#so it's nice to put head engineer with red and dark with blue. warm/cold

[conceptuma]

picrews I played last year for fun

1: fem darkhenge (head engineer + darkiplier)

2: celine by herself

more

I got attached to these portrayals of a hypothetical fem darkhenge :J feel free to draw inspiration from it

[purplehelleborewrites]

Excessive Force

The Price of Flesh Fanfic, Jack x trans masc OC

Warnings: Police abuse, deadnaming, bone breaking, beating, groping, noncon, transphobia, humiliation, object insertion, name-calling

Minors absolutely should not read and I will block minor accounts on sight. Please take the warnings seriously, I'm not fucking around with them.

---

Wow, it’s so late. Good party, though. My back and ass were still pleasantly throbbing from the feeling of canes and paddles; the bruises were going to be exciting tomorrow. Yawning, I threw my toy bag in the trunk and climbed behind the wheel, settling in for a familiar hour-long drive home.

As I pulled onto the highway I opened the can of Coke Zero I’d left for myself and turned the heat up a little. I knew I should change my clothes back in case of an emergency, but I was too tired, even on a chilly September evening. Play parties were always hot and I was still sweating when I left. Hopefully, it would just be a nice, decompressing ride until I went home to my cat and slept.

That thought went away as soon as I saw red and blue lights in my rearview mirror, soon to be followed by the dark shape of a State Trooper’s car. Maybe it’s not for me? I’m not speeding, was my hopeful thought, but it was soon followed by, no, there’s no one else on the road. I sighed and pulled over, shutting off the engine. I my overhead light on, and rolled down the window before setting my phone in the cupholder, facing its camera towards the window and pressing “record” on the video function. Once I was finished, I put my hands on the steering wheel.

The cop that appeared at my window was a little taller than me and handsome, with gray hair and a five o’clock shadow, his dark uniform barely visible in the flashing lights. He scrutinized my body, then looked at my face with eyes like sharp chips of peridot. “License, registration, proof of insurance?”

“My license is in my wallet and my registration and proof of insurance are in the glove box. May I get them?” I asked politely, keeping to my mental script for dealing with the police.

“Go ahead. Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“No, sir.” I opened my glovebox and handed over what was required, then lifted up on the seat a little for my wallet. I patted the side of my butt where it should be, but only felt shorts. Oh, no. “I’m--I’m sorry, my wallet is in my trunk. I changed clothes earlier and forgot to take it back out.”

He didn’t say anything, just looked at my registration with his flashlight. “You don’t look like a ‘Jessica’ to me.”

Cold fear gripped my stomach. “Ah, well, I’m a trans man. I haven’t been able to update my information with my new name and gender marker yet.” Nightmare stories of cops abusing other trans people flashed before my eyes.

“So your license has the same name?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I--”

He shined the flashlight in my eyes. “So you have a cunt?” He asked, weirdly matter-of-fact.

My mouth fell open. “That--that’s an incredibly inappropriate question, officer!” I sputtered and glanced at my phone, hoping it picked up.

His eyes followed mine. “You’re recording this?”

“Yes, for my own safety.”

“And if I told you to turn it off?” The cop asked, his tone a warning.

I set my jaw. “It’s my constitutional right to record this, sir,” I said, politely but firmly. My eyes swiveled to his chest for his name and badge number. A chill ran over me when I realized he had taken his badge off.

He tossed my papers through the window and took a step back. “Out of the car,” he said, a cold order.

Heart pounding, I unbuckled the seatbelt and slowly opened the door, stepping outside. I immediately began to shiver and started crossing my arms to keep warm, but the cop shook his head and gestured for me to put my arms back down.

“What does that mean?” he pointed to my tank top with his flashlight.

My cheeks heated up. I should’ve changed my clothes back! Then I wouldn't be standing here freezing in mesh shorts and a “Bruises Are Beautiful” shirt! I cleared my throat. “I was at a party.”

He smiled; in the flashing red-blue lights, it made him look demonic. “What kind of party?” he pressed.

I took a deep breath. “Adult kinky consensual play with other consenting adults,” I said, reciting what a kink-friendly lawyer had advised me to say to the police.

“Up against the car. Turn around, legs spread, hands on the top of the car.”

I did as I was told, praying that my phone could at least hear what was going in, even if it couldn’t see it. The cold glass of my back window instantly sank through my shirt, making my nipples hard and my face even hotter. It was one thing to have people see me like that at the party, but entirely another thing to have a terrifying cop notice, which I hoped he didn’t.

“Do you have anything on you I should be worried about?” he asked, his hand running over my back. His words were clipped, professional, and I found it more comforting than if he was leering. He lifted the edges of my shirt and shook it out before letting it fall back against my body.

“No, sir.” I barely had any clothing on, honestly.

The cop's hands ran over my ass, and I jumped when I felt his thumbs swiping inside the edges of my shorts. Before I could really register it, he’d already moved on to the outsides of my legs.

Is this standard patdown procedure? I asked myself dubiously, making a mental note to contact that lawyer when I got home.

“Step out of your sandals.”

I did what I was told, hating the height I lost by being flat on the ground.

He lifted my feet and probably found nothing but the dirt I was standing on, then ran his hands up my legs slowly. I could feel him standing as he did so, then pressing closer into me as his touch moved to my inner thighs. He was hard against me when he reached between my legs and closed his hand over my groin, squeezing.

No, no, definitely not standard procedure! I reflexively grabbed the top of the car to keep from shoving him and pulled as far away as I could. His hands continued up my body.

The cop chuckled against my ear, sending a shiver through my body. “What do we have here?” he asked, his palms sliding over my chest. He rounded my nipples with his thumbs. “Are you hiding drugs? Or are you excited that I’m touching you?”

“N-no,” I stammered, squirming under the attention. He pinched both nipples, hard, and I gasped, squeezing my legs together at the sudden jolt of pleasure. “I’m just cold. Please stop.”

“I thought you liked pain,” he taunted, squeezing and rolling between the pads of his thumbs. “Or are you just upset that this is making your cunt wet?” His hard cock ground against my ass and I bit back an involuntary groan.

“Not like this!” I looked around, desperately hoping to see another car passing by, someone who might at least stop and record from their car, but the highway was still empty.

Laughing, he pulled my shirt up with one hand. “For a boy, you have nice big nipples,” he growled against my neck, twisting one of them sharply. “Bet you’d come if I bit them.”

I whimpered, but forced myself to yell, “I don’t consent to this!”, loud enough that hopefully my phone heard me.

The cop yanked my right arm behind my back, snapping handcuffs around my wrist.

“Wait, am I being detained?!” I tried to turn and face him, but he pushed me back around.

His only response was to cuff the left one as well and drag me to his car. He opened the back seat and threw me in, face-down. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

I rolled over onto my back, trying to see what he was doing through the metal and plastic grating that separated the front seats from the back, but I couldn’t see. I tried to sit up or roll onto my stomach again, but found myself slipping against the plastic seats. Panic bloomed in my chest as I struggled to turn, the strain on my shoulders burning.

When the cop returned to the car, he looked down at me and laughed. “Well, looks like you turtled yourself,” he jeered, resting a hand on the top of the car. “What should I do with you?” He smirked, eyes raking over my body.

“You should uncuff me and let me go!” All of my mental scripts for how to deal with the police evaporated. This isn’t how this was supposed to go!

Chuckling, he let his hand slide down and walked around to open the trunk of the car. He returned, twirling a nightstick lazily. “We don’t carry these anymore, but you know, the collapsable batons just aren’t as fun. They break bones too quickly.”

My mouth went dry. I planted my feet against the edge of the doorframe and shoved myself back away from him.

He grabbed me by the ankle and pulled me in closer, forcing my legs apart by pinning one against the back of the seat. He swung the nightstick against my inner thigh. “Is this the kind of pain you like, Jessica?” He asked with a grin that made my stomach sink.

“I am Ellis,” I said, my name turning into a yelp as he hit me again, and again. And again. It was the type of pain I liked, to my dismay--heavy, hard, and so close to my groin, it all went there.

The cop chuckled and rubbed the baton against me through my shorts before bringing it up again.

I wrenched out of his grasp and brought my leg up in front of me to protect me from the next hit.

I was rewarded with blinding pain in my ankle. Even over my own scream, I could hear the crack of the bone breaking, and I trailed off into a deep groan as pain washed over me, my vision going black.

A slap brought me back around. “You’re not going to do that again, are you?” the cop asked, showing his teeth in what could generously be called a smile. “You can still drive home on the other ankle if you keep that leg down.”

“Please stop,” I begged, dazed.

“Yeah?” The nightstick smashed down on my thigh again. This time, it jolted my broken bone and I screamed weakly. “What else do you have to offer me? You didn’t consent to me touching you before. You changed your mind, ‘Ellis’?”

“Just get it over with,” I said, blinking back tears.

Laughing, the cop pushed my shirt up with the end of the nightstick and climbed on top of me. “Let’s see if I was right,” he said, and sucked a nipple back to hardness before biting down. I thrashed and shoved his shoulders, but he was unmovable, tugging with his teeth before letting go, my skin red and glistening with his spit.

“I’m not going to get off no matter what you do to me,” I said, and while I meant because of the broken ankle, there was a rising sense of defiance in me. He couldn’t make my body enjoy this.

“Really. No matter what I do to you?” He gave me that sharp smile again and pulled away from me. He turned me over onto my stomach, but the relief of the weight being off of my aching shoulders was short-lived as he ripped my shorts and boxers down my legs.

“Don’t!”

“You want me to do this here, or on the road where anyone can see how wet you are from me beating you?” He asked, gesturing to the road behind us.

I put my head down and held my breath.

The hard plastic of the nightstick was against my thigh again, but this time he was running it up until it could press between my legs, pressed against my clit. He started agonizingly slow and I bit down into my hand when he sped up. “If you didn’t like this, you wouldn’t be shaking,” he taunted.

I only bit down on my hand harder. The nightstick withdrew and I sighed in relief.

My sigh was cut short by it slamming inside of me.

“What the fuck?!” I tried to pull away from him, but the furthest I could go was into the other door. I kicked at him with my good leg, but all it earned me was having it pinned against the seat. With nowhere left to go, all I could do was take the nightstick thrusting into me.

The cop pulled me back towards him by the leg, letting go of the baton. He grabbed my ass and spread it open, and I jumped at the feel of him spitting in the hole. “You want to be a man? Then I’ll fuck you like one,” he said, and I heard the sound of his zipper.

“No!” I cried as his cock rammed into my ass.

He pounded into me, hard, merciless, grabbing my hips to pull him back into me, forcing himself in as deep as possible.

I choked back tears--I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry--and buried my face in the plastic seat. Just get it over with, just get it over with, I mentally chanted, trying to focus on that and not the pain of him stretching me.

That plan ended when he reached under me and found my clit. He laughed at me when I gasped, rubbing hard with two fingers. “You fucking whore,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re soaked. You love me using you like this.” He shifted the nightstick so the end was against his body, holding it in place and not allowing me to push it out.

My teeth were in the back of my hand again, but it didn’t matter, even when I bit down hard enough to taste blood. He could still hear the sounds of my throat, and feel my hips moving as my body responded to his touch.

“You won’t get off no matter what, huh?” he mocked, his breathing harder. “I know you’re going to come. I can hear it. I can feel it. You want it so badly.” He grabbed my hair and yanked my head up, forcing me to stop biting myself. “Let’s hear you scream.”

I clenched my teeth, but he was right. Being so full, the rough rubbing against my clit, was too much for me. I cried out as I came, clamping down on both the nightstick and his cock so hard that the wave went through me and I came again, thrusting back against him and shaking.

The cop pulled out and aimed at my open mouth. I tried to spit, but he clamped my mouth shut and held my nose. “Swallow,” he ordered. “Swallow or die.”

I held out for as long as I could. I wanted to save some of it and use it to be tested, but in the end, my burning lungs forced me to swallow so I could gasp for air.

“Good.” He pulled the nightstick out and climbed backward out of the car before dragging me out after him.

My knees wobbled and I fell to the ground. “I’m…I’m going to report you,” I said. “You won’t get away with this!”

The cop laughed and undid my cuffs. “Go ahead. Report that a cop with no badge fucked you up when you already had bruises on your ass from someone else beating you. See how far that gets you. I’ll get away with this, trust me.” The cuffs went into the pouch on his belt. “You can go,” he said, as calm and professional as if he’d just done a normal traffic stop.

I wobbled to my feet and pulled up my shorts, limping to my car in a haze. As I opened my driver’s side door, I saw my phone still in the cupholder, and dove for it. The video! I’ll nail you, you bastard!

The recording had stopped, and I searched back through my videos frantically. It wasn’t there. He deleted it! Panicking, I searched through my deleted files, but it was gone from there too.

I had nothing. No video, no physical evidence, no name. He was right--he was going to get away with this.

For the rest of my hour's drive, my eyes burned with tears that wanted to fall, but I refused to let them. He’d already taken too much from me. I wouldn’t let him enjoy me crying too.

[angrythingstarlight]

Neighborly Behavior

Summary: Your new home comes with some unexpected bonuses. A small front yard, a room you can turn into an office, a hot biker named Bucky that lives next door. You’re going to love it here. 

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Future smut, 18+ only

Requested: Yes. “How did Biker Bucky and reader first meet in this fic”

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘢’𝘥, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 (𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵)

Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post any parts of my stories.  

Check out my Masterlist and Taglist! Requests are closed as I catch up.

You hate moving. For the past month, you’ve been wondering when and how did you get so much crap and how in the hell did you manage to cram it all in your small apartment. You thought the packing was horrendous but standing in the middle of your living room surrounded by stacks of boxes and bags lumped in piles, you know that it’s going to be a nightmare. 

Then you look around the space, envisioning your couch and end tables set up, pictures on the wall, the open kitchen filled with warm sunlight beaming through the large windows, you can paint your bedroom any color now, you have a room you’re going to turn into your home office, it may be small but it’s yours. 

You hate moving, but you’re so glad you did. This little town might not have much, but it has a beautiful home you can afford and your new job actually pays more. Not only that, but your boss gave you two weeks to get settled before you have to officially start.

Propping open your front door, you head over to the U-Haul in your driveway. A few more trips and you’re almost done. You’re glad because between the sun burning your bare arms and the sweat making the back of your shirt stick to you, all you want is a cold drink and a shower. 

You take the last box out of the back and double-check space to make sure you didn’t leave anything behind. Jumping up you grab the dangling black handle and pull it shut, the metal back sliding down, you flip the lock and wipe your hands on your shorts. You wrinkle your nose at the streak of dirt winding down your leg, yeah you need a nice hot long shower. 

A low rumble draws your attention to the street, a man on sleek black motorcycle peels into the driveway next door. He turns off the engine and removes his helmet. You stare as he puts it on a handlebar and runs his hand through his thick shiny locks. 

Then, his head turns to you and you see a flash of white teeth. A rush of heat floods face, averting your eyes, you give him a quick wave mumbling to yourself about getting caught ogling hot men your first day in town. Picking up the box, you balance it on your hip and walk back to your home. 

You take a second to admire it again. The two-story red brick accented by delicate green moss, the stone-carved steps lead to a dark glossy wooden porch with a built-in swing, perfect for reading at night. The lawn is bare save for the tall willow tree planted by the last owners right behind the swing; the shade guaranteed to keep you cool in the summer. 

Shaking off your embarrassment, you make mental notes of the changes you’re going to make over the next few weeks. You’re at the bottom of the steps when you hear a door slam shut. 

“Hey gorgeous,” 

Sometimes you can just tell someone is sexy from the sound of their voice. And his voice is screaming it, that certain level of confidence carrying through his deep timbre lets you know that his voice is attached to nothing but trouble. 

And when you turn around, you’re right. 

Leaning on your gate, holding your keys in his hand, is six feet of pure trouble wrapped in a leather jacket. His other hand tucked into the pocket of his black jeans, lips curved into a self-assured half-smirk surrounded by a thick beard. It’s his eyes though that has your breath faltering, those slate-blue eyes honed in you, moving down your face, his low hum making your thighs clench, his gaze drops to them peeking out of your dusty red shorts. 

Moving back up your body so slowly, undressing you piece by piece. You know, you know, you should be somewhat offended that this stranger is eye-fucking you in your own front yard but when those piercing blues settle back on your face, his dilated pupils drinking you in, his pink tongue darting out, sweeping over his bottom lip, you can barely remember your own name. 

“These belong to you?” 

Your brows furrow until he shakes your keys, the clanking snapping you out of your stupor. Clearing your throat, you nod, before you can take a step, he vaults over your fence with one smooth motion and strolls to you. 

Pure masculinity swaggering to you with every step, and the closer he gets, the more impressed you become. Not only is he handsome, but he’s also well built, thick and bulky, layers of muscles hidden under the jacket, his well-defined chest peeking through the top of his half-buttoned grey Henley. 

You hold out your hand, but he continues until he’s right in front of you, the tips of his combat boots touching your sneakers. Hints of vanilla and pine wafting off him, it takes all your willpower not to inhale him; you swallow twice before glancing up at him. 

He tilts his head to the side, those stormy blues locked on you, “All yours gorgeous” 

“Huh?” you squeak out, cringing at how high your voice is. 

“Your keys,” he smiles, pulling that bottom lip between his teeth. 

Right, you think, keys. You grab them out of his hand, hoping he doesn’t know how shaken you are. 

He does, and he likes it. He’s not even trying and you’re flustered. You have have no idea what you’re in for. 

“I’m James, gorgeous,” he says backing up, tossing over his shoulder, “everyone calls me Bucky”  

By the time he reaches your gate, you remember your name, calling it out, he stops, smirking back at you, “I already know all about you gorgeous, it’s just a matter of you getting to know me,” 

He hops back over your gate, strolling back to his house, he opens his front door, “by the way, stop over anytime you want and I’ll give you a personal tour of the town,” he pauses to look you up and down once more, “or well I’ll let you decide” 

“What just happened,” you whisper to yourself, adjusting the box before it falls down. You stumble into your house and slide down the wall, “damn” 

That night, you learn his bedroom window faces your own. 

And he doesn’t own blinds. 

Or towels.

You were putting up your curtains when his light turned out and he walked into your line-of-sight, water dripping off his muscular tatted body; the nail you were about to hammer falling to the floor. 

He’s so much bigger than you had imagined, so thick. The hammer joins the nail when he stretches his arms above his head. Oh, he’s big. 

Bucky knows you’ve been staring, in fact he’s making sure you see everything. After a few minutes he’s saunters to the window, catching your wide eyes and mouths,

“Welcome to the neighborhood, ”

->The Only Gift He Wants

[esperantoauthor]

Follower Celebration Fic!

@blaineandersimp and @porcelain-nightbird requested a BadBoy!Kurt story so here you go! Thank you to all of my lovely followers, this is for you! I hope you enjoy it!

Title: Full Service Author: Esperanto Length: 2,700 words

Summary: When Blaine's car breaks down, he finds himself being rescued by a very snarky mechanic.

Read it below the cut or on Ao3

There was a strange thunk from below followed by the insistent hum of the tire pressure warning turning on. Blaine cursed and pulled his car off the road. He took a moment to stare out into the half-darkness of the late summer evening. He wished, futilely, that the tire would just… be okay. That he could close his eyes and when he opened them, the yellow light would turn off and he could drive the rest of the way home.

When he opened his eyes, nothing had changed. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and discovered that there was no service on this particular back road. This is what he got for avoiding the highway.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hitting the wheel with the palm of his hand in frustration.

He mashed his finger against the dashboard, turning on the hazard lights, and then killed the engine.

He was seriously regretting not letting his dad teach him how to change a tire.

He took a deep breath. He needed a plan.

Lights flashed in his peripheral vision and he looked over his shoulder to see that a car was pulling up behind him.

He was pretty sure he had seen an episode of Bones that started exactly like this. But this might be his only chance at getting help. He swallowed thickly.

Someone was getting out of the car. It was large and black. He watched in his rearview mirror as the dark figure approach his car. Blaine still flinched when they rapped on the glass of the driver side window.

Letting out a shaky breath, Blaine rolled down the window.

A pale-faced boy with cold, blue eyes stared back at him. He seemed to be appraising Blaine. Taking in his mandated blazer and tie, his carefully gelled down hair. The boy smirked slightly and then rested his elbows on the frame of the open window, bringing his face even closer to Blaine’s.

“You have a flat tire.”

“I’m aware.”

“Well, that’s something at least.”

“Did you just pull over to mock me?”

“No, but I can’t deny it’s becoming an increasingly appealing temptation.”

Blaine let out a small grunt of frustration.

“What, Daddy never taught you how to change a tire?”

Blaine’s jaw dropped at how close to home this stranger had just hit.

The boy seemed to realize he had struck a nerve. Tone a modicum less harsh, the boy added, “Well mine owns a tire shop. He just locked up but lucky for you, I have the key. Why don’t we get your spare on and then you can follow me back to the shop to get a new tire put on?”

“Or you can just put the spare on and I’ll drive back to Westerville before I miss curfew,” Blaine countered. He checked his watch. If the boy could get his tire changed in the next thirty minutes he would just barely make it back to the dorm in time.

“Westerville? Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not driving all the way to Westerville on a spare tire.”

Blaine scowled.

The boy rolled his eyes. “Whatever, it’s your life. If you want to roll the dice it’s no skin off my teeth. Just don’t expect me to come bail you out a second time. Come on, pop the trunk.”

Blaine pulled the lever to release the trunk and then followed the boy around to the back of his car. Now that he was out of the vehicle, he could take in more of his strange savior’s appearance. He was dressed in black from head to toe with metal studs pressed into the cuffs of his black denim jacket and the cartilage of his ears. He was also unexpectedly, upsettingly pretty.

The boy was pulling a large metal device out of his trunk that Blaine hadn’t even been aware was in there. Then, suddenly, he began dumping the contents of Blaine’s trunk out onto the dirt.

“Hey!” Blaine shouted in protest.

The boy paused his reign of destruction and gave Blaine a scathing look.

“You’re… you can’t just put my stuff on the ground!” Blaine knew that his voice was pitching embarrassingly high but he felt suddenly vulnerable with his fate in the hands of this stranger.

“I’m sorry I don’t have an ivory pedestal upon which to put his majesty’s things,” the boy drawled.

Yep, the boy had definitely sized him up and passed his judgement already. Blaine loved his uniform but it sure did lead to a lot of assumptions.

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable not to want my personal possessions on the ground. Just… if you give me a minute I will clear out the trunk and put them in the back seat.”

The boy took a step back, palms out in resignation. “Whatever, I thought you were in a hurry, man.”

Exasperated, Blaine quickly gathered his shoes and backpack off the dirt and carefully set them into the backseat of his car. As he began shifting the rest of his items, his curiosity got the better of him.

“Why do you need me to clear out the trunk anyways?”

“Where did you think your spare tire was exactly?” he spit back.

“I… I guess I never really thought about it.”

The boy muttered something indecipherable under his breath but Blaine would have bet good money that it wasn’t complimentary.

When the trunk was cleared out, the boy pulled some invisible handle and the entire bottom of the trunk lifted up, revealing a spare tire. The boy’s eyes sparkled with triumph.

“Time to jack!” he declared.

Blaine let out an undistinguished snort.

“The car, Pretty Boy, not your dick.”

Blaine turned very red and began coughing so violently that he had to step away from the car. He could hear the boy cackling with laughter, clearly very pleased with himself.

“Alright, stop being such a prude I need you to give me a hand for a minute.”

Blaine took a deep breath in a desperate attempt to compose himself.

He crouched down next to the boy, admiring the way that the car was now a good foot off of the ground, lifted up by the large metal contraption the boy had found in Blaine’s trunk. The boy was expertly undoing the large metal bolts that attached his wheel to the car.

“Hold out your hand,” he instructed.

Blaine did as instructed and after a few more turns, the first bolt came loose. The boy set it in Blaine’s hand. “Don’t you dare lose those,” he warned.

“I’m Blaine, by the way.” They were crouching inches apart. Blaine felt like he should at least know the boy’s name.

“Huh. I’m Kurt.”

“Thank you for helping me out, Kurt. You didn’t have to do any of this. You could have just driven past me. Really, I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Kurt tutted. “Whatever. I can’t just let idiots flounder. It’s my only personality flaw.”

“Well, I guess mine is that I never learned how to change a tire.”

“Yours is worse,” Kurt said scathingly but when Blaine looked up he saw that the boy was smiling.

“Hand,” Kurt prompted as he loosened the next screw.

The tips of his fingers were warm against the palm of Blaine’s hand. It sent a shiver down his spine.

—

By the time Blaine made it back to the tire shop, darkness had fully settled over the city of Lima and his curfew was dead in the water.

Kurt switched on the lights and they turned on one at a time, until the whole shop was lit up. It was a nice shop, Blaine had to admit. Everything was well organized and gleamingly clean. Kurt looked out of place with his torn jeans and his navy blue eyeliner.

“If you don’t want to get grease on your uniform you should either stand back or put on some of those, Prep School.” Kurt pointed to a row coveralls hung on hooks.

“I told you my name, Kurt. Why do you insist on calling me stuff like that?”

“Oh so you don’t go to prep school?”

“That doesn’t answer my question!” Blaine countered, frustration beginning to rise.

Kurt narrowed his eyes and then laughed. “You’ve got me there. I don’t realize you would be so touchy about it, Blaine.”

“I’m not I just… well, maybe I am. I’m more than just a rich prep schooler with no functional skills, okay?”

“Okay. Then what are you, pray tell?” Kurt asked with a mischievous grin.

There was a loud sound as the spare tire dropped to the floor. Kurt regarded it with satisfaction and then wiped a drop of sweat from his brow, leaving a smudge of grease in its wake.

He moved the spare tire aside and then looked at Blaine expectantly.

“I… I don’t know…” It came out hushed and pathetic.

“Oh, so you’re normal. Well, that’s a relief.”

When Blaine looked at him, Kurt was actually smiling.

“Not normal enough for my dad to teach me to change a tire apparently,” he muttered to himself.

Kurt must have heard him because his eyebrows furrowed together. “What do you mean, not normal enough?”

“Oh you mean you couldn’t figure that out from one look at me? Your system might be flawed there, Kurt.” Blaine couldn’t resist the opportunity to seize the upper hand back from Kurt in this conversation.

Kurt, it transpired, was unflappable. With a shrug, he simply agreed. “Might be. Maybe I’ll plug my brain into the diagnostics computer after I make sure your car doesn’t have any other problems. So why aren’t you normal, Blaine? Besides being a rich idiot.”

“Too gay to be normal.” It came out strained despite Blaine’s best attempts to sound breezy.

“Well, that makes two of us.”

Blaine felt his eyebrows raise.

Kurt smirked in response.

“Well, I guess my dad was wrong. Being gay has nothing to do with your ability to fix cars.”

“Clearly,” Kurt said with a grin. “We have the same brand of tire as what’s on your car. Do you want me to just match the tire or did you want something cheaper?”

Blaine pulled out his wallet and frowned as he paged through the bills. "I only have fifty bucks.”

“Yeah, well that’s not going to cover a Michelin tire, my friend.”

“Can I get you the rest this weekend?” he asked, biting his lip nervously.

“You promise you’ll come back?” Kurt asked, raising a single eyebrow.

“Yes! I promise.”

“Hmm… I would need your phone number so I can harass you if you don’t show.”

“I’ll show! I may not know what I am but I know I’m reliable. And we’ve already established that I’m a rich idiot so you know I can pay. Please,” he whined, giving Kurt the full force of his puppy dog eyes.

Kurt turned slightly pink and took a step backwards. “Well, those are probably in violation of the Geneva convention or something,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely towards Blaine’s face. “Yes, fine. You’ve convinced me. Now stop making that face, for the love of God.”

Blaine grinned in triumph.

Kurt disappeared into the back room to locate Blaine’s new tire. Blaine checked his watch and realized that if he didn’t call in soon his parents were going to get a message from the school saying that he hadn’t signed back in.

Kurt reemerged, expertly rolling a large tire over the concrete floor, humming to himself. Blaine pointed to his cell phone and then stepped over to the side of the garage to call his parents.

“Look, Dad, I don’t know what you wanted me to do!”

…

“Well I couldn’t call triple A because there wasn’t any cell service!”

Blaine began to pace.

“Well, I didn’t get murdered, actually. A very nice boy is almost done changing my tire.”

…

“No, he didn’t overcharge me. And you should really reconsider giving me an emergency credit card because I didn’t even have enough cash to cover it and if he hadn’t…”

…

“Look, I’m sorry I don’t know what else you want me to say. Are you going to call Dalton or not?”

…

“Okay. Well, thank you.”

Blaine hung up and then bitterly added, “For nothing.”

He looked up to see that Kurt was openly staring. Blaine let out a sigh and put his face into his hands.

“Um, are you okay?” A hand hesitantly rested on his shoulder. Blaine looked up to see that Kurt was standing next to him now.

Blaine rubbed his eyes and then nodded. “Fine.”

“So, your dad kind of sucks, huh?”

Blaine nodded again.

“Sorry about that,” Kurt said softly.

Blaine looked at him in surprise.

“What? I’m not a complete asshole. Just like… most of the time. Besides, I’ve heard gay guys love assholes so…”

A fit of laughter overtook Blaine. It was loud and uncontrolled. After a moment of stunned silence, Kurt joined in. They cackled and guffawed until they could barely hold themselves upright. Blaine laughed so hard he had to wipe tears from his cheeks, or maybe the tears were from something else, but the release felt good regardless. Blaine had to lean against the wall to stop himself from collapsing and Kurt had to lean against Blaine for the same reason. Kurt dipped, nearly falling over, but Blaine managed to wrap and arm around his waist fast enough to keep him upright.

“Woah, there!” he said, still cackling.

For some reason, that only made Kurt laugh even harder. He clutched at Blaine’s blazer and pressed his face into his chest to muffle the laughter. Blaine felt his whole body grow warm. He didn’t drop the arm that was around Kurt’s waist.

Kurt lifted his head and suddenly they were nose to nose.

Blaine realized neither of them was laughing any more.

He felt the warm breath from Kurt’s exhalations on his cheek. Kurt smelled like honey. Blaine reached up and wiped the smudge of grease from the side of his cheek. Kurt let out a barely perceptible gasp.

“If I kiss you will you still pay me for the tire?” Kurt whispered.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to?” Kurt whispered again.

“Yes.”

The wall was pushing into his back and his hand was somehow on Kurt’s neck now and then hot, warm, wet. Blaine groaned into the kiss, pulling Kurt’s face closer, still not remembering how exactly he came to be pressed up against the wall but very glad that he was. He felt like his whole body was melting and if not for the insistent pressure of Kurt keeping him upright against the wall, he would be goo on the floor right now.

Kurt wrapped one of his legs around Blaine’s and holy fucking shit Blaine had to grab the back of his thigh to keep him from falling over. Once they were stabilized, Blaine felt himself sink back into the kiss, letting Kurt be in control. Letting himself be pressed into the wall by Kurt’s firm chest and insistent hands.

Kurt’s tongue brushed against his and he felt his knees actually start to go weak.

Then suddenly he could breathe again, ragged gasping breaths. Kurt didn’t sound any better.

The stared at each other in silence.

“Wow, the sign wasn’t kidding about full-service,” Blaine joked.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Please, the rest of our customers wish they were so lucky.”

“Oh, so you mean you don’t make-out with all of your customers?”

“Considering that most of them are over the age of forty, consider us both relieved.”

Blaine let out a reluctant sigh. “I really do need to get home. My dad’s only going to get madder the later I make it back, and he’s already pretty furious.”

“Well, I’ll see you next weekend then.”

“Kurt, are you asking me out on a date?”

“What? No, I… you said you would be back to pay for the tire, so I just…”

“Too bad,” Blaine replied with a wicked smile. He scooped his keys up off the table, leaving Kurt utterly gobsmacked. He hopped into his car and started the engine.

Kurt rapped on the window of his car. Blaine cooperated and rolled down the window.

“You are very frustrating, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Sure, my parents tell me that every day.”

Kurt looked sad for a moment. Then his smile returned and he reached through the window to put his hand on top of Blaine’s on the wheel.

“You know, you can pay me back for the tire anywhere. It doesn’t have to be here.”

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”

“Breadstix? 10am? They have all-you-can-eat pancakes.”

Blaine grinned.

“It’s a date.”

[immabethehero]

Marvin’s MegaBirthday Story

Guess who made a Megamind AU with Marvin as the title character?

Here’s a quick list of characters so you won’t get confused about who’s who:

Marvin, The Malevolent Magician - Megamind

Dr. Schneeplestein, the Doctor - Minion, but human

The Brighton Shepherd - Metro Man

Jackieboy Man, the Red Marauder - Sidekick to the Shepherd, original role of sorts

Chase Brody, news reporter - Roxanne Ritchi

Anthony/Anti - Hal Stewart, without the creepy simping

CW: Police brutality, hints of starvation, strangulation and mentions of electrocution

It was a glorious day in Brighton City. Even the weather seemed aware of it as the sun shone down brightly on the silver skyscrapers and the brand new museum built into the city square.

 To celebrate the city’s greatest superhero, the grand, new museum had been dedicated to the city’s greatest hero: The Brighton Shepherd. In between the two buildings was a giant curtain, hiding a 55 foot statue for the superhero.

Reporters came to the site as early as 6 am before the crowds could roll in. Among them was the up-and-coming journalist, Chase Brody, who ran the news vlog: “Just Your Average Report”. Wearing a brand new grey and white suit to honour the Shepherd’s signature colour, Chase did vocal warm-ups while his cameraman, Anthony, set up the equipment. Unlike Chase, who had dressed handsomely for the occasion, Anthony simply wore a graphic t-shirt and a fishing vest with blue jeans. Chase tried not to let that get to him. In all the fifteen months he’d known Anthony, Chase had never seen the man wear anything other than graphic tees and the fishing vest. Today obviously wasn’t much different to Anthony.

“We’re on!” Anthony said. Chase held up his microphone in time for the camera light to turn red; he exclaimed, “Happy Brighton Shepherd Day, Brighton City! It’s a beautiful day in our  beautiful downtown, where we’re here to honour a beautiful man: The Brighton Shepherd. His heart is as big as an ocean that’s inside a bigger ocean. For years, he’s been watching us with his super-vision, saving us with his super strength, and caring for us with his super heart. Now, it’s our turn to give something back! This is Chase Brody, reporting live from the dedication of the Brighton Shepherd Museum.”

Chase signaled to Anthony, who snorted as he turned the camera off.

“Damn, the stuff the producers make you read nowadays is incredibly cheesy. Have you considered writing your own stuff?”

“I have. That was one of my pieces,” Chase said with a grin. He reveled in Anthony’s look of horror.

“I mean… I can’t believe that in our modern day society, they let… actual art get onto the news,” Anthony stammered out.

“Nice save, Anthony.”

“Cool. Can we go get a coffee now?”

“Come on, it’s time to get into the Brighton Shepherd Day spirit!” Chase said, nudging his coworker.

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Please. If the Brighton Shepherd really was all that great, he’d be able to properly protect you from the Malevolent and his crazy Doctor. For someone who gets kidnapped and rescued all the time, you sure don’t have good security.”

Chase sighed. This debate again. “I mean, it’s good for my channel! I get to film bits and pieces of the Malevolent’s laboratory! Great publicity.”

“You take too many chances with that man, I swear. What happens if the Malevolent snaps and gets violent with you? The Shepherd and his sidekick won’t be there to protect you. You could die, Chase.”

“The Malevolent won’t hurt me. If he truly wanted to, he would have done so the first time he kidnapped me,” Chase snapped. “If anything, he just wants me for more publicity. I am a popular news source.”

“Yeah? Well, they don’t always strike at first sight, Lois Lane. The dude might be waiting for the perfect moment to torture you,” Anthony continued. “I mean, even if he doesn’t invent the machines, his sidekick is smart enough to make them! I swear that man has seen some stuff and wants to inflict it on the city.”

“The Malevolent and Doctor never want to torture. Their machines may look scary at first, but they’re useless. They only want to scare.”

Anthony began loading up the truck. “You’re too trusting.The Malevolent Magician has the power to mutilate and kill in ways your “friendship-is-magic” brain could never comprehend. The Doctor is no better. They’re both just waiting to strike. Once they do, the Shepherd’s presence won’t feel so reassuring, hm?”

Anthony had his back turned long enough for Chase to feel a cold presence beside him. The smell of gas flooded his senses. The reporter turned to hear a window roll down, though he didn’t see a car. Odd.

Instead a white plague doctor mask glared back at him. Chase groaned. Here he thought he might be able to avoid being kidnapped and used as leverage by the Malevolent Magician. Apparently not! The Malevolent’s sidekick, simply known as the Doctor, was here to claim his damsel in distress. 

The Doctor raised a spray bottle and squirted it directly in Chase’s face. Chase barely had time to scream as a sudden drowsiness overtook him and the whole world went dark.

*

Step one was complete. The annoying vlogger was in the back of the van. With that accomplished, it was time to pick up the villain. Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein, known to the city as the sidekick to the Malevolent Magician, drove through the busy town square and out of the main city.

The prison where the Malevolent lay was outside of town in a secluded location, or rather, in the middle of the highway leading into the city. Despite its odd location, the security was incredible. 200 security officers patrolled the site, with at least three officers supervising a special room under intense lock and key. The Malevolent himself was usually locked in large chains that only unlocked at certain times, or if Mal had behaved himself for a certain amount of time.

Schneep arrived to see the prison in chaos. Sirens blared loud enough to burst a person’s eardrums while police ran into the grey building, yelling to each other and pulling out their guns.

Amid all the chaos stood a man with a thick white moustache, standing in front of the large electrical gates, The man held up his wrist enough for Schneep to spy a silver watch on his wrist and sighed in relief. The watch had worked.

“Well, hello, good looking. Need a ride?” Schneep said, opening the door.

“Always, my dear doctor!” the man said as he hopped in. He slammed the door closed as Schneep slammed his foot on the gas and flew off.

The man twisted the watch’s case and transformed back into Malevolent. The supervillain turned to Schneep with an evil grin. “Nice job sending me the watch, Doctor! Let’s ride!”

“As you wish, my Wickedness!” Schneep yelled.

The maltreatment Mal received from the prison was not lost on the doctor. His sharp cheekbones were grimy and more pronounced, and his wrists were almost skeletal. Dark shadows hung below his eyes, and it was not from eyeliner. Schneep held back a sad sigh. Thank goodness he left a snack for Mal when they returned to the evil lair. That part could be solved.

*

Back at Brighton City Square, the show was ready to begin. As city officials made their speeches, two superheroes waited behind a painted brick wall to make an entrance.

The illustrious Brighton Shepherd fixed his mask and combed his dark brown hair back. Beside him was his sidekick: the Red Marauder, clad in red, green, and blue leather. Marauder kept peeking behind the wall.

“Malevolent is safe behind bars as of right now, you can relax, Jackie,” Shepherd said, rubbing his protégé’s back.

“I can’t find Chase!” Marauder whispered back. “I’ve scanned the crowds three times and there’s no sign of his face.”

“Perhaps he’s stuck in traffic?” Shepherd said, smoothing out the creases in Marauder’s blue cape. His sidekick really needed to learn how to take care of himself.

“He would have sent me a text if that had happened,” Marauder said with a sigh.

“Went for a cup of coffee with Anthony?”

Marauder turned to the crowd. “Anthony is currently eating a donut by one of the food vendors. I think Malevolent and the Doctor kidnapped Chase again!” His eyes filled with tears.

The Shepherd sighed and put a hand on Marauder’s shoulder. “Okay, when the mayor does her speech, we’ll do a quick speedrun through town. He can’t be far. Don’t worry, we’ll get him back.”

Marauder nodded, blinking back tears. No time to cry when there’s a battle.

“Shepherd? It’s time,” an employee whispered. The Brighton Shepherd cracked his neck.

“Show time, baby.” He punched the painted brick wall concealing him, creating a perfect hole. “Alright, put your hands in the air!” he yelled to the crowd.

*

The lair lit up as the car entered and parked in its appointed place. Marvin threw the door open and breathed in the familiar smell of the evil, abandoned, Monster Munch snack factory. A long time ago, it smelled of moldy cheese puffs and rat manure, but now it smelled of malevolence, metal, and a whole lot of cologne.

No matter how many times he arrived, the sweet scent always relaxed the supervillain after a hard day in jail or fighting the Shepherd. “Oh Doc, there’s no place like our evil lair!”

“I’ve kept it cold and damp, just the way you like it!” Schneep said, hauling the sleeping Chase out of the car.

A swarm of tiny robots flew over to Marvin, their engines whirring with delight. The model was a small purple circle with four robotic legs that could grip and lift up to 1,000 pounds. Of course, each had cat ears attached to the sides of their heads and a cat tail at the back. The CATs,  Marvin had fondly called them. Their singular glowing yellow eyes in the center of their body looked up at their darling master.

“The CATs have certainly missed you, sir!” Schneep exclaimed.

Marvin bent down to caress their smooth heads. “Did you miss your daddy? Who’s a menacing little android? You are, yes, you are!”

One CAT held up a ball of twine. Marvin grabbed it and tossed it across the lair, the CATs trailing after it.

Two older models of the CATs held up a curtain while two others held up Marvin’s new suit. Marvin gratefully ripped off the ugly bluish-grey prison rags and changed into his white button-up, black dress pants, and sparkly purple vest. A CAT draped his famous black cloak with magenta lining around his shoulders while another handed him his beautiful cat mask with the magician’s card designs drawn on. He happily donned the mask with pride and stepped out.

“How do I look, Doctor? Do I look evil?” Marvin asked, spinning.

“Horrifyingly striking, sir,” Schneep said. He opened a small gate to an elevator platform, “Shall we?”

At the top, Schneep set Chase down on a chair while Marvin checked all the monitors and buttons.

“Everything ready?”

“Of course! I would never leave anything unchecked before a big event!” Schneep said. Beside the doctor, Chase began to stir, grunting and yelling muffled by the bag.

“He’s awake! Quick everyone, places!” Marvin ordered. He jumped onto his chair and motioned a small CAT to lie down in his lap while he fixed his hair once more.

Schneep ripped the bag off of Chase’s head as Marvin twirled his chair around, menacingly stroking the CAT. “Mr. Brody, we meet again.”

“Would it kill you to wash the bag?” Chase complained, “it fucking stinks and the spray bottle is no better!”

“You can scream all you want, Brody, I’m afraid no one can hear you!” Malevolent announced. Chase remained stone-faced.

Marvin frowned. “Why isn’t he screaming?”

Schneep sighed exasperatedly and bent down next to Chase, “Mr. Brody, if you don’t mind-”

“Screaming sounds a lot like this: aaaahhhhh!” Malevolent demonstrated. “I mean, that’s a poor example but-”

The CAT sitting on his lap bit his hand. Malevolent emitted a high-pitched shriek as he tried to shake the little robot off.

“Not to sound like a sadist but it’s more fun when you do it,” Chase deadpanned.

“Very funny,” the Doctor snapped. “You’ll be singing a different tune when the Brighton Shepherd is defeated right before your eyes!”

Ignoring both of them, Chase decided to examine the observatory, the usual spot for Malevolent and Shepherd’s battles. Most of it was the usual, a long control booth circling the room, full of buttons and levers that would release death traps, lasers, and other lame inventions. Above the panel were monitors of different sizes. On one side of the elevator was a broken vending machine where Doctor grabbed his sleeping spray, while on the other side was a strange metal sphere with axes and spikes sticking out of it (Chase asked and even Malevolent had no idea what it was).

“Speaking of watching, do you have your camera set up?” Malevolent asked, finally yanking off the biting CAT.

“Yup! It’s in the pin this time! Anthony helped me set it up!” Chase puffed his chest out to show it off.

Malevolent ran a hand through his thick black hair and twirled around, letting his cape fly in the wind.

“So guys, what’s on the menu for today? Robosheep? Typhoon cheese? A big ball of aluminum that will roll around town?” Chase asked.

Behind his plague doctor mask, Schneeplestein grinned. It was his time to shine! “Actually, we created a cool ray that uses the sun to make explosive lasers, wanna see?!” He excitedly rushed over to the main control booth and began typing in the passcode to turn it on.

Marvin yelped and pulled Schneep away from the booth, “Easy there, Doc, we’ll show it in time!”

“Brody wanted to see it!” Schneep protested. “It’s not like it would hurt, would it?”

“Think, Doctor! He’s using his nosy reporter skills to find out all our secrets!” Malevolent accused, snarling at Chase.

Chase rolled his eyes, chuckling. These two could be quite entertaining. “What secrets?! You’re so predictable!”

“Oh, that’s the insult for today?! Tell me, my dear Brody, would you call this predictable?” Marvin pulled down a lever and the floor around Chase opened up.

“Your alligators, yes!” Chase nodded in greeting to the snapping reptiles. “Yeah, I was just thinking about these guys on the way over!”

Truth be told, Chase was dreaming of riding a large parrot to Disney World while in the car. But Malevolent didn’t need to know that.

Marvin turned back to the panel. How dare Chase see through his armour?! He quickly slammed a button. “What about this?”

A sharp razor painted blood red danced in Chase’s face. “That’s kind of tacky.”

Marvin punched another button and a junky invention of multiple chainsaws attached to the ceiling lowered down. The chainsaws had gotten their chains stuck to each other and could barely move. Chase pretended to contemplate it. ��Mm, juvenile.”

Marvin pulled another lever. “What about this?!”

A giant fart gun shot green gas out. Chase gagged. “Gross and immature!”

“What’s this one do?!” A weak fire machine coughed out small bits of fire.

“That’s just sad,” Chase said. He looked up and nearly jumped out of his seat. A small spider floated downwards. “Is the spider new?”

Marvin turned to Schneeplestein, who merely shrugged. When this was all over, Marvin was going to give him a stern talking to about bug extermination in the lair.

“Ah yes, the spe-dair-a,” Marvin whispered as he advanced closer to Chase. “Even the smallest bite from Arachnis Deathicus will instantly paralyze-”

Chase blew the spider onto Marvin’s cheek, causing him to scream again. Schneep punched him hard enough to knock him over.

“GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!!!! IT BIT MEEEEE!!!” Marvin screamed as Schneep continually smacked him with a newspaper. The spider fell off of Marvin’s cheek and began advancing to the control panel.

“STOP IT BEFORE IT DISAPPEARS!” Marvin howled as he crawled away from the disgusting creature.

After five minutes of Marvin’s dramatic wails and crawling and Schneep swearing like a sailor, Chase finally put an end to the spider’s life by stomping on it when it got close enough.

Marvin crawled over to Chase and grovelled at his bound feet. “Thank you, you are a lifesaver!” He suddenly spied the pin. “Is that still on?”

Chase smiled smugly, “I’ll burn the evidence if you let me go and we’ll never speak of it again.”

Marvin stood up, scowling, “Absolutely not! We haven’t even gotten to the fun part! Let’s pay your boyfriend and godfather a visit, shall we?”

*

Back at the town square, the mayor had finished up her rather short speech, “It is with great pleasure that I present Brighton Shepherd to his new museum! When you’re ready!”

Shepherd’s laser eyes cut the rope and the great curtains fell, revealing the giant statue of the superhero. A brass band played loudly over the sound of a cheering crowd.

Jackie applauded happily for his mentor, but couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous. In all fairness, the Shepherd had been around longer than he had, and he was still familiarizing himself with the city.

A sudden chill running up his arms woke Jackie from his thoughts. He looked up and gasped. Dark clouds quickly enveloped the museum. People shrieked in terror as a big, black blimp hovered above the great building, rolling down two large projection screens underneath. Once positioned on each side of the magnificent statue, a small circular robot holding a camera turned the screens on, showing the face of the one to blame for the chaos: the Malevolent.

The Brighton Shepherd and the Red Marauder flew up, Shepherd holding up a microphone.

“If it isn’t the Malevolent!”

“Bravo, Brighton Shepherd! Congratulations on your new museum!” Malevolent drawled, clapping slowly.

The crowd began to boo loudly. Malevolent blew a raspberry at the crowd, “So immature!” he scoffed.

“Should have known you’d try and crash the party!” Shepherd said.

“Oh, I intend to do more than crash it! This will be a historic day you, and Brighton City, will not soon forget!”

“We all know how this ends!” Shepherd said. “With you behind bars!”

“Ooh, I tremble in my kitten-skinned cape,” Malevolent hissed, playfully wrapping himself up in his cape. The cape was actually made from cotton, but the city didn’t need to know that.

“What do you want with us, Mal?” Shepherd demanded.

“First off, don’t call me ‘Mal’,” Malevolent snapped. “Secondly, if you and your tomato sidekick don’t leave town in an hour, then this will be the last you ever hear of Chase Brody!” Malevolent punched a button and the left screen presented the kidnapped Chase tied to a chair.

“I knew it!” Jackie muttered behind his mask.

“Don’t panic Chase! We’re on our way!” Shepherd cried out, earning a cheer from the crowd.

“I’m not panicking!” Chase responded, smiling.

Malevolent pretended to gag. “Oh, please. You have to find us first before you save Chase.”

“We’re at the abandoned observatory!” Chase quickly called out.

Malevolent suddenly turned off Chase’s camera, yelping, “WAIT DON’T TO LISTEN TO HIM-”

It was too late. Shepherd and Marauder were already flying above the dark grey smoke. Shepherd quickly spotted the broken down space observatory near the dangerous part of Brighton City beach and pointed it to Marauder. The two began their flight.

Back at the lair, Schneep watched the superheroes from his monitor. “Shepherd and Marauder approaching, sir!”

Marvin turned to Chase, who shot him a smug grin. Marvin only smiled in return.

“Like we said, you’ll be singing a different tune when you see what we have planned!”

The Shepherd would almost be here. Chase closed his eyes and ducked his head for the inevitable ceiling crash.

Shepherd and Marauder flew through the opening of the observatory and landed. Or rather, Shepherd landed gracefully on his feet while Marauder tripped and fell over. Behind them, the heavy doors slid shut.

Shepherd looked around. The place was quiet and eerily empty. No sound of any cat-bots. No evil laughter from the Malevolent.

“Something’s wrong…” Shepherd muttered. He turned to the doors. Were they locked in?! He ran over to check.

Puzzled, Chase looked up. Where were they?

Malevolent reveled in Brody’s confused expression. He fiddled with the control panel, opening up one of the walls.

“You didn’t think we were in the real observatory… did you?!”

Chase could stare in horror as he spotted the real observatory. He couldn’t believe it. He had led the two superheroes right into a trap.

Malevolent laughed triumphantly. “Ready the Death Ray, Doctor!”

Doctor typed in the passcode and pulled the lever down. “Death Ray ready-ing!”

In the real abandoned observatory, Shepherd and Marauder desperately tried to get the doors open.

“I can’t believe Malevolent actually tricked us! How did he seal the doors?!” Marauder moaned.

“Don’t worry Red, we’ll find a way out,” Shepherd said, smiling.

“Over here, boys,” a voice like ice called out. The superheroes turned to see a large projection of Malevolent smiling down on them.

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve fallen right into my trap!” Malevolent boasted.

The Shepherd motioned Marauder to find an escape before turning to Malevolent. “You can’t trap justice! It’s an idea! A belief!”

“Well sometimes the most heartfelt belief can be corroded over time!” Malevolent responded.

“Justice is a non-corrosive metal!”

“Then I will just melt it with the heat of revenge!”

“FYI, revenge is best served cold!” Shepherd corrected him. From the side, Marauder shook his head. As much as he respected his mentor and feared Malevolent, their “witty back-and-forth banter” was lame.

“It can easily be reheated in the microwave of evil! Don’t doubt me!” Malevolent snarled.

“Well I think your warranty is about to expire!” Shepherd declared.

“Fuck you, I have an extended warranty!” Malevolent retaliated.

“Language, my dear sir! And warranties are invalid if you don’t use the product for its intended purpose!” Shepherd roared.

“OH! Girls, girls, you’re both pretty!” Chase yelled from his seat. He turned to Malevolent, exasperated, “My whole body is sore. Can I just go home now?!”

Malevolent turned around to throw an empty can of Cola at Chase. It bonked off the side of his head.

“You’ll just have to wait, dear Brody! Your beloved superheroes first must prove if they can escape the inevitable power of the sun! Fire!”

Marauder conjured a shield for himself and Shepherd. When the Shepherd made no move to protect himself, Marauder realized nothing was coming. What happened?

Meanwhile, Marvin approached Schneep and the machine. Schneep learned against the panel, snoring softly. Marvin poked him, “Doctor, wake up!”

Schneep startled, “Oh! Sorry!” He turned to the machine, “The machine is still warming up. I expect we have a few more minutes before it fires.”

Marvin’s face turned as red as Marauder’s suit. “Warming up?! The sun is warming up?!”

Chase started laughing, “The sore arms and legs are definitely worth this riot. Just you wait, the Shepherd and Marauder will be on you in min-”

Malevolent tossed another empty can at Chase. Chase immediately shut up. “That’s better.”

“Don’t worry Chase, we’re on our way!” Marauder yelled from the monitor.

Malevolent stomped over to the camera, “Get here faster, I’m this close to throwing his stupid ass off the balcony!”

This caused Marauder to flip. “Hang in there Chase, I’m coming!” He rocketed up to fly out, only to crash into the ceiling and fall back down unceremoniously.

“Marauder, we’ve talked about this! You need to think before you do anything!” Shepherd lightly scolded. “Now, what do we have that can create a hole in the wall?”

“This whole day is a mess…” Doctor muttered from his spot at the panel.

“I’m sorry, whose side are you on?!” Malevolent demanded.

“The losing side!” Chase interjected.

“Everybody shut up,” Malevolent ordered. He sighed, rubbing his temples. “You know what? I need to take a nap. Call me when the ray is ready!”

“The ray is ready!” Doctor announced. In seconds a bright beam of yellow flew down, destroying the observatory in seconds. Fire and burning metal fell out of the demolished observatory, some of it flying directly towards the lair.

Malevolent quickly waved his hands in a circular motion, muttering. A shimmering purple bubble wrapped around Doctor and Chase. As debris rained down, Malevolent deflected them with bursts of purple fireworks. Chase watched in amazement, gaping.

“I keep forgetting he can do magic...” Chase muttered. “He uses so much technology instead.”

Doctor laughed, “Well, he’s not called the Magician for nothing.”

When the commotion calmed down and the debris stopped coming, Marvin twirled around, blowing a stray hair out his eye. The bright glow of the burning observatory behind the magician outlined his epic form. “Did your camera get that, Brody?”

Two more pieces of falling debris gracelessly smashed into Marvin. Chase happily squealed upon seeing the dusty forms of the Brighton Shepherd and the Red Marauder.

“I… should have seen that coming,” Marvin squeaked. “How did you escape so fast?”

“Laser eyes are a wonderful thing!” Marauder answered, giving Marvin a playful wink as he stood up. Marvin stuck his tongue out.

“The gig is up, Mal. We’re taking you back to jail, where you belong!” Shepherd declared. Marvin sighed and slammed his head down on the floor. Naturally, he lost. Again.

Schneep’s distressed cries snapped Marvin back to attention. He turned to his head to see Marauder on top of a struggling Schneep. Schneep’s whimpers and half-sobs were lost on Marauder, who continued tying his wrists behind him.

“Might as well send the Malevolent’s accomplice to jail as well! That way he won’t escape again!” the sidekick reasoned.

Something in Marvin snapped. “NO!” he screamed, startling the Shepherd. With his nemesis off his back, Marvin set his eyes on Brody and magically put the reporter in a choke hold.

Chase gasped raggedly as the air left his lungs.

Marvin whirled around to face Marauder, growling, “Let the doctor go!”

“Get your hands off Chase!” Marauder yelped, staring helplessly at his struggling brother.

“First, free the doctor!” Marvin shouted. He tightened his grip on Chase, lifting him out of the chair.

“Put Chase down!” Marauder roared, eyes glowing red.

Chase wheezed pathetically, black spots darting in his vision. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He let out a strangled sob, tears falling. In all his time with Malevolent… he had never felt so scared.

Jackie’s eyes lost their glow and he loosened his grip on the Doctor. Underneath him, the Doctor moaned in pain.

“Let him go, Red.” Jackie turned to Shepherd in shock. The usually optimistic and brightly-smiling superhero had a grim expression on his face. Jackie spluttered.

“B- but- The Doctor will just free the Malevolent again! We could stop them both once and for all-”

“You heard me. Let him go,” Shepherd ordered. Reluctantly, Jackie stood up and backed away from the Doctor. The shaking man took no time running to the stairs and quickly disappearing.

Marvin waited until Schneep’s footsteps faded away before releasing Chase, gently laying him down. Chase gulped in tearful breaths, his body trembling. Marauder rushed over to free Chase while Shepherd tied the magician’s hands behind him.

The minute his hands were free, Chase threw his arms around Jackie. Jackie gently hugged him.

“Are you okay?” Jackie whispered. Chase nodded, still gasping.

“I’ll take Malevolent to jail,” the Shepherd said. “You get Chase to a hospital!” He took off, Malevolent dangling in his arms. The magician waved goodbye as he and the Shepherd disappeared into the city.

Jackie picked up Chase bridal style and started flying as well.

He kept the flight light and steady to keep Chase from getting sick. Chase buried his head in Jackie’s shoulder for most of the trip, eyes squeezed shut. He hated heights.

As they arrived at the hospital, a medical team waited outside to take Chase in. After the first few kidnappings, a special team offered to dedicate themselves to healing Chase in case he needed it.

“Ja-Jackie?” Chase stuttered. Jackie looked down at his almost unconscious friend.

“Ma-Make sure th-this doesn’t reach An-Anthony, oh-ok?” Chase begged between gasps.

Jackie nodded, confused. “Alright… I won’t tell him.”

*

The cell stunk. No one here ever bothered to put an air freshener in his jail cell, despite Marvin’s numerous polite requests to have it put in. According to the security guards, the Malevolent “could use it as a weapon” or a “gas bomb”. Please.

Marvin sighed as best as he could. As if to enact revenge for strangling Chase, the security staff had clamped an even smaller chain around his neck, making it hard to breathe. Or move. Or do anything. The rest of his body wasn’t much better, with a larger chain wrapped around his waist and movement sensory chains bruising his wrists. If he tried using any magic, the chains on his wrist would shock him. After today, electrocution was the last thing Marvin needed.

Marvin looked up to check the premises. After checking to make sure the guards were gone, Marvin snapped his fingers, careful not to move his wrists too much. Immediately, the chains loosened, allowing Marvin to take a shuddering gasp. He knew the minute he heard the guards coming to check on him, he had to tighten them again, so he took advantage of the situation.

At least the Doctor was free. He wasn’t being made to sit in a stinky, small cell, wrapped in large chains that threatened to strangle him at any moment. He was free to relax after a hard day, planning for the next breakout. For now, Schneep could rest.

Marvin leaned back against his chair, closing his eyes. Schneeplestein would help him escape again. For now, the magician himself will think of another plan to get back at the Brighton Shepherd.

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

@graysun, @florenceisfalling, @miishae, @lonelyseiren, @goldenoceanaart, @oasisofgalaxies, @fleecal, @kofi-kiing, @myspatialspace, @jo-ann-ahh-2, @huffletrax, @indic0lite, @dumbasticart, @lunaarmada, @meteorshowersfillthesky, @uhhbeans,  @the-pastel-kitsune, @ptide  @climbing-starrs, @the-spawn-of-loki, @jadehowlettthewolf, @obsidiancreates, @rammypaige, @cest-mellow, @randowaffle, @green-protects, @dezi-popp, @badlypostedeverything, @crystalninjaphoenix, @milokno, @pixelpixie-pix, @why-killed-markiplier

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Eight

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: happy year of nessian everybody!!

***

Nesta’s glasses are on her nightstand when she wakes. Blinking blearily, she slips them on and props herself up in bed, dazed and confused. A glance at the alarm clock tells her it’s five in the morning.

How did she get here? How long has she been asleep? Reaching over to click her lamp on, her eyes tear up at the sudden stream of light. Looking around wildly, her gaze catches on something on the wall across from her bed.

It’s a painting of a shimmering autumnal forest, hung up neatly as if it’s always been there. Slowly, memories of the night before begin to seep back in.

There was a festival. A warm day that became freezing and ugly when she lost sight of Cassian, and her glasses—

Her hands reach up to touch her intact glasses. They were broken, and then there was a blur of consciousness that only became clear once again when she found Cassian—

Oh, god. Cassian. She remembers now.

But it must have been a dream. Her glasses are fine and her painting is right here, as if the anxiety of last night was all in Nesta’s head.

She pulls her glasses off, only to find brand new wiring staring back at her. Someone has carefully wired the bridge of her spectacles back together and given the whole thing a much needed polish, leaving them looking the same but different.

Slowly, she puts them back on.

It’s way too early to think about this. Kicking the covers off, Nesta realizes she’s in the same clothes she fell asleep in. When it registers that Cassian was the one who carried her up to bed, pulled her coat and boots off, and tucked her in neatly, she almost falls back into the pillows and stays there. Instead, she hurriedly changes out of her jeans and into flannel pants, hoping an early breakfast will allow her to forget the night before.

Not that she wants to forget it. She’d just— rather save those thoughts for later, when the reality of it isn't pressed up so close to her. Because really, what happened last night came straight out of her extensively detailed daydreams. She doesn’t know what to do with the fact that it wasn’t a daydream.

Padding downstairs, Nesta freezes at the entryway to the kitchen when she realizes the light over the island is on. Under the warm glow, Cassian is asleep at the marble counter, his head pillowed by his arms. An open laptop and a cold mug of half-finished coffee sits in front of him.

This isn’t good, Nesta thinks. This is the reality she's supposed to be avoiding right now.

And yet— he looks so soft, so tired. Maybe if she’s really quiet…

She slams her toe into a barstool halfway into the kitchen. Grabbing her foot and hissing, she looks up at the ceiling and curses everything that ever was. Across from her, Cassian’s body jerks, and then he’s wide awake.

“Nesta?” he blinks sleepily when he notices her. One side of his face is red from where he fell asleep on his arms. “What are you doing here?”

Nesta quickly straightens. “I could ask the same of you.”

Cassian finally looks around, taking notice of where he is. “Right,” he mutters to himself. “I was supposed to be working.”

Nesta frowns at him. “You shouldn’t pull all-nighters. Go sleep in your room.”

“Actually…” Cassian is looking at Nesta as if he’s seeing her for the first time. “I was wondering if we could talk—”

The excuse blurts out at his words: “I need to pee.” Before he can say anything else, Nesta is legging it to the hall bathroom and slamming the door behind her.

Breathing out a sigh, she slides down the wall to the floor and pulls her legs to her chest. So much for getting breakfast.

Cassian doesn’t try coming after her or knocking on the door, thank god. She stays in the bathroom until she’s positive that he’s gone back upstairs, and only then does she take the time to consider what a fucking weirdo she’s being— weirder than usual, that is. And it’s all because of him.

With the last couple of months she’s had, Nesta would think that she’s gotten better at adjusting to changes in her thorough plans. But the possibility of allowing romance back into her life is so far out of the scope of her imagination, she doesn’t know what to do with it. After all, Tomas was a fluke gone colossally wrong. Where could Cassian possibly fit into her loveless story?

Nesta chews on a nail. She needs help.

***

Cassian doesn’t try to bring up their kiss again after the incident in the kitchen. Things return to normal between them, to the point where Nesta questions if that night at the festival even happened. There’s no foreign tension or elephant in the room; there’s only Cassian and Nesta, like it has been since the beginning.

Nesta doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. Either way, she’s gotten away with it.

At least that’s what she thinks, until one early morning she wakes at the feeling of a warm hand stroking lines up and down her arm.

She’s certain she’s dreaming, and is content to remain ensconced in this softness when she hears the soft murmur of her name. Her eyelids flutter open, and then comes the realization that she is very much not dreaming.

“Cassian?” Her voice is thick. “What are you doing here?”

“You need to get up,” he whispers.

She clears the sleep out of her eyes, glancing around for her alarm clock. “What time is it—?”

“Five-thirty in the morning,” he says lowly. Her room is still dark, but she can make out his soft smile above her. “I want to show you something, but you’ve gotta get up, Nesta.”

Irritation floods Nesta at the realization that she only got four hours of sleep. Right now, she’s willing to strangle Cassian with her bare hands for another four.

“In what world,” she burrows deeper into her blankets, “would I ever get up before nine a.m. for you?”

“You’re not even a little bit curious about what I want to show you?” He clicks the lamp on, and Nesta hisses at the flood of light hitting her eyes. Squinting without her glasses, she can see that he’s fully dressed.

“What the hell, Cassian,” she mumbles into her pillow.

“You don’t have to get dressed,” he promises as he starts dragging the comforter away from her. “Just put your shoes and glasses on and you can sleep in the truck.”

Nesta is more awake at that, because she doesn’t hate the idea of taking a ride in Cassian’s truck. The promise of heated seats doesn’t hurt, either.

“I’m taking the blanket,” she says as she clambers out of bed.

“There’s already some in the truck,” Cassian says. “Just come on, will you?”

Grumbling, she grabs her glasses and lets him lead her downstairs and out to the truck. Shivering in her boots, Nesta wonders if she’ll have to kill Cassian if this doesn’t pay off.

“You know, we wouldn’t be doing this if you hadn’t called stargazing overrated last week,” Cassian says as he gets into the driver’s seat. The door slams shut behind him, blocking out the freezing wind. The engine is already warmed up and the heater is on full blast.

Nesta sighs at the heat, her clamped muscles loosening. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You said mornings were prettier than nights.” Cassian pulls onto the lone road that leads away from the cabin. “I brought hot chocolate, by the way.” He gestures to a thermos in the cupholder between them.

Nesta ignores him. “Just because mornings are nice doesn’t mean I want to be awake to experience them. If this is going to be one of your ungodly early workout activities…” she trails off threateningly.

“Shut up and drink your hot chocolate,” he chuckles. He shoves the thermos into her cold hands.

Nesta mutters something that Cassian chooses not to hear, but relents and takes a sip from the thermos. It’s warm and perfect, and doesn’t do her any help in keeping alert. The drive turns steep and winding, and Nesta soon realizes that they’re moving away from town and deeper into the mountains. Her curiosity is stifled by her sleepiness, however, and soon she has to lean her head against the fogged window and close her eyes, succumbing to the gentle rhythm of the journey.

Sometime later, she feels the truck reverse into a complete stop. “Wait here,” Cassian says. She hears him unbuckle his seatbelt and get out of the truck, but is unwilling to open her eyes and give up the last few minutes of rest she has. Time blurs, and then there’s a knock on her window. Groggily, Nesta sits up as Cassian opens the passenger side door.

“C’mon,” he urges, reaching out to pick Nesta up by the waist and setting her down on the ground. Shivering in the freezing dawn air, she looks around at where Cassian has brought them.

They’ve parked on a familiar high lookout that overlooks the entire city. In the blue light of pre-dawn, the town reminds Nesta of a sleeping giant nestled deep in the valley. She’s never been here this early before.

Taking her hand, Cassian urges her around to the back of the truck, facing the lookout.

“Oh,” Nesta says when she finally sees. “Wow.”

The truck bed is decked out more than a Christmas tree. Pillows and heavy blankets decorate the space, and strings of lights are woven throughout the whole thing. Still holding her hand, Cassian helps her climb into the bed before following after her.

“It’s only a few minutes to dawn,” Cassian says once he’s settled beside her. “I almost thought we wouldn’t make it in time.”

“You did all of this…” she says slowly, “so we could watch the sunrise?”

“Pretty much,” he nods.

Nesta might be inexperienced in a lot of things, but even she can’t deny what this is. Platonic friends don’t make a date out of watching the sunrise together, especially not if said friends have recently shared a passionate kiss. This is a romantic move.

She freezes in her spot. She wasn’t prepared for this, and now Cassian’s shoulder is painfully close to her shoulder and she doesn’t know if she should lean in or move away.

Before she can decide, Cassian says, “Watch.”

She faces forward at Cassian’s command, relieved to have something to do. Because there over the rim of the valley, the gray-blue sky is coming awake with streaks of pink and gold.

At the sight of first light, a calming sensation floods Nesta. For a few minutes, she forgets Cassian, forgets the cold. There is only dawn and— peace. A peace she’s never felt in all the times she’s driven up here before.

Golden light halos the mountains and streams over to their small little truckbed. The sky is on fire just to greet them. Nesta releases a breath, in awe or relief she doesn’t know.

“Can’t run away now.”

Nesta whirls from the sunrise to face Cassian. “What do you mean?”

He’s watching her closely. “You know, the last time I felt like this was during a certain fall festival.”

She glances away at the admission. “Right,” she mutters.

“What about you?” he nudges patiently. “Did you feel anything at the festival?”

Yes. A lot of things.

“Look,” Nesta starts. She’s about to turn him away when the sudden urge to be honest overtakes her. Something about the morning sun demands truth and vulnerability from her, and she wants to give it.

“I haven’t kissed anybody in forever,” she admits. “It was… a lot. In a very good way, at least in the moment.” She’s not sure of what she’s saying.

“Is it not good anymore?” For once, Cassian looks incapable of teasing her. Like he’s terrified of saying the wrong thing and scaring her away.

Nesta shakes her head quickly. “No, no, it’s still good. It’s just— confusing. The implications of kissing your roommate is confusing.”

Are friends who kiss each other just supposed to jump into relationships right afterward? Nesta can’t even comprehend such a thing. After all, wanting Cassian isn’t the same thing as wanting a relationship.

He chews on his lip for a long moment. “Nothing has to happen,” he finally says. “We don’t have to do anything now, or even ever. But can we at least admit that there’s something there? Because I definitely feel something for you. I have for a long time.”

That last sentence is quieter, and Nesta stiffens at the honesty of it. “Then why are you telling me just now?”

“It’s real now.”

He doesn’t have to explain what he means. She knows the feeling all too well— how the vague crush she was nursing for weeks got blown into something intense and tangible in the span of a night. How she can’t go anywhere now without tasting Cassian in her mouth.

“It’s real for me, too,” Nesta breathes.

His face breaks into a slow smile. “Good to know.”

Before Nesta can think about whether they’ll kiss again or not, Cassian tugs at her elbow, pulling her downward until they’re both laying on their backs among the pillows and blankets. He shuffles around for a bit, and then a fur throw is tossed over both of their bodies.

He turns to face her under the new warmth with a smirk. “So, was this worth getting up early for?”

Nesta looks up at the sky so she doesn't have to meet his bright eyes. “It’s better than any other time I’ve come here, that’s for sure.”

Cassian perks at that. “You’ve been here before?”

Nesta frowns. She doesn’t want those memories intermingling with this moment.

“I used to come here a lot,” she says bluntly. “In my undergrad days, to think and stuff.”

“Think about what?” he asks.

She closes her eyes, remembering. “Whether I should leave my boyfriend or not. Whether I was on the right career path or not. Whether I should drive off the lookout or not.”

Cassian huffs a laugh and then pauses at her tone. “Wait— are you serious?”

“About which part?”

“The last one.”

Nesta realizes how that came off. “It wasn’t like that,” she defends. “I was just… very tired all the time. I wanted a way out of it. I didn’t need to drive off a cliff, though.” Her mouth purses. “I just needed to cut some people out of my life. I got a lot better after that.”

Cassian is quiet for a long moment, thinking. “Did your ex make you feel like that?”

It’s Nesta’s turn to be quiet. “Yeah,” she says eventually.

“He sounds like a piece of shit.”

She raises her brows. “How do you know that?”

Cassian shrugs. “You said he didn’t like you while you were dating. That’s all I need to know.”

She’s surprised he even remembers her telling him that.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better though,” he says.

“Me too.”

The whole sky is brightened by now, and far below, people start waking up to go about their day. “What about you?” Nesta speaks up. She realizes they never talk about him, not really. “What were your exes like?”

Cassian hums. “I don’t really have any exes.”

Nesta makes a face. “What does that mean?”

He shrugs. “It means I’ve never had a real girlfriend.”

She looks at him like he’s insane. “You’ve never had a girlfriend?” With that face and body and personality? He’s playing another joke on her.

“It’s not that big of a deal. I’ve had lots of hookups, some longer than others, but none of them involved serious feelings.” He seems to realize what this means. “Actually,” he says quickly, “let’s talk about something else.”

“No.” Nesta sits up. “I want to know more.”

Cassian follows her up. “You didn’t even want to acknowledge our kiss less than ten minutes ago!”

She holds up a hand, her mind full of too many revelations at once. “So you’ve never been in love? Or come close to being in love?”

“Have you?”

“For a short time, yes,” Nesta nods. How else would she have stayed with Tomas for so long?

Cassian must realize what she means, because he clenches his jaw and looks away. “Well, I haven’t. I might have had a crush or two on my friends in high school, but I outgrew them quick enough.”

Nesta lets this new information sink in, feeling her perspective of Cassian shifting permanently. “And where do I fit in? In all of this?”

He props his elbows on his knees, lips turned downward. “I never thought about it until you made it sound so important. I thought neither of us knows what we’re doing.”

Nesta scoffs. “I never said I know what I’m doing.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Can we leave it at that, then? Take things slow while we figure out—” He waves an arm between them. “You know.”

There aren’t words for Nesta’s relief. Here she was worried she’d be pushed into something she wasn’t ready for, when Cassian is really just as lost as she is. For once, she doesn’t feel like he has the upper hand. For once, she’s not the extraneous variable.

She clears her throat. “Hey, Cassian?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for fixing my glasses.” The words have been sitting in her stomach since the morning after the festival. “And for the painting.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

***

Nesta’s first paycheck arrives the week before Thanksgiving.

“Wow,” she says for the third time in three minutes, gaping at the account balance on her phone. “That’s a lot of numbers.”

She didn’t keep track of how many hours she worked for Night Court Inc. this month, but she knows it wasn’t enough to justify this amount of money. It’s enough to pay for her car and endo treatments and then some.

She can’t remember the last time she had this much extra money to spend. She doesn’t think she ever did.

Cassian comes up behind her in the kitchen and peeks over her shoulder. He whistles lowly at the deposit amount, but ruffles her hair and beams proudly. “First paycheck. What are you gonna use it for?”

Nesta stares at the number on her phone screen and knows what she wants. She’s wanted— needed— it for a while, but her talks with Cassian have helped her realize… “I’m getting a therapist.”

***

a/n: hey everybody, i'm popping in to kindly ask y'all to be patient with the slower updates from now on, because i know exactly where i want this story to go but i don't want to rush the journey. i also want time to work on other fics and my original wips in the new year, and i can’t do that unless i lower some of the expectations for these fic updates. that being said, i’m so unbelievably grateful for all your support up until now!!! i don’t want you to feel forgotten. i’m very much still involved with and working on this story, and the good stuff is just about to begin! up next: the holidays bring about some revelations for everybody.

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01

[vercopaanir]

Chapter 28: Blood Running Cold

Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!(Fem)Reader

Summary: The bounty boards the Razor Crest while Din is hurt and the child is incapacitated.

Words: 5.1k

Rating/Warnings: T, for mentions of violence.

Notes: Whew, it’s been a spell! Thank you all so, so much for tagging me in things, sending sweet messages, and reblogging me in stuff! It’s been so nice to check back in every now and then and know I haven’t been forgotten while my body betrays me. This chapter has been written for a while, but I could not get myself together to actually edit it. I hope it still delivers and that you all enjoy reading. Special shout-out to mandhoelorian for guessing who/what Din’s special bounty is. Read more to find out!

AO3

There is nothing quite like hunger. When you were abandoned as a young child, eating unripened berries, questionable plants, and bugs with too many spindly legs to survive, you remember the pain in your belly, the cramps that seemed to strangle you so tightly they would lift you off your feet. Hunger, like any pain, is a constant throb, a dull ache, something that sinks its hooks into the mind and slows time until it suffocates. 

You should eat, you know. You have not put food in your mouth in nearly two days, but the very idea of anything that isn’t a prayer passing your lips makes you feel sick enough to struggle just to keep water down. Your fingers begin to shake as you mend shirts, closing up holes and tears like wounds. 

The child is still unconscious, unmoving like a stone, with a clammy perspiration on his wrinkled brow that soaks his blanket in the silently floating pram. You check on him until the inside of your shoes wear against the delicate skin of your ankles from walking back and forth. You have not been without him before, not since your freedom was bought, and the black hole of silence that fills the metal void of the Razor Crest makes your nerves feel raw and exposed.

Din is still unconscious and unmoving, too. You had been able to wrestle him to his feet, buckling beneath the near-dead weight of him before bullying him onto the medical cot. You remove all the beskar beforehand, of course, and still he is heavy enough to cause you to pull a muscle when you try lifting him. You strip him of his torn, burned clothing and bring down the blankets from the bed in the captain’s quarters, knowing to sweat a fever will help. You can’t be sure what the fever is from, though, be it his healed burns or having stayed in the elements for so long. He’d been conscious long enough for his eyes to blink open, his brow dripping sweat into his gaze before pressing his sticky forehead to your own in relief.

Then, he passed out again.

In the afternoon, when the sun is at its peak, you risk opening the hull and collecting snow in the beskar chest plate like an oversized bowl, packing it tightly in clean cloths and keeping it on Din’s back and a cold wet rag on his forehead when his fever waxes and wanes.

Even when he is at his most alert, his most talkative, he is a quiet man by nature, but his presence fills the emptiness with familiarity that you now miss. This silence that the child and his father leave behind in their sickness is like a well with no bottom, cold and deep and dark, and you do your damndest to distract yourself.

You try to clean a little, though it doesn’t hold your interest, still allowing your mind to wander back to those breathless moments when you were alone in the world without him. You wake from half sleep throughout the night, head throbbing and mad with grief that he might still be gone. But, you curl against the wall, tucked across from the small medical bay where he lay asleep, his back rising and falling with steadier breaths each time you look upon him.

It is not so much his dedication and loyalty to you, but the companionship you two have fostered over these long weeks. You had never had such a person to fill your day with, to listen to you and respect you. It occurs to you, looking down at the half mended shirt now splotched with your tears, that Din Djarin is your dearest friend. The quiet revelation leaves you hiccupping with loneliness, and you put away the needlework in frustration.

The burn salve takes away the last sting of heat and redness upon his back, and when you trace your hand over the lovely slope and dip of his shoulder, all you feel is cool, smooth skin. You cup both Din and the child’s face while they sleep, holding a cup to their cracked lips to slip water down their throat. It is met with no resistance, and you worry even more when they will wake up.

Using melted snow for water becomes a welcome distraction. You find it’s easier to melt and boil for clean water than wasting the reserves on the Crest, though you slip a few times, falling hard on the metal exit ramp from the slickness of your boots. Face flushed, you’re thankful no one is around to see, scowling at your own lack of balance and clumsiness. 

Day turns into night, and with it comes that awful, echoing wind that beats against the outside of the ship. You turn the engines on enough to recycle the warm air that chases the chill away, working to clean and organize the crates twice over until you’re damp with sweat and aching in your arms and legs. It is hard, fumbling with things in the dark with such poor sight, but you dedicate yourself to it. Creating distractions is more difficult than the chores you come up with, but it tires you out enough that your eyelids grow heavy. You take a turn around the cockpit, turning everything off now that the ship is warm enough to last through the night, and you close the doors. 

It is easier for you to navigate your surroundings if things are kept a certain way. Doors closed, cabinets shut, things put away in their place. You are lucky that Din is naturally an organized and overall neat individual, and you’ve found he prefers his own things-weapons, food, clothes-kept tidy and stored. You imagine you’d be at your wit’s end if you had to keep bumping or tripping into things, and for a moment, as you stare down at the sleeping man in question, you wonder if he’s always been that way. Was he a particular little boy who grew into a particular man?

Or did he become one? For the child? For you?

The pram is just beside you, and you find yourself smiling, grimacing over the notion that you are the one sleeping nearest the door now. You are sleeping on the floor, beside the medical cot, but you are still the one nearest any possible danger.

You wonder what Din would think about that if he was awake. You hope he would be proud.

Sleep comes easily, but rest remains elusive. You feel as if you sense everything around you as you doze, never fully slipping into the dark deep of dreams. Perhaps that is just as well, you will think later, when an eerie sound of metal scraping metal drags you back to consciousness. For a moment, you think it is the child, awake and dragging around some tool or getting into playful mischief once more, but as you listen, you realize the sound is coming from outside the hull.

A tinny, high pitched shriek of steel on steel, as if the very ice is sinking its teeth into the ship, and you fumble to sit up in the bulky tent of your cloak, blinking blindly in the near darkness. 

It stops suddenly, and you look towards the door before a terrible crash nearly shakes the hatch off its hinges. It rattles the very teeth in your head, and you struggle to suddenly stand, your heart thundering against your breast in terror. Another heavy crash, a heavy, metallic ramming that you feel in your chest and hurts. Something is being thrown against the hatch, and this time, they will get in.

The first thing that comes to mind is how your father had picked you up from playing with a worn, threadbare cloth doll when your family home had been stormed, and it is in your genetics, you think, to put your hands on Din’s shoulders as he lay sleeping. His eyes flutter, delicately long lashes kissing his cheeks. There are not many places to hide on the Razor Crest, built efficiently and with military power in mind. There is suddenly too much open space and not enough-

Crawl space.

You drop to your knees and feel along the corrugated metal flooring until your fingertips come into contact with the latch set flush into the floor. Din had once told you to mind your step in the hull, and often would call that he was working on panels and wires hidden beneath so you would not trip and fall in. You wrestle the latch open, sliding and pushing it up to open the small covering. You can feel with your arm it’s barely big enough for one person, and you make up your mind without a second thought, turning back to the sleeping warrior and throwing one of his arms over your shoulder.

His entire body is burning with fever again, and your knees buckle halfway across the floor beneath his weight. He wears no armor, but he’s still nearly too much for your spasming muscles to bear. You hold onto his shoulders, then his arms, bullying him into the crawl space until his legs fold beside him. Then, you let him drop softly against the metal wall. Every move you make is clumsy, rushed with panic and shaking with uncertainty from being unable to see.

You lift the baby out of his pram next, swaddled in his blue cotton blanket, and as an afterthought, you grab the beskar helmet that lays inside the medical cot. You affix the child until he is nestled in Din’s lap, folding yourself in half to reach beneath the floor so that you can let the helmet fit and slip over his head. If you are discovered, you think, his face will be protected, at least.

There is a sudden, shuddering movement that seems to rock the entire ship, and you catch yourself before shutting the crawl space again. It’s followed by a loud whirring sound, like an electric tool being dug into the side of the hull. With man and child stowed beneath your feet like cargo, you struggle to stand, planting your feet firmly over your racing heart. You can’t hide in the cockpit, the fresher, or the medical bay closure-it all seems too obvious.

There is a sickening shriek of the sound of metal bending, and your eyes settle on that darkened part of the ship Din had told you to never go near. Taking a quick breath, you grab the amban rifle and your staff, securing the latter to your side and the former over your shoulder, and you march into the darkened corner.

It only takes you three slippery steps to reach the carbonite freezer, the durasteel plated frame for the next bounty hanging like a cold slab for a dead body. You’re just the right size to slip behind it, the metal painfully pressing against every soft curve you have.

Just as you yank the rifle to your side, the hatch of the Razor Crest is wrenched open, falling open with a deafening thud.

You lift your free hand and cover your mouth, sweat pooling from your brow and dripping into your eyes as you try and catch your breath silently. Heavy boots hit the hull’s flooring, and you close your eyes tightly.

The pacing pauses, and you can hear noisy breathing through a helmet. There is a series of clicks, perhaps on a handheld device of some kind, or even on a weapon. You can’t be sure, but you focus on picturing the sounds in your head rather than your encroaching panic.

The heavy footfalls resume, moving away from the freezer. A slam shakes the entire ship, and you think whoever it is has opened the fresher. A few more footsteps precede another rattling crash, which you know is the medical cot being shoved back into the bay. 

Whoever the intruder is, he is searching for something.

You can hear his lumbering footfalls climbing the ladder, and you’re tempted to move. The sudden blast of icy air from outside hits the paneling of the carbonite freezer, and you feel it in your bones. Frost crackles and splinters, beginning to coat the metal of the inside of the ship.

Loud noises from the upper deck make you jump, cabinets being flung open, objects being thrown, walls being shaken. The ship itself is safe from being taken, the main controls linked to Din’s vambraces, and the rest of his armor is safely stowed in one of the crates beneath medical supplies.

You hear it when the intruder’s boots slam into the ground as he slides back down the ladder. He must be a well built warrior, or perhaps his armor is just heavy. His pace quickens with frustration as he walks the length of the hull, shoving aside boxes and supplies with an angry urgency. 

It’s when you can hear the pacing nearly directly across from the freezer that you can’t contain your need to know any longer. You press your head to the side, listening to the rousing sounds of crates being broken open and supplies being thrown around the hull. You peer between the gap of the steel plate and the inside of the freezer.

Even blind, you know the blinding white armor of a stormtrooper when you see one.

Though, this is a different set of armor, slashed with deep crimson along the joints and helmet, and the weapon he carries is nothing like you’ve ever seen before. It’s nearly as long as Venka is tall, wide of barrel and heavy with artillery. It connects to an odd, black pack on the soldier’s back, but you can’t make out any details. You slip your head back behind the metal plate, heart racing when you hear the trooper’s boot connect with the side of one of the crates, cracking it in fury.

He snarls curses that have you red to the tips of your hair, and you listen with slow encroaching joy as he storms towards the hatch. 

You drop your head forward against the steel plate in thankfulness, but the hinge holding it to the ceiling gives a quiet creak.

Immediately, the stormtrooper stops walking.

Blood running cold and your fingers gripping the body of the rifle, you move as slowly as you’re able, breathing silently through your nose as you gently lean your head backward. Bootsteps draw nearer, a slow, cautious tempo, and you hear the unmistakable click of a firearm being drawn from a holster. You take a deep breath and brace against the back of the carbonite freezer. 

For a moment, silence stretches out, save for the soft breathing through the modulated helmet, and you are just about to relax when a creaking, splintering shadow appears in your periphery. Like creeping spider's legs, long, black gloved fingers begin to wrap around the edges of the carbonite plate that shields you from view, and you know now he has found you. 

With a terrible wrench, the stormtrooper yanks the plating away, and...nothing.

The plate is secured firmly above and below, making it impossible to remove without a specialized tool or vambrace. You were only just slim enough to slide between, and the realization breaks over your blinding panic as the soldier continues to shake and yank on the plate uselessly. He slams his fist against it, the metallic reverberation making your ears ring before storming off.

This time, you wait until his footsteps retreat, past the metal ramp, and then you wait just a short while longer. You wait so long that the cold from the open hatch begins to make your teeth chatter, but you don't move a moment too soon.

The blast of icy wind pouring into the ship nearly takes you out at the knees when you push yourself out of your hiding spot, and you run to the control panel, feeling with your hand for the switch and the buttons you know releases the hatch back up into the ship. Sparks hiss from the top of the panel, and you flinch back, sucking in a breath when the ramp shudders before falling back into the snow. Whatever the stormtrooper had done to the door, it compromised the panel, and you are certainly no engineer.

It’s the night that won’t end, you think miserably, dropping your forehead against the cool metal wall.

A light scraping makes your temples prick with aggravation before you realize it’s coming from beneath the floor. Whirling about and dropping to your knees, you slide your hands along the corrugated metal until your fingers find the latch. When you draw it up, it’s too dark for you to see, but you can hear Din rumbling and sliding in the narrow crawl space, attempting to stand up.

His voice sounds about as smooth as a rusted used engine part. “Why am...I in the floor?” 

The wobbly smile that pulls at your lips holds back a near hysterical bubble of laughter, and you sniffle, wiping your eyes with the tips of your fingered gloves. “It’s a long story,” you say, voice choked and hoarse. You give him your hand, and the two of you work awkwardly to pull him up out of the hole. 

The baby is snuggled against his chest, still swaddled and sleeping, though his coloring is significantly better, you think. You silently lift the child from Din’s arms, letting him turn his helmet this way and that as he takes in the disarray of the hull. His hand rubs the back of his neck before he stops, and you think he must remember his injuries because he pulls his hand back to look at it as if he expects to see blood.

“What happened, Cyare?”

By the time you recount the whole of it, Din has managed to fix the compromised panel to get the hatch to close securely, cutting off the arctic winds bellowing into the ship. You tell him of the burns, his injured state, his fever (which he assures you has broken beneath his helmet), the child healing him, and the stormtrooper who overturned the entire ship. 

It didn’t seem like such a mess when you first looked around with your mottled sight, but now you can see crates overturned, supplies and food strewn about. The refresher is nearly torn apart, and upstairs the captain’s quarters is a disaster. All you want is to crawl into bed and sleep without thinking of a time to be up, but you can’t leave this all to Din.

After tucking the baby into his pram, forcing the worry down and away, you prioritize your thoughts, kneeling amidst the medical supplies and frowning in concentration. You’re in the middle of rolling up some gauze, listening to Din shuffle and tinker and try to hide his soreness. You can’t banish the memory of the stormtrooper’s glove, and you turn your face toward where he stands.

“Who are they?”

Din pauses from where he’s trying to reassemble the shower shelf, his helmet tilting toward you and catching the light. You shift to rest back on your heels, dropping the gauze in the crate and gently feeling for the other supplies strewn about. You scoop up several medkits, pulling yourself up by the side of the crate.

“The bounty. It was your bounty, who came aboard, wasn’t it? The stormtrooper?”

He turns back to his task, rehanging the shelf and collecting the few bars of soap and bottles the two of you keep in the shower. When it’s functional and put together once again, he shuts the door and walks carefully over to you, crouching down on the balls of his sock-clad feet.

“Yes.”

You focus on affixing the lid onto the crate, and the two of you are silent for a while, working side by side in companionable and shared space. When the hull is free of mess, you feel yourself sway on your feet. 

Din captures your elbow in a gentle cup of his hand, and you can hear the concern bleeding into his voice when he asks, “When was the last time you slept?”

“I don’t remember,” you puff out a laugh, though there’s no humor in it. You allow him to lead you to the ladder, and climbing up to the second deck feels like an effort fit for the Maker. Din rearranges the overturned mattress and sheets, and when he leaves to adjust the heating system, you check on the sleeping infant again. Rather than dozing like a stone, he turns his tiny face toward your fingers in sleep when you stroke his ear, and your heart feels lighter at the response.

A warm blast of air comes through the vents above, but it is nothing compared to being wrapped up in the arms of the Mandalorian who comes to stand behind you. 

“You’ve been so brave,” he whispers against your ear, his naked face pressing into your hair. You shiver, leaning back against him with nearly all your weight. “I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you, Cyare.” 

For a moment that hangs suspended in the cold darkness of the ship, you close your eyes and let every shadow and shape melt away. The secure, warm feeling of his arms, the rhythmic breathing of his chest against your back, the gentle scrape of facial hair against the side of your neck where he buries his face all merge into a kaleidoscope of sensations that make you dizzy. You want to tell him that he shouldn’t apologize for anything. You want to weep that he was right, that this is too much for you, too much responsibility to bear watching him leave and knowing he might not come back.

But you’re too tired for that conversation. In fact, you’re too tired to even express how tired you are, because the next thing you know, you’re waking up in bed, tucked up to your chin with blankets. Your limbs are stiff and sore, your throat and mouth dry as a bone. You can’t tell the time, nor can you decipher how long you’ve been asleep. All you know is that you feel like you’ve slept a millennium, and you’re in bed alone.

When you sit up, your orientation tilts, and you nearly fall forward, sucking in a breath and bracing yourself on the edge of the mattress. You use your hand to touch your stomach, feeling the soft fabric of your sleeping shift, and you wiggle your toes inside thicker woolen socks that are several sizes too big for you. You don’t even remember falling asleep, let alone being dressed for bed, but you know who will.

He’s piloting, fully encased within the cold beskar armor, which you see from the polished gleam that the silver glare of hyperspace reflects. He looks even better than he did before being injured, you think, peeking around the open doors of the cockpit. One ankle of his boot is tossed carelessly over his knee, his arms holding the sleeping child in his lap. His hands are covered in gloves, new ones that share identical orange leather fingers. It’s almost as if he hadn’t been scorched from nearly head to toe, and you blink, standing dumbly in the threshold, feeling out of place and more dreaming than waking.

When he turns his helmet towards you, the chair creaks from the base, and it makes you flinch, reminds you of the stiffness in your limbs. You sit in the copilot seat, perched on the very edge in case of something else terrible happening, but the longer Din seems to gaze at you, the more you come to hear the little one’s soft snores, strong and rhythmic. Your shoulders drop, and you sit back against the leather seat.

“You were talking in your sleep.”

You blink at that, tilting your head curiously at the shadow of your lover, drawing your legs up to curl beside you. Still half drowsy with dreams you don’t remember, you lean your temple against the cold metal siding of the wall and sigh. “Anything interesting?”

“My name.” He pauses, looking down at the child. “Venka, and Corde.”

You wonder, if the child had a name, if you would have said his, too.

“Who was it, Din?” you whisper, slowly wringing your hands together in your lap. Now that you are in hyperspace, you know you are safe, you can be whole. His wounds are, after all, more healed than before he was injured, even though there may be missing pieces of your solace of mind, now. “The bounty. He didn’t...he didn’t seem-”

“He was a member of an elite and specialized task force,” Din’s voice is rough, cold, and hoarse, and you wonder what he is imagining as he describes his bounty. A shiver runs along your back, the planes and curves he has touched, and you bite your lip. He draws one forefinger along the tiny wrinkles of the baby’s brow, more gentle and tender than you’ve ever seen. “A stormtrooper raised to burn whole clans and cities and villages to nothing.” 

You think of the oddly shaped object he was carrying, the sloshing of liquid you now know was some kind of fuel for incineration, and you shudder at what could have happened to you and the child. What did happen to Din.

“That’s why you were so hurt,” you whisper, and he nods once.

“Surprised me,” he mutters, dropping his hand away from the baby to flex his fingers over the armrest of the pilot’s chair. “Damn armor blends into the snow.” 

The two of you sit quietly, and you consider this new information with the foggy memory of the soldier who overturned the Crest. Still, something doesn’t make sense to you. Two slotted pieces that don’t quite match, that won’t fit, and you can’t sit still. “I don’t understand,” you finally heave a sigh, brow furrowing. “Why does...why does the Empire want one of their own?”

Din shrugs lightly beneath his gleaming pauldrons. “I don’t ask questions.” 

Of course not.

You breathe noisily through your nose. Bracing your hands upon your legs, you sit forward, narrowing your eyes. “It’s important to understand what we’re doing if this is to release us from underneath their thumb, don’t you think?” you ask quietly, your patience a living, wriggling thing.

“What I’m doing,” Din corrects, looking away from you then. “You will stay far away from it. That was the deal.”

You’re on your feet then, fast and striking, and you shove the heel of your hand into the back of his chair so it swings his helmet towards you.

“That deal was broken when I almost lost you,” you whisper, your voice wobbling on the painful knot choking your throat. You force any threat of tears back, steeling every soft part of your body into an unshakable fortress. Din’s shoulders draw up in defense, but you drop your other hand to the side of his cloth covered neck, loving and warm. You cannot see his face, but you know he’s holding your gaze. “This isn’t just about you, or the child, Din. Your actions have more consequences than just losing your own life, now.” 

His chest plate begins to rise and fall like a shining, silvery wave, churning in the midst of a storm, and you are ready for him to use his size, his presence to push back against you. You are surprised when he does not, when he lays one hand over the child asleep on his lap and presses the crown of his helmet back into the headrest, presenting. 

“What do you want from me?” he rasps, harsh and angry. Perhaps the anger once would have made you timid, but you recognize his fear for what it is. You grab his hand that threatens to choke the life out of the armrest, leaning over him until you can press your brow to his helmet.

“Teach me to fight.” You hear him suck in air, holding his breath, and you lean firmer to ground him. “To defend myself, properly. To defend our children,” your voice catches on the last word, blinking against your blind, stinging eyes. You squeeze his fingers as tightly as you can, dragging air into your lungs as if drowning. “I don’t want to hide like that. Ever again.”

Din drops his head forward, almost pushing you away in his attempt to press the visor of his helmet against the softness of your belly. You drape your arms around his neck, rubbing against the newly healed expanse of his back. You feel his words more than hear them, the modulator muffled against the fabric of your gown. “I should have protected you better.” 

Your hands are not gentle when you slide them beneath his chin, pulling his visor upward to look at you. “We have to do this together. It cannot be one-sided,” you murmur, feeling his hand resting on the slope of your waist. You slip your fingers beneath the lip of his helmet, feeling newly shaven skin on his cheek. “Who will protect you?”

He chuckles, dropping his visor again against your stomach, and you feel him sink against you this time when he sighs. You rest against him, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while the other lays warm against the back of his shirt. The two of you enjoy the silence, companionable and soft until a little gurgle perks you up.

When Din sits back, the baby’s eyes blink open, bleary and heavy, and you drop to your knees with a soft coo, kissing his brow. Din’s hand caresses the back of your head as the two of you marvel over the waking baby on lap, an entire wave of gratefulness nearly drowning you both. The child holds out a shaking three fingered hand out until he can grasp the Mandalorian’s forefinger. 

“You can’t do this alone,” you whisper again, your heart in your throat as you look upon your little one. “Not now. Not anymore.” 

“I know,” Din whispers, and you think he must know the sacrifice of the child, the gift he has been given in being pulled back from that hollow darkness, because he sits a little taller now, tilting his visor toward you. “You’re right.”

Your hands take the baby when he passes him to you, and those familiar petal ears begin to lift in happiness, his mouth smacking hungrily as you shoulder him, standing on wobbly feet. Din turns from you to the controls, pulling his navigation up with the lazy knowledge of a pilot who has crossed thousands of parsecs. 

“So you will teach me?” you ask, leaning against the side of the pilot’s chair. The child begins tugging at your collar for attention, but your sight is trained on the sharpened silver of the beskar.

“No.” His voice is brusque enough to drop your heart like a stone, but you feel blindsided with excitement when he glances up at you and says, “But I know someone who does. Ever been to Sorgan?”

-

Mando’a Translations:

Cyare - Beloved

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[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 24

Remember I said I had another pair (technically two pairs) of interconnected prompts for the rest of the month? Well, this is the first part of the first of those sets. Conclusion tomorrow, at which point I’ll put it up on ao3. Written for:

No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. 

Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

Modern AND firefighter au, I suppose? Warnings for car accidents and severe injuries, Obi-Wan being a bit of a flirt while badly hurt. Part two turns into a meet-cute full of whump? Pre-Codywan.

~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan saw accidents most every day. He’d grown used to assessing collisions with a clear head, taking them apart like a puzzle. Twisted metal and spilled fuel were only distractions, there to get in the way of his job, which was, at the end of the day, doing his best to make sure everyone involved walked away alive and as well as possible.

He knew the best way to open a crushed door on an old pick-up. In fact, he considered, panting up at the ceiling, trying to think around the crowding, noisy pain in his head, he wouldn’t try to take the door in this situation.

Someone - he didn’t know who, hadn’t gotten more than a passing glance at the vehicle - had T-boned his truck. They must have been driving a tank, he thought, with a weak laugh, because they’d driven away just fine afterwards, leaving him half-off the road, crushed against a tree, dark smoke rising out from the hood through the frozen air, his truck alarm blaring on and off for no reason he could discern.

He needed to focus. He knew that. Needed to stay conscious. Think his was through the situation. 

So...so, no, he wouldn’t have tried to open the door, not if he’d been sent out to the scene of the accident from the station, not if it were someone else sitting in the driver’s seat. Metal was pressed all against him, crushed around him. Crushed into him, he considered, twitching the fingers on his left hand and stopping as a wave of cold heat rocketed up his arm.

The front of his vehicle had been striven in by the tree he’d hit, on his way off the road. There was pressure, against his lower gut, the hard, rounded edge of the steering wheel, he thought. Internal injuries would, he considered, explain the problems he was having breathing deeply. Focusing.

That was right. He needed to focus. Someone had hit him, slammed into the driver’s side door, pushed him off the road and into this tree, left the truck smoking. He smelled something burning. They’d driven away. He’d watched the red of their brake lights disappear, tried to focus on the license plate and caught, perhaps, a pair of sixes….

And now he was pinned into place, metal holding him in a cold embrace. Opening the door, pulling the metal away all at once, could end up causing major hemorrhaging. So, if he’d been the first responder, instead of the person trapped in their truck, he would not have pulled the door right away.

His head swam. He could taste salt and copper in the back of his throat.

It was dark, he considered, staring through the cracked windshield. And he’d been on the way home, after a terribly long shift. The night was in that twisty period where it might have been better called morning, the wrong side of three A.M.

He considered the likelihood of anyone else driving down the road before the blood loss got him and didn’t like the answer he got. His cell was on the other seat, in his coat. There but unreachable.

Obi-Wan swallowed, half-laughed, and shut his eyes, just for a moment.

When he opened them again, his ears were ringing. The truck alarm had stopped, which was a relief. He was shivering, all over.

He stared forward, wondering, absently, what had woken him up. It must have been the light, he considered, groggy. For a long beat, he assumed the sun had come up, surprised he’d lived that long. It took him a long, confused moment to realize that it wasn’t the sun’s rays streaming in through his windshield, distorted by all the smoke.

The angle was all wrong. And the light was too white-blue and focused.

Headlights, his brain supplied, after he considered and discarded a half-dozen other options. Another vehicle. For a moment, he thought it was going to hit him, too, and he braced, but the lights weren’t moving.

They just stayed where they were, and he stared forward into them, thoughts getting more sluggish by the moment, until someone swore, loudly, close by and said, “Holy shit, there’s someone in here.”

Obi-Wan rolled his head to the side. The noise had come through his broken window. He blinked, his night-vision gone from staring into the light, and said, “Yes, hello.”

“Fuck,” his as-yet-unseen visitor said, eloquently. He had a nice voice, though, this strange man who had found Obi-Wan on the side of the road. Soothing. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Not really,” Obi-Wan said, feeling a crooked smile stretch across his mouth, his focus drifting away again. “How are you?” His eyes were very heavy, too heavy to keep open. He shut them, just for a moment.

He snapped them open again to his guest snapping, “Hey, hey, I need you to stay with me, alright? Keep your eyes open, alright?”

The voice was coming from a different place. Obi-Wan’s head wasn’t working right, and he recognized that, from somewhere far away. He rolled his head to the other side. There was a man in the passenger seat. Obi-Wan was almost certain he hadn’t been there before.

He was...unfamiliar. Obi-Wan had never seen him before. He had close-cropped dark hair. A set, unhappy look to his mouth. A scar down one side of his face.  “Dashing,” Obi-Wan slurred, vaguely worried that he seemed to have stopped shivering at some point.

“What?” the man asked. He wasn’t sitting properly. He had one knee on the seat and was leaning over the center console towards Obi-Wan. He was, Obi-Wan realized, after a bleary moment, doing something down by Obi-Wan’s hips. Obi-Wan looked down, head dropping heavily, and watched him slice through the seat belt with a knife.

“I said you look very dashing,” Obi-Wan gasped out, the consideration that, perhaps, this man was trying to help him slowly rising in his head. He licked his lips and asked, “Do you think you could call 911?”

“Rex is on the phone with them now,” the man said. Obi-Wan wondered who Rex was. 

“Oh, good,” he said, instead of asking. He couldn’t seem to lift his head again, which was a shame. The angle hurt his neck, terribly. He blinked, trying to focus, and managed to rasp out, “Thank you.”

The man laughed, sudden and sharp, startled, and Obi-Wan wondered what was funny but...he was too tired to ask, so tired, and--

“Hey!” the man said, loud and sharp, close. “I need you to stay awake,” he said, and, oh, he’d put a hand on Obi-Wan’s cheek, pushing his head back up so it wasn’t just hanging. He had warm skin. Calluses on his palm and fingers. “Can you do that for me?”

“Probably not, I’m afraid,” Obi-Wan told him, too tired to try to lie. The man swore, and...oh, he wasn’t in the passenger seat anymore. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how he’d gotten around the truck, but he was reaching in through the driver’s side window. Obi-Wan blinked up at him, he seemed blurry, and asked, “What’s your name?”

The man frowned, briefly, and turned to snap some words that were just white-noise in Obi-Wan’s head. Maybe he was talking to someone else. Whoever was calling 911. That would be nice. He shut his eyes.

“--Cody,” the man said, hand cupped warm against Obi-Wan’s jaw. “Hey, did you hear me?”

“Cody,” Obi-Wan slurred, because that was a name, wasn’t it? He’d wanted to know the man’s name, hadn’t he? “The handsome man. From my truck.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” the man said, he flashed a smile that looked reassuring, turned and spoke to someone else for a beat. Obi-Wan leaned against his hand. He couldn’t support the weight of his own head. It felt like it weighed roughly a ton. “Hey, hey, no, none of that, stay awake. Hey, we can’t keep him like this, he’s not going to last.”

“Fuck,” another man said, voice very similiar, so similar that for a moment Obi-Wan thought it was still Cody. “Well they’re not going to--”

“--going to hurt,” someone said. Cody. Obi-Wan blinked, made a questioning sound, and tried to scream. He didn’t think he succeeded. There was white-hot pain, lurching through his body, turning the world inside out for a moment, so that nothing else existed outside of his bones and gut, all set on fire and frozen to ice and--

“--give my hand a squeeze, can you do that for me?” There were spots of white, overhead, Obi-Wan stared up at them, drifting. The pain had gone away, somewhere else. Everything had gone somewhere else. 

Something leaned over, blocking out the spots of light. A face. Handsome. Cody. “Hey, hey, there you go, that’s good,” he said, “you just stay with us, alright? Squeeze my hand, can you do that?”

Obi-Wan took a moment to remember where his hand was. Oh, it was warm. That helped locate it. He closed his fingers, as best he could, and heard Cody make a relieved sound. Thinking about his hand brought back awareness of the rest of his body, of something soft under his back.

He was, he realized, after a long minute, laying down. He squeezed Cody’s hand again and slurred, “What?”

“We’re taking you to the ER,” Cody said, and Obi-Wan blinked at him, because that didn’t make any sense. They were supposed to wait for the ambulance. But he was vaguely aware of the thrum of an engine. He tried to focus past Cody’s face. There were… seats, he supposed. Another man, sitting in one of them.

“Why?” he asked, trying to take stock of the rest of his body. They’d...wedged him in to the backseat of a vehicle, he thought. His legs were up, elevated. He couldn’t move his left arm, but it felt warm and far away. 

“Because you were going to die if we left you there,” Cody said, drawing back Obi-Wan’s focus. He had his other hand on Obi-Wan’s stomach, pushing so hard it hurt, more than a little. Pressure, Obi-Wan thought. Pressure to keep his blood inside, where it belonged. He was… sitting in the leg-room in the backseat, wedged in awkwardly.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and slurred, “Wear your seatbelt.”

Cody made a sound. A laugh. And then he squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand and said, “Hey, no, eyes open, come on.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, just a little, and Cody shouted something at someone, maybe him. But it didn’t make any sense to tell him to drive faster. He couldn’t drive at all. And the dark behind his eyes was so warm and welcoming.

He sank into it, vaguely aware of a squeeze around his hand before he slipped under, completely.

[witlessficcer]

Movie Night

Summary: Natasha invites Peggy to the in house movie theater at the Avengers compound for a special date. 

This fic is for @blazestarninja13. She requested a movie night for Peggy and Nat. Though I didn’t get to Kate Hepburn’s striving against sexism, I think this still fits into the fun of 

When Nat asked for a third time to have movie night, just the two of them, Peggy finally relented. She certainly didn't have anything against watching movies, but had a hard time with how people acted in movies in the present. She had been assured by Nat that the movie they watched would not be violent; she agreed that the two of them had had enough of that for a lifetime. However, there was something to be said for a good crime movie. She had really enjoyed Laura, with Dana Andrews and Gene Tierney. Twisted stuff. She had no idea what movie Nat had in mind, but ultimately, sitting in a dark and empty, Stark engineered home theater, with her best girl at her side or in her lap, sounded pretty good.

Leaving her quarters, wearing a  v-neck, feathered, dark grey t-shirt and jeans, she wondered if she would be too cold. She never had been before. The Avengers compound was always just the right temperature. Even if she did get cold, Nat wouldn't have it. Goosebumps were a God given invitation for Natasha Romanoff to heat things up. Not that Nat needed a reason, God given or otherwise. She wondered what Nat was wearing.

Peggy had to admit, it never felt right walking into a genuine, if small, movie theater like she used to walk into her living room to listen to the radio. She had to admit that the sound and the picture and the ambiance were nice, but walking down the hall from her room into a movie house felt dodgy. No, not dodgy, but self serving. Did she really need or want all the opulence Stark provided? Shaking her head to cast off that strange tangent, she entered the low lit theater and was immediately drawn to the blonde bob sitting in the center seat of row 8. It was Nat's seat. Everyone knew. In fact, last she heard, Tony was supposed to have added a plaque.

Walking down the aisle, she was gratified to see Natasha put an arm over the seat back next her and look back expectantly. The woman had a beautiful smile. Shared it so rarely with the world. Peggy was also thankful that such a dangerously talented and gorgeous woman had chosen her.

“I saved you a seat,” Nat called back. “It was getting crowded.”

“It was the least you could do given you asked me on this date,” Peggy shot back, turning into the aisle. Nat rose from her seat at Peggy approached. She was wearing black jeans, big surprise, and a fitted, low cut, field green t-shirt that showed more cleavage than Peggy was comfortable with others seeing. “Aren't you worried, all the boys will be watching those bazooka's instead of the movie?”

“Speak for yourself,” Nat retorted. “Those torpedoes would would feed any kids dream for weeks.

The Black Widow patted the seat next to her and waited for Peggy to sit. As soon as she did, the blonde woman pulled her close and brushed her lips against her lover's as sheb moved off to the right and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “You look fantastic. I love the ponytail.”

“I know you do,” Peggy added, with a playful scowl. “That's why I wore it. And, by the way is that dinky kiss all I get? Definite weak sauce from the Widow.”

Nat looked at her as if she would look at a child left alone for five minute, now slathered head to toe in peanut butter. She tilted her head for effect. “It's about the speed of the movie we're going to watch.”

“You may not like it as much, but I'm just fine with family movies. They make me feel good. Or are they called feel good movies these days?”

“Don't hurt yourself, Cap,” the shorter woman said. “The movie we're going to see is more of a classic.”

“I love classics!” Peggy said, excitedly, a grin growing ever larger across her lips. “Star Wars, The Goonies, Toy Story.”

There was a sudden pain in her sizable shoulder. “Shite! What was that for?”

Natasha retracted her fist and pinned Peggy with a powerful side eye. “No pain. No Gain.”

“You didn't just say that,” Peggy said in mock horror. “You didn't.”

Nat took a deep breath. “No. You heard nothing. That was awful.”

“Whew!” Peggy said, checking her Apple watch. “I was afraid I would have another commitment if you let that one stay out there.”

“Just shut up for a minute, you Big Oaf,” Nat said, playfully placing her hand high on Peggy's left thigh. “The movie is about to start.”

“But we don't have any snacks?” Peggy said, anxiously. “I have to have a Coca-Cola.”

Natasha laughed at her girlfriend's frenzied state. Nat reached to her left and produced a silver champagne bucket filled with ice and four bottles of Coke. From Mexico. With real cane sugar.

Peggy gasped at the simple gesture of love. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes glistened. There was enough wetness that she removed her pale blue glasses and wiped the tears away. “This is amazing, Nat.”

“But wait,” Nat said, drawing out the mystery. “There's more.”

Nat also produced another large bucket, this one paper, and filled with popcorn and real movie theater style butter. Peggy took it gladly She set it in the seat next to her as she allowed the ice cold silver to burn her inner thighs. Reaching over, she place a hand on Nat's neck and pulled her strongly into a kiss. The Widow's lightning fast reflexes shot an index finger between their lips before they could meet. “Not done yet. Reaching to her left one final time, she brought forth two large movie size candy boxes. She handed Peggy a box of Junior Mints while she kept a box of Dots for herself.

“You really thought of everything,” Peggy said, staring happily into her lover's eyes.

“I did,” she said, leaning forward and pulling a large soft baby blue blanket from the chair in front of her. “I'm sorry we can't snuggle while we watch, but we can be warm and we can hold hands. We cant touch shoulders and tilt our heads together like an old Norman Rockwell painting.”

“I love Norman Rockwell,” Peggy said.

“I know you do,” Natasha replied. “I love it when you hold my hand.”

“I know you do,” Peggy said, reaching over and taking the hand of the former assassin.

“Jarvis, start the movie,” Nat called to the empty room. The lights lowered and the red velvet curtains drew away. When the silver screen flickered to life, it was in black and white. The Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer logo appeared on screen. The Lion Roared. As the music rose, Natasha watched Peggy closely. Her chest was rising and falling more quickly and her grip on Nat's hand had tightened. Her eyes were wide and glued to the screen. When the title “The Philadelphia Story” lit up the screen Peggy let out an an excited scream and jumped from her seat, pulling Nat up with her. She pulled night into the tightest hug. Really tight, lifting her her off the ground. Setting her back down, she cupped her lover's face in her hand and made to mash her lips with abandon. Instead, she brushed her lips against the other and moved off to left to right and planted a firm kiss on Natasha's flush cheek. She continued to the other woman's ear and whispered passionately: “This is amazing. I love it. I love you. I want you.”

“I guess it's my turn to make you wait,” Nat replied, breathlessly. “But I don't think the movie is that long.”

[skinsharpenedteeth]

12 days of Malex Gift!

My gift this year is for Phoenix

Hope you enjoy it! 

You can also view it here on AO3!

    Cold creeped in through the metal of the truck’s cab despite the Chevy’s best efforts to pump heat directly from Satan’s most fiery pit onto Alex and Michael’s shins. Alex watched the plowed snow mounds and dark evergreen trees pass by his window as the approaching dark turned everything from blue, white, and green into shades of grey. Alex had never had a snowy Christmas or even snow that stayed around longer than a day or two at best. He’d never been skiing or snowboarding with a youth group for spring break or been posted somewhere blanketed in snow during a long cold winter. His life always seemed to hand him deserts, sand, and too-hot asphalt. So even with the world turning into sparkling greys and blacks, he was enchanted by everything he and Michael drove past on their way up to the cabin Isobel and Kyle had rented for a Christmas getaway. Things at the hospital had turned hectic and Kyle had found out a week before the big holiday that he wouldn’t be able to get away as planned. Isobel, in an act of magnanimacy, had offered the cabin to Michael and Alex for the holiday weekend instead of letting go of the rental and they’d jumped at the chance to get away from the suffocating, over-enthusiastic shows of holiday spirit they’d been enduring since December 1st.

    “They really were serious about getting away,” Michael commented, squinting a little as he concentrated on the road ahead of them. Alex was supposed to be helping him look for a little red sign that said “Santa’s Vacation Home”. He’d rolled his eyes at the name, but when Isobel had shown him the AirBnB listing, he’d secretly wondered how nice a gift he should be getting her for Christmas. (“Oh, don’t worry about it. We’re the first guests so we got it at a really reasonable rate in the hopes we’d leave glowing reviews!”) She’d looked at him and Michael with a knowing smile when they’d jumped at the chance to get away without first hearing the details. 

    It wasn’t that he or Michael hated Christmas. In a couple years, they may too have a couple ugly Christmas sweaters in their closet and a favorite Christmas karaoke tune, but after Jesse’s and Louise’s death, it felt like a little too much effort to smile and fake it for their friends. 

    “Wait- is that it ahead?” Alex piped up, his eyes catching on something red half buried by a snow mound. 

    “Maybe?” Michael said uncertainly. He slowed the truck as they approached and they both squinted out of the windows. Between the increasing darkness and the shadows of the forest around them, it was impossible to make out anything from where they sat.

    “Let me go see,” Alex offered, hand already on the door handle to climb out of the truck. 

    “No, wait! It might be slick out there, let me go--” 

    “I’ll be fine, Guerin. I’ll go slow,” Alex snapped, annoyed at the unspoken assertion that Alex couldn’t handle himself. Michael held up his hands and pressed his lips shut in retreat. Alex wanted to feel bad, did feel bad about snapping, but he hated being coddled because of his leg. Michael usually wasn’t one to say anything, but Alex might have been feeling a little touchy since he’d misstepped earlier that day before Michael had picked him up for the long trip to the mountains and twisted his knee. It’d been smarting ever since and Alex took that as a personal challenge to push through it and prove that he wasn’t hurt. He knew he was being bull-headed, but he didn’t want to ruin their first vacation away together since reuniting by letting his leg get to him.

    As soon as he put his full weight down on his legs he regretted being a hard-headed, stubborn idiot. His knee felt stiff and swollen under his sleeve and he was already grimacing at how it would feel when he was able to take off his prosthesis later. He took a tentative step forward and his leg barked like an untrained dog. Alex grit his teeth and took another step and then another, navigating the mostly dry asphalt to stand in front of the red sign. He brushed some of the snow off with his bare hand and saw “Santa’s Vacation Home” in white lettering. He turned and gave Michael a thumbs-up and Michael pulled the truck into the drive and waited for Alex to limp his way over to the passenger side and climb in. It was too much to expect that Michael, who wouldn’t look away at the worst of times, would not have noticed Alex’s lop-sided gait.

    “Your leg hurting?” Michael asked, shooting him a worried look before putting the truck back into drive and starting up the partially covered driveway. 

    “A little,” Alex confessed grumpily. There was no way he’d be able to hide his injury from Michael as soon as they got into the house. He was mentally hoping the place had some Ibuprofen. He didn’t want to bring out the heavy hitter painkillers in his bag unless he absolutely had to. 

    “Well, we’re almost there. This place had a jacuzzi tub, right? Maybe we can take a bath and it’ll help soothe the muscle or something?” Michael suggested. The faint sexual suggestion under the offer was lost behind the tension in Michael’s voice as he navigated around some deep ruts in the driveway. 

    “Yeah, maybe,” Alex agreed, hand going up for the ‘Oh Shit’ grab handle on the truck's ceiling and not finding one. The jostling was not helping the pain in his leg so he flattened his hand against the roof as he tried to brace himself against the bouncing as they rolled forward. No matter how slow Michael drove, it seemed they were always moving too fast to keep from jarring themselves. They fell silent as they continued down the drive until a few winking lights finally came into view. Anticipation filled the trucks cab as they pulled closer to the welcoming glow until they were parked in front of an A-Frame cabin built against the side of a hill. The cabin had a circle driveway that allowed Michael to pull the truck up close to the front entrance. The convenience was appreciated after the rough ride. As soon as Michael cut the engine the cold started leaching through the metal frame to steal away the heat.

    “Iz said it would be unlocked with a key under the mat if we needed it,” Michael repeated from memory. “You wanna go ahead and go in and check it out while I get the bags?”

    “I can get my own bag,” Alex started hotly, unbuckling his safety belt and pushing it to the side. Michael held up his hands again to stop his protest before he got too far in. 

    “Alex, I know you can. You’re a very, very capable individual that I have no doubt could walk across glass without flinching, but you don’t have to. Let me just save your knee the extra ten pounds this once and you can get me back by bench pressing me in bed or something,” Michael said, ending with a joke to try and lessen the tension in Alex’s shoulders. Alex stared at him for a moment unflinching and then a small smile creased one corner of his mouth.

    “Bench press you in bed?” he questioned, trying to hold back a full fledged grin and failing miserably. 

    “I said what I said,” Michael retorted with a huff, leaning back into his seat and crossing his arms in mock offense. Alex snorted in amusement leaned across the bench seat, placing a quick, loud kiss on Michael’s cheek in apology.

    “You’d like that too much,” he answered before scooting back to his side of the bench and opening the truck door. 

    “You bet your ass I would,” Michael called after him, opening his own door and stepping out into the frigid night air. He pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket and shoved his hands into them quickly before hunching his shoulders and leaning over the side of the truck to grab his and Alex’s overnight bags. Alex had already limped his way up to the door and Michael watched him open it and step into the golden glow of the house. He hurried behind him thinking about how warm it looked in the house versus out there in the snow and ice. 

    As soon as he stepped in, Michael felt the warmth of the house envelope him. He gently kicked the door shut behind him and stood still in the entryway, eyes closed and head tilted back as he soaked in the heat. He’d never understand why people willingly sought out colder climates when they could be warm. 

    “You going to stand there all night?” Alex called from further inside. Michael opened his eyes and looked in the direction he thought he’d heard the voice. Alex was standing at the end of the entryway. He had his hands in his pocket and was trying his best to look casual, but Michael noted that most of his weight was shifted onto his left leg.Despite that, he looked good and Michael had to take a personal moment to shake the stars from his eyes as he looked him over. Alex’s good looks never failed to take him off guard when he least expected it.  

    “Which way to the bedroom?” Michael asked, hefting the bags up by his side. Alex nodded towards a staircase a few feet from the inside of the door. Michael went and dropped the bags onto the bottom two stairs and then turned to look at Alex. 

    “Have you looked around the whole place yet?” Michael asked teasingly, knowing Alex probably hadn’t made it any further than where he was standing. Michael hadn’t been that far behind him getting into the house and while the cabin was small, he didn’t think Alex would purposefully leave him out of the fun of exploring.  

    "No, but come look at what the owners left us," Alex said, jerking his head behind him before turning on his heel slowly and leading the way further into the cabin. Michael watched him and despite the limp, he looked as good as ever in his dark blue jeans and black leather jacket. ‘That ass…’ Michael admired wistfully to himself. 

    Alex disappeared around a corner and Michael shook himself out of his admiration of Alex's many fine assets to follow him. He peeled off his gloves and stuffed them into his pocket while moving in the direction Alex had disappeared. The covered entryway opened into one great room. It had cathedral ceilings with the back wall of the cabin nothing but windows that looked out onto the dark, snow covered forest beyond. Michael could faintly make out some stars through the trees and it made him feel a little less claustrophobic in the press of the forest. There was a large stone fireplace in the far corner of the room with a leather sectional couch in front of it with faux fur throws thrown artfully over it in chocolate browns, greys, and creams. Michael turned his head and found Alex waiting at him behind a dark granite topped kitchen island. There were two bowls and some jars of sugar and flour huddled together on the top with a red bow and ribbon surrounding them. Alex was looking over a piece of paper and Michael walked up behind him to read over his shoulder. 

    "Gingerbread?" Michael asked in surprise, eyes looking over what he realized were ingredients sitting on the counter in front of him. He chuckled to himself and Alex looked over at his shoulder at him in curiosity.

    "Does gingerbread mean something different to you than it does to me?" Alex asked, smiling at the soft, amused look on Michael’s face. 

    "Isobel and I always make lewd gingerbread men for Christmas. We have since high school. It's the one Christmas tradition I have," Michael explained, gently taking the paper from Alex’s hand. "Though this isn't her recipe. It's similar, but she adds more cinnamon and a little cayenne for a kick."

    "Wait! What are lewd gingerbread men?" Alex asked, turning his body to lean his right side against the island and pinning Michael with a suspicious look.

    "We'd pipe dicks and boobs and ball gags and stuff on then. Sometimes we'd make them with candy. Red hots for the balls, Mike ‘n Ikes for the penises, trimmed down dried apricots for the vulvas..." Michael explained with a mischievous grin. Alex snickered into Michael's shoulder appreciatively. 

    "Are you two really thirteen at heart?" Alex asked, eyes still bright with mirth. 

    "Parts of us. The rest are fully matured as you well know," Michael said, setting the recipe down and stepping closer into Alex's space, his hand sneaking under the leather jacket to grasp at Alex’s waist. 

    "Want to make some cookies?" Alex asked, pretty sure Michael was already distracted from baking by the way he'd started trailing kisses down Alex's jaw towards his neck. 

    "Maybe later. Let's go check out the bedroom and get you into something more comfortable?" Michael's voice sent shivers of pleasure down Alex’s spine. 

    "I don't know if I can do those stairs right now," Alex admitted apologetically, wrapping his arms affectionately around Michael's neck and leaning closer to let their bodies press into each other. "But that couch looks pretty damn comfortable, so maybe we could….?"

    He trailed off when Michael’s grasp changed on his waist, moving to slip under the dark grey cabled sweater he wore under his jacket. Alex felt a sigh leave his body unconsciously at how good it felt to have Michael’s warm hands against his skin and then Michael’s lips were on his, first tender and then with more ardor as Alex opened his mouth and invited him in. Alex pushed himself harder against Michael’s body and Michael responded by tightening his arms around him in return. 

    "Fuck, Michael," Alex gasped as Michael moved his mouth from his to return to his jaw and neck but with tongue and teeth, leaving delicious stinging kisses that made Alex feel on fire inside. Michael's hands smoothed down Alex’s body until he was gripping his ass, hands kneading the muscles and making Alex feel weak in the knees. He was melting into the sensations Michael was evoking in him, his fingers tangled into Michael’s curls, and then he was whispering something into Alex’s ear. 

    "What?" Alex asked, reluctant to come out of the warm head space he’d been floating in. 

    "I said 'Hold on'," Michael repeated with a grin in his voice. Alex had only a moment to feel confused before Michael's body was ducking down and Alex felt his strong hands gripping the backs of his thighs and then lifting him. On reflex, he wrapped his legs around Michael's waist and tightened his hold on his shoulders, a shout of surprise knocked loose from him at unexpected action.

    "What are you doing?!" Alex exclaimed, leaning back as far as he could without disrupting their balance and the hold Michael had on him. He fought his knee jerk reaction to fight against the hold.If anyone else had done this, he would've rather fallen to the floor in a fit of pride than let someone carry him, but it was Michael…  and Michael would always be the exception to his finely honed, well defined rules of how much he would allow someone else to give to him, how much he would allow someone else to love him. In fact, Alex didn't like to admit to anyone, sometimes even himself, how much he loved when Michael manhandled him like this. 

    “As nice as that couch is, we haven’t seen the whole place yet and I really wanna see the bedroom right now,” Michael responded, his eyes dark. “So why don’t you get a good grip on me, just like the one I’ve got on you, and we’ll go tour the upstairs together. Maybe get naked and mess up the sheets before dinner.”

    He emphasized his words by flexing his hands against Alex’s ass where they’d naturally gravitated to “for balance”. Alex smiled and shook his head slowly at Michael’s ridiculousness even as Michael turned them and started to make his way back to the stairs and up to the bedroom. Alex held on tightly with his thighs, letting his hands continue to run through Michael’s hair as he ascended towards the bedroom loft area. Once they cleared the half wall, Alex’s heart gave a little lurch of surprise. He felt his mouth drop at how gorgeous the bedroom was. A sleigh style, king-sized bed dominated most of the bedroom, with thick, dark espresso blankets and another brown and grey mottled faux fur blanket artfully draped on it. There were also so many pillows which looked amazing in their matching and complementary tones, but seemed excessive in number for someone like Alex who was happy to have one old, mostly flat pillow under his head. They rounded the corner onto the landing and the view of the rest of the bedroom was blocked and Alex got to appreciate the view of the rest of the cabin from upstairs. 

    Alex expected Michael to put him down now that they’d made it upstairs, but he kept walking unil Alex felt his back hitting the mattress. He opened his mouth to say something, but Michael immediately started kissing him again, pushing their bodies until they were both sprawled diagonally across the mattress. Alex let himself be arranged, enjoying the feeling of Michael taking care of him. 

    They both started pushing off their jackets, tossing them unceremoniously off the side of the bed, lips barely parting as they began to paw at the hems of each other’s shirts. They did have to part to take those off and Michael felt a laugh bubbling out of him as he started working on his own jeans while Alex did the same with his. They were scrabbling out of their clothes like teenagers with a curfew.

    “What’s so funny?” Alex asked, a little breathless and already looking deliciously tousled as he squirmed shirtless on the bed, pushing at his jeans and underwear. Michael laughed again before leaning down to give Alex a reassuring kiss before answering. 

    “I was only half joking about messing up the sheets, but then I saw this bed and couldn’t stop myself. You’re really very distracting, especially when you’re pressed against me, letting me carry you, and you’re playing with my hair. Think I just developed a very specific kink in the last five minutes,” Michael explained, abandoning his own pants on the floor and reaching forward to take over dragging Alex’s down his thighs. He quickly disengaged Alex’s prosthesis and set it down on the floor by the bed before stripping him completely naked. 

    “Fuck… I hate the military, but I love what it’s done to your body,” Michael breathed, bending down and licking a broad stripe up the center valley where Alex’s abdominal muscles were flexed. Alex laughed and knocked his right leg against Michael’s arm pointedly. 

    “All the things it’s done to my body?” Alex asked and Michael tensed, realizing what he’d just said. Michael looked up at Alex to see he still had a smile on his face and Michael relaxed as he realized he was teasing him. Michael grabbed Alex’s leg and lifted it, placing it flat along the line of his body. He could tell by the way Alex gasped that the move was not only unexpected, but that he could feel exactly how turned on Michael was by their activities. Michael held his gaze for a moment before bending his head to place slow, deliberate kisses down what was left of Alex’s calf, to his knee, and then grazed his teeth at the beginning of his thigh, drawing a gasp from Alex that made his body throb in response. His hand preceded his descent down Alex’s leg and he could feel the small quivers the muscles gave as he kept moving further and further down. Michael gave a quick check and could see that Alex was still hard against his stomach. He internally gave a sigh of relief that he’d apparently chosen the right thing to do. Alex could tease all he wanted and act like his leg wasn’t a big deal, but Michael knew he still held some aesthetic insecurities about it when they were intimate together. 

    “Way to avoid a question,” Alex teased when Michael was only a couple inches from the crease between his thigh and groin. Michael looked up Alex’s body and grinned. He smoothly maneuvered Alex’s leg off his shoulder and back to where the knee joint naturally cradled his hip. Michael moved up and hovered over Alex’s mouth, locking his eyes with Alex’s, giving him a moment to appreciate all the wonderfully intimate ways they fit against each other before speaking.

    “I may not say it enough, but I hope you know that I love every, single, fucking, inch of you, past and present.” Michael paused after speaking, watching Alex try to shy away from what he was saying. Michael watched him open his mouth, ready to say something derisive or self-deprecating, but then stop himself. He closed his eyes and Michael watched Alex center himself underneath him, breath through the voices that were obviously in his head and push them out for the time being. It was breathtaking to watch. When he opened his eyes again, Michael smiled down at him. “You are the strongest person I know, and I know some strong ass people.”

    “Michael,” Alex said, a note of pleading in his voice. He was reaching the limit of compliments he’d be able to take and Michael knew it so he backed off. As much as he wanted to press every reverent feeling of love and admiration into Alex’s very soul with his words and body, he knew as well as anyone that Alex had to be ready to accept it.  

    “Now where were we?” Michael asked, rolling his hips playfully and sparking a wave of pleasure between their bodies. Alex sighed and rolled his hips in retaliation, his lip caught between his teeth, and making Michael groan at the picture he made. They moved against each other like teenagers, their bodies molding against each other for the best friction as their mouths devoured one another. It was quick and messy, keyed up as they were, and at the end of it they laid next to each other, breathing deeply. They were on their backs, shoulders pressed to one another and staring through the sky light at the stars above them.  

��   “We should clean up,” Alex commented, though he reached out his pinky to hook onto Michael’s next to him. Michael curled his pinky with Alex’s and smiled before turning over onto his side to fully face Alex. Alex mirrored him, a small smile on his own face. Michael reached out and ran his fingers through Alex’s hair, smoothing out some of the strands that were standing up messily. He sighed and rested his hand on the smooth skin of Alex’s neck, letting his head hang down to rest on the mattress. He loved this man so much it scared him and if he kept looking at him, Michael knew they’d just end up getting messy again. 

    “I”ll go get the rag. Then we’ll go make lewd gingerbread men, right?” Michael asked, unable to keep his hand still on Alex’s neck and running his fingers over his jaw as he waited for his answer. 

    “Not if you keep touching me like that we won’t,” Alex replied on a shaky breath when Michael traced his kiss-swollen bottom lip with his thumb. “And I think we should make them. Send pictures to Isobel as a thank you for this weekend.”

    “Yeah, I’m definitely going to owe her next Christmas,” Michael agreed. He pulled his hand away reluctantly and sat up. He got up and found his pants on the floor. He dug his phone out of his pants pocket before heading towards the bathroom for a warm rag. He looked over his shoulder at Alex who had rolled back onto his back and was staring once more at the sky. If ever there was a moment he knew he was well and truly gone for Alex Manes, this might have been it. He forced himself to unlock and look at his phone, bringing up his messenger app.

 <Michael> Hey Iz, Alex and I got to the cabin. Thanks for this. It’s really something. The owners left stuff to make gingerbread with, recipe and all. <Izzy> Ooooo, making lewd gingerbread men without me? <Michael> Only if it’s okay with you. I know that’s *our* thing and all… <Izzy> Only if I can make them with Kyle when he gets off work. <Michael> It’s a deal. <Izzy> Send me pictures? <Michael> Duh. Merry Christmas, Iz. Love you. <Izzy> Merry Christmas, Michael. Love you too!

  THE END!

Thanks @malexsanta for hosting this event!

[sylvie-writes]

Bad (2): What Happened?

First inspired by this song ➳ Bad by Lennon Stella

(Ransom Drysdale x wife reader)

Summary: What went down that fateful night...

A/n: I got carried away, and kinda forgot about the real plot lol. So there’s more fluff than angst... I think. 

Disclaimer: this chapter is sort of a filler before we get to the real shiz. 

Warnings: Cheating, mild profanity, poor writing. Ransom being an asshole (rip all the soft Ransom stories I’ve written)

As always, plz pardon any mistakes, the stories are always proofread but I tend to make many mistakes regardless.

Series Masterlist 

Picking up from where we last left off: About two months ago, your work gave its employees a week off for the holidays. It was once in a blue moon that you got to see your family, so you seized this opportunity. You wished your husband could have come, but Ransom had to stay behind to help Harlan with an upcoming novel. In truth, Ransom never saw himself reverting back to his bad ways, but who knows what entices people to change… 

They always say to choose a job that you love. Something even your own parents had drilled into your head as a young child, trying to prevent you from their own mistakes. It was known then, that if you chose a job you didn’t love, you would be metaphorically chained like a prisoner bound to the wall, or in your case, the job. 

Well, you followed their advice, and chose a job you were passionate about, something you didn’t mind studying about all those years ago in college. It’s not that you didn’t love your job, but you were tired, very tired. Life was fast paced and you were running out of fuel, so to say. So this morning when your work offered you an exclusive week off, you took the offer, worked quickly yet precisely, and flew out the door, before it was dark. Normally, you’d work more than the normal 9-5 shift, it was more like 9-7 for you, anyway.

Ransom was supposedly off today, and you wanted nothing more than to kick off your break, by eating a nice lunch with your husband. While you gave your holiday wishes to your friends, you shot Ransom a quick text asking him to call you. 

So, just as you drove down the highway, your phone steaming your favorite playlist to the car’s stereo, Ransom’s name popped up on the large screen, a picture of him in college, showing up. (yeah, you liked to tease him about his college years, when he thought he was all that and a bag of chips.) 

“Hey Gorgeous! What’s up?”

“Well… you interrupted my carpool karaoke.”

Your husband laughed along with you, before you dropped your surprise on him.

“Other than that, my work gave me the week off. No biggie though.” 

Being married to Ransom and having known him for many years, has given you a real sense of sarcasm to say the least.

“That’s amazing! You deserve it, my love.”

“Ohh, quit trying to butter me up, Ran.”

More laughter from his end, making a large grin grow on your face. Only you could ever make Ransom laugh at the stupidest things, that’s just the kind of bond you two shared. 

“Anyhoo, I was wondering if you wanted me to come pick you up for lunch?”

“Sounds great, love ya.”

“Love you too.” The rest of the drive to your house was enjoyable. Today had been spectacular, something that hadn’t happened in ages. As you continued to drive, all the amazing occurrences from today settled with you in the car, a permanent smile on your face the whole way.  

You pulled into the driveway, opting to stay in the car just to keep the warm air flowing from the vents, sending Ransom a quick text.

A few minutes later, the man himself came out, his brown suede trench coat on, your own raspberry pea coat slung over his left arm. 

The passenger door popped open, and Ransom’s warm lips pressed slowly against your cheek, instantly warming you up.

“I figured you might be cold.”

A deep laugh resonated in his stomach as he reached over the console to hand you the jacket, the one you had forgotten this morning. 

“Thanks, hon. So, where do you want to eat?”

You looked over to Ransom, whose eyes had been lovingly glued to you since he’d gotten in the car.

“How about that little sandwich shop in town?”

A bright and sweet smile graced your lips, stunning Ransom with its effect on him. His own eyes crinkling up as his frowning lips slowly formed into a content smile.

Once you had reached town about twenty minutes later, Ransom rushed out of the car the minute you had stopped the engine. His actions leaving you confused when suddenly a blurb of tan suede halted and revealed the missing man, who was now pulling your door open.  

“Wow Mr. Drysdale, since when did you become such a gentleman.”

You teased Ransom, wrapping your arm around his, embracing his warmth, and playfully kissing his nose. 

“Since you became Mrs. Drysdale.” 

His little quip caught you off guard as you weren’t expecting a response from the man. As a result of that surprise, your cheeks slightly warmed, causing you to shyly look down. It was a given, what had just happened, as Ransom knew your reactions like the back of his hand. 

That arrogant jerk knew very well what he had done and slightly leaned over to kiss your bowed head.

Confidently, Ransom spoke up, and without even looking over at him, you just knew he was smirking. 

“Still have that effect on you, huh?” 

Before you could banter back at him, your arm interlocked with Ransom’s was tugged, prompting you to look up. 

Apparently, when you were just mindlessly walking to the restaurant, Ransom had another stop on his list. One full of eye-catching flower bouquets. Blood red roses, yellow lilies, variegated tulips, you name it, they littered the glass window of the flower shop. 

As you stepped into the shop, the distinctive smell of baby’s breath filled your senses. You were still interlocked with Ransom, so at this point wherever he walked, you went. Also meaning he’d dragged you to the counter despite your words of defiance.

“Ransom, you don’t need to buy me anything. All I want is to eat lunch, with my husband.”

“And that you’ll get.”

Just when you’d thought you’d won this argument, the man continued.

“Along with the bouquet of carnations and baby’s breath please.

Your husband spoke up just a bit louder, so the man behind the counter could hear his order while also making it known to you that you were indeed gonna accept these flowers. 

Ransom quickly paid for the bouquet, coming back to lock arms with you and hand you the flowers. It was a simple bouquet yet the meaning behind the choice a lot stronger. Coral carnations ideally intermixed with the snow-white baby’s breath. The soft aroma from earlier, now in a bouquet held by your cold hands. 

When you were young, your grandmother would always buy carnations for her home, specifically the coral ones. She’d tell you about each flower and how they were all unique, capturing your curiosity. As you got older, you became more versed in floral design and structure. Soon, you were going every other day to buy fresh carnations for your grandmother. When you had first brought Ransom to meet her, she told him about the story behind carnations and when you were always buying them. 

To this day, Ransom remembers, and the carnations have since then become your flower.

If it weren’t for the constant wind, the temperature would have been enjoyable, but now your hands were slightly shaking and Ransom noticed. Taking your free hand in his, he then put your conjoined hands in his coat pocket.

Just a few more blocks and you had finally made it to the humble little sandwich shop, one Ransom had actually introduced to you. 

Mr. Miller, the owner of the shop happily greeted you both. Over the years you’ve lived in Massachusetts, you and Ransom have become regulars at this shop. It may have been a small place, with seating for only thirty people, yet the food was outstanding. Especially Mr. Miller’s Monte Cristo, your’s and Ransom’s favorite. To no surprise, that is in fact what you ended up ordering. 

As you sat at the booth, the two of you laughing and enjoying the time spent with each other, never once did it cross your mind that this was it. That this was not gonna be the normal anymore. It’d become a memory you’d end up savoring for the years of the future.

Because little did you know, that was the last time he’d ever buy you flowers, the last time he’d ever laugh with you…

The last time he’d ever really love you. 

That very next day, you woke up early to pack your bags for the unbearable flight to come. You absolutely hated the airport, but then again, who doesn’t? It was a constant marathon and by time you make it to all your gates, you’d probably lose ten pounds from running so much. There was no peace at the airport, especially with the holiday rush and you dreaded it. If only your husband could have come, it would make things ten times better, but he can’t and you aren’t going to miss this opportunity. It’s been a few years since you’ve been able to go home, and truly relax for the holidays. The years before, you’d only get to spend the weekend, but now you have the whole week and in the end, it’d be worth the living hell at the airport. 

By 10:00 am, you were all ready to go, Ransom carrying the bags to your car, sulking as he did so. He really wanted to go with you. Believe it or not, but Ransom would love to spend all his time with you if he could, except Harlan really needed his help to finish up a few things. 

With everything packed, it finally came time for you to bid goodbye. Sure, it was a week away, but this was your first Christmas as a married couple, and you couldn’t spend it together. Had things been different, you could have, but Ransom understood you missed your family. For once in his life, Ransom Drysdale thought about someone else’s benefit beside his own. 

The car running, you flung your arms around Ransom, who stood at the door, coffee in hand, balancing it as he reciprocated the hug.

He could feel your tears on his neck, running through his sweatshirt. Your head was buried in the crevice, and your sobs made his heart shatter. Ransom couldn't bear it anymore, because soon he’d be the one crying. A warm hand, ran up and down your back while soothing whispers rang in your ear.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay.”

Your sobs that racked your body soon ceased, Ransom pulling back to give you his best attempt at a smile. His eyes worriedly scanned over your red ones before pulling you into a soothing kiss. Releasing your lips, Ransom once again gave you a comforting smile, handing you the coffee, knowing you had forgotten your own. 

“Go on, you’re gonna be late, my love.”

On tippy toes, you pressed your lips to the corner of Ransom’s, slowly leaning away, then solemnly heading to your car. 

That night, you had called Ransom, telling him you made it safely and that you’d facetime him tomorrow. In his voice, Ransom hid his sorrow, but in truth, ever since you left this morning, he’d been wallowing in despair. What better way to drown out your sorrows than to actually do that? So just as Ransom hung up the phone, he dashed to the car and to the nearest bar, slowly easing the pain via eight beers. 

Just about to ring up the bartender for a check, a small, womanly hand slowly wrapped around his forearm, setting it back down on the counter.

“Hey stranger.”

Ransom was so intoxicated, he struggled to even focus, but all he knew was that a woman was sitting in front of him and he sure was missing his wife. It was wrong, but at that moment, his priorities blurred the minute the girl’s lips smothered his. There weren’t boundaries anymore and he knew damn well, that this lady was making his thoughts and good judgement dissipate, he forgot why he was even there in the first place. Right now, you were in the back of his drunken mind, and Blair in the front. Literally and figuratively. 

The two broke away from the kiss for air, and Ransom soon remembered the woman staring seductively at him. At this moment, the man was no longer in his own mindset and was reverting back to his old self. The playboy Ransom Drysdale was out tonight, not the man bound by the ring on his finger. 

“It’s Blair right?”

She nodded, a few waves of chestnut brown hair moving with her head. Soon drinks long forgotten, Ransom threw down a one-hundred dollar bill, taking Blair by the hand, and out the door. As he gripped her warm hand, he could feel the cold metal of his wedding ring, slightly breaking him out of his lustful haze as mentally kicked himself for what just almost happened. He let out a small laugh, you were always there to keep him in line, whether he accepted it or not. And thank god for that, he thought. After that little reminder, it was like he had sobered up.

About to send Blair back into the bar, lips peppered small kisses to his ear and his fresh mindset was thrown out the window. The sober thoughts now gone. Starting that car engine and driving out with Blair in the passenger seat, Ransom was unknowingly throwing away the best thing to ever happen to him. By doing this, long gone was the better man you had helped make Ransom become.

 If only he had been strong enough to fight the temptation and listen to the little warning the symbol of your love (his ring) gave him...

And that night, as Ransom washed away his longing for you with Blair, you laid awake in your childhood bed, happily replaying the memory of lunch with Ransom just the day before. Soon, you’d be reliving that memory in your head, more often than once, but with tears streaming down your face. 

taglist: @kiwihoee @buckybarnesthehotshot @memissbee @tricereads @tonystankschild @coffeebooksandfandom @ria132love @what-is-your-wish​ @maan24​ @bval-1​ @jemimah-b99​

If I’ve messed up and tagged the wrong person, please lemme know. I’m very tired and typing up the taglist was probably not the best idea.

[derireo]

(like this engine) my heart roars ↦ tasuizu

A joyride ends better than expected.

Tasuku loses control of the reins Izumi had so kindly given him.

「 5k words 」

cw: consumption of alcohol, kissing, sexual tension

Driving down the empty highway late at night was probably one of the things Izumi wanted to do the most in this lifetime when she first discovered how beautiful the city looked beneath the shining stars.

She remembered it like it was yesterday, how the metal railing whipped past her as she drove down the highway towards Veludo after a long day at work, city lights twinkling as if they were beckoning her to come on down.

The wind that fateful night had seeped into the car as her playlist switched to a song that suited the scenery best, blowing the hair from her face.

Green, red, white, blue. Different coloured lights filled the city. The view from where she drove left this feeling of longing to reside in her heart, and it was the lone reason why she had asked Sakyo if they could invest in a new vehicle.

(Of course, her request was turned down.)

She never had the chance to experience such a view again after that, her job not requiring her to go so far out of the city anymore.

She was back to walking around Veludo—not that she hated it, but... the thrill wasn't there.

One time, she decided to run around the neighbourhood late at night to see if it would elicit the same type of elation she felt when driving down that same highway, but to no avail.

Izumi couldn't remember a time when she felt as free as she did when she rolled that window down and let the soothing breeze throw her hair around like it did.

She reminisced the memory of the cool air snaking around her skin in a comforting coil and the roaring wind filling her ears as she sat in the courtyard with a beer in hand.

Very much like that one night, the moon loomed over Veludo and cast upon the town its shimmering glow, stars twinkling.

That sense of longing had come back to caress the narrow shoulders of Izumi as she stared up at the black and blue gradient of the sky and she sat in her own comfortable silence as the crickets chirped. She had her feet propped up on the bench, eyes half-lidded as her mouth pressed at the lip of her can.

The sound of heavy footsteps grazing the grass made Izumi twitch and she turned her head to the side to look at who was still up at this time of night.

The person who stood before her was Tasuku, mouth curled into a disapproving frown as he stared down at Izumi with scrutinizing violet eyes, leather jacket donned with a helmet hanging from his fingers by the straps.

"What are you doing up so late?" He asked.

His scolding tone wasn't enough to make Izumi apologise, but it did make her smile. She took a sip from her can and tapped the metal with her other hand to tell Tasuku just what she was doing.

"Drinking." She murmured, sending the man a wink for no good reason.

Tasuku scoffed when he took a glance at the beer in her hand and then the rest of the cans that sat in a neat line beside her.

"Yeah." He crossed his arms. "I can see that."

Izumi pursed her lips, biting at the edge of her can. "Then why'd you ask?"

It was an innocent enough question and it didn't sound like Izumi was teasing him, but Tasuku still had to bite his tongue to keep himself from getting too upset.

He took a step closer to the director and reached out for the thin shawl she had worn out into the courtyard, roughly tugging the material closer around her body to make sure she was staying warm.

(Hm. She was wearing her sleep shorts though, so Tasuku wasn't of much help anyway.)

He sighed. "You should be sleeping. It's late." At that, he took away the nearly empty can from Izumi's hand to keep her from consuming anymore alcohol for the night. His eyebrows were pinched in mild annoyance, but it was normal to have Izumi get on his nerves without even trying.

"Hey..." Izumi grumbled, not at all fighting to get her unfinished can of beer back. There was no use getting in a physical tussle with Tasuku when he was the one with the advantage of being sober (she wasn't drunk, but tipsy).

"I'm just not tired." Izumi frowned, watching as Tasuku placed his sleek black helmet in her lap to begin collecting the other cans she had accumulated over the span of a couple of hours.

Tasuku spared her an unimpressed glance as he walked away from the bench to drop all of the cans in the recycling bin near the entrance of the courtyard, returning empty handed.

"The dark circles tell me otherwise." The actor sighed and took his helmet back from Izumi, curling his empty hand around her elbow to pull her to her feet. "You're going to bed."

"No way." Izumi complained as she stumbled into Tasuku's side, losing her balance with each pull on her arm.

Her small frame made it easy for Tasuku to move her any way he wanted, but with how Izumi was twisting in his grip made it difficult for him to drag her back inside the courtyard, her annoyed huffs aggravating him.

"This is bullying. I'm being bullied." She hissed angrily.

"This," Tasuku hissed back. "is me taking care of you." He dragged her towards the courtyard doors that would lead her inside the dorm.

"Nooo.... Tasuku!" Izumi groaned as she tripped over the ledge that separated the outside from the inside, her outdoor slippers falling from her feet as her socks slid against the varnished floor.

Her voice was hushed when they made it inside and she glared at Tasuku who was squinting down at her, his hand still tight around her elbow.

"You should go to bed too if you're forcing me inside." She grouched unhappily and pointed at the black helmet that hung from his fingers. "You're what people call a 'hypocrite'."

"I will hurt your feelings." Tasuku seethed with annoyance, too busy quarrelling with Izumi to mind that he was wearing his boots indoors. If he forgets to clean it when he comes home later, he'll just have to deal with the consequences.

Izumi pouted. "My feelings are already hurt. Make it up to me with a ride."

"So that's what you've been aiming for, huh." Tasuku sighed, releasing her arm with a click of his tongue. "Whatever. Go change into something warmer then."

"I knew you weren't going to wear a jacket." Tasuku sighed in disappointment when Izumi came back to the courtyard with an oversized sweater and a pair of boyfriend jeans. She looked tiny and was prone to get cold due to her choice of clothes. He was glad that he had grabbed his grey zip up when he returned to his room earlier.

He stood up from the bench with a heavy sigh and threw the jacket at Izumi, the director fumbling around with the soft fleece until she figured out how to put it on.

"Why do you never take care of yourself?" Tasuku frowned helplessly, noticing that she didn't bring a scarf with her either.

Someone in the dorm would probably kill him if they found out he was the reason why she'd gotten sick.

The crickets chirped as the director shrugged, and the pair walked towards the garage where Tasuku pulled a keychain from his jacket and pressed a button, the whir of the doors painstakingly loud.

Izumi cringed. "Ugh. No doubt that woke someone up." Following Tasuku, she who ducked under the still moving doors.

"Then make quick work and let's get outta here." Tasuku grumbled as he strode towards one side of the garage to grab the unused helmet he had lying around. With a toss, he threw the protective gear at Izumi who caught it with ease.

He jogged back to where she stood with his bike and grabbed his own helmet that he hung on the handle, putting it on after helping his director sit on the backseat of the vehicle.

Kicking his long leg over the motorcycle, Tasuku waited for Izumi to hop on behind him, her body warm against his back as she tugged the chin strap until it was a snug fit.

"Don't let go." Tasuku called out to her as he kickstarted the engine, the motorcycle roaring to life beneath them.

Izumi's arms tightened around his waist like a coil and nodded, keeping herself as close to his back as he could without hindering his movement. "Yup."

She held him tight enough to make Tasuku's breath hitch at the close proximity, but he covered it up by pushing his bike upright with his boot clad foot, kicking away the bar so that he could drive onto the road.

With a delighted sigh, Izumi leaned her head back to enjoy the gusts of wind that blew against her.

The street lamps were dim, but still held enough light for Tasuku's bike to be seen kilometres away, but after a few moments of speed racing it out of the neighbourhood, they weren't visible from the dorm anymore.

The thrill of having to lean to help steer the bike as their knees nearly grazed the ground was something Izumi never knew she needed to experience in her life. It was almost like Tasuku was acting like they were in a race with someone else with how he sped along the road that led to the highway, and Izumi was just gobbling all of the excitement up.

She almost acted on impulse when they drove over a huge hill and caught some air, but Tasuku stopped her before she could.

"I said don't let go, you idiot!" He shouted over the wind that whipped past them, grabbing onto Izumi's hands that nearly slipped from his abdomen.

Izumi was planning on throwing her arms up in the air as if she were on a rollercoaster (you know, like an idiot), but was thankfully boycotted by Tasuku who had a feeling that he knew what she was going to do.

Izumi clicked her tongue and went back to hugging Tasuku's waist, but didn't forget to add a threat despite her obedience.

"If you say that to me one more time, I'll really let go." Izumi hissed through the wind.

Tasuku begged over the sound of his motorcycle growling as they sped up the highway. "Please don't."

"This is nice." Izumi smiled faintly as she leaned back against Tasuku's parked bike, admiring the city that never ceased to work.

The wind blew similar to that night she last enjoyed like this and it brushed her neck like they were fingers tracing the smooth expanse of her throat.

Her eyes closed at the comforting caress and basked in the buzz of alcohol that still seemed to course through her body, hands pressing comfortably into the leather seats of Tasuku's bike.

The actor stood beside her casually, but couldn't help but stare as Izumi's head fell back with a sigh dripping out of her lips.

There was no doubt in Tasuku's mind that Izumi was definitely his type, and the way she looked tonight, dressed in baggy boyfriend jeans with a sweet pastel sweater with cats on the chest just reinforced the thought.

Tasuku didn't notice this before either, but she even wore her round glasses and it made the emotionally expressive part of him inwardly clench his fists.

On top of being an attractive young woman who was the same age as him, she was someone who wasn't afraid of his curt personality and actually quite enjoyed partaking in friendly little fights.

Not to mention, she was definitely a little empty in the head sometimes.

It was cute. Kind of.

Tasuku barely had the chance to resist the adoration that came to soften his features as the seconds passed by with him staring, and Izumi noticed.

Why, the heat of his gaze was intense. It was nearly impossible to ignore.

"You can take a picture if you want to stare." She half-laughed, half-scoffed. Her eyes stayed transfixed on the city below them despite the statement and Tasuku thought it easy to lie that he absolutely was not staring.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He replied and crossed his arms over his chest. He averted the direction of his gaze towards the city just to prove he wasn't looking at her and took in a sniff of the cool air, blatantly ignoring the chuckle that left Izumi's mouth.

"Aw. I didn't say I didn't like it." She smiled, reaching out for Tasuku's sleeve so that she could pull him closer. "But I'm going to have to charge you if you keep looking."

Tasuku sighed.

It was times like these where Izumi threw away her charm without a care.

"I'm not paying you money." He scoffed, gently prying away his arm from her clingy fingers.

"Look at you, making assumptions." Izumi teased. She pulled the sleeves to Tasuku's zip up over her hands to warm her skin and reached for him again, fingers tapping against his hand to get him to look at her once more.

She held onto his pinky to coax his gaze away from the city and she pulled, expression softening to something sweet when his reluctant violet eyes shifted to her face.

He took one step toward her, albeit hesitant, and gave Izumi his signature frown, skin tingling where she touched him.

"I'll charge you one kiss for each minute you stare." She said playfully, but the warmth to her tone told Tasuku that there was a small part of her that was serious.

The man froze.

Uh. Um.

Tasuku shook his head with a bewildered laugh, but didn't pull his hand away from her warming touch, eyebrows pinched together to show the confusion he was feeling.

"No. No, no. You're—you're still drunk, Izumi." Tasuku stumbled over his words clumsily, breath coming out in white puffs as the biting breeze stabbed his lungs and pinched his nose. His ears were heating up like the fireplace back at the dorm as the director gazed up at him with her unchanging smile. It made his heart squeeze.

"If I was drunk in the first place I would have thrown you to the ground back at the dorm."  Izumi rolled her eyes. She brushed her thumb over the back of his hand after a moment then released her grip on him, eyes fond.

"It was a joke though. So quit staring at me like I'm crazy." She huffed playfully, pushing the looming Tasuku away by his chest, the warmth he was emanating from being so close making her uncomfortably bashful.

Her cheeks were growing warm and pink, and Tasuku was sure it was because of the biting winter cold, but there was a small part of him that hoped it was because she was feeling embarrassed. He could still feel the press of her hand on his chest even though she wasn't touching him anymore and his knees grew weak, heart racing like a stampede of horses were rattling at his ribcage.

Her little nose was pink due to the cold and her lips were a soft rose, brown eyes shining like tempered chocolate as she gazed at him through fluttering lashes.

Izumi shifted under his prodding gaze.

"....You're still staring." She said awkwardly.

"I thought you liked it." He smiled.

A smile so charming that it had all the air in Izumi's lungs rushing out as his sharp eyes peered down at her.

And— well, yeah. She did say that, but didn't he feel embarrassed at all? He was openly staring at her this time around and didn't even deny it the second time she accused him, smiling as she did so.

She pressed herself firmly against the seat of Tasuku's bike and frowned, keen on putting some space between them.

He was just playing with her, right? He liked to do that sometimes.

The wind blew again and brushed her hair back behind her shoulders, cooling her hot skin. There was steam coming out of her ears as the silence between them grew and for some reason she was unable to make eye contact with Tasuku.

"I'm not counting the minutes anymore." Izumi huffed.

Tasuku sighed.

"I wonder about you sometimes." He mused, stepping forward to cage Izumi between him and his bike, watching as she straightened against the seat and pushed her hands against his chest to maintain some distance.

"I—I don't care. You're being weird." She complained. The heat coming off of Tasuku was nearly unbearable as he trapped her, his hands planted on either side of her against the vehicle they were leaning on.

Tasuku took a deep breath in and chuckled. It wasn't often he got to see such a vulnerable expression on her face, and he was glad he was able to have the same effect on her that she had on him.

"Did Cupid stab you or something? Tasuku—" Her breath was cut short as she quickly brought her hands up to create a barrier between their faces, warm palms covering Tasuku's mouth to prevent him from trying anything funny.

"You didn't even want to kiss me earlier." She hissed, half-annoyed. Not that she was scared that he would or anything, but she'd rather take a dive to Hell than let Tasuku change his mind without a fight. His glimmering violet eyes looked at her with mirth dancing behind his irises and she resisted the urge to bare her teeth in defiance.

"The more I look, the more I notice how adorable you are. Don't think you're escaping me before I get my kiss." Tasuku spoke, saccharine sweet.

His lips brushed over the soft skin of Izumi's palms as he talked and his words would have taken the director's breath away had she not realised that Tasuku was reciting his lines from this one romance play he featured in a few months ago.

"Dude. Obvious actor voice." She frowned.

Tasuku blinked, unimpressed.

"You know I'm not a romantic." He grouched, teeth nipping at the soft skin of Izumi's palm to punish her for being so mean.

"Yeah. Which means it's a little gross when you try to be." She frowned, removing a hand from her barrier to curl around the base of Tasuku's neck. His position wasn't ideal considering their heights, and so she decided to carefully massage her fingers into the straining muscle.

"I would have preferred it happening without you meaning to." Izumi said, honest. Tasuku relaxed beneath her warm touch and huffed out a sigh from his nose, her fingertips digging in just the right spots.

"Noted." He murmured into her hand. His eyes fell shut at the lazy circle of her fingers and didn't even notice when her hand left his face, too busy focusing on the way her cold fingers slowly warmed against his skin.

Izumi found that Tasuku was much cuter when his mouth was closed and it looked like he was getting the massage of his life, making the director laugh under her breath. His eyebrows twitched, and Izumi could feel the rumble of his chest as he hummed with contentment.

There was a moment of silence between them as the wind whistled in their ears, the growling of the cars in the city faint. The sound of the vehicles revving to life made Tasuku's skin tremble with excitement that he subdued with a heavy breath, and Izumi stared at his sharp visage with an intrigued smile.

She dragged a hand through his hair while the other came up to frame his jaw, fingers coaxing his face closer to hers.

Tasuku could feel her cool breath brush against his lips and he froze again, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he struggled between wanting to open his eyes and refusing to meet Izumi's gaze.

Izumi paused but kept him close, her thumb gently pressing into his jaw. "Are you okay?"

Her question was nearly inaudible, but loud enough for Tasuku to hear over the wind that soothed his burning ears. His hands shook against the seat of his bike as he clenched his fingers, and he inhaled.

"Yeah."

It was strangled, the way he responded to her, breath stuck in his throat as his senses were filled with Izumi, Izumi, Izumi. The flowery scent of her body wash stuck to her skin similar to how cigarettes stained leather jackets and Tasuku was shaken. The warmth of her hands and the soft skin that pressed into his body made his head dizzy and he so desperately wanted to hold her tight and press his face to her neck.

Tasuku could hear the smile in her mockingly dubious hum and he bit the inside of his lip when her nails scratched along his scalp.

"Tell me what you want." She said. It was more of a request than a demand, but the fingers in Tasuku's hair curled and tugged, urging a response from him.

It was like her attitude did a complete one-eighty and Tasuku was the victim she held in her delicate hands. He had nowhere else to go other than let himself be trapped in her embrace and his arms trembled anxiously, aching to wind themselves around her waist and feel their mouths press together.

He longed for this moment to come and here it was; his ears were burning terribly hot at the fact. Tasuku opened his eyes then to meet Izumi's gaze with his own, and it was like all the air in his lungs was sucked out when he noticed just how close they were.

With their noses barely touching, Tasuku could see Izumi's eyes sparkle with delight, pupils shaking as she searched for the emotions that crashed like waves behind his violet irises. Her lips the colour of a pink rose smiled at him and she lightly scratched his jaw with her nails.

Tasuku took in a deep breath and let his eyelids flutter shut once more, brushing his nose against Izumi's like an affectionate cat. "I want my kiss."

She giggled. "Yeah?"

With a playful scoff, Tasuku tilted his chin forward, just barely brushing their lips together. "Yeah..." He murmured and raised a tentative hand to trail along Izumi's waist, eyes peeking down at her through his lashes.

"I want i—...mmh." He was barely able to finish his sentence, plush lips finding his in a searing kiss that left him groaning against Izumi's mouth. His chest rumbled in a way that told her he was pleased with the situation they were in, and the sound made her lips tingle.

Izumi's palm cradled Tasuku's jaw with care as she pulled him down the same time that she went on her toes, mouth damp and warm while their breaths mixed and became one. To ease the strain in her legs, Tasuku curled a strong arm around Izumi's waist and pulled her tight to his chest, teeth gently catching her lower lip when her fingers down to his biceps and his free hand found the back of her neck.

The heat of her body made Tasuku light-headed, the way she fit against him was everything he imagined and more. Her waist was soft beneath the muscle of his arm and the way her hands explored his arms and neck made him want to sink his fingers into her soft flesh and mark her with his nails and teeth.

With each part of their lips was a desperate gasp for air before they reunited in the middle for another kiss. The subtle scent of Tasuku's cologne nearly sent Izumi into her overdrive as his arm dug into her waist and the shaky moan that left her mouth was swallowed up by the man himself.

"Tasuku..." She whispered shakily, lips abused with each suckle and bite he gave her. The actor gave a low rumble in response, but didn't cease, too high on the feeling of her swollen mouth desperately trying to catch up with the movement of his needy lips.

The evening's cold air was no match for the searing heat the two of them were sharing, Tasuku's fingers sliding through Izumi's hair to comb away the tangles while his burning palm burrowed itself under the layers of clothes she was wearing. She shivered against him as the rough pads of his fingers scratched at her waist and she sighed, hands moving to frame either side of his jaw.

"Mmh... Takato." She murmured again, lips slotting messily with his own as his tongue made a playful appearance. Their breathing was heavy, clouds puffing from the corners of their mouths as Tasuku lost himself in the feeling of her body squirming beneath his ministrations.

"I've wanted this for so long..." He sighed breathlessly, blunt nails scratching up Izumi's ribcage in such a devilish way that left her twitching and gasping. "I don't want to stop."

"First, breathe." Izumi sighed back, coaxing his jaw to loosen by massaging her thumbs into the hinges. She did her best to calm the excited thrum of his pulse by doing this and tipped her chin up to brush their noses together.

With their lips parted for each other, Izumi's tongue met Tasuku's for a brief moment and just the smallest touch brought Tasuku back to his mindless haze.

"Fuck. I'm going crazy." He groaned as if he was in pain and pulled Izumi flush against him, the soft growl of his breathing making the director shake as he licked into her mouth like he was eating his favourite ice cream. He traced every crevice of her mouth with purpose, memorizing how she felt around his tongue as he laved at her canines then her tongue, lapping at the lingering taste of the beer she drank hours ago.

God, it felt like he could do this forever, but he knew that he'd have to stop eventually. And if there was a sign that told him so, it was probably the way Izumi was now whimpering and shaking in his arms, pretty, brown eyes glistening with vulnerable tears as she pawed at his shoulders and neck.

He pulled away slowly, their tongues connected by a thin string of saliva that broke when Tasuku gave her a final kiss. This time it was chaste and the man revelled in the way Izumi melted into his chest and mewled like a sweet little cat.

"You okay?" He asked, gentle as he set Izumi back on her feet and let her lean against his bike once more. He still held her in his embrace as she nodded, and with a light brush of his thumb wiped away their mixed spit from her reddened lips.

"Yes... You monster." She murmured hazily, legs weak as Tasuku's hips pinned her to his bike to keep her upright.

The man chuckled at the weak jab and affectionately kissed her cheek and forehead, still cradling the back of her head while Izumi threw her arms around his torso in a loose hold.

"Did you feel good?" He asked again, smiling when her eyes closed with a nod as he massaged her scalp. He was relieved to feel his pulse go back to its own steady thrum even though it felt like his heart was going to burst and he pressed his nose against her temple to placate the wave of emotion that ran through him.

His lips, warm and damp from the kisses before were now tickling Izumi's ear and with a teasing lilt to his voice, uttered his own honest thoughts.

"Well, you taste good."

Ugh. Izumi wanted to punch him.

With an embarrassed huff, the young woman turned her head to bump her nose into his jaw, still feeling weak even as he pampered her with chaste kisses to her face and his knuckles caressing her cheek.

"There's no turning back from this now." She said after a few moments of him tracing each curve of her face with his fingertip. She opened her eyes to gaze at him through her damp lashes and he paused with admiring the face he'd always longed to hold. "I can't pretend this never happened."

Her wavering voice made Tasuku smile; slightly charmed by the way she thought this was only a one-time thing. She really didn't understand just how much she affected him.

"Wasn't planning on doing that. I want to do this forever." He said, honest. His fingers combed through her hair for the umpteenth time this night and sent Izumi a charming smile.

"I want to kiss you every morning and every night. I want to greet you with a kiss every time you come home and I want to kiss you in bed." Tasuku whispered into her ear, chuckling as she shied away from his ticklish breath.

"Three years. Three years I've waited to find the opportunity to make you mine and here it is."

He hugged her close after his small confession and sucked in a deep breath when he felt her lips kiss his cheek.

"And all it took was a bike ride, huh?" She mused playfully, hiding the fact that her heart was rattling in her ribcage like a bird trying to find its way out. Izumi giggled when Tasuku sighed with a nod and she went on her toes to kiss him once more. Brief and chaste.

"I guess I'm yours now." She shrugged nonchalantly, smiling at Tasuku who stared down at her with hooded violet eyes.

"Then wanna have another go around the city as lovers this time?" The man whispered with a hint of excitement, already reaching out to grab their helmets from the handlebars of his bike.

"Hell yeah, man." Izumi grinned and held out her fist for Tasuku to bump.

Her boyfriend rolled his eyes in a fond manner at her term of endearment but indulged her anyways, knocking their knuckles together before getting Izumi ready for their second joyride of the night.

That's all it took. Tasuku mused as he mounted his bike and felt a familiar pair of arms curl around his waist.

[fandom-necromancer]

A little Distraction Part 4

This has been prompted by a lovely anon! I still can’t believe how many of you like this story, I hope I can do it justice XD Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: Reverse AU (Warnings: mentioned abuse, but you know the last part,so...) Link to part one no longer available [Part2]   [Part3]   [Part5]   [Read complete on AO3]

‘I-I-I’m still embarrassed about it.’ Richard looked at Gavin sitting in the passenger side lips quirking up. ‘Hey, don’t be’, he laughed. ‘Connor and Hank won’t mind, and it was nice seeing you relax for once.’ ‘Holy shit, I m-m-met you yesterday!’ ‘I guess’, Richard shrugged and drove on. ‘Hey, don’t overthink it. If you want to, we can all pretend it never happened.’ Gavin staid silent for a while. ‘I don’t think I want that.’ ‘Hmm?’, Richard hummed in question. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I mean that it f-f-felt gooood. Wouldn’t want it to never have happened.’

‘Then try not to worry’, Richard suggested gently. ‘I didn’t mind it. I enjoyed that evening a lot.’ They both drove in silence for a while, then Richard hesitantly asked: ‘You still want to come back home with me? Or did you change your mind?’ ‘No, I… I stand by my word. I would… I think I just want to belong somewhere, and you might just work.’ Richard smiled to himself, nodding. ‘Right kind of weird for you?’ ‘Right kind of normal’, Gavin disagreed. ‘But yeah, you get the essence. Let’s just get back.’

They arrived back at Richard’s house and took their share of the leftovers back inside. Connor had packed Gavin an extra portion of the thirium cookies and he didn’t really know how he should feel about that. Still, as he sat at Richard’s table over an unfinished puzzle, munching on them. ‘You r-r-r-really enjoy doing this?’, he asked sceptically. ‘Yeah’, the human nodded. ‘But it’s just a pictuuure. It’s right there on the p-p-packaging too.’ Richard huffed. ‘Yeah, I guess it’s pointless. But it’s fun and something to keep you busy. I always got at least one on Christmas because the grandparents didn’t really know what to get me. Connor and I always finished one the days in between the years. I like to hold up that tradition.’ Gavin frowned and took a random piece from the heap. He looked at it, then at the picture on the box and placed it in the middle of the empty space. ‘Th-th-this one belongs there’, he said without much interest.

Richard looked at it and laughed. ‘You need to find pieces that fit together until you have the whole picture, Gavin.’ ‘If I continue liiiike this, it will be finished too.’ Richard sighed and handed him the piece. ‘Try find a piece in there that fits with yours.’ Gavin took it and looked at the box until the human took it away. ‘Without cheating’, he demanded. ‘I’d have to try every single one!’ ‘Nah, you can sort those out that don’t fit by colour’, Nines shrugged. ‘Only then it’s trial and error.’ Gavin shook his head and searched the heap, occasionally flicking pieces a bit too far when his hands glitched. Apparently, he had found one and tested it out. The piece fit perfectly. ‘This is pointless’, he commented, searching for the next one. ‘Maaaaaybe this is just a human th-th-thing.’ Richard grinned. ‘Maybe. Any other idea? What would you rather do?’

Gavin was thinking, trying to find the next piece. His hands glitched stronger suddenly and he had to momentarily stop. ‘We… I went for a walk with m-m-my f-f-family baaaack then. The day after Christmas.’ Richard stopped, attention focussing completely on the android in front of him. ‘Th-th-th-the kids loooved the snow. Alwaaays went to the Grand C-c-circus park and build a snowman or…’ This time it wasn’t his voice-box giving in. Gavin just stopped speaking. ‘Do you want to go there?’, Richard asked carefully. ‘I could drive us there.’ ‘I don’t actually know’, the android answered. ‘Maybe?’ He looked at Richard uncertainly. Nines tried to be reassuring and stood up. ‘I’ll get the keys. We can go and if you don’t like it, we simply drive back. I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs a bit after Hank’s food.’

-

Less than half an hour later, they stood at the entrance of the park. The trees were clad in festive lights and shone on the pathways in the beginning dark. Quite a few people were walking about, but it wasn’t at all crowded. Richard wrapped his scarf closer around his neck to keep out the cold and put his hands in his pockets. He looked around, breath coming out in little clouds and he smiled. ‘It’s nice here.’ Gavin just nodded and hesitantly followed the human in. Maybe it had been a bad idea to come to a place loaded with memories, but when he watched Richard smiling at the lights all around and locating the nearest trailer that sold coffee, he was almost ready to change his mind on that first impression. He quickly joined him and a cup of warmed thirium was pressed into his hand. Confused he looked at it. ‘Hey, you think I’d only get myself something?’, Richard chuckled. ‘How’s that saying? If you’re cold, they are cold?’ ‘I b-b-believe that’s for dogs’, Gavin complained. ‘Androids can’t get cold.’ ‘Then pretend this stupid human doesn’t understand and is concerned.’ ‘Urgh’, Gavin groaned at Richard pampering him, but still accepted the warm drink, sipping on it.

‘There’s a free bench over there’, the human pointed out. ‘How about we sit there and enjoy our drinks, hmm?’ ‘Th-th-the whole point oooof this is to move a bit after eatiiing a lot.’ ‘Are you complaining about everything today?’, Richard asked, but the soft smile on his face told Gavin he didn’t mean it. ‘I just like complaining’, Gavin shrugged. They sat down on the bench underneath a decorated tree and just watched the people walking by and the decorations. After a while though, Gavin’s eyes found their ways to the person sitting next to him. There was a certain spark in those grey-blue eyes as they looked up towards the night sky that still held a few stars even with all the light pollution. Richard caught him staring the next moment, but Gavin didn’t avert his eyes. He was still thinking about how to put everything he felt right now into a simple thank you, as someone came running up to him.

‘Gavin!’ He flinched at the touch, but recoiled even more when he saw who stood there, a hand on his knee. ‘Kathy?’, he breathed the name in question, disbelieving and panicking at the implication of the child standing here. ‘Max! Max, Gavin’s here!’, the girl shouted, and Gavin’s heart sank as another familiar face appeared smiling as he recognised him. ‘Gavin!’ The android just stared at them wide-eyed, unable to speak. ‘Kathrine, Max, where are you? Get back here!’ Oh no. He knew that voice. ‘What- Get away from that man, you two!’ Gavin looked up in the face of the man that pulled his children away from where they had stood before him. And the man stared right back. They both were likely the same level of shocked, but Gavin was freezing completely over. He couldn’t move and at the same time trembled in glitches, while his LED was stuck on red.

‘Err… Kathy, Max, please go back to your mom, okay?’ ‘But that’s Gavin!’, the girl protested. ‘Yes, let daddy talk to him for a while, okay?’ The man turned around, watching them run back to their mother before facing Gavin again and swallowing. The android still was unable to do anything but stare. ‘Gavin… is it really you?’ The android nodded jerkily. ‘Yes. It’s me, John.’ The human took a step back, breathing heavy. ‘Oh, God.’

Richard looked at the encounter from the side-lines, needing no explanation to what happened here. ‘Oh, God, Gavin, I’m so fucking sorry. I panicked and I wanted to keep them save and I- I… Fuck, I didn’t know you were alive. I did horrible things to you. Truly horrible things. I can’t even imagine how you must have felt and fuck. I’m sorry. I- I didn’t know, I-‘ ‘IIIIt’s o-o-o-okay’, Gavin pressed out just to make the man shut his mouth. ‘No, it’s not. I fucking beat you almost every day! And when I was afraid you were alive and would turn on me, I just dumped you telling you to wait. Although I knew I’d never come back for you.’ ‘It’s okaaaay’, Gavin tried again. ‘I d-d-d-don’t waaaant to th-th-think about it anymore.’ John looked at him, brows furrowed in confusion. ‘Why?’ ‘B-b-b-because I have my ooown family now.’ It was the first time, the man even acknowledged Richard sitting next to him, coffee long forgotten. ‘What?’ ‘R-r-richard. He found me at the scraaaapyard and t-t-t-took me hooome. I haaated you. I waaanted to c-c-come back. I missed you. Th-th-the kids. You were my faaamily. But I waited l-l-l-long enough for you. I want to st-st-start again now. With Richard and h-h-his family.’

John swallowed hard and got to his knees, ignoring how the snow soaked the fabric of his trousers. Carefully, he took Gavin’s hand in his and nodded. ‘Okay. I understand. Just… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought you were a machine that didn’t feel anything. I… I still shouldn’t have, and I know it. I’m sorry I did this to you. I want you to know that. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that because of me. I’m… I’ve sought help for my problem. The kids and Helen, they are safe from me. And I wish you all the best in your life. I hope we never meet again.’ He stood up and took a step back, facing Richard and he could see the man was really meaning it. ‘Treat him better than I did. Promise me.’ Nines nodded. ‘I will.’ ‘Thank you. Goodbye, Gavin.’

Richard watched the man hurry back to his family and Gavin sip on his thirium with shaking hands. They had long left the park, when he dared to talk to the android again. ‘Are you alright?’ ‘Not r-r-really’, Gavin answered. ‘I think I would like to go home now.’ ‘Of course’, Richard spoke gently and guided him up and towards his car. ‘I’ll drive us home.’ The sound of the engine made Gavin ease up a bit, but it was only when they arrived at the man’s home, that Gavin dared to release all the built-up tension.

‘Thank you.’

Richard looked up from where he had put away his shoes. ‘For what?’ ‘Everything. Being nice and caring. Picking me up to beeeeegin with. I think even if he did come b-b-b-back to get me, I wouldn’t want to go back with h-h-h-him.’ ‘You don’t have to thank me for that’, Richard sighed. ‘Maybe not. But I feeelt like I had to.’ ‘I understand’, he nodded. ‘What now?’

Gavin looked over at the table. ‘You still have to finish that puzzle, right? And maybe a m-m-m-movie afterwards?’ Richard smiled at him and Gavin really could get used to seeing that. ‘Sounds amazing. Let me just heat up Hank’s leftovers from yesterday and we can get right to it.’

[>next part]

[peaches-of-1]

Peachtober | Day 12: Haybale

Settlement | Reader x Ranch Hand!Namjoon

A/N: I did my best not to add pronouns/gender specifics refering to the reader, so lemme know if I did by accident or missed any.

"So, we'll split up new volunteers with the regulars." The chubby older man in a blue plaid shirt said and read the list on his clipboard through thick glasses.

You were bummed that your best friend Rosé had been put with a different leader than you, but at least the cowboy you had been assigned to was cute.

His thighs seemed to fight against the faded blue denim of his jeans which led to a well crafted torso. And his smile charmed you in a millisecond, a flash of canyon like dimples and dazzling teeth.

Namjoon was his name, and he gave you a firm handshake as a greeting, along with a kind, "Thanks for coming to help out, Y/N."

"No problem."

Because a lot of people hadn't shown up, and the work was too much for just 2 people, Yoongi's group joined as well making for a total of five. It was September 25, and so the local farm was starting to set up it's annual Autumn Festival. Rosé was the one who had suggested it, and you had nothing better to do.

"Our jobs are pretty easy. It'll take a while, though. We have to take all the hay bales from the barn and make it into a maze for kids. The maze is already planned, but it includes a lot of lifting. Not too hard, right, Namjoon?" The dark haired man asked the honey haired leader. "Namjoon-ah?"

As your head turned to face the usual volunteer, you caught a glimpse of dark brown eyes looking downwards...at you? No, but who else could he have been looking at?

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, it's enough cardio for a week." He smiled as you felt heat rush into your cheeks. "Let's all drive over to the barn, and go from there."

The two other newbie volunteers hopped into the back, and you were about to join them when Yoongi called your name.

"Ride in the front with Joon. I'll explain to my crew." He held the door open.

"Ah, ok." Came your quiet reply.

The idea seemed sudden and kind of startled  you, but you were glad not to be sat in the rough bed of the truck. As the engine growled to life, Namjoon reminded you to put on your seat belt. Then the wheels began to turn as you were driven forward.

"So, uh, how long have you been doing this?"

He smiled, grateful that you spoke first it seemed, "I actually work in the city, but one of my young friends, him and his family run the farm. They needed some extra help, so I started helping about 7 years now." Regret tinged his ears a red shade as he said, "Sorry. I tend to ramble."

"It's ok. I don't think you rambled too much." You gave him a genuine smile.

"Eyes on the road, Joon!" Yoongi called.

Once the first stack of hay bales were secured onto the truck, the darker haired man left with the other two. Namjoon and you were left alone to get the next stack ready for their return. His muscles rippled with every yank of heavy straw that you pushed towards him. No trace of the goofy and shy man you had rode with 15 minutes before.

"What made you join this year?" He drank a bottle of water he must've left here. "I recognized Rosé from last year. She looks good with pink hair."

You nodded and refused the bottle as you weren't thirsty...for water at least, "Yeah, I just wanted to do some work outside of my house and she signed me up for this."

"What's your usual job?"

"Oh, it's--OW" You pulled your leg back and saw a black spotted cat paw leading to your attacker.

"Wasabi! That's not how you treat guests!" He scolded the cat who now purred around his ankles. "She just had babies, so she's a bit protective. Sit."

You automatically dropped to sit on the block of hay you had let go. Namjoon went to a box on the wall with a red cross on it to get a small bag from it. He knelt in front of you.

"May I?"

You nodded and replied, "Mmhmm."

He lifted your foot to rest on his thigh and dabbed at the scratch with a wipe. You gave a sharp inhale, and he giggled.

"It's not even that deep."

"Still hurts." You pouted.

With a gentle rub, the too big bandaid covered the injury.

"I could sue you for this." You teased.

"If I kiss you, could we call it a proper settlement?" The question came out so smoothly you couldn't tell if he was serious.

Your eyes got wide. The sound of an approaching car pulled both of your attentions towards it. You quickly stepped back and Namjoon grinned at the ground.

"Sorry." He said before moving towards the door.

With a swift movement, he took up the straw you had dropped at Wasabi's scratch and you looked at the mama cat who meowed. It was if she was teasing you for not taking the chance. Yoongi came in to give her pets and asked where her babies were. She leapt down and took us to an old closet with a pile of discarded clothes inside on the floor.

"Awww, so cute! I want one~" The short red haired girl who was a part of Yoongi's group said, wanting to approach, but you put your arm in front of her as the mother hissed.

"We'll see." Yoongi replied and then spoke to Namjoon. "Just keep clear of them for now. We can make due with a few less bales."

"Gotcha. See you in a few."

The two quiet boys and the tiny red head left again.

"So, what do we do?"

"We'll kinda fence them in. Make sure no one else gets too close." He began to push a bale towards the area.

Following suit, a small barrier now separated Wasabi and crew from the rest of the barn. Looking around, most of the hay was on the second floor.

"You want me to go up there and toss 'em down?" You asked, spotting a ladder.

"Yeah. That's better than you catching 'em." He held the ladder sturdy, "Just be careful."

"If not, I'll just have to ask for more kisses." And up the ladder you went, not thinking too much of how cute his shocked expression was.

Several tons later, it was time for lunch. Namjoon helped you down off the ladder, letting his hands linger around your waist before blushing, "We should hurry before the corn gets cold."

Even though you had the option of leaving after the meal, you convinced your ride to stay until you were done with the maze. You went back to the barn, but volunteers had to leave at sunset. Namjoon didn't say much during the meal to you, but it was ok since you weren't a socialite anyways. Also, seeing how familiar he had been with the other regulars, the Farm family's son Tae, and his dog which now joined you, was nice.

"You really have been helping out for 7 years." The words left your lips before you could even think.

"Yeah. I know everyone pretty well. Enough to know that Tae's got a little crush on you." Namjoon wiped his forehead with the hem of his shirt, allowing you to see his glistening abs in the afternoon sun.

You couldn't help but bite your lip, "Is that so?"

"Yep." He met your gaze. "You interested?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you interested in being with the farmer's son?" The way he asked sounded like it was more than one question.

How many in total? You didn't know, but you did what you did best. Told the truth.

With a firm shake of your head, you sat on the edge of the loft, "No. I'm not interested in him. He's sweet and all, but I don't have eyes for him."

"...I see. Any hay left up there?"

You looked behind yourself, "None that's like all together. Hey, what's this?"

"What's what?" He looked up to see your ass filling out the overall shorts you had worn today.

"Come up here and take a look." You replied.

So Namjoon climbed up the ladder to come see what had caught your attention and was pulled forward to be on top of your own nervous but eager form.

"Now that we're here, are you gonna kiss me or not?"

"You're the one who got us here. Can't ya kiss me first?"

"I wanna make sure it's mutual. Anyways, I can only be so bold, Namjoon."

A cheeky chuckle left his lips as he settled on top of you, looking into your eyes as they closed and waited for the heat of his lips made contact with yours. There was no way either of you could stop now as you grabbed onto each other as if you'd disappear if you let go for even the slightest moment. His left hand was on your hip while his right snaked up to the latch of your overalls.

"Is it ok? Can I--"

"Go ahead." You replied breathlessly.

As shaking hands fumbled with each, you couldn't help but laugh and help him out. A grateful grin was given before making out ensued once more. Namjoon wanted this to last forever, but knew this time would have to be quick. Before Yoongi and the two volunteers came back. Still, he'd be remiss if he did not properly prepare you, so he slid two fingers inside of you. Without realizing, your hips rolled into his hand and a string of moans left your mouth. The grip you had on his forearm flexed.

He watched you through all of it, noticing your blushy reaction of looking away. However, Namjoon kissed your neck as the sweetest punishment. You squealed and bucked your hips as fingers spread your needy hole.

"Hurry." Came past your lips in a whine as the last thing you wanted was to be caught by the others in such a situation.

"Wait." Namjoon took his fingers out of you and reached into a spot in the corner.

There seemed to be a box that he looked through as you ground your hips onto nothing. Yet you needed to move just for any slight sensation. He mumbled to himself.

You pouted and called out his name, "Namjoooon~ Hurryyyyy~"

The large man turned around and revealed an unmistakable box of condoms and a small bottle of lube.

He smiled and then bit his lip at the sight of your disheveled form, "They're not expired."

"Then fuck me already!"

Namjoon's dick jumped at the desperate plea and quickly obliged, lubing you up and rolling the rubber on. You wanted it inside you so badly, but he waited.

"You look so pretty." Honest words reached your ears.

Your cheeks warmed even more at the compliment and you couldn't look at him, all the bravery from earlier all but gone.

Then he leaned over you, hands on either side of your head as he growled into your ear.

"You'd be prettier with my cock inside you, though." And thrust into you.

The scream of pleasure which came out of your throat surprised even you. And though you tried to cover your mouth, Namjoon pinned your hands down.

Between grunts, he uttered, "Don't. Don't hide from me. I wanna hear it all. Oh fuck. Please. Let me hear how badly you want this."

As his own moans trickled out, you looked at his furrowed brows and the new layer of sweat forming on both of you. You groaned and moaned out his name and loving words of support.

"You're so great, Namjoon. Oh, oh, oh my God. You're doing so well. Ahhhhh, more!"

"Yes! Yes! Oh Y/N. Oh fuck!" His curses were a whisper, contrasting how he screamed your name like a prayer.

"Namjoon, yes. Harder. Fuck, yes!" You felt him twitch inside of you and moved your hips upwards to meet his.

He whimpered and began to suck on your nipples, giving them tiny nibbles here and there. Namjoon's breathing became thick as he made love with you. He looked up at you, brown eyes dark and glittering in the golden hour of the world.

"Y/N, I can't--I'm gonna."

You held his face in your hands, "Cum for me."

He released as soon as the door opened, and you had to kiss him to muffle his scream of ecstasy.

"Namjoon? Y/N? Is this the last of it?" Yoongi asked.

Namjoon replied, "Yeah. If you can take it all on one go, that'd be great." in a voice that was clear for someone finishing up an orgasm and was still bucking inside of you.

You couldn't help but twitch, making him look down at you with your own hands muffling your own moans and eyes filled with tears. Right on the edge. You were right there, but you couldn't get there with the other man so close to catching on. The seconds passed by in the form of endless hours as Yoongi was quiet for no reason.

"So, you gonna go?" The thick chested man asked.

"Yeah. Alright, we'll start loading the truck. Wanna help out, Joonie?"

The man on top of you whispered, "Fuck." Before clearing his throat, "Nah. Kinda busy."

Yoongi's voice held a smile in it, "Oh, I see. I'll tell V you wanted to give the volunteer a tour." He then left.

You hid your face into Namjoon's shoulder. You wanted to cum so badly. The barn door closed and Namjoon began to pound into you after a sigh of relief. He was hard again. Did he like the idea of getting caught that much? It was a fleeting thought as the sound of a truck driving off allowed you to moan again. Your body convulsed as the ranch hand abused your g spot now that he found it. You gripped his arm, wrist, whatever you could hold onto as your orgasm finally reached its peak.

Heavy pants as Namjoon pulled out and lay next to you. He kissed your lips once more and you curled up into his side.

"That’s such a great settlement." You let an airy chuckle out.

Joon looked over at you, only able to laugh at your comment. The two of you decided to hurry and get dressed, and he walked you to the bus taking the last bit of city folk back. He called out your name before you went on, picking a piece of straw out of your hair and sticking it into his mouth.

“Come back soon.” He smiled so large that his dimples became a cavern.

[hardlyinteresting]

Gone with the wind

Bucky makes it home from war and finds an unlikely friendship with the daughter of the man he’s working for.

Loosely based on the song “Cleopatra” by The Lumineers. 1940s!AU (I haven’t written in a long time so please be kind, I’m rusty) Warnings: Mildly toxic home life, 1940s sexism, alludes to past sexual assault, mugging, swears

July 1949

It’s hot. Far too hot, Y/N thinks. The ringlets her mother had insisted she wear her hair in have fallen loose since this morning, tight frizzy curls beginning to form at the nape of her neck and temples. She can feel the sweat forming and she wishes she was young again so that she might be allowed to go swimming in the stream behind the estate. Instead, she’s stuck in frills and lace of white and cream, forced to take tea with her mother, father and their guests; her father’s business associate, Joseph Redding and his son, Robert. 

The conversation is dull especially since she’s not allowed to contribute any of her ideas on the stock market or trade. She allows her eyes to wander across the yard to the man her father had hired at the beginning of the summer season. She watches as he rolls up his shirt sleeve for the third time, wiping his grease-covered hand on his grey slacks. He’s handsome with his dark hair and blue eyes; he has a kind smile too when anyone approaches, but he works alone The best mechanic and vallet her father has ever employed apparently. 

She wonders if he fought in the war, like her brother William had. He’s tall and strong--he must’ve been overseas. Maybe he had served with William, maybe he’d know what really happened over there, what happened to Willi-- She’s snapped out of her thoughts by a subtle kick under the table from her mother. 

“The Reddings are hosting a gala, Y/N. Isn’t that lovely?” her mother smiles politely, but Y/N knows the annoyance that lies beneath, just for her. 

“Yes, it is. A lovely way to end the social season, I agree” Y/N nods taking a sip of her now cold tea. 

“I’d be honoured if miss Y/N might accompany me to the gala,” Robert speaks. 

Y/N isn’t shocked, but she resists the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Y/N would be delighted” Her father speaks for her. She can only smile though it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“May I be excused?” she asks, “I think the heat might be getting to me, I’m feeling quite faint”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, instead, she stands to leave the patio and makes her way towards the door. 

“Good afternoon miss,” The mechanic greets politely as she passes. 

Slowing her steps on the gravel of the driveway she smiles, “Good afternoon”.

He is far more handsome up close she decides. 

                                      _____________________________

August 1949

The gala is only a week away and she still hasn’t found a dress to wear.  It’s her first public outing since the war ended. Something doesn’t feel right about shopping for the perfect dress knowing that her brother isn’t with their father at the tailor having a new tux made.  Maybe, if she can’t find a dress in time she won’t have to go to the gala at all.

Y/N slips into her favourite dress. The red one with little white polka dots. Her mother despises it, but maybe that’s why she likes it so much.  She paints her lips with her victory red lipstick to match. Perfect. 

Maybe she’ll get a red dress for the gala. 

when she gets downstairs she finds the car man waiting patiently. Clean white shirt and black pants. They’re ironed and pleated perfectly she would almost think they were new if it weren’t for the repair that’s been made in the knee of them. 

“Good Morning Miss,” He greets with a smile. 

“Good Morning”. 

He makes sure to hold the door for her, closing it behind her before running ahead to open the door of the black Lincoln, making sure the front seat was forward enough for her to get in the back.

“Don’t bother, I’m sitting in the front today,” She grins opening the passenger side door. 

“your father said for me to make sure you sat in the back seat Miss”

“My father is on a business trip and my mother is at tea with the neighbours. I won’t tell if you don’t. Besides, I’d like to drive with the roof down, and how am I ever supposed to hear a word you say with all the wind back there”.

He swallows and nods, shutting the back door. Slipping into the driver's seat he sighs, “Where to first miss?”

“It’s Y/N”

“Alright, where to first miss Y/n” he smirks starting the car. 

“Manhattan, fifth and 38th”

She likes the sound of the engine and the breeze through her hair. Her smile is bright and genuine as they near the city. 

“So, you’ve been working for my father all summer and I still don’t know your name”.

“My name is James. But you can call me Bucky”. “Bucky...I like it. It suits you. Have you always worked with cars, Bucky?” “For the most part. When I finished school I started helping my dad out in his shop before he died. And then the war happened. I’m glad to be back doing what I’m good at.” “I’m sure you were very brave over there, Bucky” she offers kindly.

Y/N talks a lot, but he doesn’t mind. She’s quieter and kinder than her mother, and smarter and more tactful than her father. He enjoys her company. 

When they arrive in the garment district Bucky turns the rearview mirror for her so she can see herself and fix her wind-tossed hair.

“Thank you for the drive Bucky. I’ll see you back here in an hour”.

“Your father asked me to be you escort for the day. I’m meant to come with you”.

“I am more than capable of looking after myself. I don’t need a man to look after me. What do you think we all did when you men were away at war?”

He can tell she’s frustrated. He doesn’t blame her. He knows her anger isn’t really directed towards him. So, he lets her have her moment of free speech. He knows she spends most of her days holding her tongue at home. 

He nods. Leaning against the hood of the car he lights a smoke.  “I’ll see you in an hour then. But, I will come and find you if you’re late. Your father will have my head if anything happens to you”. 

“I’m glad to hear we agree,” Y/N bubbles. Bucky can only shake his head as she walks away. She’s something else. He knows that if steve could see him now he’d be in for a world of jokes and jabs. Bucky just hasn’t been the same since he got home. The dance halls don’t feel as light as they used to, instead, they’re only a reminder of who he was before he watched the world change before his very eyes. The girls aren’t the same now either, everyone wants a soldier, and that's the last thing he wants to be anymore.  Y/N is different. She gorgeous without trying. She’s kind even though her position in life doesn’t lend itself to compassion. He can tell she wants more from life and there’s something about the way she looks at people- right into their souls that makes them want to give her everything they have, Bucky is no exception. 

45 minutes later she’s returned a large box in her arms and a grin as wide as the new york skyline. He hopes she got a red dress like she said she wanted. 

                                      _______________________

It’s two days later when Bucky is asked to take Y/N into town so she can meet with a friend. He’s parked outside the restaurant reading a book Steve gave him the week before when he hears the commotion. He wants to ignore it, there’s always something bad happening in New York and often times it’s better to just turn a blind eye, but a woman’s scream has him leaping over the car door and running up the alleyway behind the restaurant and hotel. 

“Bucky!” she screams again. Y/N.

His fist flies and he’s reminded of his time before the war beating up the guys who tried to hurt little Steve. His knuckles are bloody when he’s done, he has Y/N’s purse in his hand, torn away from one of her attackers.

She’s sobbing when he approaches her, shaking in her little blue dress. He slips off his jacket wrapping it around her shoulders. She clutches his shirt tightly as he guides her back to the car, a friendly hand on the small of her back. When she’s situated in the front seat he takes a moment to look her over. The knee of her stockings is torn, she’s bleeding. She holds her left hand to her chest as she cries.  He’s filled with rage once more, wishing he had done more than just punch those fuckers’ teeth out. 

“let's get you home, yeah?” he asks quietly a comforting hand on her shoulder, she leans towards the warmth of his body her head against his shoulder. He knows he shouldn’t, but he hugs her anyway, she deserves the comfort and she’s sure as hell not going to get it at home.  “I don’t want to go home,” she whispers against his shirt collar, “I’ll be in trouble”. “Alright...well we’ve got to get you cleaned up then.”

She nods.  “you’re alright now...you’re safe. I promise”. “I knew you were brave,” she offers a small smile with her watery eyes and a pink nose. 

He drives to Brooklyn. To his home. 

“Is this where you live?” Y/N asks quietly as he helps her from the car.  “Yes”. Inside, the house is warm. There’s soup cooking on the stove and music plays from the radio in the living room. 

“Ma? We have a guest!” “Steve, I’ve told you you’re not a gues--” his mother pauses as she rounds the kitchen door, “You’re not Steve”. Y/N shakes her head, “No, Ma’am”. She moves closer to Bucky’s side, her hand still held tightly to her chest.  “Ma, this is Y/N. Y/N this is my mother, Winnifred”. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Barnes,” Y/N sniffles holding back tears.  “we’re going to get Y/N cleaned up so I can take her back home. She’s had a hard day”. Winnifred nods feeling sorry for the girl.  “Is Becca home?” Bucky asks. “up in her room”.

Bucky guides Y/N the stairs to the washroom sitting her on the edge of the bathtub. “I’ll be right back”.

Y/N hears a knock on what she assumes in Becca’s door. When Bucky returns he has a new pair of stockings and a face towel in his hand. He sets them aside, rummaging under the sink for the first aid kit his mother put together.  Wetting the towel he dabs gently at the wound on Y/N’s knee. When it’s clean he wrings out the towel before wetting it again, he holds his hand out towards the girl. Nervously she extends her left-hand palm up. It’s caked in blood and dirt, but he can see the shard of glass in her palm.  “I’ll be careful, I promise,” he tells her, making sure their eyes meet.  “I trust you”.

                                  _________________________

It’s the night of the gala.  Her dress feels too tight. The clip her mother put in her hair is digging uncomfortably against her scalp. Her hands are sweaty in her long silk gloves and the scab on her palm from where Bucky removed the glass shard is an itchy reminder of how much she hates the company she’s about to be in.  She had tried sneaking out the back door of the restaurant to avoid Robert Redding who had conveniently been dining in the same restaurant. She knew the moment she saw him it was her mother’s doing, and her friend’s encouragement for her to go over and say hello only lead her to believe that she was in on it too.  Not that she was surprised. From the moment Robert had begun visiting the estate with his father in June Y/N knew her parents planned on having them married. Without her brother around to inherit her father’s company and estate, Y/N would have to marry well, and who better than the son of her father’s vice-president.   There was a sinking feeling in Y/N’s stomach when her mother asked her not to wear any rings to the gala, saying they might be a distracting from the main attraction. But, Y/N doesn’t want the ring she knows Robert is going to give her. He’s good looking enough and nice enough, but he’s dense and condescending. Y/N wants more. She wants the rugged and handsome and hard-working, honest and brave. Not the man who has had everything handed to him, the man who shied away from service when the world was begging for soldiers, Not the man who is going to trap her in an endless cycle of fake smiles and tea parties. 

She can hear her parents in their bedroom getting ready for the night.  Martin her father’s other driver is waiting in the car downstairs. Looking out the window she can see Bucky getting in his own car ready to head home for the night. Quietly she makes her way down the stairs and out the kitchen door. 

“Bucky” she startles him.  “What are you doing out here? You should be inside, you’re going to get your dress dirty”

She did buy a red dress, and she looked like a dream. Bucky knows she’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, but he tries not to look too long, he’s heard the gossip around the house, he knows you’re meant to be engaged to Robert Redding tonight.  “I want to go to Brooklyn” “what?” “Take me away from here please?” damn her and her eyes, how could he ever say no.  “You’re parent’s aren’t going to like this, and Robert isn’t likely to ask you to marry him a second time” “I don’t care. I don’t want to marry him”.  Bucky nods, opening the passenger seat door for her. 

and so they speed off towards his home, where her new friend Rebecca and the lovely Winnifred wait. 

She learns to cook and to sew, she helps make ends meet helping Winnifred with her laundry business. She puts her fancy education to good use and starts to teach. She reads all the books that she wants, she gets to sit in the front seat of Bucky’s car any time she wants. And she gets to marry the hard-working honest man from Brooklyn that she really wanted. 

Author’s note: Sorry the end is rushed, it’s super late here now and I knew I’d never finish it if I let it wait until tomorrow. anyway, let me know what you think!

[stardancerluv]

Is Immortality the Ultimate Gift?

Part Three

Summary: Being together...

“My little lambkin.” He whispered. As you looked above his shoulder, you noticed the sky was beginning to change, dawn was not far off.

“I have to go.”

“Why?” You could see his confusion

“Dawn, is approaching.”

“Oh.” He exhaled. “I probably, have no place to ask this; but can I come with you?”

You had not expected that. “What about her?” You tilted your head towards the bar.

“I’ll talk to her.” The smile he gave you, had always made you forget your worries. Though, you were no longer that girl.

“You do that and I’ll go pay the barman.”

******

His warm, very human hand grabbed you by the wrist. You could feel his worry before he spoke.

“Oh! You’re a block of ice. You should have ordered a shot to warm you up.” He let you go, but he gave you a warm smile.

“I am always this cold.”

Pressed his lips together, nodding. You had the impression someone close to him was also cool to the touch.

“They are known to be particularly violent.” He gestured to Thomas. “They shoot people out of hand. None of their crimes ever stick.”

You sighed. “That bad?”

He nodded. “I heard him talk to her. He has quite the mouth. He deserves to get the smirk knocked off his face.”

You could smell as drew close to you again.

If only you knew, you mused. I am more lethal, than these two. A caring human, how touching. “Thank you.” You smiled and pushed the money towards him. Turning, you watched as Thomas approached. “I’ll be careful.” You said, looking back at the barman.

“Shall we?” You nodded, letting your attention go back to Thomas.

“Yes.” You followed him out.

“Should we take my car?” He gestured to the red Bentley.

“Sure.” You crossed the street to the shiny red car.

You could, hear the sloshing of her organs as she ran over to the two of you, her stench easily reaching your nose.

You turned to face her. “Yes?”

She stopped mid-running, completely flustered, she struggled to find the right words. Then she found them. “He’s mine, I am only letting you burrow him.”

You grabbed her by her throat. Squeezing, she could not scream. You smiled, as she gasped. “Now, you listen to me.” You spat out. “I fed you tonight. Want to test me? Go back to the bar and look in the ladies room. Understand?”

She nodded, barely but she managed. “Good. Now, the only reason why I am not snapping your throat is because of Thomas. But if you continue to irk me, I will not hesitate to end your rotten life. So stop yapping at me like a small dog.” You dropped her.

She spluttered about before standing holding her throat. It wasn’t the first time, a ghoul had such anger in their eyes.

******

“You live here?” He cut the engine, after he parked along side your building. He looked up at it through the windshield.

“Yes, but let’s avoid the bar. I need to go to my quarters.”

You knew you had made your place sound proof, but you could only hope that if anyone smelled Thomas they’d assume you merely found yourself a ghoul to take care of your whims.

******

Once on your floor, you put the code in to lock the elevator in place.

“What’s that for?”

You turned to him. “Safety.”

“But,” His brow wrinkled.

“I’ll be sleeping soon, its the only time I am vulnerable.” You took his hand. “I also don’t want anything happening to you while I sleep.” His warmth was beginning to fade.

What really worried you was you’d go to sleep and wake up; only to realize all of this had been nothing more then a dream. If it ended up that way, perhaps you would finally allow the sun to kiss your flesh.

He squeezed your hand and gently let it go. He reached behind him. “That is why I have this.”

He revealed a small hand gun. One sniff, and you smelled the mixture of a very hard wood and lead. You stepped back.

Something, came over his face as he stepped closer. He put the gun down on a table before coming all the way over to you. “You don’t think I would ever hurt you, do you?”

You realized, your instincts that had kept you alive for so long could cause pain in the man you had once loved and realized could love again.

You closed the distance, moving fast as you had in the bar. Grabbing, his gun you put it into his hand and you brought it to where you heart slumbered for so long.

His hand shook, he stepped backwards when he realized what you had done. Looking around he put the gun back onto the table. You, noticed he could be fast when he wanted to be too. He grabbed you by your upper arms and leaned in close. “Why, why would you do that?”

“I needed you to know that I trust you.” As you looked into those blue eyes again, old emotions swirled to the surface.

“What, if something happened? What if my finger had slipped?”

“I lived a good life. It would be a gift to die by the man I only ever loved.”

His hands squeezed harder, his strength sent a flutter through you. You thought ghouls were weak.

When he let you go, you almost fell down. The sun continuing to rise as your strength continued to dwindle. He turned away. “You really loved me all this time?” He didn’t face you.

“Yes.” The sun was beginning to slid into your place. “We can talk later. Now, please follow me.” As you practically, ran down the hall. Making, it your bedroom suite you went to the panel in the wall. Putting in another code and as soft as a whisper, sheets of metal locked into the window sill, and so as to not be completely hideous eye sore, drapes followed them and were pulled close.

“That is a very keen idea on blocking the sun.” Half of his mouth twisted up, as he nodded.

“Yes, I have mastered techniques on avoiding the sun over the years. Wavering, on your shaky legs you slipped free of your heels.

The sun continued to rise and the weaker you became. “You are not locked in. So you can do as you wish while I..” You hugged your sides, before you crumpled to your knees.

He rushed to your side. “Y/N,” His blue eyes filled with unease. His voice speaking your name echoed sweetly, in your mind. Tears, prickled your eyes. “Let me help you. Tell me what I have to do.” You distantly heard him.

Looking, at him you were barely able to focus. “Get me into my bed.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

He picked you up and brought you over. With one hand he pushed aside the blankets. You pulled them back.

“Are you ok, tell me you are ok?”

“I am, its just time for me to sleep.” You found his hand. “Please be here when I awake. Please be real.”

The velvety blackness of sleep enveloped you. Your maker and no one else for that matter knew why it was like this with the sun. Perhaps, it was the exhaustion of immortality.

******

Your small hand dropped from his.

“Y/N...Y/N?” He sighed. “I’ll be here. I promise.” He put your hand beside the other one.

He sat there looking at you. Your hair and features were all the same. Your hair and eyes, were richer in color perhaps, that was a vampire thing. He brushed, aside a few strands of hair from your face.

You were no long the young girl who had been his wife. He enjoyed seeing, how you handled Cammy. Being, a ghoul was terribly lonely. He had grown used to it. Occasionally, when meeting a fellow ghoul you stuck together.

In the end, their selfish desires grew tedious so he’d go off on his own again. That’s what had happened with Cammy only, she stuck around after he saved the two of them from a vampire.

As he looked down at you, he could not believe you were here before him, damn. Getting up, how much later he didn’t know. Time for a ghoul, he mused also didn’t matter, it all blurred after awhile. He realized how lucky he was to be able to go out into the sun.

Everything, he would imagine the dark paneling, romantic carvings for the headboard and rich vibrant colors, was you. It reminded him of the bedroom, the two of you had.

Once, in the foyer he slipped off his leather jacket and reaching up he took off the fangs and bullet. He tucked them into one of the pockets of his jacket.

Walking around, it was interesting to see what you had made of yourself with immortality. It was nice. Everything, was different from what he had been around recently. Cammy was a mixture of the sixties and eighties, vary garish colors and patterns.

Spotting, books he wondered what you read. He smiled fairy tales and stories of adventures, that were written while existence was stretching out along aside them. He wondered if you had met any of the writers. The books looked very old.

Seeing, the kitchen intrigued him. Going over to the refrigerator, he opened it. Seeing the bottles, he realized that was how you stored your meals. Some of the bottles, had years scrawled on some labels. Not a bad idea. The amount of glasses you owned made him smile.

Coming, back the living room the over stuffed sofa called to him. Sitting down he sighed, it was incredibly comfortable. Pulling, off his boots, he reclined.

Looking, up as he relaxed, a painting of you caught his eye. The painter, caught all of you. Your delicate beauty and the soft lines of your curves. Looking, over the beauty of the details tiredness was finally, took ahold of him and soon, his mind brought him to when the two of you met

******

It was a warm summer’s day, the sky had been a brilliant shade of blue and the sun made him squint. He trotted down the dirt path at decent pace on his trusty horse. Stopping, he took a moment to have some water from his water-skin. Rubbing his brow, he was certain that village he needed to go to was just over this next hill. Looking up, was when he spotted you. He smiled.

There you were sitting, under a large tree. As he slowly approached, he noticed you were fast asleep. Your features were soft.

Your eye lashes, laid like butterfly wings on your cheeks, your lips a gentle pink reminding him of flower petals. Your hair, unlike girls in the city was laying around face and shoulders gently. His fingertips had tingled, never had he wanted to touch a girl as much as he wanted to touch you then. He wanted to know if you were as soft and delicate as you looked. The thoughts sped up his heart.

You stirred and he was embarrassed that you had caught him looking at you.

“I dreamt of a sweet and kind prince, is that what you are ?” Your voice was a gentle as a bird song.

“Sorry. Young maiden, I’m not. Just the son of a simple merchant.”

You stood up then. “Oh, well you resemble how a prince should look.”

He had been taken immediately by your imagination. It was sweet. “You are far too kind. Are you from the village; that I believe should be nearby?”

“Yes, I am. Are you looking for an inn while on your journey?” You gently, fluffed your skirt out.

“Yes. More importantly, I am looking for the blacksmith. I heard he makes wonderful pieces.” As he spoke he saw a huge smile curl those petal like lips.

“Sir, he is my father. I can take you to him.”

“Oh, well isn’t that great. I would love that.”

You drew close. “Will you help me onto your horse?”

He was taken aback. “You ride like a man?”

“Yes.” You looked down. “I’ve raced my brothers.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s just that in the city, we don’t know many ladies that do; and if they do it’s side saddle.”

You smiled. “It is ok. Being the girl with lots of brothers riding side saddle you realize is very hard.”

“I can only imagine.” He smiled and offered his hand. “Come on up, and bring me to your father’s.”

You took his hand and helped you climb up. His heart began to race like his horse at full speed. You wrapped your arms around his middle.

He cleared his throat, “So where to?”

******

Sleep had been incredibly deep, and fulfilling. Your dreams had been like scattered photographs, as they swirled around you.

His particular scent lingered. So you knew he was still there. You were grateful for whatever blessings you still had, that finally brought the two of you together.

Wanting, to look and feel as fresh as you could; you polished off a bottle you always keep in your night stand. After tidying your bed, you took a bath.

While in the tub, washing with sweet smelling French soap, the tears finally came. Hugging, your knees to your chest. You finally cried. Why, oh why did he have to make him a ghoul.

The two of you were no strangers to differences. He was city folk, you a country girl. Your families had not been so inclined, but in the in the end, the love you shared won out.

Being his wife had made you so happy. You remembered, how the two of you were rarely ever apart.

It was his warm blood you had gulped down greedily. Your need to feed, had been so strong that to this day, you never had felt anything that strong.

*****

Calming down, you finished washing and dried yourself off. Slipping into some fresh clothes, you followed his scent till you found him.

You smiled, seeing him half on, half off your sofa, with one foot resting on the coffee table. Somethings, never changed. He had always loved stretching out as much as he could.

Tucking one of your legs under yourself, you managed to sit in a small spot between his legs. As he slept, you looked at him closer. You noticed, the leather rope that had been around his throat was gone. Had he really taken it off for you?

Curious, you reached out but then stopped and pulled your hand back. Feeling, silly you reached out again and you laid a hand on his chest. There was a very slow, heart beat.

“Yes, Y/N it still beats. Sometimes it beats faster.” His voice was thick, one of his cold hands went over yours. He pressed it harder against where his chest.

“I’m glad it still beats.” Your eyes lingered on your hands; before glancing over at him.

“It’s one of the things I am glad is still part of me.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Since, we’re together, I’d rather be awake.”

You placed a hand over his. “Thomas, where’s your trophy?”

“I put it away.”

“You didn’t have to.” You slowly began moving, your hands back

He grabbed your hands. “I saw your face, when I told you what it was. I don’t want you to have to look at it when you look at me.”

You watched as something shifted in those blue eyes. “What are you thinking?”

“I am so glad, I smelled that meal. All I thought would happen was I’d get a meal in, have a few drinks and maybe have some fun.”

You remembered the bartender’s words as he spoke.

“I remember that look. What are you thinking”

“The bartender warned me about you.”

His mouth curled into a smirk. “Oh did he?”

“Yes.”

“Cammy and I, are known to be notorious.”

“What is existing, without dabbling into some fun?” You said, swallowing down the anguish that grew in, as he mentioned him and that screecher. Her words, “He’s mine. I’m only letting you burrow him.” Echoed in your head.

He smiled, “That’s how I feel.”

“Thomas?” How could you tell him? The idea of her being with him, while you suffered all these years. The anguish continued to grow.

“Yes, little lambkin?”

You suddenly felt horribly silly. You shook your head. “Nothing, I need something from my kitchen.” You got up, turning away. You couldn’t look at him.

He stopped you with one of his legs. “No, you don’t. You are flushed.” There was an undercurrent to his voice. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong. And yes, I do.” You practically leapt over his leg.

Tearing, open the refrigerator the glass bottles clinking as you did so. Pulling the cork out of one, you up ended it.

You were almost five hundred years old and you wanted to rip her heart out. The thought of him with her filled you with sadness that was only equaled with your rage.

He was there in the space of a few hearty gulps.

“Tell, me what’s wrong?” He squeezed the words came through gritted teeth.

Finishing, the bottle you it down and licked your fangs.

“Are those your fangs?” Moving again, he barely left any space between the two of you. His cold fingers, cupped your chin. You nipped him. He snatched his hand away and shook it. You licked your fang, you were curious. His blood was like a jolt, you trembled. Your body remember when it first saved you.

“Hey!” He shook his hand but grabbed you chin again. “No nipping.”

You smirked, blood rushing through your system always gave you a bit of a high. As you began to feel better, your desire to rip her heart out grew stronger. You were beginning to feeling things, you thought had died with your human side.

As he stepped closer to you, he put a hand on either side of you on the counter. You felt as his body, pressed against yours. There was no space between you. He looked right into your eyes.

“I am not the same man, I played so many fucking games over the centuries in order to survive. I never played any with you, I don’t want to fucking start now.”

You could not even imagine what he must have done.

“Alright, you to want know?” You growled back, your faces were inches from each other.

“Yeah, tell me.”

“When you said, ‘Cammy and I, are known to be notorious; I wanted to rip her heart out.”

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