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craziest-in-the-guild · 3 years

Text

Resolute

Chapter 2 of the Long Night series

Content Warnings: 18+ for some adult themes (still not to the smut, but were headed there) Nightmares/post traumatic stress

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Although this is reader x rex, I couldn't help but make reader a red head. Hope that's ok. Is it dyed? Natural? You decide!

I said goodbye to Kix and handed over his care to my coworker. His ankle was broken in two places, and while it wasn’t bad enough for surgery, it would be soaking in bacta for several hours. I had given him some pain meds and told him to enjoy his rest.

I hated to leave him, but I needed to go home and get ready to ship out in the morning. I needed rest myself, but I knew there was no way I was going to sleep. How could I sleep? I was never meant to be on the battlefield.

_____________________________

Rex headed back to the barracks to tell his men about Kix and their new medic. Kix had assured him that he thought she would be able to handle the stress of a war zone. He hoped for her sake that he had made the right decision.

“Where’s Kix?” Jesse asked as soon as Rex came through the door.

“Kix broke his kriffing ankle and won’t be shipping out with us.”

“Who’s going to be our medic?” Fives asked, “Surely not one of those kriffing med droids!”

“I found a replacement. You know the medic from medbay that patches you all up when you are too drunk from 79’s or hurt from a fight? She is coming with us.”

“HER?” They all asked, surprised.

“Yes, her,” a weary Rex responded. “Kix said he wanted her to be his replacement, and I want you all to make her feel welcome. Afterall, she may save your hide out there.”

______________________

Maker, I had just closed my eyes when my alarm started blaring. The room was cold and my covers were nice and toasty, killing any will I might have had to get up. Why is a bed the most comfortable right when you have to leave?

I grumbled, threw back the covers, and headed to the fresher. I indulged myself, heating the water until it was steaming. I didn’t know how the showers were aboard light cruisers, but I was betting they weren’t this good. My self indulgence couldn’t last too long, or else I’d be running late. Begrudgingly, I turned the water off.

I heard a knock at my apartment door and wondered who it could be at this early hour. I slid on my robe and went to investigate.

“Captain, what are you doing here so early? Am I late?” I crossed my arms to ensure my robe stayed closed, feeling slightly awkward in front of the captain. It didn’t help that he was so handsome. I could feel my cheeks flushing.

“No, I just wanted to come get you so we could go to the quartermaster’s and make sure you have everything you need.”

He handed me a pair of blacks to put on. I was a little confused as blacks were what the troopers wore under their armor.

“Oh, ok, um, do you want to come in while I finish getting dressed?”

The captain seemed surprised that I invited him in. We both stood still in the awkward silence for a moment, both presumably exhausted and not firing on all cylinders. I could see the dark circles under his eyes that indicated he hadn’t slept either. I wondered if he ever really slept.

“I have fresh caf brewing,” I offered.

Fresh caf was enough to lure him in. I brought him a steaming hot cup and then headed to the fresher to get dressed.

“We’re going to outfit you with clone armor for this mission, that’s part of why I’m here early. I wanted to have enough time to get you fitted and dressed. We aren’t used to fitting armor to a woman” Rex said.

“I’d say not. Do you think there will be enough room in the chest?” I quipped. With that, I heard Captain Rex choke on his caf and go into a coughing fit.

“Sorry!” I yelled from the fresher. I could only imagine the look I was getting.

I came out of the fresher to find the Captain as composed as ever. You would have never known that he nearly suffered death by witty comment and hot caf five minutes earlier.

Captain Rex stood and moved to the door, “Ready?”

I grabbed my bag, stepped into the hallway, and paused to look at my small apartment, wondering if I’d ever see it again.

_______________________________________________

We arrived at the quartermaster’s to find a shiny new set of armor sitting on the counter. I immediately grabbed the helmet to try it on, only to find it to be too big. As I turned my head, it shifted from side to side. I couldn’t help but giggle a little, feeling like a child stealing their dad’s helmet. The captain cracked a smile.

“I think you need some extra padding,” he said as he took the helmet off my head. He added a few more pads to help tailor the fit. There hadn’t been time to get me a custom helmet.

“Oh, that’s much better”

“Are you ready to quit playing and try the rest on?” Rex asked with a small smile.

“Go ahead and put on the bottom half, then I’ll help you with the top half”.

The boots fit much better than the helmet. The codpiece was a little awkward, but I figured I’d get used to it, or at least use it to make obscene jokes.

“Here, let me help you with the back plate and breast plate, they’re a bit difficult until you get used to them.”

He snapped on the abdominal plate and then the breast and back plates. He stood behind me, adjusting everything. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, and it was sending small shivers down my spine. The Captain was quiet and I yearned to break the silence, but didn’t know what to say.

“Captain-“

“Please call me Rex.” It was nearly a whisper. This sent even more shivers down my spine. Did he know what he was doing to me?

The moment- was it a “moment”?- was shattered.

“Hey! Red on the head, fire in the bed!” Fives hollered from across the room.

I laughed and rolled my eyes back as far as they would go.

He had called me that one night in med bay when he had been brought in, half passed out from a night at 79’s. One look at my red hair, and he’d uttered the phrase that had basically become my nickname. He said it to me every time I saw him in med bay, which was often.

“Fives! How are you? It’s been more than a couple weeks since I’ve seen your drunk carcass in med bay,” I jeered.

“Captain’s been keeping us out in the field a lot lately, he doesn’t believe in fun,” he said with a goofy grin on his face. Rex punched him in the shoulder.

Rex finished adjusting the breast plate and attaching my pauldrons. The left pauldron bore the red and white mark of a clone medic.

Fives had disappeared into the storage room and came back with a medic bag. He blew the dust off of it and handed it to me.

“Here, put this and your helmet on. Let’s see the whole thing,” he said.

I put them on and looked out of the helmet to see Rex and Fives beaming.

“You look great, doc,” Fives said.

“Fives, report to the launch bay, we’ll be along shortly,” Rex ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

Fives gave me a salute and a wink as he walked off. I gave him an audible huff and eye roll he couldn’t see through my helmet.

Rex chuckled.

“You’re going to fit in well here, you know.”

—————————

The hangar was a sight to behold with all of the clones in formation.

Rex gave a short motivational speech and ordered everyone into the transports.

“You stay with me, Fives, Jesse, Tup, Echo, Dogma, or Hardcase, and you’ll be fine,” Rex instructed.

I nodded and put my helmet on. I loaded into the crowded transport with them and we headed for the Jedi cruiser Resolute.

Coruscant faded away as we climbed higher.

________________________

The Resolute was bigger than I could have imagined. I had seen holo images of cruisers, but it doesn’t compare to seeing one for real. There were so many ships in the hangars. I walked past an AT-TE and stopped to marvel at the size.

“Wanna see the inside?” Hardcase asked.

“Hell yes I do!”

Hardcase beamed at my enthusiasm. His first loves were weapons and heavy equipment.

“This pretty girl can climb just about anything she encounters. She’s even got magnetized feet so she can climb metal,” he explained as I looked around the cockpit at all the buttons.

“She can even withstand being in space for a bit, since she can be pressurized. Sometime you’ll have to ask Rex about that adventure. Here, I’ll give you a boost up into the gunner’s seat.”

The gunner sat exposed, but I could easily see how it would be fun to mow down droids with the cannon. I looked down to see Rex looking up at us.

“Hardcase, it’s time to get everything ready for tomorrow, there’s lots to be done. Our medic there needs to get to her briefing, too,” he instructed.

“Thanks, Hardcase, this was fun, can you show me more another time?”

“Yep, anytime. It’s always my pleasure to show off my toys,” he had a cheesy grin stretching from ear to ear.

I hopped down and followed Rex to my first briefing.

________________________

Dinner followed the briefing. The boys were rowdy and there was a sense of excitement buzzing in the air. I ate my meal in near silence, being plenty entertained by the crass and ridiculous things the men of the 501st were discussing. It was clear that it helped keep their minds off of the coming battle.

It was late when I retired to my quarters, hoping to get a few hours of rest.

______________

Geonosis was barren, except for various rock formations. The night was eerily dark and Rex was alone. He walked the desert landscape, looking for any signs of life. He tried his comm again, only to be answered with broken static.

The Captain finally saw something in the distance, although he could not make it out. As he approached the shapes, Rex found Fives, Jesse, and her, laying on the ground. He removed their helmets, only to see dark voids where their eyes had been. Blood started pouring out of the chasms. Their lifeless bodies suddenly sat up, repeating “It’s your fault we’re dead.”

Rex’s eyes shot open and he awoke to find he was still in his bunk. He was covered in sweat and his heart was nearly beating out of his chest.

It was just a nightmare.

The nightmares never stopped.

Being a soldier was hard, but being a leader was harder. He never stopped wondering if he made the wrong decisions. He never stopped worrying about his vod. So many had died, and he still carried each one with him.

He decided to go to the mess hall for some caf. Might as well since he couldn’t sleep anyway. Rex walked past his men to the door. He was relieved to see Fives, Jesse, Tup, Echo, Hardcase, and Dogma, all asleep, snoring, in their bunks. He looked around and wondered which men he would lose tomorrow. A tear escaped and he let it fall, knowing that no one would see. He wiped the tears away and continued towards the mess.

The door slid open. The mess was empty except for her. She had her head down on a table, red hair splayed over her arms. He wondered how long she’d been here. Rex walked to her, gently calling her name. She didn’t even flinch. A cup of caf was beside her, ice cold, indicating she had been there for some time.

Rex laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Wake up, cyar'ika, you’ll be much more comfortable in your bed.”

She drowsily raised her head and brushed her hair back.

“Rex?” she asked as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“Yeah, it’s me. C’mon, I’ll walk you back to your quarters.”

She stood up and stretched. There were lines across her face from where it had rested on her arm. Rex couldn’t help but smile.

They walked back to her quarters, making small talk along the way.

“I’m nervous, that’s why I couldn’t sleep,” she said spontaneously.

“I would expect you to be nervous,” he assured, “I won’t sugar coat it and say that it will be easy. It will likely be a bloodbath. But, we’ll be there to help you. We will get through this together.”

They stopped in front of her door and she turned to Rex, laying a hand on his arm.

“Thank you, Rex,” she said and then disappeared into her room.

He stood at the closed door for a minute, her touch still lingering.

“Sleep well, mesh’la.”

_________________________________________

I woke up early so I could check my medic bag and have a cup of caf before deploying.

The mess hall wasn’t busy, but there were a few clones up and about. I grabbed my caf and scanned the room. Jesse saw me and waved me to a table with him, Dogma, Echo, and Tup.

“ ‘Mornin, boys.”

“ ‘’Mornin, Doc,” they replied in near unison. It wasn’t uncommon for soldiers to call their medics “doc”. Field medics did it all.

“Where’s Fives and Hardcase?” I inquired.

“Those two will sleep til the last second,” Dogma said as he rolled his eyes. I’d been told Dogma was a stickler for rules. I expected he was early for everything.

I sat down next to Jesse, started sipping my caf, and inventorying my bag.

Bacta? Check.

IV supplies? Check.

Normal saline? Check.

Lasted ringers? Check.

Bandages? Check.

Tourniquets? Check.

The bag didn’t hold much, but it was enough to get the men back to the field hospital. I sat the bag on the floor and joined the conversation.

“You ready, Doc?” Tup asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. You boys just try to keep from getting blown to bits and I’ll be fine,” I jeered. They laughed in agreement.

“Seriously? I’m scared shitless, but I know you guys have my back and that makes it better,” I admitted.

“It’s ok, I think everyone but Hardcase was scared on their first mission,” Jesse said.

I’d met Hardcase a few times in med bay. He never backed down from a fight, in fact, he usually went looking for it.

Our comms lit up and a voice announced that we needed to report to our gunships. We cleared the table and headed down to the hangar. As we entered the elevator, Fives and .

Hardcase came running down the hall,

“Hold the door, wait for us!” Fives shouted.

I held the door for them. Both were still finishing putting on their armor. I smiled and shook my head.

“Whhhaaattt?” Fives asked with a smile. “Better late than never, right?”captain

#captain rex #clone trooper rex #rex x reader #star wars #the clone wars #clone trooper jesse #clone trooper fives #clone trooper kix #clone trooper echo #clone trooper tup #arc trooper fives #clone trooper hardcase #clone x reader

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thicctails · 3 years

Text

Summer of Whump Day 11 [Whipping/Branding]

I took this one WAY farther than it was meant to be taken. I’m sorry Omega babey I promise I’ll never do something this bad again :(

It had happened at the worse possible time.

Upon waking up after her encounter with the Quill Stalker, Omega had found that she had been returned to the ship. Tech was looking her over, asking of she felt dizzy or nauseous. She hadn’t, but even after she’d told him such, he had insisted on staying with her. He had been tense, and he kept looking around, like he expected something to attack him. When Rex came around the corner holding his blaster, he twitched back a bit. She could feel the stress he was feeling, and it had made her nervous as well.

“You feeling better, kiddo?” Rex had asked.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright. Are you staying with us?” She’d questioned.

“Not for long. We’re headed to Bracca to find a Jedi cruiser. Once we’re done there, I’ll be off.” He’d explained.

“A Jedi cruiser? Why do you need to find one of those?” Omega had asked, sitting up.

“Rex is going to help us remove the inhibitor chips. They are… more of a threat than we previously thought.” Tech had said, shifting uncomfortably.

Omega had looked at Tech, than at Rex, then back at Tech. The younger clone was clearly becoming more and more stressed and uncomfortable the longer Rex was in the room, and she had realized that she could pick up prickles of fear in Tech. Her eyes had flicked to Rex’s blaster, and she had realized that Tech thought that Rex might shoot him. That hadn’t made any sense to her, Wrecker had said that Rex was their friend, and why would a friend harm them?

She hadn’t felt any warning buzzing, so she had merely put on a smile and placed a hand on Tech’s arm, causing his attention to shift to her.

“That’s good! It means that the Empire can’t ever control you.” She’d said, which had made him smile.

The air in the ship had never lost its tense feeling as they flew to a dusty, scrap-covered planet. Omega hadn’t even wanted to think about the number of ways they could all get tetanus as they made their way through the ship scrap yard. They had slunk out of view of some Scrapper Guild members, entered the ship, and started up the technology that they would need to remove the chips.

And that is where everything went to shit.

That oh so familiar shriek in the back of her mind had been her only warning. Confused, she’d looked around, trying to figure out where the sudden danger was coming from. Everything seemed fine, Tech was working on Wrecker while Rex and Hunter tried to usher her out of the room as they talked. She’d hesitated, then turned to tell Hunter about her feeling.

“W-wrecker!”

Omega spun, her eyes going wide at the impossible sight before her. Wrecker had Tech by the throat, lifting the man off the ground as he struggled for air.

“You’re in direct violation of Order 66.” Wrecker’s voice was cold, so unlike his usual chipper tone. Omega became cold all over as Wrecker threw Tech against the wall, the younger clone crashing to the ground in a heap. His blaster slid across the floor, right in front of Wrecker.

The events following that moment went by in a blur. Hunter had grabbed her, pulling her behind cover as the sound of blaster fire exploded into the room. Her ears rang as her heart began to beat wildly. She couldn’t understand. Wrecker’s chip wasn’t supposed to activate!

Hunter had told her to stay with Tech, and while she was glad she had managed to save Hunter from being killed by his own brother, she was now finding herself in the most terrifying chase of her life.

Omega panted, slinking back farther into the shadows. She shivered, griping the blaster with more force than what was necessary. Somehow, she’d managed to dodge Wrecker long enough to end up in the cruiser’s lower levels. Sweat poured down her face and neck, and she took a second to wipe some of the liquid out of her eyes. It was hot down here, steam bursting out through cracks in the floor. It seemed that this ship laid atop some sort of steam vent, and Omega took care to avoid the places that the steam hissed through. She knew that steam was water that was very, very hot, and so that touching it would hurt.

Wrecker’s heavy footsteps echoed out into the open space, the degrading metal floor groaning a bit under his weight. Omega cowered back, holding her breath as he passed by. Luckily, she was on his blind side, so he didn’t see her. His face was pulled into a serious frown, his brown eyes void of any light as he scanned the room. Wrecker had always been a fun, reliable protector to Omega, and despite his size, she’d always felt completely safe with him. That feeling of security was gone now, shot dead point blank. Terror replaced it, and she felt something unfamiliar sitting heavily in her chest. The emotion was a mix of shock, anger, and deep sadness. She hated it.

A burst of steam broke through a crack in the floor in front of her, causing her to yelp and stumble back. Omega scrambled to her feet, tears that had been steadily building spilling out as the hulking clone turned towards her.

“Wrecker,” She started, quickly darting to the side as Wrecker stomped towards her, “Wrecker please stop! This isn’t you!”

“All rouge clones will be terminated.” Wrecker snarled, reaching out to grab her.

Omega raised the blaster, her hands shaking as she pointed it at Wrecker. Tears blurred her vision, and her voice broke as she pleaded with the man.

“Just- just stop! I don’t wanna have to hurt you!” She kept backing up, not sure if she would actually be able to take the shot. This was Wrecker, he was family.

The choice was violently ripped away from her as the enhanced clone gripped the blaster and threw it aside. Omega stared up at Wrecker, her shiny brown eyes wide and pleading. Her previous words had no effect on the clone, however, and she quickly found herself unable to breathe. Her throat muscles burned under the crushing force, and she kicked wildly, her minuscule leg muscles not allowing her to do any damage to the hulking giant. She was too panicked to try and call out to the Force, and thus was left to claw at Wrecker’s hand. She tried to speak, to once again attempt to reason with her mind-controlled guardian, but the pressure on her windpipe was too great, and she could only silently move her lips. Wrecker was still walking forward, and she could feel the air behind her getting hotter and hotter, the sound of hissing steam just barely audible over the sound of blood rushing in her ears. She thrashed, her lungs burning from the lack of oxygen.

Then, without warning, she was slammed against the metal wall. The pain was immediate, and Omega actually managed to force out a choked squeak as she screamed. The scorching metal burned through her shirt easily, leaving her back exposed to its monstrous heat. Her skin split, blistering under the touch of the boiling steam. Blood sizzled against the red-hot steel of the ship, splattering up onto her burning flesh.

Omega’s pupils were pinpricks in a sea of caramel, the black dots nearly lost to the colour. She was beyond panic at this point, beyond any form of rational thinking. Her body was in survival mode, and it screamed out to the Force, reacting as soon as the power was summoned. Wrecker flew back, the armored man smashing into the wall across the room. No longer supported, Omega dropped, her seizing body hitting the floor with a thud.

She lay there, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Her brain was having a meltdown, not sure if it could feel the pain, or if the nerves in her back had been melted away. Breathing took a great amount of effort, and Omega saw spots of black and deep cyan dance in her vision. The only sound she heard was the ringing in her ears, loud and unyielding. She couldn’t lift her head, couldn’t blink, couldn’t think.

Wrecker shifted, but she didn’t notice. Her mind was elsewhere, shutting itself down in a desperate attempt to preserve Omega’s psyche. The tank of a human shook his head, glaring at the quaking child. He got to his feet, a trail of blood dripping down over his blind eye. He stepped forward, ready to finish the job.

Bam!

Wrecker saw nothing but darkness, only just aware of the fact that he was now falling forward.

Rex stood in the doorway, freezing up in shock at the sight of Omega. He dropped his blaster and ran over to her, hands hovering above her broken form. There was blood everywhere, the floor beneath the girl stained red. What parts of her back that weren’t covered in blisters were burnt black or pulsing an angry red. The smell of burnt flesh made him want to vomit, but he swallowed his gorge as he tried to figure out how to help. Disturbingly, Omega was still awake, her eyes blown wide as she shuddered uncontrollably.

“Oh kriff, oh kriff.” He said, his hands shaking as he gently touched Omega’s shoulder. The sight of a young child being so brutally injured made him feel sick. For a brief second, he saw another young girl laying on the metal floor, one that he knew far better than Omega. He shook his head. No. She was safe, and Omega needed his full attention.

It was the middle of her back that was the most damaged, with the area just below her neck and her most lower back being mostly untouched, minor burns spotting the skin around the edges. Carefully, Rex positioned his arms so that he was only touching the unburned skin. He lifted Omega up, holding the injured child as gently as possible.

“It’s okay, ad'ika. You’re safe now, I promise.” He soothed, quickly moving out of the room. Wrecker wouldn’t be stunned forever, so he needed to get Omega somewhere safe so that he could administer the sedative. Glancing down, he saw that Omega had, thankfully, passed out. Whether it was from pain, shock, or pure exhaustion, he didn’t know, but it was better that she wasn’t awake right now.

Hunter groaned, bringing a hand to his head. His neck felt like it had been stepped on by an obese bantha on all sides, and he rubbed the sore muscles. How had-

He shot up. Wrecker’s chip had activated, he’d drawn his brother away, he’d been choking, then Omega had…!

“OMEGA!” He yelled, jumping off the medical cot he’d been lying on. He whipped his head around, searching for the little girl. Panic seized him when he couldn’t find her, his mind automatically assuming the worst.

‘Oh, Maker. Oh, Maker NO! She’s dead! She’s dead and it’s my fault! I couldn’t protect her! I-’

“Hunter!”

Rex’s voice broke him out of his hysteria. The commander raised his hands, speaking to Hunter like one would a wounded animal.

“Easy, soldier. Omega’s alive. Wrecker too.” He said calmly.

Hunter breathed, his panic ebbing away for a moment, before he realized that Rex had worded his statement oddly.

“Is Omega alright?” He asked immediately, narrowing his eyes when Rex didn’t respond right away. “You said that she was alive, but is she alright, Rex?”

The blonde clone looked away. Hunter’s stomach dropped.

“No.” He said, his eyes widening. “No, no,no,no! She’s just- Wrecker wouldn’t- where is she?! What happened?!”

“Easy, Hunter.” Rex said. “Calm down.”

“NO!” He roared, protective instincts surging through him. “Where is she?!”

“I’m not telling you anything until you calm down! Don’t make me stun you, Hunter!” Rex shouted right back.

Fuming, Hunter reluctantly sat down. He growled under his breath, his gaze sharp as he eyed Rex. While the man was one of his vode, he was withholding information regarding Omega’s well being, which pissed him off to no end.

“Thank you. I’m sorry, Hunter, but I had to be sure that your fight with Wrecker didn’t activate your chip.” Rex’s face softened, like he understood Hunter’s anger and anxiety. “Omega is in a safe room nearby. She needed to be treated with bacta as soon as possible. Luckily, some of the medical cabinets still had supplies.”

“Bacta? Why the hell would she need that?” Hunter asked, worry making his brow wrinkle.

“Omega managed to get all the way down to the cruiser’s lower levels before Wrecker caught up to her. I got there before he could kill her, but not before he managed to… to…” Rex shook his head, and Hunter felt his blood turn to ice. “Hunter, you have to understand. The chip takes away all of your control. You can’t stop it, no matter how hard you try.”

“Before he managed to what?” Hunter growled.

“Before he managed to shove her against burning metal. The steam and hot steel caused severe damage to her back. We’re looking at third, maybe forth degree burns.” Rex finished.

Hunter blanched, suddenly feeling nauseous and cold. He’d been burned before, the blaster bolt scars on his back and arms were there to prove it. However, those were only second degree burns, and he had been put into a bacta tank as soon as possible. To imagine Omega going through even greater pain made him burn with anger. If he ever managed to get his hands on the people that had put the chips in their heads, he’d make sure they died a slow, painful death.

“Oh, Maker.” He said, pinching the space between his eyes. “Oh, Maker why? Why is it always her?”

“Do you want to see her? I need to stay here until Tech and Echo wake up, but I’ll take you to her.” Rex asked, his voice quiet.

“Yes. Yes, please.” Hunter said quickly, following Rex as he led him towards a little medical bay. He moved inside immediately, pausing when he saw a curled up Omega. Most of the back of her shirt had been cut away, and a generous helping of bacta had been applied to an ugly burn. Hunter couldn’t bare to look at the injury for long, and instead moved to drag a chair close to the medical cot Omega was lying on. As Rex returned to his brothers, Hunter ran a hand through Omega’s hair.

“Oh, ik'aad. Fate owes you an apology and a break.” He rasped, touching his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

He pulled back slightly, his hand still petting her head soothingly. He felt his eyes mist slightly, and he quickly rubbed the tears away. No. He couldn’t break down now, not when Omega needed him. When his aliit needed him.

He racked his memory for some idea of what he should do to provide Omega with some form of comfort. He recalled seeing parents sing to their children sometimes, so he tried to think of a song. He didn’t know many, so he simply hummed one that he had heard a dad sing to his three children on one of his missions. His throat rumbled as he hummed, aching as he made it vibrate. He ignored it, willing to be in a bit of pain if it meant that there was a chance that Omega would find some comfort from it.

Hunter remained there until Rex came to get him for is chip removal, quietly humming any tune that he could make up. He hesitated, not wanting to leave Omega alone.

“Come on, buir. She’ll be okay, Tech is going to stay with her.” Rex’s voice held a note of teasing, and Hunter flushed a bit.

“I’m not-” He started, but paused when Rex rolled his eyes.

“Don’t try and deny it. You acted like a mother narglatch who’s baby had been threatened a few hours ago.” He said.

Hunter sputtered, but Rex just jerked his thumb towards the space behind him. “Come on, let’s get that chip out.”

Crosshair lowered his rifle, watching as the two Scrapper Guild members fell into a pit of jagged, twisted metal. Making his way up a fallen wire, he climbed up into the Jedi cruiser. He’d been sent here when a sudden chip activation had been reported.

It seemed his brothers weren’t as immune as they had previously thought.

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justice4harwin · 3 years

Text

Light’s Corruption-Chapter II

Pairing: DarklingxAlina

Summary:With few friends at the Little Palace, Alina must work to win the favour of her fellow grisha and their commander, who makes her feel light headed every time she sees him.After training in Os Alta for two years, the king grows tired of waiting and demands the Sun Summoner joins a western post near the Fjerdan border along with the rest of The Second Army to test her abilities.Something happens. Suddenly, Alina wants blood to run down the rivers and those who stand in her and The Darkling’s way will be blinded by her light and swallowed by his shadows.It won’t be pretty.

Part 1 here

TW: Mentions of/referenced sexual assault

Tags: Like last time, I’m taking the liberty of tagging the people who commented/liked/rebloged my post where I asked if anybody would wanna read a story like this, but ill do it in the comment section cause a friend told me tumblr doesn’t forget to notify that.

Again, if you don’t want to be on the tag list, please let me know, or if you’re new and wanna be added, let me know too.

Hope you like this :D

Chapter 2: Queen Tatiana

Alina allowed the light to caress her, embrace her, gentle, phantasmagories touches that seemed to be thanking her for finally accepting it.

Her eyes opened, and all she could see was gold. Looking down, she noticed the power came from her palms, which were facing forward at her sides. A dome of light had formed around her, at least five meters in diameter.

She laughed in disbelief. She felt so strong, as if nothing could ever come her way.

She felt truly alive for the very first time.

So, this is what is like, uh?

“Miss Starkov?” she heard a distant voice, and turned to see The Darkling approaching her dome, eyes squinted.

She wasn’t sure what would happen if he touched the light, but she wanted him to see it, she wanted him inside with her.

She stretched out a hand, and slowly, the man stretched his own. After a tense moment of resistance, she felt his fingers grasping hers as he passed through, and then the rest of him.

He looked around, a new gleam to his eyes that lit up his features almost as much as her power lit her.

“Very impressive for a first time, Miss Starkov.” He congratulated her, his tone almost admiring. He looked her in the eye. “Very impressive, indeed.”

“Alina,” she found herself saying, elated at both her flowing light and his praise. “please, call me Alina.”

Smiling gently, he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, his hand softly travelling down her neck, leaving goosebumps on its way, until it came to rest on her shoulder.

“You and I are going to change the world, Alina.” He said, with such passion is made her knees week, before turning serious again and squeezing her shoulder for a moment. “Now, make it shrink.”

“How?”

“Call it to you, as if receding the day into night, until only two small orbs remain in your hands.”

She nodded, focusing. Gently, like a mother soothing a scared child, she called the light back inside of her.

She felt like she was petting it, hushing it, telling it was time to rest.

Slowly, the dome began to shrink, and then more, and then more, and then she had to blink several times to get adjusted to the natural light of day.

She lifted her hands, one small orb of light in each, and smiled as brightly, looking up at The Darkling, who couldn’t seem to keep his eyes away from hers. His chest moved up and down in rapid motions, his gaze so wide there was almost no grey in there. There was a frenzy in his gaze, something primal yet profound, and Alina felt like he could be the one to burn her instead of the other way around.

Finally, she closed her hands into fists and the lights disappeared. She felt almost drunk, the satisfactory hum of her power now coursing through her body, giving her a new sense of confidence so foreign to her.

“You are magnificent.” The Darkling breathed out, startling her, making her cheeks burn.

“It was just my first try on my own.”

“And look around you. Look at what you can do.” He gestured with his arms.

She did, and found the grass turned black, the water of the lake smoking, some steam coming up and forth. She was definitely not putting her hand in there.

“The gardeners will hate me.”

He chuckled quietly, taking a step closer, until their chests almost brushed with their breaths.

“Maybe.” He said, taking her hand again. “But all of Ravka will love you.”

Slowly, he lifted her hand, still way too warm due do the use of her powers and bought it up to his cold lips. Alina held her breath before releasing it again, heart hammering in a way she didn’t fully comprehend.

“I don’t need all of Ravka.” She said, without thinking; a new habit around this particular man, apparently.

“Oh?”

Kiss me.

She thought, and he seemed to have guessed it, for he began to lean forward.

“ALINA STARKOV! I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU ALL OVER THE PLACE! I ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK AN—SAINTS!” Genya, who had been marching towards her with a big scowl, her white kefta willowing behind her like a snowstorm, came to an abrupt stop. “What have you done to this place?”

“I can summon now!” she exclaimed, beaming at her. Genya was the only one who knew of her little,…problem.

The tailor looked around, evidently impressed.

“Remind me to stay on your good side.” She took notice of The Darkling and immediately straightened, bowing slightly. “Forgive me, Moi Soverennyi, but the queen has extended an invitation for the Sun Summoner to have tea with her and her ladies.”

The Darkling nodded once, casually dropping Alina’s hand. By the way Genya’s eyes barely flickered, Alina knew she now suspected something.

“Of course, Miss Safin. Who am I to keep the queen waiting?”

They smirked at each other, and Genya held out her arm for Alina to entwine with. On her way, she quickly snatched the forgotten letter.

Alina didn’t look back to see the damage she had caused, but to see if he was still there, but The Darkling was already marching up to the stables without a second look in her direction.

“Here.” Alina offered the paper to Genya, who gave her an apprehensive look. “It’s the last one; I swear.”

Hesitant, Genya took it and hid it inside one of her many pockets as they continued their path towards the Little Palace.

“You stink, you know?” she said as they entered and began to walk through the corridors that led to the stairs.

Alina was aware. Her face felt hot and wet, and she couldn’t wait to get out of her clothes.

“Does the queen really want to have tea with me?”

“Unfortunately.” Genya sighed as they began their eternal ascension towards Alina’s bedroom. “It’s mostly so she can show you off to her friends as if you were a shiny ornament, and to get some intel for the king. So, be careful of what you say.”

“Will you be there?”

“Fortunately for you, yes. But I’ll be mostly by the bitch’s side.” She gave her friend a sideways look. “Do you know tea etiquette?”

“You… take the cup and drink from it?”

“Saints.”

“What? Why? It’s just tea.”

Genya opened the door and pushed her inside, slamming it shut and shooing her towards the waiting bathtub.

“Maybe she’s also expecting that. She does love to have a laugh at people regarding those things. HURRY UP OR WE’LL BE LATE!” she yelled, clapping her hands and taking out a blue dress from her wardrobe.

Alina did her best with the insufferable little buttons, almost ripping them off and exhaling in relief when it fell to the floor. She took off her boots next and the pleasure was even grander. How she hated to be sweaty.

Soon, she was naked and inside the bath, which smelled of lavender. She scrubbed her legs with the sponge.

“Can I come in?” Genya asked from the other side of the curtain.

“Yep.”

The woman, as usual, wasted no time.

“Did you wash your face already?”

“Yep.”

She knelt by the tub, behind Alina, and began to disentangle her mass of her with hard yanks.

“Hey!”

“Oh, I’m sorry; but if you had been where you were supposed to be we wouldn’t be going against the clock.”

It was true that she was meant to spend some time in the library learning grisha theory, but she had forgotten all about that as soon as her eyes shot open in the morning and decided to become what she was meant to.

“Sorry; I wanted to try something on my own.”

“You weren’t really on your own, were you?” the redhead asked carefully, twisting Alina’s hair from one place to the other.

“General Kirigan found me.” She hesitated for a moment. “He was actually the one who helped me summon.”

“I thought you had done it by yourself.” Her friend sounded confused.

“I did! He just,…gave me some words of encouragement.”

“Words of encouragement?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.”

“What?

“Nothing.”

“What?!”

“Up.” Genya held a towel for Alina to wrap herself in, and quickly took her back into the bedroom and sat her at her dressing table, getting to work on her face.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” She said as she ran her expert fingers over her face, fixing and making her look presentable. “Now, I’ll run you over the etiquette really quick. So, keep up, Starkov.”

“Yes, Miss Safin.”

After a moment of severe silence, they both laughed.

Much to Genya’s apprehension, Alina refused to wear a dress, and insisted on taking a clean, silken kefta instead.

“If she wants me to dress pretty only to make my ignorance funnier, she’ll be disappointed.” Alina said as she took a belt. “The kefta will remind her who I am.”

“I don’t think she’ll care either way.”

“I can accidently blind her as a reminder.”

Genya laughed at that, shaking her head and taking her friend’s arm and leading her towards the Grand Palace.

They took some corridors which avoided the throne room Alina had seen only the first time she had arrived, which, come to think about it, she realized it was the only time she was inside that place at all.

They soon arrived at a grand double set door; the handles made of pure gold. Alina frowned. One could feed all the orphans at Keramzin for a few weeks with that.

Two guards opened the doors for them, and the young women entered, heads high and shoulders back. Alina had refused to relent her hold of Genya. She didn’t care if the queen felt insulted by it.

The woman in question sat upon a ridiculous golden chair, resembling of her own throne. There were two servants in white on either side holding trays. Down the steps of the queen’s chair-because of course she had to be set up on a dais- there was a small, round table almost full.

There were seven or eight women of various ages, all dressed finely and speaking faintly to each other.

When Alina entered, the room became silent. The queen shifted her blue eyes to her and raised an eyebrow, quickly taking in her clothing and her arm around Genya’s.

Letting go of her friend, Alina took a step forward and bent respectfully.

“Moya Tsaritsa. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course, Miss Starkov. I have been waiting for some time with our Sun Summoner for quite some time,” she spoke, her voice forcibly airy, as if she wanted to try and be some sort of ethereal creature. “alas, the general has kept you busy with all kinds of training.”

“He has, Your Highness. But it’s all for the good of Ravka.”

“It is so good to know you care so much about your country, Miss Starkov.” She said the last two words with a special accentuation, as if to belittle her due to her lack of title.

Alina did her best to smile.

“Don’t we all, Your Highness?”

“Of course, dear, of course.” She gestured towards an empty seat at the table, almost directly underneath her, between two middle aged women. “Please, have a seat.”

Alina could feel Genya moving in a different direction behind her as she approached the queen.

She sat down as gracefully as she could and smiled at the women around her.

An older woman clad in green smiled back.

“Tell me, Miss Starkov, how do you find Os Alta so far?”

Before Alina could answer, the queen spoke up:

“Well, that is quite rude of you, Lady Popovich. You have yet to let me introduce yourself.”

Lady Popovich looked down; face flushed as she uttered an apology.

As Genya conducted some male servants towards them, they shared a look.

“Miss Starkov; allow me to introduce you to Lady Tanya Popovich, to her right…” Alina did her best to remember their names, but as the queen introduced each of the ladies, she also launched into a small monologue about each of them. Alina couldn’t help but notice how she liked to talk highly of them, only to put in a small jab in the middle before finishing with some apologetic, merciful tone and moving on to the next one.

The servants placed a small plate filled with water in front of each woman, and the Sun Summoner couldn’t help but notice how all the women at the table and the queen had shifted their eyes towards her.

With a blank expression, Alina dipped her fingers delicately into the water and then used the cloth set to her left to dry them. Standing against a wall, Genya hid a smile as some of the ladies’ disappointment became evident.

The door busted open, and a young woman in pink rushed in. Her cheeks were flushed, her blond hair just a little bit messy.

She curtsied.

“Moya Tsaritsa, my deepest apologies.” She had a nice, gentle voice.

“Lady Anastasia, for a moment I thought you might desert us. It is unseemly to be late.”

“It will not happen again, Your Highness.”

“No. It will not.” She said, curtly, then nodded to the only chair available. “Sit.”

Lady Anastasia hurried towards the table and sat, quickly washing her hands. She looked up, and Alina thought she knew her from somewhere.

Then it hit her. She had run into her just days before in the maze, fooling around with Nadia.

Discreetly, Alina swiped her finger across the corner of her mouth. Lady Anastasia’s eyes grew large for the briefest moment before she wiped her mouth casually. Then, she sent the other woman a minuscule smile.

They all waited in silence as one of the servants handed the queen her cup of tea, and only after she took her first sip did the other servants approach the table.

Alina took in the smell. Was that peaches? She had never had peach tea. She was used to herbs and such, but fresh fruits were too rare in Keramzin and The First Army to use it for tea.

The servants laid out silver platters with sweets of all kinds, most of which she had never seen, and shot a look at Genya, who made an almost imperceptible sign with her hand.

Wait.

Everyone looked up at the queen as she took her first sip and contemplated the cup with fake, dramatic anticipation. Finally, she looked at her audience.

“Please, help yourselves. The tea is delicious, and the pies smell divine.”

Only then did the other women began to eat. Some had more water poured into their cups, but Alina always preferred a strong drink, no matter the taste.

She noticed how all the hands reached out for the pies instead of the biscuits or cookies, just like Genya had warned her. Apparently, the guests would preferably eat whatever the queen felt like it that day, and the rest tended to remain untouched and later thrown away.

“Miss Starkov,” the queen spoke, finishing a small slice of pie and handing the plate to the other servant behind her. Her eyes were slightly narrowed. “how have you been adjusting to life at the Little Palace? I imagine it must be quite the difference compared to an army camp.”

“Or an orphanage.” Snickered a woman across the table to Lady Anastasia, who frowned but then smiled slightly, not saying anything.

“I’m still settling, Your Highness.” Alina sat straight and looked her in the eyes to address her. “It’s quite the big change of scenario, but so far I’ve been adapting well enough.”

“I heard that you had a small incident with one of the Squallers about a month ago.” She said, with fake innocence. “What was her name, Genya?”

“Zoya Nazyalensky, Your Highness.”

“Oh, yes, I remember her from the last Winter Fete. So talented, so beautiful.” She said, looking pointedly at Alina at the last part.

She resisted the urge to tell her she wasn’t the one with a Tailor working on her stupid face day and night.

“Yes, Zoya and I were training with Botkin.” Alina admitted, wanting to smile at the memory of Zoya coming out of The Darkling’s chambers in tears. “It was hand to hand combat; she’s got far more experience than me, and I got hurt; but it was nothing.”

“I was sure I heard she had used her power on you.” The queen placed her fingers underneath her chin. “I believed that to be prohibited during combat training.”

Alina didn’t know what to say; she wasn’t sure what the woman sitting to her left and above her wanted to get at.

“It was an accident on her part. Sometimes, our powers just,” she flickered her fingers, a steam of light rolling over them and disappearing, startling the other guests. “come out on their own.”

She wanted to turn back so she could see Genya’s face, to know if she had given the right answer or not; but breaking eye contact while talking to the queen of Ravka was considered rude.

“And yet your general saw it fit to send her away.” She said, pretending to be confused.

Alina kept on hesitating. Something told her that, not matter how much she disliked Zoya, this was not the right time and place to give an honest opinion.

“She’s part of The Second Army, Your Highness. A lot of us are always being re-assigned somewhere or called back.”

“But you have not.”

“I—I’ve only been training for a few months. Zoya’s had years.”

“Besides,” a soft voice spoke up, and everyone turned to Lady Anastasia. “there is only one Sun Summoner; sending her out without sufficient training would put all of Ravka at risk, would it not?”

“Indeed, Lady Anastasia.” The queen had to concede. “You are very smart, are you not?”

Lady Anastasia bowed her head humbly.

“I simply enjoy all kind of knowledge, Your Highness.”

“So well educated, so modest and pretty, such an extraordinary lineage.” At this, queen Tatiana turned back to Alina. “The House Gusev extends back to the days before The Fold was formed; they even had a few monarchs on the throne.”

“A long time ago, yes.” Replied the blonde, hurriedly.

“And yet,” the queen squinted her eyes, and Alina already felt sorry for the young woman. “you remain unmarried. It is such an odd situation for you, dear. The years do go by,” she touched her face and smiled. “well, for some of us at least.” She laughed airily, and Alina really, really wanted to tell her that she couldn’t pull that off. She sounded ridiculous. “So, I assume you must have at least one prospect. What could possibly be wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong, Your Highness.” She replied, her cheeks red. From the distance, Alina thought she saw her eyes glistening with tears. “My father is very strict. He will not let just anyone wed his youngest daughter. And to be quite honest, I do not believe he wants to give away his youngest one yet. Seeing Zasha wed Galina and move out of our home was hard for him.” She finished with affection, earning several soft smiles.

As far as Alina knew, it was rare to see same sex marriages in the nobility, and it required a long process which involved plenty of paperwork. Regarding the royal family, it was prohibited.

The queen leaned back on her chair and stretched out her right hand. A small plate with the cup of tea was set upon it, and she took her time with the second, small sip.

“Well, I imagine you must be eager to start your new life. Marriage is such a bliss. I shall talk to your father about it soon.”

Lady Anastasia opened her mouth, but the queen was faster.

“Lady Yelena, would you please grace us with another one of your arias? You have the voice of an angel, my dear.” The woman sitting on her left stood up. "A moment. Genya, please take care of that ugly mole above her lip; it is most distracting."

Well, it seemed as if Alina were safe now, at the cost of that poor woman.

She didn’t dare to look at Genya for the rest of the event, for she could feel the queen’s eyes on her, analysing her every move.

Each lady bowed to the queen, uttering a respectful "Moya Tsaritsa", and the summoner did the same, aching to get out of that place.

The sun was setting when the queen finally decided she had had enough company for the afternoon. Alina was more than relieved to stand up; her butt hurt, her legs protested and her back cried.

"I should escort miss Starkov back to the Little Palace, Your Highness." Genya stepped forward.

"I am sure she can find her way back on her own." Interrupted a new voice.

Everyone turned to face the king and bowed, giving the expected greeting. His sleazy eyes drifted to the redhead, who stood stiff with both hands clasped behind her back. Alina looked at the queen, who didn't seem too happy either.

"If I may, Your Highness?" Alina took a step forward, not even knowing what she was gonna say. She felt sweatier than she did earlier in the gardens. "General Kirigan insisted that Miss Safin remain with me for this night. My training today was most …aggravating, and he saw it fit that someone helps me recover."

"Aggravating?" he asked, seemingly suspicious.

"In a good sense, Your Highness. I've shown quite the improvement today, but I'm afraid it's taken it's toll on me." Alina wasn't sure where all that came from, but she had a feeling The Darkling just might be a tad amused by her, and that only made her want to smile and reveal her charade.

"You do look plainer than usual."

You're one to talk.

She smiled humbly, and the king grunted.

"Very well, then. If General Kirigan insists."

"He does, …Moi Tsar."

How she hoped the king didn't bring the subject up with The Darkling.

"You are both dismissed then, but Miss Safin will return to her duties at dawn."

Both women bowed and left the room.

Alina casually held on to Genya's elbow as they hurried out of the Grand Palace, looking around at all the ugly paintings of Lantsov ancestors.

Once outside, the chilly air hit them both, but Genya continued to pull her along across the dark.

"You didn't have to do that." she said quietly.

Alina shrugged.

"It's nothing, really." she swallowed, giving her closest friend a sideways glance. "I've, uh, heard some rumours about the king and-"

"The queen usually keeps me too busy during the day, so his attention won't drift during the night." said the redhead, as if talking about the weather. "But sometimes it's inevitable." She looked at Alina, both now at the entrance to the Little Palace, illuminated by lanterns. "Thank you." she said, softly, looking into Alina's dark eyes with sincere, deep gratitude.

"It's nothing, really." the brunette felt uncomfortable. On the one side, she wanted to jump at the king and claw her way into his heart and rip it out for doing what he did; on the other, she knew there was nothing to do to help her friend. "It's just one night."

Genya sighed and drew her into a hug.

"One single night free can be a marvellous gift."

Alina smiled, returning the embrace.

"So, …I'm guessing we're having a sleepover? I never had one back at Keramzin! All the other girls were older than me and wouldn't let me join in!" she tried to cheer the mood.

Genya parted, quickly wiping her eyes.

"Neither have I, and I would love that." she turned serious again. "But first, we need to talk."

A/N: Hope you liked it!

Click here for part III

#shadow and bone #alina starkov #the darkling #aleksander morozova #alina x darkling #alina x aleksander #genya safin #my love is your time to shine #fuck the queen shes a bitch #lets kill the king #fanfic #shadow & bone trilogy #shadow and bone fanfic

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jyndawn · 4 years

Note

Please, fluffy bath time with Clyde. I beg you.

You’re trying so hard not to laugh right now, but Clyde is making it difficult.

He sits in the soaking tub, looking so shocked that he actually fits. You and Clyde had decided to replace it as the old one didn’t allow him to take a bath comfortably; he always had to bend his knees.

Clyde can actually keep his legs down. He can’t help but marvel at the length and depth of this tub, his wide brown eyes taking in the shiny new faucets.

“I ain’t never been in a tub like this,” he chuffs out, his long face a touch anxious. “Feel like I’m smaller than I actually am for once.”

“Do you like it?” you ask gently, knowing Clyde takes a while to adapt to anything new. It took him weeks to admit the old tub needed replacing and another month for him to shop for one.

“I reckon so,” he grunts as he pulls himself up, gripping the rims. “Think we oughta try her out first.”

“We?”

“Yep,” he says simply with a shrug of his shoulder. “You have a say in this, too. You helped me pick this out and all.”

Clyde’s trying his best to be nonchalant but you know him far too well. His eyes flicker down the length of your body with appreciation. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your chest against his, and smile when you notice the flush on his cheeks.

“Are you sure you just don’t want to see me naked?”

He swallows thickly, unable to meet your eyes. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. I jus’ value your opinion s’all.”

“Uh-huh, suuuuure,” you tease with a giggle. “My opinion isn’t the only thing you value about me.”

“Ain’t even close,” he smooths a hand down your back, sneakily pulling your shirt up just enough for it to disappear beneath the fabric. “You’re my most valuable treasure, you know that?”

“Is that right?” you hum at the sensation of his hand heavy and warm against your bare skin. “Well, if my input is that important to you, we better get started.”

You take a step away from him and start to undress. You’re far from graceful, stumbling out of your jeans and socks with the awkward gait of a newborn fawn. You’re all giggles and warm cheeks as you grab Clyde’s arm for balance. When you look up at Clyde, he’s smiling so wide that the corners of his eyes crinkle. He’s regarding you with a fondness that makes your heart want to burst.

“You next, handsome!” you lean up to give him a quick kiss. “I’ll get the water going”

You lean over to plug the drain and turn the faucet, letting the water fill the tub. You adjust the temperature to Clyde’s liking - he prefers his baths be as hot as tolerable. You’ll feel like a steamed lobster afterwards but it’s worth it.

You hear Clyde shuffle about, tossing his clothes to join yours on the floor, impatient in getting as bare as you are. You turn around to face him and hold out a hand for him to take, which he does. You try not to let your eyes wander and fail miserable as always.

“After you,” you gesture with a squeeze of your hand.

Clyde leers at you with an intensity that makes your cheeks flush, but he does as he’s told. He puts in one foot in the tub, hissing at the temperature of the water for a moment, then the other. He slowly settles in the tub, his eyes fluttering shut.

He lets out a long, blissed out sigh.

“Holy shit.”

“Feels good?”

“Worth every damn penny, darlin’,” he lets his head fall against the rim. “Shoulda done this a long time ago.”

Clyde holds out his hand for you to take and you step into the tub, carefully lowering yourself until you feel Clyde’s chest against your back. You let yourself relax, your head lolling on his shoulder. Goosebumps prickle your skin as the hot water envelops you.

“This is heaven,” you close your eyes. “Best purchase we’ve ever made.”

You spend some undetermined amount of time lounging in the tub, taking turns washing each other’s hair and bodies. Clyde takes his time with you, sudsing you up until he’s satisfied that you’re pampered enough.

“I love this. I never wanna get out.”

“Water will get cold at some point,” he noses at your hair, then presses a kiss to your cheek. You hum with contentment.

“Then we’ll refill it,” you turn your head, angling for a kiss to which he gladly gives.

“Utility bill will go up,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a tad raspy.

“Worth it.”

“We’ll turn into prunes if we stay in the water too long.”

“You just want to get me into bed,” you parrot back, nudging your hips back into his, feeling the hardness of his cock throb against your back.

“That, too,” he gathers you in his arms, his lips at your neck. “Besides, I can’t exactly eat you out well and proper here.”

You pull the plug to the tub, your reluctance going down the drain with the water as Clyde hauls you out, leaving a trail of water leading to the bedroom.

#logan lucky #clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan / reader #my writing #I'M ON A ROLL BABY #insatiable-ivy

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dcforts · 4 years

Text

[ring for an angel]

11k, half au, ao3.

Dean speeds up as soon as he spots the blinking Rooms Available sign half a mile away. The tires squeal on the wet asphalt as he makes a rapid turn and enters the parking lot.

It’s not a big place. Ten rooms or less, all ground floor. The blue neon sign on top of the short building says Feathers in a friendly font and has a pair of little wings and a halo to blink with it.

Pretty tacky, if you were to ask Dean in another moment. But right now, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass how the place is called. Right now, he’s got Sam slumped in the passenger seat, wet like a fish and shaking with cold.

They had an unplanned encounter with two vetalas they were hunting a couple of towns back. In the last few weeks the vetalas had lurked on a hiking trail, casually bumping into tourists to steal something valuable from them, only to attack them once they returned on their steps to search for it. Being the middle of winter, they’d been feasting undisturbed, favoured by the small numbers of people that braved the paths and by the sun setting early.

Dean and Sam waited the early hours of the morning to cross the police tapes and track them, but the trail was long, it was dark and cold and the vetalas had the advantage of being familiar with the grounds.

They hadn’t seen them coming.

They would have still managed to overpower them if only one of them hadn’t pushed Sam into a lake and fled and Dean had been too worried getting him out of the freezing water, to worry about the other one fleeing as well.

He got him quickly to the car, but all the motels they passed by were full, and every mile Dean had driven had seemed a mile too far and every second a second too long to have Sam paling and shivering and half unconscious in the Impala.

He had stripped him of his heavy jacket and shirt, draped his own jacket and flannel over him, trying to dry him as best as he could, and cranked the heating at its max, but Baby could only do so much. Outside the windows, it looked like it was about to snow.

Dean increasingly worried about the way Sam seems to slip more and more into unconsciousness. He tried to keep him talking, slapping his chest and asking him questions but for the last ten minutes or so, Sam had his head lolling on one side and his replies had become only barely coherent mumbles.

But they are here now. Dean stops the car and shakes him awake one more time; he touches his face, tries to meet his eyes.

“Hey, Sammy, look at me,” he says and Sam seems to make an effort to focus on him, “we are here. We’re gonna get you inside now, you hear me?” he says. “You just gotta hold on for one more minute. I’m gonna check us in and you’ll be warm in no time.”

Sam’s nod is weak and his pale face is not at all reassuring, but Dean knows it will do no good to stay in the car. He needs to get him inside.

So he braves the cold in only his t-shirt for the short jog it takes to get to the lobby. It’s a little inviting square of bright light. Mostly glass doors, which is an unusual choice for a motel, and especially not in a place of the country where it gets this cold. But the glass turns out to be thicker than it looks and the room, surprisingly warm. Dean finds himself exhaling relieved, as the door closes behind him.

The place is definitely new, all furniture is shiny clean and modern. In a corner, a few tables make up the breakfast area with a brand new model of coffee machine. Everything is in white, except the light wood counter right in front of Dean, that has engraved on it a replica of the blue sign that is outside. Dean only now notices that everything is angel and heaven themed. There are little white wings on blue wallpapers all around him that make the place look like a nursery. Behind the counter, there’s an open door that gives into a dimly lit backroom. But as far as humans, no one.

“Hello?” Dean calls, frowning and craning his neck to try and spot someone moving inside.

He turns towards the parking lot again and sure enough, it started snowing. Irritated by the delay, he approaches the counter and spots a little desk bell. It’s painted light blue and it says Ring For An Angel to match the theme of the place.

Dean hits the bell a couple of times but nothing happens. “Hello?” he calls, and he hits the bell again and again, nervously tapping on the wood with his other hand. He spots an open book next to keyboard of the main computer. Someone is there then. Dean doesn’t stop hitting the damn bell.

Come on.

How long a piss break can take?

He is about to shout “Hello?” again when, finally, someone emerges from the backroom.

It’s a guy about his height, dark hair and striking blue eyes. He is wearing just a white shirt and a blue vest with a tag that reads Steve and he’s carrying a steaming mug in his left hand. He lingers on the threshold, between dark and light and stands there, just watching him.

“Yes?” he says then, in a wary tone. His voice is deep and husky, as if he just woke up, and if you were to ask Dean in another moment, it was like the bow on an already rather attractive package, but right now Dean is too irked by his attitude to pay him that kind of attention.

What does he think he could he possibly want?

Okay, maybe aggressively hitting their desk bell and coming in from the snow with his arms bare and probably dirt smeared across his face, it’s not exactly the best first impression Dean’s ever given to someone. But who cares? He just wants him to do his job.

“I need a double for tonight. If you could make it fast,” he says, hastily. He ignores the way the guy just keeps standing there, watching him – he can be weird, but honestly, he’s seen worse – and fishes out his wallet to grab a credit card. He slams it on the counter.

“Make it two nights.”

Finally, the guy moves.

“I need to see some identification,” he says, placing aside his mug and exchanging it in his hand with Dean’s card. He studies it meticulously, looking at each side and everything.

Crap.

Usually at this time of night nobody even bothers with this. Dean has no idea whose name’s on the card he just gave him and he can’t really deal with this when Sam’s in those conditions back in the car. He pulls out one of his fake IDs and hopes for the best.

But of course the guy – Steve – does the opposite of giving it a once over, like anybody else would. In fact, the asshole holds the ID next to the credit card and, upon inspection, clicks his tongue.

He looks at Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“And how would you like me to register you, as Mr. Houdini or as Mr. Plant?” he says. He doesn’t look even a little bit amused.

Dean isn’t either. He clenches his fist and his jaw. He tries to keep calm but he just doesn’t have time to waste with this guy.

“Either works.”

“Not for me.”

“Alright, Poirot,” he bites out, “it’s my uncle’s card. Do you wanna call him in the middle of the night to check?”

Steve levels him with a hard stare.

“No, but I can ask you to leave.”

Dean pales. He feels the ground giving in underneath him.

“Jesus. Look, I don’t need this right now. I got a medical emergency. The card works, just give me the room.”

He knows he sounds distressed and as he hardens his tone and raises his voice, possibly a little scary, but he is just out of options. This is it. He doesn’t know what he can possibly do if the guy actually kicks him out of there.

The guy stays impossibly calm and that just adds to Dean’s anger.

“If you refuse to leave, I can call the police.”

“Damn it! I don’t have time for this.” he says making eye contact to try and get through to him. What is he, some kind of robot? Does he even blink? “You don’t understand. My brother is sick -”

“I could recommend another establishment three miles ahead. They are less selective with their guests. I’m sure they’ll be happy to welcome you.”

Fuck. Dean hits the counter with a fist so hard that the little bell shakes and a handful of business cards slide down from their pile. Steve doesn’t even flinch. Dean exhales heavily and tries to calm down. This isn’t doing any good.

“I can’t go any farther. Believe me, I would,” he says, matching his cold stare and trying to keep the volume of his voice in check. “My brother is outside in my car and he’s freezing to death,” he says, enunciating every word. Steve impassive façade crumbles a little. He looks suspicious, frowns and titls his head a little to the side. Dean keeps going, sensing an opening. “He can’t possibly go another mile in this snow. I can’t take him anywhere else. You gotta let me take him in.”

Steve blinks at him like he’s trying to understand if he is in fact out of his mind as he seems. “What?”

“My brother,” he repeats, still firm but now pleading, “he is soaking wet and unresponsive and I need to warm him up before he dies of hypothermia. I’m not lying, I’m begging here. I need you to do me this solid, man. And it’s gotta be now. Please,” he says, almost out of breath.

Steve searches his face with an inquisitive look for a long moment in which Dean can feel his heartbeat speed up. Then Dean sees him reach under the counter and he holds his breath. He may have a shotgun or one of those buttons that calls security or something. Instead what he holds up and slides over the counter is a room key.

“3 B” he says.

Dean exhales in relief, looks at the key, then up at him. In a second he’s grabbed it and he ran out again. The cold bites his bare arms but he’s almost at the Impala and he doesn’t care.

He opens the passenger door and lets Sam up, slinging one of his arms over his shoulders to carry him more easily.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy, come on, I need you to walk now, can you do that? We’re almost there.”

But Sam barely moves. “Sammy?” he calls again, more urgent now. “You gotta help here.”

Sam tries to take a step but his legs give out under him. “I can’t do it.” he says. “It’s too cold.”

“Course you can. The door’s just there,” Dean says, struggling to keep himself upright too.

Then he hears footsteps behind them and suddenly the weight becomes more bearable as Steve is holding Sam up from the other side.

“Come on,” he simply says, in response to Dean’s silent question. Dean sees that he doesn’t have his coat on either, he must have been right behind him. Dean nods and accepts his help.

Together they can easily lift him and get him inside. Dean leaves Steve to lower him on the bed closest to the door as he turns on the lights, checks the heater and starts a warm bath.

Then he is over Sam again, untying his boots and taking off his socks and addressing him gently but urgently to keep him talking. He feels Steve’s eyes on him the whole time, boring the side of his face. He has taken a step back and he’s watching them from the door with a thoughtful expression. Dean looks up at him and not unkindly he says: “I got it from here”.

Steve nods, catching the drift. He says “I’ll be in the office,” and slips out of the room, clicking the door shut behind his back.

Three hours later, Dean can’t sleep. He is sitting at a little table against one of the walls and he is watching over Sam, finally asleep on his stomach, clutching his pillow. He promised him he wouldn’t do that, but he can’t help it.

It took a warm bath, dry clothes, a long sesh with the hairdryer (and a half-fight about hair length), all the blankets in the room, a cup of tea – that Steve brought on his own initiative, knocking lightly on their door – two temperature check and a hundred or so questions about how he was feeling, but Dean is fairly certain that Sam is fine now.

Dean is also fine. He doesn’t feel his heart in his throat anymore. He is tired, but he can’t sleep. He will be able to really relax only when the sun will come out and Sam will wake up and he will be able to forget about all of this. If he goes to sleep now, he knows he’ll only have nightmares.

But his legs are feeling stiff and Sam’s snoring is not very entertaining, so he takes out some change from his jeans and heads out.

The jacket that he used on Sam is still hanging to dry so Dean has to make do with just an extra shirt. Thankfully the snow has let up and he is only planning on making a quick stop to the vending machine he saw outside earlier.

As he walks towards it though, his eyes are drawn to the bright light that comes from the main building across the parking lot. No one seems to be in sight but Dean now knows who’s there. And he also knows that he kinda owns him an apology.

So he pockets his change once again and takes off towards it.

As the glass door swings open and he lets a swirl of cold air inside, Steve looks up. He is sitting on a high stool behind the counter now, and has his book on his lap.

Dean greets him with a nod as the door closes behind him.

“Hey.”

“How is your brother?” Steve asks, same cold tone and deep voice.

Dean stops one foot short from the counter. “He’s gonna be fine,” he says. “Sleeping now.”

Steve nods and doesn’t offer anything else. “So,” Dean shrugs in the awkward silence, “just thought I’d come say ‘sorry’ about earlier. I’m not usually such a jerk. You really saved my ass though, so, thanks.”

Steve appraises him for a long moment and in the end he asks, “What happened to him?” again sounding a little suspicious.

“Slipped into a lake. Just an accident” Dean gets closer to the counter, and clumps his hands together on the wood, trying to make it sound like it’s not a big deal. "He’s a little clumsy."

Steve’s frown deepens. “Why didn’t you bring him to an hospital?”

“It would be a little difficult to explain.”

“What would be?”

Dean tilts his head on one side and sighs. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you and you wouldn’t even wanna know, trust me.”

Steve doesn’t seem like he trusts him even one bit. In fact, he doesn’t seem to appreciate at all his evasive answers.

“If it makes you feel any better, we’re not bad guys.” Dean adds, going for charming, trying to melt the ice a little.

Steve still looks at him unimpressed. “That is exactly what a bad guy would say.”

And somehow the stark contrast between what he said and the way he said it makes it sound funny even if Steve didn’t intend to. Dean lets out a laugh and seeing him throwing his head back, one corner of Steve’s mouth tilts upwards ever so slightly.

The air around them lightens up a little and for the first time Dean takes in Steve’s mussed hair and broad shoulders, his strong arms, his tights trapped in his jeans. Dean realizes he may have checked him out a little too obviously when his eyes snap up and unsurprisingly he’s being stared at. He covers up his embarrassment asking: “So, whatcha reading?”

But Steve doesn’t seem in the mood to indulge his curiosity. He ignores his question and stands up to stop right in front of him. Despite the counter between them the guy is suddenly at a distance that Dean would deem a little too close for comfort for a stranger, and from where he finds himself now, he is forced to look up at him a little. But there’s a challenge in the way he confidently entered his personal space and Dean is not going to be the one who backs down.

Steve keeps eye contact as he takes something from under the counter and drops it in the space between his arms, right behind his clasped hands. Dean looks down: it’s his wallet.

“You forgot your personal effects.”

The wallet is closed and the credit card and ID have been put back inside, meaning that with every probability Steve has seen all the other stolen credit cards.

Dean is taken off guard but he’s determined to not give him the satisfaction of seeing him bothered, so he doesn’t move, says nothing and keeps challenging his gaze. Steve has an unreadable expression on his face, but judging from the lack of sirens swarming the place he hasn’t called the police. At least, not yet. He is staring at him as if he’s trying to see inside of him and from that distance, the intensity of his blue eyes make Dean’s skin tingle.

“I charged the room to your uncle,” Steve speaks again. "One of your many uncles apparently.”

Dean does his best not show how uneasy he feels.

He grins: "Guess you're not very familiar with the concept of privacy," he mutters, sliding his wallet in his back pocket.

"And you must be very familiar with the concept of theft."

"Hey, that's a very offensive assumption."

"Just an observation."

"Alright, then why haven't you called the police?"

He knows that he’s pushing his luck, this guy could make a phone call right away if Dean pisses him off. But there’s something that tells him that he won’t. He leans more heavily against the counter and the distance between them shortens still. He briefly licks his lips and grins cheekily up at him.

"You can say it's cause I'm handsome," he adds, teasing, breaking the silence.

Steve recedes of a few steps. "Your brother needed help," he says plainly, resuming his position on the stool, “I wanted to help.”

“And I appreciate that. Is there something I can do to repay you?”

Steve frowns. “I don’t want anything.”

“Oh, come on, we are friends now.”

Steve stays silent.

“Alright,” Dean grins. “Then allow me to give you a piece of advice. If you wanna be successful in this business, you really need to cut it out with the third degree. Cause, one,” he says, holding up a finger, “no one likes a busybody. And two,” he holds up another, “people coming to places like this expect the situation to be a little more chill when it comes to paperwork and whatnot. They aren’t gonna appreciate you playing the Spanish Inquisition with them, you know what I mean?”

“I just want the guests to be safe. I’m not going to endanger them letting just anyone walk in.”

“You made an exception for me,” Dean says, and it’s meant to be playful but it hangs heavy in the air.

Steve doesn’t break eye contact as he says “I did,” like he’s asking him not to make him regret his decision. If Dean had a collar now it would be a good time to tug at it. Man, the guy can be a scary son of a bitch with those eyes and all.

“Well, as I said, I’m not here to endanger anybody,” he says, rolling his eyes. "Alright, look, I can answer some more question if it’ll make you feel better.”

“And you’re going to answer truthfully?”

“Yeah.”

Dean starts to relax as he sees Steve’s face lights up with curiosity and for the first time since they met it’s the kind that it’s not suspicious, just genuinely interested. Then with a hint of saracasm, Steve asks, “Why are you here?”

“Working.”

“You and your brother are in the same line of business?”

“Yeah.”

“Which is?”

Dean stays silent, looks down at his hands, smirking slightly.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Let me guess. You’re not going to tell me because I wouldn’t understand nor wanna know.”

“Well, it’s true.” Dean shrugs in his defence. “But, it’s not what you think.”

Steve doesn’t press further but says, “He is your little brother, right?” Dean frowns a little and Steve adds, gentle: “You seemed very caring.”

“Yeah, well, it’s just us. We look out for each other.” He clears his throat. Steve must sense his uneasiness because he lets this one drop as well.

"Is your car stolen?" Steve asks then, out of the blue.

"What? No!” exclaims Dean, shifting on the spot. “That’s my baby. We’ve been together forever." He sounds outraged and Steve seems amused by it. “It’s a family car,” he grumbles, settling down.

“Do you carry a gun?”

Dean opens his mouth but no lie comes out of it. He gives him an apologetic look. "Generally, yeah."

Steve looks at him sternly. “Did you have one on you when came in the first time?”

“No, Jesus, who do you think I am?”

“I don’t know. You won’t tell me.”

Dean sighs and then plasters a big grin on his face. “My name is Dean Winchester, I’m from Lawrence, Kansas and I’m a Sagittarious. That’s it, really, it’s all there is to know.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Steve says but he has his lips stretched in a half smile and Dean is gonna take it as a win. “But it’s nice to finally know your name, Dean.”

Hearing him say his name makes Dean’s heart strangely flutter for a second. “So, you satisfied?”

Steve lifts a shoulder. He seems to have relaxed as well.

Silence falls then and fills up the space all around them. There’s only the tired whirring of the computer informing them that it’s still alive and kicking and the hands on the wall clock that ticks away the night.

Dean doesn’t like the bright light, it makes the place look like the reception of a corporate office but he likes the way it smells, sweet, sugary, almost like – candy? It’s nice and Dean doesn’t want to go back to his room just yet.

He looks over his shoulder at the rest of the space, the heavy carpet at his feet, the fake plant in a corner, and his eyes linger on the pamphlet rack on the far end of the counter, stacked with local spring events brochures and hiking trails maps. He picks one up and gives it a once over.

“I heard about the missing people. Pretty freaky, uh?” he says, casually. “Did you know any of them? Heard they were mostly locals.”

“No. I- I moved here recently.”

The hesitation catches Dean’s attention. “Hm.” he puts the map back on the rack and focuses on Steve again. “From where?”

“New York,” he replies, a little reluctantly, and that picks up Dean’s interest even more.

Dean whistles and settles once again with his elbows on the counter. “Must be one hell of a change.”

“It’s quieter.”

“Got family here?”

“Just my brother, Gabriel, that moved when I did. My other siblings stayed in New York.”

“So, how did you end up here, then?”

Steve sighs and shakes his head. “It’s a long story.”

“Got all night.” Dean shrugs, then still sensing resistance he insists. “Hey, I answered your questions. Seems only fair you do the same.”

“If you call those ‘answers’,” he retorts actually air quoting and it makes Dean huff a laugh. He is starting to really like the guy. He’s kind of dorky but he’s cute and Dean is not sure if he’s ever felt more at ease with someone he just met than he does with him right now.

After another moment, Steve speaks again. “When Gabriel and I left New York, we went on a road trip. We were passing through and had a room here. The place was in shambles; but for some reason, Gabriel fell in love with it and, just - bought it. I guess he saw the potential in it.” he recounts. A fond smile blossoms on his lips. “He can be – very impulsive.”

“So you got stuck.”

Steve shakes his head. “We invested in it together. I was happy to stay.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen, I think you did a bang up job with the place,” he says, “Might even see myself sticking around for a couple more days. If something interesting to do comes up,” he says and grins suggestively.

But Steve frowns. “I’m afraid there’s not much to do around here. They closed all the hiking trails because of the missing people,” he says thoughtfully, completely unreceptive of Dean’s flirtation.

Dean rolls his eyes a little. “Right.”

“It’s better to visit during the summer. They even have concerts up on the mountains. They come from all over the world to see them.” he says and his voice gets a dreamy tone. “You get to meet all kinds of people.”

“Sounds nice.” he clicks is tongue and tries again. “So you brother is the owner, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why is the place basically about you?”

Steve squints at him, confused. “How do you mean?”

“You know,” Dean grins and wiggles his eyebrows, “an angel.” Steve scoffs surprised and shakes his head as if he’s embarrassed to hear that, but Dean keeps going, “Helping me out even thought I didn’t deserve it. Trusting me. Giving me a chance when anyone else would have thrown me out,” he even throws in a wink.

“I would have never left someone to die out in the cold,” he says, but his cheeks are pinkier than they were a moment ago.

Dean gives him another of his patented dumb grins. “See? An angel in the flash right there,” he jokes and he even makes a show of ringing the little bell . “This must be the real deal. I mean, I rang for an angel and you showed up, didn’t you?”

Steve shakes his head again.

Dean leans over on the counter and lowers his voice. “Hey, you know what they say about freckles?”

“I don’t?” Steve says, surprised by the question. His gaze is drawn to the freckles all over his face and Dean feels his skin heat up.

“Well, you should look it up and let me know what you think then.”

They share a smile. The air gets charged and Dean gets a little dizzy. He bites his lower lip as his eyes follow the lines on Steve’s face, from his brow, his nose, his chin, along the line of his jaw covered in stubble and down his strong neck. Dean realizes he is shamelessly staring again.

With an almost involuntary intake of breath, he raps his knuckles on the wood. “Alright, uh, I should probably go check on my brother now.”

Steve nods, blinking rapidly, and he seems a little shaken too.

"And I should get ready to leave. My shift is almost over."

“Okay.”

Dean pulls back. “See you later, Steve,” he says, but all he receives is a confused look back.

“My name is not Steve.”

“Uh? Your vest says it is.”

“Oh,” he says, looking down at his clothes as if he only now remembers that he’s wearing them, “this isn’t mine. I’m just filling for someone else.”

Dean makes a pleasantly surprised sound. “Well, well, looks like I’m not the only one with a concealed identity after all.”

Not-Steve quirks his lips and says: “My name is Castiel.”

“Castiel." repeats Dean and he likes the way the name rings in his mouth new and unfamiliar. "Wait, so you’re saying you don’t work here?”

“No,” he says, “well, not usually. Only if they need me.”

“You know if they’ll need you tomorrow?” Cause I was kinda hoping to see you again, he doesn’t add, but Castiel must hear it anyway because he slighly blushes again.

“I have a shift at the library. Actually I should be opening in a couple of hours,” he pauses throwing a look at the wall clock, but then adds. “But maybe I can ask if Steve needs another night shift covered.”

Dean flashes his teeth. “Awesome.” then he eyes the clock above the counter too and sees that it’s five past seven already. He hasn’t notice because it’s still dark outside.

He makes a sympathetic face. “You are going straight to work after this? No hours of sleep?”

Castiel shrugs, “I’ll manage,” he says, but he hasn’t time to add anything else cause someone pushes open the glass door behind Dean and with a way too cheerful voice for that hour of the day exclaims: “I’ve got the kielbasa you ordered!”

A short blond guy comes in, carrying a big box that Dean instantly knows contains at least a dozen glazed donuts, and he can tell because his sense of smell when it comes to delicious food has never failed him. He feels his mouth watering and his stomach grumbles.

The guy says loudly and obnoxiously, “Good morning everyone!”

“Hello, Gabriel.” Castiel greets him.

“Cassie, what are you doing still here? I told you, you could leave early. You’re gonna be late for work.”

Castiel looks at Dean and then back at his brother, “I was with a guest.”

Gabriel follows the trajectory of his gaze and wiggles his eyebrows in an unsettling way, if you ask Dean.

“I see” he says, with a deep theatrical voice.

He rounds the counter and opens the box, angling it toward Castiel so that he can grab a napkin and a donut. Dean almost shouts “Ha!” as he discovers his predictions were correct. Those donuts look as delicious as they smell, and he can’t take his eyes off of them. He catches Castiel giving Gabriel an insistent look that prompts him to say, with a sight: “And does the gentlemen here have breakfast included, by any chance?”

“Yes,” Castiel says and Dean could kiss him right then if it wasn’t for the counter between them.

Gabriel rolls his eyes and open the big box to let Dean select a donut.

“And one for my brother,” he says, quickly snatching another before the lid closes on his fingers.

“Fine, two donuts! But now shoo Romeo, or Juliet here is gonna be late, and I’m the one they’re gonna blame,” he says, disappearing in the backroom.

Castiel wraps his donut in the napkin while Dean dives in unceremoniously on his. He watches as Castiel slips off his vest from his shoulders and starts gathering his things going in and out the backroom.

Then the glass door opens again and a petite dark haired woman walks in. She is dressed in all black and she’s sporting a pair of big dark sunglasses even if the sun is barely out.

She stops in her tracks as soon as she sees Dean. “Morning,” she drawls in a melodic voice, eyeing him up and down. Dean is on his second donut. Sam can’t miss what he never knew he had, after all.

He gives her a courteous quick nod, not bothering to cover his mouth full and the sugar all over his lips.

“Morning, Meg,” says Castiel behind him, and her attention shifts.

“Clarence, what are you doing still here?” she asks with the same phlegm, but Dean can sense a little exasperation as well, as if it’s something she often directs at him, “don’t tell me Gabriel is late again,” she is saying as she joins Castiel behind the counter.

“No, I was just about to go.”

She slides her sunglasses on her nose to look from Castiel to Dean and she keeps her eyes on him as she passes behind Castiel, making a show of trailing his shoulders with her fingertips. “Well, have a good day then, dear.” She says sweetly, disappearing in the backroom.

Castiel presses his lips together and gives Dean a somewhat apologetic look.

“She is a friend. And the bookkeeper,” he explains.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Yeah well, you know what they say about people who wear sunglasses inside.”

Castiel looks at him confused.

“I don’t.”

Dean stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Forget it, another time, looks like you’re late already.”

Castiel’s eyes widen, “Right,” he says, as if he’d forgotten again that he was supposed to leave.

Dean downs the last piece of donut and eyes the coffee machine in the corner.

“Hey, coffee is free, right?”

Castiel throws a “Yes,” over his shoulder as he disappears once again into the backroom.

He remerges a moment later wearing a tan winter jacket and a wool beanie while Dean is still trying to figure out which damn button to press. Shouldn’t latest models be simpler? He turns back to Castiel who’s shouldering his backpack.

“How the hell does this work?”

Castiel huffs a laugh, grabs his car keys and goes to stand next to him. He quickly flips a switch, puts in place a paper cup and fiddles with the commands on the touch screen; the machine starts whirring. Dean realizes that they’re on the same side of the room for the first time in the whole night, if they don’t count the rescue mission for Sam. They are both looking at the coffee that is now filling the cup but Dean can’t help sneaking a glance at his profile, his straight nose and pink lips. He smells of some kind of sweet herbal tea and fresh snow, and Dean is inexplicably drawn to it.

The machine whirrs to a stop and starts beeping.

“Here you go,” Steve says, his voice low, and their fingers brush on the warm cup as he hands it to Dean. “Sugar?” he asks, now almost in a whisper.

Dean just shakes his head as if enchanted, and he kind of feels like he is, especially when Castiel smiles at him. It’s a pressing of lips but it reaches his eyes.

“I have to go.”

“Yeah.”

They both take a step back from each other like something just dropped at their feet and Dean realizes they were standing far too close than he thought. Suddenly, unprotected by the counter, he feels a little weird and seems like Castiel is feeling awkward as well.

He walks around him maintaining the distance, almost advancing on the side like a grab.

“Bye then.”

Dean nods and gives him an embarrassed wave.

Castiel hesitates with a gloved hand on the handle. He looks back at him.

“I’ll see you later?”

“Not going anywhere,” smiles Dean.

Castiel quickly turns around once again, and this time he pushes open the door and exits but Dean’s pretty sure he saw a smile on his lips.

He drinks his coffee and watches him as he walks towards his car. Then he loses him from his sight as someone in the room calls his attention back.

It’s Meg. She’s glaring at him, pointing at what Dean assumes are the donut crumbs that he left all over the counter. “How would you call this?”

She looks at him with her eyebrows raised, as she expects him to apologize but Dean goes towards the door and cheekily says: “A five stars breakfast. Thank you.”

Meg mutters something after him but he’s already out of the door and he can’t hear her.

Sam is still sound asleep when he goes back to their room. As the sun rises all the worries of the night before have disappeared. His encounter with Castiel has filled him with a lightness he can’t explain. He thinks it’s mostly sleep deprivation.

He takes a shower and when he gets out, he’s still feeling it. When Sam gets up, and he’s got glassy eyes, a nasty cough and a runny nose, and Dean argues with him to make it stay in bed – uselessly – but after that, he’s still feeling it. He even catches a nap as Sam showers and resumes his restless tapping on his laptop. And when he wakes up, he’s still feeling it.

Sam notices that there’s something different with him, because he keeps calling him back to reality, snapping his fingers and looking at him all weird as they plan what to do with the vetalas.

Dean insists Sam takes it easy and stays in for the rest of the morning – he complies, not without putting up a fight - while he drives back to the hiking trail. They fear the vetalas might have attacked again while they’ve been away, but there are no signs of them anywhere.

Which is still bad. If the vetalas skipped town they’re back at square one, and can only wait for their next attack, which could be anywhere, in a day or in a month from now.

But maybe they’re just staying low for a few days, thinking Sam and Dean will move on. Sam is really bummed out when they talk about it but Dean doesn’t think it would be too bad to stay around a few days more.

He gets back around noon to pick Sam up and go get something to eat. As they drive around Dean gets a chance to take a look at the town, the little shops, the tidy sidewalks, the nice little houses with their nice little gardens. “Hey, this place’s not so bad, uh?” he says.

Sam looks up from his tablet. “What?” he asks, like he was not paying attention. He sneezes. “Dean, we need to decide what to do,” he says then, but Dean is distracted by the tall building with the stone step they’re passing by. Hanging on the wall outside there’s a brass plaque that says Library.

“Uh?”

“Dean, are you okay? Have you, like, slept enough?”

Dean finally turns towards him, flashes him a smile. “You know what I think? I think we should look at some books,” he says, like he’s had a revelation.

“What?” Sam seems even more confused.

“Yeah, you know, get to know more about the local history, see if we can spot a pattern. Maybe these vetalas have been around for years. We should check for robberies gone bad too. I’m just saying,” he raises his eyebrows. “books always served us good.”

Sam opens his mouth but Dean cuts him off before he can retort.

“Let’s do this way. I’m gonna go to the library, okay? Do some digging. And I’ll see you back at the motel tonight and we’ll see what we got.”

“What? Tonight? Are you out of your mind?”

“Yeah, man, you know I’m a slow reader.”

“Seriously? You’re a faster reader than I am.” Sam is one bitch face away from losing his temper. He exhales, then says: “Dean, what’s going on?”

Dean rolls his eyes, but then he can’t restrain a smile, especially with Sam’s eyes that nags him to talk.

“Alright,” he concedes. He feels a blush rising on his cheeks and he keeps his eyes on the road to avoid looking at Sam. “There’s this guy – you know, the one back at the motel that helped us out last night.”

“Yeah?”

“He works at the library. Just thought I’d pay him a visit, that’s all.”

“And why would you - ” Sam cuts himself off and silence falls upon them. Sam clicks his tongue. “Unbelievable.”

So they decide over lunch that Sam is gonna drop him off at the library so that Dean can check the archives to see if there’s been attacks on different hiking trails in the area, see if they’ve got another habitual spot they might have switched to. Dean is paying for their lunch when on a whim also pays for a coffee to go.

Sam raises his eyebrows when he sees the coffee in Dean’s hand but thankfully he doesn’t comment on it. He assures him that he will keep his distance from lakes and other body of waters as he carries his own research, asking questions in tourist points in the nearby towns where hiking trails start and end.

The library is a small edifice of just a couple of rooms one after the other and Dean sees Castiel right away, behind the circular desk at the entrance. He is wearing a thick blue sweater, with a zipper down the front and snowflakes across his chest. It looks soft and warm and Dean wonders would it would feel like to press his face against it and how it would smell like, most likely of candy, fresh snow and herbal tea. Then he tells himself to get a grip because he is feeling way too happy to see someone he met less than a day ago.

Castiel is turned mostly away from the door and he is busy with a visitor so he doesn’t spot him right away. Dean hovers around the entrance, takes a peek at the newspaper rack by the door, until he sees the visitor passing him by towards the exit.

Castiel looks his way as he’s approaching him. He freezes in spot and Dean gets to see his eyes widen and his lips parting in surprise.

“Dean,” he says in a breath.

Dean flashes him a big smile. “That’s me.” He gets closer and confidently slips the coffee towards him. “Brought you coffee. For helping with Sammy and – not calling the police, I guess,” he says.

Castiel stares at the coffee and looks up at him again and Dean realizes. Castiel does look surprised – but not happily surprised. His gaze on him is intense and makes him shift on the spot.

Dean’s smile dims. Maybe he made a mistake, maybe he got it all wrong. Maybe it was all sleep deprived induced fantasy he entertained himself with? He tries to see it from Castiel’s perspective. He is a man who showed up in his motel in the middle of the night with a half dead brother offering no justifiable explanation, someone who then hanged around him till morning, flirted heavily with him and then followed him to his workplace. Okay, it sounds pretty bad put like that.

He tries to salvage his dignity, but he knows he looks as uneasy as he sounds when he says: “I’m not a stalker or anything,” he fakes a chuckle. “I didn’t come here just to hand you a coffee. That’d be crazy. Turns out I – I actually need some books.”

Castiel finally blinks and seems to deflate a little, looking relieved as he says “Oh,” and “of course. Right.” he even gives him a small smile. “You are in the right place,” he says awkwardly.

“Yeah” Dean takes a breath. Better cut this short. “So, can you point me to the local history section?”

Castiel doesn’t ask what he needs it for and gives him direction in a professional and practised voice. Dean’s got a knot in his stomach but still fakes a smile and says “Great. Thanks, Cas.”

He catches his eyes once again and he feels unable to move and unable to say anything and he suddenly feels like the heating is set on a little too high for him, still in his jacket.

Dean wonders how pathetic would be if he walked out of there saying “Let’s just pretend I never came in here.” Maybe it’s too late for that, but he needs to let him know that he’ll stay away, cause he caught the drift.

He says “Look - ” and at the same time he hears “Dean?”

Castiel precedes him in saying: “You first.”

“Uh, I was just gonna say that me and my brother are probably leaving town tonight, so – just – wanted to let you know in case you take that shift off of Steve.”

“And I wanted to tell you that I spoke to Steve and he needs the shift tonight, so – I wasn’t gonna make it either.”

“Yeah, okay,” it’s all Dean manages to say, already halfway turned to walk away.

“And thank you for the coffee. You didn’t have to,” adds Castiel quickly, as if only now remembering his manners.

“Yeah, no, sure Cas,” says Dean, and then ducks his head and makes his way to the local history section without looking back. He chooses the farthest table from the entrance and buries himself in old newspapers and doesn’t think at who’s only a couple of rooms away and the burning knot of disappointment in the middle of his chest.

A couple of hours later Dean has got absolutely nothing. Sam texted and he seems to have reached the same conclusion. A complete waste of time.

As he passes through the entrance to exit the library, his eyes dart to Castiel’s station but there’s someone else in his place. Dean doesn’t bother looking around to say goodbye, just takes the door.

The sun has already set and the temperatures have dropped significantly again. Dean is not in a great mood. He can’t wait to finish this job and get out of there and forget all about this town and this cold and those stupid vetalas.

More annoyed he is at the thing in his chest that since that afternoon has never dissolved. Whatever. He’ll never see him again and it’s not like it’s the first time that Dean’s been rejected.

Sam is waiting for him at the bottom of the stone steps. He is still wearing his FBI suit and his heavy coat and scarf but he’s got his hands buried in his pocket and his shoulder drawn together as if he’s still cold. As Dean approaches him he coughs a few time and Dean’s irritation for that case flares up again.

They talk again about how they don’t have jack squat.

Sam tells him in so many words that if the vetalas don’t show up soon they might as well move on. He says it tentatively and he seems taken aback when Dean agrees right away. “No reason to stay around,” he grumbles as they reach the Impala.

Sam opens his mouth to say something but he’s interrupted by a loud sound from an alley not far from where they are.

They stop, and stay alert, ears on. Another sound, then a muffled scream.

Sam draws out the gun from his inside pocket and moves quickly on the sidewalk towards the noise. Dean takes out the silver blades he got hidden in his right boot.

They move in synch and stealthily reach the alley. Just a look is enough to recognize the vetalas even with their back turned, the blonde woman that had thrown Sam into the lake and the young guy that had attacked Dean. They’ve got someone pinned against the wall and the man is whimpering and imploring them to let him go.

Sam shouts “Hey!” to catch their attention and as one of them turns around he shoots her in the chest. It does nothing to her except pissing her off, but Sam gets what he wanted, she hisses and lets go of the man to go after him.

That’s when Dean is able to see him clearly. That man is Castiel.

He sprints into action, white hot rage pumping in his veins and he wastes no time to grab the other vetala by the shoulders and rip him off of him.

Castiel’s eyes are wide and terrified. He looks in disbelief as the creature turns to growl and launch himself at Dean.

Dean shouts “Go! Run!” but he seems to be frozen in place, pressed against the wall.

Taking advantage of the distraction, the vetala hits him and he loses his balance, falls on the ground. He recovers quickly, rolls on his back and gets back up again just in time to tackle the vetala. They roll around punching and kicking each other until Dean finds himself pinned down, his knife trapped under his back.

He struggles to shake him off with one hand while with the other he tries to reach for the blade. The creature opens his mouth and he’s about to sink his fangs in his neck when Dean squeezing his eyes and pushing with everything he’s got, gets them to roll once again. The vetala is on his back, the blade now visible next to it. Dean quickly snatches it from the ground and buries it in his heart.

The vetala growls one last time as Dean twists the blade inside him and pushes himself up to watch the body whiter and crumble under his eyes.

He breathes heavily and looks back at Sam, who’s doing the same, catching his breath with a crumbled body at his feet. He meets his eyes and they nod briefly at each other, to let the other know that they’re alright.

Then Sam’s gaze flies somewhere behind his back and something twists in Dean’s stomach as he remembers that Castiel is still there, his body against the wall and his eyes frantically going from the crumpled bodies of the vetalas on the ground to Sam and Dean and back again.

“Hey, you alright?” Dean asks, shortening the distance.

“They had – fangs,” he says more to himself than to him, as if he’s still processing what he saw.

“You hear any ringing?” Dean asks, loud and worried, trying to catch his eyes.

Castiel lifts his gaze to look at him as he’s asking absurd questions.

“No.”

Only then Dean relaxes and looks back at Sam. “No venom.”

Castiel’s mouth is still hanging open: “Venom? Dean, what -?”

Hearing him speak his brother’s name, Sam’s gaze travels between the two of them and a look of understanding crosses his face. He takes a step towards him, and goes into his comfort-victim mode.

“It’s Cas, right?” he asks and Castiel’s wide eyes set on him as he nods. “Those were vetalas. They are creatures that poison humans and feed on them.”

Castiel scoffs. “Wha- how can there be such things?”

Sam shrugs. “There are all sorts of things.”

Castiel blinks as his world seems to be rearranging in front of his eyes.

“How did you - ” he looks between them. “How did you know they were here?”

“We didn’t. We were actually trying to track them; they must have followed us.” Sam says.

“You were tracking them?” he is in disbelief. “Why?”

“It’s our job,” chimes in Dean slipping the blade in his jacket. “We kill ‘em.”

Castiel looks at him and he’s silent for a long moment. Dean fights the urge of looking down, wondering what does he think of him now. Has this made his opinion of him even worse? In addition of being a stalker, does he now think he’s a killer and that he’s made a mistake trusting him with that key?

But Castiel just looks thoughful and in the end he just says, “You told me there were things I wouldn’t believe nor wanna know about. You were telling the truth.”

It’s not a question but Dean nods anyway and sighs in relief.

“You’re safe now.” he says and tries to lighten the mood. “So, can you stop going full Spanish Inquisition on us?”

Castiel seems to lose the last bit of tension he had left and exchanges it for a spark of annoyance and a challenging tone. “Well, I was about to die, the least you could give me is an explanation. What kind of job is that?”

Dean huffs a laugh. “That’s fair. Come on, we’ll give you a lift and fill you in. Where you headed?”

So they pile in the Impala while Sam gives their usual “hunters fighting monsters” speech. Castiel takes it fairly well. Or, at least, doesn’t start screaming or anything. He seems to have recovered from the attack fairly quickly too. Dean, on the other hand, feels weird with him in the backseat. Seeing him in the rear view mirror makes him nervous and smiley at the same time. Sam must sense that his unusual quietness means that something’s not right with him because he keeps sneaking glances his way.

But the whole thing at the library still burns and it’s made pretty clear what was what.

“It’s right up here.” Castiel says after not even five minutes on the road. “I told you there was no need to take the car.”

“Nonsense, you’ve just been attacked and it’s freezing.”

“Well, then. Thank you.” He says as the car rolls to a stop in front of a little house. It’s too dark to see it properly but under the snow, the front garden seems a little unkempt and there’s still a string of unlit Christmas lights with one end dangling from the gutter. Dean thinks it’s kinda cute.

Castiel pauses with one hand on the handle. “Are you leaving right away?”

Dean swallows. “I guess.”

“Oh,” Castiel hesitates, “so this is goodbye?”

Dean’s gaze darts towards Sam next to him. His brother shifts in his seat but doesn’t offer any lifelines.

“Yeah,” he breathes out.

Castiel meets Dean’s eyes in the rear view mirror and looks torn, like he’s about to say something. Then he seems to think better of it and just nods briefly. “Well, then, stay safe. And again: thank you. Both of you.” And with that, he gets out and walks away.

Dean doesn’t know what to do. He stares intensely at his hands on the steering wheel, with a sensation of wrong in his stomach. Every second is too long and not long enough to decide. Sam doesn’t ask what they’re still doing there, even if Dean killed the engine and it’s starting to get cold in the car.

But then quietly, with the corner of his mouth, he says: “He’s almost at the door.”

“Shut up,” Dean says, already reaching for the handle.

He walks quickly towards him, slipping a little on the snow covered grass.

“Cas,” Dean calls and he stops, looking curiously over his shoulder. Dean’s resolve falters, so he starts by saying, “Hey, mh, just wanna make sure you are okay.”

Castiel nods. “I’m fine, I guess I’ll need some time, but I’m fine.”

“Alright, well, I thought I’d give you my number, just in case uh -”

“Something else decides to attack me?”

Dean huffs a nervous laugh and looks at him. “Yeah. No. I mean, I don’t know, maybe you wanted to talk. Later.”

“I thought you were leaving.”

“Yeah, I was - I am. I am leaving. I mean unless…” Dean swallows, and just gives him a look that hopes it’s enough to finish his sentence for him.

But Castiel frowns and says “Dean?” and Dean doesn’t mean to be hopeful but he says it like he’s said it a million times before, like they’ve known each other for a lifetime and he only ever spoke this word to call him. Castiel squints and tilts his head to one side, “I don’t understand.”

Dean wants to laugh; they are so bad at this.

He steps closer. His fingertips are tingly with cold as he grabs the lapels of Castiel’s jacket and gently pulls him towards him. Castiel lets him. Lets Dean get so close that their lips touch. Dean kisses him slowly, sweetly. His lips are cold but soft and so close to him Dean can smell all the wonderful things he knew he smelled of. He pulls back to finally say: “I know I shouldn’t have shown up at the library today. I freaked you out, I didn’t mean to.”

Castiel seems windswept. His eyes are wide, his lips and cheeks bright pink. He cuts him off, shaking his head. “No, no, it was me. You took me by surprise and I wasn’t sure what to make of last night. This whole thing has been – weird.”

Dean smiles and leans closer once again to make their nose touch for a second.

“Am I making myself clear, now?” he whispers and Castiel smiles.

Dean feels ten pounds lighter all of the sudden. He lets him go, widens his arms, “Alright, then. Should we make it right? I can come pick you up in a couple of hours and we’ll go grab a bite or something.”

Castiel shifts on the spot, looks back at the dark windows of his house then turns again.

“Why don’t you just – come in now?” he asks hesitantly.

Dean’s mouth hangs open for a few seconds, then he beams up at him, nodding vigorously.

“Yeah. Or I could – do just that. Yeah. Sounds great. Just, uh, give me a sec.” he says and before Castiel can say anything else he goes back to the Impala to open the driver’s door.

“So, change of plans. You can go back to the motel, I’ll stay here.”

Sam’s eyebrows skyrocket on his forehead. “Are we staying another night?” he huffs a laugh.

Dean shrugs. “Sorry, Sammy. He is - ” he feels himself blushing, “I just gotta stay.”

Sam laughs again and slips in front of the steering wheel with an amused sigh. “Whatever. Don’t know what he did to you but as long as you’re sure he’s not a witch.”

“Nah, he’s an angel.” Dean says and that reminds him of something.

He ignores the way Sam rolls his eyes when he says Good night, Sammy and he goes back to Castiel who’s waiting for him.

“Hey” he says as they walk towards the door, “did you look up then, what I said about freckles?”

“Yes, and it was really cheesy. Like, very low level cheesy.”

“You liked it.” he teases, bumping his shoulder against Castiel’s. “I bet it made you blush and all.”

Castiel looks upwards in a matter than suggests annoyance, but he is pressing his lips together as if he’s keeping a smile at bay.

Dean’s heart makes a summersault. Man, whatever this is, must be powerful stuff.

Dean comes back two weeks after they finally leave town and three weeks after that.

And then he just keeps coming back.

Suddenly it’s spring.

And Dean mows Castiel’ lawn and they go out with Meg and he gets so drunk that Castiel has to drive them home and Dean keeps nuzzling his neck and jaw, making it difficult for him to walk to the door and later in bed he whispers in his ear things he never thought he’d say to anyone like “I missed you” and “I think about you all the time” and the morning after he doesn’t even freak out cause Castiel said it back and it’s all fine.

So he keeps coming back.

And then comes the summer and Castiel takes a few days off from work and drags him up to a hiking trail but it takes them all day because Dean keeps stopping at all the perfect trees to snog against – and that’s every tree. And in the end they are sweaty and sticky and Dean’s body hurts all over and would take a nest of vamps any day over something like this, but the way Castiel smiles in the summer sunset makes it worth it. He snaps a selfie and sends it to Sam and Eileen and his brother writes back glad to see you happy. give cas my love.

And then Cas’ posh corporate dick sister Naomi shows up unexpectated one night and tries to convince Castiel to go back to New York with her. Dean hates her the moment she steps in with a face like she’s coming down from Heaven to set her rich foot on the smelly Earth, and she very clearly despises Dean’s everything, judging by the way her eyes slide over the room and stop on him when she tells Cas, “Look what you’ve become”. And Castiel throws her out shortly after that but Dean understands that even if he doesn’t regret it and Gabriel too calls to say, “So what? The witch is dead, good riddance!”, Castiel is still feeling like shit. So he curls up on the couch with him and when Castiel whispers “I’m sorry for that,” Dean holds him tighter and when he hears him sniffle quietly Dean says, “It’s okay. I’m here,” and strokes his back until he falls asleep.

And Dean keeps coming back.

Soon it’s fall and when Dean gets there he finds Castiel in the little garage attached to the house looking for the leaf blower among the clutter. It’s the first time he sees the space and he is assaulted by the thought that his Impala would easily fit in there, next to Castiel’s car. He doesn’t dare mention it but the thought nags at him all weekend.

And on his last morning, Castiel pretends he doesn’t hear the alarm going off, keeps his arm tight around him and looks sad when he hands him his cup of coffee for the road. Later he texts him it’s getting harder and Dean’s chest fills with rocks because he knows exactly what he means.

It’s getting harder.

One time when he’s walking to pick up Castiel from work to go out to dinner together, his phone pings and it’s a text from Sam saying Dean, you know I wouldn’t bother you if something something case something something we need you. can you?

He puts it back in his pocket right as Castiel comes out of the heavy doors and happily bounces down the stairs asking “How was your journey?”. He is about to lean in to peck his lips like he always does when he takes in his expression and pulls back, asks what’s wrong.

“I gotta go,” Dean says and he sounds miserable to his own ears.

Castiel face falls and Dean hates himself. But Castiel straightens up, presses his lips together and nods. He says “I understand.”

It’s getting harder.

One time, on the bathroom tiles of a smelly motel, Dean is grinding his teeth, trying not to scream as Sam sews a gash on his leg.

His brother looks up at him, his hands bloody, his forehead covered in sweat. They don’t have any booze left, and Sam was never the best of them in that kind of things.

“Don’t look this way, think of something else,” he pants.

And Dean closes his eyes and focuses very hard on the weight of Castiel’s hand in his, on the familiar smell of his couch and on his voice the last time he picked up the phone and said “Hello, Dean.” He focuses on the silhouette of his shoulder against the light of the sunrise when Dean wakes up before him. He focuses on the sound of Sam’s laugh that time he’d seen him wearing an apron at Castiel’s and then they all went down to that weird spring event and Sam had won a salt and pepper set with little bees on them and how it’s now sitting in Castiel’s cabinet. He tries to pretend to be in his kitchen, with Castiel in the other room calling his name and telling him to turn down the radio. He thinks about those things and soon a wound is closed but another is open.

It’s getting harder.

One time he calls Castiel after being tied to a chair and tortured for five hours. He is limping out of the warehouse, holding his phone against a bloodied ear and Castiel replies on the first ring. There’s music in the background and Castiel’s got a cheerful tone when he says, "Don’t tell me you’re here already. The potatoes still have fifteen minutes to go."

And Dean’s heart breaks as he tells him that he won’t be able to make it. On the other end, he hears just music for a while and when Castiel speaks again he just says “I understand.” But he sounds disappointed and Dean feels like shit.

It’s getting harder.

Still, he keeps coming back.

And it’s winter again and the front garden is covered in snow. Dean lets himself in with his spare key knowing that Castiel is still at work and toes off his boots at the entrance. He places the wrapped boxes he brought under the little Christmas tree that Castiel has left up for him even if the holidays have already come and gone. He turns on the radio and starts their dinner. A few hours later, as he hears the keys turning into the lock and he’s filled with anticipation, he realizes, not as a surprise but more as a confirmation, that he doesn’t want to leave anymore.

They eat on the couch in front of the tv, their plates balanced on their laps, one of Castiel socked feet bumping lightly against Dean’s calf.

The commercials start playing and Castiel is telling him a funny story about Gabriel when Dean puts his plate down.

“Cas,” he says, “I was thinking I could stay a little longer next time.”

Castiel gives his calf a little kick. “The whole week?” he asks, and sounds hopeful.

“Uh, was thinking, maybe more than that. I mean, if it’s all right with you, I -”

Castiel doesn’t let him finish. He puts his own plate down and surges forward to kiss him.

Dean pulls back because he starts laughing. “I still haven’t- ”

“You mean it?” Castiel cuts him off. He is serious now, stares at him, studies his face.

Dean throat is tight. He only nods.

Castiel kisses him again then smiles. “Dean, this is your home since the first time you came through that door. Of course it’s all right with me.”

Dean kisses him again and this time doesn’t let go.

So, for the last time he leaves and for the last time he comes back.

He walks up to the door, carrying way too many bags with him.

He doesn’t take out his key, he rings the bell.

Castiel answers the door with a smile.

________

(* what they say about freckles: every freckle is a kiss from an angel.)

#deancas #deancas ficlet #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfic #11k #what's better than a story set in winter when it's 35degrees outside #this is very cheesy i smiled all the way throught the first draft #half au #librarian/motel owner!cas #human!cas #hunter!dean #sam gabriel and meg are in it #i think it's colorado where they are #i did some research and durango has all the things i mentioned #deancas ficlets #my writing

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sweetwritertanya · 5 years

Text

Happy Valentine’s Day (Yoongi)

Summary: You have a very special idea for this Valentine’s Day, focused completely on your boyfriend Yoongi who comes home to an unexpected surprise.

Warnings: SMUT, almost completely. Mainly, there will be: swearing, erotic body touching, erotic massage, handjob, fingering (barely), unprotected sex (be very careful IRL!)

Word Count: 2923

Yoongi sighed heavily as he walked into his house, frustrated he couldn’t finish the song like he wanted to and with a sore neck and back from sitting at his chair for way too long. Although it was a comfortable chair, his sitting position wasn’t the best for his back but he just couldn’t change it.

Taking off his coat and hanging it next to the entrance’s door, Yoongi noticed your coat already there and smiled. You never told him you were coming over. He could really use your warm and soft body to fall asleep next to this night.

“Y/N? Babydoll, you should have told me you-”

Yoongi’s words got caught in his throat the moment that he walked through his bedroom’s door.

There you were, bare foot and clothed in only a set of vibrant red lingerie, silk and lace covering your beautiful bouncy breasts and soft abundant ass, lush tummy and pillowy thighs bare, a black almost sheer kimono around your shoulders and arms. You had your hair done, minimal make-up around your expecting eyes with shiny red lips spread in a coy smile that made his heart thumb heavily inside his chest.

The bed was made with silk sheets, scented candles on the bedside tables although still unlit, curtains closed and light switch turned to low. Then his heart fell to his feet and his blood ran cold.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, hun” you seductively said, leaning your head to the side.

“Shit…” Yoongi cursed under his breath, panic starting to rise. “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I just-”

“I know you forgot, Yoongi, it’s fine” you immediately pacified him, coming close and placing reassuring hands up and down his arms. “You’ve been very busy, so I totally forgive you. But I wanted to do something for you anyway, so… Go take a quick shower and meet me here, alright?”

You smiled so brightly, obviously excited by whatever you had planned, not a hint of resentment in your voice or expression. The only reason Yoongi didn’t kiss you silly right then and there was because of how guilty he felt.

Following your guidance, Yoongi went into the main bathroom adjacent to the bedroom to take a quick shower. You were almost jumping in place, opening a drawer in the bedside table and getting everything ready.

“Hun, pick a scent! Chamomile, ginger or lavender?” you ask, loud enough for him to hear you from the bathroom over the falling hot water.

“Hum, lavender, I guess?” he picked, albeit confused.

“Great, thanks!”

You started lightening up the candles, a scent of pine and vanilla filling the air, something that would go great with the lavender oil Yoongi had picked. You were just rearranging your air into an up-do, to make it more practical for what you were about to do, when your boyfriend came back from the steaming bathroom, clad in his usual pajamas and doing the buttons of his shirt. You chuckled and moved to him, stopping his fingers with your own, undoing his work.

“No, no, you won’t be needing this” you told him.

“Babydoll, what are you planning?” he curiously asked, watching as you removed his shirt from his body. You kissed the skin in between his clavicles and goosebumps tickled the hairs at the back of his neck.

“Go to bed and lay facing down, please” you asked nicely, smiling innocently up at him.

“When did you even have the time to prepare all this?” Yoongi inquired as he climbed to the center of the bed, looking around at all the ambience you had set up.

“I asked for today to be my day off. Had the whole day to do it” you explained, climbing to the bed next to him, on your knees, a hand on his bare back encouraging him to lay completely down on the soft covers, head rested on the fluffy pillow. “You won’t need these either.”

You hook your fingers on the elastic of his pajama trousers and he allows you to pull them down his legs, leaving him only with his boxers.

“Y/N, what are we doing exactly?”

You kneel beside his torso and bring the bottle of lavender oil to the bed, squirting a bit in your hands and rubbing them together.

“You won’t be doing nothing. All you have to do is relax while I give you a massage, babe.”

Your fingers start at the top of his neck, exactly where he had been feeling sore, and he sighs with relief at the motion and pressure of your soft hands on his muscles.

“Massage?” he repeats, closing his eyes as your hands continued.

“Yeah. I’ve been taking a short course for the last month to learn about it. How does it feel?”

“Fucking great” he confesses, sighing again as your hands move to his tense shoulders. “You did that for me?”

“Yes, I wanted to do something special for this Valentine’s Day. Since you always treat me so nicely and take me out to such expensive places, I wanted to reciprocate the feeling this year” you shared, smiling at his hum of appreciation.

“I still can’t believe I forgot. I’m so sorry, babydoll” he presses, still feeling guilty.

You lean down to kiss the exposed cheek turned to you.

“It’s okay, hun. Just tell me if I’m using too much or too little force, okay? I never practiced on a real person before” you enlightened.

“Better not. Don’t wanna share these hands” he voiced, hazily.

You chuckle and keep working on the tight muscles of his pale back. The angle wasn’t right, so you swung one of your heavy legs around his waist and straddled him from behind, sitting comfortably at the top of his thighs as you continued moving your fingers and hands. You heard him hum in pleasure, so you assumed he didn’t mind.

“Tell me if I hurt you at any point, okay?” you ask of him.

“You can never hurt me, baby.”

You smiled at his confidence in you and kept going with renewed vigor. Then you remembered something that was missing.

“Oh, right, the music! I have some calming music to play in the background!”

Just as you were about to stand up, Yoongi caught one of your bulky legs around his waist with his hand to keep you in place. You looked confused at him, half of his face covered by the pillow, the one eye you could see half-closed as he looked at you.

“Don’t need it. I prefer the silence or the sound of your voice.”

“Really?” you smiled brightly. Resuming your place, you leaned down and kissed the oil covered skin you were massaging on his back. “Well then, whatever my hun says.”

Moving your hands to his arms, pumping more oil every once in a while in your hands, you soothed and kissed every tense muscle Yoongi had on his lean small body, trying to make up for months and months of stress and overwork. He seemed to be enjoying it immensely, eyes closed and humming with satisfaction every once in a while.

Skidding down, you started his bottom half by his feet, rubbing the hardened skin and pressing on all the right spots that had Yoongi sigh with relief. You then started his legs, hands moving up and down his calves, relaxing them slowly. When you got to the back of his slim thighs, the muscles you worked so hard to relax tensed up a bit and you bit your tongue smugly, knowing exactly why.

Fingers brushing the skin teasingly, you brushed the underside of his butt cheeks and he shuddered slightly under you. You massaged those too for a few moments, leaning down to kiss down his spine as you did so.

“Time to flip, hun” you informed him, giving him space in the bed to turn.

He grunted but conceded and rolled to his back, stomach up this time. Your top teeth caught your bottom lip as you saw the tent in his boxers, a result of your exploring hands on his body. Although you were trying to relax him, one particular muscle seemed to have other ideas.

Ignoring the heavy look Yoongi was giving you from his almost closed lidded eyes, you started massaging from his feet up this time, taking longer than you probably needed. When your fingers started working on his thighs, more precisely his inner thighs, you couldn’t help but notice the twitch of his shaft inside the fabric seemed to happen exactly at the same time your fingers brushed up his skin. You almost giggled, but tried to keep it to yourself.

Instead of straddling his waist as you moved to start working on his torso, you kept your legs on either side of one of his legs, the position a bit more uncomfortable but worth it for his reaction. When your hands ran from his tense shoulders all the way down to his abdomen, brushing his nipples in the process, he hissed and squirmed under you, opening his dark eyes finally and staring frustrated at you.

“Y/N…” there was a warning behind his tone of voice.

“Yes, hun? Am I doing something wrong?” you bashfully ask, wide innocent eyes as you kept massaging the muscles around his ribcage.

“Enough teasing” he demanded from behind almost closed teeth.

Your Cheshire cat smile grew as you leaned down, face just inches from his, a mischievous look behind your eyes.

“Maybe there was a bit of miscommunication? I just took a course to learn simple massages, not happy ending ones” you elaborated, voice darker with a seductive tone as you whispered.

Yoongi chuckled, the air hitting the skin of your face.

“I’m sure you can handle it” he guaranteed.

In response, you kept your eyes on him as your hands pulled his boxers down, the erection springing free and hitting his stomach as you threw the underwear away. Licking your lips at the flushed and throbbing length, you palmed his thighs up and down a few more times, digits barely brushing the hairs at the base, making him growl in frustration. Your hands circled around in his stomach until, finally, you rubbed them against the underside of his cock and he moaned at the feeling.

Your hands kept interchanging between massaging parts of his body, his thighs, his stomach, his pecks and his arms, and his needy length, just circling your fingers around the base and rubbing up, circling the leaking head, before leaving him be or massaging his ball sack, almost making him choke each time. You could tell Yoongi was growing more and more frustrated, but it was such a rare occasion to leave him like this that you just couldn’t pass on it. Taking pity on him, seeing his hands clutching the sheets in fists, you circled your hand tighter around him and pumped him with determination this time, willing to let him have the sweet relief he so yearned for. It was the only way to terminate the massage with his muscles completely relaxed anyway.

However, just as he was growing hotter and hotter in your hands, surely not about to last much longer, one hand of his stopped you from keep going.

“W-Wait, stop” he asked.

“Why, hun? You’ll feel completely relaxed once I finish you off.” You were confused.

“I know, but I want you to cum too. Get on top of me” he guided, hands reaching for your plushy hands and trying to pull you to where he wanted.

“Babe, this is about making you feel good, my present for you. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine” you assured him, trying to keep his hands back.

He then sat up and caught your lips suddenly for a vigorous deep kiss, mouth slanting with yours and tongue plundering past your soft lips, coaxing yours to reciprocate avidly. It was the kiss he wanted to give you from the moment he saw you, all sensually dolled up and waiting for him.

Before you knew it, he had unzipped your bra and had a hand running down your panties, fingers slipping in between your folds and making you moan into his lips at the tremor of pleasure that cursed through your spine.

“Liar” he whispered against your lips, parting his from yours only an inch as he raised his hand, showing how wet it was from your dripping entrance. “You’re almost begging to cum too.”

“I’ve been touching you for over an hour now, hun. Of course I’m aroused. But I wanna make this Valentine’s Day all about you” you clarified, taking his fingers into your mouth and licking them clean. The erection pressing against your doughy thigh jolted at the sight.

“Then, obey my requests. I want you to ride me, babydoll” Yoongi insisted.

Smiling, you placed a hand at the center of his chest and pulled him back to lay down on the bed, moving your legs so you were straddling him again.

“Very well. But keep laying down and let me do all the work. You just relax and enjoy, babe” you proposed, pressing your moist hot center against his hard member, rubbing slightly against it. Yoongi fisted the sheets again as he threw his head back against the pillows and sucked in a breath.

“Fuck, yes” he readily agreed.

Making sure to heavily coat him, even as he was already heavily coated in the oils you’ve been using, you couldn’t lie to yourself, you really wanted him. Raising your heavy hips just enough to position his red tip against your throbbing entrance, you then allowed your heavy weight to slowly come down and have him filling you all the way to the base.

Although your basic instinct was to start moving up and down at God’s speed, you controlled yourself and instead moved your hips in lazy circles, wailing at the way you felt him stretching your insides from all angles. You then moved your hands up and down his chest and thin arms, trying to keep massaging them.

“Fuck, Y/N, I need you to move, babydoll” Yoongi complained, lust blown small eyes barely open.

Nodding, you steadied yourself with both hands on his chest and started to bounce up and down his length. There was heat pooling in your belly threatening to break the dam at any minute, your whole body strung with tension as your breath grew unstable and mind started going blank. He always went so deep in this position, your hips barely lifting anymore from his as he was rubbing delectably a spot inside and your clit brushed against his pelvis with each rebound, enhancing the urge to tip over the edge.

Yoongi, in the meantime, was in absolute heaven. He had the urge to lift his hips to meet yours, but there was really no need with you moving so perfectly like that. There was heat rising off your body, your velvet walls snugging so tightly against his cock as you moved on top of him. Your whole body jiggled on top of him, tits bouncing and ripples of the aftermath of each snap of your bodies joining together dancing across your soft malleable flesh. You looked so sexy like that, mouth slightly parted with moans escaping you, eyes closed as you ran after your release, that he could barely keep himself together.

You then stopped the upward movement and gyrated your hips once more, making Yoongi snap.

“Shit, Y/N, I can’t!”

Just like that he grappled the fluffy flesh of your hips to keep you in place as he began thrusting up at an almost inhuman speed, ramming himself into your clenching heat with as much force as he could.

“Ahh! Yoongiii…!” You moan loud as all you can do is steady yourself against him.

The out of your control friction of his movements end you in a matter of seconds, a hoarse cry leaving the depths of your throat as something inside of you was overflowing and dissolving your bones into orgasmic pleasure. Your whole nerves caught on fire and you felt like you were bursting into electric warmth, muscles spasming around him before giving in completely, making you fall on top of him.

Yoongi felt your walls spasming and clamming down on him as you came, making the fierce ache that was growing inside of him explode as he clenched his teeth, body jolting and burning when he jerked violently at the razor sharp pleasure he felt as he erupted inside of you and filled you with his essence. The blissed out relief, alongside your massages, had his body about as relaxed as it could get, going completely limp underneath you.

“Sorry, hun, give me a sec and I’ll move” you apologize when your brain comes to.

Yet, when you look up at your boyfriend’s face, you see him sleeping soundly, even snoring quietly. You smile proudly, happy you got him this relaxed even though he was in a very busy moment with his work. Dropping a kiss on his shoulder, you try to move away from him, but find that he turns to his side in search of your warmth, his arms wrapping around your waist and dragging him close to your body.

“Okay, babe. Not going anywhere.”

You cuddle comfortably against his chest and pull the comforter and sheets over your naked bodies, not caring to change them or go wash until the next day. And you could always buy more candles after the others burned out.

#bts chubby reader #bts chubby!reader #valentine's day #special for valentine's day #chubbyreader #chubby reader #bts #bts imagine #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts suga #bts smut #yoongi smut #kpop smut

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partyinthemysterymachine · 4 years

Note

Harry + betrayed (looks at a&s au stuff like :3c)

looks at you like 🔪

===

Every time the mug came out of the steaming hot dishwasher, Harry clasped it in both hands. The ceramic was always scalding, and his palms always threatened to blister. Clouds reeking of dishwasher detergent lifted and swept over his forearm, humid as a summer’s stifling rain, its pungency sickening his heart.

He hated to wash this mug.

Bright and early at six o’clock every morning, Harry made coffee. It steeped dark and bitter, just how they liked it. The first pour went into his mug; the second filled his own. Then both were taken to the small, round table in the corner of their kitchen. Harry set the mug down on the wood itself to the right of the round, rattan woven placemats they’d found in a bargain bin at Williams-Sonoma. Harry’s coffee went on the placemat itself, edging the rim, at his left.

How charming it was to have their mugs across from each other like that. He always liked how they seemed to be having a conversation through the coffee’s dissipating flames of white steam. As they drained their caffeine and burned their throats, the heat shocking their stomachs, they’d talk.

Talking didn’t necessarily mean words were used. No, words weren’t his forte, though he relished every sound that rolled off his tongue. He spoke with his face and through his hands, and if Harry ever had his way, he’d spend the hours morn to midnight simply gazing at his face.

Two hours later, Harry stood and took the cold, untouched mugs to the sink. Down the drain went the wasted coffee, dumped out at the same time. A swish of water from the faucet did a quick and fine job of cleaning them out, and Harry’s went, dripping, onto the counter. Then he ran the water again to piping hot, abusing skin rough and chapped from this daily ritual of cleaning, cleaning out his ice cold coffee, cleaning, cleaning out the dots of mold he’d let grow for two weeks because he couldn’t let that go, cleaning, cleaning out that damn spot, that damn spot, that damn spot.

The mug was as hot as it was when it came out of the dishwasher, and Harry clasped it in both hands. His teeth tried to send their roots into his skull with his jaw clamped like that, and he wished his tongue, sucked hard to the roof of his mouth and tastebuds rough as sandpaper, would swell and choke him. Every time it didn’t, which was every morning, every single morning for the past three years, Harry called it betrayal.

His kiss held tender on the warm rim. It was the last place his lips had laid where Harry could kiss him, for he couldn’t kiss his own cheek. Like every morning, his eyes slipped closed and he thought of their daily coffee date at their kitchen table. Autumn was in full golden, fiery bloom. People swarmed to Vermont to lose their breath to the vast garden of nature’s heavenly, untamed wildfire that never burned.

Every single fucking morning it was autumn again, the mug had been scorching hot, then chilly, the phantom pressure of his kiss lingered on his cheek, and Harry tried to kiss him back too on ceramic that had been the last tangible thing to experience his lips.

Today, he set the mug down on the counter alongside the one in its puddle. The water brimmed its mismatched mate immediately and would leave an incomplete circle in its wake after Harry would take it up and wrap it in a soft towel. That puddle would dry on its lonesome over the course of as many minutes; Harry wrapped up his personal mug, too.

Remaining coffee got poured and locked in a thermos. They were placed in the coveted seat beside the driver’s - shotgun! one’s supposed to yell to reserve it for themselves - tucked safely behind a plain old box.

The ignition chittered on. Rancid boomed and rattled the Jeep’s speakers. Harry absently wiggled the shiny, custom-made Magic Eight Ball fortune teller stick shift knob. He glanced down. ‘It is decidedly so,’ promised the triangular face washed behind blue, its text pressed on the circular window.

A draw; and exhale. The YJ Wrangler shifted into gear, easing back out of the driveway, Harry’s arm slung around the shotgun seat and head turned to watch over his shoulder as he safely maneuvered to their personal gravel road leading to and from their remote, comfortable Vermont hideaway.

It’d probably take five, six hours, give or take, to get to Maine. He was looking forward to their coffee date. Five out of the seven days of the week Harry drove to Maine to hang out on the shore of Toluca Lake. Coffee was served into their mugs; he kept his at his side, and his tucked into the sand and mud at the water’s breach.

Sometimes he’d talk, update his husband on his books, their daughter, the latest news that did and didn’t matter. Other times he’d sit in silence, listening and watching the new face of a man he loved. Harry was there in rain, sleet, and snow. He’d all but frozen his ass off before out there and sweated buckets in the heat. But they had their spot, and that’s where he’d always sit.

Silent Hill rested to the south. They took a vacation there once. Harry hates how it looks out across Toluca. Take your fucking eyes somewhere else, he regularly thinks. Don’t fucking look at him.

It oversees. One day, Harry’s promised five days out of the seven in the week, he’s going to tear that town asunder by his own bare hands.

Tomorrow might be that day. Harry rises to his feet. It is decidedly so. He fetches the Jeep’s constant tenant for the last three years. It is decidedly so.

“I hope you liked your coffee, honey,” he says to the lake lapping at his boots as he wades into snapping cold. “So, I asked the eight ball if I’d see you today,” Harry Mason offhandedly tells his husband residing in the lake. “Guess what it said? ‘It is decidedly so.’ Take that as you will. I know you know what I’ve planned to do, honeylove. Don’t get up in my tits about it,” warns the older man, now appropriately submerged mid-chest. “I’m not gonna do it today. Doesn’t feel right. But I thought it’d be nice to see you, anyway.”

“So you’re wondering why I brought the box in with me? Well, I’m glad you asked! For one, I fixed it up and made it waterproof,” he smirks, cradling it in his arm and popping it open. “And two.. c’mon, now. You know I’d lose these if I didn’t keep ‘em in here.”

Two pendants, no bigger than his thumbnail, each on their own thin chain, dangled just skimming the water’s surface. Two pendants, amber and glinting, somehow even in the thick grey mist rolling in from Silent Hill. “Check these out. I got ‘em made a few months ago and I’ve just now had the balls to bring ‘em out. It’s because the eight ball said I’d see you today. So.. here. One of them’s for you. I figure you can make yours glow in there, firefly. You have a knack for lightin’ up the dark.”

Harry chuckles, wagging his head back and forth, mocking himself. “Yeah, yeah, mushy, whatever, I’m a dork. Thbhtghbh. What’re you gonna do, divorce me? Shoulda thought about that before you went fishing, babe.” He collects the chains and their sculpted fireflies into his fist. One kiss is enough for both. Then he smiled, looked into the lake, and felt comforted by the thought that that sweet, pale man with yellow wheat field hair was watching him.

Projection is a very real, very psychedelic thing, for sometimes, Harry thinks he can see his face.

The water sways around his wrist. He gazes into Toluca Lake and waits, and hopes that the magic of the eight ball is true.

Will I get to see James today?

It is decidedly so.

If he were to do it all over again from the top, do you think he’d still do it this way?

It is decidedly so.

Does he know I love him?

It is decidedly so.

Does he know I’ll never forgive him?

It is decidedly so.

When the day comes, I’ll kill that motherfucker myself. I dunno how it’s gonna happen, but it’s gonna happen. Fucking asshole. He knows that, right?

….

.. right?

“I gotta go soon, babe,” Harry murmurs to his husband, James Mason (formerly Sunderland). “I’m gonna leave one with you. I’ll be back tomorrow. If you wanna trade, we can. Fuck, I don’t wanna get a fuckin’ yeast infection out here,” he gripes, turning to wade out of the lake. “Seriously, James. Not like a yeast infection wouldn’t stop me from comin’ out here but you bet your ass you’re gonna hear all fucking about it, because it will be your fault, and I fucking hate you, so goddamn fucking much, honeylove.”

Harry makes it out to the shore. He takes the box to its honored seat in shotgun! James’s coffee gets thrown into Toluca; he pours his out where he’d sat. Then the mason with rusted tools scans his exhausted, old, heavily lined eyes across the scenic lake where an orange (rare, so rare, extremely rare and mean everything) firefly swims. He’ll never get over the betrayal. It doesn’t matter if he understands it. It doesn’t matter that he’s (and he’s) been waiting for it long before they’d met.

After all those thousands of years of looking for each other, this is how he chooses to betray him: like Judas, with a kiss.

A kiss on a ceramic mug that is going to be washed again today, and tomorrow morning, and will scald his hands.

A kiss, a kiss, a kiss from a man whose lips promised I love you with a simple brush. Lips Harry hasn’t felt in three years; his heart can break even more.

Will I ever get to kiss him again? Harry asks his stick shift as he drives towards his six (give or take) hour journey home to Vermont.

It is decidedly so, replies the eight ball.

Will it be soon? inquires a widowed man, widowed for the second time.

It is decidedly so, soothes the inky window.

When?

Turn right off this street, guides the knob too small to say so. Fifty miles out. It won’t take long.

Huh? I can barely see with all this fog. Where am I going?

To see James.

James? What’s he doing all the way out here?

Waiting for you.

.. waiting for me? I’ll get to see him again?! Jeez.. damn, I’ve got a splitting headache all of a sudden .. fifty miles to Silent Hill.. hrm, seems farther than I remember, but..

He’s waiting for you.

.. forgot to clean up the coffee at home.. m’sure it’ll be fine.. Cheryl’ll be over at some point.. heh.. can’t believe he wants to spend our anniversary in Silent Hill.. fuckin’ weirdo.. a vow renewal? And he calls me disgusting..

He’s waiting.

I’m comin’. I’ll be there soon, James. It’s gonna be alright. I can’t wait to see you. We’re gonna have a great vacation, just the two of us, aren’t we, sweetheart?

It is decidedly so.

#ches writes #a&s #HRM WHOOPS UHHHHHHHHHHH #how many hours did i just fucking spend writing this #oh three? cool #welp #anyway!#rootdootdoodootdoooot i'm leav-ving #magnolian-gold #so much for a fucking drabble amirite fellas #just zoned the fuck in bc god i love that fuckin sad shit #not even sorry for revisiting the same a&s plot point over an over #can't be bovvered #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#anyway this new revised au is living in my head rent free and that's very sexy cash money of me to write asbout

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

Text

Sunlight (Bucky Barnes x OFC)

I wrote this for @geekandbooknerd birthday challenge! Yay! I know its a bit early but happy birthday!

My prompt was “If there is anything, there is us. You and me. No one else.”- Jennifer L. Armentrout, Onyx.

It kind of turned into a Avengers/X-Men crossover. So some mentions of X-Men characters but mostly about Bucky & OFC.

Warnings: slight angst, brief mention of torture, all the fluff!

Words: 3400

"WHERE IS SHE?!" Bucky stormed up to his best friend, leaving terrified SHIELD agents in his wake. He did not care about the scene he was making in the hallway of the Avengers Compound. His fear and fury overrode his concern to stay calm.

"She ran off. Soon as we touched down, I tri…."

Bucky turned on his heels, ready to sprint. He had to find her. He could listen to excuses and rational later. His mind and body drove him towards only one thing- to seek her out and offer comfort...until a hand clasped his shoulder, keeping him still.

"I'm sorry, Buck. We thought...I thought…" Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. He still wore his dirty uniform, not even having had a chance to clean up from the mission yet. "Things didn't go as planned. She did well. She...she was a help to have on the mission. Please let her know that."

The brunet could only nod, every cell in his being screaming at him to go find his girl. Soon as Steve removed his hand, Bucky took off.

People practically leapt out of his way...which was smart on their account. He was not above running people over right now. He was used to his friends teasing him about his murder strut- their term, not his- about how it made people either run in fear of their lives or hyperventilate with lust. He tried to not think about it too much. Although it did have its uses on occasion.

Bursting out the nearest outside door, he ran using all his super soldier speed. He knew where she would be. More than one time she had called it a safe place, especially when it was sunny out. The buildings for the Avengers Compound flew by him. He vaguely thought he heard someone call his name but it did not matter. He had to get to his girl.

The first hints of autumn could be seen in the trees surrounding the Compound. Most were still green but swatches of color peeked through with their yellows and oranges. The underbrush made each step he took in his combat boots sound like a herd of elephants walked by but now he did not have to focus on moving silently. He wore tactical pants and a black t-shirt, having been working on extra security measures for the Avengers building when Steve called him. Immediately he dropped the StarkPad and ran, ignoring those he had been working with.

He passed the giant elm tree that always seemed otherworldly to him...then he could see her. He always wondered what made this spot special. There was nothing unique about it in the forest surrounding the Compound...except for a giant ass boulder. Deciduous trees surrounded the spot, creating an almost nature-made barricade around the small open area with the boulder in the middle. Sunlight shown directly on it, uninterrupted by branches or leaves. It almost looked like the eye of a hurricane, and maybe that was why she always came to this spot. It was peaceful.

And there she sat looking like a fairy from a children's story, minus the wings. Her Nordic blonde hair danced about her in the slight breeze, the long stands almost hypnotic in their movements. Her face was turned upward, facing the afternoon sun, like a flower seeking its warmth. Her slender arms were wrapped around her legs, her alabaster skin on full display with her bare feet, black leggings and navy tank top. She must have ditched the outer part of her uniform and ran, not even bothering to go back to her room to change first.

Standing just on the edge of the tree line, he could only stare, taken back by her beauty once again. He wished he was artistic like Steve to paint or sketch her. That he could somehow show her how gorgeous she was to him, to erase all those self-doubts she harbored still. Instead he strove to remind her every day in whatever way he could.

"Leyna!" He called out, having moved out of the trees into the open area surrounding the boulder.

She turned her head briefly to meet his eyes then turned her face back upward, soaking in the sunlight.

That quick look had been enough for him to see the dried tear streaks on her cheeks. He clambered up the rock, continuously amazed at how she was able to navigate the damn thing when she was so small. He was almost a foot taller than her and the stupid rock was tricky for him between the lack of handholds, lichen and moss that covered it. It was at least twice as tall as him, and three times as wide in some strange skinny oval shape. It vaguely reminded him of the kind of stones that were good for skipping rocks on top of water, but on a giant scale.

Once up, he walked towards where she sat in the middle, feeling the heat of the sun hitting him anew. Without a word, he sat behind her, placing himself so her back was to his chest, his legs outstretched and his flesh arm wrapped around her waist. Silently she leaned back into him, still facing the sun, eyes closed. He laid his cheek against the top of her head, his metal arm outstretched to stabilize them.

The only sounds were those of the birds singing around them, the occasional shout coming from the direction of the Compound and their own breathing. It was peaceful. Something both of them craved instinctively.

He waited for her, knowing this was more than just a quiet place to be. There was her place to "recharge", as she liked to call it, both physically and mentally. After several minutes, a faint golden shimmer surrounded her hands. Slowly she held out one of her hands and moved her fingers as if in a dance.

Watching her use her powers was one of his favorite things to do. She tried to explain it to him once, how her powers worked. Something how she could manipulate light photons and atoms to change their structure to become whatever she wished, either a solid creation or an illusion. It was about three PhD degrees above his head but he got the gist. He smiled remembering when she first met Bruce Banner and how the man almost wet himself, he was so excited to run experiments and lab tests on her and her powers. Bucky had never seen the man so thrilled. Then the time she met Loki and he learned she could do illusions also. He had jumped at the chance of a competition between them that left the Compound in a strange golden, greenish haze for two days because of the amount of magic used and atoms/photons messed with for the insane amount of illusions created.

Using both hands, she twirled and manipulated them in front of her, using the direct sunlight to create something. Sunlight was her life source. Yes, she needed to eat and drink like anyone else but she always joked she was like a solar-powered being. Without sunlight her powers faded to nothing and she would wither away.

His eyes remained glued to her hands as she worked, curious as to what she was making now. With a final flourish, a long dagger lay across her palms, dwarfing her hands. The handle was the deepest black while the blade itself had a slight curve and shone a brilliant silver in the sunlight. It had a slight etching on the silver that looked like artistic flames running along the outside.

"That one might be my new favorite." He nuzzled her neck, thoroughly enjoying the way she squirmed and giggled. He loved when she made him shiny, sharp things.

"Maybe I'll make you a matching set."

He took the dagger from her, eyeing it hungrily before slipping it into his boot. Good thing the training room was open at all hours. He planned on experimenting with it later.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before she spoke, drawing lazy circles on his arm still around her waist.

"Steve call you?"

"He was worried." He kissed her hair lightly. "Wanna talk about it?"

He could feel her hesitation then the story was whispered into the wind, her voice shaky. "There was a cell...I got separated from the others...Some...um, a few HYDRA soldiers managed to taze me, get me down...they covered my eyes...and got a chain on my wrist…" She took a deep breath, he squeezed her, knowing how hard this was for her. "Steve found me at that point, he took them out and helped me get away."

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry." It was only after she mentioned her wrist, he peeked over her shoulder to see her right wrist that looked raw and red. Seeing her injury, he clenched his metal fist. Fury rolled through him like a steam train, anger at both HYDRA for trying to take her from him and himself for not being there to protect her. He pulled her closer to him with both arms, needing the reassurance she was still here, with him.

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Bucky." She suddenly choked out, tears falling afresh. "I don't...I can't go through that again. I'm not strong enough."

"Leyna…we all have our triggers that remind us of our pasts. No one blames you."

"I put the mission in danger."

"Steve said you did well and that you were a help."

She shook her head. "I don't think I can keep doing this."

They sat in silence. He understood what was going through her mind. Hell, he dealt with it himself on a regular basis. The question of how much of one's past could still haunt their future.

Leyna had been found by the X-Men when they took down a cult who were kidnapping mutants. She had been chained to a wall in complete darkness, refused any source of sunlight or artificial light for months on end until she either gave them the information they wanted or she died. The X-Men had brought her back to the mutant school where she stayed to recover, since when they found her, she was barely conscious. When Charles examined her mind, he discovered she was not a mutant but an enhanced like Wanda Maximoff, though where she got her powers was unknown. Just over two years after being rescued and residing at the mutant school, Charles thought sending her to the Avengers would be the best for her and to begin creating a working relationship between the Avengers and the X-Men. Leyna was to be a sort of liaison between the two groups constantly saving the world.

It had been a year since she joined the Avengers and everyone acknowledged how quickly she fit it. Almost like she had been a missing puzzle piece that they had not realized was missing.

"Do...do you think they'll send me back? To Charles? He sent me here to help but…" Her voice dropped off, fear and uncertainty evident.

"I am sure the Professor would understand. And there are more ways than one to help. You don't have to be out in the field to be useful. I know I prefer when you don't go on missions. Sam had to sit on me this time so I wouldn't stow away on the ship and come with you."

She giggled, her head resting on his shoulder. "I feel the same way when you leave for a mission. Wanda and I used to get drunk but after the...electrical incident, we're not allowed to anymore."

He chuckled, "so that's what happened, huh? You guys said you tried to combine your powers or something."

"Remember, we were drunk and apparently decided we wanted to have a dance party. So, I tried to create a disco ball and stroke lights while she was trying to do something with the music...but it all backfired."

He openly laughed at that. "Doll, the two of you managed to blow out all the electricity in the Compound and even put FRIDAY offline for a bit. Tony was furious. Hell, I heard Wanda's room had to be completely renovated because of the power surge that went through it. Thankfully it had reinforced, special walls or whatever Tony calls them."

"Why do you think she's been sleeping in Vision's room?"

"That was...what, three months ago? And it's still not fixed?"

She shrugged. "She doesn't feel rushed to return to her own room. "

They lapsed back into silence, his arms still around her. Her face was still upturned, soaking in the afternoon sun. He watched her profile, in awe that someone as pure, selfless and fun would ever look at him twice. As he stared, he could see her lips pursing slightly while her brow furrowed. It broke his heart that she still struggled with such self-doubt.

"Leyna, turn around." At her hesitation, he ran his lips softly over the corner of her jaw. "Please."

Slowly, she did. Turning around to straddle his waist, she wrapped her arms around his neck while his own hands gripped her hips to hold her.

"Look at me."

It was only after his quiet command that she finally lifted her gaze from his chest. Her violet eyes always enthralled him, calling to some deep primitive part that wanted to bask in her light for the rest of his life.

"We're not gonna kick you out if you come off the field. Hell, you are one of our best at recon and observation. If that's all you want to do, the others will understand. Natasha will probably buy you a bottle of that Russian vodka that she loves cause she won't be the only one sent on those kinds of missions anymore. And even if that is too much, you have a great mind for tactics and seeing things others don't. You would be a benefit for working in the control room while we're on a mission. You'd have our backs still and could keep an eye out for things we might miss."

"Charles sent me to help…" She hedged but he was having none of that. He gripped her chin, holding her gaze, hoping she would believe him and stay. Not just for the Avengers...but for him.

"And you would be. You've always been a huge help… Or would you prefer to go back to the School? Is that what you would prefer? I'm sure Logan would prefer that. He still hasn't forgiven me for having you be my girl."

"He hasn't tried to kill you though."

"What do you call what happened last time he came to check on you?" He demanded, eyeing her smirk. "Just a misunderstanding?"

She laughed, massaging the back of his neck. "He only destroyed the couch. It could have been far worse."

"Yeah, and I had been sitting on that couch! His claws were inches from my head!"

"Mmm...good thing you have such great reflexes." She leaned forward and pressed a teasing kiss to his lips.

His hands tightened on her hips. "Babydoll, you do that again and I'll show you what other great reflexes I have."

"Outside?"

"What? Ain't nobody around?"

She swatted his chest, laughing before laying her head on his shoulder. "And if I just wanted to be with you? Not do anything...just be here with you?"

"If there is anything, there is us. You and me. No one else." He lifted her chin to gaze into her eyes, the sunlight making them glow. "We can do whatever we want. Go wherever we want. Just us."

"Mmm...and Steve." She hummed, tracing a finger lazily on his chest.

"What?"

"You and me...and Steve. There is no way Steve would let us go off alone. He would miss his best friend too much and is too stubborn to let you go. He'd leave the Avengers first. Then Sam would be all offended and come along too since he and Steve are also best friends and I think secretly you and Sam are best friends but neither wants to acknowledge it. Natasha would hunt us down next. You know Peter would send us more of those little videos but they would be all sad and puppy eyes since wherever we are, I'm sure his Aunt May would not let him come. Plus, he's like the little brother I've always wanted… If Natasha finds us, Clint will show up eventually. Then Scott would too since Steve is with us. I swear I've never seen a bigger fangirl than Scott. Tony would crash at some point because well, it's Tony…"

He cut her off, chuckling because however much he wanted to deny it. It was true. "Ok ok, I get the picture. Christ. I think we need some new friends."

"Like Logan?"

"I still can't believe you dated the Wolverine. I feel I should question your taste in men."

"Hey! It was short lived and we both realized we were better as friends. Sides, if we're worried about my taste in men, what does that say about you?" She teased, a smile on her lips.

"You go for the tall, dark and handsome."

"That applies to Logan too...mmm...maybe I just prefer old guys?"

"Alright, that's it!" He stood up, throwing her over his shoulder. "I come out here to take care of my best girl and what do I get...insults!" Carefully he jumped down to the ground, making sure not to jostle her too much with the impact. He started back towards the Compound, trying to control the smile on his face while listening to Leyna laughing over his shoulder. "See if I share my ice cream with you tonight."

"Bucky…" she whined, wiggling against him, "that's mean."

"Old guys...you've been spending too much time with Sam. Really need to get some new friends." He muttered mostly to himself.

"Put me down, Bucky."

He set her on a nearby stump so she was actually eye level to him. Carefully he ran a hand through her blonde hair, loving that she let him play with it. "You know I meant it, what I said earlier."

"I know, love." She cupped his face and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He eagerly kissed her back, diving into her affections without hesitation. He loved the way she fit in his arms, the way her lips glided against his, how his heart threatened to explode with joy with just the mere thought of her. Although they had not yet said those three little words to one another, he knew it was true for him. She was perfect for him, and although she had her quirks that annoyed him and her own haunted past that gave her nightmares, he would not change anything about her.

Finally, they broke apart, both breathing a little more heavily and dopey smiles on both their faces. He would love to stay here with her, just the two of them and kiss her senseless or until he removed any self-doubt she still struggled with. The Avengers' part of his mind reminded him that she had run out to the forest before the debrief which would be a headache in itself if they did not return soon. He sighed, lamenting that this moment had to end. "Come on, doll. Let's get you back. Steve will want to check in with you."

"Ok…"

He stepped away for her to jump down but she did not move.

"Doll…" That grin on her face spelled trouble, he just knew it.

"I'm tired...can you give me a piggyback ride?"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

She smiled sweetly, hands clasped in front of her and swaying slightly. Between the delicate features, small stature and purple eyes, she really did look like a damn fairy.

"Fine…"

She squealed as she climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck. Just as he thought about protesting loudly, she smacked a loud kiss on his cheek then giggled. Who was he kidding, he would do anything for her.

If he had to give a few death glares and mild threats in the future to suppress jokes about the Winter Soldier giving piggyback rides…that was not his fault.

#marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #Hayley'sBirthday #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #james barnes x ofc #fluff #mzwrites

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter ten: stuck in the middle with you

A couple of phone calls and twenty minutes later, and she had arrived at Charlie's front step just before their dinner showed up. Marla towered over Sam when she walked into the apartment, and her black two inch heels only added to it. The ceiling light made her bright orange hair glow and to the point it looked as though she had a halo about her head. The pink and blue streaks on the right side of her head resembled to crystals by the little glimmers in her hair. Her skin looked even creamier in person, and in lieu of the paint spattered white smock, she wore a bright red sweater with glittered thread embedded within and snug black jeans paired with big shiny black boots.

Charlie greeted her with a pair of little kisses on either cheek and then he put her arm around her to show her off to Sam and Frank.

“You haven't met him yet,” Charlie told her with a nod to the latter.

“The infamous Frankie,” she proclaimed, and she turned to Sam with a soft little smile on her face.

“And this is our new friend Samantha,” Charlie continued. “Sam I Am from California.”

“Good to meet you,” Sam told her with an outstretched hand.

“You, too.” Marla had a delicate grip: the soft cupped hand and light fingers of an artist.

“I hear you're an artist,” said Sam as she moved in closer to her.

“I am, yes! Art student but—I don't really feel the student part of it.” She shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes at that.

“Well, she'll probably be a student soon enough, though,” Charlie pointed out, and Marla's face lit up. “I can see it getting better for ya, babe.”

“Oh, yeah! I hope you can get into it—it was hard for me, I'll admit it.”

“Well, she's got yet to show us her skills, though,” Frank added. “I've definitely seen yours.”

Marla showed him a smirk and another shrug of her shoulders. A knock on the door caught their attention, and Charlie let go of her and rounded Frank and Sam.

“Maybe after dinner I can show off a little something?” she suggested to Sam.

“Yeah, I'm up for that,” she said with a nod of her head.

“I'm up and down for it, too,” Frank joked as a smirk crept across his face.

“Up and down?” Sam asked him.

“I'm up for it, and I'm also down for it. Up and down.”

“Up and down in another way, too,” Marla said with a straight face.

“Up and down like these bags of food?” Charlie called out right as he shut the front door with his left foot. Indeed, he held two large brown paper bags, one resting upon either hand, as if he was presenting the three of them with silver platters filled with food. Frank ducked over to him for the one in his right hand.

“Have you tried this place down the block here?” Marla asked Sam in a low voice, and she shook her head. “Ooh, you're in for a treat, babe.”

The four of them took to the love seat underneath the bar, with Sam and Frank right next to each other on the right arm and the middle cushion respectively, Marla on the left side, and Charlie on the arm next to her.

“Why don't you grab a chair, Charlie?” she suggested to him as she opened the bag he had held in his left hand.

“I'm good,” he promised her, and Sam took a single look to find the tips of his feet rested on the carpet. Perhaps he could lean back onto the couch when he ate his fill, or lay down on the floor.

“So we've got orange chicken, pad thai, pea pods, and a shitload of noodles and vegetables,” Charlie told her as Marla took out a pair of plastic forks for the both of them, and then she took out two more for Sam and Frank.

“Shall we grab a quartet of plates for ourselves?” she suggested.

“Might as well,” Charlie said as he held onto the box with the pad thai. “I've got bottles of cream soda and beer in there if any of you'd like some.”

“I'll take a beer, dear,” Marla told him with a gentle toss of her orange hair.

“Beer dear,” he echoed.

“Dear beer,” said Frank with a wag of his finger.

“Dear, beer...” Sam ran the tip of her index finger along her palm as if writing something down.

“Dear diary, jackpot!” Charlie declared, and he stood to his feet and made his way to the kitchen.

“You know what? I'll take a cream soda this time,” Sam told him. After having a beer in the studio earlier, it only made sense to calm down the alcohol already running through her system with a little something sweet and bubbly.

“Yeah, me, too,” Frank followed up with a wave of his hand. Charlie soon returned with little green plates for each of them including himself, and then he doubled back for their drinks. Within time, he returned to his seat on the arm of the love seat, and he and Marla served out the food for themselves, and then Sam and Frank.

It wasn't much and it didn't take but Sam herself found the noodles and the chicken to be more than enough for her. The chicken was so lush that, when combined with the orange flavoring and the noodles, it felt like having a taste of home once again. The broccoli, the carrots, the baby corn, and the water chestnuts were perfectly steamed. Frank took seconds while she had to stop herself from undoing her jeans right in front of them.

Charlie took a hefty swig of beer and almost fell off of the arm of the love seat. Marla giggled at him.

“D'you bring your stuff with you?” he asked her as he held the bottle in one hand and his fork in the other.

“My art stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I didn't think I'd be doing a demo for you guys.” She reached for her bottle and took a little sip.

“Now, now—an artist should always come prepared.” He leaned forward for a look over at Sam. “Right?”

“Right!” she said as she took another bite of broccoli and water chestnuts. She had cleaned her plate and rested it on her lap.

“Are you done?” Frank asked her.

“I am, yeah. That was too good. About as good as the pho we had with Aurora the other day.”

“That was incredible,” Frank remarked. “Both this and the pho, I mean.” He raised his bottle of cream soda for her, and she picked up her bottle for a toast to him. The bases of the bottles clinked together and they both took a hearty drink at the same time. The cream hit her parched mouth and washed it all down.

Meanwhile, Charlie said something which coaxed a big laugh out of Marla, and she pushed him to the side. He almost lost his balance on the arm of the love seat but he caught himself just in time. She downed the rest of the bottle in a few large gulps and ran her fingers through the streaks on the side of her head.

“You know what we haven’t done yet?” she said to him in a louder, clearer voice.

“What’s that?” he asked her after a clearing of his throat: he had already had one other drink back at the studio, and for all Sam knew, he had had another one when she wasn’t looking.

She didn’t answer. Instead, Marla stood to her feet and strode around the coffee table. She stripped off her sweater and revealed her little black camisole underneath, and she turned around to toss Charlie her sweater. Something silvery caught Sam's eye, something on Marla's chest, right above the hem of her top. She tugged down the hem of her camisole over her slim waist and gave her orange hair another toss.

To think Sam was actually jealous of her. She pictured herself standing before Marla in the farthest corner of the room and painting her perfect body for all the world to see.

“Oh, I see—you wanna get down a little bit, don’t ya?” Charlie’s words slurred from the alcohol, but he climbed to his feet with ease. Marla took a seat on the carpet near the hallway entrance with her legs spread out before her: despite their shine, it looked as though she had had those boots for a long time from their eroded, worn down soles and slight scuffing near the soles. She leaned back against the wall and sighed through her nose.

“How ya wanna do this?” Charlie asked her, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Sam looked over at Frank: they were both sober, and neither of them had any idea as to what to do right then. Charlie said something, which in turn brought another laugh out of her.

“Too much to drink between the both of us,” she muttered.

“Yeah, I'll say,” Charlie laughed. Sam glanced over at Frank and the flustered look on his face, and he tucked his feet right underneath him. They were underneath that bar and within range of the kitchen door.

“So you want me to do the honors, or should we switch?” Charlie asked her as he got down on his hands and knees, right in front of her knees. Marla opened her legs for him, and Sam parted her lips. She looked over at Frank again, who had raised his eyebrows at the sight before them.

“Ho, boy,” he breathed out.

“Yeah—” Sam squirmed in her seat, and Frank shifted his weight on the cushion right next to her. They watched Charlie undo the button on Marla’s jeans; he peeled them back to reveal the bare milky white skin underneath. Sam squirmed in her seat once again and huddled closer to Frank, who let out a soft little laugh out of nerves. Charlie tugged off her panties with one finger and slid them down to her knees. He bowed his head over her lap, and Sam and Frank looked at each other once again: she felt her face growing warm and her heart began pounding in her chest.

“Too much to eat, and too much to drink,” she said aloud.

“Yeah—and I don't think they seem to notice that we're even here, either.”

Frank shifted his weight yet again and he bowed his head a little bit. The collar of his jacket brushed against the lower part of his face and his lush dark hair sprawled over his shoulders. The very sight before them was almost too much to bear even for Sam.

She dropped her gaze to his hands, which he had dropped down onto the couch cushion on either side of his hips. She returned to the sight before them, and in time to catch Marla with her head pressed up against the wall. She had pinched her eyes shut.

“Dinner and a show,” Frank muttered with a giggle. Sam pushed her bangs up from her forehead to alleviate the warm feeling. Too much warmth all at once.

“Come with me,” Frank said right in her ear.

“Where?” she asked him in a hushed voice. He gestured for her to follow him away from the love seat, but then he stopped her right in her tracks.

“Never mind,” he said with a wave of his hand, and then they climbed to their feet and he crept around them there on the floor: Sam almost tiptoed around them as she entered the hallway right behind him. Indeed, there was Charlie's bedroom on the left but there was another room right next to it. Frank yanked open the door and clicked on the light on the ceiling overhead, and he gestured for her to step inside first.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile on her face: the room was tiny and narrow, complete with a heavy wooden bar on the wall to the right and a tiny dusty window at the far end: the amber light from the street shone onto the pane to the point it resembled stained glass. And it took her a second to realize it was a walk in closet except nothing hung off of that dowel.

“Charlie's closet?” she asked him when Frank closed the door behind him.

“Yeah, but he doesn't really use it, though. 'Cause—he doesn't have that much stuff with him.” He shrugged his shoulders: his dark lush hair brushed against his collar such that it resembled to dog ears.

“I wanted to get out of there, too,” she remarked.

“Yeah—me, too.” She gazed into his eyes, large and dark like big ink splotches. He nibbled on his bottom lip.

“You've got something you wanna tell me?” she asked him; Frank bowed his head a bit and sighed through his nose.

“Frankie?”

“I'm almost inclined to start making out with you,” he whispered to her.

“Why?” she sputtered. And then she flashed back on what he and Charlie had told her in the coffee shop, that story of them watching two women in a moment across the street from them. She wondered that, given it had been such a long day for both him and Charlie, that all he wanted was to kick back and get down with it all.

“I will only do it if you wanna do it,” he added. “You know, I—I don't wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“Frankie,” she started and then she hesitated. She closed her eyes as she struggled to find the write words. Marla said something to Charlie: they could hear them on the other side of the wall. “—Frankie, we've only known each other for a few days.”

She opened her eyes to find him gazing up at her with his head bowed a bit; he showed her a flutter of his eyelashes.

“Again, it's all up to you,” he told her in a low voice. She shifted her weight right on the spot, and she peered over her shoulder to the rest of the closet behind them. Completely bare—not even a box or a chair to be found in there. But the carpet looked soft enough, and the closet itself looked wide enough for them to have a seat and stretch their legs. She returned to Frank, who lifted his head enough for her to look right into his eyes.

“Would you rather I draw something in front of you?” she asked him in a near whisper. “Like—just something between of us? I won't show it to Charlie, or Marla for that matter. Draw something and then maybe follow it up with some kisses.”

“That sounds good by me,” he said with a warm little smile.

“You know, I'd have to go back out there to fetch my purse for my journal and everything.”

“It's alright—” He raised a finger to her. Silence on the other side of the wall, followed by something sliding on the floor. “I hear them shuffling around out there and doing something. I'm sure they won't notice.”

“Okay. I'll be right back.” He flashed her a wink before she skirted right past him to the door. When she reached the hallway, she caught the sound of Charlie breathing heavy. Something scraped on the kitchen floor as Sam reached that front room. She bowed her head a bit, but then she realized Charlie and Marla had gone into the kitchen. Acting quickly, she made her way over to the love seat for her purse and her journal, and then she scurried back to the closet and Frank without saying a word to either of them.

She shut the door behind her and he crouched down underneath the window. She took a seat next to him in the corner and they stretched their legs out before them. He offered to protect her purse underneath his left hand even though they weren't going anywhere.

She opened her journal to a fresh page near the beginning. Her mind fell blank for a second as she caressed the smooth clean surface of the white paper.

“Dunno what to draw?” he asked her in a soft voice, and then she clutched her pencil.

“Nah, I think I have an idea.”

Without another word, she brought the tip of the pencil to the paper and sketched out a little round curve first. She eyed Frank's lush nearly black hair, from his soft short bangs which rounded out his heart shaped handsome face to his narrow nose. He took a glimpse up at her for a second before he returned his gaze to the paper.

“Let me see,” she coaxed him and she brought a hand to his chin. Her finger tip lightly touched his skin and he gazed on at her. His eyes locked onto hers long enough for her to squirm again. Sam then lowered her hand and returned to the drawing in her journal.

She drew out his nose in the form of a little nub, followed by his eyes in an almost half moon shape; his eyebrows were narrow and straight; she started at the roots at the crown of his head and let the pencil lead her way. The graphite lightly kissed the paper so she could give it a bit of ink within time.

She drew the locks of hair such that it looked as though he was standing in an updraft of wind, down past his shoulders and complete with a part over his face. She gave him a little lanky body, one that wasn't too fixated on anatomy. She figured it would be nothing fancy: just a little thing between the two of them and no one else.

At one point, she set down the pencil next to her and picked up the ink pens. The two thinnest points would do the trick: she set the two millimeter one on her lap and took the cap off of the one millimeter pen. Carefully, she ran the ink along the graphite making up his face. Black ink contrasted against the soft white paper.

“It's almost like I'm seeing you at your most vulnerable,” he whispered to her.

“You—kind of are,” she told him and she showed him a smile at the sound of that. “You're seeing me at the most me I'll ever be.”

She followed the pencil markings around the crown of his head and even added some more to make his hair more to the real thing. Despite the cartoonish look of the drawing, she wanted it to resemble to the real thing. Short and small hatch lines underneath his eyebrows, and slightly larger ones on the side of his face obscured by his hair. A bit of cross hatching on his thighs and all around his jacket. She made the outline a little bit thicker under his head and around his neck; out of the corner of her eye, she could see him smiling.

“I mean, having you right next to me makes it even more intimate,” she remarked as she ran the pen over the piece of hair under his head. “It's almost like—I'm actually making out with you.”

“Touching and feeling me with the pen and the pencil,” he followed along.

When she added the final thin pieces of hair on the crown of his head, she signed her initials at the bottom of the page, but she hesitated for the date.

“It's the third,” he said.

“Already?” she asked, stunned; she scrawled the numbers “2 | 3 | 1985” right next to her initials. And then she turned back to him right as the beaming smile crossed his face. He then put his arm around her and tugged her closer to his body.

“I'm gonna keep going,” she told him, to which he nodded his head.

“Sounds good by me.”

She turned the page and proceeded on yet another round little face, this time one slightly fuller and with a cleft chin and a curlier crown of hair. She gave him a taller, lankier body as well, cloaked in a dark overcoat; she added little spirals and curls to his hair, such to the point it was twirling in the wind.

“There he is!” Frank declared as she signed her initials and the date once again. The fact she had someone right next to her only fueled her, and the fact that someone was Frank only made it better. She turned to the third page and proceeded on another one. His face was more square and his hair fluffier in texture, courtesy of her making shorter strokes on the crown of his head. Given the drawings of Frank and Charlie themselves had their hands stuffed into their pockets, she decided on showing off his hands. But before she got anywhere with it, she turned to him.

“Is it cartoon lore that all characters should have four fingers?” she asked him, to which he shook his head.

“I don't think so. Especially with us 'cause we're the real thing, you know?”

She nodded her head and proceeded on with five fingers on each hand: his left hand rested on the collar of his little coat, while his right hand hung right next to his head, as if he was adjusting his hair. Meanwhile, his hair streaked out from his head in a much smoother fashion, given his hair was straighter in comparison to Frank and Charlie's waves and curls. And yet, she still made little curlicues at the tips of his hair to give it that look of twirling in the wind.

“Danny?” asked Frank with a look of excitement on his face.

“Yes!” she exclaimed as she filled in the shadows with more hatching. She signed her initials and dated the drawing a third time before she turned to him again.

“Scott or Joey next?”

“Both,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

She turned to the fourth page and sketched out Scott's squarish face first, followed by the tendrils of wavy hair at the top and the sides of his head which, once again, twirled in the wind.

“I like how they're all consistent,” Frank remarked with a twirl of his finger.

“It was windy upstate today,” she pointed out as she drew his hands pressed together as if he was saying a prayer. “It kinda makes sense to me.” She made sure his coattails flowed with the fictional wind as well, and they billowed out before the front of his body. She couldn't recall if Scott wore gloves that day, but she added a bit of extra hatching to his hands so as to resemble gloves. Much like the drawing of Frank himself, she added finer strands of hair near the top of his head with the one millimeter pen as a finishing touch before she signed her initials and added the date yet again.

“And now—the big man,” she announced; Frank yawned and stretched his arms over his head, and then he brought his right arm back down onto her shoulders.

“The big chief,” he declared as he sank down even more next to her. She made sure the hair at the crown of his head was curly enough, but then again, they all stood in the wind so she drew most of his hair down by the side of his head. She pictured him in the back of his car, under that big heavy Indian blanket, all freezing cold and waiting for them to show up to help him out, and how he could not get warm for the longest time, and she drew both of his hands up by the collar of his jacket.

She felt Frank lay his head onto her shoulder at one point, but she didn't mind, especially when she began drawing out Joey's thick jet black curls with the two millimeter pen. Some extra hatching near his waist and his hips and she found herself recalling what Aurora had told her. Maybe she could catch him in the act at some point: she could find a way to make sure he was looking at her just right and then go from there.

After adding a bit of frizz to the tips of Joey's curls, she noticed Frank had started breathing at a more heavy, slower pace. He had fallen asleep right next to her. Indeed, the rest of the apartment was silent. She sighed through her nose and signed her initials and the date for a fifth time before she closed the book and set it down next to her. Careful not to wake him up, she climbed to her feet and ambled over to the light switch. Darkness blanketed the closet save for the light outside of the window; she hesitated for a second and then, using that ambient light, she returned to Frank on the floor there. He never stirred as she slid up next to him and leaned her head onto his shoulder.

Even with the hard wall at her back, Sam closed her eyes and still managed to drift off in no time.

She was laying on the ground again somewhere, this time surrounded by a series of glowing golden rocks the size of houses. The man with the stripe in his hair had appeared before her, and he, too, was laying on his side right next to her and wrapped in a heavy green blanket.

“Stay with me always,” she begged him in a near whisper.

“You never listen to me,” he told her in a full, deep voice.

“I'm listening,” she insisted; with that voice, there was no way she couldn't not listen to him.

“Come with me,” he begged her, and he scurried out from under the blanket like a hermit crab trying to find a new shell for himself. She followed him to the cliffs off to the side, and they rose up to the sky as high as she could see them. She lagged behind him given her feet and her ankles were tired. He stopped for her to catch up to him.

“Are you okay?” he asked her. She didn't reply. She couldn't reply. He seemed a thousand miles away from her and yet he sounded so close, as if he was standing right next to her.

“Come on, come on, quickly,” he insisted with a gesture of his hand.

“Where are we going?”

“You'll see.”

The waves crashed down on the shores of the island and more golden rocks landed on the beach before them.

“Don't touch those, they're radioactive,” he said in a single breath. But she could scarcely run. It felt like she wasn't going anywhere. Her hips began to ache from trying to run in the sand, and yet that white stripe at the crown of his head shone so bright in the sun, like a warning siren. He pulled further away from her even as he continued to sound as though he stood right next to her.

And then she tripped on one of the rocks.

And she woke up to the sound of Frank's voice.

“Sam—Sam?”

“Hm?” Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed on at Frank's dark silhouette. It was still nighttime. “What is it?”

“You're sitting on my hand.”

She moved her hips a little bit so he could take his hand out from underneath her. In the dim light, she watched him shake it about to get the blood flowing again. A banging sound outside of the door caught both of their attention.

“Oh, shit,” Charlie's voice rang out through the apartment. Marla's voice caught her ear as well.

“Scott and Billy—they're outside—I'll explain it later—”

Sam shifted her weight next to Frank, who shuffled his feet about the carpet before him. He groaned in his throat and nestled closer to her.

“Not the first time I've had to sleep on the floor,” he whispered to her. Yet another dream with the strange man with the streak in his hair, and this time she was next to Frank and it was the middle of the night.

“I keep having these dreams about a guy,” she started.

“What kind of guy?” he asked her.

“A guy I never met before. I don't know who he is, and I don't know what he wants from me, either.”

“What's he look like?”

“He's got this big stripe of white hair on top of his head. Like—this big shock of bright hair in a head full of rich black hair. He's—kinda handsome, too, like he's got this real sharp brow and a cute little nose. All I can think about is the stripe in his hair. I keep seeing him in places near water, too, like I've dreamed about him at the beach, or a drying lake bed, and just now I dreamed we were on an island.”

“Huh.”

“It's like the third time in a row I've dreamed about him, too. I don't know who he is or what he wants from me.”

“The literal man of your dreams?” he suggested.

“Could be—who knows, really.” She closed her eyes again and leaned her head against Frank's shoulder, who lay his head onto hers. They both snuggled against each other in the middle of the far corner. Outside, Scott and Billy's voices cut through the night, but they would have to address it come the morning.

#fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #anthrax #chapter 10 #charlie benante #frank bello #charlie benante x oc #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #mild smut #mildly nsft #also on ao3 #text

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littledraga · 4 years

Text

Whumptober2020 SPG Power Outage

Rabbit’s core had been unstable for years. It was practically a part of their personality now. Just something the manor expected. Glitches and the occasional meltdown. Nothing the Walter Workers couldn’t deal with.

But it was becoming too frequent and getting worse. The blue matter effects were starting to leak into the manor. Rabbit’s dreams coming to life, or places where things got thin, portals trying to form. It wasn’t safe to take them to shows.

It had been a madhouse trying to find the original blueprints. How they had managed to get so lost was beyond Six. They should have all been kept together.

When someone did find them, it was a long conversation. The Spine sat with Rabbit while she tried to explain why she’d never come forward before. That pappy had been too happy to want to disrupt anything, and she was afraid no one would believe her.

She would be out for a few days. Long enough that The Spine had time to sneak in a few new pieces into her wardrobe. It wasn’t much, but something he hoped would make her happy. Overall it was a simple black dress with puffed up sleeves, a ruffled black Walter Worker dress. He found a corset to slip over it to make it look a little flashier. It was a start, at least.

When she finally powered back on, she woke up surrounded by family. Sitting up, she smiled brightly. She’d undergone quite the change inside and out. Her core glowed a bright red now instead of blue. “H-hey th-there! Did-didn’t expect such a cr-crowd when I woke up!”

The Spine laughed and leaned over to hug her tightly. “It’s good to see you awake. I was worried about my sister.”

She beamed brightly at hearing him call her his sister and clung to him tightly. He didn’t mention the oil soaking into his suit. It was, understandably, a bit overwhelming for her to suddenly be a completed bot.

“Come on. You’ve been stuck in that suit long enough, come on.” Helping his sister off the bench, he tugged her back upstairs.

“I don-don’t know what you’re expecting, Spineo,” she chided as she followed him up. She may have gotten an overhaul, but that didn’t change what was in her room.

He just grinned widely and sat down on the edge of her bed to let her look. “I’m sure there’s something in there that we can work with.”

When she found the dress, she squealed in delight. “Spine, it’s amazing!” Hugging the fabric to her chest, she spun around in a tight circle, dancing on her feet.

Suddenly she was pushing her brother out of the room. “Out out! You can’t be in here while I change! It ain’t appropriate.”

Laughing, Spine nearly fell on his face as he stumbled out of Rabbit’s room. “I’m going, I’m going!” While he waited, he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

After a while, when she hadn’t opened the door, he tilted his head. “You alright in there, Rabbit? Not too fiddly?” He asked and laughed when he heard something hit the door.

“I wear six belts! I can figure out a dress!”

Another long pause and she cracked open the door. “Okay, maybe I need some help,” she muttered.

Once she had managed to get zipped in and added a few belts, for flair and tradition, she said, Rabbit spun in front of the mirror, giggling like a loon.

Back on the edge of the bed, Spine watched his sister with a small smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her so happy. Not since before Peter I passed away at least. Excited, wild, smiling, content, sure. But not truly happy.

After a while, she stopped and laid a hand on her head, gently running over the shiny copper. She wasn’t sure she liked that.

Watching her, Spine lifted his hat a little to show off his hair. “Want to wear my wig?” He offered. While he would have let her, they both laughed when she threw a pillow at him. Maybe not that one. “What about your rabbit ears? Those might work for now.”

With a hum, she looked back in the mirror. Gears whirred slowly, and her head opened up as copper antennas came up in the shape of large rabbit ears. She wiggled them around a little, turning them this way and that before she settled on how she liked them. Yeah, those were okay! Giggling, she spun around and showed off her new look.

“They look perfect, Rabbit,” praised The Spine.

Rabbit looked like she could have vibrated through the floor with excitement. Everything was just perfect! “I-I-I gotsta show-show everyone!” Hurrying out the door, she ran through the manor to show off her new, well everything!

The Spine had to stop her to get water more than once as she got excited, and bubbled on about how much she loved the dress. No one mentioned it looked like a dyed uniform. The Spine had done his best.

While she ran around, he could hardly keep up with her and opted to just be around, to make sure she was alright. Sure there weren’t really any risks for her in the manor, but that was still his sister, and he wanted to make sure she was alright after such a big change. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen her so energetic and full of life before. It was good to see her so happy now.

“It’s late, Rabbit. We need to shut down for a little while.”

“ B-b-b-b-but, Spine! It’s not that late! I wanna see what kind of dresses I can get! Petes promised I could buy some new clothes!”

Gently tugging her up to the room, his shoulders slumped. “Tomorrow. We can spend all day looking at dresses, okay? We'll find someone to take us to the mall or something.”

That worked! Mostly. She ran into her room, but he wasn’t sure she ever went into stasis.

Admittedly, he was excited too. This had been a long time coming, and he was glad Rabbit could have it at last. Even if he didn't think he could ever keep up with her again. Laying in his own bed, he sighed a happy stream of steam and powered down for a while.

It was easier in the morning. The Spine nearly had to pull her out of bed.

She was tired and sluggish. When she wouldn’t respond to knocking, The Spine marched in and found her tangled in her blanket.

"Must have used up all your energy bouncing around yesterday," teased Spine as he finally dragged his sister out of bed. He laughed when she swatted at him, clanging softly against his metal arm.

After making sure water boilers were topped up, he was worried she hadn't perked back up yet. She must have really been excited last night. Though he still didn’t think she should have been this worn down. They really didn’t need to sleep after all.

"Come on, we can look online for dresses," he offered, trying to get some life in her.

She perked up a little, at least as she followed him off to check the computer. Before they even sat down, she was asking about what kind of dresses there were. He wondered if it would have been better to have Upgrade or Malfunction there. He didn’t know all that much about dresses after all.

There wasn't a single dress she didn't gush over and plan on begging Petes for. From sundresses to ball gowns and even a few nightgowns she said were too pretty for bed.

When he suggested shoes, he thought she had ruined her voice box with that squeal. Or at least ruined his hearing! Who knew there were that many styles of shoes! The Spine wondered if he should update his own wardrobe. Of course, Rabbit came first.

That was the energy he was expecting! Not that he knew how the manor was going to fund this wardrobe.

He was pretty good with a needle and thread. There had to be something he could manage. Something he could look into later. For now, he was fine just sitting with Rabbit and planning outfits she would probably never get to wear.

They talked a while about what colours went with copper, and he bored her with information on wigs. There was a black and pink one that she had fallen in love with. Without thinking, he bought that.

After a while, she got quiet and leaned against his shoulder. She really must have been up too long. He supposed too much excitement could do it, even for robots that ran on blue matter, or red matter rather.

Smiling softly, he wrapped an arm around her and closed out of the tabs. That was alright. They'd been at it a good portion of the day, a break was good.

Once the computer was off, he gave her a gentle shake. "Come on, you. Nap somewhere else," he teased.

Nothing.

That was concerning. Rabbit shouldn't have been able to get that tired. Maybe she was pranking Spine again?

"Come on, I'll drop you," he warned, moving her he tried to trick her into getting up. Seeing her lulled back, he gasped.

"RABBIT!"

Her core had gone dark in her chest.

He called for help, screaming over the wifi as he lifted her up from the chair. Cradling her safely against his chest, he ran full speed through the manor and down to the labs.

The Walter Workers and Six were scrambling, trying to prepare as he barged into the room. Rushing him in the Walter Workers had to pry Rabbit from his arms to get her on the table.

The Spine was too heavy to force out of the lab. As much as they reasoned they would work better without him there, he refused to leave. That was Rabbit, his sister, on the table. He wouldn't leave her side.

While they worked, he paced the room and hovered over their shoulders. He sobbed and cried, quietly begging Rabbit to be alright. She couldn't die now, not now most of all.

Six was relentless as he worked. When restarting her failed, he opened up Rabbit's chest and checked every wire. Groundings, ports, gears, and screws, nothing was wrong, and nothing was working.

He poured hours into trying to bring Rabbit back online. Even the smallest detail wasn’t left unnoticed. The strangest idea was given a try, no matter how far fetched. He had even tried promising her a truckload of chocolate moon pies. He had nearly replaced all of her, hoping something would work.

"The red matter stabilized her, but it wasn't strong enough to keep her powered." Six put a hand over his mask and quietly wept.

The Walter Workers put their tools down and looked down at their feet. There was nothing left for them to try.

“Then make her core blue again!" Demanded Spine, stepping over to loom over Petes.

Six looked pained up at the titanium robot. Tears streamed down from under his mask, soaking into his lab coat. “I can’t.”

#Whumptober2020 #no.27 #power outage #spg #fic #tw: character death #mention of Pants!Rabbit

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fellkrieger123 · 4 years

Text

Prompt #18: Panglossian

To say Iiro wasn’t nervous would be a lie. She watched at the ivory spires of Limsa Lominsa came into view and her heart soared with excitement even as her stomach jumped with nervousness. This was the first time she had ever been away from home, after all! She wondered if her mother and father were worried about her, but she would be fine! She had done all her research, and she was ready! She’d become a great adventurer, know throughout the realm! Hells, maybe she’d even become more famous than the Warriors of Light! She found the nervousness being shoved down by the wave of giddy excitement that filled her.

She was quick to rush down the gangplank the minute she had a chance, looking around, her eyes sparkling. She lifted her arms, taking in the warm sun and the salty air, smiling ear to ear. Limsa Lominsa was rebuilding quickly, considering the Calamity was not that long ago. People were bustling about their days, laughter filled the air. There was a hopeful sort of energy in the air, and it was infectious.

“I’m here, M’aja,” she whispered, looking around. “I’m going to make you proud. Just you watch.” She took a moment of silence to remember her friend before shaking her head and rushing into the crowd. After a few minutes of walking, she realized she was quite lost. There were so many people! And so many decks and levels and... What was she going to do? She couldn’t even figure out where the Aetheryte was, and she remembered that was the first thing she had to do when she entered a new place.

She must have looked very lost because she was soon discovered by a slightly older Hyur man. He stepped in front of her, stopping her slow trek down the road. He smiled pleasantly at her, raising a hand in greeting.

“Ho! Hello there, miss. You look lost. Can I help you find something?” He asked her, and Iiro fidgeted shyly, looking away.

“Oh! Uh, yeah. I’m lost! I want to become an adventurer, but I’ve never been to Limsa so I don’t know where anything is!” she laughed nervously and the man nodded in understanding.

“Oh, yes! Limsa is a winding maze when you first get her. Have no worries, I’m more than happy to help you! I’m a bit of an adventurer myself, you see!” He winked at her. “Now, follow me, and be sure not to lose me, alright?” She nodded. Goodness, what a nice man! Her journey was off to a great start! She followed him carefully. He easily navigated the crowd and led her to the Aetheryte, even helpfully telling her how to attune to it.

He then led her to the Adventurer’s Guild where she met a gruff but nice man named Baderon. He was more than happy to help her register with the Adventurers Guild and show her all the points of interest on a map of Limsa Lominsa. He looked over at her new friend curiously, and looked back at Iiro, his cheerful tone dropping to a wary grumble.

“Well, that’s everything you need. You be careful out there, miss. We’ve been havin’ some kidnappings recently, and a pretty girl like you would be a prime target.” Iiro blushed but smiled confidently at him.

“Don’t worry! I’ll be just fine! I’m going to be a great adventurer!” she bragged, and though Baderon seemed hesitant, he nodded, shooting a look to her friend. She skipped away, giddy with excitement that she was now officially an adventurer when the man approached her.

“There we go! Welcome to the Guild, miss,” he said pleasantly. “What are you going to do now?” Iiro paused and thought, tapping her finger against her chin as she looked up to at the ceiling.

“Hm, I think I’ll go find some jobs and get my career into motion!” She said, and the man nodded.

“Well, if you’re going to do that...” he said, and she looked at him curiously, tilting her head. “Why don’t you join me and my crew? We could use an extra hand, and we’d be happy to help you out.” Iiro’s eyes practically sparkled. They wanted her in their party? That was great! She heard it could be hard to find people to party with as a new adventurer, and she had already found a party! She nodded excitedly.

“Yes! Yes, that’d be great! My name is Iiro Iro, by the way! A name to put on the papers, right?” She couldn’t hide her excitement, and the man smiled.

“My name is Murphy. Nice to meet you, Iiro!” he said. “Well, let me tell my party and get the paperwork in order. Why don’t you meet me in say, four bells...” He looked at her map in her hand and pointed to a small dock on the Lower Decks. It was a little out of the way, somewhere near the Fisher’s Guild, but she could probably find her way there with little trouble. “Right around here? We’ll figure out what to do then and you can get ready for the job we pick.”

“Alright!” Iiro folded the map and tucked it into her pocket. “I’ll see you in a little bit, Murphy!” He nodded and walked off. Iiro dug into her pack and pulled out her gil purse. She had saved up for this very moment! Quickly calculating what she needed, she rushed off to the Upper Decks. She took a moment to stop by the Arcanist Guild to get herself registered and then proceeded to the markets. She bought herself a shiny new book, some fancy new armor, and a handful of potions. She still had enough for a warm meal and was happily munching on a sandwich when the time came to meet her new party.

It was dark now, the sun having set about a bell ago. People had found themselves home, and the city was much quieter than it had been earlier. She found herself on a quiet, barely lit deck. It was a little eerie, just hearing the sound of the waves brushing against the pillars of the deck. She looked around. She couldn’t see Murphy or anyone else! Where was everyone? Was she too early?

Just as she thought this, something smashed against the back of her head and she staggered, her vision going white for a brief moment as she fell to her knees. She blinked, turning her head to see what had hit her, completely surprised to see Murphy standing behind her with a small group of men and woman, dangerous smiles on their faces as they began to crowd around her.

“Murphy?” She questioned, her voice shaking, her head spinning. “Why’d you hit me?”

“I can’t believe she actually came,” the Roegadyn woman to his right sneered. Murphy snickered, crossing his arms.

“Told ya she was stupid,” he said, leaning over Iiro. She looked up at him, confusion all over her face.

“W-what’s going on?” She asked. “Weren’t we going to party together...?” The group behind him laughed, a few insults being thrown in her direction that she couldn’t hear, her ears ringing from the blow to her head.

“Party together? Gods, you are stupid,” he said crouching down and reaching out. He gripped her long hair in his fist and she whimpered, tears coming to her eyes as fear filled her. He was going to hurt her! “We ain’t adventurers, luv. We’re pirates, and you? You were an easy target.” He reached out and forcibly pulled her pack from her. She let out a cry and reached for it, struggling in his grasp, but he shoved her away. When she fell on her back, he held her down with his foot, and she gasped for breath as she struggled under the pressure. He opened her pack and made a face.

“Psh. Not what I thought there’d be,” he grumbled, throwing the pack to another Hyur, who caught it. “Well, that’s fine. Those robes and that book look rather nice. We’ll be taking those.” Iiro’s face paled and she flailed.

“N-no! Please! That’s all I have,” she sobbed, fear filling her as he reached down and tore off the clasp of her robe. She struggled valiantly but was only rewarded only with a few blows to her face and body as his party joined it, forcibly taking everything she had, leaving her only in her small clothes.

“Careful, boys,” Murphy said. “Don’t hit the face too much. She won’t sell for as much if you bruise her up too much.” Iiro let out a sob, her chest aching. She had definitely broken something, and her limbs went limp as he stomped his boot into her midsection, knocking the air from her. Her vision blurred, but she was vaguely aware of the Roegadyn woman pulling out a coil of rope, preparing to tie her up. Was this how she died? Was she going to be killed on her first day of adventuring?

Her vision began to turn white around the edges as she felt the rope being tied around her wrists, cutting into bare skin, her ankles following. She tried to struggle one more time but was struck on the head once more. Her vision darkened, and though she tried to stay conscious, she found she couldn’t.

She mentally said goodbye to her mother and father, apologizing to M’aja as darkness finally overtook her.

She awoke later in a warm bed, her wounds treated and her body sore. She looked around, confused. The sun poured in through a small window to her left, and on a table near here was a small meal of stew and bread, still steaming and warm. She blinked, sitting up and whimpering as her chest protested. The door opened and she flinched, covering her head as a Miqo’te woman dressed in green walked in.

“Oh! You’re awake!” she said, walking up to Iiro. She was holding some more medical supplies and walked up to Iiro’s bed, placing them on the small nightstand. Iiro looked up at her, shaking, and the woman blinked. “Oh! Oh, no, don’t worry, you’re safe now. You took quite a beating. It’s a good thing Jacke heard you screaming or else you woulda been taken away by those wanna-be pirates.” She rinsed a cloth in a bowl of water and slowly reached out to dab at Iiro’s face. The Lalafell flinched and the woman recoiled.

“W-what happened...?” Iiro whimpered, and the woman tilted her head.

“You were mugged, and almost taken away to be sold. Those guys were pretty bad though. I can’t believe they tried to do that in front of the Guild. Here, let me clean your wounds.” Iiro was nervous but nodded as the Miqo’te continued talking, changing her bandages carefully. “Name’s V’kebbe, by the way. You’re safe in the Guild. Jacke was quick to make sure those idiots were punished for breaking the code.” Iiro stared up at her, confused, and V’kebbe sighed. “You’re probably still tired. I’ll tell the Guildmaster you’re awake. He wanted to talk to you. Then you can go back to sleep, okay?” She motioned to the table as she stood to leave. “You try to eat. I won’t be long.”

Iiro watched her go and walked carefully over to the table, sitting on the seat and looking at the stew. It was a simple meat stew, and she didn’t realize how hungry she was until the smell hit her nose. She quickly dug into the food, ripping a piece of bread with her teeth when the situation hit her. She had nothing. She was nearly taken away. Tears filled her eyes and she let out a choked sob, still shoveling food into her mouth as she cried. What was she going to do? She had no gil, nothing. They took everything. She only had the too-large clothes they had dressed her in, and no weapons. She couldn’t become an adventurer like this, and she couldn’t get home without gil...

“Yer awake,” a gruff voice said at the door, and Iiro looked up. A young man sauntered in, V’kebbe close behind him. “Good. Knew you’d wake up, but still, ye’ve been asleep fer two days. How ar’ ye feeling?” He looked over her and winced, noticing the snot and tears that dirtied her face. “Ah. Bad question. Sorry.”

“W-what do I do?” Iiro sobbed, dropping her half-finished bread and covering her face. “I don’t have anything. I don’t have any gil, or clothes or even a way to defend myself! W-what am I supposed to do now...?” The man watched her, arms crossed as he watched her cry for a moment.

“Ye could give up,” he suggested, and she looked up at him, shocked, eyes puffy and nose running. She shook her head fervently.

“No! No, I can’t! I have to become an adventurer, no matter what!” She sobbed. “I made promises. I have to! I have to!” The man watched her for a moment more and uncrossed his arms, walking up and kneeling next to her.

“Ye still want to fight?” he asked, and she nodded, rubbing her eyes as she tried desperately to dry her tears. “Ye want ta make a difference?” She nodded again and he huffed, smiling slightly and standing.

“Good. We can’t ‘elp ye with much, but we can help with that.” she looked up at him, confused. “Name’s Jacke. I’m the Guildmaster of the Rogue’s Guild- th’ very building yer in right now.” He made a sweeping motion to the room around them. “Ye wanna fight? We can ‘elp with that. Give you a pair of stabbers. Teach ye to protect yerself.”

“W-what?” she asked, eyes wide. Jacke sighed.

“I’m tellin’ ye to join our guild,” he told her. “We’ll help you, Give ye weapons, teach ye how to defend yerself. So long as ye want.” She sniffed, and he looked over her meal. “Ye don’t ‘ave to make a decision now, ye can rest-” Iiro blew her nose loudly before jumping up in her seat. Her body screamed at her, but she ignored it, staring at him, determination in her watery eyes.

“No. No! I’ll join. I have nothing else,” she said, her voice shaky. “Teach me how to fight! I want to defend myself! I won’t let anyone do this to me again!” Jacke grinned, crossing his arms.

“Alright. V’kebbe? Get this girl a pair of stabbers. We start lessons the second ye heal.”

#ffxivwrite2020 #ff4 rp #ff14 #Iiro Iro #Jacke Swallow #V'kebbe #Rogue NPCs #Origin Story!

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eye-raq · 6 years

Text

Fresh Out A Fight.

Adonis x OC

Smut.

Adonis parks his Ford Mustang in matte black outside of his two-story Loft in Philly. He arrived home at exactly 12:30 am, a half-empty bottle of Don Julio Tequila resting on his passenger side seat. He was hot all over from the tequila, and his clothes were clinging to his frame like glue. Finally reaching out as if it were far away, Donnie turns off his car, his other hand coming around to grip the right side of his ribs. He groans, eyes closed, before chuckling. The good thing was, he had won the fight. After successfully beating Drago, it was as if fighting guys half his size was no match for him.

Grabbing up his bottle and bomber jacket, Adonis finally exits his car, slamming the door shut. The cold air whistles along his skin, icy breath circulating around him with every exhalation. The industrial loft he had renovated was completely dark from his view through those windows. The sight of that had him wondering if his baby was asleep, inwardly praying that she wasn’t. Adonis’s adrenaline still pumped from the fight, and he needed the comfort of his girl to help tame the wild bull that rampaged through him.

—————————————————

A fresh bath was always a cure-all.

Jalaysia moves her legs back and forth under the hot soapy water, hands propped up on her book rack as she read through Stieg Larsson's The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. Her reading glasses rested on the bridge of her nose, and her curly hair stretched over her shoulders, wet without a care. Jalaysia’s phone had gone off more times than one within the past hour, but her mind was so invested in that book she couldn’t bring her eyes away as the words on each line consumed her. However, all of that ended as soon as she heard the doors slam beneath her, eyes lifting from the pages in an instant and fingers still lingering on the edge before turning.

So, Adonis was home.

She figured he would have stayed in a hotel downtown, especially since he enjoyed drinking with his team after a victory fight. Surely, he wasn’t drunk, right? Jalaysia knew all too well how drunk Adonis could be after a fight. Preparing herself for an animated introduction, Jalaysia closes her book, picking up her soap sponge to wash off her upper body. She scrubbed her chocolate skin softly, ears listening out for her man and eyes falling on the door almost every minute. She could feel her lower belly grow butterflies, and her pussy heats up beneath the water. Once he saw her like this, naked, flushed, hair wet and tangled, glasses on, body glistening, he would want to fuck.

———————————————-

“Jal?”

Adonis finally made it to the upper level, shirt discarded from the heat of his skin, the awareness of the cuts on his face coming at him full force. He tangled his fingers into his jeans, struggling to rid himself of them. He felt constricted, an exasperating groan escaping his mouth.

Leaving his clothes behind, Adonis walked towards their bedroom, with no sign of Jal, except for untidy sheets and darkness. Water splashing against a surface could be heard, Adonis turning towards their shared bathroom, primal nature kicking in. He makes his way towards the bathroom, opening the door hot-headedly, his eyes landing on a towel wrapped Jalaysia, leaning over the tub to allow the water to run out. Adonis streams his eyes from her wet calves, thighs, all the way up to her wet upper back and shoulders. She gives him a small smile, her pretty brown eyes having difficulty with keeping his hard gaze.

Adonis has seen his girl like this plenty of times, but the sight of her with his mind and body still in its fight mode, he wanted to ravish her.

“Hey there, how was the fight?”

Jalaysia’s eyes mapped a trail in its wake, taking in the sweaty brown skin of his and the cut on his left eyebrow, and lower lip. Little bandages were placed over his brow, full moist lips sort of swollen. He looked fresh out of a fight and that did things to her body.

“Ain’t nobody a match for me baby, I won that shit.”

Jal blushes at his arrogance, hugging her towel tighter to her frame, walking up to him.

“You didn’t come out unscathed though, babe.” Jalaysia admires his wounds with closer inspection, eyes trailing down to his torso, noticing inflammation on his right side.

“Shit, Donnie.”

“I’ll be alright, I always am anyway. Nothing some good sex and an ice bath can’t fix.”

Jalaysia looks anywhere but at him, Adonis’s thumb grazing her wet jawline. He brings his fingers up to rub over her lips delicately, eyes low and chest rising with intense breaths.

“I missed you.”

Jalaysia closes her eyes, tittering at his words.

“I missed you more though, you know how worried I can be when you fight.”

Jalaysia takes his hand in hers, kissing it softly, the steam from the bathroom making his skin feel extra moist.

“And you know how worried I am when you come to my fights, I would hate to hop out the ring and fuck somebody up.”

Jal hums in approval, “Yeah, true. But I’m safe with you.”

His eyes flared, shiny brown orbs intimidating.

“Jal, we don’t trust the other side when it comes down to a fight.” His eyes surveyed her closely with ardor.

“Jal, you know what I want, right?”

Jalaysia feels him grip the front of her towel, pulling her closer to him. The sexy aroma that wafted from his skin smells like musk and spice with a hint of davana oil. It was pungent and sensual, setting the exact provocative mood.

“Yeah, I know what you want.”

She wanted it too. Her eyes couldn’t keep away from his disheveled look. In nothing but briefs that hung low on his hips, Adonis already had his girl in a daze.

Without warning, Adonis yanks Jalaysia’s towel off her body, her breasts bouncing from the sudden act and thighs clenching. The friction from the towel had rubbed at her skin with irritation, her eyes low and hypnotic.

“Daddy had a tough fight.”

Both hands gripped her face.

“So Daddy gotta fuck that pussy rough and deep. How you feel about giving daddy that delicate pussy? I wanna fuck that sweet-little-shit…” his lips attached to her jaw, before growling into her neck.

“I’m taking that pretty thing.”

Jalaysia could only nod her head, lips parted.

“Do what you gotta do D, I want it.”

His fingers trailed down her belly, rubbing soothing circles on her inner thighs. His lips left her sloppy kisses along her neck, skillful fingers tickling her. Dragging his lips lower, Donnie’s mouth made its way to her hardened nipples, licking wild and needy, eyes never leaving hers. He paid close attention to her soft flesh, sucking sounds loud.

“Yesss, oh, mm.” Her hands brushed over his head, nails clawing at the back of it.

“Uhuh, mmm yes…” her body arched into him, his powerful hands climbing up her torso to rest behind her back with a firm grip. He dragged his nails down her back with his killer lips still on her nipples. Adonis palmed her back in circular motions, the water on her skin acting as a lubricant to his fingers. Jalaysia lifts one of her well-proportioned legs to Adonis’s waist, twirling her hips into his for needed traction. That action elicited a deep grunt from him, his left hand in her wet hair now and his right hand palming her wet shapely ass, pounding it like an African drum.

“Shit, yes.” She whines, her hands gripping his shoulders, massaging them.

With one swift motion, Adonis lifts Jalaysia up to straddle him, one arm around her waist with his lips now kissing between her heaving breasts. Backing out of the bathroom, Adonis uses a bit of force to push Jalaysia against the wall, the momentum causing her hair to fall in her face. He loved seeing her like this, wet and disheveled.

“Fuck a bed huh?” He chuckles into her neck, his scent overpowering her like his solid frame.

“Fuck a bed when I can have my way with that ass on any surface.” He bites into her neck, Jalaysia’s hands coming up to cradle the back of his head.

“We ain’t make use of these freshly painted walls either baby.”

He trails his lips over hers, before sinking his teeth into her bottom lip, pulling it.

“Gotta make use of this shit, don’t you agree?”

Jalaysia gives him a slow nod, her eyes low.

Adonis smirks slyly, his right hand on her belly, fluttering lower until it reached her wet pussy. Adonis takes his fingers to tease, eyes on his girl while he felt up her phat pussy lips, pinching them and rubbing them side to side.

“You always doing that shit D when I want them thick fingers in me..” she wanted to be stretched the fuck out.

“Last time I checked Jal, I’m taking this pretty little pussy.”

He opened her up, the cool air from the hallway hitting her warm center. She could feel the wetness against the air, his fingers keeping her pussy lips open while he teased her.

Adonis' eyes trailed between them, admiring how slick her pussy is, it reminded him of a pink rose covered in honey.

“Damn, baby.” He finally runs his calloused fingers over her clit and labia, rolling them in circles, gathering liquid.

“Shit is so fucking wet, don’t make no sense Jal.”

He flicks her clit back and forth with a single finger, her back arching off the wall.

“It’s okay love, daddy got you.”

Adonis bringing his middle and ring finger together firmly, trailing down towards her unyielding entrance.

“Let’s see if this pussy act right for me.”

He slowly slides his fingers inside of her, “mhm” he sounds out.

“Yeah, she acting right.” He speaks in a hushed tone.

“That’s right.” He whispers.

His fingers moved in and out her taut pussy, purposely digging deeper and deeper until he was satisfied with the sounds she made. He rolled them, scissored them, jerked them, all while making Jalaysia unravel.

“SHIT daddy please keep that same stroke!”

Adonis had the perfect curve over her spot, the slushing and gushing sounds reminding him of a body of water.

“I told you I got you, right? Why the fuck would I do my baby wrong.”

She shook.

“Especially if I’m stroking that spot.”

His plump lower lip eased its way between his teeth, the rumpled look of him and the sight of his bloody scars had her whimpering.

“Fuck, you look so damn good,” Jalaysia says in barely a whisper.

Her legs gripped his hips, dragging up his torso, squeezing over his right ribs causing him to grunt with a mixture of pain and pleasure.

His hands dipped deeper over her spot, her hips jerking with every pump. Jalaysia tried to fight that urge to leak all over him, but it was as if he knew she tried to hold it in.

“The more you hold it Jal, the more I need it.”

His thumb circles over her clit, applying deep pressure. Jalaysia screams, her words caught in her throat while her juices coated his arm and legs. Adonis rumbles deeply in her ear, his fingers slowing down but never leaving her.

“you gon let me eat something?” Sucking his fingers clean, Donnie didn’t wait for a response, dragging her to the carpeted floor, his head resting between her legs. Adonis pulls her legs up and over his shoulders, arms wrapped around her thighs to hold her in place.

“Daddy sorry in advance.” He smiles, leaning forward to place his lips on her pussy, serving her tongue with long trails of spit. The wiggle of his wet tongue had her lifting up on her elbows, thighs shaking. Adonis takes both of his thumbs, peeling her open.

His damn tongue.

“Oh my God.”

Her entire body shivered.

It was dripping with spit and warm against her pussy.

Adonis would blow on it, before applying the tip of his tongue again. Jalaysia shook her head down at him, begging him to stay there.

“Donnie please don’t stop.”

“Donnie keep going for me.”

“D, oh my god I love it.”

He was in the middle of crossing his ‘T’ before making a U shape over her clit at the right angle. He would suck her pussy into his mouth, then spell out letters like his tongue was a sharpie.

“When you lick me you never miss a spot.”

Adonis lifts his mouth from her pussy to kiss her.

“Pussy so damn good I gotta kiss you in the mouth.”

He goes back to work, face all in her pussy like a wild man. Jalaysia clenched her fists, belly constricting, before gripping his head with her thighs.

“Shit shit shit.”

“I love me some chocolate.” He says with allure as she melts in his embrace, her mind like mush and her eyes fluttering.

“D FUCK!!”

She palms the back of his head, body arching into his mouth, leaking on his tongue.

———————————-

Full lips mixed with deep sucking pressure.

His hands reside in her hair, scaring knuckles almost breaking skin from how tight his fist was.

“You look so damn pretty with my dick in your mouth.”

Jalaysia lowered her entire mouth over his length as if she were dragging that aggression out of him. His deep moans bounced off the walls of the hallway and the frown etched in his features had a warning behind it. He expected her to suck him up and take the length and girth of him like a champ; he was a champ after all.

“Eyes up here baby, look at me with that dick in down your throat.”

He used her hair for leverage, twirling the curly strands around his fingers.

“Fuck. So good baby.”

Her hands brace the surface of the wall, relaxing the back of her throat while Donnie helped her over him. Her tongue squirmed over his balls and her throat clenched the tip of his dick frantically. She breathed through her nose with a tear-stained face, the sight of his well-built frame in low lighting making her pussy quiver, body glowing like he was oiled up.

“That’s the look that got me wanting to fuck you even more.”

Jalaysia sucked up his tool with her throat as leverage, moans vibrating along the length of him, shooting straight to his balls.

“Fuck, damn girl..”

Adonis lets out deep rhythmic grunts as he thrusts his hips frantically forward, a muffled groan bringing her eyes to his, that dick in her mouth throbbing against her inner cheeks.

“Fuckkk yo!!!” With both hands gripping the sides of her head, Donnie stills her while he dick rides her face, spit flying, throat sore, and eyes painfully squeezed shut. His balls hit her chin, sticking to her skin from the spit that covered them.

“Stay right there, hold fucking still.” Donnie thrusts forward one last time, body shivering and abs flexing before cumming on the back of her tongue. Jal could have choked from the heavy load, but she was prepared and willing to drink her man dry. Adonis continued to thrust, movements slowing up until he finally slips his glistening dick from the tight hold of her lips.

“How daddy taste?”

Jalaysia licks her lips, rubbing the taste of him in like lip balm.

“So damn good.”

——————————

“Fuck, Daddy.”

“Yeah this pussy mines.”

“It is Donnie, it’s all yours”

“Damn, you feel so fucking good.”

It was rough and frantic, true fucking bliss.

Splitting legs apart, her body turned sideways, his hands on her waist and ass, bouncing her up and down as if she were a blur.

Deep penetration.

Face to face.

Both moist bodies clashing madly.

Adonis couldn’t help but pound up into her in this position. Jalaysia was lost in herself, her head was thrown back, breasts bouncing in a hypnotizing circle.

“I’m beating this pussy up.”

“Tryna knock me out huh? This dick ain’t no joke.”

Sitting facing Donnie now with her legs on his hips and bent at the knees, Jalaysia wraps one arm around his neck and the other planted on the carpeted floor for support. Donnie pulls her by the waist towards him in an unhinged manner. Her hair clouded her face, breasts pointed to his mouth for him to flick with his tongue.

“Gimmie that dick.”

“Nah, gimmie that pussy Jal.”

His nails drove into her skin, maniacal movements rocking into her pussy like he wanted to break her barrier. She could only stare at his dick as it entered her, mouth parted and eyes wide in lustful shock.

“Ah, I love this dick.”

He chuckles into her neck.

“I already know that baby, I got you wild on this stick girl.”

She meets his eyes, bringing her thumb to run over his scared brow.

She loved fucking her fighter.

He could be sweet and sensual, but crazed and rough.

Fucking Adonis was something new spontaneous that fed her horny nature every time.

Donnie lifts her up from the floor, pulling her legs further up around him, her arms wrapped around his neck. His dick still buried deep. He walks his girl to their bedroom, sucking on her lips in the middle of a wild kissing session. Without a care for the lights, Donnie puts Jalaysia on the bed, flipping her over to angle her the way he liked.

Taking her arms to cross them, Adonis rubs his dick along her slick pussy, teasing her entrance with the tip of his dick and a vice grip on her wrists. It was so tight her damn arms shook, head hanging over the edge of the bed.

Anticipating a hard fuck was something she couldn’t control.

Jalaysia knew what was coming.

She knew that the moment her champion entered her, there would be no more gentle, tender, delicate.

He was going to fuck her now.

The way he slid into her had her body tensing up and her spinal cord ignited from the impact.

“Say thank you.” His hand came down on her ass in a hard slap.

“Fuck!! Thank you, thank you.”

“I won this pussy”

She simply nods her head, body jerking forward with every slow deep thrust he gave.

“This pussy my trophy baby girl.”

He went into overdrive, stabbing into her pussy.

“Oh my FUCKING god Jal.”

He slaps her ass again, gripping it with his wide hand. He couldn’t cum yet, he didn’t want to, but the more he fucked her, the more he wanted to nut in her.

“This pussy...oh shit..”

“Cum in me.” It was more of an order.

In between deep groans, Donnie claws her ass while he emptied deep inside of her.

“Pussy just taking this nut!!” He stares at his cum covered dick, watching it drip to the bed making a puddle. At this point, Jal was in a daze, tired moans escaping her mouth like her voice was no longer there.

“You ain’t never tell me congratulations on my win baby.” He drags his lip between his teeth, both hands on her ass pushing forward to deepen her arch.

“Congrats, baby, you deserved it.” She sounded exhausted.

“C’mon Jal,” *SMACK* “throw that pussy back.”

Lifting up on her hands, she backed her ass up on him, swallowing his dick with a grind of her hips. Her head fell forward from the overly sensitive way he rubbed her insides as if mixing them. She could hear her wetness and feel every vein in his dick acting as a stimulant.

“You better cum on this dick girl!”

“It’s so fucking big.”

Her shoulders shook and her lower belly tightened. That same stretch on her pussy felt like the first time. Her legs locking up, Jalaysia grips the sheets between her teeth as her cum coated him yet again.

“Fuck it’s just so good.”

She wanted all of his strength.

She wanted to feel the pressure of his hands holding her legs above her head, those same hands that went for rounds and rounds on the speed bag. She wanted to feel up on those overworked muscles that glistened with sweat from his fresh fight, admire his scars, and listen to him grunt.

He always grunted deep when he was wild in the pussy, it was music to her ears.

As if reading her mind, Donnie flips her over onto her back, watching her body bounce and hearing the springs creak. With the sound of flesh smacking, he brings her legs up until her knees touched her ears and her toes flexed to the ceiling. Jalaysia’s pussy smiled up at him, his heavy dick resting on it with a throb.

“Put your hands behind your head baby, you know I hate it when you try and block me.”

With her hands behind her head, Donnie grips the base of his dick, body in a pushup position before sinking deep inside of her, jackhammering her.

No words could explain how the driving force felt inside of her.

Eyes tearing up and unblinking, she couldn’t look away from the way he stroked her.

Donnie was feeling just the same, his eyes glued to her pussy wrapped around him with sweat dripping from his forehead.

“Goddam Jal. Fuck you for having some good damn pussy. SHIT!”

She would have normally laughed at that, but the way he drilled her, dick curving to the angle of her pussy, fat tip pushing past her tight hole, thick dick stretching her, length reaching her barrier, walls tingling and wet….

“Nasty little pussy taking this fucking dick like a pro!”

She could only nod her head frantically, eyes on him.

“It’s cool though, I’m giving her just what she wants.”

Her body went into shock, face frozen with lust, and cream coating his dick.

“Damn, there she goes. Cumming again.” He chuckles deep, face in a frown and jaw tight.

Jalaysia was lost in the moment, unable to form words. Each time she tried, Donnie would stroke her spot, causing her to bite her lip instead.

“Where all that noise go?”

He had a brow raised, calculating stare.

“I ca-can’t.” She shook her head.

Donnie slips out of her pussy, leaning down to suck on her clit. Her eyes popped open, leaning up on her elbows to watch him.

“Sh-shittt!!” He held her legs open with his lips all on her.

“Damn D!!!” He lifts his wet face, slipping his dick back in and fucking her like he never left.

“Oh my goodness!” She moans with a scratchy voice.

“That’s all you gotta say Jal?!!! Daddy gotta step his game up huh?”

He slips out of her again, mouth on her pussy, sucking with a shake of his head. She could feel her stiff clit against his warm tongue, each swipe asking for her to cum all over him.

“Yeah!!!! Ahh!!” She clamps her legs on his head, cum coating his lips.

“Time to fuck.”

He picks her up from the bed.

The moment his feet hit the floor, he went to work, bouncing her over his dick with his hands on her hips.

“Oh, oh mygod.” She cried.

She was surprised she could take some more.

He gave her this dangerous look that had her cumming again, head falling to his shoulder and his hands cupping her ass, pulling her onto his slick pole.

He wasn’t going to stop.

“I’m all up in this pussy girl, my pussy, fuck that, this shit is mines.”

Pussy practically begged for him to cum in her.

She couldn’t move, his limbs never tired as he lifts one of her legs to his shoulder, angling her body mid-air with a firm hold, pulling her over him.

“Don’t stop.”

She hugged his neck, mouth hanging open against his shoulder. Donnie’s eyebrows pinch together, nibbling on his lip with an increase in his movements.

She could feel him in her chest now.

“Come on Daddy.”

“Shit, I’m cumming bruh.”

He began to breathe deep against the skin of her neck.

“Damn, I’m cumming girl.”

His hands began to shake against her ass.

“Oh my god this pussy, FUCK!”

Jalaysia clenched him, moving her body over him to receive his cum. Adonis loved that, giving her ass a hard slap.

“Don’t stop, I want more..”

She began to grind her hips, Adonis groaning in her ear.

“Jal…”

“I need more.” She begged.

“Jalaysia, fuck..”

Her back hits the bed in a tired motion, his sweaty face rubbing against hers.

“Keep fucking me.”

He went without stopping, his body rubbing into hers with his face touching her face. His brows knitted together, breath ghosting her cheek.

“I can’t believe this shit.”

He was cumming again, and he couldn’t fight it. Donnie moans against the side of her face, eyes low and hips snapping forward roughly.

“Fucking-AHHH, fuckkk.”

She was in bliss.

Her hands pinched his firm ass, the heels of her feet pressing into his back. Her belly grew tense, whimpering, crying, whining…

“Ooooooo!” She shook, her cum causing his dick to slip out.

He puts it back in.

“Donnie!”

“Shut up.”

He stands up, grabbing her hips while her body angles off the bed. He went at it again, fucking like he didn’t just cum four times.

“Donnie!!” She whined like a child.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Her body lifts from the bed, hands gripping his arms just in time before he bangs into her.

“You said don’t stop right? Where am I right now?!”

“In your pussy!”

“Good girl.”

She pants, gasps, inhaling sharply.

“Ahhh, Donnie!!!!”

There it was, her juices flowing between them both, her body still shaking. Donnie was right behind her, legs powering down as he drops her onto the bed, his body falling on top of hers.

Jalaysia’s hands press into his back, her moans like a whisper in his ear. Donnie rests his forehead between her breasts, letting out tired breaths as if he had been going for rounds and rounds in the ring.

There was silence at first and tired limbs with catching breaths. His hands rubbed at her hips in slow circles and his lips planted kisses against her skin.

Jalaysia smiles with a struggle, one hand on the back of his head.

“I love fucking you fresh out a fight.”

They both share an exhausting laugh.

“Not more than me though.”

Jalaysia shoves his head, eyes closing with a giggle.

“You’re so annoying Creed.”

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#creed 2 #adonis creed #creed #michealbjordan #rocky #rocky balboa #viktor drago #amethyst1993 #myfanfiction #Smut

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ms31x129 · 5 years

Text

Chimera

Woohoo! Time for Chapter 2! I had to make a DJ! I felt compelled! @cultureisdarkbeer @monikafilefan @today-in-fic

Chapter 1 - Courage to Jump Tumblr LINK or if you like AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 2: Luck of the Irish (Click on the name for AO3) or if you like Tumblr just clickity-click on the Keep Reading link below.

{Summary: Months after watching the death of his adoptive parents and Mulder and Scully’s tearful exchange on the pier, Jackson decides to take the risk and head back to his home. He is in search of answers left behind and possibly something worth keeping as a remembrance before the house is sold and all is lost forever. In the attic he finds a letter from his birth mother and as he reads each line, the power and love each word possesses causes his mind to connect with the letter's past, one that he shares, and through visions he relives each moment including an answer to a familiar quarter that his birth grandmother would later carry on a simple chain around her neck only for his birth mother to do the same after his grandmother’s death.}

"My task, which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word, to make you hear, to make you feel--it is, before all, to make you see." -Joseph Conrad

The handwriting drew him in first—elegant and delicate. The shapes of the letters remarkably strong, written with expertise and confident symmetrical lines. Beautiful strokes, both straight and curved, the letters flowing into one another with care and precision. His own handwriting was jagged: no artful roundness or discernable style. Sometimes his Os looked more like As and Ys like an S. They did not have that in common. With a deep sigh he dared to plunge forth, to jump and read the first line.

One day, you’ll ask me to speak of a truth of the miracle of your birth; to explain what is unexplained.

He paused at the word “unexplained” . Something within that word haunted him. His heart inexplicably raced, vision blurred and his mind blazed. Like a great rush of water, the memory returned as if he entered a time machine.

February 5, 2002 - "Handle them carefully, for words have more power than atom bombs" -Pearl Strachan Hurd

Silver. A quarter.

The delicious smell of something baking in the oven. A smile came into focus that was highlighted by lines and age. Security and warmth when he was cradled within her arms. She was an older woman, holding him tenderly with dark hair and a glimmer in her hazel eyes that matched the shiny quarter she had retrieved from her purse. After setting him down in his bassinet, she displayed it in front of his eyes. The woman flipped the quarter over like it held pure magic. As if she had never seen one before. Her features cracked into a familiar grin.

“This is luck, William. A coin in a baby's hand means they will never want for money. It’s an old Irish tradition. I put one under your Uncle Bill’s pillow when he was a baby. Same with your Uncle Charlie and your mother.”

Baby William grabbed hold of the coin. Jackson recalled the feel of it in his hand. Cold metal, yet warm in places where she had touched. With both small hands he tugged the solid object from her grasp.

A worried look clouded over the woman’s brow as she stroked his fluffy hair.

“William, I know you are special, but you will always be my grandson. You will grow to do many great things. Change the world in ways only you can dream. Always remember my dear, sweet grandchild, you can survive the unexplained—survive anything if you feel loved… and I do love you.”

The older woman with the hearts in her eyes took one last heavy breath before reasserting her smile. Even at his young age, her eyes and mind communicated to him and the words resonated making him bubble with laughter and kick with joy. The woman let out a laugh, loud and beautiful. Her face was aglow with new beginnings of a world he was ripped from and would never get to see. Their moment was interrupted by the front door and a familiar voice: Mother .

Her face bright and cheery as she finally came into view. “Mom, watch so that he doesn’t put that in his mouth.”

Mother knelt down as she took the quarter from his fisted baby hands and it angered him. He began to fuss and kick, desperate to feel the coin’s texture against his skin again.

“Shh, look,” she soothed while she held the quarter near his face. He let out a laugh as he reached for it, only to make it disappear. Jackson felt himself frown as baby William. Then his mother squeezed his button nose and out popped the quarter. She then held it out in the center of her palm for him once again, and a squeaking giggle rumbled out of his little chest as she laughed along too."Your daddy showed me that trick," she said and smiled so bright it warmed his body from his tiny rounded toes, to his now drooling, smiling mouth.

“I was going to place it under his pillow. Give him some Irish luck,” the woman answered softly while coming back into his vision, drinking from a steaming cup.

“You know I don’t believe in superstitions, Mom, but I guess it would be alright.”

His mother’s hand gently stroked the swell of his cheek with her thumb and her bright blue eyes danced between his, connecting. A quick electric-like spark ran through him as if he were shocked. Her eyes narrowed onto his at the realization of the connection made while her hand jerked away from the softness of his face.

Jackson’s head snapped back and he found himself staring at the attic’s wooden ceiling, inhaling the musty oak while the past scent of his mother mingled with the present. He gripped his thighs and forced his breathing to slow.

“What the fuck?”

The length of the memory freaked him out. He had experienced snippets or clips of what he knew to be memories of his life as a young boy, but never to this amount of detail, and not even close to lasting that long before. His mind had never worked in a manner that society had deemed normal and this was just another example shoved in his face of how screwed up his head really was.

He scoffed and kicked the box next to his foot, angry as he glared at the letter that had floated to the floor.

“Why am I even doing this? I’ve lived my past and it certainly wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine.” Jackson shook his head and stood to pace the floor, tucking his chin to his chest as the low beams brushed along his wild chestnut hair.

Questions overwhelmed him.

“Who am I really?” he huffed, biting his lip and running a hand down his face. “Jackson or William? Some kind of freak with alien DNA? A Changeling? A Chimera? And do I even wanna find out?” Truth was he did. He wanted to know who he was and get his life back, take control of what could happen in the future. But in order to do that, he knew he had to look to the past no matter how painful it may end up being.

Overall his life was a happy one, for a kid who felt like an alien in his own skin a little more as each year past with no idea as to why. He’d laughed, played practical jokes, had friends, took family vacations, and learned life lessons. But, the bad soon followed the good.

At times, it certainly wasn’t the happiest of childhoods and sure as hell wasn’t normal; the unexplainable powers he’d just happen to acquire growing up put a wrench in the standards of normalcy. Beyond that aspect, his parents loved him and they showed it. Sometimes embarrassingly so. Perks and downfalls of adoption, he supposed. But after shit hit the fan as his powers grew and was forced to switch schools, he utilized his above average intelligence to hack into the State of Wyoming’s county birth records. That had only spurred his curious mind into overdrive. Searching high and low for clues within the confines of his bedroom, where is parents hovered less often, was his only real way to find his own answers. The answers that his parents nor doctors could ever truly give him.

The only way to find the truth was to seek it. And seeking it through unauthorized channels, after finding out his genetic material was not shared with his parents whom were raising him, was his only choice to answer the questions firing through his mind every hour of every day and throughout each night laced with dreams he couldn’t explain.

“Follow the breadcrumbs, Jackson,” Mrs. Wilson told him as she leaned over his desk, thumbing through his advanced science book. “There are always clues left behind to help guide you when you lose your way. No matter how small they may seem or how cloaked in misdirection they are, the truth is out there.”

And that is exactly what he was doing now: searching for his truth.

An average day in his grade school science class had turned into a room full of shocked classmates and a seriously freaked out teacher calling his parents to pick him up when he had hatched an egg out of thin air. Jackson cringed at the memory of being picked up from school that day and seeing the look of what he now knows to be apprehension plastered across his mom’s face. That incident only spurred his parents into action, calling the genetics specialist at the Children’s Hospital of Wyoming to make yet another appointment.

Jackson stopped pacing and slammed his eyes shut, recalling the very occurrence that flipped his childhood world upside down and had finally given him his very first breadcrumb he was unknowingly searching for already.

“Come on, come on, Jackson! Get your long legs moving!” his dad teased as he ran ahead through the reeds of the waving grass.

“You cheated!” he hollered, his golden brown hair that frizzes in humidity flopped into his eyes with each pound of his foot into the ground.

He was taller than most kids at age eight but still hadn’t honed his ability to use the length of his legs the way he wanted. The new spring sun shone brightly into Jackson’s eyes as he ran through the rolling hills of their farmland behind the house.

The competitive side of him ached to catch his dad laughing at him from the bottom of the hill and a sudden surge of anger rushed in as he picked up the pace. He was known for his swift shift in temperament recently and had even unintentionally shattered the sliding glass door after his mom had scolded him. That same anger resurfaced and Jackson stretched out his limbs as he raced down the steep hill, leaping over a branch only to fly awkwardly through the air and land crushingly hard on his arm.

“Jackson!” He heard his dad yell and run towards him. The pain shooting through his forearm was overwhelming and when he looked down, he saw the bone had broken and was protruding out jaggedly beneath his skin. “Oh, my God! It’s broken, Son.” His dad gently touched his wrist and told him he was going to get help.

No tears came while his dad disappeared into the house. He only stared hard at the bone and endured the pain as he narrowed his eyes, focusing on just making it go away. “Please go away, go away, go away…” As soon as he chanted that, a searing sharp pain lanced through his head and down to his arm, heating and mending the break right before his widened eyes.

Jackson sat in the grass, covered in damp smelling dirt while he watched the bones in his arm straighten back out in utter shock. It was like nothing ever happened. He had done it. He had just healed himself; and he felt completely alone.

Even as his parents arrived and hovered over him, shocked and confused, Jackson had never felt more different, alien—knew in his intelligent mind that his life would never be the same again.

And it hadn’t. Not one day since then. That was the day he had overheard his parents speaking in hushed tones through the doctor’s door at the Children’s Hospital, telling them that more testing should be done since his birth parents might hold the detailed answers to their son’s medical history and the key to his future health.

The rest of his life had been spent rebelling and testing his powers in some sort of weird competition with himself. Jackson had been trying to fill in the gaps on his own and it just wasn’t cutting it anymore. He had a thousand questions he wanted to ask his mother, questions to which they needed to find the answers. There was only one way to get them now.

The question still remained: was he ready to receive them? And was she?

A loud bang and muffled noises caught Jackson’s attention and he moved to the attic’s window.

“Shit!” He jerked away from the glass and gasped as he saw two men in suits walking up the driveway.

Closing his eyes as he listened to the sounds and movement of the men outside, he heard the “For Sale” sign creaking in the wind again. An idea struck. He fisted his hands and scrunched up his face in concentration. In a matter of seconds and an exhale a breath, he was now the man shown on the sign sporting a fake smile and a bad haircut.

The front door rattled and Jackson knew that the men in black weren’t going to give up until they did a full sweep of the home. He moved to the doorway of the attic but just before he exited, he looked longingly at the letter written only for him. The decision to take the letter with all the beautiful words of nearly two decades ago etched into it with him, or let it collect dust and age without knowing every single word his mother had meant for him to read ended up being an easy one for him to make.

He lunged down and snagged the letter, folding it up in his pocket just as the back door flung open and smashed into the wall.

Using his illusion, Jackson stood before the surprised men and asked, “what can I help you with? If you’re here to see the house, another walk through is happening in a couple hours.” His voice was deceptively calm since his heart was pounding in his ears. The fact that he could easily kill them where they stood didn’t mean he wanted to do so. He felt like a monster enough already.

“You’re the realtor?” The man with thinning hair and glasses asked as he palmed what Jackson assumed was a gun at the spine of his back. “No one else has been here?”

“No, but who are you?” Jackson made his way casually to the front door and narrowed his eyes at the man’s hand. When he got no answer he unlocked the door and flung it open. “You should leave before the authorities notice that piece behind your back. And since you’ve basically broken into a home up for sale, I think they’d have probable cause to search you.”

The men shared a look and stiffened at his icy tone. Silence hung in the air until the decision of whether to explain anything to him finally came.

“We’ve been monitoring this place since the event of last year for classified reasons. No need to waste your time on a worthless phone call.” Spinning around in place, they stared up toward the landing on the second floor, as if they expected him to just pop out of his room and wave. “Seems hard to believe a house like this is still on the market,” he chuckled and nudged his partner with a smug expression. “I guess the multiple homicides might turn people off.”

It took all of his strength to not beat the hell out of these assholes standing in the exact spot where his parents’ killers stood, aiming their murder weapon at his own head from the stairway.

“Then go,” he sneered. “Unless you plan on buying?”

Attitude and rage oozed from his teenage mouth and he didn’t give one shit. His control was waning at a faster rate than he had anticipated and if they didn’t leave soon, he could only imagine how the entryway walls would look with a fresh layer of red blood painted across its pristine eggshell white.

The taller man took the hint and made one final glance around and nodded for his partner to follow him out the door and down through the front lawn. They slowly got into their car and drove off, but not before tossing out a look that could kill. And Jackson had no doubt that the men had done just that multiple times before.

He slammed the front door and locked it. His head banged against the heavy wood.

“Jesus,” he exhaled as he dropped the illusion. “I gotta get out of here.” He ran a hand through his longer hair now and slid his fingers in his pocket, brushing them along the letter he had yet to finish. “That’s just it, man… you never finish what you start,” he laughed, annoyed and frustrated with everything including himself. “But maybe now, it’s time to try.”

#today-in-fic #xf fanfic #xffanfic #the xf fanfic #the xfiles fanfic #chimera #msr fanfic

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

as the stars align 5/? (branjie) - rujubees

A/N: hollywood enemies to lovers au; 3.5k - also on ao3

Vanessa hadn’t talked to Matt in weeks — not since the night they’d fought over Brooke. She’d been staying at Silky’s place, Riley too, making trips back to her apartment every now and then to pick up extra stuff, planning her visits carefully to make sure that they coincided with Matt’s working hours.

She had no idea where they stood anymore.

They hadn’t officially broken up, but Vanessa didn’t how they could come back from that argument. More importantly, she didn’t want to come back from it.

She was almost grateful that Matt had said the things he’d said, as shitty as they had been. The couple had been growing distant for months, maybe even years. It was becoming harder for Vanessa pretend she was okay with things staying the same the more her feelings for Brooke blossomed. But Matt showing his true colours had been the final straw; her heart had been unhappy for a while, at least now her head also saw reason to leave.

Vanessa still felt bad about it, and was dreading the apology tour that she would have to embark on as a result of her decision.

She didn’t know how Matt would take it. She had thought she knew who he was, but the Matt she had known would never sink to derogatory slurs in moments of anger.

Matt’s parents were sweethearts, and she felt she owed them an explanation too.

Vanessa’s own parents, and entire extended family, would be disappointed. They loved Matt, loved that their daughter had found herself in a serious, long-term relationship at such a young age — prior to Vanessa’s career taking off a year ago, they had even started talking to her about marriage. Of course, they were proud of Vanessa’s success since then, but Vanessa couldn’t shake the idea that they were more excited about their daughter settling down.

There was also the issue of making their breakup public knowledge. Vanessa’s relationship status had always been Matt, and it had never been a secret — she hadn’t yet discussed with anyone how she was supposed to go about revealing their separation. Should she try editing him out of her wikipedia page? Compose a relatable, humorous tweet that made it clear she was single without addressing Matt directly? Should she call in as an anonymous tip to TMZ?

There was other stuff to sort out too, like moving out. It was Vanessa’s apartment, a new place she’d bought after her first major pay check, so Matt would have to move back in with his parents, at first at least.

Vanessa just wanted it all over with already; she felt like she was stuck in some kind of relationship limbo. She wanted Matt gone from her life for good. And she wanted Brooke.

Not that that was going to happen.

Ever since Brooke had phoned her to apologise, they had both been making an effort to get along at work, and it had gone surprisingly well. They’d finally managed to snap out of the cycle of going back to feuding and Brooke seemed truly remorseful about how she’d acted. She was always polite, often kind, and the times when she would crack a joke or laugh at something Vanessa said were the best part of her day. Brooke was witty and funny and the big, bright smile that Vanessa was now getting to see didn’t do anything to help the fluttering in her chest.

If she was being honest, she thought that Brooke had been on her best behaviour a little too much — not that she was being insincere, but that she was trying too hard to be a perfect version of herself that would be impossible for Vanessa to fault. Vanessa wished she would open up to her more.

But then again, why would she? They weren’t friends, they hadn’t even texted. Vanessa wanted to, but she didn’t feel it was her place — she’d pretty much forced Brooke to have her number, but she didn’t want to assume that Brooke was okay with Vanessa having hers.

So, they weren’t really friends, and Vanessa had zero information to suggest that Brooke would want to be more than that, or that she was even into women. It had felt like she was a little too into their first kiss, but maybe it had just been a way for Brooke to let off a little steam in such a busy, stressful period. Maybe she’d hated it, and that was why was so moody afterwards. Even on the off chance that Brooke was attracted to her, that didn’t mean that she would want a relationship, have any romantic interest.

They had filmed other kisses and make-out scenes since then, as they worked towards the movie’s final act, and as much as Vanessa tried to disconnect herself from them, it still felt like bliss each time Brooke’s lips touched hers. They took it slow in all of their kisses, always fearing another fuck up like the first and preferring when Michelle instead would encourage them to put more passion into it.

It was an unspoken rule that they never rehearsed those scenes, and never discussed them after.

—

A couple of days later, Vanessa still hadn’t dealt with Matt. She loved Silky and was eternally grateful for the favour she was doing her, but she missed home. They had also been filming for a few months now without a break, and Vanessa was exhausted, the current day also proving to be a long and tiring one having been on set for over twelve hours.

And the scene they were filming that night was hitting a nerve. It featured an argument between Vanessa and Brooke’s characters before Brooke’s embarks on a second mission — her most dangerous yet — and all it was doing was serving as a reminder of what a clusterfuck her relationship was right now. And having Brooke yell at her, even though she didn’t mean it, wasn’t helping.

“You’re a coward!” Vanessa shouted. “You can’t just put your space suit on and get in the rocket and fly away from all your problems! That’s not how it works!”

“Oh yeah? Try me. You’re just jealous because you wish you were given this opportunity,” Brooke yelled back.

“That’s not what I want and it’s not what you want either. This is a fucking suicide mission, Jade, and you’re only doing it because I know you love me too and you’re scared.” Vanessa’s character was supposed to be at her boiling point, angry yet confident in her knowledge that her love was reciprocated, and beyond the point of sadness. But Vanessa couldn’t stop her voice from breaking, or a lump from forming in her throat.

“I’m doing this. If you’re not gonna be supportive then why the fuck are you still here? You know what, just get the hell out Emilia. I’m done,” Brooke said coldly.

“So am I,” Vanessa retaliated, but she just couldn’t invoke the harshness that the line needed, and her eyes began to water. She quickly wiped her tears, hoping that no-one had caught it, but a quick glance at Brooke’s worried face confirmed that she hadn’t been so lucky.

“Cut!” Michelle hawked. “Brooke, that was spot on. Vanessa, I want just a little more venom from you, got it? Emilia’s being driven by anger in this moment; she’s furious that Jade would risk her life, and that she can throw herself into deadly situations, but won’t face up to her feelings for Emilia.”

“Okay,” Vanessa replied meekly.

“Let’s take five, alright?” Michelle stated before leaving the set.

Vanessa turned in search of Aquaria, desiring a makeup retouch, but Brooke quickly caught her arm.

“Vanessa? What’s wrong?” Brooke asked softly, looking pained at the sight before her. Her concern at seeing Vanessa sad was enough to set Vanessa off even more, and she shook her head, her lip starting to quiver.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Brooke caressed her arm before disappearing, though her touch lingered.

Vanessa checked her phone. She’d sent Matt a message over twelve hours ago, requesting they meet up, and he’d read it but still hadn’t replied.

Brooke was back a moment later.

“We’re done for the day,” she announced.

“Wait, you did that for me?” Vanessa asked, no longer resisting the tears that streamed down her face now that she wouldn’t have to film anymore.

“I’m surprised they haven’t fired the both of us, the amount of times we’ve shut this set down early,” Brooke replied, her hand back on Vanessa’s arm.

“Thank you,” Vanessa whispered shakily.

“Want me to drive you home?” Brooke suggested.

“No, I… I ain’t really staying at home at the moment.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you, uh, wanna talk about it?” Brooke offered cooly, almost like she was afraid of rejection or perhaps as coming across as too nice.

“What the hell, might be helpful to have a fresh pair of ears listen to me whine.” Vanessa tried to laugh, but it came out as a sort of hiccup and Brooke was still looking at her with those big, sympathetic eyes.

“Not here,” Brooke decided, “there’s a quiet little place across the street. It’ll be closing now, but I know the owner, she’ll let us stay late.”

Brooke took Vanessa’s hand, leading her out of the studios to their destination. Vanessa thought about how she should have emotional breakdowns more often if it meant Brooke would treat her like this.

“A chicken restaurant?” Vanessa questioned.

“It’s good, trust me.”

They went in and were greeted by a small, lively Asian woman about Brooke’s age.

“Hey Juju! Vanessa, this Jujubee,” Brooke said, giving her a quick hug.

“How are you?!” Jujubee asked excitedly, before turning to Vanessa and giving her a hug too as they all exchanged pleasantries.

“I know you’re about to shut for the night, but is there any chance we could hang here for a while?” Brooke enquired.

“Sure, girl, anything for you and this gorgeous date of yours,” Jujubee agreed with a wink. Brooke blushed, muttering a quick apology to Vanessa, and Vanessa thought it was the most endearing thing she’d ever seen.

Juju led them through to a booth, her walk almost as bouncy as the shiny curls in her hair. Vanessa thought she had more energy than anyone had the right to have at eleven pm.

Moments after they had taken their seats, Jujubee brought them drinks and went off to cook them some food, on her.

“So,” Brooke began. “Tell me everything. Or, you know, as much as your comfortable sharing.”

Vanessa had one hand on her hot beverage and reached out, entwining the other with Brooke’s, hoping she would interpret it as the intimate gesture it was intended as, but at least having the excuse of her distress if Brooke wasn’t interested.

“A few weeks ago, I had a fight with my boyfriend, Matt,” Vanessa began, Brooke listening and nodding attentively. “We’ve been growin’ apart for a while, but we just blew up that night over — over — y’know, it was kinda ‘bout you, but that don’t matter,” Vanessa insisted. She would have to be more careful not to give too much away.

“About me?” Brooke asked, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. “God, I’m still ruining your life even when I’m not trying to.”

“No — it’s not like that,” Vanessa shook her head dismissively. “He thinks we’re fuckin’ or some shit, look, the bitch is crazy, okay? Don’t take no notice.”

Vanessa felt Brooke seize up under her touch, regretting running that mouth of hers and making her uncomfortable.

“Yeah, so crazy,” said Brooke, eyes flittering around the room, probably wishing for Jujubee to hurry the fuck up with the damn fried chicken already.

“Anyway, it’s irrelevant, ‘cause it was a long time comin’. He ended up sayin’ some shit, really showin’ his ass, and then I walked out.”

Brooke stayed silent for a minute, and Vanessa could see the cogs turning in her mind, putting two and two together.

“So — you left your boyfriend two weeks ago, and you haven’t been back home since?” Brooke reiterated.

“Exactly. Well, I’ve been back and forth to pick shit up. And I didn’t leave him, like, for real, we didn’t say the words or nothin’.”

“It’s not my place to tell you what to do, but… you are going to dump him, right?”

“Yeah, I will do. Soon as he remembers how to pick up his stupid phone,” Vanessa growled, making Brooke laugh, Vanessa quickly joining in despite herself.

“I hated seeing your face back there,” Brooke confessed quietly.

“I don’t know what came over me, girl. Like, I’ve been through so much with that douchebag, but I ain’t even sad about it. It’s just… it’s a big step, you know? Breaking up with someone you been with your whole ass adult life. Don’t even remember how it feels to be single.”

“You’ll be okay, ‘Ness,” — the nickname fell from Brooke’s lips as naturally as rain in a storm — “and I don’t wanna overstep, but uh, you can always stay with me if you need to. I have a big house. Lots of rooms. Not to brag or anything, but, we wouldn’t even have to see each other if you didn’t want to —” she rambled on, and Vanessa smiled softly, knowing that they were both beyond that.

She couldn’t accept Brooke’s offer, though. The temptation of being just a corridor or a wall away from her every night, even if only for a short period — it would be too much.

“We get it, you’re rich,” Vanessa cut her off teasingly. “but I can’t. I need my crib back, bitch.”

“Well. The offer stands.”

Jujubee came by with their chicken at last, and the two thanked her, Brooke insisting that she go home and allow them to wash and lock up.

They ate in a peaceful silence for a while, Vanessa reflecting on how little she knew Brooke and how this was the perfect opportunity to try and change that.

“So, what about you?” Vanessa enquired.

“What about me?” Brooke smirked.

“You got any, uh, boy problems of your own?”

Brooke held her gaze pensively, before letting out a low chuckle.

“I mean, having a boyfriend would be the problem.”

Vanessa’s mouth simply formed a small ‘o’ shape.

“You’re— ”

“I’m gay, ‘Ness.”

“Right. Well. That’s… compelling information,” Vanessa stammered.

“Is that… cool?” Brooke was frowning and why the fuck did Vanessa have to go and make her reaction so fucking weird?

“Yes, oh my god, it’s the coolest. I mean, I’m bi, so,” Vanessa responded, “I mean, I’m not hitting on you — I didn’t— ”

“Vanessa, chill,” Brooke ordered, her face having twisted into something illegible. “So you’re really bi?”

“Yeah. Like, only my friends and family know at the moment, and I’ve never really done much with a woman, but — I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

“Hey,” Brooke said “for what it’s worth, I’m glad you did.”

“You too,” Vanessa replied, smiling slightly. A lock of Brooke’s wavy bob had fallen in front of her eyes slightly, and Vanessa poured herself another drink to stop herself from tucking it away.

“So, back to the original line of questioning,” Vanessa remarked, trying to stay composed. “Any girl problems?”

“Uh, nope. No girl problems. No girlfriend. Ever, actually,” Brooke answered.

“Is that a preference or…?” Vanessa trailed off, doing her best to not sound like she was prying, or judging.

“Mostly.”

“Okay. Nice.”

The conversation coming to a natural end, and their food all eaten up, the two women made their way to the kitchen, Brooke tidying up as Vanessa began filling the sink, staring into the water mindlessly.

The woman she liked didn’t do relationships. She was disappointed, but she hadn’t exactly been living with expectations of anything happening between the two of them — they were already at a zero so they couldn’t exactly get any lower. This was fine, she would cope.

“You know what I never told you?” Brooke wondered after a moment. “Remember the first day on set?”

“Not my best memory of you,” Vanessa affirmed with a fond smile anyway.

“Oh yeah? What is your best memory of me?” Brooke asked curiously, maybe even flirtatiously, and she was suddenly pressed between Brooke Lynn and the sink in a way that was decidedly not platonic. Brooke had a hand attached to the kitchen surface either side of Vanessa, was looking down at her intensely, waiting for her to make a move, and it would be so easy —

but getting over Brooke after a quick fuck would not be. She wouldn’t be satisfied with a one off fling, getting it out of each other’s systems.

So instead—

“My best memory of you?” Vanessa repeated sweetly, brushing her fingers through Brooke’s hair —

“Your face after I do this, bitch,” Vanessa said before grabbing a handful of bubbles from behind her and splashing them in Brooke’s face.

“Oh my god, you whore!” Brooke screamed, doubling over in laughter and probably drunk on tiredness.

They continued having a semi-water fight for a few minutes, until they both realised just how late it had gotten, so they finished cleaning the dishes, finally left and walked to Brooke’s car. Brooke offered to drive her back to Silky’s, and Vanessa couldn’t find the energy to refuse her.

“What were you gonna tell me? ‘Bout the first day on set?” Vanessa spoke up part way through the journey.

“Oh, that,” Brooke quickly remembered. “The truth is, I was late because my cat Apollo was sick. I had to take him to the vet’s and, well. Be there for him.”

Vanessa was dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe that all along, she had been mad at Brooke for that. For taking care of her kitty.

“I feel so evil,” Vanessa muttered.

“Don’t girl. I could’ve told you or made some vague ‘personal emergency’ explanation, I just chose not to. Just to be petty.”

Brooke pulled up at Silky’s house and turned the engine off.

“God, we’re dumb. I’m so done with our shit,” Vanessa quipped.

“I’m so done with being awake,” Brooke responded with a yawn. Vanessa faced her with a tired smile.

“Thank you for everything tonight, Brooke. I mean that.”

“Goodnight, ‘Ness,” Brooke whispered as Vanessa got out of her car, headed inside.

Vanessa didn’t think she’d ever tire of hearing Brooke call her that, even if the woman never said a different word to her again.

—

That night had been a game changer for Brooke.

Sure, she already knew by then that she was attracted to Vanessa, and that she desired a little more than friendship between them. But that night had been a whirlwind of events; from seeing Vanessa so sad, she wanted to make hurting her a crime, to finding out Vanessa was bi and allowing herself to entertain the notion that maybe this connection Brooke swore she was feeling wasn’t just in her head.

And then there’d been that moment in the kitchen, where Brooke had been unable to think of anything but the image of Vanessa sitting on the counter, Brooke’s head between her thighs.

She’d wanted to kiss her so badly, maybe would’ve done if the tension hadn’t dissolved along with the bubbles in Vanessa’s hands.

It was for the best, though. Vanessa was vulnerable, and Brooke would feel like she was taking advantage. Besides, she didn’t want to be her rebound.

Because the more time she spent with Vanessa, the more attached she got.

It only got worse as the final few weeks of filming came to pass, when they became close enough for Brooke to believe that she honestly felt she had made a friend in Vanessa. It was an unfamiliar feeling — Brooke had never really wanted to be someone’s girlfriend before. She’d had crushes, even caught feelings, but none of it ever seemed worth it in the end. Worth the effort, or the compromise, or the heartache.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, but it wasn’t scary, and maybe that was what scared Brooke the most.

Brooke, who poured everything she had into the final kiss she filmed with Vanessa — held her waist a little bit tighter, caressed her cheek a little softer. Kissed her hard so that maybe she would understand.

“That’s a wrap on As The Stars Align, everyone!” Michelle announced to thunderous applause, before speeches were delivered and tears were shed, temporary goodbyes exchanged.

Brooke caught up with Vanessa after.

They didn’t speak about the kiss, as usual; Brooke just pulled Vanessa into a hug and held her close.

“I broke up with Matt, by the way,” Vanessa revealed, a huge grin on her face, and Brooke knew it wasn’t the most appropriate news to smile at, but for some reason she didn’t think Vanessa would be mad. “I hear they’re renaming the wrap party to the Vanessa-is-single-celebration.”

“Doesn’t really have the same ring to it,” Brooke smirked.

Still, she wouldn’t miss it for the world.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #angst #smut #fluff #lesbian au #as the stars align #rujubees #concrit welcome

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