#this thing ain’t going nowhere anytime soon

[moominpopzz]

Bad news guys, autisms winning and I’m getting close to giving into the need of relistening to the entirety to Prime Defenders while filling out a notebook of info on it

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 2) Chapter Ten

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Ten: One Hell of an Alibi

Summary: Murder in the Phantomhive Manor isn't new, and (Y/N) remains unshaken.

            “He’s dead,” said Arthur, eyes widening.

            “What?” gasped Woodley.

            “No!” Irene’s voice quivered.

            “What was with that voice just now…” Baldroy ran into the room with Finny before stopping at the sight.

            “I-Is this man dead?” said Finny worriedly.

            “Yes…” said Arthur. “The hemorrhage from the chest wound was most likely fatal. I can’t be certain because of how dark it is, but—”

            “Hey, ain’t this room kinda hot?” remarked Baldroy.

            (Y/N)’s eyes slid to the fireplace, and they nearly smirked. Yes. It is.

            “Yes, it is,” said Sebastian. “I heated up the room in advance, but perhaps he had a chill.”

            “I say, what on Earth is the meaning of all this racket?” said Ciel, recovering from his sleepiness as he entered with Tanaka.

            “Young Master,” said Sebastian.

            Ciel’s eyes fell on the body in shock. “Lord Siemens!” He exchanged a calculated look with Sebastian and (Y/N).

            “I-In that case, let’s just leave things untouched as they are,” said Grimsby. “Until the Yard gets here, that is—”

            “No. We should move the corpse right away,” said Baldroy somberly.

            “Eh?” said Grimsby.

            “I don’t wanna put it like this, but flesh decomposes faster than you might think,” said Baldroy. “Even if we douse the fire now, the corpse’ll go right off if it’s kept by the hearth.”

            “Flesh…decomposes…” Irene shivered.

            Grimsby steadied her. “Irene…”

            “He’s right,” agreed Arthur. “I also believe that we should place the corpse in a cool, dark place until the experts can examine it.”

            “The cellar would work,” said (Y/N).

            Sebastian nodded in agreement. “Finny, bring us a cot.”

            “But the Yard won’t be here anytime soon, now, will it?” remarked Lau. He pulled back the curtain to reveal the raging winds and rains outside. “I mean, have you seen this storm?”

            “But that means we can’t leave this place, either, doesn’t it?!” said Woodley.

            “You only realized that now?” Lau shrugged nonchalantly. “Anyway, it’s fine. We all planned to stay the night anyway.”

            “It’s far from fine!” shouted Woodley. “A murder was just committed here—.”

            “Indeed,” said Grey. “Right now, this manor is truly an isolate island in the middle of nowhere. Therefore, it’s highly likely that the murdered is still inside the manor or within the grounds.” He paused and looked around at the ground. “Or perhaps I should say…thinking it through logically, the murderer is one of us?”

            Panic flashed cross the guests’ faces.

            “Why must it be one of us?! What kind of sick joke is that?!” cried Grimsby.

            “Yes, that’s right!” said Woodley.

            And yet the truth remains is that if a murder is committed, one of the people inside is likely the perpetrator. Though I suppose some rather determined people may brave the outdoors to arrive here, thought (Y/N).

            “First off, the majority of us have just met one another, and—” Arthur’s words were cut off by Irene exclaiming worriedly.

            “Miss Diaz?” said (Y/N).

            “When we arrived at the door to this room, it was locked, wasn’t it?” said Irene.

            “Now that you mention it, you’re right. It was,” said Mey-Rin.

            “Then someone could have entered the room from a window and, after locking the door to stall for time, escaped the same way they came, couldn’t they?” remarked Irene.

            “But wouldn’t you expect there to be footprints if someone came in from out of this downpour?” said Grey, looking at the balcony doors. “And let’s not forget, this room is on the second floor. The window’s locked, too.”

            “Then somebody locked the door from the corridor and then ran off after all…” said Grimsby.

            “That is impossible,” said Sebastian. He held up a key as an example. “The keys in this manor all belong to warded locks from when the manor was first built. The keys themselves are of very complicated make, so without a master locksmith on hand, duplicated them is impossible. Moreover, the keys are stored in a locked storage cabinet, over which I, the butler, stand guard, so no one can take the keys out as they please. In addition to the warded lock, the doors are also fitted with a latch on the inside for convenience’s sake, so they may be locked from within. In a situation where the keys cannot be removed from the cabinet. It is only possible to lock the doors from inside.”

            “In other words,” said Lau. “We’re looking at a locked-room murder, hmm?”

            (Y/N) glanced at the expressions of the humans and struggled to keep their composure. This banquet was proving entertaining for them.

            “That’s not possible…This isn’t some novel!” said Woodley.

            “Indeed.” Ciel yawned. “You’d never hear the end of it from the public if an unsophisticated locked-room drama like this was ever publish. Aren’t you of the same opinion, Professor?”

            Arthur blinked. “Ah! Yes, now I see…It is possible if you use that…”

            “What do you mean?” said Lau.

            “Needle and thread,” said Ciel.

            “A needle…?” began Grimsby.

            “And thread?” finished Woodley.

            “As Sebastian mentioned, this door can only be locked from the inside. However, you can easily lock it from the outside with needle and thread,” said Ciel. “It goes like this. First you jam the threaded needle by the raised latch to fix it. Then you lean the room, having pulled the thread under the door. Last, if you tug on the thread carefully so it doesn’t break and dislodge the needle…the latch will fall, thereby locking the door. If you retrieve the needle and thread from beneath the door just so, you leave behind no proof. And disposing of a needle and thread is easy enough. It’s a simple and boring trick that’s been used over and over in mystery novels. But the murderer isn’t looking to write a novel. This trick serves more as a practical diversion, wouldn’t you say?”

            “I do see now how you can create a locked room that way, but…” Lau trailed off.

            Arthur finished the horrible sentiment. “…Doesn’t that mean it’s possible anybody could have murdered him?”

            “We did no such thing! It must have been somebody else!” said Grimsby, holding Irene tightly.

            “It wasn’t me, either!” cried Woodley. “You’re the most suspicious one among us! Besides, I saw your face when Siemens was flirting with Miss Diaz! You were angry with him!”

            “Don’t falsely accuse me, old man!” shouted Grimsby. “Who’d murder a man over such a trivial thing!”

            “Come, come you two,” said Lau. “We just need to calm down and verify everyone’s alibis.”

            That is one of the smartest things he’s ever said, thought (Y/N).

            “Lord Siemens was murdered after he retired to his room, or, to put it more accurately, he was killed after he rang the bell for the servants and before Master Butler and company arrived at his door,” said Lau. “Thus you only need have an alibi for that time frame.”

            “Irene and I were in the billiard room,” said Grimsby.

            “Yes,” said Grey. “I was there, too.”

            “I as well, and Mr. Phelps, too,” said Arthur, checking on the still-unconscious Phelps. “After Lord Siemens went to bed and until the commotion occurred, we were all in the billiard room. None of us left the room in that time.”

            Ciel looked at Lau and Ran-Mao. “What were you two doing?”

            “Hm? We were drinking in the lounge with Mr. Woodley. Right, Ran-Mao?” said Lau, and she nodded.

            “Yes! We were together until the racket began,” said Woodley.

            “I and the rest of the servants were cleaning up in the kitchen,” said (Y/N).

            “Yes, we were!” said Mey-Rin.

            “To begin with, we didn’t even know which room Siemens was staying in!” pointed out Grimsby. “It would take ages to find him in this huge manor, am I right?”

            “Which leaves…” Grey’s eyes went to the one person in the room without an alibi. Ciel.

            “Forgive my insolence, Lord Earl, but what were you doing at that time?” said Lau.

            Ciel’s eyes narrowed. “I am indeed the only one without an alibi, but I had no reason to murder his lordship.”

            “Reeally?” challenged Grey with a smirk.

            “What is it?” retorted Grey.

            “You can’t say you had no reason with absolute certainty,” said Lau. “The reason for which one person murders another is typically inconceivable to other folk. People will never be able to understand another’s mind, regardless of how much research genius scholars collect on the subject. Besides, your company has a branch in Germany, right? You might have had disputes over some documents with him, a board member of a large bank…though we’d know nothing of such matters.”

            “Are you implying that my Funtom is defaulting?” Ciel scoffed. “What utter drivel.”

            “It is possible. In this day and age, any large company can disappear overnight,” said Lau with his usual casual tone.

            “Please wait!” interrupted Finny boldly. “I don’t quite get the complicated stuff, but! The Young Master would never do such a—!”

            “Finny,” said Ciel. “It’s fine. Step back.” Finny deflated.

            “What I want is a guarantee,” said Grey.

            “A guarantee?” said Ciel.

            “A guarantee that we’ll be able to make it out of here alive,” said Grey.

            “What…do you mean by that?” said Irene nervously.

            “This here manor is under the control of the killer, right? And until the storm passes, we’re stuck,” said Grey. “What happens if all our lips are forcibly sealed before the storm ends?”

            The dark sentiment caused the guests to shiver.

            Except for Lau, who just smiled brightly. “Then what about we confine him? You know, lock him up!”

            “Lock him up?!” cried Baldroy.

            “Our Young Master?!” said Mey-Rin.

            (Y/N) and Sebastian looked to Ciel. It was his call.

            Ciel sighed in annoyance. “If that will satisfy you, then do it.”

            “His Lordship’s room won’t work. An aristocrat’s quarters usually have some secret means of escape. My place has them, too,” said Grey.

            “Then how about we keep watch over the Young Master while seeing to you—” began Sebastian.

            “That won’t do either,” said Lau. “Any servants of the Lord Earl might allow him to get away.”

            “So I believe the best alternative is to have one of the guests stay with his Lordship and keep an eye on him,” said Grey.

            “You can count me out!” declared Grimsby. “There’s no way I can leave Irene along!”

            “I don’t want to myself!” said Woodley.

            “Me too. I have poor Ran-Mao to think of,” said Lau.

            I suspect it’s more laziness on his part, thought (Y/N).

            Grey looked at Ciel dubiously. “I don’t want to do it either, but someone’s got to.”

            Lau clapped Arthur on the shoulder. “It’s in your hands, Professor!”

            “Ehhh?!” cried Arthur.

            “No one else wants to!” chirped Lau. “Make sure you keep a close watch on his Lordship so he doesn’t run off now!”

            “N-No, wait a minute!” said Arthur, but no one was listening to him.

            “Oh, yes,” said Grey, remembering something. “I have something useful loaded on my carriage.” He looked at Finny and Baldroy. “You there. Will you go get it for me?”

            “Then we’ll break up for the night,” said Ciel. “Sebastian, (Y/N). Show everyone to their rooms.”

            “As you wish, sir,” said Sebastian.

            “Very well, my Lord,” said (Y/N).

l

            (Y/N) was finishing preparations for breakfast the following day when Sebastian stepped into the kitchen. They turned to face him.

            “You’ve finished your investigation?” they remarked.

            “Not quite,” sighed Sebastian. “I know the killer—Earl Grey. However, I am not at liberty to expose him.”

            “Oh?” Now that was interesting. (Y/N) leaned forward.

            Sebastian sighed tiredly, almost bored. “It appears I’ve been killed.”

            (Y/N) smothered a grin. “Did you get caught off guard? Getting old, are you?”

            “Unfortunately, the Young Master would like this to play out longer so the Professor can gain some inspiration,” said Sebastian. As usual, Ciel was putting him through trouble.

            “Ah,” said (Y/N) in understanding. “So, how do you want to proceed?”

            “I will have you discover me ‘dead,’ ” said Sebastian. He smirked. “And then I shall…assume another role in this play.”

            “Very well,” said (Y/N).

            “And while I’m gone, please assist Mr. Tanaka is watching over the Young Master,” said Sebastian.

            “I will make sure your master is taken care of during your brief departure,” said (Y/N). They smiled at him. “And you know I’ve never failed you.”

            Sebastian gazed at them fondly. “I know. That is why I trust you.”

            (Y/N) blinked at the intensity of his gaze, and their nose twitched. “So, how do we start?”

            “I must go and stab myself again. I have made the other necessary arrangements,” said Sebastian.

            “And then I mourn your loss,” said (Y/N).

            “I can assure you, I would never allow you to mourn any loss of mine,” said Sebastian. He would never leave them alone. He would be with them until the end of time if they would have him. He would adore them for all eternity, worship them, treat them as the brilliant demon they were.

l

            (Y/N) opened the door of Siemens room to find Sebastian positioned on the ground in a pool of blood. They knew he was perfectly alright, but at the idea of Sebastian truly being gone, every part of (Y/N) cringed. To lose him would destroy them. He was all they had in this world.

            (Y/N) wouldn’t know what to do with themself if he was gone. He had guided them, made sure they had the strength to face the world as a demon. He respected them as no one ever had, and they loved him. If he were to leave, they’d lose the person they loved, the being who held their heart.

            And so, (Y/N) poured all that emotion and love into their performance. And they screamed in agony over lost love as they discovered Sebastian’s “corpse.”

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

@nex-crowley

@anxious-chick

@bellacastiel

@v1l-ismissing

@agentdedf1sh

@idkhowtoplayhoyoversegames

@iamsexytrash

@oceansfloor

[lake-archive]

Track 5

Fandom: Hypnosis Mic

Series: Rat Infestation

Characters: Eli (by @watersofcamelot), Arisugawa Dice, Busujima Mason Rio

AO3 Link

Track 4 - Track List

All’s well that ends well. Or so goes the saying. And yet, the sight was something the soldier would not easily forget anytime soon if at all. He had seen so much when still in service but this was a sight Rio had not expected to take in during these days. It had happened out of literal nowhere on top of that. When making sure to secure each spot of escape would be impossible for the rodents in question he and Arisugawa heard a loud screaming from the dark. If they didn’t know Eli had been going in there they would have probably been even more startled and Rio would have launched an attack, that was how loud this was. Not feeling any effects the ears were necessary to cover as it delivered a literal headache, to say the least. And yet the sound would not fade. No, it only became louder and louder as the seconds passed, the tone more and more aggressive on top of that. 

Once the voice stopped echoing however the next thing one might have noticed would be the rats lying on the ground. They were not moving, not making a sound and not wagging their tails. They were all lying there, on their back, having fallen over at a moment’s notice. And they were not knocked out, no. They were dead. Every last one of them, killed off, by the sheer power of Eli’s voice. It was… Something, to say the least, and hard to forget. Any man would learn fear from this for sure. Rio could already see it, the respect the boy would earn… Especially when losing his temper.

He had returned shortly after, dragging the body of another boy right behind him, according to Eli, the culprit of this operation, the cause of the rodent problem. And so once upstairs he literally threw the guy into a trashcan, as if he had been nothing but a mere plastic bag filled with litter, then closed the door. It sure would leave anyone speechless, Rio and Dice sure were. 

“Th… The hell?” The blue haired male only let out, the shock more than audible.

“His instincts must have kicked in.” Rio was only able to comment, his face barely changing, yet he was at least audibly impressed. That was the truth.

“I… I had no idea Eli’s that type of dude! Heck, didn’t even know he’s rapping!”

“A soldier should not reveal all techniques up his sleeve. He has that down at least.”

“C’mon, we would’ve seen that be—”

“Ey, don’t call me a soldier. I ain’t like that. I ain’t that honorable. I was just some pissed dude.” The boy interrupted, having soon approached the other two males, looking between them. He was even about to light a cigarette, having pulled one out and close to put the fire right on it yet paused shortly before it was too late. “Right… No smoking inside. Boss’s orders.” 

“Humble much?” Dice asked yet that was met with a headshake.

“No, ain’t that. Really. I’m just no soldier.”

“I would like to disagree. Wasn’t this a deed for the greater good?” Rio brought up, earning himself the gaze of the soup kitchen worker, an irritated one even. 

“I’m working here.”

"Precisely. You are helping and protecting those in need.”

“What’s this gotta do with anything? I’m on my job.”

“I think deep down you know what I mean.”

“Again with that nonsense…  Goddamnit.” Eli rolled his eyes, putting the cigarette into one of his pockets for a while and pulling out his wallet and five one thousand yen bills. “Whatever. Anyway, I’ll keep my word. Here ya go, payment.”

Not even hesitating and questioning it Dice took the money right on the spot, suddenly grinning. “Oh, thank you! Heh, I can hit the gambling spots again!”

“Maybe save it up instead?”

“Not if I get a chance for this money to multiply!” 

“Hah, fine. Whatever. None of my business anyway. Now scram.”

“Yes Boss!” And with that Dice had left in a hurry, the intent all too obvious. Eli then faced Rio again, though a little irritated. Yet he tried to play it off as if it was nothing.

“Anyway, wanna clean up the rats? Thought you wanted them.”

“Oh, right! Of course! Maybe you want to ke—”

“No, get them out. I don’t wanna see those things anywhere ‘round here. Plus the Boss might faint if she sees any of ‘em.”

“Of course. Then excuse me.”

“Sure sure. Enjoy your treat.”

Even if he didn’t say it nor admit to it… Eli is not as bad as he believes. Today he had proven it yet again after all.

Track 4 - Track List

[roboromantic]

i love that you're what feels like the only other person on the planet that also still loves rescue bots

It’s funny you say that; I was actually thinking just yesterday that I should rewatch it soon. The show’s always had kind of a smaller fanbase and I imagine things are even less active what with the show having ended ages ago, but there’s still plenty of people who love it! And yeah it’s probably one of my favorite shows. I’m sitting here with my collection of roughly 300 Rescue Bots toys so. I ain’t going nowhere anytime soon 😎

[some-awtter]

Tried making a story about my lil proto

Warning: This is my first non PMD story, it is about Mel who is a Protogen. Also Trigger warning! There is an execution and drug use. (forced) Okay story:

Today is my final day. There’s no way I can win today’s trial, they are going to send me to death. “SDN-Me1 Please make your way to Court room 3” I stop my leg tapping and get up. Two guards start escorting me to the Court room.

I put my hands in the pockets of my hoodie as they escort me. There is no way out of this. I am going to die. But I have to try something. I have to assess my surroundings. The guard Infront of me was a tall fox, while the guard behind me was a slightly shorter than me Pitbull. If I had to fight one, I think I can take the Pitbull. Well… it’s now or never.

I quickly turn around and kick the Pitbull down, he screams but I don’t care. I race to the entrance behind the pitbull. “Someone stop that Protogen!” I hear the fox scream from behind but I don’t care. Freedom in the grasp of my paw. But, then I feel a sharp pain on the right side of my stomach. A stun baton, I fall to the ground.

Shit. “Ah runner eh?” The fox said. “That kick hurt like a bitch.” “Your fine, Chase. Just walk it off.” They begin approaching me, but I can’t move. My arms won’t move. As I try my best to escape I hear them talking. “Hear slip this into his mouth.” “WHAT! I ain’t getting near dat thing.” “Calm down. It’s paralyzed, just put it into it’s mouth thingy” “Fine fine…”

I hear footsteps approaching but, this paralysis is not wearing off anytime soon. “Alright, open wide. Not like you have much of a choice heh.” He says that last part under his breath. He slips something into my mouth… and I black out.

When my eyes open, I am in a field. “Hey!” I turn to look at the voice. I see a small Otter waving at me. “Cmon!” He gestures me to follow him. I smile. I can feel tears swelling in my eyes. “Molly!” I run and hug Molly. “H- How are you here!?” “Why not show you?” Molly begins Running holding my hand. I eagerly follow.

We run for a bit before Molly stops. “We here?” I ask. “We are still in the middle of nowhere.” Molly doesn’t respond. “Molly?” I feel another sharp pain, this time slightly duller.

I fall to the ground and look up to Molly, except we are not in a field anymore. And Molly is gone… again. I look around and… I’m in the court room. I feel restraints on my paws. “We are to finish SDN-Me1’s Murder case.” I hear some random person in the jury yell. “It’s Guilty! We already know!” The Judge looks surprised. “Does all of the Jury feel this way?” I hear murmurs in the Jury but everyone comes to the decision that they agree. “Well, we still must at least hear what they must say.” He points at me. “Please explain yourself one last time for the Jury.”

I try to calm myself down to no avail and speak. “Your honor, may I explain? My brain has claimed its glory over me. I’ve a good heart, I’ll be it insane.”

The jury speaks in unison “Condemn him to the infirmary.” The judge nods and signals to the guards. I panic. This has happened before. Infirmary is code for the execution room. I have seen them do this on the news before.

The guards are approaching, I kick the closest one. The fox goes flying back. “Hah! How’s it feel?” The pitbull laughs. “Just shut up and get him.” The fox yells “Alright alright don’t get you knot it a… knot…”

Before I can even kick him he hits me with a stun baton. This feels familiar, and something enters my mouth again, and I black out.

When I wake I see Molly worriedly sitting by me. When he sees me he jumps up and hugs me. “I was so worried! You randomly blacked out when we were walking!” He stops and looks me in the eyes. “Please don’t do that again.” The sadness in his voice almost made me cry. I hug him tightly. “I won’t I promise.” We stay like this for a bit, it’s nice. “Alright can I show you noowww?” I laugh “Alright alright.” I get up and brush myself off.

The otter jumps in the air and grabs my hand. “This time we’ll go slower so you don’t pass out again haha!” I laugh. “Alright alright.” We walk slowly looking at the scenery. It was nice, but our time was cut short. “Alright, we’re nearly there.” I feel my arms being restrained. I stop.

“Mel?” Molly asked me confused. The sky seemed to be darkening, this was my last chance I could feel it. “Molly… Goodbye.” I hug him. “W- WHAT?” Molly looked panic. “N- no, Mel PLE-”

…

The room is dark, a singular light lit up the room. My paws were tied to a chair. A helmet was placed on my head with wires connecting it to the roof. I look towards the window in the room. Where family would usually show up, no one was there. Tears streamed down my face. I see someone pulling down a lever.

Electricity surged through my body; I feel immense pain. I feel wires exploding, I feel my organs slowly expanding, then bursting.

I close my eyes for the last time.

I see nothing. Is this the afterlife? Or hell? As my senses return, I feel more things. I feel something soft all around my body. I smell something sweet, a perfume maybe. I hear some soft snoring. I’m able to open my eyes again. It’s dark but it seems like a room. This doesn’t look like my room though. I sigh loudly in relief. “ughh, was that a dream? It sure didn’t feel like it.” I get up from my bed. Maybe I should rinse my visor, I know it can get dirty sometimes.

I head to the bathroom, which is connected to my room now? I don’t remember that… Nevertheless, I continue to rinse my visor, and I turn on the bathroom light. I look back into the mirror and that’s not me. Instead of being a normal Protogen with blue fur and no patterns. I now have Cyan fur that splits in the middle to a dark blue color. Along my arm I have stripes of Dark blue on my Cyan arm. “WHAT THE FUCK!?” I yell understandably.

My breathing increases. What’s happening, why aren’t I me? Am I still Mel? Or did Mel die in that chair? There is no way that didn’t happen. But one question is louder than the rest.

Who Am I?

[cinamun]

Currently me with today’s story update:

Honeeeeyyyyy, *deep sigh* It’s 5 o’clock somewhere. 😩

I mean I know Bishop ain’t going nowhere anytime soon because he’s having too much fun ruining Mercy’s life BUT I ain’t never been so damn happy for someone snatching something back in my life. 🙌🏽 Don’t get me wrong, I don’t condone any the fuckery, but anything to keep our girl from being tied to this MF LEGALLY is a win for me. I will take the small wins.

Do I think it’s all said and done and he’s about to pack up and leave to ruin another innocent person’s life? HELL NAH. We just unlocked another level of the fuckery, das all.

You know what…What’s the number to the Ancestors because at this point, we need the pros.

*whispers* Listen, I’ll book a flight to Sulani and gather all the things for the Kava party myself, if need be. Just say the word. Because Imma need Mercy in one piece & in her right mind (and Bishop in a body bag, for real this time).

And to our boy Jayce…

C’mon reassurance! We love to see it. That healthy love looks good on our love birds. Don’t it?

its the healthy love we love to see Chae!!! Look at the protection and security in that sleep-vice grip he has her in? hope is drooling all in that mans chest hair and not a fuck could be given. COME ON JAY!!!

But did you hear bishop tho? Him said him impossible to get rid of.... so that tells me all I need to know about the future of Mercy's simulated heart beat...

take the ring back homie, we don't need it. sis said she ain't marrying no one else after her jack so you can go on head and get the hell on (but he aint tho).

[thesoullinkedteacherandstudent]

✨Meet Pepper Corneto✨

One of the main protagonists of “The Soul Linked Teacher and Student.”

She’s your typical run-of-the-mill peppy high school girl, but she’s prone to overthink many things making her very anxious to the people around her (especially adults); and tends to smack-talk her classmates behind her back (only the ones she finds annoying).But once her soul is split from her body when she’s asleep, all her worries go away and she calms down after a rough day. But those worries ain’t going nowhere anytime soon.

[whostheblondegirlwriting]

Go-around

A Top Gun: Maverick fanfic for @notroosterbradshaw

Smug sonuvabitch. The way he always sauntered in. Sunglasses on, damn near anytime of the day or night; goofy Hawaiian print button down always just one button short of acceptably buttoned or, dear god, over that tight tank. That stupid mustache on his stupid handsome face, just above that fuckin’ cocky grin as he surveyed the room from the door, like he was out looking for trouble. All that swagger when he finally stepped in to-

No. That cocky S.O.B never walked anywhere.

Rooster strutted.

And it used to drive you wild. Now, it just makes you feel a little forlorn.

“Your boy’s here,” you mentioned, tilting your head back over your shoulder but your attention not following in the direction of the rowdy welcome Rooster received. 

Sitting up a little straighter, Maverick leaned to see around you drying the glass in front of him. He smiled, seeing who you were referring to and shaking his head to disagree, “I don’t have any kids.” 

“Might as well,” Penny jutted her chin. “Not sure sometimes which one of you can be more trouble.” 

“Ain’t that the truth,” you dryly muttered, eyes wide for emphasis. 

Maverick smiled into the next sip of his drink, making no denials or excuses, and Penny put a hand on your shoulder, telling you, “I need to wrap up a few things in the office. You sure you’re okay by yourself?” 

You gave a reassuring nod, flipping the towel in your hand to lay over your shoulder as you stepped over to fill another pilsner for the hand that went up in a silent order a few stools down. “Yeah, no problem.” 

She sent you an appreciative smile, and Maverick a wink, before she headed to the back to inventory the afternoon’s delivery and finish the payroll, leaving you to manage the early evening crowd. For a Friday night, it was off to a manageable start. In a half hour, your partner’s shift would start, so there’d be help on hand soon enough anyway. You kept pulling taps and pouring shots, and slowly the room started filling in. 

The Hard Deck was about as infamous as some of her patrons. Her off post, beach front real estate was a draw to a mix of Navy personnel and civilians. Most were regulars with ties to the base, living local or dropping in on a pass from their float whenever their ship, for however long or brief, touched the docks. There was always a few looky-loos come for one reason or another, mostly spring breakers looking for some notoriety or kitsch for their selfies, and sometimes, hopeful ladies up for a bit of fun. The latter always attracting some extra squids and salty dogs alike on the weekends looking to be of service for the night. 

Amongst the crowd, you fell into a small niche with Penny. Your family was local, having put down roots in your teens, the last stop of your station-hopping young life while your father pursued a career in the Navy. Your family had a history of service going back to your great grandfather. You went off to college, on the other coast, thoroughly intent on avoiding anymore military life with an accounting degree. Until you took a summer job your sophomore year at the Hard Deck and fell hard in love with that little bar and her clientele. You went back every summer and, when job applications to “real jobs” in shiny downtown offices went nowhere, you made your way to the bar, where they let you tend the tables at night and mind the books in the mornings. At least that degree didn’t go totally to waste, and Penny was happy for your expertise when she took over the place.

You played too busy to care, taking a full bus bin to the back, when Rooster wandered over to say hello to Maverick at the bar. You tiredly groaned on your return, shoulders dropping at seeing him perched on a stool next to his mentor. He noticed you coming, flipping up a hand in a wave to signal his thirst. 

He grinned up at you. “Can I get a-“

“Not even a ‘hello’?” you tutted, already tipping a glass and pulling the tap for him. “Just ‘gimme a beer’?”

Rooster frowned, pointing a finger from his elbow on the bar to note, “I did not say gimme.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nodded along, putting the glass on the bar to slide over to him. 

He tipped his sunglasses up to his forehead, batting those big brown eyes at you. “I’m sorry,” he pouted. “Hello.” 

“Hello, Bradley,” you dryly replied, rolling your eyes and giving in to a smile, as he stood up and took his drink back to his buddies.

And that was the gist of your friendship with Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. A well-meaning courtship recategorized to a fling, after Rooster caught probably the shittiest schedule for his first sea duty, and then relegated to the friend zone. Those first exciting dates were looking good. You even managed to navigate dating those first few months around his obligations for the workup before he disappeared on his first cruise. Six months later, he “came back” and, between the training and spending time with his family back home or with his squadron, you barely had him to yourself for a handful of weeks dotted here and there before the next damn cycle started. 

You were both lonely and miserable while you were apart. You were a good girl. You’d never cheat. You didn’t think Rooster would either, but it just didn’t seem fair to either of you. You’d never really gotten the traction to have made a real go of it, before you mutually decided to call it quits, agreeing to stay friends and keep in touch. The last part didn’t work out as smoothly as promised, but there was an effort whenever he was on terra firma.

Now, a couple years later, a little thicker skinned and with some life experience under your respective belts, the two of you were back to working on that nearly lost friendship. Sparks had flown a couple times since he’d been off and on in and out of town the last few months, but nobody let any fires start, knowing how it’d turned out before. Life hadn’t changed so much that it could open up for a second try, but damn if you hadn’t been tempted.

He still looked good. Scratch that. He looked even better. Somehow that goddamn mustache worked for him. Was still charming, funny, sincere when he wanted to be and a cut up with his friends or at a piano. Just the way you remembered, and liked, him. 

So, what was a little harmless flirting between old lovers anyway?

The answer is “dangerous”.

Apparently for you. It didn’t seem to affect Rooster much, by your assessment. After a few random meet ups for drinks or a dinner with him and some of his buddies, you’d both started to catch on to how much you missed the other. But you didn’t want to set yourself up to be let down again. He asked once, after dinner. You turned him down and that was it. He carried on the way he does, with his chin up and diving headfirst looking for the next adventure. After a week or so to lick his wound, if he even had one, he showed up at the Hard Deck again and was back to turning up the charm and entertaining the ladies around the piano, while you watched from behind the bar, trying your best to not let your disappointment show whenever he came around.

“You know, I think I might try that burger,” Maverick spoke up.

You tuned back in, pulling your attention away from Rooster’s gloating howl of victory over Fanboy and a game of snooker. You gently cleared your throat and picked up a pad and pencil, inviting, “Oh, yeah? The, uh- The bacon and blue or the All American?” 

He smiled while you scratched down his order, seeming to have noticed the small flustration your attention on Rooster and the gang had given you. “He’s still a good guy, you know,” he offered, inclining his head toward Rooster when your eyes came back up to his. 

You swallowed the little lump in your throat and nodded, a wrinkle of seriousness in your brow to try to come off cooler than you were about the topic. “Yeah. Good guy. I know,” you clumsily went along. 

“I just say that because,” he excused, “I know the two of you had-“

“Oh, no.” You scrunched up your nose and waved him off. “Ancient history. We’re just friends.” 

He seemed to study you before giving a slow nod and saying, “I see.” 

You were relieved to have your shift mate arrive, giving you a friendly pat on the arm to let you know he was there. You gave a quick greeting, summing up the night so far and then hurried off to the kitchen to put in the order.

Customers started rolling in and you, mercifully, didn’t have much time to spend on any one conversation for too long. But you zeroed in on the pair of young ladies at the corner of the bar. With their cute cocktails and eyes running over every potential prospect of the opposite sex, paying particular attention to the ones in uniform, you already knew what was coming.

“Ladies,” Rooster beamed, smile so bright no wonder those fuckin’ sunglasses were still on inside. He slid up on their port side, leaning an elbow and his empty glass on the bar. “How are you?” 

“Great,” they both smiled back, in unison.

“You don’t look like you’re in the Navy,” he playfully noted.

The girls giggled, and it was almost enough to make you gag. Rooster was already on to his next line when he put up a hand for your attention and pointed to his empty Pilsner on the bar for a refill. You snarled in disgust, but kept it to yourself as you walked down the bar to swipe his glass. You poured him a fresh one and marked his tab. Your eyes rolled, as you got close enough again to hear him saying rather coyly, “Why, yes, I am a pilot.”

Putting down his next beer, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “He’s not a pilot.”

The women looked confusedly at each other, over to Rooster, and then back to you. Your lips pressed together and brow went up to feign sympathy, nodding to back up what you’d said.

“I mean, look at him,” you doubled down, and Rooster scoffed. You could feel the daggers thrown at you from behind his shades when he sent a look your way. “That shirt?”

Rooster chuckled awkwardly and recovered. “Uh, yes, I am,” he assured them.

“Look for the guys in the khakis,” you advised them, with a nod toward a group of the telltale service uniforms by the jukebox to guide them.

“I am a pilot,” he tried again, reasserting himself. “F-18s. My callsign’s Rooster.”

“See?” you wagged up your brow. “What self respecting pilot would name himself Rooster?” 

“You know that’s not how it works,” he reminded you, through a tight smile. “I didn’t name myself Rooster,” he started to explain, giving you a side eye look and forcing a chuckle through his relaxing grin. He turned back to the girls, continuing, “Your callsign is given to you. See, my dad’s callsign was- Hey. Where ya goin’?” 

You whistled a descending note, sailing the towel in your hand down toward the bar top, letting it fall from your hand with the mimicked sound of an explosion. A smirk tugged up the corner of your lips, as your eyes followed the pair of ladies heading for the other side of the room. You kept smiling, despite the stern finger wagging your way and aggravated growl from Bradley. Rooster pushed off from the bar, looking toward a safer harbor among his peers by the pool table. You snorted, seeing Penny and Mav snickering down the way at what you’d just done. 

Rooster looked too, and didn’t appreciate the audience. He stared accusingly at Maverick and Penny, mouth a little slacked, speechless for a moment. He picked up his jaw and nodded tightly, saying, “Alright. That’s cool.” 

Penny cleared her throat, dropping her eyes to her towel in hand wiping at the bar and Maverick quickly looked to you, pointing to his plate, stumbling through, “This, uh- Great burger. Thanks.” 

You wheezed, holding down the laughter as long as you could, while Rooster took his beer and stormed off. A proud smile came to you. You don’t know where the inspiration came from tonight, but the joke you’d just played wasn’t out of the lane for some of the shenanigans you were known to pull. You’d cockblocked a few of his squadronmates before, when they were being insufferably douchey about their careers. Your sense of humor had always been part of the appeal. It was just the first time that Rooster was the victim.

Another hour gone by and the place was packed. You felt a little bad, when Maverick left without Penny, but you were grateful that she decided to stay and help on your short-staffed night. The music and conversations were lively and the atmosphere, as always, was too energetic to let the hectic work get you down. You were in the zone. You’d realize how hard you worked when you finally fell into bed right around 3am, like you always did.

“Hey, bartender!”

You turned around, brow wrinkled down at the hostile tone. You wandered down the bar, with a defensive, “Yeah?”

“Stop…telling people I’m not a pilot!” Rooster demanded, trying his best to keep his obvious frustration leveled.

“What?” you laughed, coming to a stop in front of him. “I’m not telling any-“

“This whhhole place is saying it,” Rooster insisted, circling an accusing finger overhead to reference the bar. “Every girl in here is saying it.”

“Bradley, seriously,” you were trying so hard not to smile at his misfortune, but it was a struggle. “It was just those two.”

”Well, guess what,” he flippantly threw his hands up. “They told evvv’ryone else.”

“I’m sorry,” you couldn’t help the snicker that carried your apology. “I swear. I didn’t mean t-“

“I’m a nice guy,” he insisted, his brow high on his pained expression, fingertips to his chest, and plaintive voice pleading for some kind of concurrence, from anyone who’d give it. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Well…” you slowly began, giving a nod of your head to imbue yourself with the nerve to keep going with, “maybe have a little decency and quit macking on innocent civilians just passing through.” Instead of telling him you’d do it again, in a heartbeat, to keep yourself from having anything to be jealous over.

His brow furrowed down suspiciously. “Is that it?” he asked, skeptically. You made another sure nod and he gave an exaggerated scoff, face pinching incredulously. “Bullshit. You’re just taking it out on me.” He waved a directionless hand up, uncoordinatedly elaborating, “The whole, you and me, and whatever. Still mad about me leaving.”

“It’s not that,” you lied, hoping it sounded more convincing to him than you heard it. Besides, mad was the wrong word.

“Fine,” he tightly nodded. Another flip of his hand. “Whatever. It’s whatever. It’s fine.” He raised a finger to add, “And no one says macking anymore.”

You took a step into your side of the bar, looking for whatever sense of privacy the bar could give when you sincerely told him, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out between us, and I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I said no again. But, I think, here, with a few beers in you, isn't the place to talk about it. Right?”

A thoughtful expression came to him, and lasted all of about one second. “Another time, perhaps,” he stuffily decided, before his stoicism broke to a frown. “But this isn’t over.”

You held up your hands, promising, “Tonight is. I swear. Next hot chic that walks in here? I’m on it. I’ll wingman the shit out of it for you. Okay?”

“No. I don’t buy it.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t even have to try this hard,” he lamented.

You sighed to yourself and shook your head this time. You popped up on your toes, looking for Hangman, or anyone else you could trust to make sure Rooster got home safe, deciding, “Okay, Rooster. You’ve had enough tonight.”

“I’m not as think as you drunk I am,” he argued, with an insulted grimace.

“That’s not actually helping your cause, hon,” you tilted your head.

Rooster folded himself on the bar, in dramatic fashion, loudly growling and fists clutching at the front of his shirt. “Whyyy do you have to be so goddamn mea-“

He stopped, the instant Penny cocked up a daring brow and pointed a finger to the first rule of the bar posted beside her. He leveled his eyes at the sign and rolled over, arching as he did to keep his shoulders on the bar and complain to the ceiling, “Fuck!” 

Rooster slid off the bar, righting himself to spin around on his heel and point spitefully with the full length of his arm at you, his jaw tight and nostrils flaring. He didn’t say a word, as he backed away from the bar, only lowering his arm when the crowd got in its way. 

“How ‘bout you give him a break, huh?” 

You turned around to see Penny giving you that knowing maternal look, and your posture deflated with your sigh as you gave in and whined, “But it’s hard.”

“I know,” she sympathetically frowned, rubbing her hand soothingly on your back as she moved around you to grab some held out cash for the tip jar. “Second chances are scary. Believe me,” her eyes went wide for emphasis, “I know.”

She grabbed the whiskey off the shelf to pour, as you lined up a trio of glasses to get the next order ready, defeatedly saying, “I got, like, a half dozen nautical and aviation themed puns I could make about me and Rooster. You want me to start with ships that have sailed or sunk?”

Twisting the bottle to finish her last pour, Penny smirked. “I want you two to have a conversation.”

“We talk all the-“

“A real conversation,” she made a point to say. “Any place else but a bar,” she specified, with a grin and moving to the register to close out a bill. 

Shaking your head, as you kept an eye on the draft you poured, you knew, “It’s not gonna go anywhere. He’s not gonna ask again.” You watched her walk around you, dryly saying, “Insert sailed ship pun here.”

Penny sided up next to you to help finish your order. “Then you ask him,” she nonchalantly shrugged. She met your doubtful side of the eye glance her way, and went on, “Neither of you is in the same place you were before. You’re older, a little wiser. You know how this works. You know, now, how to make it work. You just have to get the nerve to try.” She gave a confident sweep of her head. “He doesn’t want you to wingman for him.” She passed a pair of glasses to you to fill up the tray for your waiting patron. “He wants you back.”

“Did you practice that?” you wondered, inflected sass aside. “Sounded rehearsed.” 

“That’s experience talking,” she smirked, inclining her head and pointing you to a thirsty customer waiting for attention on the other side of the bar. 

You slipped out the door to the deck, pulling the door shut behind you and turning your key in the deadbolt. It wasn’t the closest door to the alarm panel, but going out that way let you double check all the umbrellas were down and chairs stacked in the outdoor area. 

“You proud of yourself? Hm?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, a startled gasp escaping you as you clutched a hand to your chest. Your head snapped over your shoulder to see Rooster perched up on the railing. 

“Are you?” you dared, giving him a scathing once over. “You about gave me a heart attack.” 

“Have to have a heart first,” he grumbled. 

“Bad night?” you checked, putting your purse and keys down on a table, the after hours motion lights coming on when you got close. “All thrust, no vector, huh?” you snidely quipped, before clicking your tongue and sweeping your head.

“There! See that?” he pointed accusingly, hopping off the rail and stepping up to your table. “You did it on purpose. I fuckin’ knew it.”

Your head fell back, as you groaned to the sky, “Oh, my god, Rooster. For the last time, it was a joke. I’m sorry.”

“Even Bob got in on it,” he complained, holding his arm away. “The whole night- ruined. It’ll take me weeks to undo that.”

You folded your arms, a facetiously thoughtful crease in your brow as you mused, “See, I love Bob. Everyone thinks he's no fun, but he knows a good joke when he hears it.”

“Fuck Bob and fuck you,” he spat. 

Your jaw fell open, fully offended. “Wait just a damn minute,” you scowled. “You are way out of the box h-“

“I’m right on target,” he insisted, with an arrogant nod. 

You scoffed, shaking your head as you moved to start dragging chairs up to the side of the building. “You’re an ass, is what you are,” you assured him. “Go home, Rooster.” 

He swept his head and pointed a finger at the ground, broadcasting his resolve that he wasn’t going anywhere. “No. I got something to say.” 

“Fine. Have at it,” you waved a dismissive hand his way, grabbing another set of chairs to move. “But if you give me anymore shit for a joke I pulled a dozen times before, I’m calling the MA.”

He let the scraping of the plastic chair legs stop before he clarified, “It’s not shit for the joke, it’s for the subtext.”

You pulled a face, begging, “The what?” as you added a chair to one of the stacks up the wall. 

“The subtext,” he repeated. “The underlying-“

You flipped him off him. “I know what subtext means. I just didn’t know you did.” 

“Don’t be a smartass,” he frowned. 

“Fine. What exactly is this alleged subtext?” you invited, heaving up another chair. 

“You’re still in love with me,” he said bluntly, the surety of it too firm to be just an accusation. 

You let go of the chair, letting it drop the last few inches to the pile with a rattling smack, a little blindsided by the remark. You recovered quickly enough, twisting around to pick up another chair as you told him, “We’re not going through this again, Rooster.” Maybe not as firmly as you wanted it to sound, but it did sound a little more “tired of the conversation” than it did “afraid of the conversation”, and that worked just as well. 

“Again?” he laughed. “We never even got through a first time to have an again.” He waved a hand away at the past, pointing out, “We barely got started.” 

With a heavy sigh, you agreed, “Yeah, maybe.” You waved a hand, dragging over one more chair and calling it, “Bad timing, or whatever, but the point is, it didn’t work, did it?” 

“No,” he conceded, his chin lowering a fraction to do so and the sound a little disappointed. But the confidence came back when he suggested, “What if it was bad timing? What if now is different?” 

“What’s different from the last time you asked me out?” you pressed, stacking the last of the loose chairs. 

“Well, not much,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to his shoes for a minute, and your heart sighed at the adorable sight. “Was only a few weeks ago,” he mumbled. His head came back up, more confident to say, “But you see it, don’t you? How much I’m here, now? It’s my shore duty. I’m not gonna get another cruise for-“ 

“Oh, I see you around, Rooster,” you agreed, nodding. “I see you in here every weekend, chasing skirts with the guys and letting girls hang on you at the piano. I see a lot, bud.” 

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” he helplessly shrugged, watching you reach over a table to put down its umbrella. 

“Well, if you think I’m still hung up on you, why don’t you show a little respect and not do that shit in my bar?” you argued, and then promptly stood a little straighter, surprising even yourself for how harshly that came out.

He didn’t have a snappy comeback. Just stood there, lips a little parted and mouth empty for once. He was just standing there, staring. Or, at least, you figured he was, if you could see his damn eyes. 

“And take off those fuckin’ sunglasses,” you frowned, walking over to the next table and umbrella to come down. “It’s 2:30 in the morning, for Christ’s sake.”

“No,” he airily refused. “I like ‘em.” 

“Jesus,” you muttered, shaking your head at the heavens. “You are drunk.” Cranking down the umbrella, you told him, “I don’t have anyone’s number, but I can call Penny. She can get Maverick to come get you.”

“No,” he grimaced. “I don’t need a ride. I’m fine. I’m just…pissed.”

You ducked out from underneath the collapsing umbrella. “Yeah. I noticed.”

“It’s so…” He clenched his fists, looking for the word.

When it didn’t come to him, you swept out your hand, sarcastically prompting, “Is sooo...”

“God dammit, woman,” he stomped his foot. “You are infuriating!” 

“Okay, Master-at-Arms it is,” you impatiently decided, walking over to get your phone from your purse. “You don’t want a ride, then I’m not gonna sit here and-“ 

“Would you. just. stop?” he begged. His brow pinching up over the tops of his shades, pleading, “For five fuckin’ seconds.” He held out his upturned palms. “Can we just have a real conversation?” 

You cocked up a brow. “Been talking to Penny?” 

“What?” his face scrunched up, lip curling, clearly confused. “The hell does that mean?” 

“Nothing,” you shook your head, taking your hand out of your purse and crossing your arms. 

“Sweetheart, look,” he gently began, shoulders drooping in resignation and hand palming over his heart, despite the eye roll you gave him for the name. “I know what it looks like. Okay? I get it,” he promised. “But I go home alone.”

You exhaled tiredly, eyes turning up to the stars, but he pushed on. 

“I don’t want to take any of these girls home,” he earnestly said. “I’m just having fun. Helping set ‘em up for the guys. That’s all. Since I’ve been back, I haven’t taken anyone home. And even if I did, nobody’d wanna stay because I’m not good company. I don’t want to go places with them. I don’t wanna meet their friends. I just go home.” He took a beat, looking you up and down, before confessing, “Miserable. Because I don’t sleep anymore…because all I do is think about you.”

“Rooster,” you sighed, “I can’t even take you seriously right now.” You waved a hand up at him. “You've had a few tonight an-“

“I stopped drinking 3 hours ago,” he flatly told you. “Sheesh,” he lightly scoffed, with a small, crooked grin. “What kind of bartender…”

His soft attempt at humor trailed off but you stuck to your guns, finishing, “And, for god’s sake, the sunglasses.”

He took them off, head bowing as he fidgeted with folding his sunglasses with both hands, and you instantly wished he hadn’t. Looking back at those doleful brown eyes, sheepishly looking up at you through his lashes, something inside you started to melt. 

Sounding a little embarrassed, he quietly told you, “You know, I wear ‘em because I don’t want people to see me lookin’ at you. Don’t want you to see me looking at you behind the bar.”

That was sweet, but you were still conscious of the need to safeguard your heart.

“I’m glad you’re back, Bradley,” you admitted, with a genuine nod. “I really am. And I’m glad we’ve gotten to spend some time together and, yeah, it’s been fun. I really missed you.” You held your shoulders up in a long shrug, worrying, “But I don’t know what to do with that. Things could be different, but they could just be more of the same. And if it turns out to be the latter, I don’t want to have to see you in here every weekend messing around. It’s not fair. It hurts, ya know?”

He nodded along, looking a little ashamed. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

“So, what do you want, Rooster?” you finally asked. 

“You,” he answered simply, with a kind of reserved optimism. “Just you.” He gestured out with his hands and brought them back together to hold the edges of his sunglasses, saying, “Doin’ whatever you wanna do. Picking up where we left off. Startin’ from scratch. Just name it.”

God, at this point he was irresistible.

“What do ya say, sweetheart?” he wondered, a gentle hesitance in his voice. “How about a go-around?” 

You took a deep breath and nodded. 

He meandered closer, moving around the edge of the table to stand in front of you, reaching his hand out for yours and checking, “You sure?” 

Putting your hand in his, you committed with another nod. “I’m sure.” 

A grin of relief pulled up the side of his lips and Rooster let your hand go to wrap his arms around you. “Ohh,” he quietly said, squeezing you tight, “I am never letting you go again.” 

Arms folded around his waist, you squeezed him back and prayed, “Please don’t.” 

He leaned back, pressing a kiss to your forehead before telling you, “Promise.”

From somewhere unseen, a phone chimed in a message. Rooster took a step back, pulling his phone from his back pocket. From your upside down view, you saw it was Hangman, telling him to stop harassing you and they were saving a seat for him.

Rooster shrugged, with an apologetic grin for the interruption. “Sorry. Everyone was going out to IHOP for some food.” He pocketed his phone without a reply. “You hungry?”

“A little, but it’s late,” you knew.

Undeterred, Rooster eagerly proposed, “Let’s go catch up with the guys. C’mon. Come have breakfast. I need pancakes tonight.”

“Pancakes?” you laughed. “That’s what you need? Thought it was me.”

A wolfish smile came to him, as he slipped his sunglasses back on. “I need the carbs before I get to you,” he excused, dipping down to kiss you. 

Hooking your arms around his neck, you combed your fingers through the back of his hair and hummed happily. When it was over, you smiled, nodding, “Then, yeah, we should catch up with the guys.” 

“That’s my girl,” Rooster beamed. 

[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 15: Soybeans

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 3 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, scary-ish situation ❧ Word Count: 3.4k

❧ In This Chapter: Six months have passed since losing the farm, and things are looking grim with Lori's pregnancy progressing and nowhere to hunker down, until your group comes across an abandoned prison.

❧ A/N: Season 3 time! Very excited since this is actually one of my favorite seasons. There's just so much interesting stuff going on. I'm going to have fun with this...

Seven months.

That was how long you’d been on the road.

At least, according to your journal where you were keeping track. You might’ve been a little off, but you estimated it was mid to late spring now, probably May.

As if it really matters, you thought as you looked down at the weather-worn journal in your hands. You were sat on the stairs leading up to the small farmhouse your group had ransacked earlier. Now most of them were resting in the abandoned hovel, but you took your chances outside.

It’d been a hard winter. Your group was barely getting by, but you were all still living. Unfortunately, “living” these days consisted of moving from house to house, waiting until the next herd of walkers came through and kicked you out. On top of that, it was cold. Very, very cold. You’d scavenged enough winter gear to clothe a small army, but even that wasn’t enough to keep the frigid breath of winter off your backs.

By some miracle, you’d all made it out of that cold alive. Now it was warming up, but Lori was getting closer and closer to giving birth. Rick was hellbent on finding a more permanent place to hole up so she could have the baby. The search wasn’t looking promising, though.

In any case, you’d gotten a hell of a lot better at shooting and fighting walkers. You’d had plenty of time to practice, and it was becoming more and more imperative for not only the men to have those kinds of skills. Daryl even let you shoot his crossbow a few times, but he refused to give you any more lessons after you gave yourself a black eye on the last try.

Overall, those last seven months or so took a lot out of you. You weren’t feeling as hopeful as you once were, even though you did always try to find the bright side of every situation. Your whole group’s spirits were getting dangerously low, and its designated morale officer (aka, you) was taking a leave of absence.

“Hey,” you heard Daryl’s gruff voice from behind you as he swung open the squeaky front door. He sat himself next to you on the stairs, watching you continue to scrawl in your journal. “What you doin’ out here? You should be inside.”

You shrugged, not taking your eyes off the jagged chicken scratch you’d been etching on the faded white pages. It was amazing how much your handwriting had declined in quality over the winter. You’d look back at your initial entries from the quarry, where your beautiful cursive handwriting was clear as day and just as meticulous as it had once been when you signed off archival request forms at your desk in the library. Now it was barely legible. You were sure you’d never be able to read it if you ever looked back on it, but maybe that was a good thing.

“Needed some alone time,” you said quietly. You finally looked up at Daryl when you realized that he wasn’t going to leave you alone anytime soon.

“That mean you ain’t got time for me?” Daryl asked, half joking.

You gave him the biggest smile you could, which wasn’t very big. But it was enough for him. “I’ve always got time for you.”

Daryl looked down at the journal in your hands. He was always fascinated by how you could keep writing in it for so long. “What you writin’ in that thing anyway?”

You shrugged. “Just keeping record of things. Thought it might be important one day.”

Somewhere in the most hopeful parts of your mind, you thought that there might be a time where people kept records again. Your journal entries would be a part of history, and maybe you could tell future generations about the things you went through, but you also knew that could never happen. Still, you thought it was a nice idea.

Daryl sighed and stood up to his feet, slinging his crossbow on his back all the while. “Well,” he said, “I’m goin’ huntin’, and you’re comin’ with me.”

You tilted your head up at him and gave him a bewildered stare. “You’re kidding, right?” Daryl had never asked you to go hunting with him. Every once in a while he’d bring Rick with him, but even that was a rare occurrence. “Who are you and what have you done with my Daryl?”

He scoffed, leaning down to grab your journal and set it to the side, then grabbing you by the arms and pulling you up off the step. “Just get your axe and let’s go.”

You reached behind you and grabbed your ice axe you’d left leaning against the house by the door. The first time you found the thing, you had no idea what it was used for. It was tucked away in an abandoned outdoorsman shop, and Daryl was the one to tell you that it was a tool used by mountaineers to climb rocks. Ironic, you thought, I always thought rock climbers were stupid. Now, you thanked them for this ingenious invention.

It was lighter than any of the other short-range weapons you’d tried, which you’d appreciated as a person with less than stellar upper body strength. Plus, the thing was built for penetrating rock-solid surfaces and being able to come back out clean, so it was perfect for walker skulls.

Of course, you also had your gun on you. It was a standard Glock 17 handgun, but it got the job done when you needed it.

As much as you pretended not to be, you were very excited to join Daryl on his excursion. The two of you hadn’t been able to spend any substantial alone time together in months, and you were always curious to see how Daryl catches his prey.

“This is the happiest I’ve seen you in months,” he said, walking side by side with you through the forest. “You feelin’ okay?”

You laughed. “I’m fine, it’s just nice to get away from the others for a bit.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah, Rick’s drivin’ me crazy. He’s all worried about the baby.”

“Can you blame him? I mean, there’s no way that baby’s getting the nutrients it needs. What was the last thing Lori ate anyway, a bag of stale chips?”

“Since when you an expert on pregnancy?”

You scoffed at him in mock offense. “Well, when you own a uterus you learn a thing or two.”

“Yeah, well maybe we can find something substantial for dinner.”

There was a sudden rustling coming from behind the two of you. Turning around on your heels, you raised your axe in preparation to strike.

“Sounded too fast to be a walker,” you pointed out. “I’ll bet it’s that badger from those tracks we saw earlier.”

Daryl grunted in agreement as he prepped his crossbow with an arrow. “I think it went’ that way,” he pointed to his left. “You good scarin’ it my way?”

You nodded. “Yeah, just don’t shoot me.”

Splitting up, you spent a good ten minutes looking for any signs of your badger. The thing must’ve scurried off faster than you’d thought.

You were about to turn back to meet Daryl, but you heard a twig snap from behind you. This time, you knew it wasn’t a badger.

You gripped your axe tightly before spinning around to face a young man (a live one) with wide, terrified eyes. He couldn’t have been more than 16 years old.

He seemed harmless, except for the gun he had pointed at you.

You let out a deep breath, while the kid let out a series of quick ones. Seeing that you were at a disadvantage, you dropped your axe.

“Hey,” you said tentatively. “Put that thing down before you do something stupid.”

The kid shook his head wildly.

“Give me your things,” he said with a shaky voice.

You looked at him bewildered. “No way. Just put the gun down and we’ll go our separate ways.” You raised your hands up in surrender, hoping he wouldn’t shoot you for not cooperating. You figured he was a scared kid and wouldn’t immediately shoot you, so you had to try to keep your cool.

“I’m not going anywhere til you hand over your stuff!” he said, almost shouting now. He gestured to your pack you had on your back. “Give me your bag.”

You sighed, finally slowly peeling off your backpack. “You don’t have to do this,” you said.

“Shut up!” the kid said, loosing his composure.

“Ben!” you heard a man’s voice call out from a distance.

You kept your eyes glued on the boy as he started looking around frantically, his gun still pointed at you.

Swinging your pack in front of you, you knocked the kid to the ground with a thud. You grabbed your axe and began running with your pack in tow, but not before an ear-piercing gunshot rang out and you fell to your knees.

That little prick just shot me, was your only thought as you felt the worst pain you’d ever experienced. You grabbed your shoulder instinctively as that was where the pain was coming from. You gritted your teeth and hissed at the added pain from the pressure, but it was the only way you could think of to stop the bleeding.

Raising your head as you reached for your own gun, you only caught a fleeting glimpse of the young man’s figure darting between the trees. Your vision blurred and you couldn’t feel your arm anymore, and after a few moments of laying there looking at the treetops, you willed yourself up to your feet and started back towards where you’d left Daryl.

You didn’t have to go far, though, because the first few steps you’d taken were stopped short by the man himself as he ran up to you.

“(Y/N)!” he cried.

You looked up at him, bright red blood seeping out between your fingers as you tried to cover the bloody wound.

He immediately sat you back down against a tree stump and reached into his back pocket to pull out his red bandana. Tying it around the crook of your arm and over the wound, he looked around to see if the person who shot you was still there, but he’d been long gone.

“Come on,” he said, slinging your good arm over his shoulder. “You’re gonna be all right.”

Easy for you to say.

Sure enough, you were, in fact, all right.

Daryl had managed to get you back to the house your group was holed up in for the night in one piece.

“Oh my god, what happened?” Maggie asked as the two of you stumbled through the door.

Everyone stood up in a panic. You couldn’t see much of what was going on on account of your blurred vision, but you knew they were worried.

“Don’ know, jus’ heard a gunshot.” He led you carefully towards the sofa where Carol helped you lay down.

“It was some kid,” you finally managed to get a few words out in your pained state. “Wanted my stuff.”

Hershel knelt down next to you and began tending to your wound. “Well, you’re just lucky he didn’t hit you somewhere else.” He turned to Daryl, who was frantically searching through your group’s things for a first aid kit. “The bullet went right through, if we can get this bleeding under control she’ll be fine.”

Hershel had managed to stitch up both the entrance wound and exit wound. Not long afterwards, the house you were in was surrounded by walkers. It was a common occurrence, so your group was fully prepared to hit the road again. Grabbing your stuff, you hopped on the back of Daryl’s motorcycle and resumed the hunt for a place to stay.

It had been a less than productive day, to say the least. Your caravan pulled over not long after setting out. Maggie busted out the old map you’d been using to navigate the area, and you tried your best to pay attention to the plan, but it was hard when your shoulder was in so much pain.

“We can’t keep goin’ house to house,” Rick said. “We need to find someplace to hole up for a few weeks.”

“Between Lori and now (Y/N),” Hershel said, “we can’t keep up with this moving about.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you said. “It’s Lori and the baby that’s important. Besides, it’s just a flesh wound.” You smiled a little, trying to maintain a little positivity.

“That may be,” Hershel said, “but it’s important for you to stay put. You use your arm too much, it’ll tear the stitches. Then you might have an infection on your hands.”

“She’ll stay put,” Daryl butted in, then looked over at Rick. “Let’s go hunt.”

“Wait a minute,” you pulled Daryl aside. “I can still help.”

Daryl scoffed. “Nah, no more badger chasin’ for you.” He pulled your head to his chest to leave a kiss on your hairline, then headed into the woods with Rick.

When they got back, Rick had a big announcement: they’d stumbled upon an abandoned prison just beyond the train tracks.

It was a long shot—the prison yard was overrun with walkers, but Rick seemed to think it could possibly be a new home.

Luckily, your gunshot wound was in your non-dominant shoulder, so you could still be of use in killing walkers. Yourself and a few others took out a handful of walkers outside of the prison gates while Rick used a pair of bolt cutters to cut a hole in the chain-link fence.

Once you’d gotten through the outer fence, it was time to take the yard.

Against Hershel’s advice, Rick assigned you to shoot from the tower with Carol and Daryl.

It was certainly a pain in your shoulder, but it was good target practice.

Once Rick had made it to the other side of the yard and closed off the other gate, you felt a sudden rush of adrenaline course through you. This was the first time you’d had that feeling that things were going right in such a long time. Between shooting, you looked over to Daryl with a huge smile.

“It’s working!” you cried.

He smirked at you as he prepared another arrow for his crossbow. “Just keep shootin’, Tex.”

It was a cause for celebration. As your group made your way into the now cleared prison yard, you couldn’t help but raise your arms and let out a big “Woooo!”

But then a sharp pain coursed through your wound and you had to restrain yourself again. It didn’t faze you, though. Nothing could ruin this moment.

That night you all sat around the makeshift fire, reveling in the joy of the day’s accomplishment. What started out as a very unproductive (and painful) day turned out to be the most eventful day your group had had in a long time.

“Tomorrow we’ll put all the bodies together,” T-Dog said. “Want to keep them away from that water. If we can dig a canal under the fence, we’ll have plenty of fresh water.”

“And this soil is good,” Hershel added. “We could plant some seed—cucumbers, tomatoes, soybeans…”

“Soybeans?” you perked up.

Beth giggled at you. “You like soybeans?”

Hershel looked at you with a big smile. “Leave it to the vegetarian.”

“Former vegetarian,” you corrected. “I used to make the best tofu stir fry. We get ourselves some rice and we’ll be set.”

Carl made a very visceral “yuck” noise. “I’m not eating any tofu,” he teased.

“Well, you haven’t tried my tofu before. Just you wait, kiddo.” You reached over and grabbed his head to shake him playfully.

When everyone was asleep, you joined Daryl on watch duty. You were much too excited for tomorrow, when your group was planning to actually break into the prison, to sleep.

The two of you stood shoulder to shoulder by the fence, looking out for any walkers that might come out of the woods towards the prison. When one did come towards you, you swung your axe up and over your head to impale it through the very top of its head.

Daryl looked at you like you were crazy. “Ain’t you supposed to be takin’ it easy?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I used my good arm.”

“Even so,” he said. “Had me shittin’ myself when I saw you on the ground like that.” His shoulders shivered a bit at the thought. “I ever find the dumbass who shot ya, I’ll pop a cap in his shoulder. Make it even.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, you and me both.” You winced a little at the sudden burst of pain. “Didn’t know getting shot hurt this much.”

“Least you’ll have a real scar now,” Daryl said with a lilt of humor in his voice.

“Oh God, you’re right. I didn’t even think about that.”

“It’ll look good on ya,” he said.

You blushed. “You think so?”

“Know so.”

Daryl placed his hands on your hips and brought you in for a slow kiss. You rested your free hand on his chest as your lips moved against each other’s so perfectly, interlocking seamlessly at every angle. He brought his hands inwards to meet at your lower back. He pushed you in further to him so there was no space between your bodies. The fabric of his wool poncho scratched in the most pleasant way against your hand as it moved up and down his hearty chest.

This was the most intimate the two of you had been in so long, and perhaps since that night you first had sex.

Your lips finally separated. You opened your eyes to look deeply into his. It was too dark to see the clear blue orbs you came to know so well, but you knew they were there, sparkling for you.

“You know, I still got that condom in my saddlebag,” Daryl said, his nose nuzzling against yours.

Your smile widened. “Oh, really?”

Daryl nodded, his nose moving up and down against yours playfully. You looked around a bit to see if there was anywhere private where the rest of your group couldn’t see you two.

“How about we hold off til tomorrow? It’ll be more motivation to get the inside of the prison cleared, that way we’ll have more privacy. Maybe even a bed.” You raised your eyebrow suggestively as you played with the fabric of his poncho.

Daryl lowered his head and sighed. “Yeah, probably a good idea… really miss ya though.”

If Daryl was being perfectly honest, he’d be fine screwing you in the great outdoors… if it was safe, and you weren’t surrounded by about ten other people.

You smiled at him sweetly. “I miss you, too, cutie pie.”

Daryl scoffed. “You ever gonna stop callin’ me that?”

You leaned in and gave him a kiss on the nose. “Nope, not unless you suddenly aren’t cute anymore, which could never happen.”

“Told ya, ain’t cute.”

“Yes, you are,” you reassured him. “And tomorrow, when we get the prison secured, I want you to show me what I’ve been missing these last seven months.”

Daryl’s eyes widened. “It really been that long?”

You nodded. “I’ve been keeping track. You’re way overdue for a physical,” you giggled softly. “Gotta make sure everything’s in working order, Mr. Dixon.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled quietly, “jus’ don’t put me down for a prostate exam.”

“Nah, I’ll have Hershel do that.”

He flicked your nose gently. “Ain’t funny,” he scolded, trying to hold back a smile.

“Just a little,” you looked at him innocently.

That night you slept well knowing that your group was in the safest place it’d been in a long time.

As Daryl held you, draped underneath his poncho, you dreamt of what was to come in this new place. You thought of the possibility of starting a whole community, one where your people thrived and a new generation could grow up strong and healthy. Lori’s baby, Carl, and maybe others someday. That was what you thought of as you fell asleep—that and soybeans.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

~

✏ Taglist

@browneyes528 | @btsiguess-kpop | @byashj | @im-just-star-dust | @jodiereedus22 | @lady-discord | @littlegodzilla | @lmiautynal | @lovinnholland | @multifandomizer | @quietly-scrolling-through | @riverscyberwife | @smoochesfroggos | @spenciepoo338 | @spidergirla5 | @sseleniaa | @wickedscorpio22 | @witheringblooddemon

[dalishthunder]

Tying the Knot

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Moon/Reader/Sun (Reader is not referred to with gendered language but is afab) Words: 2281

Contains choking, bondage, and breeding kink

_______________________

Maybe it had been your own fault for dropping your phone in the sink. Maybe it had just been Karma kicking in your door for all of the cringe shit you did as a teenager. Maybe it had just been the luck of the draw and you'd drawn short.... But ruminating on what you had done to deserve it, did not in fact change the very real fact that your mother had dropped by for the weekend.

Out of the blue.

Wanted to see how her precious baby was doing.

This is what you got for not visiting during the holidays, wasn't it?

Worse still was that you had neglected to tell her about your... living situation with Sun and Moon (much less about the things that you got up to behind closed doors). So when you answered your door, it took every ounce of your willpower not to just slam it right shut and hide your roommate (Lover? Partner?) somewhere out of sight.

But like a gracious host you invited her in with a hug, and hoped beyond hope that Sun wasn't going to come back in from working in his garden anytime soon. The last thing you needed was your mother blabbing on social media about him... or worse if she knew what sort of relationship you were in with a goddamn robot.

You'd managed to excuse yourself for a moment, saying you were going to go find her something to drink, and running outside to explain the situation to Sun. He was ecstatic, though he moped when you told him that you weren't going to tell your mother that you were romantically involved. She just... wouldn't understand.

You'd promised to make it up to him, up to them.

The conversation remained polite, asking about the job you'd been working since the Plex burned down, asking about your plans for the future, asking when you'd gotten so good at robotics, and of course the obligatory, "Are you seeing anyone?"

You nearly choked on your food, Sun's hand patting your back just a little harder than needed.

"Now that's a very interesting question, Ma'am. Why don't you tell the answer to that, Stardrop? Are you seeing anybody?" His voice was sickly sweet as though goading you to answer one way or another so you just laughed nervously.

"Well gosh darn, everyone, ain't this a-, uh, a free c-country? What- What, uh, even," You gulped, "Constitutes 'seeing' anybody? You know I can't uh... be tied down by the, um... the man."

Your mother stared at you, then shook her head a little, "Does that mean I can or can't expect grandchildren soon? I'm not gettin' any younger, y'know." It was meant to be teasing, you realized in hindsight, but in the moment you felt like you were going to explode into pieces so small they'd need a Hadron Collider to see any remnants.

You shot up from your chair, loudly declaring that you needed to use the bathroom, and proceeded to lock yourself in for fifteen minutes cursing your lack of phone. When you'd finally worked up the nerve to leave, Sun was nowhere to be seen, and your mother declared that she would be spending the weekend, much to your chagrin. You cleared off your sheets and put clean bedding down for her, figuring worse came to worst, you'd crash in Sun and Moon's room or on the couch. You watched shitty medical dramas with her before bed, making small talk about that instead of....

So when she finally headed in, you breathed out a sigh of relief, wondering where your partners had gone off to. You checked outside, and the garage, still not seeing where they'd gone off to, stopping in their dark room. Nowhere.

You really hoped you hadn't offended them by not telling your mother that you were in love with and fucking a seven and a half foot tall robot that you'd basically stolen from Fazbear. You sighed, too mentally exhausted to really dwell on it too much. You were thankful you'd put a bed in here for them, even if it was just a bit small for them. You closed the door, shucking off your clothes and laying down, staring up at the ceiling.

The faint notes of a music box drifted through the air, a massive hand tugging your ankle hard enough to drag you on the bed. "Moon," You hissed, "What the f-"

His had planted itself firmly over your mouth. "Naughty, naughty, little Star. Don't want to wake up your guest now, do you?" Moon's gravelly voice was soft, like the wind through the forest canopy.

You shook your head, eyes wide as he crouched over you. The only thing you could make out were his piercing red eyes in the darkness, watching you pointedly. You wanted to ask him what he thought hiding under the bed would accomplish, but as soon as you made a noise, he tsked.

"I have a better use for your mouth." He whispered with a sinister little chuckle.

You shivered, swiping your tongue over his fingers.

"So sweet when you're not lying." He caressed your cheeks, pressing his metal mouth to your forehead in the facsimile of a kiss before scooting up and adjusting himself; And immediately your eyes caught on the appendage before you.

He was wearing his strap already.

Moon lowered his hips, dragging the tip along your lips, fingers stroking your hair before grabbing a fistful. "Open wiiide."

You licked the tip, the taste of silicone on your tongue as he pushed into your mouth. A small moan escaped your throat, and before you knew it, his hand was around your throat; his fingers squeezing lightly in warning, but not enough to cut off airflow. He braced his other hand against the wall, shallowly thrusting in and out of your mouth, taking care to make sure you didn't gag... too much.

His pace was slow, deliberate, watching your face closely. You couldn't help but wonder if they'd both been planning this  God, you could already feel how wet you were whenever you shifted, skin clinging lewdly to the fabric of your underwear. You could feel yourself clench when he got just a bit too deep, gagging and clinging to his hips.

He pulled back and gave you a second to catch your breath, thumb coming up to caress your lower lip before shifting and crouching down to nuzzle your cheek, his other hand teasing your slit over the fabric. "Mean little Starlight, you had poor Sunny convinced you were ashamed of us."

You swallowed, "Wha- no! I'm n-"

The pressure increased around your neck, "You must be punished."

You shut up, blinking up at him.

He just continued to leasurely tease you over your underwear, adding just enough pressure to make you hyper aware of him, but never enough to do anything but drive you mad. You ground against his fingers, and he just let out a laugh, pulling them away. "Moon... Moonpie, pl-"

Moon's hand tightened around your throat, cutting off your air supply for just a moment, a warning, as he whispered into your ear, "Hush now, Starlight. Don't want to wake your guest. Don't want people to know about your little robot loving perversion, do you?"

His tone was lilting, teasing, despite the daggers in his words.

"It's not like tha-" You started as soon as he eased up, but he cut off your air again.

"No need to explain to little ol' Moon. I understand you perfectly, but Sun, poor little Sun.... Thinks you hate us. Thinks you don't want us anymore. Thinks we're just your dirty little secret."

You shook your head, mouthing out "No".

He eased up on your neck, and you gasped. His hand pulled away from your throat to caress your cheek, and you vaguely wondered if you would wake up bruised. "I love you. I love you both so much it hurts." You said as you caught your breath.

Moon placed a single finger to your lips. "You mentioned not being tied down?" He bent down close, reaching the floor and pulling up a rope. "Starlight, consider this us tying that knot."

Your eyes went wide, breath hitching.

He worked quickly, binding your wrists together and tying them to the headboard. As soon as he was satisfied, he placed a kiss on your forehead. "Just like a present all for me."

And like the little gremlin he was, he went back to teasing you over your underwear, the other running along your sides, squeezing your soft flesh. You tried to grind down, get some sort of friction, but he just tsked and held down your hips. "So impatient. So naughty." He hissed.

You whined, and he just covered your mouth with his other hand.

After what felt like an agonizing eternity, he finally pulled your underwear to the side, slipping his finger between your folds, gliding gently, avoiding exactly where you needed his touch most. He teased your entrance, pressing down but never in, swirling around it with enough pressure for you to see stars.

God, you needed him.

Wanted him.

Finally he eased in, only the tip, pulling out and dipping in, leaving you a squirming mess clenching on almost nothing. Your breath came in pants, as you bucked your hips uselessly, and he must have taken pity on you because he just let out a low, gravelly chuckle, sinking down to the knuckle. His hand muffled your keen, and he whispered out, "Quiet now, Starlight. People are sleeping."

You nodded, biting your lip and rocking onto his long, long finger. It didn't take long for him to slip in another. Twisting and curling them against your g-spot, and it took everything you had to swallow down your moans. Moon set leisurely pace again, working you up before easing you down again, over and over, leaving you a sopping, panting, unfulfilled, incoherent mess. Until he pulled out completely leaving you empty and ready to sob.

His fingers pressed against your lips and you obediently opened your mouth, lapping at them, tasting yourself as you cleaned them off. "Such a good little Starling."

He spread you, the head of his strap probing your entrance for a moment before setting a shallow, slow pace again. Just the tip, in and out; in and out until you were babbling again and he wrapped his hand around your throat. "Naughty, naughty, Brat. Keep quiet or everyone will know just how depraved you are."

It was so hard to give a shit when you just needed him to FUCK YOU.

Like a mind reader, he buried himself deeper within you, his other hand covering your mouth as he bent low. "Don't want wake everyone up, do you?"

You bit your cheek so hard it hurt.

"Don't want anyone finding out this way, do you?"

You moaned, and he squeezed down on your throat; You throbbed around him as he picked up the pace, pounding into you now.

"But, oh, Starlight, You need me, don't you?"

You nodded frantically, trying to buck your hips to the rhythm he'd set.

"You love me, don't you?"

You couldn't help but strain against the binds to try to pull him closer somehow.

His pace was brutal. "So tell me, Starlight, never did answer your mother's question; Are you going to make us a daddy?" Moon practically crooned in your ear, low and soft.

You clenched around him, breath hitching.

"Want me to fill you up? Put a little baby in you?"

Your eyes squeezed shut you were so close. So fucking close.

"Want to give us a big, happy family? Want to show the world just who you belong to?"

With a particularly deep thrust you felt yourself unravel, legs pulling him deeper as he fucked you through it. He removed his hand from your mouth, and you felt liquid shoot into your heat.

"Fu-"

He squeezed your neck again, cutting off your airflow one last time, and you were glad for it; You probably would have screamed out his name for the entire neighborhood to hear. It took a few minutes, but when you finally came back to yourself, you could feel cum leaking out of you and Moon untying your hands. He carefully massaged them, a soft music box melody drifting through the air.

You threaded your fingers through his, pulling him in for a kiss.

"I'm not ashamed of you guys." Your voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. "I need you to know that."

Moon stiffened for a moment, "I know."

"I'm serious. I love you, and if you need me to tell my family about you, I will." Your eyes met his crimson ones and he held your gaze.

"You can tell them when we have babies." He booped your nose.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "We're not having this conversation right now."

He cackled, finally slipping out of you and undoing the strap. You took a moment to clean up, wiping away what had to be some sort of specialized lubricant. "Is that a new one?"

"Yes. Like it?"

You nodded, "Yeah... you did real good with that one."

A yawn escaped your lips, and he snickered, pulling you close. "Sleeptime now."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

Between the earth shattering orgasm you'd had, and the soft plinks of the music box notes it didn't take you long to doze off. And you'd have a conversation with them tomorrow. A real one. About feelings and shit, and the future, and... you yawned again, finally succumbing to the pleasant nothingness of sleep.

[enchantedflameandflower]

Glimmer 11/? Billy Butcher fic

NOTES! - Hello loves! I wanted to let you all know that the next 20 some chapters of this is written and was written before season 3 came out.

My toxic trait is that I love to write so even with an OC my stories still fit in with the show. Season 3 is making this hard lol.

As I post and we keep going through season 3 let me know if you think I should stay with the show or just go AU! I want to write what you all like too :)

pairing: Billy Butcher/OFC

rating: mature

summary: Sometimes even a wavering light in the darkness can be enough to bring you through. How will Billy Butcher cope with falling in love with a supe he can't walk away from?

chapter: 11/?

“She’s in your room.” MM didn’t even look up from the table when Billy came through the door, but Billy made a face at him anyway. 

“She jump in front of a bullet again? Seems to be a fuckin’ annoying habit she’s forming.”

“She saved my life. Twice.”

Billy nodded. That was Addison.

But the moment he walked into his room he could see she was not okay. Addison was sitting on the edge of the bed with a blanket over her shoulders, pale as a ghost, staring at her hands, which were trembling. Her tank top was covered in blood and halfway cut, from the hem up the side. Her hair was pulled up but it was a mess.

She jerked her head up when he shut the door.

She tried for one minute to hold it in but as soon as he stepped forward her face crumpled and she was sobbing, burying her face in her hands. 

“Addi...” he went over to her without even thinking, sitting next to her on the bed and pulling her against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t — I told MM not to call you...I...”

“Slow down, sunshine, you can call me anytime. Tell me what happened.”

She sobbed again, pressing her face into his chest. “I killed...a child.”

He froze. MM hadn’t told him it was a kid. That wasn’t what he had been expecting to hear but it certainly shed light on her uncharacteristic emotional state. “What do you mean? Addison?” He tipped her chin up so he could look at her. He used his thumb to wipe the tears off her cheek even though she was still crying.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like that. It,” she took a breath. “It was a normal job. We were just... but we were ambushed... out of nowhere and he was a supe. He...he was going to kill MM...”

Billy wrapped his arms tight around her again as she started to tremble all over. 

“I know...I know you hate us,” she kept mumbling, “and you’re probably glad he’s dead, but...but he was probably only 14...and I’ve never. He was a child still. I just couldn’t —“

“Sweetheart.”

Billy pulled away just enough to tip her chin up again so he could look at her. She sniffed, looking up at him with watery eyes. “Addison, I don’t hate you. I hate the idea of supes but I don’t hate you. I hate what Vought has done.  I hate the the fuckers out there that are total cunts. That ain’t you, love. And I ain’t glad you had to kill someone you did not want to kill. But you had no choice, alright? The kid was already shootin’. You did what you had to.”

She shook her head. “I should’ve tried to lead him off... So MM could get away. I should’ve let him...”

“Absolutely fuckin’ not,” Billy interrupted. “Not an option, ever, you hear me? Losin’ you or MM is out of the question. You’re doin’ good out there. The world needs some of that. Ya got it? You weren’t given a choice, and it ain’t fair, but that’s what happened.”

She finally nodded her head and he pulled her in close again. He couldn’t help the swell of emotion in his chest. He would keep saying it until she saw she’d done the right thing. “That’s a good lass,” he murmured. 

“I’m not a lass,” she sniffed, contrite, muffled through her tears and against his chest. “We’re almost the same age.”

He gave a low hum. It was always a good sign if she was arguing. “Just a turn of phrase, love. Not my fault you don’t look a day over 27.”

They stayed that way for a few minutes before she started to calm some and spoke again.

“Are you happy? One less supe in the world.” She glanced up at him. 

Her eyes were so serious, so full. He reached up again to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “No. No, I ain’t happy. But I’m never happy, so all’s good with that, eh?”

She took another shaky breath. “It makes me worry about Ryan. What if...” she shook her head. 

“I keep seeing him in my mind...laying there instead. Hurt...” She swallowed. 

He knew exactly what she meant, but it was a worry for another time. “Ryan’s safe,” he said, pulling her close. 

Finally he felt her trembling stop but he didn’t let go. She would do the same for him. 

When she could breathe again, she sat up a little more but didn’t move away. “This is your room?” she asked him, looking around a little. It was small and bare and dark, but it was a room if he needed it. 

“Eh, you heard that?” he asked. 

She looked at him. 

“Of course you heard. Yeah, I sleep here when I need to. Haven’t been here in awhile...” 

“It’s very..."

“Aye,” he looked at her, searching her face. “It’s a room. Do you want me to take ya home?”

She looked bloody awful if he was being honest and he felt a wave of relief when she shook her head. “I - I just... Can I stay here for awhile? I’m so exhausted, I don’t think I can even stand.”

“I think that’s a proper idea, sunshine.”

Billy went back out and found an oversized t-shirt from MM that she could wear and gathered some stuff from Kimiko to help Addison clean up. He helped her as much as he could, then left so she could change and lie down. 

When he came back in 10 minutes later she was already asleep, curled up in his bed. He shut the light off and closed the door quietly, feeling grateful that she was at least okay and asleep for now.

“Oi, sounds like a real cock up you had, eh?” Butcher asked MM gruffly, sitting at the table across from him. 

MM shook his head. “Just a bad job, gone south. We’ve both done a hundred of these alone without a problem. At least Mallory had the foresight to send us both. I’ll put in to change procedure immediately. No contact until there’s surveillance anytime there’s a hint of trouble, no matter the subject.”

Billy nodded. They fuckin’ needed him. But he didn’t say anything. 

“Addison saved us both.” MM stopped what he was doing to look Billy in the eye. “She can still be emotional in the field but her instincts are impeccable. We’re lucky to have her.”

“Maybe some of us could use a little emotion, eh?” Frenchie said from across the room. 

Billy rolled his eyes. “Oi, just because I’m not some poncy, bleedin’ heart twat don’t mean I don’t care.” He pressed his hand to his chest. “I’m here ain’t I?” 

He didn’t miss Frenchie’s smirk but he ignored it and he managed to wait more than an hour before he checked on her again. She was zonked and he stood in the dark watching her until he was sure she was breathing deeply.

Fuck, but he didn’t want to leave her and he hadn’t slept in days. 

The bed was small, but...fuck it all. Why should he sit on the couch miserable all night? He was fuckin’ exhausted of pretending that he didn’t care for her. He had for a very long time. 

He changed silently into a t-shirt and sweatpants and carefully climbed into bed next to her. 

Without waking she immediately turned to him, curling into his side. She was still pale and looked small and fragile like this, even though he knew she wasn’t. He thought of the way she held him when he had needed it and he shifted to slide his arm beneath her, drawing them close together. She was soft and warm against him and as she gave a soft sigh in her sleep he felt his worry finally start to abate and he knew he’d made the right decision.

*****

Addison woke slowly to the most wonderful heat she had ever felt in her life. For a long time she let herself simply revel in it but eventually her mind was annoyingly determined to figure out where she was and what the fuck was going on. 

It only took another notch of awareness, a deep inhale of breath and a slight shifting for her to realize she was curled up in Billy’s arms and pressed against his body. 

Yes. That was his heartbeat. 

A feeling of content like nothing else she had ever felt in her life swept through her. He was solid and real and warm, and she felt utterly safe.

But then the reason they were both here hit her like a freight train. She felt her entire body tense and he must’ve sensed it too, because he tightened his arm around her. “It’s alright,” he murmured gruffly. 

She didn’t even think he was awake but the sound of his voice and his touch calmed her. She took a soft breath and let herself drift off again, her cheek pressed against his chest. 

When he shifted awhile later, she came to once more, but slowly, and again she marveled in the fact that she could ever feel something as comforting as this. Though in her sleep-relaxed mind she could think of a few things that would make it feel even better. When she heard the cadence of his heartbeat change she knew he was awake. “You stayed with me,” she murmured.

He gave a sleep-roughened hum. “Your repeated pattern of deciding to jump in front of bullets is starting to bloody concern me,” he murmured back.

Addison smiled to herself. She really had no answer to that. 

A knock sounded on the door then and she felt more than heard Butcher’s heavy grumble. 

“What is it?” he barked. 

The door opened and he fairly growled. “That weren’t an invitation to come in...”

Addison lifted her head to see MM with two steaming mugs of coffee. “Oh that looks wonderful...” Her mouth was almost watering at the sight of the coffee and she realized she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. 

“Just checking on my patient,” MM said, setting the coffees down on the nightstand. “Though it looks like your bedside manner might be starting to improve.”

Billy glared at him and Addison smiled, then he glared at her. 

“And I made some breakfast, chèrie,” Frenchie announced, carrying a plate heaping with eggs and bacon and toast into the room, while Kimiko stood at the door. “Kimiko helped.” 

Butcher continued to glare at each of them in turn. 

“Addison needs to try and eat if she can,” MM continued. “She lost a lot of blood last night.”

“Fine then, leave the plate,” Butcher grumbled.

“Thank you,” Addison said gratefully, ignoring Butcher’s grumpiness. “It looks perfect. I’m starving.”

“You’re welcome,” MM replied and though he stepped back, the three of them continued to stand at the door, watching them and Addison bit back a smile as Billy growled again. 

“Alright, we’re not a fuckin’ side show at the circus. Fuck off you lot.” 

Kimiko grinned and Frenchie held up his hands while MM finally closed the door behind them. 

Billy grumbled but Addison slid back down by his side again to lay against his shoulder. “Thank you for coming. And staying,” she said, determined to change the subject. 

“You’d do the same, wouldn’t ya?”

She tilted her head to look up at him. His eyes were dark and warm and fierce. 

“How do you feel?” he asked. 

“A little weak if I’m being honest, but better. The pain is gone, for the most part.”

“Here...” 

She thought she saw the same reluctance in his eyes that she was feeling to end this little thing, whatever it was, but it wasn’t the time and it very clearly was not the place, so she let him help her sit up, stuffing pillows behind her for her to lean back on. Then he handed her a cup of coffee, the one with cream, and reached for the plate. 

She took the mug gratefully, taking a slow sip, then humming at the taste, much better than she expected, but then she was staying with a Frenchman and a perfectionist so maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. 

He pressed a pillow into her lap then and set the plate on it so she could eat, handing her the fork and her stomach gave an eager rumble. He drank his coffee while she ate, nicking a piece of toast when she returned to sipping her coffee.

She felt better after she finished and finally felt like she could make it home, so Billy helped her out of bed. Her jeans would do, though they had blood on them, but her shirt and tank top were done for, so she borrowed a shirt from Billy, giving MM’s back, and Billy insisted she wear his jacket on the drive. 

Billy walked her into her apartment and she sighed gratefully as the door shut behind them.

“Thank you,” she said again, turning to face him, leaning against the counter.

“You’re knackered. I can tell,” he said, reaching up to push some loose strands of her messy hair behind her ear.

“I should take a shower but I feel like I could sleep for another 10 hours.”

“Get some rest, sunshine. I’ll come by tomorrow with a barrel full of food.”

Addison smiled, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. She wanted to stay like this, staring into his eyes forever but her body was already beginning to feel weak again and Billy knew, as he often did.

“No more takin’ bullets, eh? Not for anyone.” Addison nodded even though they both knew she didn’t mean it. Billy leaned forward to press a quick kiss to her temple that made her stomach flutter warmly, then he made her promise to deadbolt her door when he left.

Chapter 12

[holylulusworld]

Hit it off king of hell style

Title: Hit it off king of hell style.

Summary: You are done running after Dean, so you take Crowley’s offer and hit it of king of hell style.

Square filled for @spnquotebingo​​​​​: “Son of a bitch!” - SPN

Word Count: 1,3k+

Pairing: Demon!Dean x fem!Reader, former Dean x fem!Reader, Crowley x fem!Reader (platonic)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, language, pissed reader, Y/N is just done, drunk reader, flirty Crowley, mentions of smut, cheating, jealousy, overuse of the word ‘fuck’ and sonofabitch, mentions of deaths, fingering, implied smut, kidnapping (kinda)

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​

SPN Quote Bingo masterlist

“Crowley,” you mutter under your breath, eying the demon warily while he steps closer. 

“Grasshopper,” Crowley smirks, sitting next to you to order his favorite poison. “How have you been? Did your partner in crime leave you hanging again?”

“You know exactly that Dean ran off again,” you down your next drink, hissing when the amber liquid runs down your throat, burning deliciously. “I’m just done running after that sonofabitch!”

“I see,” nodding thoughtfully Crowley orders another drink for you. “I’ll have a single malt,” he dips his head to look at you. “Do you want something better than this-“ the king of hell shoves the drink the bartender poured him away, nose scrunched up in disgust.

“Do you have better stuff?” you quip, not interested to leave your bar stool or the dingy bar in the middle of nowhere anytime soon. “Guess you only want to use me to control his demonic ass.” snickering you down your next drink. “Burns so good.”

“I know he told you to not come back,” the demon sighs, patting your shoulder. “Must be hard. Squirrel is not Squirrel any longer, Grasshopper. He’s all rage and bloodlust. Not that I would mind a little massacre here and there, but Dean is bad for business.”

You snicker at Crowley’s pained expression. “What did he do? Did he piss in your cornflakes or something?”

“Something like that,” the demon grumbles. “I tell Dean to kill an unfaithful wife, and he kills the guy signing the contract. What will happen if people hear I can’t control Dean? No one is going to sign shit any longer.”

Cradling his face in his hands Crowley huffs. “You should’ve known better, Crowley. Dean is a timebomb with black eyes. Before he was unpredictable but now – he’s just-,” you shrug, not finding the right words. “An asshole.”

“I second that,” Crowley laughs when you order another drink and a Piña Colada for him. “How about we fuck him over and have some fun, Grasshopper?”

“I don’t think so,” licking your lips you look at Crowley who tries to look taller. He stretches his neck, groaning as something cracks. “We can have a few drinks, though.”

“Deal,” holding out his hand Crowley looks at your hand. “Grasshopper, you must shake my hand. That’s how you agree to a deal.”

“I won’t sign any deals with you, king of hell,” growling the words you hop off the barstool. “Did you come here to get my soul or shit? Do you honestly think I would sell it for Dean, the guy who just railed a waitress and let me watch?”

“You watched?” you roll your eyes at Crowley’s words. “Seriously?”

“No, I did not watch. Why should I watch my ex fuck a random chick? I got better things to do, like drinking and giving a shit on his demonic ass. Just wish I gave him the boot sooner.”

“Broken heart?” Crowley carefully tries. “Come on, Grasshopper. Let’s hit it off king of hell style. We can have a few drinks and I promise to not let you sign any deals.”

“Fine, whatever. Got nothing else to do,” you grasp for your jacket and purse. “You will pay for my drinks.”

“Of course, my lady…”

“And then he went off to play house with Lisa, that yoga chick he barely knew,” you slur, giggling as Crowley tries to down the girly drink you ordered for him. “Can you believe he left my cute ass to play house?”

“I would’ve never left you, Grasshopper,” Crowley nods to himself, imagine getting you in his clutches, a collar placed around your neck, his name hanging from it. “How about you come with me, and I’ll show you a whole new world?”

“Nah, I got a nice drink, some peanuts, and a good view at the bartender’s ass when he bends to pick up shit,” you smirk. “Dean can go and fuck himself, or anyone else around.”

“He hurt you – huh?”

“Demon or not, we were still married, and he just told me,” you mutter, leaning closer to Crowley. “We ain’t married anymore, sweetheart! It says, ‘till death do us part’.”

“He did?” brows furrowed Crowley watches you throw a few peanuts into his face. “What?”

“That’s all your fault,” poking your finger into Crowley’s chest you growl at him. “It was you telling him about that fucking first blade and Cain. He got the mark because of you, Crowley. Don’t act all innocently now.”

“I didn’t know he would die,” Crowley shrugs. “At least not through Metatron’s hands and so soon.”

“But you knew about the consequences and said nothing. All of it only to howl at the moon with a feral demon called Dean Winchester. That’s pathetic for a king of hell. You should retire or get a hobby,” you grunt, ordering another drink. “Give me my poison.”

“I think she had enough,” the demon watches you slip off the chair to dance to the music in your head. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing, Crowley!” you smack the back of his head, grinning as he doesn’t fight back. “That’s for ruining my marriage, sonofabitch! If I wasn’t drunk, you’ll be dead by now. But I’ll leave this to Sam…Sammy.”

“Moose? Did you call him?”

“Nah, he would ask how it went and I am not in the mood to explain his big brother is busy fucking his way through the state of-“ blinking a few times you look at Crowley. “Where the fuck are we?”

“A bar?” Crowley smirks when you slap his cheek. He would never admit it, but he has a thing for dominant women. “Ouch, that tickled Grasshopper.”

“Stop calling me that, Crowley. You promised we would hit it off, but this is just hanging out at a bar with better drinks,” you sigh. “Maybe I should find a dick to ride for the night.”

“Oh-“ the bartender clears his throat, almost dropping the bottle of Whiskey in his hands. “Is she single?” the man whispers in Crowley’s direction. “I don’t want an angry husband to chase after me with a baseball bat, or gun again.”

“Not a chance,” Crowley growls. “If anyone gets her in his clutches, it’s me.”

“DREAM ON!” a deep voice bellows. “Did I not tell you to bring her back to my brother?” Dean grunts, watching you sway to the music in your head. “This-“ jerking his head toward you Dean narrows his eyes, “doesn’t look like bringing her home. It looks like getting her drunk to take advantage of my wife.”

“Ex-wife,” you mutter, pointing your index finger at Dean. “You said it yourself, we aren’t married anymore. You dicked down that chick and I can fuck Crowley if I want to.”

“You won’t!” Dean closes the distance between you with three longs steps before he grasps for you to throw you over his shoulder. 

“Lemme down, you sonofabitch,” you lift your head to ask Crowley for help. “You’re a fine bar buddy, Crowley. You can’t just let him take me.”

“Sorry, Grasshopper?” Crowley shrugs, laughing when you throw insults at him. “I can’t control a timebomb. You should know that.”

“What do you want?” wiggling on the bed in the messy motel room Dean brought you to, you try to break out of the ropes. “Let me go, asshole!”

“You will not speak until I’m done with you,” the demon tuts. “If you open your mouth again, I’ll gag you with my boxers.”

“What the fuck!”

“Final warning, sweetheart,” sliding his index finger over your lips Dean smirks when your breath hitches in your throat. “I think that I’ll put your mouth to better use later.”

“Hmpf…” his finger slides past your lips into your mouth, swiping over your tongue. 

“Always loved your mouth around my dick,” he muses, shoving two fingers into your mouth, slowing starting to move them in and out. He smirks, loving you look up at him, pupils lust blown.

“Do you want to say something, Y/N?” you hate he smirks down at you when he removes his fingers. “I bet,” he leans closer to lick over your cheek, “when I’m done with you sweetheart, you know how it feels to hit it off Dean Winchester style…” and just like that, he shoves his fingers into your slicked cunt, curling them. “Yeah, I think you’ll know…”

Tags in reblog.

[august-bleeds-red]

Texas Heat

Alpha!Tommy x omega!Reader (AFAB). When you find yourself trapped within the Hewitt family’s web of murder, violence and pain, the last thing you expect to do is fall in love.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

~

The Texas sun beats mercilessly down on the back of your neck, the air thick and slow as dark molasses. You tied your sweater around your waist, but even that was too much for your sweating skin, so now it just hangs limply from your fingers.

 You manage to hitch a lift from a family of three on a cross-state road trip – the parents were both betas, the little girl in the back unpresented. You tell them you’re heading back to college from visiting your family, that your car packed up some three miles back. You also tell them you’re a beta. Two truths and a lie.

 They pull into a small gas station in Travis County called Cele Community Centre to fill up, while you step inside the sore to ask to use the phone. A middle-aged woman with cats-eye spectacles stands behind the counter, a couple of leather-clad bikers sitting at a table littered with beer bottles.

 The phone’s busted, but when you explain about your car, she offers a different option. Her brother’s got a tow truck – he could go pick up your car and bring it back for repair. It’s too good an offer to refuse, so you wave goodbye to the beta family and take a seat in the diner. The woman – Luda May Hewitt, she introduces herself – gives you a soda on the house and asks you about yourself. You tell her about your parents, your brother in the army, your little sister about to graduate high school. By the time her brother arrives – a unkempt, bespectacled man she calls Monty – you feel as though you’ve been talking to a matronly aunt for the past hour. She’s kind, with good old-fashioned Southern values, and so when she asks if you’d like to join them for supper, you accept. Monty says your car needs a new valve or something, which he has back at the homestead, so you hop in the cab of his truck next to Luda May.

 The Hewitt family home is a large farmhouse, with sprawling fields surrounding and a dilapidated garage. Monty parks up in the front yard and disappears, presumably to find the missing piece for your car. You shoulder your bag and follow Luda May inside the house. It’s not particularly clean, but your mother raised you to be polite, so you accept some sweet tea and some homemade biscuits.

 Shortly, another man appears in the kitchen – this one younger and more well-presented than Monty - who introduces himself as Sheriff Hoyt. A rough, brutish scent of alpha pheromones follows him through the door, but you know by instinct its not from him.

 “Tommy,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at a hulking figure beyond the doorway. “Come say hello to our guest.”

 The person who steps into the room has to be the largest man you’ve never seen. Not only is he tall – at least six and a half feet – but he’s also broad; wide shoulders, muscular arms, and a chest like a barrel. Despite the suppressants you’ve been careful to keep concealed in your bag, your glands tingle pleasantly as his scent washes over you. Your nose recognises earth, leather and sweat, but your finer-tuned olfactory senses catch hints of sandalwood, charcoal, and the unmistakable metallic tang of blood. You contribute this to the butcher’s apron he’s wearing tied around his thick waist – the dark brown stains a clear indication of animal slaughter. While this doesn’t exactly strike you as comforting, you can’t deny his scent is . . . appealing.

 You focus on his face for just a moment, not wanting to stare. His dark hair is long and wavy, most of his face concealed beneath a crude leather mask, revealing only his eyes, forehead and a small glimpse of chapped lips. The space where his nose would be beneath the mask is strangely flat, leading you to suspect some kind of physical deformity. His shadowed eyes catch yours and you look away in embarrassment.

 “This here’s Thomas, my boy,” Luda May says. “Tommy, meet Y/N.”

 “Hey,” you rise to your feet and hold out a hand. Even at your full height, you barely come up to his chest. “Nice to meet you, Thomas.”

 He doesn’t speak or move to shake your hand, but his right-hand fingers flex at his side, so you can tell he wants to. Moreover, you can smell it on him. The pheromones he’s giving off betray his interest, and your face flushes at the thought that such an impressive alpha’s attention is directed at you. Eventually, you lower your hand and return to your seat, taking a sip of tea to hide your awkwardness.

 “So,” Hoyt says, sitting down opposite you and placing his hat on the table. “Y/N, what are you?”

 You know what he’s trying to say, even if the question comes across as a little rude.

 “I’m a beta, sir,” you say.

 “Seems the whole dang state’s beta these days,” he says, leaning back and accepting a glass of tea from Luda May. “Tommy’s pretty much the only alpha ‘round these parts, and as for omegas, forget it.”

 Praying that your suppressants are doing their job, you nod along with his words and try not to focus on Thomas, who’s still standing like a full-door draft excluder in the corridor. You wonder if his senses are strong enough to tell that you’re lying. Surely if they were, he’d say something, wouldn’t he? Such a big strong alpha like him, wouldn’t be able to help himself.

 Big strong alpha . . .

 The thought makes you shiver slightly, and you notice Thomas shift where he stands. Covering your neck as casually as you can with one hand, you pretend to be intently interested in what Hoyt is saying. As he’s illustrating the hardships of being the county’s only sheriff, Monty appears, wiping his hands on a dirty rag.

 “Well, hope you didn’t have nowhere to be anytime soon, ‘cause that tin can sure ain’t going without a new carburetor.”

 Your heart sinks – the car was a gift from your parents when you got into UT, and you’d taken good care of it since. How had it sustained so much damage without you realising?

 “D’you know where I can get a new one?”

 He blows his cheeks out. “Nowhere ‘round here. Next town, maybe; ‘bout twenty miles north.”

 You mentally count the small handful of notes folded in your wallet – your mom had given you $50 to get back to college, enough for fuel and food along the way, plus extra to stay in a motel. Certainly not enough for such a hefty repair.

 “Course,” Hoyt says, a strange smile playing at the corner of his lips, “Uncle Monty’d be more’n happy to drive through for one tomorrow, wouldn’t ya, Monty?”

 Monty nods slowly. “Be my pleasure.”

 A strange tension has fallen over the small room, setting the hairs on the back of your neck a-prickle. Hoyt’s eyes are burning into you with a fierce intensity, almost . . . hunger, Monty bearing a smile, too leery to be comforting. You’re wondering if you’ve made a mistake in coming here, when Thomas moves from the shadows, his scent passing over you. Your shoulders drop a little, his presence proving an inexplicable reassurance to you. You know it’s your hormones talking; with such an alpha nearby, you’re safe. It takes a nudge from the logical side of your brain to remind you that biology is not fact, and you could be very, very far from safe with these people.

 You clear your throat, mouth suddenly dry.

 “Well, that’s awful kind of you. Is there, um . . . a motel or something I could stay at tonight?”

 “Motel?” Luda May laughs. “Don’t be so silly, honey – you’ll stay here.”

 You turn to look at her, her warm, motherly gaze refilling some of the certainly draining from you. Maybe you’re just being paranoid. After all, you’re a young woman – an omega, no less – so it’s no wonder that Hoyt and Monty might act strangely around you, whether they realise it or not. As for Thomas, well . . .

 “I don’t want to be a bother, ma’am.”

 “Oh hush, you’re no bother at all, and call me Luda.” She takes an old apron from a hook on the wall and nods towards the door. “Tommy’ll show you to the spare room and then you can help me start dinner.”

 Thomas looks as surprised by the idea of being alone with you as you are, his gargantuan posture stiffening. His eyes flit from Luda May to you, unsure of what to do.  

 “Go on, boy, m’sure she don’t bite,” Hoyt chuckles.

 But does he? Your mind races as you lift your bag and follow Thomas from the kitchen. His heavy footsteps make the floorboards shake as he ascends the stairs, decidedly not looking anywhere in your direction. The room he takes you to is small, barely more than a box room, with a narrow cot bed, a chest of drawers, and a dirty sink built into the wall. The white ceramic has been long since hidden beneath a layer of brown grime, and the light from the window is filtered through what looks like years of dirt.

 You turn your head to thank Thomas, but the words die on your tongue when you see how close he is. His chest is heaving, and you suspect he’s . . . smelling you. Shit. You remember the mace your mom forced you to take with you, stowed safely away at the bottom of your pack. There’s no way you could get to it before he could grab you. He’s so big – his hands could easily encompass your entire head – you’re sure he could do irreparable damage without breaking so much as a sweat. His eyes – how had you not noticed how blue they are? – are fixed on you, all trace of shyness gone. You raise a hand – to do what, you’ve no idea – and stifle a shriek when he takes hold of your arm with surprising agility. Your blood stills as he lifts your wrist to his face, the air whistling through his nostrils beneath the mask as he breathes in your scent. He must know – there’s no way he can’t. He must either be the strongest alpha you’ve ever encountered, or on the brink of his rut, to detect your omega scent through your suppressants. Or both.

 Part of you wants to run, to scream for help, but you can’t; your legs won’t move.

 “Please . . .” you whisper, though you’re not entirely sure what you’re pleading for. Your eyes meet for one long, electrifying moment.

 “Tommy, get down here! We got trespassers!”

 Thomas drops your hand like it’s scalding hot, disappearing from the room and down the stairs after Hoyt’s harsh commands. You stand rooted to the spot, your heart beating a brand against your ribcage, and the bed creaks ominously beneath you as you drop down onto it. Fishing in your bag, you pull out the thin blister pack of pills, swallowing one dry. You have enough to get you safely back to Austin – you’ll just have to hope your stay here is a short one.

~

Comments are greatly appreciated because I’m a needy little trashbag.

[draconica]

25: Keeping the other person warm

pspsps I wanted to see that praise kink too, bro  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Nick shut the front door on the howling wind as it tried to follow them indoors, having to grunt with the effort but managing to hear the click of the lock. He slumped against it with a breath of relief and turned to Ellis who was shaking the snow from his coat.

“Damn, that blizzard came outta nowhere!” Ellis remarked and removed his beanie hat, shaking out his hair.

Nick nodded as he reached out to grasp Ellis’ shoulder, steadying himself as he toed off he shoes. They were only his loafers – he hadn’t planned on wearing them for snow, so now his feet were freezing. “God damn it,” he mumbled, taking off his jacket and hanging it up in the closet by the front door, then moved both his shoes and El’s boots into the shoe racks. “Crank the heat up, would you, sport?”

“Already done,” Ellis called as he turned up the dial on their thermostat. The young hick then moved through into the living room, peering out their front-facing window. “Shit, would’ya look at it! Looks like Narnia out there already.”

Nick joined him, placing a casually affectionate hand onto Ellis’ lower back. “Well, no poker for me tonight,” he sighed, mentally ripping up that evening’s plans to go to a buddy’s house for a few games.

“I’ll go put the groceries away,” the southerner remarked, rubbing his hands to try and warm them up a little.

“Do that,” replied Nick. “I’m gonna sort something out in here.”

Ellis waved a hand at him, not really paying enough attention to ask what the ‘something’ Nick had in mind would be. He just busied himself with putting away the food they’d bought and trying to keep moving, hoping it would warm him up a bit.

“Jeez, Nick… why’d you buy so many jars o’ pickles?” Ellis grimaced – he’d always hated pickles, but Nick loved them. Just one of many compromises they’d had to settle over the last year. The mechanic continued to unload the groceries until his hand found a bottle and blushed upon pulling it from the bag. It was a bottle of lubricant, a new kind they hadn’t yet tried – a special tingling variety. Nick… that sly bastard. He must’ve slipped it into the cart when Ellis wasn’t looking. Instead of setting it aside to take up to the bedroom later, Ellis slipped it into his pocket, biting his lip a little as he imagined what it would be like to use it. He wondered just how long it would be before they did.

Once he was done, he tossed the paper bags into the recycling and walked back into the living room, pausing when he noticed something was different. First of all, the fireplace had been ignited for the first time since they’d moved in, bathing the room in luscious orange warmth. And secondly, a bundle of thick white blankets had been laid across the couch. In amongst them was his boyfriend, the blanket pulled up to his chin as he looked up at Ellis expectantly.

“Well, I’ll be a bull’s breakfast,” Ellis chuckled, shaking his head. “So this is what’chu were up to in here?”

Nick said nothing. Instead he simply pulled the blankets away from beside him, leaving the space open for Ellis to shuffle in. It wasn’t too often that Nick was willing to cuddle, and would go to such lengths to do so. Perhaps this was just his ingenious way of dealing with the cold?

“El, you coming in or not? The longer I leave a gap in these covers, the colder we’ll be under here.”

He thought so.

Ellis rolled his eyes a little and removed his hoodie before pausing, shrugging, and removing his jeans and t-shirt aswell. Now in just his boxers, the Georgian climbed onto the couch and crawled next to Nick, tugging the covers back over them both and making sure they were tucked in nicely. The younger man looked up at his lover with a smile as they snuggled up closely, both their arms around each other. “This is one o’ yer better ideas,” he murmured.

“What?” Nick opened one eye, tilting his head slightly. “All of my ideas are good ones.”

Ellis had to chuckle again, rubbing his cheek against Nick’s shoulder and allowing one of his hands to gently smooth over his lover’s chest. “Oh yeah? What about that one time you put that Chinese takeout in the microwave while it was still in its cardboard container?”

The conman snorted a little, looking away. “It was only a small fire.”

But Ellis wasn’t finished compiling a list of Nick’s past accidents. “Or that one time the barbecue wasn’t lightin’ so you poured, like, a whole can of gas onto it?”

“Alright,” Nick turned and hushed his lover with a kiss. “Just be glad this fire turned out okay.” He nodded to the fireplace in front of them, blazing away with the occasional comforting crackle. The homeliness of the situation was incredibly charming.

“Love you,” whispered the mechanic, tilting his chin upwards so that he could bury his face into Nick’s neck, something the gambler liked and accepted.

“Love you too, kiddo.” He turned his eyes back to the window. It was almost dark outside, the sky was so gray with heavy cloud, even more snow flurrying down. “Shit, I wonder how deep it’s gonna get?” he chewed the inside of his cheek. “It’s a good thing we just went food shopping, we might be stuck at home for a while if this keeps up.”

Ellis peeked out from his bundle of blankets to have a look for himself. “Man, look at it out there. Hope we don’t get bored.” He shuffled slightly under the covers, nuzzling his lover’s shoulder again. “Lord, and I’m still cold…”

Nick sighed, feigning annoyance, as he tugged Ellis even closer. “C’mere,” he whispered, turning the tables on his lover slightly by moving his face into Ellis’ neck, beginning to kiss and nuzzle there. He was starting to get another one of his brilliant ideas on how they could turn up the heat even more.

And Ellis seemed to warm to the idea very much so, sifting his hand through Nick’s hair and encouraging his affections. With a hum, he turned his body a little more towards the gambler’s, trying to gather as much heat between them as they could. Fortunately, it also meant their chests could press together, Nick’s slightly furred pecs grazing over Ellis’ smoother ones.

“Nick,” whispered Ellis, by now trying to get as much contact between them as possible. “Please tell me we ain’t gotta be anywhere anytime soon.”

“Take another look outside,” Nick chuckled, his hand finding Ellis’ and trailing slowly up his arm. “We probably won’t be leaving the house for a fucking week.”

Leaning back into the couch, Ellis pulled Nick with him until he was almost on top of him. “More than enough time for what I’m thinkin’.”

There was a small glint in Nick’s eye that sparkled just before he leant in for a heated kiss with his lover, pressing him into the back of the couch. It wasn’t always that Nick and Ellis were on the same page about something (more often than not, Nick wondered if Ellis was on the same fucking book) but one of the things they agreed on the most was the right times for sex. Though Nick did like to initiate such things more often, Ellis tended to get more touchy-feely while the pair were in bed together after a long day and they both needed winding down. This time it was ingenious. They could kill two birds with one stone, finding a way to combat both the cold and the boredom.

Ellis gave a long hum of content as Nick’s hands began to wander over his body, trailing over the deep-set lines of his chest muscles. Eventually, as Nick’s fingers went lower to his hips and stomach, Ellis couldn’t help it – he started to giggle.

“C’mon, Nick,” the mechanic blushed harshly, trying to move back slightly from his fingers. “You know I’m ticklish there.”

Nick pulled away from where he’d been kissing his neck. “That’s exactly why I did it, babe.”

“I hate ’chu, sometimes- oh, Nick…” Ellis writhed a little closer to Nick again as the older man’s hand rubbed between his legs, teasing the tent of his boxers even higher.

Nick grinned against the golden skin of Ellis’ neck, his plan set in motion quite nicely. The hick began to buck his hips into the stroking, pawing motion of his older lover’s hand. It soon became clear that Nick was intent on teasing him as he usually liked to do, drawing the foreplay out for as long as possible. And so the smaller man initiated his own plan.

Bracing one hand onto Nick’s shoulder, Ellis pushed his lover until they rolled on the couch and he ended up straddling Nick, pinning him to the cushions with his knees on either side of the man’s hips. The sudden manoeuvre had caused the blankets to fall away slightly, revealing more of their skin to each other. In the orange glow of the fireplace, it was even more inviting. Ellis got immense satisfaction from seeing Nick’s expression turn from surprise to arousal in a matter of seconds.

“You ain’t the only one with tricks up yer sleeve, fancy suit,” purred the Georgian, his hands rubbing Nick’s shoulders as he leant down for a hot kiss. The conman returned it with full fervor, hands travelling over Ellis’ body now that he had more room to do so and in turn the kisses grew more hurried, both men already feeling the heat like it was contagious.

Nick grunted and pushed the blankets off the couch entirely, the bundle falling to the floor unneeded. “Too hot,” he murmured against Ellis’ lips as the younger man cupped his face.

“Perfect,” Ellis replied and began to move his hips against the other man, panting at the friction caused by their underwear. Nick gave a strained noise at the back of his throat at the movements, as his hands went straight to Ellis’ ass and tugged him even closer, encouraging his lover as much as he could. The only times they broke apart from kissing was to moan and whisper sweet come-ons to each other.

Ellis knelt up a little, his head rolling back as Nick’s lips moved across his chest, purring against the smooth skin. He carded his fingers through the thin hair at the back of Nick’s head, scratching his scalp lightly. And Nick responded in kind, slipping his hands beneath the band of Ellis’ boxers and pushing them over the curve of his rump.

“Jeez, Nick,” panted the kid, gasping as his erection finally sprung free from his underwear. He gave his lover a slight smile before backing off the couch to fully undress, pulling off Nick’s briefs while he was up. Another purr left this throat as he stood up before the older man, looking at him with a cheeky smile as he caught those green eyes rake up and down his naked body. “Like what’chu see, mister gamblin’ man?”

Nick responded by licking his lips, gesturing to his erect cock. “What do you think?”

Ellis bit his lip and reached to the floor for his coveralls, his mind going back to the lube in his pocket he’d unpacked from the groceries earlier. Guess they were going to be using it sooner than he thought. “Tingling lube, Nick?” He held it up in his hand.

“I’d try anything once,” shrugged the conman, by now rubbing himself.

The sight urged Ellis on, not wanting to wait any more for the both of them. Not breaking eye contact with his lover, he slowly got down on his knees until he was between Nick’s legs, the man’s erection rising to greet him. There was a knowing glow to Ellis’ blue eyes and Nick recognised it instantly – it had sent his arousal spiralling many a time before. There was only a small flash of a boyish grin from Ellis before he took a hold of Nick’s cock and guided it to his lips, teasing the head with his tongue as if licking up ice cream.

“God damn it, El,” huffed Nick as his head fell back, eyes closing. It wasn’t frustration – anything but – it was more a realisation and rediscovery of how kinky and dirty Ellis could get. His tongue could work true worldly wonders on whatever part of Nick’s body he decided to lavish with it. At the moment, it was curling around his dick head, tracing the dips and curves of the shaft, his eyes occasionally flicking up to give him a predator gaze. Nick returned it with a look of his own, one that begged Ellis for something else – silently so. Nick rarely begged out loud. Thankfully, Ellis took the hint, well versed in their mutual language, and came up for a small breather before sinking his mouth down onto his erection and bringing him in as far as he could.

If Nick hadn’t been aroused beyond hell, he would’ve been completely embarrassed by the noise that he’d made. Mind you, he took complete credit for how good Ellis was at giving blowjobs. Before they’d met, the mechanic had never sucked a dick in his life. While it did make for some awkward first times when Ellis would nearly choke on the length, mumbling timid apologies, now, two years down the line, he easily rivalled any Las Vegas whore who did it for a living. And Nick was proud to say it was from his own valuable teachings that Ellis picked it up so naturally. Like now as he swallowed Nick at the back of his throat like it was nothing. The conman couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment in their relationship when Ellis’ gag reflex had stopped working, but he was just glad it had.

Judging by his moans, he was very glad.

On one particularly good suck, Nick could feel the pleasure in his lower stomach start to coil up and acted quickly, reaching for his lover and tugging his hair gently. “Ngh, off…”

Ellis obeyed and pulled away, licking his lips and admiring the work he’d done. He was pretty pleased with himself to say the least if the grin on his face was any indication. But he wasn’t about to stop there. Gingerly, he picked up the lubricant one more time and squirted a little into his palm. “You were the one so keen to use this,” he reasoned, rubbing it between his hands and feeling it tingle already.

Nick gave a shrug, though had a smug look on his face. “Thought it might be fun.”

The younger man winked at him. “Well, let’s see, shall we?” He leaned in and wrapped his hand around Nick’s cock, paying close attention to his lover’s face. It was rewarding when the older man gasped, his hips melting back into the couch slightly, and gave a small chuckle.

“Shit… it feels kinda nice,” he surmised, and Ellis knew what would make it better. Gently, he began to move his hand up and down, slowly massaging and coating Nick from top to base. It was a move that seemed to meet with approval when Nick hissed and leant his head back. “Overalls,” he moaned, one of his hands going up to cover his eyes.

Ellis rested his chin on Nick’s thigh and watched him dreamily, his lubricated hand never stopping. There was something so delicious and satisfying about being the one to break the conman like this and also being the only one to see the more submissive, intimate side of him. The young Southerner flicked his gaze between Nick and his erection, purring as he watched it shine in the fiery orange glow. Moving it slightly towards himself, he subtly licked the head, tracing the tip with his tongue. “You had enough, yet?”

Nick’s mouth was open, breathing shallowly at all the sensations assaulting him at once. “Holy shit.”

With a triumphant smirk, Ellis moved up to kiss his boyfriend some more while at the same time climbing back aboard to straddle his lap. Moans and short breaths filled the room as well as the smacking of their kisses, the intensity growing by the second. Reaching around, Nick grabbed Ellis’ ass in a squeeze and tugged him closer, a dominant purr leaving his lips.

“Baby,” he crooned as one on his hands curved around the cheek, his finger finding and teasing Ellis’ pucker. The action had a desired effect when the hick gave a small whine, his backside cantering back into the touch.

“Yer a damn tease,” Ellis gasped and Nick just gave him a look that promised more. A promise he kept moments later when he penetrated the hole with one finger, teasing in a second not long after. And if Ellis thought he was winning the game of who could make their lover moan the loudest, then he was sorely mistaken as a particularly loud moan was torn from his lips.

Nick broke into a triumphant grin, opening his mouth against the younger man’s in a soft sigh of satisfaction. “Hold on tight, killer.”

Obediently, Ellis clasped his hands behind Nick’s neck and leant back on the man’s lap, using his knees to lift himself up a little. He levelled the gambler with a lusty look, pinching his lower lip between his teeth as he felt Nick’s hands part his behind and guide him down, gently and carefully. It was a frequently practised act for them to say the least and Nick knew exactly what Ellis liked, how to go about doing it and most importantly how to read his lover’s reactions perfectly. Right now, his eyebrows were pinched in concentration, the corners of his lips quivering a little as they gradually became joined together in the most intimate way possible. It amused Nick to no end.

“Feel good?” he asked around a chuckle, running both his hands up and down Ellis’s waist.

“Y-yeah,” replied the hick, showing Nick a smile of his own. “Sure does tingle.”

Nick was a sneaky bastard at the best of times and barely gave Ellis a chance to get used to the feeling before he bucked his hips up into Ellis roughly. The mechanic yapped and grabbed a hold of his lover’s shoulders while his mouth hung open. “Down boy,” he teased, making Nick smirk.

“Never heard you complain about that before,” the gambler chuckled before readjusting his grip and bouncing Ellis in his lap.

The mechanic soft moans filled the fire-lit room as he rode his lover’s cock like a practised rodeo rider. Nick bit his lip as he watched his young boyfriend’s face begin to relax, eyebrows pinching in pleasure and pillowed plush lips parting. Ellis could see just how much this was ticking Nick’s boxes and leant in to treat his lover to hot kisses. He began to pant against his mouth.

“You’re so fuckin’ good, Nick,” he purred, melting into a moan as he continued to grind his hips down. Nick let out a groan, and Ellis smiled as he went on. “So good to me… ain’t no one better than you, darlin’.”

Nick grunted as he pushed his shoulders more firmly into the couch and kept up the pace of his thrusts, trying to fuck Ellis into more talk just like that. “Yeah?” he responded, eyebrow twitching upwards. “Tell me more, sweetheart.”

Ellis opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a sudden strike to his prostate, bringing a gasp to his lips. “Christ. N-Nick… ain’t nothin’ better than when yer inside'a me. Y-you… you’re the best I’ve ever had…” The younger’s head tipped back as he desperately seek out that perfect angle again.

With a gasp of his own, Nick reached up and grabbed Ellis’s hair to give him a tug. “Say it again,” he husked while his gaze was transfixed down, watching his boyfriend ride him like he was so good at doing. Ellis was all too happy to oblige.

“Yer the best.. I’ve ever had,” he panted, feeling the sting of Nick’s hand on the back of his head. “I love ya so much… you get me so goddamn hot… ah, Lord, Nick!”

By now Ellis was rolling his hips like thunder in search of release, helped along when the older man offered him a hand, curling his fist around the mechanic’s cock and giving him something to fuck into. Nick was already lost in the heat as those song-like praises hit his ears but now that Ellis was taking control the way he was, the end was getting closer and closer. There was just something about his Southern lover spouting praise during sex the way he did that was like pornography.

Nick let go of Ellis’s hair and reaffirmed his hands on the younger’s hips. “El, I’m close,” he warned.

“Inside me,” Ellis replied, looping his arms around Nick’s neck once he settled into an angle that worked wonders for him. He panted against Nick’s lips. “Please!”

With a roar of pleasure, Nick’s fingers went white around Ellis’s hips as he hit a climax that touched every nerve in his body. He made good on Ellis’s wish and filled him up just as a long moan arrived from his lover, his cock convulsing between them as he released at last. Nick moved his hand back to pump him through his orgasm until Ellis humped his last and fell forwards. Nick caught him easily and shut his eyes.

“God damn,” he husked, feeling Ellis’s head nod a little before kisses were pressed to his shoulder. He looped his arms around his lover, brushing softly over the smooth and slightly sticky skin. Nick chuckled. “Guess that warmed us up, right?”

“Yeah.” Ellis eventually moved back and off to look at his lover, not wasting time to kiss him as their lust subsided. He then looked back out of the window at the blizzard that was blanketing the world in white. “Don’t look like it’ll let up anytime soon.”

Nick had just finished wiping them both off with a tissue, throwing it to the trash can across the room (and missing) before looking up also. “Reckon we’ll be doing this for a while, then.”

Ellis gave him a look. “Nick, if we’re gonna be spendin’ the entire snow storm havin’ sex then can I at least make some snacks first?”

The gambler snorted, reaching up to tuck a loose curl behind Ellis’s ear. Leaning into the touch, Ellis curled himself back into Nick’s side but not before reaching down to retrieve their previously forgotten blanket, wrapping them both up in a nest they would be reluctant to leave.

“Hey Nick?”

“Yeah?” The man opened one eye to peer down at him.

Ellis blushed, pushing his face into Nick’s neck. “You’re also the best at cuddlin’.”

Nick chuckled and brushed his lips against El’s temple softly. “It’s because I’m cuddling you, Overalls.”

[collecting-stories]

The Break - ep. 03 - Georgia

Summary: Hershel and Annette find out that Maggie has been dating Glenn behind their backs.

A/N: I took a lot of liberty with Hershel the first time I wrote this so I wanted to align him more with his character when he was first introduced.

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“Annette you gotta talk to him! Please!” Maggie begged, standing in the kitchen as Annette prepared dinner for the family.  

“Margaret. What your father says is law in this house, you know that as well as anyone. And he’s told you how many times that you are not permitted to date unless-”

“I know!” Maggie groaned. “Unless you both approve of the boy. But that was never gonna happen. Ya’ll wouldn’t let me date Glenn and I knew that!”

“Well I’m sorry you felt like that but going behind our backs was deceitful and wrong. You can use this time to reflect on your decisions and whether what you did, lying to your family, was pleasing to God.”

Maggie groaned, slamming her hand on the counter and then rushing out of the house, toward the barn. Anytime she had gotten into an argument with her dad and stepmom before she always went to the barn for some fresh air and clarity.  

Beth had come home Friday night from a playdate with a friend to tell her dad two very important things. One, that she had seen you with ‘someone’ outside the diner when she was leaving with her friend’s family and two, that Maggie was nowhere to be seen. Thankfully for you the someone Beth saw was no one she recognized but the instant Hershel and Annette heard that Maggie wasn’t exactly where she said she would be on the night she said she’d be there they had looked through her room and her cellphone log.  

And when she came home that night after her date they were waiting at the dining room table, Hershel with his stern pastoral face on and Annette looking unnecessarily near tears.  

“It’s not like you’re hanging out with Daryl Dixon.” You’d told Maggie later that night on the phone as she cursed both her parents out of existence over the entire ordeal.  

“I tried to reason with Annette and she won’t even talk to him for me. Told me he’s doing the right thing for everybody. Just cause Glenn isn’t Baptist.”

“And cause he’s Korean.”

“It ain’t like that.” Maggie argued. On more than one occasion you and Glenn both had told Maggie that her parents were walking the line of racism pretty thoroughly. They did the thing all churches looking for new members did, masking their doctrine with a welcome sign for all creeds and cultures and backgrounds and people. And it was fine if the majority white church had some Hispanic, black, or Asian patrons. All were welcome. But all were not welcome to date Reverend Greene’s daughter.  

“It’s like that.” You replied. “You can be friends with whoever you want Maggie but they aren’t about to let you date someone who isn’t white and Baptist and from a family they’ve known since the creation of the earth.”  

“Will you call Glenn for me? Tell him what happened?” Maggie requested, “I’m trying to talk some sense into daddy but I’m grounded expect for church and school. They said not even youth group!”

“I’ll call him.”  

“I really love him, ya know? I know we’re in high school but I really think he’s the one.” Maggie admitted.  

“I’ll talk to him, don’t worry.”

-

Nothing came of Maggie begging Annette to talk to Hershel. She was insistent that Maggie listen to her father and abide by his rules and his rules were that she wasn’t permitted to date a boy that didn’t go to the church. The ‘what if he did’ argument got her nowhere either, Hershel simply reminded her that he didn’t and he would never and even if Glenn started to now out of the blue they would all know why and it wouldn’t be earnest.  

When Beth told them, over the dinner table the first official night of Maggie’s grounding, that she had been on the phone with you, all her phone privileges went out the window too. She would go to school, pick up Beth and Sean, come home, do homework, and go to bed. On Saturdays she would help around the farm and on Sundays she would go to church and that was the end of it. There would be no social life. Even a few of her teachers had been informed that she was not to speak to Glenn Rhee.  

“You know what I hate about small towns?” Maggie questioned, sitting on the swings beside you. The playground was fenced in, right beside the addition that had been added to the church some 30 years prior so that people could send their kids to a Baptist preschool. It was through church donation and preschool tuition that the playground had been kept up but it was still outdated compared to an actual schoolyard.

“No.” You replied, positive that she would tell you.

“That everybody just knows everything! And listens to everything daddy says! All week we were pulled apart, Mrs. Frasier told everybody that we weren’t allowed near each other!”  

“I know. We go to the same school Mags.”

“But it ain’t fair! He’s not God, why’s he get a say in my personal life?” Maggie questioned.  

“Just think, soon we’ll be in college. Then we can hang out with whoever we want.” You replied.  

“I don’t think being in college will make your parents okay with the idea of you spending time with Daryl Dixon.” Maggie said, grinning, “where do they think your car is anyway?”

“At Dale’s. I told them Dale always comes by the diner and I knew he would give me a good deal. I just left out the part where it’s at Daryl’s house.” You laughed. “Speaking of, I kind of told him I’d stop by today.”

“Now?” Maggie asked. “This is the only social life I get all week.”

“Did you ask Annette if you could go dress shopping with me tomorrow after school?” You asked. “It’s the only day I have off. I switched shifts with Lori, she has another date.”

“Oh my god!” Maggie stood up from the swing suddenly. “Oh my god!”

“What?”

“Oh my god, I didn’t tell you!”

“Tell me what?”

“Daddy said I’m not allowed to go to the dance.”

“What?” You paled at the information. The only thing that wasn’t making the entire experience of going to the dance completely awful was the knowledge that Maggie and Glenn would be enduring it with you. But if they weren’t...if Maggie wasn’t going...then you would be sitting there in a hideous dress listening to Aiden bullshit with his football buddies.  

“They both said, no dance.” Maggie said, dropping back onto the swing.  

“I can’t believe it. Do you think they’ll change their minds?”

“If I can find a time machine and make them forget that Glenn and I are dating.”  

-

Daryl was already working on your car when you showed up in his driveway. The cold weather had you in a white long-sleeved turtleneck and a nice skirt, tights keeping your legs warm. Your parents were one step away from becoming crazy fundamentalists but thankfully they only made you wear dresses and skirts on Sundays. You came into the car port where Daryl was, waving at him when he looked up from the car.

“Hey, hope it’s okay I stopped by.” You said, coming over to stand beside him.

“Yeah, ‘s fine.”  

“Patricia won’t let me work on Sundays and Maggie is only allowed to hang out during church so...” you trailed off as you sat down in the lawn chair. You’d brought your backpack with you to church with the intention of going to Daryl’s afterward.

“So ya figured ya’d come antagonize me?” He asked, the hint of a grin.  

“I’ll be quiet as a mouse, promise!” You replied. “I brought homework anyway.”

While Daryl got back to work on your car you pulled out your history homework, balancing the textbook and notebook on your lap and wedging the pencil case between your thigh and the lawn chair. For the most part you focused on your notes for the Atlantic Revolution while Daryl worked though every few paragraphs you would look up. You found that you liked watching him, it was almost calming in the way he worked on a car but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable and you knew how weird it would seem if he caught you staring. There wasn’t much else to see from where you were sitting.  

Behind your Jeep was Daryl’s truck and parked on the sidewalk outfront was a rust bucket of an old sedan that you guessed belonged to his father. It hadn’t been there on Halloween but it had been there the last time you stopped by. The backyard, from what you could see, looked as messy as the carport.  

“Do you have any water?” You asked, standing up and putting your books on the chair.  

“Thought ya were gonna be quiet as a mouse?” Daryl sassed.

“I am, I swear.”

“There’s water in the fridge.” He waved his hand over toward the refrigerator the sat beside the steps.  

The fridge was closer to the back of the carport and gave you a better glimpse into his yard. There was a pop-up camper parked in overgrown grass and a shed in the far corner by the chain link fence. A picnic table sat in front of the camper along with a small grill.  

“That’s cute.”

“What’s cute?” Daryl asked, saying the word like it was an insult.

“The camper...I like how it’s all set up.” You said, “my family goes to this Baptist camp every year and there’s this family that has a camper like that. They put string lights on theirs.”  

“I ain’t putting string lights on my camper.” He said.  

“It’d be so cute.”

“Yer not so good at being quiet are ya?”  

"Sorry.” You grabbed the bottle of water from the fridge and went back to your seat. “I’ll be quiet.  I promise.”

“Ya keep promising.” He pointed out.

You sat down and held your books up as evidence that you were getting back to work. As you resumed studying Daryl went back to working on the car, glancing up every once in a while, to make sure you were alright. Or so he convinced himself that was why. He thought you looked pretty, not that he didn’t always think that, and he couldn’t figure out why you kept coming around. He thought maybe you didn’t trust him with your car but then you weren’t hovering and you didn’t seem too worried about what he was doing to the car while you were there.  

“Ya know ya don’t gotta come around every time I work on the car.” Daryl mentioned.

“I like hanging out with you.” You shrugged, looking up from your notebook.  

“Well I ain’t here ta babysit ya.”  

“I could give you an extra $5 an hour?” You teased, “and snack allowance. I prefer goldfish.”

“Ya always like this?”

“Like what?”  

“A pain in the ass.” He deadpanned.  

You pouted, “fine, I won’t come by next time. I’ll go hang out with Glenn or something...Reverend Greene found out him and Maggie were dating and now she’s grounded until she’s like thirty.”

“That the Chinese kid?”

“He’s Korean.”

“Ain’t surprised the Greene’s wouldn’t want him around they’re daughter.” Daryl replied.

“You don’t even know Glenn. He’s so nice-”

“Hey, I ain’t saying anything against the kid. Just saying, they’re old school. Most people ‘round here are.”

“It isn’t an excuse.”

“I ain’t disagreeing with ya, I’m just saying...they ain’t gonna change their mind.”  

“Well anyway, I can go hang out with Glenn, so I don’t bother you.” You said, back on the topic from earlier. That you were a nuisance, which was the exact opposite of the effect you wanted to have on him.  

Daryl rolled his eyes at you, “I didn’t mean ya had ta go. Just meant, if yer worried ‘bout the car I know what I’m doing.”  

“I’m not worried about the car.”

“What?”

“I’m not worried. You said you could fix it and I trust that you can.” You replied.

“Than why ya hanging around?”

“Its not the goldfish.”

“I’m being serious.” Daryl said, leaning against the Jeep.  

“I like hanging out with you.”  

Daryl didn’t say anything else, just turned back to look at the car before you could see the blush on his cheeks. He scrunched his nose and bit at his thumb as he focused on the engine and tried not to think about what you just said. He wasn’t completely friendless in the world. He had Rick, and occasionally Rick’s friend Michonne came around from the police academy, but he’d never had someone outright say that they liked his company. Especially not a someone like you.  

-

taglist: @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @alwaysadreamingoptimist @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @qrangr  @twdeadfanfic @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @harpersmariano @cathwritestragediesnotsins

[mulderist]

Wicked Game

previous chapter // read on A03 // @today-in-fic​

CHAPTER 7 3rd District Precinct 12:31 a.m.

The second wind finally arrived. I paced the floor in Interrogation Room 5 with arms folded tight across my chest. I felt like a gun ready to go off. My focus was on Theo Chambers, enforcer to Carlo Lodi. He sat handcuffed in his expensive blue suit with a shit-eating grin. After I got him processed I let him stew and he behaved, which was a bit of a surprise.

“I could do this all night, you know, “ I said standing at the edge of the table looking at the remains of a weak cup of coffee and half a pack of Morleys. “Even if we’re just sitting here in silence.”

I paused and listened for dramatic affect. “You know, I read somewhere that silence is golden but, I don’t think you like to keep quiet.” 

“How’s the jaw,” he responded with a puff of smoke and a tilt of his chin.   

I turned and pulled out the chair at the opposite end of the table, dragging it purposefully across the floor creating a sound like nails on a chalkboard. 

“Well, you hit like a featherweight so a stiff drink and I was right as rain.” I said as I sat down. “Speaking of which, does Lodi get you to do all his heavy lifting? Use you like a trained dog; Theo attack! Theo come! Good boy Theo...”

“You wanna cut the bullshit?” he interrupted.

“Indeed I do. You want to tell me how long you’ve been running out of the Navy Yard?”

Theo cracked a smile and tapped his cigarette against the discolored ashtray. He then pinched it between his thumb and index finger, covering the end to hide the glow. Standard technique for someone who does a lot of their work in the shadows. I continued with my questioning.

“Is the taxi company your only front?”

“Mum’s the word, detective,” he said.

“Do the taxis only run in the southeast?” I pressed. 

Theo tucked the cigarette in the corner of his mouth then leaned back as far as he could. Silent, aside from the sound of the metal chain pulling across the top of the table. His cuffed hands knitted together. 

“Do the taxis run anywhere else in the District? Down Constitution Ave.? Down to the Tidal Basin? Over the bridge into Virginia?”

“Mum’s. The. Word,” Theo said pointedly, letting the cig hang from his lip. I was wired and on the edge. I rose and placed my hands on my hips. I resisted the urge to hit him; punch him square in the jaw, bloody his nose, pin him against the table. Really make him hurt. Instead, using better judgement, I turned on my heel and left the room, slamming the door behind me.

Several officers were in the hallway and scattered when they saw me. Word travels fast when you bring in a c-list celebrity from the crime sheets. I moved past them and their whispering and took a walk to the bullpen. The chorus of ringing phones and typewriters was in full swing. I approached my desk and took the liberty of kicking the unsuspecting wastebasket. It ricocheted and rolled away from where I was standing. A few heads perked up at the noise but returned to their work just as quickly. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. I was getting nowhere slowly.  

“Rough night?” I heard the captain’s voice from behind me.

“Just blowing off some steam,” I said with an exhale, “So far I haven’t gotten much out of our new friend Theo. I need to talk to his boss.”

“He’s already been questioned,” Skinner said as I crouched down to straighten up the wastebasket. I glanced at my shoes, which were probably ruined from traipsing around in the storm. Maybe on a day off I’d buy another pair. 

“Not by me,” I replied and started out of the bullpen back to the interrogation rooms. I went two doors down but before I could turn the knob, Skinner caught up and stopped me.

“Sir, may I ask what you’re doing?”

“I want to remind you that this is a valuable asset. I commend your effort in apprehending him and his enforcer,” he said in a low voice. I sensed there was more to that statement. This case already had too many hands involved.

“But you don’t want me to unravel this seemingly tightly knit case with my usual brand of questioning.”

Skinner squared his jaw.

“Oh, now I get it,” I continued. “You already talked to him and you were just going to leave it at that. No one else in or out?”

“Are you doubting my methods, Mulder?”

“I’m doubting the line of questioning,” my voice lowered and I clenched my fist, “We are so close to tying things together with this ring and Spender’s involvement. I need to see how far up this goes.”

“We already have the evidence to pin Lodi for Skinner’s murder,” Skinner said. I shifted my stance. “We just need something to narrow down where the heroin was being distributed. 

“That’s all I want to do. Because as soon as I get what I need, I’m going home. Believe me sir I want to close this and move on. This case has already taken up too much of my life.”

Skinner nodded. I knew I was walking into a high-stakes game with the house’s money and a cold shoulder from Lady Luck. My hand gripped the doorknob and I entered the smoke filled room. 

Another table, another ashtray, another handcuffed suspect. Carlo Lodi sat just like he did when I confronted him at the restaurant; an air of superiority trapped in a grey pin-stripped suit. breathed life into a superficial demeanor as cool as a summer breeze. 

“We meet again Mr Lodi,” I began as I pulled out the chair and took a seat. I unbuttoned the cuffs of my sleeves then rolled them up towards my elbow. The skin on my forearms felt clammy. I couldn’t wait to get into fresh, dry clothes when this was all over. 

“Quite the set-up you’ve got down at the docks. Smart to use a small crew. Less people to inventory when you get caught.”

“C’mon detective, you know how this works,” Lodi said twisting the ring on his finger, “I ain’t saying anything without my lawyer.”

I continued without missing a beat.

“Vincenti sure knows how to pick ‘em. What makes you hold the title of being his favorite croney? It can’t be your looks.”

“You’re getting nothing from me.”

“Oh I can keep going.”

“You think this is the first time I’ve been here? You think you’re being original?”

“I have evidence that connects you to Vincenti. I have proof you operate out of the Navy Yard not to mention proof that you murdered a city detective in cold blood. And if you won’t talk, perhaps your friend down the hall will.”

I watched him light up and take a long drag. Thick white smoke drifted out of his mouth and curled up towards his nostrils.

“Here’s the thing, detective; you got nothing on me. Not a damn thing. My hands are as clean as a nun’s habit. So if you want to listen to yourself talk, then go right ahead. I’ll finish this pack of smokes and wait for my lawyer.”

My second wind dissolved into a subtle breeze, taking the wind out of my sails. I knew his lawyer wasn’t marching through that door anytime soon. I didn’t want to paint myself into a corner. I considered going downstairs to retrieve the bullets that matched his gun. Rub his face in it. 

“Alright then,” I said as I pushed back in my chair, “I like the sound of my own voice. Who’s idea was it to use a taxi company, couldn’t have been you could it? Vincenti must have been riding around town and the idea just came to him right? Seems as though an awful lot of people must want a taste of that dust. Gotta give those pushers an extra cut for spreading the word about a top notch supply.”

 Lodi pressed the cigarette butt into the ashtray and cleared his throat.

“The pushers...they’re ants compared to us.” He grunted, “All of that product, all that demand, all because of us. They’d be nothing without us.”

Now we were getting somewhere.

“Are those pushers driving your cabs too? Skimming a little more off the top, just a little closer to that brass ring. Or are you threatening folks just trying to make an honest living, taking their livelihood so you can move the product. Unless, you start recruiting smart looking door-to-door salesmen to sell the dope”

“Yeah, then nice people in the suburbs would be hopheads,” he chuckled at himself, “Mary and Joe with their kids and their white picket fence, flying high getting a little taste of the city. Going mad when they can’t get another fix. Vincenti does say business is business.”

The pop of a match and familiar scent of a Lucky Strike. He waved his hand to extinguish the match and tossed it on the table. I rose from my seat and walked to the opposite corner of the room, glancing at my watch. I needed a drink. My stomach turned at the thought of another boiled down cup of coffee. I looked at Lodi and he flicked away some ash. 

“Get comfortable. You’re going to be staying the night.” I said then exited the room.

———

I woke with a start and realized I was still at the precinct. It was a brief respite, maybe thirty minutes of a fitful sleep. A cramp pinched at the side of my neck thanks to how my head was turned towards the back of the couch. The strap from my holster dug into my ribs; I should have taken it off before I laid down. I checked the time and slowly sat upright burying my face in my hands. My head was swimming, my throat felt raw. I stood and went to the water cooler, grabbed a paper cup and pushed the tab. I took a swig, listened for the gurgle then poured in some more. 

I walked past my desk to see if any messages had been left in my absence. Nothing. It was just as I left it. Officer Pendrell caught my attention.

“Hey Mulder, the suspect in room 3 was asking for some water a little while ago. Do you know if anyone went back in there?”

“I’m not sure. I took a cat nap but I was going back in there anyway. Have we heard anything from his lawyer?”

“Don’t think so. But I’ll check it out.”

I loosened my tie as I strode down the hall. My shoulders felt stiff as I adjusted the leather strap of the holster.

“Rise and shine,” I said as I entered the room and snapped my fingers. I felt my voice catch in my throat when I saw Lodi on the floor, his arms stretched overhead at an unnatural angle with hands still cuffed to the table. His lips were purple, his eyes looked bulged in their sockets. And then there was the smell. I covered my nose and mouth as I observed the horrible pale tint to the skin on his face. There was a puddle of sick on the floor and some remnants down his front.

“I need some help in here NOW!” I yelled out the door then approached his seemingly lifeless body. His wrists were a dark red from where the cuffs were cutting off the circulation, his fingers and hands already looked dead. 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” a voice said behind me, I looked over my shoulder and saw Pendrell hesitantly standing in the doorway.

“Do you have keys?” I asked. He nodded and fumbled in his pocket. I did the honors. With the second cuff released Lodi’s body fell to the floor with a wet smack. The smell hit me again.

“Was it a heart attack?” Pendrell offered as he came over. Two other officers crowded in the doorway to get their looks in. 

“Someone get Captain Skinner,” I said then turned my attention back to the body. I leaned closer and noticed a white trail down the corner of his mouth, crusting on the lips. Pendrell rounded the other side of the interrogation table and bent down, covering the lower part of his face.

“Mulder look.” He was pointing at a discarded water cup. The wheels started turning. I stood quickly and left the room, leaving Pendrell to document the scene. I went two doors down and saw Theo Chambers in a similar state. He had collapsed across the table, cuffed hands hung off the edge. The smell didn’t hit as hard but there was more blood. Theo had a thick smear of it under his nose down to his mouth. I left the room and charged down the hall, meeting Skinner.

“What the hell happened here, Mulder?”

“Both suspects are dead. I think they were poisoned.”

“Excuse me?”

“Someone...someone knew. Somebody discovered they were caught and wanted to rub them out.”

“Who would have known that?”

“It’s the mob, sir. Word travels fast.”

“Mulder...Hey! Mulder!”

“I need to get the boys in forensics up here. No one touches these two!” I was rambling, I could feel it. Things took a turn faster than a Grand Prix driver. I heard dissonance in my ears as I found the closest telephone. I pulled the rotary to dial the lab. I closed my eyes to try and center myself, listened to the ring in the earpiece. I hoped one of the boys was awake down there. Another ring and a groggy voice answered.

“Langley, it’s Mulder. Are Byers and Frohike with you?”

I could hear a yawn before he said, “Frohike called it a night a few hours ago but Byers is still burning the midnight oil.”

“I need the two of you up here with your bag of tricks. We’ve got a couple of stiffs in the intero rooms.”

“Wait a minute, someone dropped them off?”

“No. It’s a fresh scene.” I wiped my brow.

There was a pause and I heard him adjust the phone.

“We’ll be right up.”