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ncssian · 5 years ago

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A Favor: Part Six

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: nsfw sort of?? barely

***

Cassian is going to kill Nesta.

He’s never met a woman so stubborn that she would rather throw herself under a bus than accept help from others.

“What happened to your rants about universal healthcare and redistributing wealth?” He gestures furiously between the two of them while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “I’m trying to redistribute the wealth!”

She scoffs from the passenger seat. “Nice try, comrade. I’m not letting you dangle your wallet over me while I live with you for free. It’s disgusting and manipulative.”

Cassian wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. “Why do you automatically assume I’m trying to manipulate you?” he says incredulously.

“You don’t get to pay for my things,” she snaps. “They’re mine.”

“I know you’re already broke from that MRI—”

“That’s none of your business.”

They pull up to one of the university buildings. “Oh, great argument.” Cassian brings the truck to a stop. “Are you gonna use that one in court?”

Nesta buttons her blue blazer and furiously grabs her things, not saying a word.

“What are you thinking now?” Cassian pokes, the hardness dissolved from his voice a little.

She shoves the passenger door open. “How much longer it’s going to take to get my car fucking fixed,” she bites, hopping out of the truck and slamming the door shut on Cassian’s face.

Clenching his jaw, he watches her walk sharply for the building, tension ratcheting her figure. Impossible woman.

She does look damn good in a pantsuit, though.

***

Nesta has to take deep breaths before she enters the mock courtroom, refusing to let Cassian get to her head right now.

It's not his offering to pay for her endometriosis treatment that pisses her off, but it's that he won't take no for an answer. She wishes he could just let her dig herself into a hole of debt and despair like millions of Americans already do every day. She wishes he wouldn't demand an explanation from her every time she screams and cries about getting her way.

Later. Her mind clears through an imaginary filter. You’ll deal with him later.

Now, she has a case to win.

Nesta strides into the courtroom with her file of documents and takes the speaker’s bench, her opponent already seated on the other side of the aisle. Emerie Nikolis is five feet nine inches of Mediterranean goddess, and the only student at Prythian Law who’s been able to challenge Nesta for her spot at the top of the class. Not that she’s succeeded.

Nesta’s never been up against another woman for a moot court, though, and it adds a buzz to her nerves. Men always come into the courtroom with too much confidence and not enough research, and from there Nesta can steadily dismantle their arguments until they’re left spluttering. From Emerie’s cutting hawk eyes, Nesta knows she doesn’t function like that.

As student judges file in and head for their seats, Nesta leans over and mutters to Emerie, “Good luck defending the side that represents everything morally corrupt with this country.”

Emerie brushes back her ponytail and smiles mockingly at Nesta. “You mean the side that powerful white men have chosen since the beginning of time? I won’t need luck.”

Nesta scowls at the panel of student judges. They are all white men.

“You’re lucky I enjoy a challenge,” she hisses, and sits back in her seat as they start calling oyez.

***

Cassian doesn’t mean to fall asleep.

He’s cleaning up around the house while Nesta is gone, and ends up finding a worn paperback trapped between the leather cushions of the couch. Pulling it out, he takes one look at the cover and nearly chokes. A half-undressed man graces the cover in regency-era clothes, his flowy shirt unbuttoned to reveal toned abs. A woman with golden curls clutches onto him passionately, only dressed in a corset and underskirt.

A slow smirk spreads over his face and he snickers. He didn't know people read these anymore. A glance at the back of the book proves his point: published in 1999, a true vintage piece.

Plopping onto the couch and laying back, he opens the paperback. If Nesta doesn't want him reading her books, she shouldn't leave them lying around the place.

Flipping to a random page, he frowns when it isn't a smut scene. Boring. He keeps flipping until he finds one, and props his feet onto the armrest to get comfortable. Now what exactly does Nesta Archeron get off to?

Over an hour and a hundred pages of surprisingly tender romance later, his aching eyes finally slip closed. The open book falls onto his face, and the scent of faded ink follows him into sleep.

Cassian is in a dim candle-lit room. Foiled wallpaper and overstuffed furniture decorates the space, and there, by the small window, she waits.

She turns her head to speak over her shoulder, “You came.”

“I did.” The line comes to him naturally.

Without turning around, her hands reach up for her hair. She starts removing pins from her updo, golden curls falling apart one by one. Once the last pin drops, she finally turns around.

Gleaming locks now frame her soft face and shoulders; her pale breasts rise and fall above the low curve of her thin nightgown. Under the candlelight, she looks freshly forged and porcelain-like at the same time.

“Could you help me?” Nesta says.

Cassian is stuck in his spot, unable to move. He's never seen Nesta like this: so heavenly, but so different.

“Cassian?” she asks again.

“Oh,” he stutters, “um— what do you need?”

She steps closer. “You.” His breathing stops. Nesta slips her slender hands up his arms, to his shoulders. She's holding him close. “I need you to tell me something.”

“Anything.”

Her breath fans over his face. “Do you want me?”

Cassian is very still.

“Do you want me like I want you, Cassian?” she repeats, pressing closer to him. He can feel her nipples through the wispy fabric of her gown.

“Yes,” he breathes shakily. He doesn't know which hurts more: wanting Nesta or being wanted by her.

“Have you been very lonely, Cassian?” She drags her hands back down his arms, finding his hands and placing them on her shoulders. “Is that why you like having me around so much, because you’ve been lonely?”

This Nesta knows him… a little too well. His breath hitches as his hands, directed by Nesta’s hands, slowly pushes down the sleeves of her nightgown. In a flash, the fabric has dropped to her waist, baring her unblemished chest and stomach. Before Cassian can even absorb what's happening, her arms are winding around his neck again, and now she's pressing entreating kisses into the crook of his neck.

“Tell me,” she mutters onto his skin. “Do I make you feel heard, or am I just a pretty face to you?”

“Nes—Nesta.” Cassian tries to swallow air.

She smells so good. She feels so good, and she's not even doing anything to him, just holding him.

“Heard,” he gasps when she goes for the buttons of his shirt, her mouth finding his chest. “You make me feel heard. I like it when we talk and you listen to me. Nobody listens to me.”

She pulls away from him, mouth shining. He just now realizes how jarring the gilded ringlets of her hair are.

“That’s so good,” Nesta purrs, reaching up to clasp his face. Her hands feel thin and rough, like paper. “You’re so good.” She reaches in, her lips chasing his, and—

Awareness seeps into the corners of Cassian’s reality, and his eyes peel open. He blinks between two different worlds until he finally realizes— it was a dream.

Of course it was a dream. Nesta doesn't have blonde hair or curls. And her skin isn't porcelain smooth, but dotted with freckles and moles. And yet, the arousal stirred in him is very much real, evident by the ache in his dick. Fuck.

A throat clears softly and Cassian jumps. The romance book is still on his face, he notices, and his world is darkened by the rough pages. Batting it away, confused, he fully awakens when he sees who’s in front of him.

She’s still in her pantsuit from this morning, but her hair is undone and her cheeks carry a rare flush. Her clothes are rumpled.

“Nesta.” He scrambles upright, painfully aware that he was just dreaming about her half-naked. He carefully arranges his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between his legs. “You’re back,” he says casually. Taking notice of the blackness outside the windows, he becomes concerned. “You’ve been out this whole time? Oh God, I was supposed to pick you up—”

“No, no,” she says quickly. “Didn’t you see my texts? I went out with some people from moot court.”

Cassian widens his eyes. He’s never heard her mention any friends from school, much less leave the cabin to hang out with other people.

“I totally kicked this girl’s ass in the Title IX case I was telling you about,” Nesta goes on, “and she wanted to take me out for afternoon drinks, and some other guys ended up tagging along too…” She twists a piece of hair around her finger, the experience sounding as brand new to her as Cassian suspects it is. “And yeah, then she got me a cab.”

He raises a brow and leans back. “You willingly let someone else pay for you? Wow, you really are drunk.”

The smile blossoming on her mouth drops and the cold veneer returns. “So you go through my stuff while I’m gone?” she scolds. “How many times are we going to have the boundaries conversation?”

Cassian picks up the paperback still on the couch. “Oh, this? This was just a little light reading. You know, since I share my Netflix and Prime with you, I figured you could share your period-piece smut with me.” He fans through the pages, trying to find the spot he left off on. “I didn’t even know people read physical romance books anymore. That’s like me keeping VHS tapes of porn instead of using my phone.”

Nesta stomps over and snatches the book out of his hands. “It’s not like I enjoy owning books with ugly covers,” she hisses. “I get headaches reading e-books. And this is a classic.” She carefully wipes at the cover as if Cassian got dirt all over it.

Cassian tries to snatch it back. “I wasn’t done with it,” he grits. “Nesta, give it back.”

“I’m glad we brought up boundaries,” she says instead. “Because we need to talk about this morning.” Shoving the book into her pants waistband, she peels off her blazer and takes a seat on the coffee table in front of Cassian.

Cassian blinks, gripped by the authority in her movements. Nesta pokes a finger at his chest. “What you said bothered me all day. Nearly ruined my night. So I’m telling you now, I’m not taking your money for anything, ever. And if you bring up the topic again, I’m moving out.” She sounds dead serious.

He’s not afraid of her. “I’m bringing up the topic now,” he pushes back, his tone hard. “As someone who considers you a friend, I don’t like to see my friends struggling.”

Nesta blinks, and maybe finally accepts that she can’t fight her way out of this, because she drops her finger. “I can’t be financially dependent on a man, Cassian,” she admits, refusing to look away from him. “I’ve done it before, and it’s no way to live life. I don’t care how nice you are; I’m not taking your money. And you can’t make me.” She doesn’t shout or hiss that last part. It’s said with a quiet strength, and it makes Cassian want to concede everything. If this is about her ex-boyfriend, then he doesn’t want to be anything like him.

But it doesn’t change the fact that her health is still on the line. “What if you don’t take my money?” he says quickly. “What if I make you work for it?”

Law school doesn’t allow for part-time jobs on the side, and Nesta’s been scraping by with scholarships and leftover money from her father’s will. The suffering is worth it now, she told Cassian once, if she’s at a law firm the year after next with a starting salary of 100K.

Nesta purses her lips, skeptical. “What kind of work?”

“You can be a legal consultant for Night Court.”

“Do I look qualified to be a legal consultant?” She’s glaring now.

“Well, it’s either that or you get to be my personal assistant.” Nesta looks even more outraged at that, and Cassian holds up his hands. “I respect your need to stay independent,” he says, “but you can’t convince me that a handout or two is worse than going broke.” Cassian himself would be dead right now without all the handouts he got over the course of his life. “Please, Nesta,” he says quietly. “Think about it for me. And if you still hate it, I’ll never bother you about it again.” Even though it would kill him.

Nesta stares at him, the gears in her brain visibly turning. Finally— “Rhysand’s company does run on handouts anyway,” she mutters, glancing away. “What’s one more?”

Before Cassian can drop to his knees and thank her, she whips her head back to him. “But I want to do real work, Cassian. Not the pretense of work while I get a fat paycheck.”

He bursts into a grin and grabs her arms. “I’m gonna work you so hard.” He kisses her hard on the cheek.

Nesta makes a choking noise and starts coughing, and Cassian realizes how that sounded. “Did I say something wrong?” he plays innocent.

Nesta’s face is red for reasons other than alcohol now, but she covers it up by shoving Cassian hard enough to send him into the couch cushions. “Asshole.” She pulls her book out of her waistband and throws it at Cassian’s chest. “Have your romance back, I’m going to bed.”

“Hey— wait, it's six p.m. What about the puzzle?” he calls after her. She ignores him and keeps walking.

“Fine,” he says to her back, “but don't go to sleep with your contacts in again; you're gonna hurt yourself.”

As she reaches the stairs, he adds, “I’m proud of you for the moot court, by the way. I’m telling everybody you're the smartest person I know.”

Nesta pauses briefly at that, before saying, “Goodnight, Cassian,” and continuing up to her room.

Later that night, Cassian does want to tell everybody that Nesta is the smartest person he knows. She's the smartest, coolest, and wittiest person he knows, full stop, with killer looks and a criminally underrated personality. But something is holding him back from sharing his feelings with the rest of the world.

It's the same feeling that's had him avoiding Feyre these last few weeks. The unspoken knowledge that not everybody sees Nesta the way Cassian does, paired with the fierce desire to protect her from any sort of criticism.

He doesn't have any definitive proof to justify his feelings, but he knows he can't stop thinking about Nesta. He knows his friends will take notice of the change in his behavior eventually, so in a fit of restlessness, he reaches for his phone to test a theory.

Scrolling through his contacts, Cassian eventually settles on Mor. She's close to Feyre and Cassian both, has an inclination to gossip, and she’s never interacted with Nesta. Perfect.

Cassian: what do you think of Nesta?

He's straightforward with her the way he always is, the way she always is with him.

Mor answers quickly without question: didn’t she let feyre work her ass off at age 14 while she sat around and did nothing?

Mor: she sounds like a bitch and i have yet to see anything to the contrary.

Mor: she has very nice eyes though

Mor: if u know what i mean ( . )( . )

Cassian wishes he hadn’t even asked. He doesn’t even know how to reply to that, so he’s about to turn his phone off when another message from Mor comes in.

Mor: why do you ask? how are things going with you two?

Cassian sighs deeply, not in the mood to start a fight with one of his best friends. He never told Feyre about taking Nesta to the doctor, or the following MRI and diagnosis. The last time he had a real conversation with Feyre was the first night of Nesta’s period, when he was worried sick over how to take care of her.

“What should I do, Feyre? She's crying herself sick upstairs and all I have is this stupid hot towel.”

“You don't have to do that,” she sighed tiredly over the phone. “Nesta goes through this every month. She’ll survive. Don’t get yourself worked up over nothing.”

That was when he decided he was calling a doctor no matter what.

And now… He’s confused and upset and he doesn't know why. Instead of arguing with Mor, he texts back, it’s nothing. A second later, he adds, but she's not a bitch.

He wants to say more, but texting Mor an essay on why she’s wrong for judging Nesta without knowing her would make him look crazy, among other things. He doesn’t know why he has to clarify that Nesta isn’t a bitch in the first place.

Either way, Cassian’s theory was proven correct.

He decides not to mention Nesta to his friends anymore.

***

Nesta lays in bed, thinking about the absolute day she’s had.

If getting drunk with Emerie Nikolis and Eris Vanserra at two in the afternoon wasn’t enough, stumbling back home to find Cassian like that finished her off for good. Her cheek has been tingling for hours.

She remembers how this housing agreement between them first started: I need you to know you can enforce whatever rules and boundaries you want while you’re here.

Nesta huffs a laugh. Boundaries are for strangers. Cassian seems content to poke and tug at Nesta’s boundaries whenever he wants, and Nesta… is okay with this. A mere month ago, this would have been her worst nightmare— living with a man who pushes her on every decision, who never does what she wants but somehow always knows what she needs.

But now they're friends, and Nesta is slowly learning that the rules are different with friends. Not everything has to be spelled out, because Cassian will understand what she's trying to say anyway. Not everything that is unknown has to be scary, because Cassian is never scary.

He’s allowed to read her books because he won’t make fun of them. He's allowed to know about her personal health matters because he won’t tell anybody else. And apparently, he’s allowed to give her a job so she doesn’t go broke trying to afford endo treatment.

These are the new rules.

She’s ridiculously glad that she told Lorene she won’t be coming back to the apartment for a few weeks. She doesn't know what she'll do after then, but for now she is okay.

***

a/n: hello i love writing cassian pov and learning more about him so much :) also thinking about having cassian call nesta 'baby' when they get together more often than 'sweetheart' just bc i think it would be a good look on him. pls share ur opinion.

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies

#a favor #ncssianwrites #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fic #nessian au

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nonagesimus · 4 years ago

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(Fic) if you think it’s love (it is) - Sastiel ~2.5k

(AO3 Link)

Sam decides it’s time Cas finally gets that date. Happy Valentine’s Day, sastielers!

It was three days after the grace-extracting experiment. They had been quiet. Researching, looking for cases. Sam had calmed after the spell failed - for about a day. Since then Castiel had caught him staring in quiet moments, hovering over books with his gaze in middle distance instead of on the pages, chewing his fingernails. When he’d asked was was bothering him, Sam had said nothing. So, he waited. If Sam wanted to tell him something, he would. Eventually. Apparently three days was that eventually.

“I- I’m sorry if this is weird,” was an auspicious start, as he stepped into the library, but Castiel just waited for him to continue. “Dean told me - just mentioned, really - that while you were human you had kind of a… date that wasn’t.”

Which, yes, it probably was a little weird. Castiel was still unsure of what social cues he’d missed or ignored in that particular situation. But none of that was Sam’s fault. “I did,” he confirmed, neutrally.

“So, did you ever get a date?” Sam seemed to be very focused on carefully placing his coffee mug on the table without spilling anything. “A real one?”

“No,” Castiel said. “I think I’m ok without one, though.”

“No!” Sam’s voice came out a little strangled. “No, you- let me take you out.”

Castiel took his attention completely off the book he’d been scanning to fix his gaze to Sam, who at least had looked up at him now. Wide-eyed and a little paler than normal. “You want to take me on a date?”

That made Sam’s gaze skitter back to the table. “I just feel like you should have one.”

Castiel’s instinct was to push. Past the nerves, and the averted eyes, and the skip he could hear in Sam’s heartbeat. If he pushed, he thought, that might make Sam back off. “Ok,” he said, instead.

“Ok?” The word seemed like it rushed out of Sam’s chest involuntarily, breathy and relieved. “Ok. Great. Would- uh. How about the day after tomorrow?”

It wasn’t like Castiel had plans.

If he had, he would’ve cancelled them.

“How do I know you know what you’re talking about?” he asked Sam the next day, while he was watching him eat breakfast. “What’s the best date you’ve ever been on?”

Sam, to his surprise, flushed a little. “Ok, uh. There was this date I went on at Stanford. And- so you gotta understand it’s like a six hour drive from Palo Alto to LA,” he said, smile already curling the corners of his lips. “And Jess said she wanted to make a trip down, and I wasn’t sure. Twelve hours in a car is a long time, unless we wanted to get a motel or somewhere down there, but she was really into the idea, so… We go. We’d been together, like. Six months? I think.” His eyes had softened, looking into his memories. “Turns out she wanted to drag me to this bookstore she’d gone to with her family. They’d visited her Freshman year, taken a trip down to see the sights and…” He trailed off.

“And?” Castiel prompted.

“It’s called The Last Bookstore,” Sam said, focusing in on Castiel again. “It’s this huge place downtown. Bottoms floor is new books, top floor is all secondhand. Themed rooms, art features, the lot.”

“Sounds like your kind of place,” Castiel said.

“It was,” Sam said. His smile went distant again. “It took me an hour to realise that Jess liked it, sure, she thought it was a great bookstore. But it wasn’t six-hour-drive worth it to her. She just knew it would be to me.”

Castiel nodded, considering it. “That does sound nice.”

“We were so tired driving back I almost crashed the car,” Sam said. “But yeah.”

The next day, to Castiel’s surprise, they started early. Sam drove, did not tell Castiel where they were going. He’d packed a backpack, and didn’t protest when Castiel inspected it - it contained food. sandwiches, fruit, and carrot sticks, a thermos of coffee. Enough for Sam for the day.

“I’m guessing we’ll be out for a while,” he said, zipping it back up.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Unless- if you’re not having a good time just tell me. We can always go back.”

“You’re the one who wanted to take me out, Sam,” Castiel said, calmly. “I’m trusting you to do it.”

But Sam was nervous. Clear in the tension of his hands on the steering wheel, the set of his jaw. That, more than anything else, contributed to a quiet drive. Not uncomfortably - Sam had spent enough of his life on long car rides, and Castiel had certainly learned to bear them since he lost his wings. Sam took occasional sips from the thermos, they listened to local radio stations fade in and out, and watched the Kansas greenery go by. Until, a little before ten in the morning, Sam guided him into a small museum surrounded by short hiking trails.

And it was guided - Sam kept opening doors for him, kept hovering his hand near Castiel’s lower back, watching him out of the corner of his eye. They made it through three rooms - full of life-size dioramas, and informative placards, and really big rocks - before they spoke.

It wasn’t that it wasn’t interesting. A level of information the hovered in-between the levels that Castiel did know - the macro of heaven and the extreme micro of the world he now lived in with the Winchesters. As well as the displays, he watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. He had wondered if he’d linger close the whole time, that hand near the small of his back, a steady presence at his side. But, no, Sam orbits. Sometimes looking at the same displays as Castiel, sometimes across the room. Always aware of him, it seemed.

“So,” Castiel said the next time they felt themselves side by side, looking at a series of miniature log cabins, each in different stages of completion. “If this is supposed to be a bookshop moment, like Jess gave you, why here?”

Sam worried at his lip, cheeks a little flushed. “I don’t know if this is that special, but - and do correct me if I’m wrong, but I hope I’m not - you’ve experienced so much of history from the outside. Just through heaven’s point of view. And then you came down, and you fought with us, and you stayed with us. It made me think you might be a little interested in seeing more things from our perspective.”

“Oh.” Because of course models and dioramas were not just models and dioramas.

“Besides,” Sam said, with a little more confidence. “After the whole molecules discussion it was pretty obvious dinner was a bad idea.” He flashed a quick grin.

Castiel wished he’d brought a flower, like he had when he’d been wrong about it. For some reason it felt like it might’ve jinxed it. Was that a holdover from being human or just from spending so much time with the humans he was with? The same result either way.

Two hours had gone by, spent in equal contemplation of the exhibits and the man who had brought him to see them, when Sam suggested they head back to the car.

“The museum is open until five,” Castiel pointed out.

“We’ve got a location two,” Sam said, “And they close at five as well. We leave now we’ll have a couple of hours once we get there.”

Another three-ish hour drive then. “Using all your ideas on one day?” Castiel asked, moving with Sam towards the exit regardless. “There’s time.”

Sam laughed. “When have you known us to have this many days off in a row?”

It was true. Not just in the always-an-impending-catastrophe way, either. Castiel had been able to tell there was energy building up in Sam when they were in the bunker. That he was healing, but that also meant that a growing part of him was yearning to work again. Maybe planning this had partially been a way to burn off some of that.

Sam pulled open the passenger side door for him.

The set out again. Sam ate some of the food he’d packed for himself one handed - Castiel busied himself helping open and close containers, pouring from the thermos. Watching Sam drive. A shorter drive, but only slightly.

“This is,” Sam said, guiding Castiel towards the entrance, “The Cosmosphere.”

This one - this one Castiel liked better. There was something endearing, something comforting, something familiar about how hard humans strived for flight. And he understood, now, the lack of it. This was something that was too often missed, in heaven. They’d watched humanity grow, obviously, but they ignored how much of it had been under their own power. That the ‘hairless apes’ had taken stone, and steel, and fire, and built themselves wings.

He was staring up an a model of Saturn V when he noticed how closely Sam was watching him.

There was anxiety in his eyes, but also a fondness. A warmth.

Castiel’s chest was warm, too.

They lingered right up until closing time, walking so close as they left that it was easy for Castiel to brush their shoulders together, watch Sam duck his head and smile.

And he’d known. He’d known, as soon as he heard the way Sam’s heart skipped when he’d asked if he could take him out, at every door he’d opened, how he’d been watching Castiel closer than any of the exhibits. Sam opened the door of the car for him again, and Castiel stopped to grip his arm, feel it solid and warm under his palm.

“Thank you for this, Sam,” he said.

Sam’s answering smile was bright, and open, and felt a little like sunshine. “There’s, uh. There’s one more thing. If you want to do it.”

Castiel tilted his head. “Oh?”

“Suns gonna be down in about an hour,” Sam said. “I thought… If you wanted to I thought we could stop and stargaze for a while.”

It sounded romantic.

It was cold, in the December air, but Sam had managed to stow blankets in the car without Castiel noticing. He draped one over the hood, and piled the others on top of them. He didn’t feel the cold, not like Sam did, but the blankets were an excuse to sit closer that completely necessary. Shoulders pressed in together. One ankle thrown over one of Sam’s. They talked, a little. Mostly they stared up at the sky. Sam finished the lukewarm coffee left in the thermos. Castiel listened to him breath, to the beat of his heart.

After a long time, Sam made a slightly apologetic noise, sliding off the hood of the car. “This isn’t great date talk, he said, “but we should get going, and I really need to take a leak before we drive home.” Then he tramped off into the undergrowth off the side of the road.

There weren’t any roses nearby, but Castiel could smell wildflowers still somehow hanging on in the cold. Quietly, he made his way into the dark to pick one, carefully selecting a bloom that had no crushed petals, wasn’t too close to wilting. A brief thought to Dean’s advice, and he removed his tie, opened an extra button on his shirt.

It felt a little ridiculous but when they got inside the car, and the interior light turned on, Sam’s eyes flickered down to the newly exposed skin.

Castiel held out the flower towards him.

Sam took it, hand soft and reverant, grin blooming on his face. “What’s this?”

“For you,” Castiel said. “You took me out, the least I could do is get flowers.”

Sam flushed, gently tucked the flower into one of the buttonholes in his shirt. “Thanks,” he said, so soft it was almost whispered.

They drove.

Sam was clearly exhausted by the time they got back to the bunker, yawning so wide his jaw cracked and then looking shame-faced. “Sorry,” he said.

“Hm,” Castiel said. “Maybe next time it could be one trip out per date, not a marathon.”

He cracked a grin at that. And, after all this time, it was nice to see an exhaustion that felt pleased. Satisfied, not just harrowed. “I’ll keep that in mind, Cas.”

“So.” Castiel paused at the corridor that lead towards the bedrooms, turned to face Sam. Wondered if he should be pushing this far. “There’s a proper way to end a good date, correct?”

Sam’s eyes flickered instantly to Castiel’s lips, which made him feel unaccountably pleased. “That’s ok, Cas,” he said, instead of leaning in. “That’s- that’s more for proper dates, not. This.”

So there was the line. Driving a total of nine hours across Kansas, carefully selected locations that he’d thought Cas would like, sitting shoulders pressed together on the hood of the car. Standing right up against it, but Sam had drawn a line, and this was it.

“This meant something to you,” Castiel said, stepping one foot over. “More than just doing something nice for me.”

“Cas,” Sam said, shaking his head, gaze down, self-deprecating smile. “You don’t have to-“

“I would like it,” Castiel interrupted, stepping closer, second foot over the line, and taking Sam’s hand, “If you let it mean something to me too.”

Sam’s eyes met his, expression disbelieving, almost scared. But he didn’t pull away, didn’t shift as Cas leaned closer. Not all the way. He was sure, he was so sure but- but if he was wrong.

He wasn’t wrong. Sam, breath unsteady, hand tightening around Castiel’s, closed the last of the distance. As kisses went it was gentle. Chaste. All too brief. As Sam drew back a noise of protest slipped out of Castiel’s throat involuntarily; he shifted with him. Sam’s free hand moved to his jaw, guided him into a second kiss, slower and deeper, and that, that was what Castiel wanted. He let his hand splay at Sam’s lower back, drew him in closer, opened his mouth so they could taste each other.

They broke apart eventually, Sam’s thumb stroking up and down the side of Castiel’s hand.

“So,” Castiel said, “Next time, I’m taking you out. Give me some time to plan it.”

Sam ducked his head, but not far enough Castiel couldn’t see his smile. “Ok.”

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he said. “If that’s alright.”

Sam’s smile brightened, and leaned in to meet him.

#supernatual #sastiel #samcas #sam winchester #castiel #sastiel fic #samcas fic #my fic

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aibari · 4 years ago

Text

safe returns

a @destielsecretsanta2020 gift for @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

notes: this fic is set after the s15 finale. there’s a bit of canon-typical grief at the start, but this is a fix-it fic :)

read on ao3

Afterwards, the world knits itself back together slowly, like broken bones healing. People come back to their loved ones, but not all at once, filing in gradually. Dean guesses they've had a long way to go. Wherever the hell they went, when Chuck had punted them out of existence.

So it's a slow and gradual thing, and it sucks. He catches himself out constantly, thinking that maybe -

And then Sam will give him a concerned look, so understanding and careful it makes him feel like he's been skinned alive.

And he knows by now what that feels like.

Anyway, the point is that while people are still coming back, he can't quite let go of the thought that Cas might, too. Even if he's in the Empty. Even if it's dumb as hell to think that it could ever -

So. The thought sits in his chest like a tumor metastasizing, like a rusty fishhook, like a birdcage. Hope is a thing with feathers, or however the fuck that saying goes.

He can't think about it for too long. If he does, he starts needing a drink, starts to feel his jaw lock up. Can't touch it, or he'll slice his fingers open.

So instead of thinking about it, he joins a pie eating competition. Goes on a series of hunts with Sam that all resolve easy. Drinks beer and sleeps in motels and eats greasy diner food, and it's familiar in a way that's both familiar and deeply fucking depressing if he lets himself think about it. He's forty-one, he's helped defeat God, and he's still doing this shit? Does he even know how to be anything else? Does he have it in him?

Six months after the end of Chuck, the stream of people showing back up slows to a trickle and then dries up. Dean takes his fragile hope and buries it as deep as it will go.

So it goes.

He dreams about Cas, which is business as usual. Dreams with Cas used to mean something, and maybe that something was covert fraternization and angel politics, most of the time, but it was Cas. Now it's just trauma. Dean sits on their bench, and Cas sits next to him, and Cas says:

Because you cared, I cared.

And Dean says:

Don’t do this, Cas.

And then he starts to choke, words and letters pushing up against the back of his throat like yesterday's dinner.

Cas is still talking, words fading in and out like a radio with bad reception, and his hand rests heavy on Dean's arm, and he says:

"Dean."

And then Dean wakes up, gasping, staring up at the water-stained motel room ceiling.

The handprint on his shoulder burns.

He stumbles into the bathroom to splash water on his face and then stands there, hands clutching the edges of the sink, staring blankly at his own reflection.

There's a pull in his chest, tethered somewhere under his ribs.

He takes a deep breath, and then another.

Then he wakes up Sam, who groans and then squints at him in the half-dark of the room. The light of the neon sign outside paints a violet streak across his cheek.

“Dean, what -?” Sam says. “What’s going on, what time is it?”

“Don’t worry your sweet little head about it, Sammy,” Dean says. “Just got a little something to take care of, so I’m heading out.”

Sam frowns at him. “What do you mean, out?”

“What are you, some kind of detective?”

“Dean,” Sam says, with the kind of heavy, long-suffering bitchiness that means he’s gonna get passive aggressive about it.

Dean doesn’t have that kind of time. “I’m going to Minnesota and I’m gonna have to go there alone.”

Sam opens his mouth to say something.

“Don’t say anything, Sam,” Dean grits out.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Sam says, like a liar.

Dean rolls his eyes at him and starts packing. It takes about a minute; it’s not like any of them ever really unpack.

There’s a joke in there, somewhere, Dean thinks, jaw clenching despite himself.

“Dean,” Sam says from behind him. Dean freezes in the middle of stuffing a t-shirt into the bag, unable to turn around and look at him.

“What,” he asks, stiff like set concrete.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” Sam says, like he has his own ideas about where Dean is going. “Promise me, alright?”

“Sure,” Dean says. It’s a like, but he’s pretty sure they both know it.

It’s not like he even knows where he’s going, exactly.

He doesn’t even know what he’s going there for. He just knows that he has to.

He finishes packing and they say their goodbyes. Sam bitches about it when he takes the impala, but Eileen will be coming up later in the day to discuss some kind of hunt developments. Sam will be fine.

Whether or not Dean will be fine might be a different question.

He’ll figure it out.

He takes the I-35 up through Illinois and Iowa, barely stopping to take a piss. The burn of the handprint has settled into something gentler, but it still throbs in a telltale heart rhythm. He thinks about Cas, at the end, standing tall and telling Dean that he loved him.

It makes his jaw go tight.

He turns up the music. It’s Creedence, and he sings along as hard as he can stand, white-knuckling the wheel.

“That’s real healthy,” he murmurs to himself in the space between songs, but it does help to have something in the car that isn’t his own thoughts, his own fuck-ups and messes.

The closer he gets to Minnesota, the stronger the pull gets.

He’s playing with fire, not doing the research and going in solo like this. Whatever’s pulling at him could be freaking anything.

But it won’t be.

He knows that for sure, even if he doesn’t know exactly what it is.

He just has a feeling.

After he crosses state lines the final time, rolling on into Minnesota, he stops at a diner for dinner. He gets a burger and fries, and by this point he is so full of whatever thing is pulling him forward it’s hard to stop moving. His ribcage feels like it’s full of bees.

He keeps thinking about Cas.

“This is you, isn’t it,” he murmurs. “Whatever’s happening here. It’s about you.”

No-one answers him, but he’s used to that by now.

He can fill a silence like nobody’s business, so he launches into a rambling review of the music on the regional radio station, (bland enough to give Wonderbread a run for its money,) the scenery (cold and snowy), and the present company (non-existent; please, Cas, come back to me).

The waitress keeps looking at him funny. When he goes to leave, she won’t let him pay. For a second, he thinks she might be interested, but then she gives him a soft, sad look and tells him about how her partner had taken months longer than her to come back, and that she understands what he’s going through, that he shouldn’t give up hope, and then he has to go.

He sits in the parking lot for a while, hands on the steering wheel, wishing he’d paid more attention to the mindfulness kick Sam’s been on for the past month.

He can’t stop thinking about the look on Cas’ face, right before -

Fuck.

If he were in any other car, he’d be punching the dashboard.

He turns up the music again instead, and wipes his face, and gets back to driving.

So it goes.

He stops at a motel by the interstate and stumbles out the morning after to a bright winter’s day. The sky is blue enough that he has to squint against it; the snow crunches under his boots. With every breath, the cold air knifes down his throat.

He follows the pull of his invisible line.

The forest is quiet. The snow muffles all sound but the crunch of his boots, which reverberate like gunshots. Dean makes a quick mental inventory of Minnesota monsters. He’s unprepared for most of them; if any of them show up, or if this is a trap, he’ll be up shit creek. He’d probably deserve it, too, coming here like this.

He walks for hours, pulled forward, chest sweetly aching and handprint throbbing to the beat of his own heart.

By the time he reaches the field, he’s almost lost track of time.

It’s just a large, empty space. If it hadn’t been covered in snow in the middle of winter, it’d make a sweet concert space.

There’s no-one else here, but -

(something in his chest wrenches)

-then there is.

A man in a trenchcoat stumbles into the clearing, and Dean knows him. He knows him, with a bright and certain rush of heat that leaves him breathless.

“Cas!” he yells, and hears the answering, “Dean!” and then he’s running and laughing and tearing up at the same time. He’s a mess, but he can’t help it, couldn’t stop it if he tried. They meet in the middle and it’s like a scene from Love freaking Actually, hugging each other tightly and spinning each other around. Cas smells like petrichor and ozone and day-old sweat. The stitching on his coat is rough and reassuring under Dean’s fingers. He never wants to let him go.

“Thank you,” Cas says, serious as a freshly dug grave, “for meeting me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, buddy,” Dean says. Then he leans back a little to look Cas properly in the eye. “Cas,” he says. “Earlier. I said the wrong thing.”

Cas gives him an expectant look. His hands are fisting into Dean’s coat. “What did you want to say, Dean?”

The way he says his name makes Dean shudder. He swallows thickly. “I. Back when you - I said don’t do this, but what I should have said was - me too, Cas.”

Cas tilts his head slightly to the side, like he’s confused by something. Dean had almost forgotten what shade of blue they were.

“What?” Dean asks, as softly as he can, which isn’t much. He’s not good at this. Not with Cas. Not yet, but hopefully - if he dares to hope - hopefully soon.

“You don’t have to humor me, Dean,” Cas says, stiffer than a freaking fridge magnet in a freezer. “I know I’m not what you -”

And Dean can’t stand hearing him finish that sentence, can’t stand not having them be on the same page.

“Alright, fuck this,” he says, and pulls Cas down into a kiss.

#supernatural #i write stuff #writing the first half of this felt like being mildly posessed #destiel #deancas

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too-much-sunshine · 4 years ago

Text

Fangs for the Hospitality

Chapter 7

Fic Summary: After Roman leaves his family reunion mad at Remus, his car breaks down. The huge snow storm forces him into the forest hes always been told to stay away from. Who will he meet? And why are they being so nice? Most importantly, why are his teeth so sharp?

A/N: I’m so very sorry this chapter took so long to come out…Life happens my guys gals and nonbinary pals.... Ill try and be better!

Relationship: Familial DAM, Eventual Roceit, Eventual Intrulogical

Warnings (per chapter): Roman has social anxiety, he is awkward, food (Let me know if anything else!)

Catch up!: Master list, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Word Count: 2546

Read on AO3!

Patton and Virgil finished their food first; Patton grabbing both their plates from the table and bringing them into the kitchen. Little Virgil hurried off his chair to follow after him.

Roman watched the two go with a small smile. He remembers how he and his brother used to be that close.

Flinching slightly remembering the newest memory he has of his brother, he looked down and away from the boys. He ended up staring at his plate which he had only half eaten. He was starting not to feel as hungry anymore.

“Eat up dear, we have a big day in front of us." Janus chimed in.

Roman jumped slightly and looked up to the man who spoke. Janus picked up his wine glass and took a drink. Roman just now realized that Janus never had a plate of food to begin with.

"Aren't you going to eat something too?" He enquired.

"Oh no I've already eaten. Before I fixed you guys' breakfast to make sure it all went smoothly." Janus smiled, taking another sip.

"Oh...alright.." Roman looked back down frowning at his food. He felt dumb for asking, even though it wasnt an ovious answer. His stomach was turning a bit pushing the food around. He didn't want to seem wasteful or ungrateful, but he knew that his anxiety wouldn't let him finish what he had. Luckily the decision on what to do was made for him.

An arm came around Roman and picked up his plate for him. Startled, Roman looked behind himself to see Janus standing there holding Romans plate. He was so quiet Roman didn't even realise he had gotten up.

"It's okay if you don't want the rest, sweetheart. You seem to have been through a lot."

Blushing slightly Roman just nodded his head, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah sorry...I'm just not..okay right now." He responded weakly.

"Let's clean up a bit and I'll send the kids to play. Then we can talk a bit." Janus said over his shoulder while walking Roman's plate to the kitchen.

Roman didn't respond since it didn't sound like a question. He just crossed his arms and laid his head on the table. 'This is going to be tough…' he thought as Janus came back into the room with Virgil on hip.

~~~

Remus woke up with a startle, which was quite usual. He didn't ever really sleep that well. Constant nightmares and his lanky figure made it impossible to ever get comfortable anyway.

It also didn't help that Remy just poured a glass of cold water on his head.

"What the fuck!?" Remus shouted jumping up from the couch he was on, shivering as water dripped down his spine. Wait, couch?

"Bitch. Wake up." He said monotone. "You were like. Twitching and shit. Not a good look."

"Yeah, thanks. I'm sure there was no better way to wake me up.” Remus pulled his shirt over his head and squeezed out as much water as he could. There wasn't much there, but it was a statement. Remy looked at Remus with disgust as he put his shirt back on.

“Remind me where am I again? What time is it? It's not the first time I've woken up in a random apartment but it's been a while. Much less with my cousin...wrong state for that I believe..." He rambled, pushing his wet hair out of his face. He looked around for his phone while Remy went around the back on the couch to the kitchen area.

"First of all, disgusting. Never say that to me again. And second, Its around 6am. Which is usually too god damn early for anyone. But, you're lucky I like you and Roman." He said, grabbing a mug from the dark wood cabinet. "Oh also you are in my apartment so dont fuck shit up please."

Remus lifted his head from looking under the couch. He tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, blinking around the room. He stood up and walked around a the table to the center of the room to see pretty much everything there is.

"Your apartment? I thought you lived in like...a mansion with your parents."

The place was actually quite small. A connected half kitchen and living room. Small tv on a small stand behind a coffee table in front of the light brown couch. There seemed to be two rooms off to the side, but the doors were closed. There was one window in the kitchen, and that was it. A few movie posters were on the wall and nick knacks but otherwise the place looked...normal. it wasn't very fancy, which is the opposite of what Remus expected.

"This is my secret apartment. The one where I go when I don't want to worry about being me. Don't tell anyone, you're lucky I let you be here!" Remy snapped.

Remus continued to look around but said nothing more, feeling that he had crossed a line somewhere.

Remy let out a long sigh and stopped making his drink. With his back turned to Remus he spoke again.

"Look.. I'm sorry. It's been a long night and now it's going to be a long day. I'm tired. Your phone is under the couch by the way."

"What? I looked there,” He said as he dropped back to his knees to check again, “ and It's fine. Just. Why are we worried ag-" and like a flip was switched, all the memories of last night flooded Remus' brain and he snapped up with his phone in hand. "ROMAN! have you found him? Where could he be!?" Remus raced into the kitchen, running into Remy.

"Did you call anyone!? God he must be so mad! I'm the worst!" Remus continued pacing the room.

"Calm down! Of course I've called everywhere! But havent had any luck! It's only 6am so I couldn't call his work but I will when I can. I thought before then we could drive the way he went. See if he went home at all. The front desk at his apartment said they didn't see him come in last night but they could have missed him. It'll be a drive to get back to the countryside but we can make it. Here babe." He handed Remus a canister. "Its coffee. In the god awful way you like it."

"OoOooO thanks!" Remus said, taking a swig of the chocolaty, sweet coffee. "So. Are we gonna start with his apartment first?"

"I think it's closer to here and the most likely place he is, yeah let's start there. But listen babes. He might be real mad still so don't push him alright?"

"I'm really worried, Remy. And I'm not usually like this...he's not usually mad like that either...I know I messed but ughhhhhh! Let's just go find him before I explode all over your nice, secret walls okay?"

"Gross hun... let's just go." Remy said, grabbing the keys hanging by the front door.

With that Remus followed Remy out to the hall of the building. After locking the door they took the elevator to Remy's car, but not the nice one he took last night.

"Where did this come from?" Remus asked, taking a seat on the passenger side.

"Last night I borrowed my dad's car and drove them there. But we took a carpool home. I told them I wanted to go out longer and they didn't question." Remy responded by turning the ignition key. "This car was the first I bought with only money I made. It's a piece of shit. And I love it." He finished pulling out of the parking space and turning onto the busy road.

Remus looked around the car. It seemed normal by any standard. Kinda small, a little dirty but it looked taken care of. Remus would have never have expected Remy to want to live like this. To each their own he supposed. It must be nice, he supposed, not having to keep up a facade all the time...

"I had to do some research but I found where Roman lived. Have you ever been there? I haven't, so I might be wrong on the address." Remy broke Remus' train of thought.

Remus had to think on this question for a second, to restart his brain. Had he? He never really questioned it. He'd been to many of Romans homes before but had he been to this one? He couldn't recall..

"I don't think so but if the front desk recognized his name then he must live there."

"Yeah...that's what I thought too.." Remy said slightly nervously. He started tapping his fingers on the wheel as he drove.

"Why are you acting like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like weird.."

"I don't think I know what you mean.." Remy said ignoring Remus' tone.

"Listen dude what's up…"

"I just...this isn't the best area of town. I live in my apartment about 75% of the time to escape my parents. I know this town, along with the areas to avoid. I was hoping I was wrong and he lived somewhere else. But let's just go there and make sure he's alright. Alright?"

"Alright.." Remus ended.

The rest of the ride was quiet as Remus just looked out the window. He had never been to this part of the main town before. He knew that there was a...not so great part of town. Every town has that. But this place looked run down. Old.

Most of the buildings seemed empty. Junk was thrown on the sidewalks, forgotten about. The road and sidewalks were cracked. The people walking around looked dull. It was hard to believe that this is the same town Remus lived in, just a different part of it. A part that Roman lived in…

Remus laid back in his seat staring forward as Remy pulled into a parking lot.

"Welp. We're here..I think. I'm actually quite surprised this place has a front desk at all if I'm being honest.. let's go. I'll ask which apartment is his." Remy encouraged.

Slowly Remus got out of the car and together they walked into the old building.

There was a front desk, surprisingly. Even more surprising was that there was a person behind it.

There was a short lady behind the desk reading a very worn book. She had snow white hair and dark brown skin. He had both laugh and frown lines in her face. She looked as if she watched them build the whole town.

Remy took a deep breath and walked up to the desk and started to talk.

"Hi my name is Remy and I believe we talked on the phone late last night. We are looking for my cousin Roman. Do you know the apartment number?"

The woman didn't look up from her book, so, thinking she might not have heard him he awkwardly tried to speak up again.

"Umm...excuse me…? He said a bit louder"

Still, nothing. Remus shrugged his shoulders when Remy looked over to him.

"Don't look at me! I don't know what to do!" Remus whisper-shouted.

"Bish! You work with people! I don't! Talk to her!" He whispered back.

"Ugh! That's not how it works bitch!"

“I’m sure it helps!”

"Will you two shut up?!" Someone yelled. "This book is just getting good and you two are ruining it!"

Remy and Remus snapped their heads over the voice coming from behind the desk. The old woman was scowling at them harshly.

"Sorry ma'am. Just looking for our friend. Which apartment is Roman Kingsleys?" Remy questioned quickly.

"Oh Roman?” The womens face opened up into a long smile. “What a sweet boy," her demeanor completely changed as if she was talking about a lifelong friend. "He didn't come home last night...probably at the theater, still. Poor boy. Always working. He's in 103 on the second floor. But I doubt he's home. I've been here all day. It wouldn't be the first time he's fallen asleep on stage" She let out a laugh that sounded like a mix between a window being wiped and a cackle.

After recovering slightly from the whiplash they just got from the woman, they thanked her and turned to walk to the stairs.

"Hold on now!" she stalked after them. They both froze in place. "Why do the likes of you want to go to his house? I can't just let anyone in!" She stopped right next to Remus. She barely came up to his shoulder, yet she was still terrifying.

"I'm his brother! And this is his cousin! We are just here to say hi…" Remus uttered quickly. He didn't know why this woman made him so anxious. His family was 100 times scarier yet this woman shook him up. Something in the back of Remus' brain told him it was about threat vs action but he ignored that.

"You better not be lying! That boy is the nicest person to walk in this hellhole." She sneered.

"No ma'am! Just here to see him!" Remy countered. "I-if you don't mind me asking though, how long has he lived around here?"

"Some cousin and brother you are if you don't know where he lives!" She laughed. Remy and Remus shuffled nervously in place. "He's lived here for about…. Ohh going on 3 years now? I think. He always tried to brighten this place up with flowers whenever he could. Recently though he's been staying inside more. Poor child. I miss his humor. Tell him to come down here if he's up there! Give him a piece of my mind!" She finished as she stomped back to her desk, picking up her book and sitting in place, as if she never moved.

Remy and Remus smartly decided not to comment further. They continued their walk to the stairs. Each step was a bit wobbly but since there was no elevator, they had no choice. Though, judging by the look of things, they wouldn't have trusted the elevator anyway.

The walls had long straggling cracks going in each direction. At one point it looked like the walls might have been painted a baby blue or a similar shade. But years of no upkeep has left it looking grey at best. Cobwebs were strung up as if it was halloween decorations. The air smelled old and musty. The faint sound of dripping water could be heard from seemingly anywhere in the building. Yet it was eerily quiet as the boys approached Roman's apartment.

His door didn't stand out among the rest, which made Remus sad for some reason. He remembered when he would insist in the house that his door be painted a deep red color. Not it was just...bland.

They both arrived at the door and stopped. They looked at each not quite knowing who should do what. Finally Remus had had enough and spoke up.

"What the fuck are we doing!? This is dumb. This trepidation is dumb! This isn't some horror fantasy bullshit! Let's go!" He shouted reaching for Roman's door handle. Slightly surprising both Remus and Remy, it opened.

Shaking the surprise off Remus busts through the door.

"ROMAN! GET YO BITCH ASS UP!"

Taglist (ask to tag!):

@primaveradoodles @bluerosesbleedred

#sanders sides #familial anxceit #familial moceit #ts roman #ts remus #ts remy #roman has ~Anxiety~#ts janus #ts virgil #ts patton

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smolbeandrabbles · 5 years ago

Text

Hanging On - Emmett Dutton x Reader (Australia)

GIF Credit: X

@happyskywhale @wltz-bby

A spiritual sequel to: When She Says Baby / Starlight / Living Proof

Requested by @slurpin

Author’s Note: Every single ride I mention existed in the 1940′s and honestly it’s not research that I ever thought I’d have to do but here we are!

Massive shout out to @saddadfanclub for the catalyst, truly an excellent suggestion 🙏

Also, Kathner is back - because of course he is. 😉

Also, just because the lyric video is set at a Theme Park, which is too good of a coincidence... Hangin On - Chris Young

It takes 2900 words to get to the smut, and no I will not apologise!

Disclaimer: Australia & all associated pieces not mine / lyrics & gif neither.

Premise: Emmett takes you on a surprise date, and while you’re having the best time, there’s still no where you’d rather be than loving on him back at home...

Words: 7136

Warnings: Soft/Sweet Smut - it’s more emotional than it is Sinday/Sunday. / Emmett should always come with an insulin warning... he’s a little feistier this time though!

_______

I'm a few drinks in, but that ain't the reason I'm all tongue tied and my breath's leaving this fast I can't get past Those blue eyes shining They keep drawing me in to you Got me fallin' off track, you get me like that It's every smile coming off of your sweet lips That makes me wanna stay here No, this ain't a one night, one time thing You always light me up like a flame and it's clear Every time you're near Yeah, I'm hangin' on, hangin' on To every word you say, every move you make I'm hangin' on, hangin' on Wondering what's up next Girl, I can't wait Ain't nothing like spinning you around the room Where everyone can see You hangin' on, hangin' on to me So let me pull you a little closer Even when the music's over I'll be hangin' on, hangin' on To every word you say Every move you make I'm hangin' on, hangin' on Wondering what's up next I can't wait... ---

It was quite the view. Okay, fine, it wasn’t the most perfect view, but the man walking it sure as hell was. You were leaning on the wooden frame of your front porch awaiting the return of your other half, who had hurried off into town to get something that was clearly important for whatever date he was taking you on. As you would be leaving immanently when he arrived, you decided to stand out in the warm sunshine �� luckily by the time you were outside he was already returning. Emmett was always easy on the eye – there couldn’t have been a woman in your little town who didn’t know that, and you often watched them call to him up and down the street as he walked by. The catch for all of them of course was that they could stare at him all they wanted, but they couldn’t be with him. (On second thought, maybe you ought to start charging them for looks). That had been your place for several years now, ever since he’d been stationed here for the first time. He’d moved up to Darwin during the war effort, and you’d made the trip a few times, but, now with the war over he was back with you. Still a Captain, of course, but today out of uniform. Emmett stopped just short of the steps, gentle smile on his face, “Ready to go?” “Mhmmm.” He tipped his head, “What’s that look for?” “Oh, nothing…” You sighed dreamily as you descended slowly, “You’re wearing my favourite shirt.” The dark blue was fairly faded and worn these days, but he still looked flawless in it. “Oh.” His smile became slightly shy, and those beautiful blue eyes lowered from yours, “I mean I could pretend I didn’t think about that, but I am taking you on a date.” That somehow managed to make you more overjoyed, “You wore it for me!?” “Uhm, yes.” “You’re gonna make me cry before you even take me on a date, you know that!?” But you were kidding as you wound your arm around his and Emmett linked your fingers, “May I kiss you for that?” His smile widened, “You may.” You pushed yourself up on your toes to brush your lips to his, and then pecked his cheek just for good measure. He gave you a knowing look, but said nothing more as he walked you to the car. “Is this a big surprise, Captain?” “You should know, you only mentioned it to me last week.” You mused for a second, “Well, we’re not going to see any Kathner reruns…” that was obvious by the time of day. “You need to stop with the Kathner fixation before it gets out of hand.” “Process of elimination! WAIT- The fair?!” Emmett only nodded, “That’ll be the one.” “OH MY-” you gasped, “You said it wasn’t your thing! I completely dismissed it!” “Yes, well.” That little smile was mysterious. “You said it was hard to get tickets!!!” After you’d practically begged him to humour you, he’d only presented you with that news. No way, Emmett didn’t have it in him to play you like that, did he?! He reached into his back pocket and slid the tickets apart, “Did I?” He was clearly very amused by this. “Did you lie to me!?! I can’t believe you!” “Well, I just wanted it to be a nice surprise, now get in or we won’t get there, will we.” You stood by the car door, arms folded and mouth slightly agape as he opened it for you, and couldn’t help but laugh, “Consider me surprised!” *** The drive was fairly short considering it’d been set up reasonably close to your little town. Emmett was already shaking his head at you as some of the larger structures came into view before you arrived, eyes wide as saucers. “If I’d known this was going to be your reaction, I’d have taken you right away!” Your voice was pitched in joy, “There’s a pleasure wheel and flying swings. This is already the best date ever!” “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment, considering.” You turned to him and batted your eyelashes, “Oh, but Emmett, any date with you is the best date ever!” He chuckled, holding his hand out for yours, kissing the back of it when offered, “Alright, stop.” Your intake of breath was sharp, “Oh, Captain, I’m not sure you can stop me now!” “Ha-! I’m not sure I ever could!” That much was probably true, had your relationship up until now been anything to go by.

While at first your excitement got the better of you, and you almost literally dragged Emmett around from place to place trying to decide on what to do next, he – as ever – pulled you back to reality. “Y/N, Y/N- hold on!” He pulled you back to face him, not entirely sure what your long and extremely fast babble had been about, except every so often you exclaiming ‘Look Emmett they have-!’. With you now looking up at him, quiet for a moment, he framed your face delicately with his hands, “Sweetheart, calm down. We have all day – we’ll get everything done; I promise. I know you’re a firecracker, but you can… slow up every now and then too, y’know?” You placed your hands over his, interlocking your fingers, nodding gently, “I… I’m sorry I just, got over excited.” “Yes, I know that too.” Emmett pressed his lips to your forehead, “Give yourself a chance to think. Not everything needs to be a million miles an hour.” You giggled softly, accepting his kiss and squeezing his hands tighter, “That’s why I’m with you. You calm that chaos and I don’t even know… how. But you manage it.” “Well, nothing like a bit of order.” He let you fall back in step with him, and you wound your arm around his, still holding his hand. Emmett made sure that he was the one setting the pace, glad to see that you might actually settle, “Though I believe being proper about things will be out of the window today.” “I believe, Emmett, we’ve been together long enough for you not to have to worry about that one.” “Well, unmarried, still a bit-” “Now you can hush.” “As long as you know my objections.” You scoffed, “Objections!? Yes, I know all of those by now!” His face turned a little pink at that, “You know what I meant!” which only sent you into a fit of giggles, “You are far too easy to fluster for a man who has been with me as long as you have.” “Yes, well,” He sighed gently, “some things you never get used to.” That only made you hope he never would, it was far too cute. By the time midday arrived you were already on your 5th sugar rush of the day; Emmett was being a little more reserved and sat opposite you now shaking his head. “I can see you’ve never heard of the word moderation.” You pushed the box of candy towards him with big eyes, “You and I both know it is safer to snack between rides, and now I’m worried you don’t eat enough.” He studied the box carefully before selecting one, “You’d have me believing I had enough sugar.” “Well, you’re certainly sweet.” You leant on your hands to admire him, “So really I always get my sugar fix.” “Ah, well, then you certainly shouldn’t be eating it!” But he agreed with your ‘snacking’ point, “Now, you’ve been staring at the wheel since before we got here, so that’s my suggestion for what’s next.” “Awww…” You exhaled, “A man after my own heart.” “That’s certainly enough from you,” Emmett held his hand out to help you stand, “I believe I earned that a long time ago.” “You deserved it, I’m still unsure I was worthy of yours.” “You, my darling, should have no fear of that.” The pleasure wheel was at least slow, and you could admire the view for miles around; even though the best one was quite clearly sitting right next to you. Emmett - having done his fair share of travelling - was pointing out nearby points of interest, including what he affectionally termed ‘home’. Although you couldn’t say you were really listening to him, staring at him and nodding for sure, smiling where appropriate and focusing on the tones of his voice, but not the words themselves. In fact, you found yourself thinking on the conversation you’d just had – and interrupted his geography lesson to ask your burning question. “Has there ever been anyone else?” The change of track didn’t even faze him, and Emmett lowered his hands from pointing to his lap, looking into your eyes he blinked slow. “For me? No.” For you it was very nearly too sincere, and it struck your heart like a lightning bolt, “Oh, Emmett, you’re going to make me cry!!” You wailed, throwing your arms around him and burying your face in his shirt. His tense was enough to tell you how proper he thought that was, but Emmett kept his mouth closed, before running a hand through your hair, “If you’re going to cry I think I have a handkerchief and-” “No, no I-” You pulled back, fanning your face and sniffing, “I’m sorry. I just, even here I see the way they all look at you… but you’re here with me. You chose to be with me.” His eyes flicked to the fair below, yes of course Emmett noticed this, occasionally, but he didn’t really think anything of it. Most of the time he thought it was more to do with the uniform. He placed his hand over yours, and then enclosed it, focusing back on you, “You think I don’t notice how they look at you? Y/N, I would choose you every single time. Sometimes I think you forget that. How much you mean to me, I would have fought that war and won it just for you.” Now you really were crying. “Oh… Darling…” He pulled you back closer to him, “Come on, this isn’t like you.” You rubbed your tears away on the fabric square he handed to you, and almost looked at him angrily, “Will you stop being so perfect!?” He held his hands up promising not another word, but couldn’t stay too stoic for long before smiling – you were perfect to him too, he was certain you had a habit of forgetting these things; but Emmett liked reminding you, and often. After certainly vowing him to silence on any waterworks that were to occur today, you went back to the carousel. You’d already been on a few times but it always reminded you of your childhood and constantly begging your parents to go on any time you saw one anywhere. As a bonus, Emmett would also help you up onto the horses by lifting you, and you could sit with a smug little smirk at the women who wished they were you. Even more so as he took your hand as the ride went around. He pointed out how much you were thoroughly enjoying your ego trip and you only shrugged, you thought you deserved one of those once in a while too! Annoyingly you were too far away from each other on the flying swings to hold hands but that wasn’t for lack of trying (and you did try real hard.), but soon enough Emmett was the one dragging you onto something. “What are they?” “You’ve never seen these?!” “No, but the fact that you’re so excited is enough to get me curious.” “Well, they’re called flying scooters, but what do they look like to you?” “Aeroplanes.” “Exactly!” The excitement in his voice made you think of how often he must hear it in your own. “…I didn’t think you ever flew?” He nudged you gently, “No, but I have friends that did. I suppose the actual answer to your question would be… not officially.” “Oh my gosh, should you be telling me this?!” It was hard not to get concerned that he’d be the kind to get talked into flying a plane with no experience. “It’s very hard, most of the time I was passenger.” Emmett had to lift you up into this one too, which of course you were fine with. In fact, when you thought on it, he was getting as handsy with you as you usually got with him only to get scorned… usually. Not today, and already in the back of your mind you were wondering if you could play that to your advantage. As he sat up with you and started to explain things, you understood his excitement. Each car had a rudder and a control so you got to manipulate the direction of the ride, also if you were skilled enough you could get the cables to snap which made everything a little bit more out of control. “Why… would you want to do that?” “You’ll see if I manage it.” “…Why does this feel like something you’re gonna tell me you did with your Army friends?” He laughed, grinning back at you, “Because it was!” “Oh. No.” Soon you found out exactly what he meant by a snap. The sound was fairly distinctive, as the cables slacked at the rides top speed, and all he had to do was turn the rudder just the right way for everything to spin slightly crazy. You were alright holding onto the ride for the majority of the time but when Emmett managed to do that, you couldn’t help but shriek and throw your arms around his waist, gripping onto him super tight, to hold on. You supposed, with the way he smiled every time you did, that was the point. The day was starting to slow down, and you’d been on nearly everything you wanted to see, and probably eaten a little too much, but it was good comfort food so you didn’t mind that. Emmett however had other ideas and you caught up with him again leaning against a railing and nodding over to something else. You placed your hands on your hips, “And I thought we were about done.” “We were, but this one’s been put here just for you!” You turned, and then were stuck between the ‘aw’ that your heart felt and your brain wanting to punch him in the arm. “Is that a tunnel of love?” “Sure is.” “You old romantic.” You weren’t sure if you wholly meant your sarcasm “You’re the one who has relatively little regard for personal space and always wants her allotted public displays of affection.” “I believe we’d be going back to Victorian ways if you had your say.” “That’s real courting. There’s nothing wrong with it.” He folded his arms. “Emmett, darling, you’ll barely touch me at a party with a dancefloor, don’t give me that.” “Just a difference in how we were raised is all, my romantic values are… reminiscent of the class I grew up in. But that hardly matters. I already told you, I’d chose you every time.” “Well, it worked between Sarah and Drover so…” He gave a nod at your affirmation of his point, “Exactly, and it works between us. Indeed, I would be so bold as to say that’s why it works between us.” He pushed himself away from the railing and held his hand out for yours, “Now, if I may?” You shook your head at him with a small smile and took his offered hand, “You may, dear Captain.” And as you walked over you gave a smirk, “Your mother would never approve of me, would she?” He chuckled, “She’s not here to disapprove either. And here I am staying.” Once through the queue and in the boat, you turned to him suspiciously, “This better be a romantic one, because if it’s scary I’m going to kill you!” Emmett raised an eyebrow, “Whatever someone took you on that’s scary… I don’t think that was a tunnel of love, and I don’t think you ought to have been on it with them.” He smiled, “Luckily you have me now. And I had been standing outside a while, I heard no screaming.” “Are you teasing me?” “Me?” His blue eyes shined innocently, “I would never!” Your eyes narrowed, but you still smiled, “I’m watching you, Emmett Dutton.” He was right though, the ride was romantic, the music setting just the right tone to cuddle up. You had read somewhere these were created when touching (especially when unmarried) was pretty much frowned upon. Right up Emmett’s alley then – ah, to be in Darwin again now. You wondered how some of those stuck up bigots were doing now. They certainly weren’t a fan of you, especially not with ‘their’ captain. Need you point out he was stationed in your town first. Emmett’s need to always defuse the situation and calm things, with you internally fuming at everyone… You shook your head, that was a while ago now, and you needed to focus on him. You wrapped yourself around him, head against his chest as he wound his arm around your shoulder, gathering your hands on his lap, stroking his thumb over them. Emmett instantly relaxed you, and you were no longer paying attention to the ride itself. All your focus was on his breathing, his heartbeat, his scent and how warm he was. The feel of his body this close, and under your fingertips; you knew what was happening to you. You were about to become a swooning mess and couldn’t give a damn about it. You snuggled further into him, making Emmett chuckle and kiss the top of your head. “You alright, darling?” “Mhm,” You nodded, burying you head in his chest and holding him a little tighter, “I just wanna get you home…” *** He was very good with you, even though he knew what was coming. Emmett let you hold his hand the whole way home. By this time your fidgety nervous energy was kicking in and your heart was letting you know that, by the way it continued to flutter as you looked at him. He wasn’t about to complain, even though your nails dug into his skin a little uncomfortably. You felt like a teenager with their first crush, just hoping to get noticed, as he rolled neatly into the driveway. And you thought for a moment that sugar rush was finally catching up with you. “Well,” He spoke was a voice as soft as his smile, “We’re home.” “We are.” You agreed, and Emmett took your hand to kiss it before he left the car and, like the gentleman he was, opened the door for you. You stepped out and it was all you could do not to melt into him instantly. “Lead on,” He let you take his hand back and run him up the front porch steps, you were happy that he didn’t say ‘I’m yours’ because you would have lost it right then and there. Once inside, with the door closed, everything slowed down but your heart. Your hands linked with his as you stood in the hallway, spinning with him for just a moment. Eyes locked on his, Emmett’s face held the same amusement that yours did. “What? What is it?” “I just…” you drew yourself a little closer, “I need a moment.” Your hands left his to run gently up his arms to his shoulders, then linking behind his back as you closed your eyes and leant into a kiss. His hands stilled on your waist, keeping your balance as he reciprocated your kiss, slow and gentle. You kept him against your lips running your fingertips into his hair, Emmett groaned softly as he allowed your body to push up against his, hands remaining respectful. Sometimes you wished he wouldn’t be. The movement of your tongue over his lips tentative, not begging; but he was forthcoming in the acceptance of your invitation, kiss still slow as you allowed yourself to focus on the taste of him. Emmett’s kiss and tongue were playful however, and every teasing attempt to pull away from you was only met with you gripping his collar tighter. Eventually you let him pull away as his hands reached for yours, “Come on…” his voice coaxed, “Let us not stay here, darling.” His fingers laced with yours as he led you upstairs leisurely.

He must have wanted this too, or else just so happy to play to your whims. No, surely he wanted this - you knew Emmett; if he didn’t want your hands all over him (or, indeed, to put his hands all over you) then he would have protested. He was very good at that. Instead he walked those stairs very nearly backwards to keep your hands in his and his eyes on you - you tried to ignore the flutter that remained in your heartbeat to no avail. The heat and excitement building in your body that culminated in your wide-eyed, lips parted look, complete with your deep, short breaths.

He knew what you were feeling, every meaning of that look on your face, and once at the top of the stairs Emmett bit his lips together as he drew your body closer to his, hands running through your hair to kiss you again. These kisses were sweet and meaningful. This would be a slow, delicate, love. And almost certainly love with the way he was touching you now. There was no room for any other emotion. Emmett continued to lead you backwards to the bedroom, and your hands only left his to close the door behind you. Winding your arms around his neck as he paused for a second, one last kiss to your lips before he took a little bit more notice of the room.

You followed his eyeline; you’d always been very specific about how you wanted the colours in here. Everything cream or off-white gave it a purity and warmth. The sunshine through your balcony windows glinted on the polished wood floor, and of course, with him facing the sunlight it sparkled in his eyes too. “Emmett.” Your voice was soft, to draw him back to you, hands rising from your waist to the buttons on your blouse his head nudged yours, kisses a little lighter. Of course the sun was reflecting on you too, throwing a thousand shades into the colour of your eyes and hair. That only made him chuckle, “No you’re right, the real view is here.” Blush covered your cheeks for a second, but you smiled, “On that one we might agree.”

You let him finish with your buttons, running his hands delicately over your collar bone, across your shoulders, brushing them down your arms as you let it fall to the floor behind you. His lips ghosted kisses across your face, and your eyes fluttered closed as he caressed your skin with his fingertips. Bowing your head forward you inhaled him, fresh air and sunshine and grass, clean sweat and sugar from your day out, lingering notes of aftershave, all over the familiar warmth of his own body. You opened your eyes, running your hands smoothly up his chest, and undid his own shirt buttons one by one. Your movements were just as slow as his had been, and after each one - as more of his skin was exposed to you - you placed a gentle kiss. Emmett hummed his delight, fingers now stroking your shoulders and tangling in your hair. You slipped his shirt from his shoulders as he had with your own and as it cascaded to the floor the sun illuminated his skin, which immediately had you smiling at the collection of freckles that blessed his face also kissed his shoulders and chest. You were already smiling too much to bite your lips and stop yourself. “What?” He chuckled, but you knew he already knew the answer. “They’re just so cute I can’t help it!” You shook your head slowly, still smiling, and leant up again to kiss him. Emmett gathered your face in his hands, guiding you gently backwards towards the bed. As he walked, you set to work relieving him of his belt and even as you pulled it through his belt loops slowly, it was still gone by the time he stopped moving. Drawing back from his kiss for a moment you looked back into those beautiful blue eyes. “Did I tell you how much I love you today, yet?” His next smile was a little shy, but he drew your waist back to his, unfastening the ties on your skirt before undoing the zip, “Trust me,” Emmett kissed you again, letting your skirt fall, “You don’t need to.” “Oh?” The look on your face was mischievous as you undid the button on his pants and teased the zip down slowly, “But I want to.” “It’s not like I can stop you, is it?” His hands ran back around your waist, fingertips grazing you relaxingly as he ran them down the small of your back - you couldn’t help a tiny shudder and a soft moan escaped your lips. “No.” You agreed, eyes shining, “Because I do, love you, so much.” “I love you too.” Emmett ran his hands a little lower, hoisting your body up for you to wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, your lips met once more.

This kiss full of promises, perhaps a little more passionate than you’d both meant as he lay you back in the sheets, but every bit worth it, as his lips transferred to your jawline and down your throat as you tipped your head back for him. You sighed his name like a prayer as he planted them delicately across your shoulders, sliding your bra straps down your arms. You pulled yourself back to his lips if only so he could undo the clasp; although Emmett’s arms remained around you holding your body close to his. You couldn’t help but giggle a little, hands running back into his hair. Even under that uniform he didn’t always look it, but he was so strong, and he felt that way whenever he held you like this. But a bigger sweetheart than you thought you deserved. Emmett only pulled back from the warmth of you when your giggling became a little too much for him not to begin laughing himself, and you observed each other for a minute. The sunshine was still working wonders on those freckles of his, and your fingers attempted to neaten the curls that were already falling out of place. “I mean it,” you breathed, “I don’t deserve you…” “Oh,” He tsked, “don’t start that again.” His hands ran down your body gently, varying his pressure over where he knew would cause giggles to rise in your chest from being ticklish, or gentle sighs in places you found it calming to be touched before he coaxed your hips towards his, sliding his fingers into your underwear. Your eyes remained on his. “You okay?” “Yes, Captain, I’m fine.” The graze of his lips to yours was hardly enough, as he slid them down your legs and they joined the rest of your clothing on the floor. Emmett balanced himself on his elbows as he took his time to observe your body. You always got a little bashful about this, no matter how many times you might joke with him about bathing together, or his absolute refusal to be in the room if you were changing and your constant ‘Emmett! You’ve seen me before-!’, but you supposed it was the weight of his stare, the vulnerability of letting someone see you like this. Especially him; the first time you’d been intimate you’d worried that he wouldn’t like what he saw, and you still worried about that. But you discovered that he honestly didn’t care; to him you were flawless. And if there was one thing your Captain liked to do, it was affirm that - respectfully. He traced his index finger carefully from the hollow of your throat straight down to your navel, feeling every motion of your breathing and your body under his, the slight shake at his touch.

“You are so…” This time he didn’t finish, because he didn’t need to, “I just…” “I know.” “No… No, I don’t think you do…” This time his thumb traced your jawline and then ran gently over your lips, your own hand resting on his wrist, eyes still only beholding his. “You are my world. What do I have without you?” You thought of a thousand smart things to say, but realised that Emmett wanted to hear none of them, and before you knew it he was wiping a single tear from your cheek and replacing his thumb with his lips as he kissed you again. Your legs tangled with his, even though he wasn’t fully undressed yet, and the feel of his body against yours only made you moan into his kisses. “Emmett…” “Shhh, darling shhhh…” He helped you remove his final garment and this time as you threaded your legs together you made sure your hips were wide enough for him. Emmett was back to staring into your eyes, although yours kept flicking to those damn cute freckles of his and you were almost ready to start crying all over again. One of his hands framed your face, caressing your cheek and stroking your hair back, as the other held your own for just a moment, he squeezed your hand gently and you knew exactly what he was asking, giving a short nod back.

Emmett’s caress moved to your thighs, and it was enough to have you tremble beneath him. His fingertips just felt so good over your skin, and he was always so gentle with you. He continued to draw a number of sighs from you as he inched towards the heat that was building in you, you couldn’t deny being needy for him now and your body was more than eager to betray that. Even with his touch being exploratory your hips couldn’t help but rock into his fingertips as you gasped. Damn, maybe you were more needy for him than you thought. It certainly got you flustered, Emmett, ever the gentleman, only chuckled and kissed your forehead. He seemed to be telling you it was okay, but it certainly didn’t leave you any less embarrassed. His fingertips were gentle and lazy - to tease you and please you - and from every sound emanating from you were certainly doing the trick. You were desperately aware of how wet you already were, and the gentle ache at being touched like this was quickly becoming a slow throb. “Emmett-!” You whined his name, greeted by a kiss, rewarded by his fingers moving to your entrance. You thought he might continue to tease you, but he didn’t, even though he only inserted one finger into you at first. When you were fine with that, he pushed in a second, this time making you moan; your arms back around him by this point meant your nails dug into his skin - Emmett gave a shudder of his own at that. His groan was quiet at the feel of your heat; you were certainly ready for him, and his fingers were still gentle as he stretched you a little wider. You shuddered again for him at the feeling, moan a little louder. He brushed his thumb over your clit in reward, body arching into his. “I love you.” You panted it again, and that confidently flashed smile Emmett gave you was nearly a smirk.

His fingers withdrew from you slowly, and Emmett moved to arrange your body with his. He wanted as much contact as possible, to have you as close to him as you could be. Kiss to your stomach, then over your ribs as he travelled back to your lips. His hands travelled up with his kisses, and as his tongue darted out across one nipple, his fingertips caressed the other, hand kneading your breast. This time you cried out in pleasure, certainly hardly expecting that. “E-Emmett-!” You were breathless, voice shaking and hands in his hair as he switched sides. Brief maybe, but that shot of pleasure made you want to squeeze your thighs together for relief. You couldn’t, of course, because his body was between them. That only made him chuckle as he finally claimed your lips again, this time his hands slid back to yours. “You sure you’re fine?” “Yes…” You placed your forehead against his, eyes fluttering closed again, “please, Emmett…” at the needy shake in your voice and the way you said his name, Emmett slowly pushed into you. This time his lips against yours swallowed your groans.

You clung to him as you both settled, feeling his heartbeat against yours. Although so close, he was supporting all of his own weight and you were on the verge of pointing out all that army training again. Instead you stayed in that comfortable silence, gathering your hands to the middle of his chest for a moment. “Go slow…” you whispered, “Emmett, I want to savour you.” It was what he always wished for, but this time you wanted him to know that’s what you needed. He nodded, with another gentle smile, kissing you once more - a little too chaste for your liking. “As you wish, darling.” Making sure that your body was tightly wrapped around his, Emmett’s hands glided smoothly over your skin - leaving a pleasurable tingle in their wake - which made you hum in comfort and content. He moved in you, to a gentle sigh and your arms cuddled him closer. It was so easy to let his name spill from your lips, he wasn’t about to stop you - and you couldn’t stop yourself. You loved tangling yourself with his body, whether that be as you snuggled down to sleep for the night, or relaxing on the couch downstairs, radio or paper or book attempting to draw your focus from the way it felt to be in his arms, or he’d draw locks of your hair back and kiss your neck… or like this. With nothing between you but love. There was no other word for this than perfect - and yet even that didn’t seem to do the feeling or the moment justice. Emmett’s movements were slow and drawn out. It almost made things torturous. The heat in the room built slowly between the two of you and the suns warming rays - but it was a lovely thing to be wrapped up in. And you couldn’t help your smile; nor being so utterly taken with him. Emmett did nothing more than whisper his sweet ‘I love yous’ into your skin as he continued to kiss you. Every groan he drew from your body causing him to smirk into your skin. But it wasn’t long before you were pulling gentle moans and pants from him, which caused exactly the same reaction when you were able to kiss his lips once more. His rhythm built more comfortably; but your sex was still sweet and slow. He paid so much attention to every sign of your body, the gentle shake as your pleasure built, but your whine against it to not end yet, your insistence with your hands through his hair, over his skin, grazing your nails, pulling him back to you, that Emmett kiss you more. And more! But that his lips worshiping any part of you was not unwelcome, and if he got a little too excited and you ended up with bruises, you weren’t about to mind those either. You were as in tune with Emmett as he with you, though, and he was all of him beautiful. The feel of his muscles under your fingertips, of those silky dark locks under your touch. How his groan could almost become a growl if you ran your nails through them just so. The freckles you could count across his skin when your love was this slow. The ones across his back may have been out of sight, but they were certainly not out of mind. He was still so soft under your touch though, Army Captain though he may have been by profession. And the feel of Emmett’s body against yours was not one you could easily describe. Those eyes of his, that blue could be so gentle, yet so fierce, and when it was dark like this and he bit his lip when he looked at you… your heart leapt to counter that rush of heat that coursed through your body. And he moaned quietly again. But that look in his eyes was of nothing but pure adoration - and that’s how you stared right back. You pulled him into you, closer, deeper, body flush to yours. Emmett Dutton was all you ever wanted; he became the only thing you’d ever needed. You couldn’t imagine your life without him, you didn’t even want to think on the possibility of that ever happening again. After Darwin. After the war. Never again. He was yours, and you’d be damned that anyone or anything would take him from you now.

This time he was the one to shake, and his breaths got a little shorter. You coaxed Emmett’s lips to yours, arms around him as it became much more of an embrace. “I love you.” He breathed between kisses, which almost had you giggling. You knew that, of course you knew that. It was about the one thing you really did know. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get over you saying that.” Your voice was still a whisper, the waver of delight raising a smile from Emmett. He almost managed a laugh then, “I don’t think I want you to.” “I’ll certainly not get bored-” You gasped suddenly; your body’s own reaction to his - brushing you in just the right place as he shook again, getting just a little harder. “Sorry.” “What are you---” your sentence was punctuated by another moan, “Apologising for!? God- Emmett!” Your voice pitched and this time the edge of your climax wouldn’t be ignored. Your body was just a little too greedy, and your wish to finish together, clenching around him was enough to have him calling out for you.

You needed him so badly, tangled in your arms like this, wrapped up in him. Your vocals were both pitching in unison even with the sex this slow. Somehow that made things more intense. You nearly wanted to beg him to stop, for just a second, to just let you savour this. Freeze the moment, let me catch it! No such luck, and that rush of heat hit you too hard; the constellation of freckles over his skin became a blur of stars that closing your eyes to only had you pouring tears. You triggered the same reaction in him, and his muffled moan of ecstasy into your skin was still the best sound you’d ever heard. Before Emmett blushed horribly (not to you - but he probably wouldn’t like how red his face got), as he wound back down, panting heavily. He still tried not to put too much of his weight on you, but the feel of his body on top of yours like this only added to your happiness, that feeling of protection, to have him so close that he almost faded into you. And yet more tears ran.

Emmett framed your face with his hands, “Hey… you’re crying again.” You sniffed, trying to hold them back, but only succeeded in giggling through another set of them: “Of happiness.” “As long as that’s what they are.” You continued to giggle as he attempted to wipe them away with his thumbs, and you reciprocated, cupping his face with your own hands - but Emmett wasn’t crying. “I love you, Emmett Dutton! I love you so much!” His eyebrows knitted, but he was still smiling, “I’ve known that a long while, don’t you listen to me?” “And I told you it wouldn’t stop me.” “Mhm. You did.” He kissed you once more, “But it’s not something you need to waste your words on. I know that in my heart and soul.” Emmett laced his fingers with yours once more, “I can feel your love, physically… and I can see it, observe it… in the way you look at me, in every smile on your face. And hear it in your voice, without the use of such words.” He shifted his weight from you, pulling you closer into his embrace, running his hands over your skin to relax you once more, “I can feel your love even when you’re not there. That most important of all. That matters to me most of all. And yet I know that you would rather spend every waking moment you can affirming it.” “Would that I could.” You breathed gently, eyes looking between his. “And yet you think you are not worthy of all the love I can give you?” He didn’t let you protest, kissing you back into silence, “Just know, you are wrong.” This time you kept your mouth shut, but the little wiggle in his arms let him know that you’d only let him win this time. Next time that victory would be yours. You cuddled into his chest, closing your eyes with a smile, “To the end of the Earth, Emmett Dutton.” There was silence for a moment, and his lips grazed your forehead gently, “Forever.” Of course he would… you could only smile though as he continued to caress your bare skin with his free hand, as you kept his other between yours, kissing his knuckles gently. Forever - if he was prepared to let you love him for that long. Forever held a lot of promises, all of them you were sure he could keep.

When did forever start though? You pondered: had it already? Did it start tomorrow? ...Did forever only really begin when he got down on one knee? ...Or only when you dressed in white and received a gold band?

No… You could think on this all later, in his arms today was neither the time or place to focus on anything but this moment with him. You could think on forever, forever. You could only revel in this moment right now. That was what really mattered; after all, forever with him would still be lived one moment at a time. So - no matter when forever may begin - why waste them?

---

Thank you for reading! 🥰🥰

#slurpin #Captain Emmett Dutton #Emmett Dutton #Ben Mendelsohn #Emmett Dutton x Reader #Captain Emmett Dutton x Reader #Amalie #195 #5 to 200 hoooly shiiiit #how'd we get there!!!#Sinday/Sunday #Soooorta #CEPS #I have literally no tags to add #this was a super easy edit considering---!!

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darkstar6782 · 5 years ago

Text

Fade to Black - 1.17: Hell House

1991

They’re on their way back from school when Dean finds a five dollar bill in a gutter less than a block down from the local candy store. Without a second thought, he grabs Sam’s hand and drags him inside. “Get whatever you want, Sam.” But two weeks ago, Sam had listened to a dentist that had come into their classroom to talk to them about taking care of their teeth, and he had been very clear about how bad candy was for them, so while Dean is filling a bag with a scoop from every bin along the wall, Sam goes to look at the toys instead.

“Dean, what’s a whoopee cushion?”

“Oh, man, Sammy, those are great! How have you never heard of one before? You want that instead of candy?” Sam nods. Dean pays and gives Sam the fifteen cents in change since his new toy didn’t cost as much as Dean’s candy, and on the way home, he promises to show Sam exactly how it works. “You’re gonna love it, Sam. It’s gonna be hilarious.”

That night, when Dad comes home, dinner is already on the table, and both boys are sitting and waiting for him. As soon as he sits down, a loud “phtbbt” noise emanates from his chair. Sam’s eyes go wide, Dean bursts out laughing, and with a grin, Dad pulls the now-deflated red rubber bag out from underneath him.

For a month after that, no seat is safe from the wrath of the whoopee cushion. They make a rule that the prank’s latest victim takes possession of the toy, but after a while, Sam begins to suspect that Dean is sneaking it out of Dad’s luggage whenever Dad confiscates it, because he manages to prank everyone else a lot more often than he himself gets pranked. When it shows up one day with a knife slash through it, ensuring that it can never inflate again, it’s no big loss, though. Dad apologizes, saying that he accidentally stuck it in the weapons bag, but Sam notices that he doesn’t promise to replace it.

1997

It starts with a toothbrush.

Sam gets a new one from some health fair at school that Dean ditched. He could have picked up two—no one would have cared—but he didn’t even think about his brother, which annoys Dean to no end. So, every chance he gets, he uses Sam’s new toothbrush instead of his own.

It takes a week for Sam to catch on, but one morning, when Dean goes into the bathroom, Sam’s toothbrush is nowhere to be seen, and Dean’s toothbrush has been shoved bristles-first into a bar of soap. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or get pissed as he tosses the old toothbrush and the soap into the trash and uses a finger to spread toothpaste over his teeth. The little squirt has more guts than Dean had given him credit for. But Dean can’t let this challenge go unanswered.

Two days later, Sam discovers that someone put an open bottle of hand lotion from the bathroom in the bottom of his duffel, soaking all of his clean underwear in flowery-smelling goop. The next morning, Dean wakes up to find all of his clothes sitting in the bathtub, soaking wet. Sam’s toothpaste gets replaced with shaving cream; Dean’s razor turns dull overnight and all the extra blades go missing. Finally, Dean hits on the ultimate prank: he mixes Nair into Sam’s shampoo. When his brother comes out of the shower the next day screaming with rage and looking like he has a bad case of mange, Dean laughs his ass off, and gets a black eye for his trouble. Despite being a skinny little twerp, the kid can really pack a punch when he catches Dean off-guard.

The next day, Dean is bracing himself for a truly heinous act of revenge as he follows a silent and now completely bald Sam to school. The poor kid doesn’t look angry anymore, though; he just looks miserable, bundled up in a hoodie despite the near-summer heat. At lunchtime, Dean catches a couple kids harassing Sam, making fun of his bald head, and he realizes that he’s gone too far this time. It’s one thing to cause each other discomfort, but when one of their pranks makes the other a target for outsiders… Dean’s more angry at himself than the punks harassing his brother, but he takes it out on them and gets both himself and Sam suspended for a week.

“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Dean says that night as they’re lounging in front of the TV, eating all of Sam’s favorite foods and trying to figure out how to explain Sam’s bald head and the suspension to Dad when he comes home in a few days. “Things got a little out of hand this time, I guess. Truce?”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “You kinda made up for it by fixing it so I don’t have to go back to school for a week. Hopefully we can pass it off to Dad as a really bad haircut; you know he’s been bugging me to get one for months, anyway.” Then, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a brand new toothbrush. He tosses it to Dean, Dean grins, and in the wrestling match over the last of the gummy worms five minutes later, all is forgiven.

2000

“C’mon, Sam, lighten up! It was just a joke.”

“It’s not very funny, Dean.” Sam is sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, picking flakes of superglue off of the palm of his hand. Three days ago, Dean had caught Sam talking on the phone to Linda Hamilton, a girl he’d gone on a few dates with in the last town they’d been in, and ever since, Dean had been insufferable. It started with the offers for tips on how to give good phone sex, then boxes of tissues and bottles of lotion left out in strategic locations, and had culminated in him waking up this morning to discover that Dean had covered the palm of his right hand in hair and superglue.

“I’m telling you, Sammy, you got off lucky. I hear doing that sorta thing too often can also make you go blind.”

Sam glares at him and returns to his task. Fortunately, it’s summertime, so he doesn’t have to worry about explaining the mess on his palm to anyone at school, but he continues to give Dean the silent treatment until his brother drops him off at the library to finish researching the ghost that they’re hunting this week. Sam walks through the library’s front doors, waits until the rumble of the Impala’s engine has died away, then turns around and heads back outside. He’d discovered all he needed to know about the ghost yesterday, but hasn’t told Dean yet, partly out of anger at his brother’s harassment, but mostly because Dean hasn’t asked. As long as Dean thinks Sam is busy, Sam knows where he’ll be, and after this morning’s humiliation, he deserves everything that he has coming to him.

Sam takes his time walking across town and gets to the bar that Dean has been frequenting every day over the last week just in time to see him heading out the front door with a girl on his arm. Sam crouches behind a dumpster and watches as they get into the Impala and drive a few blocks down to the girl’s house. Once they’re inside and, presumably, preoccupied, Sam sneaks up to the car and gets to work. He disconnects the battery and moves the front seat up just far enough to keep Dean from being able to easily get into the car, then he pulls out his cellphone and places a call to the office where the girl’s father works, telling him that he needs to come home right away.

Sam is hiding in the bushes and trying not to let his laughter give him away as he watches the father storm home and chase Dean out of the house with his pants around his ankles. He’s fighting back tears of mirth as he watches Dean struggle to get behind the wheel and start to panic when the car doesn’t start, but his glee turns immediately to terror when he sees the girl’s father come out of the house with a baseball bat. He smashes both of the car’s driver-side windows, and Dean catches a nasty blow to his left shoulder as he gets out of the car to protect it before Sam manages to break cover and come running up, shouting, “Don’t hurt my brother! Please, don’t hurt my brother!”

Between Sam and the girl, they manage to drag Dean and the father apart, and placate him long enough to allow Dean and Sam to push the car out of his driveway and back down the street to the bar. Sam is shaking and barely holding back tears by the time they arrive, and he doesn’t even give Dean a chance to notice that something’s wrong before breaking down.

“Oh, god, Dean, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He can barely stand to look at his brother, not knowing what he will see on Dean’s face.

“What are you talking about, Sammy? You saved my ass back there.”

“I… I was the one who messed with the car and called her dad. I was so mad at you for making fun of me the last few days… But I swear I didn’t know he’d get that angry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you, I swear.”

“You…” Sam can hear the fury in his brother’s voice, but then Dean takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, he sounds a little calmer. “What did you do to the car, Sam?”

“Just disconnected the battery,” Sam whispers, swallowing back another sob. He hears Dean pop the hood, reconnect the battery, and slam it shut again, but he doesn’t look up until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on,” Dean says as Sam looks up at him. He looks more apologetic himself than angry, and he reaches out a hand to help Sam to his feet, which Sam takes. “One of the guys at the garage owes me a favor, so it won’t be any trouble to get the windows replaced. You wanna help me?” Sam nods.

They’re both quiet as they get in the car, but after they’ve been on the road for a few minutes, Dean breaks the silence. “I’m sorry about teasing you like I did, Sam. I can’t promise it won’t happen again, but can we make a deal?”

“What’s that?”

“No more pranks that mess with the car, okay?”

“Deal.”

2006

In retrospect, the pranks they’d subjected one another to this time around were relatively tame. The last time Dean had used the itching powder trick, Sam had been in middle school, and turning up the volume on the stereo in the Impala was positively bush league compared to what he used to do before messing with the car had been declared off-limits. Supergluing Dean’s beer bottle to his hand had been a long-overdue payback, but other than that… It was the pranks that they’d pulled on the two “ghost hunters”—pretending to be a movie producer in order to send them off to California, and putting a dead fish in the back seat of their car—that had been truly inspired. And the fact that they’d come up with the ideas independently was a welcome reminder of something that he’d always known: that they were at their best when they were working together, whether the goal was stopping an invincible monster or just shaking a couple of idiots off their trail.

Sam wants to tell Dean as much, but it will probably have to wait. He doubts Dean will be particularly receptive to the message when he comes out of the bathroom and discovers that Sam has short-sheeted his bed. Of course, it’s less than he deserves for pulling the whole “shaving cream in the hand and a feather up the nose” trick on Sam last night while he was sleeping. Their truce hadn’t even managed to last the hundred miles that Dean had promised, but that’s okay. As long as they’re going with the juvenile classics, Sam can keep this up forever. He wonders if this town has a joke shop; it’s been a long time since he’s seen a whoopee cushion…

#supernatural #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #1.17 hell house #fade to black #the hair and superglue on the hand was inspired by a real-life prank #my college boyfriend's roommate did that to him once #the night before he was going to drive up to visit me (we were long-distance)#the roommate thought i'd be grossed out by the implication #but i actually found it hilarious

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 5 years ago

Note

FFT: May You Always Be Satisfied

Ahhh, so.. This is the third part to these two asks [ here ] and [ here ] and after this, there’s at least one more part. We’re still moderately angsty here, folks. Maybe the last part will be better? Let’s all just like.. hope or some shit.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THESE. AND THE HELP IN REALIZING WHAT THIS IDEA COULD ACTUALLY ADD UP TO. HUGE HUGS FRIEND.

Tag Squad:

@kyleoreillysknee @rampagewriting @writertoo18 @thatnerdwriter @wrestlingismyguiltypleasure @chasingeverybreakingwave @unabashedwrestlefics @wardl0w @missjenniferb @adampage @cabotcoves @cowboyshit @dietwrestling

[ tag list doc ] [ masterlist ] [ keep ‘em coming - they’re super fun ]

“ I mean, he looks happy. That’s all I want for him. What was I supposed to do? Throw myself on the floor, grab his ankles and tearfully beg him to stay?” I half questioned, offering a shrug to my neighbor Cordelia as she poured us both more wine. The television set was stopped on AEW in the background and even though I know I should’ve changed the channel when I heard his theme hit, somehow I just.. Couldn’t.

It was the first time I’d seen him in a little over 3 months now. And seeing him slink down the ramp was like ripping a bandage off a healing wound only to have that bandage catch halfway and bring up scar tissue with it.

I may be fooling everyone else at this point. I may seem as if I’m doing fine but deep down? Completely the opposite. In reality, I’m a breath away from breaking down at any second. There’s just so much shit I haven’t really… Dealt with.

I’ve just been ignoring it. He made his choice. I didn’t try to fight harder. I just let him go because I didn’t want to settle for being someone’s silver.

“You realize you’re not hiding just how bad you’re taking this, right?” Cordelia’s statement had me glancing at her as I shrugged and sipped the red wine in my glass. At first, I tried to argue back and insist I was, but instead, my shoulders dropped and I sighed.

“It’s the only option I have. He’s the one who left. He’s the one who said things weren’t working between us.”

Cordelia eyed me and sipped her own wine, going quiet for a few minutes. Then she spoke up again. “Which totally does not track with the man I met at that barbecue he came to with you. He looked at you like you hung the moon in the sky and told the stars to shine. It just doesn’t make any sense, that’s all I’m saying.”

My fingers curled over the edge of the kitchen island between us and I finished off my glass, reaching across the island for the bottle. She held it out of my reach and eyed me. I pouted at her.

“All I’m saying here, Veronica.. It’s entirely possible that that pushy asshole he’s friends with had something to do with this.”

“That makes no sense. Adam can think for himself.”

“But maybe he’s gotten so used to going along with what everyone else pushes him to think and do that he’s forgotten how. Maybe the guy said something and Adam took it to an extreme. C’mon, you’ve said yourself that you didn’t like the way the guy constantly tried to undermine and ignore Adam.”

“Yeah, well if that’s the case, then I can’t be with him either. So either way, this is still an unsolvable dilemma. I’m not going to settle for being someone’s second choice. And I’m not going to sit back quietly and watch someone I love let himself be held back by so called friends who think they know best, either. We’re at an impasse.” I frowned to myself and picked up the remote, turning off the television, which only earned me a pout from Cordelia.

“What?” I shrugged off her pout and took a few more sips of my wine as I scrolled Instagram.

“I was watching that, ma’am. For my own scientific research.”

I snorted in laughter at what she said and looked up. “Does his name happen to be Wardlow?”

“ Hey, I can’t help it I have amazing taste.”

“Yeah, no. The verdict is still out there, Cordy.” I teased gently, sighing to myself as soon as I saw a post from Adam’s instagram story. I let myself linger on it a little bit. I tried to just.. Remain neutral.

But I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes and I closed out of the app hurriedly, plasting the best fake smile on that I could as I looked up at her. “Either way, I’m going to be fine. I’m handling it.”

“Woman, you are ignoring the hell out of this. You loved him. Now stop being stubborn and at least allow yourself to own up to that.”

“You’re not gonna charge me for the therapy session, right doc?” I joked and she grumbled, rolling her eyes as she shook her head.

“What I will do is insist that if you’re just hell bent on denying, you wipe your life of all traces that he was involved in it. Otherwise, you’re never going to not be miserable.”

“Already done. Do you see any pictures of us around here anymore?” I swept my arms wide, gesturing to my small apartment. Cordelia looked around and then shook her head, giving me one of her wise old lady looks. “You can get rid of the pictures, change the bedsheets, change your hair color and toss out all his old shirts he left behind… But you can’t make yourself forget him. Take it from me… You need to actually deal with this. And stop serial dating on Tinder. That’s where the serial killers all hide.”

“Bye, Cordie.” I chirped, laughing to myself as I shut the door behind her and leaned against it, taking a deep breath as my eyes wandered my apartment.

Okay, so maybe she’s right. Maybe I can’t totally forget him, but… I’m going to have to find some way to stop letting little moments of doubt where I want to reach out creep in. Because he ended things with me. He’s the one who couldn’t get over an ex girlfriend. I wasn’t ever going to be enough for him.

And yet, even as I stood there, thinking about it all, I still found myself wondering… What if I was completely wrong?

“I have got to just get over this.” I grumbled to myself as I made my way to bed, falling face first into it.

“You do realize that Matt’s just the kind of jackass who stirs shit up, right man?” Mox spoke up from beside me, sitting down the glass of bourbon he’d been nursing most of the night. I shrugged and sighed, barely managing to keep my jaw unclenched.

He wasn’t exactly telling me something I wasn’t aware of… Didn’t mean I fucking wanted to hear it. I knew Matt was stirring the pot when he told me he’d run into Veronica again. The sumbitch was full on shit eating grin as he told me that he heard it going around that she’s been on a different date every night for the past few weeks now.

And damn it, despite trying my best not to let it get in my head, it got in my head and it got in deep.

“He really told ya girl about the ex?” Mox shook his head, letting out a low whistle as he followed up, “What’d he say?”

“Probably what I let slip about wondering if I was still in love with her.”

“Goddamn. Page, you’re too fuckin nice for your own good. If it were me?” Mox pointed to himself and took a sip from the glass, “I’d have beaten his ass all over the place.”

“ Why bother? He had a point and he wasn’t lyin. I honestly thought I might be in love with my ex at the time. She’d come back, she was callin and texting me all the time again. Got me thinkin about how much we did go through together… Missin her a little.”

“And now, dumb fucker?”

I glared at him before answering. “Now I just feel empty. And it hurts like hell because she didn’t even put up a fight when I broke things off between us. Hell, I’m disgusted with myself now, actually. I let everybody else dictate what I did with my own life… Again.”

“Yeah, that’s a habit of yours, man. Not a good one either. What you gotta do is say fuck ‘em. Fuck ‘em all. If you wanna fix this? It’s on you to fix. She shouldn’t have had to beg ya not to end things. If ya even thought for a second ya were about to fuck up, maybe ya shouldn’t have ended shit.” Mox grumbled, glancing up at the MMA fight we’d been watching on the tv. “But no. No, ya really had to go and let Omega and Jackson’s bitch asses dictate your move. Play into their hands.”

“This isn’t helpin, Mox.”

“You said you wanted to be around honest people, man. I’m bein honest. You’re a fuckin idiot, okay? And if you think it’s over, you’re an even bigger one. Because man,” he chuckled and took a longer sip. “If you really want her back? You gotta make it happen. Stop sittin around and whinin, holy shit. Step the fuck up and prove her wrong.”

I eyed him, waiting on him to explain.

“She probably thinks ya never gonna love her like ya did that ex. And the longer ya sit here, drownin it in alcohol, the more she’s gonna believe she’s right on that. Nobody likes feelin second best, man. Does it fuckin feel good when Jackson and Omega do that shit to you?”

“Fuck no.” I answered, beginning to see where Mox was going with this rollercoaster of a pep talk.

The wheels were turning in my mind.

“Then don’t fuckin let it happen with her. If you think you’re feelin bad right now, try imaginin how she feels, man.” Mox finished off his drink and rose from the stool, nodding. “Gonna go out for a smoke. You.. Think about what I fucking said. Got it, man?”

And think about it, I did.

I know by now, no thanks to Matt, that whoever she was with that day I did go to her and try to make this right… They’re not a thing anymore. So, maybe…

Maybe it’s not too late.

#kyleoreillysknee

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zoey-wades · 5 years ago

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Honeymoon (King Liam x MC)

Rating: M (Drug Use, Substance Abuse, Violence, Self-Inflicted Violence)

Characters: Dark!Liam Rys x Dark!Lyra Frasier (MC) x Dark!Drake Walker

Summary: Fresh out of school and trying to figure things out, Lyra Frasier spends her weekdays going to a job she hates and her weekends in a drug fueled haze. And then she meets golden boy Liam. Lyra soon realizes that the violent underbelly of New York City’s elite may be more than she can handle.

Author’s Note: I haven’t updated this thing since uh......last year? I’m bad at making a writing schedule for myself. I think, the way TRR has been going as a series, I just haven’t had the motivation. But when I separate this world from that one, it helps a bit more.

Honeymoon Series

ooo. Prologue.

oo1. Honeymoon.

oo2. Midnight City.

--x--

oo3. C.R.E.A.M.

It was bad enough that Liam’s father was ill; he also had to be stubborn as fuck.

Liam winced as his ailing father lifted the shaking glass of whiskey to his lips, determined to keep drinking despite what the doctor and his wife told him about the effects on his body. Liam cleared his throat, earning a single passive glance from his father across the desk.

“Oh come on,” Constantine groaned, licking the droplets of liquor from his chin, “Not you, too. I don’t need anymore shit about what I do in my free time.”

Unwilling to take advice from those he deemed inexperienced, Constantine was an unwavering force in a world of deeply complicated decisions. Liam patiently rested his folded hands in his lap, training his expression to convey as much stoicism as he could in the given circumstance.

“You don’t seem to understand that this,” he motioned towards the glass, “is the reason why Sebastian Clark was able to fly under your radar for so long? What would’ve happened if Walker and I hadn’t figured him out? Who knows what he could’ve gotten away with--”

“That rotten, coked out fucker,” Constantine spat with a wave of the hand, “Good riddance. I didn’t need him poisoning my ranks with his bullshit.”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain,” Liam leaned forward in his seat, speaking slowly to emphasize his next point, “We don’t know that he hasn’t. And the fact that he was in your ranks for as long as he had should be worrisome. Who knows what else is going on that we don’t know about.”

“My men are loyal to me,” Constantine stated plainly, “One bad apple doesn’t always spoil the lot.”

At the age of 67, he’d been away from the action for quite some time. Evidence of a hard youth decorated his face and body in the form of scars and bones that didn’t quite heal correctly. Liam couldn’t remember a time when his father didn’t look tired. If he hadn’t seen a photo of a young Constantine with his own eyes, he’d believe the man just came into this world with a shock of white hair and bloodshot eyes. His stepmother half-joked that Liam’s older brother, Leo, caused their father to gray prematurely with his gambling and sex addictions.

On the other hand, Leo had to get it from somewhere.

Liam watched his father struggle to take another sip from his glass before averting his gaze to a family photo on his father’s desk. Teenage Justin and Liam sat side-by-side, unsmiling, with neatly pressed suits on in front of their equally serious fathers. Why Constantine kept that particular photo on his desk, Liam never understood. Nothing about it exuded warmth.

“Did Justin ever talk about a girl around you?” Liam suddenly asked, refocusing on his father who swirled his whiskey in deep thought.

“A girl?” He repeated in thought, “Once or twice. Usually he was asking advice on how to keep them tamed, you know?”

Constantine attempted a conspiratorial smile that Liam didn’t reciprocate.

“Did he mention any specific names?” Liam pressed on, “Or descriptors?”

Constantine raised a brow and sat the sweating glass on a wooden coaster, “What is this about?”

What was this about? Liam wasn’t entirely sure. There was something about the girl, Lyra, that intrigued him. How was she able to dip in and out of their world so easily without leaving any footprints behind? Who did she know?

After dropping her off back home the previous afternoon, Liam did some quick research into who she was. Aside from a few high school choir competition press reels, she was an otherwise ordinary woman.

“Well I...” Liam chose his words carefully, “ran into Justin at the bar, talking to a girl. You know we never really see him with anyone. So I was just curious.”

There was a brief pause between the two men, and the grin returned to Constantine’s face, “A hot piece of ass, huh? Thinking of getting in there?”

Liam said nothing, but fidgeted with the rings on his fingers. His father wasn’t technically wrong. But god damn if the wording didn’t make him feel like the grossest piece of shit.

He decided to drop the subject for another time.

“Sorry to push us off topic, Dad,” Liam quickly corrected, “But, back to my original point...how do you know for sure Clark was the only shady one in the group?”

Constantine considered this, tapping his pen on the wooden desktop, “What reason would I give them to turn their backs on me? I’ve been with these men for well over 30 years, I fed them,” he counted on his fingers, “clothed them, put their kids through school, made them dukes in their own respects. They made their names on my back, and they think they’re gonna fuck me over!”

The sudden exclamation caused the man to cough violently into his arm and then into a handkerchief. Liam instinctively jumped to his feet, and rushed across the room to fetch a glass of water for his father.

“I’m fine!” Constantine croaked, attempting to catch his breath, “I just got a bit overexcited.”

Despite his protests, Constantine took the glass and sipped from it slowly. It hurt Liam to see his father deteriorating so quickly. A part of him felt like Constantine believed himself to be invincible. A smaller part of Liam felt like his father was simply just giving up. He had to put on an air of confidence, as he was at the top of the pyramid and could not show weakness. But as he grew older, cracks in the foundation began to form. Cracks that Liam had been working to seal.

Liam loved his father. There was no doubt about that. But every day the work grew more difficult. Liam could almost envision the empire crumbling at his father’s feet, all because he was too stubborn to fix the loose bricks.

As if reading his mind, Constantine sat the glass down and looked over his son, “You do know that I love you, right, kiddo?”

There was a faraway look in his eyes, a look Liam saw once in a while. And he always wondered where Constantine went when that happened.

“Yeah, I know, dad.”

Sadness darkened his father’s features, “Despite the issues that your mother and I had,” he cleared his throat, “I did love her. And I think you were the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m always going to be proud of you.”

A pit formed in Liam’s stomach and he reached across to grab his father’s hand, “Hey, what are you not telling me?”

And just like that, Constantine switched the darkness off, a confident grin returning to his face. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“A man can’t tell his kid he appreciates him, anymore? Lighten up, Liam.”

--x--

Liam sat in the garage of his apartment building to smoke and attempt at shuffling through his thoughts. Maybe it was counterproductive. An hour after leaving Constantine’s office, Liam learned of another potential fuck up in his father’s ranks. Someone was making trade deals on the low, and informing a rival company of some arms delivery pick up spots before they arrived for a cut of the profit. He passed the message along to Drake, who responded with the same concerns regarding Constantine’s failing leadership.

Liam was only one man. Though he was sure he didn’t feel an ounce of the pressure his father did, the stress he felt nearly crippled him sometimes. He briefly allowed his mind to wander to Lyra and what she was doing. Did she know how much he envied her life? She didn’t answer to anyone, she could leave the city if she wanted to, she never had to constantly look over her shoulder. Lyra carried herself with the air of freedom he could only dream about. Clutching his phone in tatted knuckles, he almost considered texting her. But truly, what would he even say?

“Hey, I know we only spoke once and you gave me your number because you wanted to pay me back for the gas (which you still don’t have to do). But what does freedom feel like?”

Right now, Liam imagined she was laying across the secondhand sofa in some old college sweatshirt, watching YouTube, her mind a thousand miles away from him. He’d never even seen her apartment. But he had a feeling she had a lot of plants and a collection of decorated whiskey bottles on her kitchen counter. She seemed like the type. He caught himself chuckling at the thought and frowned. Ideally, he’d just let her go. He could never bring her into this world, she was too good for it. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he could grow to like her.

The shrill ring of his phone cut through his thoughts, sharply pulling him from a moment of escapism he didn’t even know he needed.

“Hello?” Liam answered, attempting to mask his disappointment.

“Idon’tknowwhathappened! Idon’tknow!” A shrill voice cried on the other end between sobs. Liam pulled the phone from his face, and realized it was his father’s assistant, Penelope, calling from an unknown number. Alarm bells went off in Liam’s head, and he turned the ignition in his car.

“Pen, what happened?” He asked, sitting up in his seat.

“I just came in and he was....! I don’t know what happened, Liam! I was gone for an hour!”

“What. Happened?” Liam asked, again. His heart began to thud in his ears, and he gripped the steering wheel, “Just fucking tell me. Spit it out-”

“Constantine shot himself!”

#playchoices #liam x mc #naja writes #honeymoon**#crime au! trr

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sweetdejun · 6 years ago

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coterie: the mini rubik’s cube (2/2)

gang!x1 x fem!reader

synopsis: you’re an ordinary girl, with an ordinary life. but what happens when you catch the gang that is famous for keeping their deeds under the table, in action?

coterie’s masterlist can be found here

pairing: kim wooseok and y/n

a/n: brief mentions of bullying, cursing, and an overall emotional rollercoaster. it’s good to be back :))

so within the next few weeks, wooseok got a new desktop mailed in along with a second swivel chair. you distinctly remember wooseok calling you over to the room, and when you stood at the doorway, he sent a broad smile your way before pushing a cardboard box over to you. “what’s this?” “oh, it’s your swivel chair that you’re going to put together.” you scoffed, “what, you’re just gonna watch me?” “not really,” he motioned his head towards the desktop. “I'm gonna set this up for you, so have fun doing that!” he handed you the toolbox and gave you one last thumbs-up before turning around to your computer. huffing, a strand of hair flew in front of your face as you sat cross-legged in front of the box and eventually assembled your new chair. the only sounds that were heard in the room were wooseok’s fast typing and your small sighs as you’d exhale after putting together one piece at a time. so naturally, to get rid of the silent and awkward air surrounding the two of you, you started the conversation. “so, I was wondering, how did you get all that information on me? like where I went to school, and what my schedule and stuff were like?” wooseok’s typing speed didn’t seize but he continued, “I’m a hacker, that’s what I do.” you snorted at his comment, and this caused him to turn his head around fully to face you. “what’s so funny?” “you sound like the guy from agent cody banks, bro,” you guffawed and shook your head. wooseok just blinked back at you. “who?” this caused you to put down the wheel and screwdriver. you looked up at him, your jaw dropped. “what? you’ve never seen that movie before? alright, wooseok, the first assignment from me to you: we have to have you watch agent cody banks. it’s a classic movie.” you started telling wooseok all about your love for movies, and how you grew up watching some of the films your parents found to be iconic and then movies that were iconic in your generation. you seemed to be so lost in your own little world, that you didn’t notice wooseok was now finished setting up what he needed to and was not diligently listening to you, watching the small twinge in your eyes only grow brighter as you progressed further. “oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you or anything. movies just get me so riled up,” “no, I didn’t mind it or anything.” you were caught off guard by the tone in his voice. “you know, you’re different now than what you were two weeks ago. I was scared to even talk to you,” you mumbled the last part to yourself, hoping he wouldn’t hear but alas, a bitter smile made its way onto wooseok’s face, “yeah, well I haven’t had the best experiences with people, in general.” you did get him to watch cody banks later that night though, which he enjoyed (you thought you saw him smile).

that was one of the few non-work-related conversations you’d had with him. well, if you count work as wooseok walking you through the programs, and file systems, then yeah. but you hadn’t gotten your first real assignment until a few days later. it was three in the morning and you were sleeping soundly when you heard rapping against your door. you groggily opened your eyes, sight still blurry from sleep and you staggered out of bed, the corner of the bed bumping you just above the knee. “ah, fuck,” you mutter, rubbing the inflicted area as you continue to the door. you open the door, and squint, making out wooseok standing there, chest heaving. “what in the world?” wooseok enters your room, pushing you to the side. “may I ask what you’re doing in here, at 3 AM?” “I’ve got your first assignment, and we need this done as soon as possible.” it took you some time to comprehend his words. “wait,” you start, “you want us to start on this now?” wooseok nodded as if it was obvious. if your eyes didn’t shoot open before, they were now. “so hurry up, come out and into the computer room, I’ll give you the details there.” “can I at least bring a coffee with me?” for a second, wooseok squinted, then grunted, “fine,” before walking out of your room, leaving the door ajar. “uh, thanks for closing the door,” you grumbled, before changing out of your pajamas and fixing your appearance a bit. you went into the kitchen and began making your coffee (you only got around halfway through, though, because soonja came into the kitchen, helping you make your coffee. you thanked her and insisted she go back to sleep, but she refused until the coffee mug was in your hands.) slowly, you walked to the room with steady steps, and knocked with your other hand. seconds later, the door gently swung open and you made your way to your chair, silently praying that it wouldn’t fall apart then and there (it didn’t). after taking a swig of your coffee, you set it down and pivot your seat to face wooseok, and before you can ask him anything, he starts, “seungwoo needs some details on the military leaders, because he’s about to send dongpyo to one of their bases and we need all the information we can possibly get.” then he jotted down a list of things he needed you to get. you scanned the note and it seemed like you only needed to find who this guy was affiliated with, in terms of his friend circles. not bad, you think, before getting to work. so from three to almost five-thirty, you’re hopeless, and although wooseok offered to help, a part of you wanted to do this by yourself. so you refused, to which wooseok nodded, then said, “I’ll be heading to bed, let me know when you’re done.” you mumbled a ‘yep’, then kept going. it’s not like you didn’t know what you were doing, you thought, it’s just slightly more difficult than you perceived it to be. luckily, wooseok left you something similar to a cheat sheet, and you quickly were able to get the information.

at this point, you were about seventy-five percent done, and just finished research on the military leader’s favorite bar’s owner, when something striked you as interesting. the bar owner was from the same high school as jinhyuk. lee jinhyuk; the guy who got you into this whole thing. after jotting that information down, you couldn’t help but let your curiosity get the best of you, as you clicked on the high school name. loads of records popped up on your screen, from student yearbooks to records on all the staff from the past 10 years and the student incidents and records. you set out to look for jinhyuk’s stuff, again, out of sheer curiosity. only then were you surprised with what you saw on the screen. a picture of jinhyuk, tall and lanky as he still was with his arm hooked around wooseok. he still looks the same, albeit his features have definitely sharpened since and dare you say, he looks much more attractive now. you don’t know if it was from the lack of sleep or the caffeine, but you pieced some things together: jinhyuk did mention to you that he was close with one of the x1 members, and you did ask wooseok how he got the information on you, it’s clear that jinhyuk and wooseok are still quite close and they probably share everything with each other. your curiosity sunk into you further, and then you went back to the database before searching up wooseok’s name under the high school. the first thing you saw made your heart stop; it was an article labeled, “student runs away from school after severe bullying”, and reading it, you learned that around five or six years ago, wooseok had transferred midway through his senior year to this high school, for “personal reasons”, and people had called him a freak and had bullied him, pulling all sorts of stunts on him. one day he just ran away from school. as you read the finishing sentence of the article, your eyes started to sting and you couldn’t look at it anymore. you quickly closed the tab, gathered all your information and sent it right away to wooseok, shaky hands hovering over the keyboard. you press enter, clear your throat and whisper ‘going to bed’ because you can’t trust your voice right now, and you hurry on back to your room, where after some difficulty, you’re able to find your languor once more and fall back into a deep slumber.

when wooseok and you began opening up towards one another, he showed you a different side of himself. he was no longer the asshole you made him out to be when you first met him; rather, he made a complete 360 of his original impression. but now, you understand why that may have been hard for him. your mind wanders off into these thoughts and you don’t notice that wooseok has been calling you for some time. it’s only when he barges into your room, finding you on your bed, eyeing the blank phone screen in front of you. “y/n,” you flinch, and look up to meet wooseok’s concerned gaze. “what’s going on? I’ve been calling you for a while,” you clear your throat and snap your eyes away from his, before saying, “sorry, I was thinking about something, did you need something?” wooseok’s eyebrows furrowed at your sudden movements. why did it seem like you were avoiding him? had he done something wrong? maybe he upset you? these questions began to hiss at his anxious state, that he was holding together in front of you. “uh, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any problems last night, looking for the information,” he starts, but you stop him, reassuring him with a smile too wide and a nod too positive, but it’s convincing enough as he nods quietly, before muttering that he’s gonna go, then gently closes your door as he leaves the room. you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding and push your hair back with your hands. it’s hard to avoid wooseok ever since you learned of his past; you see him every day, now, because you kinda have to. not that you don’t want to see him because of course, that’s not the case. in fact, you’d say you were growing quite fond of the man for some time now. which is why avoiding him has grown to be such a difficult task for you. but seeing him will only remind you of what he’s been through. you felt guilty for learning all this information without his being aware of it, and it felt like you violated his privacy. and you did, and so whenever you saw him, that guilt went off in your head like an alarm, a reminder.

you were paying the price for your curiosity, so much so that one night, you couldn’t sleep. it was like the guilt was eating you away, so much so that it was now in the way if your everyday life. you kept your conversations with wooseok minimal and silently did as you were told because you were afraid that it would be a matter of sentences before you burst. you grunted, burying your face in your hands as you paced back and forth in your room before you decided to put on your robe and slippers, then headed out to the backyard. the sounds of the cicadas and the stars shining in the sky managed to calm your jittery state, and your breathing relaxed a bit until you heard, “y/n? what are you doing out here?” you turn and lo and behold, by the back door leaned a relaxed wooseok, hands stuffed in his pockets. “couldn’t sleep. I had to clear my head,” you tell him, turning your head back to the sky. his footsteps are approaching closer and the sound of your heartbeat starts to reach your ears. then, his hand rests on your shoulder and you turn slowly to face him. “what’s going on? you’ve been distant for some time, you never talk to me anymore... did I say something?” you shake your head instantly, reassuring him that he didn’t do anything wrong, but then his voice grows louder, “well, why have you not been talking to me then? you’re avoiding me and I don’t even know why!” shocked by the sudden outburst, you don’t realize that tears are welling up in your eyes and wooseok’s widen. “I-I’m sorry, oh no, no, please don’t cry,” and wooseok, panicked, begins walking backward. enough is enough you think, and you wipe your eyes violently and whisper, “wooseok, sit, I’ll tell you everything.” and so you do. as you tell him the story, you notice the changes on wooseok’s face, this being one of the only times he’s expressed emotions as vividly as he ever did with you. “I didn’t want to say anything because I felt guilty. I felt like I did something I shouldn’t have, and I’m really sorry,” but he cuts you off, emotion thick in his voice, “no, I’m sorry. I get it, you were only curious. I transferred midway through the year because my family was breaking apart. my dad used to gamble, and he gambled away our home. my mom was fed up, so she took me and my younger brother and we ran away from him. I don’t talk about this a lot; in fact, I only told seungwoo about it, but, the reason I left was... was because it was suffocating living like that. wake up in the morning and go to school, only for people to push you around, take your stuff, and then the whole cycle repeats itself. I wasn’t alone, though, because I had jinhyuk. I spoke to him before I left and I told him I would leave, of course; he’s more than a friend, he’s like a brother to me. that’s why he and I are still as close as we were. but anyway, that’s why I have problems when there are circumstances in which my personal space gets violated. I don’t like it when people touch my things, I don’t like it when things aren’t a certain way and seungwoo knew this before he offered me this position.

“I get it, you were only curious, that’s why you made the decisions that you did. thank you for telling me, I thought I had done something to make you upset, and so I felt .” wooseok finished, looking up to see you silently crying. his hands reach up and wipe your tears, and you choke back a sob. “why are you crying?” “because you didn’t deserve any of that, you have such a good heart, wooseok. you are such a good person and it’s upsetting to know what you went through.” then you wrapped your arms around him, tucking your face into his neck. at first, wooseok doesn’t know what to do, body freezing at your sudden action, but then he slowly melts into your embrace and reciprocates it. after you calm down a bit, you push away from his embrace, bashfully gazing to the ground. “I’m sorry about that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything,” and wooseok smiles at your cute form. “y/n,” you look up at him through your lashes and see the grin on his mouth and wow, you didn’t think he could get more attractive. “I like you.” and although a pink hue settles on his ears, he continues, “at first I was upset you picked me. I thought I would teach you stuff, and you would just mess things up all the time, and I would have to correct your mistakes, but you proved me wrong. you’re one smart and kind young woman and I’ve had the honor and privilege to work with you. but with time, your quirks and habits grew on me, and well, so did you. so tell me, will you go out with me?” your heartbeat picks up its pace again and leaning in, you plant a small peck on his lips, and before you can pull away, wooseok’s arms wrap around your frame, pulling you in and deepening the kiss. then wooseok pulls back, cupping your face in his palm to lock his eyes with your own. “yes, kim wooseok, I’d like that very much.” and it is safe to say that since that night, you’ve experienced nothing but beautiful, radiant days, and peaceful, serene nights.

a/n: ahhh that’s over! thanks for waiting, I hope you guys liked it! this was written after my midterms so some parts of the storyline may seem a bit wonky, just fyi, but that’s all for wooseok. now, who do we want to see next? did you think it was going to be wooseok? if not, who did you associate with the mini rubik’s cube? comment down below <3

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alexthepartyman · 5 years ago

Text

Fine Line

Chapter Five: I know you were way too bright for me.

“Yet teh first victim wasn’t eviscerated,” Spencer remarks. Derek looks over his shoulder at us. “And the unsub seems to have used a different weapon at each crime scene.”

“Two different MOs.”

“Two different killers?”

“Or one very psychotic individual,” Uncle Jason remarks, turning the team’s attention to us.

“What happened to you?”

“I got a list of things I want to try before it’s too late.”

“And orthopedic surgery’s one of them??” Elle asks.

“No, skydiving. Apparently, it’s all about the landing.”

‘I’m still pissed at him for it because he didn’t take me.”

“Not in your state are you leaving Virginia,” Aaron cuts me off. “And besides, you’re not old enough to do that. How long on the crutches, Jason?”

“Just a couple of days.”

“So you can’t go out into the field?”

“Not on crutches, no.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to be helpful here. Got a blitz attack. No effort to remove the body, clean up evidence.”

“Sounds really disorganised.”

“With organised killers, we see a pattern, we’re able to predict their behaviour, but with psychotic killers, they’re guided by a given delusion.”

“Okay, but until we understand the nature of the delusion, we can’t predict his next move.”

“And that’s nearly impossible to do.”

“Actually, I think we might have a clue.”

“Alright, throw it at me,” I offer, walking myself over to stand between him and Derek.

“These rings at the crime scene might be some kind of signature?” He asks, pointing at them for me.

“Maybe.”

“I can work this angle. I’ll see if there’s any significance to the patters.”

“Psychotic killers are normally not that difficult to catch because they don’t try to hide.”

“Does that make your job easier?” JJ asks.

“Oh, no. Cause until we do locate him, he’ll keep doing that.”

“Jamie, you’ll be staying here with Jason and Penelope. Please do try to focus on your schoolwork and not the case.” I nod at Aaron. “Wheels up in thirty.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Working from the assumption that the rings are a signature…”

“SIr, I could help you get some of these books back to your -”

“Exploring their symbolic significance? Just exploring...I have nothing.”

“That seems like a specific pattern, though. Here, Penelope, give me something. Maybe if you were in your office, Uncle Jason, you’d have more room to spread out and get a fresh perspective...do you think? Maybe? No?” Uncle Jason stares at me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I need to focus on the manner in which Annie Stuart was killed. Anything that might have been done to her postmortem. Get this stuff out of here. Sorry.”

“Jason, this isn’t your…” My voice trails off as he approaches the central desk and hands me a few papers. “Well, at least you apologised.”

“Where’s the, uh, blueprints of the house?”

“Oh, they’re right here on the screen-”

“I don’t want the blueprints on the screen. I want something I can hold onto.” I sit in front of the screen with the blueprint and start sketching out the floor plans.

“Here you go.”

“It’s hot in here. Can you fix the AC? How do you breathe in here? Can you try to make it a little cooler in here?” I grimace at the sight of the chaos unfolding in front of me, the two talking over each other.

“Uh, yeah. It’s pretty cold, but-”

“Do you have the autopsy reports?”

“I’m gonna have the sheriff from Harringtonville fax it over as soon as they come in.”

“Can I have another cup of coffee, if you would?”

“That, I can do, hang on. You want your usual black?” I ask.

“Yeah. They’re right here.”

“Got it. I’ll get the coffee.”

“Thank you.” I scoff as Penelope walks away, letting go of my grips and throwing my hands up in frustration.

“You’re welcome.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Chicken broccoli?” Jason asks.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just…”

“What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s autopsy reports.” I look to them from my homework and sigh. “Annie Stuart’s body was, um...I can’t say it.”

“Missing her liver and stomach.”

“I know that this may seem like a small, dark hole, but it’s my office, and I like to keep it sort of cleanish. Why are you doing that again?”

“What is he doing?”

“Putting his food all over the blueprint.”

“There’s a reason.”

“He’s taking the blood and organs from the bodies and putting them in cylindrical containers. It’s andropothogy.”

“It’s what?”

“Anthonro what what?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

“Literal Greek translation is man eating...guy’s a cannibal.” I put my earbuds in and turn up the music. This is the part where I drop out of the conversation.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“HE TOOK THE HEART?! HOTCH?!” Jason yells, coming back into Penelope’s cage.

“Yes.”

“The heart has always had incredible symbolic significance. I mean, aside from just banal romantic associations. The Egyptians left the heart in mummies because they believed the organ ensured eternal life.”

“Something I read...ow! Ow!”

“Jesus Christ, Jason!” I yell out, ripping out my earbuds and spinning the chair to face him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Give me the book. The big one. Right there.”

“Okay. Could you get the book, please Penelope, yes I can, here you are. Thank you.”

“Where’s the crime scene photos?”

“Crime scene photos…”

“Does that body look like an angel?”

“Not to me.”

“Scan this in. Send it to them. There was, there was an article by a Cambridge professor. Seems that all the organs the unsub’s taken...stomach, liver, now the heart, they were thought to be the seat of the soul, at one time or another.” I groan and start lightly banging my wrists against my forehead and rocking back and forth.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t do that, okay? Here’s a slinky,” Penelope gently tells me, placing a metal slinky toy in my hands. My fingers start to manipulate it, exploring every inch of the toy.

“Then he drinks their blood?”

“So when this man drinks his victims’ blood…”

“He believes he’s encountering the divine.”

“Wait a minute, none of this explains why he took the kid.”

“The unsub made the victim into an angel. Maybe the kid’s a messionic figure.”

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t feel the need to sacrifice him.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Garcia. Talk to me.”

“Okay, so I got ahold of Eddy’s roommate in college, who describes Eddy as having an overprotective mom.”

“How overprotective?”

“She called him, like, three times a day. And get this. One time, she went up to Boston to break him up with a girlfriend she didn’t like.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, it seems like Eddy’s entire college experience was some sort of post-adolescent rebellion. He partied like an eighties clubber. He suffered a delusional break due to methamphetamine consumption.”

“Wow. That is partying like an eighties clubber.”

“Right. So then, he was admitted to a mental health facility in Botson,checked himself out a week ago, and found his way home.”

“What was his major?”

“Comparative religion,” I answer. “No idea what that is.”

“Thanks. How is it having Gideon around?”

“Uh, you can have him back whenever you’d like.” Penelope hangs up. “How do you deal with him?”

“You get used to it. By the way, could I have access to your computers for research purposes?”

“It depends on what you are researching, because if you think you can research Peyton again, I am not allowed to let you do that. Oh, and no snooping through case files again.”

“Literally nobody ever told me that my brother went to college, and I can’t figure out why Boston of all places.”

“He went to Harvard.”

“Doesn’t make sense from what I’ve heard about him. Literally the last time I saw him...fuck, that was when Eddie graduated high school. And I was eight. And we went to Peyton.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey! You guys are back!”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Don’t sweetheart me. I may not be a Supervisory Speical Agent, but that does not make me a maid.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Penelope and Aaron head up the stairs, her carrying a tote of Jason’s things. “This is the third box of crap that Gideon left in my office. There’s at least two more, and everything smells like soy sauce!-”

“I’ll take care of it,” Aaron quietly offers, taking the box from her.

“Was he that bad?” Derek asks me.

“Frustrating, yes. I can’t confirm or deny the soy sauce, though. Hey, can I annoy you guys until Aaron takes me home? Penelope’s probably sick of me.” Derek chuckles.

“Of course, kid. You gotta tell us what’s been new with your friends, though.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #adoptedbydavidrossi #fine line

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oneblckcoffee · 6 years ago

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Only Us [2]

Pairing - Mob!Harrison x Mob!Fem!Reader

Word Count - 2,044

Warnings - drinking, swearing

A/N - i have no excuse as to why this is EIGHT MONTHS LATE. im sorry ok, but life got in the way. im not sure when the next chapter is gonna be up but @rupimiller kinda pressured (but mostly motivated) me to write this, so i guess peer pressure is the way to go? ALSO, the name is based on the song Only Us from Dear Evan Hansen, you can listen to it here. it’ll make sense eventually. anyway enjoy!

chapter 1

—

Harrison woke up that fateful afternoon, feeling numb. He was hungover, with a pounding headache, and the unexpected wake up call from Tom had left him slightly disoriented. This was his new normal, though. The drinking, the smoking and the occasional drugs; anything to ward off his actual feelings, to numb the pain. He was simply going through the motions; taking each day at a time, still struggling to come to terms with reality and the consequences brought about by his actions.

He sat up at the edge of his bed, resting his head in his hands, waiting for the dizziness to subside. With a sigh, he stood up and made his way to the en suite bathroom. Harrison stood in front of the vanity, taking in his reflection. His eyes were bloodshot, lids still heavy with sleep, and the bags under them could never fully describe how tired he truly felt. His hair was disheveled, sticking out every which way. His eyes fell on his torso, on the scar that ran down his chest, all the way to gunshot wound in the middle of his abdomen. The physical wounds had healed very well over time, the scar almost invisible to the untrained eye but the pain was still there, the memories all too fresh in his mind. Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, Harrison entered the shower.

—

This meeting had been in the books for a while now and Harrison had been dreading it ever since. When he first discovered that Tom had reached out to you, he was livid. He could not believe that Tom would undermine his authority and ask a stranger for help. Harrison did not want to admit that they needed the help, especially not from some random girl who’s father just happened to be well respected in the industry. However, he was painfully aware that things needed to change if they wanted to stay on top. Once he got over his initial anger, he did of course realise that this was the only way to climb out of the hole they currently found themselves in. So even though he didn’t agree with Tom’s methods he trusted his judgement and decision, partly because Tom had never failed him but mostly because he was grateful that Tom hadn’t dropped the ball on things, unlike him.

And for those reasons, Harrison got dressed and found himself sitting in the passenger seat of the Porsche as Tom drove them to their destination. As he sat in the car, Harrison noticed a silence that would not be there on any other day. Usually, Tom would put on some music for car journeys as long as the one ahead of them and would talk about some client that was being difficult, but today he was way too occupied in his thoughts to bother with any of that. The pair had been inseparable ever since they met in primary school; they were as thick as thieves and had been with each through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. They knew each other better than the back of their own hands and trusted each other to a fault. So of course Harrison noticed his tense demeanour instantly - his jaw was clenched and his hands were gripping the steering wheel a bit too tightly. His brows were knotted and even though his eyes were trained on the road ahead, they seemed distant and lost in thought.

“Alright, out with it,” said Harrison, who couldn’t take the silence any more. He’d much rather have Tom talk his ear off than watch him battle his thoughts, alone.

“What d’you mean?” asked Tom, not once taking his eyes off the road.

“Mate, I know you’re worried about this but I can’t have you this distracted when we’re there, so what’s on your mind?”

“This needs to work out. I need it to work out,” Tom sighed, “And yes, I’m incredibly aware that this could very well be an ambush. We’re not armed, have no backup and are meeting a very dangerous stranger in the middle of nowhere. Things could end badly, not that they were great to begin with. I don’t know why I agreed to all her terms and I regret not setting our own but we have no leverage, she’s doing us a huge courtesy by even agreeing to meet us ‘cause we all know that she doesn’t need this. Which just makes me question her intentions further, ‘cause like, she can just wait us out and watch from the sidelines as we fuck ourselves over and then there’s one less family in the mob world. But no, she agreed to hear us out and discuss a possible merger which doesn’t really do her any good, at least nothing that I could think of. And to add to that, we barely have anything on her! I’ve done my research, if I can even call it that, and all I could find is that she’s young and runs the business and has ruffled some feathers here and there. That’s it! There’s nothing else on her, not many people even know that she’s a part of her father’s business. She may as well not exist, that’s how little we actually know about her, and that’s never a good sign.”

Tom let out a deep breath and brought a hand up to his eyes to try and relieve some of his headache. He was rambling and he was stressed and tired and way in over his head. This was new territory for both of them and neither knew what was going to happen in that bar. They were desperate and this was probably their last chance to save face and not burn their business to the ground.

“I trust you, you know that right?” Harrison reassured, “You’ve never made a wrong decision. Hell, you’ve managed to keep my ass out of trouble for such a long time you deserve a goddamn award!”

Tom let out a small laugh, “Yeah, it’s not easy mate.”

Harrison clapped Tom’s shoulder, “I know and I’m sorry that we’re in this situation right now and I know it’s my fault even though you’re never gonna blame me for it. But we’re gonna fix this, alright? One way or another.”

“Yeah.”

Harrison didn’t really know if he was going to accept your offer, he didn’t even know the specifics of the deal that you had discussed with Tom. But he trusted him to make the right decision so he stayed silent while they sat in the rundown bar waiting for you to arrive.

—

Forty-five minutes.

They had been sitting there in that bar for forty-five minutes, drinking and waiting. Tom was still anxious and lost in his thoughts while Harrison was getting more annoyed with every passing second. He’d suggested leaving twenty minutes ago but stayed because he didn’t want to argue with Tom.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, getting up from the booth to make his way to the bar to get himself yet another whiskey. The bartender had been eyeing them ever since they walked through the doors, sometimes even eavesdropping in on their conversation from time to time. He handed Harrison his drink, without exchanging any words and watched as he walked back towards the booth before continuing with his work.

Harrison sat down beside Tom, sipping on his drink. He had almost finished his drink when a soft thud caught his attention. His head immediately moved in the direction of sound, eyes straining to see the figures at the door in the dimly lit bar. His eyes were trained on you, as you and a guy entered the bar, following your every move. His eyes travelled across your figure; you were wearing a light blue shirt with some trousers and a pair of heels and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think you were attractive.

“Mate, she’s hot,” said Tom, his face flushed with relief at your arrival. Harrison gave him a pointed look. “What, you told me to relax?” Harrison rolled his eyes but a soft chuckle fell from his lips.

He watched as you took a seat at the bar, listening to your conversation with the bartender. He tried to get a read on you, as you intentionally made them wait longer, but couldn’t which was new for him. You finally finished your conversation with the bartender, grabbed your drink and joined them at their booth.

“Hello boys,” you said, as you sat across from the two of them, studying them. Tom was sitting up straight, his fingers interlaced in front of him on the table, eager whereas Harrison leant back in his seat, his left arm resting on the backrest of the booth, uninterested.

“Fucking finally.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’ve been waiting for an hour.”

“No, you’ve been waiting for fifty minutes. But I really do apologise for making you wait ten more minutes than I initially planned; you see, something important came up.”

A snort left Tom’s lips that he tried (and failed) to cover up with a cough and Harrison rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, I guess I should properly introduce myself, eh? I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Yes, Y/L/N. Meaning that Y/D/N Y/L/N is my father. And you must be the Osterfield family disappointment, yeah?”

You were trying to rile him up, push his buttons as far as you can, just to see what he would do. You noticed his jaw clenching, tightening the grip on his glass, his eyes never leaving yours as he brought the whiskey to his mouth.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice, Ms. Y/L/N,” began Tom. “You may have heard that we are in need of some assistance, financially, and the prospect of a deal with you and your dad is very appealing to us. As discussed, we’ve agreed to share the profit and territory with your organisation. In exchange, we’re willing to provide you with any assistance or man power that you may need.”

While Tom was talking, your eyes never left Harrison’s; his icy stare meeting yours. You only looked away when Tom was done rambling.

“It’s Tom, yeah?” You asked rhetorically, finally looking at him, “you can cut the bullshit, Tom. Everyone in the fucking country knows you’re sinking and the sharks are beginning to circle and you’re need me to come in and save you.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“That is the only way to put it. Let’s be honest, I’m your best, worst option. Everyone else wants you dead, and most of the time I agree with that sentiment. But you could be useful.”

“Oh how so?” asked Harrison mockingly, pushing himself off the backrest and leaning forward. He knew you were going to be cocky given the circumstances, but your know-it-all attitude was beginning to annoy him.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, you’re just gonna have to wait to find out.”

“That’s not how it works, love.”

“That’s how it’s gonna work, love.”

You knew of Harrison’s reputation. Cutthroat, unyielding, short tempered. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before. Yet he annoyed you, which wasn’t something you were expecting.

“So, Tom. How does 80-20 sound?”

“Fuck, no.”

“What, no way. That’s not what we discussed on the phone. We settled on 60-40.”

“Yeah I know, love. But you see, I run the south and you barely have a grip on the north. Your business is failing and honestly, I don’t trust you. So, 80-20.”

“We still have some power.”

“In your fucking dreams, Osterfield. The only reason why you’re not dead yet cause people are still scared of you.”

“And you’re not?”

“I don’t see anything to be intimidated by.”

“Would you go for 70-30, maybe?” tried Tom.

“No we’re not doing fucking 70-30!” said Harrison, “It’s 60-40. That’s it. Take it or leave it.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you, boys. Let’s go Michael.” you said, getting up from the booth. Tom had his head in his hands, Harrison was angry underneath the cold exterior but also worried. Didn’t Tom say that this was their best chance?

“Fuck you, mate.”

chapter 3

tags - @deleteidentity @rupimiller

#only us #harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #mob!au #mob!harrison #mob!haz #mob!reader #harrison x reader #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield x you #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield fanfiction #haz osterfield fanfiction #haz osterfield fic

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kanasmusings · 6 years ago

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[Translation] StarMyu Season 3 Kao Kai - Character Q & A - Part 2

Here’s part 2~! It covers Kasuga-chan, Irinatsu, and Chiaki! I had so much fun reading all of these because it just gives us a glimpse about how the new Kao Council are outside of their usual activities in school~ After this, the new songs will be posted~!

Now, I’m wondering-- Who’s everyone’s favorite new member for now??? XD

※ Please don’t re-post and re-translate this interview under any circumstances. If you want to translate it to your native language, the kanji is readily available in the anime official website.

Anyways, full interviews under the cut, enjoy~!

[Kasugano Shion Q & A]

1.) Please introduce yourself.

- Musical Department 3rd year. I’m the Kao Council’s Kasugano Shion.

2.) What first impression do people usually have of you?

- “Behaved”. And then when we get to know each other a bit more, it becomes, “You’re kinda weird.”

3.) But really, it’s?

- I don’t think that I’m a noisy person. I don’t know whether I am weird or not, too.

4.) What are you confident in?

- I don’t get surprised no matter what happens. My fortune-telling hobby sometimes warns me greatly about certain happenings.

5.) What are your weaknesses?

- … Shiki and Irinatsu said that I sometimes get easily offended…

6.) What was your nickname in middle school?

- “Shion,” and “Haru.” When I got to high school, Irinatsu started calling me, “Kasuga-chan.”

7.) What’s your favourite way to travel?

- If the weather is good, I like to walk.

8.) What was usually written on your report cards?

- … “One flaw he has is he’s quick to be offended.”…

9.) What’s one thing you absolutely can’t forgive?

- When Shiki’s keeping things to himself-- If he experiences a painful memory then… I won’t forgive myself.

10.) What’s the first thing you do when you wake up?

- Fix my bedhair. Since I have soft hair, it takes quite a while to fix it in the mornings.

11.) What’s your favourite food?

- Shiki and Irinatsu have said that I like things that have a lot of calcium in it.

12.) How do you spend your days off?

- Lately, I’ve been researching ways on how to make fortune cookies. I can eat as many as needed until I get the “great luck” fortune.

13.) What is one bad point about yourself?

- … That maybe I really am… a bit quick to be offended.

14.) What’s your favourite place?

- I love the school’s rooftop. I feel so calm when I do fortunes there. I feel like I’ll make a really accurate fortune reading and stuff like that.

15.) How do you relieve your stress?

- I’ll try to predict what my luck is for that day. Fortune-telling is not “magical” at all but is based on data so, it is connected to self-analysis, too. Above all else, it makes me feel at ease. If that doesn’t work then… I’ll make a voodoo doll of the person giving me stress.

16.) What’s the thing you want to do the most right now?

- I want to oversee my students properly while they prepare for the upcoming Ayanagi Festival. I also want to be of help to the other first years even if they’re not my pupils. That’s because it’s what Shiki would want, too.

17.) What subjects are you good at?

- Math and science. I like subjects that have a definite answer.

18.) What subjects are you bad at?

- Japanese language. There are a lot of questions that have multiple answers depending on the person answering them so, I just can’t feel convinced about it.

19.) Sleep or eat, which one can you not live without?

- Shiki… I wonder if he’s eating and sleeping properly. Lately, I’ve been a bit worried about him…

20.) Any parting words?

- The Wheel of Fortune… I feel like something is about to happen…

OMAKE:

21.) What’s your favourite drink?

- Green tea and o-shiruko.

22.) Are you skilful with your hands?

- I might be dexterous. The other day, I had Irinatsu play with me and I did some tarot card table magic. It went better than I thought it did.

23.) Favourite weather?

- A sunny day with a slight breeze.

»»————-　★　————-««

[Irinatsu Masashi Q & A]

1.) Please introduce yourself.

- I’m the Kao Council’s Irinatsu Masashi~!

2.) What first impression do people usually have of you?

- “Are you half [foreign]?” Ain’t that funny? (laughs)

3.) But really, it’s?

- I’m Japanese! (laughs)

4.) What are you confident in?

- ‘Course I’m confident in my ability to make music. It’s a talent I inherited from my mom and dad after all~ That’s enough to make me feel confident in it, right?

5.) What are your weaknesses?

- I get hungry quickly. I munch on stuff even during meetings sometimes and Ryo-chin glares at me (laughs). Sorry, Ryo-chin!

6.) What was your nickname in middle school?

- “Masashi” “Irinacchan” “Nacchan” “Massan” “Masa” That too much? (laughs)

7.) What’s your favourite way to travel?

- Running! Sweating it out’s the best!

8.) What was usually written on your report cards?

- “Too lax,” or something? I was living in my grandma’s house when I was in elementary school, y’know? That’s why my body clock was like an old man’s, too.

9.) What’s one thing you absolutely can’t forgive?

- I tend to forgive anything! In exchange, it’d get pretty scary when I become super angry, ‘kay?

10.) What’s the first thing you do when you wake up?

- I let out a loooooooooooooouuuuuuuuud voice! It relaxes me and ain’t it gonna help you wake up if you get surprised by your own voice?

11.) What’s your favourite food?

- Shaved ice. Unlimited sea grapes. I also loved the chanpuru* my grandma used to make me. Grandma, are you doin’ well~?

12.) How do you spend your days off?

- There’re times when I just laze around at home, there’re times I go to cafés to look for inspiration, too. I found a really good shop lately! It’s got a good atmosphere and at night there’s a piano being played there, too!

13.) What is one bad point about yourself?

- Only one is boring (laughs). Go ask everyone!

14.) What’s your favourite place?

- The work-room is my castle. It’s got everything there in order for me to express the music I make. Oh, and then after that, ya just gotta wait for your imagination to overflow!

15.) How do you relieve your stress?

- I play the piano fervently in a sound-proof room. I get drunk on hitting the keys as loudly as I can (laughs).

16.) What’s the thing you want to do the most right now?

- Camping! “Chiaki-chan, wanna go with me?” I realized I asked him that back when we were second years. That guy’s definitely the outdoorsy type and he’s got good physique. He looks like he’s good at putting up a tent!

17.) What subjects are you good at?

- Music’s gotta be number one, y’know? And then, social sciences? Like Japanese and English. I write lyrics, too, after all.

18.) What subjects are you bad at?

- Hm, I don’t think there’s much. I love everything.

19.) Sleep or eat, which one can you not live without?

- If I were to choose, it’d be food, probably~ Ah, but sleeping gives me good ideas, too~ Both are very important, y’know?

20.) Any parting words?

- The Kao Council will do their best to fire up the Ayanagi Festival, ‘kay?! Expect a very hot atmosphere, got it!?

OMAKE:

21.) What’s your favourite drink?

- Hot coffee. Doesn’t it feel refreshing?

22.) Are you skilful with your hands?

- I play instruments so the dexterity between my right hand and left hand is pretty different. If it’s attacking someone with tickles then, I’m an expert (laughs).

23.) Favourite weather?

- Definitely sunny!

Translator’s Notes:

* “Chanpuru” is an Okinawan stir-fried dish and is kind of a stable food in Okinawa. It’s also called a representative of Okinawan cuisine.

»»————-　★　————-««

[Chiaki Takafumi Q & A]

1.) Please introduce yourself.

- I’m Chiaki Takafumi. Nice to meet you.

2.) What first impression do people usually have of you?

- I get called flashy a lot. I think it’s ‘cause I grow my hair out.

3.) But really, it’s?

- I’m pretty serious and don’t have a lot of free time.

4.) What are you confident in?

- I’m pretty good at embroidery. Every year during April, I make a huge amount of stuff for my younger brother and sister.

5.) What are your weaknesses?

- You might not understand but, it’s “mochi”. When I was a kid and we went to a mochi-making event, I kept seeing Ryo eat it while looking so disgusted. I saw that and I ended up disliking it, too. Eating something with such a sour face is nonsense, you know!?

6.) What was your nickname in middle school?

- “Takafumi” and “Fumi”

7.) What’s your favourite way to travel?

- There’s really not any but, I do want to have a driving license soon.

8.) What was usually written on your report cards?

- When I was a kid, “Very mature,” was always written. I’m the eldest child so when I was still the only child, I was pretty behaved. There were a lot of people at home that it was hard to go out.

9.) What’s one thing you absolutely can’t forgive?

- Fuyusawa Ryo.

10.) What’s the first thing you do when you wake up?

- Make breakfast. Lunch and dinner are what my younger sister’s in charge of so, I have to at least help with breakfast.

11.) What’s your favourite food?

- Likes and dislikes aside, I make sure to finish anything my sister makes for me. She makes me a character boxed lunch everyday so, it’d be scary if I got teased for that.

12.) How do you spend your days off?

- Taking care of my family. Though, Irinatsu keeps inviting me to go camping. What nonsense.

13.) What is one bad point about yourself?

- I think it’s me spoiling my students too much. I’m probably weak to those younger than I am.

14.) What’s your favourite place?

- We moved to a newer building since 2nd term started but, I was pretty fond of the old school building we used during the 1st term. The facilities are old but it’s calming.

15.) How do you relieve your stress?

- Going back home and playing with the kids.

16.) What’s the thing you want to do the most right now?

- I feel like I won’t be able to relax until the Ayanagi Festival’s test stage is over. Making sure my students get into the Musical Department is what I wanna do the most for now.

17.) What subjects are you good at?

- I’m pretty fine with any subject but my specialty is probably kanji, geography, and calculation.

18.) What subjects are you bad at?

- Those shapes in math and time, too.

19.) Sleep or eat, which one can you not live without?

- I’m an early sleeper… Staying up late is nonsense.

20.) Any parting words?

- This term’s Kao Council members are independent. We don’t interfere with each other’s guidance policies and we respect each other’s opinions, too. But—Not having disagreements would make things too smooth, right? I wonder who’s being such a goody-two-shoes here…

OMAKE:

21.) What’s your favourite drink?

- Floats. I don’t care about basic drinks.

22.) Are you skilful with your hands?

- Ah, I’m dexterous.

23.) Favourite weather?

- Sunny, probably.

»»————-　★　————-««

※ Please don’t re-post and re-translate this interview under any circumstances. If you want to translate it to your native language, the kanji is readily available in the anime official website.

If you enjoyed this, please consider buying me a ko-fi here to support my work! It’ll be a really big help. (o^▽^o)Thank you!!

#starmyu #high school star musical #kasugano shion #irinatsu masashi #chiaki takafumi #kao council #starmyu translations #interview translations #my translations #YOOOOOOO #kasugano and shiki are a ship XD #either way #these are too adorable~!#irinatsu's defintiely a contender for my fave~

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oc-rehab-centre · 6 years ago

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OC Design Basics #1 - Colour Palettes

Every part of an original character, fandom or non-fandom, humanoid or animalian, is important to the bigger picture. Your original character is like a mosaic or a puzzle, every piece is crucial to having a “good” character: personality, backstory, relationships, etc., you know the deal. But today we’re going to discuss: the importance of OC design, common mistakes and what you can do to fix them.

Now, this isn’t a post made only to talk about how OC fame/attention is linked to OC design… Which is really isn’t, and I hope that’s clear! This isn’t a tutorial on how to get famous either, but rather a collection of information and tips meant to help you! This is also geared towards a younger audience - so some things are pretty obvious.

Alrighty then, let’s get into this~

Importance of Design

We all know the idiom “don’t judge a book by its cover”: which discourages people to prejudge something’s overall worth from a mere first glance, positive or negative. However, when it comes to characters, you’ll often see the images before you see their biography or information and get to know the nitty-gritty information about them.

It’s pretty superficial, but first impressions can make or break your OC’s popularity and reception, but alas, that is just human nature. If you have a fandom OC; how well your OC’s design blends in with the existing cast, or how much they stand out against them can reel in an intrigued audience. Your OC’s design is just one of many factors which may bring you an audience, or leave you with just a small one - but shove aside that notion and let’s focus on what’s actually important.

A good OC is congruent, with all the little pieces working together naturally to tell your OC’s story and fit with aspects of their personality in a way that doesn’t feel forced. Their appearance should reflect things about them, and give the audience an idea as to what they are like from a first glance or two. It’s a challenge, but as you grow more experienced, it becomes easier. However, some help along the way is always nice, and that’s why we’re here!

In this tip & tutorial post, I’m mostly going to cover more natural colours and make your OC look more, well, “original”! Of course as always, these are just opinions, and you are just as entitled to your own as I am to mine! Also, I’ll be talking about more common mistakes I’ve seen several young artists and creators make, so if you’re new to OC creation, here’s some tips from someone whose been doing too much of this kinda thing!

I will not be covering facial features and shapes here, but perhaps I will in the near future??? This mostly focuses on colours!

For this tutorial, by the way, I used a colouring page found HERE. I’m not entirely sure if this is the original artist, nor is the original artist credited. If you ever find the source and wanna let us here at @oc-rehab-centre know, that’d be just dandy!

Common Mistake #1 - Hair Colours/Styles

If you’ve browsed the undiscovered page of DeviantART, you may find yourself browsing the work of younger creators. It is always wonderful to see young artists working to produce their own characters, but it’s a shame to say that most OC creators can determine or guess your age range and experience from the way you design characters, or perhaps an inability to credit base makers lmao.

What I see a lot on DeviantART when it comes down to hair colour is often… unstimulating. Hair colours like black and oversaturated colours are often used, perhaps due to a lack of understanding the colour wheel of infinite possibilities or how to make colours beyond what they can find in their box of 24 Crayola coloured pencils.

When it comes to OC design, you want to try your best to avoid black and bright, bright colours that are hard on the eyes unless absolutely necessary and essential to your character.

Black hair can easily be substituted for other dark and natural colours, like shades of brown or red. Heck, there are entire charts of natural hair colours online you can browse.

Blinding shades of red, green, blue, etc. can all be made easier on the eyes by simply mellowing or darkening the colour. Perhaps you might settle for pastel hues, or a darker and less saturated tone. Both your eyes and the eyes of your viewers will thank you for making something other than pitch-black or a vibrant hot magenta!

Hopefully this little diagram shows what a difference a bit of playing around with your colour wheel can do! Now time to address another common trope in OC creation when it comes to hair: hair styles.

A very common hairstyle that you see is the hair over one eye. OCs with their bangs draped down over one eye. TV Tropes discusses this infamous design cliche as a way of symbolizing sexuality, shyness, solidarity or powerful [HERE].. However, most OCs with this hairstyle are not always explained and if it is, it’s done poorly, making it seem as though a) the creator was merely going for a run-of-the-mill edgy look with their character OR b) they just can’t draw the other eye.

While having an OC who's a bit on the edgy and badass side is cool and all, it is a trope to avoid. I went through a phase of having my hair over one eye in my elementary days but trust me, it’s not a very practical hairstyle, and it’s certainly not very stylish if your bangs are all scraggly too. If you have chosen this hairstyle to avoid drawing the other eye, just take the leap! You’re not going to improve unless you push yourself to experiment with new hairstyles, of which there are many!

Finding other hairstyles to use for your OC is as simple as browsing the Internet. There are countless of video and written tutorials to watch on how to draw hair styles, all of which are arguably more appealing and interesting than that mock of edgy bangs. If you are striving for an edgy character, there are other ways to show that in their design than simply such an ill-mannered hairstyle!

Credit: doggerland

Common Mistake #2 - Eyes/Facial Scars

Much like hair colours, overly-saturated colours can ruin eyes when they seem out of place. You can have an OC with natural coloured hair, a good colour palette and then oh wait - an eye colour that doesn’t really fit. I’ve seen many young creators using eye colours that really don’t exist and look very unnatural, clashing with their character’s design.

Like with hair, a certain number of natural eye colours exist. Even if you’re bending from natural eye colours, avoid using saturated shades or shades that are just too dark. You can get some nice and more natural colours by playing around with your colour wheel. You can be bold without using such assaulting colours! XD

Another common trope derived from anime and gaming are scars. I know I was mostly going to discuss colours here, but like hairstyles, it’s something worth addressing!Once again, I’m gonna make reference to TV Tropes’ article. The most common scars include:

A cut over one eye

A claw mark (usually three or four even gashes on the chest or face)

Any of the Standard Bleeding Spots

Any scar shaped like an X.

A scar on the face that happened in a sword duel.

Credit: TV Tropes

Regardless of the universe, fandom or non-fandom, scars may add to your character’s story, but it takes a lot to make a scar on the face seem original. I’m personally not a fan of OCs with scars on their face, since it’s often not acknowledged or even drawn in a way that is realistic.

For example, getting slashed across the eye with a sword or blade would not leave a clean scar and a pearly, blinded eye, as we often see in anime. It would look nasty and it would look as disabling as it feels, so when people don’t abide to the very nature of how the human body heals, it irks me a little bit.

My tip here would be to avoid scars that go over the eye unless you’re going to do it right. Research the injuries if you don’t have a weak stomach, and see what injuries like that would really look like. Overall, facial scars are also something you should steer away from. Important scars can go elsewhere, you know! There’s more to your OC’s body than just their face.

Scars also come in more shapes than just 3-4 animal claw marks, burns from abusive parents or straight-lined sword scars. Scars come in different shapes and sizes. Some are hypertrophic/raised while others are flat and just sort of look like birthmarks upon healing. Are you willing to give up your action-packed duel scene and settle for a more realistic scar for your OC? It’ll help in the long run if you’re aiming for accuracy.

Common Mistake #3 - Colour Palettes

Oh goodness you guys have probably heard enough about me yammering about colour. But hey - this tip post is mostly about the importance of colour. This here is the last major tip for designing your OC. This will be the last part of this post, and I apologize for this being a bit of a mess! I was trying to keep this one as general as possible!

ANYWAYS-

Colour palettes are essential to a character! I hope that’s ingrained in your brain at this point because it really is! Their wardrobe should reflect their personality and should be carefully considered as well. Too many times have I seen colour palettes that just do not work at all with the character’s attire nor their apparent personality.

Using the girl who has been our base for examples in this post, let’s take a look at her attire. A baggy hat, a bandanna around her neck, a sweater, fingerless gloves and a layered skirt. This is rather cutesy attire and while perhaps you could argue that a pink and teal getup or an edgelord black and rainbow outfit could work, there are palettes that might fit this character a little better.

Pastel colours fit better with this style of dressing. It feels more correct to have the four palettes on the right than the two on the left. This is the effect your colour choices have on how pleasing your character looks to the eye.

And that is all!

We hope you enjoyed this tip post! Likes, reblogs and follows are always appreciated. Some aspects of OC design were not covered here, especially the important stuff that more experienced creators would’ve wanted to see like how to make face, eye, nose, etc. shapes more unique and clothing design. I’ll try to ensure that gets covered in the future, as I said before, but I hope that those that read this enjoyed it!

#General #Multifandom #Non Fandom #Multifandom OC #Non Fandom OC #OC Help #OC Review

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mamabearlarusso · 6 years ago

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Journal: Getting Back to the Real World…Easier Said Than Done Part 2

So...since I knew what I wanted to do next, there was research to be done first. I started looking through pictures to get the right look...then I dug through all my old phones and contacts to find the number...it was a long time since I had the need to call it.

"Yelll-ooo?"

"Hey, Joey, it's Mandy...you manning the phones for your dad still?"

"Heeey, Mandy! Long time, girl! No, Dad put down the needle, a while ago...been living it up in one of those communities with Mom. He's got a weekly poker game with guys up there, too."

"That's really great to hear, Joey. He deserves it. You know, your Dad was my first? I thought I knew everything about what was going to happen, tried to hide how nervous I was. But he knew...he could definitely tell I was out of my element."

"Dad's a pro, you can't go forty-two years in the business and not pick up the signs."

"Yeah, I guess not. But he sure made me feel comfortable and was a complete gentleman about everything. I'll never forget that."

"It was just how Dad was raised, how he raised me...having respect for all clients is a must...no matter how hot they are." *grins*

*blushing* "Hey now. Didn't I hear somewhere that you got hitched?"

"Yup, to my one and only sweetheart, Vicky. Met her right out of college...and while you bring up the subject, didn't I hear someone made an honest woman out of you?"

"Married almost twenty years, two beautiful kids...divorced five months ago."

"Sooo...you're--"

"Yeah, soooo--maybe I should have a talk with that Vicky of yours." *raises a brow*

*clears throat* "Now...what did you need...dial the wrong number?"

"Very funny, Joey...looking for a new piece...can I email you some reference pics?"

"Sure...*waits for them to come through and looks them over*...where is this going to be?"

"Upper back, left of the spine."

"Okay, give me a few days to do a couple sketches and I'll call you back, alright?"

"Thanks, Joey. Love to the folks--"

"Will do, babe."

"--and to Vicky, Joey."

*laughs* "Just teasin', Mandy."

"Uh huh...see you in a few."

The next day after the phone call, Anoush walked into my office during lunch and sat down. He wanted a raise and to have some say in the next hire, since he would have to deal with them on the floor. He has definitely earned it, I couldn't have kept things going around here without him. I'm not exactly running on all cylinders yet either, so I wouldn't be able to handle him leaving for some place else. AND if I'm honest...if he left, I might just feel more of a failure, yet another person leaving--for whatever the reason--it's a pattern I don't think I'll ever get used to. So...we talked things out and I more or less gave him what we both needed...reassurance and security.

A few days had passed and work got a bit easier. I had looked through resumes and found a few I liked, then Anoush and I talked with them as they came in. I think we found a couple good ones. Things might actually be starting to look better around here. By their second day everything was going pretty well...so I when I got Joey’s call back, I felt secure and stable enough to take a long lunch. Anoush seemed calm and level-headed about it, too...he even smiled as he was shooing me out the door.

As I drove to the old parlor--that I haven’t been to in decades--I felt happy. Blasting some AC/DC, banging my head and tapping the wheel to Iron Man...trying--but failing--not to think back the night we watched Iron Man and had Spaghetti for dinner...when things just kind of went pear shaped. I changed the channel to the oldies station and I Can’t Get No Satisfaction by The Rolling Stones was playing--it was perfect, for a minute or two...until it finished and Can’t Help Fight This Feeling by REO rolled over. You ever hear a song and it just hits you? Maybe not every lyric fits perfectly, but the music and some of the words paint a picture just right, or maybe it’s just enough to take you back to a memory and your living that memory over, or just wishing that the lyrics fit perfectly and wondering what it would feel like if it did and only half-listening to the song anymore? You know that feeling? Yeah, I don’t either.

I rolled into the parking lot and tried to wipe away my tears, before getting out of the car. I thought I was all touched up when I walked through the door, but as Joey stood up from his seat in the back to greet me, his mood changed and his face slowly stiffened as he escorted me into the back. “I haven’t seen that look in years, where does he live? I’ll definitely kick his ass this time.”

“No, Joey, I’m fine, I just...had a little bit of...what do they call it? I got hit with the feels...and they hit really hard this time around...but I'm good. You don't have to keep looking after me, I'm a big girl now, remember?"

*gestures to an empty seat a his work station* "Even big girls need help once in a while, Mandy."

*puts a hand up to his cheek and sighs* "You've always been a good boy and always treated me right. You ever wonder...?" *sits down*

*smirks and sits down* "Back then...hell yeah, I did. After seeing all those wrong guys you brought around here...*smugly*...when I was right in front of you...kinda hurts a guy's ego, you know?"

*Scrunches face* "Dude, you were the boss' kid AND three years younger than me, just out of high school. After all your folks did for me, I wasn't going to mess that up. Plus you didn't need me screwing with your mind, I was still pretty much a basket case back then...*laughs*...not that I'm much better these days. I just meant, If I wasn’t so...me, then maybe..."

"Hey, I’ve always liked you, Mandy...besides, I wouldn't have minded you scrambling the ol’ mind a bit." *grins*

*rolls eyes and tries not to smile* "Yeah, well, I'm sure Vicky would love to hear that."

*clears throat* "No, you're right, she'd totally kick my ass. You'd love her!"

*laughs* "I’ll bet. Now, are we gonna get this show on the road, or what?"

*opens a folder with the sketches, showing different angles and actions* "Here, let me know which one you like and we can get started."

*looks them over and a proud smile forms* (He's always been such a talented artist, and his skill has only improved over time) "Ooo, I like this one."

"Great." *hollers to an employee* "Kady!"

*steps in, behind the curtain* "Yeah, boss?"

*hands her the page* "Prep this for me, will ya?"

"On it, boss." *looks to me* “Would you like some water?”

“Sure, that’d be great. Thanks.” *after Kady leaves, whistles* "Look at you, Mr. Boss Man. I remember when I was in her shoes, little miss go-fer. I was so happy to be off the phones, felt really accomplished.”

*Joey has a certain look in his eye as he sits back in his chair and crosses arms* “Okay, so, what’s the story with this new piece. You’ve been rolling with nostalgia every chance you get, and not mentioning much about your life now.”

(He knows me too well, all the time passed hasn’t changed that.) *puts down my purse and relaxes in the chair* “Well, all the drama before and after divorce nearly broke me, alright?” I got caught up in it all and old Mandy started peaking back out. I’m not proud of it. I thought I had gotten rid of her and buried the shovel, but--”

“Hey, shit happens. We don’t always react well to it. I know I wouldn’t handle divorce well in any capacity. But I know you, deep down you’re a good person, Mandy. No time away can change that or my mind about that.”

*Swallows back tears and tries to smile* “You know, you’re not the first person to say that me, lately.”

“I’d call you every week and remind you, too, if Vicky would let me. *smirks* so how does this *gestures to the still open file* come from that?”

“Well, I gained a couple friends out of it all--”

“Hey, look at that!”

“Smart ass! Anyway, one way or another...they helped me through everything and one them had to go and move outta town. I don’t know...I just never want to forget what he did for me, you know?”

*has that knowing look in his eye again* “Ah, he’s clawing at you still, isn’t he? All that tooth and nail business. What’s with the snake?”

The look in his eye...he knows it’s more than I’m saying, but he’s not coming out and saying it right out. He knows me, he doesn’t have to. *rolls eyes, and chuckles at the memory* “His nickname, from some lame joke.”

“Oh, a lame Mandy joke, haven’t heard one of those in a while. Hit me.”

*shakes head and sighs* “Fine. Well, he’s all about Cobras, right? Cobras are tough...Cobras are badass...and all that. But I caught him in a weak moment once and teased him. ‘Are you sure, you’re really a cobra and not a rattlesnake, because I think you’re shaking.’”

*laughs* “Oh jeez, I didn’t realize how much I missed those.”

*Kady walks back in* “Here you go, boss.” *hands him the sheet and me a coffee cup full of water*

*Joey stands up* “I’ll give you a minute. Kady you mind helping her get set up?” *sighs and laugh as walks out to the front* “I think you’re shaking.”

After I got all bandaged up, and Joey sent me on my way with the next appointment, I was back in the car on my way back to work and I felt good--sore, but good. I had to fix the seat and sit up just right, but I’d handle it...I just needed some tunes to take my mind off it...I just needed a song to let loose, let it all out...and forget for a little bit. Playing around on the stations I finally found something good...Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine...oddly enough, it was perfect...it took me back to my time working at the parlor. Once the song was over though, the next up slammed me right back to flashback land...Don’t You Forget About Me...my eyes starting watering as I sighed and sat back in my seat, quickly wincing at the pain. I start laughing hysterically. “Even if it WAS possible before, I don’t think I can now, Rattles.”

Ali had called to reschedule our brunch at her place, stuff came up at the hospital and she would be working late. We even made a point to make appointments at my old gym to get those cheesecake-burning exercises in. So, I had some time to heal up before my next appointment, work was getting better, things were going good with Ali...I felt like I more or less could breathe again.

#cobra kai rp #amanda #journal #Not all put back together yet...#...but i'm getting there...#...doesn't mean i'll ever stop missing him though...#...don't think that'll ever happen either...#...but i am getting stronger...and that's what counts right?

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