#or when we had finished all the work we’d been given

[miniwheat77]

Brat. (dbf!Captain Price x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, oral sex (f receiving), using worms as bait, age gap, (sorry if I missed any)

Your body feels warm, the hot sun beating down on you as you swam with one of your friends in her swimming pool. You had one as well but her parents weren't as strict as yours so you spent most of your time there.

You had just turned 18 but since you still lived with them for the time being you had no other choice but to follow their rules. You still had a curfew, had to tell them when and where you were going and what time you would be home. They still had to approve of it of course. Although they rarely ever told you no anymore since you were 18.

Your dad sat at an old wooden bar in and old dive bar him and his best friend, John Price liked to hang out in. They've been neighbors for years and years and it's essentially how their friendship started. They spent every holiday, game day, barbecue, and family get together with each other since then. They got along well, never fought. John was invited to everything and since he didn't have a family of his own it wasn't too hard for him to show. He wasn't married, had no kids, and lived too far away from his parents and siblings to plan the flights. He also didn't know when he'd be deployed but since he took on a job on the base and was only backup for missions, he was always home. Usually worked a 9-5 on the base. It was out of the ordinary for him and apart of him felt useless but it paid the bills. He was still there if they needed him anyways.

You dad was tipping the whiskey back like it was water which only meant one thing. Something was stressing him out.

John smiles after drinking some of his own bourbon. "Something going on mate?" He asks your dad. "Ah yeah. Y/N has been driving me crazy lately." He groans. "Me and her mom." He laughs. John tilts his head in confusion. "What's been going on?" He asks. "If you don't mind me asking of course."

"To be honest? I don't know. She's just been a real grouch lately. Has an attitude, doesn't listen, complains all the time. We've given her much more freedom since she turned 18 so I'm not sure where it's coming from." He shrugs. John nods his head. He's still listening. "I mean.. we convinced her to go to the doctor to get a few scans and blood work done, thinking maybe it was hormone imbalance or a mood disorder but those all came back fine and seemed to piss her off even more to be honest." He shrugs. "She got something going on in her personal life? Maybe she's fighting with a friend or boyfriend?" John asks. Your dad shakes his head. "She hates guys her age. Hates pretty much everyone she isn't close with anyways. She always said she won't date until she's older after her first boyfriend but I mean. She was like 12 so it was stupid anyways. She's only got a couple close friends and that's where she is right now. I don't know what it is." He tips back another shot of whiskey.

"Must just be moody. Maybe you guys should come out to the lake with me this weekend. I’m taking the boat out.” He shrugs. “Yeah that sounds good.” Your dad smiles. “Maybe getting out of the house will help her out.” He shrugs.

“I don’t know, I just know she’s in my damn nerves.” He laughs. Once they finish up their drinks, they part ways. Driving down the same roads to get home since they were neighbors. They’d usually carpool together but they’d met after work. When your dad arrives home, you’re home already. Watching a show on the couch. He closes the door behind him as he steps inside, smiling when he sees you. “Hey. John invited us out to go fishin this weekend. I said we’d go.” He smiles. “Do I have to?” You mumble. “Yes.” A grumble leaves your lips. “I’m not sure what the attitude is but it better quit young lady.” You roll your eyes, going upstairs to your room. Throwing yourself back on your bed with a groan.

—

John smiles at your dad, he’s sitting up at the front of the boat. You’re laying on your stomach, bikini leaving little to the eyes, you’ve got a pair of sunglasses on and you haven’t spoken much the entire trip. “John, you mind letting me off at the doc? I’m gonna go get another case of beer.” He nods his head, starting up the boat and making his way to shore. He lets your dad off, letting him know he’s going to go back out with you and to let him know when to come get him. When he’s back out on the lake and the anchor is down, he flips his hat around. Scooping up some water with his hand and flicking it all over you. He draws a gasp from your lips and you turn around, “John what the hell!” You gasp. Wiping the water down. “Cmon kid. You’re driving your poor ol’ man nuts. What’s with the attitude?” He crosses his arms, lazy smile playing at his lips. “I don’t have an attitude. Why does everyone keep saying that?” You roll your eyes. “Oh come on. The eye rolling, talking back, ignoring people when they talk to you. Being a real brat little lady.” He teases. You grumble, laying back down. “Nope. Cmon. You’re gonna try fishing. You’ll have fun.” He picks up a fishing pole. “We’re using worms. I mean.. you can use power bait but the stocked fished are smaller than natural spawn fish. It’s up to you.” He shrugs, holding out the styrofoam container that has the worms in it. You sigh, taking it from him. “You want me to show you how to put a worm on?” He asks. “Yeah sure.” You mumble. “Alright, here. You basically just thread it through the top.” You watch him hook the worm and thread it on, watching as it squirms. You take the pole from him, casting it out into the water and waiting.

Pretty soon, there’s a boat full of younger guys creeping up near you. They cat call you, yelling out obscenities at you. You ignore them, rolling your eyes. John is a little amused because he knows what your dad has said about guys your age and how you hate dating. They leave just as quickly as they come. “Can we just home? This is boring.” You roll your eyes. “No, not until we catch some fish.” He laughs.

This is where he starts to see it.

When you think he’s not paying attention, you’re adjusting yourself. Sliding awkwardly on the seat, rubbing up against your fishing pole for any sort of friction. Acting more and more bratty as the time ticks on. It’s amusing to John really, to see just how frustrated you are. “Where is my dad? He’s been gone a long time.” John shrugs. He pulls out his phone. He notices a text from your dad, seeing that he’s received a text from him a few minutes before.

You mind giving Y/N a lift home? Her mom texted me and said she took a bad fall at work and is in the ER.

Yeah no problem at all, see you later mate.

“He said your mum fell at work so he’s going to go see if she’s okay. It’s just me and you kid.” John sits down. “So we can go home now?” You ask. “No.” He laughs. You mutter something under your breath. He laughs. Your fishing pole bobbing startles you and John perks up. "You got a fish!" You set the hook, yanking the fishing pole and starting to reel it in. The fish puts up a pretty good fight and when you reel it closer to the boat, John scoops it up with the fishing net for you. Helping you get it off the hook. "Look at that darling." He smiles as you pick it up. "Good girl, see? This is fun." He smiles. His statement takes you off guard, cheeks heating up. "Uh.. Yeah. Whatever." You shut down quickly. He thinks it's odd at first. Once you've thrown the fish back into the water, he sits down across from you at the front of the boat.

He looks around, making sure no one else is around. “Look. I know what’s going on.” He smiles. “Yeah? And what’s that?” You look at him. “Well.. I’m putting two and two together here. The attitude, the never wanting to go out.” He smirks. You look up at him. “I mean.. you’ve been grinding up against your fishing pole since I gave it to you. Rubbing your thighs together when that boat full of guys came by.” Your lips part slightly, cheeks going red. "And when I called you a good girl." He chuckles, seeing how you start to squirm from his watchful eyes on you. “Do you not know how to make yourself cum sweetheart?” He laughs. "T-that's inappropriate John." You look away from his gaze, thankful your sunglasses help conceal your embarrassment. He laughs. "Oh come on, what your dad doesn't know won't hurt him, besides. You've been on his nerves lately and if I help you out, maybe he won't be so stressed out. So talk to me." He smiles. You stay quiet and he moves across the boat, sitting right next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulders. "You can talk to me darling. I can help you." Your heart rate picks up, it's racing in your chest. "I.. I don't know what you want me to say." You breathe. You're one step away from panting at his close proximity. The only thing you can think about are his hands on you. "Have you ever had sex before?" He asks. You shake your head. "Have you.. done anything at all?" You shake your head again. "I've tried to it myself but it makes it worse." You look down at your hands nervously playing with them.

He smiles. Right now, John is thankful there is a room below on his boat. "I can show you." He rests his hand on your thigh, feeling you stiffen up under his touch. "O-okay." You breathe. "Come on." He grasps your hand. There aren't many boats left on the water, it's getting late in the day and everyone is going home thankfully, you might get a little loud. He pulls you down the small set of stairs into the cabin of the boat. It's really small. He makes sure to wash his hands before he touches you, having you do the same.

There's a small bed and a table and chairs and that's it. "Lay on your back." You swallow hard, getting up onto the bed. His deep voice has your clit throbbing at the attention it knows it's about to get. You're sure you've soaked through your panties. He leans onto the bed, helping you remove your bathing suit. When your bottom half is exposed to him, he wants to drool. "God you're beautiful." He groans. He glides his hands down your exposed thighs, causing chills to rise on your skin. You're panting now, small gasps leaving your lips. "Relax." He chuckles. "I'm going to help you, try to calm down sweetheart. You're too eager." He runs his fingertips over your skin, his touch is searing, it burns your skin as his fingers move across you. You want his hands on you. You want them inside of you. He takes a deep breath of his own, trying to ignore the way his cock throbs against his cargo shorts. "Start slow. Little circles on your clit." He reaches forward. "Like this." He breathes. He uses his thumb, rubbing circles over you. Your lips part slightly, a whimper leaving your lips. It’s different when he’s touching you. You can feel your lower stomach swirling, something is building already. “You try.” He draws his hand away. Resting your hand over your mound, rubbing circles over your clit just as he said. The sensation is gone just as fast as it came, causing you to whimper out at the loss, your touch feels like nothing. You draw your hand away. “This isn’t going to work John, it doesn’t work.” You blush.

You try to sit up but he pushes you back. “Have you ever cum before?” He asks. You shake your head. “Oh darling.. no wonder you’re so bratty.” He smiles. “All of that sexual tension and no way to release it. Poor thing.” He’s teasing you, but at the same time actually feels really bad. He knows it’s harder for you to cum. “Stop it John.” You try to push him off, tears gathering in your eyes from frustration. “I’m just teasing darling, let me help you.” He moves himself up further, grasping your thighs and pulling you down on the bed further, you let your head rest back on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. The boat rocks back and fourth over the water. You’re nervous. You don’t know what he’s going to do to you. He moves himself between your legs, and you don’t understand what's going on until you feel something warm and wet against your entrance. You lift your head up, jumping at the sensation. “Oh f-fuck!” You gasp. He glances up at you. He’s still got his hat on, but he’s flipped it backward by now. Giving himself room to devour you. He moans into your opening, you taste sweet. You’re breathing hard, clutching at the sheets as he flicks his tongue over your clit. He starts slow, letting your sensitive nub get used to the sensation of his tongue, not wanting to overwhelm you. You clutch at the sheets, melting further and further into him as he laps at your entrance with his tongue. It's clear that he's had a fair share of experience. You feel something building in your stomach and you know you're about to cum.

You're getting louder and louder, crying out his name and he's never imagined himself in such a position.

This is just to help her dad, so that he isn't so stressed out.

That's all.

John rocks his hips into the bed, cock hard and throbbing against his shorts. Begging for some kind of friction. He imagines your pretty lips around his cock, maybe your pretty eyes looking up at him as you take him further down your throat. He groans into you earning another moan from your lips. When you're wet enough from his spit and your arousal, he slides a couple of his fingers into you. Feeling you tense up around him, all of the air leaving your lungs, you've never had anything inside before and he can't help but smile into you.

He sucks against your clit, swirling his tongue around it, you're squirming, struggling to stay still beneath him, even his grip on you doesn't keep you completely still. He sucks your clit into his mouth one more time, lapping his tongue over you, his fingers curling into the sweet spot inside of you and you lose it, lips parting as moans leave your lips. A mewl leave your lips and you squirm out of his grasp as he desperately laps up your arousal from your orgasm. You push him away, closing your legs. You're looking at him with a look of pure shock, panting, a little sweaty. The look you're giving him it's unsettling how fucked out you look. He wipes his lips of you, looking up at you. "Do you feel better?" He laughs. You nod your head. "Good. Try to relax." He smiles. "Still got about an hour of light left, let's make it worth while and try to catch some fish yeah?" He smiles, standing up. When he's out of your line of sight, he sucks the taste of you off of his fingers. Groaning at himself.

What has he just gotten himself into?

[mizgnomer]

Behind the Scenes of The Giggle - Part Six Excerpt from Benjamin Cook's DWM #597 Interview with Catherine Tate (with guest appearance by David Tennant)

"Do you know, we went to an escape room with Neil? He loves them. It was his birthday while we were here…” [ Neil Patrick Harris ] celebrated his 49th while filming Doctor Who in Bristol last month. By day, he donned the Toymaker’s tux and shimmied gleefully on the streets. By night, he took David and Catherine out to dinner, then on to Worlds Collide, Bristol’s best – and only – Doctor Who-themed escape room. Players are given 60 minutes to work out how to close a tear in the fabric of spacetime, before the Cybermen break through (the Toymaker has fought the Cybermen!!). “He’d booked it out,” says Catherine. “He’d shut down the whole place [for the night] and they let us in.” “Proper Hollywood,” says David. “Innit, though! That’s old money, that is,” she laughs. “And Jodie [Whittaker’s Doctor] turns up,” says David. “She was on a PA. As if –” “– as if she’s calling you. And there was a scarf. And a sonic screwdriver.” “And a Cyberman.” “A Cyberman head, yeah.” Aren’t Catherine and David… you know, overqualified for a Doctor Who escape room? “I was quite hopeful,” he says. “I thought, these are puzzles I’m going to be able to solve. But then–” “There were chess pieces,” says Catherine, in much the same tone of voice in which Donna once informed the Doctor that Santa’s a robot. “I mean, oh my God! Sorry, but how the hell –?” Neil was brilliant at it, though. “He was annoyingly good.” The Toymaker and his games are quite notorious. “Yes, because then he went, ‘Let’s do another one! We’re gonna do the World War Two room.’ That’s when I came to life.” “It’s true,” says David. “I loved that one. It was great. We were spies and we’d infiltrated a Nazi bunker.” “It involved a bit more role play, didn’t it? Very Toymaker. And zome outrageous ack-sents!” “But after the Doctor Who one,” says Catherine, “it was clear that Neil and David were better at it. There was a clear division between the coulds and the could-nots. So Neil and David went into one room, and me, [executive producer] Phil Collinson, and Charlie [De Melo], who plays… is it Charles Banerjee? [glimpsed in last year’s Christmas Day trailer, rushing through the rain towards Mr Emporium’s toyshop] – went in another room. I’d said to Phil and Charlie, ‘Let’s cut the deadwood and go into a room on our own.’ You do it against each other, and see who gets out first. “So me, Charlie and Phil had a right old laugh,” recalls Catherine, cracking up, “while David and Neil went off and… got out much quicker. Midway through ours, they’d already finished and were watching us scrabble around trying to get out of our German bunker.” She chuckles at the memory. “Then suddenly through the PA comes: ‘DONNAAA!!!’” David says nothing, but he looks very pleased with himself.

Also, from Charlie De Melo's Instagram:

I'm struggling to think of a stranger evening than one, last June, doing a @bbcdoctorwho themed escape room, with The Doctor, Donna and the Toymaker. David and Neil, it turns out, are *very* good at escape rooms. The rest of us, less so. They rushed around the room, picking up clues and turning switches and all manner of other things, whilst the rest of us looked on, utterly bemused (& a little tooty in my case). So on they powered. Leaving us scratching our heads in a room full of disembodied Cybermen ones. Before confusion could give way to frustration, the tannoy crackled. It was David. They'd somehow managed to finish the entire thing whilst we all had stood still where we'd been left. Although he'd lost his lilting, melodic, Scottish brogue. He was now The Doctor. And in the Doctor's voice he began barking orders at us, talking us through the puzzles and guiding us out of whatever wibbly wobbly mess we were in and back to the safety of Bristol. "Donna! Quick! You have to get them out of there, the Cybermen are coming!"

For other posts in this set, please see the #whoBtsGiggle tag. The full episode list is [ here ]

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 30 “Gross The Line” [Episode List] After Dave rips a couple of his well-known huge farts on his face, Tim finds the guts to ask his gassy bro something...

POV: Tim

Gross The Line

This Friday night we had no plans (once you’re past 30, this is usually considered a win).

Both me and Dave, after a tough week of work, decided to stay at home and apparently our buds had the same idea as no one wanted to do anything. To be completely honest, Dave did have something resembling a plan for tonight: Dana, his girlfriend, was coming here for the weekend, nothing new by a long shot, but Dave still wanted to give our small house what passes for a “cleaning session”.

To be fair, both me and Dave know how to manage this sort of stuff, with Dave actually being much more organised than he seems. 

Each day of this past week, we decided to do our chores after we were done working.

Speaking of which, since I worked from home, I was simply wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, while my roommate sported his usual dark brown hoodie and a pair of dark blue, almost grey, loose sagging jeans.

After doing the living room, the kitchen and the bathroom (on different days, nonetheless), we’re now cleaning his bedroom: we made the (king-sized) bed, sorted Dave’s wardrobe a bit, all that kind of stuff we had to do regardless of our guests anyway (and Dana was very chill anyway). 

We kind of lost rack of time, but given we started right after we finished working, it was around 6:30 PM, late-ish afternoon basically.

“We still got plenty of time.” I remarked, while folding a t-shirt.

“Yep.” Dave replied. “We could make a mess and still have time to clean up, if you know what I mean.” he winked at me, glancing at his king-sized bed.

“Well, you are pretty fast.” I made fun of him.

His response was a pair of socks harmlessly hitting my face.

“I see you’re done with those.” I sarcastically said as I picked them up.

“Yeah, the wardrobe’s pretty much done, thanks.” he said, as I handed the last t-shirt to him.

Honestly, we did a pretty good job. This wasn’t the first time we did this kind of stuff at all, but I was impressed by how fast we got things done this time.

“Let’s make this last.” I stated, admiring how clean the room was.

Dave stood next to me, arms crossed. “Yep. It smells good, even!”

“Yes it doe- I can’t believe I fell for it.”

My friend just casually ripped a monstrously loud 3 second fart, the sound easily silencing my voice. He winked at me again, with a smug smile, knowing very well that, well, I appreciated.

“Please don’t ruin everything we’ve done.” I jokingly begged him.

“Hey!” he stated, faking an assertive tone. “My bedroom, my rules.”

A moment of silence, then I heard him sniffing the air around him.

“But yeah…” he admitted, trying not to laugh. “That was terrible.”

The stench reached both of our nostrils and, believe it or not, it was bad. Yes, I have a fart kink, but some things can be too much to handle even for me, and to be honest I’m here more for the amazing loud sounds.

Dave opened the window just a bit so the bedroom won’t stink like rotten meat when Dana steps in later.

“Unless your ass has more things to say, that should be enough.” I said, looking at him and the window.

My bro shook his head in response and laughed a bit.

“Dude if you want to hear more farts you can just ask for it ya know.” He casually said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “You know I don’t care.” he then added, as he walked past me to check his phone on the bed, again so casually it almost confused me. Was he being sarcastic or not?

A moment of silence, as I needed a moment to understand what he meant.

Again, I do have a fart kink but… I wasn’t asking for anything. Hell, even though it’s been more than a year since he found out and accepted me, I never ever even had the guts to properly ask him for, well, a “fart session”, because at this point that’s what often happens between us. We’d go days or even weeks without face-farting (even though I’d hear him farting A LOT, either to tease me or just randomly like bros do), then Dave would just straight-up “bully” me by being the most amazing and open-minded straight gassy bro in the world. 

A blessing and a curse at the same time.

“I wasn’t asking for anything.” I stated.

Dave snorted and smiled, eyes glued on the phone. “Yeah… sure.”

I admit I felt a bit… am I in the position to say ‘offended’? 

I… I don’t want him to think that he’s my bro because of, well, this kinky stuff. 

I stepped closer to him. “Again: I wasn’t asking.”

“Dude.” he looked up to me. “It’s fine. We’re good.” he laughed.

A few moments of silence, interrupted by my friend’s tapping on his phone. I didn’t like this atmosphere. Was I being an asshole? Dave was just being… so casually open-minded about my gross kink and that’s how I thank him? By thinking ill of him?

He doesn’t care… and yet some times I almost wish that he’d did.

Maybe I just like drama?

I decided to break the tension (which wasn’t even there, but anxiety took me over quickly).

“Well… what if I was asking… not that I was…” I tried to say.

Dave’s only response was just turning to me again, listening with a bored, yet amused-ish look on his face.

“I’d never ask you.” I finally said, after stuttering a bit more.

My friend shook his head again, amused by my response.

“Okay… thanks for sharing. Very interesting.” he said, sarcastically.

I took a deep breath. “I’d never ask because...”

Dave narrowed his eyes and interrupted me with the muffled sound of another loud fart, another quick thunder, lasting “only” 5 seconds. Despite having his denim, sagging ass glued to the bed, the roar could still be heard clearly. At least the stench was trapped there… for the most part.

“Good one.” I tried to joke. Then went back to being a stuttering idiot. “I’d never ask because…”

My friend interrupted me again, this time by standing up and stepping towards me, looking annoyed but still weirdly amused.

“Yes yes because you don’t want me to think that we’re bros only because you’re a kinky bastard and I just happen to be the fart king, right? Is this what you’re trying to say? Is that correct?”

I just remained silent and took a deep breath… inhaling some of the stench that used to be trapped under Dave’s ass.

“Bro I told you a million times that I don’t care.” he laughed. “I do appreciate that you don’t ask.” he admitted “But… that won’t stop me from destroying your face.” 

That… that didn’t go into the direction I thought it would.

“Sorry.” I simply said.

Dave just laughed at how… needlessly stupid I was being.

“Alright. Looks like we’re gonna make a mess after all.” 

He stared at me with a smirk. He then quickly grabbed my arms and tripped me over so I could fell on his bed.

“Bro, it’s fine, sorry I sai-“ I tried to say, actually trying not to laugh.

“Hey, my bedroom, my rules.” he remarked, stepping on the bed, easily towering over me.

He took a few steps and after I ended up with my head between his feet, he made sure to align his sagging ass with my face, so he could squat down and just use my nose as a pillow to rest his ass on.

The denim was rough and beautiful to look at, the seams and textures of his jeans tickling my face. I took a deep whiff and I could smell the stench of his previous farts. Since he was sagging, my nose also brushed against his red sweaty underwear, the only thing between my nose and his powerful anus.

After a few seconds of silence, he stopped moving and ripped a huge blast, up close and personal, down my throat. Damn, today his ass likes being louder than usual, with the blast almost making me go deaf. It was probably as loud as the previous ones, but since I was with my nose planted into the source of that fart this time, it felt way louder. 

It certainly was longer though, this one lasting about 9 seconds before stopping.

He didn’t move for a few seconds, the only reason being to give me time to, well, properly enjoy the stench, which again I did, but the sounds of Dave’s farts was the main event for me every time he blasted me. I’ll never get used to it, to all of this, to his blasts, to him being so casual and open-minded about my kink.

After a few seconds, he leaned back and spread his legs a bit, still having his ass planted on my face. He did that so he could stare down at me, at the victim of his flatulence, at what remained of my sweaty face.

He was laughing, still sporting that evil smirk.

“I knew you weren’t asking by the way.” he said, and the bastard winked at me one more time.

Before I could say something in return, most likely an insult, my head shook as he ripped yet another blast. He closed his eyes as he kept pushing, as he let his ass roar all over my face; and the fact that I could see him do that, that I could stare right into his eyes as he farted, all while my nostrils were burning, further hardened by boner. 

He sighed in relief and looked down to me one more ime after the 7 seconds blast ended. He then leaned back a bit more, now fully lying on his bed, legs up, with my face still in front of his sagging denim. 

Oddly enough, we remained like that for a couple of dozens of seconds, until my straight bro talked to me. I couldn’t see his face this time: I was too startled to talk, to process how how that was, and my eyes were glued on that smelly “wall” of sagging jeans in front of me, a “wall” that hid my friend’s face from my point of view.

“You alive, bro?” he jokingly asked.

“Sadly, yes.” my deadpan answer.

Dave laughed at my response.

“No worries, I’m brewing a big one that’s gonna kill ya for good.” 

The friendliest, yet hottest threat I ever received.

“Ready?” he then asked.

How did such a simple word become so hot to me is a mystery; but being something that Dave would often say before unleashing some of the loudest, most powerful farts I ever heard certainly didn’t help.

In hindsight, that’s not a mystery at all…

Either way, my answer to his question was another question, and I mustered all the courage I had to actually speak.

“Dave… can I ask you something?” Though it was my boner doing the talk now I’m afraid.

“Sure.” he quickly responded, surprisingly enough.

A few moments of silence, my heart racing fast. I took deep breaths, accidentally inhaling more of the polluted air around me. I was nervous, I was sweating.

“Well, if you have nothing to say, I’m just gonna let my ass speak then.” another hot threat from my bro.

“Okay wait.” I finally said. 

I still couldn’t see my friend’s face as I was resting my head in front of his ass, which covered most most of my view.

“For your next… fart…” I managed to say.

“Yes…?” he said, in a very amusing formal tone of voice.

 “Can you…” I took a deep breath. “Can you, like…”

Dave laughed at me stuttering like an idiot, but I kept going.

“Can you hold my head into your ass?”

First response: silence.

Moments of silence, moments that to me lasted hours.

I did it, I crossed the line. 

I fucked up.

I betrayed my straight bro’s trust by going too far.

He’s Dave, a straight, open-minded friend that accepted my kink and yet I couldn’t help but let my thirst take the wheel, ruining everything.

It doesn’t help that he did hold my head still into his ass as he face-farted me other times in the past, but downright asking him to do it… I’m already regretting it.

That’s too gross.

Then, I felt it.

I just felt it.

I felt his left hand grabbing my head; he raised his left leg and leaned a bit, so he could properly fulfil my request. With a firm grasp, he planted my defenceless, sweaty face straight up into his sagging, smelly denim ass, holding me still, making sure I couldn’t move.

“Wow. You are a kinky bastard after all.” He said. “Just like I’m the fart king” he snickered.

I tried to speak, but talking while your moth is constantly “kissing” your gassy friend’s ass is a bit difficult, yet Dave kind of understood what I was trying to say. He knows me, after all.

“Bro…” He pushed my head even more, my nose almost going through the red fabric of his underwear and right between his asscheeks. “The only thing you should be afraid of is getting exactly what you wish for.”

Another one of those hot threats. Is he doing that on purpose? 

A moment of silence followed… the silence before the storm.

“Ready?”

That was a rhetorical question.

The earthquake that struck my face was as loud as it was powerful. My friend’s ass roared straight into my nostrils and mouth, with Dave making sure my face was glued to his powerful anus, right where it belonged (not that I wanted to move anyway).

The deep, chainsaw-like noise shook the the whole bedroom, and for a moment I thought of the stench that basically ruined all of our hard work of cleaning things up, but my bro cared even less than me about that, as his ass kept screaming at my face, my nose gently brushing between his denim and his underwear. 

My nostrils were burning, my eyes got wet.

On paper, this was nothing new for me: Dave farts in my face very often, even holding my head still like he’s doing now. However… the fact that he did it because I found the guts to ask for it made pre-cum erupt from the tip of my cock (I guess I’m the fast one then) which at this point I assume my bro knows about.

Even though I had my entire face glued to his denim ass, I still managed to get a good look of it and as my face kept getting blasted, I once again realized how lucky I was to have a friend like him. 

Dave had it all: he’s smart, he’s tall, good-looking, funny and, as he put it a few moments ago, he casually happens to be the fart king, and the fact that I have the… I’d say the privilege to get constantly face-farted by him, to admire his ass this up close and personal, was more than I could’ve ever hoped for.

That good-looking guy you saw across the street? Well, he’s actually my bro… and he’s farting in my face.

12 seconds and the fart finally started to lose some of its power. He could rip longer farts than this, natural and/or on command (this time it was all natural, like 99% of the times), which was already impressively long, but given the context this was probably the hottest one he ever ripped all over my face.

After he was done, he simply let me go, or rather, let my head fall as I was completely stunned by what just hit me. I admired that sagging denim ass in front of me a bit more, still engulfed by an invisible cloud of gas.

“Anything else you wanna ask?” he joked, teasing me on purpose.

“Maybe I’ll just ask you to stop.” I played along, though I was being serious.

“Good choice” Dave said, a quick, loud 2-seconds fart following his response.

I managed to stand up, fighting the urge to plant my face into his ass again to properly enjoy that last rip. 

I was feeling all dizzy for all the gas and, well, the massive boner I had.

Dave remained on the bed, sitting, as if nothing gross and kinky happened, reaching for his phone again to check some messages.

The bedroom, no gentle way to put this, smelt like ass because of my friend’s massive farts.

“Welp, much like you, Dana’s coming.” Dave casually commented, eyes on his phone.

“You do realize that this room smells like ass, right?” I told him, ignoring the insult.

“Hey. Not my fault. You asked for it, not me.” he said, with a smirk.

Once again, he proved to me that he just doesn’t care. 

I’m gross and disgusting and while my bro is very aware of the kink… the idea of torturing me is just weirdly amusing to him.

I don’t know why, but that’s how it works.

His bedroom, his rules after all.

The End

[unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin]

Macaroni Art

Summary: Your daughter desperately wants someone to come to her Father’s Day party at Daycare and Kenny steps up.

Warnings: single mom!reader, your daughter is about 4 years old, daughters birth father isn’t discussed much, it’s just accepted that he’s not around, lots of fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst

An: I don’t know why but the idea of wrestlers being sweet to their kids has been on my mind. I haven’t written for wrestling for a while and haven’t had the time to really watch it so please be kind of it’s not the best

Taglist: @peachmango-kombucha @kcloveswrestling @writtingrose @xkennyxomegax @melissahausen @fiskers7136 @bellalutionn @tummyyellin @legit9thlunaticwarrior @auburnwrites @thesusbunny

“Be careful!” You scolded your young daughter as she ran into the house the moment you had the door open. Your arms were occupied with your work bag and her backpack, making closing the door slightly difficult. Once you were inside you kicked your shoes off and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. The smell of food filled your nose, and you smiled slightly at what would be waiting for you when you went into the kitchen.

You set your own bag, keeping your daughter’s backpack over your shoulder as you walked further into your home. You could hear voices as you turned into the kitchen, seeing your daughter in Kenny’s arms as she told him about her day. Kenny nodded along as he stirred something on the stove.

“That sounds like so much fun” Kenny told her before he glanced up to see you. “Why don’t you go wash your hands for dinner?” He set the little girl down and she happily ran off, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

“I think I like this,” you set your daughter’s bag down before walking cover to Kenny, your arms wrapping around his neck while one of his wrapped around your waist.

“You like what?”

“You being here to cook for us when we get home.” You said with a smile. Kenny’s own smile matched yours as he placed a quick kiss on your lips.

“I’ll do it as long as I can.”

You and Kenny had known each other for years, you had been a promoter for different wrestling promotions over the years and you had worked with him plenty of times. If you asked any of your friends they would say they thought you were both dating back then, but you weren’t. Instead you ended up pregnant with your daughter and you left your traveling job for a more stable one.

“All clean!” Your daughter yelled as she came running back into the kitchen. You turned to her, holding your hands on your hips as you looked at her.

“What have we said about running, little missy?” You asked, watching as she blushed.

“Only walking.”

“Exactly. Kenny’s cooking in here and there’s hit stuff, you’ve got to be careful.” You picked her up as you walked over to the table. Kenny started to make plates behind you while you sat her at the table.

“What did you do at daycare today?” You asked as you started to pull things out of the bag. You let the little girl explain the different art projects as Kenny brought the plates of food over.

“…and you’ll come to school tomorrow!” She cheered, causing you to pause for a second.

“You mean mama will drop you off at school?”

“Silly mama,” she shook her head, confusing you further. “Come to lunch.” She pointed to the stack of papers that were meant for parents, little notes and reminders. You grabbed the one for today and your heart sank as you read it.

Good Evening Parents,

We’d like to remind parents that tomorrow will be our Father’s Day celebration at the daycare. Any guardian is welcome to come in for a picnic lunch and games, and at the end of the day students will give out the presents they’ve made in class. We understand not all families may have a father so any guardian is welcome and gifts were to be given to whoever the child wished to make it for. We hope to see you all there!

“Y/n?” Kenny tapped your shoulder as you finished reading the paper. You glanced at him before looking over at your daughter who had begun eating the spaghetti Kenny had made. She had a happy grin on her face as she ate, causing your chest to tighten.

“Excuse me…” you whispered as you pulled away from Kenny and went to the living room. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, and once you were alone you let them fall. How could you have forgotten? You had meant to take the day off to either go to class with her or keep her home that day, but it somehow slipped your mind. Between everyday stuff and helping Kenny after his surgeries a day off was the last thing on your mind.

As you cried a pair of strong arms enveloped you in a hug. “Why are you crying, sweetheart?” Kenny gently asked, but you were too upset to verbally answer so you just shoved the paper into his hand. Kenny kept one arm around you as he read over the note.

“I was super to take the day off,” you sobbed into his chest. “I forgot and now she’s gonna be the only kid without someone there and it’s gonna break her heart. I’m such a shitty mom, how did I let this happen-

“Hey,” Kenny pulled you away from him so he could see your face. “First off, you are not a shitty mom. You raised y/d/n for three years on your own, and you did an amazing job with that little girl. Secondly, you need to take a breath, calm down a bit.” You nodded as you tried to take a few deep breaths and pull yourself together.

“She could always stay home with me tomorrow.”

“She already knows they’re doing fun stuff, she won’t want to miss. Besides, don’t you have meeting tomorrow with the bucks and Khan?”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind her in the background, but there is another option.” You waited for him to continue, but he seems almost nervous to. “I don’t want to over step, I know we’ve only been together a year and y/d/n had only known me a few months, but if she really wants someone there I’d be happy to go.”

Kenny’s words shocked you a bit, not expecting him to offer something like that. Sure, Kenny had been great with your daughter in the months he’d known her, but you weren’t sure how he felt about taking a parental role yet. You and y/d/n were a package deal, but you didn’t want to push a role onto him he didn’t want. She was your daughter, not his. As long as he was kind to her that’s all that mattered in your eyes.

“Are- Are you sure?” You asked him. “I don’t want you to feel pressured to go to this. Plus, you have work stuff tomorrow.

“Out of everyone that would understand missing work for something with your kids, Matt and Nick will understand completely. And Tony is pretty understanding in general.” Kenny tried to tell you but you were still unsure. “Y/n, I love you. I want to be in your life for as long as you’ll let me, and I know that means being in her life too. I don’t want to replace her dad if that’s not what you want, but I do care about her. I will be there for her tomorrow if you’ll let me be.”

You felt more tears well up in your eyes as you thought about what he was offering. Kenny was making the step from ‘moms friend’ to being something more for y/d/n. “You’d really do that for her?”

“Absolutely.”

You couldn’t help the smile as you hugged Kenny close to your body. “Thank you,” you whispered into his neck, some of his curly hair getting stuck to your wet cheeks. “Thank you so much.”

————————

“Mama!” Was the first thing you heard as you opened the door after getting home from work. You hadn’t needed to pick your daughter up today due to Kenny going with her.

“Hi baby!” You kneeled down to greet her, pulling the little girl into a hug as she ran at you. “Mama missed you so much today!”

“Kenny came to school!” She excitedly said, making you smile.

“That’s what I heard, what did you do?” You stood up and walked further into the house with your daughter on your hip as she babbled about her day. You could smell pizza coming from the kitchen, and you figured Kenny must have ordered out today as you found the man on the couch.

“Hey y/d/n, why don’t you go get the thing for mama?” Kenny suggested, having your daughter quickly wiggle out of your arms. You let her down and walked over to the couch, sitting down and cuddling into his side.

“How was school?”

“Amazing. You should have seen it, she was so excited to have me there. She proudly told everyone that my name is Kenny and I’m her mamas boyfriend.”

“Did you get any pictures?”

“Lots, I’ll show you later-“

“Mama!” Y/d/n came running into the room with a gift bag. “Happy Father’s Day!” She excitedly said as she shoved the bag into your lap.

“Is this for me?” You asked and she nodded.

“Open,” she pointed at the bag and you followed her directions. You pulled out a small keychain with her fingerprints on it, and then a paper with macaroni art.

“Ooo, what’s this, baby?”you asked as you showed her the picture.

“It’s us!” She happily said. “This is you, and me,” she pointed to two blobs. “And this is Kenny. Our family,” she explained.

You felt like your heart was going to explode as you pulled y/d/n up onto your lap. “Babygirl, I love it so so much!” You kissed her cheek happily. “I think we should put the picture up in the living room so everyone can see our family, what do you think Ken?” You tired to look at the man who looked happier then you’d ever seen him.

“I think that’s a great idea.”

[icyminghao]

if you call on me forever, i will come (preview)

pairing: popstar!soonyoung x fem!reader ft. childhood bestfriend!joshua genre: angst, fluff (not in preview), arranged marriage!au warning(s) (for the preview): cursing, mentions of food word count (for the preview): 1.9k

summary: as a result of his entertainment label teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, soonyoung is given an ultimatum: marry the heir of the largest entertainment label in korea and save his career, or risk losing everything he’s built over the last five years.

a/n: just a little something i’ve been working on to make up for the inactivity~~ not sure when this would be uploaded since i haven’t finished it yet ><

Having been in the entertainment industry since he was eighteen, Soonyoung has quite literally been through it all. From the doubtful eyes of the public when he just debuted to the current, decent fanbase he has garnered through all his years of hardwork and determination, Soonyoung has seen it all.

At least, he thought he had.

“What the hell did you just say?” Soonyoung snaps his head to send the CEO of his music label a chill-inducing glare, and Mr. Kang gulps for a split second before returning to his stoic expression.

“I said,” Mr. Kang clears his throat, “you’re to marry the heir of VIBE Entertainment, as per the conditions set by her father.”

The words hit Soonyoung hard, like he’d just downed a bottle of vodka in one go. He resists the urge to launch himself at Mr. Kang. “And why the hell would I do that?”

“Because,” Mr. Kang sighs, exasperated, “you have to. It’s the only way for our label to survive. You know what our situation’s like, Soonyoung. The CEO of VIBE Entertainment is doing us a mercy here. Just marry the girl, and VIBE will take us under their wing, and-”

“And then what?” Soonyoung snaps, “We’ll just be one of the many companies monopolised by that farce of an entertainment label. You’ll be just another one of his subordinates, another one of his pawns. Is this the path you want?”

“I mean, just look at what the fuck you’re doing here.” Soonyoung runs his hand through his blonde locks in pure frustration. “I have a fucking girlfriend. You’re just going to upend my life to live out a shitty future? This is the twenty-first century, man. You’d think we’d have gotten over the stupid ‘arranged marriage’ cliche, huh?”

“What do you want me to do, then?” Mr. Kang raises his voice, his gaze hardening. “Do you think I haven’t considered the consequences of this for you? For the label? For me? I’m doing this because we have no other choice-”

“I have my fans. I could work something out,” Soonyoung reasons, pacing about Mr. Kang’s tiny, cramped office.

Mr. Kang laughs with no emotions behind his eyes, and Soonyoung is just now noticing the pure exhaustion manifested in his horrid dark eye circles. “Your fans can’t do jack shit, and you know it.”

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything in reply, because Mr. Kang is right. His record label had been struggling when Soonyoung first debuted, and silly, naive, eighteen-year-old him thought he could change that. Thought he could be Mr. Kang’s hero, thought he could save the label with his immaculate talent.

Fast forward to five years later, and the label is doing so much worse after suffering the effects of supporting an average pop star for half a decade. Hell, he can’t even bear to call himself a pop star. Five years down the rocky road to stardom, and he’s barely produced enough hits to even be considered a household name in the country, let alone the world. He knows Mr. Kang is right. They’ve been backed against the wall, and there’s only one way out.

Breaths evening out as he calms down, Soonyoung shuts his eyes so tight it feels like his sockets might pop out. Letting out a sigh in surrender, he slowly opens them and inhales deeply.

“How long do I have till it happens?”

You think you might just be Soonyoung’s biggest fan.

You’ve been with him on his journey to stardom since he debuted, and you’ve been a loyal fan since. You’d even talked to him once, when your father’s secretary brought you to the set where Soonyoung was filming an interview with a magazine.

Which is why your mind is reeling right now. Your father’s secretary, Joshua, had just informed you of your impending marriage to Soonyoung, and you’re both happy and taken by surprise.

“He… agreed to this? Willingly?” you ask, doubt lacing your voice. Joshua simply nods in response, before letting out a huge smile and stepping closer to you.

“This is really big, y/n,” Joshua grins toothily. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and launch yourself into your childhood best friend’s arms, squealing.

“I know, Shua! I’m just, really surprised he agreed to this willingly. I mean, I feel really bad since this is, like, being forced upon us and all, but maybe he remembers me from the time we met at the N Magazine shoot?” you ramble in complete disbelief. “God, Joshua. What if he doesn’t like me? Or I don’t like him as a person? We’d be so miserable, maybe it’s not too late-”

“You know you can’t change his mind once he’s set on it, y/n.” Joshua sighs, gently grabbing you by your shoulders to ground you. “Besides, what’s not to like about you? The only thing you should be worried about is whether or not you’ll like him.”

You break out into a dopey smile, touched by Joshua’s kind words. “Aw, Joshie, are you flirting with me now?”

You see a hint of panic flash through Joshua’s widened eyes, but his phone beeps with a notification before you can call him out on it.

“Oh my god, I almost forgot,” Joshua says after pocketing his phone. “You have a dinner with him tonight.”

You’re late to the dinner.

Which clearly would not give Soonyoung a good impression of you, you realise, as you silently pray for Joshua to drive faster.

In your defence, Joshua had only informed you about the scheduled dinner barely an hour before it was supposed to happen, and you were at your office in your father’s company building sorting out some PR stuff for a newly-debuted boygroup, so you had a grand total of about forty minutes to prepare yourself for the dinner. Which, after reducing the travel time to your apartment to get ready and to the restaurant, left you a whopping ten minutes to spare.

Which is how you ended up in this predicament, at least ten minutes late to your first official meeting as a soon-to-be married couple.

You don’t even realise when Joshua finally pulls up in front of the restaurant, and he has to gently nudge you to snap you out of your stupor.

“I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done, okay? Everything’s going to be fine,” Joshua smiles softly, reassuring you with honey laced in his words. You shoot him a nervous smile, bidding him goodbye as you scramble out of his car and into the restaurant.

The restaurant is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. You guess you’re considered a child of nepotism (a “nepo-baby”, as Joshua calls it), yes, but you’d stopped relying on your father’s black card to get by, instead depending on the pay you earn from your job (which technically comes from him since you work at his company as the PR team leader of a newly-debuted boygroup, but it’s still your money nonetheless) that honestly isn’t much, but you get by, so you couldn’t ask for more, really. Contrary to popular belief, you don’t really do fancy restaurants, hence your surprise.

Your first thought is that this restaurant is overwhelmingly bright. The place is decked out with so many chandeliers, and there are so many utensils laid out on an empty table for two you’d think there were at least five people having a meal there. You briefly glance at an occupied table and wince upon seeing the measly portion of the food, knowing you’ll probably have to get takeout later.

Your second thought is holy shit, Soonyoung’s right there, and he is ethereal the moment you spot him a few tables in front of you, seemingly lost in thought in a booth in the corner of the restaurant. He’s dressed to the nines in a crisp navy blue button down with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of black slacks, and his hair is nicely slicked back with a few strands framing his face, your heart nearly stopping at the sight. He makes eye contact with you as you stand there like a total idiot and looks away before you beam at him, like he didn’t recognise you.

Right, you think, he probably doesn’t recognise you considering the last time the both of you interacted had been four years ago. You take a deep breath and mentally psych yourself up as you walk over to Soonyoung.

Soonyoung looks visibly confused when you stand in front of him, and you don’t know if you should be amused or offended.

“Hi,” you begin, “I’m y/n.”

As if a switch was turned on the moment you introduced yourself, Soonyoung’s gaze hardens, and you feel yourself shrink a little under his piercing eyes.

“You’re late,” he practically spits, venom lacing the two simple words.

“I’m sorry, I got here on short notice, I only knew about this like two hours-”

“Save it, I don’t really care. Let’s just get this over with.” Soonyoung grumbles, not even bothering to hide his eye roll. Hurt flares in your chest, and you timidly take the seat across from him.

“Um, so, I think we’ve met b-”

You’re cut off once again as Soonyoung closes his eyes and sighs in visible frustration, his breaths becoming quicker. “Look, uh, y/n, I have no intention of being, like, friends with you or whatever, okay? You folks sprung this up on me like I’m some kind of object, so you can’t expect me to act like all of this is fine when it’s really not. Let’s just get this dinner over and done with and go back to our expiring freedom, yeah?”

“Soonyoung, but you… agreed to this. Willingly,” you protest, confused at the rude tone he’s taking on.

Soonyoung scoffs, cocking an eyebrow at you. “I have a girlfriend, y/n. Why would I accept this willingly?”

You don’t talk after that, and just like that, there’s an unspoken agreement that that was the end of the conversation for possibly the entire dinner.

Your food arrives, in portions made for children just like you expected, and you eat in silence, willing yourself to stay calm. Maybe he’s just having a bad day, you try to reason, blinking back tears.

Or maybe, the voice deep inside of your head pops up, you’re doomed to be in this loveless marriage forever.

You jolt out of your trance as your fork clatters to the floor with an ear-piercing sound, and you smile sheepishly at the neighbouring diners who had turned to see what the commotion was. Picking up your fork and laying it on the table, you decide that you’ve probably had enough for the day.

“It was nice, uh, meeting you. I should go now,” you purse your lips together and try your hardest to not burst into tears in front of Soonyoung, though if he notices, he gives no indication. You stand up and leave after a few seconds of silence, feeling increasingly suffocated.

As soon as you step out of the restaurant, you let out a huge breath, the first tear slipping out of your left eye. Through your blurred vision, you see Joshua stepping out of his car, hurrying over to you.

“Oh my god, y/n,” he frets over you, swiping your tears away with his thumbs. “What did he say to you?”

You continue sobbing as Joshua wraps his arms around you, leaning your head on his shoulder as you shake uncontrollably. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Let’s get you home, hm?”

You nod in between sobs, letting your body go limp as Joshua walks you to his car.

The ride home is silent, your mind clear of all thoughts but one.

You’re doomed to live out the rest of your miserable life with a man who cannot and will not love you. Not now, and not ever.

a/n 2: i hope this was okay!

taglist: @slytherinshua @xomingyu @belladaises @pepperonidk @tastymintchocolate @smilehui @dahliatopia

masterlist

[hopepetal]

Part One | Part Two (you are here!)

Read part one on ao3!

Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! :)

@applestruda

On his first day of being more than just a guy, Impulse slept in.

He’d always been a light sleeper, so it was surprising that he hadn’t at least woken when the others had started getting up and coming out of their tents, but Impulse just chalked it up to being tired. Maybe summoning demons took a lot of energy. He wouldn’t know– he never finished reading that book from the library. Not that he needed it anymore, with a real demon in his head. 

It was a nice day out. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and Impulse could hear more. It seemed that allowing the demon into his head had given him enhanced senses. It was more than a little disorienting at first, but he figured it would get easier with time. Almost like sword fighting, in a way. Daunting at first, but easier as he trained and worked at it. 

As he made his way toward the picnic table they all ate at, Impulse was greeted by Scar and Mumbo, who had clearly just woken up as well. He settled in across from Scar after grabbing some food– Pearl had made some sort of oatmeal for herself and decided that was what the rest of the knights would be having as well, judging by the quantity. She didn’t have to prepare food for the rest of them, and Impulse had said as much on many occasions, but she had shrugged and said that she might as well, since she was up the earliest. It wasn’t as though she did it every day, either. 

Scar grinned at Impulse as he sat down, leaning back from his half finished food. “Well, look who decided to wake up! Any later and we’d have started to call you Grian!” 

Mumbo glanced up, dark eyes wide. “That’s not true, really,” he clarified, and Impulse chuckled.

“Nah, I get it. I’m a little surprised myself,” Impulse admitted, stirring his oatmeal absentmindedly, “but I guess there’s a first time for everything, right?”

“Indeed there is, my good man!” Scar stood up, doing a big stretch before plopping right back down on the bench. “Ahh, that felt good.” He glanced over at Mumbo, who was hunched over his bowl. “You should stretch more,” he advised, “it’s good for you.”

Scar wiggled his eyebrows, his smile growing. “Then why don't you ask Impulse for a spar? If you're so fit and healthy, you could take him on, right?”

Mumbo’s cheeks flushed a pale pink. “I do stretch,” he protested, “I’m very fit and very healthy!”

Mumbo dropped his spoon. “Oh– well, I– you see, um…”

Impulse laughed. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Scar. I’d be willing to spar with you, if you would like.”

Sighing, Mumbo looked up at Impulse. “Well, I suppose… would you like to spar with me? Later today?”

Impulse nodded, grinning widely. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Mumbo. How about we spar in a bit, so it’s not too hot for us?”

Mumbo shot a glare at Scar, but it was light hearted. “Sounds lovely, Impulse. I guess I better go get ready, then.” He stood, picking up his empty bowl and reaching down to scoop up his dropped spoon. “I’ll see you in a bit!” he called as he walked away, Scar and Impulse watching him go.

Scar turned back to Impulse, who had continued eating his oatmeal. “Well, I can’t wait to see how that turns out. That is, if I’m able to watch.” He scooped some oatmeal into his mouth, taking a moment to eat before continuing. “Cub wanted to meet up with me at some point today, and I was going to head over after I finished eating. If it doesn’t take too long, maybe I’ll get back in time to watch the fight.”

Impulse nodded, humming softly. “He wanted to check in about the, uh…?” He glanced up at Scar, who nodded. “Yeah. How have you been?” he asked tentatively, watching for Scar’s reaction.

Scar shrugged, seeming unbothered. “I’m alright. It’s been… not difficult, I guess, but I just…” He sighed. “It’s been rough. I still get a little spooked when using vex magic. A lot of anxiety in general, I guess, but I’ve been working on it.” He gave Impulse a small smile. “Takin’ it day by day, y’know? That’s all you can do.”

“That’s all you can do,” Impulse echoed, nodding his head. “I’m glad to hear you’re at least doing alright. We’re here for you if you need anything, alright? You’re not… alone.” He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. Did he truly believe the words he was saying, or were they just empty comforts?

Scar seemed to take it well, though, and his smile became more genuine. “Thanks, Impulse. You too, okay? Ya got any issues, you come to one of us. Or all of us! Whichever you want to do.” 

Impulse laughed. “I’m good, but thank you. Say hi to Cub for me, alright?”

Scar stood up with his empty bowl and nodded. “I will! If I don’t make it back in time, have fun beating Mumbo!”

“Oh, have some faith!” Impulse called after Scar, and then he was alone.

It was only then that he realized Scar hadn’t had Jellie with him. Maybe she was out hunting or something. Did magical familiar cats do that? He’d have to ask Scar later. 

Impulse finished his oatmeal in relative peace and quiet, before taking his bowl and spoon to go wash and place on the drying rack. As he was doing so, a familiar voice whispered to him, startling him enough to make him nearly drop what he was holding.

Hello.

“Void’s name– hi! Uh, good morning…?” Impulse greeted, carefully placing his bowl and spoon on the drying rack. “Sorry, I wasn’t really expecting you. Have you been there this whole time?”

Mhm! You have some lovely friends, the demon commented, but I don’t think it would be wise for me to really be around… some of them. 

For a moment, it was as if Impulse was looking through his own memories– a misty image of Scar sitting across from him during breakfast appeared in his head. It was more than a little disorienting, and Impulse blinked several times. “Huh… what did Scar do?” he asked, confused. “He’s a really nice guy, he’s friendly and good with people.”

The demon hummed thoughtfully, as if trying to come up with the right words. Let's just say we magic folk don’t always get along. You understand, right? I’m a demon, so obviously assumptions would be drawn, and then it just gets so messy.

Impulse thought about it for a moment, before slowly nodding. “Yeah, I get that. I don’t really like keeping secrets from my friends, though.”

Have they not done the same, though? The demon asked innocently, I mean, secrets are a natural part of life. You don’t have to tell everyone everything. 

Impulse pressed his lips together. “...yeah, actually. You’re right.” He thought about it for a few moments, before shaking this head. “I don’t want to think badly of them. They have their reasons.”

Just as you have yours! I’m sure they’d understand.

Impulse glanced up at the sky. “I should probably go get ready for my spar with Mumbo. Thanks for the, uh, chat? I guess?”

I’ll be here! Have fun, be careful!

Impulse didn’t rush getting ready, but didn’t dilly dally either. Soon, he was ready, and headed out to the sparring area to greet Mumbo. 

“Hi, Impulse,” Mumbo greeted him with a nervous air, “I was just finishing up with my um, my stretches. You know, Scar taught me a few really good ones, if you’d like to– oh, goodness, can you tell I’m a little bit nervous?”

Impulse simply laughed, shaking his head. “It's been a while since we sparred,” he noted with an easy smile as he stretched. “I was wondering when you were going to ask me again.”

Mumbo laughed anxiously. “Yes, well, constantly losing wasn't too good for my pride. But I'm ready now, and raring to go!” He let out a weak cheer. “Who knows! Maybe I'll even win this time!” He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as much as Impulse. 

“Maybe!” Impulse cheerily agreed, “I've noticed you've been practicing!” He picked up his sword, spinning it in his hand once. “Alright, get ready,” he warned Mumbo, shifting into a battle stance. He waited for the other knight to ready up before making the first move. 

Mumbo had improved, that was for sure. Not that Impulse hadn't been expecting that– he'd seen how hard the man was working. It made him proud, seeing how far Mumbo had come. “Good!” he shouted as Mumbo blocked a particularly tricky attack, a wide grin on his face. The other knight only responded with a panicked noise, though the slight smile on his face told Impulse he was alright. 

“This is–” Mumbo got out breathlessly– “much harder… than you make it… seem!” He parried Impulse, keeping a semi-defensive grip on his sword. It had been something Impulse had worked on with Mumbo before. Because he was so tall, there weren’t as many opportunities for him to use the most defensive grip possible. With a bit of tweaking, however, they had found a stance and a grip that worked the best for him, and continued to work on that with every spar. 

Impulse blocked one of Mumbo’s attacks with a laugh. “You’re doing great! Just stay focused, and don’t overthink it. Remember the basics!”

Mumbo nodded, his eyes shining with determination. Impulse was reminded of why he loved helping out the other knights with their swordplay so much during spars like these. It was honestly incredible to see how each individual person uniquely used their skills and strengths to wield the same weapon. It filled him with genuine pride to see how his friends slowly began to flourish in something they weren’t naturally talented in.

It also reminded Impulse of his own journey. The highs and lows of it all, the trial and error, the relentless drills and training and repetition that brought him to where he was today. He was good at what he did; one of the best, even. And it always brought him joy to see others follow the same path he had.

Mumbo was tiring much more quickly than Impulse was, which he had expected. While Mumbo had been training more and working on honing his swordplay, endurance was another issue entirely. The kind of strength needed for endurance wasn’t just something that could be learnt overnight– no, endurance was something that had to be built up towards over your life, with constant practice and training. Impulse always took care to watch his friends during sparring matches, making sure they weren’t going to overwork themselves or get injured. He was good at spotting the point at which exertion turned to exhaustion and easing up on the attacks.

Or so he thought.

With a strength that hardly felt his own, Impulse struck at Mumbo, knocking him to the ground. The tip of his sword just barely brushed against Mumbo’s pale skin, like scissors against paper. For a moment, they remained like that, Mumbo’s gasps for air the only sound breaking the silence as he stared up at Impulse. 

Then, whatever had come over Impulse let go, and he stumbled back from Mumbo with a soft huff. “Oh my gosh. Mumbo, I am so sorry, I don’t know why– I didn’t mean to hit you as hard as I did. Are you alright?”

Mumbo let out a shaky laugh, carefully picking himself up and brushing himself off. “I’m alright, mate. Little shaken up, but fine.” He looked up at Impulse with a nervous smile. “It’s fine! Really! Accidents happen all the time! Oh, gosh. I think that signals the end of the spar though.” He laughed awkwardly as he picked up his sword– he’d dropped it when he’d fallen. “I don’t think I could've lasted much longer, honestly. I was getting pretty tired.”

Impulse looked Mumbo over quickly, making sure there weren’t any injuries. “Yeah, I… you did really well, though,” he finished lamely. “I can’t believe I did that, I usually only get that heated in my matches against Pearl,” he admitted, somewhat ashamed. “You aren’t hurt?” he asked, just in case he’d missed anything in his quick check.

“Just a bruised pride!” Mumbo said, “and maybe an actual bruise or two, but nothing bad.”

Impulse sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Thank goodness. I’m glad you’re alright. That won’t happen again, I swear.”

Mumbo waved him off. “Ahh, don’t worry. Like I said, accidents happen. Especially when we play with very sharp, very dangerous toys.”

“These are training swords, Mumbo,” Impulse reminded, “but yes, that’s true.” He took another moment to relax, the thrill of battle still singing in his veins. “I’m going to go take a quick walk to cool down. Good job today. You’re really improving, and I’m glad to see it.”

Mumbo nodded, smiling. “Um, thank you! Thank you very much. I’m gonna- I’m going to go check on Grian. See if he’s awake and all.”

With that, the two parted ways, and Impulse was left wondering what exactly had happened.

I know. 

“Was it you?” he asked the demon, trying to keep any sort of accusation out of his tone. “I didn’t– that didn’t feel like me.” 

Well, it kind of was? the demon admitted, but it wasn’t on purpose. I know you’ve already noticed the whole enhanced senses thing, but now that we’re bound, I’m also giving you strength. I didn’t really think to tell you about it, but I’m really very sorry. I thought you would be able to control it.

Impulse sighed. “I… I don’t blame you, it’s my fault for not expecting something like this. I just… I don’t want to hurt my friends. Thank you for telling me about this now, though.”

Accidents happen. 

“Yeah. They do.”

The rest of the day felt much less jovial and carefree than the previous one. Whether the mood had been dampened by the accident during training, or Impulse was just worrying too much, things seemed to be a little more dull. 

Scar returned from Cub’s to learn of the spar, of which he teased Mumbo relentlessly for losing. Soon after, Grian appeared, claiming nightmares to be the reason as to why he’d slept in so late. 

“It’s weird,” Grian complained to the gathered knights over lunch, which was really his breakfast, “I’ve never really been one to have nightmares, but they just wouldn’t stop last night.”

“Sounds like you’re just making up excuses for sleeping in,” Pearl commented, to which Grian rolled his eyes. “Just go to sleep earlier! It works for me!”

“Well, sorry I don’t want to hit the hay before the sun’s even gone down,” Grian snarked, and the two began their usual light hearted bickering.

Later in the day, Impulse pulled Scar aside. “Hey. I was wondering where Jellie was? I didn’t see her with you this morning. Does she go out hunting, or something?”

The familiar perked up at the sound of Scar’s voice and bounded over, before stopping just a few feet away. She gazed warily at Impulse, and Scar frowned. “Well, that’s weird. Jellie, c’mere!” he repeated, and Jellie somewhat reluctantly followed his orders, jumping into his arms and curling up as she usually did. Scar looked back up at Impulse, smiling. “Here she is! The beautiful lady herself!” 

Scar shook his head. “I just hadn’t summoned her. She’s somewhere around here, I think… but she doesn’t really go hunting? Not unless she acts on her animal instincts, because she’s a spirit and doesn’t need food.” He looked around. “Oh, there she is– Jellie! C’mere, pretty girl!” 

Impulse laughed. “Alright, thank you Scar. How was Cub, by the way?”

“Oh, he was great. He says hi to you, too.” Scar rocked Jellie in his arms like one would a baby. She seemed to be okay with this– as okay as a cat could be with something, at least. “We just talked about some stuff, the usual. Magic this and that, y’know?”

“Sounds like a blast,” Impulse commented, to which Scar nodded enthusiastically. 

“It’s so cool! Cub just knows all these cool things, and he’s so smart–” 

Aaand Scar was rambling again. Impulse did his best to pay attention to everything the other knight was saying, but got lost somewhere along the lines of “...and then these big chompies came up from the ground!” which, in his opinion, was a perfectly valid place to get lost at. He had no idea what “big chompies” even were. 

That night, the knights set up a campfire to sit around and chat. Although it was a lovely night, with a clear sky and warm air, Impulse found himself growing… not exactly restless, not exactly tired, but something akin to a mix of both. He excused himself for the night, and figured that going to bed a little earlier than usual would be good for him. Pearl was usually right about things like that. 

Impulse fell asleep, and dreamed of twisting bridges high in the sky.

[leiawritesstories]

PART NINE: SEPTEMBER

Word count: 10.7k

Warnings: *covers eyes* swearing, a shitload of scheming, Maeve being her usual self, police presence, angst, one NSFW scene, and um maybe some angst *runs away*

All my thanks to my lovely betas @mariaofdoranelle & @house-of-galathynius love you guys 🫶🫶

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Enjoy!!

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

Aelin had felt ice prickling at her spine for a handful of weeks now, and as she walked into her office on the morning of September 6th, she knew it was time to put the contingency plans into motion. Ever since Arobynn’s demise, she had sensed that her Boss days were numbered, so she’d been working on a range of options for what she could do if—when—she was discovered. 

She almost couldn’t stomach the idea of letting her beloved company go, but it had to happen. 

Elide, Nehemia, Ansel, and Lysandra all came to her office at eleven, as she’d asked, each woman wearing an expression of a different level of confusion. 

“What’s up, boss lady?” Elide broke the film of tension as she sat down, fixing Aelin with a look that was equal parts concerned and hesitant. 

Aelin twisted her ring beneath the surface of her desk. “I asked if you would all meet me because I…because…” She pressed her lips together and took a deep, steadying breath. “Because there are some documents that I need you to sign.” 

“Why does this sound ominous?” Ansel’s eyes narrowed. 

“It’s a contingency,” Aelin admitted. 

“For what?” Her lawyer was nothing if not persistent and exacting. 

Pain wrinkled Aelin’s forehead. “For if—when—the law catches up to everything and everyone that I am.” Her words dropped like stones in the silence of her office. 

Lysandra’s brows crinkled in unspoken sympathy. “Will you tell us about this contingency before we have papers pushed at us?” 

Aelin cracked a half-grin. “It’s pretty simple, honestly. If I should be, shall we say, involved in a shockingly lurid criminal trial, I vacate the CEO position and completely step away from the company. Ells, you become CEO in my place. Lys, you assume the COO role. Ansel, you’ll probably be faced with the impossible task of defending my guilty ass, but you’ll retain your position here, and you’ll have full authority over the company’s finances.” She exhaled, twisting her ring around her middle finger. “Nehemia will remain in charge of the labs.” 

Elide curled her fingers around the edge of Aelin’s desk. “Why me?” 

“Because you’re not only the right woman for the job, you’re the perfect woman.” Aelin met her dear friend and lifelong business partner’s heavy gaze. “Ells, you’ve practically given your life to this company, and I trust you completely to guide us through whatever fallout happens when the law catches up to the Boss.” 

“You said when.” Lys broke in. 

Aelin nodded. 

Lys drummed her fingertips against her thigh. “Why did you say when?”

“Because I’m afraid it’s inevitable,” Aelin murmured. “I…something tells me that shit’s going to come crashing down. Soon.” A haunted look flickered through her eyes. 

Nehemia’s penetrating gaze fixed on Aelin for a long moment before she picked up a pen, pulled the stack of papers towards herself, and began working through the pages, signing where it indicated. The office was silent as the chief engineer worked, and when she finished, she simply laid down the pen, nudged the papers back to the middle of the table, and folded her hands. “I trust you, Ae,” she said. “I want to protect this place and these people too.” 

Unexpectedly, Aelin’s eyes watered. “I don’t deserve you, Nemi.” her voice cracked. 

“Nonsense.” Nehemia returned. “We’d all have left a very long time ago if we weren’t determined to keep Gal Inc alive and well.” 

Elide nodded as she picked up the contracts and the pen. “I second that.” 

The office was silent again as Elide worked through the papers, carefully reading each section before she signed and initialed the dotted lines. When she reached the final line, her hand faltered slightly, but she set her jaw and signed her name, accepting the role that she couldn’t help but feel would fall upon her before the end of the year. 

“Let me know when you want to talk about the transition,” she said quietly. Aelin’s eyes were glassy as she nodded. 

Surprisingly, Ansel was the next one to sign the papers, not really reading any of the text as she worked through the signatures. She had been the one to draw them up, albeit reluctantly and with a hell of a lot of questions about the motivation, when Aelin had come to her a few weeks ago. “I still don’t like the fatalism of all of this,” she remarked as she slid the stack of papers into the center of the table. “It feels…Ae, I’m going to be blunt here. This feels like you’re about to make some big, splashy statement to the press and bring down the cops and the TSF all over the place.” 

Aelin flinched. “No.” 

Ansel raised a brow. “No?” 

“No.” Emphatically, Aelin shook her head. “My goal with…with the Boss has always been to stick to the shadows. It wouldn’t make any sense to pull off some kind of grand reveal, which would just jeopardize the safety of these plans.” She tapped the stack of papers. “I have this sense that my days of hiding are almost over, but I’m not going to try and upstage the cops by revealing myself. When the law comes, I’m not going to hide from it. That’s all.” 

Elide weighed Aelin’s words, mulling over the phrasing. When the law comes. “Ae, do you…” She paused, the question hanging thick in her throat. “Do you think you know who’s going to put all the pieces together?” 

Thick, tense silence blanketed the room for a moment. Slowly, Aelin nodded, a jagged slice of grief flickering through her eyes before she shuttered it. “Yes.” The finality of the single word dropped like a stone into the air-conditioned silence of the conference room. She closed her eyes for a brief, steadying moment. “And knowing that he’s the best at his job and would always have figured it out won’t make it hurt any less.” 

Everyone in the room knew who she meant, knew why that grief had crossed her face. 

“Still feels an awful lot like doomsday,” Lys commented as she pulled the papers to her seat. She hesitated for a moment before she began reading and signing, stuffing down the bile that churned in her stomach as she signed the documents. Out of all of them, she was still the most closely linked to the Boss business, since she monitored the cameras around the Boss’s apartment and warehouses. She’d seen everything that happened when the TSF and PD went through Fenrys’s stakeout apartment. “But if you trust us, boss lady, then I trust you.” 

“Thank you,” Aelin rasped, reaching across the table to squeeze Lys’s hands. “Thank you.” 

By the end of the day, the documents were notarized and filed, ready to reshuffle the executive structure of Galathynius Inc. if anything should happen to its current CEO. 

When that something inevitably happened to its CEO.

~

“You needed me, ma’am?” Connall stepped into Maeve’s office, his eyes adjusting rapidly to the familiar darkness. He’d never understand why the hell she insisted on keeping her office so dark she could barely see five feet in front of her, but it was probably for the whole “Queen of the Night” aesthetic. 

“I did.” Maeve’s voice was as cool and controlled as ever, although as Con drew closer to her desk, he could see how her skin was paler than usual. “Connall, I suspect that I’m being poisoned.” 

He remained absolutely still, keeping his face neutral. “What do you need me to do?” 

A faint, insidious smile curled the corners of her scarlet lips. “Kill the kitchen staff and replace them. Get me the doctor for a diagnosis, and when he’s given it, kill him. Then, find the antidote.” 

Con nodded, a sharp dip of his chin. “Right away, ma’am.” 

Maeve smirked. “Good boy.” 

He was on his phone before he even left her office, calling the doctor who lived in the compound to get his ass to Maeve’s office. He let Maeve hear that brief conversation, because she needed the assurance that her closest, most loyal dog was doing her bidding. 

All of his carefully-laid plans would crumble if she turned on him. 

So Con headed down to the kitchens, patting the gun tucked into his hip holster and the assortment of tiny darts hidden in the pockets of his black jacket. He knew the handful of cooks and servers who were kept on staff to feed the Queen of the Night and her men, and he knew that the kitchen staff was aware that they could be killed at a moment’s notice. 

Not a single one of the twelve kitchen staff were surprised when Con strolled into the kitchen, locked the door, and sat down at the raised butcher-block counter, and placed a row of tiny darts in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. 

Jes, the current head chef, just removed their apron. “We all know you’re not a sadist,” they replied, calmly sitting down opposite him. 

Con’s throat tightened as he pulled a small, narrow copper tube out of his sleeve. “The least I can do is make it quick.” He’d had the darts specially designed to be surgically sharp and as small as possible, and they were one of his favorite ways to knock a target out cold. 

To knock them out, not to kill them. 

The drug contained in the darts put all twelve of the kitchen staff into a kind of comatose state that looked like death to an untrained eye, slowing their breathing and heart rate until it was just high enough to keep them alive but just low enough that a cursory inspection would assume they were dead. He hauled each one out the back door, loading their inert bodies into the back of the nondescript van that Maeve’s men used to dispose of bodies, and drove off the property. A quick glance in the mirrors showed a flicker of dark violet curtains in the upper hallway, the only sign that Maeve had been watching as he dragged the ostensibly dead kitchen staff out of the compound. 

Perfect. 

After dropping the slumbering staff off at the docks, where they were taken aboard a cargo ship that belonged to Kingsflame, Celaena Sardothien’s smuggling company, Con drove back to the compound and returned to Maeve’s office. He pushed open the door, blinked in the familiar shadowy gloom, and sighed as he nearly tripped over the corpse of the doctor. 

“Dry cleaning nearly had a fit the last time they had to wash blood out of your carpet, ma’am.” 

Maeve shrugged. “I wanted him to think he had a chance.” 

Con let out a snort. “I’m always in awe of your creativity.” He stopped in front of her desk. “What did he say?” 

“He suspects that it’s some kind of concentrated medication or steroid that’s damaging my internal organs,” Maeve said, oddly calm for someone who was being poisoned. “The suggested treatment is to consume a dose of activated charcoal, induce vomiting to see if it will purge any substance that hasn’t been absorbed, and immediately start NAC supplementation to counteract the poison.” 

Connall nodded tightly. “What do you need me to do, ma’am?” 

“Get me the things that the doctor mentioned.” Maeve’s cold, calculating expression swept over Connall. “Get the corpse off my floor, send the rug to dry cleaning, and then come find me. You know I like to reward my good boy.” Something almost like fondness passed over her face. 

“And if dry cleaning throws another fit about your rug?” The last time he’d taken Maeve’s run down to her preferred dry cleaners, they had all but thrown the damn thing at his face when he informed them that it was once again bloody and needed expedited cleaning. 

“I’m sure they can be adequately convinced,” Maeve drawled. “However, I have begun to tire of this old thing.” She scraped the toe of her crimson-bottomed stiletto heel across the rug. “I suppose it wouldn’t be too terrible to freshen up the tired old décor in here, if necessary.”

“Of course, ma’am.” With a dip of his head, Con left, dragging the doctor’s body behind him. Out in the hallway, he deposited the corpse in the large, unmarked chute that would send it down to be incinerated, frowned at the blood on his hands, and ducked into the closest bathroom to wash up before he left the compound again, heading to the nearest pharmacy. They had long since grown used to Maeve’s men barging into their storefront, and he had a hunch that she either paid off the pharmacists or planted one of her men in the place to make them more agreeable to her…needs. Or both.

He picked up the few things that Maeve needed, palming a vial of essential oil that he tucked into his sleeve as he strolled through the small pharmacy. Combined with the pennyroyal oil that he was already lacing into Maeve’s food, the rosemary oil would speed up the effects of the poisoning, making Maeve weaker by the day. 

Making it easier for when Celeana Sardothien led the Queen of the Night to her death.

~

Aelin rolled down her window as Rowan turned off the highway, letting the mid-September breeze brush through her hair as she inhaled the crisp scent of the leaves beginning to turn. She and Rowan had finally found a day where both of their calendars were clear, and he had wasted no time in planning this date. Don’t even think about accepting any calls, love, he’d teased as he picked her up from her apartment, a laugh sparkling behind his tired eyes. 

“First time you’ve seen sunshine in a while?” Rowan joked as he drove down the country road, flicking her a glance in the rearview mirror. 

Aelin poked his firm shoulder. “I have plenty of windows, love. I should ask you the same things, since apparently it’s a requirement at the police station not to have any windows, if the crime shows I watch are any indication.” 

He chuckled softly. “We have…uh, some windows.” 

“Liar.” A grin broke across her face. “We have to enjoy this last bit of good weather while we can, since I’ve heard we’re supposed to get a record cold winter this year.” 

“No,” Rowan groaned. He turned onto a secluded side road, heading east, towards the Oakwald Forest. The road was mostly gravel, so Aelin reluctantly closed her window. 

Her expression brightened as she realized where they were going. “You remembered,” she whispered, her throat unexpectedly tight. 

“Of course.” He reached over and laid his hand atop hers. A few weeks ago, Aelin had told him about the spot where her family always took picnics when she was a child. About an hour’s drive outside Orynth, the natural area that bordered the Oakwald had been one of her favorite places to explore. When she was little, she daydreamed about being a forest princess who could speak to the Little Fae Folk of the fairy tales. That daydream had faded as she grew up, but the place had remained one of her favorite spots to go when she was feeling overwhelmed. 

In fact, she’d been there just last week, right after she’d filed the contingency documents, and she’d stared out across Terrasen until the sunset faded into star-speckled darkness. 

Rowan pulled into the small parking lot, hopped out of his SUV, grabbed the picnic basket from the backseat, and hurried around to open Aelin’s door. He looped his arm around her waist as they walked down one of the trails, his warmth seeping into her skin. She stole the bag with the blankets from him and slipped her arm around his waist, flashing him a smirk. 

“I can’t let you carry everything,” she teased. 

He pretended to sigh. “It’s called being a gentleman, love.” 

“And I love you for that, but I’m an independent woman.” 

“You don’t have to be all full-on girlboss with me.” He kissed the top of her head. 

A tiny corner of her heart melted at the sincere softness of his words. “I know, but…it’s so hard to get away from that persona.” 

“I know.” His thumb rubbed against the curve of her hip. “I feel like I can’t ever turn off the investigator half of my brain. It’s always going, always trying to fit different puzzle pieces into different places, even when I’m sleeping.” 

“That sounds rather distracting,” she remarked. “For me, it’s all the contracts, all the deals, everything I’ve ever signed or shaken hands on. It’s the details and little clauses and wondering if I said the right words to the right people.” 

“Sounds noisy.” He stopped as they came to a spacious meadow at the top of a rise. “Looks like we’re here.” 

Aelin’s throat tightened again as she drank in the familiar view. “This is my favorite spot out here,” she murmured. “Thank you, my love.” 

“Anything for you, Fireheart.” Rowan tipped his head down and kissed her, slow and sweet. Then he swiped the blankets from her and shook them out before arranging them on the grass. He pulled out an impressive spread of food from the basket and set it all up nicely, turning to her with a big, dazzlingly proud grin. “Eat up.”

“What if I’m not hungry for food?” She tugged her lower lip between her teeth, tracking the slow bob of Rowan’s throat as he swallowed. 

“You need real food first,” he rasped, hooded gaze trailing lazily down her throat. 

She sighed delicately as she sat down, plucked a pair of cherries out of the bowl, and stared straight into his eyes as she sucked both cherries into her mouth and bit into the perfectly sweet-tart fruit, spitting out the pits. “I’ve had real food now.” 

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, clearly fighting his urge to lunge across the blanket and claim her. “Aelin,” he half-groaned. “You’re driving me wild, Fireheart.” 

“You know I love to do that.” She smirked. 

Very slowly, he picked up a skewer of grilled chicken and bit into the meat, holding her gaze the whole time. “Eat your lunch, love.” 

Her smirk widened. “Enjoying your meat on a stick?” 

Skewer almost to his mouth, Rowan spluttered out a string of coughs, his cheeks blazing with a bright crimson flush. “Aelin!” 

She laughed, the gleefully bright sound echoing around the valley. “I couldn’t resist.” 

He wiped off the corner of his mouth. “My gods, I’m in love with a wild woman.” He graced her with a brief, wicked grin before he took a handful of cherries and ate them, licking the juice off his fingers at a borderline explicit pace. “Two can play this game, love.” 

“Oh, I do love a game,” she purred, picking up a skewer of chicken and dipping it into a small container of sauce. She lifted it to her lips and licked the sauce off of the meat, flicking her tongue against the first piece of chicken. “Delicious,” she hummed, her voice almost a moan. 

Rowan’s knee banged into the picnic basket as he shifted in his seat, brazenly adjusting his erection in his pants. Aelin swore she heard the faint clink of metal in the basket, but dismissed it as probably some extra silverware or something her overprepared boyfriend had packed. He always brought extra stuff whenever they had a date outside the city, something for which she always teased him. 

By the time they had finished lunch, Aelin knew her panties were ruined, and she was certain that Rowan’s dick was about to rip through his jeans. Still, he clung to his impressive control, carefully packing up the picnic and putting everything back into the basket. Aelin took advantage of the moment when his back was turned to lay down on the blankets with a contented hum. He laid down beside her, effortlessly tugging her into his arms so she laid atop his chest, and idly ran his fingers through her hair. 

“I used to dream about being a princess,” she said, finding herself content to just relax in his arms, the heat in her blood dimming to pleasant warmth. 

He chuckled softly, no doubt imagining little Aelin in her pink princess dress at a family picnic. “Did you?” 

“Yeah.” She smiled, the memory old but still vivid. “Little Aelin wanted so badly to run off into the Oakwald and find the Little Fae Folk. I probably read way too many fairy tales.” 

“And then you grew up and became a practical businesswoman,” Rowan teased. 

She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “You mean business princess.” 

His laughter cascaded over her like a summer shower. “I think little Aelin did read too many fairy tales, but it made her heart that much brighter.” 

“And it made me believe I’d one day find my true love.” She rolled onto her side so she could meet his eyes. “It took a while, but I did.” 

A suspiciously glassy gleam misted his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered. 

She cupped the side of his face, running her thumb over his jaw. “I love you too.” Her lips brushed his, her kiss gentle at first but quickly growing deeper, all the love she had for him poured out into the stroke of her tongue against his. 

They laid in each other’s arms until the sky began to darken, until Aelin shivered and Rowan helped her up and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders for the walk back to his car. As he loaded the picnic basket into the backseat, she heard that metallic clink again, and once again, she dismissed it as just the sound of the containers shifting against each other. She climbed into her seat, tucked the blanket around herself after she buckled her seatbelt, and kissed Rowan’s knuckles when he reached over to help adjust the blanket. She didn’t miss the soft, tender flicker of a smile that crossed his face. 

Aelin drifted into sleep as Rowan drove back into Orynth, only waking when he pulled into the parking garage of her building, stopped the car, and kissed her awake. She let him walk her back to her apartment and kissed him goodnight at her door, giving him a sleepy wave as he headed back down the hallway, his figure illuminated in the soft yellow lighting. 

She was snug in bed by the time he finally pulled out of the garage, having sat there in his car for a good half hour, head in his hands, agonizing over whether to pull the handcuffs he’d hidden in the picnic basket out and go back up to her apartment to face the inevitable arrest, or to just go home for the night and wait another few days before he had to arrest the love of his life. 

In the end, he drove away. 

He could delay the heartbreak for another few days. 

~

“You needed to see me, ma’am?” Connall assumed his usual stance in front of Maeve’s desk. 

Maeve nodded. “I have an assignment for you.” 

“Where?”

She slid him a single sheet of paper. “Sardothien has a warehouse near the docks where she holds her shipments before distribution. I need you to find out what’s currently there and what’s coming next.” Her orders were silky-smooth and firm, despite the tremble in her hands that she couldn’t quite conceal and the sunken circles beneath her eyes, obvious signs of her body weakening. 

Con glanced over the building’s details. “Looks like it’s got a few layers of security,” he observed in a neutral tone of voice. “How often does she visit it?” 

“Practically never.” Maeve scoffed. “Unlike a proper leader, she lets some underling run it.” 

“So it’ll be easy as fuck to break in,” Con remarked. He allowed a sharp-edged smirk to curl across his lips. “Damn, I was hoping for a challenge.” 

The Queen of the Night chuckled softly, a sinister rasp that would have been far more villainous if it hadn’t broken into a hoarse cough after two seconds. “I believe the interior will be the challenge you want, Connall. Sardothien allegedly posts a rotating guard at the place, and I haven’t yet determined how much of the building is patrolled or how extensively.” 

He grinned, his teeth a stark flash in the gloom of her office. “What should I do if I happen to run into the guard, ma’am?” 

“I suppose you’ll be forced to subdue him,” Maeve said calmly. She gave Con a small, chillingly ruthless smile. “I don’t foresee you having any difficulties with that.” 

“None at all, ma’am.” Con tucked the folded paper into the hidden pocket in his shirt, the same place where he kept the vials of Maeve’s poison. 

“I look forward to your discoveries, Connall. Dismissed.” 

Con bowed, turned sharply on his heel, and strode out of Maeve’s office. He returned to his room, where he laid out a small array of easily concealed weapons on his bed, took his Navy SEAL vest out of the closet, and began methodically loading each blade and dart into the multitude of slim pockets in the high-tech mesh material. He tucked a set of lockpicks into a front pocket, along with a generic employee ID card that Celaena’s tech guy—Nyx or Nox or something like that—had given him. The card would, in theory, work at the Boss’s properties. 

With his weapons and devices ready, Con pulled off his plain gray long-sleeve shirt, threw it into the laundry basket, and changed from his jeans into black tactical pants, which were reinforced with a layer of the same material that made up his vest. He pulled on his boots, laced them up, and then he reached into the back of the drawer where he kept his socks and retrieved a small, slender chrome tube. He uncapped it and removed a roll of sterile blue paper, which he carefully unrolled and laid flat on the bare top of his dresser. Also in the tube was a pair of long, narrow tweezers and a small silicone spatula that looked like a bakery dough scraper. He went and washed his hands in his sink, patted them dry, and then removed the tweezers from their plastic packaging and, slowly and carefully, peeled back the top layer of blue paper. 

Near-invisible atop the sterile paper laid a pristine pair of what looked like very, very, very thin, delicate latex gloves molded to the precise measurements of his hands. 

Put this onto your hands if you’re ever going into my property, Celaena had said. I can’t tell you much, but it will ensure that you leave no fingerprints. 

She’d called it “SecondSkin.”

Carefully, Con lifted the first glove, sliding the flat prongs of the tweezers between the layers that were almost too fine for him to see. He slipped his left hand into the glove, surprised at how the synthetic material didn’t cling to his skin like ordinary latex would. Once the glove was on all the way to his fingertips, he exchanged the tweezers for the scraper tool and pressed the synthetic against his skin in order to get every tiny centimeter flush against his skin. 

By the time he was finished, he couldn’t even tell there was something over his skin. 

He repeated the process with his right hand, carefully scraping every little bit of the synthetic material until it was molded seamlessly to his hands and wrists. Finished, he rolled the paper back up and tucked it and the tools back into the slender chrome tube, which he stashed back in his drawer. For good measure, he also put on a pair of flexible faux leather gloves, the same ones he wore whenever Maeve sent him out. He pulled on a close-fitting black thermal shirt, strapped on his vest, and tucked a black balaclava into his pocket. 

If he did run into anyone at the warehouse, it would be best if nobody saw his face. He wasn’t yet ready for the entire military of Terrasen to know that he wasn’t actually missing or dead in action, as they all believed him to be. 

It took roughly twenty minutes for Con to drive down to the edge of the industrial district, park his nondescript car innocently in a 24-hour grocery store parking lot, and weave through the dark, twisting tangle of alleys and unpaved roads that meandered through the district until he reached the Sardothien warehouse. He took a careful lap around the property, noting that the one guard posted by the west loading dock was apparently asleep on the job, and slipped around to the southeast doors. 

The employee ID card worked, and the little sensor by the door flashed green as the steel door unlocked with a clank. Con winced at the sound but darted inside and slowly eased the door shut behind himself. He waited a full two minutes before he moved, both to let his vision adjust to the shadowed gloom of the warehouse interior and to listen for sounds of any other presence. Finding the place mostly silent except for the gentle mechanical hum of the overhead fan system, he slunk around the perimeter of the space, heading for a set of steel stairs that went up to a mezzanine level positioned about halfway up the wall. 

A perfect height to observe the entire warehouse. 

The steel walkway spanned the whole south wall and curved around the east wall as well, but Con had his sights set on the single office built into the mezzanine. He was surprised to find the door unlocked, but as he entered, the apparent lack of security made perfect sense. Because there was a rather sophisticated security camera system arranged on one wall of the office, allowing him to look around the floor without having to walk all over the place and potentially disrupt the tidy stacks of crates and pallets that stood in orderly, numbered rows. 

It also required him to spend ten minutes editing the camera footage to wipe away his presence from four of the camera angles, but that was just the job. 

Having learned from the camera feed and the printout taped to another wall that the warehouse was currently mostly full of ammunition, Con left the office and stealthily paced the length of the mezzanine floor before he crept down the other set of stairs. He’d set the cameras up to run on a loop for the next hour, giving himself that time to have a good look around the place and get himself out. The stacks of pallets and crates cast overlapping shadows on the concrete floor, hiding Con from the handful of dimmed lights that gave some illumination to the empty space. He hadn’t yet seen or heard anyone else inside the building, so he assumed that the outside guard probably had a view of the security cameras. 

Not that it mattered, since the man was still sleeping soundly. 

Con wove through the neatly organized stacks, mentally noting how each was marked with a date of arrival and a date of distribution and the distribution dates were spaced out across the span of a week. It would apparently be a few days before they were sent out, since the first date was the 27th and it was currently only the 23rd. Aside from the efficient cataloging system, he didn’t really notice anything unusual or worth reporting, so he headed for the south door and let himself out. 

He was almost back in the safe cover of the warehouse’s shadows when he heard the faint but bone-chillingly recognizable scrape of footsteps. 

Shit. 

Con’s Navy SEAL instincts kicked in within split seconds, and he ducked around the closest corner of the warehouse, where a set of steel rungs bolted into the exterior wall led him up to the roof. He scaled the ladder in seconds and was crouched on the rooftop, mostly hidden in the deep shadows of the venting pipes, before he dared to look down at the ground. He tugged the balaclava over his head and tapped the special lenses that laid over his eyes, activating a highly secret and definitely experimental bit of vision-enhancing tech that allowed him to zoom in on the muscular male figure that was messing with the keypad of the south door. 

The man was slightly taller than Con and was also dressed in tactical black, but the Kevlar vest and flexible-soled boots he wore, paired with the obvious expertise of the way he disarmed the door’s safety features, identified him as TSF. 

Double shit. Just what Con needed—the goddamn Terrasen Special Forces on his ass. 

They aren’t on your ass yet, idiot, he snapped at himself. He kept his vision trained on the TSF man, watching as he opened the door, stepped back, and ran a slow, analytical, sweeping gaze over the loading docks and the property. Con instinctively sank deeper into the shadows, holding his breath as the man’s dark green gaze flicked briefly over the warehouse itself. But the man was apparently satisfied that he was alone, because he ducked into the warehouse and closed the door. 

Con tapped his lenses again, returning his vision to normal, and uncurled himself from his crouch. Slowly, keeping his boots silent against the roof, he swung himself around the pipes and slipped back down the ladder, barely breathing until he was back on the ground. He swept a look over the area, found it clear, and kept his tread as light as possible as he dashed towards the neighboring warehouse, which backed up into the headache-inducing tangle of the industrial district. 

He was four feet from safe cover when the Boss’s warehouse door banged open and the TSF man sent a knife whizzing past Con’s head. 

“STOP!” The barked command almost made Con’s own military training jerk him to an abrupt halt, but he ignored those instincts and instead took the last stride and a half into the shadows surrounding the closest warehouse building. The TSF soldier gave chase, and Con stifled a rather creative curse as he ducked around the corner of the building, found a ladder, and got himself onto the roof in under twenty seconds. Just in time for TSF Jackass to come into view and ah fuck. 

That was Lieutenant Rowan Whitethorn, who was currently part of a joint TSF and Orynth Police investigation into Celaena Sardothien. 

And also one of Fenrys's closest friends.

Don’t think, just move, idiot! Beyond thankful for the film of smoky fog that smeared the midnight sky over the industrial district, Con ran along the rooftop, his boots light as feathers atop the ridged metal plates, and launched himself across to the roof of a mossy brick building. He tucked and rolled, absorbing the impact of the landing, and kept going, darting from that rooftop across a series of other connected roofs. When he reached a brownstone building with a weathered tile roof, he crossed to the corner and swung himself down via the drainpipes. 

Tucked into a dark, cramped alley that reeked of soot and garbage, Con waited with held breath for the sound of pursuit. After three minutes, he deemed it safe enough and ducked out of the alley, hiding himself in the shadows of the industrial district’s disorganized sprawl as he wove the most confusing path possible back towards where he’d left his car. He paused every few blocks to make sure there was nobody behind him, unaware that he’d left his would-be pursuer in the dust back at the warehouse. 

And Rowan Whitethorn, who’d only just managed to pry his knife free from the steel wall that it had embedded into when it missed Con by an inch, grumbled under his breath about damned fucking criminals and returned to Sardothien’s warehouse to discover that it was full of neatly stacked crates of military-grade ammunition, all of them marked for distribution to decidedly non-military personnel. 

~

Rowan’s house was quiet, peacefully removed from the noise and lights and general clamor that made up downtown Orynth. As much as Aelin loved her downtown apartment, she was drawn to the illusion of isolation that her love’s house offered, an oasis of calm amid the noisy sea of city life. She’d only been there a few other times, scattered throughout the whirlwind blur of their months together, and most of those visits had been spent either in his bedroom or on the spacious covered patio, lost in a haze of love and desire and him. His home was large but cozy, its dark wood paneling, plaster walls, and mismatched furniture giving it a comfortable, lived-in ambience. The fireplace in the living room burned brightly, recently re-ignited as the cool nip of early fall began to descend over Orynth. 

Bourbon in hand, Rowan dropped into his comfortable armchair, legs automatically spreading into what she teased him was a typical man-pose. Aelin curled lazily on the couch opposite his armchair, tugging her sweater down so it artfully draped over her lean, muscled legs, hiding another lingerie set that would no doubt bring him to his knees, and set her mostly-full glass of wine down on the side table. 

“I’ve missed this.” Her soft, open look radiated with warmth and trust, and he was torn between the desire to bottle up that look and keep it forever and the fear that it was all a façade. “Just us, some drinks, and a snatch of time to breathe.” 

Despite the iron weighing down his blood, he smiled. “I’ve missed this too.” 

“When was the last time we got a whole night to ourselves, maybe May?” Her soft laughter warmed his numbing heart. “I’m a little surprised you haven’t backed me into the wall yet, Ro.” 

Fire sizzled down his spine, but Rowan calmly lifted his drink to his lips. “And what if I want you to be patient for me?” 

Aelin tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, hooded gaze tracking the thick bob of his throat as he swallowed another mouthful of bourbon. “Seems an awful lot like you’re sitting there and doing nothing, buzzard.” 

“Is that so?” With deliberate slowness, he set his drink down and uncrossed his legs. “Don’t give me ideas you don’t want me to have, darling.” How can I not want you? His internal echo was desperate, aching, filled with the emotion he stifled. One last time.

“Who said anything about not wanting you?” 

“Not me.” The humidity of the room seemed to be increasing with every whispered word and hitch of breath. 

“Good.” Languidly, she stood and stretched her arms over her head, sliding off her oversized sweater in the process. “Because I don’t wear gold for just anybody, Lieutenant Whitethorn.” 

“What did I say about using my name, Aelin?” Warning crept into his words. 

“I might need a reminder…Rowan.” She strolled across the plush carpet of his living room until she was inches away from where he sat. “And you need to stop brooding about your work.” 

He sighed. “I’m not brooding.” He knew full well that he was—he couldn’t help it. Work currently meant the sudden, jarring end of their relationship, and he still questioned if he had the strength to do that. To either of them. 

She snorted. “Look in a mirror and tell yourself that, if you can.” 

“What have we discussed about the sass, love?” Abruptly, he rose to his feet and wrapped one strong arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. 

Her lips dropped into a soft O of surprise. “That it’s–hmmm.” Before she could properly answer, he kissed her, slowly at first and then deeper, more urging. 

“Fine,” he murmured, pulling just an inch away. “Maybe I’m brooding. I’m sure you can help me forget why, though.” I wish I could forget why, he added, silently. Deep down, he wished she could erase that part of his mind—the part that knew this was the last time. 

“I’m sure I can.” She looped her arms around his neck, the lace of her delicate lingerie brushing his bare chest, and pressed her lips to his, her kiss soft, sensual, tender. “I love you, Ro,” she breathed against his lips. 

If only you did, his heart screamed. But he threaded his fingers into her hair and slid his tongue between her lips, losing himself in her kiss. “I love you too, Fireheart,” he whispered, his words thick. He slid his free hand down and lifted her into his arms, and her legs wrapped easily, fluidly, naturally around his waist, her panties notched against the fabric of his trousers. In a rushed, heated blur, they were in his bedroom, Aelin’s back flush against his sheets as he kissed her harder, toying with the string of her panties. Lingerie that was his favorite shade of gold. 

She gasped, a soft whine breaking from her lips as he brushed his thumb a fraction away from her clit. “Rowan, please.” 

“So good for me,” he smirked, though the words nearly killed him to utter. So good. Ironic, when the woman sprawled beneath his touch was anything but good. He shook his head, shoving those thoughts aside for the moment. 

One more night. They could have one more night. 

Always so clever, Aelin’s fingers flicked open the clasp of his trousers, and the tailored material pooled around his ankles. “Good girl,” he purred into her ear as he kicked off his pants, relishing the quiet moan his Fireheart let out at the praise. 

“My gods,” Aelin rasped as Rowan stripped off his boxers. “I could never get used to the sight of you, love.” Her eyes were bright as she watched him, her figure a vision in scraps of gold sprawled upon his bed. 

“Likewise.” He pounced, ripping those tiny golden panties right down the seam, and she’d barely gasped in shock before his tongue was on her cunt. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned, swiping his tongue in a long, lazy stroke, “so ready for me.” Her fingers knotted into his hair as he licked her, swirling his tongue indolently around her clit, and she released a garbled string of moans that could have been his name. He just smirked, his gaze lifting to sear into hers, as he devoured her, loving how quickly his love turned wordless and needy for him. Only for him. 

“Rowan!” Aelin screamed as she came, her hips thrashing against his face, and she rode out the waves of her orgasm along his tongue and fingers, calming just in time for him to lift his glistening jaw, swipe a long, slow touch through her pussy, and kiss a deliciously indecent path from her cunt up to her throat, removing the lacy bra as he went. 

When his lips claimed hers again, the taste of her thick and heady on his lips, she locked her leg around his and smoothly flipped them, landing him on his back with her astride him. One-armed, he pushed himself into a seated position, wrapped her hair around his fist, and tipped her head backwards, kissing her hard and sinful, a promise wrapped into the curling strokes of his tongue. 

“Yes,” she breathed against his lips, her hand sliding down to wrap around his cock. Her grip was dangerously close to perfection, and she stroked the length of his dick with just enough pressure to ignite his blood. Her nails scraped lightly along the underside of his cock, and he groaned, pinching her tight little nipples in return. She smirked and tightened her grip, squeezing and twisting her wrist. 

“Fireheart,” he growled, far too close to begging as she shot him a devious, cunning smirk and shifted just far back enough to lower her head, pressing kisses down his throat, his chest, his tattoo before he lifted her head back up. “N-not this time.” His words were shaky, uneven, laden with the urgency of his need to be fully inside of her and the weight of his knowledge that this was the last time. “I need you.”

She pushed herself back up, tracing the script of his tattoo. “I need you too,” she admitted, a gleam of vulnerability flickering briefly through her heated gaze. 

Not trusting himself to reply, Rowan just kissed her neck, flicking his tongue along the tender spot he knew could make her tremble. “Ready, love?” 

“Always.” Fuck, the word drove a knife straight through his fragile heart. 

He lifted her hips up, and she positioned herself just right before she sat down, sliding onto his steel-hard dick, and both groaned at the utterly perfect sensation. Aelin’s head arched back with pleasure, but Rowan tipped her chin forwards, kissing her deep and slow as he rocked against her. She broke the kiss to drop her head to his shoulder, laying kisses and tiny bites on his tattoos, and he brushed her hair over her shoulder so he could drag his hands down her dragon tattoo, feeling the seemingly delicate ridges of her spine and the solid firmness of the muscle lining her back. The dragon on her spine coiled and shifted with the pattern of his thrusts, its flames almost alive, if only for an illusory moment. 

The kiss he laid atop those flames was both a claiming of her whole self as his and a final confirmation that the flames licking out of the dragon’s screaming maw matched the one image he’d caught of Celaena Sardothien. Gently, in stark contrast to the roughness of his thrusts, he kissed those inked flames. 

A gesture of farewell. 

Aelin choked out his name as she flew closer and closer to orgasm, and Rowan breathed hers as he drove his pace faster, pushing them both into silent, unending bliss. He held her close as she came down, as the shaking of her body calmed, as his movements beside hers slowed. Carefully, he lifted them off the bed, not pulling out until they were in the shower, Aelin languid and relaxed as he lathered her lavender body wash over her skin. 

He carried her sleepy form back to bed and tucked her between the sheets, then slipped into bed behind her, curling into her warmth as he’d grown so used to doing. His breathing deepened with hers as she fell into dreams, and he kissed her forehead, tucking her soft hair away from her face. 

Aelin slumbered peacefully beside Rowan, her golden hair strewn messily over his pillows. Her face tucked downwards, the hint of tension that always lined it softened with sleep, and the moonlight that slanted through his bedroom window cast the splattering of freckles on her cheeks in pale silver. She looked so vulnerable there, asleep in his bed, so soft and sweet. But he knew full well what lurked under that innocent face—a ruthless, cold-blooded killer. 

The jarring juxtaposition of images haunted his restless sleep. 

~

Aelin blinked awake to moody gray light filtering in through Rowan’s curtains, the sky dimmed by a thick blanket of clouds that promised rain. She stretched, feeling the delicious ache in her body, and rolled out of bed, throwing on one of Rowan’s worn old t-shirts before she went into the master bathroom to brush her teeth and do her morning skincare. She came back out to get dressed, changing into the clean trousers and silk blouse that she’d brought, and went back to put on makeup and brush out her hair. She tied the golden waves into a thick braid, put in a pair of pearl drop earrings, and paused to check for stray hairs or mascara smudges before she left the bathroom. 

The scent of fresh coffee floated down the hallway, and she smiled. Rowan had probably been up for at least a couple of hours, enough time to get in his morning run and brew fresh coffee before she even dragged herself out of bed. She followed that enticing scent out into the kitchen, rose onto her tiptoes to get a mug from the cabinet, and turned around with a smile that instantly froze. 

Because Rowan’s gun was trained on her. 

Handcuffs dangled from his tattooed hand, glinting in the kitchen lighting. His voice shook and his eyes were shattered pools of tormented grief, but his aim was rock-solid and locked between her eyes as he said, “Celaena Sardothien, you are under arrest for more crimes than I can possibly enumerate.”

She simply, slowly, raised her arms and placed her hands in the air in front of her. “There’s no need for the gun, Lieutenant Whitethorn. I am not going to resist.” 

“Put down the mug and bring your hands back up,” Rowan commanded. The coldness in his voice was one hundred percent TSF. 

Aelin obeyed. 

Rowan holstered his gun—the safety had been on the whole time—stepped forwards, and locked the cuffs around Aelin’s wrists. He didn’t speak, but the pain carved into his features spoke louder, screamed louder, than any words ever could. Betrayal, regret, and a thousand other emotions flickered across his face, but he locked his jaw, guided her hands down, and turned her so her back was against the kitchen counter. 

“I loved you,” he breathed, hoarsely. “I loved you so goddamn much, Aelin Galathynius.” He refused to let the tears glossing his eyes fall. “Why?” 

The past tense—loved—drove an iron spike through her heart. Tears of her own sprang to her eyes, and she didn’t have the strength to keep them from falling. She looked into Rowan’s gaze, meeting the eyes that seared her soul, and stayed silent. 

No words could ever describe what she felt for him. 

He breathed deeply, steeling himself, and she watched as the investigator’s mask descended back upon his face. “I’m going to go collect your things. Don’t move.” Abruptly, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen, his boots thudding hollowly on the hardwood floors. He returned a few moments later with her purse and work tote slung over his arm. “Everything’s here. Let’s go.” 

She followed him out to his TSF-logoed vehicle, grateful that his home was secluded enough from the city that there weren’t any neighbors around to snatch photos of the CEO of Galathynius, Inc. being escorted to a TSF car in handcuffs at seven in the morning. She could deal with her arrest—hell, she’d been planning to be arrested for months. She couldn’t deal with the media storm until it became unavoidable. 

Ever a gentleman, Rowan opened the passenger door, helped her up into the seat, got her buckled, and set her bags at her feet. He closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side, and he only spared her a glance after he was on the road, driving towards the city. “I’m not going to hold any of your things for inspection.” 

Aelin nodded. “Thank you.” The first words she’d spoken since acquiescing to her arrest. 

His jaw ticked, a clear sign that he had questions begging to be released. “Why…” He took a sharp breath. “How are you so calm right now?” 

“This was inevitable,” she replied, masking the quiver of her shattering heart with her cool, professional, CEO voice. “Lieutenant, you’re the best in the TSF for a reason. I knew as soon as you were assigned to the investigation that you would discover me. I suppose I’m both surprised and grateful that it took you this long.” 

“Grateful?” 

She turned her head, staring out the window to avoid his penetrating gaze. “For…for you.” 

They were silent for the rest of the drive. 

When they arrived at Orynth PD, Rowan pulled around to the private parking lot, parked, and helped Aelin out of the car. To her surprise, he unlocked the handcuffs and removed them from her wrists, but he replaced them with a single black cuff around her left wrist. She glanced at the smooth silicone and instantly recognized it as an alternative, more technologically advanced, version of an ankle monitor. Her team had spent over a year developing it before they sold it to Orynth PD, and the irony of her own damn tech being used on her was almost enough to make her laugh. 

It was called a Wyrd cuff.

“Come with me.” Rowan led Aelin into the building through a side door, escorting her past a row of offices and down some hallways until they reached his office. He opened the door for her, drew the blinds over the window, and stepped back out of the office. He locked the door from the outside. 

“Fucking hell,” she heard him whisper, a faint, broken rasp, before he collected himself and strode off down the hall. He was back in a couple of minutes with at least three others, judging from their silhouettes in the hallway, and she listened as best as she could to the rumble of their conversation. 

“B-but we can’t just toss her in jail!” That sounded like a younger voice, probably a junior cop. 

“What choice do we have?” Rowan. “She’s been arrested.” 

“She’s probably able to post bail and just leave,” the younger man argued. “I bet she’s filthy rich from all the exports she does.” So Rowan hadn’t revealed who Celaena Sardothien really was. Interesting. 

The voices continued in a hushed flurry, and Aelin was only able to pick up scraps from their conversation. There were four of them—Rowan, the younger one, a middle-aged one, and one about Rowan’s age, and each of them seemed to have a different opinion on what to do with the highly dangerous criminal currently locked in Lieutenant Whitethorn’s office. 

Rowan grunted with frustration, and Aelin’s ears honed in on his voice. “There’s also the fact that the goddamn media will be up our ass as soon as they find out who she is.” 

“A murderer?” That was the older one. 

“Not just a murderer,” the younger one piped up. “A crime boss.” 

“A criminal.” 

“A killer.”

“Someone who knew exactly what she was doing.”

“A mastermind.” That one made her smile. 

“And one of the most famous women in Orynth.” That was Rowan, and her blood chilled at the resignation in his words. He raised his voice. “Sardothien, open the blinds.” 

With a deep, steadying exhale, Aelin pulled up the blinds on the office door. 

Three absolutely stunned faces stared back at her. 

The younger cop pointed a shaky finger at her through the glass. “Th-th-that…that’s Aelin Galathynius, sir.” 

“Alias Celaena Sardothien,” Rowan said. 

Unable to resist the opportunity, Aelin gave the cops a little finger wave and a wicked little grin.

The young one, whose wild, curly hair matched his goggle-eyed shock, gaped openly at her with wide, deep brown eyes. “I…we thought they were two people.” He ran his fingers through his frizzy curls, astonished. “Holy shit, sir! She’s had us fooled for gods know how long.” 

Rowan’s jaw was set in a tense line. “Thank you for your astute observation, Luca,” he ground out, flicking Aelin a bare hint of a glance before he turned his irritation onto the young cop. 

Luca shrugged, totally unfazed by Rowan’s famously icy attitude. “Is it too much to ask for an autograph?” he quipped, muffling what was probably a shit-eating grin. 

The older cop pressed his hands to his eyes in fatherly exasperation. “What have we discussed about not pushing Lieutenant Whitethorn’s buttons, Luca?” 

“Sorry, Brullo.” Luca didn’t appear particularly sorry—he looked like he had both the means and the camaraderie to needle Rowan incessantly. A small part of Aelin’s heart was deeply glad that Rowan had found that kind of friendship with a few of the cops. 

“Everyone out.” Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t know why I even bothered to ask for anyone’s opinion if the only thing you were going to do was stare googly-eyed at the most infamous crime boss in Orynth.” His tone was authoritative, but edged with a faint undertone of humor. 

“I wouldn’t call her the most infamous,” Brullo commented. “What about the Queen of the Night?” Luca snickered. 

“That bitch,” Aelin muttered, turning away from the cops, wrath flickering briefly across her face before she smoothed her expression back into careful neutrality. It wasn’t the right time for the police to find out that she knew something about Maeve the Fucking Bitch Queen. 

“Good god,” Rowan mumbled. “Alright, here’s what’s happening, since apparently I have to do everything around here.” He waited for the others to quiet down before he continued. “I’m calling the TSF. Yes, I know this is a joint case, and it was me who brought Sardothien in, so I get to decide who’s gonna keep an eye on her while she awaits trial.” 

“Actually, I was just about to ask if TSF was going to get involved again,” Luca said. 

“Good.” Rowan tipped his chin at the other cops. “You can go, then. I’ll make the call.” As the other cops headed away, he pivoted slowly towards his office, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders before he unlocked the door and came in. 

“Luca seems like a bright kid,” Aelin remarked, casually. 

Rowan paused next to his desk, posture stiff. “If that’s a threat…” The coldness of his voice cut Aelin through to the bone, but she heard the protectiveness hidden beneath the ice. 

“It’s completely genuine,” she said softly. “I only threaten the kind of scum that deserves it,” she added, letting some of the Boss’s notorious darkness edge her words. 

“And the list of your kills will prove it.” He picked up his phone, clearly unwilling to speak with her any longer before he contacted the TSF. Aelin relaxed herself in her chair as he spoke on the phone, his words terse and clipped. 

“Whitethorn.” A short pause. “Yes, I have her in custody. She’s fitted with a Wyrd cuff.” Another brief silence. “I understand that, sir, but with all due respect, I don’t really think prison is the right move. We’ve seen how effortlessly she was able to pull Allsbrook, and my instincts tell me that it’d be better to have her in TSF custody.” A longer pause, during which he pinched the bridge of his nose, indicating his muffled frustration. “Yes, but still. We can’t take that risk now that we finally—fine. Yes, sir.” He hung up with a click and braced his hands on his desk.

“Allow me to reiterate that I am not going to resist, Lieutenant.” Aelin broke the thick silence. “I gave you my word.”

Rowan was quiet for a handful of seconds before he turned to face her. “I believe you. Gods only know why, but I’ll take your word. So. TSF is sending a squad to escort you to your home, where you will be placed on house arrest. There will be a special forces guard assigned to your door as well as a pair of soldiers stationed in the lobby of your building lest you try to stage an escape.” 

“Should I expect a guard in my home?” 

He shook his head. “No. At this time, we don’t believe that an in-home monitor is necessary, particularly because you’re wearing a Wyrd cuff. The device is similar to an ankle monitor, but—” 

“But lighter-weight, much better protected against involuntary removal, and specially outfitted with tracking and monitoring technology that connects via satellite receiver to the person or people who placed and activated the device. Additionally, once placed, the Wyrd cuff can only be removed by the person who closed and locked it, as it has both fingerprint and DNA sensor locks to ensure that the criminal is unable to remove it. Despite these features, the Wyrd cuff is currently the most humane piece of monitoring technology.” Aelin lifted her chin, professional smile tugging at her lips. “The Wyrd cuff was developed and sold exclusively to Orynth PD by Galathynius, Inc.” 

“I…ah, I was unaware.” An uncharacteristic flush dusted Rowan’s cheeks. “It’s an impressive piece of engineering.” 

“And I’m glad to see that it’s being used precisely as we hoped it would be.” 

Rowan looked like he was on the verge of saying something else, but he was interrupted by a rapid knock on his door. Luca stuck his head into the office. “TSF is here, sir.” 

“Thanks, Luca.” Rowan stood up. “Ae—Sardothien, you ready?” 

Aelin swallowed the tears that sprang up at Rowan’s use of her alias. “I am.” She allowed him to lead her out of his office and down the rows of hallways into the bullpen, his hand just barely touching her back as if he was hiding his lingering desire to touch her one last time behind the pretense of keeping a safeguard on the dangerous criminal. 

“Luca, where the hell are the TSF?” 

“Right—” 

Commander Gavriel Ashryver strode into the room…and jerked to an abrupt halt as he took in the sight of his niece in a Wyrd cuff. 

“Um, here, sir,” Luca finished, sheepish. “I tried to time their arrival into the bullpen with yours.” 

Gav hadn’t moved a muscle. His keen, assessing gaze swept over Aelin, who was the portrait of neutral professionalism with her tote slung over her shoulder, and Rowan, who stood stiff-backed and tense at her side with a stony mask over his features. Six TSF soldiers were arranged in neat pairs behind Gav, having stumbled but rearranged to a military stop when their commander unexpectedly halted. 

“Aelin?” Gav whispered, half incredulous. The shock in his voice stabbed Aelin right in the heart. 

She nodded. “As well as Celaena Sardothien.” She felt more than saw the collective gasp of astonishment that rippled through the bullpen as she confirmed her double identity. 

Ever the master of soldierly stoicism, Gav came forwards and settled one protective hand around her elbow. “I’ll take it from here, Whitethorn. Good work.” He escorted Aelin forwards, and the other soldiers promptly stepped out of the way and re-formed themselves into a short column behind Gav and Aelin as they went out to the waiting TSF vehicles. “She’s with me,” was all that Gav said as he helped her into his black SUV, its tinted windows able to obscure her from sight. The other soldiers climbed into the TSF-logoed van beside Gav’s car, and they drove away together. 

As they navigated the crush of downtown Orynth during the morning commuter hours, Gav flicked Aelin a look in the rearview mirror, his glance laden with heavy sorrow. “I didn’t want to believe it was you, Aelin.” 

She met his sorrow with resignation. “We both knew my crimes would catch up with me someday, Gav. Thank you for protecting me while you could.” 

He nodded, a tight dip of his head. “How bad is the media going to get?” 

“Awful, once the news drops. I’m hoping it won’t break until I go to court, but I’m afraid PD will want to inform the whole world that they caught the Shadow Assassin.” 

“Leave that to me.” 

Aelin’s throat tightened for the thousandth time that morning. “I can’t ask you to keep shielding me, Gav.” 

Her uncle reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m not keeping you unknown, Aelin. I’m simply making sure that my men aren’t stormed by rabid paparazzi.” 

She huffed a soft wisp of a laugh. “Thank you.” 

The rest of the drive passed in silence, and Gav was able to get Aelin as well as the three TSF men assigned to guard her into the building and up to her apartment without attracting much notice. Her apartment building catered primarily to wealthy executives, so private security guards were a common sight, and nobody paid much attention to her new patrol. 

Alone in her apartment, Aelin set down her tote, stepped out of her heels, and walked quietly to her bedroom, heading through the cozy space into the master bathroom. She closed and locked the door behind herself and, suddenly, she slumped to the floor, her body curling into a protective ball. Head in her hands, Aelin Galathynius loosed the tears that she’d been holding at bay all morning, wracked with grief not at her arrest, but at the heartbreak that accompanied it. She cried for herself, for the woman that Rowan’s love had allowed her to become.

And she cried for the lost dream of the future she would never have with him.

~~~

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[moonlightspencie]

what i wouldn’t do to forget

Part 1 of ‘a life where we work out’

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader/Dean Winchester x Past!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

—————————— -> DEAN’s POV <- —————————

My bed was usually a place of comfort. From the moment we moved in, it was my favorite part of having my own room at last.

Then, when she started taking up residence in that same bed almost every night from a year ago till now, it only became more special.

The sheets were covered in her scent. Even when she wasn’t there, I could lay down and know exactly what it’d feel like and smell like if she were. She was as much a part of me as my right leg was.

But, sometimes, you injure yourself.

Sometimes, you screw up and get hurt. And sometimes, instead of healing, the wound worsens. Slowly. Day-by-day you feel it getting more and more painful, and eventually, the limb needs to get severed.

So, I sat on my bed, knowing what it’d be like if she was right next to me. And it was torture.

————————— -> 24 HOURS AGO <- —————————

“Babe, you ready?” she called from outside of the door.

I glanced up, looking at the wood, imagining what she looked like on the other side. Probably wearing that old flannel of mine she loved so much. Definitely her favorite jeans.

“Yeah, just a minute,” I called back.

I finished lacing up my boots, sprayed a little of the cologne she bought me, and opened the door. She smiled at me immediately, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hey, cutie,” she greeted softly.

I smirked. “Hi.”

She swallowed, walking alongside me until we got to the car.

Tuesday date night. Practically every single Tuesday for over a year straight we’d make sure we went on a date. There were very few exceptions to this rule, and even if we couldn’t go out, we’d still make sure we had time for each other.

It was all her brilliant idea, of course. She always made me feel wanted.

This Tuesday, though, was different. We both knew it. I saw it coming a mile away.

I’d been pulling away, and she definitely felt it. Hell, even Sam knew something was wrong. I knew how this night would end. She’d tell me she loves me. She’d kiss me, putting on a smile as if it wouldn’t be the last one we’d have. She’d manage to make it all feel okay somehow. We’d go to our rooms alone, and I’d wake up to news I wasn’t quite sure I could handle.

“Honey?” she asked softly, looking at me as I sat in the driver’s seat. “Are we getting out?”

I stared at her for a moment, then realized she wanted to go inside. The night wasn’t over yet. It had hardly started.

“Sorry, must’ve zoned out when I parked,” I said quickly, a shy smile on my face.

She smiled back softly, getting out of the car. We walked into the restaurant we loved so much, sitting at the same table we always sat at. She ordered the same thing she always ordered, and I got my usual. We shared the same stories, laughed at the same jokes, held hands over the table the same way.

It should’ve all felt the same, but it was like the first time reading about some new horror we had to take down. It was new and scary and I didn’t know what would come next. I only knew I couldn’t let it kill me.

I paid the check, taking her hand and holding her extra tight as we walked back to the car.

“I love you,” she said on the way home, still holding my hand.

We parked, lingering by the trunk. She smiled at me softly, stroking my cheek for a moment before she leaned in. She kissed me softly, just like every other sweet kiss she’d given me.

She pulled back when she felt my tears fall on her face.

“Baby,” she cooed softly, wiping a few tears away with her thumb.

I leaned into her hand, kissing the inside of her palm. When I looked back at her, tears were falling on her face now, too.

“I love you,” I managed to say, voice trembling.

I wanted to ask why, but I know she wouldn’t tell me the truth. She’d tell me it was her. She’d say she needed space. She’d do anything but make me feel like it was my fault, even though I knew it was.

She knew I loved her. I just didn’t love her enough anymore.

She left me there in the garage, a lump in my throat that I couldn’t swallow down. I don’t know how long I stayed there, but I knew I couldn’t stand it to walk past her room and hear her packing.

Eventually I got to my room. I laid down, surrounded by her smell and her presence everywhere. Her favorite mug was on my nightstand. Several pictures of us and of her were all around the room. Her perfume was on the pillows next to where I laid my head, not falling asleep until I stopped hearing her move her things out to the garage and my eyes couldn’t produce any more tears.

————————— -> PRESENT DAY <- —————————

I finally got up, not having moved since the night before. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday around the same time, and I couldn’t go any longer without trying to eat something. I was making myself sick enough without starving myself on top of it.

I stumbled into the kitchen, rummaging around for anything at all that didn’t immediately make me think of her. The problem is that everything made me think about her.

I settled on a bowl of cereal, not even bothering to sit down at the table. I was leaned over the counter, halfway done, when I heard someone come in. My heart jumped, hoping for what I knew wasn’t true.

“Hey,” Sam said, clearly spotting my swollen eyes.

“Hey,” I responded with a hoarse voice.

He walked in slowly, seemingly waiting for me to go off like I was a ticking time bomb.

“You okay?”

I opened my mouth, then stopped. There was no point in lying at this point. He knew.

“No.”

He nodded. “I’m really sorry.”

“I know, Sammy.”

He watched me for a few moments, then decided to do something neither one of us thought he’d do. He pulled me away from my cereal and hugged me. I felt my eyes welling up again, and didn’t even bother trying to stop the inevitable from happening.

“I miss her. It hasn’t even been a day, but I miss her so much.”

“I know, man,” he said, sniffling himself. “I’m gonna miss her, too.”

I nodded, not even realizing till now that he was losing her too, in a way.

No more hunting with us. No more living with us. No more bar trips. No more movie nights. No more long car rides together. No more pointless laughing in the library over too many beers.

We separated, both wiping at tears and pretending we didn’t see one another crying.

“We could…” he started, the sighed. “I know it’s not the same, but we could hang out tonight. Make a bunch of crap food and watch some stupid movie. Like when we were kids.”

I considered for a moment. I knew it’d probably be good for both of us, but I didn’t think I had it in me to be happy at all.

“I don’t know, Sam.”

“I’ll get you pie,” he offered. “And drinks.”

“Drinks wouldn’t be too bad,” I said, a humorless chuckle escaping.

“You do what you need to for the next hour, then we’ll meet in your Dean cave, alright?”

I nodded. “Okay. Thanks, man.”

He nodded along, patting me on the shoulder before heading out to get the snacks and drinks.

————————— -> READER’s POV <- —————————

I threw myself into hunting as much as possible when I left.

After being in the bunker for so long, I’d gotten used to having a place to call home. It was bizzare being endlessly on the road again, sleeping in crap motels, and being the only one to drive.

It was weird only ever being in my car.

I found myself chasing down every lead, no matter if it ended up being worthwhile. Giving up Dean meant giving up everything I’d grown accustomed to since joining the Winchesters. That was years ago.

My time with them ended much more differently than I ever expected it to.

I always thought the only way I’d separate from them is if they both died, or if I did. Even then, death didn’t exactly stick with those two often.

Now, I was back to where I was what feels like a lifetime ago. Everything had changed so much. Solo hunts were way more difficult than I remembered them being, for one.

I sat in the motel room, tears wetting my face. Less from the fact that I was forced to give myself stitches in my leg, and more the fact that I wished I could at least be home to do it. But, I had to accept that home didn’t exist for me anymore.

I left my physical home, and I left Dean. Home was pretty much out of the picture entirely now.

I sucked it up as much as I could, finished up the stitches, and bandaged myself up. I wasn’t about to let a werewolf scratch take down all the work I’d put in the past week to be independent again.

Partially because I needed to learn to depend solely on myself once more.

Partially because the issue of my non-independence over the past year or so was the culprit in all of this to begin with.

I never thought I crossed the line of complete codependency with Dean. But, when he started pulling away and pushing me away, I realized I should’ve learned to back off.

He needed space to be himself. He needed room to breathe. I wasn’t allowing him to get what he needed.

Forcing weekly date nights. Always sleeping in his bed without asking. Constantly getting him things that I liked for him, like that stupid cologne. Cluttering his space with all of my things.

I wouldn’t take a hint that I was the one who liked all of that.

And look where it got me. Alone and bleeding on a motel room bed.

I got a call, and grabbed my phone while trying hard not to jostle my leg.

“Hello?” I said after answering.

“Hey,” Sam breathed out, sounding almost relieved. “I’m sorry, I just— I was thinking about you. Wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“No, no. That’s okay. I’m— I’m fine. Hunting.”

He paused. “By yourself?”

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” I said, trying to laugh a little to calm his nerves. “Only got sliced up a little bit so far, and I took care of it.”

He said my name softly. Not quite reprimanding, but clearly nervous for me.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. “Can’t help it, though.”

I fell quiet for a moment.

“How’s—” I stopped myself before I could finish that thought. “How are you?”

“Good. We’re both all good here. Just miss you a lot.”

I swallowed, fighting tears that wanted desperately to spill out of my eyes.

“I miss you too.”

“Do you think you’ll ever come back?”

My stomach dropped at that, tears fully slipping out now. I closed my eyes tight, trying to keep my voice even.

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“You’re always welcome, you know? This is your home, too.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I, uh— I actually have to go now. But I’ll call you sometime, okay?”

“Oh. Okay, yeah.”

“I really do miss you.”

He sighed. “We miss you, too.”

We.

I ended the call after a short goodbye, laying back and letting the tears fall freely. They formed little pools of saltwater at my ears, and I didn’t have it in myself to stop it from happening. I finally fell asleep some time later, dreaming about green eyes and freckles.

—————————— -> DEAN’s POV <- —————————

Months went by, and not a single day passed that had gotten any easier.

Distractions came and went in the form of bottles and hunting, but neither of those ever lasted. I was never quite interested in the pretty waitresses that tried flirting any time we found ourselves at a restaurant in some little town. It felt like I’d fallen into some screwed up alternate universe. Everything was mostly the same, but something horribly wrong had happened and it left me feeling empty and confused.

I couldn’t stop it, and it only got worse as time went on. I knew what I had before it was gone, but her leaving made it so obvious that I couldn’t think of anything else.

Sam tried hard to make it bearable. He’d suggest going out, and when I didn’t want to, he’d do anything to get me out of my own head. I knew, though, that he at least still got to talk to her. I’d overheard him talking quietly on the phone when he thought I was asleep a few times, and a few times more when I’d walked past his room in the bunker. He told me she was safe to calm my nerves when I started thinking about her being on the road alone.

I knew I needed to give her space, but it still hurt knowing she was staying in touch with everyone else. I wanted to be the one to hear firsthand that she was okay.

But, she was better off without me. That’s what I had to remind myself of.

Every time I had a selfish thought, I needed to remember that she deserved a good life. I wasn’t giving that to her. I pushed her away when all she ever did was love me, all for the sake of self-sabotage. I say I didn’t love her enough, but I think my real problem is that I loved her too much.

I’d learned the hard way too many times that too much of anything ain’t a good thing.

I walked into the library, finding Sam already at a table with his laptop open.

“Hey,” he said, looking up from the screen. “I think I found a case.”

I raised my brows, walking to sit across from him.

“What’s the deal?”

“I think… it’s a djinn. Seems like it anyways. Three people have gone missing, and two turned up dead with their blood drained, but it wasn’t vamp-style.”

I sighed, thinking for a minute. I needed a new case. I had to get out of the bunker and stop sitting in my room all day and night. But I hated djinn, and they seemed to like to target me for some reason.

Sam stared, waiting for a response.

I nodded. “Alright, let’s head out.”

It was a long drive to Indiana, and by the time we reached the town everyone had gone missing in, I was ready to crash. We decided to get our sleep and start fresh in the morning by double-checking all the facts we got online.

We were certain by mid-day, and had an idea as to where the latest vic was being kept. It felt like a lucky streak, but I couldn’t help but wish that it had taken a little longer. Maybe if I found another case tonight I could convince Sam to head off right away.

We stopped off at a diner before we went to kill the son of a bitch, but I realized when we sat down that it was a huge mistake.

I looked up from my coffee, glancing around the joint as Sam talked about the plan for after lunch. Then, I saw her.

She was by herself at a little table back in the corner, giving the waitress that pretty smile of hers as she accepted a bowl of whatever she got to eat. Probably some kind of bulky salad since it was lunchtime. She’d get a cookie or a piece of pie afterwards, and leave a little smiley face on the check.

I didn’t realize I was still staring until she met my eyes, her face dropping immediately. I looked away fast, clearing my throat.

Sam stopped. “What? Did you see—”

He turned.

“Oh.”

I saw him wave out of the corner of my eye, though I couldn’t bring myself to look at her again. I stopped getting an option when I saw her stand and walk over slowly.

“Hi,” she said.

My chest tightened just hearing her voice again. I looked up, trying hard to look unaffected. It was hard when I’ve never wanted to hold her and never let go so much before. She glanced at me with a soft smile before returning to look at Sam as he asked her what she was up to.

“I’m tracking a djinn, actually,” she said slowly. “I guess you guys are probably here for the same reason, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sam confirmed. “We actually were going to go after lunch, if you wanted to come with?”

“I don’t want to intrude…”

“We’re going anyways, you might as well come with,” I said quickly before I could stop myself.

She looked at me with those wide, beautiful eyes, wetting her lips a moment. It was everything in me not the track the movement.

“Okay,” she nodded, not taking her eyes off of me.

“Okay,” I repeated, my voice nearly failing me.

She took a deep breath, finally looking away from me.

“I’ll go finish my food and then…”

“Do you want to eat with us?” Sam rushed out.

“Sam…”

“Please.”

I was looking down at my coffee again, but I knew she looked to me as a reason to stay away. I swallowed down that feeling as fast a I could.

He spoke up again. “Ours is going to be here in a minute, but we’ll eat fast.”

She sighed softly. “Alright. Let me get my stuff and let the waitress know.”

The second she was walking back to her table, I looked up at Sam. He looked back at me, still a little shaken at seeing her, too.

“I’m sorry. She’s just— She’s here.”

“I know, but did you have to make her sit with us?”

“She agreed.”

“She doesn’t want to be around me. It’s bad enough I told her to come with on the hunt.”

He sighed. “One day isn’t bad, you know? It’s been months. She seems okay.”

“I’m not,” I said, a whispered yell. “I can’t look at her hating me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“How do you know that?”

“She wouldn’t have agreed to come with. She wouldn’t have come over in the first place.”

I let out a breath, dropping the subject as she walked back. I knew she wouldn’t sit next to me, but it still felt like a hit to see her sliding in the booth next to Sam instead. She gave a polite smile, and thanked the waitress as she dropped off mine and Sam’s food a few seconds later.

“How’ve you been?” Sam asked her.

“Alright. Busy,” she said, taking a bite. She covered her mouth as she continued speaking, “Hunting non-stop pretty much.”

“With anyone, or are you still by yourself?”

“Myself.”

I looked up at her as I picked around my plate, suddenly losing my appetite.

“You’ve been hunting alone?”

She simply nodded.

“You could at least call Garth. Have someone with you,” I said, trying to keep emotion out of my voice.

“I’ve been managing just fine.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but stopped myself when I saw how Sam looked at me. It wasn’t my place anymore. I nodded slowly, eating a few fries to keep my mouth full.

I struggled through lunch, my head taken up completely by her. The exact opposite of why I wanted to be out hunting all the time now in the first place.

She did her hair the same. She still wore the same perfume.

I found out that second fact by walking past her to get to the bathroom. I all but knocked some poor guy over because of it.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled as he regained his footing. “Wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s okay,” he nodded, moving past me.

I made it to the bathroom, splashing my face with water. I knew I was shaken seeing her, but this feeling was getting worse by the second. I glanced in the mirror, suddenly feeling dizzy. I tried to move to sit on the ground, barely making it before my eyes shut.

The last thing I heard was the bathroom door opening, closing, and locking.

PART 2 ->

—————

dean winchester taglist:

@deanwithscissors @hyunjaebaby @simp4olderm3n @king-of-milf-lovers

[iamyoursonly]

Try again? (30/9/2023)

I’m trying so hard to cope please bear with me. WHEN I CATCH YOU GEGE

edited on 12/12/2023

‘Love is the most twisted curse of all.’ You always say. And yet, you fell in love with me and I fell in love with you.

“Yo.” You wave, and you walk over to me, with that soft gaze and cocky smile. I knew you well, so I would just run over and give you the biggest hug ever. I mean you loved it even though the impact would make you fall down. “I missed you so much.” You’d breathe down my neck, and I’d say it back, “I missed you more, Satoru.”

We walked down the street, hand in hand, with ice cream too, preferably. You’d steal mine when you finish yours and we’d bicker until the same old man tells us off.

“Just buy a new one you good for nothing lanky tall guy.” I’d call you to make you pissed, but you would just tell me, “You love me though don’t you.” with that signature smirk of yours, and you take advantage of your height and take my ice cream away from me. It was like that everyday. It was good while it lasted though.

I moved to England the year later, but we facetimed every night. You visit me on every single weekend and every holiday you have, but I was forced into too many activities that I couldn’t make enough time for you. That must’ve been the case, because you broke up with me a month later, saying you can’t take it anymore. I know it was a full on lie but I had to give up, or I would bring you down with me. “I’m sorry Satoru, I-” I cried on call, I could see the red stains on your eyes too, but you were pretending to be calm and cool, I know you’re lonely but I can’t do anything about it. “Save it, just take care.” Then you cut the call, and I bawled my eyes out that night.

Moving on after you was hard, those times I had with you in Japan kept appearing in my mind. I heard from Shoko that you’d moved on and was dating another girl whose name was Himeko, I knew she was pretty and I told Shoko to tell you that it’s good that you’d moved on. I started picking up drinking at the age of 17, then smoking at 18. It was hell when you weren’t around, I regret not begging you to stay when we were on call.

I knew I was dying once I was admitted to the hospital unconscious. My parents wanted to know what was wrong with me too, but I couldn’t bear to tell them after all the money they’d invested in me. Shoko visited me, she said that you didn’t know yet, because if you did, you’d go on a serious rampage and might hurt someone. I was in the hospital for two whole weeks before leaving. On the last day though, a bouquet of roses was on my table. No card, nothing was slipped in the bouquet, but I really hoped it was you who sent it.

I got up to my feet again and started working hard, hoping that I could go back to you as soon as possible, but it was too selfish for me to. You have a girlfriend and a happy life, your instagram was full of smiles and laughter, it makes me forget that I wasn’t with you anymore. When I finally posted on my instagram story, with a photo of me with a neck full of medals together with a friend, you messaged me and said ‘good job’ like you always do. To be honest, I hoped that you’d forget about me and never look back, but deep down I hoped that you had never given up on me.

Turning twenty years old and coming back to Japan to finish med school after 2 years of prior study in England, I speak fluent English and tried to appear with more confidence. I got to take glimpses of you when you caught my eye at the shopping mall I loved to go to. The only thing that was different was you were with your girlfriend, laughing. But wasn’t with me.

When Shoko told me you and Himeko broke up and I was almost overjoyed, I hope you won’t drink that much and get drunk because god knows what you’d do. Before I knew it you were at my door, apparently Shoko gave you my new address and there you were, looking as handsome as ever and was so drunk your ears were bright red.

I opened the door and you locked eyes with me, “Hey.” You say, your voice was so much deeper now, you were so much taller too, “Hi, Gojo.” I say back and you furrowed your brows, “Isn’t it Satoru for you?” My heart fluttered, it shouldn’t have been like this but I couldn’t help it, “Satoru, I thought you moved on, what happened.” You just stood there, in front of my door, and I was so glad somehow, “Can you hug me? Please? I know it’s out of line and all but-”

I cut you off with an embrace, “I missed you so much, Satoru.” and you hug me back, “I missed you too.” I bring you into the house, you were really drunk, and you kept rambling about how you were really sad when you broke up with me, “I really didn’t want to, maybe you could’ve had a better future there without me and all, and I really tried to move on, I dated Himeko because of that, but when she figured out that I was using her because I missed you, she broke up with me. I love you so much and I missed you so so much, my love. I might’ve messed up real bad when you moved to England, but I just wanted you to have a better life with someone better. I didn’t know that my heart would ache that much without you around.”

Tears were streaming down your ocean blue eyes, and I felt somewhat responsible for that, “Satoru, listen. I had no choice but to move, my parents spent so much paying for my tuition in England and I couldn’t let them down, I indulged myself in all that studying and extra activities I couldn’t even make time for you, it’s my fault too, I understand that you’d leave me for it. But hey, I never moved on from you, every night I’d think of you, hoping that you’d show up at my door all smiley and tell me that the break up thing was a joke, but you never came. I also hoped that the bouquet of flowers was you when I was in the hospital because I missed you too much but I made it, and I’m back.”

I was crying too, and we just held each other until the sun rose, “That bouquet was me. I’m sorry, I should’ve wrote a card or something.”

When I woke up, you were nowhere to be seen, I was too desperate that I had my real feelings show. The doorbell rang, and when I opened the door, you were there with your soft gaze and a somehow still cocky grin, “Hey. Wanna try again? The dating thing?”

And I mean how could I say no, “Yeah, let’s try again.”

Soon after it was my twenty fifth birthday, we were at your favourite restaurant and ordered your favourite food. You had me wear my best outfit — that blue dress I adore so much, to go to dinner with you. Everything was going smoothly, I was happy, you were happy, we were talking and laughing. The music in the background played joyfully and it made people feel like a stone has been lifted up from their lives.

Suddenly, the music stopped. And I turned around to the pianist that was playing the song. The man smiled at me, then as if on cue, the birthday song started playing.

You sung, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to my love~. Happy birthday to youuu!”

I was overjoyed, and was ready to throw myself in your embrace and fill your face with kisses. But you knelt down on the floor, opened up your red velvet box, and asked me, “Will you marry me?” I didn’t know what to say, the shock and the embarrassment got to me — not that I mind though. Every moment with you is and will always be precious to my heart. So I helped you up and threw my arms around you, before muttering a soft “yes”. You teased me, telling me to say it again, as embarrassed as I was, I simply couldn’t resist your charms and just let you be.

“Are you ready to be my amazing wife, Mrs. Gojo?” You teased.

“Do I look unprepared?” I laugh, “I’m more than ready to spend my whole life with you, you goofy freak!”

You just laughed at the mention of me calling you a ‘goofy freak’, but added, “You love me though.” and I just said, “Too bad I do.”

And you were right, ‘Love really is the most twisted curse of all.’ But I’d still take the risk to love you over and over again.

master list

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today - March 12th, 1974 - Queen Story!

Interview with Freddie Mercury – NME

by Julie Webb

It was clear for all to see that Queen’s Freddie Mercury wasn’t in the best of health. His hair lacked the recent attention of heated curling tongs; a cold sore was erupting above his upper lip; and horror – seems he’d not been able to summon enough strength to apply Biba black nail polish to more than one hand.

Mercury was worried as the camera lens zoomed in on him. He beseeched us to “touch up the picture to remove the cold sore if you can.”

I know it sounds like we’re setting the guy up, but he takes it all in good heart. Why, last time we met he stated he was “gay as a daffodil” – and here he was, willingly holding a daffodil in hand, outside Buckingham Palace. He posed regally, shirt temporarily coming unhitched from his trousers, revealing a hairy chest.

The British tour sapped most of the Mercury energy. Bedridden with laryngitis when it finished, he had just a few free days to repair any mental or physical damage before Queen joined Mott The Hoople on their two-month tour of America.

He is, in short pretty knackered – and if the American tour seems to be happening too soon after Britain, there’s no way he can change things.

I’d like a couple of weeks off, but you’ve got to push yourself. But we’re at a stage in our careers, my dear, where it’s just got to be done. I shall be resting on my laurels soon…”

He stops, considers the last remark and realises he may have said the wrong thing. Hurriedly he comes in with, “To put it another way, I shall try and reap my profits. I’ve worked my ass off these past few months. I’ve worked till I’ve dropped and after a while you physically can’t do it.”

Didn’t he think the British tour was a bit too busy, what with so many gigs included. “Yes it was a heavy tour, but it put us in a different bracket overnight. It’s a tour we had to do and I think now we’ve done it we can do the next British tour on our own terms, exactly how we like.

“With this tour we were booked in well beforehand at semi-big venues and, by the time we came to doing them, we had the album out, we’d got a bit of TV exposure and everything escalated. I think if we’d waited we could have done all the big venues – it’s just a matter of timing. But I’m glad we did the tour when we did. Even though there was a lot of physical and mental strain – so many things to worry about other than the music.”

A situation not improved by the fact that all members of Queen are, according to Mercury, “very highly strung”. Add to that his admitted bad temper. “I’m very emotional. Whereas before, I was given time to make my decisions, now nearly all of us are so highly strung we just snap. We always argue but I think it’s a healthy sign because we get to the root of the matter and squeeze the best out. But lately so much is happening, it’s escalating so fast that everybody wants to know almost instantly, and I certainly get very temperamental.”

“You’ve got to know where to draw the line. But the public always come first – it’s a corny thing to say but I mean it. Lately I’ve been throwing things around which is very unlike me. I threw a glass at someone the other day. I think I’m going to go mad in a few years time; I’m going to be one of those insane musicians.”

It’s at this point that I begin to wonder about Mercury. On stage he lords it around like some old slag. Offstage, he’s vain, camp – yet a nice enough dude.

He just has an unfortunate way with him during interviews, coming out with quotes and stories that are bound to be misconstrued or lay him wide open to mickey-taking. This could well account for some of the unkind press the band have received.

“I think, to an extent, we are a sitting target because we gained popularity quicker than most bands and we’ve been talked about more than any other band in the last month, so it’s inevitable. Briefly, I’d be the first one to accept fair criticism. I think it would be wrong if all we got were good reviews – but it’s when you get unfair, dishonest reviews where people haven’t done their homework that I get annoyed.” Unlike many British bands, they’ve waited until the time was right and are appearing on the same bill as Mott, who will assuredly pull in large crowds.

So the present and the future seem well assured I enquire about the past – like, what kind of family background does a guy like Mercury have?

“Middle-class. Musicians aren’t social rejects any more. If you mean; Have I got upper class parents who put a lot of money into me? Was I spoilt? – no. My parents were very strict. I wasn’t the only one, I’ve got a sister, I was at boarding school for nine years so I didn’t see my parents that often. That background helped me a lot because it taught me to fend for myself.”

Boarding school… if we are to believe stories that circulate about boarding schools – brutish behaviour, homosexual goings-on – well, the mind positively boggles in Freddie Mercury’s case.

I broach the subject…

“it’s stupid to say there is no such thing in boarding schools. All the things they say about them are more or less true. All the bullying and everything else. I’ve had the odd schoolmaster chasing me. It didn’t shock me because somehow boarding schools… you’re not confronted by it, you are just slowly aware of it. It’s going through life.”

So was he the pretty boy who everyone wanted to lay?

“Funnily enough, yes. Anybody goes through that. I was considered the arch poof.”

So how about being bent?

“You’re a crafty cow. Let’s put it this way, there were times when I was young and green. It’s a thing schoolboys go through. I’ve had my share of schoolboy pranks. I’m not going to elaborate further.”

Oh dear. And just when we were doing so well.

📸 Pic: 1974 - Freddie Mercury posing

[that-sarcastic-optimist]

In the spirit of the season, here's a little KC Christmas fluff. Enjoy!

***

“Kol, I'm going to tear your balls off and rip them apart,” Caroline muttered as she moved around in the kitchen, frantically stirring and whisking.

It had been over and hour, and Kol was late.

Yes, she was aware that he was busy, but so was she, and they had been given off days at the hospital, would it really hurt him to arrive on time for once?

The doorbell finally rang and Caroline sprinted to open it, ponytail flying behind her, flour on her cheeks.

Kol stood at her door, looking sheepish and his hands in his pockets. “Kol, there you are! I swear, if you're late one more time, I'm going to do some serious damage to your dick—”

“Caroline,” Kol interrupted her, a very fake smile on his face, his teeth gritted. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a guest.”

He stepped aside slightly to reveal someone Caroline had seen many times in the hospital, not many of which had been very good.

“Caroline,” said Klaus Mikaelson, with a smile that was all teeth. “It’s a pleasure.”

***

“I cannot believe you right now,” Caroline snarled at Kol while he sat at her kitchen island, nervously drinking wine. “You are such an ass.”

“His flight was cancelled,” Kol muttered. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Um, I don’t know. Tell him to go away and not come to my house?” Caroline suggested furiously, whipping the cream with vengeance. “He pisses me off enough at the hospital, Kol, I do not need him in my house at Christmas as well.”

“He’s not that bad. Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that, Caroline, he’s nice to you.”

“When he is, it’s a rarity—he teases me, Kol.”

“Everyone knows about your little crush, darling.”

“I do not have a crush on him. He’s an ass.”

“Just be an adult about it and tell him. You're not five.”

“Yeah, but I'm mad, and mostly at you. He’s my boss, Kol.”

“Mine too!”

“Yeah, but he’s your brother. And anyway, what the hell am I supposed to talk to Dr Mikaelson about?”

“A variety of subjects,” said the man in question, stepping into her kitchen. Caroline huffed and turned away from him. “Oh, come now, love, we’re all adults here.”

“Are we, really?” Caroline asked, a saccharine smile pointed at Kol, who scowled at her. “Look, we’re not at work, so you're not my boss and I'm not your subordinate. That means I'm free to call you out on your bullshit as much as I want without any fear of you giving me scut to do. Now, go away.”

“You know,” Dr Asshat said casually, sitting down at her table next to his soon to be dead younger brother, “you never did tell me why you hated me so much.”

Caroline scoffed. “Are you seriously asking? You’re an ass. To me, to my friends, to Kol—”

“Yes, well, he deserves it,” replied Dr Asshat with a winning grin.

Kol tossed him a filthy look. “Go fuck yourself, Nik.”

“I swear, this is not the Christmas I had planned,” Caroline muttered, poring over the cookbook. “Kat’s late, Bonnie’s not coming, and Rebekah’s forgotten to bring the cookies. And this damn pie—” she said frustratedly, shooting the oven a foul glance, “isn’t cooking in the middle!”

“I could help,” Dr Asshat cut in, all dimples as he smiled at Caroline. “If you wanted.”

“I don’t.”

“Are you sure, love? Wouldn’t want to be the hostess who served half-baked pecan pie at her first ever Christmas dinner now, would you?”

She hated the fact he was right.

“Fine. You can help," she growled. "But don’t try to make small talk.”

He looked at her with a mock-hurt expression, his hand on his chest. “You wound me, love. And I had such hopes that we’d develop a beautiful friendship.”

Caroline barely managed to bite back a reluctant smile before he sidled up to her, grabbing a spatula. “Did you finish making the gingerbread?”

“I was going to start on it after I finished the pie, but clearly that’s not happening soon,” Caroline grumbled. “This sucks. Elena was supposed to get here early and help me with the sticky toffee pudding—the one Rebekah loves so much, and now she’s ditched me. And I still have to finish decorating the sugar cookies and make the glaze for the baked ham—”

“We’ll get it done.”

“Dr Mikaelson—”

“Klaus,” he said, smiling at her in amusement. “I'm temporarily not your boss, in your kitchen cooking, surely we can go by first names, Caroline?”

“Klaus,” Caroline said, glaring at Kol when he rolled his eyes behind them, “there’s a lot to be done, and I'm obviously running out of time because I have so many things to do and nobody’s shown up to help—”

“Caroline,” Klaus—Dr Asshat, Caroline scolded herself internally, blushing slightly at the comfortable touch of his hands as he ran them up and down her arms. “Calm down. Take a breath. It’s fine. I'm here, aren’t I? I'm going to help you make the pudding, and we can force Kol to help—”

Kol made an indignant noise from his seat at the kitchen island. “Excuse me? I never offered to help.”

Klaus—she’d given up on the Dr Asshat thing—fixed Kol with a glare. “No one asked. Now get your arse off that chair and start decorating Caroline’s cookies.”

“But I don’t want to,” came the petulant reply.

“Do you want to eat?” Caroline snapped, and Kol looked dutifully cowed. “Then you're helping. So be a good boy and listen to your big brother, Kol.”

Kol sneered at her as he stood up, abandoning his wine glass and snatching the piping bag from the counter. “This is all your fault,” he said to his brother furiously. “I knew bringing you here was a bad idea. Why couldn’t you have acted on your interests on your own, Nik?”

Caroline froze, and Klaus growled. “Mind your tongue, Kol.”

“Excuse me?” Caroline said, her voice slightly high-pitched. “What does he mean by that, exactly?”

Klaus opened his mouth but Kol beat him to it. “He fancies you, of course,” he grumbled, snipping off the top of the piping bag. “Has since a long time. Honestly, haven’t you noticed him mooning after you pathetically every morning after rounds?”

“Kol, I swear—”

“Not that you're much better, darling,” Kol continued, bordering the cookies. “You and your complaints. Your brother’s an ass cause he’s wearing the cologne I don’t like, he’s pissing me off cause he’s being weirdly nice, how does his hair look so good every day, this is not a pageant—”

“Kol!” Caroline squeaked, mortified. “Shut up. Right now.”

“Half our class has a pool going,” Kol muttered. “Even Stefan and Marcel are in on it, Nik, and they're just as fed up as I am.”

“What are you—”

“Everyone has lost at least fifty dollars because you two never seem to get together. I needed that money, Nik. And due to your combined stubbornness, no one is winning that pool. So if you two could please,” Kol concluded, slamming a perfectly iced cookie on the rack, “get yourselves together and just bloody shag already, it would really be beneficial to all of us.”

He picked up his wine glass and swaggered out of the room, taking his cookie with him for good measure.

Caroline couldn’t bring herself to look at Klaus, who couldn’t stop looking at her, ironically.

“Um,” she started brilliantly, and Klaus looked at her expectantly. “I'm going to murder Kol brutally.”

“I'll help,” Klaus offered, “after dinner.”

“Right,” Caroline started, turning to look at the half-finished glaze she had started on. “Well, if we hustle, we’ll be able to get it done in—”

“Not that dinner,” Klaus interrupted. “This Friday. I want to take you out for dinner.”

Caroline gaped at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Although I'm going to cause Kol bodily harm for his outburst, I can't help but feel it was overdue. So, dinner?”

Caroline blinked while desperately trying to fight down the blush that she was sure had formed on her cheeks. “You're my boss.”

“And you'll be a resident in a year like me anyway. In the fear of risking rejection for the last time,” Klaus grins at her, all dimples. “Dinner?”

Caroline bites her lip to keep from smiling like an idiot. “Sure.”

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 30 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: Welllllllll.....folks, we made it! We only have a few chapters to go now, and then this fic will be over and put back on the shelf. I hope that you enjoy this one (it's been a long time coming, after all). That being said, let me know what you think!

Spring in Holland was utterly beautiful—and Ruth was grateful that they were no longer in Germany.  After Lewis Nixon was satisfied that Ruth had reunited with her boys, he had taken off to meet Easy Company further into Germany.  Ruth had been sad to see him go, but she knew that his place lay with his men and with his friends—just as her place now resided here and with the men of the Hundredth Bombing Group. 

Still, Ruth was not idle.  She wasn’t given the chance to be.  In between recording her experience with the camps and then getting accounts from each of the men about the abuses of the German army, she was kept busy.  It was work like this that she knew was going to be far more important than any court martials she could be working on.  This was the type of work that was going to bring justice and humanity back into the world. 

It didn’t stop her heart from aching though.  Didn’t stop her from flinching at the thought of the abuses that these men had been through while in Stalags.  When Bucky had told her that they made them march through the night so they would be made targets by the Allied Forces, she had felt such a rage rise up in her. 

He had patted her on the shoulder and told her that it was alright.  It most certainly was not!  Abe gave up a lot of the abuses pretty quickly, just happy to have Ruth back on his side and near them.  Her notebook of war crimes was pretty full and Ruth was going to need a new one soon at this point. 

At the current rate of transmissions though and the way that the Allied Forces were making progress, Ruth hoped that the telegram that they had sent to base would arrive soon.  She wasn’t the type to like sitting around much—though she certainly insisted that the men sit around and rest.  She couldn’t deter Bucky from keeping busy though, not that she entirely minded that man being busy.  It meant less time for him to bother her, though she had missed his presence to a degree. 

Right now though, the group had gathered for dinner.  Ruth kept a close eye on the men as they ate the food.  That first night that they had arrived in Holland, Abe had cried at the sight of actual bread and Ruth had just let the boy cry over the bread.  Tonight, there were no tears.  But there were some actual questions. 

It seemed that once they had food in their bellies and had rested a bit, they all were much more curious about things.  And Ruth felt much of the same feelings.  “So….40 days?” Ruth questioned, offering Bucky a cigarette as she glanced in his direction. 

A grin spread across his face at the cigarette and he gave a nod.  Everyone else around the table gave groans of annoyance.  “Not this again,” DeMarco begged. 

“No, it’s funny!” Abe exclaimed. 

Bucky leaned back in his chair, pointing his cigarette at Abe.  “So the kid shows up, right?  And we’re all pretty tired of the shit in the Stalag anyway.  And I figure that there’s no way in hell you’re letting Baby Shark here just sit in a Stalag.” 

“Damn straight.” 

“So I get to talkin’ while Baby Shark is napping and I tell the guys that I give it 40 days, give or take.  And then you’ll show up with the entirety of the Allied Forces to get your boy back and we’d all be freed.  Easy peasy,” Bucky finished with a shrug. 

“How did you get to Germany?” John asked, leaning forward to listen to his sister attentively. 

Ruth’s cheeks burned a slight scarlet as she thought of the arguments.  “Well I waited a half day before arguing with the Colonel about where I was needed most.” 

“Only a half day.  Losing your damn edge,” Bucky said, shaking his head in distaste.

“Well Kidd and Crosby begged me to wait to hear any news—to find out if Rosie or you were actually coming back—” 

Abe’s eyes went wide.  “You mean you don’t know if Robby made it back?!” He questioned, voice a shrill sound of shock.   

“Well….no.  I called Colonel Sink after my argument and then I was gone by the next morning,” Ruth admitted.  

“You mean that Robby is probably back at Thorpe Abbotts and thinking that you ran off with your ex-boyfriend?” Abe blurted, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.   “He’s gonna think you’re a harlot!  What has this all been for?” 

Ruth piqued an eyebrow.  “Pardon?” 

Abe immediately fell silent, an uncomfortable expression on his face.  “Nothin’, Ruthie.  I promise.” 

“I taught you how to lie, you little shit.” 

At all of that, Bucky finally leaned forward in his seat.  “You mean to say that Ruth Sharpe got bamboozled by Baby Shark here?  Legitimately??”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ruth questioned in annoyance. 

Bucky just gestured at Abe.  “The little shit here was just trying to get you and Rosenthal together.  Like—the entire time he’s been on base.  He told us his whole master plan.” 

Ruth’s head immediately snapped towards Abe. “Be reasonable, Ruth—” Abe started. 

She didn’t hesitate in flicking her soup at Abe’s face.  “And to THINK—I ventured onto the front-lines for a little manipulator!” 

“Who you love!” John added, ruffling Abe’s hair.  “And don’t even pretend you weren’t here for Robby, too.” 

“You are all the worst.” 

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

Ruth sat in the tower command center of the Dutch base, chatting idly with Bucky about nothing in particular.  She had been doodling in her notebook and catching him up with news about sports and what had been going on back at home. 

Truth be told, Bucky Egan wasn’t sure when he had started considering Ruth Sharpe a friend of his.  But the minute she had shown up in the Stalag and began advocating for the men of the Hundredth, this woman had been endeared to him forever.  It wasn’t just because the kid never shut up about his amazing sister the entire time he was in the camp.  Sitting there though, he was more reminded of his younger sister than anything else. 

He chucked a piece of paper at her leg.  “You ever get laid then?” 

Ruth just gave him a dry look.  “You think I’d sleep and tell?  And tell you, of all people?” 

“You gotta give me somethin’ to work with.  You’re so borin’ most of the time.” 

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Ruth chuckled.  “I did bring your book though,” she remembered, pulling it from her bag. 

At the sight of Guys and Dolls, Bucky’s face lit up.  “We are friends!” He decided in a grateful grin, taking the book from her. 

“Well—” Just then, Bucky nearly fell off of his chair, rushing to get the head-set properly straightened.  “Chowhound 1, you are cleared for overhead approach.  Runway 281 at one thousand two hundred, indicated.  Winds are 300 12.” He paused for a moment and then grinned—one of those shit-eating grins that he used to have all of the time.  “You heard me the first goddamned time, Gale.” 

“Gale?” Ruth’s attention immediately snapped to Bucky.  “But that means—” 

“I think your boyfriend’s here, sweetheart.” 

Neither Bucky or Ruth could help the fact that they were like two little kids, hurrying from the tower down to the jeep that they shared (Ruth stole it most of the time and he’d steal it back—it was just a game between the two of them to keep their days busy and themselves entertained).  

Ruth could not help the fact that her heart felt like it was going to just straight up burst from within her chest.  How to explain that she had been wrong, that this entire thing had been because she had been wrong—that she came to Germany for him.  That she had done everything she had done because she was in love and out of her mind in love.  And love made people do stupid things. 

As they approached the plane, Ruth felt the distinct sense and urge to turn-tail and run away.  It’d be easier to run away and pretend that she wasn’t there in the first place.  As if Bucky somehow sensed that about his friend, he just gave her a deadpan expression. 

“Alright Miss Antagonistic.  You’re gonna talk to the boy and you’re gonna be nice about it.” 

“I don’t take orders from you.” 

“But you’re gonna listen anyway.” 

“Why?  Because your track record with relationships is oh so impressive?” 

“Rude.” 

“Just stating the facts,” Ruth mumbled.  She lingered in the background as Bucky got out of the jeep—and she watched as Major Gale Cleven made a beeline straight for Bucky.  The two men jovially embraced one another and she couldn't help the smile that slipped onto her face.  

“Ruthie, quit bein’ antisocial and come say hi!” Bucky called. 

Ruth rolled her eyes and grinned as she approached the small group.  “It’s good to have you back, Major Cleven.  I respectfully turn over the babysitting of Egan back to you.  He’s a freakin’ handful.” 

“Don’t I know it?” Gale grinned.  “But it’s good to see you too.” 

And at the sight of Crosby and Lemmons hurrying over to the group, Ruth could scarcely contain the breath in her chest.  The silent prayer and hope that Robby would just accept the apology.  That he’d want to listen to her and that he’d want her back—please don’t let anything have changed.  Except for me.  

As soon as Robby’s feet touched down on the tarmac, Crosby and Lemmons just grabbed her arms and shoved her forward.  “Traitors!” She hissed in annoyance, barely managing to catch herself from falling.  

Everything seemed to stop as Ruth’s gaze finally landed on Robby.  He looked—well he looked beautiful, as he always did.  Those piercing blue eyes just seemed to stare straight into her soul and any words that Ruth had been attempting to muster all died on the tip of her tongue.  She couldn’t move; she was rooted to the spot by her guilt and by the fact that she had ruined everything. 

“Oh God—Abe—” Robby had mistaken her silence for grief. 

“No—no—” Ruth finally found the words.  “Abe’s fine.  He’s with John.  And our cousin David.” 

“Wait—” Robby had closed the gap quickly.  “John’s here?  But I thought—” 

“So did I.  Then he showed up in the Stalag,” Ruth said in relief.  “I’m glad—I’m glad that you’re okay too.” 

“Oh.” Truth be told, Robert Rosenthal wasn’t sure what to make of everything.  Upon his arrival back to Thorpe Abbotts and finding Liesel being cared for by Helen and Tatty and hearing that Ruth had run off to the front, he thought that he had a pretty good idea of what had happened.  His encouragement to stop running had surely led to her running back to Dick Winters.  There was no other explanation. 

“Um—you—” Ruth started. 

His gaze just trained on the building.  “I guess you and Winters found each other again, huh?” 

“No.” 

At that, his gaze snapped onto hers in confusion.  “You mean—” 

“I was wrong,” Ruth blurted the words in the shadow of his plane, unable to stop the guilt from consuming her soul.  “You were right and I was wrong.” 

Robby couldn’t help the fact that he just blinked in utter confusion.  This was damn whiplash, the way that this woman was making him feel.  “What?” 

Ruth mustered all of the courage in her soul to face the music, to dive straight under the waves, to just go for it.  “I was scared, you were right,” Ruth breathed out.  “And I was lying when I said you weren’t part of this family because you are.  You’re—you’re the only person I think that I’ve ever felt things for so viscerally and it terrifies the hell out of me.  But I didn’t know—I was stupid and selfish and naive—and the minute that your plane went down—I realized that I do love you but it was too late and you were the loss of my life.  So I—I—defied orders and I got myself sent out here to the front because I needed to find you and I needed to tell you that I love you and I couldn't take the fact that you were gone and I hurt you—and—I don’t want to run anymore.  You are the realest thing I’ve ever had.  I just want you and that’s the damn truth.” 

The only sound for a long moment was the sound of Ruth’s breathing, a breathless sound.  And Robby just stared at her, trying to make sense of the breathless speech that she had just given him.  

So when he moved forward at first, Ruth was certain she was going to get yelled at.  And then he was crashing their lips together in a burst of sun and warmth and tender love.  Almost immediately, she was clinging onto him, trying to memorize the feel of his face in her hands, the way that his lips tasted like tangy oranges, the way his mustache nuzzled against her upper lip—and the way that everything just suddenly felt right. 

The feeling of euphoria crashed over Ruth—this was her and Robby—burning up in the atmosphere and trying to consume one another’s oxygen like they were the last two people left on earth.  In the midst of this earth-shattering and soul-finding kiss, cheers went up from behind the two of them. 

Ruth very delicately and sweetly just stuck up one of her middle fingers and when she and Robby finally pulled apart from one another, both breathless and lips slightly swollen, she couldn’t help the grin on her face.  “I love you,” Ruth echoed again. 

Robby grinned and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.  “I love you too, Ruth Sharpe.  And I forgive you for being a brat about things.” 

“I’m not a brat,” Ruth insisted, shaking her head at him. “I’m just stubborn and you love that about me.  And for the record,” she added, glancing at the group of cheering and annoying friends.  “You’re gonna get a lot of shit now.” She entwined their hands and he followed her, giddy at the feeling of her hand in his.  

“Oh just starting now?” Robby asked sarcastically.  “I thought I had already been putting up with a lot of shit.” 

“That’s just part of the conditions of loving me.” 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” 

And for the first time in her life, Ruth really felt like everything was perfect.  They were all together.  And they were going back to Thorpe Abbotts.  

Miracle one—she made it to the front safely. 

Miracle two—she found Sveta and Yosef.  

Miracle three—she found her brothers and David alive and well.

Miracle four—Robert Rosenthal still loved her.  

Maybe she’d have to thank Abe after all. 

[mybullshitsensesaretingling]

A Vulcan Smile Part Seven

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six]

Jim looked up from his computer as the door to his ready room swished open. He had stolen away to the ship to get some much-needed quiet to review his notes before his next meeting. A quiet he was surprised to see emanating from his best friend as he made his way across the room. 

Leonard typically preferred to make his presence in a room known, entering with a joke or a complaint or some kind of combination of the two. Now he took a seat across from Jim in complete silence. The captain looked him over, trying to identify where this change was coming from. He wore crumpled shirt and an unreadable expression.

"Is that the same uniform as yesterday?" Jim finally asked. 

"Didn't have time to change."

"You've been off duty for twelve hours, Bones. How long does it take? You wear the same thing everyday," Jim pointed out.

"I was helping Joanna with her homework and then," Leonard's voice dropped slightly, "I was with (Y/N)."

Jim’s brows raised. "Were you?"

"Apologizing," Leonard clarified. 

"And what did you do that required you to apologize all night long?" Jim's words tiptoed around innuendo. 

"Joanna was suspended for starting a fight."

"So you were apologizing for your part in bringing another angry McCoy into the universe," Jim guessed. 

"I didn't react well to the news," Leonard admitted. "Started a fight of my own." 

"That doesn't sound like you," Jim said sarcastically. 

“I blamed her. Told her that Joanna was picking up violant tendencies from her,” Leonard explained. 

Jim let out a disappointed breath. He didn’t know you well, but he had heard so much about you through long winded, sporadic rants from Leonard that he could guess how well that went over. He certainly knew enough about people in general to know that wasn’t something you said to someone who cared gor your child. 

“She blamed me. Told me Joanna was acting out because she’s hurt that I left and doesn’t know how to express it.” Leonard slumped back in the chair. “Apparently I don’t put in enough effort as a father.” 

“Well,” Jim started pointedly. He raised his brows and tilted his head, hoping if he made a strong enough facial expression he wouldn’t have to finish the thought out loud.

“When were you planning to tell me you though I was a bad father?” 

Jim let out a breathy chuckle at his friends dramatics. “I don’t think you’re a bad father. I think that (Y/N) spends a lot of time with Joanna and if she thinks she’s feeling a little abandoned then she might know what she’s talking about.” 

Leonard sighed. “I know.”

“What are you going to do about it?” 

“I already apologized.” 

This earned Leonard a look that told him he needed to do better than that.  

“I suppose I don’t really have a choice.” 

“Not if you ever want to be able to respect yourself again.” 

Leonard groaned and rubbed a hand across his face. “I’m not cut out for this.” 

“You said the same thing the first time you had to work on a ship. Now look at you.” 

“Now look at me,” Leonard repeated in a defeated tone.

“You know-” Jim waited until his friend was looking at him again to finish, “Centaurus isn’t that far out of our way.” 

“Oh no.” Leonard shook his head and held up a hand. “This ship is on red alert every other thursday. My eleven year old isn’t going to be involved in that.” 

“We’d be taking a similar course to the shuttle. Any dangers we run into they’d probably run into too. Wouldn’t you prefer she run into them with you?” 

“I’d rather she not be in space at all, but seeing as I wasn’t given a choice in that…” Leonard trailed of, thinking it over. “You wouldn’t mind the detour?” 

“Not at all.” 

“You know letting my daughter and Spock’s sister loose on this ship might lead to more chaos than we’re prepared for.” 

Jim shook his head. “Spock’s gonna hate this.” 

“You don’t have to convice me, Jim. I’m alread on board.” 

-

“Tell me again,” Leonard ordered as he walked with Joanna to the Enterprise. 

“The warp core, jefferies tubes, and bridge are off limits. If red lights start flashing I am to stay in my room. If I hear the word ‘anomoly’ over the comms, I am to find you in the sickbay. If I see more than five people in uniform running in the halls I am to find Ms. Grayson and wait for the all clear. No wandering the halls or entering the recreation deck or holodeck alone. No fun of any kind,” Joanna rattled off. 

“Good. Stick to those rules and you should make it back home in one piece.” 

“Can’t I have a little fun?” 

“Being a passenger on the Enterprise is-” 

“Not a reward for punching my classmate even if he is a shithead and desereved it,” she parroted the words he’d used when he explained the arrangement to her. “I’ve gotten like two lectures a day since I was suspended, thrown up on during a shuttle ride here, and given four times the calc homework I would normally have. Haven’t I been punished enough?” 

“We’re not punishing you. We’re making sure you’ve learned your lesson. We don’t want you to turn into a violent drop out with no direction in life and a long arrest record.” 

“You’re say ‘we’ a lot about you and Ms. Grayson,” she pointed out. 

“Oh look! Lieutenant Uhura.” Leonard quickly changed the subject, coming to a stop outside the air lock where the Lieutenant was standing. “Waiting for Spock?” 

“He’s just saying goodbye.” She nodded over to where he stood with you and Serek. 

“Good might be a stretch,” Leonard mumbled. 

“Who are they talking to?” Joanna asked. 

“The Vulcan ambassador,” Nyota answered. 

“They don’t seem to like him.” 

“It’s a complicated relationship,” she said, watching the three of you hold up Vulcan salutes. 

As the ambassador turned and boarded another ship, you folded down you pinky and ring finger and lifted your raised fingers to your temple. Your head jerked to the side as you pretended to shoot yourself in the head. To Leonard's suprise, Spock used his hand to wipe your imaginary blood from the side of his face. 

The two of you walked in silence to meet the others. You both had your hands clasped behind your back, but as you got closer yours moved to swing at your side. 

Uhura watched the way Leonard smiled and then stiffened awkwardly as you approached.

“Come on let’s get out of here before Spock and I are used as a visual aid in another debate about the future of the Vulcan race,” you said when you reach them. “If I get called V’tosh ka’tur one more time, I’m going to start throwing things.” 

“That kind of behavior is exactly why they call you V’tosh ka’tur,” Spock pointing out.

“Don’t call your sister a Vulcan without logic, Spock,” Uhura chastised. 

“Thank you. Wanting to throw things at those stuffy, xenophobic elders is completely logical,” you argued. “And besides they call you V’tosh ka’tur too.” 

Spock mouth dropped open. “I am not V’tosh ka’tur. I follow the ancestral teachings.” 

“But you stink like a human.” 

“You are using nasal supresants. You don’t know what I smell like.” 

Leonard leaned forward and took a wiff. “No, she’s right. Just like a human.” 

You smiled at the doctor. “This is going to be a fun little trip.” 

Joanna grinned. Spock’s jaw tightened.

[phoenixtakaramono]

…So I see there is a sudden drought of butchlander fics right now. *cracks knuckles* While I’m still working on ‘Truce’ ch3, which long 🔞 butchlander threadfic of mine would you want this writer to resume first in this intermittent time? (Schedule: weekly/ biweekly updates; about ~25 to ~50 tweets or more per update)

The poll’s up on twitter. Crossposting it here for my readers who don’t use twitter. After one week, I’ll just add the results from the tumblr and twitter polls, and see which threadfic reigns supreme with y’all. And we’ll resume in the week after.

⬇️Summaries below & where we’d last left off for each⬇️

Current Butchlander Threadfics

Option 1: M3GAN-inspired AU

Where we last left off:

It’s possible he can cover this incident up, but it’s improbable that it’ll escape Morgan’s (A/N: Joe Kessler) notice. But Billy thinks he can contain the information spread—stopping at his case officer. And no more. He will just have to owe him a favor—an IOU which can be cashed in at any time. Everything that comes after depends on everyone’s acting abilities. He can already detect what’s in their future, a pattern of having to cover for H0M3L4ND3R. Billy’s voice remains soft. “In the one week we’ve known each other, you’ve given me a lot of trouble. Daddy’s not happy.” (TBC)

Option 2: Fix-It AU

Where we last left off:

Even now, the thought of the Operations Officer…. It renews his interest. Homelander’s shoulders tremble again, this time from repressed mirth, peeking at his c◼️ck. “Oh, William,” he cackles. Homelander’s not one to deny himself of what he wants. Not when the world’s his oyster. Madelyn won’t be happy hearing her star talent’s developed a taste for the CIA agent tailing him. So he’ll—𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘭𝘭 have to keep it a secret. It’s just another secret they’ll have. (TBC)

Option 3: Sugar Baby AU

Where we last left off:

Before he can even take a step, Homelander seizes William by the wrist. "Did I give you permission to leave...?" His voice had been gentle but there was an incipient dagger hidden within. Seeing the sharp frown, Homelander eases his grip. Lifts William's hand to press an apologetic kiss to the pulse fluttering in his wrist. Warm puffs of air gust over the reddened grooves. "Live a little." Lifts his bowed head. Forms an easy smile. The crow's feet deepen as Homelander encircles an arm around William's shoulders. "Indulge me. It's big enough for two, I promise." (TBC)

Option 4: Timetravel Hallmark themed AU

Where we last left off:

Staring down at the tufts of blond hair, Billy thinks that Homelander had some incomparable big guts. Observing him, only after confirming he’s not faking it, Billy settles back down and gathers him closer in a much more comfortable embrace. Loosely wrapping his arms around him. Sweetly snuggled up against him, Homelander slept so soundly, absolutely nothing could’ve disturbed him from getting his beauty sleep. Even when morning came and it was time for them to get out of bed, Billy couldn’t even fake a frown when Homelander lingered, reluctant to part. (TBC)

Note: For my tumblr only readers, I’d just started getting into the habit of screenshotting them from my twitter and posting the updates here on tumblr starting with, like, the middle of the Sugar Baby one (when your girl got Twitter sh@dowb@nned because it was too spicy 😂) and beginning with the Hallmark AU threadfic. All other ones haven’t been shared here yet. These threadfics are first prototypes and will eventually be fully edited with extra content and cross-posted to AO3 once all 4 chapters of Truce are finished in the future. So for now, I’ll likely just screenshot them starting from wherever we’d last left off for those other ones.

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 2 - Bridge

The Old Bridge:

The Skarloey Railway was built partially on the bed of an old, horse drawn rail line that ran from the port to the quarries in the hills, along a steep incline. The little engines didn’t use much of that line – though they did use one old, wooden bridge. It crossed over a steep ravine, surrounded on all sides by desolate moorland and devoid of almost any life. Not even the grass grew here, only barren shrubs clinging to the jagged cliffs and moss that spread over the surface of the swamp below.

Rheneas didn’t like the bridge. It creaked when he used it, and sometimes when the wind howled, it let out ominous groans. But that wasn’t what he hated most. No. What he hated most was the fact that on cold moonlit nights, he could hear the sound of hooves treading on wooden sleepers. There were no horses out here, in this barren part of the island, where not even the hardy locals dared wander. The railway only came this far to access the veins of slate nestled deep in the base of Culdee Fell.

There were no horses out here. But there was the sound of the beasts dragging lines of trucks. It didn’t make sense; it wasn’t right.

Rheneas crossed the wooden bridge, not looking down.

He wished Skarloey was here. Skarloey was keen to do new things, he was bubbly and bouncy and not spooked by bridges that didn’t sound right. But Skarloey was away being given trailing wheels, and Rheneas was alone.

“Last train of the day,” his driver said. His voice echoed through the lonely gorge. It seemed to bounce off every crack and crevice, coming back as twenty different distorted versions of itself. Rheneas shuddered. It sounded wrong, as though his driver had been possessed by demons and sent flailing around the gorge, before being flung back into his open cab.

“Let’s get it over with,” sighed Rheneas. They rolled along in the evening dusk, passing by jagged boulders that seemed to loom over him, giving the land an ever-wilder feel. The wind began to pick up, brushing what little loose foliage there was up and against his wheels.

“We’d best be quick,” his driver noted, watching as dark clouds shifted high above them, swirling over the little line. “Or else we might just get stuck up here.”

“Better than crossing that bridge,” Rheneas muttered to himself grimly. The driver didn’t hear him, unable to due to the wind.

They reached the quarry and began to load up the slate trucks. It was hard work; the wind kept blowing the empty trucks off the rails on the winch, but still the men persisted. Rheneas watched with trepidation – he hoped that it would get too difficult, or too late, or anything! But instead, he watched as they stubbornly continued doing their work, not caring about all of the little incidents.

To Rheneas’ dismay, they finished loading up enough slate trucks to make the journey down, as well as the coaches for the quarrymen.

Rheneas slunk out of the quarry with the wind howling on all sides. It whipped at him, trying to lurch him off the rails and deposit him on his side. Rheneas battled against it, hoping that it would at least calm before the old wooden bridge.

As if to mock him, the wind only grew fiercer. The lightweight coaches swayed dangerously behind Rheneas; neither he nor his driver could see the state the trucks were in. They nearer the bridge, slowing to a crawl.

“Wait!” exclaimed Rheneas. “What’s that?!” On the other side of the bridge, the old engine could see a swinging lantern, suspended in midair. It was too dark to see what it was connected to, but it looked like no engine lamp he’d ever seen. It looked like the heavy lanterns that farmers affixed to their shire horse wagons, when they had to ride at night.

“We have to stop,” Rheneas said. “They look like they’re on our line!” His driver peered into the gloom. The wind had brought more heavy, dark clouds, which obscured the moon and lifted a dense fog up out of the ravine.

“Who’s on our line?” asked the driver. “All I see is an old lantern.” Rheneas groaned.

“Exactly! It looks like it’s coming towards us!”

Suddenly, there was an almighty groan from behind the pair. The driver span round, and watched in horror as the leading coach’s left wheels left the rails entirely, the entire wooden body tilting violently to one side before slamming back down.

“It’s not safe to cross that bridge,” the driver decided. “We’re going back.” Rheneas could have wept with joy. As they began to roll backwards, Rheneas thought he could hear the frantic beat of hooves on wooden sleepers. The lantern light flickered, then went out. Rheneas couldn’t help but believe that the lantern was half way across the old wooden bridge.

But they all heard the splash. It sounded like a boulder slamming into the swamps bellow. His driver’s eyes went wide. “The wind has loosened the boulders! We need to get back to the safety of the quarry now!”

Rheneas couldn’t agree more, but for very different reasons.

***

By the time dawn broke, the wind had died down – but the damage had been done. The old wooden bridge had collapsed, leaving only wooden splinters in its wake. Rheneas stared down the ravine, spotting a smashed lantern in amongst the wreckage.

“It’s lucky we didn’t try to cross it,” his driver said. “We could have fallen to our doom!” Rheneas didn’t reply – he had a sinking feeling that someone already had.

They rebuilt the bridge with iron, making it stronger and sturdier – but narrower, as it was no longer needed to carry horses over the gorge. Rheneas continued to cross the Old Iron Bridge, but he didn’t like to look down. Looking down just reminded him of the sound of hooves on wood, and the splash of something heavy hitting the water.

Back to the Master Post

[monstersandmaw]

Male werewolf x female character (Gabe & Odessa) - Chapter Twenty (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Thank you a million times to those few still reblogging/commenting on this story with lovely tags and thoughts. This update is for you. I’ve seen a couple of you theorising about what’s going on, and you’ll start to get your answers in this and the next chapter... :)

The notes have really fallen away as the chapters have gone on though, so I’ll push these last two chapters out, and finish ‘Season One’ in the next few days. I’ve got ‘Season Two’ all planned out but not written, but I’m not sure I’ll share them here if there’s little to no interest in the story anymore.

Content: group farewell dinner, a bit of angst and insecurity afterwards, growly werewolf smut, and a little cliffhanger... :) Wordcount: 4124

Catch up here:

Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw), Part Four (sfw), Part Five (sfw), Part Six (sfw) Part Seven (sfw), Part Eight (sfw), Part Nine (sfw), Part Ten (sfw), Part Eleven (nsfw), Part Twelve (sfw), Part Thirteen (sfw), Part Fourteen (nsfw), Part Fifteen (nsfw), Part Sixteen (nsfw), Part Seventeen (sfw), Part Eighteen (v. light nsfw), Part Nineteen (nsfw)

The Boar and Hart wasn’t particularly crowded when they arrived sometime after seven that night.

Odessa glanced up at Gabe over her shoulder as they paused in the doorway to look around and he laid his hand on the small of her back. He leaned down to murmur in her ear, speaking with a little twist at the corner of his lips, “Did I mention how gorgeous you look in those jeans?”  

“You might have mentioned something like it when we were trying to leave the cabin, yes,” she said with deadpan humour, emphasising the word ‘trying’. “And your reaction to them is why we’re way later than we’d said we’d be, and why I’m walking kinda funny…”

Yes, Gabe was the reason why there was an additional ache in her pelvis from when he’d crowded her up against the bedroom door and undone her close-fitting, black jeans, tugging them unceremoniously down her thighs, and sliding his fingers first around her aching clit and then burying them deep inside her. He’d held her up and made her come standing, which was a feat in itself, and she’d all but collapsed afterwards.

He’d carried her effortlessly over to the bed and kissed her until she’d started to writhe and squirm, though not in protest, and he’d kissed and coaxed yet another orgasm out of her which she most definitely hadn’t thought she’d had in her to start with. He’d come on her stomach a minute later, and she’d made him pay for being so charmingly cheeky by only barely swiping herself clean with a tissue before dressing again.

He could easily smell it on her over the scents of the bar — the patrons and their perfumes; the tang of alcohol and the waft of food — while they wove their way through the tables to join Tala and Carys and a couple of people she didn’t recognise, and it was going to be sweet torture for him. On the one hand, it left his wolf contented to be able to smell the fact that he was the one she’d allowed to be all over her, but she could also tell how it drove him slowly wild beneath that steady, calm, polite facade. Odessa had never been given that kind of power in a relationship before, and the agency and thrill it gave her was intoxicating.

Of course, Gabe wasn’t exactly helpless that night; he knew just how to make her heart skip a beat or two by that point, and he wasn’t afraid to be playful about it either.

Odessa barely remembered anything about the meal that followed.

She had the vaguest impression of Tala making up for her defensive behaviour with some gentle teasing about how well-suited she and Gabe were for each other in the end, and the other two members of the park service team that she’d not met before that had to agree.

“Got to say, Gabe,” Jack, a wiry young man with curly blond hair and grey-blue eyes grinned, laughing in a high, musical tenor as he leaned over the table with his hands around a largely-empty pint glass, “Didn’t think you were interested in anyone like that. You know, long term.”

“I wasn’t,” Gabe shrugged simply. “Odessa kind of took me by surprise.”

“To be fair,” Odessa countered, “I wasn’t looking for a relationship either when I came here. It just kind of… happened.”

Jack laughed and sat back, draining the rest of his beer. “Meant to be then,” he said.

Gabe shot Odessa a look and another shrug that seemed a bit too casual. “Something like that.”

“What will you do now?” Carys asked carefully, her glinting eyes flitting from one to the other of them. “I can’t say I see Gabe moving to the city with his wolf-dogs…”

“Definitely not,” she said, and she watched Carys’ shoulders relax just a fraction. Odessa shook her head with a scowl, curls bouncing in a wild, dark mane around her face. She didn’t miss the way Gabe subtly tilted his nose towards her and inhaled. Under the table, he squeezed her fingers in his just for a moment. “Honestly, we’re not sure. We’re going to have to do distance for the time being —”

“— Gabe’s gonna have to get bloody internet at his house for a start,” Jack interjected, and Gabe flushed.

“And upgrade his phone,” Tala added with a stunning smile. “You’re one step away from looking for a public phone to call her, Gabe.”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and took in the number of empty glasses on the table with a quick look. “If you lot stop grilling us about what we’re going to do, I’ll get the next round. Same again for everyone?”

All but Carys nodded, and Gabe extricated himself from the table, gripping Odessa’s shoulder as he passed and then disappeared towards the bar. Odessa watched him go, and smiled when he shared a friendly word with Holly behind the bar. It felt good to know that he was loved by the people here — that he would be alright while she went back to the city for a time.

When she looked back at Carys, Odessa found the older woman regarding her carefully again, and she cocked her head in a silent question.

Carys shook her head in a ‘not now’ gesture, and instead she just said, “Make sure I’ve got your number before you leave.”

“You can have it now,” Odessa said, and they exchanged details while the others chattered on around them. Gabe returned bearing another round of sweet potato fries on the tray as well, and even though they all groaned, the basket was empty again in a quarter of an hour.

Jack was the first to start yawning, and the others began to follow suit not long afterwards. Finally, they called it a night sometime after half ten.

The day’s driving rain had moved on down the valley, leaving the pavements sparkling and glittering in the clear night, and their breath made foggy, dancing ghosts in the air around them as the small group parted ways outside the pub. Odessa looked around and watched them go, Jack and his girlfriend Lydia both flirting harmlessly with Tala as they went, while Carys shook her head and waved over her shoulder as she headed off towards her apartment on the edge of the tiny town.

Tala had been right — dinner had been another good distraction — but reality sank like a stone through her gut as she stood there and knew that this was the last night she’d be spending in Pinewatch for a while.

“You want to walk around for a bit or head back to the cabin?” Gabe asked. They’d walked down together instead of driving since they’d both felt like having a beer with the others, and now that the rain had stopped, it would likely be a pleasant walk back despite the damp, autumnal chill in the air. She didn’t need to worry about finding her way in the dark because Gabe's night vision was probably better than hers was during the day.

Odessa took a moment to look up and down the sleepy street, and realised she wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. “Walk,” she said, and Gabe tilted his elbow towards her, letting her slide her fingers into the crook of his arm for warmth as they strolled aimlessly along the pavement. They passed sleepy shops with their lights out for the night, and a cat slunk along the line of parked cars before hissing at Gabe and darting up a steaming side alley.

He huffed a regretful little laugh as it fled, and idly nudged at a pebble with his toe a few paces later. He seemed to be holding his breath.

“What is it?” she asked, wondering if the almost-full moon was making him tense, or if it was her departure the next morning, or something else entirely.

He just shook his head though and offered her a fleeting smile. It dissolved again into a tense scowl, and she stopped. The movement turned him a little towards her, and his brows knitted together.

“Gabe?”

His expression wavered a little, eyes going glassy, and he glanced away, blinking rapidly. His breathing was quick and shallow, and his weathered, outdoorsy complexion looked unusually pallid, even accounting for the washed-out streetlights further up the road.

“Talk to me.”

“It hurts,” he rasped, and closed his eyes with a soft grimace.

“What does? The full moon?”

“What? No,” he said quickly, not understanding her at first. “No, it’s not… it’s nothing to do with that. I just…” he stopped himself, grinding his teeth together to stop the words tumbling out against his will, and he growled. “No,” he said.

“No what? Gabe, talk to me?” she insisted, and her stomach soured a little.

“It’s not fair,” he said in a barely-audible exhalation.

“What’s not fair? I thought we’d already decided that we’d figure it out as we go. We’ll find a way that works for both of us. I’ll look for something in the area, or for something I can do remotely, and —”

“ —No,” he said, eyes flashing as he looked back at her; the irises glowing unnaturally in the yellow lamplight. “No. Odessa, you shouldn’t have to give up your entire life just because I’m a wild animal that can’t stand the city.”

Her chest constricted and she blinked. “That’s how you see it? And what life, Gabe?” she scoffed. “I’d already quit my job before I even met you; I broke up with my cheating ex; and I came here because I wanted something new and different. Something that was mine, and my choice. I found that, Gabe. I found exactly what I want.” She gripped his forearm with her fingers and glared up at him. “I found you.”

“Your friends —” he protested rather weakly, his expression torn between shock and hesitant joy.

“— will still be my friends. It’s only a five hour drive, Gabe. It’s not like I’d be moving to a different continent.”

“What would you even do out here?” he asked, voice low and rough. “You're a lawyer and the nearest courthouse is sixty miles away.”

“People change careers, Gabe, and institutions like the park services need legal teams too. It’s not all about trail cams and bird nests…” He did smile shyly at that. “The money was really good before, but the rest of it sucked, ok? It fucking sucked. I was miserable. I had no life, I was barely home, I hardly slept, and I didn’t even notice that my partner had been cheating on me for months. I wouldn't call that much of a life, Gabe. Even if I don’t find work, I can still rent an apartment here in Pinewatch — hell, I could probably book out the holiday cabin for the next six months and still have enough savings not to work for at least a year. We can make something work.”

The vulnerable, open look in his face finally stopped her and she narrowed her eyes.

“What’s this really about, Gabe?”

“Odessa, you’re human, and you’ve only known me and known about werewolves for two weeks,” he whispered, his voice almost lost behind the brief hiss of tyres as a car passed them on the road and disappeared into the dark forest beyond the town.

“The same amount of time you’ve known me. If you’re having doubts though, feel free to tell me now,” she said and tried not to sound petulant about it.

“No!” he said quickly, shaking his head and looking somehow more disquieted. “No, I’m not. I’m certain. You’re… You’re it for me, Odessa.”

“Then what’s going on?”

“Am I —?” he cut off, swallowed thickly. “Would you really leave everything behind… for me?”

For someone as tall and powerful as Gabe, he looked like a single autumn leaf could knock him down. Am I enough for you? his golden eyes asked, though his lips didn’t say as much. Or am I perhaps too much?

Odessa felt all the tension drain out of her and she stepped close to him. She looped her arms around his middle and hugged him, pressing her cheek against his chest and squeezing him tightly. “You silly wolf,” she whispered.

Gabe let out a ragged exhale, then tentatively brought his arms up around her shoulders.

“Yes, Gabe,” she said. “I want to see where this goes, and I’m not going to make any rash decisions. I’m going to keep my apartment in the city and I’m going to keep my job options open, ok? I’m going to look and see what there is around here. We’re going to talk on the phone, and I’ll come and see you again soon, and we’re going to make it work as best we can. I’ve never felt anything like this before for someone, so no more of this talk from either of us, ok?”

He stroked her hair and then sighed. “You’re getting cold,” he said. “Come on.”

They walked hand in hand in silence along the road, and when they came to the rutted, muddy driveway that led to her cabin, Gabe squeezed her hand and guided her around the worst of the potholes in the dark.

“You’re staying, right?” she asked when she saw his truck sitting quietly in front of the little wooden house, bathed in a small circle of golden light from the porch lamp over the door.

“If you’ll have me,” he smiled, and he shifted his hand distractingly to the curve of her backside while she was getting her keys out of her jacket pocket.

“Oh, I’ll have you, Gabriel,” she purred as she unlocked the door.

His eyes hadn’t stopped glowing gold all the way back, and as he let out a sonorous, growling exhale, his lips pulled back a fraction and he snarled under his breath. “You make it very hard for me to resist, Odessa,” he said.

“You don’t have to resist,” she said with open honesty in her face as she looked up at him. “What do you want?”

“You,” came his immediate response. “However you want me.”

“I want to shower and get the smell of the bar off me first,” she said, her fingers going to the buttons of her dark maroon blouse even as she backed away from the front door and maintained her eye contact with him.

He closed the door behind him and stood stock still in the living room of the cabin as she started to undo her top a little further, revealing a deep ‘v’ of bare skin beneath before drawing the silky fabric away to show her dark bra. Another long, low-frequency growl escaped him, like a leopard hunting in the dark, and a thrill ran through her whole body. Gabe was absolutely not human, and she loved it.

And he could smell that she loved it too, if the way his pupils blew wide and black, and he scented the air as she retreated.

With a smile, Odessa turned away and walked towards the bedroom. At the door, she turned and found him suddenly following close behind her, moving silently, eyes glowing.

She tied her hair up in a loose bun and stepped out of her jeans in the doorway to the bathroom.

“You joining me?” she asked with one hand on the glass door of the shower.

“If I may,” he said in a rough, quiet voice.

“You may,” she smiled.

While the water heated up, Gabe undressed and ran his hands up her back, kissing across her shoulders and breathing in the scent of her skin. He left a kiss on the nape of her neck that left her shivering, and then followed her into the searing shower.

He washed her, taking his time, and while he was hard in no time, he didn’t make any sign of wanting to do more than enjoy her body in the water. The intimacy of being washed by someone, of having his hands sculpt her body into heaving sighs and shuddering gasps, left her buzzing and when she stepped out a while later, she could hardly think straight.

“I never thought it could be like this with someone,” she said as he kissed her in the coiling steam. “I never knew it was supposed to be like this.”

They shared a breath, lips brushing, right before he kissed her again.

“Nor I,” he smiled.

They abandoned their towels on the floor and crossed to the bed. Continuing their heated intimacy, Gabe lay on his back and she curled up against his side with her head on his shoulder and her arm across his perfect torso. She hooked her right leg over his left thigh and ran her thumb across his pec and teased his nipple. His breath caught and he groaned, bucking weakly against her and making his hard cock bob and leak a little pre-come.

“Your body is incredible, Gabe,” she said, pressing her thumb a little harder into the muscle of his chest and then lightly scoring her nails down over the ridges of his lean stomach to his hip bone. He groaned and heaved beneath the passage of her hand along his body. “I’ve never seen anyone who looks like you outside of movies or magazines.”

“Being a werewolf helps,” he said. “I shift more than most of my kind too, I think,” he added with a hoarse grunt as she teased her fingertips up the crease between his thigh and his balls. He opened his legs for her and she cupped him gently, playing idly with him until he started to breathe in shallow pants, eyes closing, cock twitching and leaking another line of clear pre-come onto his abs. “Odessa…” he growled as she rolled his balls carefully in her hand.

“Mmm?”

“God, you’re trouble,” he laughed. “I feel like a teenager again — like I don’t know if I want to come or shift any second, or both.”

She laughed and moved to lie atop him. All traces of her self-consciousness had evaporated in the two weeks she’d spent with him. She no longer felt awkward about the weight around her hips or the soft rolls at her waist. She felt beautiful in a way she’d never been made to feel before, and certainly not since gaining those extra pounds. And Gabe, it seemed, couldn't get enough of her.

He growled again, that slow, rolling sound that was almost a purr, and her eyes fluttered. She shifted and his cock slid easily inside her. She’d never had so much sex in her life either, and it felt incredible to be so wanted, so desired — so desirable. He moaned, as though sliding inside her was like coming home, and he couldn’t seem to stop growling now that he’d started.

“Oh fuck…” he grunted around the constant rumble in his throat. “Oh god, you’re still so tight. How are you so tight? God, you’re perfect. Is this alright?” he added when her breath caught a little.

“Yes,” she gasped, adjusting her hips a little and taking him just-so inside her. Somehow she started to feel like it wasn’t enough; like she could still somehow get closer to him, take more of him, though she was pretty sure he was as deep as he could physically get.

“Gabe, I want you.”

“You have me,” he said.

“Wait,” she breathed, and raised herself off him to lie down on her back instead, legs apart in invitation. “Like this.” Perhaps from that angle he could give her the closeness her body craved. It had certainly been intense the last time he’d thrust into her like that, with the backs of her legs pressed against his chest.

His eyes glinted gold when she opened her legs to him and he settled his knees between her thighs and just stared at her for a second. In the past she would have felt self-consciousness roar through her like a consuming wildfire, but now she felt his gaze on her like a physical touch against her skin, and she grew even wetter beneath its weight. He finally reached out and thumbed a circle around her pulsing clit, pushing gently underneath it before circling lazily — adoringly — around it until she let out a guttural groan and begged him for more.

Without preamble, he slid his cock easily back into her and lifted her legs until both rested on his shoulders. He held her thighs in his strong, rough-palmed hands, and ground slowly against her, catching her deep.

Her hands clutched at the sheets beneath her as pleasure stoked and built inside her.

Claws pricked her skin and she opened eyes she hadn’t noticed closing to find him with his eyelids closed too, his cheek nuzzled against her leg. His lips drew back to reveal his canines, and his hairline crept forward as the shift from human to wolf nudged insistently at him. He looked mesmerised by the feel of her around his cock, rocking back and forth inside her like a ship at sea, slowly building the pleasure for both of them until he opened his mouth and let his sharp, thick, inhuman fangs scrape across her skin.

She moaned his name and arched her back a little, and he tugged her even deeper onto his cock with a growl. As if that broke the spell, he got a little faster and with each thrust, he let out an animal snarl. His pace picked up, the rhythm growing from something slow and intense to a pace that left her gasping for breath. Her breasts moved with the force of each thrust, her whole body shunting along the bed towards the pillows, and the individual growls began to blur together into something fierce and almost feral.

“Want you,” he hissed. “I always want you. I want you all the time,” he went on, and she wasn’t even sure he knew he was speaking out loud. “The moment I smell you again, I want you. Then I look at you and I can’t remember how to breathe,” he went on, barely audible around the snarling growls pouring out of him. “Odessa.”

His legs quivered but he didn’t break the rhythm of his hips, pistoning in and out of her with increasing speed, each stroke leaving her breathless and dizzy with the surging pleasure. Claws pinched at her skin, keeping her tethered as her orgasm grew and began to sing in her ears.

“I’m yours, Odessa,” he choked. “God, I’m yours.” Then she thought she heard him whisper, “Take me. Please… have me. Take me as your…” The words were so faint she could barely hear him over the pounding of blood in her body and the way his wild growling was filling the room.

With a sudden, surprised whimper, the rapid rhythm of his hips faltered and he stopped moving altogether. He froze and a tremulous shudder ran through him.

For a second, she thought he was coming, but it didn’t feel like it had before, and her eyes flew open in alarm. His back heaved and he bit back a roaring howl that dissolved into a pained, whimpering snarl. Something was wrong, and cold adrenaline raced through her, replacing the pleasure in her veins.

“Shit,” he grunted.

Gabe was shaking in earnest now. Snarls just spilled out of his snapping jaws until he froze again, his whole body grinding to a halt for a second time. His muscles still trembled but it felt like he was keeping himself from moving at all; fighting something.

“Gabe?”

He snarled again and clacked his teeth together, tendons straining as he desperately tried to suck in enough air with his lungs were spasming too hard to manage it. “Shit…” he said again.

“What’s wrong?” She sounded small and frightened to her own ears.

Between short, snatched breaths he gasped, “The shift… I’m… losing control. Odessa, I’m… I…” He turned his face away and shuddered violently. His back heaved again, and the groan that left him was no longer full of pleasure, but pain. “I’ve never… not like this…”

“Gabe, look at me?”

“Odessa…” he choked, and all the passion turned to wild panic. “I… can’t… I can’t hold it back…”

“Look at me,” she said more firmly, and he did. “Oh Gabe,” she whispered when she saw his eyes wild and full of fear. “It’s alright. You can shift. Shift if you need to.”

“Odessa?” he whispered, and for the first time since she’d found out about his secret, he looked afraid.

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