#alright this whole thing is a side effect from playing obey me too much

[allegra-writes]

"On the balcony"

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut, semi-public sex.

"You're perfect, and everything in between

Keep moaning, 'cause we're making a scene

Keep going, until they tell us to leave"

Notice me - Role Model

"Oh, god…"

"Shhh" His hot breath on the back of your thighs sent shivers down your spine, "You have to be very quiet, princess. Can you do that for daddy?" 

You nodded your head, not realizing he wouldn't be able to see it. You were too far gone to use words anyway, too drunk on the heady cocktail of adrenaline and desire, too drunk on him.

On his big, calloused hands trailing caresses up and down your naked legs, slipping under your dress, pushing it up and up, over your ass, bunching it at your waist. On his lips, his teeth, kissing, sucking, and nibbling at the pliant flesh of your cheeks. 

On his wicked tongue, wet and hot even through the lace of your gossamer-thin underwear, that you had picked out just for him, and now he was taking great pleasure in ruining.

"Tom…"

Your soft sigh was almost imperceptible, you couldn't even hear it over the pounding of your own heart inside your chest. But of course he heard it. His tongue left you, but you didn't have time to complain before one of his long, dexterous fingers tugged your underwear to the side, toying briefly with your clit only to ghost over your entrance a second later, teasing you but never penetrating you. 

He felt your sharp inhale, no doubt about to whine or complain, but you caught yourself in time. It was worth it, if only to feel his lips trail kisses up your naked back as he stood up to tower over you. 

"Very good, baby" He breathed, husky, against your ear as you managed to keep perfectly still while he buried two fingers as far as they would go into your soft, velvety heat. "Just like that… nice and quiet. Prove to me that you can be a good girl taking my fingers in silent, and maybe… maybe I'll let you have my cock" 

It was an empty threat, you knew that by now. If you were to break and moan, whine, or even cry out, he would just slap his hand over your lips, muffling the sounds as he bent you over the railing, fucking you hard and fast in punishment. Good girl or not, there was no way you were leaving that balcony without christening it the same way you had done every other room, piece of furniture or surface, horizontal or otherwise, in that, your new house. Your safe haven. Your sanctuary. The little piece of paradise he had built just for the two of you. 

No, you knew he would never follow through, but that wasn't the point. The point was that you liked the praise. You liked being his princess, his angel, his good girl, as he did bad bad things to you. And Tom was quite aware of that. He loved seeing you bending over backwards to please him, to cater to his every whim, to obey his every arbitrary rule as he made it increasingly impossible for you. 

It was absolutely perfect, you were absolutely perfect. 

"Yeah… Just like that… such an obedient little thing…" Tom savored the effect his words had on you, your walls delicate squeezing his big fingers, the new wave of wetness falling on his palm like sweet ambrosia, like candy; you tasted just as sweet. A part of him wanted to keep playing with you, to drive you crazy, torture you until you begged for him to take you, debase you in the filthiest, lowest of ways you could think of.

But another, more powerful part, hungered for you, needed you even more than you wanted him. It had for the whole night, ever since you stepped into the garden in that shimmery, backless blue dress, designed with the sole purpose of testing his sanity. 

So far, it was a losing battle. 

The cacophony of music and party sounds downstairs drowned the sound of his zipper and belt buckle being undone, so you didn't realize what was happening until he was sliding his thick cock inside you in one long, slow and controlled stroke. 

"Fuck," your boyfriend broke his own rule, cursing out loud as he bottomed out, "you feel so good… being inside you is pure heaven" 

Understatement of the decade. There was a hunger, an ache in him whenever he was as much as six feet away from him. A heartbreaking longing that could only be fixed by having you like that, in his arms and all around him.

"You feel-ah… You feel amazing too" 

You could practically hear the smile in his voice as he started moving, unhurriedly but harsh. Deep and measured.

"Really now?" 

A sigh was the only reply you could munster, eyelids falling shut by their own accord, head falling back in pleasure.

"No no." He tsked, "Don't close your eyes… look at them" 

You did as he said, trying your best to focus on the housewarming party still going strong in the garden. On your family and friends, blissfully ignorant of what was going on above their heads. 

"All it would take is for just one of them to look up…"

There was no disguising the shiver that shook your body from head to toe at his words. You felt his dark chuckle against your back,

"Oh, but you would like that, wouldn't you? Them seeing us… I would like too," he confessed, "you look positively stunning when I fuck you"

He licked your ear, from lobe to top, and you swore you tasted blood, from how hard you were biting your lip.

"And no one… absolutely not anyone, can fuck you like I do, can they?" 

You shook your head. But he wanted more.

"Use your words, angel"

It was a trap. Of course it was, cause as soon as you opened your mouth, you felt his fingers dig into your hips for leverage, as he started thrusting brutally, his cock splitting you open in the best of ways. Your lips parted in a silent scream.

"I asked you… a question… princess" Tom demanded, punctuating every word with a hard, almost cruel stroke.

"Ah… yes…" you gasped, "yes, daddy. No one… never…" 

"Look at you, so obedient" He praised, "I think you deserve a reward… you deserve daddy's come"

"Oh god, yes" You almost came right there and then, your walls fluttering uncontrollably around his thick shaft, almost driving him to a climax of his own. 

"Ask me nicely, then" he commanded, his movements becoming erratic, "ask daddy nicely to fill you with his come…"

"Please, daddy, fill me with your come" You half murmured, half whined, not even concerned about the volume of your voice anymore. You needed it, you were so close, you could almost taste your release. And you wanted him to come undone with you.

"Take my come, princess… and come with me" 

You did, burying your screams against his palm, just as he buried his against your shoulder, no doubt leaving a mark. 

Tom pulled out of you, fixing your dress before taking into his arms, stepping inside the room, so you both could collapse on the king size bed.

"That was…"

"Absolutely amazing" he finished, once he could catch enough breath to talk again, "just like you, my angel" he brought your hand to his lips, placing sweet, reverent kisses on each of your knuckles.

"No. Just like you… Tom, you're a dream come true"

His replying simile was nothing short of breathtaking. It never failed to marvel him, the fact that you loved him back. The fact that you were his, such a wild and free creature surely ought to be elusive. But you had willingly let yourself be caught by him, and far from feeling trapped, you had actually liberated him. It wasn't the first time you had done something like that: You had let him fuck you on the back of a limousine, finger you under the table at the Met gala, sneaked your hand down his pants on the dancefloor… The list went on and on. 

He felt even more free with you than when he was a bachelor. 

For so long he had run away from commitment, from love. Now all he wanted was everybody to know he was yours and yours alone. 

Just like you were his.

"We should probably get back to the party before they start wondering where we disappeared to…" 

This time, he was the one letting out a bratty whine,

"I know… I don't want to, but I know"

"Do you think anyone saw us?"

Your boyfriend shook his head,

"The balcony is too dark, and the music is too loud, so I honestly doubt it" 

You breathed out in relief.

"Ok. Let me just grab a jacket and we'll go downstairs"

Tom frowned,

"Why? It's a very hot night… are you feeling alright?"

"I am, don't worry" his concern made you smile, "It's just someone left a hickey on my shoulder…" 

Far from looking guilty, a mischievous glint illuminated Tom's icy blues.

"Don't cover it" It wasn't a request. You were ashamed at the weakness of your knees in response to his dominant tone: he had just fucked you, you couldn't possibly be horny again. He was turning you into a nymphomaniac.

"No?"

"No" He confirmed. They might not have seen him taking you, right there under (or above) their very noses…

But they sure as hell would know what you just did. 

[arrowflier]

Prompt: Mickey apologizes to one of their neighbours for something that clearly wasn't his fault just to make Ian(who's in his people pleaser mode) happy. Later, Ian realises how Mickey was right all along and feels bad about the whole thing and they talk. Basically them having a mature convo at the end

Ian heard the shouting as soon as he stepped out into the courtyard. Mickey had come down earlier to take a quick dip, and Ian was hoping to join him and relax together for a while.

But based on the way his husband and one of their neighbors were yelling right then, that clearly wasn't in the cards.

Ian sighed, and closed his eyes briefly. Was it really too much to ask that Mickey get along with the people in their building? He didn't even have to make friends, he just had to not be an asshole to everyone he met.

A particularly loud shout--something about children, and language, and have some common decency--forced Ian out of his reflections and toward the apparent catastrophe that was Mickey in public.

“Dammit, Mickey,” he muttered under his breath as he rounded the last corner and brought the pool into view.

Sure enough, Mickey was there.  He stood at the edge of the shallow end of the pool, like he had just hoisted himself out, water droplets still lingering on his sculpted arms and chest.  His arms were raised and held out to the side in challenge as he blustered on about public space, and freedom of speech, and I’ll do you one worse lady, just you watch just inches away from a middle-aged woman that looked like she had stepped out of a lululemon ad.

Ian was pretty sure it was the same woman who had stopped him at the elevators last week to ask him to “keep it down up there”.  They really didn’t need to cause more trouble with her; Mickey had them on thin ice already when his response to Ian relaying that request was to play loud, bass-thumping music while riding Ian into the floor for effect.

She hadn't met his eyes since.

"What's going on here?" Ian interrupted, coming up behind Mickey and settling a hand on the back of his husband's neck.

"This lady was tryin to--" Mickey cut off when Ian squeezed and released that hand in warning. Mickey glowered at him, but shut his mouth.

"Your husband," the woman said with a glare at Mickey, "was setting a bad example for my nephew."

Looking around for the aforementioned child, Ian sighed when he saw a little boy staring at them all from a pool lounger with wide eyes.

"We're sorry, Mrs...," he trailed off, but she didn't bother to fill in the blank for him, instead just raising her eyebrows and tapping her sandaled foot expectantly.

"Uh, anyway, it won't happen again," Ian finished awkwardly. "Right, Mick?"

"Are you kidding me, Gallagher?" Mickey asked, incredulous.

"I expect a direct apology from your husband," the woman demanded at the same time.

Ian raised his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, and gave Mickey a little shake when the other man didn't speak up.

"Come on, Mick, just do it," Ian muttered.

After a tense moment, Mickey did.

"Fucking fine," he hissed at Ian, ignoring their neighbor's sharp intake of breath at the curse. "I'm fucking sorry, alright?," he directed at her, before pulling out of Ian's hold to face him.

"You happy now?" he asked, before turning and stomping off to go inside.

The effect was dampened by the soft slapping sound of his bare feet hitting the pavement, leaving behind wet marks on the concrete. Ian and the woman watched him go with drastically different expressions: one with disgust, and one with concern.

"I do hope you'll keep your man in line better in the future," the woman groused at Ian, but he wasn't really listening.

"Yeah, sure," he answered absently. "Excuse me, I just gotta..."

And then he was scooping up the towel and shoes Mickey had left behind, and hurrying after his husband.

---

"Mickey?" Ian called out hesitantly as he entered their apartment. Other than a couple of damp patches on the floor, there was no sign of Mickey anywhere.

Then Ian heard the shower start, and set Mickey's things down next the door to follow the sound.

Mickey's wet trunks were pooled on the cold tile floor, the shower curtain pulled tight from wall to wall. The splash of water bouncing from flesh to the acrylic tub echoed through the room.

"Mickey?" Ian asked softly, taking a step past the open door. "Mick, you in here?"

He heard a snort over the sound of the water, the curtain moving as Mickey's arm jostled it from inside.

"No, it's your other husband, Sherlock," Mickey answered, an odd tone in his voice. "You know, the one you listen to before you take some random bitch's side."

Ian winced. Okay, Mickey was mad, then.

Moving further into the room, Ian closed the lid of the toilet and turned to sit on it, elbows on knees.

"Sorry," he offered briefly. "But she had a point Mick, there are kids here--"

The water stopped abruptly, and the curtain pulled back to reveal Mickey’s face.  His hair flopped wetly over his forehead, water still sluicing down the middle of his face, and he scowled as he brushed it away with the back of a dripping hand.

“Kid, huh?” he questioned  “So I need to go get my fucking tattoos removed because some random kid might see ‘em?”

Ian blinked.

“Wait,” he said slowly, mind trying to figure out what he was missing.  “What?” then scoffed when Ian just watched him.

Mickey just scoffed.  

“You don’t even know what she was yellin’ about, do you?” he asked rhetorically. “I didn’t say a damn word to her or that sniveling brat she brought with her,” he revealed.  “They took one fucking look at me, saw the words on my knuckles, and off she went on her little fucking tirade.”

“Shit, Mickey,” Ian started, but Mickey wasn’t done.

“Don’t you act like it matters,” he growled.  “You care more about playing nice than payin’ attention, and don’t pretend that after all these years you don’t still assume I’m always the fuckin’ problem.”

Fuck.  Ian had really screwed this one up.

“Mickey,” he repeated, more firmly, standing and stepping closer to the shower.  Ian took the shower curtain in one hand and tugged it further to the side.  Mickey shivered in the influx of cool air, looking more like a disgruntled cat mid-bath than an angry man.

“Mickey,” Ian said again, softer, and stepped over the lip of the tub so that nothing was between them.  He took Mickey into his arms, his husband putting up a token resistance before settling against him with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Ian whispered into his wet hair, ignoring the patches of water soaking through his clothes.  “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Mickey hummed into his chest, not looking up.  “You kind of did, though,” he mutters.  “Every time somebody’s got a problem with me, you act like it’s my fault.”

Silence, for just a moment.

“Yeah,” Ian finally agreed, stroking a hand down Mickey’s bare back.  “Yeah, I need to work on that.”

He pulled back, made Mickey meet his eyes.  Mickey was no longer glaring, and his eyes were dry, but there was still something off about the way he met Ian’s gaze.

“You know I don’t really think that, though, right?” Ian asked, disheartened when Mickey didn’t offer a response.

“I don’t, Mickey,” he said earnestly.  “I love you, and you’ve been trying so hard--”

“Shouldn’t fuckin’ have to try,” Mickey murmured, and oh.

“No, you shouldn’t,” Ian rephrased.  “And I’m sorry I’m always making you feel like you do, too.”

Mickey moved back farther, and Ian’s arms dropped loosely back to his sides.  His fingers itched to reach out again, but he got the feeling Mickey needed some space.

“Okay,” Mickey said.  “Get outa here so I can finish.”

Ina obeyed, stepping out of the tub and moving toward the door, but he turned back before he left the room.

“When you’re done, come into the bedroom, alright?” he asked quietly.  “I’ve got an idea to get back at that asshole woman.”

“Apology or not,” Mickey said wryly, “I don’t think I’m on the mood to fuck you right now, Ian.”

Ian just smirked. 

“Not what I had in mind,” he said.  “Now hurry it up, I think you’re gonna like my plan.”

---

About twenty minutes later, after the shower had started and stopped again and Mickey had had a moment to gather himself and get dressed, Mickey walked into the bedroom and stopped still.

Ian was sitting on their bed, fully dressed, but that wasn’t what had Mickey startled.  No, it was the fact that right in front of him was a huge stereo with old school speakers, the ones that used to be downstairs in the communal lounge area, with Ian’s phone sitting right on top.

“What’s all this?” Mickey asked, and Ian grinned.

“So she doesn’t like profanity, huh?” he said.  “Well I found a favorite new song.”

Mickey started to grin himself as he caught on to the plan.  Ian stood and pushed one of the speakers a little closer to the vents in their floor, angling it so the sound would bounce right down into the apartment below.  Then he tapped a few things on his phone, cranked the volume, and let harsh base and more expletives than Mickey had ever heard in a piece of music fill the room.

Mickey laughed.  Ian held out a hand, like he was asking for a dance, and turned the music up even louder.

Shaking his head at his husband’s antics, Mickey took the proffered hand, and let Ian spin him to the sound of their bitchy neighbor losing her mind below them.

[lilacmeadows]

Made For You pt.1

Okay so this is gonna be a series. My FIRST series. So go easy on me pretty please. I’ve never written smut, and I know nobody wants badly written smut. So we’ll see about that. But this one is definitely gonna be more of a slow burn. Maybe 4 chapters? Yeah. I like that. 4 chapters. I’ve just been thinking about this idea for a while and I wanna get into writing. I hope someone likes this.

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3 (coming soon)

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, eventual smut, fluff, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

WORD COUNT: 2k 

PART ONE

She’s so used to quiet in her quaint bedroom. The faint whirring of the air conditioner, sounds of footsteps and machinery being rolled outside her door, the music they would play for her when she was extra good that week.

So when she was awoken to gunshots and yelling, y/n was anxious and didn’t know what to do. She backed into the corner of the room furthest from the door and shut her eyes. Hopefully, if she stayed quiet and unseen, things would resolve itself, and she wouldn’t see any violence come her way.

Luckily for her, after what felt like hours later, the sounds quieted down. The gunshots were less frequent and finally came to a stop. She waited for a few moments before sitting on her bed with intentions of continuing her knitting. She wasn’t allowed many activities, but this was one luxury the Men didn’t mind since she hadn’t had any violent outbursts in a long time. She hated being shocked, and she liked knitting.

But the quiet didn’t last long. Minutes later, she could hear footsteps approaching her room. Too late to go back into her corner without being heard through the ‘doggie door’ the Men used to pass her food twice a day, she sat still and slowed her breathing.

‘Anything on that floor?’ She heard one male voice say from further away.

‘Not yet. Mostly supply closets on this floor, but I’ll check them all.’ Said a voice from much closer. He couldn’t have been more than 10 feet away from her door. She could tell they were American like her because they didn’t have the funny accents the Men all had. Gripping her plastic knitting needles tightly in one hand she braced herself for the intrusion.

Her door cracked open a little, then quickly opened all the way.

“Cap, you need to see this.” The man called over his shoulder. “Are you alright ma’am?”

“Yes. I’m fine, sir.” Her small voice replied, a little rough from lack of use, but still remarkably sweet.

“Who are you? Do you know where you are?” He approached her slowly, taking in her meager appearance, but also watching out for the pointy sticks she has a death grip on.

“My name is y/n. I’m in my room.” She replied. Starting to feel very uneasy by this stranger, but also not thinking that he would hurt him. She had been here for so long, it was strange seeing a tall, black man enter her bedroom. Only trainers and watchers were allowed to enter her bedroom.

“What is it?” Another, taller man asked, but his question was soon answered when his eyes landed on the girl sitting on her bed with her tucked gently under her. He immediately noticed her lack of decent clothing, and it caused a blush to creep up his neck.

“We have a girl here, possibly a hostage, maybe an experiment. She doesn’t look like she particularly wants to be rescued.” The first man said to the other, who’s slowly entering the room while trying not to stare at her thin, flimsy, cotton dress.

“Hi, I’m Steve, this is Sam. Do you know where you’re from?” The blonde man said to her while crouching down to be at her eye level. She nodded her head yes. “Well we’re the good guys. We’re here to save you. Do you want to come with us so we can take you home?”

She had to contemplate for a minute. It had been so long since she got here that she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to leave. These men looked sincere, but she knew if she left and was caught, she’d be punished terribly. But if the gunshots meant anything, there would be nobody to punish her. Which means she can’t stay regardless because there would be nobody to take care of her either.

“Did you kill my watchers?” She looked at the blond man after a few quiet seconds. Steve and Sam made eye contact and had a whole argument in silence before Sam spoke up.

‘Yes, we did. But they were bad men. They were keeping you here. But you’re free now. You just gotta follow us, and we’ll get you out of here.’ Sam said, gently. Not wanting her to think they’re cold blooded murderers, but also trying to rush this meeting along so they can board the quinjet, where the rest of the team was waiting.

Steve held one of his hands out to her, which she hesitantly took- knitting needles and purple ball of yarn in her other hand. She thought about grabbing her sweaters, but they weren’t kept in her room. Quite frankly, she had no idea where they were. The Men didn’t allow her to keep the things she learned to knit in her room. But they would give her back a sweater during the cold months. So she just followed the two men awkwardly. Them taking large, hard steps towards parts of the building she had never seen, and her dainty footsteps lagging behind. The trainers taught her to walk with a ladylike gait, on the balls of her feet with barely any pressure to her heels.

After many hallways and stairwells, they found themselves outside the building. The quinjet was parked close by, and y/n’s eyes almost jumped out of her head. Of course she had never seen anything like that before. The men led her onto the loading area which closed behind them.

“Take a break for sightseeing?” Said one man from the front of the jet. They couldn’t see her because of her small stature behind the two men.

“Actually, we found someone. Her name is y/n. She was in one of the rooms, top floor.” Steve said to the man, while fishing you out from behind his back.

She was met with eyes. Many pairs of eyes. All looking directly at her. Not used to all the attention, she looked down at her feet, which were bare as usual and slightly irritated from walking on various terrains. Her toes painted baby pink. Another luxury the Men allowed her. Some watchers were nicer than others. The shorter, fat one that came every other night would bring her a light, barely noticeable, polish that she was only allowed to put on her toes.

Being there wasn’t so terrible. She was 10 when they took her in 2006. She had a mom and older brother, and they lived in a town in Georgia. She often wonders what happened to them that morning when the Men put a rag over her face, and she woke up on a bed in the room that would become her new bedroom.

She didn’t leave the room often. There was a small bathroom across the hall from her room. The watcher would be standing guard outside her door, and she would let him know she would like to use the bathroom or bathe. He would have to stand in the room with her while she bathed, but after a while, they were kind enough to face the wall. She fought for a long time. Refusing to eat the food (which wasn’t terrible), screaming and crying, she even plotted the occasional failed attack. But then they started the shock therapy, and she learned. Being in that chair was brutal. Rewiring her brain into submission. Submission to the Men so they could train her. She had to be ready for the Soldat when he needed her. Why her? She didn’t ask and they didn’t tell her. She learned very quickly that she was only allowed to speak when spoken to.

Make the Soldat happy. That was her mission. She had been told that phrase so many times that she heard it in her sleep. She had never seen or met him, but she was being trained to be his. A possession he could have control over during the brief times he was unfrozen. She was to listen to him, obey, sleep with him, and just make him happy because the mind controlling words were having less and less of an effect, and the Men were afraid he would lash out and massacre them all.

But it doesn’t seem like she’ll be fulfilling her life goal after all because now she’s in the air with a group of people looking at her like she has two heads. A woman with pretty red hair, a man with a large bow, and a man with nice glasses towards the front of the jet, were on one side. On the other was a blond man with very long hair, standing up to talk to a man in a purple shirt, and a man sitting by himself with long brown hair. All of their stares were pointed at her, but his seemed to go through her. Like he had x-ray vision and could read her mind.

“Y/n, you can have a seat right there.” Sam said, pointing to an empty seat next to the redhead who only squinted at her. “That’s Natasha. She’s nicer than she looks.”

“No, I’m not.” She said, making eye contact with y/n. “But we’re glad to have you aboard.” Natasha finished, the slightest smile forming at the girl.

“Um... Cap, where are her clothes?” The man from before asked Steve.

“I don’t know. This is what she was wearing, and I didn’t see a wardrobe anywhere, Tony.” Steve sighed, obviously exasperated by even the thought of a conversation with Tony.

Tony looked at the girl expectantly. Was he waiting for her to chime in? Because he’d be waiting a long time. She was trained very well. Talking out of turn was one of the first rules she learned.

“Sweetheart, are you alright? Do you want something to cover up? We have blankets. What about water? You thirsty? Does she even understand a word I’m saying?” Tony’s last question was aimed at the men she entered with.

“I understand. I’m sorry. I’m alright, sir.” And if the team was trying to keep their staring inconspicuous at first, they completely abandoned that when she spoke. Her voice was so small and smooth. Just a little weak from not talking much.

“How about we get you a blanket anyway so I can be a little more comfortable” He nodded towards Sam who left the room and returned with a large blanket. She hadn’t realized how cold she was or that her nipples were pointing through her thin dress. Or that the cotton dress was really just a white slip that was damn near see through.

Maybe the grumpy looking man on the other side of the jet does have x-ray vision.

“Thank you, sir.” Everyone had to be called Sir. She hadn’t been around any women, but she was pretty sure if they looked as serious as the one next to her, she’d call them Ma’am.

“Tony is fine.” He smiled at her.

“Hey. I’m Clint, by the way.” The man on Natasha’s other side said, turning his body to address her. “So, umm... What were you doing up there? Are you working for Hydra?” Other members of the team groaned and scolded him for being so blunt, even though they were secretly happy he asked because they also wanted to know.

“I was knitting.” She said simply. She was going to leave it at that, but she could see the way Clint’s eyebrows almost touched his hairline at her short reply. So she continued with the mantra she was raised with. “My purpose is to make the Soldat happy. He is my mission.”

She had never seen a room of people’s heads turn so fast. Eyes darting from her to the brooding man on the other side of the jet. He squinted his eyes, looking equally as confused.

She hadn’t realized that her mission was right in front of her.

part 2

[yutahoes]

Different

(Part 2)

Part One

word count : 1.6k words

a/n: I was arranging some WIPs when I found this and realized that I promised @cosmiclatte28​ a second part of Different. 

The moment Yuta’s feet landed at the airport from Japan, he knew that he needed to see Haru or he would surely go insane. A lot of things had happened in Japan that he just wanted to disappear for a while. He wanted to be warm again. 

“Appa!” Haru shouted, running to him when he spotted him from outside the school. It’s a good thing that he paid attention and had his schedule memorized. He talked to his babysitter for a while, asking if he can just take the young guy. Although hesitant, she agreed with some cash and Haru’s puppy dog eyes. “Are we going somewhere?” He asked gleefully. “Can we visit eomma? She’ll be happy to see you.” 

A smile escaped his lips. He hopes she is. 

The father-son duo took a cab to the hospital where Y/N is working, the younger taking the lead since he’s been here a couple of times already. And honestly, this is his idea. To surprise his mom. 

Yuta wondered what she would look like in white. He remembered back in university, it surprised him that this girl is a nursing student. Sometimes he would see her walking along the soccer field in her lab coat and he assumed that she’s a Physics student, even a Chemistry student back then. Then there were times that he would just see her crying in the library that the image of a perfectionist girl was etched on his mind. He realized, now, she’s far from that. 

The nurses were looking at him, making him self-conscious. Is it the bouquet of sunflowers? Or because he doesn’t really know where to go? Haru greeted them politely and he felt a sense of pride, he’s growing up well. “Haru.” someone called that made the two look at the man in white, watching them. “Does your mom know you're here? Do we have a session today?”

Session? The younger shook his head, smiling at the man who sat down so they could be of the same height. “Doctor Kim, where is eomma? Appa and I are here to surprise her.”  The older nodded then lightly glanced at Yuta. “He’s my dad, Yuta Nakamoto.” he introduced. 

Yuta lent a hand to shake and the older took it. “I’m Kim Doyoung, Haru’s doctor.” His gaze fell on the kid in front of them as he took out his phone. “I’m going to call for your mom.” Haru nodded and he told the two of them to just sit down and wait. “Sunshine…” Yuta raised an eyebrow at that. “Your son is here.” 

A loud beat thumping in his chest was all Yuta could feel when Y/N went outside the elevator then ran to the lobby, next to Doyoung. “Eomma,” Haru called and she carried him in her arms, checking if he’s alright. “I’m fine. I’m not sick.” he grinned. “Appa and I just wanted to surprise you.” And that’s when she noticed him, giving him a confused look. She looked so cute. Is she really a mom? “Are you surprised?” 

She hugged him tight in her arms, caressing his hair. “I’m just happy that you’re feeling fine, Haru.” He saw how the worry changed to relief in her eyes, her emotions are so transparent. She’s endearing like that. The younger asked if he could hang out with his dad and she nodded, staring at Yuta once again. He handed the bouquet of sunflowers that made her smile, “I didn’t know your back.” 

“I just returned this morning,” he claimed, eyes locked at her. She looks really good in white. Like an angel. “I went to see Haru immediately.” She just nodded at that. “I’ll bring him home early.” She handed him the keys to her house, thanking him for taking Haru out. 

She hugged their son and he peppered her with kisses that only made her giggle. She’s right, Haru is so lovable. He isn’t even shy to show how much he loves his mom even if there are eyes watching them. “I love you the most, eomma.” he exclaimed, making her smile. That enchanting smile. 

He smiled. It’s not just Haru who is lovable, as a matter of fact. 

--

The two spent the whole day in the mall, playing games, eating delicious food, and even shopping for toys and clothes. Haru was just too tired when they reached home that made Yuta guilty. What if he gets sick again? He was breathing heavily, seated on the couch that made Yuta worried. “Do you have your medicine?” he asked. The younger told him that it’s located in the upper cabinet of the kitchen which he immediately took. 

He returned with the pill and a glass of water, watching as to how the younger boy took it as if he’s been doing it his whole life. Which he obviously does. 

Yuta remembered the first time he saw Haru. He was two years old at that time. A chance encounter. He was just at the mall when he saw a familiar face, Y/N. He greeted her and she looked scared, nervous in fact. He knew she’s pregnant with his child but she made sure that it’s not Yuta’s responsibility. She calls that night her mistake. But when he saw the twinkle-eyed little boy in the stroller, he knew he wanted to be part of his life. 

The second time Yuta saw Haru was when he’s four years old. Tubes and machines were connected to his body and he remembered shouting in anger at Y/N. He felt annoyed at himself that he cannot do anything for his ailing child and she badly hid it from him. Luckily, Haru’s leukemia was cured with a stem cell transplant from his bone marrow. And he promised to be a great part of his life. 

Now, seeing him weak like this made him hate himself more. He should have taken better care of him. Will Haru suffer from sickness if he just stayed with Y/N that time? Will he still be sick if he became a better dad for him? Haru reached out a hand to touch his cheek while smiling at his father, “I’m fine appa. Don’t be worried.” Yuta only smiled, why does he know him so well? 

A knock on the door came and Haru nodded at Yuta who looked worried at his son. Y/N was standing with a surprised look on her face, "Why do you look…?" But when she saw Haru breathing hard on the couch, she knew why. 

Her bag was left on the floor and Yuta picked it up to get it inside. She was now seated on the couch, the younger boy seated on her lap. "Follow eomma's breathing, okay?" She said calmly and the younger nodded, obeying her. Yuta watched as the two breathed together until his breathing stabilized. "Did you drink your medicine?" 

Haru nodded, wrapping his arms on his mother's neck, nuzzling his head on her neck. "I'm sorry eomma." He whispered. "But I had fun today." 

"I know, love. And that's all the matters." She whispered, hand caressing the back of his head. "How are you feeling now? Better?" He nodded. "Do you want to take some rest?" 

"Can appa stay the night? I want him to sleep next to me." Yuta nodded which made the younger smile. 

Once inside the room, Y/N breathed hard. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize…" But she just shook her head. "How is he?" 

The girl sat in front of him, sighing. "He's getting worse." She said as if scared of what his reaction might be. "The side effects of his medicine are taking a toll on him. And he knows it, he just doesn't want to show me." 

"Can't we do something?" He hated that he could read her expression. She's hopeful. "There is." 

Y/N sighed. "I need you and Mika's help." The mention of the name startled him but she shook her head. "No, sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." 

She stood up but Yuta held her wrist, stopping her. "What is it?" 

"A younger sibling." She said quietly. "If he has a younger sibling, they can use them for stem cell treatment." She explained. "But that's wrong. Sorry. I don't want him to feel bad about using a younger sibling like that." 

Before he could speak, she smiled at him. "I'm sorry. Don't worry about it. I already talked to Doyoung, we're doing everything." 

"Doyoung?" he repeated. Haru's doctor. 

"I'm dating Doyoung." She confessed. "Haru still doesn't know. I'm looking for a time to tell him." 

 His hunches were right. They're really dating. His smile, that nickname. "Congratulations." He said quietly, nodding. He forced a smile on his face. "I'm happy for you." 

It really is too late. Why does he have to realize these feelings when she's happy with someone else? And she deserved it. He just hoped that he was earlier. 

Yuta cooked breakfast, even apologizing for rummaging through the kitchen that made Y/N shake her head. "Don't worry. This is your house as well." It isn't. This is home. With her and his son. 

He volunteered to walk Haru to school and she nodded after the incessant pleading of the younger one. He even cried when he found out that his dad is returning to Japan in the evening. "Please say hi to Mika for me." She said when they were parting ways. She's still the same. 

Yuta laughed. "Mika and I broke up." She looked surprised and Yuta thought that she's so cute for a second there. "We already signed the divorce papers." 

"Yuta, I…" 

He shook his head then held her shoulder. "I'll see you and Haru when I return next month." He smiled. A broken smile that he was forcing all this time. "Be happy, Y/N. Take care of yourself and Haru." She nodded. 

He abruptly turned to walk the opposite way from her. It's too late. 

He wished he did everything differently.

-------

Third Part

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Train Day - Rowe and Mason

[I TRIED SO HARD TO COME UP WITH WHUMP ON A CHOO CHOO BUT  

I 

COULD 

NOT

so here’s some “training Whump” but with a Twist! Mason and Rowe (who belongs to @whumpzone (and Tomas) The Training is from this prompt, and this interaction :)

hehehehe sorry Rowe Also I kinda want to write more Training!Rowe but who knows]

CW: Conditioning, past abuse discussed, cursing, dubcon touch (non sexual), misunderstanding (look Tomas is TRYING), implied electrocution, Pet Whump, conditioned mindset, dehumanization

[Rowe’s Masterlist] [Mason’s Tag] 

Mason sat, scribbling notes with the office phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear.

“Just a general kind of refresher?”

Tomas nodded before remembering he was on the phone. “Yeah – nothing harsh, though. He’s been acting out lately and I just don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“Acting out how?”

Tomas bit his lip for a second before he sighed. Strangely enough, he felt almost like a teacher phoning home about a disruptive student. He would never hurt Rowe, but he needed some correction.

“Uh, marking up things around the house” – destroying my favorite shoes- “messing with things he knows better than to mess with” – playing around with the collar I should have thrown away – “I mean, he cut his own hair for goodness sake.”

Mason wrote down attention seeking and hummed understandably. “Has anything changed recently? Did you get a new job or move or something to that effect?”

A pause.

“Well, Luca’s been coming around more...”

Mason leaned back in his chair, a knowing grin creeping along his face. By the blush in the man’s voice, he could tell Luca was more than just a random friend. He chuckled silently and shook his head. That explains it.

“Alright. Has he ever been through a formal training before?”

“I, I don’t think so. I got him, uh, he came to me through some, not, great circumstances, if you know what I mean. Pretty rough shape. So, uh - no. I’m going to go with no. Or at least, not like, kind training.”

Mason nodded subconsciously as he took more notes. Alright, a little handholding necessary with this one. Fair enough.

“Sorry to hear about that. Is there anything else you want to tell me? Anything other changes?”

Another pause, longer this time. Mason just waited, understanding that some people who were embarrassed about needing a trainer for their pet. Really, there was nothing to be ashamed for, but there was still that expectation. Sadly, that mindset is what messed up the pet in the first place.

“He has nightmares,” Tomas blurts, feeling like this might be the only opportunity for Rowe to get some professional help. “Almost every night – all from before. Not me, all before.”

“Oh,” Mason said, dropped from that professional voice to one a little more casual. Clients liked that, made them feel like friends or something. Personal anecdotes. “Yeah, one of my boys got those too after a little scare with a SUV that was speeding through our neighborhood. It’s fixable.”

“Thank goodness,” Tomas muttered, head in hands. “He’s still scared of that guy. I just, I just wish he wasn’t so scared of everything. I want him to be calm, and comfortable, and feel safe with me. I, I care about him.”

Companion, Mason noted. “Sounds like you’re trying all the right things. I’ll see what I can do to help you and-” he checked the form again “Rowe.”

A sigh of relief from Tomas. It had been a while since there was someone who could help him with Rowe. After, after the whole Kasia debacle that blew up in his face.

It was nice to have someone on his side again. Someone who wanted to help Rowe like he did.

A few more pleasantries, and they said their goodbyes. Mason hung up the phone, glancing over to the pet that had been kneeling in his office. It had been trembling the entire time, not daring to look up. Mason stretched as he stood and made his way over to it. He crouched down, taking the pet by the chin to examin its face.

Big, scared brown eyes couldn’t decide where to look; flickering from the floor to his face, but never quite reaching his eyes. Poor thing flinched when he brought up his other hand to inspect the sloppily shorn hair. He could already tell that the pet was layered in scars, trying to breathe silently but given away by a slightest rasp. It tried to studder something out, but the words got caught.

Mason tutted, using his thumb to rub the boy’s temple in comforting circles. Barbaric. That’s the only way to describe the treatment of the pet’s previous owner. How could people do shit like this? Pet were just that - pets, not just living punching bags. Disciple needed to be humane, needed to help get the lesson across instead of useless violence.

The comforting touch seemed to confuse it even more, the pet staying stalk still. He tried a different spot, and the pet quickly relaxed, neck going slack. Mason smiled a little, faintly remembering another pet that came through a while ago. Loved touch, that one did.

He wondered how it was doing now.

~

Rowe couldn’t stop shaking. He was trying, oh he was trying his best but he just couldn’t seem to stop. The man was big, biceps as big as Rowe’s head. He was shorter than Master Tomas, but he scared Rowe more.

And that made him feel so guilty.

He should respect his Master the most; should be the most concerned about what Master Tomas thought or wanted. He shouldn’t care so much about what happened to him, or about what this man would do. He just needed to be good, and obey. But he was scared. This man was going to fix him, teach him to be better, and with Rowe’s old Master that always meant pain. Pain and darkness and hunger that hollowed him out. Burns and cuts and lashes and begging that made everything worse.

When the man lifted his other hand, Rowe flinched away from it. He wasn’t ready to be hit again. Master Tomas had been too easy on him! Too pitying, too nice. He had gone soft, spending all this time doing house chores and sleeping on a bed and reading. Now he needed to learn his place again and it scared him so much.

“P-p-please Sir, please. I-I-I-I, I, hng-“ Rowe’s voice cracked, and he could feel heat rush to his face. The man made a little clicking noise, and Rowe froze. A thumb was rubbing little circles into his temple and he didn’t know what to do. He found himself looking into the man’s face, utterly confused. Was, wait – did Rowe do something right? What was happening? It, it didn’t hurt. It felt kind of nice. What was he supposed to do? He stayed still, chest rising and falling quickly.

The man made an expression, but it was gone so quickly Rowe couldn’t tell what it meant. Hands reached for his neck, and Rowe whimpered. But they just laid across his skin, not squeezing or putting any pressure. Even so, Rowe still felt faint. Oh, oh oh he must have been so so so bad.

But there was no pain. The man’s fingertips pressed into the back of his neck, right where his spine met his skull. Little circles again, digging into the muscle. Rowe’s head moved a little with the motion for a second - before he felt the tension in his neck just melt away.

It felt so good, his eyes fluttered closed. It was hard to keep his head up straight, gravity pulling it back to rest on the man’s hands. Rowe was still incredibly confused, but he didn’t want it to stop. Didn’t want to mess up somehow and lose this reward that he certainly hadn’t earned. He almost didn’t hear it when the man started talking.

“Feeling a little ignored, eh? Had a bitch of an owner before, didn’t you. Fucked you up real good.”

Rowe’s brain snapped to attention hearing mention of his old owner. He tried to shake his head a little. No, no his old owner was fair. Rowe was the one who kept messing up and needing correcting. He was just a pet, that was how he was supposed to be treated. He knew better. He knew it.

“Hey hey hey,” Mason said, suddenly stopping the motion and firmly holding Rowe’s neck straight. The brown eyes flew open, wrenched from his blissful state. “No, you don’t correct your Trainer. Your old owner was wrong. Now, let’s get you all fixed up for your Master. No more acting out, no more breaking your rules, no more attention seeking.”

Rowe cringed in on himself as he was reprimanded. Yes, yes that’s what he had been doing. Trying to take up Master’s time like an ungrateful thing. He could be good. He could show the man he was well trained.

“I-I’m, I’m sorry. Please, p-please p-punish me, I-“

Mason scoffed lightly, releasing Rowe and stand. “Yes, but that’s only part of the reason you’re here.”

He paused. “Talkative. Does your Master like you to talk with him?”

Rowe’s jaw snapped shut, eyes wide as he realized what had happened. He covered his mouth with his hands instinctively but nodded to answer his Trainer’s question.

“Alright. What does he do for punishments?”

Rowe shivered, starting to tremble again – wait when did he stop – remembering his old punishments. But Master Tomas never did that. He was so kind to Rowe.

“He, he, he h-has me remove spider-rs? Sometimes? Or, um, or he, um.”

Mason sighed and rolled his eyes. Of course, one of those loosey-goosy owners that never punished anything. Probably too afraid to seem like “the bad guy” or like the pet’s old Master. Two extreme pet owners; too much punishment and not enough.

Rowe stopped talking immedicably, unsure of what to do. The Trainer gestured for him to stand as well, and Rowe obeyed. Mason took a step behind him, pinning one of the pet’s wrists to the small of its back while the other hand firmly gripped the back of its neck. The lack of collar made sense now.

“Come on. Let’s get you to the training floor and get started.”

~

Tomas was pacing in the waiting room. The door opened, and Tomas wheeled around.

“Master Tomas!”

Rowe came up to him excitedly, not falling to his knees, but standing sheepishly in front of him. Tomas looked him up and down, a little shocked.

“Rowe? Oh-h, you seem, well.”

Rowe nodded, eyes locked on Tomas’ face. “I, I am! Thank, thank you.”

Tomas glanced over and saw Mason leaning in the doorframe, looking rather smug with himself. Tomas smiled at him half-heartedly. He filled out the paperwork quickly, anything he had to do to take Rowe home.

Every day Rowe was gone made Tomas doubt his decision more. He was so glad they were going home, and that all of this was behind them. He already felt awful for sending Rowe away for the week or so he’d been gone. He’d thoroughly missed having Rowe around the house.

The moment they left, Tomas took Rowe’s hand.

“Are you really okay? Rowe, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that to you. Did he hurt you? What did he do?”

“I’m fine, M-Master,” Rowe said, smiling. There was a pause in the conversation for him to add more, to answer the other questions, but he didn’t. Tomas swallowed, not really believing him.

~

Rowe curled his toes and twitched his shoulders as he spoke. (If you have to move, if you have to flinch or feel scared, move somewhere your Owner can’t see. No one wants a pet that flinches away) Master Tomas seemed concerned. And sorry? Sorry for what? Rowe was his pet and Master Tomas could send him wherever he wanted.

His trainer had been fair, helping Rowe be the best he could. But, but he didn’t want to go back to the Trainer. Under his arms still stung, the little electrodes removed only that morning. There were so many things he had to remember, so many secret rules that he needed to follow to keep Master Tomas happy. To make sure Master Tomas knew his pet was calm, and comfortable, and felt safe with him. It was a lot to remember, but his Trainer has explained that this was how Rowe showed how thankful he was.

You don’t need attention; you need to make sure your Master is happy.

He, he kind of liked his Trainer, but he was also so scary. He got loud sometimes, able to make Rowe nearly fall apart with just his words. And he was downright terrifying when he made Rowe tell him about his nightmares. All the little details and everything that happened. Making Rowe say it over and over again; but with a different ending. Saying that Master Tomas had come and saved him. Taken him away from his old Master.

His Trainer said it would help. Help stop the nightmares. That, and the stretches that didn’t hurt so much after hours of practice. Master Tomas had saved him, and he was forever grateful to him. So thankful to be his pet.

Pets smiled. Pets did what they were told. Good pets followed the secret rules, the ones that kept them good pets. His Trainer had explained those, too. Explained why Master Tomas acted how he did. Why he acted kind.

Why he told Rowe he was a person.

He wasn’t, Rowe knew and his Trainer made sure he knew, but it made Master Tomas feel better to say. So, it was a good thing. Anything that made Master happy was a good thing. Rowe just had to play along. It wouldn’t be hard, as long as he reminded himself the truth when he was alone.

He was a pet.

He was there to be a companion to Master Tomas.

He wasn’t a person.

He belonged to Master Tomas.

He did what Master Tomas wanted.

Master Tomas saved him so he could do whatever he wanted to Rowe (even play this pretend game with him)

He was a pet.

Rowe just had to follow his secret rules.

Just because Master Tomas hadn’t given him rules didn’t mean there weren’t any.

[blushnote]

could u please do a sub vernon imagine where he asks to have his hands tied w silk to the headboard n u won’t stop edging him n hes just a whining whimpering mess begging to cum to the point where he’s calling you things like miss and mommy even though u didn’t ask him to

↳ requested | 2.3k words

↳ sub!hansol smut

a/n: thank you so much for your patience, anon! i really hope you enjoy it, and again, sorry for such a long wait ;w;

you couldn’t deny your surprise when hansol had interrupted your late night make-out on the couch, the skin of your lips tingling, bruised, as he made an interesting suggestion:

“i want you to tie my hands.”

he practically whispered it so that you wouldn’t hear the nerves in his throaty voice. you sat back, your thighs squeezing on each side of the boy’s waist, realizing that hansol was one-hundred percent serious and this fantasy was something he’d been ruminating over for a while. there had never exactly been much of a dominant-submissive dynamic in your relationship – the sex was just sex, and it was perfect. you seldom imagined hansol wanting to be dominated or tied down.

but that took a turn very quickly. the next evening (after purchasing some long, baby pink ropes of silk from the store) the boy’s wrists were woven above his head and fastened to the bedrail. as you stared down at him, examining his toned, pale chest, the veins subtly straining from his forearms while he experimentally tugged against the silk, you felt this overwhelming urge to ruin him.

in the best way possible of course.

you rose to your knees while he blinked up at you glassily. undoing the knot of your satin robe, the material slid off your shoulders, revealing to him the garnet, lace lingerie hugging your body and accentuating your shape in all the right places. considering that his hands would already be groping every inch of you, it was amusing to see the boy fumble and squirm.

after tossing away the robe, his eyes probed over your breasts and thighs, until you etched lower down hansol’s body and you were looking at his growing, flushed cock that twitched against his abdomen. he sucked in a sharp breath as your fingertips pulled in a featherlight touch along its side.

“are you going to be a good boy tonight, sollie?” you purred, your fingers ghosting back down.

“mmhm.” he mumbled, his eyes shining behind his black bangs.

shaking your head, you gave him a disapproving glance. “use your words, sweetheart. if you can’t answer properly then maybe i shouldn’t touch you at all.”

“n-no!” hansol yelped, lifting his head from the cushion. “i’ll be such a good boy, i promise.”

those words crackled straight to your heat. you adored his groans, always so deep and gritty, but when his voice trembled and turned into a desperate plead for the first time, you swore your heartbeat faltered. because he obeyed your order, you rewarded him, properly wrapping your soft hand around the boy’s cock, your thumb rubbing against his slit to make his fingers curl at the headboard. you then reached for the bottle of oil at the end of the bed, and hansol’s eyes shone.

he watched in quiet agony as you poured some onto your palm. the second your hand returned to his cock, hansol pressed his cheek into the pillow and whined through his teeth, his hips bucking upward as you stroked him slowly. the added slick to the oil was a magnificent sensation.

“does this feel nice, baby? hm? you like when i play with your pretty cock like this?” just to be a bit cruel, you started pumping him faster, occasionally rubbing your palm flat against his head.

it effectively stimulated him, for hansol’s chest arched from the sheets and he wrestled slightly against his silk ties. knowing how sensitive his head was, you held his length with your other hand and continued the rubbing motion of your palm. he was so sweet trying to hide his face.

“y-yeah, feels really g-good. please, more!” hansol whined into his pillow.

this level of responsiveness was something you had yet to see from him. he didn’t exactly speak much in bed, it was more heavy breaths, aggressive grunts, and the occasional curse hissed between his teeth. if you had of known that tying his hands and making him promise to be your good boy would reveal this whimpering, unbelievably sensitive side of him, then you might have proposed this idea yourself. however, you weren’t going to allow him to cum just yet.

instead, you completely removed your hands, leaving his cock to strain against his abdomen while small pearls of his cum dripped onto his skin. hansol mewled, his hips falling back to the mattress, cheeks rosy in his frustration and pleasure. you spent a minute massaging his thigh in order to appease the fact his orgasm had been unkindly forfeited.

“it won’t be as fun if i just let you cum, sollie.” you chuckled. “but if you keep behaving so well for me sweetheart, then i promise, i’ll make you feel good.”

at first, hansol didn’t respond, just bit his lip and shook the hair from his eyes. you leaned forward, taking his chin between your fingers where you forced him to look at you.

“and you are going to behave, aren’t you, baby boy?”

“yes,” he gulped, nodding his head, “i just want to make you happy.”

your heart warmed greatly, and you kissed the space between his brows. “i know you will, sollie.” you could tell he wanted to reach out in the moment, that he wanted to touch you more than anything, his wrists wriggling against the rose silk.

as you travelled back down the boy’s body, you made sure to suckle a few bruises against his chest and trace your fingertips over his nipples. the manner in which his breath hitched was immensely satisfying, especially when your tongue softly swirled over one of the pink buds, causing hansol’s cock to start repetitively twitching. by the time you were hovering at his length, you pumped him a bit until the light amount of oil had disappeared.

then, you pressed kisses up a prominent vein, hansol’s eyes watching your every movement until you reached his tip and drew a tentative, slow lick. his teeth dug into his lip and his head titled back, to which you could see his adam’s apple bobbing when you tongued against his leaking slit.

but he was allured to the scene unfolding between his thighs. he was watching you again, his jaw clenched as you began sinking down on his cock. your hand curled around the expanse that you couldn’t yet reach. hollowing your cheeks, you pulled upward, coating him in your saliva, a lewd sight that always rendered hansol unable to think. taking a steady breath through your nose and relaxing your throat, you sunk down once more.

you were able to move past your hand until nearly his whole cock was stuffed to the very back of your mouth. despite the accumulating drool and intense urge to cough back him out, you maintained the position and swallowed around him. hansol whimpered, his hips gently lifting in an attempt to fuck your throat, but a hand was pushing him down to the mattress. you started suckling, purring, pressing your tongue, searching for any type of vibration that would ensure his pleasure.

“ff-fuck,” he hissed, his head falling back against the pillow, “nngh—pl-please, please, please.”

hansol kept stammering the word like a broken record. one of his favourite weaknesses had always been deepthroating. it was something about how wet and warm the inside of your mouth was, how your tongue worked against him, the way you would moan with tears streaming down your cheeks just because you wanted to make him feel good. every time your air supply shortened, you would pull off his cock and take another breath, only to submerge a few seconds later.

you swallowed tightly around him again, and hansol couldn’t help himself. he planted his feet flat on the mattress and thrust up past your lips, so desperate to fuck your teary face and have his hot cum splatter your throat like ice cream. he was right on the edge, and you knew that. his cock was beginning to throb and his adamant, rough curses were a clear indicator. and yet, you didn’t allow him the satisfaction. as soon as you removed him from your mouth his hips withered on the bed.

“nn-no! was so fucking close!” he wailed, his cock bobbing against his stomach. “please mommy, i just want to cum!”

immediately, you froze. what did he say? did he actually call you that? the butterflies erupted in your lower tummy. hansol didn’t even seem to take note, too overwhelmed by his lost orgasm.

swallowing tautly, you drew circles to the boy’s thigh. “n-not yet, sweetheart.”

“but it hurts, miss,” hansol sniffled, his cheeks glossy, “it hurts so fucking bad.”

dragging your fingertips gently over his cock, you smiled, heat crawling up your face. nothing had ever sounded so attractive. you couldn’t deny how much you loved it. “does it now, sweetheart?”

“y-yes…” his hands withered against the headboard in complete desperation, though he seemed to realize he’d need to relax if he wanted more stimulation. “m’sorry… i just—”

“i know, baby,” you cooed sympathetically, “i know your pretty cock is aching and that you just want to cum.” you entertained his fantasy.  “mommy is going to let you, alright? you have to be patient.”

hansol nodded. he really was trying his best to behave.

“i do think you deserve a reward.” you acknowledged, to which the boy’s face immediately perked.

standing on your knees, you straddled the boy’s lap and slid a hand over your stomach, until it cupped in between your thighs and you felt the heavy wetness that soaked through the lace. one hand pulled the material aside while the other streaked fingers between the folds and massaged your clit.

a low whine reverberated in hansol’s throat; his eyes completely blackened by lust as you touched yourself right before him. it was taking everything inside him to not rip from his silk bindings and pull you straight over his face, to bruise your hips as he pressed your pussy onto his tongue. he had a slight obsession with eating you out. when you plunged your fingers deep into your heat, your legs started trembling. hansol whimpered again. he hated that he wasn’t the one to make you shudder.

“does my good boy want to have a taste?” you hummed, pulling out your sopping, sticky fingers.

“yes, yes please,” hansol quickly spieled, “please, let me taste you, mommy. i’ll do anything.”

“open your mouth, baby.” you instructed.

exactly as he was told, hansol parted his lips and welcomed your digits into his mouth, where his tongue quickly lapped at your slick. he suckled intensely, his eyes fluttering shut as though it would permanently fuse your sweetness to his memory. the drool started gleaming around his lips as he hummed, so much calmer now that he had something in his mouth. you brushed the damp, black strands from his lashes, praising him for how well he’d cleaned your fingers.

“such a good baby boy,” you told him, cupping his cheek, “you’d do anything for mommy’s cum, wouldn’t you?”

hansol licked his lips, nodding immediately. “i only want to make you feel good, miss.”

“i want to make you feel good too, sollie.” you purred.

smirking, you held onto the boy’s neglected cock and positioned yourself above him. hansol’s chest was heaving as you pulled your underwear aside in order to drag the head of his length along your soft, wet flesh. he gritted his teeth, curled his fingers, felt the loud, broken moan rupture from his throat as you finally guided him into your opening. then, you were sinking down, your thighs shaking upon the magnitude of the stretch and how pleasurable the sting was.

you knew that he wouldn’t last long with you bouncing on his lap. at even the slightest swivel of your hips, hansol choked out a gasp and his arms were squirming. deep inside your heat, he was throbbing more than he ever had, and when you clenched around him experimentally, he started to sob.

“mommy, please! i’ve been s-such a good boy! please just let me cum, i-i can’t take it anymore.”

splaying your hands next to his hand, you rolled your hips, adoring how his face contorted.

“do you think you deserve it, baby?” you asked, though hansol only tried bucking into you.

suddenly, you began lifting yourself from his cock, and the boy burst, hot tears glimmering down his cheeks, rosy and wet, the black hair catching in his eyes, his whimpers full of lust, desperation.

“pl-please don’t! i’ll do whatever you want! i’ll beg for you mommy!”

kissing his forehead, you couldn’t help your fondness, “do you really want to cum that bad, sweetheart? do you want to be my good boy and cum inside of mommy?”

“yes!” hansol beamed, his hands straining against the pink ribbons, his gritty voice bubbling with excitement, “yes mommy, please! can i please cum inside you? i promise it’ll feel so good! i’ll make you feel so full mommy, i swear!” he pleaded unabashedly, his eyes bright.

there was no possible way you could continue denying his pleasure at that point. just as you anticipated, it didn’t take much for hansol to reach his orgasm. while you leaned over him, bouncing and swiveling in his lap, watching his eyes flutter shut when the euphoria became too overwhelming, he reached his climax. with a loud groan that cracked from his throat, hansol released deep inside you, his cock wildly throbbing, to which you could feel every pulse of his cum that filled your heat.

you were both breathing heavily in the afterglow, a thin sheen coating hansol’s body as he slowly began to soften inside you. his wrists had gone limp against the headboard, imprints of the silk ribbon carving red upon his milk skin. carefully, you untied him, and his hands immediately fell onto your thighs. he smiled at you in a complete haze while you removed the damp hairs from his eyes.

“since when did you have a mommy kink?” you chuckled quietly.

the boy’s face tinted pink, and he quickly covered his expression with his wrist. “i-i dunno,” he stumbled, slowly pulling his hand down his face, “it just… kinda happened one time when i was masturbating. and i couldn’t stop thinking about calling you that.”

“don’t worry, sollie,” you reassured him, patting his warm cheek, “i like it too.”

[mrobrotzly]

sometimes it feels like a blessing

for @geraskierhalloween

Magic + 5+1 + Knotting - 11k

Or 5 times Jaskier and Geralt could see the effect of magic on them and 1 time it took them a little to realize it.

One day, in the middle of spring, Geralt had a contract for some unknown creature and, obviously, failed to convince Jaskier to stay at the inn, it had been a decade since they met and Geralt was never good at getting the troubadour to obey any of his commands - even if they're to keep him out of harm's way.

Fortunately, the creature wasn't dangerous, a hybrid of several animals, but - 'cause it attacked him and almost hurt Jaskier (which was what most infuriated Geralt, if the creature hadn't come close to the bard, it would probably be alive now, but he would never say it out loud, obviously, it wasn't like he cared, was it?) - it's no longer breathing at the moment.

The problem was - and seriously, Geralt should have thought of it earlier - that hybrids don't just exist freely, they're created. And they're usually created by people who're mostly crazy and who're, even worse, mages.

"My poor Delilah!" the sorceress was in front of both of them, eyes shining with anger and unshed tears, she prepared to release her chaos, but Geralt drew his sword quickly, making her hesitate.

“You killed her! My own creation!" Geralt watched her carefully, she was clearly not someone with a sane mind "Do you know what it's like to love something, Witcher?” she spat out the last word, making a face of disgust "I don't think you know, shame!" she laughed a bitter and hysterical laugh "I would love to destroy everything you love."

Her growl made him clench his fist in the sword's hilt, unconsciously taking a step to the side, hiding the bard behind his body.

She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head to the side, watching him for a few seconds and smiling, a smile that made the Witcher felt an unpleasant feeling grow in his body.

"Pretty little thing you’ve there, uh?!" she purred and Geralt felt a growl rumbling in his chest “A bard? Would you play for me, dear?”

Jaskier stuttered, Geralt didn't need to look at him to know that his blue eyes were wide.

"Leave him out of this" he said firmly, his voice lower than usual.

She gave a cynical laugh.

"Why, Witcher?" and she tentatively took a step forward, Geralt clenched his teeth, his knuckles white for gripping the sword's hilt “Your pet for mine. It seems like a fair exchange…” she tried to move again, Geralt's body moved together to stop her “The things I would do to him…”

This time he snarled and the sorceress narrowed her eyes, anger returning to her face.

"Let's do it in the difficult way then."

And she raised her hands, sending a pulse of magic at the same time that Geralt casted Quen, protecting him and Jaskier, he could hear the bard's surprised gasp and the sorceress' disgruntled noise for not having succeeded in the spell.

He pushed Jaskier aside, behind the nearest tree, as he went towards the woman, she was good at dodging, but not attacking and her magic wasn’t powerful enough to hurt him badly - probably the power she has was only for breeding creatures and hybrids, not for battles.

She danced - and had no better word to describe what she was doing - around him and even without causing significant damage, he felt her chaos tiring him every time it came in contact with his skin, making him even more irritated 'cause it's delaying his movements.

She laughed, dodging a blow from the sword and snapping her fingers "In a moment the magic will fully affect you, Witcher, and you'll no longer be able to move."

"Not if I kill you first" he grunted and, honestly, he didn't want to have to kill anyone that day, he only accepted the contract 'cause it seemed easy, but of course Destiny would laugh at his face.

He dodged a spell, one of the weakest he has ever seen or feel and he would have laughed at it had it not been for the yelp he heard coming from behind him, the spell had chipped a piece of the wood.

"Jaskier!" he called, without taking his eyes off the enemy.

"I'm fine!" was the answer, but he didn't have time to feel relieved 'cause the sorceress moved her hands again, this time deliberately missing Geralt, trying to hit the tree protecting the bard.

"Your fight is with me!" Geralt grunted, sword passing very close to the woman's chest.

"I don’t think so" she laughed and moved quickly, now closer to where Jaskier was "Let's see if you'll like to feel what I'm feeling."

As she raised her arms he heard Jaskier choking, as if trying to breathe while someone tightened their hands around his neck and he felt his whole body go cold, memories of the moment when he saw the bard spitting blood, his purple and swollen throat and Geralt being unable to do anything to help him...

The only thing that kept him from being still and unable to react was the years of training on Kaer Morhen, the woman was focused on the spell, frowning and the Witcher realized it was a difficult spell for her, so it would be the perfect time for he to attack.

When she realized he was approaching it was too late, he already had half the blade of his sword buried in her stomach.

"You" she said, widening her eyes as he pushed the sword deeper, her arms falling limp beside his body "One day, Witcher, you'll lose everything" she whispered to him, laughing and looking at him hysterically “They're going to leave. And you'll be alone like you truly deserve” she tried to spat blood on his face before falling forward when he pulled the sword out of her body.

And on the ground, meters from where her creature was, the sorceress stayed.

"Are you alright?" a soft voice asked, Geralt turned, seeing Jaskier behind him, looking at him with concern.

"I should be the one asking you that" he said.

"I'm. Thanks to you” the bard smiled at him and something in Geralt's chest calmed down, he felt a wave of relief relaxing every part of his body as he looked at Jaskier.

That was until the bard widened his eyes and opened his mouth as if something was very wrong.

"What?" the grip on the sword's hilt tightened, he looked around.

"Geralt!" he exclaimed taking a step forward "Look at me."

The Witcher looked at the troubadour, frowning in confusion, the feeling getting worse when he saw a smile spread across Jaskier's face. Did some magic hit the bard and he's going crazy? Geralt frowned, feeling concern wash over him.

"Okay, this is amazing!" Jaskier laughed, delighted with something, his face lighting up in a way that made Geralt's chest warm and he didn't want to understand why.

"Bard" he said warningly.

"Oh, no, don't bard me" Jaskier pointed a finger at him, but was still smiling "This is fantastic, Geralt."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he started to get annoyed, Jaskier not going straight to the point getting on his nerves.

"Okay, okay" he raised his arms in surrender "No need to be angry."

"I'm not" maybe a little.

"Yes, you're, it's on your face" he gestured with his hand "literally, Geralt, your eyes are red."

He blinked, staring at Jaskier to make sure it wasn't a prank, if that was true it meant that magic had affected him in other ways besides physical tiredness. Was this the only side effect? Or would there be others?

“They're turning orange now... Look, I learned a lot at Oxenfurt and I'm very wise in several subjects, but, unfortunately, not the meaning of colors, so you've to tell me: what are you feeling, Geralt?”

"I don’t-"

"Don't what? Have feelings?” the bard laughed wryly "Come on, Geralt, I've known you for a decade! I know very well that you feel and how much you feel, well Yennefer is a proof of that.”

The Witcher pressed his lips at the mention of the sorceress, refusing to look away from Jaskier, the bard raised his eyebrows.

"Black?" he brought his face close and Geralt held his breath. "It wasn't what I was expecting when I mentioned her."

He felt the irritation build up again.

"I'm not an experiment for your fun, bard" He practically spat, turning and starting to walk towards the camp, sword, still stained with blood, in his hands. Jaskier sighed.

"Okay, I admit, it wasn't fair" he followed Geralt and maybe, just maybe, the Witcher was walking more slowly so the troubadour could catch up "But you can't blame me for being curious, I'm a bard, Geralt!"

He didn't answer either that or the dozens of other things Jaskier said before they got to the camp.

And it was a little uncomfortable to sit on the forest floor and clean his swords while the bard stared at him like that.

"How long do you think the spell will last?" he asked.

"I don't know, she wasn't a very good witch."

Jaskier laughed and he felt the sound melting all his annoyance, he frowned at it while cleaning the iron blade with a cloth.

"Don't you want to see?" Jaskier asked "You know... your eyes."

“Why would I? I can feel the magic, I don't need to see it to know it's here.”

The bard shrugged.

"I dont know. I always wanted to know what I would look like if my eyes were a different color, maybe green or brown.”

Geralt stopped what he was doing, lifting his head and looking at Jaskier's face. The first thing he thought was "why?"

Why change such beautiful blue? Blue that he adores to look at, that seemed to shine every time the bard smiled or performed in places where his music was appreciated, blue like an ocean that want to pull him, drown him and he knew he wouldn't try to resist these waves. Eyes so beautiful that with one look the bard have him in the palm of his hands. Eyes that, for some reason, now stared at him with delight.

"That's a beautiful color..." Jaskier whispered so sincerely, smiling in such a way that Geralt had to bend his head and watch his dim reflection on the blade.

And he saw pink, a light and soft pink.

He swallowed, suddenly wanting to run away from there.

The truth was that he knew the meaning of colors, he'd read about it in one of the books he found in Vesemir's personal collection when he was a boy and, thanks to whatever made his memory flawless, he remembered it very well.

He stood up turning his face away, hiding it from Jaskier and looking towards the forest.

"I'm going to get us dinner."

And left without waiting for an answer. Ignoring not only the confused look the bard had on his face, but also the felling that growed up in his chest, this would be just one more thing he would bury and try to forget.

(Continue to read on AO3)

♡ if you enjoy my work, you can support me & buy me a coffee ☕️

[lu-undy]

Chapter 89 - SBT

Here it is!

"Here, Micky, a bigger bowl." 

"Oh, thanks, Mum! Come along, babies, Dad is gonna show you stuff." 

Caroline opened the French window for Mundy and the cats to step in the garden. 

"Careful with the chickens, they aren't toys or food, eh?" Mundy told the cats who froze when they saw the few ginger hens. "Eggs first?" He asked his mother who nodded. 

"Yes, please, you'll find them on your left, you'll see your father built them a little coop." 

"Oh, alright." Mundy cast a glance over the cats. Soot had stepped between Perle and the curious hen pecking at the grass. 

"Meow…" He slowly lowered his body closer to the ground and his pupils went wide.

"No, no huntin' of the hens, Sooty boy…" 

Soot looked up at Mundy. 

"Meow!" 

"No, they're nice, look." Mundy put the bowl down and crouched to take a hen and sit on the ground. He petted her gently while Caroline watched the whole scene unravel before her eyes. "C'mere and touch, she's soft." 

Soot hesitated but Perle trusted Mundy and came closer, albeit prudently. She raised a paw and Mundy held it between his fingers. 

"Good girl, don't be scared… Here, see? The hen is a friend."

"Meow?" 

"Yeah, a friend. She's not scared of ya, see? She's just curious. C'mon, Sooty boy, man up and c'mere." 

Soot approached but positioned himself such that Perle was always between him and the chicken. 

"Don't be shy… Gimme yer paw."

Soot averted his green eyes and looked down. 

"C'mon…" 

Perle turned to him and after a few affectionate licks and some purrs, her charms worked and Soot raised his paw. 

"Good boy… Here…"

"Meow?" He raised apprehensive eyes to Mundy.

"It's safe, don't worry. You trust your Dad, right?"

There was a second of hesitation and Soot meowed again. Mundy gently pulled his paw and his black pads came into contact with the hen's feathers. 

"Here we go… Gently… No, we don't slap her… Pearl, show him, baby… See? The wifey's not scared, eh?" 

"You still are as good with animals as you've always been." Caroline said with a sweet grin. Mundy smiled back at her as she came to ruffle his hair. He was sitting on the grass, his legs open, with the hen in his hands and Perle and Soot between his long legs. 

"Especially these two, they're adorable." 

"Aw… And you really behave like their Dad, eh?" 

Mundy blushed. 

"Y-yeah, well, I raised them… L-let's get the eggs eh?" He stood up and released the hen. "Oh that's a gorgeous little house they have..." He discovered a quite large wooden coop. "How many chickens d'you have?" 

"A dozen maybe? And a couple of roosters, too."

Both approached the coop and the chickens cackled happily. 

"Ladies and gents, hey there…" Mundy ran his hands on their feathers. "I'm surprised they're not scared."

"I hold them in my arms all the time."

"Why not get a cat or a dog? Better pet than chickens, eh?" 

"Yeah but after what happened in the farm, it's hard to even just have those few hens." Caroline sighed. 

"Hey…" Mundy went closer to her and, bending down, he hugged her. "What happened at the farm won't happen again, Mum."

"I know but… I'm always scared… Who knows what could happen here?" 

"There's no oil or anythin' here, and even if there was, Duchemin's dead."

"Yeah…" Caroline hugged her son back. "Micky?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I missed you so much." 

"So did I, Mum. Went mad without you. I even missed my fights with Dad."

She tapped him on the back. 

"Such a good boy you are… C'mon, let's get the eggs." 

"Sure." 

They both helped each other and collected all the eggs in the coop. 

"Leave just one or two, in case there's a chick inside."

"Okay. What next?" 

"Next, you can fill the basket with whatever veggies you like, come follow me."

"Really? Mum, no, c'mon, you need the money…" 

"Nonsense!" Caroline turned and walked away, heading for the little vegetable farm.  "I'm gonna make sure you can eat before I can sell anything, you're my son and baby, no way I'm feedin' people before I feed you." 

Mundy smiled. 

"But Mum, you need to keep stuff to sell it - oh, my God! That's amazing!" 

Mundy's sentence and his breath altogether cut short when his eyes fell on his parent's garden. 

"You have such a big garden, Mum, it's great!" Mundy's eyes eagerly scanned every plant, every stem and every leaf of the green lines of fresh vegetables that all beckoned his eyes.

"Aw, it's smaller than what we had back in the days but it gets us enough money." 

"Mum, this is great…!" He crouched next to the melons. "Babies? C'mere, let me explain, now, no, no claws, only touch with your little paws… There, good babies… Look at these flowers, see them?"

"Meow…!"

"Soot, don't put your face in the flower… Scared but curious you are, eh? Yeah, it's a melon flower, you can't see it, but it's orange. And you know what? They open when the sun rises and then close for the night."

Perle came closer and sniffed the flower. 

"Meow." 

"You like it?" 

"Meow…." She purred and Mundy scratched her head. 

"And look here. What are these, d'you remember them? Papa loves them." Mundy pointed at some vegetables.

"Meow!" 

"Yeah, it's peppers! Good girl…!" Mundy kissed Perle's head.

"Papa?" Caroline repeated as she picked a melon and put it in the basket.

"Yeah, that's Lu's name for Pearl."

"He's Papa and you're Dad?" Caroline picked a few bell peppers. 

"Y-yeah…" Mundy blushed. "B-but yeah, uh, Lu', he likes those bell peppers. Makes ratatouilles with them." He tried to justify himself and lead the conversation away.

"You like it?" 

"What?" 

"His ratatouille?" She asked.

"Yeah…? It's… It's nice. It's a French thing. Smells really good too when he cooks it. The entire house smells of it." 

Caroline smiled and Mundy's eyes went back to the vegetables. He walked through among the rows, stopping at each new kind of plant and had the cats touch it, sometimes even let them have a taste. 

"Sooty boy, cherry tomatoes aren't toys, stop slappin' them, there, good boy. Wanna taste one? C'mere. Baby Pearl, c'mere too. Here… Y'like it? Yeah, you do! It's nice, isn't it?"

Caroline followed her son and filled his basket with whatever was ripe.

"Oh by the way, Micky, I have a few other things I want to give you." 

"Mum, you've already filled this big basket with stuff, you shouldn't have…!" 

"Yeah, I should have! Now, be a dear and carry it back home and follow me." 

"Right. Babies, wanna follow? Oh, yeah, they do. Alright, c'mon, chop, chop!" 

They made it back inside of the house and Mundy put the basket on the kitchen table. 

"I made these things a few weeks ago now," Caroline started as she went to the tip of her toes and opened some cupboards. She took some glass jars out and adjusted her glasses to read the stickers on them more easily. "Ah, that's the one." She took one of the jars and added it to the basket. 

"What's that?" Mundy took a look. "Oh! Apricot jam? Really?" His face brightened with a smile. 

"Still your favorite, yeah?" She asked.

"Oh yeah, still my favourite, always! Thank you so much, Mum…!" He hugged her dearly. 

"Aw, sweetie, it's nothing…" 

"Nah, don't say that, it's the best jam ever." He closed his eyes and tried to remember the last time apricot jam had a strong effect on him. His eyes snapped open when he realised that it was at Victoria's diner, when he was sharing the crêpes with Lucien… 

"I'll wash a couple of apples and we can sit and have them, yeah?" She suggested. 

"Sure." They broke the embrace. 

"Wanna have it inside or out under the sun?" She asked as she rinsed two red apples.

"Outside?" 

"Alright, here, let's go." She gave him one and he opened the French window for her. They both stepped outside again, followed by the cats. Caroline took a seat on a chair while Mundy preferred to sit cross-legged on the grass in front of her. Perle and Soot jumped between his thighs and laid there, in a pile of fluff. The sun and Mundy's scratches gently soothed them to sleep. 

"Aw, look at your cats, they're sleepin' together…" Caroline tilted her head on the side and smiled. 

"Yeah, they're adorable. I love them."

"They love you too, listen to them purr…"

Mundy grinned. He looked around him and took a deep breath. The Aussie loved being in a grassy lawn with his mother. They both took a crunchy bite of their apples. 

"Mh…! Super juicy. Is this from the garden too?" 

"Yeah, we got a few trees, apples, pears, apricots… The basics." 

"Meow." Perle opened her eyes and yawned. Mundy scratched her head and she blinked slowly.

"Hey, baby, short nappy, eh?" 

"Meow…" She hopped off of Mundy's lap and stretched in the grass while Soot was still sleeping. She played with the straws of green and fresh grass before going to Caroline's legs and brushing herself on her. 

"Aw, Pearl, y'like me?" Caroline asked. 

"Meow." She answered. 

"That's your Grandma right there, baby." Mundy answered. 

"Grandma?" Caroline repeated. "I thought only Soot was yours and Pearl was Lucien's?"

"Y-well…" Mundy blushed again. "I-It's a shared custody… I mean she obeys me as much as him, eh." 

Perle sniffed Caroline's trousers on her legs before looking up and jumping on her lap. 

"Aw, hello, Pearl… Can I pet you?" 

"Yeah, she's very easy, go ahead." 

"You're so soft…! Does she shed a lot of hair everywhere in the house?" Caroline asked. 

"We're used to it now, we find long white hair everywhere. If it's medium length, it's her, if it's proper long, it's Lu's few white streaks."

Perle lay down and blinked slower and slower under Caroline's strokes. 

"Look at her, she likes you, Mum." 

"I guess she does. She's beautiful…!"

"Meow." 

"You're welcome." Caroline answered with a chuckle. Both Mundy and her soon finished their apples. They were under the sun, for the cats' greatest delight, and were silently appreciating each other's company. 

"Micky?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Your friend, Lucien, you trust him, right?" 

"Yeah, I do, why?" 

"Well, I don't know… I'd say be careful, eh? You never know." 

Mundy frowned. 

"What d'you mean? Why d'you say that?" 

"Something's… off with him." She answered. 

"What?" 

"Don't you think it's a little bit odd?" 

"Mum, you gotta be clearer." 

"Right, right… His suit last time, remember it?" 

"Yeah, the beige one? What about it?" 

"It's a Lemercier, it's the most expensive tailor in town, and yet he said to be struggling with money…?"

Mundy's pupils retracted to a dot and his breath stopped. Bugger, his mother had to be that observant…

"And when you came before that, I saw him with another suit through the window. Looked as neat as a Lemercier." 

Mundy bit his lip and lowered his head. 

"All I'm saying is that he might be hiding things from you, and those things might be heaps of money he doesn't want anyone to know of… Look, Micky, were the circumstances different, I wouldn't care a bit. After all, this is none of my or your business."

"But…?" Mundy anticipated, raising his eyes to his mother. 

"But you both… dealt with a guy. You're both supposed to… not be free." She looked right and left and whispered, just in case. "What do you know about that man? He could report you to the police, or even be the police for that matter!"

"Mum, I'm sure he won't, don't worry. He just likes to dress fancy."

"Alright, fair, but where does the money come from for him to pay custom-made suits where he is a teacher for poor kids? Surely that isn't his only source of money? And why pretend he can't afford to live alone if he clearly can?" 

Mundy started sweating. Of all the lies and well constructed nonsense that he and Lucien had told his parents, it was the one thing they hadn't talked about that had planted the seed of doubt in Caroline, namely, Lucien's clothing style. 

"Well the answer's clear, Micky!"

"What?" 

"If he pretends to not be able to pay for the rent on his own but has to live with you, it's because he needs you close!" 

Mundy blushed. 

"W-what d'you mean, he needs me close?"

"He can't afford to have you walkin' around on your own far from him!"

"W-Why?" Mundy's heartbeat accelerated and Soot woke up. 

"Because you both did what you did to that guy!" 

Mundy sighed in relief. For a second, he thought his mother might have guessed that they were more than partners in crime. 

"Yeah, well…?"

"Yeah! And he wants to make sure you won't turn him in! So he keeps you close!" 

Mundy couldn't hold back a smile.

"Mum, no, don't worry…"

"How can you be so calm about it?! First, you live with… well… a criminal."

"I'm one too, eh. He didn't do it alone."

"Yeah, but contrary to you, he's a liar." She answered and it sawed Mundy's heart in half. He wanted to protest and defend Lucien, but he couldn't do much without telling Caroline the truth. "And if he's lying about one thing, God knows how many other things he lied about."

"Mum…"

"No, Micky, look at me… I'm worried for you, sweetie. You live with a dangerous man is all I want you to understand and…"

"Did you tell Dad about it?" 

"No, I didn't. If I had, he'd have gone mad worrying. And we both know that your Dad isn't the best when it comes to reactin' to situations like that, eh?" 

"Yeah, thanks for not tellin' him." 

"I'm not telling him but…" Caroline raised an index finger and Mundy, a curious eyebrow. "I'll ask you to come here and live with us instead. We have a house, an extra room, you'll be back home and I won't worry so much about you."

"But Mum, I finally did it! I got a job and a place, you want me to break all that cause Lu' wears fancy suits?!"

"Micky, you know it's not about the suits. It's about you bein' safe. The man is elegant, has good manners, and everythin'. But he is hiding things from you, important things, stuff that could be scary to you and us, and maybe it's dangerous, who knows? I'd rather have you here with us than there with him."

Mundy sighed and covered his face with his hands. 

"Micky… Look at it that way. If he's lyin' about one thing, he might be lying about a billion more, who knows? That story about his fiancée and son, maybe it's all made up? Maybe he wasn't in the army at all? Why did he then travel all the way to Australia and help you? Nothin' makes sense!"

"No." Mundy answered and removed his hands off his face. "It's… It's… I mean… It's all true, the fiancée and son, I saw pictures of them with him. And what he did to Duchemin… He…" Mundy looked left and right and whispered. "He carved their names with his knife on the bloke's chest, on top of the burns I made." 

Caroline's eyes snapped wide and her eyebrows jumped. 

"If none of that's true, surely he wouldn't have done that, would it? And he wouldn't have wanted to get that guy, right? Nothin' makes sense because you don't get it, Mum." 

"What?" She asked. 

"I… I appreciate… that you're worried for me. But I know what I'm doin', ok? I know Lu', I know him very well and he knows me very well too. Just… Just trust me." 

Caroline took a deep breath. 

"Micky… I'd love to trust you, but I can't. That man is hiding stuff from you and it could be dangerous." Caroline gently nudged Perle who jumped out of her lap and joined her son on the grass. She sat next to him and cupped his face. "I lost you once, Micky, I don't want to run that risk, or any risk, ever again." She added. 

Mundy sighed. 

"Mum… I can't do that." He said, lowering his head. 

"Why? It's ok, I'll deal with your Dad, I'll tell him what I think and he won't think any less of you, don't worry."

"I'm not worryin' about that." Mundy admitted. 

"What's the problem then? Tell me, sweetie." 

Mundy raised distraught eyes to his mother. 

"I can't tell you. But you have to trust me, please." 

"Micky, you're startin' to worry me now, what is it?" Her hazel eyes darted left and right behind her glasses to Mundy's. 

The Aussie lowered his head and laid it against his mother's chest. She hugged him dearly. 

"What is it, Micky? Please, tell me, I promise I won't be mad and I won't tell your Dad." 

"I can't…" 

"Why? Is he forcin' you to keep your mouth shut?"

"No, not him." 

"Who then? Who's preventing you from speaking?" She asked, determined to change that for her son. 

"You." He answered. 

"What?!" Her eyebrows jumped behind her glasses.

"You and Dad." 

"What?!" She repeated. "Micky, we never want you to keep important stuff away from us." 

Mundy nodded his head against his mother's chest. 

"No!" She answered. "Never, ever, did we ever ask you such a thing! What are you talking about?!" She hugged him tighter. 

"I can't tell you, because you don't want to hear it." He said and his breath hitched. 

"Micky…? What is it? Bloody hell, if you're crying, it's really scary then…!" 

Mundy raised his head off of his mother's chest and wiped his face with his sleeve. 

"I can't tell you here." He sniffled. "We have to go out." 

"We're already out in the garden!" 

"No, out of here, far from Dad. He's in the house." 

"Where d'you want us to go?" 

"I'll take you home and show you. But Mum, you gotta promise to never ever tell Dad about it, ok?" 

"Well, depends what it is!" She almost exclaimed. "If it's dangerous, I have to tell him." 

"Mum, it's really not dangerous, but you gotta promise. If you think you might tell Dad, then I'm not showing you." 

"Micky…"

"No, no, you gotta swear." 

She sighed. 

"That's blackmail, Micky." 

"It was blackmail too when you asked me to come live here otherwise you'd tell Dad that I'm in danger." He answered and her eyebrows jumped up. "But I don't mean to blackmail you, like you didn't mean to do to me, I just want to tell you." He was begging with his eyes. "Please, Mum, please, let me tell you… Swear you won't tell him and I'll tell you the truth." 

Caroline looked at her son's distraught and pleading eyes. She took a deep breath and didn't hesitate long. 

"Alright, I swear I won't tell him." 

"Swear on somethin' that matters." 

"Micky…!"

"Mum-!" Mundy stopped himself and lowered his voice. "Mum, please… I want to tell you, I want to tell you so, so, much, but I'm scared… I'm so bloody scared I feel like I can't do anythin' and I'm just in a prison of lies." He sniffled and his breath went hitched again. 

"Ssh… Wipe your tears, baby." She hugged him dearly. "Sweetie, I swear on your father's head that I won't tell him a thing. I love you, Micky, you're my only baby and I don't want you to be so scared of your Dad that you keep things away from me too. Oh, Gosh… Alright, let it go, sweetie, it's ok, it's ok…" 

Mundy cried against his mother's chest. He was about to hit a point of no return. Telling her the truth about his relationship with Lucien might liberate him, or it might lock him up in his closet forever.

[anika-ann]

Hands Too Cold, but Heart of Gold - Pt.9

The Secret

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, (one-sided Matt Murdock x reader)

Word count: 2600

Summary: Avenger!reader AU, love triangle. You went on a date with Matt aka Daredevil. The outcome is… interesting to say at least and strange to be more precise. And while you don’t want to talk about, Nat clearly does. Well... like you have a choice here. 

Warnings: some awkwardness, swearing, light angst, and tons of fluff... and Natasha being the sneakiest sneak to ever sneak

Story Mastelist

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You were sitting in your room, dully staring at your wall, the scene replaying in front of your eyes over and over again. Well, not really; you hadn’t seen much at the moment.

Everything had been great. You and Matt had gone to a date – a dinner date, the most classical date of all and he had been wonderful. He had been a gentleman, pulling out a chair for you, which had been a little ridiculous, given the fact that at least to untrained eyes, he had been the one that needed help, but you had thought it was sweet. The food had been good, the wine as well and the conversation flew surprisingly easily for two people who had recently beat up someone together as their first meeting.

Matt was nice, sweet, funny, smart and… very objectively attractive. When he had taken off his glasses as the restaurant had started to empty, you had been reminded that he was also objectively cute.

Then you had left the restaurant, the night air pleasantly refreshing, his hand on your elbow for guidance and possibly more and about a half of a block from the Tower – which you had considered a safe distance for avoiding Tony’s sniffing around – you had said your goodbyes and kissed goodnight.

Matt was a fucking amazing kisser. His lips were soft and as smart as his talk, perfectly balanced closed-mouthed kissing, nibbling and teasing and— and for some reason, it had left you completely unfazed.

It had been awkward. Incredibly so. You had kissed him back of course, but quickly had said goodnight once more and the only reason why your heart had been freaking out in your chest had been because you had thought you had been a total freak. You were spooked to death, trying not to run the last metres to your place.

You had attempted to sneak into your room, but of course you had run into Steve; you managed to tell him that the date had been nice and once you reached the safety of your bedroom, you locked the door and leaned your back onto it, sliding down.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

That had been two days ago. You practically refused to leave your room. Natasha had come to check up on you and so had Steve – twice. You cowardly hadn’t opened the door and had said you weren’t feeling very well. You hadn’t lied. You had barely slept, thousands of different thoughts in your mind, tiptoeing around one single topic.

For some reason, you hadn’t fallen for the incredibly charming man women and men would kill for. There simply must have been something terribly wrong with you.

You whined, burying you face into your pillow for the thousandth time in the past few hours.

A beep announced a received text. You whined louder, expecting it to be from Matt; every single one of people who had your number lived in the tower except him.

It was Matt indeed.

Can I call you?

“No,” you muttered, planning on throwing your SIM card away. Opening the phone, you realized what a ridiculous creature you were. Such a coward.

You took a deep calming breath with zero effect and dialled Matt’s number yourself. You could do this. When you heard Matt saying your name through the speaker, you were positive that you couldn’t.

“Hey Matt,” you breathed to the phone, your quiet voice shaking.

“Are you okay? You sound… tired,” he noted with concern and you huffed out a laugh. That was one way to put it.

“Uhm… yeah, I am. A little. You? How are you, Matt?”

You found yourself genuinely caring about how he was. You cared for him. And when you thought back to the mission…. Why the hell did you feel the way you did? Or rather didn’t feel? What had changed? Why were you… broken?

“Oh. Okay. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I… I wanted to talk to you. It would probably be better in person, but… I want to give you an easy escape route,” he muttered nervously.

You heart skipped a beat. Shit. Here it came.

“O-okay. What is it, Matt?” you asked, feeling bad for playing dumb.

“I… I wanted to— to say I really enjoyed our night out-“ WHAT?! “-it was great.”

You gulped, panicking even more than before. Oh fuck. Matt liked the date. Probably liked the kiss and everything. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck-

“You okay?”

“What?!” you shrieked, horrified you cursed out loud.

“That’s a no to the okay question then-“

“No! I mean-“ you blurted out, you fist hitting your forehead too lightly. God, you wished you could just bang your head against a wall and knock yourself unconscious. Come on, coward, out with it. “Matt, I gotta tell you something.”

“Alright. So tell me,” he encouraged you gently and you mentally screamed. He was so nice to you and you were about to be a total bitch. Again.

“I… I loved our date night. I did. You were so amazing, you are amazing and there must be something seriously wrong with me and I hate it, because I just don’t understand why— why-“

“Why the kiss felt like kissing your brother?” he offered silently and you whimpered out loud as he caught up. He didn’t sound mad, but of course Matt wouldn’t be mad, he was so fucking nice (and deadly as Daredevil) it hurt.

“Incredibly hot and skilful brother-“

“Skilful, huh?” he hummed, light teasing in his voice. Great, now he was being cocky, trying to cheer you up.

“Matt, I honestly doubt I’m the first person to tell you you’re an amazing kisser.”

“Touché. But thanks anyway.”

You would swear he understood what you were saying, but he would make you say it in plain English, wouldn’t he?

“I’m so sorry, Matt. Any woman would be lucky to have you, hell I swear I would be lucky to have you, it’s just… I don’t know. I swear I don’t know,” you whispered miserably, resisting the urge to hide you whole face in your hands.

“Hey, don’t worry about it-“ Excuse me? “That’s not something you can turn on and off— poor choice of words, sorry-“

You giggled involuntarily and absolutely inappropriately.

“You can’t control that, Gerda,” he said softly, the same tone he used when he was navigating you through keep-Steve-cold-and-alive mission. “It’s why I called. I… suspected you were torturing yourself over it a little.”

Wait, hold a sec-

“What do you mean you suspected-“ Oh fuck. OH FUCK. “You could tell. You could tell with your freaky senses, couldn’t you?”

Oh, wow, this was whole new level of awkward.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Oh my god, someone just kill me already.”

“Gerda. Calm down. I’m not mad.”

“But I am! Jesus, I really should just dig myself a hole to crawl into and die-“

“Stop with the blasphemy and especially with the talk about dying,” he growled and you jumped at the threatening tone, immediately obeying.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you already said that…. Do you think… do you think we can meet again? Not now, not this week, or yes, whenever you would want to. I like you, Gerda. If you let me, I would like to be your friend.”

You almost choked on your own spit. The idea was likeable for you in a way, but it would be incredibly unfair to him.

“You sure, Matt? I mean… that’s… I’m not being too full of myself, I swear, but…”

“But you know what it’s like to fall for someone and be by their side only as a friend?” he offered kindly and your jaw fell. Come again?

“What? I’m not sure-“

“Really, Snowflake?”

You blood ran cold at the addressing, your heart positively stopping this time. That wasn’t— wasn’t-

“You told me you loved him, Gerda.”

“Yes. And that he was family,” you added, panicking. Yeah, okay, so you had a stupid crush on Steve that was lasting embarrassingly long, but that would go away and— alright, you had no idea someone had noticed that.

“Yes. And you weren’t lying, I could tell. But I think we both know it wasn’t the whole truth.”

You turned into a statue with the loudest heartbeat on Earth. In the silence of your room, it felt like the sound was ricocheting off the walls, coming back to you. You loved Steve, that was no news, sure, but… but… never mind. It didn’t matter, because even if you did love him more than as a family, he didn’t, so— so that didn’t change a thing about the possibility of your inability to momentarily fall for another man.

You groaned loudly, falling back into your pillows.

“And finally, the blind man opens her eyes…”

“Shut up,” you muttered, caught between too many emotions to recognize either of them.

“Talk to him, Gerda. You deserve to be happy.”

“Excuse me?”

“…you know he loves you back, right?” Matt asked matter-of-factly and you wondered when the heck had you slipped in the shower to hit your head hard enough to come up with this craziness of a dream.

“Matt. You’re being really sweet, but please don’t make up stuff like that-“

“I’m not making up-“

You whined again, pulling the phone as far from your ear as you could. This was not something you needed to hear now. Or ever. False hope sucked.

Two loud knocks interrupted your misery.

“Hey, it’s Natasha, can I come in? You’re okay in there?”

“Matt, thank you for being so cool about all this, but I gotta go. I’ll call you – or you call me when you feel like it, it was good to talk to you, bye.” You hung up before he could say a word. For once, you welcomed the interruption and actually walked to the door, unlocking it.

Please, tell me we have a mission. Preferably without Steve, because right now I won’t be able to look him in the eye.

You met with Natasha’s worried gaze. “You okay? You sounded a bit…”

“I was on the phone,” you explained shortly, your tone indicating how much you didn’t want to talk about it.

“Okay. Uhm… are you ready to talk about you two days isolation? Are you sick? Because JARVIS can tell you weren’t sick.”

“Fucking AIs.”

“Sorry, madam,” the AI sounded from above and you yelped. Right.

“It’s fine, J.”

While you were talking to the AI, apologizing to someone who had no emotions thus probably couldn’t be offended, Natasha invited herself in and seated herself on your bed. For the first time, you noticed she had brought two glasses of red wine. You grimaced.

“Yeah, sure, come in, Tasha,” you noted sarcastically and she smiled innocently.

“Thanks. So… wanna talk about boys?”

You opened the door you had managed to close just before she asked that stupid question.

“Not really. Thanks for the visit. Door’s this way”

The spy rolled her eyes and sighed. “Come on. You were on a date and unless you were… taking care of yourself whole two days, too stunned to leave your room-“ Jesus, Tasha.. “-it’s didn’t go well. So. I’m all ears.”

You eyed her as if she just announced you were about to be a subject of torture. Which wasn’t exactly inaccurate. You closed the door again. “It was nice, okay?”

“Uh-huh. But?” she guessed and you let your shoulders slump, heavily seating yourself next to her. She offered you a glass and you just shook your head. You hadn’t really eaten in the past two days and drinking on empty stomach was never a good idea. She set the glass on your nightstand either for later or for herself. “Too much tongue?”

You looked at her deadly serious expression and you couldn’t help yourself. You just burst out laughing, the loud noise hurting your own ears after your time alone. The corners of her lips twitched.

“You really wanna know?” you checked and she wiggled her eyebrows. “No. Just the right amount of tongue. If I could take a guess, he took kissing as an elective in college.”

“Whoa, okay. So why are you making that face and why did you shut everyone down? Including Steve?”

You bit the inside of your cheek – it wasn’t exactly a secret you and Steve were really close, but… well. You really didn’t want to think about Steve now.

“I don’t know,” you said, realizing it wasn’t the truth. You knew. You were just having troubles to admit it and come to terms with it. “I… it just wasn’t there. I mean… Matt’s amazing. Like… I-would-pay-him-for-being-my-date-again amazing, but… the spark was missing. Which possibly means I’m frigid, but…”

Natasha covered your hand with hers – you didn’t even realize you were clutching the sheets.

“You know that’s not true, you’re not an actual Ice Queen,” she teased you lightly, but with the genuinely caring tone that made you realize that the whole team was already so much more than your team.

You had considered that before, but this very moment… you were paying more attention to your emotions than ever; which made you discover another thing. They were all your family. And family trusted each other.

“I guess I’m not.” She smiled at you, handing you the glass with no objections permitted. You chuckled and sipped the crimson liquid. “You know, you don’t need to get me drunk to make me spill all of my secrets. I told you about Matt rather willingly.”

Natasha grinned and sipped her wine too. “Oh, good. I need you sober.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Why?”

“Later. Since you told me about Matt, is it time to tell me about Steve too?”

You choked on the next sip of the wine, utterly shocked at the words. Natasha’s reflexes saved your carpet when taking your glass away.

“What the hell, Romanoff?!” you rasped, another cough fit hitting you. She wasn’t impressed.

“Please. You could as well have the ‘desperate pining’ and ‘clearly platonic cuddling’ signs above your head.”

You were speechless, staring at the redhead, tears from the coughing fit blurring your vision.

“Don’t look at me like that. So I know you love him, it’s not a big deal,” she exclaimed with a shrug as if she was saying what the weather was tonight.

“Why does everyone keep telling me that?!”

“Everyone?”

“Well… you’re only second today, not that it makes me feel any better,” you mumbled, running your hand down your face.

Who else knew? Did Steve know too? The thought made you nauseous. What if he knew but never said anything, because he didn’t want things to be awkward between the two of you? Oh god, oh god…

“Huh. Gotta say that guy really is perceptive. I mean, he barely met you and Steve.” She sounded genuinely impressed. You hid your face in your palms, muffling another whimper that escaped your lips. “It’s not that obvious. I mean… I know about at least one person, who is perfectly oblivious. Otherwise he would have actually had the balls to tell you that he loves you back.”

Natasha’s tone was rather flat, informative, but you had learned to recognize the nuances in her voice. You could tell she was telling you something huge, yet, your mind was very slow with realizing what each of the words meant and what they meant together.

Then you finally made some sense of the sentence. Except you didn’t. You looked up, baffled.

“I— I’m sorry. I think I already had too much wine. Could you repeat what you just said?”

A smug smile appeared on the spy’s lips as she pulled out a flash drive from her pocket.

“Have a laptop lying around here somewhere, Snowflake? We need to process some evidence.”

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Part 10 (final)

────── ·❆· ──────  

Tags:  @mermaidxatxheart​, @murdermornings​, @elisaa-shelby​ @ask-hellbent-tweek

────── ·❆· ──────  

Last part ahead... and not to spoil a thing, but yes, you can expect enough fluff to drown in it ;)

[foreverwayward]

“Wayward Hearts”: Season 2 Chapter 6: Hunted

Summary: After the sudden death of John, Sam and Dean, along with Riley, continue their quest for vengeance. As Sam and Riley’s powers continue to grow, the three young hunters find themselves closer to the Yellow-Eyed demon than ever before. The strength within themselves and their loyalty to each other will be tested as they are left to fight their families’ lifelong war alone, unaware that unimaginable evil will lead them to face darkness itself as they carry the weight of their fathers’ legacies. 

Masterlist

Word Count: 9,544

Content Warning: language and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

Oregon was brisk, yet still without snow on that late-November day. Beautiful trees ran alongside the Tualatin River with their lost leaves scattered on the ground. The sweet sounds of nature flooded the cool air as Riley and the Winchesters stood in a silence that rivaled that of the still water. 

Sipping at the bottles of beer in their hands, they rested against a wooden fence on the path. The scenery was a momentary relief from their harsh reality.

Their most recent case had brought them to Rivergrove, Oregon. A demonic virus was spreading through the community and causing the infected to become aggressive and violent. They rabid and sick citizens had killed everyone they could while trying to share their lethal blood with others to infect them as well.  

In the chaos of it all, a woman who had been taken by the illness had mixed her blood into Sam’s. They all had prepared themselves for the worst when he too would need to be put down, though hours passed with no side effects. For some unknown reason, Sam was immune to the disease.  

While Riley wondered to herself if she too would be immune, Dean struggled to accept the strange things that continued to plague the three of them. More questions were constantly being raised and little to no answers were anywhere in sight. The hunter feared the worst for Riley and his little brother. Maybe the darkness that he had always feared lived inside them truly was there, just lying in wait.  

“We should all go to the Grand Canyon,” Dean said breaking the uncomfortable silence.

The others looked over at him with confusion. “What?” Riley chuckled.

“Yeah, you know--all this driving back and forth across the country. You know I've never been to the Grand Canyon? Or we could go to T.J. or Hollywood.”

“Dean, you’re not making any sense,” Sam replied with an awkward sigh.  

“I just think we should take a break from all this. Why do we gotta get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can't we live life a little bit?”

With a half-smile and a tilt of her head, Riley turned to lean her back against the railing. “Can’t say I hate the idea. But why are you suddenly so gung-ho about this now?”

Dean shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Dean, what is it?” Riley put her hand on his arm and rubbed it, lovingly. “You can tell us.”

“...I can’t. I promised.”

“Who?” Sam asked.

“...Dad.” The oldest Winchester’s eyes were cast down as if he was afraid to look at the others. “Right before he died, Dad told me something...about you guys.”

Sam’s anxiety grew right along with Riley’s as their eyes met, searching for comfort in each other. With trepidation, Sam cleared his throat before speaking. “What did he say, Dean?”

“He said that he wanted me to watch out for you, to take care of you. That I had to save you.”

Riley’s brow furrowed, still perplexed. “Save us? From what?”

“He just said that I had to save you, that nothing else mattered and that if I couldn't, I'd...”

“You’d what, Dean?” Sam asked in exasperation.

As Dean’s walls fell, his emotions and thoughts whisked through the air as they landed on Riley like lost whispers. A tear almost immediately fell from her eye as she looked at the man she loved. “He told you...” she sighed through a stifled cry. “He told you that if you couldn’t...you’d have to kill us?”

Silence found them once again before Dean nodded his head in shame. He felt so guilty and so burdened by the secret that had ate at him over the last few months. Dean swore to obey his father in his final words and the weight was too much to carry.  

Sam’s fear made him sick to his stomach. His expression was one of shock and complete betrayal. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Dean?”

“I don’t know,” Dean whispered almost inaudibly.  

Riley shook her head in denial. “No. John wouldn’t--he would never...” Her words seemed trapped in her throat as her mind raced. “Why would he say that?” A realization hit her like a brick and her eyes shot up to look at Dean. “Did he know about the demon’s plans for us? Did he say we were supposed to go Darkside or something?” she asked in irritation and disbelief.  

“That’s all he said. I swear.”

“How could you keep this from us?” Riley’s voice nearly cracked as she gulped through her pain.  

“Because, it was Dad and he begged me not to.”

“Who cares?!” Sam shouted. “Take some responsibility for yourself, Dean! You had no right to keep this from us!”

“You think I wanted this? Huh?” Dean stepped closer to his brother and his jaw clenched before he yelled back. “I wish to God he'd never opened his mouth. Then I wouldn't have to walk around with this screaming in my head every fucking day!”

Sam was fuming as he turned away to catch his breath. 

Riley covered her eyes and sniffled trying to control her emotions. Running a hand through her hair, she exhaled, heavily. “We’ve gotta figure out what this all means. We need to know what the hell is going on.”

Turning to look at her, Dean answered more gently, “We do? I mean, I've been thinking about this, I think we should just lay low. You know? At least for a while. It'd be safer. And that way I can make sure--”

“What?” Sam spun around to look at his brother. “That we don't turn evil? That we don't turn into some kind of killer?” The frustrated hunter smiled through his anger. It was clear Sam was barely keeping himself together as he seethed, “you know, if you're not careful you will have to waste me one day, Dean.”

“I never said that! Dammit, Sam, this whole thing is spinning out of control!” Even with his voice raised, Dean’s face pleaded with Sam to understand. “Alright? You're immune to some weirdo demon virus and I don't even know what the hell anymore. And you're pissed at me, I get it. That's fine, I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move, okay?”

“Fuck that, Dean,” Sam growled softly before sipping at his beer once again.

“Sam, please, man. Hey, please.” The older Winchester reached out for Sam’s arm to pull him in his direction as he fought not to cry. “Just give me some time. Give me some time to think, okay? I'm begging you here, please. Please.”

Reluctantly, Sam nodded in agreeance. 

Dean turned to Riley who had pulled her bottom lip into her teeth as her leg shook in worry. When their eyes met, she too acknowledged his plea.

------

The Velvet Inn Motel. The rain fell around the poorly lit building as Sam silently left the room with his things in hand.  

Riley knew what was going to happen that night. She wasn’t always able to pick up on Sam’s thoughts, though when he was upset, it was like there was nothing to keep her out. 

Sam was going to leave while Dean slept to get away and get answers. Their conversation earlier made him realize how desperate he was to know what his father did.

It killed her, but Riley had secretly packed her things before bed and had only pretended to fall asleep. She knew that Sam could be reckless and put himself in danger. If something happened to her brother and she did nothing, she would never forgive herself. 

The second Sam was out the door, Riley hurried out of bed and threw on her jacket. Grabbing a small note from her pocket that she had already prepared, Riley placed it on her pillow next to Dean.  

I knew Sam was leaving and there would be no convincing him otherwise. He won’t make it on his own, so I’m going with him. Please don’t panic and don’t tell him I told you all this. I need you to trust me, Dean. This wasn’t about what you said by the lake, this is about making sure our brother is safe. I’ll call soon, I promise. I love you, always.

xo Riley

The guilt she felt as she watched him sleep for that brief moment made her heart ache. She promised never to leave him again. 

“Please...” she thought to herself. “Please understand.” Riley leaned down to plant a feather-like kiss on his warm head before she headed in Sam’s direction.

Rain fell on the hoodie underneath her jacket as Riley scurried across the parking lot to find Sam. He was already working on unlocking a car for him to take. 

When the puddles beneath her splashed a little, Sam turned to the noise. In frustration and mild horror, he shook his head. “I’m not going back. I have to do this, Riley.”

“I know,” she said as Sam finally unlocked the car. Riley opened the opposite door and threw her things inside. “I’m coming with you.”

------

Riley and Sam had driven across country in the dark blue Ford they lifted from the motel. The plates were switched of course, but it gotten them to where they needed to go. It had been a good week or so since they left the motel that night. 

The Roadhouse was beginning to become an oasis for the hunters; somewhere to go when there was nowhere left and the only place that seemed to hold any answers. 

The familiar smell of spilled liquor, old wood, and gunpowder became a comfort they happily welcomed.  

“Dean called you, didn’t he?” Riley asked Ellen as she played with the beer bottle in her hand. “I mean, you weren’t even remotely surprised to see us.”

She smirked with a nod. “Oh, yeah. Nonstop since you two headed out of town.” Ellen rubbed a glass clean as she looked up at Riley. “You gonna tell me what’s going on with you three?”

Without meeting her gaze, Riley blew over the question. “So, how’s Jo?”

“Honestly? I really don’t know. She and I got into a fight about her wanting to hunt. Decided to up and leave instead of argue about it anymore. I get postcards from time to time, but that’s it really.”

“I’m sorry, Ellen. I’m sure that can’t be easy on you.”

Ash and Sam emerged from the back of the bar. The awkward genius waved the paper in a flourish.  

“That was fast,” Riley said turning in their direction.  

Leaning against the bar, Ash put the table on the counter top. “Well, apparently, that's my job. Make the monkey dance at the keyboard.”

Sam released a breathy laugh as he sat on the other side of Riley. While she skimmed over it, he went into more detail. “I had Ash run a search for all other possible psychics out there like us. Started looking for other nursery fires in 1983.”

“But I thought the fires weren’t enough to go on--no real pattern.” Riley’s confusion was written all over her face as she continued to peruse what they had found.  

“It’s not. But it’s a place to start. Turns out there were five, nationwide.”

“Five? That’s it?”

“I know. I said the same thing.”

Riley read out loud. “Sam Winchester from Lawrence, Kansas, Riley Munroe from Lawrence, Kansas, Max Miller from Saginaw, Michigan, Andrew Gallagher from Guthrie, Oklahoma, and Scott Carey.” She looked up at Sam. “Well, unfortunately, we know all of those except one. You got an address on Scott?”

“Kind of. The Arbor Hill Cemetery in Lafayette, Indiana. Plot four-eighty-six,” Ash answered.

“Wait...he’s dead? How?”

“Stabbed in a parking lot about a month ago. Fuzz don’t have much, no suspects.”

With a deep exhale, Riley stood up from the bar stool. “Alright, well...thank you, Ash.”

Ash gave her a pat on the back and took her beer to finish it himself before he turned to leave; his own small reward for a good day’s work. With one peek over his shoulder, he looked at Riley. 

She turned around to catch his gaze. “You know I’m a psychic. Quit staring at my ass,” she scoffed with a laugh. 

Ash chuckled to himself and put his hands up in surrender as he disappeared behind the bar once again.  

“Rye,” Sam started. “I’m gonna go get the car ready. Meet you in five?” As she nodded, he shot Ellen one last look. “Thanks, again. Take care, Ellen.”

Once he was out of earshot, the bartender cleared her throat. “So, where you two headed?”

“Uh--Indiana from the looks of it.”

Ellen leaned in to whisper to the hunter, “Riley, I gotta call Dean.”

“Look--Sam doesn’t know, but I’ve been messaging Dean when I can. It’s not much--just enough to let him know we’re okay. I know...he’s worried sick. Trust me, I’m getting a shit ton of calls and texts all the time. This is how it has to be right now. Sam is hellbent on finding more kids like us and finally getting some answers. I gotta be with him and make sure he’s safe. Sam and Dean both need me right now and I’m doing my best to be that for them.”

“You’re a good woman, Riley,” Ellen added with a sigh. “Those boys are lucky to have you.”

“Don’t gotta tell me.” Riley grabbed her jacket from a stool nearby and threw it on. Pulling her hair out from under it, she smiled at Ellen one more time. “I hope Jo comes home soon.”  

Replying with an obviously forced smile, Ellen went back to work as Riley headed out to meet Sam at the car. When she had reached the door, her pocket buzzed with a text. It was Dean.

“Where r u? Please, Rye.”

Riley tucked her hair behind her ear as she was consumed more guilt than she could handle before writing back.

“We’re safe. Promise.” She sighed before sending one more text. “I love u. Talk soon.”

Flipping her phone closed, she hurried towards the already started Ford. She hopped in the front seat as Sam shot her a worried look. 

“You know, you haven’t really slept in days. Maybe you should try to get some rest on the drive,” he told her.

“Uh--yeah. Maybe.” Riley turned on her side to face the passenger door as they pulled out of the dirt lot. There was no way she was going to sleep. Her nightmares were getting worse and she feared sleep just as much as the things that were hunting her when she was awake. 

The demon had been calling for her in the middle of her flashing and vivid dreams. It almost seemed like he was beckoning her to come to him. 

Riley never felt safe. The demon was coming for her, and she knew it.  

------

The stolen Ford pulled to a stop in front of yet another cheap motel. Sam and Riley had spent the day in Lafayette looking for more information on Scott. Their only lead so far was after visiting his father.  

“So, we know he was definitely one of us,” Riley said as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail. “Headaches, nightmares--the whole shebang.”

Sam pulled a bottle of pills out of his pocket and handed them to his partner. “Antidepressants. Scott was in a bad way for a while. This was only one of many others I found when I snuck up to his room. All of them written out by a Dr. Wexler.”

“Alright, so we know our next stop.” Tucking the pills in her own pocket, the two got out of the car and went for their shared room. 

As they got to the door, Sam and Riley shared a look knowing that they were being followed. 

Turning on her heel, Riley grabbed the jacket of the person behind her and drove them into the building wall. “Who the fuck are you?”

A scared young woman around Riley’s height stared back at her. Her hair was a soft brown that was cut off at her shoulders and her bangs touched her eyebrows. The girl’s wide and innocent brown eyes pleaded with the hunter. “Please...” she gasped out as she trembled. “You’re in danger.”

Before Riley could utter another word, she could hear static coming from the stranger. The hunter’s eyes grew and she looked over at Sam. “She’s one of us.”

“One of us?” the girl asked.

Riley released the young woman and Sam opened the motel room door. The two ushered the woman inside, hoping they hadn’t already been followed. 

Once inside, Sam and Riley’s faces had softened, though the girl was still panicked and began to pace.

Sam spoke softly, hoping to comfort her. “What’s your name?”

“...Ava. Ava Wilson.”

“Ava, I’m Sam Winchester. This is my sister, Riley Munroe. I promise you’re safe.” Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Sam went on. “You said we were in danger?”

“Okay,” Ava started as her words dripped with anxiety. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I swear to God, I’m not insane and I’m not on drugs. But-- about a year ago I started having these, like--headaches, and just--nightmares, I guess. And I really didn't think much of it until I had this one dream where I saw this guy get stabbed in a parking lot.” She handed the Sam a newspaper clipping, and Riley went over to look at it herself. “The dream happened a month ago and a couple days later, I found that.”  

The article title read: ‘LOCAL MAN STABBED TO DEATH IN PARKING LOT’. Next to it, was a picture of Scott Carey. 

Sam and Riley exchanged a look knowing for certain that they were all tied together.  

“I saw this guy die, days before it happened. I don't know why, I don't know--it's just for some reason, my dreams are coming true. And last night,” Ava paused. “I had another one...about you. Both of you. I--I saw you die.”

Still confused, Riley questioned, “how did you find us?”

“Oh, uh--you had motel stationery and I Googled the motel and it was real. So, I just thought that I should warn you.”

Sam scoffed in disbelief and shock. “Holy shit. I don’t believe this.”

“Oh, of course, you don't. You think I'm a total nutjob,” Ava replied as she began to pace again in defeat.

“No, no, no,” Riley hurried to her side and took her hands in hers. “That’s not what he meant. He meant you must be one of us.”

“I’m sorry--one of who?”

“One of the psychics. Ava, Sam and me? We’re like you. Sam--he has death visions too, just like yours. And I’m--well...mine’s a little more complicated, but I’m an empath and a telepath. We’re all connected.”

Ava laughed. “Oh, good. So, you both are nuts. That’s great.”

------

It was dark as the Impala’s headlights lit up the quiet highway. Dean looked exhausted. It was clear he hadn’t slept much since Sam and Riley had disappeared. The hunter had constantly been on the road looking for them and despite Riley’s wishes, he wasn’t going to just leave them out there alone.

His phone rang and he flipped it open to answer. “Hello?”

“Dean, it’s Ellen.”

“Hey, have you heard from them?”

“I have, but Riley made me promise to let her handle it.”

“Come on, Ellen, please. Something bad could be going on here and I swore I'd look after Sam and the woman I love is with him. I’m starting to freak out.”

“Now Dean, they say you can't protect your loved ones forever.” Ellen paused. “Well, I say fuck that. What else is family for? They're in Lafayette, Indiana.”

With a sigh of relief, Dean replied. “Thanks.” His phone closed and he threw it into the passenger’s seat. 

His eyes quickly went over to the empty spot where one of his partners always sat. It was too quiet without them. The sooner they were all back together, the better. 

Dean’s boot pushed harder into the gas as he hurried to find them.  

------

Ava was exasperated as she tried to convince Riley and Sam to leave town. “I don’t understand. Why won’t you both just go before you get blown up?”

As her eyes grew, Riley cleared her throat. “I’m sorry--blown up?”

“Oh, God, did I forget to mention that?” Ava asked in guilt.  

“Oh, awesome.” Riley nodded her head with her eyes still large as she stood from the bed. “I always said I’d wanna go out in a blaze of glory. Why not a boom of glory?” She pinched the bridge of her nose as she added, “where’s a minibar when you need one?” Riley grabbed her two bags and began to dig.

Sam laughed through a scoff as he always did. “We can’t leave, Ava. There’s something going on her,; with all of us. I mean, there are others like us out there. And we're all a part of something and I've got to figure out what.”

“Found it!” Riley exclaimed with a smile as she held up a small bottle of Jack Daniels. Quickly, she unscrewed it and began to chug.

“Okay, you know what? Screw you, buddy. Okay? Because I'm a secretary from Peoria and I'm not part of anything! Okay? Do you see this?” Ava pointed to her diamond engagement ring and she spoke with more determination, though Riley and Sam weren’t buying it. “I am getting married in eight weeks. I am supposed to be at home addressing invitations, which I am way behind on, by the way. But instead, I drove out here to save your weirdo ass. But if you just want to stay here and die, fine. Me? I'm due back on Planet Earth.” She grabbed her purse and turned to leave.

“Ava,” Riley called gently as she threw the tiny bottle in the trash. “Aren’t you scared as hell over these visions? Don’t you want to know why this is happening to you? Honey, if you walk out that door, there’s a chance you’ll never know the truth.” When the scared woman looked back, Riley went on. “I'm scared shitless, Ava--so is Sam. But if we do this together, we might finally get some answers.”

------

The next day, Sam and Ava spent the morning talking about their visions. It was such a relief to them both to have someone who would understand and who they could be so honest with. 

Ava had spent the night hoping the next day would bring about some results with her newfound companions.  

Riley came through the motel room door with a file and small bag in hand. “Well, took some finagling, but I was able to get the doc’s records on Scott. Good news is, he kept recordings of all their sessions.”

“So, you guys just go and steal someone’s confidential psych files whenever you want?” Ava asked hesitantly.

With a nod and a pop of her lips, Riley answered. “Pretty much, yeah. Hey, Sammy, grab my recorder out of my green duffel.” She nodded in its direction as it sat in the corner of the room.

Sam came back with the recorder and handed it over with a look. “You’re lucky I love you. You know I hate that name.”

“Oh, honey. That’s cute that you think that matters,” she joked as she put one of the tapes from the bag into the device. She clicked play and the three huddled around to listen.  

Scott was the first to speak. “It started a little over a year ago. Migraines, at first. Then I found I could do...stuff.”

“What do you mean, do stuff?” the doctor questioned.

“I have this ability. When I touch something, I can electrocute it if I want.”

While they listened, Dean pulled Baby into the motel parking lot. The curtains of the room the three were staying in had been drawn back to let the morning light in. Dean was able to see inside with no obstructions. He sighed heavily when he saw Riley and Sam.

“Oh, thank god you’re both okay,” he said to himself. Ava moved into view and Dean’s head tilted. “And...who are you?”

Back inside, the doctor’s tapes continued to play. Riley and Sam both looked more concerned with every passing moment of the recording.

“The man. The man with the yellow eyes. He came to me in my dreams. He talks to me--tells me that I’m special,” Scott told him.

“What else does the yellow-eyed man say?”

“He has plans for me. He says there's a war coming. That people like me--we're going to be the soldiers. Everything's about to change.”

Riley wasn’t the only one dreaming about the demon, she wasn’t the only one hearing his call. A part of her wondered if she shouldn’t fight the dreams anymore. Maybe it was time to stay and hear what he had to say.

As the three stood unsure of what to do from there, the window near them crashed and shattered into the room. 

Realizing what was happening, Sam grabbed Ava as he threw them both to the ground. Riley’s instincts had her do the same. 

A bullet had just missed Sam’s head and hit the partition of the room. Another followed shortly after and more glass showered onto Ava and the hunters.  

“Oh my god, what’s happening?!” Ava cried.

“Stay down!” Sam ordered as he continued to cover her. “Rye! Rye, you good?”

Peeking her head up from under her hands that sheltered her head, she yelled, “I’m fine! Who the fuck is shooting at us?”

Meanwhile, since the moment he smelled trouble, Dean had gone up to the roof of the building next door. To his horror and surprise, there was Gordon. Lying on his stomach, he had been armed with a sniper rifle that was aimed into the motel room.  

“Gordon!” As soon as Dean was close enough, his boot met his old rival’s face. Dean got on top of him and began to deliver blows over and over. Finally, he grabbed Gordon’s collar and pulled him closer to him as he seethed through his teeth and yelled, “you do that to to my family, I’ll fucking kill you!”

“Dean...wait,” a weak and beaten Gordon begged.

Continuing to punch, Dean wouldn’t relent. 

Gordon grabbed him by the collar and flipped him onto his back. That brief moment of Dean being to the side, gave Gordon time to grab his sniper and jam the butt of it into his opponent’s face. 

With a grunt, Dean collapsed as the deranged hunter went to stand. 

Gordon wiped the blood from his mouth and stared down at the unconscious man on the ground.  

------

Several quiet moments had passed before Riley, Sam, and Ava made their way to the roof of the building that the shots had come from. There was no sign of anyone. Whoever had been there, had already gone.  

Ava’s nerves were still running out of control. “Wait, I don't understand. Shouldn't we be talking to the cops?”

“Trust me, that wouldn't do us much good,” Sam replied as they investigated.

Crouching to the ground, Riley picked up a bullet shell. “Subsonic rounds from a .223 caliber. Looks like they probably had a suppressor on the rifle.”

With wide eyes, Ava grew more unsure. “Dude, who the fuck are you guys?”

“She uh--” Sam struggled for a lie. “She just watches a lot of TJ Hooker.” The young Winchester pulled out his cellphone and got ready to dial.

“Who are you calling?”

“My brother. I think we definitely need help.”

A sigh of relief came from Riley as she stood. “Fucking finally.”

“Hello?” Dean answered.

“Dean!”

“Sam, I've been looking for you both.”  

“Yeah. Look, we're in Indiana, uh--Lafayette.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I talked to Ellen. Just got here myself. It's a real funky town. You guys ditched me, Sammy.”

Sam looked worried as his eyes met Riley’s. She mouthed, “what?” as the conversation went on.

“Yeah, I'm sorry. Look, right now there's someone after me,” he replied hesitantly.

“What? Who?”

“I don't know, that's what we need to find out. Where are you?”

“I'm staying at, uh--5637 Monroe St. Why don't you meet me here?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Hanging up the phone, Sam’s concern continued before he finally answered Riley’s question. “Dean’s in trouble.”

A sick feeling ran through Riley’s stomach. “What? What did he say?”  

“Funkytown. It’s a code word.”

With a slight look of shock, Riley began to run down the stairs to leave.  

Ava shook her head, perplexed. “Code word? What the hell does that mean?”

“Mean’s someone’s got a gun on him. We gotta go.”

------

Dean sat tied to an old, beat up chair. Gordon had taken him to an abandoned house that had been trashed and left to rot for quite some time. Random debris and leftover pieces of a life once lived in that home, scattered the cement floor around them. 

Across the room, Gordon shuffled through his bag pulling out an array of weapons.

“So, Gordy,” Dean started. “I know me and my brother and Riley aren't exactly your favorite people, but don’t you think this is a little extreme?”

“What, you think this is revenge?”

“Well, we did leave you tied up in your own mess for three days.” Dean laughed to himself, “which was friggin’ awesome.” He cleared his throat. “Oh--sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.”

“True. I was definitely planning on whupping your ass for that. But that’s not what this is, Dean. This isn’t personal.” Gordon truly believed the words he said as he loaded his gun. “I’m not a killer. I’m a hunter. And your brother--and Riley? They’re fair game.”

------

Ava, Sam, and Riley had driven in Ava’s vintage VW Bug to a few blocks away from the address Dean had given them. When they got out of the car, the wind blew almost audibly and flew through their hair. 

They knew they were walking into a trap. And even though they weren’t sure what kind, knowing about Ava’s vision, was going to give them an edge.

“I don’t think I should leave you guys,” Ava admitted.

Riley cocked her gun and put it in her waistband under her jacket. “We want you safe, Ava. Us not being safe? It’s kinda in the job description.”

“Yeah, I still don’t even know what that job is.” Shaking her head, she changed her mind, “nope. I don’t wanna know. But still, you two are walking right into my vision. This is where you die!”

“Doesn’t matter. My boyfriend’s in there. It’s not up for debate.”

Ava looked perplexed and whispered to Sam. “I thought she was your sister. She’s dating your brother?”

With a chuckle, Sam answered, “oh, yeah. She’s family--she's not blood.”

“Alright, then,” she said with sarcasm. “Well, maybe I can still help.”

“You’ve done everything you can. We’ll take it from here. You should go back to your fiancé.”

Riley could feel the guilt and worry bursting from Ava as she asked, “are you sure?” She reluctantly walked slowly back to her car.  

“Yes, we’re sure. Go home. You’ll be safe there.”

Sam closed her door for her as she settled into her car. “Well, just--promise you’ll call, then.” Ava looked up at the tall hunter. “I mean, when you get your brother--just to let me know that everything's alright.”

“I promise,” he smiled.  

Leaning into her open window, Riley touched Ava’s shoulder. “We’ll talk soon. Pick up the phone when your new friends call you.”

Ava forced a smile as she started up her car. As she finally drove away down the street, Riley and Sam stayed in place, side by side.  

“So...” Riley said swaying on her feet. “You got a plan to keep us from blowing up?”

------

Back inside, Gordon leaned against a wooden pillar as he cradled his rifle. Casually, and with no real emotion, he monologued to Dean. “See, I was doing an exorcism down in Louisiana. Teenage girl, seemed routine, some low-level demon. But between all the jabbering and the head-spinning, the damn thing muttered something--about a coming war. And I don't think it meant to, it just kind of slipped out. But it was too late--piqued my interest. And you can really make a demon talk, you got the right tools.”

“And what happened to the girl it was possessing?”

“She didn’t make it.”

Dean shook his head softly as he told him, “well, you’re a son of a bitch.”

Gordon marched over to his captive and slapped him hard across the face. Dean grunted out at the strike. “That’s my mama you’re talking about. Watch your mouth,” Gordon added calmly. “Anyway. This demon tells me there are soldiers to fight in this coming war--humans, fighting on hell's side. You believe that? I mean, they're psychics, so they're not exactly pure humans, but still. What kind of worthless piece of shit have you got to be to turn against your own race?” Dean glared at him as he went on. “But you know the biggest kick in the ass? This demon said I knew two of them. Our very own Sammy Winchester and Riley Munroe.”

“Wow, you really are dumber than you look, Gordy,” Dean snarked.

“Yeah? Come on, Dean. I know...about Sam's visions. I know everything. I did my homework--made damn sure it was true. Look, you've got your Roadhouse connections, I got mine. It's how I found Sammy and Rye in the first place.” Gordon crossed the room to sit in a chair he had carelessly tossed his jacket over. “About a month ago I found another one of these freaks here in town. He could deep-fry a person just by touching them.”

“Yeah? He kill anyone?”

“Well, besides Mr. Tinkles the cat? No. But he was working up to it. They're all gonna be killers, Dean. We've got to take them all out. And that means Sammy and little Riley too.” Cocking his gun, the mad hunter relaxed into his seat.  

“You really think they’re both stupid enough to walk through the front door?”

“No, I don't. Especially since I'm sure you found a way to warn them. Ha!” he feigned. “You really think I'm that stupid?” Dean raised his eyebrows meaningfully in response. Standing up, Gordon began to pace. “No. they're going to scope the place first, see me covering the front door. So, they're going to take the back. And when they do, they’ll hit the tripwire. Then--” He took a grenade out from his bag and looked down at it. “Boom.”

“Neither of them would ever fall for a fucking trip wire.”

“Maybe you're right. That's why I'll have a second one.” Gordon revealed another grenade and slowly walked towards Dean. 

The trapped hunter’s face fell as he grew more and more concerned that Gordon’s plan might work. 

“Hey, look. I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to do this, I really do. But, for what it's worth, it'll be quick.”

------

As night had finally fallen over the city of Lafayette, Gordon had finally finished his preparations. He gingerly attached the wire to the pin of a grenade before pulling it taught and setting the trap. The glow from the outside street lights mixed with the glow of the moon seeped through the boarded-up windows.

Dean had to try to stop him. Sitting stuck in that chair made him feel that he was going to lose his mind. “Come on, man. I know Sam, okay? --b etter than anyone. He's got more of a conscience than I do, I mean, the guy feels guilty surfing the Internet for porn. And Riley? That woman made me stop the car because she saw a lost kitten that she just had to help.”  

“Maybe you're right. But one day they’re both going to be monsters.” Gordon pulled a chair over by Dean and straddled it backward.

“How do two people like that become monsters?”

“Beats me. But they will--especially Riley. You know, that demon told me she was different from the others--special. That she was the one that would change the game for them.”   

“You believe everything a demon tells you?”

“Again, I did my homework, Dean. That woman will be the death of you and you don’t even see it. She’s more powerful than the rest of them--more dangerous even. It’s just a fact.”

“No, you don’t fucking know that!” Dean barked.

“I'm surprised at you, Dean--getting all emotional. I'd heard you were more of a professional than this. Look, let's say you were cruising around in that car of yours and, uh--you had little Hitler riding shotgun, right? Back when he was just some goofy, crappy artist. But you knew what he was going to turn into someday. You'd take him out, no questions, am I right?”

“That’s not Sam and Riley.”

Gordon reached out a hand to lay on Dean’s shoulder. “Yes, it is. You just can't see it yet. Dean, it's their destiny. Look, I'm sympathetic. They’re your brother and your girlfriend, you love them--I get it. This has got to hurt like hell for you.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a scarf before he gagged Dean with it. “But here's the thing. It would wreck him, but your dad? If it really came right down to it, he would have had the stones to do the right thing here. But you're telling me you're not the man he is?”

Dean turned his head and glared at Gordon, furiously. Everything inside him itched to finish the job he should have before they left him in that farmhouse.

On the skirts of the property, Riley and Sam finally made their way up towards the house. It looked like a junkyard where lost and abandoned items went to die. 

Sam held out a piece of paper that had the address written down on it. The two hunters nodded at each other acknowledging they were in the right place. It was time to go in.

As the two snuck onto the old front porch they peeked through the boarded-up windows. Inside, Dean sat tied to chair, bound and gagged. Not far away from him, sat Gordon.

Riley’s blood boiled over as she shook with rage. With her emotions strengthening her, she forced a thought into Sam. “We should have killed the bastard when we had the chance.” 

He looked at her as he drowned in his worry. Gordon was a madman and Sam knew it. There’s no telling what he would do.

Riley was overwhelmed everything he was feeling and tried to calm herself before sending him one more thought. “It’s okay. We’re gonna get Dean...together.” She reached down to take his large hand and squeeze it. 

As she did, Sam felt a warmth spread from her hand and into him; it was peaceful and loving. Her feelings for him rolled through him like a gentle wave that crashed over his terrified mind. Sam had never felt anything like that before. Riley had projected her feelings into him with a single touch. It was beautiful and reminded him how much he loved her.  

“I’m so glad I have you by my side,” he thought.  

She smiled at him as her dimples showed before hand-signaling for them to go around back. “Let’s go, partner.”

Around the house was even more debris. Random odds and ends that made it almost look like a small landfill. 

Riley walked sideways with her gun aimed as she watched Sam’s back. He led them on around the small building and through the shadows.  

At the back door, the locked knob squeaked as Sam tried to open it. When he realized it was locked, he bent down to pick it while Riley kept watch. He made quick work of the lock before opening it and letting them both in as his partner followed.  

“You hear them?” Gordon asked Dean under his breath. “Here they come.”

The grenade in the back room suddenly exploded and sent broken junk and chunks of wood through the air with the powerful blow. 

Dean shut his eyes and flinched at the explosion. Smoke filled the air as the he screamed through his gag in agony and fury thinking Sam and Riley were gone.

“Hold on, not yet. Let’s wait and see,” his captor told him in a hushed tone.

There was a moment of silence before the second grenade blew, causing another heart-stopping explosion. 

Dean struggled violently to get out as he choke-sobbed into his gag.

Gordon moved over to the broken hunter and looked into his tear-filled eyes. “Sorry, Dean.”

As Gordon left towards the back room with his rifle aimed, Dean tipped at his chair and fought against his restraints; trying everything possible release himself. He had to see them. He had to know for sure.  

Walking through the smoke, Gordon scanned around him as he saw a large man’s shoe on the ground. It was Sam’s. When he walked further inside, the sound of a gun cocking came from directly behind his head and Gordon froze.

“Drop the gun,” Sam growled.

With that command, Riley came out from behind the shadows with a look of hate on her face, her gun ready to fire.

Still calm and holding his weapon, Gordon teased, “you really shouldn’t take your shoes off around here, Sam. You might get tetanus.”

“Put it down, now!” the young Winchester shouted. “Rye, go get Dean.” 

She went slowly in the direction of the door, never taking her eyes off the deranged man staring back at her.  

Gordon’s rifle clattered on the ground as he obeyed Sam’s orders. “You wouldn’t shoot me, would you, Sammy? ‘Cause your brother--he thinks you’re both some kind of saints.”

Riley’s looked at him in a challenge as she was dangerously close to squeeze by him. “Yeah, don’t be so sure, Gordon.”

“See?” he started. “That’s what I said.” Gordon may have been a wild card, but he was good at his job. In one swift motion, his leg swept under Riley and he whipped behind him to take Sam’s gun before hitting him hard in the face. The hunter’s every move was planned and methodical as he continued his attack on Sam. 

Riley had been knocked on to her back, completely disoriented.

After a long tussle, Gordon kicked the Sam with all his might, sending him through a thin wall. 

Bloody and beaten, Sam laid on the ground, unconscious. 

Gordon stalked over to Riley as she groaned in an attempt to get up. His boot went into her chest to keep her down as he pulled out his knife.  

Riley reached up to grab at his ankle, desperate to get him off as his weight pressed heavier into her rib cage.

“You’re no better than the filthy fucking things you hunt.”

Riley could hear the madman’s thoughts racing faster than she could catch them. As he kept his foot in place on her chest, she grunted faintly against the weight as he crouched over her. 

A single passing thought stood out among the rest as Gordon planned his exact movements to plunge the knife into Riley’s heart.

“Your boyfriend is too blinded by his love for you to see what you really are. Well, Rye--” he said, using her nickname in sarcasm. “I know exactly what you are. You’re a monster. You’re even worse than the rest of them. If I finish you, this war will be over before it even starts. Dean will thank me later.”  

Knowing his precise motions, Riley grabbed the wrist of the hand that wielded the knife as it came towards her chest. With her free hand, she held tight to Gordon's other arm that held him steady and used the leverage to flip him over on to his back. 

Riley didn’t hesitate as she used a firm right hook to clock his face twice with all her strength. She quickly stood to grab his rifle and aimed it at his face.

“Do it.” Gordon commanded. “Do it! Show Dean the killer you really are, Rye.”

Her jaw clenched in anger before she turned the gun and rammed the handle into the defeated hunter’s face. Gordon laid passed out on the cold floor.

“You don’t get to fucking call me that,” she seethed through her ragged breathing.

“Riley...” Sam’s loving voice called from behind her. He was bleeding from his mouth and cheek as he stood, somewhat off balance. 

Riley got up and ran to him, hugging his waist tightly with her free hand. She breathed heavily and closed her eyes trying to come back mentally from the fight. 

Sam kissed her head. “Let’s go.”

Leading themselves into the front room, the two helped each other onward through their fatigue and pain. 

Dean could barely turn his head, but tried to look towards the sound of them coming. His eyes were wide and in shock seeing them both alive and mostly well. 

Sam and Riley bent down to free Dean from his restraints as he groaned at the release.

The instant he was able to, Dean ripped the gag from his face and stood to grab both of their shoulders and pull them closer. He looked up at Sam’s beaten face and into his eyes as he tried to ground himself again. Knowing he was okay helped Dean take a long needed breath.

Turning to Riley, Dean’s hands found the sides of her face and pushed her hair away exposing the cut from where she hit her head. He forced her to look directly at him. It was like he needed to assure himself that they both were actually there and alive.  

“Goddamn son of a bitch...” Dean muttered as he went to find Gordon.

“Dean--” Riley started.

“No! I let him live once, I’m not making that same mistake twice.”

“Trust us,” Sam said softly. “Gordon’s taken care of.” He grabbed his brother’s jacket and tugged him in their direction. “Come on.”

Dean immediately grabbed for Riley’s hand and held on tight. 

She could feel the tension in his arm like he was afraid to let her go. Feeling her abilities staying strong, Riley reached for Dean’s thoughts. 

“Stay cool, man. Don’t let them see how fucking scared you were,” he thought.

“Dean...” she spoke into him. Dean’s head snapped in her direction, almost feeling ashamed that she had heard him. “Everything’s okay. I’m just glad I’m with you again.” 

Dean couldn’t help as the corner of his mouth crept up. Riley was right. All that mattered was that they were all together.

The cold air soothed the bruises on the hunters as they stepped onto the front porch. Crickets chirped around them and the rotting wood creaked under their weight. 

Only several feet from the front, they turned quickly to the sound of a gunshot before sprinting away. Gordon had come out to finish the job. 

Multiple rounds went off as he pursued them and Riley and the Winchesters hurried to take cover.

“You call this ‘taken care of’?” Dean snarked as he pulled Riley along by her hand. 

As they all sprinted to safety, Sam dove into a nearby ditch, knowing they would follow. 

Dean threw his body over Riley’s trying to shield her as shot after shot flew in their direction. “What are we doing? Why did we stop?”

Sam tried to catch his breath as the fired bullets hit the dirt around them. “Just trust me on this one, alright?”  

Tires screeched and sirens wailed as police cars skid across the dirt and surrounded Gordon.  

“Drop your weapons! Get down on your knees!” an officer yelled.

The hunters grinned and chuckled at the sight of Gordon’s angry face as he was forced to comply with the demands.

“Put your hands on your head!” The cop cuffed Gordon and pat him down. When they were given the clear, the officer pulled him to his feet and drug him to one of the squad cars. 

Other officers on the scene went to search the hunter’s car only to find his arsenal behind his seats. 

Gordon was going to have a hard time explaining his way out of that mess.  

“Anonymous tip,” Sam smiled.

Dean tapped his little brother’s back in approval. “You're a fine upstanding citizen, Sam.”

After a moment of silence, Riley’s broke it abruptly. “Can we get food now? I’m friggin’ starving.”

------

Sam sat in the Impala with Riley as he fiddled with his phone. 

Riley had pulled down the visor mirror, trying to fix her smudged mascara from the brawl. 

Only a small distance from the car, Dean was on a call with Ellen.

“Gordon Walker was hunting Sam and Riley?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, he almost killed all three of us because somebody over there can't keep their fucking mouth shut.”

Ellen scoffed, surprised with Dean’s tone and accusation. “And you honestly think that it was me? Or Ash? Or Jo? No way.”

“Well, who else knows about Sam and Riley, huh?" Dean’s voice was stern as he nearly yelled at her. He turned to look at the others waiting for him in the car and Riley met his gaze with a soft smile. “I mean, you must have been talking to somebody.”

“Hey, you can say a lot of things about us. But we are not disloyal and we're not stupid. We haven't breathed a word of this.”

“Gordon said he had Roadhouse connections, Ellen.”

“And this roadhouse is full of other hunters. They're all smart--they're good trackers. Each of them with their own patterns and connections. Look, hell, I could name twelve of them right now that are capable of putting this together.” Ellen sighed. “I am sorry about what happened, Dean. But I can't control these people or what they choose to believe.”

------

In the front seat, as they drove down the highway, Riley bit into her cheeseburger with a moan. “God, this is delicious. What is it about food after a hunt?”

Dean smirked. “You know, sometimes it worries me how much we’re alike.”

“Hey, Ava. It’s Sam, again.” Sam was on the phone leaving messages for Ava for the eighth time. “Uh--call me when you get this. Just wanna make sure you got home okay. Alright, bye.”

“Everything alright?” the oldest brother asked looking into his rear view mirror.

Pulling his lips into a tight line, Sam replied, “I hope so.”

“Mm--” Riley started with a mouthful of food. “At least Gordon’s out of the picture for probably a few years. I may hate the dude, but for his sake, I hope he doesn’t drop the soap.” 

Dean chuckled at her choice of words.

“Yeah, if they can pin Scott Carey’s murder on him,” Sam added, sounding almost defeated. “And of course, if he doesn’t bust out.”  

Taking a deep breath, Dean glared at him through the mirror and then over to Riley as he spoke. “You two ever take off like that again...”

“What? You’d kill us?” Sam teased.

“That’s so not funny.”

Riley and Sam laughed before she changed the subject. “Okay, so where are we headed now?”

“One word--Amsterdam.”

“Oh my god...” she said brushing off her boyfriend’s ridiculous notion with a grin.  

Dean found his idea both appealing and amusing. “What? I hear they got good coffee shops--that don’t even serve coffee,” he added with a wiggle of his brows.

Sam scoffed. “Dean, we’re not about to ditch the job.”

“Fuck the job. I mean it. Fuck it, man. I'm sick of the job anyway. I mean, we don't get paid, we don't get thanked. The only thing we get's bad luck.”

“C’mon, dude. We’re hunters. It‘s what we were meant to do.”  

“Ah, I wasn't meant to do anything. I don't believe in that destiny crap.”

“You mean you don’t believe in our destiny,” Sam rebutted pointing between him and Riley. “Look, Dean, I've tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California and look what happened. You can't run from this...and you can't protect me. You can’t protect either of us.”

Dean glanced back at his brother again and then over at Riley. His face softened. “Well, I can try.”

“Look, Dean, I'm gonna keep hunting. And I’m pretty damn sure that Rye is too. I mean, whatever is coming, we're taking it head-on. So, if you really want to watch our backs, then I guess you're gonna have to stick around.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Riley shook her head and sighed. “I’ve said it a million times and I’ll say it again. I work...with children.”

The brothers laughed as Sam went back to his phone to make another phone call.  

“You calling that Ava girl again? You sweet on her or something?” the older brother teased.

“She’s engaged, Dean.”

“So? What's the point in saving the world if you can't get a little nookie once in a while, huh?” He shot a playful look over to Riley. “Speaking of which, you’ve been away too damn long. We’re getting our own room tonight.” 

Riley bit her lip and winked at him in response and Dean felt his hunger for her grow with that one simple gesture.

As Sam hung up the phone, he scowled. “I got a weird feeling, guys. How far is it to Peoria?”

------

And there it was again. That familiar nightmare that became an expectation whenever Riley fell asleep. Jackson’s death as if she was there to witness it, Riley’s own brutal murder, Deb burning on the ceiling screaming for her niece, and those haunting yellow eyes as a sinister voice whispered her name. 

At this point, the hunter would have already forced herself awake. But she had to know what she had been avoiding all this time.  

Suddenly, Riley was standing in darkness; a vast emptiness that seemed to have no beginning and no end. 

“Hello?” she called as her voice echoed.  

“Not running away this time, I see.” 

The demon sounded as if it was speaking directly into her ear and she turned in its direction. Nothing was there. She spun around trying to keep a watchful eye.

“What the hell do you want from me?”

It laughed. “Oh, so much. You have to know by now, that you aren’t like the rest, Riley. You’re special. You were my diamond in the rough.”

“What does that mean? Why am I different?”

“You’re getting stronger every day. Finding new abilities--new gifts.”

She could feel her heart pounding so hard in her chest that she could hear it in her ears. “You didn’t answer my question.”

In that instant, a hot breath ran up her neck that made her more afraid than she ever had been in her life. Riley could feel the evil surging around her and it made her shake in terror. 

“You’re not ready for those answers quite yet, my dear. I’ll come for you when you are.”

Riley jolted awake in the front seat of the Impala as Dean’s hand found her arm. “We’re here.” She looked around with her eyes still wide and alert and swallowed hard. “You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. I, uh--just a bad dream.” Trying to compose herself, Riley still felt sick to her stomach after her nightmare. But that didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like she had actually encountered the demon, like she was in its presence as it had found a way to slither into her mind. 

Riley cleared her throat and tried to shake it off as she wiped a secret tear away from her eye.  

Still in the dead of the night, the three got out of the car and stared up at a small, pale blue house. 

Sam, Riley, and Dean walked to the front door and knocked. When there was no answer, Sam tried the handle. It was unlocked. With a look of worry, he opened the door and shined his flashlight inside.  

“Hello?” Sam called out. “Is anybody home?”

Once they had found their way into the master bedroom, they saw the butchered body of a man, lying on his bed. It was Ava’s fiancé. Blood had soaked the sheets around him and dripped onto the carpet, forming a thick pool. He had been slaughtered.

“Oh my god,” Riley uttered.

Dean went to the open window and found a yellow dust across the sill. He ran his fingers over it and felt the texture. “You guys...” Sam and Riley turned to face him. “...sulfer. The demon’s been here.”

Sam tried to control his emotions as he was flooded with worry and guilt for leaving her. 

As he took another step, something metal clinked under his shoe on the hardwood floor. He bent down to pick it up. It was Ava’s engagement ring, covered in blood.  

Joining him low to the floor, Riley put a hand on his shoulder. 

They knew what it all meant. The demon had taken Ava. 

Riley tried to keep herself together as she remembered what the demon said to her, that he would come for her. It was then that she realized...she might be next.

------

S2 Chapter 7: Night Shifter

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[v-thinks-on]

The Story of Who You Are

Part 6 of A Crazy Little Thing Called Love

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The evidence was conclusive; it would be illogical to deny it.

The relief and happiness Spock had felt when he saw the captain alive and well after Spock thought he had killed him in the throes of pon farr could have been a fluke fueled by his waning blood fever. And there was nothing illogical in being pleased that the Enterprise had not lost its highly competent captain. Spock had no such convenient excuse for turning to hope when the captain had vanished without a trace, but as he had succeeded at finding the captain, he had little cause for complaint.

However, his most recent display of emotion was not excused by illness or overshadowed by a successful rescue. He had wasted hours pulling at the bars of their cell to no avail. In a moment of weakness brought on by desperation, Dr. McCoy had even managed to needle him into admitting that he was not immune to emotion. The captain later returned by his own power no worse for the wear, and Spock had done nothing but waste time and energy that could have been better spent.

Upon further inspection, he had been experiencing emotions with increasing frequency and intensity for some time. He had been able to ignore them because they did not interfere with his duties - the captain even encouraged him to develop emotions. But he was not a human, he was a Vulcan, and emotions were not the Vulcan way. He needed to be more careful.

“Emotions are a liability. I do not understand why humans insist upon defending them,” Spock declared.

He was meeting with the captain in his quarters to debrief after their successful infiltration of the Romulan ship. Thankfully, the captain had been relieved of his pointed ears and slanted eyebrows, and appeared fully human once more.

Jim gave him a soft smile. “They are a liability, maybe even our greatest weakness, but they’re also our greatest strength.”

Spock’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “The Romulans are an offshoot of my Vulcan ancestors who rejected the teachings of Surak and embraced illogic as humans do, and you see the result - they are brutal and warlike. Emotions certainly have done the Romulan Commander no favors.”

“No, I suppose they haven’t,” Jim acknowledged. “You carried out your mission admirably.”

“I know you intend for that to be a compliment, but I find it difficult to take it as such,” Spock replied, his voice stiff.

“I thought our lovely commander might be playing the same game,” Jim said with a wry smile. “What did she offer you? A place by her side?”

Spock inclined his head.

Jim nodded. “Anything you desire, it’s yours,” he countered.

Spock’s eyebrows rose again in astonishment. He looked affronted. “Have I not already made my allegiance sufficiently clear? Vulcans are not susceptible to bribes.”

Jim gave him a gentle smile. “I know.” He stepped forward and put a hand on Spock’s wrist. “I just also know that sometimes it’s important to be reminded of your value, and I value you very much.” There was a powerful intensity to the captain’s gaze.

“I am aware,” Spock replied, his voice suddenly rough with emotion even though he could feel Jim’s touch only through his sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” Jim said at last, “We should have found another way.”

“It is my duty to serve you and Starfleet to the best of my ability,” Spock replied as though nothing had happened. “However, deception and the use of emotion do go against Vulcan teaching.”

“They go against human teaching too,” Jim acknowledged. “Somehow, it’s just easier for us to ignore it.”

“Yes, I have observed that humans have a tendency to obey only what is convenient to them,” Spock said, though there was something teasing in his eyes and the tilt of his lips.

“We rely on our own judgement,” Jim suggested.

“And at times it is most effective,” Spock said with a nod.

Jim grinned.

“Now, Mr. Spock,” Dr. McCoy rounded on the Vulcan, “You’d better get some sleep or, with the captain’s permission” - he glanced over at Captain Kirk - “I’ll give you a hypo that will make you go to sleep whether you like it or not!”

“That will not be necessary, Doctor,” Spock retorted. “As I have already attempted to inform you, Vulcans do not require-”

Dr. McCoy cut him off and exclaimed at the captain, “I swear, he hasn’t slept or ate in the whole time you’ve been down here!”

“What?” Kirk demanded with a confused shake of his head, as though Dr. McCoy’s words had jolted him into awareness. “What happened?” He turned to his first officer, his eyes narrowed in concern. “Spock, why haven’t you slept? I’ve been down here for two months.”

“Fifty-eight days, captain,” Spock corrected him.

Kirk gave him a look.

“It was necessary that I decipher the writing on the obelisk before the asteroid reached the planet. It was the only avenue remaining to us to ensure that neither you nor the planet were destroyed,” Spock explained.

Kirk shook his head. He could feel a headache coming on. “Spock, beam back up and get some sleep. Or I’ll order you to sickbay for observation. Once Dr. McCoy says you’re sufficiently rested, then we can talk.”

Spock gave a sharp nod. “Understood.”

Captain Kirk stepped through the door into Spock’s quarters to find his first officer sitting on his bed, his legs crossed and his eyes closed in meditation. His eyes slowly opened as the door slid shut.

“Dr. McCoy’s declared you well enough for visitors,” Jim said. He gave Spock a smile, but his expression was subdued.

“I am sorry for the death of your wife,” Spock said with some uncertainty.

Jim let out a sigh. He sat down on the end of the bed, turned so he was still facing Spock. “I don’t know if she was ever really mine. She sacrificed her life for someone who may have never even existed.”

“Kirok was not so different from yourself,” Spock remarked.

Jim shook his head. “I’m sorry, Spock. Deep down, even as Kirok I knew I didn’t belong down there, but I was so desperate to hold on to it I even fought you when you tried to meld with me and bring me back to myself.”

“I did not intend to enter your mind against your will,” Spock said. “It was the only way I knew to return you to yourself and prevent the asteroid from destroying the planet, but I did not know it would be unwelcome.”

Jim reached out to take Spock’s hand, but thought better of it at the last moment and instead extended just his first two fingers in a more reserved offer.

Spock slowly reached out and brushed Jim’s fingers with his own, only lingering an instant to let Jim’s familiar emotions pour into him.

“You made the right choice,” Jim insisted, his eyes fixed on Spock’s. “And you are always welcome in my mind,” he said with a smile.

Spock hesitated. “Your mind is very dynamic. Even so, I do not understand how you cope with all of these emotions.”

Jim put a hand on Spock’s arm and gave him a wry smile. “From what Dr. McCoy’s told me, you haven’t had an easy time of it yourself.”

Spock raised his eyebrows. “I did what was necessary to ensure your survival and prevent the destruction of the planet.”

Jim nodded. “And you succeeded. But I’m sorry I put you through all that.”

“You were incapacitated,” Spock replied. “I did what I could to alter the circumstances, but what occurred was outside of my control. As a Vulcan, I am responsible for my reaction.”

Jim frowned. He hesitated. Spock watched him with those sharp Vulcan eyes, his head cocked to one side.

Finally, Jim asked, “What about as a human?”

Spock straightened his posture, his back rigid. For a moment he made to retort, but did not go through with it. “I do not know,” Spock acknowledged at last. “Emotion appears to be the human way, but as a Vulcan I do not find that satisfactory.”

Jim paused a moment in thought. “Maybe it’s different for a Vulcan, but for us humans, it seems like our emotions are just another thing we can’t control. Maybe all we can be responsible for is how we handle our emotions.”

Spock considered his words, rolled them over in his head. At last, he acknowledged, “Perhaps.” But he did not seem satisfied.

It’s your human half I’m worried about.

Jim paced outside the sick bay door. He had tried to talk sense into Dr. Miranda Jones, tried to make her see her own jealousy in the hope that she could do something, anything to save Spock’s life and rescue him from the madness brought on by the sight of the Medusan ambassador. But maybe he had gone to far; he could have just as easily sentenced Spock to death as saved his life.

“Come on, Jim,” Dr. McCoy cut through his thoughts, “There’s no use in standing here.”

He ushered the captain into his office and pushed him off his feet, into a chair. “Have a drink,” he insisted.

Jim just shook his head.

Suddenly, the door slid open and Spock stumbled inside. Almost too late, Jim ran over and helped Spock into the doctor’s chair.

“I am undamaged,” Spock insisted, as Dr. McCoy waved his medical scanner over him, but he had made no attempt to stand.

“Bones,” Jim called the doctor off and took his place hovering over Spock, a hand on his shoulder. “Spock, How are you doing?”

Spock looked up and met Jim’s eyes. “Doctor Jones succeeded in rescuing me from the madness, though it seemed to be with some difficulty. If you give me a moment, I will be ready to return to duty.”

Jim shook his head before Dr. McCoy could protest. “I want you to rest.” He turned to Dr. McCoy. “Mind if we borrow your office for a bit?”

“Alright, alright, I know when I’m not wanted,” the doctor grumbled good-naturedly, and took his leave.

Jim rounded back on Spock as the door slid shut. He saw his first officer relax into the chair, his exhaustion clear. Jim gave him a smile and brushed Spock’s hand with this own. “You had me worried,” he remarked lightly.

“My apologies, it was careless of me to forget the visor,” Spock replied.

Jim waved off his apology. “Kollos didn’t have any reason to be afraid of seeing himself, I should have been keeping an eye on it. How was the link with Kollos?”

Spock looked away, lost in memory. The corners of his lips turned upward at the thought. “It was fascinating,” he replied, turning back to the captain. “I would almost call his mind logical, but he was not without emotion - far from it. In some ways his mind was not so different from yours.” He looked at Jim as though he was seeing him for the first time, his eyes wide with what for him was open affection.

“And then there was the mind of Dr. Jones,” Spock continued, “Who was restrained as any Vulcan, but warped with jealousy.”

“That’s another human vice you seem to have gotten away without,” Jim said with a wry grin.

Spock nodded. “Fortunately so.” He hesitated. “There was something familiar in Kollos’s mind. Like you, he is very open in his affections, but there was something even more familiar in how he regards Dr. Jones. I believe a human would call it love.” He sounded uncertain about the assertion.

“Like Cochrane and his companion?” Jim suggested before he could stop himself.

Spock nodded again. “That would be a reasonable analogy. Two very different beings brought together by common regard.” He hesitated again. “Vulcans primarily communicate with thought rather than words. That is especially so for young children interacting with family members. Vulcans are, of course, trained in mental shielding, so adults, at least, only communicate what they intend to convey. However” - his eyes narrowed in thought - “I have a distant memory of an early meld with my father, where I received an impression of his regard for my mother which was not dissimilar from Kollos’s regard for Dr. Jones, though it was many orders of magnitude more subdued.”

Jim watched Spock, eagerly waiting for him to continue.

Finally, Spock said very carefully, “I believe my own regard for you is also analogous to what I saw in Kollos.”

A wide smile spread across Jim’s face unbidden. He could not help but tease, “An emotional regard?”

Spock hesitated, but a trace of a smile lingered on his lips. “Perhaps. I know it is unbecoming of a Vulcan.”

“But you are also human,” Jim insisted, placing a hand on Spock’s.

Spock nodded. “It is illogical to deny the truth.”

“And what about the loneliness, the separation Kollos spoke of - did you also find that familiar?” Jim asked. He squeezed Spock’s hand.

Spock’s eyebrows rose in thought. “Familiar yes, but surprisingly absent.”

“Good,” Jim said with a grin. “Then I’m doing my job right.”

“Yes, you are most accomplished,” Spock acknowledged. He turned his hand over and offered Jim his first two fingers, which Jim eagerly accepted and reciprocated in kind.

[from-the-clouds]

Broken - Steve/Reader

Gif originally by @toney-starks

Playlist * Masterlist

Summary/Request from @barnestans: 'room mate falls in the shower and breaks an arm’ with Steve!! Give me Steve being super proper and polite but also hilarious!!

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Broken arm.

AN: YEE! Little bit of humor, fluff, angst, everything. Another prompt for @barnestans prompt night!! I haven’t written anything I’m this proud of in awhile, so please enjoy Y/N and Roommate!Steve

This situation wasn't something any normal person your age would have to experience, but somehow, it happened. What the hell? This stuff only happened to senior citizens, or so you thought.

You could only really blame yourself, though. For the past weeks, you'd been overworking yourself. You were staying at work late, hardly eating since you were so busy, fueled by coffee and energy bars. Essentially, you were burning the candle at both ends.

It was a Friday night, and you were home later than normal. Steve, your roommate, who usually spent his weekends in drawing, locked inside his room, had already arrived at home. You could hear the faint sound of Frank Sinatra playing through the crack under his door, his record of choice for when he was sketching. 

Gently, you rested your head against the wall of his bedroom, listening to his desk chair creak as he shifted his his weight, a sharp inhale through his nose. You'd lived together almost a year now, after he responded to a Craigslist ad you had posted when your old roommate, a friend from your previous job, moved out. The dynamic between the two of you was perfect. He was incredibly introverted, as were you, but you'd had plenty of nights where you stayed up talking after watching your favorite TV shows together, him sitting across from you on the armchair in your living room, his fingers clasping the neck of a beer bottle as you tipsily listened to him tell stories from college. He wasn't draining to be around, like most people.

He was handsome, you'd known that initially when you met him. But that wasn't why you fell in love with him. Maybe you were crazy. Maybe it was just the idea of him that you liked. But he was so close all the time, so kind and quiet and gentle. There weren't many men like him. And the handful of times he'd brought someone home after a date, only a few months after he'd moved in, had nearly broken your heart. It had been awhile since he'd done that, though, and while it was foolish to let those things effect your relationship, you couldn't quite help but feel relieved that he didn't appear to currently be dating. Stepping away from his bedroom and across the hall to yours, the wooden floor creaked as it settled underneath your feet. 

"Welcome home, (Y/N)," You heard Steve call from inside his room, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Happy Friday.”

"Thank you," you found yourself smirking, too.

"I hope you're going straight to bed," he said. "I've barely seen you at all these past few weeks," His voice was quite muffled by the door, but you could still picture him sitting at his desk, pencil to notepad, not even looking up as he spoke to you, reading glasses perched on his nose.

"I'm showering first," you chuckled, and he didn't respond, but knew he had heard you. 

Opening up your bedroom door, you found it in a bit of a disarray, your clothes scattered all over the floor as you'd left it this morning. Shucking off your coat, you tossed it in the chair next to your bed, which usually was where you deposited clothes that weren't dirty that you were too lazy to hang up. 

Next you entered your bathroom, where you turned the shower to it's hottest setting, water on full blast. You didn't have the luxury of a bathtub, so you'd have to make do. This evening, you were primarily focused on curling up with a cup of tea or hot chocolate, maybe a glass of wine...or maybe both.

After undressing, you stepped into the shower, steadying yourself with the handle. Your least favorite part about this apartment was how slick the shower was when it got wet. You usually wore flip-flops for more traction, but tonight you didn't really care, you wanted to get out of the shower and into bed as fast as possible.

The hot water was intoxicating, running over the tense muscles in your back as you turned your neck to both sides, eyes closed, savoring every second of bliss. A contented sigh left your lips lazily, as you tilted your head back to let the water wash away the tension between your eyebrows. It was like curling up in a warm blanket, so maybe that's why you seemed to suddenly black out, the next thing you knew you were on your stomach, one arm bent awkwardly underneath you, screaming in pain, your head pounding.

A whimper passed your lips when you tried to stand, your arm was bent at an angle you didn't know was possible....probably because it wasn't. You realized with horror you were unable to move, and you must have hit the shower knob on your way down, because the water was now freezing, almost dangerously so. There had to be a way out of this, had too. There was no way in hell you were going to call out for help.

The pain in your arm seemed to only get worse, however. Tears were pricking at the back of your eyes, partly from pain, partly from embarrassment. You didn't have a choice.

"Help!" You croaked out meekly. That wasn't going to be enough. Your whole body was trembling from the cold water. "Steve!" You called for your roommate.  This might as well happen today, you thought to yourself. So much for your crush. After this you'd have to change your identity and flee the state.

After managing to holler his name a few more times you heard the bedroom door open. 

"(Y/N)?" you heard Steve call. Your bathroom door creaked open. "Are you okay?"

Your only view was the tile wall of the shower, and you thanked God that at least you'd fallen on your stomach, so he didn't see every part of you. It saved you a bit of humiliation, as if that were possible.

"Stop!" You commanded. "I think....I think I broke my arm....or something. I can't move. I don't know."

"It's okay, let me turn off the water. It's freezing in here," Steve shivered, but his voice was calm and even. You were crying pretty hard now, a mixture of embarrassment, pain, and stress, and you hoped he couldn't tell.

"Don't look at me!" You blurted out.

"I'm not-" you heard him sniff. "I'm not going to look at you," he said. His voice moved closer to you, and the shower water turned off, abruptly.  

"Please don't look at me," you repeated. You felt something soft drape over your back as Steve covered you with a towel, kneeling next to you. Turning your head, you were able to finally look at him. He was wearing gray sweats and a white t-shirt. 

"It's okay," he murmured, and you felt his palm rest on the small of your back, a gesture that was supposed to be comforting that only made you more flustered. "What happened?"

"I- I don't know. I think I passed out. All the sudden I was on the floor and I can't....I can't move. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he repeated himself, but a small smile was playing on the edge of his lips.

"Don't laugh at me, Steve, I'm serious!"

"I'm not," he said, but then the smile broke fully on his face. 

"Steve," you whined, a fresh batch of tears starting. 

He grew serious then, the smile falling from his face. "It's okay, (Y/N) don't cry." He leaned over you so his eyes were level with yours. "Can you roll over onto your back for me?" he asked. "I promise I won't look at you."

You nodded, and he helped you, the towel that had once provided you with some modesty now lying damp on the floor. But he grabbed it and adjusted it so it laid across your front, helping you into a seated position with your back against the tiles. Gingerly, you tucked your arm against your chest. "Is it bad?" you asked. "I can't see."

Steve glanced down at your arm, suddenly paling and covering his mouth with his hand. "Yeah it's...." he gagged, squeamish. "It's bad."

"Jesus Christ," you said. "The toilet's over there."

"I'm sorry I don't like-" he glanced at your arm and gagged again.

"Then stop looking at it!" You scolded. "If you vomit on me right now I seriously don’t think I’ll ever be able to come back from this.....gross."

He started laughing then, doing an absolute shit job of hiding it from you. 

"Steve, what the hell?" You said, feeling like crying all over again. "It's not funny, it really hurts."

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he apologized, but had to stifle another laugh  

Dejected, your head fell back against the tiles and you bit your lower lip.

"I'm going to have to take you to the hospital," he said. "Do you want me to get some clothes for you to put on?"

"Please," You murmured. "Whatever's at the top of my drawer."

For the few minutes he left the room you prayed that this wasn't really happening. It had to be some type of nightmare. You willed yourself to wake up only to realize that it was all really happening.

"Okay, here," Steve re-entered the bathroom. Despite the circumstances, you couldn't help but notice how handsome he was, especially now that his cheeks were a little flushed from everything going on. It made you feel humiliated all over again. "I got some sweatpants from your drawer, I figured those would be easy to put on. And I brought one of my sweatshirts, that way I can just put it over your head and you don't have to worry about moving your arm...okay?" He asked. "And I'll help you with your shoes, alright?"

You nodded, sniffing, reality setting in that you wouldn't get to spend your evening in, cozy in your bed. Now you had to face a hectic, germ-infested hospital, likely alone once Steve dropped you off. "Let me help you up, alright?" He crouched in front of you. "Put your hand on my shoulder, hang on to me," he instructed and you obeyed, leaning forward to shift your weight onto your feet as you leaned against him, his body solid and sturdy. When you finally rose to your feet on wobbly legs, your bare feet slipped again on the slick tiles and you gasped, expecting to hit the ground. But instead, Steve caught you, both his hands on your waist. Your towel had moved to the side, however, and his hands were on your bare skin. The warmth of his body against yours caused you to shiver, a for a brief moment your eyes caught his, until he cleared his throat, his eyes flickering away. 

"Just hang on," he said. "Let me get you out of here."

You obeyed, and you finally made it out into your carpeted bedroom where he helped you into the clothes he’d found. He was incredibly polite, his eyes never leaving yours or wandering elsewhere as you wriggled into the dry garments. He used an elastic to squeeze the excess moisture out of your hair and twist it into a bun. It looked awful but you had to admit you didn't really care. And somewhere along the way silent tears had begun to flow steadily, after he had helped you into some tennis shoes and sat you on the living room coach, disappearing to grab your keys.

"Oh, (Y/N)," he returned from the small hallway leading to your bedroom. "Don't cry. It’s all fine, it’s not a big deal."

You wished Steve would stop being so sweet and gentle, as he was making it nearly impossible not to fall in love with him. He helped you to your feet again and gingerly embraced you, your head against his shoulder, his hand rubbing your back. "It's going to be okay, you're okay," he soothed. He smelled like soap and aftershave, it was so intoxicating you almost felt smothered. In any other circumstance, it would have you reeling.

"Can you just take me to the car?" you mumbled into his shoulder. While you appreciated his comforting gesture, the pain was becoming a bit too much for you to handle.

He nodded, and helped you into your shared garage. The car ride to the hospital was mostly silence, save for the whimpers of pain you let out whenever Steve hit particularly large bumps. Each time you made any noise in discomfort he flinched, apologizing profusely. 

Luckily, when you arrived at the emergency room, Steve dropped you off and you walked in, sighing in relief as you were finally alone. The emergency room was relatively empty, and you were in luck when they took you back right away, seating you on a cot and assuring the doctor would be in soon, a nurse immediately starting an IV with pain medication to help with your discomfort. 

You saw the curtain rustling to your room moments later, and perked up, expecting to see a doctor, but instead it was Steve, a backpack slung over his shoulder. "Wow, they got you in really quickly. Sorry, it took some time for me to find parking."

You stared at him incredulously. "I thought you left."

He sat in the chair next to your bed. "No way," he said. "I wasn't going to leave you alone."

"Steve, I'm sure they'll take me into surgery, you'll be here all night," you argued.

"Yeah," he answered. "And someone's going to have to drive you home."

"Seriously," you responded. "I appreciate everything you’ve done tonight, but you don't have to do this."

"Well, I'm going to," he argued. "Because I care about you, and I'm not leaving you here all alone."

Because I care about you. His words echoed in your brain, and you suddenly couldn't think about arguing with him anymore. 

"Had you taken care of yourself the past few weeks, maybe this wouldn't have happened," he said, his tone sounding disappointed. 

"I know," you answered. As much as you hated to admit it, Steve was right. He put his glasses on and took out his sketchpad and pencil, balancing it on his knee as he continued his work from earlier, the sound of pencil scratching against paper oddly soothing. Your head fell back against the pillows, exhaustion setting in as your body finally reacted to being at rest. Your left arm, the one that wasn't causing all this trouble, settled next to you, and you felt something warm press into your palm.

Steve squeezed your hand tenderly, reassuring. "Don't worry, you're going to be fine."

"Thank you, Steve," you said softly, your eyes slowly closing as you relaxed for the first time that night.

[gayinthespacebetween]

Won't let your history get to the best of me

I'm on phone and I'm too excited to wait until I get home to upload this so here you go! Audrey/Evie fic (Audvie?? Eh) with Audrey being a bit of a bitch at the start but y'know, who doesnt love a little bitchines?

...

...

...

The first time you see Evie Grimhilde, it's barely the start of second year and your hair is let loose, like you always wear it. Hers is made up into a fancy v-braid, and you can't stop staring at it because well, this is Auradon, and girls don't have bright colored hair like that (maybe they should, if they would look half as beautiful as she does). She's talking with a friend and doesn't say anything to you as she opens her locker, three lockers way from yours.

Right then and there, even before you know her name or her reputation, you know Evie Grimhilde with her leather skirt and red blood lipstick is not the kind of girl you should be associated with. The girl at her side looks like she came straight out of a Halloween store with how much leather she's wearing. You don't like her. You don't like either of them, you decide, so you stick up your nose and close the locker with more force than you need to, and you walk away.

Besides, Evie is not the kind of friend you would want, anyway. She looks like she would fail all of her classes if she didn't use her body to get at least a passing score.

...

(You're right. She fails the first month in all but one subject, chemistry.

By next month, all of her grades are straight A's, and you can't help but think the worst of how she got them like that.)

...

When you get to first period (Advanced Upper Class Manners, of course) you sit down and your mind can't help but go back to her. To that girl. You decide she looks like a Vanessa, that she's all smiles and toothy grins that make people's knees weak. You start thinking about her makeup- except you're not so much thinking about her eye shadow as you're thinking about her deep brown eyes, you're not thinking as much about her lipstick as you are about her lips. You imagine her talk- can't decide what she's saying but she calls you princess and you love it- and she's holding your hand as she smiles at you. And then you shake your head, remind yourself that smiles and toothy grins in a girl like her usually mean shallow thoughts and irresponsibility, and reprimand yourself for not paying attention to your teacher.

The smallest part of your mind worries if maybe that's kinda gay, but you think Ben is cute and have been harboring a crush in him ever since seventh grade(on the day of your betrothal) so it can't be. All you were doing was wondering what it would be like to be friends with her anyways. That's perfectly normal- you've done it tons of times before.

...

Ignoring Evie Grimhilde starts becoming harder and harder. The girl had dropped in the school like a storm, changing everything in her part and leaving marks on it without any shame. By the week, you already know her story: she and that little gang of hers had been part of Queen Belle's orphanage program, but since they were close to out growing it, they had been moved to Abigail Godmother's home to spend the last two years with her and get a feeling on how "real life" works. You guess it's kinda sad, that they've lived all theirs lives without their parents, but you can't feel much sympathy with them when Mal goes around wearing piercings, Jay has a visible tattoo in his arm that you don't know how he got, Carlos dresses in fur and bleaches his hair and Evie charms her way into everyone's hearts. It's disconcerting, really, how she arrives and suddenly becomes the center of attention, stealing the spotlight you've had for years in mere months.

You decided you hate her, then. Because she's not your friend and she decided to make herself competition. Which, alright. Great, now you'll have to ruin her life socially. You can do that. It's necessary, she needs to know her place.

...

(It takes a mere text for the whole school to know how Evie slept with three guys of the football team already, everyone adding their own theories and bets on who she will fuck next.

You don't know what you hate more. Evie, who apparently is completely unaffected by the rumors, or the feeling on your stomach that you did something bad.

You doesn't know which one you hate more, so you ignore both. Or at least try to.)

...

It starts with a Chemistry project. (You've long since stopped finding such irony humorous).

The teacher is a new one, and he doesn't take suggestions lightly. He tries too hard to be strict when it's clear he still doesn't know how to pull it off, and while you played your part and obeyed everything he said, you still found it pretty hilarious. It stopped being hilarious, of course, when he decided to pair you up with Evie.

The girl doesn't look half as horrified as you feel. She just glances up at you and smiles. It makes your stomach churn uncomfortably and your cheeks to flare up. She has never smiled at you. Not that you've given her a reason to. You raise your hand to get the teacher's attention.

"May I get a new partner, if you please?" You're being overly flattering, but for some reason knowing Evie was to be your partner for this project is making you nervous. Not in bad way, she has indeed shown herself to be a remarkable student, which means you should work great together, but still. You don't like her, and by now, you're sure she doesn't like you either. You don't blame her. You haven't been very nice to her.

"No, Audrey. If you are allowed to change partners, then everyone will want to do so as well, and I believe it is best if you all learn to step out of your comfort zone and make friends with each other." He crossed his arms and leaned back against his desk. "Make new experiences."

"Oh, it will be an experience, alright." You mutter under your breath, dropping your hand in frustration. Girls like you and Evie shouldn't mix.

Evie doesn't even look fazed at your attempt to get rid of her, instead choosing to simply switch seats with Chad as she was supposed to do. Chad mutters a "good luck" with a mocking tone as he slips away that makes you want to slap him. But slapping is not ladylike, you remind yourself, so you don't. You never do.

"Hey, partner." Another smile, another uncomfortable churn. It's so much worse, now that she's closer to you than ever before. Her eyes are looking at you with interest and her red lips are pulled up in a smile, and you can't help but feel especial about the fact that she's smiling at you. And you can smell her perfume and it reminds you of the forest and is that a hint of cinnamon right there?

You probably looked dumb right now, tensed and with your guard up because a girl offered you a smile. Seriously, if your grandma were to see you now. Even if she's not your favorite person, your manners should still be present.

Thinking this, you nod and smile back, albeit it's a little more forced than hers. But everything she does she puts in a natural flow not unlike one of a royal, and you've never been that good at diplomacy anyways.

Evie sees right through you, and it's the first time of many that she does this.

"I know you don't like me. You've said things about me." She states calmly, as if it doesn't even upset her. It makes you angry, that she can turn your world upside down with just her presence and yet as hard as you try she remains unfazed. It's like you have no effect in her life at all. Which is weird because, well, you've always been The Audrey, daughter of Aurora, most popular girl of Auradon Prep and future Queen of the whole kingdom (if Ben finally decides to step up and ask her to marry him, which he will. She's sure).

You realize you've sorta stop listening to her, which is just plain rude, so you focus back on her smooth voice.

"...and maybe that way we could get this done."

Uhhh...

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

Evie's smile never falters. "I'm asking you if you want to start again. We can meet at Tiana's this Friday to get some coffee and work on this." She gestures to your homework. And really, your feelings are too settled for her to actually be able to start all over, so a "no, we'll just get this done separatedly" is what your answer should be.

"Yes. I'd like that. 4pm?"

...But maybe you just need to reevaluate your image of Evie.

...

(The study date goes very well, and so do all the others that follow. Evie is always there first, and by the third date she already knows you will ask for a vanilla latte, so she always orders one when she gets there so that when you arrive you don't even have to wait. No one but Ben has bothered to remember that it's your favorite way of drinking coffee. And she always gets up to help you sit down, even if she's a girl too and she has no one to help her sit. And she always picks a table far enough that you're not on the spotlight but not far away enough that you feel caged.

She's good with the small details, maybe too good. And well, if it makes your heart feel a little warmer no one but you has to know, right?)

...

Something changes. You start to actually get excited to meet Evie. She always has something fascinating to talk about. She's passionate about topics she's interested in and doesn't expect you to stay quiet and look pretty, but to actually participate and discuss as well.

A newfound respect swirls inside of you, and the both of you start talking at school, though you doesn't remember when that started. It just seemed like the natural progression of things. You still avoid her table, because her friends are always there and you aren't sure you like them enough just yet, but you accompany Evie whenever you have classes together, and those little moments light up your day immensely.

"You look happy."

You look up from your book. It's Lonnie. The girl isn't exactly what you would call a friend, but she's nice. And she's also your roommate, ever since Jane started to room alone, so even though you have different social circles you've managed to keep your small (yet still relevant) relationship afloat and well.

Closing your book, you turn towards her. You find it unrespectful to talk with someone with your attention elsewhere, and hate deeply whenever Ben just can't seem to put his book down even he knows when you're talking to him.

"I guess I am? What do you mean?"

Lonnie shrugs. "I dunno. You just look... Brighter. Ever since a few weeks ago." Something seems to click on her head, and she raises and eyebrow knowingly. "Ever since you've started to hang out with Evie."

You faintly remember that the girls know each other, ever since Mal fixed that ugly bob cut and turned it into beautiful brown locks. If you spoke to her (which, let's be honest, is still a very small probability), you certainly would thank her for that. "Yes. She's a nice friend."

"And just that?"

It's your turn to raise an eyebrow. "What are you implying, exactly?"

"Oh, nothing." Lonnie's grin rats her out, because she's definitely thinking and implying something. "So, you had a change of heart about her. Who would have thought?"

"Well, she's proven herself to be... Not what I was expecting."

"She's much better than you thought her to be for sure." Lonnie says, taking a seat beside her on the bed. "What do you think changed your mind?"

For some reason, you get really happy about the idea of talking about her, and you're suddenly very interested in continuing this conversation. "Well, she's not only drop dead gorgeous, you know? I always admired her fashion sense, but she's also really smart. And she likes reading and sewing... Very good at cooking."

"Oh? How'd you find that one out?"

You looks down with a smile on your face. "We went on a picnic last week. She prepared the food and all. It was really nice."

Lonnie smiles back at you as you practically gush about the blue haired girl. And well, there's a lot of changes in your behavior that you haven't paid much mind to, but you definitely notices this. You don't gush. That's... Improper, and for girls in love, and the only person you've ever loved is Ben, so this isn't making sense at all.

What exactly is happening to you? What is she doing to you?

Your brain starts making connections. Things that you've noticed but chose to ignore. The butterflies, the blushing, the constant need to be beside her all the time... All the signs are there. But you push them back to the darkest corner of your mind, because that's just silly. You have a boyfriend. You can't be- you aren't. Especially not with a girl.

Especially not with Evie.

Maybe Lonnie senses that you're panicking just a little bit, and so, goodness bless her, she changes topics. "So, how's it been going with Ben lately?

Oh. That topic. "It's been going great! Ben is such a gentleman, as always." You say, and you don't know why, somehow the smile that always blooms in your face when you talk about Ben is harder to conjure up. But you don't think much about it. The truth is, things with Ben have been harder and harder since the start of the year. But that's alright. It's just a rough patch. Nothing to worry about.

...

(A week later, Ben breaks up with you. In public, in front of everyone, and declares his love for Mal. And you aren't heartbroken. You aren't sad and wailing and trying to piece together what went wrong. You're just... Mad. And scared. Because if you don't have Ben holding you back, what will stop you from getting too close to Evie?

You decide you suddenly always liked Chad and kiss him right in front of everyone. You know he won't mind: the boy has been after you ever since you started dating Ben. But you know he and Evie had started a sort-of-dating-not-exactly thing, and while it's nothing official, you're probably hurting her.

It's the only thing you regret about the whole situation).

...

"I'm sorry." Is the first thing out of your mouth when you finally take hold of her wrist. It comes out breathy, because you had to chase after her to make sure she wouldn't sneak off with Jay or Carlos or Mal, though you're sure Mal and Ben are off doing something together, or just plain making out. It doesn't even matter- you just need to make sure Evie hears this. "I- I'm sorry. It was out of place and with Ben doing that I just-"

"Audrey! Breathe. It's fine." She quickly reassures you.

"I- but it's not! You and Chad were dating and I shouldn't have done that."

Evie frowns with confusion, and them realization hits her. "Me and Ch-? Oh! That? We broke it up ages ago."

Wait, what?

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah! I didn't tell you?" Evie waves her hand as if to brush the matter off. "It wasn't that important anyway. I always suspected he only hooked up with me to try and get me to do his homework." Evie grimaced. "I know he's your friend, but he's a total jerk."

"Yes, he is." You mutter unconsciously while trying to piece everything together. "So you guys aren't seeing each other anymore because of that?"

"Well, yes," she blushes a little. It always stands up nicely against her skin when that happens. "And also because I- I realized I like someone else."

The relief you hadn't yet registered you felt left you all at once, leaving you to feel sad about Evie's confession. There's a swirl of something else inside of you that's very akin to envy, but not exactly, but you're already too confused about the whole situation to delve even deeper.

"Oh." Your voice sounds strange. Chocked up, trying to hold your feelings in. But it's so hard to do that with Evie when she had made it so easy to let your guard down. "Who is it?"

"A beautiful person." Evie smiles dreamily, and that feeling flares up again. And this time you decide to stop lying to yourself, because the feeling is there, and it's real.

You're jealous.

"He'll be lucky to have you, that's for sure." Maybe it's the fact that you're finally acknowledging it, but wow- your tone sounds really lonely and desperate.

Evie, apparently, wasn't paying that much attention to you, because she snaps back into focus. Maybe she was daydreaming about her crush or something. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." She bites her lip in amusement as she looks over at you. Oh goodness, you're being obvious, aren't you?

Trying to brush it off, you start walking again emanating all that confidence that you're not feeling right now. "Come on. Let's grab a bite and you can tell me all about him."

In all honesty, you'd rather be curse with a hundred years' sleep, but just because you're hurting doesn't mean you have to hurt her. You've already done enough of that. All you need to do right now is be a supportive friend and be there for her.

And bury those damned newfound feelings in the deepest part of your heart, of course.

...

It's been a week since that, and you're positive you're going crazy.

First off, her crush. You know so much about him you may as well have been him. Except you aren't, because he has the girl he wants wrapped around his finger while you're left to hear the girl of your dreams talk about someone else. It's exhausting, but you've held up. You've listened, and acted excitement along with her, and given input to help her on conquering his heart. Which yes, it's as awkward as it sounds.

Second of all, but following on that same train of thought, there's the new wardrobe changes. Now, Evie definitely looks stunning in absolutely everything she wears, but she's actually trying now. And its too much for you. Who knew Evie would be able to give you a heart attack just by wearing an leather suit? You certainly didn't.

And so the problem is that you're spending more time with a more hot than usual Evie. It's all her fault, of course. But she doesn't know what she's doing to you, so who can really blame her? That crush of hers better appreciate all of her efforts, because the one suffering (or perhaps enjoying too badly) is you.

But you've made it through a week. Barely, but you did it. Maybe you can last long enough for Evie to make the boy her boyfriend so that at least she'll stop trying so hard. Or better yet, last long enough that she gives up the chase.

At this point you're just hoping you hold on long enough before doing something drastic. Which is why right now you're trying to have some alone time away from her at your dorm, trying to cool off after Evie decided wearing a skin tight dress for your afternoon together was an OK thing to do (and it wasn't. At all). And as always, you're failing miserably. Because as always, your mind is filled to the brim with thoughts of her.

A soft knock on the door, and you sigh happily. Maybe it'll be Chad or Jane or heck, even Ben would be a better choice than staying alone any longer. "Come in!"

But of course, since the universe has collectively decided it hates you, Evie is the one who opens the door. She's still wearing the dress. You groan, because really, You won't be able to hold it together much longer. You might end up doing something risky- like... Kissing her, or something.

She looks rather frustrated, and places a hand on her hip to reflect how done she is. "I'm tired of waiting around."

You blink. Now you're confused. "Waiting for what?"

"For you!" She gestures wildly, breaking the last remains of her composed façade. "For your move or your whatever. You know how early I've been waking up these days to get all dolled up and yet you do nothing!"

"I-what?" Your mind is drawing blanks. This is comic out of the blue. Just what in the heavens is she talking about? "What DL you mean? My move?"

"To kiss me! Or ask me out! Anything!" She finally declares, dropping down on your bed next to you. And well, she really shouldn't be so close that your thighs are touching right after she admits she has been waiting for you to kiss her. You can already feel yourself blushing.

"I- I still don't understand. I thought you liked someone?"

Evie snorts. "That's you, you silly." At your shocked expression (you probably look like a gaping fish right now. How classy) she actually swallows down her words in surprise. "Wait, you mean- you didn't know I liked you?"

"I thought you liked a boy" You screech, as you finally start putting two and two together.

"Why made you think that?" Evie scrunches her nose. "I never said I liked a boy."

"Yes you did." You state, and get ready to reference any conversation in which she mentions her crush. But the more you try to remember any references, the more you come up with Evie using non-gendered descriptions, and "they" as a pronoun, and using words like "that person" and "my crush".

You look down. "Oh, I guess you didn't. I guess I just assumed." You spare her a glance that you hope conveys your embarrassment.

Silence fills the room, until finally Evie talks again, albeit very softly. "So I was wrong? You don't like me?"

"Yes! Of course I do." You quickly reassure her, and then laugh at yourself for how silly you sound. "Yes, I do like you. And I'm guessing that your crush was me-"

"Now that's just obvious." Evie huffs in amusement, making you smile.

"So what do we do now?"

"Now?" She says, rubbing her chin with her index and thumb to jokingly convey that she's thinking about it. "Now I finally get that kiss I work so hard for. I deserve it. Making you realize your feelings was certainly not the easiest thing to do." She grins, hoping closer to you. You can feel her breath on your lips, and she's so close you're sure he can hear your rapid heartbeat. She's waiting for you to close the gap. Such a gentlewoman, as always.

You grin right back. "You were evil, teasing me like that." You chuckle. "But I do believe a kiss is well enough payment for both parties, don't you agree?"

You don't even wait for what you know will be a witty reply before you finally close the distance and press your lips against hers. They're soft and plum and make your heart flutter harder than ever before.

And you know for sure. Everything that happen was leading right to this moment, with her between your arms and caressing your cheek with her thumb as she cups your face and you treading your fingers through her beautiful locks that happen to be done up in a v-braid today.

Just how you like it.

[official-negan-blog]

Stress Reliever

Summary: Negan catches you in a cat fight with one of his wives and decides to screw your uptight personality out of you (consensually, of course!). 

Warnings: Swearing, smut, sex, a little bit of alcohol

Note: Two things -- 1) I have begun tagging people in my fics! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in future fics! 2) If there is anything any of you are really uncomfortable with me writing about, please let me know, anon or not! I will make sure not to cover those things!

Your uptight, stickler-for-rules, judgmental personality did not fade in the least after the world ended. In fact, those traits were merely enhanced by all the chaos. You didn’t get along with most people. Even after living at the sanctuary for four months, you did not find one person you even remotely liked. 

You hated the people you worked with; they were all morons. You hated the Saviors; they were mindless savages who followed Negan around like puppies. You hated Negan; he was a violent and arrogant asshole, although maybe deep down you could admit that he was good-looking. But most of all, you hated Negan’s wives. You always struggled to get along with other women, especially women who sat around on their ass all day and merely enjoyed “looking pretty”.

Unfortunately, you were forced to interact with his wives almost on a daily basis. You were in charge of doing their laundry and bringing it to their room. And every time you came into contact with them, there was always a verbal brawl. Between you calling them ditzy, lazy, and slutty, and them calling you a plain Jane, bland, and a bitch, there was never a dull moment when you interacted with them. 

One day things were especially bad. You had crossed a line and gotten physical with his blonde wife, Amber. You hated unnecessary violence but you were so tired of Amber’s particularly nasty mouth. Your anger came to a climax as the two of you pulled the other’s hair and scratched each other up. 

“You dumb bitch! You wrinkled my dress!”, Amber yelled, sparking the beginning of violent physical contact.

Amidst the cat fight, a deeper voice entered the room, but you were too wrapped up in trying to smash Amber’s head in to really take notice. 

“Fucking hell! That’s enough!” Negan roared. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you back, holding you tightly against his chest. You growled and struggled in his arms, still determined to have it out with Amber. 

“She’s fucking started it! She’s crazy!” Amber shouted.

“I don’t want to fucking hear it right now. Go clean yourself the fuck up. I’m going to talk to Y/N about this.” he said sternly. 

He held you by the arm and brought you into his bedroom, closing the door and locking it behind him, before turning to face you. You swallowed hard and took a step back from him.

“Now I’ll admit, Darlin’, seein’ two sexy women fight is hot as hell, but I cannot have you beating up any of my wives. The last thing I need on my fuckin’ plate is a bunch of girl drama.” 

When you refused to look up at him, he placed the end of Lucille under your chin and pushed up, forcing you to look at him. 

You grew scared and spoke quickly. 

“Yes, you’re right. I’m really sorry, Negan. It won’t happen again.”

He looked at you for a moment and ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

“What’s got you so uptight, anyways, baby girl? Word around the sanctuary is that you’re a real pain in the ass.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief and anger. You knew that you didn’t get along with most people but a part of you never really considered that others talked behind your back.

“Um, I just-- I guess I just get annoyed with people easily. I always have, even before the outbreak.”

You may have been an uptight pain in the ass, but you never lacked in self awareness. 

Negan looked at you thoughtfully, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“Well, you know what, darlin’? It sounds to me like you need a shot of whiskey and a good ol’ fashioned dicking, hmm?”

His words knocked you off guard. 

“Pardon me?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh, don’t play coy with me, sweetheart. You’re hot as fucking hell but you’re uptight as shit. Let me help you fuckin’ relax a bit. Sex does wonders to the body and mind.” 

You turned bright red at his forwardness, being completely unfamiliar with a man coming on to you so aggressively. Most men who flirted with you in the past were off-put by your stiff personality, never really making it to the point of asking you for sex. 

You snap back into the present as Negan hands you a glass with what looked like a fraction of a shot of whiskey at most. You looked up at him confused, holding the near empty glass in your hand. He appeared to read your mind.

“You don’t seem like the type who drinks, sweetheart, so I only gave you a little bit. Just enough to take the fuckin’ edge off.” 

You smell the brown liquid and wrinkle your nose. The strong odor was not calming to you. Regardless, you take a little sip, thinking your day can’t really get any worse.”

Negan chuckled at your minuscule sip.

“You’re supposed to drink it all at once, hon.”

Hesitantly, you drink the rest. You were certain that the whiskey had almost immediate effects, as you already felt a buzz in your head. Having no tolerance to alcohol and not having eaten in several hours, your body absorbed it rapidly. 

Negan sat down on the edge of his bed and patted the empty space next to him. You looked at him sheepishly before walking over slowly to sit next to him. He puts his hand on your lower back and you flinch a bit.

“Relax, Darlin’. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You ease the tenseness in your shoulders a bit and let out the breath you were holding. He carefully took your empty glass and placed it on the nearby table. It was the first time that you noticed how wonderful he smelled. Most people didn’t smell that great once the world ended due to lack of sanitation and whatnot. 

“You don’t make a whole lot of eye contact, do you, baby doll?”

It wasn’t that you couldn’t. You just found Negan to be intimidating, even when you were annoyed with his arrogance. But now that all seemed to fade into the background. The whiskey was working its way through your body and, despite feeling more relaxed, there was no denying that arousal was pooling between your legs with each stroke of his hand on your lower back. 

“Y/N?” he asked, trying to grab your attention. You look up at him and he chuckled a little.

“Don’t talk very much either, I see. Lost in your own fuckin’ world?”

You finally give him a response.

“A-a little.” 

You close your eyes as you try to get control on your breathing, trying to appear not too turned on.

He gently placed his thumb and index finger along your jawline and turned your face towards his. He placed a slightly opened-mouth kiss on your lips, causing much of the doubt and stubbornness to wash away from you. 

The sensation of the man’s tongue in your mouth was delicious and you only wanted more. You scooted closer to him and placed your leg over his, signaling that you wanted to straddle him but were too shy to move all the way onto his lap. 

He chucked darkly, seemingly knowing everything that went through your mind based on subtle movements of your body.

“Don’t be shy, baby doll”, he said as he grabbed your hips and pulled you all the way on to him. You let out a soft moan as he moves his way to your neck, gently biting and sucking at the skin. You reached up to where a bruise now etched in your skin, face sprinkled with a little concern.

“It’s alright. Now everyone will know that it was Negan who put you in such a good fuckin’ mood.” He winked at you. 

Feeling bolder this time, you press your lips against his and work your fingers into his hair while grinding against his hips. After a few minutes, he suddenly wraps his arm around your waist and flips you onto the bed, underneath him. You wrap your legs around his waist to receive the friction you so desperately needed. 

He reaches down and unzips your jeans, pulling them off along with your underwear. Suddenly shy again, you blush and try to close your legs. 

“No, no, baby girl. I’m gonna take real good fuckin’ care of you and you got nothing to be ashamed of. You just need to fuckin’ relax. You know why relaxing is important?”

“Why?” you ask, unsure of where he was headed.

“Because...” he says, and pushes a finger into your entrance, causing you to gasp.

“You can’t cum...”, he moves his finger slowly in and out of you, making you whimper.

“...if you aren’t relaxed. And I will make you cum.” 

His dirty talk only got you to the edge faster. You arch your back as he adds a second finger and curls them up inside you. You grab at the sheets and moan.

“Now that’s a fuckin’ sight I’d never thought I’d see from you, Darlin’!” he says with a smirk. 

You suddenly found yourself bold enough to ask him to take you doggy style.

“Negan?”, you say, out of breath.

“Yes, doll?”

“Can you take me from behind?”

“Well, will you look at that! She’s a freak between the sheets! Turn the fuck over, hon!”

You immediately obeyed and soon heard the clinking of his belt and the sound of him pulling his pants off, accompanied also by his leather jacket, red scarf, and t shirt. You looked over your shoulder and got a glimpse of his dick. He was large, and the sight of it made you even wetter.

“Come here, hon. Let me take your shirt off.”

He pulled it off you and threw it to the side, his hands trailing to your breasts as he kissed your shoulders, gently guiding you back on all fours.

He placed a hand on your hip and guided himself into your slick heat. 

“Fucking fuckity fuck fuck. You’re fucking tight!”

He fills you to the hilt and slowly begins to move out of you slowly, only to thrust back into you with more force. You moan at the sensation. He grabs your hair and begins to move faster, until reaching a maximum speed.

“I’ll fuckin’ screw the nerves out of you. I’ll leave you in nothing more than a panting, sweaty mess, and I won’t stop until you forget your own fucking name!” he growls harshly and relentlessly plows into you.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as his dick reaches places you were never able to on your own. You were completely at his mercy, and you loved it. You loved finally breaking through all the barriers that you built around yourself until you were nothing more than Negan’s panting, sweaty mess. For once, you gave up all your obligations, responsibilities, and worries.

“Oh God, Negan, you’re gonna make me cum!”, you mewl, feeling the coil in your stomach wind to a maximum tightness. 

“Fuckin’ cum for me, baby doll! I want to feel that pussy tighten around dick!”

With that, you plunged into a wonderful kind of blackness, your body convulsing and only silence leaving your agape mouth. He continues to ride you through your orgasm as his own builds up quickly. With great control, he pulls out of you and jerks himself off, painting your back in white, letting out a deep growl. 

He collapsed next to you, wiping your sweaty forehead with his hand, the two of you laughing at the realization that it wasn’t very helpful, considering that he had his own sweat running along his own hands too. 

“You can use my shower if you want, hon. I should probably take one, too.”

The two of you end up sharing the shower, sharing soft kisses and gentle caresses amongst the warm water. 

The next day, you walked around the sanctuary completely calm, no longer yelling at your peers. You were even nice to Amber when you handed over her clean laundry. She raised a suspicious eyebrow at you, noticing your calm and relaxed persona, paired with the giant hickey on your neck.

“Who gave you that?” she asked.

"Your husband”, you say without missing a beat, a smirk plastered over your face as you walk out of the room.

@negans-network

@ask-kakashihatake

[margarethelstone]

It’s way too early for that

So, here’s another Hiccstrid story I’ve managed to create. Rather sweet and teasing, canon based.

I’d like to dedicate this story to @wilderwestqueen, as a little thank-you for her sharing her incredible talent with us :)

fanfiction.net

She was roused by the sun and the screeching of Terrible Terrors singing from the rooftop.

The female Viking extended her arms behind her head, stretching leisurely, exactly like she would do on any other day. She rubbed her sleepy eyes; although there was nothing she wanted less than to leave the comfortable bed, which itself seemed to be persuading her to stay in for a little bit longer, she knew she couldn't succumb to those imaginary whispers.

No matter how much she desired to avoid the meeting she’d promised to conduct, she wasn’t going to let her laziness win over her natural sense of duty. Astrid Hofferson would not be late.

Astrid Haddock wouldn’t either.

She turned her head, expecting to see her sleeping husband, peacefully breathing through his parted lips. To her surprise, it appeared the man wasn't there at all. She frowned, dissatisfied. Hiccup never got up first.

Only then did she noticed the soft pressure put on her own belly. She raised her eyebrows and smiled piteously as her mind had been lightened by a few potential explanations of that state. As gently as she could, she lifted the edge of the blanket that was covering her and she peeked under it.

Of course, her intuition was right; arrayed in the most unnatural position, the young Chief of Berk was lying by her side, with his head rested exactly at the level of her stomach. Initially, she was sure he was asleep – it wouldn’t be the first time when, after the night spent on tossing in his sheets under the influence of the old nightmares, Hiccup would find solace in her presence, embracing her petite silhouette, and snuggling onto it. Besides, the way in which he was lying made it impossible to see his face, only showing the thick locks on the back of his head; and those weren’t easy to spot either, as their covering was still separating him from the daylight.

Astrid understood her mistake almost immediately. As soon as she raised the blanket, her husband’s steady breathing stopped, expectantly. It returned to its normal pace right away, sounding exactly the same as before – but the blonde woman knew, that it was nothing more than a window dressing. Her smile widened, and her eyebrows went even higher.

“What on Thor’s name are you doing?”

She was responded by silence, slightly disturbed by the regular inhaling of the accompanying Viking. She rolled her eyes, and very slowly, she slipped her fingers in his hair.

“I’m sorry, Babe, but you’re a terrible liar.” She threw in, jokingly, playing with the tangled strands. “Stop playing dumb and answer my question.”

He mumbled something under his breath, making sure Astrid wouldn’t understand the meaning. She snorted.

“Alright, this is it. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, your wife demands your attention, and she orders you to turn that oversized head of yours towards her. Now.”

The Chief groaned miserably, but he obeyed. Leaning on his elbows, he managed to turn his face in her direction – and to lay it on her waist again.

“Hiccup, that’s not what I meant.”

“Shhh.” He interrupted. “I’m listening.”

“You’re what…?” Astrid pulled the blanket a few inches higher, staring at the man in disbelief.

“Listening. Stop talking, you’re distracting me.”

“I'm distracting...” she stammered incrediously. “Now you’ve got to be kidding me. What can you be listening to down there?”

“Quiet. I felt a kick, I’m waiting for another one.”

Astrid’s astonishment reached the top after she’d realised what her beloved was actually doing. She blinked repeatedly, not knowing how to respond – only to burst into loud, sonorous laugh in the very next moment. The cloak which she had loosed, heavily fell down on her husband’s face.

“You mutton head, it’s way too early for that.” She remarked, unable to hold the giggling. “You must’ve been dreaming.”

“I know what I felt.” The offended answer came from below the thick material, effectively muffled by it.

“Or you felt what you wanted to feel. Instead of being stubborn again, you’d better get out from below that blanket and lie in a normal position. I know it may be shocking, but I’d prefer to have you next to me.”

Hiccup relaxed notably, undoubtedly content of her declaration. Astrid felt a gentle kiss pressed against her waist. She shook her head, amused.

“But I am next to you. To both of you.”

His voice was a lot softer now; there was a kind of languor in it, the feature that had appeared in his tone more and more often recently, independently from the news she’d shared with him just a day earlier. The warrior couldn’t deny that she liked being addressed in this manner – and she certainly wouldn’t say that his words had made no impression on her. However, as much as she loved his dorky-romantic answers, she wasn’t at all intending to undergo their charm.

Without much thinking, she grabbed the blanket’s edge once more and threw it off with a sudden move. Hiccup’s reaction was exactly what she hoped it to be.

“Arghh!” The Chief exclaimed, thrusting his face into her shirt. “Why is it always violence with you?”

“Nothing else seems to work.”

“But it’s cold! And the sun is blinding me!”

“Oh, you poor little thing.” She teased and sighed. “Do we really have to go through the same scenario every single morning?”

“All would be well, if you didn’t get up so awfully early.”

“All would be well, if you didn’t go to sleep so awfully late. Stop the sulking and come here. I want to see you properly at last.”

Hiccup murmured and reluctantly, he got up to his knees. In the same way as his wife had done before, he rubbed his closed eyes and then raised his eyelids, immediately fixing his gaze on the woman lying by his side. He smiled weakly.

Astrid gave him a dreadfully sceptical glare.

“Have you slept at all tonight?” She asked, carefully examining the bags under his eyes.

“Thank you, my love, you’re looking great, too.” Answered the Viking, laughing. “I didn’t get a wink. Did you really think I would?”

And, ignoring another of the girl’s snorts, he shifted towards the bedhead; then, he plunged on his back, as near to Astrid, as possible. He reached out his arm, inviting her to move even closer. She picked up his offer without hesitation, resting her cheek on his chest and covering them with the blanket she’d pulled away a moment earlier. Finally, everything was just how it should always be.

“I definitely prefer sharing the bed with you in this way.” She murmured, quietly.

“Does it really make a difference?”

“Let’s just say I got used to the thought that our heads are more or less at the same level.”

“Well, that would be a great argument, unless I weren’t taller than you.”

“I said more or less.”

“Still, that’s not very convincing.”

“Tough luck.”

“Oh, and by the way, my head isn’t oversized, thank you very much.”

“Your hair is, so it works out the same.”

“Ha, ha. Still doing that one?” Using his free arm, he tickled her mildly, joyfully noticing that his wife’s reaction for the gesture was as intense, as every other time. She found his hand at once and squeezed her thin, yet strong fingers on it. She frowned.

“Stop it. You know how I hate that.” She opposed, and wriggled her neck in a way that allowed her to look at him. “You really haven’t slept? Not even for a while?”

“No. But what is one night compared to everything we’ve been doing so far? It wasn’t the first, and certainly won’t be the last one. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I thought you were happy.”

“For Odin’s sake, Astrid, of course I’m happy. But have you ever heard that people have problems sleeping, because they’re too excited for something? Because they’re too happy to fall asleep? I spent the whole night imagining things, not able to focus on anything that wouldn’t be connected to you… to us. All of us. It’s impossible to just doze off in a situation like this. Plus-” He chuckled nervously. “I won’t lie, no matter how I love that ‘parenting idea’, I’m pretty much terrified.”

“You too?” Astrid smiled feebly.

“Absolutely. I guess I’ll need the help of all the known and unknown gods out there if don’t want to fail completely. But, for now… I’d rather focus on the more pleasant part.” He bent his head and kissed her hair. “The truth is, it has only been a night and I’m already unable to imagine our life changed to what it was before.”

“I’m glad you think so. And... it’s good to know I’m not the only one who’s afraid.”

Not giving Hiccup a chance to respond, she tightened her grasp on him, burying her forehead in his neck. She groaned when she remembered their talk would have to end – and how soon it would be.

“I don’t want to go there.” She mumbled wearily. “I don’t want that meeting. I’m good where I am.”

“Hey, did I just hear Astrid Hofferson trying to shirk from her duties?”

“You heard Astrid Haddock putting a morning with you above the endless skirmishes with the Council, who will – as always – find hundreds of reasons to decline my ideas, never mind how good they are. But you’re right, I shouldn’t be doing that. Thanks for reminding me of my priorities.”

As she had said that, she got up and smoothly turned to the edge of the massive furniture, ready to leave it at the same moment. Having this done, though, she felt the strong arms enfolding her from behind, making it impossible to follow her plan. Leaning backwards, she met resistance in the shape of Hiccup’s torso.

“It doesn’t mean you’re supposed to jump off the bed like that.” The man stated firmly. “It’s still terribly early, the sun has just risen.”

“Exactly. That means I have no more than half an hour left before everyone shows up in the Hall. I’m rather short of time, if you think about it.”

“Are you kidding me? Who would be meeting the Council at such an hour?”

“Let me guess… I would?” She turned her head and pecked him on the cheek. “That’s what I usually do.”

“You’re insane. It’s like assassinating your own common sense.”

“Well, it’s all your fault. I simply assumed you’d be sleeping at this time and I’d be free to sneak out, noticed by no one. Seriously, it’s impossible to get up when we’re both awake.”

“I wonder why.” He whispered right in her ear, just to kiss it at a following moment, not loosening his embrace a bit. He kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck. Astrid winced, feeling the itchiness on the delicate skin, but she didn’t protest. However, as soon as Hiccup’s mouth touched her chin, clearly aiming for her own lips, she moved away gently.

“I really must go. I can’t hope the Council will excuse my lateness if I give them such a poor explanation.”

“I’m sure they’ll be understanding. I’ll order them to be.”

“It doesn’t work like this.” She sighed, leaning on him. Hiccup’s hands found their way to her waist again. She covered them with her own immediately, resting her fingers of his rough skin. “Oh, not again. The ‘dad mode’ needs to wait.”

“As if I could turn it off.  I’m sorry, M’lady, it means too much for me to put it aside just like that.”

The warrior rolled her eyes.

“Aha. Here we go.”

“What do you mean?”

“You care. Before I know it, you’ll make me promise that I won't lift, train or even fly Stormfly. Now for your information, I have my own mind, and that’s why I’m going to ignore all of your bans. Just so you know.”

Hiccup frowned, not fully understanding the girl’s accusation. He shook his head in negative and, most seriously, he answered. “I would never dare to do so. I mean, I will obviously worry about you, just as I have until now – the only difference being that I’ll worry about two people instead of one. But I can’t imagine imposing any kind of bans on you, mostly because you wouldn’t follow my orders anyway.” He added more casually. He remained silent for a while, giving her time to interpret the news, simultaneously resting his head on her shoulder. “I just don’t want you to run away already.”

She seemed surprised by his little speech. She’d been ready for a fight, a dispute, ready to defend her statement; convinced, that she’d be forced to take part in a serious discussion, she’d had more than one argument prepared on her side. Yet, she was met by the trustful understanding. Again, she dipped her hand in the Viking’s dark, thick hair, smiling a lot softer that she’d used to do.

“I… Thank you, Hiccup. But, either way, I need to go. And you must let me do it.”

“And there’s no chance you’d change your mind?”

“Look, we still have a village to look after. Please allow me to remind you who’s the Chief on this island – and who’s their General. This is our job, Babe.”

“I am no Chief. And you are no General,” he protested. “Not as long as we’re both in bed.”

Astrid’s eyes flickered when the solution of their problem crossed her mind. Since Hiccup’s clasp had loosed significantly, she slipped out of his embrace and jumped onto the floor, not bothering to give him the slightest warning. The thick woollen covering was hauled after her.

She laughed, seeing the dumbfounded stare of the young Leader, who was gazing at her with puzzlement. Her success was total.

“General Hofferson, ready to get the job done!” She called out pluckily, as proud of herself as she could ever be. “Gods bless the Island!”

Hiccup was capable of doing nothing but sending her a disbelieving glare, while Astrid kept smiling, waiting patiently for his further reaction. He slapped his hand against his forehead and slowly shifted it all the way down to his chin; he collapsed on his back.

“Good Thor, Astrid. I truly believed it to be a serious relationship.”

She giggled, approaching him and knelt on the bed’s edge. She bent over him, pressing a light kiss on his lips – and moved back on her former place at once.

“A serious relationship?” She asked rhetorically. “With the two of us involved? That thing wouldn't live a day.”

[badly-drawn-piplup]

Healer Chapter Six

I made a terrible mistake. In the middle of my restless night, a rustling could be heard nearby. The others were asleep, save for a few keeping watch. That fact did not ease the dread I felt.

″Everything will be alright. That rustling could be anything. One of us, a creature, the wind, anything.″

I repeated those words to myself in the softest whisper I can muster, taking care not to wake up the soldier sleeping next to me. I closed my eyes. After mouthing the same assuring words, I tried to fall asleep.

With a jolt, I awoke. My chest ached from all the hyperventilating. The labored breathing, heaving forward and back. I witnessed a murder before my eyes. There was no tent, not anymore. I was in shadowed space, the environment shaping around me. Before long, I knew where I was: the temple I was held in years ago. My father standing before me in his suit of armor. He was no longer a soldier, but his stubborn nature refused to let him take it off.

″You should have healed me when you had the chance!″ He scowled, his voice the harshest bark I ever heard from him. Through his chest was a long blade, blood dripping from both the tip of the blade, the gaping hole in his chest, and his mouth. Yet his words were all the more clear.

Standing next to him were two demons, one of them held the blade that was pierced through my father, the other doing nothing. Nothing at all but standing there. In my eyes, that was a worse offense than being the killer.

″Say something! Do something! Why are you just standing there?″ I yelled to the demon.

My father raised his voice further, surrounding the halls.

″She can't heal me! You can!″

His anger, whether or not uncharacteristic, shook me to the core. I wanted to scream, cover my eyes and ears. My hands betrayed me; they didn't even try to reach out. My eyes, too, would not obey. They remained wide open, watching him stabbed. Over and over and over and –

″Hey?″ I heard, but not from any of the figures in the temple. The temple disappeared. Against my shoulder was someone's hand. I turned my head, all ready to hit whoever dared lay a hand on me.

It was the soldier who slept in the tent with me. My hand was raised in the air, but I managed to stop myself.

″Are you okay?″ She asked.

I lowered my hand and placed it against my chest. My breathing slowed back down. With a forced smile, I answered her.

″Yeah, it's just something that happens. Bad dreams. I'm used to it, though.″

″Aye. Not good for someone so young to be having.″

She laid back down and turned to the side, facing away from me.

I tried to lay back down as well. Worry struck me, however, when I heard the rustling outside grow louder.

I nudged her.

″How likely are we to be ambushed?″ I asked.

″We have people outside keeping watch,″ she grumbled, annoyed that I would even suggest such a thing.

We moved forward that morning. I stood in the back, surrounded by those poised with their shields. Birds flew out from forest clearings. Few things could be seen while my vision was obscured by these large figures and their weapons. Aside from the marching and the occasional birds flapping their wings and shaking the branches, there was scarce a sound.

So ill fitting, I thought. There should be trumpets. Some battle music. Something to get the blood flowing.

Blood was already flowing. Such thoughts were dense. They were terrible liars. It wasn't motivation that I needed; It was a distraction.

Screams shot forth.

″It begins!″ One of them yelled. Others yelled in response, charging into battle against an unknown foe. I recall hearing it was from our neighboring kingdom, but I had never seen our enemy in the flesh. They likely looked a little like us. Maybe a little different. This was a war. I had to tell myself that I would see people that in any other circumstances I might have befriended.

″Protect our healer!″ Rialthe called as I ran to the aid of the screech of a soldier who I could only assume was in pain.

When I ran, something pushed past the rows of soldiers and lunged forth. Metal hit my body, bruising my sides. Clouds of dirt formed, covering my back as I fell. I looked up to see what had hit me.

What I saw was not human, or at least not one that I was accustomed to; it wore bronze armor, something that must have belonged to the enemy kingdom, but the armor was all twisted up and some of it looked like it was lodged in its body. It looked less like it was wearing hard metal and more like tinfoil. Both the arms and legs of the creature were green, rotting flesh became apparent. Tendons hung out and were covered in small spikes. They looked more like thorns. The limbs themselves looked less like limbs and more of a series of vines, only held together by large chunks of meat.

The thing wore no helmet, having no need. It definitely had features of a human head, but it was so stretched out, as if to be a saggy lump of clay. Covering the face was a series of thorns, pock marks making up whatever the thorns didn't cover. The soldier, if I could even call it that, and not a monster, had eyes bulging out, and its jaw widened to such an effect that I was sure it would swallow me whole.

Was this it? Was I about to die before healing anyone on the battlefield?

Even if I could be relieved that I might no longer carry such a responsibility, I couldn't help but feel like my whole being was leaving my body as I went cold. Everything evaporated from me. I felt as if I would float over my body and see that it was not me, but a statue made to look like me, frozen in time.

Red bolts shot into the creature's side and back, knocking the creature off of me.

″God damn it!″ Rialthe shouted. ″What did I tell you guys?″

Good. She had my back. I looked over to her, the one who shot the arrows at the beast.

Her face was not all cheery like I had seen of her before. It said one thing and one thing only: move.

It started as a crawl, but I did not want to wait to see if that creature would move again. I went on all fours before picking myself up, hunched over, making hoarse breaths. When I saw the soldier that I wanted to help in the first place, I got to my knees. Both hands shook, and I could only use one to heal, the other covering my mouth. The sight of so many gashes and mangled flesh made me want to throw up on the spot. Swirling mixtures of red, purple, green, and brown made up a stew that my eyes refused to digest.

I closed them and pressed my free hand over each wound. An unpleasant squish could be felt, but I had to endure. Each wound closed and with each repair, I could feel what little strength I had leave me. When I opened my eyes, I saw the soldier pick himself back to his feat and charge back into battle. I let out a sigh of relief.

The scene played out with each soldier blocking the attack of these abominations and striking back with full force. Swords being shoved into skulls, heads ripped off and thrown off into the air. There's no sympathy to be had, I told myself. Those things simply aren't human.

I watched as one's arm transformed into a series of blades. There was no explanation I could give other than what it looked like: the blades never being created from the flesh but rather the flesh retracting to reveal the blades that lie within. All I could do was watch, at least during the period in which I saw said blades dig into the chest of one of the soldiers. The soldier turned around. I was unaware whether or not he saw me, but for a moment I was certain he had the face of my father.

I winced. It was playing out all over again. Was I just going to let this happen?

No. I won't.

But lightning must have struck me somewhere. My legs took a step back rather than a step forward. I tried looking away, but the images permeated. I don't know how I managed, but before I could compose myself I found my hand on the back of the soldier. I must have gone numb; tips of the blades caught the palm of my hand, scraping it.

There was still a pulse, I noticed, even after the creature drew the blades away. Using as much of my weight as I could, I held the soldier up and somehow found myself still able to heal the soldier. I had no time to be amazed at my own strength, as I was trying to support the both of us. He wheezed and coughed blood, but with an awkward swing, sliced the creature in half.

He wobbled to and fro. I leaped out of the way before he fell. Whether or not he would die after all, I could no longer muster a thought. I passed out beside the person I had saved.

Right before the battle, Rialthe caught me outside my tent. I was having cooked sausage in front of a campfire, something I wasn't used to eating. Not to say I didn't like it, it was delicious, but I had a feeling it would be an acquired taste.

″Beryle tells me you had trouble sleeping,″ she brought up.

″Oh, is that her name?″ I asked, seeing if I could change the subject. She wasn't swayed.

″Anything you would like to tell me?″

″Yeah,″ I mentioned. ″She snores!″

Rialthe laughed. ″That may be true, but you'll find all of us do.″

I didn't know how to take that information, but I sunk my head low. I didn't know how perceptive she was but I was telling lie after lie each encounter I had with her.

She sat down next to me and placed her hand on my back. I straightened up and scowled.

″What do you think you're doing?″

She let go. ″I'm sorry. You don't like being touched?″

″That's not it,″ I shook my head. ″But you're still a stranger and, and, and...it was so sudden!″

She chuckled. ″That's true. I apologize.″

I refused to change my tone. I just turned away from her, crossed my arms, and said ″good″.

She took a sip from her mug. Every now and then I would steal glances, to which she would smile and occasionally make a slurp, but otherwise stay silent.

I took a deep breath. I had trouble dealing with silence. She was still sitting next to me, so surely she had something more to say.

″I'm not sure how much use I can be...″ I spoke up.

She set her mug down on the ground and wiped her mouth.

″I'll be honest, we can go on without you.″

I lowered my head. Maybe that's something I wanted to hear, but it stung.

″With you by our side, we have a much greater chance of survival. Many of the soldiers that come to the infirmary are already close to death. Some of them already dead.″

She didn't have to tell me that. I worked there. I already knew.

″Even if you only heal one or two of us in the midst of battle, it's much better than what you were doing back at the castle,″ she added. ″But, we can go on without you. We have a medic on staff. We have bandages, anesthesia, and drugs.″

″So what you're saying is you can make do without me?″

″What I'm saying,″ she corrected. ″Is that your safety is just as important as ours. If you don't think you can handle this, I'll personally take you back to the castle, no questions asked.″

″Hey, didn't we have this conversation at least twice already? I already told you I'm in!″ I reassured her. Or myself.

″This time's different, kid. After everyone's ready, we'll be heading out. We want to be prepared against the enemy before they have a chance to strike us. If you don't want to leave now, we won't be able to bring you back for at least another few days.″

When she told me that, I should have let go of my pride and admitted that I wanted to go back.

I awoke in my sleeping bag right outside the bonfire circle where soldiers were huddled up. I don't recall any night terrors, but there was a hope that what I saw on the battlefield was one.

I rubbed my eyes and walked over. Rialthe noticed me heading toward the circle and got up.

″Hey, how are you feeling?″ She asked.

″Exhausted,″ I yawned.

″Oh yeah, I bet.″

We walked around while the others had their own conversations around the campfire. Despite the desert around us, we made our way into a small forest area where a pool of water lay. I undressed and made my way in. She dipped her feet, but stayed in the grass.

″This feels nice,″ I sighed. The water was still and warm.

Rialthe sat down. She sighed as well, but it conveyed the opposite feeling.

″We should have been more careful with you back there,″ she muttered.

″Huh?″

″You could have been seriously hurt,″ she raised her voice.

″Oh, well, I'm fine,″ I dismissed.

″Are you?″

I shook my head. I couldn't believe I was about to admit something. ″No. What were those things?″

″Mutations. Former soldiers infused with blood of demons.″

″Demons? I thought those didn't exist.″

″Weren't you around a few years back when the neighboring kingdom invaded with soldiers possessed by demons?″ She asked, but before I could speak up, stopped herself. ″No, I guess you probably didn't hear about that.″

″I might have heard some commotion, but wasn't sure what was going on.″

″That might be for the best. Things have really changed.″

She left me to myself. Moments passed and I watched the sun set. It wasn't until the sky turned darker that I heard someone running toward me.

Please don't be one of those demon mutations, I thought.

Rialthe entered the clearing.

″Don't mean to barge in, but one of our soldiers is dying!″ She panicked.

″Want me to try to heal them?″ I asked.

She shook her head. ″No. Just comfort her until it's her time.″

I wasn't much of a doctor or a nurse. My job may require me to be by someone's side in painful times, but I wasn't known for my bedside manner. Ann would have backed me up on that one and we weren't the type to agree on anything. I wonder what she was up to back at the castle. She must have been overjoyed when she found out I wasn't there.

″I'll see what I can do,″ I told her.

In the tent lay a woman in her 40s with purple hair and a ponytail off to one side. She was running a high fever, and I didn't recall seeing her in the midst of battle. I wasn't so sure what the big deal was.

″I can probably cure you of your fever...″ I muttered.

She coughed. ″Don't,″ she spoke, her voice hoarse.

″Why not?″

″I'm not what I used to be. Even without a fever, I've been sick for years now.″ Didn't she know that I could cure illnesses as well? I wasn't one to boast about my abilities, far from it seeing how limited I was, but she was just being stubborn.

″I can probably...″ I began, but she put a finger up to my mouth. I leaned back, not wanting her to touch me.

″I'm not fit for fighting. I will die tonight, the gods have already told me so.″

I wanted to sneer and say ″what gods?″ but I refrained myself.

″There is but one thing I want from you before I go,″ she groaned.

″What might that be?″

″I am survived by my son. Make sure no harm comes to him.″

He was probably back at the castle. If she was going to make this tent her death bed, by all means, I would humor her. ″Do you want me to go back and watch over him?″

″No...he ran off to a temple, not far from here.″

Oh, no. This is not what I signed up for.

″How do you know he's there?″

″I saw it in a dream. He believes there to be treasure there. Find him, make sure no harm comes to him.″

I walked out in a huff, not about to listen to another word. No way. There is no way I'm going back there.

Rialthe saw me storm out. ″How did it go?″

″She's gone. Nothing I can do,″ I responded through gritted teeth.