skin at the lace border.

“I thought you might.” She almost moaned as that one finger started to undo her. Damn she loved that touch.

“I had dreams of fucking you in this.” He growled and kissed her roughly, his control slipping momentarily.

“Did you?” Her grin turned into a full playful smile as her fingers brushed that scruff she’d adored.

“Dreams fueled by those stunning photos of you in various poses I’d like to fuck you in too.” He claimed her mouth and let his finger graze a nipple as it slipped under the lace.

“Well who am I to deny you your dreams?” Her voice was sultry as her own vision of today started to become reality. She’d chosen this outfit in the hopes he’d take her in it, the man had that effect on her.

“You are my dreams love.” He growled and rolled so she was suddenly under him.

“Those photos took my breath away Sildie. And gave me a raging hard on once or twice.” He grinned and nipped her throat, her gasp making that grin widen.

“You like them?” Her smile was playful but held a certain shyness he found incredibly arousing.

“Are you kidding? I fucking love them.” He kissed her so her toes curled. “They kept me going, you kept me going.”

“I’ll always be here for you love.” She breathed as he bit down gently on her shoulder, his tongue trailing her collarbone. “Always.”

His lips sucked gently on the swell of her cleavage. The corset had pushed it up and given him that tender flesh to feast on.

“So what now lovely lady?” He murmured.

“The question is what do you want to do now birthday boy?” She purred and looked at him with undiluted seduction as she ran a finger over his bottom lip.

“My choice huh?” He asked softly.

“Mmmm hmmm.” She murmured and hooked her finger under his chin. Her eyes seductively searched his. “Birthday boys choice.” She breathed and ghosted his lips with hers.

“How about I show you I’m no boy.” He growled and kissed her so she moaned.

“I want you hard.” He nipped her throat. “On your knees.” He nipped her jaw and then the spot just below her ear. “So I can fuck you how I did in my dreams.” He growled and felt her body quiver for him at his words.

He kissed his way down her body, rough, demanding. Fingers trailing, darting between lace and skin to arouse and seduce. He brushed her hip with his finger in a signal to roll over. As she did he got a better look at the silk and lace she had on and the beautiful stark contrast to her skin. The front of the corset swept up near her collarbone so the lowest dip was in the center of her cleavage. The high cut g string was a strip of lace that sat on top of her hips before plunging between her cheeks, the lace topped stockings completed the outfit and it was an item he’d always found particularly arousing especially when paired with heels. There wasn’t much to it yet it suited her perfectly, that curvy toned body all gift wrapped for him.

“Up on your knees love, hands on the headboard.” He murmured. She heard the desire in his voice, she’d never get over how much he wanted her.

He helped her sit up on her knees and rested his hands on top of hers at the headboard. He was going to take his time now, savoring, seducing, claiming.

She could feel him kneel behind her, his body close enough to sense, not enough to feel, his knees either side of her legs. His finger gently moved the curtain of copper from her back and over her shoulder. Her body was already trembling for him to touch her, to taste her, claim her.

He let his finger wander over her shoulder, down her spine, back up to her throat before his teeth gently nipped the spot just below her ear.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you just like this over these past weeks love.” His murmur was that low tone that made her instantly wet for him.

He leaned in just enough to brush his chest against her bare upper back. She went to push back but he held her hands to the headboard and leaned back out of reach.

“Wait.” He breathed nipping her ear and reciting the one word that she had rocked his world with a few months ago.

“Keep them there.” He growled and squeezed her hands gently to emphasize his request.

His hands trailed the length of her arms and down her back before coasting up the lace and silk at her abdomen. He dipped a hand between her skin and the corset to find her nipples already hard and pinched them gently as he bit down on the nape of her neck. That stuttered sigh between a gasp and moan from her lips making him harder for her, he loved hearing those sounds from her.

His fingers slowly tortured her breasts, the feel of his hands on them almost had her coming. Skilled fingers slipped under the lace to touch bare skin and her gasp had her head tipping back. He seized the opportunity to slide his hand up her throat and hold her head to him as he turned her head slightly and devoured her mouth. He could feel the pulse under his fingers, the rapid beat of her heart.

His free hand grazed her belly, her abs, and down over the lace suspenders before stopping short of her mound and the g string that barred his way.

“Look at me.” He whispered as his hand held her head to him, craned back against his shoulder.

Those ice blue eyes looked into his. As they did he slipped a finger over the lace brushing her clit. Her cry made him moan and kiss her tenderly.

“So wet for me.” He murmured and slid his finger further along her folds under the silk g string.

With painfully slow strokes over her clit he held her in the same position as he brought her undone.

She could feel his rock hard shaft pressing against her as that lonely finger destroyed her. With her head arched back and his hand at her throat she felt the thrill race up her spine. He was so gentle yet so rough, that desire for her was nothing she’d felt before.

His lips ghosted her cheek, her shoulder, all while that huge hand cradled her at her throat keeping her head gently against him as if it were the finest crystal. He felt her pulse increase as he toyed with her, the gasps as her body gave itself to him to pleasure.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t thrust against him to find release, he just slowly and deftly brought her to the edge and held her there. His finger between her thighs stopped and the whimper that escaped begged him to make her come.

“Not yet.” He murmured softly, lips brushing her cheek.

“Please.” She choked a gasp as his finger circled her clit once before slipping to the entrance to do the same.

He held her on the edge torturously for what felt like an eternity. The hand at her throat held her to him gently as the one digit continued its assault until she was whimpering for him to make her come.

“Gustaf.” She whispered.

“Not yet love, because I need to be inside you before you come.” His murmur made her pussy clench.

She gasped a groan that came out more like a whine as his finger suddenly stopped their erotic torture, his deep throaty chuckle was full of mischief. As a hand ventured up her torso slipping between skin and lace, he pinched her nipples hard causing her to arch. His hand released her throat for the moment as he kissed her gently, he liked feeling her pulse thunder through her at his touch.

“So beautiful.” He whispered and kissed his way down her neck.

“Don’t stop, it feels so good.” Her voice soft against his cheek.

“Mmmmm, it’s about to feel better.” He said as his lips dragged up the side of her throat to nip that one spot below her ear. “So much better.” He murmured and lost himself to the moment, his erotic beauty willingly giving herself to him.

His hands caressed the length of her arms and he bit down on her neck. Pressing his body against hers he felt her shiver at the contact and his mouth seductively kiss her shoulder and up her neck.

One of his hands raked down her arm, over her slim shoulder, and lightly down the sweep of her spine. He gripped her hip gently and pulled her to him, bending her forward at the waist.

Bent over her he let that hand wander her body. Over and under lace his fingers teased that stunning body into a quivering mess. He hooked a finger under the g string and moved it to the side letting his knuckle sweep across her heat.

“You’re soaked for me love.” He groaned and kissed the back of her neck, teeth gently biting her, his cock twitched in anticipation.

“Gustaf please.” Her whisper was hoarse with need, her body was trembling as that finger continued to arouse her.

“What do you want?” He asked dragging his teeth along the shell of her ear.

“You, just you.” She choked a whimper as he tormented her with his finger over her clit.

“I want you too love.” He breathed, enjoying her. “I want to be deep inside you.” He whispered.

“Please.” She gasped as that finger dipped just inside her pussy and circled.

He took his painfully hard cock in his hand and ran his tip along her soaked pussy. Positioning at her entrance he leaned over her and placing both hands on top of hers he bit down on her neck.

“What do you want love?” He murmured again, his mouth right next to her ear.

“You, please.” She breathed as he pressed his tip in slightly to stretch her.

“I’m going to fuck you slowly.” His growl alone almost had her coming.

He tip fucked her, just enough to have her continually whimper for him, consistently teetering on the edge of her climax. He knew she’d come as soon as he thrust inside her. Just how he’d planned.

With her legs together and Gustaf straddling them she would be deliciously tight and soft. With a slow maddening thrust he buried himself to his hilt. Her pussy gripped him tight as she tried to buck against him with a cry.

“Mmmmmm. I love feeling you come around me.” He growled and feasted on her neck as he pulled out slowly and thrust into her again.

His thrusts were hard and deep as he plunged into her. That gorgeous body braced against him as he slammed into her. So tight, he thought, and groaned as he took her.

“Harder.” She breathed as he bit her shoulder. “I want you harder.” Her whimper making him smile.

“Anything for you love.” He whispered and speared himself deeply, bottoming out at her inner most point.

“Gustaf.” Her cry was ecstasy. “Faster. Please.” She said between breaths.

“Not yet love. I want you slow.” He purred and buried his cock in her to the hilt and stayed there stock still. He watched her body shake, desperate to feel him move. “And I want you screaming.”

He loved taking her like this, her hands pinned under his, that gorgeous body trembling at every thrust, her whimpers as he kissed, sucked and nipped the tender points of her neck.

He slowly pulled out until only his tip remained inside her, her cry of pleasure, music. He saw the white knuckle grip she had on his headboard and smiled as he kissed her just below the ear. He plunged into her bottoming out again.

With each deep thrust she cried out, with each pull out and pause she whimpered for him to fuck her faster. His mouth destroyed her neck and shoulders, teeth grazing and biting tender aroused skin. He slowly tip fucked her again stretching her pussy and caressing the millions of heightened nerve endings until she was a writhing mess.

“Do you want me to fuck you love?” He asked in that low tone that always made her weak.

“Please.” Her whimper was borderline tears she wanted it so badly.

“Shall I make you come?” He murmured in her ear and nipped it gently. Her whimper was the only response.

Without warning he speared into her, claiming her with his thick shaft. He kept the thrusts slow but they were hard and deep. Smoothly in and out until she was quivering for release.

He let her climax to the agonizingly slow pace. The feel of her pussy clenching him was ecstasy. Her cries were louder and he knew he was well on his way to making her scream, he wanted her wrecked and wanting more.

“I love feeling you come.” He growled and felt her pussy clench his cock.

He felt glorious she thought. That thickness gliding in and out of her, teasing and igniting a deeper level of arousal. In this position she couldn’t rock back as much as on her hands and knees but she would try all the same.

She could barely think with what he was doing to her. He hadn’t touched her except with his cock and his words. One equally as erotic as the other and a deadly combination.

He whipped her to teeter on the peak of another orgasm and started to thrust slightly faster. With her hands pinned to the headboard by his own he pistoned his hips and pounded into her, her tightness consuming him, silky walls gripping his cock.

He tipped her over for two more orgasms in quick succession with the frantic rhythm before his hand left hers and gripped her throat gently again. He loved the feel of her pulse thunder under his fingers, the way she felt as she came.

“Give yourself to me.” He murmured, his own control slipping as he held her head by the throat against him and kissed her, hips still pistoning.

He was asking for permission to be rough with her, he’d asked every time.

“Always.” She breathed and held on tighter to the headboard. His low growl thrilled her.

His hand tightened slightly around her throat and held her head against him just like before. Her pulse thrummed under his fingers as he destroyed her.

With his hand around her throat, his cock pounding into her, that mouth tormenting her exposed skin of her neck she let him take her how he pleased. Rough, hard, and deep. She was so lost to him and the euphoria he was inflicting on her.

He felt her on the edge and knew neither of them would last much longer after this one. He pounded into her relentlessly, claiming her as his own.

“Sildie.” His breath ragged.

He held her to him and dropped his hand from hers to finger her clit. Her gasp was barely out when she screamed his name and shattered. He took her hard and his hips quickened in search of his own release.

As her orgasm ebbed he braced his hand on the headboard again and fucked her hard. She pushed back into him taking him as deep as she could as another orgasm built quickly.

“Fuck, yes Sildie.” He growled as the euphoria of her pussy gripping him consumed him. He wasn’t gentle as his hand gripped her throat, his body trembled and tensed, and the roar of his release echoed around the room as he emptied himself inside her.

He released her throat and kissed where his hands had been. She was slightly lightheaded from his hand at her throat but once he lessened the grip as she relaxed things returned to normal, it made her feel amazing, her climax more intense.

“I love it when you scream for me.” He said softly and sat back on his heels bundling her to him.

“I love it when you fuck me like that.” She chuckled and reached a hand up to rub her throat, the last grip had been a little tight.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked suddenly concerned, stroking tender fingers over the red marks.

“No, it’s just different.” Her hand drifted behind her to hold him to her. “I like it actually.”

“I know you do.” His voice low. “I’ll do it as much as you want until you tell me to stop.” He kissed the nape of her neck and trailed the tip of his tongue up to kiss where he’d gripped her. “You can always tell me to stop.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to.” She purred.

He wrapped his arms around her content to stay where they were for the moment and she leaned back into him.

“This is some birthday present.” He chuckled and nibbles on her earlobe.

“Were not done yet love.” She smirked.

“Oh I believe you. I still want to peel you out of this.” He whispered and let his finger roam.

Her hand stretch back to caress the back of his skull and neck. She loved the feel of the buzz cut.

“You had this trimmed.” She said softly.

“Had to. You’d gone to all this trouble for me I needed to at least get a hair cut. Not that I have much of it but still.” He chuckled.

“I like it like this, all soft.”

“Most women prefer guys with more hair.” He scoffed playfully.

“I’m not most women.” She said bluntly.

“No you’re not.” He nipped her throat just below her jaw. “Thank god.” He kissed her neck and shoulder tenderly. “You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.” He murmured.

His words about her always made her blush.

“I know it embarrasses you but I wish you could see what I see Sildie.” Say it, say it right now, that little voice in his head said.

“Right back at you love.” She murmured and turned in his arms slightly to kiss him.

“I need food.” She said quietly. “I’m hungry for more than just you.” She grinned.

She climbed off him and laughed when he held her hand and pulled her back to flop on the bed. That clever mouth devoured hers.

“You’re beautiful love.” He whispered and let his eyes drink in her face, how happy she was right at this moment.

“Only to you.” She smiled and grazed his scruff with her finger. What is it you’re not telling me love she thought? What’s in your eyes that is so difficult to say?

He helped her up and he pulled on some sweats as she tied her robe. Chicken shit, he cursed inwardly.

“Leave it off.” She murmured as he was pulling on a t shirt. Those slender fingers catching the fabric before it went over his head. “I like it when you’re not wearing one.” Her kiss was sin. Pure unadulterated sin and he gripped her hips tight as he held her to him.

He had no words when she pulled away and blinked at her. Her throaty chuckle and mischievous grin only added to the seduction. She had a few moves he hadn’t seen yet.

“Cat got your tongue love?” She purred.

“No but a sex kitten might.” He kissed her like a man possessed. “Where on earth did you learn how to kiss a man like that?” He breathed.

“I only kiss you like that love.” She breathed and kissed him like it again.

“Not only is that illegal it’s downright sinful.” He looked at her somewhat bewildered. He was slowly uncovering a sultry sex kitten under the prim and proper lawyer and that made it even more erotic. She was his every sexual fantasy and that only fueled his lust for her more. “You only kiss me like that?”

“Mmm hmm. You’re the only one I’ve kissed like that and will be the only one I ever kiss like that.” Her playful smirk had his heart flutter. “Unless you’d like me to stop.” She said softly at seeing his stare, maybe it was too much.

“Nope. Don’t be stopping.” He said quickly. “I’m just a little shocked. In a good way. You catch me off guard sometimes and it takes a while for my brain to catch up especially when you kiss me like that. You steal my words.” He said and kissed her tenderly. “And I love it.” I love you, just fucking say it you moron.

“Then I’ll only break it out on special occasions.” She giggled. Her laughter at his predicament made him snarl playfully.

“Don’t you dare deny me of it now you’ve broken it out to show me.” He growled. “That’s not fair love.”

“Who said anything about fair.” She kissed him and nipped his bottom lip pulling out of his arms before he could retaliate. “I need food.”

He grinned. Damn he loved it when she played the game with him. So seductive, inticing, erotic. She was every bit the sex kitten she portrayed but when she lawyered up you wouldn’t think that was underneath it all.

She took his hand and led him to the kitchen. He pulled her to him and stole a kiss before setting out to make tea.

“So this is what you stashed in here away from the kids.” He chuckled as she pulled out fruit and chocolate amongst other stuff. But not just chocolate he noticed, Kladdkaka.

“You had Brendan make two?” He groaned and wrapped his arms around her waist kissing her neck.

“Yes I had him make two. That’s why I was trying to keep you out of the kitchen when he was baking the other night.” She chuckled.

“I might just eat this entire thing.” He joked.

“And make yourself sick. Besides, if you fill up on that you won’t have room for dessert.” The way she purred dessert made his cock twitch in response.

“Don’t tease.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She kissed him softly before the kettle sang it’s song for tea, the look of pure seduction from under her lashes made him groan.

With tea made he set it on the table with the cups and started placing the food with it. A spread of finger food, perfect for today, something to just pick at. He pulled her into his lap with a yelp as she went to sit down.

“I don’t know what’s better, eating this.” He said pointing to the Kladdkaka. “Or having you in my lap while I eat it.”

“Best of both worlds.” She chuckled.

“Did you want me to stay over tomorrow night? Help get them off to school Monday?” He asked holding a forkful out for her to eat.

“Sure. That would be a nice way to get them back into the swing of things.” She took the bite offered and had to admit it was damn good.

“I’m going to have to start thinking of what to do with them over the Christmas break. Four kids to occupy while it’s cold and snowy isn’t always a good mix.” She chuckled.

[marvel-random-shiz]

Parkner Halloween Week! Day One, October 25 - Ghosts, Haunted House “Are you afraid of the dark?”

“How do I look?” Peter spun around a few times in his living room to show off the white tee and jeans along with the small angelic wings perched on his back. Ned looked him up and down and clapped slowly,

“I’m glad you didn’t go with the devil, you’re too nice for that.” Ned commented with a chuckle earning a smack to the head as Peter passed him into the kitchen.

“I can be bad when I want to!” Peter whined and Ned just gave him the bullshit look before following him into the kitchen and leaning on the breakfast bar. Peter pulled himself up onto the bench and began to fiddle around with the halo he was attempting to attach to his head.

After watching Ned painfully attempt to put it on, Tony strutted into the room as he usually did and gave Peter a hand gesture to come closer, “here kid I gotcha.”

“Thanks Mr Stark.” Peter mumbled as Tony stepped back to examine the feathered and sparkly halo restraining Peter’s brown curls.

“What did I say about the Mr Stark thing?” Tony tutted and Peter shrugged and blushed a little,

“I like formalities.”

“Yeah well I don’t, it’s Tony or I’m kicking you out. Got it?” Tony gave Peter a pointed look and the teen nodded quickly not wanting to risk his place in the compound, “anyway Happy’s waiting out front for you two.”

“Aw yeah.” Ned beamed happily at the thought of leaving soon, not that he didn’t like Mr Stark but he really wanted to go to this party.

“All right, chop chop you two, no dilly dallying around. You know Happy’s tolerance levels.” Tony ushered Peter and Ned out the door.

“Thanks for everything Mr S- uh I mean Tony.” Peter quickly corrected himself and Tony grinned from ear to ear at finally getting through to the kid, talk about stubborn.

“Yeah yeah I know, have fun! But not too much fun if ya know what I mean?” Tony gave a wonky grin and wink to Peter as Ned had already left and Peter poked his tongue out in disgust.

“Don’t do anything I would do! Or in fact don’t do anything I wouldn’t do either!” Tony called as he waved from the front porch as Peter slid into the back seat beside an excited Ned.

“Y’know he’s pretty cool.” Ned broke the uncomfortable silence in the car and Peter raised his eyebrows gesturing for Ned to ellaborate, “like he really cares about you and trusts you. It’s pretty cool man.”

“Yeah I guess so, I think he’s pretty cool.” Peter replied and shrugged, trying to satisfy Ned’s rambling. It seemed to work because he didn’t say anything for the rest of the ride there.

“What exactly is it that you’re going to?” Happy asked as he pulled up out the front of a large house, much bigger than Ned’s or Peter’s, with disco lights streaming out and music thumping through the walls and down the streets.

“A party.” Ned grinned and slapped his hat on his head to complete his Darth Vader costume. It looked pretty radical too.

“Well no shit but what I meant was-“ Happy furrowed his brow and struggled to look for words making it very amusing to Peter who was often teased about his pauses between sentences and constant stutters, “will there be drinking and drugs?” Happy eventually finished with a flustered look on his face.

“Aw you care.” Peter mocked and Happy scoffed, “I don’t think there will be but you know me. I couldn’t deal with that sort of stuff anyway with...y’know my abilities.” Peter gave a not-so-sly wink at the end of his sentence making Happy groan and point to the door.

“Just have fun kids.” He mumbled and Peter and Ned exchanged an excited glance before jumping out the car and standing on the sidewalk to examine the party.

The two teens stood out the front for a few minutes, just evaluating it and working out if they should chicken out or not. The music was so loud Peter was sure he would have a sensory overload when he got inside but he needed to do this. He just needed to. Ned, being the great friend he is, was just waiting until Peter felt ready.

“I’m good.” Peter eventually nodded with a loud breath and Ned lifted his mask to examine Peter’s face properly to make sure he wasn’t bluffing.

“You sure man?”

“Yeah I’m sure. Let’s go do this!” Peter grinned and led Ned into the heart of the party. There were loads of new faces, definitely not from Midtown, and so many different costumes. Peter and Ned had to hold hands to weave past the bouncing elbows and drinks spilling everywhere. He wasn’t sure if they were alcoholic or not but it sure did look like it.

After at least ten minutes of rounds around the house they finally spotted MJ talking to some cute looking boy from another smart school.

“Hey MJ!” Ned beamed and waved as he and Peter tumbled into her line of sight. Her face instantly lit up a little and she flicked them the middle finger with a smile as they drew nearer. Before they reached her, Peter noticed her shove the masked boy away quickly with a blush.

“Hey losers, what took ya so long?” She greeted in her typical dry tone and Peter shrugged while trying to focus on her voice and not every single other one within a hundred metres of this house. His head was starting to spin and heart pounding like a jackhammer in his chest but he breathed through it and focused on Ned and MJ’s breathing and heartbeats. It was comforting and grounding.

“There was a ton of traffic on the way here.” Ned yelled over the blaring music and constant chatter from around the house. MJ nodded and spun around to the drinks table behind her and handed Ned and Peter some kind of liquid in a plastic red party cup. They both exchanged a concerned glance before accepting and giving her a grateful smile knowing that neither of them would actually drink it. Not after the last time MJ convinced them to try her ‘masterpiece’.

The song suddenly changed and a booming, upbeat jam came on. Ned grinned and dragged his two friends onto the dance floor while they tried to break free of his grip. Once coming to terms with the fact that Ned wasn’t going to take no as an answer, a hesitant MJ and huffing Peter started to sway with the music along with their much too excited friend.

“I don’t like it.” MJ frowned at the jumping teens around her, wings, elbows and hats were being thrown around and shoved into one another as everyone danced to the song.

“You don’t like anything.” Peter pointed out while laughing and trying to ignore the growing throb in his forehead.

“I guess but I dislike this more than most things.” MJ shot daggers at Ned’s back who was talking to some girl in a red dress.

“Lighten up princess.” Peter chuckled and was nearly taken out by a drunk collapsing at his feet. The thud pounded in his ears on repeat, again and again. Soon it was taken over by his own pulse, drumming into his wrists and head.

“Shit you alright?” MJ asked, expression changing to sympathy for the first time ever, and Peter shook his head while taking it in his hands and stumbling through the crowd.

“I need air.” He mumbled, not really thinking that she couldn’t hear him. MJ tried to follow but was blocked by more people dancing and lost him in the crowd, she shrugged and assumed he wanted to be alone anyway.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut tight and slid down the wall of the hallway, dropping his head into his knees in an attempt to block the sound out a little. He focused on his breathing, in and out. His whole body felt dialled to eleven and the smallest touch of someone’s rough hand made him jump.

Peter looked up and his eyes locked with piercing blue ones. There was a tall teen, around his own age, with a sharp jawline and kind twinkle in his eye staring down at him. The sapphire blue eyes popped against the mix of blacks and reds from his devil costume and his dirty blonde curls fell loosely under the red devil horns on his head.

“‘M sorry man, I saw you were by yourself and wanted to check on ya. You alright?” The blue eyed boy had a kind tone to his voice which comforted Peter’s worries and he gave a short nod while biting his lip to stop it from trembling.

“I’m alright.” Peter croaked after the boy didn’t move. He had a soft gaze, not judging or unwelcome, but soft and comforting. The boys lips curved upright into a crooked grin and he gently offered his hand out.

“Wanna get some air?” The boy had a thick southern accent which made all of Peter’s insides melt. He felt the sounds around him fade away and calmed his breathing down while nodding and accepting the extended hand. The boy had a firm grip, his hand was rough and worn but grasped Peter’s gently as if he were made of glass and could break at the wrong touch.

The boy didn’t let go of Peter’s hand, just gestured his head to the front door and led Peter through the crowds of people and out into the cold night.

They walked for a few minutes in silence, still hands intertwined, which comforted Peter even more because he could feel the boy’s heartbeat thumping into his thumb which had been resting on the unknown teens wrist. They had been walking down along the footpath, the only sound was their feet crunching over the crystal like white snow littering the streets. Peter had been grateful that the other boy didn’t mention what happened back there, it would be much too difficult to explain it without exposing his identity.

“So what’s your name darl?” The blonde slipped his hand out of Peter’s and turned his head to face the brunette.

“Peter. Peter Parker.” Peter replied with a smile and could finally calm the buzzing in his head and look up from his feet. He felt the urge to grab the boy’s hand back but resisted knowing it would look odd.

“Peter.” The boy made a thinking face and pursed his lips before giving a friendly smile and adding, “I’m Harley Keener.”

“Where even are we?” Peter asked, moving past introductions knowing he would only make it awkward if he said something like ‘cool’ or ‘nice name’. The blonde, Harley, glanced up at the twinkling stars and breathed in the fresh night air.

“Well I didn’t originally have a plan because all I knew was you needed air.” He glanced down at Peter with a laugh in his eyes which made Peter’s stomach do flips.

“I- er yeah I- thank you.” Peter stammered and flushed a crimson, resembling the colour of Harley’s skin tight blouse.

“No problems.” Harley brushed off Peter’s nervousness and turned back to the sky, his eyes illuminating under its reflections and Peter literally saw stars in his eyes. His mouth grew dry and he didn’t know what to say, Harley smiled at his silence and looked ahead at the growing lights, “I ended up walking towards the new amusement park. Have you been?”

Peter shook his head and sighed, “No I’ve been really busy with school and...well other commitments and my friends are too chicken.”

Harley laughed and Peter instantly felt his breath hitch in his throat at the blondes angelic laugh. He was the definition of perfect. Everything about this new boy Harley was perfect, his perfect laugh, his perfect smile, perfect confidence and perfectly toned body.

“Well whaddaya say we go check it out?” Harley asked, southern accent drawling out with every word and Peter felt his entire face light up.

“Really? Would it even be open?” Peter frowned and then began to wonder if Harley meant breaking in and he knew he would be in lots of shit if Tony found out Peter, Spider-Man, had been breaking and entering just because he was with a cute boy. He would no doubt be grounded for life.

Harley seemed to notice the contortion on Peter’s face and laughed, “Hey don’t worry, it’s open I checked earlier because I was going to ditch the party anyway. You were just a bonus.”

Harley gave a flirty wink to Peter who felt his face heat up and he chuckled, “I’m a bonus? Why’s that?”

Harley frowned and glanced at Peter with his face scrunched up, Peter wanted to call the police because no one was allowed to be that cute when annoyed, no one.

“Seriously? That was such a good line and you just went all oblivious on me.” Harley laughed and Peter shrugged and felt his mouth open without permission,

“I’m sorry, I get nervous around cute boys.” He hadn’t realised he was actually saying it out loud until the words left his mouth and couldn’t be taken back, “fuck.”

“Cute boys eh?” Harley mocked and gave Peter a nudge in the shoulder while laughing. Peter felt his cheeks grow even hotter and knew they were most likely redder than Harley’s shirt now, lucky the night sky was like a blanket, covering and hiding all and any insecurities.

Harley didn’t say much after that but Peter didn’t mind, he was already nervous enough and didn’t want to have to talk much. They sat in a comfortable silence until they were standing outside of the buzzing amusement park. There were people bustling around with fairy floss and rides ten times as tall as the teens lining the sides of the large, dirt walkway.

“Wow.” Peter breathed out, in amazement and Harley smirked while they walked under the large clown archway,

“Wow indeed.”

The two began to wander in, avoiding getting lost in the crowd and Peter felt himself grinning for ear to ear and he couldn’t contain it. Harley was glancing up at all the rides and watching Peter get more and more excited the deeper they went in, until he spotted the one he’d been looking for.

“Let’s go to the haunted house!” Harley let his coolness fade away and looked just as excited as Peter had been while starting to make a break for the huge, cobwebbed building to the right of them.

“No way!” Peters jaw dropped and Harley stopped dead in his tracks to spin around,

“Don’t tell me you don’t like haunted houses.” Harley moaned and Peter scrunched his nose up in the most attractive way possible while letting out a laugh,

“What? No I love haunted houses, um I think? Well I’ve never actually been in one but it’s on my bucket list!” He skipped to keep up to Harley who let out a loud sigh and wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders.

“Good. I nearly had to leave you there, you’ll love it.” Harley smiled as they got closer and Peter saw the flicker of excitement a little boy had in his eyes. It was adorable.

“Cool, but I have one condition.” Peter stopped at the entrance ubruptly making Harley’s arm slip from his shoulders. Harley gave him a quizzical look and he grinned, “hold my hand if I get scared?”

Harley’s face twisted into a crooked grin and his eyes laughed, making Peter’s heart melt inside his chest again, “of course. Are you afraid of the dark?”

Peter bit his lip and shrugged, he honestly didn’t know anymore. When he was a boy he had been scared of the dark, his Uncle Ben had always been so gentle about it and always made sure he slept with a night light on. After Ben’s death, the fear of the dark and what lurked in it became worse, Yes Spider-Man worked in the dark but it was always different being Spider-Man to Peter Parker. He felt so much more exposed, vulnerable, when he was Peter and it brought back the little kid fear he never overcame.

Harley noticed the pause and Peter’s face grow a little darker so he gave a smile and reached his hand out to Peter’s. He clasped them together and Peter glanced down then back up at Harley and gave a small nod to say he was ready.

“If it’s too much, you’ll tell me won’t you darl?” Harley asked as he took the lead into the darkening hallway of the haunted house.

“Course.” Peter replied vaguely and felt Harley stop in front of him. Their hands were still together and the warmth from Harley was soaking into Peter’s shivering fingertips while he tried to make out the blonde’s thin figure ahead of him.

“Promise me.” Harley whispered and Peter felt him shift closer, Harley was gazing down into Peter’s chocolate brown eyes and searching for assurance while Peter was tracing his dark figure with his eyes.

“I promise.” Peter whispered back while looking up into Harley’s eyes. Harley gave a soft smile and spun back around to lead the way down the tunnel.

There were small jack o lanterns lighting the walls and giving an orange hazy glow onto Peter’s features as he took in the experience. It was definely more creepy than fighting bad guys in the middle of the night and that was saying something. Suddenly a loud creak from some contraption echoed in the fake wooden mine like hallway and Peter nearly jumped out of his skin. The hairs on his arms and back of his neck were standing up and his eyes were wide while his heart pounded in his chest.

“You alright?” Harley asked and turned to face Peter who swallowed and nodded quickly, “you’re a bad liar,” Harley laughed and gave Peter’s hand a squeeze.

“I’m alright, just freaky in here y’know?” Peter gave a half hearted laugh and allowed Harley to venture further into the maze of scary Halloween props. This was when he started to realise what the ‘trick’ in trick or treat meant.

As they turned the corner Peter caught a glimpse of the fake railway road on the floor in front of them but seconds after the lights flicked out suddenly. He held Harley’s hand like a lifeline and furrowed his brow while trying to make out the room in the pitch black.

The only sound in the room was Harley’s slow breathing and his heartbeat, thumping in rhythm to his own. Peter felt Harley shuffle across the floor a little and followed with their hands intertwined, he would admit the warmth of Harley’s fingers made it a little less scary.

“It’s alright, you doing okay Peter?” Harley whispered into the dark and Peter nodded while whispering a yes. They slowly stepped forward a few more steps until a loud clunk was heard and Harley’s hand was ripped away from Peter’s.

“Fuck.” Harley cursed into the darkness as he tripped over something on the floor and tried to look around for Peter. “Peter? You there?” Harley whispered and for the first time, started to feel a little scared.

“Harley? Where the fuck are- OW!” Peter started by whispering but it soon turned into a loud yell as he ran into something solid. A wall maybe? He couldn’t really tell.

“Hey hold still, I’ll find you. I just gotta-“ Harley assured gently as he pulled himself off the floor and squinted his eyes in the blackness, “talk to me Pete, I can’t find ya if I can hear ya.”

Harley heard a small snicker and moved towards it, “You aren’t from New York are you?” Peter asked into the darkness of the room and nearly had a heart attack when Harley whispered back from right in front of him.

“I’m from Tennessee, are you making fun of my accent Parker?” Harley smirked as he kneeled down to become eye level with the brunette in front of him. He couldn’t see him but he knew he was there.

Peter felt Harley’s warm breath on his face and his stomach started to grow butterflies at the closeness of their faces. Harley didn’t seem to mind because he dropped to his knees and leaned closer, “I’m not making fun of anyone.” Peter whispered with a smirk and Harley made a hum of disapproval.

“Well if you’re not making fun of it, then the only other reason would be that you find it attractive.” Harley bit his lip as he leaned even closer, his lips were just centimetres from Peter’s and if he moved any closer...

Peter felt his back push against the cold wall behind him yet he didn’t feel cold. He felt warmer than he had ever been before, he could feel Harley’s breath on his face as his own breath hitched in his throat and he whispered, “I can’t deny that one Keener.”

Harley waited for a few moments as he drew closer, he didn���t want to pressure him but when Peter didn’t pull back he closed the distance. As soon as his lips pressed against Peter’s he felt his heart flutter and body relax into Peter’s warmth.

Peter’s hands flew up in instinct and glided through Harley’s blonde hair, brushing the devil horns still neatly perched on the top of his head and Harley pushed his chest against Peter’s while leaning right into the kiss.

Harley pulled back to catch his breath and leaned his forehead against Peter’s while smiling and puffing. Peter felt his lips go numb from the pressure and was about to lean in again when the lights blared back on and lit up their sweaty faces.

Both boys grinned while glancing up at the lights then to one another, Harley now sitting on Peter’s lap as he sat against the wall where he fell. Harley glanced back into Peter’s glowing brown eyes and closed his own as he pushed his lips back against the brunette’s.

[toogayforthistoday]

My F/O list

Finally getting around to making this thing, so here we go. I don’t have ship names for most of them (yet), so in the mean time, I’m using emoji’s that fit closest. I don’t have an issue with sharing, but if you do, feel free to block the appropriate tag! I’m doing my best to try and tag everything.

Names in Bold I am not comfortable sharing romantically

Main F/O’s:

My mains fluctuate all the time, but currently the Main ones are:

Porter Gage (Fallout)  🏴‍☠️🖤 #OTP: Underestimated to a Fault

Husk (Hazbin Hotel) 😼❤️ #OTP: Watch Your Cards

Loki (Marvel Cinematic Universe) 🐍💚 #OTP: Green is our Colour

Touya ‘Dabi’ Todoroki (My Hero Academia) #OTP: Lighters in the Dark #gdi Dabi #jfc Touya

Alfie Solomons (Peaky Blinders) #OTP: Bow to the Bakers

Allison / Texas (Red vs Blue) #OTP: Houston We Are the Problem

Hiei Jaganshi (Yu Yu Hakusho) 🐉💜 #OTP: Hiebe

My Kids:

“Child” Familial F/O’s, and Fankids. I love them very much

Angel (Borderlands) Step-Daughter #Angel [Calls me Gabe]

Nero (Devil May Cry) Step-Son #Nero [Calls me Gabe]

Hitoshi Shinso (My Hero Academia) Son  #Rocker Bee Kittens [Calls me 'Mom’] #HK-57 the Malfunctioning Protocol Assassin Droid [Because of course I brought my son into Star Wars]

Eri (My Hero Academia) Adopted Daughter #Everything in Flux [Calls me ‘Mom’]

Cailean Elijah Solomons (Peaky Blinders) Son #Cailean Elijah Solomons [Calls me ‘Mom’]

Romantic F/O’s: 

I still love them very much, but my current attention is on the mains <3

Wolf (10th Kingdom) 🐺🌕❤️

Shaun Hastings (Assassin’s Creed) 📚❤️

Handsome Jack (Borderlands)  💪💔  #OTP: Are We the Heroes

Dr. Nigel Townsend (Crossing Jordan) #OTP: Cryptid Crypts

Skulker (Danny Phantom) 👻💚 #OTP: Compatible Hardware

Vergil (Devil May Cry)  🔵💙 #OTP: The Power to Protect You

Alistair Theirin (Dragon Age) 🌹💙

The Iron Bull (Dragon Age) 🐂💝

Cullen Rutherford (Dragon Age) 💰❤️ #OTP: The Ones Who Remain

Fenris (Dragon Age) ⚡💙

Anders (Dragon Age) 🚑💙

John Hancock (Fallout) ☀️💖

Robert Joseph MacCready (Fallout) 💸💕

Charon (Fallout) 🔫🖤  

Vincent / Angel (nikkzships OC from Halo/RvB) No Tags Yet

Arackniss (Hazbin Hotel) 🕷️🖤

Poly!Husk + Arackniss #OT3: Running the Speakeasys

Sesshomaru (Inuyasha) 🐕💜 #OTP: The Dog The Witch and The Broken Well

Dean McCoppin  (The Iron Giant) #OTP: Scrapyard Shindigs

Garrus Vakarian (Mass Effect) 🌌💙

Vetra Nyx (Mass Effect) 🌌💁💜

Shouta ‘Eraserhead’ Aizawa (My Hero Academia) 💤🖤 #OTP: No Rest For The Wicked

Hizashi ‘Present Mic’ Yamada (My Hero Academia)   🎤💛 #OTP: Loud Blondes Club

Poly!Shouta + Hizashi 💤💜🎤 #OT3: How to Speedrun a Family

Kisame Hoshigaki (Naruto) 🦈💙 #OTP: Fish Out of Water

Hanzo Shimada (Overwatch) 🐉💙🐉 #OTP: So Much for Stealth

Jesse McCree (Overwatch) 🐎❤️ 

Mako ‘Roadhog’ Rutledge (Overwatch) 🐷💗

Aleksandra ‘Zarya’ Zaryanova (Overwatch) 🏋️💗

  Carasynthia 'Cara' Dune (Star Wars: The Mandalorian) ⭐💚 #OTP: Looking in Alderaan Places

Dean Winchester (Supernatural)  🥃🖤 #OTP: The Other We Deserve

Diego Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy) 🗡🖤 #OTP: Yyou’re Jusst Like Me

Eddie Brock + Venom (Venom) ☣️🖤

Lambert (Witcher) 🐺💚 #OTP: Prickly Pair

Gambit / Remy LeBeau (X-Men/Marvel) 🎴💜

Queer Platonic F/O’s:

Not quite Romantic™, but Platonic™ isn’t enough to describe it.

Gaige (Borderlands)  ⛧❤️

Nisha (Borderlands) No Tag Yet

V (Devil May Cry) #OTP: A Facade of Memories

Merril (Dragon Age)  🌼💚

Dorian Pavus (Dragon Age)  🐍🖤  

Butch DeLoria (Fallout)  🕳️🐍💙

Cait (Fallout) No Tag Yet

Atsuhiro ‘Mr. Compress’ Sako (My Hero Academia) #TheShowmen🎭  

Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fawkes (Overwatch)  💥💖

Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy  (Witcher)  🐦🖤

Addison ‘Addy’ Carver (Z Nation) #OTP: Blended Bats

Platonic F/O’s:

I will probably be constantly adding to this list as I forget all the time. These guys don’t have tags, if you want me to tag them, let me know!

Maya (Borderlands)

Krieg (Borderlands)

Axton (Borderlands)

Mordecai (Borderlands)

Brick (Borderlands)

Timothy Lawrence (Borderlands)

Wilhelm (Borderlands)

Nicoli Technus (Danny Phantom) #TechDeck9000🤖

Dante (Devil May Cry)

Lady (Devil May Cry)

Niko (Devil May Cry)

Zevran Arainai (Dragon Age)

Leliana (Dragon Age)

Oghren (Dragon Age)

Sten/Arishock (Dragon Age)

Isabella (Dragon Age)

Aveline Vallen (Dragon Age)

Varric Tethras (Dragon Age)

Cole (Dragon Age)

Cremisius 'Krem’ Aclassi (Dragon Age)

Sera (Dragon Age)

Blackwall/Thom Rainier (Dragon Age)

Cassandra Pentaghast (Dragon Age)

Deacon (Fallout)

Piper (Fallout)

Curie (Fallout)

Preston Garvey (Fallout)

Dogmeat (Fallout)

Amata (Fallout)

Niffty (Hazbin Hotel)

Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)

Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel)

Charlie (Hazbin Hotel)

Wanda Maximoff (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Liara T’Soni (Mass Effect)

Ashley Williams (Mass Effect)

Tali’Zorah Vas Normandy (Mass Effect)

Cora Harper (Mass Effect)

Jaal Ama Darav (Mass Effect)

Liam Kosta (Mass Effect)

Pelessaria ‘Peebee’ B’Sayle (Mass Effect)

Nemuri ‘Midnight’ Kayama (My Hero Academia)

Hidan (Naruto)

Itachi Uchiha (Naruto)

Din Djarin (Star Wars: The Mandalorian) #TheDadalorian🦏

Fennec Shand (Star Wars: The Mandalorian) #TheStoicShitstarters😈

Sam Winchester (Supernatural)

Castiel (Supernatural)

Eskel (Witcher)

Triss (Witcher)

Ciri (Witcher)

Keira Metz (Witcher)

Yennefer (Witcher)

Yusuke Urameshi (Yu Yu Hakusho)

Kazuma Kuwabara (Yu Yu Hakusho)

Shuichi Minamino/Kurama/Yoko Kurama (Yu Yu Hakusho)

Yukina (Yu Yu Hakusho)

Botan (Yu Yu Hakusho)

Keiko Yukimura (Yu Yu Hakusho)

Shizuru Kuwabara (Yu Yu Hakusho)

Familial F/O’s:

I keep getting adopted by people 👀👀👀

Kai Hiwatari (Beyblade) Twin

Dr. Zed (Borderlands) Weird Uncle

Moxxi (Borderlands) Motherly

Marcus (Borderlands) Fatherly

Tina (Borderlands) Twinsies

Jack Napier ‘Joker’ (Batman 1989) Father Figure

Vlad Masters 'Vlad Plasmius' (Danny Phantom) Father #Vlad Dadsters

Trish (Devil May Cry)  Sister

Wynne (Dragon Age) Grandmotherly

Leandra Amell (Dragon Age) Motherly

Vivienne de Fer (Dragon Age) Elder Sister

Nick Valentine (Fallout) Uncle

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) Fatherly... Patron... Thing 🦌♡

Lilith (Hazbin Hotel) Motherly

Todd ‘Squee’ Castle (Johnny the Homicidal Maniac) Younger Brother

Frank Castle (Marvel Cinematic Universe) Older Brother Figure #CastleGuard

Dr. Karin Chakwas (Mass Effect) Motherly/Grandmotherly

Admiral David Anderson (Mass Effect) Fatherly

Nakmor Drack (Mass Effect) Grandfatherly

Just the Entirety of the LOV (My Hero Academia) Siblings, the whole lot of ‘em #Leaguenanigans

Jin ‘Twice’ Bubaigawara (My Hero Academia) #TwiceTheFun

Kurogiri/Oboro Shirakumo (My Hero Academia) #TheOtherParent

Shuichi ‘Spinner’ Iguchi (My Hero Academia) No Tag Yet

Himiko Toga (My Hero Academia) No Tag Yet

Magne (My Hero Academia) #Miss you Mags

Inko Midoriya (My Hero Academia) Sisterly/Motherly (Dabi Ship Only) #MamaMido #NewtonsFirstLaw🔄

Izuku ‘Deku’ Midoriya (My Hero Academia) Nephew (Dabi Ship Only) #Curveball

Shoto Todoroki (My Hero Academia) Younger Brother (Dabi Ship Only) #GlareOfTheLimelight

Natsuo Todoroki (My Hero Academia) Younger Brother (Dabi Ship Only) #BrothersForACause

Fuyumi Todoroki (My Hero Academia) Younger Sister (Dabi Ship Only) #TeachingGrace

Rei Todoroki (My Hero Academia) Mother-In-Law (Dabi Ship Only) #MamaRei

Tomura Shigaraki (My Hero Academia) It’s Complicated (Dabi Ship Only) #NotInKansas

All For One (My Hero Academia) Father Figure...ish? (Dabi Ship Only) #Dad For One

Kakuzu (Naruto) Fatherly

Ana Amari (Overwatch) Grandmotherly

Reinhardt Wilhelm (Overwatch) Grandfatherly

Aberama Gold (Peaky Blinders) Uncle, Mum’s Brother

Ahsoka Tano (Star Wars) Motherly Mentor

Obi-Wan Kenobi (Star Wars) Father #Ben Dadnobi

Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars) The Fun Uncle Mentor

Mace Windu (Star Wars) The Bullshit Filter Mentor

Grogu (Star Wars: The Mandalorian) Nephew

Donna Hanscum (Supernatural) Motherly

Jody Mills (Supernatural) Motherly

Bobby Singer (Supernatural) Uncle

Vesemir (Witcher) Grandfatherly

Logan / James Howlett / Wolverine (X-Men/Marvel) Father #SupBub

Genkai (Yu Yu Hakusho) Grandmotherly

Tommy ‘10K’ (Z Nation) Brother

This got really long, really quickly. I have been doing this for a while, so that makes sense. Don’t really know how to end this, so... Don’t be afraid to self ship, no matter how old you are!!! Your F/O’s love you!

~ Gabe

[caiuscassiuss]

Bandages (Skater Boy AU! NCT Jisung)

y o u n g  v e r.

Description: You swore to god, that attractive boy who kept on coming to the nurse’s office was going to kill himself at this rate. (featuring nurse assistant! you and rebellious skater boy! jisung)

Genre:  fluff | romance | comedy WC: 5.3k Warnings: swearing and some serious roasts

masterlist | requests | updates

(A/N: I hope you enjoy! Please like and reblog~)

______________________________________________________________________

The silence of the nurse’s office was a great contrast to your loud, bustling high school outside. You were glad you got this moment of respite for 2 hours everyday, away from gossiping teenagers and the general chaos of high school.

The nurse was out for a quick break, so you were left to your own accord for a short period of time. You were her assistant of sorts for a few days of the week, selected out of many, so she trusted you in the office. You hummed to yourself as you stocked the cabinets above the sink, a little tune you heard on the radio. You put the antiseptic there, the cotton buds in a jar, and so on. Your thoughts drifted to the never-ending stress as you did your menial task; you had a biology paper due in a few days that you haven’t even started despite being assigned weeks ago, a Calc test coming up, and an anatomy extra credit assignment due that would really boost your grade. It seemed all your time was being claimed by school, school and more school, to be honest. You sighed and wiped a few stray hairs that came loose from your ponytail. All this to become a doctor.

The door creaking and loud chatter from outside broke your anxious thoughts. You told whomever that had entered you would be would with them in a minute as you quickly put back all the stuff and washed your hands. The person hummed in acknowledgement and sat down on own of the beds of the office. You turned around with a smile, only for it to be replaced with a frown.

Park Jisung.

Rebellious Skater Boy extraordinaire.

His dyed blonde hair created a messy halo above his face as he looked up at you with a sheepish smile. His eyes were sparkling and he toyed with the metal chain hanging on his neck.

“Hey Y/N, how’s it going?”

“You’re here again?”

Jisung put on a mock hurt expression and grasped his chest like you had stabbed him.

“Oof! You don’t want to see my handsome face anymore?” he grinned.

You sighed and put your hands on your hips. “What kind of injury have you afflicted upon yourself this time, Jisung?”

Jisung sheepishly held up his bleeding hand and you gasped.

“Jesus Christ! Have I not told you to be more careful?” you nagged as you got out your recently stockpiled antiseptic and swabs.

He leaned back and shrugged. “No pain, no gain, I guess.”

“Gain? Landing that front flip thingy?” you scoffed, taking out the gauze from the closet.

“It’s called a frontside Y/N,” Jisung said, exasperated.

“Front flip, front side, whatever; same thing. Either way, you come into my office looking like you just lost a fight with the concrete!” you shook your head as you bent down beside him to soak the cotton in the antiseptic. So focused were you in this task, you didn’t notice Jisung look at your visage admiringly, appreciating your beautiful features and liking the way your hair fell in front of your eyes.

“Lowkey kinda did— ah, fuck! What was that for!” Jisung exclaimed as he snatched his injured hand away from yours.

You rolled yours eyes and grabbed back his hand. His hands were warm and slightly calloused, however, marred by the many scars he had gotten from skateboarding. You ignored the little spark you got from touching his hand and went back to what you were doing.

“You big baby. A little antiseptic never hurt.”

“Well yeah of course it doesn’t, but when you just press it on my hand without warning, it stings like hell!” the teen whined as your dotted the cotton swab around the wound, cleaning the blood up and the cut.

Your rolled your eyes for the nth time and a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. When you finished cleaning his hand, you reached for the gauze and Jisung broke the silence.

“Did you finish that bio assignment Mr. Allen assigned yet?” he muttered, blushing from the prolonged contact (not that you could see).

Despite fully fitting the rebellious skater kid stereotype, Jisung was actually pretty decent at school. He took some of the same honors classes as you, and mostly got B’s while you strived for A+’s. He was always unfocused in class, unfortunately, and when he got randomly called on by the teacher and he didn’t know the answer, you shook your head disappointedly at your front seat.

“Um… kinda?” you fibbed while you carefully placed the gauze on his hand.

Jisung scoffed. “You haven’t even started it, have you?”

“Well you haven’t either!” you defended.

“Y/N, Miss A+, the greatest and most examplenary student in this school,—” he exaggerated, while you pouted, “—procrastinating? Wow, the world must be ending!”

You hit him playfully on his shoulder, momentarily letting his hand go. He laughed.

“Shut up!” you said, unable to respond to him wittily while you both blushed.

______________________________________________________________________

“You, sir, are whipped as hell,” Jeno squinted at Jisung, pointing a ketchup-covered fry in his direction.

Jisung was shaken out of his thoughts by his best friend and looked away from some point in the distant he was staring at.

“Huh?”

“This proves my point, idiot.” Jeno said, as he took a sip of his coke.

“No really, what?” Jisung asked confusedly.

“We were just stating some facts. I like EXO, Haerim is totally cheating on Yoonsung, and you have the biggest crush in the world on Y/N, you love-struck fool,” Haechan jumped into the conversation savagely, all in a matter-a-fact tone.

“Holy shit, Haerim is cheating on Yoonsung? With who?” Jaemin put his bag down at the table and sat down.

“Whom, Jaemin. Not who. With Eunhyung, actually, but that’s not the point,” Haechan narrowed his eyes at Jaemin, who rolled his eyes and dug into his pizza.

“Shut up Haechan.” Jisung pouted, while discreetly checking you out.

“I mean look at you! Everytime we go to lunch, you have to sit at this spot so you can gawk at Y/N for a solid 30 minutes. You look like a fucking creep,” Jeno exclaimed.

“I-I just can’t help but notice! Y/N’s really pretty and nice and smart and—”

“The reason you purposely slam yourself into an extension when we’re at the skatepark?” Chenle slyly added as he looked up from his book.

The whole group laughed uproariously, drawing many gazes to the notorious Skater Boys’ table. Jisung covered his red face with his hands, his embarrassment keeping him from making his usual savage comebacks. When it came to Y/N, Jisung turned into mochi mush.

“T-That’s because my wheel popped out!”

“Oh? What happened when you couldn’t stick the landing after the flatrail?” Haechan crossed his arms and raised his pierced eyebrow.

“I—”

“You’re one of the best people on the flatrail I know, bro. The one time my skateboard came out from under me you kicked me while I was down, so don’t give us that bullshit.” Renjun accused.

“Well, it’s not like it’s purposeful or anything, but, uh, like—”

“Shut up Jisung. Work up your courage to confess to her, it’s not that hard!” Jaemin offered, while sending a wink to the group of girls passing by their table.

“Says the boy who gets, like, a gazillion confessions a day. Bro, she’s out of my league! Ugh.” Jisung exclaimed and slumped dejectedly to the lunch table.

______________________________________________________________________

“What is it now?” you asked, not even looking up from your desk.

“Uh, my leg?”

You sighed and swiveled around on your comfy office chair, one of the perks of being a nurse assistant.

Jisung was wearing a neon yellow track jacket and some black skinny jeans today, some blue checkered vans adorning his feet. Your eyes zoomed in on one of the rips of the jean, placed on the knee, and it was bloody and bruised.

“Christ,” you muttered.

Again, you took out the cotton swabs and the antiseptic and the gauze while he sat down on one of the medical beds. You put the materials on the bedside table and he lifted his knee up to his attention.

Luckily was the wound was superficial and not that deep, so it would be easy to heal, but it sure as hell would probably hurt for a long time.

“So… how’s the, uh, campaign trail going?” he asked awkwardly after a moment of silence.

“You know about it? Ah, well, it’s going pretty okay, actually. We’ve drummed up alot support from the arts kids, but not as much with the athletes,” you murmured, surprised he knew that you were running for student body president. You wiped the antiseptic over his knee and his leg gave an involuntary jerk, and he gave a sheepish smile.

“Yeah, your posters all over the school.”

“Oh yeah, that,” you blushed, slightly embarrassed you didn’t notice that glaring fact in front of your slight crush. He looked so handsome today, unlike your usual clean-guy type. He looked wild and rebellious and fun all wrapped up into an attractive package.

“Well, I’m really busy nowadays. I never have time to do anything that’s mildly entertaining, like reading a good book or drawing,” you lamented.

“You call that fun?” Jisung snorted. You pouted and slapped him on his shoulder.

“Hey!”

“No no no I don’t mean it like that! It’s pretty admirable that your straightedge and everything. But… is that, like, all you do?” he frowned shifting closer to your scent.

You nervously put ointment over the wound, unnerved by his proximity.

“Well… yeah?”

“That sounds… yeah. Hey, erm, do you wanna go out with our group, one time?” he nervously twiddled his thumb as you momentarily paused.

“Why? Because I’m so boring?” it was said aggressively, but the twinkle in your eye and the slight smile gave away your mischievous intentions.

Because Jisung was Jisung and he became the living embodiment of mush around you, he didn’t notice your signs and inwardly panicked.

“No! Uh, I just thought you’d like to try something different I guess,” Jisung stuttered, flailing for some grounding around his crush.

You stared at him, hard and direct. Jisung didn’t look like he had ulterior motives. He looked back at you in the eyes, a blush still on his cheeks because of his embarrassment.

“Sure. When and where?” you smiled brightly at him, and he sighed in relief.

“I’ll text you.”

______________________________________________________________________

Honestly, you never expected you find yourself in this situation.

It was 10 at night, you weren’t studying, and you were somewhere, in the city, in a near deserted skatepark.

Your parents were going to kill you.

Well, if they found out.

“FUCK YOU, YOU THOT!” you heard a voice shouting.

You look over to see Haechan yelling at Mark, who was laughing and speeding away on his neon green skateboard. Haechan quickly sets down his orange skateboard and runs after Mark, arms and limbs flapping wildly.

On the other hand, Renjun and Chenle were playing tag around the skatepark, completely ignoring the skateboards they had brought with them. Their skateboards seemed to lie pitifully on the ground, unused while Chenle was screaming loudly. Someone was going to trip over that shit.

Jeno and Jaemin, however, were leant up against a streetlight and drinking… capri-suns? You did a double-take and looked closer. Yes, indeed they were drinking silver Capri-Sun juice packets; Jeno holding a grape-flavored one while Jaemin was slurping on a strawberry kiwi one.

Update: Someone did trip over the skateboard. RIP Haechan.

Haechan starts screaming at Renjun and Chenle, who start laughing at his disheveled appearance. Not gonna lie, you jumped a little when Haechan suddenly put them in a headlock, and the Chinese boys were looking like they were about to choke.

You hear a big sigh to your left and you turn to see Jisung facepalming in the fluorescent lamplight. He held a neon blue skateboard with green glow-in-the-dark lines etched onto the deck, still vibrant and colorful despite it’s wear-and-tear.

“Why are they like this?” Jisung sighs again.

Jaemin hears Jisung’s complaint and raises an eyebrow.

“Why do you have to be so emo, Jisung?” Jaemin taunts, the silver of his juice packet flashing as he takes a long sip.

Jeno snorts and in turn spits out some of his grape juice. The rest of the group notice the flying liquid out of Jeno’s face and start laughing at him.

Jisung, after chuckling at Jeno’s mishap, turns back towards you.

“Welp, these idiots happen to be my friends, and they’re fun... I guess.”

You chuckle softly and hug your cardigan closer to you. It was getting chillier as the night progressed, and you were admittedly, totally unprepared. You had come straight here after school clubs instead of going home, so you had nothing but your light brown cardigan to keep you warm.

Jisung sees you slightly shivering, and frowns.

“Hey, are you alright?”

You smile slightly at him.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

Jisung tilted his head and pursed his lips. “No you’re not.”

Before you could do anything, Jisung sets his skateboard down roughly and shakes off his windbreaker. You opened your mouth to protest, but the blond-haired youth just threw it at your head

“Just take it, Y/N,” he huffs.

Because of your blocked line of vision, you don’t see Jisung blush heavily and then pout cutely. You carefully take it off your head and clutch the fabric in your hand, confused why he was doing this.

“Just… just think of this as payback for all the times you treated me at the clinic, o-okay?” Jisung stuttered, raising his now-bare arms and scratching the back of his head. His head was turned slightly away from you, so only some parts of his face you could see.

“I… thank you, Jisung.” You grin widely up at the tall boy and slip on his neon windbreaker. It was, of course, quite large and hit you mid thigh, and the sleeves gave you very extended sweater-paws. However, you could smell his deodorant faintly from the fabric and you wanted to die in a hole.

The neon yellow of the jacket reflecting in the lamplights attracted the attention of the other boys, and they start jeering loudly.

“Damn, Jisung, it’s only the first date and you’re already giving her clothes to wear?” Mark shouts at the two of you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“FUCK OFF!” Jisung took off running towards Mark while you covered your red face in your hands.

______________________________________________________________________

It was currently… 12 AM right now and you were confused as fuck.

The group were still energetic and high even after 2 hrs at the park, frequently exchanging high fives while passing each other on their skateboards. They all performed dazzling tricks in the artificial light and it had turned into some competition on who could impress you more. Chenle did a cool grabby thing with his board, while Jeno did a stellar flip on his and they all looked to you to see who you were impressed by.

Except, you eyes were captivated by one.

You were staring dumbfounded at the blond-haired boy who seemed like he was flying on his skateboard. JIsung looked like some character in a 90’s teenage movie, rebellious and unrestrained fun written all over his neon clothes and his gleeful face. He seemed much more in his element here, at the skateboard park, unlike school where the walls couldn’t contain his thirst for life; Jisung was so much more free.

However, you couldn’t ignore the glaring fact that Jisung was much better at skateboarding than you thought.

Okay, so you knew he wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t very good either. He comes into your office like… what, 2-3 times a week? By those statistics, Jisung should’ve been tripping over his board and currently in the hospital by now, but no, Jisung was nimbly doing tricks and runs on his skateboard. He slid down the flatrail with ease and landed perfectly before rolling to the bowl, in which he jumped and flipped his skateboard. This, clearly, was not the skating of a untrained and clumsy newbie; this was the skating of someone experienced and who doesn’t get hurt all the time.

You looked at the time on the dim screen of your phone, of which was at 19%. Despite it being the weekend, you wanted to get home quickly.

“Jisung!”

The boy’s head snapped towards you and he quickly halted his lap around the park.

“Y/N are you alright?” Jisung asked concernedly while the other boys in the group paused in their tricks.

“Yeah I’m all good! It’s just it’s getting a bit late now, I’m gonna go home!” you shouted, still clutching his windbreaker around your body.

“Wait, let me accompany you!” Jisung picked up his board and walked towards the bench you were occupying.

“Hey, morons! I’m gonna get Y/N back home, okay?” Jisung turned back to the rest of the boys.

“OOOoooOOOooOOhhHHHh sPicY!” Haechan laughed at Jisung.

“Yeah yeah we’ll follow you up as soon… as soon as we get Chenle out of this bush,” Jaemin stared, desperately trying to contain his laughter at Renjun and Jeno trying and failing to get the poor Chinese student out of the bush after his board had slipped out from under him.

“BYE THOT!” Jisung put the skateboard under his arm.

“BYE, ROMEO!”

The pair of you walked in a semi-awkward silence back to your house, the usual noises of a suburban neighborhood surrounding you.

“Uh… you got through the primaries for pres position?” Jisung asked, breaking the silence.

“Yup… after completely crushing those underclassman,” you grinned up at him, the streetlights casting shadows upon his face.

“Eyyyy nice.”

You two easily lapsed into light-hearted conversation, discussing the teachers that you hated and the gossip around the school.

There was a pause in conversation, and you took that opportunity to ask Jisung something that had been on your mind all night.

“Hey, uh, if you don’t mind me asking… how are you so good at skateboarding?”

A momentary flash of panic struck across his face, which quickly settled itself into to feigned confusion.

“Huh?”

“Like… erm, you know how you always go to my office a lot for your injuries? I just thought…” you floundered, trying to get information without somehow insulting the skater boy.

“Oh, I’m usually much worse than today,” he waved it off.

“I guess today was my lucky day, probably. I think I just perform, uh, much better in front of company?” Jisung eyes roved, searching everywhere but you.

“Ah.” It fell silent before you broke it.

“Jisung… I had a really fun time tonight. And I wanted to thank you for that,” you said, lucky that your blushing cheeks were covered by the darkness of nights.

“No problemo Y/N! I think everyone had a bit more fun with you here… you can always go out with us, if you want, you know… yeah.”

“Sure, I’ll hit you up,” you fingered with the buttons of your cardigan in nervous because of Jisung’s close proximity to you.

Pretty soon the two of you stopped near your house and you looked at each other awkwardly.

“Yeah… again, thank you for taking me out,” you stuttered, wondering whether you should hug him or not.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all good.”

Fuck it. Let’s carpe diem this shit.

You extended your arms to the boy and a brief look of shock and panic crossed his face before he, too, extended his arms to your waist and pulled you closer. He had to bend down a little to your height, and you too held each other for a few seconds. In this brief few seconds or so, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, while he settled his head on your shoulder. Jisung was warm and comfy, and while you were initially tense, you relaxed in his hold.

You released each other and you ran to your doorstep.

“Bye Jisung! I’ll see you Monday!”

“Yeah, uh, bye!”

You entered your house quietly, before tip-toeing to your room. As soon as you sat down on your chair, you realized you had forgotten to give back Jisung’s jacket.

Shit.

______________________________________________________________________

Jisung stared at your door for a few seconds, trying to figure out whether the last few minutes was a dream or not. His body still felt warm from the time you had touched him. He must of looked like a straight idiot or a stalker, staying and staring in one position for an extended amount of time.

However, he was in a daze of confusion and happiness. Holy shit, had he just hugged his crush of the past 2 years? And… she initiated it? Holy fucking shit. Alsfskfhaslfdjsjfs.

Jisung turned to walk back to his crew and it was only a few steps until he suddenly fist pumped and jumped in the air in joy. He was getting closer.

______________________________________________________________________

“Thank you!” you had thanked the bus driver, a old sweet lady, and she smiled a red-cheeked smile at you in return. You stepped off the bus and made your way to your classroom, kind of nervous of what you were about to do. You were going to give back Jisung’s jacket.

Many people greeted you in the hallway with hello’s or good morning’s because of your popularity as soon-to-be class president, and you waved back or acknowledged them. You entered your classroom to set down your bookbag, the early morning light nearly blinding you from the windows.

“Hey Y/N!” your classmate Soora greeted you from her perch atop her desk, in the midst of talking to her friends.

“Hi Soora! How are you?” you smiled at her as you pulled the neon windbreaker from your bag.

“I’m fine! You?”

“All good!” you sent her a thumbs up.

“Say, whaddya got there?” she jumped off her desk and leaned closer to the neon object hanging of your arm.

“Oh, yeah, um, it’s someone’s jacket. I need to give it back to him,” you waved off, knowing Soora was nosy as hell.

“Hold the phone; HIM? As in the singular pronoun of the male gender? XY chromosomes? H-I-M?” she gasped loudly and as a result, several people turned their heads towards the disturbance.

“Shhhhh! Soora!” you softly scolded, looking suspiciously around and smiling at everybody so they could get their attention off of you.

“Well who is it?” Soora crossed her arms across her chest, a small pout on her tinted lips.

“No one you know,” you replied, walking out of the classroom. Unfortunately, the gossipy brunette followed you out, cutting herself out of her group’s conversation.

You took a quick pace, sneakers tapping across the floor loudly, in hope you could lose her or she would give up. No good; Soora just upped her pace to keep in line with you.

“Y/N! Tell me something!” she whined to you.

You rolled your eyes.

“You’ll find out soon anyway,” you replied as you turned a corner to Class 5275; Jisung’s Lit classroom.

The door was open, thankfully, and you quietly went in, however, people saw you as soon as you entered.

A chorus of hey’s and hello’s were given to you and you acknowledged them. You looked around the classroom to see a mop of blonde hair; aha! You could see Jisung by the window talking to a few friends, his face contorted in a laugh as Jeno cracked a joke. The sun was shining on his face and reflecting off his hair, so he looked hella handsome today.

“Jisung!” you called out. Jisung���s head snapped to you, as did many other’s.

“Y/N?” Jisung said confusedly as he got out of his seat.

“Hey Jeno! Hi Chenle!” you waved to the group of boys near him.

“Hey Y/N!” they called out and snickered as Jisung neared you. Jisung turned to glare at them.

“Uh, hi?” he greeted you as he stood in front of you.

“Jisung! I’m so sorry I totally forgot it on Saturday; here’s your jacket!” you smile as you hand him the neon windbreaker on your hand.

His eyes widened in recognition as he took it out of your hands.

“Ah! So you’re the reason I was freezing all weekend!” he smirked at you.

“Shut up! You offered!”

“And you forgot.” You slapped his bicep in retaliation, a mock-hurt expression on your face and you both laughed.

“Well anyway, thanks. I’ll see you later, I guess?” Jisung looked down at you.

“Yeah, yeah. Bye!” you patted his forearm and turned towards the doorway.

“Oh wait; don’t forget to vote for me!” you looked back at him.

“I will!” he waved back at you.

As you stepped through the doorway, you realized how semi-quiet the classroom had gotten. Most conversations had died down and all of Class 5275’s attention were on you and Jisung, eyes wide at the unexpected interaction.

Soora was waiting for you at the doorway, her mouth open in shock.

“Park Jisung? You were giving a jacket back to Park Jisung, the low-key emo skater kid who happens to be hella hot????” Soora loudly said.

“Uh, yeah? I forgot to give it back to him,” you leaned away from the eager girl.

“Wait wait wait, hold up, I’m so shook right now. First, how did you get the jacket? Where did you get the jacket? Second, how do you know Park Jisung? And his group of friends? Do you know how many people are crushing on him—”

“Calm down Soora! I was hanging out with them and I was cold so Jisung gave me his jacket, that’s all-”

“PARK JISUNG GAVE YOU HIS JACKET?!” Soora burst out in the middle of the hallway. Suprised faces turned to you, growing even more shocked when recognizing who you were. Loud whispers and conversations started up as you facepalmed at the girl’s idioticness.

______________________________________________________________________

For the next few weeks, you were bombarded in questions about your friendship with Jisung. It was a bit unexpected, you supposed; the skater kid is friends with a preppy smartass. However, the gossip surrounding you and him made you more popular, so it was beneficial to your campaign at least.

You, Jisung, and the rest of the kids hung out more as time progressed. You got together during the weekends at the skatepark, you sat next to each other in class, and shared inside jokes and memes on the groupchat you were added into. You got closer to all of them, but you were just naturally more attached to Jisung.

As the two of you hung out more, Jisung and you had become very close. He was now not some annoying skater kid who went your office nearly every other day to get his injuries treated; Jisung was a friend who you could confide in one moment, and roast in another. He was amazing and scarily, you found him more and more attractive.

Park Jisung was giving you feelings you’d never experienced before. You got butterflies in your stomach when you spoke to him, you sometimes stuttered when you were close to him, and your face was always red when you hugged him. He was funny, he was charming, and really, really fun. You couldn’t believe you never noticed him before when you were in his chem class a few years ago.

Jisung still visited your office with suspiciously less injuries since you got closer. You would chat with him while helping other patients. You asked him if he was skipping class, but he always denied it and said it was his free period so “he might as well hang out with someone he could tolerate”.

Because of your close friendship, many people asked both you if you were dating, which made it worse. You both always denied it, unaware of the longing gazes you two would send each other.

It all came to a point a few days later, when the presidential elections were announced. You had won (by a landslide it was rumoured) the position of student council president for the next school year and were in the midst of a flurry of congratulations when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N?” Jisung’s voice rang out.

You turned towards him and an immediate smile crept up your face.

“Jisung! It’s nice to see you!” you greeted, turning your attention away from your other classmates.

“Congratulations on your election!” he held his arms out, and you stepped into them so you could hug each other.

“Thank you!”

Jisung suddenly grew a bit nervous, and he scratched the back of his head.

“Uh, could you come with me for a moment? In private?” he asked.

Needless to say, you were a bit confused.

“Sure!” you waved goodbye to your friends and walked with him.

His long-legged gait led you both to the courtyard. It was sunny today, and as a result, Jisung just wore some skinny jeans and a Supreme t-shirt while you were in a floral sundress.

During the walk there, you had an inward debate with yourself. These feelings had been going on for quite sometime, and since it was nearing the end of the school year, you might as well let it out. You decided, uncharacteristically impulsively, that you were going to to confess to Jisung.

He took you under a tree and paused there.

“I have something to say,” he intoned seriously.

You took a deep breath.

“I do to.”

“Huh?” Jisung frowned.

You could do this. It was the perfect time to do it, anyway.

“Park Jisung… I like you. Like, as in more than a friend kind of like,” you let out, looking down.

It was silent for a few seconds, the only sound was the leaves rustling in the breeze.

“Well shit. Holy shit.” he breathed out in amazement.

“What?” you asked, your heart pumping from the nervousness of your confession.

“I… I like you alot too. In fact, I was going to confess to you before you said it. Wow, this is great, like, holy fuck I can’t believe this is happening.” he ran his hands through his hair.

“Really?” You jumped up and circled your arms around his neck and giggled. He hugged you back tightly.

“If we’re on the subject of confessions, I have something else to confess.” Jisung whispered in your ear.

You leaned back from him for a moment, high off the joy that your crush liked you back.

“Y/N, I have liked you since our chem class 2 years ago”— your eyes widened—” and… um…” he mumbled the last part.

“Sorry, what?”

“I may have... went to the nurse office alot so I could see you.”

Your brows came together, until your mind worked out what he was implying.

“Wait a fucking minute! Did you deliberately get injured so you could… so you could…” you sputtered, bewildered from this new information.

“Yeah?”

“Your confession is rejected, you little shit! Do you know how much supplies you took up? Also, did you keep in mind what you could’ve to your body?!” you nagged and slapped his chest and he laughed.

You two settled into comfortable silence, luxuriating in each other’s presence.

You reached up and pecked his cheek.

“Just kidding, I like you a lot, you idiot,” you smiled up at him.

Your blissful moments were interrupted by loud cheering from the bushes. You both turned to see the squad cheering, Chenle fake-sobbing into Renjun’s arm dramatically as Jeno and Jaemin spun each other around, giggling.

“My son… my son has grown up from a skateboarding little shit into a skateboarding little shit who has a girlfriend!” Haechan wiped a fake tear as he stood in front of you.

“EVERYONE! PARK JISUNG AND Y/N ARE DATING NOW!” Mark shouted to the rest of the school.

“MARK!” Jisung shouted.

Many people shouted their congratlations and cheered, while you buried your face into Jisung’s chest.

In the midst of Jisung threatening to break Mark’s board in half, he hugged you tighter.

[alias-b]

Without The Lights~ Billy Hargrove x OC Camille Harper

Chapter 5: Where Is My Mind?

Summary: Touch with Billy Hargrove often meant getting fresh stitches plucked open. For Camille Harper, he'd risk it. Camille was Queen Bee of Hawkins High School. The teen dream. Billy wanted her for it. No use lying about that much. But, they get more than they bargained for when two messy lives from opposite ends of town intertwine. Secrets unravel between them when one dimension bleeds into another. Camille is a girl just trying to do better when Billy barges into her life and new pieces come together. Maybe not all the ones they wanted. He gets tangled into her lavish existence. Rich girl. Absent parents. A mystery that blooms, threatening everything they built. And three little numbers: 006.

A/N: Yay, some S2 stuff picks up. We get more of Steve, The Party, and Jim Hopper. :) Warning for forced vomiting from pill overdose at the beginning here. Billy and Camille fall down the rabbit hole.

  Pounding. Her world was hard vibrations. Nothing more.

  Billy tried to leave. Tried.

  “Camille!” He busted the lock on her window. Climbed a story to get to it through the thorny rose vines along the side of her house.

  Hair framed her head with a dark halo. He dragged her half aware body into the bathroom, knocking bottles over when he heaved her into the tub. Cold water sprayed and fingers went into her throat.

  “Come on!” She gagged. Vomit burned around the digits so he choked her again. Free hand tight into silky locks. Whole and half dissolved pills came up in chunks of puke and bile. Shower water sprayed them away. “That’s it. Fucking god damn it, Camille!” One of her hands came up to grip the side of the tub, feeling around as if to swat at him. Dainty fingers curled into his jacket, tugging blindly. “Little more. Fuck!” She heaved for air with blood shot eyes, head tipping to touch the porcelain.

  “Billy...”

  “What the fuck are you doing!” He screamed in her face. Shaking her. Billy swept wet hair from her cheeks. His voice got smaller, cracking with genuine confusion. He finally sounded like a teenager. “You stupid bitch, what the fuck did you do?” She realized he was crying. Barely there tears slipped down. Furious. Scared. “Don’t ever do that again! What were you thinking?!” He cupped her face and roughly let her go. Camille threw up again down her front and he stole a glass to offer tap water. "Drink it!" Heaving still, she gulped with two shaken hands on the glass.

  “I wanted it to stop.” Her voice was near gone.

  “You think dying will stop it?!” He raged, jerking the shower head to pull the cold spray over her face. "Wake up, Camille!" She coughed and sputtered, pushing at his soaked chest. Camille looked like a wet rat when he was done. Tiny. He turned off the water and dropped a whole pile of towels on her. “Get up!”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck me?” He yanked her out. “Stand up!”

  “No!” She played up a brat, dragging along with him.

  “Stand up, Camille!” Billy forced her against the counter, rubbing her down roughly with towels. He had to wedge her there with his body while she pushed at his chest. Fingers dug into her arms, faces too close. He hissed this time. “Take your fucking clothes off.”

  “You first, dick!” She seethed, tearing from him with one big push. Mascara and eyeshadow had streaked down her cheeks. He tore his shirt open and tossed it at her head. Camille threw the towels aside and yanked everything off down to her underwear. Billy growled to himself and followed until he was in tight briefs. They swayed together, breathing heavily. Manic. Billy grew livid, tone low and even to spit through emotions.

  “I’m not going to fuck you.”

  “I hate you.” She broke apart.

  “You think I fucking like you right now?” He gestured with both hands. The light caught his silver pendant. “You come into my life and drudge up all this shit.”

  “You pursued me. I was just a challenge to you at first. A notch in your bedpost. New hive for Billy Hargrove, why not find the queen bee and try to fuck her.” She pushed at his chest and fingers clamped around her arms. They struggled, stumbling until they were falling into bed. Her chest rose and fell. Heat filled his body. He held her wrists into place and she watched his eyes. Bodies pressed together. Shuddering. Pulsing. Breathing deep. His thigh edged up between her legs. Camille was hard intent on his eyes. Billy tore himself off her, sitting up on his knees and she followed, holding herself up too. They watched each other, calming. Coming down from this high. They didn't speak until it was a little less red. Camille looked at his face and fell back, laughter erupted from her chest. Fleeting. Billy, unable to stop himself, let his own echo. They'd both officially lost it. Yet, they had each other. Comfort was horrifying. “It’s...It’s just all bullshit. It doesn't ever end. What's worse...people like us don't really want it to end.” He fucks her, it's all over. The chase. That hit too hard. She wiped her eyes and he sobered first.

  “Get under the damn covers.” He yanked them back. “Be quiet. Still pissed at you. Not leaving until I know you won't stuff more pills. You think that's an escape from this?" Camille quivered, head lowering before she did as she was told.

  “The fucking sunflowers.” She wheezed, rolling to face the window instead. “My mother… Every single time I’ve been sick. Every recital. Competition. Every single time. She places a big vase of sunflowers on my dresser. Do you think she feels shame? Gives them to Judith and talks about me? She stole her daughter.”

  “Fucked up.”

  “I’m fucked up.” Camille let him cover her before she whispered. “Don’t leave.”

  “Wasn’t planning to.” He fell behind her. “Yet. Have this new friend who's an idiot I have to watch. Pills, Camille, Jesus Christ. I tore my shit up climbing to your damn window too.”

  “You could have left when I shut that door. Know what self destruction looks like?”

  “Something like that,” he agreed. There was an awkward beat.

  “I’m not going to fuck you either.” She began, defiant.

  “So, we agree.”

  “Yes, we do.” She was hard. Billy hesitated, teeth pressed before he was lax.

  “I’m going to take you out first.” He came to her ear. “Saturday. Around eight. Put on a dress and we’ll go to the damn movies. Something that’ll make us forget the bullshit.”

  “You’ll pick me up and hold the door.” She rolled over to face him. “I want a flower too."

  "A red rose?"

  "No, I hate red roses. I want a peony. Pink one.”

  “You think I know what the fuck a peony is?”

  “Now you get to go find out.” She uttered and Billy turned off the lamp behind him. “You’ll buy the tickets and I’ll get the popcorn.”

  “Fine.” He was harsh.

  “Fine!” Camille shot back. They stared in the dim moonlight. “You have to hold my hand during the movie. Not the whole thing. Maybe the credits.”

  “After it, I’m taking you to the corner diner. Twenty four hour shithole. You’ll get a milkshake. Strawberry.”

  “I like chocolate.”

  “I don’t give a shit.” He pressed his teeth.

  “You have to share your fries.” She ordered then and he relented.

  “It’s a fucking date, Camille.”

  “I’ll fucking see you then, Billy.” They glared. Softening each edge. “I don’t hate you.”

  “Maybe I don’t hate you either.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.” They repeated. She puffed and studied him, rolling around to see the night sky.

  “I’m going to find out everything. Every dirty, awful thing they’ve done.” Camille admitted. “I have to pretend first. I can do that. I’ll be queen bee Camille and they’ll have to live with it.”

  “Can’t do that if you stuff yourself with more pills.” Billy remarked, quieter, and she turned back around so she could face him.

  “They give me pills for that...medical thing. What if those suppress me? What happens when the cuffs come off?” Camille uttered and he watched her eyes.

  “Stick around and find out for yourself.” He offered, something dangerous in his tone. It made her smirk. "Now, shut your mouth and go to sleep."

  “Goodnight.” Camille faced the window one last time and he scooted closer. Body heat warmed them up. She reached down for the doll on the floor to hold it close to her heart. Eyes closed and Billy draped one arm around her. He was tense as first. Stiff and shaken. Still furious. Still scared too. Camille slowly slipped her hand over his and he thought to jerk away. Shifted in a sudden, confused motion like he might. When he didn't, she felt him sigh and relax into her. Wordless, they fell together.

** ** **

  Camille sat at the head of the table. Grin and bear it. Her parents made time for her. Finally. These people. These liars.

  “Thankfully the school will be back Monday.” Rosemary cut into an omelet.

  “Hm, I miss it.” Camille admitted.

  “We see you’re feeling better.” Noah added.

  “Yeah, I feel...great. Renewed.” Her teeth showed. Edna swept in the next room, coming out with a bright smile that Camille mirrored. The housekeeper turned her head to move on. That smile faded. Melting in an instant. “Do you really have to work today? What do they hog you for?”

  “Chasing each and every breakthrough as hard as the last is what knowledge is built from.” He’d replied so she didn’t falter.

  “Thought it was built on children.” Camille blinked. Noah stilled, eyes lifting. She didn't bow. “The budding new minds of generations after you.”

  “I would say that both are equally important. Legacy is everything. You have to keep the cycle going."

  “What if the cycle never worked?” She uttered, softer. “What if you’re just too mad to give it up?”

  “Let’s hope it never comes to that,” he laughed and then she followed. Rosemary joined, sipping water. Her family.

  What if the cycle had a cost? Who decides who pays it? She wanted to say.

  “We know we’ve disappointed you.” Noah was heartfelt. At last.

  “Disappointed? No. Never.” Camille sobered up. “You were good parents.” Were.

  “We push your limits. I know. It’s all for your benefit. To grow up better.” To be the best.

  “Maybe, I am just Camille.”

  “Just Camille. Oh, no,” Noah chuckled again. “You are everything to us. Always remember that.”

  “I will.” She dropped her eyes, silverware glinting in the light. “I was thinking of going to the library today. Is that okay, dad?” Dad. She drank water in gulps.

  “Of course, honey.”

  “Nancy is picking me up. I should head out soon.”

  “We’ll be right here when you get home tonight.” Her dad spoke. Like it was a promise. Camille didn’t kiss either of them. Just fixed her makeup and flicked hair aside to put on a coat. She had avoided her friends until Friday morning. Jonathan was with Nancy yet again. Camille didn’t comment on that. She shut the door and slid in back while they looked expectantly.

  “You said you found something. Did you bring it?” Nancy began when they drove off.

  “I couldn’t bring the files. My dad will know. But, I do have something else.” Camille frowned.

  “What was it?” Jonathan began, turning the corner.

  “Me.”

** ** **

  “We should go to Hopper,” Nancy shook her head.

  “Feels like it’s all repeating itself.” Jonathan agreed. “Will and...you now.”

  “Drop me here,” Camille shifted. “Just promise me you’ll destroy that place.”

  “I will,” Nancy grabbed her hand. “Camille. Whatever is happening to you. We can help.”

  “I need to figure it out first.” She flashed her scar. “Six.”

  “Eleven, she had a tattoo.”

  “And you say she disappeared into this...this...”

  “Upside down. They thought so.” Jonathan finished. “You think you’re like her?”

  “Pills will wear off, I haven’t been taking them for awhile. Whatever was slipping in is now flooding. If I don’t die or hemorrhage...I’ll have a complete answer.” Camille sat back again and Nancy let her go. “I have to push through.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She’d offered, unsure why.

  “So am I.” Camille returned it. “I’ll be fine.”

  “If they find out-”

  “I know. I’ll stop by the police then I’ll swing by your place later...if you’re still there. Plan this out before you jump on it. If you’re gone, I’ll know you made your move.” Camille got out. “Be careful.”

  “You too.” They drove away and she peered up at the library when someone called her name.

  “Steve,” she regarded him.

  “Hey, uh, was that Nancy and Jonathan?” He’d raced across the street to her.

  “...Yes.” She admitted and his shoulders fell. “Are you and Nancy still…?”

  “I just figured we’d find our way back, you know?” He followed her into the library.

  “Do you want to be with her?” Camille walked aisles of shelves, hands stuffed into her pockets.

  “I mean, yes, of course. I do.” Steve trailed like a puppy. “What should I do?”

  “You could try flowers.” Camille shrugged, pulling books down.

  “Um, so what’s that about?” Steve read titles.

  “Steve, I’m kind of going through something and...” Camille looked behind him and pulled him further into the shelves. “Nancy, she told me about last year.”

  “...What?”

  “Can you keep a couple more secrets?” She heaved books about telekinesis, unexplained mysteries, and photographic memories to the front. Marissa eyed her behind the desk.

  “New subjects, even for you, Ms. Harper.”

  “I’m...writing a story for school. Sci-fi type. Need ideas.”

  “Oh? Sound’s fun. I love a good mystery.”

  “You have no idea.” Camille stuffed her bag full and turned to Steve. “You have your car. Can I catch a ride? We can stop by Nancy’s house later, see if she’s around. She has a lot on her plate right now. I'll help you pick out flowers.”

  “Thank you, Camille...” He closed his eyes, relieved. “Explain this...on the way.”

  “I have time. But, first, I need to see Chief Hopper.”

** *** **

  “Wait here.” Camille got out, ignoring an awed Steve.

  “You can’t just leave me hanging after that story, Camille!” He went silent as the door shut behind her. Flo looked up when Camille came in.

  "Ms. Harper, what brings you here?"

  “Is the Chief in?”

  “What is this regarding?” Flo asked and Jim came out of his office in a huff. “Hop-”

  “I know, I know, I’m going to see Joyce right now.”

  “Hop, this girl-”

  “Chief Hopper, I need to speak with you.”

  “Ms. Harper, I’m afraid there’s a line.” He breezed past her. "Tell your popular friends to quit doing donuts around the cop cars, it gets old."

  “Really, well I can think of ten...maybe eleven...reasons you should take a moment to speak with me.” Camille crossed her arms when he skidded to a stop and peered at her. She split a smile at him. Jim eyed Flo and pointed Camille toward his office.

  “Call Joyce, tell her I’ll be on the way.” Jim locked his door and Camille leaned against his desk. “Well?”

  “Funny how pieces come together, Chief Hopper. Hearing a lot. Sounds like you were quite the hero. Did you know?”

  “Know about what?”

  “Mm, I think you knew.” Camille was still smiling. It set him on edge. A teen with fire inside her. “You know my dad is part of it.”

  “What do you know?”

  “Everything.” She stood taller. “Maybe a few things you don’t.” Camille fixed his typewriter so it was facing them. Concentrated. She thought of those broken lights. She thought of her mother rocking. Rage was white hot. Then it was red. Tap. Tap. Tap. Blood traced a thin line down to her lip. Jim Hopper’s jaw about hit the floor. The keys moved on their own. 006. “Want to talk to me now?”

  “You have five minutes.”

  “They stole me. The lab. My parents, they're a part of it. They were...given me. My dad has a whole study of my life in our attic. I found it after..." Camille offered her arm so he took her hand to eye the scar.

  "You got out, how?"

  "It was part of the experiment to...suppress me. I’ve lost it, Chief. ...I can...recall things. Skills. See them and know how they work. Mimic them. They drugged me to repress it as part of the study. To see if I could be controlled and still function. I’m a mockingbird in a cage. They’ll want me back soon, I know it and I need people I can trust. You were a big part of this. Here we thought you could care less about Hawkins. Used to be an easy gig. Drunk farmers, raccoons, and idiot teens. I need help, Chief Hopper. Please. If something happens to me, they can’t get away with it.”

  “We made a deal. I’m sure your little friends told you that.”

  “We were just kids.” Camille’s eyes watered and guilt pooled within him. He thought of El at home crying.

  “I can protect you but, you can’t make waves.” Jim touched her shoulder to comfort her.

  “I found my mother. They destroyed her.”

  “These people are serious, Camille. They take care of loose ends and you might be the biggest one if you’re not careful.”

  “I stopped the drugs they’ve been feeding me and something is awake inside me.” She whispered, trembling. “I feel it everywhere. I can’t stop it. I don’t want to.”

  “You have to go home. Smile. Wait. Who knows about this? Just those involved in last year?”

  “Maybe...someone else.” Her eyes turned. “They don’t know all of it. They mostly just know...about me.”

  “Keep them quiet.” Jim was at her level. “I’ll take care of this. Go straight home.” He guided her out so she thanked him quietly and went to Steve’s car.

  “I’m losing it, Cam.”

  “You’re not the only one,” she watched him start up the vehicle. “Thanks. I’ll help you with Nancy now. Come on, I’m not sure she’ll be near home long. That girl has a fire under her.”

  “Don’t I know it?” Steve pulled away.

** ** **

  “I’m sorry. I love you.” Steve recited with roses in hand while he drove. “What the hell am I sorry for?”

  “She’s sorry for taking her grief out on you and you’re sorry for not hearing her out better,” Camille shrugged. Always each other's wingman since they were still playing in sandboxes with absent parents. “You just need to communicate if you want her back, it’ll come to you. You’re a good guy, Steve, you just...maybe you wanted this to be over before she did.”

  “That’s a bad thing? It was awful, I want to move on. And it's repeating itself. I hate it.”

  “What if Nancy isn’t ready to let go yet? You can’t force that. She was wrong too though. Just talk to her. Last time you didn’t, we did a really fucked up thing. The spray paint. We didn’t stop Tommy.” They parked. “If she isn’t here then we’ll have to try later.” Camille got out and Steve came around the car. “I’ll wait.”

  “No pressure.” He huffed. Little Dustin Henderson, annoyed, was on his way from the door.

  “Steve, are those for Mr or Mrs. Wheeler?”

  “No...” Steve had the flowers snatched from him. The kid stuffed them in the mailbox.

  “Good.”

  “Hey, what the hell? Hey!”

  “Nancy isn’t home.”

  “We missed her.” Camille reclined into the car and Dustin turned to see her.

  “Oh...you’re here too?”

  “Nancy told Mike before she left and he told you, yeah?” She shrugged.

  "Lost contact with Mike a bit ago too. Something's up. You in?"

  "All in... You got so big, Dusty. Last time I saw you, Nancy and I dressed like elves for your D&D campaign.”

  “I’m up to speed on...most all that. Max had some weird stuff to say. Who’d a thought Hawkins High royalty is one of them?”

  “Guess I’m in the freak circle.”

  “Not the worst place you can be,” Dustin was genuine as he watched her nod.

  “Where is Nancy?” Steve gestured to the house.

  “Raising hell probably,” Camille shrugged.

  “Doesn’t matter, we have bigger problems than your love life.” Dustin opened the car door and Steve looked at Camille, hopeless. She rolled with the punches. “Do you still have that bat? The one with the nails.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll explain on the way.” Dustin Henderson kidnapped the King and Queen of Hawkins High School. “We’ll need one of the X-Men too, I guess. Get in Harper, explain this some more to me.”

  “Yes, m’lord.” She giggled aloud, reeling back to when she and Nancy were younger. “Hey, no, back seat.” The kid huffed at her and got in so she followed. “Steve, come on.” Unable to stop them, he slid back inside and started the vehicle.

** ** **

  The sky grew dim when Camille hurried from the phone booth.

  “They think I’m at Heather’s. She always covers for me,” she got in when Steve started the car again. “So this...lizard thing...”

  “I’ve told you both a hundred times, it is not a lizard.” Dustin groaned.

  “You think it’s that...that demo-”

  “Demogorgon. Similar to the thing from last year, yeah. The face opened with teeth...and it ate my cat.” They pulled up to the Henderson house and Steve got the bat from his trunk. Camille held a flashlight out to the locked cellar door outside.

  “I don’t hear shit.” Steve remarked.

  “He’s in there.” Dustin pointed.

  “And we just...smash it.” Camille looked up.

  “Hopefully.” They watched Steve poke the metal door with his bat before smacking it harder. Nothing.

  “All right, listen, kid. I swear, if this is some sort of late Halloween prank...you’re dead.” Steve began.

  “It’s not.”

  “All right?”

  “It’s not a prank.”

  “You got a key for this thing?” Steve went on and Dustin offered it to Camille. “Slow.”

  “Got it,” she unlocked the chain and yanked the door up. They braced for the monster. Nothing.

  “He must be further down,” Dustin watched on as Camille shifted the light around. “I’ll stay up here, in case he tries to escape.” The two teens looked at him in disbelief.

  “Stay with him.” Steve began.

  “You are not going alone,” Camille shook her head and followed him down the steps. Nothing still. Steve found a better light and they were awed. He poked a pile of slime on the floor and lifted it with the bat. “That…looks like skin. This thing is growing. Fast it looks.”

  “Get down here,” Steve called up the steps and Dustin raced to them.

  “Oh, shit...” They looked to a giant hole in the wall. “Oh, shit!”

  “Looks like your demo-friend molted and ran.” Camille watched the skin drop to the floor.

  “No way…” Dustin groaned.

  “What next, Dusty?” Camille turned her gaze to the boys behind her.

  “I have an idea, we might die.”

  “Lovely, let’s hear it.” Camille grew flat and Steve’s head snapped to her expression.

  “Can you guys meet me at Bradley’s Big Buy tomorrow? About one? My mom leaves for work.” Dustin smiled and both teens groaned.

  “I have a date tomorrow night. Do not make me late.” Camille turned to go up the steps.

  “With who?” Steve chuckled and she peered down, cheeks pink. “Hargrove? That asshole? Come on, Camille, that guy’s wanted in your pants since day one. It’s all trophies to him.”

  “Max’s brother? That guy? Camille,” Dustin joined in. “He’s awful.”

  “Can’t explain why. It just happened.” Camille rolled her eyes. “You don’t know him. Or me.”

  “And maybe you don’t either. You’re a pretty girl he wants and he’s...” Dustin paused. Kid was smart. “He’s not a good guy.”

  “Bradley’s Big Buy. Tomorrow.” Camille turned and didn’t say anymore. Didn't deny it either. She went upstairs and Dustin shot Steve a look.

  “Seriously?”

  “She’s...going through something, might want to let it play out.” Steve whispered. Dustin would never understand these dumb teenagers.

** ** **

  “We’re here...” They arrived to an empty lot beyond the forest. A sort of junkyard covered in busted cars and an old bus.

  “I just bankrolled three buckets of raw meat for this.” Camille tossed her gloves aside. A trail of beef bits stretched behind them.

  “It’ll do,” Steve walked on. “Good call.” Dustin looked proud and Camille smiled at him.

  “This better work.”

  “The others will be here soon. They have to be,” he added while Steve dumped a pile of raw meat at the center.

  “I said medium-well!” Lucas called across the way, getting off his bike with Max next to him.

  “Guess we’re waiting for Dart now.” Camille debated her own sanity and pushed the rusty bus door open while greetings were exchanged. Lucas and Dustin went off to the side so Max crossed the field. “In the party now?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” She shrugged, brightening. “You too, I see.”

  “They haven’t heard from Will, Mike, or Hopper.” Steve came in behind them.

  “Nothing from Nancy and Jonathan too.” Camille agreed.

  “Kid was right. Something’s up.”

  “We need to blockade the bus. Stay safe. Sun will start going in an hour.” Camille thought of Billy again and frowned. “Max, follow me. We’ll gather scraps. Steve, get the rest of the supplies, finish the fire trap.”

  “Weird town.” Max remarked once they got outside into the grass.

  “You’re telling me. I’m supposed to be worried about colleges and prom and being a senior next year. And...I’m monster hunting. My life is in shambles and I’m mildly relieved. Just...knowing, I guess. Also, I might be a lab freak.”

  “My skateboard. You...see things and copy it.”

  “Simply speaking. Maybe I always knew...I just really found it easy, knowing how things work and come together. People are more complicated though. Still working on the believing?”

  “I’m coming around,” Max helped her pile metal scraps and sheets in front of the bus. “Never said sorry...that dinner. My stepdad.”

  “It is not your fault. It never will be.” Camille stopped to turn. Max paused and nodded. “Max, I...I know some stuff. About Neil. About Billy. And you know what? Honestly, I only see one side to Billy. I get flickers of the rest. He's hurting. We're all hurting. The side that flirts and hides...and uses his charm to get what he wants out of people. That isn’t all I see, granted, but I can’t...make excuses for him. I’m a pretty face to him. You see everything. It’s like a...horrible cycle, isn’t it? It tumbles down to you. To anyone in his way, I'm sure.”

  “My stepdad got worse and then Billy did. Mostly after the move.”

  “What happens to Billy is awful and it never should have happened...and I don’t experience what you do. But, what happens to him is no excuse for what I’m sure trickles down toward you. You know that? His job is to be your brother. That’s all. And he has a lot of anger. I’ve started to wonder where he puts it these last few days.” She touched Max’s chin. “You can’t change him and he can’t change Neil. Do not ever waste your energy on changing another person. Someone wants to change, they will. It’s not on you. You can tell them the difficult truth and it's on them what they do with it.”

  “You learn that the hard way?”

  “Like most things when it comes to people.” Camille touched her stomach and turned on her heel to press a large sheet of metal to the bus. “People who don’t change; they complete the cycle and they end up alone. It’s tragic but, people who work to escape it. We have each other. Not all is forgiven but...it'll always matter, you know? Be proud of that if you can.” Max gave a nod, lips lifting. Dustin and Lucas peered at them across the way and Max turned, immediately they went back to work. “They like you, by the way.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Pretend not to notice, of course, it drive boys crazy.” Camille muttered and Max snickered.

  "Even my brother?"

  "Especially your brother." Camille gave a soft scoff. "But, he has girls lining up to hop into that Camaro with him."

  "Not really since you guys started hanging out more," Max remarked and Camille stilled to see her. "He's the same jerk. But, that changed. Wanders the house in thought before he blasts his music and works out. Longest I've seen him without some girl. My stepdad keeps accusing him of seeing you. Neil says awful things about...anyone who isn't like him."

  "Huh. Believe me, I know the type." Camille turned to focus back on her task. “You know, I always wished that I had a sibling.”

  “You have a ritzy house.”

  “With a pool and rec room full of games and a great street to skateboard on. If you’re ever bored after school and need out and away from dumb boys.”

  “Not hanging out with the popular crowd?” Max added more steel to the bus.

  “No, they’re not as cool as you.” Camille grinned. Max felt herself smile as she looked up at the teen. Popular, smart, and gorgeous. Also a badass. She felt accepted with a great group of people. Camille let herself feel it as well. They worked for the next hour, securing the area and setting a trap. The sun began to set while they piled into the bus. Darkness and fog shrouded them in slow waves. Lucas went up to keep watch. Camille walked the grounds with the bat in hand to listen for anything. Owls sounded in the trees beyond them. Max joined Lucas up top.

  “Anything?” Dustin cut in.

  “Nothing yet.” She called back, going inside. “Lucas?”

  “I don’t see him.” He watched through his binoculars. The group hushed when a screeching growl sounded in the distance.

  “Uh, oh.” Camille stood with Steve and Dustin to come to the barred window. Bleak abyss ahead, a creature stepped out of the fog. “Oh, my god.” She went on, covering her lips. The beast with no face.

  “Believe me now?” Dustin spoke.

  “Ah, yeah, I think I do.” The demogorgon stepped out of the fog, clicking and hissing about. It didn’t go for the pile of meat.

  “He’s not taking the bait.” Steve shook his head. “Why isn’t he taking the bait?”

  “Maybe he’s not hungry.” Dustin tried. Steve met Camille’s eyes before he realized it.

  “Maybe he’s sick of cow.” He stood up.

  “You can’t,” she grabbed for his arm.

  “Steve, what are you doing?” Dustin came forward when Steve tossed him the lighter.

  “Just get ready.” He took the bat and opened the door.

  “Steve, no.”

  “Cam, just watch them.” He put his arm out. Instead, she picked up a metal bar, thick with a sharp end.

  “I’m not letting you or some demo-shit make me late for my date tonight.” She huffed. “Max, Lucas, come down. Something related to that thing took Barb, I’m not letting it take you too. This is my choice, Harrington. I’m going out with you. You can’t change that.”

  “Cover me?” Steve’s eyes were genuine now.

  “Always do.” She followed him out and shut the door. They crept forward into the grass while the creature clicked those horrid sounds. A lone lamp high above them offered some light. Not enough. Steve whistled for it.

  “Come on, buddy,” he eased and Camille held steady, hands tight on the makeshift staff. “Come on, dinner time. Human tastes better than cat, I promise.” His bat swung back and forth at the ready. The demogorgon was the size of a wolf, creeping out to see them

  “Steve! Camille! Watch out!” Lucas erupted atop the bus.

  “Little busy here!” Steve was intent.

  “Three o’clock!” The boy called to them. Nearby, another monster of the same size jumped up.

  “Steve, I got you, stay forward.” Camille pressed her back to his, terrified and enraged. Adrenaline pumped into needy veins. More monsters came up and around cars to circle the teens.

  “Abort!” Dustin opened the door to call them back. Demogorgons charged, separating the two friends. Steve rolled over a car, smashing one aside while Camille let go. She felt that same fire burn inside her brain, this time it flooded. Limbs gave in, she whirled the bar to wack one away and impaled another. Expertly like she'd trained for this. “Holy shit!” Steve lunged toward her next.

  “Duck!” She dropped down when Steve crashed the bat into a third before it could get her. “What was that?”

  “I may have watched some action films last night to prepare,” she heaved and kicked a monster, bringing the sharp end down while it screeched in pain.

  “Good thinking.” He admitted when even more creatures appeared. Too many. The kids called out for them to return and Steve grabbed for her. “Run!” They barely made it back, slamming the door. Steve set more metal against it to secure it. The beasts were eager and ravenous, shaking the bus from all angles.

  “Go!” Camille covered them, ushering them back while Steve swung the bat at one trying to break in. Dustin pulled out his radio to call for help and Camille fell against the side, eyes closing. She concentrated. Blood dripped from both nostrils.

  “Hey, it’s just like...” Lucas realized it. “Come on! You can do this!”

  “I don’t know how!” She growled and let it become a scream. Forces exploded out. Monsters were sent into all directions.

  “Camille?” Max shook her when she sagged down, eyes hazy.

  “Holy shit...” Dustin helped pull the teen aside. Max froze when the top of the bus gave calculated bangs. A demogorgon faced them from the opening above and she screamed. Camille grabbed for her at the same time Steve pushed them aside.

  “Out of the way!” He threatened quickly but it stopped as if it heard a call. Slowing, they all followed in a trance, running back into the trees. Camille breathed even and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Bring that out earlier next time, Harper.”

  “Gladly.” She puffed. “Where’d they go?”

  “Steve scared them off…?” Dustin followed them off the bus.

  “No...no way, they’re going somewhere.” Steve turned around to see them and Camille wrapped her arms around herself.

  “We need to get out of here.” She debated it. Billy was going to be so upset. “We need to follow them.”

[clintbartonswifee]

Whatever it takes (clint barton x oc)

Pt2 || masterlist

Warnings: angst, swearing, character death

Pairings: Clint x OC Grace, Nat

I glanced at my husband out of the corner of my eye, his face taut and stressed. Since the snap, both of us had become monsters.

Clint broke, chasing after criminals that survived and I followed him, the same anger brewing in my chest. We were unstoppable, killing mob bosses left and right, our tactics brutal and unforgiving.

That was until Nat found us and brought us back, promising there was a chance to save our children. So here we were, making our way towards the resting place of the soul stone, pure vengeance fuelling our actions.

"welcome"

The sudden voice made me jump into a defensive position, Clint and Natasha doing the same behind me.

"Natasha, daughter of Ivan. Clint, son of Edith. Grace, daughter of Felicity"

The two assassins stalked forward, pushing me behind them as they approached the cloaked figure.

"Who are you?" Natasha asked lowly.

"Consider me a guide, to you and to all who seek the soul stone"

"Oh good, you tell us where it is and we'll be on our way" she replied sarcastically.

"If only it were that easy" the figure spoke, stepping into the light and revealing his face. I shuddered slightly as I looked at the bright red skull that stared back at me, following him as he started to float towards the edge of the cliff.

"What you seek lies in-front of you, as does what you fear"

"So we can just climb down and get it? Easy" I scoffed, peering over the ledge.

"In order to get the stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange"

I huffed, stepping back from the ledge.

"A soul, for a soul"

The three of us exchanged uneasy glances, the howling wind further adding to the uncomfortable atmosphere.

Nat sat down on a rock, as Clint and I walked over to her.

"Hey how's it going" Clint laughed, "jesus"

"He has to be bullshitting. There's no way-" I started, being cut off by a seldom Nat.

"No, I don't think so."

"What? Just cos he knew your daddy's name?" Clint asked

"I didn't. Thanos walked away from here with the stone, without his daughter. That's not a coincidence"

I let out a sigh and raked my fingers through my hair, a calm quiet passing over the three of us as we accepted our fate.

"Whatever it takes"

"Whatever it takes"

"Whatever it takes"

Nat saw Clint looking at the ledge determinedly, leaping up from her seat, "If we don't get that stone, billions of people stay dead"

"Then I guess we both know who it's gotta be" Clint nodded.

"I guess we do" Nat agreed.

"Woah - hang on. I'm here too"

"No" they said in unison, waving me off.

"You can't decide for me-"

"Grace, no"

I let out a low growl of frustration, stepping forward slightly and pulling both of them into a hug, pulling away after a few minutes. I turned around to wipe my eyes, my ears still trained on their conversation.

"I'm beginning to think we're talking about different people" Clint laughed weakly, his hand holding Nat's.

"For five years all I've been trying to do is one thing, right here, get everybody back"

"Don't get all decent on me now"

"What, you think I wanna do it? I'm trying to save your life you idiot"

"I don't want you to. Natasha, you know what I've done. You know what I've become"

"I don't judge people on their worst mistakes"

"Maybe you should"

"You didn't"

My hands clenched into fists as I heard Clint speak, all my insecurities rushing forward as well. I don't even recognise myself anymore, and the thought of that scared the shit out of me. I'm not the happy sarcastic woman I once was. I was cold, broken, and I knew nothing I could do would change that.

My kids surviving was all that mattered.

Clint, however, I knew he could change. I knew he could make it back to being the caring father he always was, as long as Natasha was by his side. Just like old times.

"FRIDAY, can you send a message back to base addressed to Nat and Clint?" I asked quietly, receiving a yes in response. I kept my back turned on the pair as I spoke, a determined tone to my voice.

"You're a pain in my ass you know that?" Clint said, tears building up in his eyes as he looked at Natasha, the redhead simply nodding in response. They pressed their foreheads together, before Clint pulled away abruptly.

"Okay," He said, "you win"

Nat let out a small smile, before being slammed to the ground by Clint. The tables soon turned as Nat flipped him onto his back.

I ended the message with urgency, waiting until the message was sent before rushing towards the two.

Using two handcuffs I had looped onto my belt, I locked the two together and then attached them to a pole.

"Grace What are you doing" Clint shouted, his eyes frantic.

"I love you both"

"Grace, I swear to god unlock these!" Natasha cried, pulling on the metal desperately.

"I can't watch you fight to kill yourselves" I reasoned, throwing the cuff's keys at their feet, just far enough that it would take them a few minutes to get them, "I'm sorry. Tell the kids I love them"

I faltered slightly, looking down to the wedding rings I had worn for over a decade, taking them off and placing them next to the keys.

"Lila might want them"

I blocked out the rest of their shouts as I sprinted towards the edge, turning around so I could see their faces one last time.

A sad smile set on my face. I had saved them.

I took one last step back, Natasha's scream joining the whistle of the wind as I fell, everything going dark as I hit the ground with a thud.

"GRACE!" Clint bellowed, watching his wife smile before plummeting to her death, his knees weakening as he heard Natasha's scream. Somehow managing to reach the key with his shaking hand, he unlocked the cuffs and scrambled to the edge, his hands clutching her rings as he peered in to the depths below.

There she lay, her body twisted like a forgotten toy, a red halo of blood surrounding her head.

"Grace" he whispered, his feelings numb.

They were floating, weightless.

Natasha was the first one to open her eyes, on high alert as she took in her surroundings.

"Clint" she hissed, shaking him awake.

The bowman's eyes shot open, scrambling to sit up straight.

"Grace-" he choked, Natasha instantly pulling him into a hug.

"The stone - where's the stone?" He stressed, "she died for it - where-"

Looking down to his now-open palm, the two stared at the glowing stone.

Fresh tears rolled down their faces as they looked at the stone, knowing how much they lost for it.

"Come on," Nat whispered, voice groggy from the screams that had been ripped from her mouth minutes prior, "We have to get these back"

Clint just nodded stiffly, following Nat's lead and pressing the time-bracelet, forcing themselves through the quantum realm and back to the compound.

Clint's knees gave out as he landed on the machine, his teammates celebrating their victory unknowingly. Natasha hung her head in shame, placing her hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

"Clint?" Steve started, noticing the empty space

He just shook his head fiercely, staring at the rings in his hand, the soul stone sitting tauntingly next to them.

"Grace - did she-?" Tony asked carefully, looking at Nat for a response.

"She wouldn't let us do it" She croaked "she - she cuffed us to a pole so she could jump"

"It should've been me" Clint muttered, clenching his fist, "it should've been me"

[searchingwardrobes]

Halo

Happy birthday, @effulgentcolors! You are a precious gift to this fandom, filled with so much talent. I have read everything you’ve written, including your amazing first book of short stories, 12. (Everyone, I don’t care if it’s described as a collection of holiday short stories, go buy it and read it right now!) When I get a comment from you on one of my fics (which are always so lovely), I feel like a fangirl. As I was thinking about what to write for your birthday, I thought about your book and the theme of angels you wove through it. Beyonce’s song “Halo” has always reminded me of Emma in that very first stanza, so here is my fic version of that song. I hope you like it!

Summary: “You are a stalker!” she bit out as she whipped out her knife and pressed it to his throat. She was surprised when his lips curled into a smirk and one eyebrow arched cockily. “I suppose that’s true, in a way,” he replied casually. A Captain Swan story based on Beyonce’s “Halo”.

Rating: G

Words: 5,000+

Also on Ao3

Part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist. Previous gifts: Shatter Me| White Flag| Keep Your Eyes Open| Black Balloon| Suitcase

Tagging: @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jennjenn615 @bethacaciakay @teamhook @thislassishooked @snidgetsafan @kday426 @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89

 Remember those walls I built

Well, baby, they're tumbling down

And they didn't even put up a fight

They didn't even make a sound

I found a way to let you win

But I never really had a doubt

Standing in the light of your halo

I got my angel now

 Everyone thought Blue enjoyed this part of her job – taking away an angel’s wings – but the truth was, it was never an easy decision to make. Which was probably why she gave August way more chances than she should have. As soon as the dejected fallen angel shuffled from the room, Blue sagged into her chair. Tiger Lily was at her side in an instant.

“You had no choice.”

Blue sighed. “I know. I think what bothers me more is the mess he’s left for his charge. And now she needs a new guardian.”

“Have you considered Killian?”

Blue furrowed her brow. “A purgatorial angel? When an angel of rank failed?”

Tiger Lily shrugged. “He must earn salvation somehow, and there’s also the prophesy -’

“Which is exactly why I must be cautious!”

“But perhaps we’ve been interpreting the prophecy wrong all this time. Perhaps she isn’t the savior of all men, but just one.”

Blue arched a brow. “I’ve never seen a cherubim take such interest in a candidate before.”

Tiger Lily sighed. “I can’t help it. His pain runs so deep . . .”

**************************************************

The first time Emma Swan noticed him, she was marching across the street, heedless of the traffic as she chased after her skip. She saw a flash of black and red out of the corner of her eye just as the sound of squealing tires rent the air, but she ignored it to confront the asshole she was after. Once she wrestled Ryan out of his car to handcuff him, her eyes found a startled pair of blue ones just before the dark figure melted into the shadows of the alleyway.

After that, she seemed to constantly notice that long, black coat and those piercing blue eyes in her peripheral vision. When approaching a skip after a long stakeout, when tripping up the stairs in her apartment building with her arms laden with groceries, even once outside her car window when she slammed on her brakes, narrowly missing a truck that was running a red light. She could never make out his face, just those blue eyes that seemed so focused on her, always melding so quickly into the shadows. And that black coat he wore, with something of deep crimson beneath, only added to the aura that made a chill run up her spine.

Emma Swan did not let anyone intimidate her. Whoever this guy was, she planned to confront him. With that decision made, she slipped a knife in her boot before heading to her favorite dive bar. He seemed to make his appearance most frequently in seedy places, and she was itching for a confrontation.

Sure enough, when she left the bar a few hours later after shoving off a rather unpleasant man who had gotten too handsy, there he was.

“Hey!” she shouted, and the man’s coat swirled around him as he dashed down the alley.

That coat was his undoing, for while he was swift, she was more so in her much more sensible red leather jacket. Not to mention the lapels of the coat were ostentatiously large, providing her with an easy way to yank him to a stop and shove him into the wall.

“You are a stalker!” she bit out as she whipped out her knife and pressed it to his throat.

She was surprised when his lips curled into a smirk and one eyebrow arched cockily. “I suppose that’s true, in a way,” he replied casually.

Emma pressed the blade further against his skin. “Not helping your case, buddy.”

He tilted his chin away from the blade, yet he still seemed completely unperturbed. “All I meant was there’s a fine line between stalking someone and looking out for them.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Let me clue you in. I’ve never been a Twilight fan. I don’t find creepers who loiter around and watch women while they sleep romantic.”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about love, but I can promise you have nothing to fear from me.”

As if to prove he was harmless, he lifted his arms, and Emma shouted a warning as she pinned both back into the wall by the wrist. She was startled to discover that the left had a blunted end. He was missing his left hand.

“You’re only subduing me because I’m letting you,” he told her calmly.

Emma’s breath was coming out in pants from all the adrenaline, but as she assessed her current position and felt the muscled arms beneath her palms, it gave her pause. The alley was only half lit by a flickering streetlight near the bar, but even in the shadows, she could tell the man was slender yet well built. She had also been on the streets enough to recognize a confident fighting stance when she saw one. Neither did she detect anything but honesty in his words. She eased her grip on his arms and took a tentative step back. He sighed in relief, pushing away from the wall and rolling his shoulders to loosen them.

“Just because you don’t plan to hurt me doesn’t make it okay for you to follow me around,” she told him warily.

His jaw clenched, and something sparked in his eyes. “It isn’t as if either of us has a choice in the matter.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He sighed and lifted a hand to rub at his temple. Several gaudy rings on his fingers caught the light from the streetlamp. “Listen,” he finally said, “if I show you something, do you promise not to freak out?”

“No way, pervert!” Emma cried, backing away, hands raised.

“I didn’t mean . . . that,” he said indignantly.

“You’re not showing me anything, and you’re sure as hell gonna stop following me around. Got it?”

She didn’t wait for his answer before taking off as fast as she could.

**********************************************

She saw him again only a few days later as she walked to her car in a parking garage after buying a new pair of boots. She had waited until her old ones fell apart – literally. She’d almost sprained her ankle chasing down a skip and had no choice but to head to the mall on her way home. She hated shopping, so she was already in the worst possible mood.

“I told you to stop following me,” she snapped as she unlocked her car. She refused to make eye contact with the bastard even as he stepped out of the shadows and closer to her.

“And I told you I had no choice.”

“Bullshit.” She flung her shoes into the backseat, then slammed the door shut. She spun to face him with fire in her eyes. She was shocked to see him with hunched shoulders and a downcast expression.

“Use your super power.”

Emma blinked in surprise. His lips curved into a smile.

“Yes, I know about that. So do it. See if I’m lying.”

Emma swallowed hard as he took a step closer. The light of the parking garage illuminated him fully, and she finally got a good look at him. Handsome as sin, that’s what he was, with dark unruly hair, a strong jaw covered in facial hair, and sparkling blue eyes. A scar on his cheek marred the perfection, which somehow only made him more appealing. She forced herself to scrutinize his face for tells, especially his eyes, and found none.

“Just because you believe something doesn’t make it true,” she finally told him grudgingly.

His lips curled into a smile that would have made a lesser woman go weak in the knees. “Nor does unbelief affect truth. Wouldn’t you say?”

She shook her head. “What are you talking about? You’re following me, and I asked you to stop. You didn’t listen, so now I’ll have to call the cops.”

She turned to reach for her car door, but he reached out and gently took her wrist. “Please, Emma, let me explain.”

“And how do you know my name?” she hissed through clenched teeth, yet she didn’t pull away from his grip.

“It’s like I said, I’ve been looking out for you.”

At that, she jerked her arm away. “I can take care of myself.”

He quirked that damn brow again. “Oh, I’ve noticed, believe me. But even you couldn’t have stopped that car from running you over when you were going after Ryan. You couldn’t see your skip’s associate coming up behind you on your stake out. You wouldn’t have survived the bash on your head if you had stumbled down those stairs, and you wouldn’t have been able to stop your car in time from that truck running a red light. And that night at the bar? That lout decided against dragging you away when he saw me standing nearby.”

Emma’s eyes widened at each word. He was invading her personal space now, his nose almost brushing hers.

“And just now?” he continued. “That mugger in the shadows decided against going after your purse when he saw me looming nearby. Now whether you like it or not, I’m stuck with you. Or you with me, if that’s the way you want to look at it.”

He was breathing heavily, and the look in his eyes was almost dangerous. Yet she still knew instinctually that he wouldn’t hurt her. He stepped several paces backwards away from her, and extended both arms, his missing hand more noticeable with the dramatic gesture.

“Now lass, do be calm as I show you what I wanted to the other night.”

Emma’s eyes were already as wide as saucers, so when the enormous pair of white wings unfurled from his back, her jaw dropped. Then she gasped as a bright white light seemed to envelop his head, illuminating the blue of his eyes like sapphires. The wings, which were of pure white, stood out starkly against his black clothes. At first they were spread wide as if he could take flight at any moment, but then he exhaled, and they folded in, relaxed against him. Emma drew close to him, hesitant.

“Those . . . those are . . .”

‘Wings? Aye.”

“And that’s . . .” Emma lifted a trembling hand to his forehead, “a halo?”

He cleared his throat, a blush tinging his cheeks. “That’s what they call it, aye.” He ducked his head in a bashful way and scratched behind his ear. Which were slightly elf shaped, she suddenly noticed. Did all angels have elf ears?

Wait . . . an angel? What the hell . . .

“Don’t tell me you’re my . . .”

“Guardian angel? Aye, lass.”

Anger sparked in Emma’s eyes. “Well, if you ask me, you’ve done a piss poor job of it!”

He called her name as she marched back to her car, but she ignored him. She half expected him to magic himself, or whatever the hell angels called it, into her backseat or something, but he didn’t. She drove home, hands shaking. Tears pricked at her eyes even as she barked a cynical laugh. Emma Swan had a guardian angel? Wasn’t that the joke of the century?

**************************************************

HIs brow arched as he took a seat across from her at the coffee shop the next morning, his gaze landing on the way she clutched her butter knife in her fist.

“You know that won’t hurt me, right?”

Emma just glowered at him as she released her grip. He inched his hand across the table hesitantly, lightly brushing her clenched knuckles with his fingertips. She hated to admit, but it soothed her.

“Why are you dressed like that?” she grumbled. “This may be New York, but even here, you’re attracting attention.”

He chuckled in a self-deprecating way. “Alas, there are no costume changes where I come from. This is what I died in, so . . . “ he shrugged one shoulder as if his own death were of little consequence.

“Wait,” Emma said, raising one hand, “I thought you were an angel, not a ghost.”

“There are no such thing as ghosts, Swan,” he said with an infuriating don’t you know that look upon his face. “there are, however, purgatorial angels.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “Purgatorial angels?”

“You’ve heard of purgatory, I wager?”

Emma nodded.

“Well, let’s just say I have quite a few centuries of atonement to work through before I can . . . move on.”

Emma leaned back in her seat, her arms crossed. “Okay, then. You got a name?”

He smiled charmingly and tilted his head a bit regally. “Killian Jones at your service.”

Emma couldn’t help smiling back. “So you save me from tumbling down stairs and getting run over by cars, but not from drunken foster fathers or dick boyfriends? Are there rules or something?”

Killian’s face melted into one of genuine tenderness. He boldly took her hand firmly in his, rubbing the back gently with his thumb.

“I’ve only been your guardian for a couple of months, Swan. The one you had before, I’m sorry to say, didn’t do right by you. He was stripped of his wings, and I was assigned to you instead.”

Emma bit on her lower lip to cover her own emotions. “Figures.” She pulled her hand out of Killian’s grip and clasped it with her other one atop the table. “Look,” she told him, leaning forward, “you’re stuck with me. I get it. You have to . . . get out of purgatory or whatever. But can you like, do it from a distance or something? So I don’t feel like there’s constantly someone over my shoulder? Can you be like, invisible or something?”

“Invisible we can’t do. Blend in, yes.”

Emma nodded firmly. “Good. Then blend in.”

He stood then, giving her a gentle smile. “As you wish.” He turned and began to walk away, then hesitated and looked back at her. “However, all you need do is call my name, and I’ll make myself known.”

He left the shop then, and Emma didn’t know why her hand trembled as she lifted her mug to her lips.

******************************************************

Killian kept his word because Emma didn’t see him again after that, not even a glimpse of black leather or blue eyes. She had expected to feel relieved, but oddly, she wasn’t. She found herself longing to see him again. The only consolation was that he’d told her he was stuck with her – that he couldn’t stop following her even if he wanted to. So even if she never saw him, it was nice knowing he was there. For once in her life, someone had her back.

Then that day on the calendar rolled around. She hadn’t even gotten out of bed when it hit her. He’s ten years old today. The ache and the emptiness followed after the realization, the same old “what-ifs” playing in her mind. What if she’d held him? Would she have changed her mind? Would she have kept him? Was he happy wherever he was? What if he wasn’t? What if he hated her for what she’d done?

Emma tried to force herself to go about her day as usual, but she only made it as far as the couch. She didn’t care about eating, she didn’t even consider numbing the pain with alcohol. She felt this was her own personal purgatory, that every year she had to torture herself for being a horrible mother and doing what she always vowed she wouldn’t: abandon a child.

She knew from years past how the day would go: staring blindly at the ceiling weighed down with regret followed by the gut-wrenching sobs. Emma Swan didn’t cry. Oh, no. She saved up her tears all year for this day. Her face was smashed into a throw pillow damp with tears when she remembered that something was different now.

“Killian,” she whispered.

Emma wasn’t sure what to expect, how long it would take to make himself known, or if she would have to explain her pathetic state. But as soon as the name left her lips, she felt a hand gently touch her head.

“Emma,” he said softly, and the couch dipped where he sat beside her.

She sat up and threw herself into his arms. On any other day, she would have been mortified at such a display, and probably would be tomorrow, but right now she just wanted to know she wasn’t alone. He held her tight, his blunted arm pulling her body close while his hand brushed through her tangled hair. She tucked herself right under his chin, clutching his leather jacket in her fists. Soon his chest hair was wet with her tears. He said nothing; he simply held her.

Finally, her tears were spent and her head felt stuffy and her eyes blood shot. “Thank you,” she whispered against his skin. She didn’t know what else to say.

“Would it help if you could see him?”

Emma gasped and pulled away to look into his eyes. “You could do that?”

He smiled softly and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Aye. You wonder if you made the right decision, if he’s happy.”

Emma let out a shaky breath. “You know that because you’re my guardian angel.”

He cupped her cheek. “No. We can’t read minds, love. We’re educated on the background of our charges of course, so I knew about your son. But as to what you’re feeling, well . . . it’s just . . . you’re somewhat of an open book.”

Emma smiled shyly, ducking her head. He stood from the couch and reached out his hand.

“Ready, love?”

One minute, Emma’s hand was resting in his, and the next she was standing with Killian behind a tree on a picturesque small-town residential street.

“There he is,” Killian whispered in her ear, “his name’s Henry.”

Emma watched the boy Killian had pointed to hurry down the front walk of a large, white-columned house. He was adorable, a bit small for ten, with thick brown hair. He was dressed in a school uniform with a striped scarf around his neck like he was headed for a day of classes at Hogwart’s. Emma’s heart flipped in her chest.

“Henry!” a voice called from the doorway. A prim woman in a sensible pantsuit and heels raced elegantly down the walk after the boy. He turned and smiled as she handed him a metal lunchbox decorated with characters that Emma couldn’t make out from where they hid. Henry took the lunch as well as the hug and kiss from the woman.

“That’s his mom,” Emma whispered. Her chest ached, because she was his mom, not this woman. But then she watched Henry and the woman smile at one another, and she smiled as Henry dashed down the block towards the waiting school bus, waving and shouting bye Mom! as he went. As for the woman, she stopped at the gate of their white picket fence, smiling as she watched her son greet his friends. She didn’t go back inside until the bus pulled away.

Emma swallowed at the lump in her throat. “She loves him.”

Killian stepped closer and put his arm around her.

“And he’s happy,” she continued.

Killian enveloped her in his arms as she turned seeking his embrace.

************************************************

Other angels had told Killian that being ripped from a worldly assignment was jarring, but he never fully understood until now. He stood – or attempted to - before Blue, the room seeming to spin around him, the stark whiteness of the celestials a jarring contrast to the more muted color palate of terra firma.

“Killian, what do you think you’re doing?” Blue snapped.

He blinked, rubbing at his eyes, because it looked like there were two of Blue swimming in his vision. “Ummm . . . my job?”

Blue gave him a withering glare. “Do you know how many rules you just broke showing Emma her son?”

“But she was stuck, unable to forgive herself and move on -”

“It was her choice to have a closed adoption,” Blue cut off, “and though a guardian angel can bring comfort, it should not be offered in . . . physical ways.”

“All I did was hug her,” Killian’s fist clenched.

“And teleported her, and spied on humans you aren’t assigned to. I’m tempted to take your wings here and now.”

“Please, no!” Killian cried out.

“Blue,” Tiger Lily said gently, “he has made more progress with Emma in just a few short months than August did in years. And need I remind you how many chances you gave him.”

“You are my advisor, Tiger Lily, not my superior,” Blue bit out.

“Please,” Killian asked, infusing his voice with as much humility as he could muster, “give me another chance. I can’t be yet another person who has abandoned her.”

Blue’s expression softened. “Okay, Killian. But must I remind you how this works? If you do your job well, you will have to leave her.”

Killian bit the inside of his cheek. The thought had plagued him often. Yet he simply bowed to his archangel. “Thank you.”

When Killian left to return to earth, Blue let out a long sigh. “I fear that this will not end well, Tiger Lily.”

“You mean because he’s fallen in love with her?”

*********************************************

Though Killian still kept his distance and blended in as Emma went about her day, she found herself calling for his company more and more when she was alone. It got to the point where the first words out of her mouth at the end of the day were, “Killian, I’m home!”

They would talk for hours, cuddled on the couch or over dinner. Angels didn’t need to eat, but they could. They also could drink, and even get drunk, though she’d watched Killian down copious amounts of rum with no ill effects.

“Pirate, remember?” he’d told her with a wink.

Now she knew the reason for the outlandish outfit he died in. He’d been a pirate. She listened with rapt attention, and sometimes laughter while he wove many fantastic tales of his adventures. But he shared the pain, too. It was little wonder she was an open book to him when they had so much in common: abandoned by their parents, forced to make a way in a cruel world when they were much too young, cold nights, empty bellies. He told her about the navy, then losing his brother and turning to piracy. He told her how he lost his love and his hand on the same day, his heart turning black with revenge in the process.

His remorse for all his dark deeds ripped at her heart; surely his centuries of angelic servitude was enough to atone this man. For despite those past dark deeds, it was clear to Emma that Killian Jones deep down had a good heart.

Emma talked as well, even though he knew the basics of her past. Never had she opened herself up so completely to anyone, not even Neal. It was one thing to share the facts, something else completely to share her feelings. Yet with Killian, she did.

Angels didn’t need to sleep, so Killian would tuck her in, brush a kiss to her temple, then go find a book on the shelf in the living room to occupy him until morning. The longer time went on with their unorthodox arrangement, the more Emma yearned for him. Her eyes would drift to his lips, and the air would get heavy. Or her hand would grasp his for a long moment before he left her bedside. Yet how would that even work? Intimacy with an angel? What was that movie with Meg Ryan and Nicolas Cage again. . . scratch that, Emma was pretty sure it didn’t end well.

One evening, Emma came home to find the table set with a fancy tablecloth, candles, and a bouquet of flowers. Her favorite meal, grilled cheese and onion rings from the diner down the street, was laid out on her best dishes (a mismatched, chipped set picked up at thrift stores here and there, but still . . . ) Killian stood there, grinning ear to ear.

“Happy birthday, Emma.”

The smile threatened to split her face. “I . . . don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you will suffice,” he assured her as he pulled out her chair for her.

When Killian settled across the table from her, a thought suddenly struck her, something he had said when they first met. He was stuck with her. Her heart sank as she watched him pour her a glass of wine.

“Killian,” she said thickly,

“Yes, love?”

Emma bit her lip, an ache filling her heart. “I love having you here.”

“I’m glad.”

“But . . . “ she took a deep breath before plunging on, “I don’t want you to stay because you have to. I . . . I want you to stay because it’s what you want. So, don’t feel like you’re stuck with me.”

In her nervousness, she shrugged her shoulders. Killian, on the other hand, had a look of complete shock on his face. Then he turned pale and shut his eyes tight.

“Emma,” he breathed out. The heartbreak in his voice nearly broke her own.

“Hey, I’m not kicking you out,” she chuckled nervously.

He searched her eyes intently. “Guardian angels are supposed to only be for children, Emma.”

She tilted her head. “But I had a crappy one for two decades.”

“Aye,” he said, managing only a half-smile as he placed his hand gently over hers, “and you had a tougher childhood than most. So they sent me, but now . . . “

He trailed off, and understanding dawned. Emma pulled her hand away and clasped it with her other in her lap. “Like Nanny McPhee.”

Killian furrowed his brow. “I always know when you’re making a pop culture reference.”

She smiled. “And I love that you never know what it is.” Her smile faded as she saw the depth of sadness in his eyes. “When I needed you, I didn’t want you. Now that I want you, I no longer need you.”

“And you have the mark of a savior, Emma,” he whispered in awe. He came around to her chair and pulled her right arm close, turning it palm up. His thumb swiped across the birthmark there, sending a shiver down her spine. “This isn’t just a birthmark. You were destined to save man. This man in particular. You’ve saved me, Emma. I can finally move on. My sins are atoned.”

Emma gasped as she realized what he meant. “No!” she cried as she jumped from her seat. She practically stumbled forward, and he caught her. The glow of his halo illuminated his countenance and his wings were on display. He hadn’t shown them to her since that day in the parking garage. She had a dreadful feeling she knew what that meant.

“I wish I had more time,” he told her, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I don’t want to lose you!”

“And I don’t want to lose you.” He cupped her face with his hand. “Emma, before I go, I need to tell you. I love you.” He bent his head, but before his lips could meet hers, he was gone.

“I love you too!” Emma cried, tears streaming down her face. She fell to the floor in her now empty apartment and pounded her fist to the ground. Wasn’t this how her life always went? No one ever stayed.

**************************************************

If the light of the celestial halls in the first heaven was bright, then this was blinding. There was a long corridor flanked by white columns, and he knew without anyone telling him, that this was the second heaven.

“Killian Jones,” a deep voice called, “come. It is time for you to go home where you belong.”

A door opened at the end of the corridor, the light emanating from it a comforting, ethereal glow. From what the ranked angels told him, this was the third heaven, the throne room surrounded by the lake of crystal and gems of lapis lazuli. He didn’t know what people did there, but for centuries he had longed for the one thing he had heard it offered: rest.

Yet now that he drew close to it, the only thing he felt was regret. I left her. Just like everyone else. He was probably the first man to enter his eternal rest with a tear tracking down his cheek. He stepped through and was forced to close his eyes against the sudden burst of rainbow-colored light. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes, he shook his head, sure he must be dreaming. He was in a park, and there, sitting on a bench a few feet away, was Emma.

“Swan?” he asked, voice tentative as if this couldn’t be possible.

She gasped, her ponytail whipping across her shoulder as she turned towards him. She leapt from the bench, her face awash in amazement and pure joy. It wasn’t until she collided with him and he felt her warm and soft in his arms that he believed this was real. She pulled back, shaking him by the lapels of his coat. He noticed vaguely that his wardrobe had finally changed after three centuries. He was dressed in clothes of Emma’s time – jeans, a button-down shirt, and a short leather jacket.

“How . . . how are you here?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” he gasped, “there was a corridor, and there was a voice, God I guess, and then he said I was to go home where I belong.”

“What?” Emma laughed, shaking her head. Then she surprised him by peppering his face with kisses. “I don’t care, I don’t care,” she murmured between kisses, tears pouring down her face, “you’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

He pulled her close, his fingers threading through her ponytail, and pressed his lips to hers. He wrapped his arms tightly around her as Emma tilted her head to deepen the kiss. He kissed her until neither of them could breathe, their tears mingling on their lips. When he finally pulled away, he cupped her face tenderly and pierced her eyes with his.

“No matter what else may come, Emma Swan, I will always, always be by your side.”

“Good.” She told him, then yanked him close again and kissed him fiercely.

[tricksterreformed-a]

v1: MAIN

My main verse for Gabriel is set after his s13 death where he’s back from the dead (for real this time!)

Set before the end of the series.

He didn’t actually annoy the Empty into letting him out (it was a little more complicated than that) but he’s content to let people think that because it fits with his brand.

He also didn’t dramatically announce his return to the land of the living, and instead quietly went back to doing what he’d always done...

Basically the main verse has Gabriel back on his bullshit, trying to take the skillset he feels he’s best at (the Trickster skills) and turn those tools into something angelic. 

It’s a softer version of his old bullshit.

Posts without a specialized tag are part of the main verse.

FC is Richard Speight Jr.

v2: A LONG TIME AGO, JUST OUTSIDE THE GARDEN

Anything pre-trickster days falls into this category.

Mainly consists of highfalutin archangel bullshit before Lucifers fall, and the journey to Gabriel getting a job.

He’s basically just a kid who ran away to join the circus... successfully.

If you’d ever like to jump in and start a thread with a very young Archangel who’s still not sure what exactly he’s going to do about everything but who knows he’s going to do something just let me know.

The general tag is v once upon a time later.

FC is Sibel Kekilli or Rose Leslie depending on what I’m doing.

Other FCs will be added as I map out the weird journey that got Gabriel to Loki.

If you’re curious about the pronoun stuff I’m doing I tried my best to spell it out here.

v3: THE TRICKSTER

Set at any time between when Gabriel went into “witness protection” and when he started bumping into the Winchesters. 

Most of my ideas for this fall into two categories:  1. Anyone hunting him or just trying to track him down.  2. A non-hunter walking up to him and asking him what the fuck he’s doing because sir?? you don’t actually work here? ? ?  The paperwork says you’ve been here for 4 years but that can’t be right???

But please hit me up of you have any other/better ideas.  

My tag for this one is v the trickster pre reform.

FC is Richard Speight Jr.

v4: NEWLY HUMAN AND STRANGELY LITERAL

Or: In Which Gabriel Makes a Choice and Becomes Human.

The short version is: If given the choice between eternal isolation in Heaven and powerless freedom on Earth Gabriel would choose the latter. 

But like... without stopping to think it through.

Basically a hot mess with no powers.

Details avalible upon request.

The tag for this one will be v i have finesse coming out of my bottom. 

FC will be the usual guy. 

v5:  END OF THE ROAD

Or: the post-series one.

Which is easier to write for a character who was already dead when the series ended, go figure.

The universe is under new management, but maybe there’s a little room for the old guard to help ease the transition. 

Not that Gabriel is particularly helpful.

It’s not a malicious thing, but when he was offered a say in the managing of Heaven he declined, because he will always be his Father’s son and he doesn’t want any of that mixed into the new thing, which seems neat (not his thing but neat).

So he went back to Earth (which is very much his thing) and got back to work, trying to soften his old Trickster schtick.

Much like in v1.

But he’s a little more open to giving advice and being hands on, should the new management request he do so.

Tag is v take a left here it’s not over yet and FC might be Wilmer Valderrama. I’m considering....

v6: THE GRASSLANDS ARE ENDLESS AND SUMMER SINGS ON

Or: The High Fantasy One.

aka a DnD AU.

Details can be found here.

Basically it’s Bard bullshit.

This tag’s a doozy y’all get ready, v The future changes as we stand here else we are the game pieces of the gods not their heirs as we have been promised.

FC is the usualy guy and sometimes faceless Iain Glen

v7: CLOSED VERSE ; NEPHIL SURPRISE

A verse specifically for the timeline in which Gabriel and @heartsurpluss‘s Rowena accidentally make themselves a very dangerous baby

Tag is v a halo and a human soul and anyone is free to comment on the goings on in this verse 

But some plotting will be required if you really want to get in on it

MISC

I’m also open to doing temporary/test AUs.

Or just genre based writing.

Tag is v temporary AU.