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willowser · 10 months

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now i wake up by your side—

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 2.8k+

tags: u.a. college au, canon-compliant, reader has a telekinesis/telepathic quirk, references (and potential spoilers) for the current arc in the manga, angst, a lot of secret hidden feelies

tysm to @alrightberries for giving me the opportunity to bring this lil thought of yours to life 🥺 your patience and understanding during the time it took me to write this is so appreciated it, and tbh you're the reason i'm even still here right now LOL you're so sweet, and i hold your kindness so close to my heart. i wish i could convey how much it means to me. i hope i did this even a lil justice !! happy birthday dear !!!! 🥺🩷✨️

Sero dreams of watching the sunrise on top of the Roppongi Observatory.

It’s a beautiful sight, one you’ve never seen with your own eyes, but you soak in the warmth flushing across his cheeks and the anticipated break of morning through the clouds. When he takes in a hefty breath, you feel the spring chill sting inside his chest, crisp and clear, like it’s you breathing instead of him, and it’s almost comforting enough to lull you to sleep, too.

But a clay pot shattering against a nearby bench has your eyes springing open, ripped from the haven you’d been lost to.

You have to blink several times in order to fight through the exhaustion wearing you thin, but the evening returns to you in small, bleary doses. It’s the middle of the night—or at least it was when you’d first wandered out to the training field, and you can’t be sure how many hours have passed since then. Across the yard, you’ve successfully managed to carry four pots from the garden plot near the entrance all the way to your feet with your Quirk— but number five sits in pieces in the grass.

You’ll have to clean that up by morning or Eraser will make you run laps until you puke. Again.

Kirishima flits through your mind in a suit and tie: not as a Hero, but a spy of some kind, chasing down men with masks covering their faces and wielding a gun that looks odd in his hands, even in his own dream. Despite being back in the dorms, stories up and near the end of the hall, you can see it—hear him yelling out at the criminal to stop, feel the thud of the ground under his feet. His own determination blares through you like a freight train, as strong and damning as he is, and you fight to force yourself back inside your own shoes as you try to carry another pot.

Recovery Girl used to tell you that you did this to yourself: all your worry about losing sleep psyching yourself out of it completely, chasing it away before it even had the chance. When everyone is getting ready for bed, heading out of the common room and hitting the showers, you can feel that suspense building; what will come across tonight while everyone dreams? Fantasies? Or nightmares?

During the day it’s easier to drown out the foot-traffic of everyone’s thoughts—you do it without trying, now—but your brain needs rest, too. Letting go of control for even a second, just to get some shut eye is—

Something frightening is outlined in your peripheral vision, the dash of a pale shape you aren’t able to discern before it’s gone. The air turns metallic and stale and you can hear water sloshing, though you’re nowhere near the pools. All your blood rushes in your ears and your fingers curl, like you’re gripping your seat—gripping the edge of the couch in the common room, where you’d been sitting beside Mina when Kaminari put on that horror movie. The one with the—

“The hell are you doin’?”

Your eyes snap open for the hundredth time that night—show over, credits rolling—and it’s Bakugou. Standing only feet away from the new set of clay shards of your failure, tangible and real and staring at you with an intensity not even your dreams could mimic.

You blink, eyes stinging and heavy. You must look insane. “Oh, hey,” the voice that comes out of you is far-away, chartered off to distant lands, and he notices immediately, focus razor-sharp despite how late it is. “What did you say?”

Bakugou wrinkles his nose, like he’s offended at having to repeat himself. “I said, what the hell are you doin’? It’s nearly 2 in the morning and you’re out here throwin’ shit around in your fuckin’ pajamas.”

Almost on cue, the breeze brushes past your legs, chilly enough to have you shivering, and you peek down at them as if you don’t know what they look like. The sweater you’re wearing is from second year and the U.A. logo is half-worn off, but it’s the comfiest thing you own and if you’re going to be plagued all night by the forced intimacy of your classmates’ dreams—you at least want to be cozy.

When you look back up at him, Bakugou is pointedly looking away, taking interest in something other than your wimpy state of dress.

It dawns on you then that he’s out here, too, in sweats and a simple back sweatshirt, hair a messy, golden halo in the pale, buzzing field lights. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think his face was a little rosy, but—maybe you’re seeing things.

Still. Being out and away from everyone, alone with Bakugou, makes your stomach tighten horribly. Like you’ve done too many sit-ups.

You try to brush off your sudden bout of shyness, because you know he’ll clock that in no time, too. “Well, I could ask you the same thing.” At the raise of your eyebrows, he only tchs, and casts you a filthy look. “But I think maybe I’ll just mind my own business.”

The face he makes is so awful and hot-blooded that you laugh, truly and earnestly, enough that a headache pulses to life. You wince, and the stream of pain that shoots down the middle of your skull brings back that image of Kirishima’s action-thriller: blood and knives, the sound of skin on skin, a fist against cheekbones, the ugly snap of breaking—

“Oi.”

Bakugou is closer than before, when you’re grounded back inside yourself. At least no pots have been broken this time. Less to clean up.

“Sorry,” you shoot him an apologetic smile that you know he must hate. “It’s just so—” your hand feels like it’s made of lead, but you drag it up to massage slow circles into your temple, trying not to grit your teeth and worsen the pounding in your head. “So loud sometimes.”

He’s silent until the pain ebbs out, and when you can blink without flinching, you peek up to catch how intently he’s watching your face. In the night like this, his eyelashes seem darker, longer, a kind of haunting beauty you would dream about, if you could get some sleep.

Again, you think of Kaminari’s horror movie, legs pressed against Mina’s under the heavy comforter she’d brought down from her room. It’s warm, the kind of pink, fluffy thing you’d imagine a girl like her to have—but it didn’t stop you from shivering every time you chanced a glance at Bakugou and found him already staring back.

The heat in your cheeks spreads to the back of your neck, so immediate that you think you might start sweating. “Dreams and stuff,” you murmur, by way of an explanation, “nightmares, sometimes.”

Bakugou's frown deepens, the muscle in his jaw tightening once as he grits his teeth. “What, you can just…hear that shit all night?”

“Usually,” you shrug, “It just comes in, you know? And I—” you steal another glance at him, aware, then, of just how intrusive you might sound. The veil of privacy is thin between you and others, and they don't often like being reminded of that. “Not for you, though. I don't—I don't get anything from you.”

And it's true, frustratingly enough. Not that you are ever intentionally peeking into anyone's head, but things slip through, occasionally—sudden reactions, wild, loose trains of thought.

Bakugou's face twists, regardless, and you're reminded of all the times you've been forced to spar together, at Eraser's behest. One of the smartest in your class, quick on his feet and never without a plan; every time you've managed to get a hand on Bakugou, there's been nothing but a sea-shore calm.

It's hard to do and, at this point in your life, you've seen a thousand people try it—but he's the only one that's ever succeeded in keeping you at bay.

Nothing in his expression changes, but all your nerves spread to your voice until it shakes. “You're—I don't look in there, of course, but it's—you've always been…” Bakugou is terrible at taking compliments, you know that, almost as bad as you are at giving them. “Pretty, I guess.”

Awful, at giving them.

Embarrassment floods him, suddenly stained pink as he curls into himself. “Piss off,” he barks, and though he’s scowling at you in what must be disgust—you can’t help but to smile at how aggressively bashful he is.

You almost get the guts to make matters worse, just because you can. Admit how handsome you’ve come to find him, after the last few years, until his face is steaming in the sweet nighttime chill; the kind of intimacy you wouldn’t mind dreaming about again and again.

The absence of his thoughts are a comfort for your tired mind, has all the harsh edges of night fading into something a little easier to swallow, to breathe in. You know he does it on purpose as a strictly defensive move, but you almost want to thank him. For the quiet.

You don’t know if it’s from you or him, but when you reach a hand up to hover near his temple, the air buzzes between you, gently. Charged with that same thing that had you unable to look away from him in the common room only days ago. “In here, I mean,” you murmur, and the smile you pull on feels lame, but it’s as genuine as ever. “I don’t know, I don’t know how you do it. But it’s…nice.”

You’ve seen him die a thousand times.

Mostly in Midoriya’s dreams, sometimes in Eraser’s when he nods off during last period, but that horror—like many others, from that day—stains you all. When dinner is put away and showers are finished and the lights go out and the flood gates open, someone almost always relives the ugliness of it all; you’re more familiar with that moment than you are with any of your own.

Here and now, you close your eyes and see Jirou staring back at you, face beautiful and full of hope. You see Kirishima’s torn suit jacket and the blood on his cheek and the empty gun in his hand, the most dedicated secret agent. Aoyama is dreaming of his mother, something warm that makes you feel like you’re dazzling, too.

And yet—Bakugou is silent. Even right in front of you. Even after everything.

If anyone deserves the peace and quiet, you suppose it ought to be him.

“When’s the last time you got any sleep?”

You blink until his blurry figure is clear, and it’s like you can physically feel whatever energy you had left seeping from your body at the mere mention of sleep. “Maybe a morning or two ago,” you tell him truthfully, “I usually pass out after a few rounds of ‘throwin’ shit around’.”

Bakugou only stares at you as he digests the words, and once he’s gotten them down, he shakes his head before looking out over the mess you’ve made of the training field. With his head turned like this, you can take in the full weight of his scar—the one that’s wide and still baby-pink across his cheek.

You almost get the guts to tell him he’s handsome. Almost.

Frustration is evident on his face when he looks back at you, but his voice comes out softer than you expect, like he's struggling to get out any words at all. “Can’t keep doin’ this,” he chastises. “Can’t be a Hero if you’re half asleep all the time. Gotta figure this shit out.”

“I am,” you give a lazy wave to your pots, “What’s wrong with this solution?”

“It's ass.”

“Alright, you have any better ideas, pretty boy?”

He bristles, visibly enough to have you snickering, and—you’re not sure what you expect of him; to continue his griping or leave you to your own devices, building his walls up high as he always does. Ever the fighter, ever the protector; maybe it’s a good thing, you tell yourself, because you’re weak like this and one of you needs to be thinking straight.

Despite his flush, there’s a playfulness to his grouchy expression, his raspy tone—and it has you leaning too far into things you don’t know how to name.

You never know what to expect of him.

There’s the slightest brush of skin against the back of your hand, and when you drop your eyes to the slowly-dwindling space between you—the rough pads of his fingers are touching you, gently. Softly enough to be the breeze, if it weren’t so warm.

You’re afraid to look at him, suddenly, like it will break whatever spell the night is casting over both of you; instead you press your lips together to stop their wobbling and the smile fighting to give you away. You’re waiting for that sea-shore calm, that quiet comfort, whatever it is he’s trying to offer you, strangely enough, in this moment. When you turn your hand over to catch his, the air buzzes again and the blood rushes in your ears.

You focus and—all you can see is your own face staring back at you. In a flash, like he’s cycling through his cards in a hurry, trying to find the best one.

You, across the arena during the entrance exam. You, in the locker room before the Sport's Festival. You, sitting in the common room during Christmas. You, ruined with tears and your own blood and covered in grime, on the darkest day of your life.

You, now. On the field in the stale light, prettier than you think you must look, for being so exhausted, the lines of your smile deep as you grin up at him.

—And then there's nothing.

The absence of noise is louder than anything. A stark, white silence that cuts through; a different world trickling away. A single touch and a little focus is all it takes to take root inside someone’s head and that’s always felt like a weapon, but now it feels like coming inside from a snowstorm, relief shuddering down your spine. Everyone else's fears and nerves and heartaches dissolve until they’re only a bitter taste at the back of your throat. Something far, far behind you

There’s just Bakugou. A strong silence that feels impenetrable, invulnerable to the outside. The steady beat of his heart is comforting in a way you didn’t realize it would be, has that bloody, dead-eyed image of him shifting into something else: another moment in Midoriya’s memories, of his silhouette standing in the sun, tall and fierce and alive.

Returned. Here and now with you, after numerous, unforeseen turns of events. You wonder if the ease surrounding you is his own, something else he’s sharing—or if this is just how it feels to be with him after so long. Maybe in the past it was different—you know it was; during the entrance exam, during the Sport’s Festival—but now you feel more relaxed than you ever have. A reminder that, no matter how dark the nights get, the sun is only just beyond the horizon.

Returned, comforting and quiet.

(You won't know this until much later, but your hand will go slack in Katsuki's and his fingers will tighten around your own because he's not ready to let go yet. When your knees buckle, he'll already be there, awkwardly holding you up against his shoulder as his face flames and his eyes dart around the empty field, checking for any shitty snoops.

Ears is always up damn late, too, and there's a decent chance he'd get caught trying to haul you back to your room on the third fuckin’ floor, so there's really no better option than to gently lower you both to the grass. After a couple of minutes with no movement, the field lights will shut off and only the distant glow of the stars will remain.)

(You won't know this until much later, but Katsuki will arrange the both of you so that your head isn't slumped on the hard ground, but resting on the plush of his bicep, an arm around your shoulders so that the warmth can be shared between you both. His heart will pound hard enough in his chest to be worrisome, and every time you shuffle and scoot closer to him and nudge your nose into his sweater—Katsuki will fight to stay open and true, only honest with you in this wordless way.)

(You won't know this until the sun rises high behind your lids and your bones ache and he’s shown you things he could never say, but it's the best sleep you think you've ever gotten. With him, under the stars, surrounded by his calm and his constant.)

(You won't remember this but in your dream—your real dream, born from with solace Katsuki offers you—the morning will rise and settle in and he'll walk you back to your room despite the stares and in the elevator when you're alone, his lips will touch yours and you'll feel his heart in your chest and his nerves in your stomach and his fear and relief all in one.)

(And right away, when you wake up, you'll finally have a name for this thing that's been blooming between you both for as long as you can remember—and he will, too.)

#i was so nervous about getting the quirk right kahfkahf #and then i was so nervous about it being fluffy enough bc the first draft of this was too angsty ??#SO I REWROTE IT LOL #i hope this is okay !! 🥺#i love the idea of bakugou being able to express how he feels in emotion only #that the fear he doesn't know how to name or how to explain or understand is conveyed to you somehow #whenever he touches you #🥺#tysm for giving me the chance to write it !!!#literally no but seriously you're the only reason i haven't privated this blog again LMAOOO tysm 🥺#✿ willow writes #✿ one shot: bakugou

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zialltops · 5 months

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

masterlist | ao3 | spotify playlist

You chance a glance over at the outlaw in the driver's seat while he scans his surroundings like he’s done this before, the rear view mirror and the road ahead never leaving his sight. “What if they catch up to us? I don’t want to get arrested, Joel!”

a/n: howdy folks! I’m pulling my head out of my ass and getting back into writing. These last few weeks have been leveling put for me and I’ve been feeling a lot better compared to how my life HAS been. These two were the perfect break even though this took my two whole months for only a few thousand words. I’ll be back sooner than last time with an update, but you’ll see me before then for another wip. Much love, hayhay 🤍

Chapter 8: What Was I Thinkin?

Three hours ago, if you asked Joel how the night would come to its end, he’d tell you he’d probably be in the cabin, laying in his cold bed, staring up at his ceiling fan, alone—with his right hand working his dick to the tune of the farmer’s daughter. In fact, three hours ago, he’d told Tommy something similar.

“Joel, man—I promise It looks fine.”

He adjusts the buttons on his shirt another time, stuck between leaving one undone and letting the opening linger down his chest. “Fine ain’t gonna cover it, Tom—ain’t no way in hell I’m walkin’ up to her lookin jus’ fine.” Tommy huffs from behind him and starts to go through the closet beside Joel while he stares at himself in the body length mirror behind the door.

“What about this one?” Tommy beams, He’s holding up a black shirt on a hanger, slight dust on the shoulders from it’s lack of use. He’s half surprised the moths haven’t gotten to it yet. Its buttons are made of iridescent pearls that snap in place, labyrinthian embroidery adorning the breast pockets. “Ain’t worn it since before the accident.” He lifts one of the sleeves in his hands, lingering on the fitted cuff.

His mind takes him back to half forgotten nights under neon lights, long neck bottles and ropers calluses on his rodeo-worn hands. To money wasted on buckle bunnies and broncs, to years taken off his life under the sharp hooves of a one ton animal—years he’ll never get back. Years he wishes he’d never taken for granted.

He was a more confident man then, not cocky—but proud of his abilities in the arena, proud enough to walk tall, speak surly. He was a master in his sport because he trained religiously, fully immersed in the idea that this was his only shot at making it. He still believes that, even now. He wishes you could have met him then, when he was that Joel—Rodeo buckles and spurs, cowboy hats and stadium lights. When he was a white straw hat and chaps, an unsullied grin with a thirst for adrenaline and belt buckles.

He holds the black cotton between his well worked fingers and longs to be that man again—if only for one night. Would you like him? A cowboy in his prime with worked muscles, before his beer belly and the softness in his chest really set in? “This one’s good,” he huffs, brushing the dust off the shoulders before unbuttoning it enough to remove it from the hanger. “Lemme help you.” His brother offers. Joel’s not naive, he knows the fear is visible atop the surface of his flushed skin, in the deepened frown lines and the shake in his hands.

Tommy is a lot of things, but once in a while he softens around his selfish edges and he bends a little, reaching out for the weeping limbs of his brother, struggling with all his might to keep himself standing up straight in the storm, a resilient and irrepressible figure to look up to. Tommy sees the way the longing shines through the perforations in his irises, the way his shoulders slump with oppressive burden—and he takes pity on the older man. “I’ll wash it real quick while you shower. It’ll be good as new, fresh outta the dryer by the time you're done.” He looks up at Joel, who’s still transfixed in the forgotten token of his former youth, of the man who he used to be. Items he’d left in storage down in Austin that Hank had so graciously shipped to Jackson.

He almost wishes he’d never gotten it all back, it was easier then—to hide from who he was when he wasn’t reminded of his past every single day, but once in a while—that reckless, spotlight chasing cowboy grasps for the surface. And tonight? Tonight is your birthday, the town dance, where you’re going to be, probably looking like something Joel doesn’t have a shot in hell with. It’s your damn birthday and he wants to ask you to dance but he’s not sure the fee quick dance lessons he got will suffice. What if he stumbles? Steps on your pretty little feet? Drops you?

“Joel—“ there's a snap in front of his face and he pulls himself out of the chaos inside of his mind. “Man, you are loosin’ it. I’ve never seen you this wound up over some girl—“ his eyes snap up to his brothers and he huffs lowly. “She ain’t just—some girl. She’s Hank and Lou’s daughter, people I think of as family. She’s smart and resourceful, sometimes a little reckless but she makes me feel like…like I’m alive for once.” Tommy sets the black shirt down and sit on the side of Joel's bed. Beside him, Joel's weight sinks onto the mattress. “M’gettin’ old, Tom. I don’t have a lot of good years left in me and I don’t know if I’ll ever have a opportunity like this again.”

Tommy takes a glance over at the distant look in his brothers eyes. “Opportunity?” Joel's eyes flick over and he sighs. He wishes Tommy had a little bit of what he had built inside of him, the innate goal of settling down, finding where he belongs and who he belongs with.

“At bein’ happy. Good memories for my restless nights.” If he fucked this up and missed his chance, he’s not sure he’ll have it in him again, if it will ever feel like this with anyone else. He thinks he’s done, thinks you’re it. He thinks he could give you forever if you’d let him.

“S’that why you’re so messed up in the head? What, do you think she’s going to shoot you down?” Tommy’s voice picks up in pitch, offense used like a weapon to get his point across and Joel appreciates the gusto. “Think I’m gonna go home alone tonight. Think it’s just gonna be me and the crickets and this damn hand again, dreamin’ bout how damn sweet she is.”

Tommy’s hand reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt and he retrieves a silver flask, offering it to his older brother who takes it with unsure fingers. “Just be yourself, man. Walk up to her like you belong there. Just need a little bit of confidence, don’t let her think you’re second guessing yourself. I don’t know her like you do—but I know that girl is more than willing when it comes to you.”

Joel takes a long swig of rot-gut whiskey, lets is sink into his bones and find the will to drag himself into the shower and wash away the saw dust lingering on his skin from the floor of the dance hall, ease some of the soreness in his knees and back from learning how to dance.

When he’s finished, there's a clean shirt and a flask laying on his bed. Joel finishes off the whiskey before he fastens the first button.

Liquid courage is the only thing that gets him to town.

He’s everywhere—everywhere. His hands burn on your thigh, on your hip where they dig in just a little too roughly when he pins you to the wall beside the back door. The second it closed behind you, there was a desperation clinging to the early spring air, perforating the slight chill until it shimmied beneath it and took life in the form of heat dripping across your exposed flesh. It was sticky and hot, sucking you in like a vortex straight to the center of what your world revolved around—Joel Miller and his touch that feels like fire.

He tastes like alcohol and tooth paste and part of you wonders if that’s what's changed about him, why he was so willing to let go of his reservations in-front of half of the town. He’s been drinking, drowning his insecurities enough to throw himself at you bravely.

Will he still be this Joel when you open your eyes in the morning? Will he regret it?

His teeth dig into your bottom lip and your brain goes fuzzy, stars forming behind your closed eyes. Insecurities can wait until tomorrow, you decide. His hips press forward ever so slightly and the outline of his cock can’t go unnoticed, not with the way it makes the fabric of your panties drag against your clit tantalizingly. Behind your closed eyes, the stars morph into crackles of fireworks, filling your senses with bright pleasure and desperate desire to chase those lights into the night.

You hike your legs higher, trying to drag him into the delicious delirium with you. The movement pulls a guttural groan out of the broad cowboy. “Joel—Joel,” you need his hands to leave brands on your skin where they’ve touched you, setting fire to your soul. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” Is he crumbling like you, throwing himself into this very moment right here? Is he as desperate as you are? Does it feel like a travesty and a triumph? The yearning you’ve endured, for the victory of finally knowing what he feels like when he kisses the breath from your lungs.

It’s more than you know how to articulate—more devastating than you anticipated and yet—it’s still not enough. It won't be enough until his heart beats in time with your own and you feel him wrapped up in your body

His teeth dig into your jaw and your body reacts before you tell it to, searching for the release only he can bring you.

“Touch me, please—please, touch me.”

And suddenly, in the time it takes to flip on a light switch, he’s gluttonous, insatiable and voracious—a wild predator set loose just to turn on its careful handler. The only thing that comes to mind, in comparison, is a pack of wolves frenzied to sink their teeth into the supple flesh of their prey.

In your case—Joel is the starved pack—and you? You are but an unsuspecting doe, practically sacrificing yourself to his uncontrollable famine.

Those thick digits, adorned with callouses earned from laborious work, hastily push aside the fabric of your dress in search of your covered center. He feels so fucking good when those digits push their way past the hem of your panties and he gasps against the shell of your ear. Like it feels just as good to him, letting the pads of his index and middle finger tease the seam of your lips before slipping between and dragging those rough digits over your hardened clit. It’s all the built up want, longing, needing that makes him feel so other-worldly, you’ll never experience something like this, the rush of relief to finally be his.

His fingers dip lower, searching for the source of all this slick adorning his knuckles, when his thumb drags idly over your already sensitive clit. Its like an electric shock straight to your sternum, arching you forward in search of anchorage to this reality altering interaction. There's a hint of alcohol swimming behind your fluttering eyelids, but his shuddering groan is sickeningly sobering. You want to say something, tell him how good he makes you feel, but the words bubble up in your chest and hang in your throat in the form of a silent sob, your mouth hanging open and your toes curling against your shoes.

“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” Where the hell has this Joel been hiding? He’s never been so vulgar, so vocal and confident in himself. His fingers tease the soft ring at your opening, smearing slick around on his fingers when he leans against your front to press his face against your heaving chest and neck. His fingers plunge in—and your body jerks against his solid form. He lets you shudder and tighten up against him while his thumb moves steadily, never coming off the peak of your nerve—locked on it with such perfected percussion that there is no jerky catch, just steady—drowning pleasure. His rough pant of breath paints your shoulder in sticky warmth and your thighs tighten around him, begging to draw him into your desperation.

“She’s just cryin’ for me, ain’t she, Honey?” His drawl sounds like sweet tea on a hot summer afternoon, like your sight set on the Austin sunset from the seat of an old saddle, driving cattle through tall grass and endless horizons.

Being touched by Joel Miller feels like coming home.

He finds a steady pace, working his fingers in and out, each drag punctuated by the ridges of his knuckles and the rough pads of his finger tips. Just faintly, you can make out the wet sound your sex makes every time he fucks his fingers into you intentionally. Its instantaneous the way heat blooms in your pelvis, knotting up in your stomach until you’re so overwhelmed, you’re trembling in his grip. “She’s so fuckin’ greedy, pretty little cunt needs to be stuffed, don’t she? G’damn, you’re quiverin’—you gonna cum f’me already?” His words are like a dirty secret, never meant to be revealed—knowing exactly what kind of storm that truth would bring. Let the rain pour down, let the thunder crack and the gusts rip the apprehension from your bones—because Joel Miller wants you and you’ve been waiting for this moment for two years.

You’ve imagined this a million times, slipped your fingers between your legs to the mere idea of this revered and dignified southern gentleman—more once you’d put a face to the elusive cowboy. No matter how deeply you lost yourself to your imagination, none of it will ever amount to the way cold brick feels against your exposed back, the way denim jeans ruffs up the insides of your smooth thighs, the way a felt Stetson bumps against your temple when his fingers curl against a spot inside of you no man has ever found, dragging the air from your lungs, robbing your vocal cords of their melody. With your eyes rolled back and your desire strung tight, you manage to string together enough sound to produce words.

“Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum! Please!”

A third, assured finger slips in right beside the other two and slam forward, sending you spiraling down that one way path towards pure ecstasy. His fingers curl again and his thumb quickens, pushing you up and up until you’re sure you’re about to melt through his finger tips, a weeping puddle at his feet. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.”

His command is your saving grace, the final twist that undoes the well wound rope holding you together. A variation of his name rips from your throat and consumes the space around you, invoking a bright euphoria that shrouds every nerve ending you possess. He doesn’t even know what he’s just subjected your body to—a life altering experience that you will never be able to recreate with another person. “S…s’the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” is the only thing your mind conjures up once you’ve come down enough to speak. He’s still holding onto you, slowly slipping his fingers out and letting you down with a satisfied chuckle.

“Wunna taste you,”

How will you handle another assault from that honed attention? How will you ever unsee that unruly tousle of curls between your thighs?

He doesn’t give you long enough to form a protest before he’s rushing you through the parking lot, a determination in his step that you’ve never seen. He’s surpassed the point of antsy when he yanks open the passenger door and finds leverage on your hips to hoist you up, then toss you down on the torn upholstery. You should say something—tell him to slow down before you pass out from the burn of his hands—but fuck you don’t want him to stop, consciousness be damned.

Instead, you watch him set his cowboy hat on the dusty dashboard, the silver trim of the band shimmering with luster in the golden street lamps. He drinks your body in visibly, relishing in every curve and inhale of breath. When his vision finds yours, they are nearly black with desire—his pupils having consumed every inch of bourbony brown. When his big hands find your thighs again, the resistance bleeds away and gives way to insurmountable, greedy hunger.

“C’mere, girl.” The hands on your thighs dig into the flesh, leaving finger shaped dimples in your sensitive skin. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.” Jesus christ.

If your friends could see you now, they’d all laugh at how easy you are, but right now—it’s just you and your cowboy—you’ll never be anything but easy for him.

His hands move with fever, hastily pushing your dress up your hips. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” That same ferocious want consumes you, possessing your hands to work on their own accord, helping Joel shimmy your panties down your thighs and over your heels.

You have enough time to register the way he stuffs the black lace into the front pocket of his wranglers before that head of his is forcing its way under your dress. He spreads your legs easily, pushes and pulls with his hands until his mouth seals over your clit, drenching your nervous system in blinding heat.

He’s good, so good at this. His tongue slides through your dripping folds with a tedious, monotonous rhythm. He’s licking for a taste, for his own glutinous thirst based on the way he groans and sighs against the softness of your lips. His eyes flick up at the same time your body starts to quiver, trying to adjust to so much honed desire narrowed in on you. “J-Joel, please don’t st-top.” Your eyes start to leave his in favor of rolling back in your head when your chest arches out, searching for a breath of sobering air, for something to hold onto so you don’t crumble apart. “Feels so good—you feel so good.”

His mouth closes over you and he sucks, pulling your clit against the smoothness of his tongue as he flicks it over and over, soothing the sensitive bud, while actively robbing you of any coherent train of thought. The only sounds that leave your lungs are sharp gasps and whines, fueled by the low groaning sound he’s muffling between your thighs. He releases you and your body reels, drawing in breath after breath to catch up with your racing heart.

“Wunna split this little pussy open on me,”

Oh fuck, oh fuck fuck—fuck.

You have long enough to gaze down at him, watching as he slides the flat of his tongue through your lips, over the sensitive bud, before your head is dipping back again.

“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” you heave and he pulls away completely, shocking you into a mewling, whining mess. “You got what, baby, use your words.”

Your body bares down on nothing, /wish he would just give it up already, unbuckle that belt, push down those wranglers and fuck you like you deserve. Joel grunts while he watches, letting it rumble through his whole body. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”

His whole demeanor shifts, alternating from this brazen, confident cowboy to the man suddenly lost between your thighs, sucking and slurping, licking and moaning to himself. He’s gutless, starving and desperate, he whimpers when you squeeze your thighs and cry his name, holding on tight until the flash of blue and red and the sound of a loud voice rips him from his mission.

“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”

Joel rips himself away from your body before you even have a chance to cover yourself. “Fuck-fuck,” he looks around sharply, eying the lone officer in a tan blazer with flashing lights fastened to its hard top. The sheriff has a light in their hand, leaning over the side of the blazer. You manage to pull your dress down and scoot back, trying to hide yourself from the light shining on the two of you.

Joel's gaze falls away from the officer, parked behind the truck, blocking it in. Instead, he looks forward, into the clearing in front of the parking lot, half lit by the street lamp. His jaw clicks and he looks set on whatever is going through that big brain of his. “Put a seat belt on.”

What?

Joel grabs his hat and slides across the bench seat quickly, slamming the door behind him. He makes it across you and throws himself in front of the steering wheel, finding the ignition quickly to turn the keys in the shaft.

The chevy roars to life at the same time that he slams the gear shifter into drive and plows over the parking block. Before you have a chance to register what's happening, the blue pickup is sliding through mud and grass, leaving tire tracks in the field as he cuts through it towards the highway.

“Joel, what in the—fuck!“ you shout, reaching up for the oh-shit handle, while the other hand reaches for the solid form beside you, grasping him by the bicep as he snorts nervously. “Just—calm down for a second, we’ll lose ‘em.”

Your heart races and your nerves radiate through your entire body. You’re a good kid, you’ve never ran from the cops before, never been in trouble for crying out loud. You did your best in school, tried to make your parents proud despite your small side of rebellion. And yet, here you are—trying your best to hang on while he cuts corners and runs stop signs, old alleyways and back roads through the thickets. The truck roars past speed limit signs, loosing rodeo flyers pinned to telephone poles when he slams the gears—orange papers fluttering in the settling dust.

He snorts, taking another random left and speeding down the street. “Ain’t gonna get arrested, honey. Just trust me.”

Trust him? How could he even ask you that, like that wasn’t what this was all along. You trusted him like you trusted the sun to set and rise again, like you trusted the birds to sing and the rivers to run—you’d trusted Joel with your family’s dream and he never let you down.

Somewhere along the way, you lose the ability to fight off your grin, Joel manages to leave flashing red and blue in a cloud of dust. He cuts through a group of trees leading into a clearing and shuts off the lights. He drives by moonlight, effectively covering his tracks and making his way onto another road, leading up the mountain towards the ranch. He pulls off another dirt road that is cut out along the side of the hill, but he isn’t in as much of a hurry as he was before. He takes a last left, bringing the truck to the edge of the hillside that overlooks the entire town of jackson—from the dance hall—to the bar—to the red and blue set of lights on the south side of town, still looking for you and your cowboy.

The world grants you a few silent moments to catch your breath, before it completely robs you of tingling in your muscles, the conscious connection between the two of you. The reality of being truly alone with him is sobering, with nothing but the trees and the wildlife to offer a distraction.

Now that the air has cooled and your heart has finished pounding in your ears, you can make out the faint hum of the stereo, the FM dial lit up by the soft glow behind it. The station is still the same as it was when you were a girl, riding in your daddy’s pickup, playing old country music like it did in the days of your youth.

Now, it rings in your ears with the nerves seeping into your bones, settling into an uncomfortable dust. Right now, of all times? Anxiety has to claw up your chest and wrap around your throat while his saliva is still drying on the inside of your thighs?

Fuck, his beard is still glistening in the green-glow of the stereo.

“You’re starin’ at me.” He says almost quietly. You expected him to tease and flirt, maybe boast, but his voice waivers halfway through and you start to pick up on his slight nerve. Under all that charm and intensity is starting to give way to a much more vulnerable Joel—a man you know all too well.

“You’re just, uh—“ you swallow thickly and try to find the courage to meet his deep brown eyes. “Your beard is…wet.” When you do find his irises, his mouth picks up in a half smirk. If he’s as scared as you are right now, he’s doing a good job of hiding it. He’s giving it everything he’s got to hide it from you.

It’s been so long and you need this. Need to be touched, appreciated, worshipped.

The look in his eyes tells you that he’s eager to kneel.

“And who’s fault is that, hmm?” That sweet, sultry accent drags you in, sliding closer on the seat until you're nearly tucked into his side, leaned back against the seat while he looms over you. He’s still nervous, you can see it floating around in his dark eyes, but his jaw clicks like he’s trying to rein something in.

Silence falls upon you once more, but unbeknownst to the cicadas and the crickets, your dancing gazes say everything you need to hear. His eyes drop to your lips and yours to his. His tongue peaks out unconsciously, wetting his bottom lip ever so slightly—like he’s tasting you there.

His mouth clicks shut and it's then that you glance up. His eyes are back on yours, suddenly so much softer with a lulled arch to his eyebrows. In the depths of his eyes you find renewed hunger, fire burning in those pools of smooth chocolate. Your body relaxes, succumbs to the form of his plains of muscles adorning his body. When you tilt your head up to him in offering, you sink so deeply into those dark pools you can nearly taste the sweetness of him like velvety candy melting against your taste buds.

“Joel—“ you choke out, deciding then that if he waits a second longer you’ll suffocate.

There's things about this life that can never be stopped, inexorable phenomenons that are unavoidable. The seasons will always change. The storms will always come, lightning will always strike. The days will always end and the sun will rise again on the next.

And Joel Miller will always, always break when you say his name like that.

He falls into you with a sharp intake of breath, crashing his mouth against yours with surprising accuracy. It’s so easy to let him take over with the perfect combination of rush and savor he puts into the way he envelops you. His mouth is soft, but persistent, wrapping around your bottom lip when he sucks it between his teeth for a soft bite that makes you want to live in this moment forever.

You nearly do because you get absolutely lost in kissing him, you don’t protest when he leans you back on the bench seat, you don’t put up any sort of fight when he spreads your thighs with his wide hips. When his hands grip your knees, you know you’re completely done for.

He pulls away from your mouth and his eyes find yours in the low green glow and there, you find everything you’ve ever longed for.

“I…I think,” Joel shifts, looking down at his hands like he’s just woken up from sleep walking straight into your heart and soul. “I think I should get you home, s’gettin late.”

Late? Your poor muddled brain cannot keep up with how quickly he fades in and out of doing anything to have you, to be terrified to touch you. How quickly he slips into a starved desire to shaking in his boots.

Not for the first time, you wish you could reach right into his brain and pull out whatever it is that makes him think you don’t want those rough hands all over your bare body. He’s already had a taste of you, already kissed you—what more could be standing in his way?

“Home? Joel, we were just getting started—“ he clears his throat and sits up, trying to slide away from you but your heels dig into his tailbone and drag him back. “Started down a road we both know only leads to nothing but trouble and regret.”

What, the, fuck?

“I’m—you think this is a bad idea?”

The uncomfortable air settles back in between you and your legs around him loosen. “Think you're going to realize really quickly this ain’t what you want and this—I’ve got…too much on the line.”

He has too much on the line? What about the ranch? Your childhood home about to be lost to the bank? What about the dance hall where he’s built a new floor to make you smile? Does it all wash away with his assumed doom?

“What are you saying? This…this was a mistake? Joel I still have your fucking spit drying on my pussy and you—you regretted it already?” The realization feels like a dull blade straight to your gut, forcing it way in and twisting you from the inside out. It burns with shame and agony and you pull yourself out from under his sturdy build.

“I didn’t mean—I regret anything, fuck knows I don’t—“ no, no. You’ve given this man so much of yourself, committed so much to be thrown around and have your feelings stomped on.

“Then what the fuck does it mean, Joel! You—you made me cum while telling me you wanted to stuff my cunt but now you think this is…” you have a realization then, that maybe—just maybe, he does actually regret it. What does he think, you’d turn around and throw him out on his ass? If he truly thinks that low of you then maybe…

“This was a big fucking mistake.” You say coldly, making up your mind as you right your bunched up dress and adjust your fixed gaze on the passenger side window.

“Take me home.” It’s not a request.

It’s not an invitation, either, Joel understands as he watches you close the front door behind you later that night, settling his made up mind.

He presses his palm to his crotch twice and comes in his pants right there in the driveway, just like he knew he was going to.

And he feels like a fucking fool.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel the last of us #joel tlou #archive of our own #cowboy!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut

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breakfastteatime · 2 months

Text

Well, instead of fixing the political landscape of the US and the rest of the world, how about I let everyone take a sneak peek at a fic I'm working on?

This is unedited, untitled and very very very unfinished...

***

Cere stares at Cal.

Cal stares at Cere.

BD, Merrin and Greez stare at both of them.

No one speaks. A faint wind blows across the clearing, carrying the scent of sea salt.

BD twitches. Merrin grabs him before he can do or beep anything. Greez seems to be holding his breath.

A lightsaber ignites, a soft buzz in the dawn light. Cere moves first.

Cal blocks.

Cere's jabs are short, sharp and accurate. Cal moves fast, single-blade meeting Cere's every time.

BD cheers Cal on. Merrin marvels at Cere's form. She’s so much more refined than Cal, not a single movement wasted. Greez covers his eyes with his hands, then covers those hands with his other hands. He cracks his fingers and peers through.

Cere pushes Cal hard, forcing him to tighten his forms, rely more on real Jedi techniques and less on improvised flashiness. Probably because Cere has his second blade and gave him strict orders not to attempt to pull it from her hand. That, she told him, is a cheap trick and not one he should ever rely on. She is wise. And devious. Merrin admires her greatly.

Cere is holding back; not because Cal cannot match her (although Merrin would absolutely bet against him), but because there is a lesson to be learned here. One perhaps Merrin needs to learn too. Flair is arrogance. A Jedi should not show off. They must set their sights on their target and deal with it as succinctly as possible.

A Nightsister can do the same, but only so when she does indulge, her enemies are all the more stunned by her power and prowess.

Honestly (and Merrin will never share this with anyone), she thinks the Jedi needed to cut loose once in a while.

The fight continues. Cere never falters, her relentless lunges and jabs seeking every gap in Cal's defence. He has the endurance to withstand Cere's prolonged offence, but he doesn't have her experience, and when she does eventually break his guard and land a blow, Cal seems delighted to have held out as long as he did.

He is a very strange person.

"Can we please have breakfast now?" Greez pleads.

“Of course,” Cere says, looking bright and light on her toes. She pats Cal on the shoulder, returns her borrowed lightsaber, and tells him to put some bacta on the burn, and heads aboard the ship. “We need to finalise the supply list.”

BD’s list of demands is lengthy. Cal nods. “Yeah, that’s what we’ll do first, and I’ll get you the best oil I can find.”

“It’s not all about what you want, BD!” Greez hollers.

Merrin wishes she understood BD. She’d love to understand all that beeping and why it’s making Cal laugh like that.

After breakfast, they head into the nearby town armed with destinations to visit and lists from Cere. Merrin can’t wait. She’s never been anywhere like this, Built into the cliff, the people here have two main trades – fishing and mining, and the mining is largely done at the behest of the Empire. Merrin suspects Cal wants to shut the mines down. She also knows Cere won’t let him. The planet’s entire economy relies on those mines just as much as they need the fishing for food. Personally, Merrin can barely wrap her head around galactic economics, but she knows enough to understand they can’t make things worse for ordinary people. They see it time and time again; planets apparently thriving under the Empire, the people completely unaware of the suffering being endured elsewhere in the galaxy. Merrin cannot understand it. For all the cravenness they see, sometimes she simply has to accept that the Empire is very good at controlling their own narrative and nothing they do will convince people the Empire isn’t the best thing that ever happened.

Sometimes, she truly misses the simplicity of her life on Dathomir.

She also misses the warmth. She’s wearing several layers and it’s still not enough. And then, when they reach the town, there are signs everywhere for an ice rink. Cal forgets his list and the shops Cere told him to go to.

“Merrin, we gotta go!” Cal’s eyes light up.

“What is an ice rink?” she asks.

“You skate! On ice! You’ll love it.”

“Stores and supplies first,” Cere says before Merrin can tell Cal ‘no’. “Potentially limb breaking activities later.”

They split up and go their separate ways with a promise to meet up at the ice rink later. Merrin moves through the streets, staring openly at what she sees. Shops carved into the cliffs, others bolted on and towering into the sky, all of them thrumming with people of all species and genders. Cere specifically chose a busy time of day for them to enter the town so no one would notice them. They’re just another batch of tourists come to marvel at the cliff city of Turrey, mid-rim gateway to the stars (according to all the posters she sees pasted on streetlights and mounted on store walls). She likes this world, likes its energy. The people here are hard-working, proud, honest. She can feel it, is empowered by it. Not that she’ll be wielding her magick for all to see while they’re here. Not unless the Empire decides to do something exceedingly heinous which, given that she has yet to come across a single stormtrooper, seems unlikely.

Once she’s gathered up the supplies on her list (various foodstuffs, some ingredients that will suffice for her potion craft, a local tea she thinks Cere might like), Merrin heads to the local café where they’d all agreed to meet. It’s built into a cave, huge glowing orbs hanging from the ceiling, soft bass music playing under the current of conversation and busy barista activity. Cere is there already, sipping caf and watching the world go by. Merrin orders herself a very elaborate juice, complete with ice, froth and a little umbrella, and joins her at the table.

“What do you think?” Cere says. “How does this world rank with all the others you’ve been to so far?”

Sipping her juice, wincing at the sharp sweetness, Merrin lakeers for a moment. Cliff city, chilly weather, sunny though… “If we can finish what we need to do without encountering a single stormtrooper, it will rank highly.”

Greez, Cal and BD join them a short while later, both laden down with supplies and caf. BD is the first to launch into a lengthy explanation about… something. Merrin still does not understand him. Cal translates.

“The people here kept telling me to ‘mind my droid’ as they tend to be unreliable and prone to malfunctions on this world,” he says. BD blurts out something else. “I know, buddy, you’re fine. No malfunctions detected.”

“Malfunction how?” Cere asks.

“Unreliable memories, a tendency to lie, that kind of thing,” Cal says. “It’s probably why most of the droids we came across in the stores we went in didn’t have vocalisers.”

“Eh, wouldn’t be the first world we’ve been on that doesn’t like or trust droids,” Greez says. “Anyway, enough about that. What’s next on the agenda, and please tell me it’s chilling out and having a good day.”

Cal immediately talks about the ice rink, raving about how it’s actually a large lake on top of the cliff outside the town hall and the river its connected to runs all the way through the mountain and down to the sea. He’s so excited, Merrin feels like she’s talking to someone much younger. She wonders for a moment if this was what he was like as a child, happy and excitable. If he is, no wonder he and BD get on so well.

“…heard anything I said, Merrin?”

She blinks, stirring her drink with the straw. “We will go to this ice lake rink you speak of. I would like to see you skate.”

BD giggles and tells Cal something that makes Cal roll his eyes and jab BD’s chassis. “I’d like to see you do any better!”

They go back and forth, teasing each other, although Merrin can only pick up one side of the conversation.

“We’ll drop everything off on the ship, then come back to watch Cal go flailing across the ice,” Greez says.

“Merrin too unless she’s too scared,” Cal says, sing-song, teasing. BD provides backing vocals. “We can race, see who can get from one side of the rink to the other the fastest.”

Merrin is never one to turn down a challenge.

When they head up to the top of the cliff later, Merrin is amazed at the sights. The town hall is as immense and sturdy as the ground it looks as though it has grown out of. Beyond, Merrin can see the entrances to the mines, the hovertrain lines busy with cargo and passenger vehicles.

“Don’t get any ideas about taking a ride on one of those,” Greez tells Cal. “One train rescue is enough for an entire lifetime.”

“You didn’t exactly rescue me from the train,” Cal says.

“Almost,” Greez says. “We almost rescued you from that train.”

“Wish you had.” Cal’s hand rubs his chest. “I wouldn’t have broken so many bones.”

“Wait, you broke bones?”

The ice rink stands at the heart of the town square, a space easily as large as the swamps of Dathomir. Cal pays for tickets and skate rental. He only pays for himself and Merrin, and he leads her into a small, benched area where people are changing in and out of skates.

“Here you go!” Cal hands her the skates.

Dubious, Merrin stares at the boots in her hand, boots with thin blades bolted to the soles. She stares at Cal, who has already switched his regular boots for these skates. "You have ice-skated before?" she asks.

"Nope! Not like this. I’m not sure I can count sliding down frozen rivers on Zeffo as skating."

BD beeps. Cal scoffs. "No, you haven't! It doesn't count if you're not the one actually touching the ice."

In response, BD hops down and onto the ice. Merrin watches him slip and slide in the ice rink, barely avoiding the skaters. People dressed in warm clothes zip by, some with skill and confidence, others poised like they're terrified they might fall through into the water below.

"I'll have some hot drinks waiting for you when you're finished," Greez says.

"You do not have so far to fall," Merrin says. "Would it not be better for you to go skating?"

He laughs so hard he nearly crashed into the people walking by. "No, no way. This is a young person's sport."

An elderly couple whizz by. Merrin raises an eyebrow.

"They're Human! Totally different." Greez waves her away. "Go on, go! Have fun!"

Merrin looks to Cere.

“Not a chance,” Cere says. “I’ve got the med kit on standby.”

Accepting she has lost this argument, Merrin removes her boots and tugs on the skates, lacing them as tight as she can stand. Cal waits for her on the lake edge, BD back in his usual place. Apparently, he also decided against skating.

“Ready?” Cal asks her, hand held out to her.

She takes it. “If I go down, you are coming with me.”

He laughs and slides onto the ice, tugging her along with him. She keeps her balance, as does he, and she watches the more confident skaters, how they keep their heads held up and move with confidence. She can do that. How hard can it even be?

She releases Cal’s hand and pushes off, movement steady and confident. Her speed picks up, the cold air whistling by. She moves past slower skaters, eyes locked on the path ahead. She can do it. She’s doing it!

A small child whizzes in front of her, oblivious to the oncoming danger. Merrin’s instinct is to teleport out of the way. She resists, instead accepting the inevitable crash. The child, however, is faster than expected, and launches into a twirling leap, trailing glee and pride in her wake. Merrin is impressed, and she skates on.

“You gonna try that?”

Cal’s sudden presence behind her nearly sends Merrin failing to the ice. She saves her balance just in time. Cal cackles. She turns (it is not graceful) and gives him a hefty shove. He slides backward, with more grace than she mustered.

It’s times like she is reminded why she did not like him when she first set eyes on him on Dathomir.

“Go,” she tells him. “Show off. I will practice here and beat you at our race.”

“Didja hear that, BD? Merrin’s still up for the race!”

BD does his own twirl across Cal’s shoulders.

“Let us know when you’re ready!” Cal calls as he glides away.

He even does a little spin.

“The child’s was better.”

He sticks out his tongue as he skates away with the confidence of a pro.

By the time Merrin feels ready to race Cal, the ice rink has quietened down. She meets him on the far end. “I will race you,” she says. “No powers.”

He nods. “No powers.”

“BD? No help from you either.”

Whatever BD says in response causes Cal to laugh. She ignores them both. “On three.”

“One – ”

Merrin crouches, ready for launch. “Two…”

“Three!”

Cal takes off, BD squealing. Merrin digs deep and pushes hard, ignoring the voice in her head reminding her she doesn’t know how to stop. Cal is far ahead, weaving around people with obnoxious ease.

If only she could teleport. Then he’d lose. But she already knows Cere and Greez (especially Greez) would prefer if they kept their heads down unless they really needed to –

The lake quakes. The mood changes from joy to confusion. Merrin slows without stopping. People slow to a stop, looking at each other.

From somewhere off to the side of the ice rink, a voice shouts. “Get off the ice!”

Another quake, worse this time. Several people are thrown off their feet.

The ice cracks with strange twangs and pops Merrin has never heard before.

Cries go out, people no longer skating smoothly and instead flailing, trying to keep from falling off the chunks of ice and into the water.

Merrin falls to her knees, her balance lost. A man ahead of her skids to a stop, turns back and holds out his hand. “Let me help,” he says.

Thanking him, Merrin accepts his help. “What’s happening?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. We need to get off the lake.”

They move, hopping from ice floe to ice floe. Merrin catches sight of Cal and BD, Cal on his knees and reaching into the water. Merrin doesn’t have time to see what he’s doing, not when she and the man have to jump over a chunk of ice that has rolled onto its side. Turning to look again, she sees Cal dive into the water. Pulling her hand free from the man’s, she tells him to keep going.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I have to help my friend,” Merrin says. “He’s in the water!”

A look of unfathomable terror goes across the man’s face. “It’s too late.”

He flees without another word.

Confused now, Merrin no longer holds back. She teleports to where she last saw Cal, a terrible chill emanating from the water.

A chill and something else.

Something worse.

A presence.

Large.

Angry.

Cal resurfaces, BD on his back and a child in his arms. It’s the same child who’d leapt and twirled across the ice wish such ease earlier, only now they are limp and unconscious. Cal looks, spots Merrin, and thrusts the child at her. “Hurry,” he says, eyes narrowed with a particular focus Merrin recognises so well now. “There’s something in the water.”

Merrin grabs the child. She isn’t moving. She might not be breathing. Knowing Cal and BD can take care of themselves, Merrin teleports herself and the girl off the lake and onto dry land. People stare in shock.

“Help me!” Merrin shouts at them. “The girl needs you!”

A cry goes out and a woman rushes forward. Merrin senses the bond between woman and girl. Mother and daughter. “She’s not breathing!” the mother cries.

Merrin leans over, begins compressions. She senses Cere and Greez approach, but she doesn’t look up, not until the child coughs and stirs. Her mother wails with relief, scooping the child up.

“Thank you,” she says to Merrin. “Thank you so much.”

She dashes off, heading for local emergency workers racing their way. Merrin doesn’t see any stormtroopers. She sees Greez, puffed up, proud, and carrying Merrin’s boots. The sight almost makes her laugh. He hands them over. “You’re gonna need ‘em. Hurry.”

Grabbing them, Merrin wastes no time changing into them. Cere has already moved beyond them, blaster in her hand, headed to the edge of the lake. The water churns, waves slapping the banks.

Neither Cal nor BD are anywhere in sight. Merrin can’t see anyone else in the water too. The rink has nearly emptied out, only a few stragglers hanging around to stand and stare. Something else rings in her mind. That energy she’d felt earlier. The world’s industrious energy. It’s gone, replaced by something new. Something strange.

Whatever it is, she doesn’t have time to dwell. The water’s currents change, all the water pulled into the centre of the lake.

“It’s coming,” Cere says. She looks to Merrin, devoid of emotion. “Be ready.”

“Greez, get these people out of here,” Merrin says.

While Greez does as he’s told, pushing back a crowd of onlookers, Merrin joins Cere. Cere’s hand tightens around her blaster, finger on the trigger as water explodes into the sky. Merrin watches, her mouth dropping open, as three things emerge from the spray.

Cal.

BD.

And a creature out of a nightmare.

Grey and black, covered in thick scales, it resembles a snake, albeit one double the size of the Mantis with teeth as long as the ship is tall. Unlike a snake, it possesses four legs, each one bearing claws that could eviscerate any organic matter with a single swipe. It could probably grab the Mantis and eat it in one bite, and that thought clangs around Merrin’s mind when she watches a blue blade ignite. Cal flips around and lands on the monster’s back, scoring a lengthy wound in its scaly hide. The creature roars, its pain screaming through the Force.

Merrin can feel it, an untamed mind pushing at her own, pressing a sense of calm, of stillness, even as it shakes Cal off. He plummets again, BD’s boosters flaring as he tries to catch up. They’re going to hit the water, and the creature is already turning to go after them.

Merrin wonders if she should be more worried about that, but it all seems a bit far away now. She should just stand here. Stand here and enjoy the sights. She likes this world. It’s so pretty, and the sea is so vast, the mines so deep. What a lovely place this must be to live in.

Cere’s hands rise. She grabs Cal and BD with the Force, slowing their fall, but not enough. They both hit the water, because Cere’s pushing back against the creature, stopping it from diving into the lake.

“Get Cal and BD!” Cere shouts at Merrin, voice straining. “Hurry!”

“If you insist,” Merrin says, although she’s really not sure it’s necessary. She teleports from ice floe to ice floe, keeping her balance, reaching the spot where Cal and BD sank. BD appears first, shaking his head. Cal appears a moment later, looking dazed and frozen.

“We are going,” Merrin announces, grabbing both and teleporting back across the lake. She doesn’t hear either complain about their sudden movement. She doesn’t really hear much of anything except a song in her head that tells her peace, Merrin, be at peace. She reaches another patch of ice, right beside dry land where Cere’s shouting…

Merrin thinks she’s shouting. She can’t hear the words.

Peace, Merrin. Peace.

Something tugs on her arm. She pushes it off. Overhead, the creature resumes its fall, its mouth open wide, teeth splayed, its throat a blackhole.

It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

She closes her eyes.

Hands, cold and wet, ram against her. She hits the ground hard, a heavy weight falling on top of her. Water smacks into her, so cold she gasps with the shock of it.

The peace shatters.

The quiet too.

Footsteps. Fast.

Hands, grabbing.

“Merrin? Merrin!”

She blinks, looks up, sees the worry in Cere’s gaze. Why? What’s happening? Merrin looks around, finds herself on the ground beside the lake.

“What happened?” she asks.

Cere’s expression tells Merrin that was not the right thing to say. Heart sinking, worry mounting, Merrin tries to get up.

The heavy weight pins her down.

Cere leaves her line of sight. BD’s nearby – Merrin can hear him. He sounds worried. Why? What’s happening? Merrin’s head goes for a loop, pain seeping in. The weight moves, and she’s free to sit up. She does so, bracing herself as the vertigo keeps everything spinning. She breathes through the worst of it, and sees Cere leaning over Cal, fingers checking for a pulse, calling his name.

More footsteps approach, and this time it’s Greez with some locals dressed like medics.

Merrin decides she’s too tired to figure anything out. There’s an alarm sounding out in her head, but whatever’s causing it is lost behind the encroaching darkness. She falls back, only for four arms to catch her.

The last thing she sees is Greez leaning over her.

The last thing she hears is him telling her to stay with him, stay with –

#my fics #star wars jedi: fallen order #cal kestis #bd 1 #cere junda #merrin #greez dritus

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avatarl0v3r · 2 years

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NeteyamxFem!HumanReader Reincarnated part 1

Requested: Yes

Index: The readers parents were killed in the war between the sky people and the Na'vi they fought with the Na'vi the reader was trained to fight and survive by Jake she ended getting close to the Sully kids years later both her and the Sully family had to leave and find someone to stay to protect the clan from the next threat. Warnings: Character death, lots of angst, and cussing

"Go!" You say sternly turning to face Lo'ak, and Neteyam they both jumped into the water you following after shortly while being shot at.

As you come up for air you feel a sharp pain throughout your whole body mainly your chest Lo'ak and Neteyam are on the ilu Tisreya hanging on "You both are idiots you know that" You say your voice strained Tisreya looks at you her eyes widening at the sight "Y/n" Shock lasing her words.

Neteyam looks over "Shit" He pushed Lo'ak off the ilu and swam to you and grabbed you with Tisreyas help lifting you onto the ilu with him he rode away to a rock where he seen his dad.

"Dad, Dad its Y/n shes been shot," He helped lift you up with his dads help "watch her head" He kept repeating.

When you were laid down on the rock he jumped out the water and came and sat by your side holding your hand Jake lifted you a bit to see how deep the wound was "Fuck" He said laying you back down everyone was now next to you he grabbed Neteyams hands "Pressure! apply pressure" Neteyam put pressure on your wound you hissed in pain.

Neytiri showed up and seen you on the ground she jogged over and got on her knees worried about losing you.

"We're losing her!" You reach and grab Neteyams hand "Neteyam," you struggle to get air into your lungs as you try to finish your sentence "i-" Your gripped loosened completely Neytiri started to scream and cry uncontrollably Neteyam started to cry begging for you to come back.

Jake tried calming them down "Our work here isn't done, i need you back" He said as he grabbed Neytiri's face he then looked at Neteyam "Where are your sisters," he only looked at him "i said where are your sisters" He looked at the ship "On the ship" Jake and Neytiri went to go find their daughters leaving Neteyam with you.

Back at the village that night

Neteyam was swimming next to your body as it lay in a large leaf he watched as you body floated to the bottom of the sea "Mother always said all energy was borrowed and one day must be returned I guess this is what she meant"

Neteyam didn't have any reaction as he watched your body be swallowed by the sea later that night Tisreya took him to the tree of life he attached his queue and closed his eyes.

Neteyam opened his eyes to see you standing there where the two of you always sparred Neteyam ran to you and hugged you tightly not letting go "Neteyam you can not longer see me at the tree of life again" He looked at you confused by your words "I wish I could join you, but this will have to be enough" He grabbed your hand looking into your eyes "What do you mean? Cant I just see you again?".

You shook your head in response "Maybe in another life we'll meet again" Neteyam shook his head "And what if we don't" You smiled "We've met before, and we'll meet again in another life."

The present

10 year old you sits up in your bed sweating and crying the "nightmare" didn't scare you it never has it feels more like deja vu as if that had really happen you turned and laid back in your bed covering up.

The next morning you seen your friend Rebecca "Becca, i had that dream again the one about the blue aliens and humans at war" Rebecca looks at you interest in her eyes "Ouu was that boy in it again" You rolled your eyes and laughed at her "We both want to be in the military so who knows maybe those blue alien things are real and maybe one day we'll get to go to Pandora" you smiling at the end.

I love this request and there will be parts to this story and time skips.

Everyone that commented on this i will tag in the next part it’ll be posted at 1 am EST

THESE ARE THE OUTFITS SHE WEARS

i own non of these photos

HUMAN: AVATAR:

#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar way of water #neteyam #neteyam x reader #pandora #lo’ak #jake sully #neytiri

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silvervioletvalentine · 1 year

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🖤She calls the shots🖤

Pairing : Quinn Hughes x F1 driver Cherrie!

Word count : 15k

Summary : in which they’re both forced to spend their recovery time together after getting injured , in hopes of bringing two worlds together.

Or in which - Cherrie is pissed to be in America , forced to stay with a hockey player she’s never even met before. And Quinn , well, Quinn’s just well and completely fucked! Cause love at first sight (glare) is apparently very much real.

Warnings - fluff? Literally just Cherrie being a bossy bad bitch who makes sure that she always gets her own way , and Quinn just being gone for her and letting her get away with it all. Idek lemme know what you think and if you liked it, not my best work but not my worst either so..

Cherrie was certain that her face was quickly becoming the same shade colour as her name, feeling the heat boil beneath her skin as she looked over to her assistant/manager in disbelief .

Wondering if perhaps all the loud engines from the f1 cars had given her some type of hearing loss, or maybe she had mistook her vitamins for hallucinogenic drugs , because there was no way that Sarah was saying what she thought she was saying.

"Sorry?" She let out a loud laugh of denial , grinning far to widely to be genuine .

Sarah grimacing as soon as she saw the look on cherries face, wishing that it could have been anybody but herself to break the news to the violate driver who had never once in her life let a personal opinion of her own go unheard .

Cherrie's eye twitched "I don't think I heard you right." She laughed again, a little more hysterical this time around .

Rubbing at her sore back with her hand as she stood there leaning against her kitchen counter in disbelief .

"-Because you have just told me that I'm going to be spending the next two weeks with a hockey player , just for some attention." She repeated exactly what she had just been told, fake grin still pasted on tightly .

"You're joking right?" She said as she reached out to lightly pinch Sarah's shoulder "right? You're so funny sometimes Sarah."

Sarah swallowed , taking a small step away from the furious driver opposite her. Regretting not putting her foot down further and paying somebody else to break the news to cherrie. Having known that such a dramatic and unhappy reaction from her would occur.

I mean. What were the higher ups thinking? Cherrie was not known for being a friendly , sweet girl who would happily talk to anyone and everyone.

No. Cherrie was the driver that the other drivers shit themselves about whenever they even so much as nudged her car with their own, knowing that she would give them a bollocking about it as soon as she found them after the race.

She was loud, arrogant , sarcastic and unapproachable to anybody that she didn't like or know. So putting her, bad temper and careless big mouth , together with some poor injured hockey player for two weeks?

Sarah felt horribly sorry for the guy because it wasn't going to be easy.

Well, that was if she could get Cherrie there first. That was the first hurdle to jump over.

And so far, it wasn't going to well at all.

Sarah sighed tiredly "I'm not joking. They thought it would be a good idea to bring more attention and fans to the both of you and the sport. And with you both being injured and off for the season, they thought it's would be a perfect marketing

Opportunity to show that sport can be dangerous whether it's f1 cars or ice hockey .." she tried to explain logically to her , pursing her lips tightly together when her driver let out a loud, sharp laugh.

"Ha!" Cherrie snorted humourlessly , shaking her head in disbelief . "More fans? I - we- don't need more attention . We're bathing in it. F1 is up there with football now after all the Netflix shit stirring it up. We don't need more fans, we have plenty." She groaned, "I have plenty! Now the hell is this going to help me?" She scoffed pissed off "I don't need help! I'm a star." And there was that not so subtle arrogance that she was referencing to.

Sarah groaned too, fed up with her arguing back to her about something that she had no control over. She was just the delivery pigeon here , if she was in charge, she wouldn't be letting a cold and quite frankly mean, woman like Cherrie anywhere near a quite, reserved hockey player who had already gotten his nose bust open , Sarah didn't want Cherrie to give him another one.

"It's more for them. Hockey isn't as big as this sport, or any other for that matter . It's not raking in the views and their YouTube videos showing the players personalities barely get fifty to a hundred thousand views. They need this Cherrie. We need to keep that sport alive. Not just in America." She told her firmly , wanting her to see where they were coming from.

Cherrie just wasn't having it at all "then they need to invest in a better marketing team. Instead of having middle age white men who don't know how to market for the younger generation , they should do something about that." She countered back in annoyance . Wondering why it was her of all people that got dragged into this shit.

"Why do I have to do it? Driving a f1 car is so far from fucking ice hockey Sarah! Two complete different playing fields!" She exclaimed , getting more upset by the minute.

All she had wanted was to go back home to Madrid and recover in peace there. She didn't want to be jetting off to America to stay with some stranger that she had never even met before. A hockey player nonetheless!

Was this her karma for kicking the back of Max's knees out from underneath him after he had nearly knocked her off the track? He had went tumbling down like a sack of potatoes but still ...

Did she really deserve this? For one... her parents were going to be furious . Her father had already planned on her coming home again and now she was going to have to tell him that no, she was heading to America, injured and alone, to stay with a strange guy . Who the hell thought that this would be a good idea?!

Sarah was barely holding onto her patience with her, having spent a decade following her around and making sure that she did was she was told. She had kind of gotten used to cherries whining and snappiness , and her lack of filter and self control.

But everybody had their limits. And Sarah had just under two hours to get her driver on that plane to the states before both of them got into some serious trouble for Cherrie denying orders from the higher ups again.

Too much money was on the line for this , the nhl having paid their team a large share to make sure that they got the most popular and controversial driver to be the one to do it, knowing that Cherrie being in a video with their player would rake in the views immediately.

It was all business really. And Cherrie hated that.

"They've picked you because both you and the hockey player are injured and won't be playing this season. A perfect fit really. You can both bond over your injury's and film little bits of your recovery and how you spend your free time away. It'll be good." She nodded along as though she believed what she herself was saying. (She did not. She just prayed that Cherrie wouldn't kill the poor guy or make him cry for her own entertainment.)

Sarah had witnessed too many men crying over her Spanish driver for years now. She just wanted this to go well. And from what she had been told, the hockey player that Cherrie would be staying with was actually a really nice guy. Quite , a little awkward but genuine too. The complete opposite of her driver.

Sarah sighed in misery. Crossing her fingers behind her back tightly .

Cherrie couldn't believe it, laughing coldly. "fantastic! So I can't even be injured in fucking peace now!" She exclaimed utterly furious with it all.

"And America of all places?! Why couldn't you have made him travel to Madrid with me instead? Why do I have to be the one to leave?!" She questioned annoyed that her plans of relaxing and having a good time were ruined.

Sarah winced a little , knowing that she wouldn't like what she told her next. "He doesn't like flying and his nose is broken. So he doesn't want to travel -"

Cherrie barked out a laugh "oh he didn't want to travel?!" She spat sarcastically "oh okay. Whatever his highness wants then! Does he not like to walk either? Does he need me to curtsy when I meet him? Should I kiss his fucking feet?!" Her voice raised hysterically , immediately deciding that she hated the guy for making her life even more miserable than it already was right now.

Sarah frowned at her in worry "Cherrie please at least try to play nice with him!"'she ignored her mocking scoff and continued "you just need to film a couple videos together. Sort of like a day in the life. Like you did with Charles last year? You liked that didn't you?" She reminded her hopefully, not wanting her to upset the hockey player by arriving with a bad attitude and a negative outlook of the poor guy who had been roped into this just as much as she had.

Cherrie snorted "yeah because I know charles and I like the guy. I don't know this one ..what if he's a woman hitter?" She threw out randomly , just wanting to get out of this as soon as possible.

Sarah bit back her amused smile "he isn't. He's really nice. Loves women." She said lightly trying to cheer her up about the whole situation.

Cherrie rose a brow, not letting up. Stubborn to find something wrong with the guy so that she didn't have to go at all.

"So he's a playboy? Great." She scoffed "he'll want to fuck me then." She replied with a straight face, not giving up.

Sarah groaned on exasperation, knowing exactly what she was doing and not falling for it at all . "No! I didn't mean that. He's not a woman hitter and he's not a playboy. He's just a normal guy who's really good at hockey alright? He's injured and out for the season just like you. So be nice." She warned her firmly , knowing that no matter what she said Cherrie would be doing and saying whatever the hell she wanted anyways.

Cherrie shook her head and gritted her teeth together "a broken nose? If he even so much as sets a foot out of line with me.." she inhaled sharply as she stomped over to where her suitcases were still packed , grabbing one and rolling the other to Sarah to help her . Ignoring her triumphant look once she realised that she was giving in. "I will make sure that he can never play hockey or have children again."

Sarah just sighed as she rolled one of the suitcases out the door, pacing after the pouting driver in front of her with a amused smile on her face. Feeling sorry for poor Quinn who would have to put up with her for the next two weeks.

Quinn didn't really know what he was supposed to feel as he patted the deflated cushions on the pull out bed couch, grimacing at the terrible timing this was. Wiping away the anxious sweat that was gathering at his forhead with his hand, sighing loudly as he looked around his bland and barely furnished apartment self consciously .

The Cherrie Valentine was going to be stay with him for the next two weeks and he didn't even have a couch because Marley , his cat, had ripped the arms to shreds. He didn't have a coffee table because it had smashed into pieces after a intense game of wrestling with Jack after a few too many beers.

He thought about her luxurious lifestyle , her multiple, multi million dollar homes and sighed. There was really nothing that he could do now, she would be arriving any second at his door and he would be greeting her with a busted nose with white thin tape over it. A bit of a black eye too.

He looked like a mess and this was not the impression he had imagined himself giving Cherrie when he finally did meet her . Unable to believe that this was even happening to him at all.

He had watched her race for years, just like everyone else had . Had watched her get bigger and bigger till everyone knew her name, till everybody wanted a piece of her. You couldn't go anywhere without seeing her pretty face plastered all over magazines and posters . She was the IT girl, always had been and always would be . She never went out of style.

And maybe Quinn wouldn't have felt so close to shitting himself if they had told him that she was a nice, sweet and easygoing person to get along with. That he didn't have to worry about her liking him, because she was a social butterfly who loved everybody.

Only that wasn't the case. And Instead of being assured and his nerves put to rest , they had only heightened when he got a sympathetic phone call from her manager, Sarah, telling him to just stay calm and not to take anything she said or did personally . Warning him that she wasn't in the best of moods and that currently she was on a 'Im a bitch' tour , coming straight for him next.

Her reputation wasn't so sweet at all. Quinn didn't know what he was supposed to do or say. He hated meeting new people, hated having to get to know someone and figure out what you could and could not say around them.

The last thing he wanted to do was Piss Cherrie Valentine off. He , and the rest of the world, had watched her go head to head with max multiple times over their racing season. Had watched her March right up to the driver and start snapping at him, calling him every name in the book in both English and Spanish.

He had seen her punch overbearing reporters , slap another driver for talking shit about her behind her back. Throw her helmet at a driver who had taken her out of the race and shunted her straight into the wall. He had watched her collect her trophy then storm straight off the podium , refusing to celebrate with max who had won after impeding her on the track and not getting a penalty for it at all.

She was ruthless and very clearly didn't give a shit about what other people thought if her . She did whatever the hell she wanted, didn't spare any feelings or egos. She was intimidating as fuck and Quinn was already on edge , his brothers teasing not helping him in the slightest as he listened to Jack laugh at him over FaceTime at his nerves.

"I thought that you would be happier. You've liked her for ages. Now you're gonna have her living with you, isn't that the dream for you?" Jack wondered , confused by his fretting and pale face.

Quinn just scoffed at his naivety "no. Not really because her manager called me this morning to let me know that Cherrie is furious and doesn't even want to do this. She's going to kill me in my sleep or something, she's definitely going to blame me for this." He rambled on , hand on hip as he paced around the front room: watching the clock above his tv tick down.

Jack laughed , grinning at him like any annoying brother would. "Oh shit!" He was amused "then you'll just have to make her see that it was a good idea to stay with you then. Just woo her or something." He told him as though it was that simple.

Quinn looked at him like he was an idiot "woo her?" He repeated unamused "do you know who I'm dealing with here? You want me to woo the same woman that brutally rejected bad bunny on stage in front of thousands of people because he 'wasn't her type'?" He laughed in disbelief "if that guy isn't her type then I am definitely not! Jesus Christ Jack!" He snapped on edge.

His brother just hummed "oh yeah I forgot about that." He looked at him mischievously through the small screen "maybe she'll like awkward American with a busted nose and no social skills whatsoever. You might be lucky!" He joked , laughing hysterical. Finding himself hilarious.

Quinn did not. "Okay fuck you-" before he could call Jack anymore names, there was a loud knock to his door. He didn't even hesitate before ending the call on his brother , looking over at his door like there was a monster waiting to eat him behind it.

"Fuck." He breathed out running a nervous hand through his hair, straightening out his shirt the best that he could before slowly walking over to the door, taking in a deep breath to gather what little courage he had left to face her.

He swung open the door before he could chicken out , coming face to face with a annoyed , but still so beautiful driving scowling back at him.

Cherrie just frowned at him darkly "what took so long? Did they break your feet as well as your nose?" Was the first thing she said to him bluntly , moody and tired from the long flight there . Just wanting to eat and go to sleep, to wallow in her misery for a while.

Quinn's eyes widened as she roughly pushed past him, confidently striding onto his apartment like she owned the place. Leaving him to stare at where she had just been stood in shock for a moment before snapping out of it and quickly shutting the door , turning around to see Cherrie looking around with a unimpressed look on her face.

"Er-" his voice cracked so he quickly cleared his throat , racking his brain for something to say.

"Sorry. I was on the phone to my brother." He told her deciding to blame Jack instead of admitting that he was too scared to answer the door for a moment, that wasn't very cool guy of him at all.

Cherrie just sighed loudly as she put her suitcases by the door, slowly walking around the front room , trailing her fingers over the large shelving unit holding trophy's and pucks. Everything a winner needed .

She subtly peered to the side to see him just hovering behind his couch, cheeks pink and eyes flickering at everything but her. Tense and quite as could be.

She frowned "I'm Cherrie by the way." She mumbled just to be polite. Hating the silence that had fallen over them. It made her anxious. She was a shit talker, not a quite person. She needed to hear some type of noise otherwise she would go mad.

Quinn looked over at her quickly , startled at her suddenly speaking up. "Yeah I know-" his eyes widened in panic "I mean- that sounded creepy but I mean . Yeah. I know who you are-I-they-" he trailed off in embarrassed, giving up excusing himself before he could dig the hole any deeper.

He flushed a dark red, eyes darting back to his feet as she looked over at him in amusement . Biting back a grin at his awkwardness.

Huh. She thought curiously, so Sarah really wasn't kidding about him just being a normal, nice guy.

"And your name? I can't remember it." She wanted to know. Picking up a puck with curiosity having never seen one up close before .

Quinn almost face palmed in embarrassment"oh yeah. I'm Quinn Hughes. It's nice to meet you." He mumbled , hand at the back of his sweating neck as he watched her look through his things without any shame.

She showed him the puck in her hand, raising a brow "why keep these? You have a few. I don't keep my tires after each race." She said confused, wondering if it meant something in hockey world. She had no clue.

Motorsports were her passion , which was why she was so annoyed to be dumped off onto a hockey player that she had never even met before. It was just too much.

Quinn laughed a little at her bluntness , having also been warned about that and her little attitude. He watched her run her fingers through her hair before she smoothly pushed it over her shoulders , nose in the air as she put the puck back down, ready to move onto the next thing she could complain about.

"It's from my first game at Canucks. It's a special one so..I'm sure you took something from your first race in f1." He answered her quietly, leaning against the back of the couch as he watched her Approach his floor to ceiling windows slowly .

Cherrie just hummed, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked out of the windows to see nothing but other bland buildings and fog. No beach , no blue sky and beaming sun. No dancing in the street and no smell of beautiful Spanish food filling the air.

She could have cried. She missed home already.

"I took my teammate home with me. Kind of a tradition for me." She muttered straight faced, hearing Quinn choke on his breath in surprise at her crude bluntness.

Quinn was speechless , blinking several times before letting out a shocked "oh. Okay." Not knowing what else to say to that.

She just sighed even louder, more dramatically this time as she looked over her shoulder at him judgmentally . Annoyed, tried and hungry. Not a very good mix for a girl that already struggled not to say whatever was on her mind.

"You're an idiot." She blurted out , arms crossed over her chest as she narrowed her eyes at Quinn unhappily . Trailing her eyes down him, taking in his black jeans and oversized tshirt. Overgrown hair and stubble , before her eyes rested upon his healing nose . Still red and sore, little plaster strip over the bridge of it. The bags under his eyes were dark and bruised .

He looked like the kind of guys that would play a bad guy in the movies. Apathetic and bored with life, overly calm and unbothered by anything.

He couldn't have been any further from that image if he tried.

Quinn looked at her in shock , frowning at her insult. "What? Why?" He wanted to know , defensively crossing his arms over his chest just like she was. Copying her stance without even realising it.

She scoffed, gesturing around her unhappily . "You could have spent two weeks living like a richman in Madrid with me . Sun, sand and beautiful views.." she looked out of his window again, saw the clouds and the ugly apartments opposite and sighed.

"That's stupid. Why didn't you come to me?" She wasn't letting it go. Too annoyed to do so.

She wasn't going to let this be easy for him. Call it a punishment for refusing to leave and making it so that it was her who had to come to him instead.

Quinn just looked at her with a frown "I don't like flying . Especially with a broken nose. Plus- I haven't been to Madrid before. Never mind on my own.." he muttered matter of factly.

If possible, her scowl got even darker "and I've got a bad back from crashing! You think I like flying like this too? Unbelievable!" She scoffed upset , turning her back to him to look at his pullout couch instead.

Quinn rolled his eyes , getting annoyed by her negativity already. "You could have refused to come then-"

It was cherries turn to roll her eyes at him this time "no I couldn't have . I would have gotten fined for breaching my contract. And I'm not giving those bastards a single bit of my money!" She snapped , feeling her phone buzz on her pocket. No doubt her manager reminding her to play nice again.

She then looked at the cheap pullout couch and almost cried.

"No! No! No!" Her Spanish accent got more thicker the more upset she got. Leaving Quinn to look at her with his hand hovering over his mouth , talking deep breaths to keep himself calm.

"Where is your furniture? Why have you got a ratty bed for a couch? Where is the coffee table? What is that smell?!" She ranted off . Upset. Being the usual drama queen that she was. A bit of diva but weren't all drivers?

Shaking her head in Annoyance as she stomped over to her suitcase, plopping down on the hardwood floor as she unzipped it. Not caring a single bit that he could see all of her lace underwear and tiny dresses all stuffed inside of it.

Quinn looked down at her on the floor and tried not to laugh at how frazzled she was getting over something so superficial.

"Cat clawed the couch . Brother smashed the table. And what smell?" He answered her , confusedly sniffing the air and smelling nothing out of the ordinary.

He could only watch in silent disbelief as she then pulled out several candles from her suitcase , placing them all around the room without even glancing back at him. Pulling a lighter from her pocket, she lit them all quickly .

"It smells like boy in here! God!" She breathed in the vanilla and chocolate scent starting to waft off the candles and relaxed a little.

"That's better. I got them in Brazil. Smells nice huh?" She said to him over her shoulder , mood flipping for a second as she glanced around at all of her candles happily.

Quinn just looked at her in disbelief , speechless again. She hadn't even been there an hour and she was already taking over his apartment. He couldn't Believe it!

She then let out a long , dramatic sigh and told him matter of factly. "You'll drive me to the furniture store. We'll pick out a new couch and table." She picked up her purse and walked over to his frozen figure by the wall.

Grabbing him by his bicep without any hesitation, she pulled him along with her impatiently . "Maybe we get a rug too?" She pondered to herself , passing Quinn his car keys from the hook on the wall near the front door. Feeling more settled now that she was being bossy and in control again.

She always got her way, this time wasn't going to any different.

He just let her. Holding the keys in one hand while Cherrie dragged him by his other, Quinn blinking down at her hand that was now encasing his with her soft fingers in complete silence.

Feeling the heat quickly travelling up his neck and to his face as he cleared his throat awkwardly , heart racing in his chest at the sudden contact from her.

His stomach also fluttering at her bossing him around confidently , just expecting him to do what she said. He found himself trying not to grin , rolling his lip underneath his teeth as he tried not to laugh at her .

"She's a little overwhelming sometimes." Her manager had told him "no personal space and no sparing thoughts for others feelings. But she means well. She just comes across a bit ...bossy sometimes."

No shit. He thought in amusement . Letting her drag him out of his own apartment without any argument. It really wasn't worth the energy.

Plus she was gorgeous. And she was holding his hand. He wasn't going to pull away now.

"We have to get one right now?" He muttered , startled but mostly amused by her .

Cherrie just nodded her head, glancing over at him briefly as though he was the idiot. "Yes. I am not spending too weeks living like that. How do you feel about velvet?" She wanted to know. Already planning what to buy already. She wanted to make it feel a little like home , hoping that would help her mood out a bit.

Quinn just shrugged in confusion , admiring the sun beaming down on them as they stepped out of the apartment complex. Quinn taking the lead this time As he led her over to his car.

She sighed again "fuck me. I miss my Ferrari." She mumbled , upset again as she reluctantly slid into his car and buckled in. Watching him jog around after opening and closing the door for her, she hummed a little. Pleased that he was acting like somewhat of a gentleman towards her. The bare minimum . But still.

"We're only getting a couch and coffee table. Nothing too crazy alright?" He told her firmly , wanting to feel like he was still in charge. (He was not.)

Cherrie just leaned back into her seat with a small smirk on her lips, flicking on the radio and turning it up as soon as she heard a Taylor swift song come on. Letting out a pleased sound before she hummed along.

"Yeah. Sure." She promised nothing.

Six hours later and Quinn was left speechless, standing in the middle of his apartment with his hands on his hips as he looked around at the new green velvet couch , the marble heart shaped coffee table , the massive gold traditional rug , the fairy lights hung up in every corner , the fake ivy all over the ceiling . Then he looked over at a pleased , grinning Cherrie and let out a long, defeated sigh.

"This was way more than just a couch and table." He muttered , running a hand over his face in exasperation as he watched her throw herself down onto the ridiculously large velvet couch, picking up a expensive pillow with a picture of cats on it and hug it to her chest happily.

She picked up the remote and turned on the tv , getting herself comfortable in the couch. Already feeling much better.

"Pretty huh?" Was all she said with a grin as she peered over the couch at him, smug .

He looked at her, already dressed in teddy bear shorts and tank top set. Hair messy with dog slippers on her feet , smiling up at him hard enough that dimples shone through. He felt his shoulders sag as he exhaled shakily , looking away from her magnetic self.

Swallowing thickly as he blinked away the sight of her tanned legs and twinkling eyes , heart racing in his chest.

"Very pretty." Was all he mumbled before making an escape to the kitchen before she could catch him any further under her spell.

He pulled out a beer for himself and gulped it back, trying to remind himself how to breathe. But it was a little hard to do so when he had Cherrie Valentine on his couch , all smug and smirking at him in her pyjamas , looking like a dream after spending all of his money on new furniture and accessories for his apartment . Redecorating his place Despite only knowing him for less than a day.

And Quinn , he hadn't even thought to say no or deny her what she wanted. He could already hear the teasing he would be getting from his brothers and friends when they found out what a softy he had gone for her already.

"Wuinn?" She called out loudly to him, blanket pulled over her as she put on modern family for them to watch.

He inhaled deeply, skin tingling at the sound of her saying his name With her pretty mouth. It sounded so good coming from her.

"yeah?" He called back warily . Already pulling out another beer for himself.

"Can you make me a sandwich and get me a glass of ice water please?" She shouted through to him without hesitation. Already feeling comfortable now that she was getting what she wanted.

She breathed in her lovely candles, snuggled into his new velvet couch and sighed happily. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Quinn just chuckled quietly to himself as he began to pull out the stuff he would need to make her one, grinning down at the counter at her audacity.

"No!" He shouted back , more than amused as he pulled out the bread and made them some sandwiches. Grabbing some cookies to put on the side of the plate for her as well.

He could hear her giggle before she shouted back lightly "them pucks can be used as weapons Quinn!"

He laughed loudly this time, unable to stop himself as he got her ice water .

"I know! I've had plenty to the face to know that!" He said as he grabbed her plate and drink, alongside his beer in his hands as he walked back over to her.

Putting them on the new marble coffee table , he admired it a little.

"Quite a nice table." He admitted after a minute of contemplative silence .

Cherrie leaned up to grab her food, taking a bite , swallowing before casually telling him "I know. That's why I picked it. Plus if you get too hot you can just lay on it naked cause the marble stays cool all the time." Like it was no big deal.

Quinn looked at her and struggled not to imagine her lying naked on his marble table now.

He flushed darkly and quickly looked away , clearing his throat awkwardly .

"Yeah.. I think I'll just stick to putting plates and cups on it for now." He muttered amused.

Cherrie just nodded along, side eyeing him as she looked at his pretty face. Seeing little scars from past injuries , his nose all crooked and sore and wondered

"Really bad break this time huh?" She put down her plate and turned sideways to face him fully.

Quinn eyeing her warily, cheeks flushing red as she reached out and pinched his chin between her fingers tightly , titling his head towards her casually.

He could feel his heart trying to escape his chest, clenching his fingers around his beer bottle as he inhaled a little too sharply to pass as normal.

"Yeah. The doc said that I need to be careful otherwise fixing it won't be as easy. Too many times now I guess.." he mumbled sheepishly , self conscious about it.

He knew what he looked like. His nose was big, crooked in several places and he had heard all the rude and nasty comments about his appearance for years now. They had never bothered him before but with Cherrie looking at Him so closely , suddenly he cared and it make him feel uneasy.

"I've never been to a hockey game. Why do this to yourself? If they told me that every time I got into my car, I would be hit in the face with something . I wouldn't get in it." She said honestly . Letting go of his chin to grab her drink, missing the shaky exhale Quinn let out as she did so.

He laughed a little "cause it's fun." At her raised brow he quickly corrected "the playing part, not the getting injured part. But it's just apart of the game. Happens to everyone at some point." He told her truthfully while sipping from his beer.

She just nodded a little , shuffling off the couch as she yawned . "Alright. I'm gonna head to bed. Maybe I'll wake up and find myself in Madrid .

And this will all just be some sick, twisted dream." She said hopefully , Downing the rest of her water before stretching .

As she passed Quinn, she reached out and pulled at his hair childishly. Making him gasp as he slapped her hand away, rubbing at his head as he narrowed his eyes over at her.

"Hey!" He then reached over to pull at her own hair without a second thought , trying hard not to laugh when she gasped and kicked out at his leg. Scowling like a child at him, not expecting him to dish it back to her so quickly .

"Dickhead." She muttered , eyeing him for a moment before quickly reaching over to do it again then running away before he could even think about retailiiating.

Quinn just snorted as he leaned back against the couch, head hanging over the back of it as he watched her disappear down the corridor to her bedroom . Biting down on his bottom lip to hold back his grin.

"Spoilt brat." He chuckled to himself before pulling out his phone to let his brother know that no, she hasn't killed him. But yes, she was as intimidating as they made her out to be.

Two more weeks. He could manage that, couldn't he?

The next day was filming day, Quinn having been giving a camera and a list of questions that they needed to answer . Cherries manager letting him know that he needed to be the one to keep her in check and to not let her manipulate her way out of it this time.

Like she did with the last video, guys were a sucker for her and she knew it . So last time she didn't want to film, she had merely batted her eyelashes and flirted a little. Sarah had found her later in a completely different country, no video filmed at all.

So Quinn was ready for it when he delivered the news to a grumpy Cherrie that they needed to get this video done for them, the pout immediately settling over her face as she looked over at him.

"But Quinn.." she let out whiningly, having planned to head out around the town and find something to do. Maybe meet some new people and have some fun, alcohol included.

But that plan came crashing straight down as soon as Quinn levelled her with a firm shake of his head, letting her know that he was serious .

"No. Not buts. We've got to do this and then you can do whatever you want after." He told her seriously as he picked up the camera and fiddled with it, turning it on and making sure that he clicked the right settings.

He nodded over to the couch "wanna do it here or..?"

Cherrie frowned , scooping the last mouthful of cereal into her mouth. "I don't want to do it at all. It's stupid. Twenty questions are for childish dates when you're too scared to ask if they want to get out of there and fuck the night away." She grumbled, not a morning person at all. A little more extra blunt and pouty.

Quinn froze for a moment, eyes slowly lifting from the camera to look at her. His nose twitched, fighting back a laugh. Having a feeling that if he did, it would only annoy her more.

"Okay. But...it's a good way for people to get to know you. Isn't it? The fans will love it." He tried to encourage her, frowning a little as he watched her get up from the chair, wincing a little as she held the bottom of her back. Not moving for a second, she didn't look up at him, too busy taking deep breaths In and out.

Concerned, he spoke up quietly "your back? Have you took what you need to for it?" He put the camera down and walked over to his freezer, pulling out an ice pack for her. Something he always used after a game of being shoved around .

Cherrie hummed, looking up at him silently for a moment. Eyebrow raising once she noticed the ice pack in his hand.

He hesitated before nodding down to her back "er-might help right? It's a gel one so it's mouldable to you." He mumbled shyly , looking at her back instead of her intense gaze on him, feeling his cheeks heat up the longer she stared without saying anything.

Feeling a fuzzy feeling in her stomach, she cleared her throat a little. Turned her back to him before lifting up her tank top for him to see the part of her back that was flaring up.

"I already had a damaged nerve from a skiing accident when I was a teenager. Then that crash at silverstone just made it worse again. It keeps flaring up, that's kinda why I was so upset about coming here." She found herself telling him quietly .

Quinn hesitating for a second before moving closer to her , his hand shaking a little as he held her hip with one hand and then pressed the ice pack to the bottom of her spine with his other . Holding it there for her, his chin nearly brushing her shoulder as she relaxed into him without even realising it.

"I was going to get massages and water therapy. Swimming in a hot pool and then a cold one, it helps. There's this place back home I go to, that's what I was planning to do but then .." she trailed off , wondering why she was even telling him any of this.

Quinn finished it for her "then they made you fly here to live with me for two weeks." He understood why she was so upset now . "I'm sorry." He mumbled , feeling bad. Not wanting her to be in pain and especially not because of him.

Cherrie quickly waved him off "don't be. Not your fault, you were forced to do this as well. I'm sure the last thing you wanted was for me to be here in your home as well." She said , pulling all of her hair away from her back to rest it over her front instead.

Quinn tilted his head to himself, lips twitching at how oblivious she was. It may have been a shock to the system finding out that Cherrie would be staying with him, but it definitely wasn't an unwanted one.

I mean, she was Cherrie Valentine , he would be incredibly stupid to ever turn her away from his door.

He gently rubbed his hand up and down her back above the ice pack before speaking up "ya know, we could-there is a pool at the bottom of the complex. If we went really early there's usually no one in there." He quietly suggested to her, thinking about when the last time he swam was.

He thought of Cherrie in a swimsuit and flushed red, eyes sticking to his hand on her back that was now massaging soothing circles into her soft skin.

Cherrie looked over her shoulder at him with a surprised look on her face. "That could work:" she said , pleased.

"You'll come down with me? It's clean? Safe?" She asked him as she finally moved away, taking the ice pack from his hand and tucking it into the band of her shorts instead so that it rested against her back comfortably .

He chuckled and nodded his head, following her over to the couch. "Yeah. Promise. Probably not as good as yours back home but.." he simply shrugged , setting up the camera so that they would both be in the frame.

Sitting down, she grinned up at Quinn, mood lightening considerably now. "Obviously. I have two in my home in Madrid . Indoor and outdoor. I've got a sauna and ice room as well. I'll show you them, the Sauna is really good for you. Might make you feel better too. Help you relax ."

She rambled on , puffing up the pillow behind her back as she got comfortable. Not even realising what she was insinuating .

Quinn paused , looking over at her in surprise . Stomach fluttering "you want me to see your home in Madrid?" He blinked at her, stunned by how casually she said it too.

Now realising what she had said, she hummed , but surprisingly instead of backtracking , she simply nodded her head. "Yeah why not? It's only fair . Maybe you'll see my beautiful home and want a upgrade . The views are beautiful and so are the people." She told him with a small smirk, patting the seat next to her impatiently .

He laughed , Standing there for a second longer before sitting down. Shaking his head in amazement "maybe. Might help with the paleness." He joked pointing at his whiter than white face .

She just giggled "yes! We can tan together , it'll be fun. Now what are these questions?" She leaned over to look at the paper in his hands.

Quinn was quick to push her head away, tutting at her. "No peeking! I'm in charge . Okay.." he read the first question on the list and asked

"Who has more scars?"

Both Quinn and Cherrie looked at each other, Cherrie tilting her head a little as she looked him over. Quinn doing the same.

"I think you because I can already see a few on your face and hairline. I have a few but not many, most from outside of racing." She said , pushing his hair back gently to look at a small scar above his brow from where he had taken a puck the the face a while ago.

Quinn swallowed at her casual touch , nodding his head slowly . "Yeah. I mean, you've got your helmet to keep you safe. I got like half a flimsy cage covering mine." He muttered smiling a little at her. Enjoying the feeling of her hands on him, of how easily and unashamedly she did so.

Cherrie just laughed and said "answer is Quinn! Okay next question!"

"Who has the lost Instagram followers?"

Quinn scoffed "that's easy. You. You have millions." He said, him being a follower of her too. Each post she made had at least two million likes on each one, it was insane . He would hate that kind of attention on him like that, just the thought made him uneasy.

Cherrie grinned smugly "I do. It's cause I'm hot shit and alright to look at." She quipped back, lifting her feet up into the table , stretching out.

Quinn shook his head in amusement , smirking a little. Eyes still down to the paper full of questions in his hand.

"Just alright?" He muttered amused, she was more than just alright.

Cherrie sighed dramatically "way more than alright but I was trying to be humble." She joked, leaning her head back against the couch while smiling at Him. In a strangely good mood.

Quinn laughed loudly "you? Humble?" He snorted, flicking her shoulder "yeah right." He grinned.

She's just rolled her eyes at him , leaning forward to grab a bottle of water from the table. "Shut up. At least I've got something to pretend to be humble about." She poked at him, trying to wind him up.

It worked. Quinn scoffing even as he took the bottle from her and opened the lid once he noticed her struggling with it, doing it without even saying a thing. Both of them too busy bickering to notice.

"Your looks won't last forever." He shot back , grinning. Enjoying their bickering far too much.

She smirked dirtily at him, mouth not even hesitating before she opened it and blurted out "but my pussy will."

Quinn's eyes went wide in shock as he laughed nervously , eyes darting over to the camera. "Okay! Moving on! Ok!" He spluttered out, blushing red as he ran a hand over his heated face. Flustered.

Cherrie just giggled and nudged his shoulder with his own. "You left it too wide open. It fit right in!"

Quinn struggled, he did, staring back at her with pursed lips, sighing in defeat as she wiggled her eyebrows at him, encouraging him to say it.

"That's what he said." He mumbled , both of them snickering like immature kids. Nudging into each other as she laughed loudly, head thrown back. Proud of herself for getting him to crack.

"You're so red.." she cackled, placing the back of her palm on his blushing cheek. Quinn just letting her, eyes on the ground as he smiled shyly.

"Shut up." He muttered in amusement before changing to the next question before she could drop anymore inappropriate jokes on him while on camera.

"Okay here's one...would you ever date a hockey player?" He frowned down at the paper "that's a setup right there." He chuckled, looking over at her curiously . "You don't even know any of them."

Cherrie pulled a face at him "yes I do!" She exclaimed , offended.

Quinn pulled a disbelieving face right back at her "alright then. Who?"

"Crosby." She smugly answered "and I know of Trevor because he's always hitting me up asking me out." She told him in amusement , having always just left him on read.

This was news to Quinn , he found himself scoffing with a frown.

"Seriously? What did you say?" He wanted to know. Planning to kick the back of trevors knees out from underneath him the next time he saw him.

Cherrie giggled "nothing. I left him on read. So there's your answer ." She shrugged with a smirk "a hard no."

Quinn side eyed her for a moment then "does that just apply to Trevor or..?" He muttered , amused and a little too hopeful .

She looked at him for a second , scanning his taped up nose and shy eyes then casually shrugged again.

"Maybe. Would you date a f1 driver?" She turned it back on him smugly.

Quinn paused at that "you're the only woman there..not much of a choice." He teased her, trying to push down the fluttering feeling in his chest.

She hasn't said no.

She just smacked his knee , rolling her eyes at him with a grin. "You don't need any other choice when I'm right there. If I wasn't a driver I would be a professional pornstar baby!" She really har no filter today. Forgetting that she was on camera, enjoying joking around and telling dirty jokes with him too much to care.

This was why they never let her do press on her own usually , because she had a big, dirty mouth and couldn't shut up at all. But oh well.

Quinn gaped at her , his face bright red . "Okay! That's enough from you. Bigmouth!" He covered her giggling mouth with his hand, shaking his head in amusement.

Cherrie couldn't help herself "that's what they call me on my set." She mumbled against his palm before licking it, laughing loudly when Quinn flinched away in shock and pulled his hand away.

Quickly wiping his hand over her face while she giggled, pushing his hand away . "Stop it!"

"No you! You need to wash your mouth out with soap!" He grinned , biting down on his lip to stop the laughter from coming out . They were never gonna get the video done at this rate . He couldn't believe what a dirty mouth she had.

Cherrie just winked at him. Thinking that red was definitely his colour , it looked beautiful on his cheekbones and neck.

"Okay ..have you ever been in love?" Quinn asked her after they finally settled down and got serious again.

She didn't even need to think about it , shaking her head no. "No. Not yet. I don't even know how I would know if I did. What does love even consist of?" She wondered . Leaning a little into his side as she pondered it.

Quinn looked down at her quietly, admiring the little heart shaped freckle she had beneath her eye. He exhaled long and hard "I think- it's when you find someone you can joke around with . Someone that makes you feel comfortable and safe. Someone that you can act like a kid around again.." he quietly listed off, eyes never leaving her pretty face. Feeling the butterflies swarm his chest , fluttering their wings almost painfully against his ribs as his heart rattled.

"I think .." he hesitated before mumbling "I think it's someone that you can call a partner and your best friend." Seeing her wide eyes as she listened closely to him, he let out a quick nervous laugh. "I mean that's what I've gathered. Ya know, from the movies and books. I don't even know what I'm saying.." ne tried to wave it off .

Cherrie just shook her head with a soft smile on her face. Her eyes lingering on his as she spoke just as quietly.

"I think you might be right."

The next night , overwhelmed with sudden feelings and a racing heart whenever Quinn was near her, she found herself at a bar making friends. Drinking away the weird thoughts and the strange feelings , she felt happier than ever as she stumbled back to his apartment, bursting through the door with her usual flare of drama.

"Hola! Did you miss me? Because I would miss me!" She called out in a sing song voice , kicking off her heels as she stumbled into the front room.

Quinn quickly standing up to catch her before she could face plant onto the floor, his brows furrowing in concern as he took in her drunken state. Eyes lingering on the smudged makeup and messy hair, the smallest dress he had ever seen in his life clinging to her body.

He had spent all night worrying about where she had gone to, only to realise now that apparently she had gone club and bar hopping, all on her own just to avoid him.

He frowned even harder "you're so drunk." He muttered as he helped her over to the breakfast table in the kitchen , rolling his eyes when she refused to sit down, leaning against it instead as she watched him pull out some crackers and cheese.

"I was hoping that if I -" she hiccuped "if I drank so much then none of this would be real. That poof! I would wake up to find out that it's just a nightmare!" She giggled , swaying a little on her feet.

Quinn didn't laugh with her, instead he focused on Putting the cheese onto the crackers for her , so she didn't feel sick when she woke up.

"Am I that bad of company?" He tried to joke but it fell flat. His feelings a little hurt that she chose running off to club all night just to escape him.

Even in her drunken state, she heard the hardness in his voice and paused. Squinting her eyes over at him "no. If I could I would carry you in my pocket to Madrid with me. I just don't like it here so far away from home. I miss my family." She rambled to him honestly.

Quinn softened at that , turning around he slid the plate in front of her along with some water to drink.

Leaning against the table next to her as he watched her eat like a starving child would, gently lifting up the strap of her dress up that had fallen down her arm, fixing it for her.

"That's sweet. You really want to take me home huh?" He teased her quietly, blushing.

Cherrie just hummed , eyes on the plate in front of her. "Yeah. I told my dad that you weren't that bad, that you're kinda funny . I thought I would hate you but I don't." She told him, sounding just as surprised as he was to hear that she spoke to her dad about him.

His eyes widened in shock "you talked to your dad about me?" He couldn't believe it.

She just nodded, smiling casually up at him. "Yeah. He's gonna take you golfing with him when we go." She told him , already making plans without even telling him.

Quinn felt his heart warm, the grin nearly splitting his face as he followed her to her room, hand Hovering over her back just in case she stumbled.

"I am? Since when?" He was amused .

She pulled him into her room with her, throwing herself down onto her bed then wincing in pain "since I called him. Idiot," she rubbed at her back .

Quinn eyed her back in concern and asked her "you take the meds this morning?"

"Yeah. I have this gel for my back but they think I've got octopus hands." She giggled , nodding over to her nightstand where the tube of gel was sitting.

Quinn hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat quietly . "I could-I could help you out with it if you want." He mumbled shyly , fidgeting with his hands. Not liking to see her in pain, if he could help her then he would.

Cherrie beamed at him, pulling on some shirt cotton shorts underneath her dress before pulling the tight material off. Leaving her in the shorts and a lace bra , she laid down onto the bed on her stomach .

"Thanks q. I owe you one." She yawned, laying her head on her arms as she got comfortable , Quinn reaching over for the gel with a small nod.

He eyed her for a moment wondering which was the best way to do it before stopping himself from overthinking and just climbing onto the bed. He settled on the back of her thighs and rubbed some of the gel onto his hands, warming it up between his palms first before he hesitating again.

"Okay..." he exhaled shaky before carefully pressing his hands down on her back , gently rubbing out the knots and massaging around where the pain was.

"You okay?" He checked , laughing quietly when she just groaned and gave him a lazy thumbs up. "Okay."

Cherries eyes fluttered closed "you're so good at this. Well done." She mumbled tiredly.

Quinn flushed pink at her praise , smiling down at her back as he massaged her spine carefully, applying just the right pressure that had her squirming below him, a small moan falling from her lips at the feeling.

Quinn swallowed "thank you." He almost whispered before focusing on what he was doing. Trying to ignore the small, cute sounds she was letting out as she did so.

An hour later and he was finally done, Cherrie now laid on her back as he gently wiped off her smudged makeup with a wipe. Rolling his eyes as she kept laughing like a stubborn brat , turning her head away from him .

He held her jaw in place with his hand firmly

, then wiped the wipe over face softly to get it all

off.

Cherrie just looked up at him, admiring him. Then she reached out and gently poked the end of his nose making him flinch in shock, eyes snapping up from her cheeks to see her grinning down at him.

"You look like a boxer." She blurted out.

Quinn's brows furrowed "great. Thank you." He sarcastically replied , grabbing her hand to stop her poking at his healing nose.

Before he could feel self conscious about it, Cherrie was quick to add on once she noticed his face fall as he attempted to pull away from her.

"No!no! That's not a bad thing!" She assured him quickly "I once had a Fling with a boxer and he could hold me up against any wall with just one hand while he fucked-"

Quinn made a High pitched noise to shut her up "ah! Don't need to hear it! God!" He pulled a face , pretending to be sick. "Go to sleep loudmouth." He told her, pulling the blanket over her as he tucked her into the bed .

She pouted up at him unhappily "are you mad at me?" She asked him drunkenly , sniffling,

Alarmed, he gaped down at her for a moment . Quickly shaking his head and sat beside her on the bed.

Gently Smoothing her hair away from her face "no. I'm not." He muttered, amused by her sudden mood swing.

She sniffled again , grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles as she mumbled against them. "Good because if your mad at me then I'll get mad at you for being mad at me-"

He chuckled fondly at her, shaking his head in amusement . "Good thing I'm not mad at you then." He said.

She smiled sloppily "good thing." She repeated happily before yawning again.

"I really like your face Quinn." She suddenly told him.

He slowly got to his feet, smiling down at her as she struggled to fight off sleep. One eye on him as she yawned again.

"I like your face as well." He mumbled quietly , trying so hard not to laugh at the absurdity of all of it.

He felt like he was dreaming.

A pause. Then "just my face?"

He did laugh this time "shut up. Go to sleep, we'll talk in the morning." He told her affectionately, heart as warm as his stomach was as he headed to the door , shaking his head to himself in disbelief.

"Night Q. Dream of me!" She called sleepily after him, serious as shit,

He carefully shut the door behind him, laughing beneath his breath as he did so. "Will do." He muttered before heading to his own room to replay each moment between them in his head all night .

The next morning Cherrie awoke with a familiar feeling of regret and Nausea, cursing underneath her breath as she swore to never drink like that again.

Cringing in pain as she pulled herself up out of her bed , head in hands in shame as last nights Memories came rushing back to her like a bad dream.

Embrassment filling her as she recalled her ramblings about his Nose and telling him that she liked his pretty face , there was no way she could

Keep up her cool girl act now . Quinn had already seen too much of the real her already , how the hell was she supposed to act normal after that?

She could still feel the warmth of his hands on her skin from touching her last night, the way he had carefully massaged her back, keeping respectful and mindful of her drunken state too. Lips quirkily up as she remembered how flustered he had been to her casual compliments , acting as though nobody had ever told him something like before. It made her both sad and happy , pleased that she could be the one to let him know how good he really was .

She wasn't used to guys like Quinn , sensitive and quite. Thoughtful and kind, not a selfish bone in his body and not a bad intention in sight with her.

She was used to cocky, arrogant guys who thought that just because they were hot and rich, that women seemed to owe them something. Entilited and rude, throwing girls away like they were disposable toys when they got bored and wanted Another one instead.

It was a big reason to why she had stayed far away from love and relationships altogether , she had seen the way the guys treated their girlfriends and the way they behaved when they weren't around too.

A paddock full of cheaters and liars , it was enough to put her off men for a long time. At least she thought so.

Then stupid Quinn with his stupid cute face, and his stupid mumbles and stupid blushing cheeks , with his stupid crooked smile and stupid kind heart.

It was just so stupid. Yet there was nothing she could do about it now, she had the love bug and she felt almost sick with it as she dragged herself out of bed, guilt for making Quinn look after her drunken self making her pull out a pan and get to work.

Scrunching io her nose to herself as she stared down at the plate full of handmade pancakes in her hands , hesitating outside of his bedroom door for a moment before simply sighing in defeat.

"Fuck it. I'm fucked anyway. Might as well get fucked while I'm at it." She muttered away to herself , still dressed in only a large shirt and panties , hair a complete mess around her face . But Quinn had already seen her in worse states so..oh well.

Pushing open the door with her free hand , she walked right into his room like she owned the place. Grinning In amusement as she looked down at Quinn , his face smushed into a pillow with the covers pooling at his waist , chest bare with soft snores escaping his parted lips.

He looked like a mess, but a cute one.

Carefully placing the plate on his bedside table , she then raised herself onto of the bed till she was straddling His lap. Poking his cheek over and over again.

""Q." She sang down to him , flicking his forhead now as he let out a sleepy groan below her, frowning in his sleep as she continued to prod at him like a child wanting attention .

"Wake up mi amor. I've made you something." She told him , drum rolling her knuckles against his chin now instead .

He slowly peeled open one eye, taking a long moment to just look up at her in confusion.

Still half asleep, he croaked in amazement"am I still dreaming?" Hands coming up to lazily rest on her hips as he struggled to wake up. Humming sleepily as she brought her hand to his messy hair and gently scratched at his scalp, making him shiver like a cat.

Cherrie just laughed "depends. Dream of me often?" She cheeked, poking at the warm skin of his blushing cheek with her pointer finger. Hoping to annoy him Into waking up.

Quinn just smiled lazily , finally waking up as he realised that this really wasn't a dream and that she really was in his room, in his bed and straddling his waist in just a oversized tshirt .

He felt his heart race and stomach flood with heat, swallowing thickly.

"Some are dreams, some are nightmares." He quipped back at her with a soft smirk , twisting the tshirt at her thighs , his thumb brushing against the soft skin there with each stroke.

He then smelt something sweet and turned his head to see a plate full of syrup covered pancakes on his bedside table, his eyes widening in surprise as he felt warmth flood himself.

"You made me breakfast?" He echoed in disbelief , sitting up so he could grab the plate. Cherrie sliding off his lap to sit crossed legged in front of him instead.

She nodded sheepishly , tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Yeah. I'm a great pancake maker. Think of this as an apology for looking after my drunk ass last night." She muttered , watching him practically inhale the pancake without even taking a break.

Feeling pride take over her as he groaned happily , then reaching over to squeeze her cheeks in his hand , giving her head a little shake as he grinned at her happily. Overcome with emotion for her then.

"Thank you." He simply told her , instead of adding a 'oh by the way. I love you now.' To it. Having a feeling that it might be a little too soon and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her and have her running back home to Madrid without him.

A thought occurred to him then "did you make some for yourself?" At her shaking head , he frowned unhappily .

"I had some fruit. It's for you Quinn!" She insisted while chuckling , but he was too stubborn. Just like she was .

He cut up a slice of his pancake and brought the fork up to her lips, tapping it against her mouth impatiently when she just looked back at him in amusement.

"Eat it." He said. Before impatiently shoving the fork through her lips and feeding her it himself , grinning to himself as she nearly choked , quickly chewing as she slapped at his shoulder with narrowed eyes.

He just laughed . Happy. So fucking happy that nothing else mattered.

"You kept telling me that you liked my face last night." He mumbled more to himself, but Cherrie still caught it. Still noticed the way his face flushed red at the memory.

Smirking a little, she simply shrugged . "I'm an honest woman. I think you're pretty. You don't think I'm pretty?" She wound him up. Wanting to get a rise out of him, a easy way in.

Because Cherrie wasn't normal , she didn't go about emotional things like this normally .

So she did it her own way, she fed him pancakes and then teased him, a kind of warmup to what she was going to ask him any minute now.

Quinn looked at her bed head and smudged mascara, then smiled genuinely. Shyness keeping his eyes down to his now empty plate .

"'Course I do. You know you're pretty. Well, more than pretty . I don't need to tell you that for you to know." He mumbled quietly , settling his plate aside.

Cherrie just hummed , pleased as she shuffled closer to him on the bed. "I know but it's still nice to hear."

There was a long moment of quietness between them, Cherrie just silently watching as Quinn fidgeted and looked at anything but her. Feeling those stupid feelings and stupid butterflies swarm her body, she sighed loudly.

"Quinn?"

He peered over at her shyly "yeah?"

Cherries face was calm as she bluntly asked him "do you want to have sex with me?"

Quinn choking on his spit as he gasped out a stolen breath , mouth dropping open in shock. Heart racing in his chest as he scanned her face for a lie, a joke..but all he saw was impatience and honesty ...and a little amusement too .

Cherrie raising a brow at him as he took a second too long to answer , in shock. And feeling like he was hallucinating.

"Right now?" He whispered in disbelief , swallowing audibly as she moved even closer to him. Pressing her hands to his chest and Pushing him back down to his pillows with a impatient huff.

Rolling her eyes at him with a playful grin as she leaned down to press a kiss against his ear, feeling him shiver beneath to her . His shaky hands coming up to clutch at her hips with an iron grip, dazed by the sudden turn of events.

She had made him pancakes and was now offering sex? Quinn felt like he was going to pass the fuck out. Breath hitching in his throat as she pressed open mouthed kisses across his skin, grinding down on his lap as she did so.

He moaned lowly. Yeah. Felt pretty real alright.

"Yes now. Maybe later too. And tomorrow and the next day and so on ." She muttered against his jaw , pulling back enough so she could hold his chin in her fingers , raising a brow at him mischievously. "So?"

Quinn somehow managed to hold eye contact with her , rapidly nodding his head as he let out a nervous laugh. Boxers tightening as he bucked his hips up with a small hiss , gasping a little as she bounced her ass back on him casually , all the while calmly looking down at his bright red face.

"Sounds good. Cool.. yeah-er" he stammered out , eyes glued to her smirking mouth as he felt desire raining over them. His hands slipping beneath her shirt and feeling her bare skin at his fingers , he exhaled shakily .

"Good idea." He blurted out nervously .

Then "can I have a kiss?" He mumbled shyly making Cherrie laugh loudly , shaking her head fondly at him before ducking her head down and kissing him in a way that he had only ever dreamed of.

A moan falling against her mouth as he tilted his head , nose brushing gently against her own as he deepened the kiss , her tongue kissing every inch of his mouth as she made him realise just why she was one of the most wanted women in the world.

They didn't call her 'siren hips with a golden mouth' for nothing . Quinn soon learned . The apartment filling with their moans and whimpers as she took him in her mouth , took him in her hand , took him in her dripping cunt . Just for him.

She made him see stars and taste what happiness really felt like. She made him feel free.

A few hours later and the both of them were now half dressed, still lazying about on his bed, her feet in his lap as he painted her nails black for her .

Leaning back on her elbows, dressed in a open button shirt of his. She didn't bother to do up the buttons , enjoying the way Quinn couldn't keep his eyes away from her love bitten chest .

His mouth going dry each time she laughed at his stupid jokes he mumbled to her , leaning forward to kiss her lips each time he dipped the nail polish brush back into the bottle . Using it as a excuse just to keep her close.

"Ten out of ten." She suddenly spoke up after a while of comfortable silence and soft kisses between them.

Quinn arching a brow in confusion as he moved onto painting the nails on her other foot. "For what?"

She smirked at him cheekily "ten out of ten would fuck again." She teased , rubbing the heel of her foot over his half hard bulge. Already getting hard just at the sight of her smiling at him like that, in his shirt and looking at him like he was worth it.

He breathed out a shy laugh , cheeks a permanent red now. "Yeah?"

She just hummed contently . "Yeah. I've never had a boyfriend ya know ..not a serious one always." She admitted to him , knowing exactly what she wanted now.

And one thing she knew was that she always got what she wanted in the end.

Quinn hesitated for a moment before muttering quietly to her , a hopeful look in his eyes that he couldn't hide from her .

Bashfulness taking over him despite the fact that not even half an hour ago he had his head between her thighs , and his tongue and fingers in her cunt while she screamed out in pleasure beneath him.

"Do you want one? A boyfriend I mean.." he mumbled , screwing the nail polish back on as he blew air on them to dry them quicker. Rubbing at her ankles with his hands too, anything just to keep her touch on his.

Cherrie looked at him for a long moment, titling her head as she admired his outgrown hair, messy stubble and crooked nose. Trailing down to his bare chest filled with small scars , bruises and now a trail of lovebites leading right down to his pelvis , smiling to herself smugly as she just took him in.

Nodding her head contently to herself, she knew that this was it. Her time to dance the love tango had come , she wasn't about to back out now. Not when it felt so good just to see him smile and hold her hand.

"I want you." She simply said, confident and unashamed .

Smiling at the way he laughed quietly beneath his breath , seeing the way his breath stalled in his throat , looking back at her like she was the sun, the moon and every star in the galaxy wrapped up just for him.

He swallowed "I want you too." He muttered , shuffling over to lay his head in her lap. Sliding his hand up her stomach , the other one rubbing soothing circles into her back as he pressed a soft kiss against her hipbone , then sucked a little love there too. Just because he could now.

Cherrie smirked down at him, fingers pulling his hair back as she tilted his head up to her , leaning down to kiss his mouth and seal the promise

"You're mine now Q. I'm gonna make you so incredibly satisfied and happy.."

Quinn chuckled at her confidence , cheeks heating up he knew that it was true.

Feeling his emotions ball in his throat, he simply caught her lips in another kiss and mumbled against her mouth "you're mine too."

The next week went by in a flash, the two of them filming little videos for there teams to be happy about, but mostly just spending time together. Plans were being made and kisses were being pressed against any piece of skin they could reach, some part of them always touching as they orbited around each other easily . Just like it was meant to be .

Currently they were sat crossed legged on the couch as Cherrie spread a bright green face mask over his Face gently , a pink one already on her own as they had a pamper day. Quinn unable to say no to her, instead just enjoying the feel of her hands on him as she helped him relax.

"It'll make your skin feel so soft amor." She told him softly as she took a selfie of the two of them, Quinn wearing her fluffy bunny headband so the mask didn't get into his hair. Leaning his head against her shoulder as he smiled down at their reflection on her phone , kissing her collarbone as she snapped away.

He snuggled into her side and hummed "you know, we still have three months off even when the two weeks are up." He mentioned to her not so subtly , wanting her to be the one to make the call between them.

Cherrie knew that, so at his hinting , she smirked down at him. Pressing a affectionate kiss against the side of his head as she texted her father back home, telling him the change of plans.

"I know..any plans?" She teased.

Quinn rested his head ahinst her shoulder as he watched her text her dad, biting down on his lip to try and contain his smile as he read what she had wrote to him.

'Don't have a heartattack papa but I'm bringing home a guy soon'

Her father texted back quickly : an American? Cherrie...

Quinn chuckled quietly , kissing her shoulder softly as warmth flooded his chest as he realised that she was telling her father about him. No doubt in her mind that this was the real thing.

sorry . But you'll like him , he's obsessed with me and I'm pretty sure that he's going to marry me the first chance he gets.'

As he read her response , he nudged her shoulder with a loud laugh , amused "Cherrie! I'm not obsssed-" he tried to deny but quickly trailed off when she just gave him a look. Making him sigh In defeat "okay maybe a little bit don't tell your dad that! He'll think I'm weird!" He whined.

Cherrie just rolled her eyes at him "he will not. He loves love. He's been rooting for me to fall in love since I was a teenager . He actually cried for me when I didn't bring home a boyfriend last Christmas, trust me. American or not, he's going to be happy that I'm not going to die alone now." She told him matter of factly.

And she was right.

The joy was evident through the phone : my heart! I am so happy for you and American boy! You bring him home and we make him better! Madrid will do his soul good!'

"See? He's like you already." She said smugly to him.

Quinn couldn't believe how accepting her father was being about this. Couldn't believe that she wanted him enough to tell her father so.

His smile couldn't get any bigger "I love you." He told her suddenly , unable to hold it back anymore.

The love at first sight thing was no joke , it came and swiped them off their feet.

One day you were sad and alone and the next you were snuggling on the couch , green face mask on with a beautiful girl telling you that she was going to bring you home with her.

Quinn felt like he was dreaming , the happiness too much for his body as he held her close and smothered the urge to put a ring on it right there and then.

He at least wanted to meet her father first , take her out on a real date. Maybe after the third one he could browse for diamonds . A lot could happen in three months and he planned on enjoying every single moment of his time with Cherrie.

His dream girl was now his girlfriend, he couldn't believe it.

There was no doubt and no hesitation in her response , no surprise or shock at him saying it. It just felt right.

So she kissed him softly and told him easily "I love you."

But Before she could pull his clothes off and show him just how much she loved him with her mouth and body, his front door burst open making them gasp in surprise.

Jack and Trevor froze as they took in the scene in front of them , his brother's mouth dropping open as he looked at Quinn. Hickeys all over his neck and a green face mask on his face , bunny ears in his hair while Cherrie Valentine straddled his lap in just his shirt .

They both laughed loudly in shock , making Quinn groan in misery as he buried his face into her neck, hiding away from the two of them. Cherrie didn't give a single shit, simply giggling as she waved at them casually .

"Hey guys." She simply said.

Jack was the first one to gasp "oh my god!" He cackled quickly walking over to them, starstruck as he looked begeeen his brother and Cherrie Valentine.

"I can't believe this! Are you- with him-" he motioned his finger between them in disbelief .

Quinn groaned again in annoyance , not removing his face from the crook of her neck as he snapped a "fuck off!" At the two of therm. Only getting ignored.

Cherrie just laughed, smiling at the two gaping guys in front of her. "Yeah. He's mine now. I'm Cherrie- nice to meet you-" she shook their hands with a smile.

Trevor snorted "I can't believe this! I mean- huggy bear of all people?" He couldn't believe it, neither of them could.

Quinn pulled his face away from her neck to glare at them. "Fuck you! Get out!" He threw a cushion at them in Annoyance, regretting not locking his door when they woke up.

He saw Jack slowly lifting his phone up to take a picture of him in his bunny headband , green face mask and hickeys and glared .

"Don't you dare!" He warned him but it was too late, Jack was already giggling as he snapped away, already sending it to the guys groupchat to let them see what Quinn had turned into.

Defeated, he sagged back down on the couch , pulling a amused Cherrie down with him, catching the way Trevor was about to open his mouth and say something stupid

He just inhaled sharply and snapped at them "not a fucking word!"

Silence.

Then Jack curiously spoke up "Cherrie?"

She hummed casually as though she wasn't laid ontop of his grumpy brother who was pulling a blanket over their heads , trying to ignoring them completely.

"Yeah?"

"Are you going back to Madrid this weekend?" He s asked her , rocking back on the heels on his feet like a kid wanting candy. Plastering a innocent smile on his face.

Cherrie laughed , already having a feeling that she knew where this was going .

"Yes I am. Quinn's coming too." She told them easily.

Quinn poked his green face out of the blanket to glare at their smiling faces "don't you dare-"

"Can we come too? You won't even know where there! It'll be like a holiday! It'll be so fun!" Jack tried to persuade her. Trevor nodding along excitedly

"Yeah man! We can get to know each other better! And I'll show you how bad Quinn is at any other sport than hockey." He joked, Quinn rolling his eyes at him with a loud groan of misery.

"Say no." He muttered to Cherrie in a whine , pleading with her.

She took no notice , too busy laughing and nodding her head yes. "Sure. You can stay a week but Quinn's staying three months so.."

Jack gasped in shock looking at his brother in disbelief. "Three months in Madrid? Seriously?!"

Quinn grinned smugly at him "that's right. I won. Fuck you." He couldn't help but rub it in, knowing that the guys were going to be jealous of him for the rest of his life now.

He couldn't believe that he was even thinking it but he was so glad that he broke his nose now , recovery time off had never been so sweet.

#quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl fic #ice hockey imagine #hockey imagine #hockey oneshot

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sparrowrye · 6 months

Text

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 8

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 8: making a deal

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My eyes flew open and I shot up. I could feel Alastor's hot breath on the back of my neck but he was nowhere in sight. I put a clawed hand on my chest as I tried to slow my breathing. What was he trying to do? Was he even here or was it in my head?

I ran another hand through my horns. I was losing it. Nothing felt real and nothing felt fake. It was so confusing.

I pulled the covers off and splashed cold water on my face. I wanted to check in on Rodney to see how his hands were doing. I had only managed to heal one of them before Alastor and I argued.

Husker was waiting in the kitchen for me, breakfast already made. He must've had an early morning or a bad night. His ear flicked at the creak in the floorboard and his canine tooth poked out when he smiled at me. He was always so refreshing after dealing with Alastor.

We ate and chatted for a bit. I made sure to mention the healing to him, determining him as the one person I could tell anything to and purposefully ignoring Alastor's wishes.

Before we could get much further in the topic, the devil appeared. I let out a sigh and put my forehead in my hands, not yet ready to deal with him yet. "Good morning, my dear, how did you sleep?"

"What do you want?" I asked, barely turning my head to look at him.

"Now now, is that any way to greet me? I have news to share with you." He appeared beside me in between me and Husker. He was chipper and lively and that made me nervous.

"What news?"

"I have come to a conclusion from your little show yesterday." He flicked his sharp claws to reference Rodney's frostbitten fingers. "You wield angelic magic."

Husker's wings dropped as my jaw did. He said it so casually but the weight of it landed hard on my chest. I asked, "What does that make me?"

"The daughter of a fallen Angel."

I tried to sit back but forgot I was on a stool. I casted to keep myself up and pressed my claws into the counter. My parents were fallen Angels? Both or just one? Was it my mother? Was that why she was in the ring fights? Was it my father? Was he the man in white? This information gave more questions than answers.

I ran my hand through my hair and came into contact with my horns. I looked at my black claws and thought for a moment. "How does that make me a Demon though? I look nothing like an Angel."

"Well that's rather obvious, darling. One parent was a Demon," he put his own clawed hand on his chest, "and another a fallen Angel." His eyes locked with mine.

"I wonder what the Demon must've promised to the Angel," Husker growled. Alastor looked at him but made no move to reprimand him.

Corrupted. He corrupted her. Or she corrupted him.

I stared down at my black claws. Who had the strong gene? Who was the Demon and who was the fallen Angel? Why was I sent to the ring fights? Why was my mother? What happened? Were either of them still alive?

Alastor moving his cane caught my attention. Corruption. Something he was trying to do to me.

"Perhaps there was no deal," Alastor said, eyes locking with mine as I looked up from the counter, "Perhaps it was love."

"Love!?" Both Husker and I bristled but for different reasons.

"He corrupted her!" I yelled.

"Angels and Demons can't mix," Husker said.

"Unfortunately, that's something I wouldn't know anything about." Alastor put his hands up in mock surrender. I felt myself let out a breath of relief. "Why assume it was the man who corrupted the woman?"

"Because my mother and I were locked in cages." I stood up on the stool legs so I was finally the same height as him. "Or did you forget that when you were fishing through my mind?"

Alastor's smile quirked up higher on one side of his mouth. "Perhaps she is the Demon and your father the fallen Angel. After all, you put monsters in cages."

My hand struck like a viper for his face. He fizzled into the air before I could reach. I stumbled off the stool and spun to find him on the other side of the kitchen.

"She was not a monster. Neither am I. I did what I had to do to survive!" I let myself grow slightly bigger, taking one heavy step after the other towards him.

"I never claimed you were the monster. But a Demon that can bring an Angel down from Heaven is quite a feat."

I imagined his boots sticking to the floor as I jumped again. This time I felt his skin briefly under my claws before he got away. I turned but he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me into the shadows.

We emerged in a cold clearing, Alastor melting the snow away to create a warm oasis and me tripping backwards from the motion. I was on my feet a moment later charging him. I tried casting him into a tree but his magic blocked me again.

I went into my Dragon form and ran circles around the warm clearing. He was using his tentacles to keep me physically away. His magic was pushing against mine but I couldn't understand how he was doing it.

I pictured a tree sprouting from the ground beneath him and it worked. His tentacles kept him from falling but his head snapped to look at me, eyes wide and smile plastered wide on his face. I needed to know what other angelic powers I had in me.

It went like this for an hour. Alastor kept me away but I could tell it was taking him more concentration than before. His smile seemed more strained and his eyebrows were furrowed in a glare.

I casted dirt and snow up, successfully keeping his magic from blocking mine, and slithered over to him. I imagined my own tentacles appearing and pinning his to the ground. They weren't like Alastor's but there was some kind of invisible force that caught them. His head snapped around as I came from behind, claws and teeth extended.

He jammed his cane into my chin and his claws grabbed hold of my shirt. He threw me overhead and slammed my back into the ground. I let out a gasp as my body seized up. The swirl cleared and Alastor leaned on his cane as he looked down at me. I was in my Demon form now as Alastor pulled my magic away from my hands.

"Are you through?" he said nonchalantly. I dug my claws into the cold, hard earth and slowly breathed out. My body gradually relaxed until I had full control again, tears falling down my cheeks as I sat up.

"Why do you do this to me?" I buried my face in my Demonic hands.

"Do what?" He didn't move from his place behind me.

"Torment me. Why? Why do you do it? Why do you make it so hard for me? Why do you insult me? Why do you scare me? Why do you control me? Why do you teach me things but get mad when I use them? Why can't you just be nice?"

He didn't respond. The only sound came from the wind whistling through the trees. I let the cold reach me, hoping it would freeze my tears. I hated crying. I rubbed my sore chin and drew back blood on my knuckles from where he hit me. I heard static and looked over my shoulder to see him with his back to me.

I let out a sigh and healed the injury with my new power. Slowly, I moved to my knees then to my feet. My back was very sore but I attempted to ease the pain with my magic, coming back successful the first time.

I shook my whole body to ensure there were no more injuries. I spread my wings wide open and before taking off, I muttered, "Forget I said anything."

****

That night, I went into the library to search for anything on Angelic magic. I wanted to practice this type of magic more because it was the one thing Alastor didn't haven't control over, something I had that he didn't, something that could put me on the same level as him. Maybe then he'd treat me better.

However, there were no such books. I waited around the house the following day until Alastor left. I didn't know where to or for how long, but I took my opportunity. I went into his office, shocked to find it unlocked for once, and quickly searched through the books on his shelf. Memories of the last time I was in here crossed my mind but I pushed them away. I was a different person then. I could handle him being angry at me now.

I checked the second bookshelf on the other side of the fireplace. I casted a glance at the door for his shadow figure to appear but he didn't. It took me another few minutes before I found a small book at the bottom of the shelf. It didn't have much information and it looked like he was adding to it, scribbling black ink notes in the margins and sticking paper notes in it. His hand writing looked ancient and wavy.

The hair on the back of my neck rose. I felt Alastor's magic return to the house and immediately left the room. I quietly closed the door and went to my own. Alastor manifested in front of me before I could grab the handle.

I hid the book behind my back and took several steps away. His eyes searched me up and down, seemingly trying to determine what type of mood I was in.

"I believe I may have pushed too far yesterday." It sounded like it was painful for him to say that. His eyes told me he wasn't happy having to apologize to me. I wasn't expecting him to actually apologize, though, so it was progress nonetheless.

I wasn't sure how to respond. I put both hands behind my back, now feeling guilty for searching through his office when he was apologizing to me. My ears fell back a little and I looked down at my feet, the tip of his boots at the edge of my view.

"Thank you." I tried to sound genuine but not overly happy. He was quiet and sitting on the edges of my shields. It felt like a strange embrace, as if he was trying to tell me that he was respecting those boundaries. Had he gone to talk to Rosie?

I tried glancing up at him and felt my hair rise when we made eye contact. His presence came closer. I was expecting him to say something else or to fade away but he never did. I ran my sharp claw along the wood floor as I thought of anything to say to make him leave.

Alas, I couldn't. I pulled the book from behind my back and held it up to him. His eyebrows lifted as he examined the book's cover. I could tell by the way his smile went from just lips to a set of sharp teeth that he recognized it.

"I'm sorry," I looked at my foot claws again, "I wanted to know more about...about what I could do. And it's not something I think you...know how to use. So I thought I'd have to learn myself." I dared a glance up at his face to see how he was reacting. His face didn't give anything away, except that he was thinking.

Finally, he took the book from my hands and let our fingers brush against each other. The zip of energy went through my body and left me feeling overly warm despite the cold hallway. I put both hands behind my back and rubbed the skin where we had touched.

He examined the book once more over before putting it behind his own back. "I understand my actions have been harsh as of late. I would like to make a deal with you to assure both of us can be held accountable."

"I don't do deals." My ears fell further and my tone hardened.

"I'm aware. However, I think this would benefit us both greatly. And besides," his voice picked up to a more cheerful one, "our fates are already tied. Allow me to present you the terms before you decline." He gave a slight bow, using his cane to hold some of his weight.

I searched his face for malice, but found none. "Alright."

"I will respect your boundaries if you promise to allow me to teach you everything I can." He held up the book. "No searching on your own."

"Why don't you want me to do it alone?" I questioned.

"You saw my memory," he said with distaste, "It can lead to a horrible death and I would have to do the unthinkable to keep you alive to prevent my own demise."

I thought back to his memory. The girl had practically been eaten alive by dark magic. I remembered how carefully Alastor had touched her, the pain he had felt. I glanced at his claws now, wondering if they could ever be gentle again.

I searched his face once more. He wore no smug look and his smile didn't seem 'evil' like it had in the past. He was being genuine about this deal. Part of me didn't want to agree simply because I had never made a deal in my life. However, a soul deal made sure that both parties had to uphold their end of the bargain. Things might actually turn around with this.

I gritted my teeth. "Deal."

His smile went wide and he barely waited for me to extend my hand before grabbing it. Everything turned green and I felt a searing heat run through my veins. A high pitched wail filled my ears followed by a static buzzing. The heat wound its way through my whole body before fading away with the wind.

I drew in a sharp breath as Alastor returned from his demonic appearance to his everyday one. I noticed a magenta thread flickering on, connecting my heart to Alastor's. He noticed it too, one ear dropping to the side as he looked at it. It was our soulmate thread. And it was much brighter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Hehehehehehehehehhehe

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #hazbin husk #reqs open #hazbin hotel husk

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llamagoddessofficial · 2 years

Note

In the zoo harpy au, do they act differently around kids? I know for zoo trips they normally have kids visit for educational purposes and in the siren zoo au we know red loves kids so I was wondering if that would cross over to this one! I can see them being stuck with some gear to protect the kids if a kid is brave enough for a closer look

Sans: While most of the aviary viewing area is behind glass, there are a few sections that are behind two separated layers of thick wire. The hope is that people get a closer look at the harpies, or feel a bit more like they're next to the monsters, since they can actually hear them

Kids usually aren't too bothered about coming to see Sans, and Sans isn't typically bothered about going to see kids. It's a bit like when you go to the zoo, and the lions are all just asleep. Everyone's like 'oh, cool, a harpy,' and then they don't really care anymore because he doesn't do anything interesting. The kids who stick around are typically the older ones who either don't really care or LOVE owls... or just like sitting in his viewing area. Sometimes Mc gives talks while in his aviary with him, showing his wings and claws to an enraptured audience while he just purrs at her touch.

The aviary is considering opening up educational 'sleepovers' where kids stay the night, and wake up to see when he's more scary and active. It might give some children nightmares, but at least it would be cool.

Red: As ever, Red is very popular with kids. No matter their age, they're always impressed by how cool he looks... staff thought that his foul temper would translate to interacting with children, but the opposite couldn't be more true. He seems to really love it. When groups of them arrive it's clearly very mentally enriching for him, he wants to interact and see their faces light up.

Mc does not go into his enclosure when there are kids around. For one, she doesn't want to have to explain to children why he's puffing up his feathers, cooing, and dilating his eyelights as he follows her around. She's gotta wait until they're a bit older for that. Secondly, Red changes when there are kids nearby- not only does he get pushy and extra touchy with her, he gets a look. It's a look that says 'aren't they cute? aren't kids sweet? don't you want one?' and it doesn't go away for a pretty decent chunk of time.

He indulges in his instincts by making and re-making his nest. Though he does wish it didn't feel so empty.

Skull: He loves kids. He just wishes kids loved him.

He's scary, there's no doubt about that. His kind of harpy are typically solitary, but they have a habit of adopting lost chicks if they don't have any of their own, since mountains are such a hostile environment and many parents don't make it. His parental instincts are stronger than ever, especially since he has no chick- he's usually normal with children but when groups of schoolkids come through, he sees a distinct adult/child imbalance and thinks that they're abandoned. Then he gets desperate to 'save' them.

He can be very intense... coming right up to the wire and holding onto it with sharp claws, pressing his face against it, staring unblinkingly at any child he's set his heart on 'rescuing'. Even if they're one of the rare few that aren't frightened by him, they have to leave the aviary eventually- and he gets extremely distressed when kids he wants leave. He's confused and hurt that they go, he thinks they're in danger, and he can't follow.

Mc being in the aviary with him definitely helps, and she's sure to stay close and do talks. But she can't always be there. She ends up giving him a little plushie to look after, after a particularly bad day when a child screamed at the sight of him... he knows it isn't a real chick, but it soothes his aching Soul to have something small to take care of.

#llamagines #zoo harpy au

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simplydannie · 6 months

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Part 1 Click Here

Part 3 Click Here

The twins are sent back to the bottom pits of Rageous. Velvet does something horrible under the effects of the Troll poison. The twins run off in search of shelter… but not far from their tail… a new villian is after them for the bounty on their head. Soon, other crime bosses begin to find out about their worth.

A black car pulled up to the two bodies. One still lay unconscious, the other lay severely beaten…and dead.

Out of the black stepped a pair of silver steel boots. A black trench coat stretch all the way down to his ankles. Black army pants covered his legs, a dark gray skin fright shirt covered his torso. Scars covered his body, his neck, his face. He had the same sharp tooth grin like his henchmen. His long stringy, dark blue hair tied back in the form of dreadlocks. His real name was unknown, they just called him Shank. He walked up to his fallen henchmen.

“Idiot got offed by a couple of kids. Pathetic.” He kicked the body. He looked at the one who lay unconscious. “That one is going to wish he was offed by the brats. Get him in the trunk. I’ll deal with him later.”

He paced back and forth looking through the dark alleys and streets…. His eyes began to glow with a pink pigmentation.

“They couldn’t have gone that far….Set around the perimeter… find them. Oh! And send out the birds.” Shank demanded with a smirk on his face

“Keep up Vennie come on!” Velvet yelled over her shoulder as she pulled him along. She dared not let go of her grip on him… afraid that she would turn around and he would be gone.

“Vels where are we running too?” He called out to her, trying his best to keep his balance as she held tightly to his hand. Somewhere, anywhere, she thought to herself. Velvet did her best to imagine where they could go, where they could hide. The address they had given them back at the detention center would be no good. Somehow those thugs would figure it out and go looking for them there.

What happened back there, what she did… she really couldn’t comprehend. She just knew her brother was in trouble, and she just lost it… no self control, no nothing.

“Velvet please hold on!” She felt Veneer tug his hand away from hers. She turned around to find him bent over wheezing, trying to catch his breath. How long were they running for?

“I wasn’t….the best….in sports…. remember.” He said in between breaths. Right. How could she forget, Veneer the nerd was never a sports kinda of guy.

“Well hurry up!” Velvet pushed him behind some dumpsters nearby. “We didn’t get very far. Who knows who showed up or even saw.” She pulled up her hoodie over her head. Velvet did the same to Veneer although he already wore his purple beanie.

“Uugghh! Your stupid hair!” She exclaimed as his green swoop still stuck out.

“Dont be jealous-HEY!” He exclaimed as she began to try and flatten it out. It eventually made a side swoop down his right eye. She laughed. “What did do!?” He asked touching his hair.

“Emo Vennie, never thought I’d ever see that.” Velvet giggled.

“Seriously Vels!” He tried to look at himself in a nearby window. “I’m putting it back once we’re out of sight.” He pouted.

“Whatever. Okay we have to keep moving.” She peeked around the dumpster.

“Why not try to crash here?” He asked pointing at the run down building.

“No. Still too close to the scene. We HAVE to keep moving.” Velvet told him. In their moment of silence, a weird noise was heard in the distance.

ZZZZZZZ….

It sounded like the buzzing of a bug… a giant one…

ZZZZZZZZ…..

“Head down!” She exclaimed pushing her brother out of view.

At the center of the streets above them flew a drone. The X shaped machine hovered to and from, scanning its surroundings.

ZZZZZZ.

Another one appears in the farther distance…great… they were trapped.

“Drones! Really? How in the world are we going to get away?” Veneer questioned as he saw the machines hovering in the air. Velvet didn’t know. No matter how well they could cover themselves, once those drones saw movement, they’d do a facial recognition scan…. And they’d be done for.

“Follow me.” She said. They stayed as close as they could to the wall and began walking down the alley. They were able to make it to the end of the alley and to the next street. Velvet glanced around for any drones or vehicles. For now, they were clear.

“To the next alley….. now!” She didn’t give her brother a moment to think. Velvet grasped his hand again and pulled him along with her as they darted to the next alley.

ZZZZZZZZ.

Hovering above them was the drone. It spotted them with a bright light.

“We have them sir.” Said a voice.

At the other side of town, Shank and his henchmen were viewing the drone feed through a small computer.

“I know those streets.” He said. “Send in the rest of the drones. Keep them there until we can arrive.” He leaned in to watch the feed; live footage of the twins running for the life. “My little trophies are going to bring me in big bucks… plus a little extra for the inconvenience….”

He was silent as he saw the actions that happened next. The brother grabbed something as they were running, turned around, and smashed the drone right in the camera. He saw him smash and smash until their screen went blank.

“What happened?” He asked.

“He took out our bird.” His henchmen said.

“WELL SEND IN ANOTHER ONE! GET ME A VIEW OF THOSE DAMN KIDS. YOU GUYS! GET TO THAT STREET AND SEE IF YOU CAN FIND THEM NOW!!” He screamed.

“What the heck Veneer?” Velvet exclaimed.

“It was following us Vels! What was a I supposed to do?” They both stared at the broken drone lying before them. Something clicked inside Veneer. He ran to the drone and began shoving it in his duffle bag.

“Veneer leave it! Let’s go!” Velvet exclaimed. He zipped up his bag and ran towards his sister. She glanced to the left and saw some stairs that led down to the subways.

“Follow me!” She said. The siblings made their way down the stairs and into the darkness of the subway tunnels. There were some Rageouns hanging about waiting for the train. They looked at the twins in confusion as they ran by. Velvet led them down an empty waiting area.

“Crap! Crap! Crap!” She exclaimed. Velvet turned behind her… where was Veneer? “Vennie?…Vennie!” She called in despair.

“Vels follow me!” She heard him call out from across the tracks. She could hear the sound of the train getting closer. Velvet hurried herself across the tracks and onto the other side.

“What the heck Ven?” She said.

“Come on.” He told her. She had no choice, she followed Veneer deep into the other side of the subway tunnels.

It was quiet, empty. Hardly if no one passed through there, she could tell. But how did her brother know about this? She followed him into the deepest part until they came to what looked like a door. Veneer pushed it open. Inside was made into some sort of little apartment. There was a bed, a couch, a tv… and arcade game?

“What the heck Veneer? What is this?” She asked him.

“It was my hideout back in the day. Well not like way back, but when we were on our own for a while, remember. When you’d be gone and the bullies come knocking at our door, I’d come hide here. Or when I would go out to make cash and maaaayybe got into trouble. Bam! Here I was! Took me awhile to get that arcade in here but I did!” Veneer smiled. Velvet looked at her brother… she really didn’t give him enough credit. He’d spend a lot of days alone… and being the more sensitive one, the ruffians and thugs knew to come pick on him. But he managed… he managed days without her.

“Okay. We’ll hide out here for now.” She said finally laying her duffle bag on the floor. Velvet heard a distant grumble… was that someone’s stomach?

“Sorry! All that running… I’m kind of hungry.” Veneer admitted.

“Well they gave us some cash before feeding us to the wolves down here.” She said.

“Oh! A sandwich shop is just above us! Not the best, but definitely better than prison food!” Veneer chimed.

“Stop it.” Velvet told him.

“Stop what?” He asked.

“Stop being so….so….so cheerful.” She sat down on the small couch. Velvet stared at the wall… she didn’t know what to do… she didn’t know who they could trust…. She was stuck taking care of her and her brother again.

“Sorry..” She heard Veneer say as he sat himself next to his duffle bag, hugging his knees. He was honestly just happy to be alive and safe right now…. Alive and safe with his sister. Veneer was actually the one always looking out for her… deep down she knew this. Velvet had always been hard on him…. Maybe it was time to change that…

“What sandwich do you want?” She asked standing up. Veneer looked at her questionably. “We have to eat. We can’t starve down. I’ll sneak up and get us some food really quick. Enough to last us a couple of days so they can get off our rear ends. Do we have working water down here?”

“Yeah! There’s a working bathroom not far down.” He said.

“Then get settled. We’re staying down here for a while.” She exclaimed.

Back on the side of the city, Shank stared off to the top of Mount Rageous. One of his henchmen came to him.

“They’re gone sir. Drones couldn’t find them. We went to the location, searched everywhere. Nothing.” He said. Shank twiddled a knife in his fingers.

“Kids are smarter than I thought. Smarter than what she told me.” He spit to the ground. “Hold off searching for them for now. Get on the line with the Upper Rageous. For all the trouble these kids have cost me, I am tripling the price for them.”

“Yes sir. Oh, one more thing. We got more sir.” His henchmen said. Shank smiled.

“Enough to sell too?” He asked.

“Yes sir.” His henchmen replied.

“Good.” Shank said walking up to the dark vehicle. He lifted up them blanket that lay over a tank. Inside, with terrified little faces, were Trolls. “Include this batch in the pricing along with the two brats.”

The little Trolls inside the tank shook in fear… unknowing what lay ahead. Within that batch of Trolls was a familiar bluish/gray one. He was already planning an escape, calculating his next moves.

“No one is gonna get their hands on me.” Branch said.

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gunnrblze · 3 months

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Reunion pt. 2

Continuation of my silly fic

CW: more suggestiveness, fighting the urge to add smut to this lol. reader is gender neutral in the first part, but is she/her now

You’d always thought florescent lights were a bit much sometimes, but now that they were blaring right above your line of sight? You wanted to stab someone over it.

It was difficult to hear, too many people talking, too many machines and noises whirring in the distance.

What you could feel though, was an ache at the back of your skull, dull when you’re still, but sharp if you shift your head the right way on whatever piece of shit cot you’ve been laid on. You assume you fell and hit said noggin when whatever the fuck happened in the forest, happened.

Not that you can remember much yet, all you know is that the Generals murder boys showed up and then you got knocked off your one-way piggy back ride. Which worries you, is Beanie still alive? What about the rest of the circus?

With the way the lights are fizzling above you on the ceiling, the vague smell of medical supplies, and the fact you can feel that big cut on your hip bandaged up now instead of trying to kill you softly with its song…you’d wager you’ve not been captured by the Feds.

Maybe this is the ‘base’ your saviors kept speaking of, something you’d only believe when you really saw it…just in case they’re actually some band of fuckwads posing as a militia and not real soldiers. People are weird, can you really blame yourself?

“She’s awake” a voice somewhere off to the left, or maybe the right, called out. Your brain was a little too hazy to recall if you knew the voice, but as soon as Papa Smurf came into view, you felt some kind of relief that maybe the rest were okay too.

Not that you gave too much of a shit about them, yeah? I mean, you don’t even know them, they could’ve killed you, they could kill you. They just plucked you up off the floor and said ‘come with us’ like that’s a normal thing to do. Who even are they? You have one real name out of the five, but ‘Hesh’ surely to god isn’t the man’s government name-

“How do you feel?” His voice snapped you out of whatever train of thought you were riding. You blinked what felt like a hundred times before you could make out his form standing to your left. He wasn’t really as old as you acted like he was. Maybe early 50s, but he could still take you down as well as the rest, if not better due to what you imagine is well honed experience he has.

You still weren’t too interested in speaking very much to them. Maybe it was juvenile, or maybe your brain was just lacking, unable to figure out what to say in this situation. You relented a little though, giving a shrug and a mumble of something that sounded like ‘fine’. Why was your mouth doing that? Why did it feel so weird to speak?

“You’ve got a mild concussion, and a knocked out tooth” Geriatric explained when he saw what must’ve been confusion on your face.

Oh. A knocked out tooth. Naturally, of course. Whatever, it could surely be worse than a missing molar.

“We patched up your hip. That’s a nasty cut you got, a bit infected, we’ll have to keep an eye on it” he added, which wasn’t a sentence you liked very much. Not because of the cut, you weren’t sure you cared about that anymore. But because they wanted to keep an eye on it? They’d keep you?

Suddenly you felt like a stray mutt. Found wandering in the broken rubble of that office building, feeding on scraps of food because what the fuck else is there to eat in a bombed out wasteland?

You supposed you could get past that degrading feeling. If, and only if your presence didn’t continue to feel like a liability. You’d fight for yourself again, continue to scavenge for food like an animal before you played house, or military, you guess…with people who wished that their dogs nose hadn’t sniffed you out in the first place.

You wouldn’t be following them around like a stray if they’d complain about it, you knew that for sure. Not that they had complained, as a matter of fact, nothing had happened, they were actually rather nice. You were kind of just imagining all this-

“You gonna tell us more about yourself, kid? How the hell did you make it out there? You know where you’ve been?” Geriatric decided to flash bang you with three questions at once.

You gave another shrug, why did it feel like you couldn’t talk? You weren’t exactly scared of them anymore. They clearly didn’t want to hurt you, not at the moment, at least. Why did you feel so petulantly reluctant to explain yourself to people that had actually helped you considerably?

You decided to suck it up, and explained through your molar-less, iron tasting mouth, that your family died way back when, you somehow wandered into No Man’s Land, you’ve been getting by well enough, etc, etc, the usual.

Now he was being silent, which you almost thought was funny, except for the way that he looked at you like you’d told him a lie. Anxiety set in for a moment, and you felt like you were being cross examined now.

“You just stumbled into No Man’s Land? How’d you get past the wall?” He asked a little more quizzically this time. His arms were set firm across his chest -big arms for an old dude, you couldn’t help but notice- and his face was stone cold. Not your favorite look from American Dad, so far.

You figured if any time was the time to talk, it was now. After realizing what the fuck he meant by the wall, you relayed that you simply crawled underneath it. A divot in the ground that someone had clearly took a moment to dig out. You hadn’t thought much of it, you were more so concerned with not becoming one of those red berets next kill shots.

You remembered it better than you thought you would though, given your concussion. Which lessened your anxiety a bit, he’d probably hate it if you couldn’t even explain that part…

Except, that didn’t quite mean he believed it yet. Back to square one. Your head throbbed and your gums were still a little bloody. The infection in your hip stung and the lights were still caving in on you as you laid in the fuck ass military issue cot. But none of it mattered when you had him looming over you, asking questions like you were an X-File and he was just waiting for Scully to show up.

“You crawled under the wall, huh? And didn’t get caught by any Fed soldiers?” Geriatric asked, his tone almost harboring a little, amusement? It was hard to tell with the way his gaze made your body feel so cold, despite being somewhere near California in June.

You simply nodded though, because…yeah. That’s quite literally exactly what happened. He knew you were a civilian, if that much wasn’t glaringly clear, so maybe he’d also come to understand that you had little idea what the fuck you were doing.

You were both surprised when you suddenly spoke up unprompted and asked about the others, if they were alright. You’d remembered how this all happened, what led up to being knocked off Beanies back, and you couldn’t help but wonder where they were. He raised an eyebrow, but seemed willing enough.

“Hesh is alright, took a bullet to his vest, that’s why you fell down with him” He starts, immediately making more sense than you thought he’d give, seeing as they all seemed to be quite secretive. Hell, you only knew Beanie, Hesh’s, name anyways. That seemed to bother you a bit, not even knowing their names.

“The rest are okay. You two are the only injuries we have right now. He’s been patched up and is resting, which is what you’re gonna do, too” he added. Which again, you weren’t exactly a fan of because what the fuck happens after you rest up?

What will they do with you? They won’t put you back in No Man’s Land, of course, but you have no where else to go. That’s how you ended up here, on this scratchy cot, after the fucking Misfits picked you up by the scruff of your neck like a feral alley cat.

He seemed to smell the confusion and slight fear on you, and during what you imagine is a rare event, seemed to stall with having an actual course of action. So you opened your big mouth up instead. Explaining that you have no where to go, so they might as well just dump you now, get it over with.

You felt stupid when you said anything to them, like you were a toddler learning how to string meaningful sentences together for the first time, so you didn’t feel any more idiotic than you perpetually did after saying that bullshit.

But the way he raised his grayed eyebrow again and looked down at you like you were not as old as you actually were…didn’t help the feeling.

“Don’t worry about that right now, you have to rest up and get cleared from that concussion before we ‘drop’ you anywhere” he said simply, like that would make you feel better. Like the pat on your shoulder would make you feel better instead of making you flinch.

He walked away though, so what choice was there?

You glanced around now that you could see and think better. Stashed away in some room that was supposed to be a makeshift medic-like setting. The walls were gray and so was the vibe, apparently. Not that you’d expect the croaking soldier on the cot adjacent to you to be having a good time with that stab wound it appears he took to the gut…

You were just about to get settled into your spiraling thoughts when an unfamiliar voice appeared on your left. This guy was, naturally, just as big, but had a more athletic looking build. Brown eyes that were more amber than anything, and not nearly as imposing an energy as some of the others. Looking at Baldy for that one.

“Hey, I’m Kick” he tried to give you a smile.

Ohhh. So getaway guy does exist.

You almost felt the desire to return the smile, but you couldn’t. So you gave a nod instead, which seemed to satisfy him enough. He asked how you felt, your point blank response of “Shitty” got a little chuckle out of him. Why was he charming? He’s like Beanie, you suppose, a smile that can go a long way. A smile that you enjoyed seeing since you hadn’t really seen anything in a while.

Your lack of recent human interaction was still confusing your hormones…

He very clearly wanted to ask questions about the elephant in the room, how the fuck are you still alive? But he appeared to have enough decorum to make it seem like bringing it up was your idea when he worked it into the conversation.

But you had nothing much to say. By the skin of your teeth, is how you survived and out-hid the Feds thus far. A yipping and wailing German Shepard who somehow smelled you from too far away, is how you’re alive and on this cot rather than wondering if you’ll find a shelter hidden enough to sleep in tonight.

It appears he’s just as smart as his friends, because he doesn’t push. Just looks at you like you’re some sort of miracle. Really, you’re totally flattered and all, but you can’t quite stop and pat yourself on the back yet for making it this far, when you still have so far to go.

He wanted to let you rest like Geriatric, so he left. And you did not watch his ass in those tactical pants as he went. A nurse-medic-doctor-‘I have some kind of medical knowledge’ person came over to tend to your hip wound. Peeling back the gauze made you hiss, looking down at the gross slice wound made you wince.

Definitely more infected than you thought it’d gotten. Perhaps that’s what the pills they were shoving in your hand were for. You cared so little you didn’t even ask about what you were swallowing.

You laid down again, trying not to tear your hair out of the root due to the way the lights continued to buzz above your head. It wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough for your concussed ass brain.

Apparently these people catch on quite well, you couldn’t ever think of knowing simple army soldiers that had so much interpersonal skills. Weren’t they usually a little dumb? But you’d be damned if you didn’t see Beanie himself spawn at your side with a pair of earplugs. You were beginning to wonder if maybe you would rather be left alone, respectfully.

“We don’t have many of these, but they should help” he said simply, rather than addressing literally anything else that’s happened. You took them though, cracking a real little smile because Jesus fucking Christ if you had to hear a gun go off one more time…

You gave him a once over, noticing the slight raise of bandage near his ribs underneath his deliciously too tight t-shirt. He noticed, because of course he did, and ensured you he was fine. It was all rather normal feeling, for a beyond abnormal situation.

You popped the earplugs in, sighing and trying not to move your head wound on the thick fabric of the cot because Christ on a bike that shit stung. You felt a little more comfortable blurting out a ‘what happens after this’ to him rather than his elder, for some reason.

That seemed to be the question of the hour, though, because he kinda just gave you that knowing look. You figured he’d half ass some kind of reassurance, but instead he asked about the half broken radio in your bag.

Your bag. Your radio. Your stuff. Where’d they even put it? They went through it?

“You have a lot of loose ends in there, why were you carrying all that stuff around?” He’d continue. He wasn’t wearing his little namesake, you just noticed, and you accidentally admired how silly yet handsome he looked with a buzz cut.

Which was also a bit too obvious on your end, so you opted for explaining that you were trying to fix the radio. You used to fuck with them in your spare time, good with technology type stuff, etc etc. Which piqued his interest enough to ask how good you were with radios.

Pretty good was your final answer. You didn’t quite feel like talking about godforsaken radios right now, what with the lights blaring and the exhaustion catching up to your brittled ass body. You weren’t sure how malnourished and dehydrated you were, but you could feel the weakness. He seemed interested enough by you, though, you just didn’t have half a mind to ask about your belongings after taking those meds.

It felt almost too perfect when he explained that they’ve been having issues with their comms system lately…

That maybe you could take a look at it once you healed up more, maybe you could fix it. That if you did, you’d have a place to stay, food to eat.

You wondered whether or not Junior had ran this thought by Senior yet. If he was just planting the idea to help you out, so you didn’t face whatever fate you’d end up with once you didn’t have a need to laze in their cot anymore.

Because you couldn’t really foresee the rest of his buds wanting to actually take you in, whatever the fuck that really meant, here. You were a civilian, who maybe posed a bit of use to them. But that didn’t feel good enough, you wagered. Not during a time like this. Don’t they have people for this stuff?

You shrugged, not wanting to ask why he cared so much about your wellbeing. Maybe he’s just a good guy, a good soldier, but you both knew you had little place here. He seemed to just be trying to carve one out for you. And as much as you appreciated it, you still didn’t like the whole idea of being any kind of burden to these people

He gave you a pat on your shoulder too, like father like son, and told you to get some rest and think about it.

You did think about it. Thought about how fucking stupid it’d be if you tried to fix a military communications system. You liked tinkering with radios and what not, desperate to get a signal for even a sliver of music to grace your ears if you could. But you didn’t know as much as you suddenly wished you did.

So you opted for lying on your squeaky cot, feeling the burn of the stitches on your hip, the ache of the gash on the back of your head. And the buzz of the florescent lighting above you.

The earplugs did help a bit. And you fell asleep sooner than you thought you would. To the nice relaxing sounds of sick, groaning soldiers, and whatever the flying fuck was happening on this base.

And naturally, that damned dog again.

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