#and driving through the plains and there's not another car to be seen for miles

[killerchickadee]

The thing about it being my Midwestaversary is like.... sometimes I wonder if I really was that unhappy in Colorado?

Yes. The answer is absolutely yes, and I hated it almost from the very first day. Like I look at Facebook memory posts and even within the first few months I was like, "I hate it here, why the fuck did I move here?" And I stayed there EIGHT YEARS. I've lived in 6 different states and even though I have lots of mental health issues so I'm never really happy, and I have mixed feelings about a lot of the places I've lived in, I've never been as miserable as I was in Colorado. And even though I knew it was bad I didn't realize exactly how traumatic it was until I left. I've been back twice and both times ended up crying because I didn't want to be there. That's.... probably not normal lol.

So like, is my life going well? Not at all lol. Would I say I'm happy? Probably not, because my work situation is shit and I'm a little lonely here (and also the aforementioned mental health shit). But I'm a million times happier where I am now than I was there. I fucking love the midwest so much. Special shoutout to @thebrideofcaliban and her husband for getting me the fuck out here.

[the-authoress-writes]

Up Where We Belong Part Three

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Writer!reader

Up Where We Belong Masterlist

Synopsis: When a writer experiencing horrible writer’s block goes to the Apple Valley Airshow for inspiration, she meets a certain older, daring naval aviator, leading to maybe a little more than just inspiration.

Warnings: Mentions of family member deaths, cancer, some to-be-expected cursing, age gap (reader is in their late thirties to early forties).

But really, this is just fluff.

Author’s Note: This was a pain to finish—you know the feeling when you know what you have to do, but you don’t know how to do it?

(Insert Ben Solo/Kylo Ren/Adam Driver gif here)

Yeah, that was this.

So many parts of this were so stubborn, even when I knew what the next story beat was; combine that with the inner critic being a bitch and the imposter syndrome impostoring, this was a labor of love.

Obviously, I pushed through, and here we have the final chapter of “Up Where We Belong”, which I am very proud of.

Again, I name a story after a song, from another movie about the Navy, funnily enough.

(Only three of my stories on my masterlist are not named after songs)

I can’t stop, apparently.

So here we go!

Even while her phone was telling her she was on the right path, she briefly wondered if she was, in fact, lost.

It couldn’t be more obvious that she was in the middle of nowhere, lonely desert stretching out before her for miles and miles, with nary another car in sight, much less a building that could conceivably be a hangar.

It comforted her to see a blue Bronco pass her by at a brisk pace as she continued down the route indicated by her phone, having not seen another car for the past fifteen or so minutes.

She eventually turned when her phone instructed her, the hills along the road she’d been driving next to giving way to an enormous desert plain, and the slightly heat-distorted sight of a building in the distance, probably a mile off.

A smile crossed her face, that had to be it.

As she drew closer, the nerves she’d been tamping down started to bubble up again, and she cursed herself. “Get a grip, woman, you’re here to review a scene, not to go on a date.”

Despite that, the fact that she’d spent nearly half an hour planning what she’d wear today felt like a Freudian slip—a loose orange tunic with small blue embroidered flowers on the hem and sleeves, dark wash skinny jeans and brown ankle boots—eventually deeming it not too much, but not like she didn’t care.

As she got closer, the building became more impressive, despite its rather homely outward appearance—from the white-painted wood panels worn down to their natural color here and there, the fading “United States Navy” emblazoned at the top, to the faint, sun-bleached squadron insignia on the open bay doors—it just felt beautiful in a wild way.

She parked about several yards away from the hangar doors and shut off the engine. “Okay, what’s going to happen will happen,” she muttered, “you’re going to survive it hook or by crook.

And besides, you don’t even know if he’s married or in a relationship.”

And with that rousing Crispin Crispianish speech, she picked up her messenger bag, slinging it onto her shoulder as she got out of the car.

The desert heat and silence washed over her as she moved towards the doors, calling out, “Hello?”

“In here,” came the reply.

She stepped inside the hangar, the shift to relative darkness briefly obscuring her vision, causing her to blink as her eyes adjusted, to see Pete standing by Bianca, looking somehow even better than she remembered, like something out of a movie.

His gaze was fixed intently on her, the slightest smile on his face, and she couldn’t help but match his expression, a “Hey there, sailor,” thoughtlessly slipping from her lips, which she immediately mentally kicked herself for saying; “Damn it, woman, how awkward can you be?” flashed through her mind like a neon sign.

Thankfully, he only brightly replied, “Hey, glad you could make it.”

Her smile widened. “Not going to miss it—for all I know, this is a one-time opportunity,” she truthfully replied, determined to make the most of this opportunity in regard to her novel—other… hypothetical motivations notwithstanding.

He shrugged, eyes sparkling, his movie star smile as devastating as a whole volume of honeyed poetry. “Who said it was?”

She chuckled, wrenching her gaze away from him before she said or did something stupid, settling for the sting of her teeth on her lip to knock her back to her senses.

Her eyes flit about the hangar, eventually landing on Bianca, the frontispiece of the whole room. “Great place you’ve got here, must’ve been hard to get, though, with it being Navy land.”

“Not that hard when you’ve got friends in high places,” he replied.

The sentence itself was vaguely humorous, something wry, an inside joke, but there was a weight to his tone, like the joke had lost its humor, and instead turned into something to grieve.

She tilted her head slightly, another enigma comprising Pete “Maverick” Mitchell revealing itself.

But before she could think too much, he broke the sudden silence. “Anyway, uh,” he clapped his hands, “you had a scene that needs checking?”

She blinked and raised the leather messenger bag on her shoulder. “I have my laptop right here.”

He gestured grandly to his couch, and as they moved towards it, she surreptitiously wiped her hands on her thighs, perspiration disappearing in the dark wash of her jeans, then busied herself with opening her laptop, finger fumbling on the start screen as she felt him settle in the seat next to her—realistically, she knew he’d likely sit next to her, but just because one knew something didn’t prepare one for experiencing it.

Again, the blinking cursor on her MacBook’s screen seemed to cackle at her, but she ignored it in favor of typing in her password, opening the laptop to the dreaded dogfight scene. “Here it is in all its misery,” she half-joked.

“May I?” he gestured to the device.

“Go ahead,” she sighed.

Pete picked up the device, leaning back with it in his lap, eyes darting about the screen, mouth moving slightly as he read, and in a matter of moments, his hands came up, mimicking the movements she’d written, while his face alternately made skeptical, approving, and a few amused expressions.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she plaintively asked, bracing for the worst, when he carefully placed the MacBook on his coffee table what seemed like an eternity later.

“It’s not bad at all,” he shook his head, an earnest expression lighting his features. “There are some maneuvers there that are only plausible for the P-51 in a rare set of conditions, and a… couple that I’d say are more in line with the capabilities of the F-35–or the 18 in my hands—but overall, it’s pretty damn good for a self-professed newbie to writing a dogfight scene.”

Her jaw fell open. “You’re kidding me.”

“Swear on my wings,” he laughed, the sound so musical, it was almost annoying how perfect and beautiful this man was.

“How would you fix it?”

He pointed, “Do you have a pen and notebook?”

“Never go anywhere without one.”

That beautiful smile of his spread his lips. “Well, let’s turn and burn, then.”

They worked for a couple or so hours, Pete writing out more plausible maneuvers to replace the impossible ones, demonstrating them with some models he’d run off to another corner of the hangar to retrieve, both of them mutually deciding to leave most of the only slightly implausible ones in, save for the ones where the bounds of reality were a little too stretched for the aerial conditions she’d already committed to, while she elaborated on what he’d written, fitting it into the novel’s style.

Eventually, she released a breath of victory, and proffered the laptop to Pete again, now actually proud of the dogfight scene. “You want to read it again?”

“Alright,” he easily agreed.

He read it again, the scene before her the same as over two hours ago, but this time, the skeptical and amused looks were replaced with a captivated and admiring expression.

“Well?” she prompted.

He blew out a breath. “It reads even better than I thought it would, you’re really good at this.”

She leaned forward, needing to be sure she hadn’t imagined him saying that. “It’s good?”

Pete leaned forward, into her personal space, matching her, as he fervently said, “It’s amazing.”

Her breath caught as the moment stretched taut around them, the two of them close enough for her to see the light reflecting off the peridot and aquamarine flecks in the brilliant jade of his eyes.

She looked around the hangar again at his earnest gaze, the itch to do something stupid scratching at her skin once more—she had a feeling that that would be a pattern for her with Pete Mitchell. “So, tell me, what exactly is it you do for the Navy, Captain Mitchell?”

He froze minutely at the end of her sentence, swallowing thickly as he processed the question.

“If you’ll have to kill me, there’s no need to tell me,” she joked, as she literally saw his brain reboot.

He blinked and chuckled softly, coming back to himself. “No, no, nothing as secretive as all that; I’m an instructor at TOPGUN—basically, I teach the Navy’s best aviators how to be better.

That’s why I talked about students during our phone call.”

“We’ll have to compare notes sometime to see who got it worse—I used to be a high school English teacher.”

Pete winced. “Ooh, teenagers, I don’t envy you.

But imagine taking hotshot twenty-somethings who fly multi-million dollar weapons as a career, who think they’re the best and know everything, shoving them into one room, and having to show them quite vividly that they don’t know everything.”

She gave her own wince. “Ooh.

But come on, you can’t have it that bad—especially if you fly an F-18 anything like how you flew Bianca at Apple Valley.

You’re telling me they’d still act up after getting so thoroughly schooled?”

He tilted his head from side to side, amused. “You’d be surprised, but uh… well, let’s just say that most of the “old man” comments typically tend to lose their bite by the end of the first hop.”

She laughed loudly, throwing her head back, just imagining the reactions of those hotshot kids. “As they should—I’d pay to see their reactions, come to think of it.”

She looked back at him to see his gaze was intently focused on her, but it didn’t send a shiver down her spine—at least not in the unsettling way it usually did when men stared at her. “Maybe my next class cycle, you’d like to come down to North Island, sit in the control tower, listen in on the first hop or two,” he said.

“An opportunity to see an experienced naval aviator in his element; I must say that’s an appealing offer.”

“You just let me know if you want to take me up on it.”

It was sheer instinct to say, “You know, I just might.”

Lowly, he replied, “I’d like that.”

The honestly there was breathtaking.

A glance out the bay doors showed that the sun was starting to hang low in the sky, casting a yellow-orange glow on everything, and caution nipped at her heels. “It’s kind of getting late, and I don’t want to bother you into the evening, I should go.”

Pete’s face fell ever so slightly. “You’re no bother, but I understand if you need to go.”

The slight drop of his features felt like a fall from a high precipice, sinking like a stone in her stomach. “Thank you so much again for your help, I really can’t thank you enough for everything,” she reassured.

“It’s no problem,” he said, almost resignedly.

She felt an intense yearning in her soul to strip that lonely note from his voice, to lift the sadness from him which came in like a squall, so she said the first thing that came to mind, her heretofore carefully-maintained caution getting unceremoniously kicked to the curb. “Uh, this might be stupid, and I’m so sorry if I’m being a nuisance, so feel free to tell me off, but… would you mind if I called you again?

Honestly—I, I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this in much detail with, and—and I’d love to talk with someone who understands the perspective my granduncle might’ve had.”

To her happiness, he brightened. “Not at all, I’d li—it’d be ni—” he sighed, a little wry smile playing on his lips, “feel free to call.”

She resisted the urge to giggle at his fumbling for words. “Okay, I’ll do that.

Thank you.

I promise not to call at like, 2:00 in the morning, when you’re asleep.”

He laughed, but pulled a face that had her mentally frowning as they both stood; however, she didn’t mention it, and instead gathered her things before Pete escorted her to her car, opening the door for her. “I’ll uh, expect your call?”

If the former sadness in his tone tugged at her heart, the thinly veiled hope now there positively wrenched it, and caution was nowhere to be seen. “It might come sooner than you think.”

The boyish, excited expression on his face was enough to make her heart skip a beat. “I look forward to it.”

By the time she reached home, while eating some ramen on her couch for dinner, she found herself picking up her phone and going to Pete’s message thread.

She typed and retyped her message again and again, debating whether or not to send anything at all, but eventually settled on “Just thought I’d let you know that I survived the drive home to bug you another day 🤣”, and sent it off before she could think too much.

Her finger was on the verge of clicking her phone off, but then she caught sight of the typing bubble, and she absentmindedly chewed her lip as she waited for his reply.

Eventually, after about a minute of the typing bubble popping up and disappearing, a message finally came in. “I had every confidence that you would. 😉”

She leaned back, setting into her cushions as she figured out her next message.

The week passed by, and she didn’t pass a day without messaging Pete at least once—he was so easy to talk to about pretty much everything, and it was so comfortable, to just pick up her phone and ask a question or say something non sequitur, his reply coming within the hour, if not within the next ten minutes, starting a conversation by text or a subsequent call, either of which could last hours.

However, this had a drawback.

It meant she didn’t work on the novel nearly as much as she should, and she eventually found herself staring again at her cruel, blinking cursor as her mind stubbornly remained blank.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as her first block, or the block regarding the dogfight scene, but she was starting to get a little frustrated.

Deciding to take a little break from blinking at her laptop’s screen, she traded it for her phone, open, as usual, to Pete’s message thread. “Feeling a little frustrated right now…” she shot off.

Forty-five minutes or so later, she got his reply. “Sorry to hear that.

You want to talk?”

“You free?”

A beat later, her phone rang. “So—frustrated, huh?”

Just hearing his voice had some of the frustration draining from her. “Yes.

It’s absolutely infuriating; I know what happens next, it just doesn’t want to—” she gestured sharply even though he wouldn’t see it, “you know?”

He hummed, “I know the feeling, the same thing happened to me a couple of times when I was writing my paper for my Master’s.”

“You have a Master’s.” she restated, shocked.

“Two, actually—Aerospace Engineering and Physics.”

It was said so matter-of-factly that she simply blinked for several seconds, impressed. “Another layer to Pete Mitchell,” she said, once she found words again.

“Like an onion.”

His joke made her snort while he continued, “I’ll let you in on a little secret—you’d be surprised how many naval aviators are actually nerds.

Don’t let the flight suits and Ray-Bans fool you.”

She laughed, but soon grew serious. “Oh God, Pete, I don’t know what to do—I mean, the last time I productively wrote anything was last week, at your hangar.”

There was a long pause, so much so that she thought the call had dropped, but when she looked at her screen, the line was still connected. “Pete?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” He sounded tentative. “Uh, if, if you wanted, you could—could come down to the hangar this weekend—you never know, being where you were last productive might shake something loose.”

“Sure, I’d love to—I mean—anything to make any progress, and—and the company’s pretty good too.”

She tried not to sound too eager to see him again, but she knew she probably failed at that.

“…Is there anything I can do to turn that ‘pretty good’ to good?” the now-familiar smile could be heard in his voice.

“We’ll see what happens this weekend, Captain.”

This time, when she stepped into the hangar, Pete was kneeling next to one of his numerous motorcycles, hands buried somewhere in its engine, dressed again in a white t-shirt and jeans. “You know, I’m starting to think you live in a white t-shirt and jeans,” she joked, though it was undeniable how good he looked in them.

He looked up, a warm chuckle escaping him, “That’s not true; once in a blue moon, the shirt’s black, and you’re forgetting my flight suit.”

She grinned, “Oh, we have a comedian here, yet another layer!”

“I’ll be here all weekend,” he bowed and swept his arm out to the side before standing and wiping his hands on a nearby rag. “You’re welcome to make yourself comfortable in the living area, can I get you any coffee or anything?”

“Uh, maybe a coffee?”

“Sure thing; how do you take it?”

“Two teaspoons of sugar, splash of cream if you have it.”

With a nod, he strode to the trailer further in the hangar, and soon emerged from the silver Airstream, steaming cup in hand, which he set on the small table beside the couch, where she had settled. “Just ignore me and do what you have to do.”

“Thank you for letting me intrude on your space.”

“No problem, you’re a very welcome change from my usual routine and company.”

She placed a hand on her heart, “Gee, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special.”

A mischievous light entered those beautiful eyes of his, and he leaned down, placing a hand on the back of the couch, making her crane her head up to look at him. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

She swallowed thickly, and he glanced down, tracking the movement, but her “Is that so, Captain?” had his eyes meeting hers in a flash.

“Yeah, I’d say that’s so.” The slight rasp in his voice could have been a trick of her imagination, but before she could think about it, he cleared his throat and stepped back. “I’ll let you get to work.

Like I said, just ignore me,” he said, tone light once more.

She wasn’t sure if ignoring him was completely possible, but she replied, “I’ll call you if I need your opinion on anything.”

He threw her an insouciant salute, before heading off into the depths of his hangar.

The blinking cursor of her laptop was just as evil as it always was, but it didn’t seem so daunting here, so she buckled down, beginning to shave out some progress with the soft sounds of tools in the background—it wasn’t as much as she’d like, but anything was better than what she’d been doing, or rather, not been doing the last few days.

After an hour of sitting and writing, she stretched and stood, looking for Pete, curious as to what he was up to.

“Pete?” she called out.

“I’m back here!”

She followed the sound of his voice to a workbench near a sink in the recesses of the hangar; he was looking through a jar of screws, placing the contents into several smaller jars. “You make any progress with the writing?”

“Mm-hmm—not as much as I’d like, but it’s something; I just wanted to stand and stretch for a bit, take a little break from my screen.

What are you doing?”

“I’m working on some upgrades to one of my bikes, but I, uh, got a little sidetracked and I am currently sorting my screw collection,” he sheepishly said.

“Ah,” she nodded, “I know the feeling, the side quest that you absolutely have to complete before you can do anything else.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “it’s crazy, isn’t it?”

She laughed, a frown soon creasing her brow as she happened to look off to the side.

Involuntarily, she stepped closer to the photo-covered cork board on the wall, gaze fixed on a photo of a young, flight suit-clad Pete, helmet in hand, standing in front of a jet, a tall, familiar-looking man next to him.

The other man was the spitting image of Pete’s son, the only difference perhaps being perhaps ever-so-slightly lighter and straighter hair.

“Bradley looks exactly like him, doesn’t he?” Pete’s voice intruded on her confusion.

She looked to her left to see him standing beside her, an old grief shining in his eyes.

“Yes, he does,” she breathed carefully, knowing somehow that she was in different waters. “Who was he?”

“Nick Bradshaw—Goose—my backseater, back in the eighties, when I flew F-14s.

My brother in all but blood… Bradley’s father.”

The story he proceeded to tell was tragic and heartbreaking; she didn’t even have to see the muted grief in his eyes as he spoke to imagine the anguish he must have endured that day, having to hold Nick’s lifeless body in his arms for what undoubtedly felt like an eternity.

“I became Bradley’s legal guardian after his mother died of cancer, and… while there were a lot of rough years where we didn’t talk to each other, we made up late last year; came out stronger for it, I think.”

“I’m so sorry, Pete,” she breathed.

He smiled ruefully. “Wasn’t all bad, though; got some pretty good brothers out of all that, though I can’t say they’re all still here.”

The dots connected in her head. “The friends in high places?”

He nodded sadly. “My best friend—he was my wingman for decades until he became an Admiral, ended up the highest ranking one this side of the country, in fact.

He died shortly before Bradley and I made up; cancer.”

She didn’t know what possessed her, but she reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together.

His breath hitched, and he looked down at their linked hands, before turning glassy eyes to her.

She was caught in that piercing gaze, which seemed to look right into her soul, and something told her that she was incredibly lucky to be seeing this vulnerability.

The weight of that was almost enough to bring her to her knees, but she pushed that aside in favor trying to ease the sadness in his eyes. “Cancer really fucking sucks, doesn’t it?”

He burst into a watery laugh. “Yes, it fucking does.”

She laughed along with him, squeezing his hand, making the callouses on his palm press against the soft skin of hers. “You want some help with your screw sorting?”

He sniffled, chuckling, “I feel like you’re using me as a distraction.”

“Yes, I absolutely am; are you complaining?”

Pete looked down at the floor, shaking his head with a soft smile. “Not at all, but I’m giving you five minutes before I make you write again, I’m not about to be blamed for any lack of progress.”

True to his word, after the five minutes were up, he shuffled her off to the couch, and she was glad that he wasn’t enabling her procrastination, thankfully able to make a fair bit of progress from there.

Some time later, while in the middle of spell checking what she’d written, she looked up to see Pete place a fresh cup of coffee next to her before sitting in a chair opposite her, picking up a small stack of paperwork and a pen from the coffee table. “Just pretend I’m not here,” he whispered.

For a while, they worked together in silence, as the California sun set, but soon, curiosity began dogging her thoughts. “Doesn’t your wife mind that you’re here late?” she asked.

His gaze almost audibly snapped to hers, his jaw working as he seemed to carefully consider his answer. “…I’m not married.”

Her traitorous heart skipped a beat. “Girlfriend?”

“Don’t have one of those either,” he casually replied. “How about you?

Anyone waiting for you back in San Bernardino?”

She took a deep breath. “Not unless you count my neighbor, Mrs. Moscovitz.

She gets worried when I don’t come home before ten.”

A faint smile crossed his lips. “Good neighbors are hard to come by.”

“That they are.”

They worked in silence for another half hour before she stood and stretched; it was beginning to get dark, and while she was a little more confident driving the desert roads, she wanted to hit the highway before the sun fully set.

“Going now?” Pete asked.

“I want to hit the highway before it gets really dark.”

He smiled ruefully, “I understand, we got to get you back safe, I don’t want Mrs. Moscovitz to kick my ass.”

“And she could, believe me,” she laughed, gathering her things, and exactly like last time, Pete escorted her to her car, opening the door for her.

It was when she turned to face him that a thought body-slammed her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve been writing a lot here, and I’ve thought of some of the best moments here, actually.

Um… I guess what I’m trying to ask is… would you mind if we made this—me coming over to write—a regular thing?”

He blinked, seemingly taken aback.

“If I’ve overstepped, please pretend I never—”

“I’m here every weekend, from Friday night until Sunday morning,” he interrupted.

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yeah, it’s a yes.”

“Okay,” she breathed, grinning. “I’ll see you next week, then.”

He matched her grin, “I look forward to it.”

Over the next three months, she made regular weekend visits to the hangar, the two of them learning each other, slowly growing closer as she told him about her life growing up in a family of pilots, her years as a teacher, leaving more and more of her heart behind in the desert each time.

Her heart panged remembering the day he told her why the P-51 was named Bianca.

“Uh, __?

I, er, kind of need some help,” Pete called.

Immediately rising from the couch, she walked over to where he was standing next to Bianca, hands deep in her engine. “What do you need?”

“Could you hand me that wrench there that’s out on the cart?”

After handing it off, a few turns of the wrench later, he stepped back, admiring the old girl while wiping his hands with a rag. “There we go, sweetheart, that’s more like it.”

“You spoil her, you know?” she shook her head.

“How can I not spoil her—look at her!” he replied, with a mock-affronted expression.

“Yeah, she is gorgeous, isn’t she?” she said, turning to look at the marvel of engineering Bianca was.

“She is,” he murmured, and something in his tone made her look back at him, only to see he also had turned to look at Bianca.

“Why’d you name her Bianca?” she asked, wanting to draw out the conversation before he would undoubtedly shoo her back to writing.

He sighed wistfully, “I named her after my mother.

Her name was Bianca Rivelli; Mitchell after she married my dad, of course.

She was from South Philadelphia—Little Italy in that part of town—and she met my dad when she was visiting friends in New York City during Fleet Week; it was love at first sight, she always said.” He hesitated, and a pit sank in her stomach. “She uh, passed from a heart attack when I was seven, but I know that it was heartbreak that really took her, after my dad was shot down and killed in Vietnam and branded a traitor, all because he died during an off-the-books mission.

She tried so hard to hang on for me, I know, and I don’t blame her for leaving—not anymore, not for decades—and when I got the P-51, I wanted to commemorate her somehow.

So I named her Bianca.”

She didn’t even think twice before lunging and pulling Pete into a hug.

He stood stiffly for a moment, and she was just about to pull away, but then he positively sank into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her.

“You’ve suffered so much pain, and it only made you kind,” she sniffled after a long while.

“I can still be an asshole sometimes, you know?” he said, voice wavering.

“Maybe, but you’re still unbelievably kind.”

Now, as she was once again driving to the hangar, trepidation settled at the forefront of her mind; she was nearing the end of the novel, and in fact, she was sure she’d finish it today; but what would happen without a reason to visit Pete?

This was the twenty-first century, a woman had the right to tell a man if she was interested in him, but if he didn’t feel the same, she might just torpedo the best friendship she’d had in a long time; she loved to talk to him, spending time with him was the easiest thing in the world, and not having that anymore seemed incomprehensible.

The hangar drew closer and closer, but she was getting more and more confused, and so decided to engage in the oldest, most revered of writerly traditions: procrastination.

She’d just hope that she’d find the opportunity, the thoughts, and more importantly, the courage, to say something to him.

Fear and nervousness dominated her emotions as she walked into the quiet hangar—much too quiet for a space inhabited by someone like Pete Mitchell.

“Pete?”

“You’re right on time,” he breezily said, coming out of the Airstream, cup of coffee in hand, “something told me to make your coffee already, and here you are!”

“Seems like you’re getting ESP,” she lightly replied, trying to belie the mess of emotions she was feeling.

“I don’t know about all that—maybe just for you,” he softly laughed, his eyes endearingly crinkling at the corners like they always did when he was genuinely happy.

And if that didn’t make her heart absolutely melt—truly, how this man was not married or in a relationship at this point, she didn’t know.

She settled into what she had dared to start thinking of as her “spot” on the couch, the coffee cup he was holding clinking onto the table beside her the next second.

“I’ll let you get to it,” he nodded, squirreling off to a corner of the hangar before she could get a word in edgewise.

With nothing else for it, she reluctantly began writing, and in a sick twist of fate, the words came easily, when she most wanted them not to come, in hopes of drawing this status quo out for just one more week.

One more week of driving to this lonely desert hangar, one more week of seeing those ubiquitous white t-shirts and Levi’s, one more week of hearing his voice, seeing his smile when he caught sight of her.

But fate was cold and cruel, and after roughly two hours, the draft was finished.

Tears welled in her eyes, but for completely different reasons than she would have said when she first began rewriting her Uncle Joe’s story.

“Hey, what’s wrong?

What happened?”

She looked up into Pete’s warm, concerned gaze, and didn’t that just make things worse? “I—I finished the draft.

It’s done,” she croaked.

“Hey, congratulations!

That’s great!” he encouraged, a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah… yeah, it is.

I… I can’t believe it’s over… and I’m really feeling sad right now,” she numbly breathed, deciding for a little honesty.

He moved to sit beside her, his leg pressed against hers, and her breath caught at the proximity.

“Well, that’s understandable, you’ve devoted a lot of time to this, and it’s something very important to you,” he softly replied. “But hey, I have every confidence that this is going to be a bestseller—every publisher is going to want you, and won’t that make everything you went through to get to this point worth it?”

His words made her remember her PopPop, when he encouraged her to write about Uncle Joe and Céline, shortly before he died, and it made her smile despite herself. “It will.”

“That’s the spirit.” He reached up, cupping her cheek, thumb delicately brushing away a tear she didn’t even know had fallen, and almost subconsciously, she leaned into his touch.

He seemed to swallow reflexively, eyes quickly darting down before he met her gaze again and lowered his hand from her cheek, leaving her feeling bereft. “Uh, since it’s not every day one finishes a first draft and all,” Pete gestured, “how—how would you feel about taking a little celebratory flight?”

Her eyes widened. “In—in the—in Bianca?”

A smile she would venture to call sad inexplicably crossed his face. “Mm-hmm.”

“I’d love that.”

What better way to celebrate finishing her granduncle’s story than a flight in the same plane he flew?

At the very least, if she crashed and burned her friendship with Pete because she happened to find some heretofore unknown reservoir of courage, she’d have something shining and beautiful to remember him by.

It felt absolutely surreal to sit in Bianca’s backseat, and it didn’t feel any less surreal as they cruised through the air.

Sitting up here, over two thousand feet above the ground, while she was happy with the direction she’d taken in her life, she felt she now truly understood why the better part of her family had dedicated themselves to the skies.

It was breathtaking and awe inspiring; with the mountainous desert vista out below, the clear blue sky above, she thought she’d never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

To get to see this every day, and to have the controls of a marvel of engineering beneath your hands as a pilot… the feeling was surely beyond exhilarating.

“How you doing back there?” Pete asked, voice tinny through the headphones.

“Just perfect—I can really understand now why you and my family do this for a living, it’s amazing up here.”

“I know, right?

There’s nothing like it,” he breathed, and she could almost feel the joy in his voice.

They flew on in easy silence for a while before he broke it again. “So, I have a question for you; we can keep flying nice and easy like this until you want to land or until we have to, or… we can have some fun—nothing like what I did at Apple Valley, but uh, it’ll definitely be a little bit more exciting than nice and easy.”

As much as she wanted to immediately say yes, she was still a little apprehensive. “You promise not to make me throw up?”

“Swear on my wings,” he solemnly promised, “and if you feel uncomfortable during anything, all you have to do is let me know, and I’ll immediately level off.”

She inhaled and exhaled deeply. “…Alright, go for it.”

“Okay, here we go!” Gently, he brought Bianca into a sweeping banked descent, and from there, while she was sure it was nothing for Pete, who’d done far more daring things in Bianca, and surely in his career as a naval aviator, this was the most thrilling thing she’d ever experienced in her life.

Before she knew it, Pete said, “We’ll have to land in fifteen minutes, so I’ll bring us back around, okay?”

Her heart sank. “So soon?”

He laughed, “We’ve been up here for almost an hour and a half.”

It felt like they just got up here. “What?!”

“Time flies when you’re having fun!”

“You’re corny, Pete Mitchell,” she chuckled.

“Guilty as charged!”

But the joyful mood didn’t last long—soon, the hangar and runway were in sight, and sadness suddenly overwhelmed her; she breathed mournfully, “How can I ever thank you for everything?”

“No need to thank me,” he replied, seemingly overtaken by the same sadness she was, though it didn’t have any bearing on how smoothly he brought Bianca onto the tarmac, and how he brought her back into the hangar.

The leaden pit in her heart and stomach seemed to grow even heavier; she’d been waiting the whole day for the time and courage to tell him how she felt, but she wasn’t able to find a moment or the courage to speak, and now her chances were slipping away, the sudden sound of silence as the engine cut and the canopy slid back feeling like the first handful of earth dropped on a casket.

“You need any help?” Pete’s voice intruded on her thoughts.

“No, I got it.” It wasn’t completely the truth, but anything to draw out the moments she had left.

With a nod, Pete eased himself up out of the cockpit and slid down the wing.

Finally, she was able to unclip herself from her harness and stand up, easing herself onto the wing—

“Ahhh!” she yelped, having lost her foothold on the wing, abruptly sliding down the warm metal, and then—

She suddenly stopped, toes just touching the ground, pressed against a firm chest, her hands fisting in white cotton, warm arms wrapped around her waist.

It was almost a replay of the day she met Pete, and it felt like fate was giving her one final chance.

She looked up into his eyes, knowing that if she didn’t say anything now, she never would. “Pete, I—”

The words died in her throat as he moved his hand to cup her cheek like he had two hours ago, and just like two hours ago, she leaned into the warmth of his touch, her breath hitching as she felt the gentleness with which his rough, calloused palm caressed her cheek.

He scanned her face, searching for something, and seemingly finding it, his viridescent gaze lighted on her lips, which had her heart stuttering in her chest and the air shuddering from her lungs.

“Don’t think, just do,” he muttered, leaning in, and like lightning, her mind sharpened; she leaned forward, pulling him the minuscule distance to her with a hand on his neck.

Suddenly, she found herself taking flight in a completely different way from five minutes ago.

Pete kissed her like he flew; with complete dedication, and like this was the last moment of pure, unrivaled, unfettered joy he’d ever have again, and her knees went weak, an entirely different thrill rushing through her, as she felt him push her up against Bianca’s fuselage.

She was breathless, she was taking the first breath of air she’d ever had—it was fire, it was light, it was incandescent.

She only realized the burn in her lungs when he drew back, both of them gasping for breath.

“God, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed, voice deep and rough, eyes dark.

An actual whimper fell from her lips, and she replied, “Holy shit, I don’t care if it’s done, that’s definitely going in the book.”

He huffed a low chuckle, that devastating smirk on his face. “In that case, you want a little more inspiration?”

“Oh hell, yes,” she breathed, and pulled him back into her.

The End

Previous Part

I very much had an inner debate as to whether the ending of this story was too similar to that of TG:M, but after a lot of soul searching, I decided that this was the only conceivable way to end this.

It starts with the P-51, and it ends with her.

You could call her Mav’s wingwoman, I suppose.

The Hangar, as I learned from an interview I will not be able to dig up from my YouTube history, is actually owned by Tom himself.

He said it in the aforementioned interview, and I honestly should have seen it coming.

The hangar was even featured in the background of the iconic video where Tom took James Corden flying in the P-51, and I am somewhat ashamed to say that I recognized it from shots where you only saw the corner of the building.

Yeah, do me a favor and please don’t bring that up.

“Crispin Crispianish” is a reference to the St. Crispin’s Day speech from Shakespeare’s “Henry V”, from which the title of the WWII book and series “Band of Brothers” is taken.

“Turn and burn” is a colloquial aviation saying which describes being cleared to takeoff from the runway generally without having to hold short of it for any duration of time, which leads to the aircraft immediately turning onto the runway from the taxiway shortly before the pilots push the engine thrust levers to Take Off/Go Around, which produces maximum thrust, and presto change-o, you have a generally expedited takeoff.

“You’d be surprised,” is absolutely a reference to Bradley almost punching Jake’s lights out in TG:M.

Yes, I am aware of the amount of art imitating life here; my writer and myself were very much twinning in our frustration with what we were writing.

You can pry ADHD/Neurodivergent/Genius IQ Mav from my cold, dead hands.

Here we have the answer to why the P-51 is named “Bianca” in my story.

I headcanon Mav has Italian heritage, and I thought this would be a nice way to put it in here.

I also made his mom from Philadelphia, because there’s a Top Gun ‘86 costume test shot of Tom wearing an Eagles sweatshirt, and as a Philly-adjacent girl, I had to somehow reference that even obliquely.

“You’ve suffered so much pain, and it only made you kind,” is an adaptation of a line from “Doctor Who”, which I thought perfectly describes Mav.

Taglist

@ohtobemare

@callsign-skydancer

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@tadomikiku

@malindacath

@aviatorobsessed

@lynnevanss

@djs8891

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

[1141520851813892291920]

Okay, so I just tell my story, right? I don’t really know where to start. Well, I guess this is as good a place as any… My name is Emily. My story's about.... A meat van that came into my neighborhood. I live in a nondescript town smack in the middle of Texas. Everything you’re thinking is probably true - Miles upon miles of sprawling suburbia across the flat, boring earth. There wasn’t much around save for a few churches and parks that could barely be called more than an empty lot. Oh, and it was hot as all hell. You could trip and fall on the asphalt and get second degree burns, they say.

There was something… odd about it, though. We were so familiar with it that it was almost a constant, but we all still knew it was odd. A filthy white van, windowless and plain save for the words “meat van” spray painted across the side in sickly dark red. Never liked that red - My housemate Cass used to joke it was blood, hah… Anyway, the van would drive through the neighborhood, and every now and then drop off a slab of meat on people’s doorsteps. There was no consistent time - sometimes it’d be late afternoon, sometimes 1:13 in the morning. The meat was… Rancid. I mean, any meat would be after sitting out in the baking Texas sun for more than an hour, but this was different. It was sickly gray, spongy and slick, and oozed a dark yellow liquid when poked. Reeked like hell too. One thing I always thought was odd is that, although it was always very clearly meat, it didn’t seem to be any recognizable cut, or from any animal I had seen before. The shape, color, and texture was different every time, but always just as weird. It was a sickly humid Tuesday when Cass came home from work to what vaguely resembled a ribeye staining our doormat and decided we ought to figure out once and for all where it came from.

“C’mon, Em!” They bubbled up in that ever-enthusiastic voice, their brown eyes sparkling with a feverish excitement. “There’s GOT to be some messed up stuff on the other end of this. We could be the ones to finally bring back the answers!”

I wasn’t so sure. I knew they were right about it being messed up, but that wasn’t the incentive they thought it was, and I did my best to get my worries across. “You sure you’re not gonna just get us both kidnapped and made into meat?” I smiled as I said it, but hoped my genuine concern got through to them. They didn’t seem to notice or care, eyes focused rather on whatever image was playing in their mind.

“It’ll be fun! I mean, hey, we’ve been looking for things to do lately, right? Top ten bonding activities for the besties, as it were.” With that they bumped my shoulder with theirs, and I couldn’t say no to that. I couldn’t say no to that smile. I should’ve said no to that smile.

That weekend, we sat in our car, waiting anxiously for the van to appear. It took hours, but we finally saw it around 6:40 PM, casting heavy shadows in the golden light of the not quite setting sun. Cass nearly slammed on the gas as it drove by, and we must’ve tailed it for hours. Well, it felt like hours. It couldn’t have been, as I don’t recall it getting any darker until I drove home that night. Finally getting a good look at the back, we noticed a few things for the first time. For one, the van had no license plate, no way of possibly identifying it. Just another white van. And two, while the entire van was discolored, the bottom was much more heavily stained than the rest, and oozed a steady drip of that rancid yellow liquid all throughout the drive. Gross.

Finally, we arrived at its destination. A warehouse, miles away from any human life. The parking lot outside it was almost too large, filled to capacity with identical plain white vans. The building itself looked like any other warehouse - but more dingy, run-down… and covered in smears of rotten brown. The area was swimming with people in stained gray clothes pushing large piles of meat out of the building on rusty metal carts and piling it into the vans. I had frozen in fear, but they didn’t seem to notice us. I turned to Cass, and their eyes were sparkling with awe. I grabbed their hand, ready to urge them to turn away, but they turned to me, trembling with excitement.

“We’re going in.” Their voice came out as a manic hiss of a whisper.

I was in shock, frozen and at a loss for words.

“Wh- No!” I choked out. “Cass, no. This is stupid. We saw what we saw, and now we need to turn back and leave before… Before anything happens!”

But they were already stepping out of the car, eyes fixed unwaveringly on the building before us. I got up after them, of course, but my footsteps halted as they entered right through the door alongside one of the many gray-clad strangers. I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t just go in after them, but I couldn’t just leave them there either. I’m not proud of it, but I sort of just… Stood there for a while, mind dimly buzzing with futile strings of thought that I knew wouldn’t go anywhere.

Finally, I mustered up the courage to go peek through the door, to check if they were… alive, or trapped, or… I don’t know. I crept up to the building, still unnoticed by the… people around me, and edged along the wall until I reached the entrance. Even then, it took me a few more moments before I could will myself to look in.

What I saw… wasn’t possible. I don’t know how to describe it, but the single room of the warehouse was occupied solely by a vast pile of meat, easily two hundred feet long and just as wide, and towering far higher than the building’s height should allow. Every time I thought I could see the top of the mound, it only seemed to stretch higher and higher, the ceiling somehow still visible despite impossibly accommodating a pile of seemingly infinite proportions. The chunks of meat were all diseased, much like the ones we had received on our doorstep, but they seemed to be in varying stages of sickness, some corpse-gray and oozing yellow fluid while others still weakly clung on to the pink tint of flesh. And it was… I don’t know how to describe it, but it was breathing. The mass of meat faintly pulsed in a languid, uneven rhythm, juxtaposed against the skittery movements of the workers in their stained gray aprons frantically taking slabs of meat away from the edges and piling them onto carts. And right there, gazing upon it all, was Cass.

They were still. Petrified, but not with horror. What I saw in them wasn’t horror, but rather fascination. Their eyes were vast and staring, drinking in the sight of the pile in its wholeness. I called out to them, shouted “Cass, what the hell are you doing!?”, but I knew the words wouldn’t reach them. And so I stood there, frozen to the spot, as the puddle of ooze that seeped from the pile licked their feet, and the meat pile slowly grew outwards. I’m not sure if the meat was multiplying or expanding somehow, but the edges of the pile were swelling, throbbing, reaching out farther and farther by the second.

Cass’ feet were caught. For a horrible moment, they seemed to finally realize the danger they were in, shuffling and struggling to free themself from the meat swamp growing higher, up to their shins, their knees… But the tide rose too fast, and as it receded, it pulled them back with it. I remember every moment of their struggle - thrashing, choking, battling for every movement, every chance they could get to pull themself free of the flesh swamp. Its pull was stronger, though. And so the last I saw of them was a screaming mouth and an outstretched arm that soon disappeared altogether into the mountain of fleshy pulp.

I left then. It was horrible, of course, I know that. It felt so deeply wrong to leave without Cass, but I knew in my heart of hearts that at that point there was nothing I could do. Maybe they were doomed from the second they entered the warehouse. I don’t remember much about the drive home, or the rest of the day… Until early that next morning, when I received a fresh slab of meat on my doorstep.

It wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t gray, or slimy, or stinking. It looked… Healthy. Tender and red, its only smell being that of fresh blood. Ironically, that terrified me more than any of the off-meat ever did, and my heart froze in my chest as I stared down at it, unsure of what to do. I buried it. It was difficult, sure, and certainly would’ve looked weird and probably suspicious to any passerby there might’ve been, but it felt right.

And that’s it. That’s all I have to say, really. I’ve been living on my own since then. The meat still shows up, and I toss it out just as I always have. I haven’t been eating meat lately, as you can probably guess. I haven’t been eating much at all. I should feel sad, or terrified, but it’s all just numb, like everything that happened was just a strange dream, or like Cass never existed in the first place. I know it happened, but… maybe it’s better to think of it as a dream. It makes it easier to get through the days, I guess. But I get violently jarred back into reality every time a slab of meat shows up on my doorstep. I think I'll move. It'll be easier to pretend that way.

Eugh...thank you for your statement, no matter how...viscerally unpleasant it may be.

Matters of flesh have always been one of my least favorite topics - it is truly one of the most...primal feeling fears; animal and buried deep within the human psyche.

I did attempt some follow up research on this, though there is not much to go off of...I was unable to to find a specific missing person's report for anyone named "Cass" or variants thereof in central Texas, but that is hardly surprising - besides the likelihood of pseudonyms or non-legal names being used, a report would only exist if it was ever filed, which I am assuming it was not.

I did, however, find an interesting report from the area from 2010...

I cannot help but think the two accounts are...related. Something about a health inspector going missing in mysterious circumstances, the viscera of it all...

The gift to the family of the missing did not escape me...75 pounds...34 kg...or...the approximate amount of harvestable meat off a human corpse.

I am terribly sorry for your loss, Emily, but you did well to avoid the hunger of your own curiosity.

I recommend jackfruit as a vegetarian alternative to Texas BBQ.

[ohioprelawland]

3 Murder Suspects Escaped Prison Across the Country

By Jenna Kokish, The Ohio State University Class of 2024

July 13, 2023

In a bizarre lineup of events, three murder suspects from three different prisons have escaped custody and were on the run, these three escapees are not related and all three occurred in separate incidents. Eric Abril was arrested on April 6th after he shot a California Highway Patrol officer in an ambush and took two hostages at gunpoint at a Roseville Park. At 35-years-old, Abril was able to escape from the medical facility located in Roseville, a suburb of Sacramento. At this medical facility, he was supposed to be under 24-hour surveillance due to Abril being described as a “very dangerous fugitive.” According to Woo, a sheriff’s deputy saw Abril right after he escaped, but after a foot chase, he was unable to keep his eye on Abril and lost him. It is unspecified what Abril was in the Sutter Roseville Medical Center for, but he was transported there on Thursday, July 6th, and escaped on Sunday, July 9th. After a manhunt ensued, Abril was captured and taken back into custody on Monday, July 10th, around 12:20 p.m. What led to his capture was him being spotted by a homeowner and a dog, 6 miles from where he escaped, in a residential area of Rocklin, California.

Another of the murder suspects that escaped, Chadwick Shane Mobley escaped custody on Sunday, July 9th, in Sanders County. Mobley was being transported by a private company from Lincoln County when he was able to slip out of his handcuffs and ankle shackles. Mobley is wanted for the 2011 murder of Andrea Eilber, who was shot to death in Michigan. His arrest comes for the murder of Eilber due to evidence from the scene of the homicide being tested. Mobley initially was arrested in Libby, Montana, in June, and was waiting to be transferred to Michigan for his arraignment. Mobley was then able to escape at a gas station in Montana while being transported from Montana to Michigan. On Monday, July 10th, the suspect was apprehended, and the police had regained custody of Mobley in Plains, Montana.

The last of the three murder suspects to escape custody, Michael Burham. Burham has yet to be apprehended and is still on the loose. Burham was last seen in the prison on Thursday, July 6th, it is said that he was able to make his way through the jail’s gym to the rooftop, where he was then able to climb down the building with a rope made of bedsheets around 11:20 p.m. According to Pennsylvania State Police Lt. Col. George Bivens, “we do believe that he is getting some assistance. We are prepared to prosecute anyone who does offer him assistance.” With Burham on the loose, police are searching high and low. The police have advised citizens to maintain locking their doors, and if they happen to see Burham, to not approach him and to call the police immediately due to how dangerous Burham is. Burham is an Army veteran with survivalist and firearm training. Burham has been arrested for the murder and rape of a New York woman, and a kidnapping charge with related charges following. While trying to escape from the police prior to his arrest in May, Burham is said to have kidnapped an elderly couple and made them drive him to South Carolina where he left them and stole their car. Police were able to arrest Burham in South Carolina on May 24th, 2023. As the manhunt continues for Burham, investigators have stated that they have found “small stockpiles or campsites,” in wooded areas and they are believed to be associated with Burham. It is now day six of the manhunt for Burham, with no leads to where he is, investigators are confident about regaining him in custody, and the public has their eye out to help guide officers in the right direction.

Although all three incidents were separate and none of the murder suspects are linked to each other, having three inmates escape three different prisons within mere days of each other is quite the coincidence. With two of the three suspects back in custody, a manhunt for the third suspect remains at large. State and local police believe they are on his trail and have confidence in regaining him and putting him back in custody.

[bewaretheblackdog]

things from my road-trip through the midwest that just (don’t) make sense

within the frigid apathy of minnesota, a gas station parking lot, lined with rusty pumps and cars with windshields freckled by the greasy stains of splattered bugs. the cashier inside refused to meet your eyes, only looking up from the counter to glance at the empty space behind you. his hands shook. you asked if he was okay, but he only flinched. when he handed you your receipt, the print was blocked by thick, black sharpie. ‘WATCH YOUR BACK.’

amidst the forgotten cornfields of iowa, an old boat discarded in a garden, the cold steel overrun with weeds and wildflowers and other rooted, unwanted things. there was no water nearby, but you could’ve sworn it was swaying on gentle waves. if you were to roll down your window, you would have heard the sharp whirr of a fishing reel and the voice of your long-dead grandfather– foggy, distanced, and stuck between somewhere and nowhere. 

in a ghost town waiting to happen, crumbling apartment buildings, sagging against concrete stairs and fire escapes. their shadows shifted and spilled into each other out of the corner of your eye, piling and folding and swelling on the cobblestone until the darkness had a depth that took up physical space in the alleyways. with time, those bundles of black shade would grow difficult to differentiate from the dull husks of the residents.

in the vast nothing of wisconsin, decrepit barns collapsed at the spine, dotting the side of the highway like corpses. as you drove by them, you could’ve sworn the a/c began to smell like spoiled meat. you flipped on the recirculation and continued on, trying in vain to ignore the swarms of black flies eating away at the wood.

among the sunken eyes of illinois, an overcrowded intersection, cars upon cars piled on top of one another at high noon. the midday sun bore down on you all, heating the field of metal until your fans were useless against the stifling heat. somewhere in the fever, you were reminded of ants under a magnifying glass, the way their legs would spark and smoke and splinter. you blinked, then opened your eyes to empty streets and a black sky. not that it shocked you. time never seemed to tick right in illinois. you kept driving.

in the heart of chicago, sloppy red graffiti under a bridge reading ‘punish the evil.’ you wished you could agree, but as you mulled over your own wrongdoings, your knuckles went white. you thought about things shameful enough to be left out confessional, ugly enough to let rot in the deep caverns of your ribcage. were you evil? did you deserve to be punished?

in the dry monotony of indiana, long stretches of prairie flattened into the dirt as if someone suffocated the land under their boot, the hills like deflated lungs. the longer you drove, the more the rushing wind sounded like wheezing.

on the horizon, a fiery explosion that only you saw, the sound inaudible over the race of cars on the highway. the smoke thinned in the breeze so rapidly your first thought was not ‘what happened?’, it was ‘did that happen at all?’ you stared mindlessly at the blank space where screams should’ve been, frozen. yet, the radio continued to blare, your mother continued her phone call, and the corn stalks continued to sway. the world sped by in your periphery and you just sat there, silent, cradling a secret known solely by you and the horizon, teetering on the divide between imagination and reality.

under the damp mold of michigan, a stray shopping cart blocking your way on a backroad, thoroughly abandoned in a puddle. it was completely empty but appeared heavier than it should have, its wheels sinking into the graveled earth beneath. it took all your weight to leverage the rusting frame into a ditch. the crash was deafening. 

in the dead plains of ohio, two barns with the words ‘PRAISE GOD. LOVE JESUS.’ scarring their faces. they felt like eyes. you hadn’t seen another building for miles, and you wouldn’t see any others for miles more, but that building saw you. 

amidst the blurry familiarity of lake erie, the horrible irony of a highway cross adorned with rotten forget-me-nots. you realized you die twice, and the second death always hurts worse than the first. you grieved at the steering wheel for a woman you’ve never met, then forgot about her an hour down the road. 

at a stoplight in pennsylvania, an eagle digging into a deer carcass. the smell lingered, sticking to your chest and to your hair and to your hands before you managed to roll up the window. the doe’s eyes melted into you, its jaw twitching as a strange bleating noise poured from your radio. ‘what if i were you and you were me?’ it asked. ‘would you be content with this end? have you led a fulfilling life?’ you fled without waiting for the light to turn green.

[naralanis]

little bumps in the road (pt. 10)

Previously on LBitR...

“Calm down,” Lena whispers, even though she’s having trouble doing exactly that at the sight of the empty bench where she had left Kara waiting not even an hour ago.

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Alex hisses; the muzzle of her gun dis rather painfully on her back, and Lena would really like to step away from it, but the agent has her arm locked in a vice grip. “Where the hell is she, Lena? She was here when I followed you in!”

“Walk with me,” Lena says, quickly scanning the area--they’re standing in a stiff, unnatural way, and the last thing she wants is to draw any attention, especially when they’re both wearing stolen LuthorCorp lab coats right outside the building. She takes one tentative step away, hooking her arm around Alex’s as if they were just friends walking down the street arm-in-arm.

Thankfully, Alex understands Lena’s not-so-subtle hint faster than Kara ever could; her image-induced expression relaxes into a smile that barely looks forced, and her grip of Lena’s arm, though still tight and borderline painful, shifts so that it appears more casual.

“Is there any way you could have been followed?” Lena asks, subtly looking around them, noting that Alex is doing the same.

“That’s always a possibility,” Alex admits, sounding both panicked and defeated at once. “But I was very careful.”

“OK, let’s not panic yet,” Lena tells both Alex and herself. “Kara and I made plans to rendezvous back at the motel if I was gone too long or if anything happened.”

Alex gives her a look--it’s weird to have a patented Alex-Danvers-look-of-disapproval coming from a stranger’s face. “You weren’t gone for long, though.” She doesn’t voice the alternative.

Unthinkably, Lena reaches out and gently pats the hand on her arm. She means for it to be reassuring--it’s the kind of thing she would do for Kara--the kind of thing she has been doing for Kara over the last couple of weeks, but Alex looks just as puzzled by the action as Lena is.

She removes her hand and clears her throat. “Still, our best bet is the motel. Did you drive here?”

Alex nods. “Great,” Lena continues, mind already working a mile a minute. “Kara probably took the bus back--we didn’t want the car to be seen downtown,” she explains, and Alex lets out an undignified snort.

“That’s remarkably sensible of you,” she quips sarcastically. Lena ignores her.

“What I’m saying is, if you drove here and we take your vehicle, we may beat Kara to the motel, or get there shortly after her. It’s one hour from LuthorCorp to the motel by bus--she’ll switch routes at least twice on the way.”

Alex looks impressed despite herself. “And if she doesn’t show, what then, genius?” she challenges, lips pursed.

Lena breathes out steadily, calmly. “She will,” she says with as much conviction as she can possibly muster in her tone, because the alternative is simply unthinkable.

Alex smacks her lips, slowing her walk as she considers their limited options. “Fine,” she finally concedes, dragging Lena down an alleyway.

They dispose of their lab coats in a trashcan in that same alley, and Alex practically hauls Lena towards a secluded spot behind down another alley a few blocks away.

“You better hold on,” she says, removing a few strategically placed cardboard boxes to reveal a sleek black motorcycle, discreetly parked behind a dumpster. “I did not bring an extra helmet.”

Lena does hold on, mainly because Alex weaves and cuts through traffic like an absolute manic as she follows the directions Lena has to practically shout in her ear as they go. She knows Alex is desperate to find Kara and make sure she’s OK, but Lena also wishes she would ease off the gas a little; she’s got enough to be afraid of at the moment.

She feels like her heart is about to burst out of her chest when they finally reach the hotel; they’re nowhere close to the room she and Kara had checked into, but she’s already fumbling in her purse for her key card. with Alex hot on her heels.

They stumble into the room together, and Lena has to stop, has to take a second to try to stop the cold dread she immediately feels at finding it empty, exactly as they had left it this morning.

Alex begins pacing like a caged tiger immediately. “She’s not here,” she gasps, tapping at the image inducer at her temple, and then it’s Alex, really Alex, looking worried and panicked and slightly disheveled in this empty room, and now Lena is belatedly realizing it’s up to her, Supergirl’s would-be killer, to try and comfort the hero’s sister while they wait.

As if she is not on the verge of a panic attack herself.

“We knew she wouldn’t be,” she tries to reason, keeping her voice as even as she can, though she can’t stop tugging at her fingers out of sheer nervousness.

She’s doing the math in her head, thinking of the bus schedules, of which one Kara probably had gotten on and when; she’s mapping out the routes in her mind, considering the usual trip times, factoring in the average Metropolis traffic at two in the afternoon on a Thursday.

Alex takes one look at Lena’s fidgeting hands and immediately sighs, sinking into one of the beds. “Take that stupid wig off,” she barks. “Blonde you is freaking me out.”

That lets out a little chuckle, but it feels like some kind of hysteria. She takes a seat on the opposite bed, and Alex regards her quizzically.

“Kara said something similar yesterday,” she explains, carefully removing the wig and setting it on the nightstand. “That’s too bad; I really thought I was pulling it off.”

The attempt at humour falls completely flat--Lena can see it plainly in Alex’s wooden expression. “You definitely weren’t,” she deadpans. Her knee is bouncing up and down, up and down, up and down, boot tapping dully on the carpet.

It’s driving Lena insane.

“Kara will be here soon,” Lena says, still tugging at her fingers. Alex doesn’t look convinced. 

“And if she doesn’t?”

Lena has no answers to that, refuses to consider the possibility.

“She will,” she says again, in an almost silent whisper, for her own comfort. “She will, she will, she will.”

Alex says nothing, only continues with her bouncing knee, keeps her gaze locked onto Lena. And Lena, Lena tries not to squirm under the agent’s scrutiny; she fidgets, she stares at the blinking red numbers of the alarm clock, steals glances at the door--she looks at anything and anywhere to avoid Alex’s gaze.

When Alex does speak again, her voice is low, but it still startles Lena enough for her to jump a little in surprise.

“What do you remember about that day, Lena?”

When Lena turns to face her, Alex’s eyes are as hard as stone. Her scowl has returned, and the way her brows are furrowed is far more telling than the cold tone of her voice. It says, plain and simple, I don’t trust you.

It takes Lena a long time to come up with an answer Alex may find even remotely satisfactory--she knows that ‘I don’t know’ that is on the tip of her tongue simply won’t cut it, even if it is the honest answer. Her memories, the few that she does have from that day, are murky and sparse, and don’t feel altogether hers.

She struggles to recall any details, searches the blurred images interred somewhere in her subconscious and tries to make sense of the tangled mess she has been left with. “Flashes,” she tries, settling for as much truth as she can muster at the moment. She swallows. “I remember... I remember Kara falling--I remember seeing her from the top floor at LuthorCorp.”

Alex raises a brow like she doesn’t fully believe her. “The top floor?” she asks, voice oddly neutral. “Not from the basement labs? You didn’t watch it from the screens?”

Lena furrows her brows, tries to poke at whatever remnants of memory she has latched on to. “No, I don’t...” she closes her eyes, sees Kara falling, riddled with green, her body limp falling past her windows as fast as a bullet. “I-I don’t think so, I was... I think I was at the top floor.”

“You were apprehended in the basement, Lena,” Alex says brusquely.

“N-no, that can’t be right,” Lena chokes out, but all she sees behind her lids is Kara’s body falling, and her mind provides the most horrifying sound effect as it hits the pavement. “That can’t be, I watched her fall, I w-watched from my window.”

Alex shakes her head. “What do you remember before the rockets?”

Lena rattles her brain with difficulty; her lungs can’t quite return to their normal rhythm with the images her mind is supplying. “Before?” she gasps, keeping her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to see, doesn’t have to wither under Alex’s unyielding disappointment and doubt.

“M-myriad, the, um, the Fortress, ah... I was there with K-kara, and--”

She’s close to hyperventilating; she can’t get the image of Kara’s body--her bloody, broken body falling, falling--out of her mind.

“The Fortress? Lena that was two weeks befo--Lena? Lena, are you OK?”

Lena can’t respond--she can’t speak, she can’t even breathe. her brain is giving her the most terrifying flashes of memories, memories that don’t feel like her own, and she’s scrambling to fill that gaps at the same time as the images come, unbidden, to her mind. Her mental boxes are teetering, swaying in their little organized, compartmentalized stacks, unbalanced, and she can’t, she can’t breathe.

“Shit,” she vaguely hears Alex say, marginally registers the agent rushing to her side, but then someone is touching her and there is another flash--it is white hot and painful in her brain, like an electric shock, and she feels someone grabbing at her shoulders, pushing her down hard, pulling, and dragging, and, and--

Lena yelps and recoils, bats away at the hands reaching for her shoulders in uncontrollable, all-consuming panic.

“HEY!”

It’s another voice, worried, coming from someone bursting through the door with force, nearly slamming it off its hinges. Lena’s only somewhat aware of Alex yelling--she sounds happy, surprised, worried, and a whole gamut of other things Lena cannot focus on, because suddenly, there’s just warmth all around her.

She’s being held, tight, tight, tight, but it isn’t restrictive--it’s the opposite, warm and comforting and it envelops her almost entirely, like a heavy blanket, muting the sounds of her own frantic heartbeat.

“Sh, Lena, it’s just me. You’re OK. I’m here, I’m here.”

It’s Kara’s voice--low in a soothing murmur, rumbling in her chest as she whispers right at Lena’s ear, and the vibrations are soft, reassuring, and tranquil, almost enough to ease Lena’s trembling.

She’s wrapped tight in Kara’s arms as her awareness returns, slowly and fuzzy. Kara’s hand rubs circles on her back, and Lena instinctively tucks her head under Kara’s chin, seeking more of her warmth. Kara is taking deep, deliberate breaths, and Lena finds herself subconsciously trying to match them at every inhale and exhale, using the pressure of the rise and fall of Kara’s chest against hers as guidance.

When the flashes cease, she dares open her eyes again. Over Kara’s shoulder, her gaze locks with Alex, who’s awkwardly standing to the side, watching them closely.

“OK,” the agent says, gaping a little. “What the fuck?”

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

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[izzyspussy]

Midwestern Gothic

You’re in a Midwestern Gothic. You’ve got your capital-g God, although you’ve never met Him. You’ve got your flannel, and your pistol, and your muscle car. You’ve got hauntings and inherited curses, and not a dime to your name.

You’ve got your vices that you indulge in, although it always ends up more like them indulging in you. But you let them use you right up because the clink of the bottles in the passenger seat is your only companion on this endless road. The last person you saw, miles ago, days ago, was probably long dead before you ever met him. He’s just light now, traveling through the vast empty space that is the farmland along the side of this one lane highway, moving along slower and slower as it gets farther away from its burned out source, but never stopping, existing in a state of nonexistence until it happens upon another witness.

You keep driving, and you think about your father and how he wanted you to be your mother but he could never let you because he wanted you to be him. And so much time has past, or maybe none at all, and you’re still not either one. You don’t know what you are, if you’re anything, because no one has seen you.

You keep driving, straight ahead into the sun on the horizon, and the road never ever changes and it never ever ends. The horizon is always this flat and plain, and you dream that you were meant for something better. The horizon is always this perfect and beautiful, and you know that you will never reach it because you could never be good enough.

You’ll be on this road forever, buying your gas from specters and apparitions. The only escape could come from the merciful hand of someone on the outside, or else by some measure of your own so drastic that you can’t even conceive of it, yet.

And sometimes you park your car on the dusty side of the road, and you close your eyes and you think real hard. But the closer you get to revelation, the longer and darker and more solid the shadows of the corn stalks next to you grow, until they’re knocking on your window with the tip of their nightstick.

You roll your window down and you smile politely and you say, “Is there a problem officer?” and he stares you down long and hard. It’s okay because you look just like your father, or else you look just like your mother if that’s what’ll get him to let you go with a warning.

You stomp the pedal down to the floor, and in your rearview mirror the red and blue lights wink out as if they were never there, even though of course there’s no hill for them to sink behind.

You stand on that pedal, and you drive and drive and drive, and you could be you or you could be him or you could be her or you could be just the leftover reflection of something dead. You roll down your windows and you scream into the wind, and you know the answer to that age old question.

No one is around to hear you, no one is around at all, ever, and you don’t make a sound.

[here4theheartbreak]

Rest, Relaxation... And Exploration

AO3 Link Here!

Collaboration with: @i-live-so-i-love Relationships: Junkook x Yoongi Genre: smut Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~5k

Tags: smut, friends to lovers, Nephilim Jungkook, monster/human Romance, mutual masturbation, handjobs, first kiss, getting together, tentacle monster, tentacles as erogenous spots

Summary: Jungkook knows that Yoongi needs a break, and wants to help him relax. He just hadn't planned on THAT kind of relaxing.

A/N: Written for @calixwrites - hope you enjoy!!

“Why are we doing this again?” Yoongi grumped, getting out of the car and squinting at the sunlight. 

Jungkook twisted and stretched as he stood up, trying to wake himself after the long drive. The day was almost warmer than he’d prefer but it was perfect for what he had planned. 

“Because you have been working too much in that tiny studio with no windows, no sunlight, and no fresh air for too long. You need some outdoor time,” Jungkook reminded him. 

“I’m allergic to sun and fresh air,” Yoongi deadpanned. 

Jungkook was used to Yoongi’s dry humor. He’d known him for years. Ever since he’d accidentally walked in on Jungkook in full Nephilim mode; all thirteen eyes and six tentacle-esque wings on display. Jungkook rarely had them out, even in private, but he’d been in a public bathroom trying to get his clothes and hair perfect for a date. And frankly, sometimes it was just easier with six extra appendages. 

He had been able to keep Yoongi from screaming and convinced him he wasn’t crazy. Originally, Jungkook had only meant to keep tabs on him so he didn’t try to run to the authorities, but somehow, he’d gotten a close friend out of it. A friend that, right now, desperately needed some fresh air and a good meal. 

“Hush and help me unpack,” Jungkook scolded.

Together they lugged it all up the stone steps in one go. (Tentacles really could be handy sometimes.) The beach house that Jungkook rented for cheap from a friend of a friend was small and tidy. One room served as the kitchen, dining room, and living room, plus a bathroom and a tiny bedroom. It would do for a night. The real benefit of the place was that it came with a quarter mile of private sandy beach. 

“I thought the point of this was to get me out of a tiny room?” Yoongi teased after they finished looking around. 

“it is. Which is why we’re going to lay out in the sun. Put some swim trunks on.” Jungkook beamed at his horrified expression. 

“I’ll burn to a crisp! We don’t all have your magical immunity to the sun, you know.”

“I packed you sunscreen. The strongest I could find. You’ll be just fine. And you get to do one your favorite things. Just with fresh air and sunlight.” 

Yoongi continued to look skeptical. Jungkook pouted. “Just give it a chance?”

Yoongi’s expression softened; Jungkook knew it would. The human couldn’t resist a good pout. 

“Fine.”

The two of them changed and made their way across the hot sand. About halfway between the house and waves Jungkook stopped.

“The perfect spot!” He announced, setting down the bag and rummaging through it. Yoongi looked around.

“What makes this spot any different than anywhere else?”

Jungkook shook a large blue and white striped towel and laid it across the sand. He flopped onto it dramatically, the ground giving a satisfying thunk at his bulk. “Because this spot has a towel.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. Jungkook reached out, fishing through the bag for a second towel. He threw it to Yoongi, smirking when it smacked the other square in his grumpy face. 

Yoongi set it out, his expression decidedly softer. He settled onto the blanket and paused before kicking his sandals off and tugging his t-shirt over his head. He rolled onto his stomach, head pillowed on his folded arms. He wiggled a little, making a spot for himself in the soft sand. “This isn’t so bad,” he hummed.

Jungkook tried not to stare. It’s not that he’d never seen Yoongi without his shirt on. There had been occasions over the course of their friendship where he’d spilled something on himself, or it was just somehow more convenient, but admittedly it wasn’t often. Jungkook hadn’t actually expected him to take it off. But there he was, his broad back looking far paler in the sunlight. 

They were just friends. But, that didn’t stop Jungkook from having eyes. And Yoongi was an attractive human even by human standards. Yoongi had his eyes closed; the soft curve of his lashes and the resting pout of his lips drew Jungkook’s attention next. He really, truly was achingly beautiful. 

Jungkook dug around in the bag and dropped a bottle of sunscreen next to Yoongi’s head. 

“There you go, potato chip.”

Yoongi grunted and opened his eyes. 

“Were you already half asleep?” He asked, rummaging through the bag for a snack.

“Maybe. Did you just call me a potato chip?”

Jungkook pulled a bag of actual potato chips from and popped it open. He smirked. “Yeah. You said you were going to get crispy. And you’re already plenty salty.” He tossed a few of the ships into his mouth. 

Yoongi ignored your joke and squeezed a dollop of the lotion onto his hand. He began to rub it into his arms and face methodically. It was a little unnerving to watch his features slowly be obscured by the sunblock. He glanced up at Jungkook and cocked a brow. 

Jungkook smiled sheepishly, aware he’d been caught staring in an entirely creepy way. He offered Yoongi the bag of chips in an apology. Yoongi reached for them, but paused, both his hands covered in the gloopy lotion. He shrugged and held his mouth open like a baby bird instead. With an affectionate shake of his head, Jungkook dropped a chip into his mouth. Yoongi chewed and swallowed, and demanded yet another with an open mouther. 

“Too greedy,” Jungkook scolded through a laugh, dropping another chip into his mouth. 

He was actively ignoring the fact that it felt a little coupley to be hand feeding him chips. It wasn’t that he’d never considered a romantic relationship with Yoongi. He just knew it would never happen. They both had busy lives and, not to mention, Yoongi was so far out of Jungkook’s league it was nearly laughable. So, any crush that may have tried to bloom was quickly uprooted; Jungkook valued their friendship far too much. 

After the third chip, Jungkook tossed Yoongi something to wipe his hands with. He laid back to enjoy the sun, feeling much of his stress being chased away. 

“Hey, can you do my back?” Yoongi asked, popping the bubble of relaxation Jungkook had been drifting away into. He sighed and sat up, taking the bottle from Yoongi. 

“You have such pretty markings, it’s a shame to cover them,” Jungkook commented casually as he began to rub the lotion into Yoongi’s back. The lines that arched over his shoulder blade and along his spine were nearly symmetrical. As Jungkook worked lower, he wondered what the markings further extension would look like. Humans often had more complex designs in that area, but Jungkook had never seen Yoongi’s. With how shapely Yoongi was though… Jungkook could only imagine they would be just as pleasing. 

“Huh?” Yoongi asked softly. “What markings?”

“These,” Jungkook traced one line that dipped along Yoongi’s spine, still faintly visible through the metallic speckled UV reflecting lotion. 

Yoongi squirmed. 

“Ticklish?” Jungkook asked, repeating the action. 

Yoongi grunted, wiggling away from his fingers. “I will put so much spice in dinner tonight that you won’t be able to taste anything for a month,” he threatened, laughter in his deep voice. 

“Oh fine,” Jungkook held up his hands, relenting. “Now hold still so I can finish.”

“Hey, I was holding still. You started it.”

Jungkook smiled at his pout and set back to work. Just as he finished up, Yoongi spoke again.

“Really though, what markings? Do I have scars or freckles that I don’t know about?”

“No, your stripes,” Jungkook explained hurriedly, hearing the worry in Yoongi’s voice. 

Yoongi craned his neck back to see Jungkook over his shoulder. “I don’t have stripes.” 

It was then that Jungkook remembered. “Oh! Duh. I forgot. You must not have the right ocularity to see them.” 

He was normally so careful around humans. His parents had drilled into him how important it was that people didn’t ever know about his differences. He almost never brought up the things he knew humans couldn’t see with their limited visual range. But Yoongi made him feel so normal. Aside from his initial freak out, he’d never acted like Jungkook’s abilities were anything more than a unique curiosity or a party trick. His expression now remained puzzled. Jungkook closed all but two of his eyes, limiting his vision to what a human would have. He couldn’t help but frown at the way Yoongi saw himself. It was so plain, like a rainbow in black and white for a human. Yoongi was still gorgeous, but that spark was missing. A human’s markings and colorings told Jungkook so much about them than their visible light ever could. Yoongi’s were particularly stunning from day one. 

“In your visible light spectrum, they aren’t there,” he further explained.

“Ocularity? That sounds like a word Namjoon would know. Some obscure thing.”

“It means the number of eyes you have normally. Though I suppose in this case it’s more about spectral frequency than actual number of physical eyes…”

“And in your eyes, I have stripes?” Yoongi looked down at himself, curious. “I must look so weird to you.” He laughed lightly.

“Not at all,” Jungkook said. “You’re beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Yoongi cocked his head and grinned. 

Jungkook could feel his cheeks heat but tried to ignore it. “Yes, beautiful. You can’t tell me you aren’t aware of how stunning you are and how many people find you attractive.”

“Maybe,” Yoongi conceded. “But I didn’t think you did.”

Jungkook’s blush deepened. He tried to ignore it, but thought his cheeks rivaled the sun’s heat at that very moment. “Anyone with eyes thinks you’re gorgeous. So yeah, that includes me. Doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re an annoying troublemaker who worries his friends by overworking thought,” Jungkook stuck his tongue out and turned away, hoping Yoongi would let it go after the riff. 

“So,” Yoongi continued much to Jungkook’s disappointment, “if you have more than the usual number of eyes, and more than the usual amount of uhh… Ocularity… Does that mean you find me more than the usual amount of beautiful?”

Jungkook sighed heavily. “Does it matter?”

“It doesn’t, I guess. I just always thought you were good looking. I never realized you thought the same about me.” 

Jungkook scoffed, rolling his eyes in disbelief. “I’m sure the glowing eyes and tentacle wings are super sexy to a human.” Jungkook could hear the bitterness in his voice, but it had always bugged him. Any partner he’d ever had had only seen a part of him, nobody ever saw him completely, for what he truly was. They’d call him a monster. 

When Yoongi remained silent, Jungkook figured his question had been answered. But Yoongi finally responded, “it is to this human.”

Jungkook snapped his head up to look at Yoongi then laughed. There’s no way that could be true. “You’re just being nice,” Jungkook said. “I appreciate it. But… Let’s just go back to enjoying the sun, eh?” He rolled onto his back on the blanket and closed his eyes, letting his skin soak up the warm rays. 

Yoongi laid back on his stomach fully, silent for the moment. Jungkook could feel him watching him, but didn’t mind. It was a comforting feeling. 

“I’ve always wondered. Can you feel your wings like that? Aren’t they on your back?”

“I can, and they are. But they also aren’t. I can still feel them and move them. You’re used to thinking in three dimensions, as a human. But when I hide my wings or other parts of me, it’s like…” Jungkook frowned as he tried to find an analogy Yoongi would comprehend. “Like taking pants off a paper doll. They both still exist to you, but for the doll, it doesn’t have pants anymore.”

“So hiding your wings is like taking your pants off?” Yoongi chuckled. When Jungkook glanced over, Yoongi winked suggestively. Jungkook’s brows furrowed, confused about what had gotten into his friend today. “No, not really,” Jungkook sighed, opting to ignore the flirtation… If that’s what it was. “It’s not a perfect metaphor.”

“Do you keep them hidden because they’re private? Or so you don’t scare people?”

“I’m pretty sure people would run screaming or try to lock me up and do horrible tests on me if I just walked down the street with glowing tentacle wings and thirteen eyes,” Jungkook deadpanned. 

“You know I wouldn’t thought. But you still almost always keep them hidden from me too. I wasn’t sure if it was because they were private.” 

“Oh…” Jungkook pauses to consider. “I guess it’s just habit,” he finally settled on. Even home alone he rarely brought them out. Only when he needed the extra appendage to flick a light switch off across the room or carry things. There was another long pause as Jungkook thought about Yoongi’s question, and Yoongi, apparently, was thinking as well. 

“Can I see them?”

“Why so curious all of a sudden?” Jungkook asked. His tone was gentle. He sat up and wiggled his shoulders a little to pull his wings into this dimension. 

“Wow.” Yoongi sat up and looked over Jungkook’s shoulder, his eyes tracing the long, golden, glowing tentacles. They shifted subtly in his perception, never entirely free from the currents of the fourth dimension. “I forgot how beautiful they are.” His gaze darted over to Jungkook’s face and he frowned. “What about your eyes?”

Jungkook hesitated. “You sure? I mean glowy wings might be tolerable… But thirteen eyes…”

“I’m sure. I can handle it. No screaming this time.”

Jungkook chuckled a little. He scrunched his face and blinked a few times, letting every part of himself slip into this dimension. It felt nice, like releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Yoongi stared for a long minute, his gaze intense. Maybe it did feel more like taking your pants off than he thought it would. Jungkook considered hiding his eyes away again; maybe he had horrified Yoongi after all, but Yoongi seemed to shake himself out of whatever trance he was in.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

The pause grew to the point of awkward between them. Jungkook sighed, but opted to ignore it. He rolled onto his stomach to lie in the sun once more, wings still out. 

“Can I touch them?” Yoongi blurted out. He paused when Jungkook looked up. Jungkook could swear he was blushing. “I’m sorry, was that rude?” He asked.

“No. Not rude. Not so different from touching my arm, I guess… I don’t know, really… I don’t know a ton of other Nephilim to have some sort of reference.”

“Oh, uh, right… Sorry.”

Jungkook shrugged and sat up, facing Yoongi. Yoongi did the same. Jungkook spread the tendrils of his wings out in front of him like open hands, glancing up at Yoongi expectantly. Yoongi reached out, setting his hand on top of them. Jungkook was surprised at the sensation. It felt so strange, but not uncomfortable at all. Soothing, in a way. 

“They’re warm,” Yoongi said, surprise apparent in his own voice. He stroked his hand along the length of them, and Jungkook suppressed a shudder. It felt really good. Like someone rubbing his back but… More. Yoongi shifted his hands from stroking three at a time to just one. He twirled his finger around the tip of it, as if spinning a hair. The motion sent an unexpected shiver of pleasure down Jungkook’s spine and he gasped, nearly crying out. He yanked his wings away and instantly shifted them out of sight. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—” Yoongi cried in surprise. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would feel like that,” Jungkook stammered, his cheeks flushed and hot.

“Did I hurt you?” Yoongi’s brows were knitted together in concern.

Jungkook wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “No…” He mumbled. Yoongi must not have realized… “The opposite, actually.”

“Oh…”

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m so sorry,” Jungkook continued. “I honestly didn’t know it felt like that. I’ve never let anyone touch them, I didn’t know—”

“You’ve never let anyone touch them?” Yoongi asked, cutting Jungkook off.

“Of course not. You’re the only human that knows about them. Who else would have?”

“Your parents?” Yoongi suggested.

“They’re terrified of them. And besides… Now I’m glad they haven’t,” he admitted, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle. 

“It’s not fair.”

“What isn’t?” 

“That there’s this whole other side to you. An amazing side that you don’t get to show anyone. That you don’t get to explore at all because of how people are.”

Jungkook shrugged one shoulder. “I’m used to it. It doesn’t bother me anymore, I’ve spent my whole life hiding it. And besides,” Jungkook smiled. “You know the real me. So, one person has seen it. And accepts it… I hope.”

Yoongi nodded thoughtfully. 

Jungkook looked back down at the blanket. There was a small nagging feeling in the back of his mind, a curiosity about what he’d felt in Yoongi’s hands, what more would feel like. He could explore it on his own, he figured. He wanted to put this whole awkward, humiliating event past him and get on with the relaxing weekend—

“I can help you,” Yoongi said, cutting into his plan. 

“Help me?”

“You don’t know much about… That side. I mean, you didn’t know how it would feel to have someone touch them. But someday, I mean… You’ll meet someone who you can share that with, I hope. So, you’ll want to be prepared, or at least know what to expect. So, if you’re curious and wanted to, I… I could help you explore.” Yoongi looked down as he spoke, fiddling with the sand between their blankets.

Jungkook blinked, his mind taking a long moment to process exactly what Yoongi was asking. Was he actually offering… Based on his inability to make eye contact… And the beautiful pink glow of his cheeks, he was. It was strange, thinking of it, definitely not something friends did, right? Jungkook chewed his bottom lip until it hurt, his head twitching as he thought through the situation. It was definitely more than friends. And he should definitely not say yes. This held the potential of changing their entire relationship forever. Ruining it, even. Or making it something more. Yoongi had mentioned finding him attractive. But that was out of the question. No, he had to politely say no, this was something he could explore on his own. 

“Okay.” The word came out firm and decisive, evidently his mouth had decided to ignore every shred of rationale his brain was giving. 

“Really?” Yoongi looked up, his own eyes wide, as if he were as surprised by the answer. “You… I didn’t think you’d agree,” he admitted. “You’re sure? I do want to. But, I know this is… Big. We can stop any time.”

“I know.” Jungkook nodded. “I trust you.”

Yoongi’s entire face brightened, his mouth upturning into a gummy smile that had Jungkook’s heart fluttering and his cheeks and chest warming. 

He took a breath, not sure where to start. “So… What should I do?”

“Well, I need to see them to be able to touch them,” Yoongi teased, reaching out and waving his hand in the empty space where Jungkook’s tentacles should be. 

“Right.” Jungkook wiggled and let them appear once more. 

“I’ll never get over how pretty that looks,” Yoongi commented. He let his hand fall, watching the movement of them for a moment. 

“So, I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Yoongi said. “You’ll need to let me know how it feels, okay?”

“You mean you haven’t played with tentacles before? What kind of twenty-something year old are you?” Jungkook teased. 

Yoongi scoffed. He reached out, catching one of the tentacles. He squeezed lightly, just hard enough to give some pressure, his eyes on Jungkook’s face.

“That’s okay, doesn’t hurt but… Doesn’t feel like it did before—Oh!” 

While Jungkook spoke, Yoongi slid his hand slowly up and down the tentacle. 

“Better?” He whispered. Jungkook nodded, closing his eyes. Yoongi repeated the motion and reached out for another tentacle, doing the same. He pulled one closer to him, twirling his finger around the tip like he had before. 

Jungkook moaned softly, his eyes snapping open. He covered his mouth with his hands. “Oh, God, I—”

Yoongi let go of one tentacle to tug his hands down. “We’re alone. You don’t have to be shy.”

“This is so weird,” Jungkook mumbled, leaning toward Yoongi a little.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, please don’t stop… Do that again?”

Yoongi chuckled. He repeated the twirling motion and then slid his hand down the tentacle, moving it back up in one fluid stroke. Jungkook felt his belly tighten up and he moaned softly, his shoulders sagging a little. 

“Come closer to me, I want to reach more of them,” Yoongi whispered. 

Jungkook moved onto the same towel, resting on his knees in front of Yoongi, his head bowed. Yoongi made a small noise. He moved forward, wrapping both arms around Jungkook. He caught the tentacles in his hands, sliding his fingers over them and pressing where they emerged from Jungkook’s back. His short nails scraped over one as he stroked his fingers up it, and Jungkook cried out, jerking forward. 

The motion sent him slamming into Yoongi’s chest, his heart pounding wildly.

Yoongi cried out in surprise, tightening his grip on Jungkook’s back. “Hey… You okay?”

“Y—Yeah,” Jungkook stuttered. He could hear Yoongi’s heart pounding as fast as his own. The aura around Yoongi was shifting, a vibrant array of colors that would have made the most strong-willed person a little dizzy. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook worried. “Is this… Not good?”

“This is…” Yoongi drifted off. Jungkook looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Yoongi’s pupils were dilated and dark despite the sun, his gaze intense. 

“This is what?” Jungkook pressed. 

Yoongi swallowed hard. He shifted, pulling Jungkook closer to him. “It’s okay,” Yoongi whispered. “You can lean on me.” 

Jungkook pouted a little at Yoongi’s lack of an answer, but let himself be guided onto Yoongi’s lap. Yoongi’s hands slid over his back once more, up short, anxiety bitten nails scraping over the sensitive trunks of his tentacles. Jungkook moaned helplessly, letting his forehead fall onto Yoongi’s shoulder. 

Yoongi began to work each of the tentacles in turn, squeezing and stroking, rubbing, each one, testing each. Jungkook’s entire body was on fire. His stomach was knotted in a million twists, a heat and pressure more intense than he’d ever felt before building low inside his belly. 

“Yoongi—” He strained. 

“I’m here,” Yoongi purred. His breath was hot against Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook moaned wantonly. He didn’t care. He didn’t care that they were “just friends”, he didn’t care that this was just “exploring”. Every emotion he’d felt for Yoongi was rushing back. Every glance that was less than friendly, every “what if” whispered in the back of his mind, every moment shoved away and boxed up under the guise of not wanting to ruin things, not being good enough, not being human enough.

“Yoongi!” He cried again, his voice taking on a pleading lilt. He let his head fall back, leaning into the touches. He looked at Yoongi, struggling to focus. The aura of colors surrounding Yoongi seemed to reflect his own inner chaos, shifting and writhing around them. Despite all of the emotions flooding him, it still surprised Jungkook when he felt Yoongi’s lips against his own. It took him a moment to react. Yoongi’s mouth was soft and plush, tasting of the potato chips they’d shared earlier, the faintest hint of coffee from this morning. He felt Yoongi begin to pull away and made a small noise, instinct kicking in. Jungkook wrapped his arms around Yoongi and deepened the kiss, pressing every inch of his own body against him. 

The tentacles that Yoongi wasn’t touching wrapped around them, brushing Yoongi’s back and neck lightly. 

He could feel Yoongi’s cock, pressing up against the fabric of his swim trunks, just as hard as his own. Jungkook brought his hips down, grinding their crotches together gently. It was almost disappointing; the lack of feeling he got from it. It was nice, of course, but didn’t feel near as amazing as Yoongi’s hands on his tentacles. 

Yoongi, on the other hand, reacted beautifully. His hips jerked and he moaned into Jungkook’s mouth, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the tentacles. 

Jungkook pulled back, pressing their foreheads together. He began to hump himself against Yoongi, their breathing rapid as they shared the same warm pocket of air. 

Curious, Jungkook let one tentacle sink down, sliding over Yoongi’s bare knee. He shifted his own seating position and pushed it up slowly, into the leg of Yoongi’s swim trunks and up. Yoongi’s eyes widened almost comically when he felt it, his hands going still.

Jungkook pushed up further, letting the tip of the tentacle brush over Yoongi’s balls, already drawn tight to his body. Up further, and around his cock. He wound the tentacle around it in a firm grip, amazed at the texture he could feel, and how good it felt. He could feel Yoongi’s pulse, fast and strong. He stroked it experimentally. Both gasped. It was so intimate. Though it wasn’t exactly like being penetrated, it was so much more than any masturbation he’d done before with anyone. He began to jerk Yoongi off slow and steady, his own climax drawing closer. 

Yoongi was wiggling and moaning, clearly struggling to maintain composure. He continued to work Jungkook’s tentacles, knowing the perfect motions at this point to send all the good sparks straight to Jungkook’s guts. 

“Please—“ Jungkook gasped. 

“Are you close?” 

Jungkook nodded. Yoongi let go of one tentacle and grabbed the front of Jungkook’s shorts. He pulled them out and pushed them down just enough for the tip of Jungkook’s cock to be exposed. 

“Nobody likes come in their shorts.” Jungkook laughed breathlessly. He did the same for Yoongi, but moved back and pushed them down further.

He watched his tentacle stroke Yoongi’s cock, breathless at the beauty of it. The stripes on Yoongi’s back wound around to his front, swirling around his cock in complex, beautiful patterns. 

“Together—“ Yoongi panted. 

Jungkook blinked at him.

Yoongi let go of his tentacles only long enough to pull him close again. He touched the tentacle on his cock. “Jerk us both off.”

“I can barely feel my cock with you touching my tentacles,” Jungkook admitted.

He still did as Yoongi requested, unable to hide the smile when Yoongi’s hips jerked. The skin of their cocks slid together as he stroked them both with the tentacle. 

Yoongi turned his focus back to the other five, matching pace as they each pulled one another toward climax.

Jungkook came first, unsurprisingly. His head fell back and he shouted Yoongi’s name. His full form shimmered into view, the intensity of his orgasm forcing him into one dimension. His cock spilled his release down the shaft, slicking the way for his tentacle as he continued to stroke them both. Every nerve in his body was on fire, even his tentacles felt as if they were tensing and releasing in time to the powerful climax.

Yoongi swore and jerked. Jungkook forced his eyes open in time to watch, not wanting to miss it. Yoongi’s release spurted onto Jungkook’s belly. Yoongi shuddered, dropping his head onto Jungkook’s shoulder as the waves of pleasure washed over him. Jungkook could nearly see it in his shifting aura, beautiful and hypnotizing. 

The two sat in silence for a long time after their orgasms faded, catching their breath and letting the reality of what happened sink in. Yoongi was the first to move, reaching over and dragging the bag closer. He found the towel he’d used to wipe his hands earlier and used it once more, cleaning the release from their bodies and Jungkook’s tentacles tenderly. 

Jungkook moved off him and back onto his own blanket, fixing his shorts. He shrugged a bit, his tentacles and extra eyes slipping from view once more.

“So…”

“That was…” Yoongi began at the same time. They both chuckled a little, a tension in the air. 

“What do we do now?” Jungkook finally asked. He found himself unable to meet Yoongi’s gaze, afraid of what the other was going to say. 

“You were saying I was handsome. I mean… That you thought I was,” Yoongi began.

“You are.”

“Was it just that? Like… You think I’m handsome but we’re friends and… That’s it? Or… More?”

Jungkook cautiously looked up at Yoongi. He was sitting in a similar position, staring at his hands in his lap. 

“I’m afraid to answer,” Jungkook admitted.

“Please, don’t be. I need to know.”

“I don’t want it to ruin our friendship.” 

Yoongi looked up. “If you’re scared of that… Does that mean it’s a yes? To… More?”

“I tried to ignore it. I figured we were both busy and you’re… So handsome. I’m just…” Jungkook drifted off. 

“The most stunning person I’ve ever met,” Yoongi finished.

“That’s a boldfaced lie,” Jungkook snorted.

“No, Jungkook. It’s not.” Yoongi moved forward. He grabbed Jungkook’s face, cupping it in his hands. “I’ve been fascinated with you forever. You’re funny and kind and beautiful, and so interesting. I can’t get bored around you. You make me so happy. I just figured… I’m so… Human. And how dull I must be to you.”

Jungkook grimaced. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You are anything but dull.”

“I lack the ocularity,” Yoongi responded, his voice shifting as he smirked. Jungkook laughed. He set his hands over Yoongi’s wrists.

“So, it seems like… We both have been interested in more for a while.”

“And were both too worried to say something.”

“Now that the truth is out… What’s next?”

Yoongi smiled softly. “I think we go take a dip in the ocean. And then make dinner… And then come lay on the beach and watch the sunset together… How does that sound?”

Jungkook smiled brightly. He let his tentacles and eyes appear, his heart skipping a happy beat when Yoongi’s smile broadened.

“I think that sounds like the perfect first date.”

[honeyhan-123]

The Monster In Plain Sight ~ III

Series Summary: Steve’s been slowly biding his time, playing the role of the perfect Captain America, but now he’s sick of playing and he’s going to take what he wants.

Chapter Summary: Steve peels back his mask. 

Warnings:Dark!Steve, non-con, allusions to past victims, Steve is a serial rapist in this, trapping the reader. I’m sorry if theres more but I’m half dead right now so just let me know and I’ll fix it. 

Word Count: 3.2k

AN: This is my contribution to trying to make 2021 better than the shit show that was 2020. I really hope y’all like it!

Also, I’m thinking that maybe this is the last part? Let me know if you want more but I’m not too sure. 

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The ‘safe house’ that Steve had chosen was really just his own little cabin in the woods. Of course it wasn’t just like any regular cabin, there were safety measures in place. Like the fact that it was at least five miles away from the nearest residence, or the fact that to get in or out of the building his thumbprint was needed. But you didn’t need to know any of that. 

It was a three hour drive and Steve couldn’t help but peak over at you out of the corner of his eyes for the entire duration. You wore jeans and a sweater that Steve longed to rip from your body. Once he had you safely tucked away in his cabin he’d make sure you could never hide your body again. 

The thoughts alone of what he had planned made him shift uncomfortably in his seat, trying to readjust himself in his pants. Oh how he longed to just pull over to the side of the road and slide into his new home between your legs. It physically pained him but he still had at least an hour drive to go and he didn’t want to risk you drawing any attention during that time. 

It took longer than Steve wanted to reach his cabin but at long last he finally turned onto the dirt road that made up the last two or so miles to the house. He watched out of the corner of his eyes as you stared out at the dense forest, a hint of nervousness starting to screen in. In a sick way Steve was glad that you were finally starting to realise how vulnerable you were now. 

It had been almost too easy for Steve to convince you to trust him and he couldn’t wait to shatter that trust. To show you the monster that had been lurking in plain sight. 

When he finally eased the car to a complete stop, he allowed himself one last glance back at you. It wouldn’t be the last time he would be seeing you but it would be the last time you would look at him with that level of trust in your eyes. At least, for a while. 

Steve had no doubt that if he kept you here for long enough, you would eventually cave to him. Although, none of the others had lasted long enough for that…

It was rare for anyone to catch his eye for long enough for Steve to bring them here. And the few that had, quickly learnt that Steve was not the epitome of patience that the media often portrayed him as. 

Steve shrugged those memories away. They were the past and he was here with you now. He was certain you wouldn’t disappoint him like the others had. You wouldn’t end up like they had. 

He gave you one last smile before opening his door. The cool autumn air hinted at the fast approaching winter and he saw you shiver as he carried your bags up to the front door. 

‘This is home sweet home. There are various safety measures around the place but you don’t really need to worry about all that. All I want you to concern yourself with is settling in. I want you to like it here as much as I do. After all, it is your new home.’ His words sent a wave of confusion through you.

‘For the next few weeks at least.’ You corrected him with a smile as you gazed around the mud room, completely missing the flash of anger that momentarily took a hold of Steve's features. 

‘Right. Well, it could take some time to catch whoever fucked you.’ You gasped at his vulgar language, turning to face him. 

‘That’s not the word I would have used.’ 

Steve merely shrugged away your chastisement and gestured to the hallway. ‘Let me show you to the bedroom. You followed as he led the way past the dining room and then the kitchen. Just by the door to the kitchen you saw another, one that held a flight of dark stairs, presumably to a basement of sorts. You were glad to not be sleeping down there. 

When Steve nudged the bedroom door open you were surprised by how lived in the room looked. You would have thought a safe house would have a sort of desolate feel to it, but not this one. It almost had a sort of homey feel to it. 

You expected Steve to just dump your bags down on the bed and then disappear off to wherever he would be sleeping but instead, he closed the door behind him and you heard a faint click of a lock. You whipped around to face him, about to ask why he’d locked the door but the words died in your throat as you caught sight of his darkened eyes. 

‘Steve…’ Your voice was timid, taken aback by the abrupt change in him and all too aware of just how alone you were now. ‘What are you doing?’

‘What I’ve been waiting to do for months.’ His voice was deeper than usual and your throat felt tight as he shrugged out of his jacket. It was only when he turned to hang it up in the closet did you realise why the cabin had such a homey feel to it. It had that feeling because it was a home. His home.

‘I- I don’t understand. What do you mean “what you’ve wanted to do for months?”’

‘I mean I’ve been watching you. Waiting for this moment. Patiently biding my time until I had you completely at my mercy.’ He started closing the distance between your bodies and with every step he took, you took one backwards. ‘You know, it’s kind of funny. I knew from the first moment I saw you that I would have you, but I didn’t realise until last night that I wouldn’t be satisfied with just a one off occurrence. You’re better than that, you deserve more.’ 

The back of your legs hit the foot of the bed and you stumbled back onto it, trying to crawl away as the realisation sunk into you. ‘Last night? That - that was you?’ Your voice was merely a whisper but in the silence of the cabin there was no doubt he heard you. 

‘Of course it was me. Why else do you think I made sure I was the first one to find you this morning? Getting you here would’ve been a little harder if you had gotten the authorities involved.’

‘You had no intention of ever helping me. Then why…’

‘Make you get the sperm for a DNA test?’ He finished your question for you, a twisted smirk on his lips. ‘That, I admit, was purely for my own entertainment. Plus I wanted to see your perfect little cunt again.’

‘So what? You just took me here for… for what?’ Panic was truly starting to set in as he revealed what a monster he really was. 

‘Isn’t it obvious? I want you. I wasn’t content with just one night. I want more. So I brought you here, miles away from the nearest residential area. You can scream as loud as you like but no one will ever hear you. You can try to escape me but I will catch up before you even make it off the property. You’re mine to do with a I please now.’ 

His words sent a shiver down your spine and you didn’t doubt that he meant every single one of them, yet there was a part of you that refused to give up hope. This had to all be a dream. Some sick, twisted nightmare. 

You hadn't seen him move but suddenly you were pushed onto your back and his arms were on either side of you, caging you in. ‘So go ahead.’ His lips brushed your own as he breathed the words. ‘Do it. Scream for me.’ 

His words were your only warning before his hands met the straps of your tank top and abruptly tore it away from your body. Your arms came up, trying to shield yourself from him but he swiftly gathered your wrists in his hand and pinned them above your head. 

You thrashed your hips wildly, trying to buck him off of you to no avail. Instead, he slipped his spare forefinger down along your sternum and hooked it underneath your bra. With one last devious smirk down at you, he pulled it away. 

It hurt as it tore around your chest, leaving you completely bare to him. ‘That’s much better isn’t it?’ His eyes danced along your breasts as he spoke, completely enraptured by them for the time being. 

You thrashed even more wildly, your desperation kicking up a notch as his hand slipped along your stomach and down to the waistband of your pants. He deftly undid the button to your jeans and then the fly. He used your own movement to aid him in pulling the denim and your modest panties down and away from your legs. 

You breathed in his own breath as his fingers forced their way between your thighs. ‘Well… Look at this.’ He pulled his hand back so you could see the glistening fingers. ‘I knew you were different. You want it. You want me.’ You tried to speak, to deny his claims but he interrupted before you even had the chance. ‘Don’t bother with whatever falsity you’re trying to say. Those gorgeous lips can lie to me but your body can’t.’ With that he shoved his hand back between your thighs and started playing with the slick he had found there. 

You wanted to hate it, and you did to an extent. Yet, there was a small part of you that couldn’t ignore the growing fire that his fingers had ignited. ‘Stop it please. Steve. Stop.’ Your commands were pitiful even to your own ears. 

‘You and I both know you don’t mean that Baby.’ You shuddered at the pet name yet your denial was caught in your throat as his fingers found your clit. An involuntary gasp fell from your lips and it was all the invitation that Steve needed to lean down and slide his tongue into your open mouth. 

You recoiled at the unfamiliar feeling but no matter how hard though tried to shove him off, he was too strong. He remained stuck, on top of you, the only barrier was his arm leading down to your cunt where he continued to draw out moan after moan from your lips. 

‘That’s it Baby. Just give in to me. Isn’t it so much easier? To just give in to what your body so desperately needs?’ His words were mumbled against your lips and you tried to speak out, only for another moan to betray your mind. 

His hand had shifted slightly, and suddenly there was a finger poking at your entrance as his palm continued to brush against your bundle of nerves. You were unable to do anything but lie there and take it as his finger easily slid into your channel. 

No sooner than he had one finger inside you did he add a second and then a third. ‘God, you’re so fuckin’ wet. So tight. I can’t wait to see you take my cock again.’ His words should have repulsed you but instead they furthered your own excitement. Your thighs clenching desperately around his hand. ‘Oh you like that do you? Me talking dirty? Reminding you that your best feature will always be right here?’ His hand drew back and lightly slapped your swollen lips. ‘This hole. This cunt. It’s fucking marvellous.’ Your eyes squeezed shut on their own accord as his fingers brushed against that spot inside you. 

You were repulsed by your body's reaction. The coil inside your gut grew tighter and tighter with every ministration of his. You longed for him to get off of you yet you also longed for him. Your body and mind were at war with one another but not for long. Your body claimed a swift victory.as your orgasm approached and continued to wash over you, from the tips of your toes to your muddled mind. 

Wave after wave of pleasure consumed you, making its way over your body as your walls pulsed around his fingers. 

‘That’s a good girl. Just give in. I can give you this and so much more.’ You were in such a daze as he spoke that you didn’t even realise his body briefly leaving yours as he hastily shoved his hands down his thighs and his shirt falling to the floor nearby. Just as quickly as his body had left yours, it returned. 

He apparently didn’t think you needed restraining anymore and you hated how his assumption was correct. You were in no state to fight back anymore and you questioned if you even wanted to. You felt his hand lightly brush against your sensitive lips before there was a poking sensation. You gasped as he pushed his way into you. Your groin was already sore from the night before and now you truly knew why. You didn’t have to be able to fully see him to know Steve was just as big down there as he was everywhere else. 

It felt as though he were splitting you open and you tried to shove him off once more, unable to bear with the pain. Your attempts were futile as your hands were merely met with a wall of smooth muscle. ‘I know baby. I know it hurts but - fuck. I’ll make it feel better. I’ll make it all feel better.’ You took little reassurance from his words as he began thrusting, slowly pulling out inch by inch before forcing his way back in. 

His slow pace was torturous. Despite the pain, your body wanted more and it wanted it now. On their own accord, hips slightly lifted up to meet his, trying to invite him further in and Steve needed no further prompting. His pace shifted drastically, his hips now pummelling into yours over and over again. ‘I knew you wanted it. I knew you wanted me. You put up a good fight but now that you have a cock. In you, you’re just a mindless little fuck doll aren’t you?’ When you couldn’t respond his hand lightly slapped your cheek, gripping it tightly. ‘Aren’t you?’ 

You gasped out a meaner ‘yes’. And watched as his smile grew. 

‘And whose fuck doll are you?’ His words alone were menacing enough and you needed no further prompting to answer him this time. 

‘Yours. Steve… I’m yours.’ The words were out of your lips before you had truly had the chance to process what you were saying. 

‘That’;s right Baby. You’re all mine.’ His thrusts paused only briefly as he placed his feet back on the ground and pulled your ass towards the edge of the bed, wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands gripped your thighs harshly, no doubt leaving a myriad of bruises in their wake. He used his new position to push even further in than you thought possible. How could he reach this far inside you? His gaze was directed down at where your bodies met with the sound of clapping flesh. 

‘See that Baby? See how well your body takes me? How deep I am inside you, basically in your womb?’ His words terrified you but there was a part of you that longed for me. ‘See this right here?’ His finger tapped your abdomen and you could see what he meant as he moved. Even through all the layers of fat, muscle and skin you could still see the bulbous head of his cock as he speared into you. ‘You were made for this. For me.’

You shredded as he hand moved down from your stomach and back to your clit. You didn’t want to want his fingers or any part of him for that matter, yet your body continued to betray you, a mewl falling from your lips as he flicked your clit. 

The coil which you had been denying grew tighter and tighter with every thrust of his hips. You could tell Steve had realised how closer you were as you felt him pull back, his pace slowing ever so slightly. He had drawn you tantalisingly close to the edge and yet refused to push you over. You hated the way your eyes met his, large and doe like, silently begging for more. 

‘You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want to cum Baby. I wanna hear you beg for me. For my cock.’ You shook your head back and forth, determined not to cave. All this earned you was a humourless laugh. ‘Let me make this real simple for you Baby. You can either beg for me like a good girl or I can simply stop giving a fuck about your pleasure.’ As though to emphasise his words he let his fingers cease their dance along your clit, causing a whimper to fall from your lips. ‘It’s really up to you. But dildo make your mind up quickly, I’m not feeling very patient.’

Five thrusts. That was all it took for your resolve to crumble and for the words to start tumbling from your lips. ‘Please. Please Steve. Let me cum. I need it.’ 

‘Oh Baby, you and I both know you can do better.’ His words mocked you as his slow pace drove you crazy. 

You swallowed down your pride as you prepared to say your next words. ‘I need you Steve. You’re-’ You were cut off by the sudden fierceness of his thrusts, once again bringing you back to the edge. There was a warning look in his eye as he gazed down at you to keep going with your begging however. ‘You’re the only one. The only one who can give me what I want. What I need.’ Your words which he had clearly so longed to hear sent him over the edge as he collapsed on top of you, grinding his hips against you as he pumped you full of his cum. You hated how the feeling of him coating your walls was what did you in, triggering your own desperate release. Your walls clenched around him, pulsing as your body tried to lock him into place. 

The time it took for Steve to recover truly said a great deal about how much he had wanted this. How own breaths were laboured as he lay unmoving on top of you, his forehead pressed against your own, forcing you to breathe in his air. 

‘God Baby,. That was even better than last night. So much better. I think I… I need a little break before round two. Maybe next time you could do all the work and ride me like how you ride that little dildo of yours hmmm?’ His words were hazy but the force with  which he lifted you up from the edge of the bed and moved so that he lay with his head against the pillow, his cock not once slipping out of you was astonishing. His arms locked around your waist, holding you in place as he yawned. ‘Maybe you could wake me up after my little nap like that? I don’t think there's any better way to be woken up.’ 

His azure eyes closed and you dreaded the next time you would see them once more. 

+

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[jeromesxreader16]

Such a Joker (51)

Part 50 Here!

~o0o~

I scan through paint swatches, holding it up to the walls of the nursery contemplating the vast difference in the outcome. "I like this blue." Jeremiah picks up a swatch and tapes it to the wall. I smile as he narrows his hands focusing on the paint. He nods looking around the room. "We can put both the cribs against the wall here and place the changing station in the middle. Rocking chairs in either corner." He smiles with his accomplished plan.

"What do you think, boys?" He asks kneeling at my stomach. I scoff smiling, "How do you know these boys of yours aren't girls?" Jeremiah leans down pressing his ear on my swollen belly.

"Hmm. Yes. What was that? Of course, I'll let mommy know."

Jeremiah stands cupping my face. "You're children don't like the vitamin shake you drink." I roll my eyes walking away and taping a light pink swatch of paint on the wall.

Jeremiah raises a brow smirking. "Really, (Y/n)?" I shrug beaming. "You never know, Jer."

~

I look out the large window looking at the starved and rotten Gotham. I sigh sipping at my morning tea Ecco brought me.

"You're sighing again." I look over at her smiling. "You say that a lot." "It's because you sit there looking like a princess waiting for someone to come." I shake my head at Ecco laughing. "You're crazy, Ecco."

She hops in front of me smirking. "We could be bad, ya know? Sneak out. Just for a little." I narrow my eyes leaning in. "Keep talking."

~

Jeremiah POV:

Coming up the elevator into the late hours of the night to finally take rest next to my wife. "The tunnel is coming along nicely," Ecco says standing beside me. "Yes, there is much to do."

"Ecco, does my darling ever speak of life before this?" Ecco nods at me. "Mrs. Valeska always loves to spend time thinking of the good days." I hum reconnecting ways to make her happy. "I'll have to send her on a little trip out of our little Dark Zone."

I open the door to our room removing my tie and shirt and putting them away.

I walk over to my wife and rest my hands on her stomach holding my children. "We're not supposed to be here." I sigh resting my head against her. "I'm trying my best to get us out of here, loves."

She rolls to her side causing me to chuckle. I kiss her head cuddling into her in our sheets, dreaming of escaping Gotham with my family.

~

"Remember, love. Tonight is another graduation for the troops. It is still too dangerous. Care to take a trip to the Sirens today? I thought about sending you to have a full week of fun." Jeremiah asks as I cuddle into his side. "Yeah. I could use some girl time. If you're alright with having me away that long." Jeremiah holds my chin gazing into my eyes. "I love you so much, darling."

"I love you, Jeremiah." His smile warms my heart as he descends the elevator. "Behave yourself, loves."

~

I step out of the car smiling at the large buildings all so familiar. "Hello, Sirens." I grab the railing to step inside but am bumped by a force making me stumble.

"I - I'm so sorry, miss!" I look down at a little boy with bruises and scratches all over his body. I kneel gasping at his frame. "Oh, honey." He looks behind his shoulder gulping. "You have to help me, please."

I look up at the building thinking over my plans. Jeremiah told me to go here and only here, but it's not like he knew I was going to run into an abandoned child!

I nod at the small kid getting back in my car. "Come on, kid." He jumps in my car closing the door and gasping. "Thank you! Thank you so much, miss!" I smile sadly at the frightened little boy.

"Where are you going? Where can I take you?"

He looks at me with hopeful eyes. "The Haven."

I've heard whispers of the spot concealed in safety for a couple of weeks now. "I have an idea of where it is. I'll take you there."

He nods smiling, "My name is Will Thomas." He offers his hand.

"(Y/n) Valeska. It's good to meet you, Will." He smiles shaking my hand.

~

"Whoa." Will gasps as the large caged in the apartment corner appears. "Yeah," I say taking a look at all the people smiling. "Are you coming with me? I have to find someone who can help my brother and sister!" I nod turning off the car. "Yeah. I'm not sure who all lives here, but I can help you look around."

Walking in the small compound many of the people were friendly in this trying time.

I walk up holding Will's weak hand. "Excuse me, sir." He turns to me confused. "Yes?" "This boy needs your help." I try to usher him and scatter away but a hand reaches out grasping my wrist as I walk away from them.

I look up meeting my father's eyes through the shades. "(Y/n)?"

I smile removing the glasses. "Jim." he crumbles losing his balance. "Where have you been?" I shake my head tugging at my arm. "I-I can't be here."

I run away slipping out of the Haven untouched and back to my car as my father runs out screaming my name. I drive to the club again and entering as nothing happened.

"(Y/n)!" Babs screams running to me. "Oh, my! You've filled out!" I laugh pushing out my stomach. "Well, when you've got two fighting for space."

~

Jim POV:

That was her. My girl. My beautiful daughter walking right in and then scurried away faster than wildfire. "Jim, was that-" I turn to Harvey with a smile breaking my features. "Yeah. That was (Y/n)." Harvey pats my shoulder. "I know you're thinking you have to find her at this very second and trust me I do too, but we've got another pressing thing. Like this mystery kid." Harvey pulls me away from my thoughts.

"Right. What do we know?"

"His name is Will Thomas. Parents died in a home invasion a few weeks after the bridges came down. Guys that broke in took him to some sort of factory where he was held alongside dozens of other stolen kids, all chained together."

"God. Who are these guys?" "Call themselves The Soothsayers."

"You ever heard of them?" "No. But who can keep track these days?"

"Which district?" "Granton. Near the water, he said. Had them digging some sort of tunnel. Will broke free from his restraints last night and walked nine miles through the Dark Zone and found Mrs. Valeska in the Sirens block. She brought him here."

"What kind of tunnel?"

"Unclear."

"There's an abandoned waterworks by the old dock in Granton."

"Detective Gordon?" The small boy asks. "My friends. You'll save them, won't you?" I nod at him holding a smile. "I'll look into it."

"The Soothsayers won't be happy I escaped. They'll punish

the others for it. Please, Mr. Gordon. I promised them I'd bring help."

~

"Gosh, I can't wait until I can drink again." I laugh at Babara from behind the bar as she throws down a shot. "Oh, me and you both. Push those kids onto that pale freak and go wild!"

Feet away the crowd split and they still their ongoing conversations. None other than James Gordon walks over to Barbara. I duck under the bar hiding in plain sight.

"Barbara." She looks down at me before turning to ace my father. "Jim, what brings you crawling out into the open tonight? Come to join the party? One last hoorah before someone wastes you?" She smirks taking another shot before slamming it down.

"I'm here to ask a favor. Maybe some information if you have it."

"A favor plus info, right. Is this after you stood by and did nothing while my best friend on this Earth was stabbed through the heart?"

"I put him down."

"You restored his limp."

"HE SHOULD BE DEAD!"

Jim sighs, "Barbara." She cuts him off with her screams. "Everybody out! Now! I said move!"

As they file out and the music comes to a halt I shiver on my knees. Why am I doing this? Hiding from my blood.

"Planning revenge?" "Well, someone has to do something about that freak."

"He has an army. It would be suicide." "Look around, Jim. We're all slowly dying. Just some of us get to choose how."

"I'm sorry about what happened to Tabitha."

Babs brushes off the matter scoffing, "So, these favors?"

"I need transportation. Trucks, maybe."

"Where are you going?"

"It's a police matter," Jim says making me hold in a laugh. How could police exist nowadays?

"You know, they should really write that on your tombstone. They're downstairs in the basement lot. Knock yourself out. Drive right into this nightmare you created. You won't last a night."

He stays quiet for a moment before asking, "Have you seen (y/n)?" Barbara chuckles, "And if I did, what makes you think she wants to see her father who turned her own happiness away?" I peer over the bar watching my father's eyes drop and sadness fills his emotions. He turns away from the bar walking away. "Thank you for the trucks."

I pop up resting my elbows on the counter. "You didn't have to yell at him." Babs turns to me locking eyes. She breaks shaking her head with a sad smile. "No, I guess I didn't." I come around the bar sitting beside her. "You really think he won't last out there?" She turns to me smirking. "Not if he has some help. How long are you staying here?" I shrug, "Jeremiah doesn't need me around when the church graduates. He said the tension in the air is stressful for the babies." She scoffs laughing. "Right, because he's Mr. smartypants."

~

I sit on the couch watching TV as Babs strides through tossing my gun at me. "Load it and follow me." I stand following her. "Uh, why do I need a gun?" She turns back to me as walks into the garage.

"We're going to help Jimmy. You want to drive?"

I smile at her nodding. "Okay."

~

"Wait, slow down! I hear something." Barbara says causing me to stop the vehicle equipped with machine guns on the empty road. "I won't say it again, freak. Gordon comes with me."

I smile at her, "Jackpot!"

"I'll tell you what! I'll take his head, and you can have the rest of him!"

"NOW!" I scream as we whip around the corner and shoot down the punks. Barabra hops out fo the car walking towards my father.

"Hi, Jim. About our last chat... I may have been a little rash. This what got you all hot and bothered? They need a bath."

"Crazy bi-" I stand from my seat shooting the armed man aiming at Babs. As I hit the target, my father does as well.

He looks at me in shock. "(Y/n)?" I smile sitting back and cranking the car.

"Oh, lookie there. I found her. Not all square yet though. You're gonna help me do what we all know needs doing."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"Kill Penguin."

~

I gaze and smile a all the happy citizens in the Haven. "This is amazing."

"Citizens are heading here in droves. This place will be full

by sundown." Jim nods looking around. "Then we'll find another."

I look up at him. "I figured you left when the evacuation was called." My father puts an arm across my shoulder pulling me to him. "You were still here. I was never going to leave without you. Especially now with these two." He says placing a hand on my stomach.

A woman walks up with her younger ones grinning at Jim. "I just want to thank you, Captain Gordon. My family, we've been drifting from one place to the next ever since the blackout. You've delivered us." She walks away beaming with joy, leaving my father with a raised head and confidence and honor beaming from him.

His moment soon ruined by Barbara scoffing, "Seriously?" She rolls her eyes looking at me. "You know he'll be angry with you if he finds you here. You're staying with me so my ass will be burned."

I look back at Babs and my father. He grabs my wrist looking me in the eyes. "You can't go back, (Y/n). Look at what he's done!" I close my eyes gathering my emotions. "Jim, please let me go so I can go home to my husband. This will end ugly if you refuse." He looks at me with shock and shakes his head. "No, I found you and now I'm going to keep the three of you safe from him." I rip my arm out of his grip. "I came to you! I understand you're upset, I do. But... Daddy's little girl is gone, I married him, he is the father of my children, and that won't change. You can either fight it and our contact will end, or..." I take out his pen from his pocket and grab his hand, writing my phone number. "You can accept me for the person I have become, and call me."

Jim nods sadly. He places his hand on mine. "I love you, (Y/n)." I nod smiling at my father. "I hope so." I back up walking next to Barbara.

"I'll see you around, killer. We have some unfinished business, you and I." She nods to him as we exit the gates.

~

"How was the day, darling? Have my twins kicked you anymore? I talked with them the other night." I giggle over the line laying on the big bed in the guest room of Barbara's home. "They've been fine, Jer. How was the first day of the graduates?" He sighs over the phone. "10 go in and only 4 complete the trial. It's quite disappointing." "I bet you'll have more tomorrow. It is a new day after all." "Indeed, love."

I snuggle in my covers rubbing my belly. "Get some rest, Jeremiah. I'll see you soon." He hums in the line. "I do hope so, darling. I love you." I smile feeling complete. "I love you too, Jeremiah."

As the call ends it suddenly rings again. I pick it up figuring it to be Jeremiah, once more. "Did you forget something?" I giggle over the line. "(Y/n)?" Jim's shaky voice comes through. "Dad."

He sighs and speaks, "Hi honey. H-How are you?"

At this time I talk to my father and open the door that has been shut so long.

"Hey! How about we meet up for lunch when we can?" I laugh at him, "You're going to act like everything's normal and grab a sub?" "Why not? I've got my family back."

A piercing giggle springs from the bathroom. Jerome walks out with sunglasses and posing in the mirror. "I'm going to tell."

I shake my head at him as my father talks. Jerome cackles and runs to the door making me chase after him tripping him. "OW! Workers comp!" He cries.

He stands up giggling. "Ole Jimmy. Always slithering around and shitting on our lives. Brother will be mad, (Y/n), you know that."

"Goodnight, Dad."

I hang up rolling on my side and cuddling into the sheets. "He won't find out, Jerome." He scoffs cuddling close to me. "Lying to your husband? You naughty girl."

I laugh into the pillow. "Goodnight, Jerome." 

[shining-red-diamond]

One Little Coyote

Words: 2k

Pairing:  Hyunjin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, some angst

Rating: PG

Warnings: nightmare scene, some arguing, mentions of cigarettes and smoking

A/N; I’m super proud of how this turned out! I’m sorry if it seems rushed, but I thought this was a cute and interesting concept. Banner credits to @oobin​

If the morning sun wasn’t hot enough, then the afternoon sun certainly was. Heat waves could easily be seen rising up from the dark pavement the gray Subaru traveled on. Hyunjin carefully drove himself and Y/N across the desert, even though it was mostly barren despite the occasional car that passed them in the opposite direction. The two had been on the road since eight, and it was now nearing twelve-thirty as Y/N’s stomach began to rumble.

“Are you that hungry?” Hyunjin giggled.

“Hey, you’re the one who insisted on just having granola bars instead of eggs like I suggested,” Y/N shot back.

“I know, I should’ve set the alarm for earlier.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes behind his round, dark-lense sunglasses.

Y/N sighed. “No, I should’ve just grabbed an apple.”

“Baby, we’re almost to a gas station. We’ll stop there and grab a bite to eat.”

For whatever reason, the two seemed to be arguing about something with every other conversation they had since waking up that morning. Was it because one of them slept bad? Did Hyunjin get irritated at her for some reason? Or was Y/N just hangry? They hated fighting with each other, but they couldn’t seem to get along for the first leg of their journey. The heat could be a factor in both of them butting heads, but the air was on full blast.

Y/N stared down at her twiddling her thumbs as the song changed to an old AC/DC tune, and Hyunjin glanced over at her. He felt bad for using a sharp tone at her. For months, the two had been planning a road trip from the Grand Canyon to Las Vegas; but he felt terrible for being in such a crabby mood.

Taking her hand, he laced his fingers through hers and kissed the back of it.

“Why the sudden change in behavior?” she asked with a raised brow.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized as they pulled into the gas station.

“Can we talk about this later? I just want to get some food before my stomach starts speaking in tongues.”

Before Hyunjin could respond, Y/N was already out of the car and beelined for the restaurant in the convenience store.

The gas station had only three other vehicles parked there: a motorcycle on the side of the building, a beat up brown truck at a pump, and a dark minivan at another. Heat from the sun was beating down in the surrounding area, but Hyunjin was protected under some shade at the gas pump he paid at. A snake slithered by, but it didn’t bother him. A rugged looking man exited the building and pulled a brand new pack of cigarettes and lit one up before entering the truck and pulling out, but not before giving Hyunjin a nod of acknowledgement.

When the tank was filled, Hyunjin took his receipt, parked in another spot, and locked the car before meeting his girlfriend inside. Y/N was sitting in a gray booth with an order of two burgers and large fries with two large drinks. She hadn’t touched any of the food on the tray, which she always did when she paid for food if she were traveling with anyone. Hyunjin was about to open his mouth to protest how he should have been the one to purchase the food, but he was done arguing with the love of his life.

“This looks delicious, baby,” he smiled and kissed her head before sitting in the seat across from her.

“I made sure to not get pickles in yours,” she replied.

“You know me too well.”

Once Hyunjin tied his long hair back, he and Y/N began their lunch; and she was thankful they didn’t fight while they filled their bellies with a meal.

“Just think,” Hyunjin smiled slyly, “by tomorrow afternoon we’ll be entering Vegas. The desert and heat will be a distant memory as we feast on delicious food, swim in an indoor pool, and get cozy.”

Y/N chuckled at his attempt at being smooth with his words, which in turn caused him to laugh as well.

“We can’t forget seeing all of the cool shows and counting the slot machines in each casino,” she added. “But I’m happy to just be with you for a few days, even if we don’t get to party like millionaires.”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Who needs wealth when I’m already a rich man just having the most beautiful woman in the world with me?”

“You’re cheesy, dude; but I like cheese.”

“I know,” her boyfriend replied with a wink.

As soon as they finished their meal, the two were back on the road, the surrounding desert brightened more by the afternoon sun. For about two hours, the two drive in mostly silence. The only noises around them were the radio, which would go static in some areas, and the wind outside. A few animals passed by in the sand and among the vegetation, but it was mostly snakes and rabbits.

“Babe,” Hyunjin said after a while, “about me apologizing earlier, I didn’t sleep well last night and woke up this morning in a bad mood. I hate fighting with you, and I was trying to make it up to you.”

He couldn’t exactly look at her as he was driving, but he could see out of the corner of his eye she was half smiling as he spoke.

“I’m sorry, too,” she lightly sighed. “I shouldn’t have snapped back at you. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault. The bed at the motel was too uncomfortable.”

“Hopefully, the hotel bed is much better.”

“It’s Vegas! It has to be.”

A truce was formed during their own little comedy hour, and Hyunjin was happy he was able to make it all up with his girl. Like most couples, they had their arguments some days, but Hyunjin could never stay angry with Y/N, nor could she with him. The last thing either of them wanted to do was hurt the other person, and they both knew words were impactful. Only once had they insulted each other where it hurt the most that they wouldn’t speak to each other for a week until they both cooled off and talked it over.

“I wonder where the coyotes are,” Y/N spoke up as she looked out the window.

“They’re out there,” her boyfriend replied as he glanced around the sandy plains. “We won’t be going anywhere near them, but we’re approaching a bunch of rock formations and hills in a while.”

“Maybe we’ll hear them when we camp.”

“Maybe.”

“And that one little coyote howling at the moon,” Y/N sang with a giggle.

As if on cue, the radio song switched to the exact song. It was a genie wishing her song request.

“Fitting.”

-

The night air was too quiet for Y/N, except for the coyote’s howling at the full moon every couple of seconds. Moonlight illuminated the inside of the car, and she couldn’t fall back asleep anymore. The windows were still cracked open a little to allow air to circulate, but there was no wind blowing. Y/N hated how silent it was, and the coyote’s weren’t exactly singing lullabies to her. Sitting up, she looked over to where Hyunjin was, but he was gone. His blanket remained there, but the man himself had vanished.

Maybe he just had to go pee somewhere, she thought. However, the closest gas station was miles behind them. There was no way he would have walked that far just for a bathroom with a way to protect himself. The possibility of him just finding a small bush to do his business seemed logical, and since it was dark out, anyone who passed by probably wouldn’t see him.

Against her better judgement, Y/N decided to step out and see if her boyfriend was okay. Climbing over the seats, she reached one of the passenger doors and unlocked it. Once she stumbled out of the car, she shut the door and made her way to the back. The little fire pit used to cook their hot dogs was missing, and there was no sign that anyone had made a stop there. Nothing but dry mud and weeds. The air was also freezing, but Y/N didn’t want to go back to the car until her boyfriend was found.

“Hyunjin?” Y/N called in a whisper. No answer. She called for him across the other side of the main road, but still no reply.

“Babe, this isn’t funny!” she called as she turned around to see if he was messing with her.

To her horror, the Subaru was now gone. She didn’t hear the engine turn on, no tire tracks were left, nothing. It was as if it vanished into thin air. Turning back again, the road was gone too. What was going on?

Coyote howls grew louder, and Y/N was starting to panic. Small feet scampered by her, but not a humans’ footsteps. She pulled out her phone light and looked down. A row of jack rabbits were racing by her towards the rock formations, so she decided to follow them to try to find help. She took about six steps before a branch seemingly wrapped around her ankle and tripped her, cutting into the flesh.

“Don’t panic,” YN told herself. “It’s just a bush. You can get out of this.”

However, once she sat up, whatever was holding her had let go and disappeared. It left behind her ankle bleeding, but she had no means of treating it. She could still walk on it, so she kept going.

A few snakes, poisonous ones, slithered by, hissing at her as she walked. It was as if they were threatening her to turn back or else they’ll attack and sink their venomous fangs into her.

“As I rode my pony across the Western plain,” she sang sobbed, not realizing she had been crying. “We stopped and heard a sweet and sad refrain. It filled the sundown skies with a lonesome tune. It was one little coyote howling at the moon.”

RIght at that moment, howling broke the eerie silence from behind her. When Y/N turned around, two red glowing eyes were staring at her. It was a terrible, hungry look, and a deep throaty growl sent shivers down her back. Before she could even blink, teeth flashed in front of her as if the creature attempted to eat her face off.

Y/N screamed as she felt her life ending right there.

“Baby, wake up!” a familiar voice cried out.

Opening her eyes, Y/N realized she was back in the car but in a cold sweat. It was somewhat dark out, but the sky was just barely rising by the deep purple sky fading into pink.

“Jinnie!” Y/N sobbed as she pulled her boyfriend in for a hug.

“What happened?”

Once she caught her breath, she realized everything she had seen and experienced was all a nightmare.

“Bad dream?” Hyunjin guessed as dried her head with a blanket.

“Yeah,” she sighed. She explained everything in detail to him, even checking her ankle for the injury she had sustained. To her relief, there was no cut.

“I’m so sorry you had such an awful nightmare,” Hyunjin kissed her forehead. “I forget how you have bad nightmares one the first night of a camping trip.”

“I’ll be okay,” Y/N promised. “What time is it?”

Hyunjin looked through the suitcases for some fresh clothes. “6:30 in the morning. I was awake because I got too hot in here. It wasn’t long before you screamed awake.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. It was only a dream.”

After tying his hair up to keep himself cool, Hyunjin brought Y/N closer to him and cuddled her for a while. Whenever she had a bad dream, it always comforted her to be held or snuggled until she calmed down. His heartbeat was the main composer of her calming, and she loved how warm he felt when he embraced her.

In the distance, a coyote howled.

“He won’t hurt you, my love,” Hyunjin reassured as he held Y/N tighter. “It’s just one little coyote.”

-

@hongism​ @ethereal-eirene​ @ezralia-writes​

[jae-daddy]

magic (4)

Draco Malfoy Fanfic 

one / two / three  / five / six

pairing: draco x reader genre: shifting realities, romance, clown shit plot: you mistaken shift realities too well and end up in harry potter universe with draco malfoy as your companion  a/n: i need to stop getting carried away and writing so much lmao. hope yall enjoy it <3 not edited

"Can’t you magic this, so it’s a bit bigger?” You walked out wearing the white and green jumper Draco got for you.

Draco just ignored you and straightened his collar. His hair brushed back, and the black suit stark against his pale skin.

He was undeniably the most attractive human you had ever seen. The TikTok, movies and pictures did not do justice to his beauty. The one that existed in your universe dulled down his beauty.

You had realised on the second night you spent here, that while Draco did look like Tom Felton, he was, in fact, not Tom Felton. It was him, but not him. It was Draco Malfoy. In this universe, no Tom Felton was playing the character, it was just Draco Malfoy, and he was magnificent.

Your eyes met his sliver ones through the reflection, making you frown as you gestured to your outfit.

“I was hoping for a more oversized, boyfriend’s-jersey aesthetic,” you muttered as you spun in front of the mirror. “I mean, it’s not bad, but a little bigger would just be perfect.”

“It won’t make a difference,” Draco sighed, as he turned to face you. “You will still remain a hideous muggle.”

You rolled your eyes at him, as he walked past you. “Not everything is about you Malfoy. This is about self-confidence and love.”

“Are you coming?” He ignored you, as he held the door open for you.

You looked at him with butterflies dancing in your stomach as your palms got sweaty. You gulped as you looked beyond him to the dark hallway outside.

Your eyes glanced at Draco’s face to find him watching you impatiently. You wiped your palms on the pair of joggers you had borrowed from Draco.

You were nervous. You had thought about leaving this room a thousand times over the past week, but now that the moment was here, you were scared.

What if you didn’t remain invisible? What if you’re somehow caught?

What would happen to you? What would happen to Draco?

Your shaky gaze fixed on Draco once more, and his face softened slightly as he gave you a small reassuring nod.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. With your fists clenched tightly by your side, you marched outside of the room. You felt yourself brush past Draco, and the door close behind you.

You remained still; your eyes shut tight as you stood there unmoving.

“Let’s go, muggle,” Draco whispered in your ear, making you jump. He looked at you his eyes lighting up with amusement as he smirked at you. He was enjoying seeing you so on the edge.

“I wouldn’t worry as much if I were you,” Draco pulled you by the elbow as he began strutting down the stretching hallway. “My parents have left for the game long ago, and no one is here to see you in all your disgusting muggle glory.”

You glared at his head, before relaxing by his side.

He led you through the maze, called Malfoy Mansion, until you were finally outside.

You almost hissed as the sunlight assaulted your eyes.

“I feel like a vampire,” you muttered, making Draco chuckle.

“You really do not want to feel like a vampire,” he snickered, making you turn to him with eyes wide in surprise.

“No way!” You gasped. “There are actual vampires here? Are they hot?”

Draco peered at you with absolute disgust, “I will choose to ignore whatever you just said.”

“I guess not then,” you sighed as you folded your arms and stomped behind him. You hoped you could get a little mixture of every supernatural fantasy, maybe dip your toe into the Twilight world before you returned home.

Your steps stopped as you approached a beautiful red car. It was a real vintage that you only saw in movies or sportscar conventions. The top was down, and you were ready for a vintage seventies trip.

“Wow,” you awed as you ran your fingers over the cool metal as you made your way to the passenger side.

“I know,” Draco smiled brightly, as he sat into the driver's seat.

You stared at him before snorting at his ridiculous actions.

“Does this car drive itself?” You snorted at him as he put on his sunglasses. He pointed to the middle, and just like magic, another pair appeared. You put them on rolling your eyes.

“It can,” he shrugged after a moment, before starting the engine with a button. “But I like driving it.”

“Draco, do you even have your license?” You quirked an eyebrow at the boy.

“Of course I do,” he sneered, but he was too happy to make it hateful. “The only reason I got this for my birthday last year was that I passed.”

“Aww,” you swooned at him, sarcastically. “Daddy bought you a nice car for your sweet sixteen?”

Draco smirked at you, bringing his glasses down a bit before winking, “I’m twenty-two.”

The car drove off speedily, as he rammed the pedal.

“Fuck off,” you shot back. “You’re still in high school.”

Draco just snickered, the wind blew through his hair. He rested his elbow on the edge, letting the wind run through his fingers. He smiled, as tilted his head back and you almost screamed at him to look at the road.

“We learned about your education system in muggle studies,” he spoke, not looking at you. “It is quite a scam, really. But we do not have what you muggles call universities. Hogwarts and other magical institutions teach everything you need to know.”

“Then how do you become a scholar?” You furrowed your eyebrows. It doesn’t make sense that education is limited to just a few years of study, and then expect wizards to know all.

“You work in that field, you dedicate your life to that magic,” he shrugged, before continuing. “The wizarding world is not built on capitalism where jobs are everything. Wizards do not need a job to survive.”

You nodded taking it all that in. You sunk into your seat and looked at the scene that rushed past you. It was beautiful.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re still in Hogwarts,” you frowned at him.

Draco just sighed, annoyed. “Hogwarts is all the education a wizard needs. I shouldn’t have to spell out that would take some time. Each Hogwarts year is two years long.”

“The maths doesn’t add up.” You muttered, folding your arms as you turned away from him. You watched as the plain hills and lakes rushed by you.

You closed your eyes and welcomed the cold crisp wind jolting you awake.

“Don’t stress your pretty muggle mind,” was all Draco said.

__________

“Draco,” you stopped the blonde boy as he reached for another vile. “I know I’m not an expert at magic, but I do have a feeling that it is quite possible to overdose on potions.”

Draco stared at you, his eyes examining you and then the bottle in his hand. He sighed as he put in back.

“I guess two should be enough,” and then as an afterthought put two more into the inner pockets of his jacket. “Alright, stand still now.”

He pulled out a small jar from his bag and he opened it to reveal black paint. He dipped two fingers in before motioning you to come closer. You stood in between his parted legs, as he sat on the hood of his car parked a few miles away from where the Quidditch World Cup was taking place.

You gasped slightly as the cool paint touched your face. You tried hard not to look at Draco’s face, despite the burning feeling of his gaze fixed on you.

You gulped to calm your heart that was beating louder than it should be.

Draco’s fingers dragged along your cheek, leaving two lines. And then he held your chin with his thumb turning your face to the other side.

Your eyes met his piercing ones, and your breath got caught at the back off your throat.

God, you thought he was gorgeous from far away. But right now, from this close, you realised there were no words to describe just how incredibly good-looking he was. His skin was clear, soft and reminded you of snow-covered mountains in the middle of blooming winter. You realised his eyes weren’t blue or grey, no, there were a colour that reminded you of winter mornings.

You felt your cheeks heat as his eyes took you in.

You felt his fingers touch your face with the cool paint.

Draco took his time, his hands moving slowly as he softly ran his fingers along your cheeks. You didn’t want them to ever stop, you wanted it to continue.

You wanted his fingers to trace your ear, then travel down your neck, and keep moving south.

You bit your lip as your eyes shut involuntarily.

You could feel the vicious victory smile plastered smugly on Draco’s handsome face but you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes.

Draco’s fingers stopped on your cheek by your ear, and you thought it was over.

But then you felt the ghost of his touch trail down. His knuckles tracing the slope of your face for the slightest moment, and then it was gone.

He pushed you back, making your eyes shoot open.

You stared at him, glowering, before fear flashed through them as Draco pulled out his wand.

He snorted, as he rose a perfect eyebrow at you, “Scared, muggle?”

You rolled your eyes as you chuckled at him, “Are you trying to create sexual tension with me as you do with Harry Potter?”

Draco took a deep breath as if holding onto the last bit of self-control he had. He opened his eyes, burning with anger, his jaw locked.

“You’re not denying it,” you smirked, folding your arms.

“Do not test me, muggle,” he sneered, his voice dripping with so much anger, you took a step back in fear.  

The smirk fell from your lips as your eyes bounced between the ground and the vicious muggle-hating boy.

He cleared his throat after a moment, his stiff body relaxing slightly. You didn’t follow his shift in tension and remained on the edge of the road not nearing him.

Draco noticed but didn’t say anything.

“Time to make you invisible.” He got up from the car, and walked towards you, his wand dancing between his long fingers.

___________

“I’m so excited!” you giggled as you turned to a sour-faced Draco. “I’ve never gone to quidditch game before.”

“Lucky you,” he muttered, sourly, his eyes following you. “Your first game, and it is in the Minister’s box.”

You just giggled as you skipped along, only to stop when you noticed the older Malfoy laughing with some old man.

Draco came behind you, his breath brushing your ear, “Stay behind me.”

You nodded trailing behind him. 

You didn’t speak or move while you were around Lucius Malfoy. You weren’t sure if you were even breathing at times.

You must’ve been doing a good job because Draco would look over his shoulder occasionally to check if you were still there.

You watched Draco meet the other old men, and kept looking around for someone who might be suspicious.

It wasn’t until halfway through the game when Draco got up from his seat and turned to his father.

“Would it be alright for me to go greet Goyle and Crabbe?” He asked, his eyes darting to you for a split second. “I’ve spotted them down in first.”

Lucius Malfoy just waved a hand, but Draco didn’t need more as he began walking away, with you hot on his heels.

“Oh my god,” you whined as you both stopped somewhere on the stairs. “I couldn’t even enjoy the game properly I was so scared.”

Draco stared at you for a moment before snorting.

He pulled out a ticket from his coat, and then, after a second, a lady with a cart appeared.

“Greetings, sir,” the lady grinned, before gesturing to the cart. “What would you like?”

Draco lifted an eyebrow to you as you took in the delicious food displayed.

“Hotdogs?” You asked Draco who hadn’t looked away from you. “What is traditional to have at these games?”

“Two hotdogs,” Draco told the lady, and instantly two appeared in his hands. He didn’t say thank you, and the lady didn’t wait, disappearing right after.

He handed you one.

“Thank you,” you whispered, taking a big bite. You chewed the most delicious hotdog you had ever tasted, and Draco snickered as he saw your eyes widen.

You rolled your eyes as you saw him begin to gloat from the pride of his Wizard world, and how your muggle realm couldn’t even compare. He was right, but you couldn’t stand his smug face.

You sniffled as the cool wind ran through your hair. You looked out to the field where a team scored another goal.

“Good thing you got merch for the winning team,” you smiled at Draco who frowned.

“I was hoping they would lose.” He clipped back.

“You would rather have me visible, then stand next to you in clothes supporting the losing team, Draco,” you shook your head at him, giggling.

Draco looked out onto the field, “Or maybe I’m living through you.”

Your smile flattered as you took in the young boy.

There he was standing in the middle of the finals of the biggest quidditch tournament of the season. The crowds roaring behind him in the bright stadium lights as he remained polished in his black suit and perfect hair. He couldn’t even support the team he wanted.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he spat as his eyes looked at you. “I don’t need your pity, filthy muggle.”

You glared at him before looking above you.

“Oh my, it’s Harry Potter,” you gasped.

Draco followed your gaze and then growled in distaste, rolling his eyes.

_____________

Draco’s father had disappeared by the time you returned to the Minister’s box, but neither of you minded. You walked through the crowds as you took in all the different people jeer around you.

You followed the crowd as it led towards a ground filled with tents and lights.

“What’s that?” you breathed looking over the crowd milling over the place.

“That’s the sewer,” Draco spat scanning the area with disgust. Your eyes met his and he rolled his eyes as the poison lessened. “It’s the breeding ground for muggles, blood traitors and mudbloods.”

You ignored his bad behaviour and looked over at the place in longing instead. You took in the rides, music and laughter and felt the need to go there.

“Can we go?” You asked Draco in the sweetest way you could.

“No,” he bit back in disgust.

“Please?” You begged, making Draco’s face curl into a sneer.

“Fine,” you huffed and began marching off by yourself. “I’ll go explore by myself. You can wait for me here if you want.”

You heard Draco groan in frustration before you heard loud footsteps behind you, “Five minutes.”

You turned to him with a huge grin, “Thank you!”

Draco rolled his eyes and followed your happy skipping form into the campsite.

However, your happiness didn’t last long. An unsettling feeling settled into your stomach making it churn with nerves. You looked around the campsite you were pretty well inside, and you felt your hands begin to shake.

The air thickened with ominous energy, some darkness, but you couldn’t put your finger in.

“What’s wrong?” Draco ordered from beside you. You turned to look at him with glazed eyes. He stared at you, his brows furrowing.

A little kid ran up to you, holding onto your hand, “Do you want to know your destiny, mam?”

You turned to the kid, your mind raging, but you nodded offering him a small smile.

Draco muttered something under his breath but followed closely behind you nonetheless.

You looked at the site, and images began flashing through your mind. It was scenes from the movies. It was the golden trio, and the Weasley twins... and something else, something else you couldn’t remember.

Suddenly, you remembered screams and pain.

You looked around looking for some clue, but you couldn’t remember.

The kid took you inside a tent, a dark-faced Draco behind you, his eyes focused on you.

And then it hit you.

Hot. Flames. Fire. Lucius Malfoy. Death Eaters.

You turned to Malfoy with wide-eyes but it wasn’t almost as if he saw your mind.

“We need to get out of here. Now.” He ordered, grabbing your hand and pulling you away.

Before you were out, you turned to the kid, your throat dry, “Run. Get your friends and family, tell everyone to run, now.”

The kid looked frightened but then nodded running off.

Draco kept leading you out, and somewhere in the distance, a woman’s bloodcurdling scream rang through the night.

You both turned to see flames erupt across the sea of tents, spreading fast. Draco’s grip tightened on your hand as he began running towards the forest.

You could feel the heat of the flames closing in around you. The temperature rising with every step you tried taking away from it. And then you were beating it, the flames moving further and further away as Draco took you to the forest.

You stopped at the edge and turned to the sight in front of you.

The music, lights and happiness all burning in the flames of hell now. Screams and cries tore through the night, and you felt your heart tear into pieces.

You fell onto your knees as each cry of pain cut through your skin. You held onto Draco’s hand, squeezing it tight to keep you in reality. You closed your eyes as a heartwrenching sob fell from you.

Your body shook as uncontrollable sobs raked through your body.

You could’ve stopped it. You could’ve done something. If only you remembered.

Your hand gripped the front of your jumper, thumping against your chest as you silently shook as your sorrow and guilt tore through your body.

Draco didn’t move. He stood there, cold.

His hand limp in yours as you squeezed it tight.

“Shouldn’t you be getting that one out of here?” His cold words spoke. You opened your eyes to find the golden trio. Your eyes met Hermonine’s for a moment before Harry and Ron dragged her away.

Draco didn’t move. He watched as flames raged on. He stood there as you clutched onto his hand as if your life depended on it.

The camp was nothing but smoke and ashes when you finally stopped crying. You felt empty. You didn’t have anything inside you.

Draco bent down to your side, his voice void of any emotion, “Let’s go.”

You turned towards him, letting him help you up. Once you were standing up, you looked into his eyes as tears fell from your eyes.

“I could’ve saved them, Draco.”

[thekillingjoke-haha]

Beauty Sleep

Marvel and Supernatural bingo

Square:Sleeping Beauty

Castiel x Archangel!Reader

Warning?: Reader seems bad, Twist on Sleeping Beauty/Snow White, Poisoning, Wicked Father,ect.

A/n: [This text is a memory]

Tag: @thisismysecrethappyplace

The loud clap of a book dropping on the table startled the brothers for their own research. "What the hell,Cas." The eldest said more then likely woken up for his half sleep mind set. "I found it." He said as he pointed to the thick book.

"Found the weapon that can restore balance." He explained further causing them to grow intrigued. It was the weapon they were looking for that could keep Angels in heaven,demons in hell,and other supernatural in purgatory. The one thing that can fix everything."Perfect where do we get it?" Sam asked as he pulled the book three times thicker then the largest dictionary towards him. "Where do we find her you mean." Castiel said making the Winchester's look at him confused.

Dean cleared his throat and dragged his hand down his face. "Her? The weapon is a person?!" He asked. "Not exactly. She was the first Archangel made by both God and Amare. Legend has it she's more powerful then both of them she could create life with ease and equally wipe it without so much as a single thought. Because of this she had to be put to rest." The angel explained further.

"If she's so powerful how is she "put to rest" can't she wake herself up?" Dean asked as he looked over his brother's shoulder at the book. "Apparently her prison has hex symbols that takes away and returns her grace in a constant loop to keep her weak yet alive." The younger brother explained pointing out the drawing of the three symbols on the page. "So a real life sleeping beauty? Sweet! I always fit the role of prince charming ya know?" Dean said cockily posing victoriously.

The angel rolled his eyes. "There's a catch,Dean. It says once we break those symbols all of heaven and hell will feel it. The creations that she made will hunt her down...all things supernatural will come for her,but once she's back in full power she'll be able to cloak herself." Cas said as he paced slightly. If she was a powerful as legend had it she could fix it all for them. "Her creations? She made the monsters we hunt?! I thought that was Eve." Dean exclaimed as he ran a hand through his hair. "That's a common misconception the apple she ate gave he knowledge that only three beings knew. That special apple was made from her grace." That's when the angel paused as his words raked over him. "Her garden was never just a place it was her prison."

"The garden of Eden. What's this Angel's name?" Sam asked as he flipped through the book and tried to find a name,but all he saw was angel of light and darkness,the perfect balance. "God was nice enough to name it after her. Eden the first Archangel,but she's gone by many names before." He said.

Dean looked at the book with Sam. "Where do we find the magical garden? No book supernatural or not ever gave a location." The eldest asked and it was a good question. "The garden never stays in the same place for to long it moves often. One day it could be in a forest the next in a mountain." Cas said with a sigh it was impossible to find the prison with out a bit of her grace to track the source.

"Her grace is strong even a little can help us. Even if a millennia has gone by and it's became one with the elements it can help." Cas explained. "Cain" The name fell from Dean's lips as he numbly rubbed where the mark once was. "Cain is the son of Adam and Eve. Eve had that grace in her system she must have pasted it to him!" With that the boys packed up and were heading to Cains house to use him as a tracking device. The day long drive dragged on and with those time Sam continued to ask questions.

Most of the questions the angel had no answer to until one made him freeze up. "How did it happen in the first place? Was she casted out of heaven like Lucifer?" The younger Winchester asked. "I think Chuck poisoned her. She was like Lucifer she questioned a lot of things it was a new angelic trait, curiosity, except she loved all creatures and things Chuck made so when he makes something new she was the first to see and that was the last time any angel has seen her." The vivid memory came to mind.

The giggle of the young fledglings filled the air. A girl with H/c hair dragged a younger version of himself around. "My little raven come look! Father has created such beautiful things." She said as she showed him the flowers in her hand each different from the other. "What are they called?" He asked tilting his head. "Father said I can name them,but I can't think of anything...come help me plant them on earth there we can name them!" She said using her three pairs of large F/c wings to bring them to earth before humans were even thought about.

The soil on the ground was dark and it was vastly different from the sand surrounding it. With gentle hands she planted all of the flowers and together the angels named them. "Hmmm..." The girl hummed. "What is it Y/n?" He asked her. "We need something to keep them growing in numbers, raven." She said using a stick to draw on the dirt. "What should it look like?" Y/n asked him as she was going to go to her father to create it.

"Um...give it wings and make it the color of those sunflower over there." Castiel suggested. The drowning at took a couple tries,but as the kept adding and removing things they got what they wanted. Without realizing that the archangel just made multiple winged creatures on a whim and she wasn't even trying. God saw it all a d it scared him,but he couldn't do anything about it when his sister along with his other archangels would be there to stop him. He had to wait.

Three mil past and the two children grew bigger and she grew stronger. The small patch has turned into a garden of various plants that were only found in different climates around the world. Together they went there everyday even more often after the imprisonment of Amara and Lucifer along with the disappearance of Gabriel. Michael was busy trying to keep order after the two archangels left so it was his chance. Chuck called his daughter to see another one of his inventions,but that time was so much different from the others. Afterwards she didn't comeback she was never seen in heaven again and on that day a tree taller then any other in that garden with apples of pure gold grew.

The garden of Eden disappeared after Eve ate the forbidden fruit and it wasn't ever seen again by man,angel,nor demon knew of it location. Cas lost his friend and he knew it was god that did it even if he was suppose to be a loyal soldier he couldn't when he knew that the father of creation so willingly got rid of his most prized pupil what would he do to all the underlings.

Hours have past they stand in Cains living room. "Cain we don't need much from you just some of your blood that's all." Cas said as Dean explained what for. It took some convincing,but he agreed and bleed into a vile. "You guys better stop this apocalypse before shit hits the fan." He said as he shut them back out of his house. Sam handed the vile to Cas. "Now what do we do?" He asked the angel. Without saying a word he pulled something from his pocket a old looking compass. "Rowan taught me a location spell all I need to do is..." Pouring the small amount of blood on the glass of the compass and spoke in Latin causing the red substance to disappear. "...follow the arrow." Cas finished.

The arrow spinner rapidly as it settled on the strongest pull of the grace. "Looks like we're heading west. We have a estimated week before it changes course so off we go." Cas said as they all went back to the car. Keeping his eyes trained on it a small smile formed on his lips. "I'm coming N/n." He whispered to himself. Almost five thousand miles away a the unmoving body had a shocking pull of her lip at the mention of her name if only that could have woken her up for her comatose state.

It's been three days on the road and the impala had to come to a stop a thick treeline stopped them. The dirt road turned into a hiking trail and they had no choice,but to go on foot. Together they hiked up the trail blindly following the arrow through the woods. "Cas what are we suppose to be looked for?" Sam asked as he stepped over a fallen tree branch. "The closer we get the more exotic the plants and animals will be. Also be careful some of the wild life is experimental." The angel warned causing the brothers to freeze. "What do you me by experimental? Are we going to see a truducken?!" Dean asked jokingly as he looked around.

A loud snarling noise caused him to pull out his gun and look around. "More like human eating plants and venomous insects." This made Sam tense and stick closer to a still walking Castiel and Dean to cautiously does the same looking at each and every plant close by. "What is this fucking Jumanji?!?! Everything can kill us." Dean said keeping his gun up and ready to fire. "Oh, that was the name of the movie. Yeah those types of movies were based off of what explores experienced when getting to close to the garden." The blue eyed angel said with a shrug.

In a clearing they all look with widened eyes at the land before them. Flowers of all types with various animals and inserts. They watched in wander at everything creatures they've never seen or never insisted out of the garden. Everything was in bloom even though it was mid fall. There was a clear gravel path cutting off between the forest and wonderland in front of them.They wandered around since it became more difficult to find where the pull was unclear. "She won't be in plain sight she'll be hidden well. Look for something that doesn't quite match the rest. Trees of all kinds surrounded the area,but it was Sam who noticed the sand that mirrored a sky full of stars. He slowly followed it till it grew thick into a sanded path.

The youngest Winchester had his eyes trained down so when he looked up the apple tree before his eyes took his breath away. It looked straight out of a child's most imaginative fantasy. A white trunk with red leaves and the most noticeable feature the solid gold apples on it's branches. Sam didn't hear the voices of his brother or friend as he stepped closer directly under one of the low hanging fruits. Reaching up he picked the ripe fruit his brown eyes glazed over by temptation and curiosity. "SAM DON'T EAT THAT THAT!!!" Cas yelled using his grace to stop him mid bite. The angel looked in horror at the item in his hand a dark purple almost black apple sat in his friend's hands.

To anyone mortal it looked beautiful with it golden exterior,but Cas could see the ugly,fermented,poisoned inside. Glancing up the tree was rotting with barely any leaves and the few left were the color of blood. "It's poisoned their all poisoned." His words cleared the Winchester's vision of the tree and the surrounding woods all the plants were dead all around it. "It's beautiful on the outside,but deadly on the inside. And we're seeing it for what it truly is."

"It's clear as day that's she's here. Just how do we get to her?" Dean asked looking around. Castiel snapped towards Sam holding his hand out. "Do you still have the book?!" Sam nodded quickly taking the strap off his shoulder to dig it out of the bag. He handed it over the the angels that viciously flipped through the pages. "He made her a monster so a beast she became. She was blinded by curiosity and temptation she chose wrongly that day. Pick the fruit that doesn't call to you for the right one will choose you." He read word for word trying to see through the riddle. A beast? She was never a monster,but she was depicted as one. A angel that tainted the flock.

The Archangel landed gracefully in front of her father. She bowed on one knee as a warrior would clashed in her white armor and sword by her side. "Stand my child." She stood up looking at him. "Yes,father?" Her voice was gentle,but that didn't make the God of creation hesitate in his actions. "I've made something new for you to try and plant in the garden." Chuck said handing her the item. The skin was red and the surface was smooth unlike the peach that had a light fuzz. "What is this?!" Her e/c eyes burned bright her wings fluttering in excitement. "A red apple my dear." He said softly a smile on his lips stepping closer "Taste it."

Bringing it to her mouth she took a bite out of it and started to chew. It started of sweet,but became bitter within seconds and no matter how long she chewed it never broke down in size for long. "Father...something not right." She said that single bite still in her mouth. "Trial and error,darling, try to swallow it." Her h/c hair bobbed as she nodded. With a gulp she swallowed it down,but to her shock it stopped. Using her free hand she beaten at her chest to unblock her air way. Looking up at her creator she saw a look that can only be described as pure evil as a liquid poured out of her mouth.

Touching her chin a dark violet substance came dripped to the ground. Her gaze shifted to the apple within her hand and the inside no longer looked right. It was as if it gone bad from the inside,but the outside stayed fresh hiding the disgusting center. In fear she stepped back and with that she fell and continued to fall watching her home fade away. Y/n broke through the soil of the earth in a prison of her own design that she cared for and nurtured. Her arm dropped from her side the apple rolling away. The deceitful visibly harmless fruit planted it seed and grew becoming the only way to enter her personal mausoleum.

Castiel looked at the tree. All of the fruit looked the same nothing was different about a single one of them. Together the trio walked around the looming tree. The Winchester's saw something beautiful and they couldn't help,but want to pick one of the apples to taste. "What do we do,Cas. We don't have much time before this place disappear and possibly taking is with it." Dean said flinging his hands in the air. "The riddle said to wait then that's what we must do.

They grouped together and sat at the base of the tree waiting for who knows what to happen. "This is stupid! Let's just get the shovels from baby and start di–" His words were cut short as a apple full down from above them. "Well that was covenant." Sam said as Cas picked it up. To the brothers it looked odd a bronze color compared to the rest just less appealing. While to Castiel it looked horrible making the clearly deadly fruits more appetizing. "Our key in." He said. Using his hands to break it open to reveal the mouth watering interior that a honey like liquid dripped from,they picked correctly. The ground began to shake and they all stepped away from the base of the tree as the dirt around it caved in making a spiral staircase down and down they went.

It was pitch black down there so Sam and Dean pulled out flash lights to look around. They all went around the surprisingly large pocket in the ground. Dean checked for the symbols when he tripped over roots and landed on something hard and and moving. Snapping up he shined the light on the women laying as if sleeping in front of him. She was in white leather armor with a sliver sword in her hands on her chest. "Didn't find any hex symbols,but here's sleeping beauty." He said looking her over she rested on a raised stone that worked as her bed. "Never mind found them." The markings from the book in a pyramid shape was on one side of the bedrock glowing a soft F/c. Sam walked over along with Cas. The knifes both brothers held was used to break the engraved symbols,but nothing happened.

"No no no that's not right. Y/n is suppose to be freed!" The angel in distress said as he flicked through the book nothing else was said to be imprisoning her, why didn't it work? The Winchester's examined her the youngest looking at the elegant armor while the oldest focused more of the feminine features. "Sammy you read that book while in the car. Didn't you say something about her being the first female?" He asked his eyes not leaving her. "Yeah a model for Eve and later Amara's less celestial form. Why?" Sam asked touching the blade of the sword. "Yeah if that’s try why does she have a Adam's apple?"Cas wasn't fully paying attention until that sentence. His blue eyes imminently went to her throat were a noticeable lump was. "That wasn't there before." He mumbled loud enough for them to hear. Placing his ear just a centimetre away from her lips a shallow breath was let out and a wheezed inhale drew it back in.

The angel put his overlapping hands on her chest. He didn't know everything about humanity,but he knew enough to understand what he was about to do. He pushed with all his strength and he heard a sharp breath push out it just wasn't enough to dislodge whatever was there. Cas continued his actions and just when he was giving up hope she coughed up the chunk of apple and a weird substance. F/c glowing eyes snapped open as she lurched forward her grace burning bright casting a shadow behind her. It was a sight to see three sets of wings,what can only be described as a halo,along with twisted horns. After the grace calmed down her eyes returned to their normal color and they instantly when to Cas a wide smile spreading on her face. "My raven." She said. Y/n knew why she was awoken after all this time. To fight in a war she wanted no part of,but with the thought of putting everything in balance and striking down her father where he stood made her ready to fight. After all she felt like she's had enough Beauty Sleep.

/////////

A/n: This one took a minute,but I was torn between sleeping beauty and snow white since both of them fall asleep so a mix of both.

Also post #69....Noice

[isitgintimeyet]

Just A Friend

And onto the next chapter. Thanks for your support for this story, it means a lot to me.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta.

Hope you enjoy the next chapter

AO3

Previous

Chapter 8: From Dresses to Disco

I don’t have a huge wardrobe but, generally, I can lay hands on an outfit for most situations. For work, if I’m not in scrubs, I tend to wear plain black trousers and a shirt; for relaxing, I have more than enough jeans, leggings and comfy sweaters; for holidays, I have the usual range of shorts, t-shirts and sundresses.

I realise as I flick through the hangers in my wardrobe that what I am missing are outfits in the ‘dinner-dance-purely-platonic-plus-one’ category. And, what’s more, I don’t actually know how formal this thing is going to be.

Jamie was no use at all when I spoke to him about it.

“What sort of thing will your sister be wearing?” I asked as we met for coffee and a bacon sandwich two days ago.

“I dinna ken. A dress?” He hazarded a guess, looking a bit perplexed that I would even ask him.

“Long or short?” I persisted.

“Yes.”

“Well, which? Long or short?”

“Aye, one of them.”

“What are you wearing then... kilt? Black tie? Lounge suit?” This might give me a clue as to the dress code.

“I dare say I’ll be wearing a suit and tie.”

And that was as much assistance as I got from him.

I make the decision to go short. Partly because I don’t want to feel overdressed on Saturday, but mainly because the only long dress I have in my possession was purchased for a university Medics’ ball in 2008. And it’s crinkly satin with a side split and a wide leather belt that went with an over the top diamanté headband around my forehead.

Obviously, I will never wear it again, but I’m loath to part with it anyway. It reminds me of my time at university. Plus, it may come in handy… for a fancy dress party perhaps?

********

Geillis has decided, on the spur of the moment, to ‘jes’ pop ‘round fer a wee glass of wine’. That’s just a cover. What she actually wants is a ‘wee glass of wine’ while supervising my dress selection.

She takes a sip and reclines on my bed, casting a critical eye as I pull a few dresses out of my wardrobe and lay them next to her.  She’s not giving much away as she continues to study them.

“Well?” I stand at the end of the bed and stare at her, waiting for her comments.

“I canna give ye ma answer ‘till I’ve seen them all,” she replies.

“That’s it. That’s all my fancy evening dresses.”

She stares at me in disbelief, before gazing once more at the three dresses displayed on the bed.

“Ye dinna have any more cocktail dresses, then?”

I shake my head. “‘Fraid not. When I go cocktail drinking, I tend to wear something more casual. There’s not a great call for fancy frocks when it’s two for one cocktails at the ‘Slug and Lettuce’.”

She sighs very loudly and grimaces. We’ve had these conversations often enough over the years. She despairs about my lack of interest in fashion. It’s true, I can’t tell a Marc Jacobs from a Marks and Spencer. Well, I possibly could, but you get my drift. I tried to be fashionable back in 2008 and look where it got me— wearing a dress that resembled a sweetie wrapper with a headband that brought me out in a rash.

I sometimes wonder if the real reason that she has asked me to be a bridesmaid has less to do with being best friends and more to do with being able to control what I’m going to wear. I’m joking of course, it’s because we’re best friends— Geillis choosing my dress is just an added perk for her.

“So, I think ye wear this one.” She gets up, moves me to one side and quickly rifles through the wardrobe, giving a cry of triumph as she finds what she’s looking for.

I knew it—I knew she would remember that dress. She was with me when I bought it— a late night Sauvignon Blanc fuelled online purchase. She describes it as my “hello boys” dress. I’ve never worn it and this is not the occasion for its inaugural outing.

I mean, it’s a lovely dress— black with an off the shoulder bardot neckline and very, very form fitting. But totally not the message I want to send to Jamie.

I shake my head. “Nope… no way. Not that one.”

I point instead to a dress lying on the bed, originally bought for a hospital fundraiser last year. It’s very nice and infinitely more suitable— black with sparkly red splodges; a slight v neck and fitted bodice going into a flared skirt. It even has pockets.

Geillis raises her hands in exasperation. “Fine. Have it yer way. But, Claire, do ye no’ want tae mebbe try it?”

I grab the dress from her and stuff it back in the wardrobe, ignoring her last comment. But she doesn’t give up so easily.

“See what could happen, eh?”

I turn to face her. “I know what could happen. He’ll think that I’m after him and that I’ll be it. End of friendship.”

“But mebbe—“

I interrupt her. “No maybe about it. Besides all this is missing the point. I want Jamie in my life as a friend, the same way that you and Mary and Anna are in my life. I don’t want anything more from him. I don’t need any romance. Can you understand that?”

“Aye but—“

She’s still not willing to drop the subject and I’ve had enough. I drain my glass of wine and start to walk out of the bedroom.

“No buts. That’s it. Just drop it, please.” At the doorway, I pause. “Now, do you want another glass?”

She starts to follow me. “Of course. And sorry,Claire, I dinna mean tae annoy ye. It’s jes’—“ she stops herself before saying anymore.

“Ok... Shall we order a takeaway,then?”

As I head into the living room, with Geillis following, I’m pretty sure I can hear her muttering under her breath about taking chances.

***************

Jamie said he would pick me up at seven. I’m clearly still working on Frank time, as I’m ready with fifteen minutes to spare. I perch on the edge of a chair, trying not to crease my dress, smudge my mascara or run my fingers through my hair.

I must admit, I have enjoyed the whole formal dressing up process. It’s not something I do too often— my socialising tends to be of a more relaxed nature. But this makes a welcome change.

With five minutes to spare, the bell rings. I gather up my pashmina and clutch bag and make my way downstairs, my high heeled sandals making a clacking sound against the old floor tiles.

Jamie is waiting outside, next to his old french blue Triumph Stag sports car. Like he said, he’s wearing a suit—dark grey instead of his usual navy blue. Still with a white shirt and a rust coloured paisley tie. His auburn curls nestle against his jacket collar. He looks immaculate.

In a parody of a chauffeur, he touches his forelock, bows and opens the passenger door for me. “M’lady,” he adds with his customary half grin.

“Thank you, Parker,” I reply primly and arrange my skirt under me as he scoots around to the driver side.

I do like this car. It’s old, a bit threadbare in places and smells slightly of damp. But it positively oozes vintage style and glamour. Fortunately the hardtop is on as the clouds are gathering ominously overhead.

“I thought we were getting a taxi. Are you not drinking?” I ask as he starts to drive.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he snorts with laughter. “No’ drinking? What kind of rugby ‘do’ d’ye think this is? No, I’ll leave the car at the club and we can get a taxi, if that’s ok wi’ ye.”

We drive on in silence for a couple of miles. Not an awkward silence, just a we-don’t-really-have-to -make-small-talk kind of silence.

“I’d have thought you’d be wearing a kilt tonight.” I comment.

“Hmm, weel, I do like tae wear it fer special occasions, but, when the rugby lads get together, who kens what can happen. Trousers tend tae be the safer option.”

“You could always wear underpants,” I suggest.

He looks horrified at the suggestion. “Dinna be saying that tae a true Scot, Sassenach.”

“I consider myself suitably chastised.”

“Glad ye realise that.” He smiles and changes the subject totally. “Sae, on our table this evening, there’ll be ma sister Jenny and her husband Ian, and Rupert, ye ken Rupert, and his wife Morag.”

“Oh, so you know Rupert— outside of work, I mean.”

“Aye, we grew up together. And Ian too. Mind, he was a couple of years older than Rupert and me— same age as Jenny—and always used tae follow her around like a wee pup. I’ve only known Morag a couple of years though. She’s nice but verra quiet. She lets Rupert do most of the talking.”

“I liked Rupert.”

“He’s a great bloke. Best decision I made, asking him tae join me at FraserFoods. Ian’s a great bloke too. Ye’ll like him.”

Jamie pulls the car into the rugby club car park,  and switches the engine off. He sits still for a moment, staring through the windscreen. I can hear music coming from the large marquee lit up with lanterns and residing on one of the rugby pitches. Even though it’s early in the evening, there’s plenty of raucous laughter coming from that direction too. No doubt the bar has already seen plenty of action.

“Well?” I elbow him in the ribs.

“Sorry. I was jes’ thinking about how best tae describe Jenny.” He turns and smiles. “She’s the best sister a chap could want and a true friend— once she gets tae know ye. She can be a wee bit, shall we say, prickly, at first. And she thinks she kens what’s best fer me, as only a big sister can. She thinks ma life is no’ complete… no’ wi’out a wife and a couple of bairns.”

“Have you explained that this isn’t a date… that we’re friends?”

“Aye, I’ve told her that,” he gives a little laugh and nods his head towards the marquee.  “Sae she’ll most likely be in there right now scouring the place fer any suitable contenders.”

He gets out of the car and is at the passenger door before I’ve had a chance to unfasten my seatbelt and gather my pashmina around my shoulders.

“M’lady,” resuming the chauffeur role, he opens the door for me.

I clamber out, somewhat ungainly and wait as he locks the car. Even with my highest heels on, I still have to crane my neck to look at him as he stands up straight and adjusts his jacket.

“Shall we?” He gestures the marquee with his hand.

“God, yes. I could do with a gin and tonic. I’m parched.” Plus, I reckon I need a stiff drink or two down my throat before I meet Jenny. She sounds formidable.

“C’mon then.” And he leads the way into the marquee.

[tloujm]

Part XXIV: Teeth and All

Author’s Notes: This one’s a lengthy one at 3232 words. I was very happy with this one and its following chapters; I was on a roll  when typing ‘em all out which, with WIP’s, is a very successful feeling. I hope you guys enjoy reading as much as I did writing it! This is part one if you will of the aforementioned canon inspired chapters. 

Genre: A six piece bucket of fluff with a side of angst

Summary: You and Joel convince the new kid to break out her comfort zone by going on a scavenging trip. You want it to be at the science museum because of it’s agriculture collection and because it’s kid friendly. The car that the three of you ride in breaks down, but that doesn’t stop you guys. The museum is a surprise for the kid and needless to say, she opens up more from the fun of it all. 

Ship: Joel Miller x Fem!reader “It’s gettin’ late.” Joel huffed as he looked down at the deflated tire on the passenger side. “Our destination is only a block out; we have just enough daylight to make it. I say we head there on foot,” He sighed again. “and make camp, then we can scavenge tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” You nodded before slamming your door shut. Kiddo did the same as she left the back seat. 

“Hopefully the place got a tool box somewhere. Maybe in the maintenance closet or somethin’. Matter-a-fact, I’ll walk back while y’all start scavengin’ and change the tire out, then I’ll drive up and meet y’all.” All three of you took your gear from the trunk and set out.

One day, Joel had the idea of taking Kiddo on a little scavenging trip to see what she was comfortable with. While all of the other kids played and learned skills, she still seemed withdrawn. He figured after a few months of her settling into Jackson, she would be okay with going back out into the world again. The two of you were going to be by her side the whole time and you reminded her of that every so often.

Joel arranged for the three of you to ride in a pick up truck just in case any one of you found something big to scavenge. The destination was a museum of science and natural history. He didn’t see the point of going to a museum, but you recommended the spot because of its possible collection of agricultural resources as well as the fact that Kiddo might find it interesting. 

You were in the passenger seat reading the map for him while she was in the back reading a comic book when all of a sudden the car swerved on its own. He was able to quickly gain back control of it, but he was just as confused as you were as to why it happened. He pulled over and slowed the vehicle to a stop before asking if the two of you were ok. He looked back to watch Kiddo nod. During the following silence, the two of you figured out what was wrong. Air hissed from the back passenger side and if you stayed still long enough, you could feel the car dipping as well. Joel got out and walked around until he found the culprit. It was nearing the end of summer, but it was still hot, so you swung the door open to let in some air and watched as he assessed the damage.

His fists were placed steady on his hips. “Good news is that this is the only tire with a leak. Also good news is that we have a spare and a jack in the bed.”

“You can fix it so we can get there, right? I swear, this couldn’t have happened in like 5 more minutes ‘cause the place is like a half a mile down the road.”

“I know, I know it is. The bad news, though, is that I ain’t got any tools. Now, how am I supposed to get these lugnuts off?”

“Oh, you can’t just twist them off?” You offered, already knowing the answer.

He shook his head with a gentle smile. “It don’t quite work like that, darlin’.” 

******

“Hey, darlin’, come look at this,” Joel whispered in a deep yet soft voice. “Where’s Kiddo?” He crouched down before looking back to find you two. Quietly he beckoned you forward. She followed suit and crouched down right next to him. “See it? Just through there. Look.” He pointed to a particularly lush section of the wooded area that the three of you were walking on the outskirts of. “Ya see it?” He looked down and asked her. He watched as Kiddo’s face transform from confusion to astonishment. He knew that she had finally seen it. “You ever seen a whole family of deer like that before?” She shook her head, eyes still focused on them. There were 3 baby deer, 2 does and 2 bucks. They were all lazily grazing. 

 “Let’s cut through here,” You began in a hushed tone with the map unfolded in your hands. “It’ll take us to the back end of the property, but we’ll get there a little quicker.”

Joel looked up at the sun growing closer to the horizon. “Alright.”

******

According to the map, the three of you were going to be approaching the museum’s garden any minute now. You assumed it was going to be hiding in plain sight given the garden’s overgrowth and its proximity to the woods. Your eyes were glued to the outstretched paper when you heard a loud gasp. You immediately knew it was from Kiddo. You followed her gaze only for your eyes to meet a life size rendition of a tyrannosaurus rex.

“Well I’ll be. Won’t you look at that.” Joel exclaimed.

You folded your map and put it away. “We’re here.”

A smile broke across Kiddo’s face as she ran up to the statue. It was hauntingly beautiful. Vines of leaves grew along the legs and wrapped itself up around its body. It stood in the middle of a large, deep fountain of water. The statue was nearly as tall as the trees surrounding it. A giggle even escaped her mouth as she ran up to get a closer look. Joel yelled out for her to be careful. His gaze scouted the area to make sure they were alone. You walked up to the information plaque next to the dinosaur.

“King of the tyrant lizards.” You read. 

Joel walked up behind you. “That’s a big boy alright.” You continued to read more when Kiddo started to casually climb the T-Rex from its tail. “Hey now, what are you gettin’ up to?” She didn’t respond to him. “Kiddo, be careful! It’s gettin’ darker out. I need you to watch your step!” He shouted up at her as she quickly reached it’s neck. He was hoping that this verbal realization would compel her to turn around and get off, but she continued to walk closer to the head. You heard your husband let out an exasperated sigh. “Can you talk to her?”

“She’s already up there. I trust that she’ll be careful. Besides, what am I gonna say that you haven’t already?” You reasoned. Joel was beginning to get annoyed with your lack of worry and still wished that you’d say something. Maybe she’d listen to you. He looked back up at the girl with a backdrop of an orange and purple sky behind her. “Just don’t die up there, ok?” Was all he could think to say. He had meant for it to come out casual and lighthearted, but his voice broke at the beginning. He sensed a cloud of melancholy impeding as his chest began to tighten.

“Joel?” He looked back down and saw you place your hand on his chest.

“I’m alright.” He meant it, or at least he wanted to. He tried his best to push away the sad memories but he knew it was easier said than done. A childish bellow snatched his attention away from you as he looked back up to find Kiddo now standing on the dino’s head. She was smiling, teeth and all. You could only imagine how liberated she felt in that moment.

“She’s a courageous one, I’ll give you that.” You said proudly of her.

“You better not be thinkin’ about jumping. Just climb back down. I’ll meet you at the tail.” He requested. Even from that distance, the two held each other’s gaze. He was pleading and anxious; she was testing and teasing. 

“Rooooaaaarrrrr!” She screamed out as she jumped from the T-Rex’s head.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Joel yelled out. The two of you could do nothing but watch and wait. Admittedly, you did not think she would go so far as to jump. Suddenly, her head popped up over the surface of the vaguely green water. She gulped in a deep breath before smiling. Joel finally let out a breath that he hadn’t known he was holding. She climbed out the fountain dripping wet and laughing to which he just shook his head and walked away toward the entrance. 

“I give that dive a 10 out of 10, love.” You said to her in a hushed tone. He still heard you as you condoned the behaviour. 

The three of you entered through the busted glass doors of the back entrance. The area was dilapidated and almost bare. To your left, however, you found a rack with a single hat on it. It was a wide brimmed, brown hat similar to what Indiana Jones wore. You doubted she knew who that was. Still, you called her over and dusted the hat off before placing it on her head. She gifted you with another smile. Joel took a look at her with it on and grunted before walking on by. You watched as she ran off into a certain direction before going up to him.

“Are you jealous?” You questioned lightheartedly.

“Hmm?”

“Of the hat? If you ask nice enough, I’m sure she’ll let you try it on.”

“I don’t want to try on the hat.” He responded matter of factly. He turned to you. “We need to sweep the place before we can lay our heads down anywhere tonight.”

“I agree.”

There was a bout of silence before he continued again. “What was that back there?” Joel asked.

“What do you mean?” You brows furrowed.

“Her climbing and jumping, you being so...nonchalant about it. We’re lucky she didn’t break anything, (Y/N).”

“I didn’t think she was going to jump, so yes we are lucky with that.”

“She could have slipped, (Y/N)! What would you have done if she died, huh? Her body just...just laying there in your arms.” He looked down at his own arms as the memories replayed in his head. It was too late for him to stop them. His adams apple moved as he gulped. “You gave me such a hard time about going camping because you were so fearful of the outside world---”

“That was not fear, that was caution!” You firmly asserted.

“Well, where was that caution a few moments ago? She was yelling at the top of her lungs. That could have attracted hunters and infected and Lord knows what else.”

“You were yelling too!” You brought up.

“For her to get off!” He countered. He took a moment to inhale and exhale. “The difference between the camping trip and here is that I planned it out. I chose the area, I checked the area, I prepped the area. I did it all not only to be safe, but to give you peace of mind. This area is new to us. We need to treat it as such.” He reprimanded you and, while logically you knew he was justified, you hated it. You decided to hold your tongue, however, until you got back home. You didn’t want to hash it out in a potentially triggering environment for him, especially with the kid around.

He shook his head while avoiding eye contact with you. “Maybe you were right, maybe you’re not ready.”

“Ready for what?” Your brows furrowed even deeper. You suspected what he had meant. “Ready for what, Joel?”

“Ready to be a parent.” He responded simply. You were taken aback at this point. 

“You didn’t seem to think I wasn’t ready all those times you came inside me. You knew what you were doing!” Your voice raised slightly causing Joel to scan the room and see if Kiddo was of earshot. 

“Where is she?” He heard you take in a breath to say more, but he cut you off.

“I saw her go that way a few minutes ago.” You began walking in said direction. You rounded the corner only to find two doorways and a dead end.

A scuffling sound emitted out of one of them. The two of you exchanged glances and silently agreed to respectively sweep each room. Your hand hovered over the gun tucked in the waist of your pants as you entered. They fell limp to your side when you saw that she was the source of the sounds. As soon as Joel was done with his sweep, he met up with you in the other room only to pause behind you. The two of you watched on as she made faces in the mirror with the hat on. He leaned against the threshold and watched on with a small smile on his face. He thought back to the times when he would beg Sarah to get out the bathroom so he could use it just because she wanted to make faces at herself in the mirror above the sink. It was at that point, he invested in a wall mirror to go on the back of her bedroom door for which both of them were grateful. 

Joel beckoned them to leave the restroom. At this point, the sun was hanging very low in the sky allowing for a minimal amount of light to enter through the windows. The three of you broke out your flashlights and continued to sweep the building together. While you and Joel stealthily scoured the large exhibition room, Kiddo stopped to admire another rendition of a dinosaur. She flashed her light over its name displayed on the wall behind it: ‘Stegosaurus’. She walked up to the fenced display and placed her hat on its head. She stood back to proudly admire what she had done.

“What’s that there?” Joel flashed his light on her and the dinosaur. You followed suit.

“It’s exactly what it looks like.” You said flatly.

“Well, it looks like a hat on a dinosaur.” 

“It’s a hat-o-saur obviously.” You responded just as flatly despite feeding into Kiddo’s playfulness. She smiled as she hopped up to retrieve her hat. His light followed her as she moved on to a triceratops. The stature of the animal was larger, so she climbed the short fence and placed her hat on its head as well. 

“Hey, is this gonna be a thing?” He asked her, knowing she wouldn’t respond. “Please don’t let it be a thing…” He mumbled to himself. He watched as she began to climb the fence again and raced to meet her at the display. Being much taller, he simply reached over and slid the hat off the dino’s head. “Whoa, don’t wanna be on the business end of those horns.” She reached up to him to take it, but he laid it on top of his head instead. He gave her a smug smirk. “Mine now, Kiddo.” The three of you walked on into an adjoining exhibition room that displayed nothing but dinosaur skulls.

“My God, look how thick this one’s skull is.” You said under your breath. Still, Joel heard you.

He walked up next to you and shined his light on it at different angles. “Catch it in the right light and…boom! Tommy!” You stifled a laugh.

“I’m telling him you said that too.” You teased, trying to maintain a flat tone. 

“Please don’t.”

“You’re his big brother, what is he gonna do?” You teased again.

“Exactly, he’s my younger brother, so he has more energy to beat me up over it.” 

You decided to sweep a small room off to the side. It looked administrative. As soon as you gave it the all clear, a light bulb went off in your head. If he wanted to all of a sudden be playful and act like he didn’t just insult your maturity a few minutes ago, so could you. Silently, you beckoned Kiddo to sit on your lap as you sat at the desk. It didn’t take long for Joel to follow. As soon as his head peaked past the doorway, you picked up the long dead phone.

“Oh, hello. Sorry, the dinosaurs are busy right now.” You feigned a conversation.

“What are you doing?” He crossed his arms.

“Oh, wait! One of the dinosaurs just arrived.” You took the phone away from your ear and laid it against your chest. “Joel, it’s for you.” You smiled smugly. 

“Very funny.” He said flatly. You couldn’t tell if it was his normal dry humor or if he really didn’t like the joke. 

You giggled. “It was pretty funny, actually.” He watched as Kiddo doubled over in laughter before leaving the room. “Did you get it?” You asked him. “I know you got it.” You said to her. 

“Oh, I get it.” His voice echoed in a playful tone that gave your mind a little bit of ease. The two of you moved on to the next room looking for him only to find a set of stairs. At the top, you saw him in the distance gazing at something beyond the fence he was standing by. You walked closer to reveal his line of sight. It was a part of the brachiosaurus display. The dinosaur was so tall that its head reached the second floor. Without looking back at you, he spoke. “Kinda looks like a giraffe, don’t it?”

“It does.” You agreed softly. In that moment, you found it incredibly hard to be mad at him. 

The two of you were in Utah, just miles away from the hospital, from the Fireflies. You guys were inside this building, you couldn’t remember why anymore, but all of a sudden, you saw a giraffe staring at you through a window. A giraffe! You had to do a double take. What you did remember was Joel being upset that you didn’t respond to him when he asked if you were alright. You couldn’t help but be entranced by the colossal beast chewing on the leaves that grew alongside the building. You finally came to and asked him if he saw what you had. His eyes were full of astonishment the same way Kiddo’s were when she saw the T-Rex. He bravely approached the edge of the building, where the wall was no longer there, to pet it. He promised you that he would not scare it away and he kept his word. You remembered him telling you that it was alright as he motioned for you to join him. His large hand ghosted yours and guided it onto the giraffe's neck. It was the most intimate you had been with him. Your back was damn near pressed up against his chest as he continued to pet as well. Your eyes glanced at the sharp teeth of the dino and it made you think back to when the giraffe stuck out it’s tongue; it was so long. You laughed and looked back at him. He was smiling too, smiling at you, teeth and all. 

He finally looked back at you to read your face. He could tell you were reliving the same memory as he. Kiddo’s approaching footsteps attracted his attention to her. He took the hat off and placed it back on her head. She let it sit there for a moment before giving it back to him with a friendly smile. Without words, he thanked her. He let his hands roam over the material for a moment before gently tossing it onto the Brachiosaurus’ head. It landed perfectly. 

“I see the appeal.” His deep voice muttered.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter One

ANON: Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway. [John Wayne]

Since the beginning of lockdown here in the UK, I’ve been making little notes here and there and I’ve finally put something together that is hopefully interesting. It’s set from the start of our isolation back on Friday 20th March and will work its way forwards in time <3 enjoy! Mod MBD.

-- --- --

The Daily Briefing:

She left under the cover of darkness, the atmospheric sheet rain appearing out of nowhere to conceal her as she hid the doorway of a boarded up shop. The ‘closed’ signs that littered the windows of each and every shop on the highstreet illuminated as the lights flickered on, the daylight fading as night enveloped the south of England. It should have been a regular Friday evening, but it wasn’t. And despite the shock of the rest of the nation, she was more than happy for the lockdown to take immediate effect.

A couple of the pubs were still open, the last of their punters being ushered out by groups of policemen and women as the 9pm curfew approached, and though there was still some footfall through the small village, it wasn’t enough to worry her greatly.

She remembered reading YA fiction that started in a similar way and the idea that the whole population might be reduced to some dystopian teen nightmare seemed more than plausible. But at least she’d be far away from society by the time it did. Wondering whether Suzanne Collins and Veronica Roth were somewhere together, raising a glass to their literary insight into such things, she pulled her jacket tighter around her neck to stop the droplets of water running down her chest.

The honk of a horn brought her out of her thoughts as she grabbed her meagre belongings and hid her face from the rain. Getting herself settled in the back of the blacked out van, there was a part of her that scoffed at the idea of danger lurking within as the plain-clothed officers escorting her smiled softly, passing her a towel to wipe the stray drips of moisture from her face. As a child she had, of course, been warned about strangers in vehicles. Now though there were more monsters lurking in her own home than there were anywhere else in the country.

“You might want to get some sleep, if you can, miss.” One of the younger officers said, breaking the silence even with his moderately quiet statement. “It’s a long drive, we’re aiming for eight hours if we can, but it will all depend on the roads.”

Nodding, she pulled a woolen blanket from one of her bags, removed her coat and curled herself against the window. Though she thought sleep impossible, she did manage to doze a little as the car made its way towards the motorway. Her mind went blank as they sped up, she’d spent weeks agonising over this choice, the solid notion of it taking root in her subconscious as the country seemed to spin towards chaos and confusion.

The virus, however, had not been her primary concern. Only her mental and physical survival had taken precedent. It was the prime minister's announcement yesterday that schools and pubs would close the following week that spurred her onwards, and she’d (rather rapidly) responded to the offer she had been levelled with.

If she wanted to disappear, now was her chance.

“John wants you to know that he’s processed the documents you’re going to need and included a shielding letter with that. This should take you until the end of June as well as the furlough payments. He also says you did the right thing.”

Making incomplete thumps against her chest, her heart stopped for a moment as the police officer spoke. She’d been warring with herself for weeks, uncertain of the best course of action. She had, of course, lived with the increasing threat for years before it had finally erupted. John had seen the outcome and had begged her to reconsider his previous offer of assistance having watched her descend into a less than perfect relationship. But she had been convinced that she’d be able to manage.

She hadn’t. An obvious change had taken hold of her husband. He wasn’t the man she married, not by a long shot, and as 2019 came to a close, so did any of his positive attributes. He was a professor, a professional man with many books to his name and he refused to believe his actions had become that of a less than ideal partner.

The first stay in hospital, however, stated otherwise.

“Will I be able to speak to him?”

The officer shook his head sadly. “No, if this is to work, you have to sever all contact with anyone you previously knew, even John. Anything that puts you at risk or could enlighten the wrong people into knowing your whereabouts would jeopardize all of the work we’ve all put in to assure your safety.”

Having had the mood suitably dulled, she lay her head against the window and let several hundred miles pass her by.  

As they crossed the border around midnight, the rain finally began to ease and she smiled at the irony. She hadn’t spent much time in Scotland, but she knew it wasn’t famous for its notoriously glorious weather. Part of her was desperate for some coffee but the further they travelled up the country, the less likely it was that the service stations were 24 hours - nor did she think her drivers would be willing to stop until they’d reached their destination.

Once off the motorway and onto the single track roads that led them further into the highlands, she started to guess at where their final destination might be. When the proposition had first been offered to her, John had given her a number of options of a safe haven - one being a flight away (by that point he had started to take her safety quite seriously). As the grey scenery passed them by, a slight pinking of the sky signalling that dawn was close, she was trying to recall the names of the places he’d suggested though her mind was as much of a blur as the greenery whooshing by the back window.

“I don’t suppose you have anything caffeinated to drink?” She asked. 

Reaching forward, she took the unopened bottle of coke from one of her escorts and relaxed back into her seat.

“Not far away now. There aren't any toilets, though.”

Fatigue was running deep, she could tell by the tiredness in his voice as he spoke and she nodded as she took a sip. The warning was clear; drink it all quickly and there would be no stopping for a break. But she was too thirsty to worry too much.

“Can I ask where we’re going?”

“Just north-west of Inverness. It’s a farm so it’s as remote as they come. It’s single occupancy, the guy who lives there runs his family business. He’s an old contact of John’s, so although there is to be no contact between you, he trusts you’re in safe hands. All shopping is pre organised and will be delivered once every two weeks to ensure neither of you are put at risk leaving the property for supplies.”

“Should I leave the house at all?” At this point she couldn’t tell whether she was being sarcastic or not but there was an honesty to her question that made the officers answer her quickly.

“No. You have your letter, not that there is anyone around to ask for it, but for the next 12 weeks you should remain inside at all times. No matter how far we take you away from civilization there is always the risk - even during a national pandemic and lockdown - of someone being around, seeing you and passing it on. Where we’re taking you, the owner hasn’t had another friend or family on the property for a number of years. Small communities talk so you should stay inside and out of the view of any members of the local village.”

“Noted.” Replying sadly, she replaced the cap on the half finished bottle of cola and ran her fingers along the inside of her leg. The scar there was still fresh, the heat of it making the hairs on her arms stand on end. She knew that if she wanted this to work, if she wanted to remain hidden, then she would have to obey the rules set.

They drove through Inverness just as 5am hit and the sun rose across the extensive lochs and mountains.

“It might seem far-fetched, the idea that you’ll be located, but we can’t take the risk. We did look through your file, though, and found a name we hope has some resonance to you.” *but nobody else* he thought, but did not say.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. Please pass that on to John, I didn’t even get the chance to tell him how grateful I am. For everything.” Her intrigue had been piqued about her new identity but once she knew who she was going to be for the next few weeks, it would all become real. Whilst they still hadn’t arrived, she could sit and pretend to be existing in an in between - half way between fantasy and reality.

As they pulled off one side-road and onto another her driver passed her an envelope. She could see a small smile lift the side of his mouth as an archway came into view in front of them. “Of course I will, Claire.”

“Claire?”

“Yes,” he returned, bringing his arm up and pointing his finger at the brown packet in her hands, “it’s all in there...the rest of it. Read it, keep the ID documentation and then burn anything you don’t need to use later.”

“Claire.” She whispered to herself.

And in one breath, as a rather large white brick farm house appeared beneath the now large ivy coated arch, Elizabeth Randall died and she instantly became Claire Beauchamp.