#toss em out and the person can hold on and not drown

[bookwyrminspiration]

ass too big skirt can’t contain it google what do

[solarmorrigan]

(Slight disclaimer: I haven't seen S2 in almost a year and parts of it are hazy, so if some details here seem repetitive/don't quite match up... don't worry about it, I love you <3)

cw: anxiety, mentions of past child abuse

-

Steve had not, for the record, wanted to spend his Saturday tromping around by the stream in the woods searching for tadpoles. He’d wanted to go to the movies, or maybe get lunch, or even just hang out, but Dustin had insisted, and now Steve is slopping through the muddy grass and trying to figure out if there’s any way he can get them home without getting the inside of his car filthy.

(Probably not.)

It’s not that he’s opposed to getting his hands dirty when he needs to, it’s just that hunting for baby frogs doesn’t seem like a need to Steve, no matter what Dustin says. He probably shouldn’t be such a pushover for the kid, but– Steve’s actually a little worried about him.

He’s been in a nasty mood for the last couple of weeks, alternating between snappish and sullen, throwing biting comments at Steve that go beyond his usual know-it-all lilt, or else going silent and only shrugging when Steve tries to ask him questions.

And Steve’s trying not to take it personally; they’d hung out a lot through the winter and on into the new spring, and he knows Dustin isn’t normally like this, and he doesn’t think it’s anything he’s done (Dustin keeps seeking him out, so it’s probably not him), but it’s definitely something. So when Dustin had actually suggested something for them to do, had actually seemed excited about it, Steve had been hard pressed to say no.

Even if it meant mud.

“Hey,” Steve calls as Dustin pulls ahead of him to start climbing down the embankment that pens in the stream. “Watch it, alright? It’s slippery.”

“I know what I’m doing, Steve,” Dustin snaps, and Steve can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“Fine, sorry for giving a shit if you break your leg or something,” Steve mutters, beginning the precarious trip down the embankment himself. “You don’t have to bite my head off.”

Dustin sighs. “Whatever.”

Steve shakes his head. He really hopes this isn’t just the start of puberty, or something. He doesn’t think he can handle another four or five years of this attitude.

(He doesn’t even question it anymore, the assumption that he’ll be around as Dustin continues growing up; it just seems like kind of a given.)

“So what are we doing here, again?” Steve asks when they reach the stream.

“I told you: we’re looking for tadpoles.” Dustin tosses a glance at Steve. “Baby frogs.”

“Yeah, dude, I know what a tadpole is, I did actually pass second grade science,” Steve snarks back. “Why are we looking for them, though?”

“I need them for school. For a science project,” Dustin says, peeling off to start looking in the shallow edges of the stream.

“Right…” Steve moves off in the opposite direction, looking for the shape of a thing he remembers seeing in a science textbook probably too many years ago.

They search in silence for a little bit, nothing but the sound of the woods and babble of water between them, but Steve keeps half his attention on Dustin even as he looks. If the kid falls in the stream and drowns, Claudia will never forgive him. He twitches a little when he watches Dustin skid over a rocky patch on the bank, but he finds his footing quickly enough, so Steve keeps his mouth shut.

“You’re not gonna, like, experiment on these things, are you?” Steve asks idly, finally tiring of the silence.

“Of course not!” Dustin exclaims. “I’m just gonna study ‘em. I’ll give them a good home and everything!”

“Alright, alright.” Steve holds up his hands in surrender. “Just checking that it’s not going to end up like the last time you brought in something weird from outside.”

Dustin stops walking, going quiet for a long moment, and when he turns around Steve is startled to see that he looks pissed.

“I’m not actually an idiot, Steve!” he barks. “I can tell the difference between a frog and some kind of alien monster!”

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t–”

“It’s not like I saw D’art and thought he was anything from around here!” Dustin goes on, stalking back towards Steve. “I didn’t think he was just some kind of fucked up frog! I knew he was something different, there was scientific merit in wanting to study him, and I’m sick of everyone acting like it was just some stupid mistake!”

“I didn’t mean to– Careful!”

Steve has no time to do much more than shout a warning and throw out a useless hand as Dustin goes skidding back over the slick, rocky patch, then slips and goes down hard, catching himself on his hands and one knee.

“Shit, Henderson, are you okay?” Steve is kneeling in front of Dustin in a blink, already searching for visible injuries; he’s probably fine, it hadn’t looked like he’d hit anything vital on the way down, but it couldn’t hurt to just check.

Dustin doesn’t move, his head still hanging between his shoulders, his back so tense he’s almost trembling, and worry starts to bloom in the pit of Steve’s stomach.

“Henderson?” Steve tries again, and that’s when he hears it – the sniffle.

Shit.

“Hey. Dustin,” Steve says, slipping into the same calm, firm register he uses when he’s lifeguarding, without even realizing he’s done it (honestly, he’d had to deal with a lot more kids with scraped knees than he had potential drowning victims when he’d worked at the public pool); he cups his hand over the back of Dustin’s neck, squeezing gently to get his attention. “I need you to let me see. I need to make sure you’re alright.”

Slowly, Dustin shifts so that he’s sitting with both knees bent in front of him, though he keeps his head bent down – and that’s fine, Steve won’t make him look up just yet. Instead, he does a quick inspection of everything else; both of Dustin’s palms are a little scraped up, and one is bleeding a bit, but it’s his knee that got the worst of it. It looks like it caught and scraped on the sharp edge of a rock, leaving a bleeding strip of skin that curves across the surface of it.

(It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if Dustin hadn’t insisted on wearing shorts in March, but whatever. Now really isn’t the time to argue about practical fashion.)

“Okay, this looks like a pretty shallow scrape. I bet it stings like hell, but it’ll be a million times better once we get it cleaned up,” Steve says, framing the wound with gentle fingers, careful to avoid the drip of blood streaming down Dustin’s shin.

Still, Dustin says nothing. He’s practically trembling now, sniffling again, and Steve frowns.

“Did you hurt yourself anywhere else?” he asks.

Dustin shakes his head.

“Are you sure? Did you hit your head when you went down? You should let me–”

“I’m not hurt, Steve, Jesus fucking Christ!” Dustin snaps, finally looking up; his cheeks are red and his eyes are watery and he’s clearly trying hard to hold everything in, so Steve does his best not to rock the boat too hard.

“Okay,” he says, low and smooth, still stuck halfway in crisis management mode, “then can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Everything!” Dustin chokes. “Fucking everything is wrong, okay? I keep – I keep having nightmares and I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks and I’m so tired.” He loses the fight with his tears and they finally spill over, running down his face. “And my mom was talking about Mews the other day, like, just stuff he used to do, and she misses him even though we have Tews, and sometimes I feel like I killed the stupid cat, and I just–”

“Shit, dude, I’m sorry.” Steve reaches up and cups his hand right at the juncture of Dustin’s shoulder and neck, giving him another gentle squeeze. “You didn’t kill your cat, okay?”

Dustin gives a congested snort that’s distinctly lacking in his usual derision. “Yeah, I know that about the same as I know there’s nothing coming to get me at night, but I still can’t sleep.” He sniffs again, reaching up and trying to smear his tears away with the back of his hand. “I’m so done with this, I just– I want it to be over. It’s supposed to be over.”

There’s a little tremor in Dustin’s voice, and Steve’s heart breaks a little bit, because he knows exactly what Dustin means – he knows what the nightmares are like, he knows the guilt over things you can’t change, he knows the feeling of jumping at shadows. And fuck, the kid’s still so young.

(Never mind that Steve’s not even scraping nineteen yet. Never mind that.)

He should probably talk to an actual professional, or something—get some real help—but Steve isn’t sure there’s anyone out there that Dustin can talk to about government coverups and literal monsters from a hell dimension beneath their town. He’s not sure if there’s anyone even qualified. And while Steve sure as hell doesn’t feel qualified to do anything, either, he’d been there with Dustin when it happened, and he’s here with Dustin now, so he’s going to do his best.

“Okay, c’mere,” Steve says, giving one of Dustin’s arms a tug.

Dustin doesn’t argue, doesn’t even question him, and that’s almost more alarming than anything else; he follows Steve a few feet over to a grassy patch at the foot of the embankment and leans heavily into Steve’s side when they sit down again. The grass is a little wet, but Steve doesn’t even feel it as he wraps an arm around Dustin’s back and pulls him closer.

They spend a minute with Dustin’s face half buried in Steve’s shoulder before Dustin gives a muffled grunt of annoyance and tries to pull away. “This is bullshit,” he mutters.

Steve quashes the way he wants to flinch at the declaration and looks down at Dustin instead. “What?”

“Sitting here crying my ass off. It’s stupid. I’m being a baby,” Dustin says, trying to wipe his face clean even as more tears replace the ones he’s just dried away.

“It’s not stupid. Crying is normal,” Steve says.

Dustin scoffs, still trying to pull out of Steve’s hold, but Steve keeps a hand in the middle of his back, unwilling to let him go far.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists. “It’s, like, a normal body reaction, or something. It happens. People cry.”

“You don’t,” Dustin shoots back, and Steve can’t help the instinctive huff of this-isn’t-actually-funny-at-all laughter.

“Yeah, man, because I’m kinda fucked up.”

It’s clearly not the reaction Dustin is expecting, and he stares up at Steve with furrowed brows. “What?”

And– well, fair’s fair, isn’t it? Dustin told Steve what’s bothering him, so Steve can open up a little bit in return, can’t he?

Besides, he can’t really think of any other way to convince Dustin that he’s not just pulling some cool, tough guy shit.

No, he doesn’t stop to cry, but it’s hardly even a choice anymore.

“I used to cry really easily, actually,” Steve says, looking away from Dustin and staring out at the stream instead. “Like, over everything. Literally cried over a glass of milk I spilled once.”

Dustin gives a wet huff of laughter, and Steve allows himself the tug of a quick smile.

“My dad fucking hated it. He was always telling me to stop whining, stop crying, stop acting like–” –a little bitch, Steven. Alright, maybe Dustin didn’t need to hear everything his dad had said to him. “He said I needed to toughen up, be a man. The last time I really cried, I was, like, nine, I think? I don’t even remember what it was over, I just remember that it pissed my dad off. And he said he’d give me something to cry about, and, uh–”

Steve can feel Dustin going tense under his palm, as if he’s afraid of what comes next, and that’s fine. Steve has no problem stopping there; it’s not a story he’d relish retelling in its entirety.

“Anyway, after that, I just kinda… made myself stop. Just like he wanted. And honestly?” Steve blows out a breath, still staring hard at the stream. “It just makes everything worse, holding that shit in. Makes you feel like shit.”

Makes you want to make other people feel like shit, too, because at least it’s an outlet.

“So, whatever. ‘Be a man.’ That’s bullshit.” Steve has known for years that his dad is an asshole, that the things he says are shit, and maybe he’s never known what to do in the face of it, maybe he’s never reacted in a way that’s healthy or even safe, but that doesn’t mean he has to spread the disease around. “Don’t be like me, man, be like you. Cry if you have to.”

Slowly, Dustin wilts back into Steve’s side, curling up under his arm and burying his face half in Steve’s shoulder again.

“You’re actually really smart sometimes,” Dustin mumbles against Steve’s shirt, and Steve snorts.

“Yeah, once in a while I might have some shit worth listening to.”

Dustin’s shoulders start shaking again, so Steve slings his arm more tightly around his back, and Dustin wraps an arm around his middle and clutches at Steve’s sweatshirt. At this point, it’s probably beyond stained with mud and snot and the blood from Dustin’s palms, but Steve can’t really bring himself to care. It’s not like it’s his favorite.

It isn’t the most comfortable place for a breakdown; March in Indiana is still chilly, and the grass is still damp, and the ground is hard, and Dustin’s cap keeps jabbing Steve in the collarbone, but Steve isn’t going to move until Dustin is ready. So they stay a while.

(Steve does end up knocking Dustin’s cap off, because it really is annoying, but he can’t help the little trill of fondness that goes through his chest when he realizes that he can faintly smell the shampoo he’d recommended to him.)

Finally, Dustin pulls away with a heavy sigh, snatching his hat back up and placing it firmly on his head, and Steve takes that to mean that it’s time to go.

“Alright, I’ve got a first aid kit in the car, and I think we can at least tape you together long enough to get back to my house,” Steve says, heaving himself up off the ground.

“We didn’t find any tadpoles, though,” Dustin says, looking back at the stream. “I seriously do need some for my project.”

“We can come back tomorrow,” Steve says, even though he really doesn’t want to spend his Sunday tromping around by the stream in the woods searching for tadpoles.

“Yeah?” Dustin aims a hopeful little smile up at him. “Can I stay over?”

Steve shrugs. “If your mom says it’s fine, yeah.”

(They both know she will.)

“Awesome.” Dustin grins, but it’s a pale shadow of its usual intensity; the kid looks wrung out.

Steve glances up the embankment and then looks back at Dustin.

“Hey,” he says. “You want a lift?”

Dustin, who had been preparing to start the climb back up, looks over at him in confusion. “What?”

“Up the hill.” Steve jerks his head towards the incline.

“How?”

“Piggyback ride. One-time offer.”

“Dude, it’s steep as shit. And I just had a growth spurt,” Dustin scoffs. “There’s no way you can carry me up that thing.”

Steve smirks. “Wanna bet?”

“What do I win?” Dustin asks.

“You get to pick the movie when we get back to my house,” Steve offers.

Dustin chews it over for a moment, then nods. “Deal.”

“Deal.” Steve kneels down. “Hop on. And try not to choke me.”

When Steve stands up again, Dustin settled against his back, he realizes he may have slightly overestimated his own abilities; light, Dustin is not (the kid’s almost fourteen now, Jesus H. Christ), but Steve isn’t one to back down from a challenge.

He starts up the embankment.

“When I win, after you drop us both back down the hill,” Dustin says, “I’m gonna pick Ghostbusters.”

Steve groans. They’ve watched that movie a hundred times now, and he has his limits. “When we get to the top, and I win, I’m going to pick anything but Ghostbusters.”

“Dream on, Steve,” Dustin pats his chest, and Steve keeps climbing.

They’re about halfway up when Dustin laughs in his ear, clutching more tightly around Steve’s neck as the incline gets steeper. “Holy shit, you’re actually doing it!”

“Told you,” Steve says, proudly sounding only a little strained.

He does have to drop Dustin’s legs and use his hands to make sure he doesn’t lose his balance when they get near the top, which does result in Dustin choking him, but Steve gets his revenge by wiping the excess mud on his palms off on the front of Dustin’s shorts once they get over the edge of the embankment.

(“Dude, what the hell!”

“You were already muddy!”)

Still, Dustin laughs and chatters all the way back to the car, still a little more quietly than usual, but Steve doesn’t think he’s seen him smile this much in weeks, so the strain he can already feel setting up in his legs and back is probably worth it.

And they will not be watching Ghostbusters (again) when they get back to his house, but maybe he’ll pick one of the Star Wars movies instead.

He can’t fix everything for Dustin, but he can at least make sure they have a good night – and sometimes, that’s good enough.

[Prompt: Piggyback rides]

[saintsir4n]

9. BETRAYAL

WARNING: VIOLENCE, GUNS AND BLOOD

"YOU bastard!" Carson pushed him back. She didn't stop, she kept pushing and shoving, sobbing as she did so. Brian let her, watching with glistening eyes, feeling her pain, sadness and distress pound against his chest. "I hate you!" It wasn't the truth and they both knew it.  Brian gently caught her grasp, but she shoved him off, "Get off of me, Brian!"

"Sonny! Carson," he said quieter, ignoring the onlookers. "Everythin' I said about you was real. About us, I would never lie about that."

She let out a yell, "You're lyin'. That's what you do, it's what they do. You all lie."

"I swear to God I'm not. You have to believe me," he tried, but she angrily shook her head, lip quivering and body trembling with heartbreak. "Please, you have to believe me, Sonny. But right now, this isn't about you and me," he said, not realising the power behind his words. "Dom's  out there and he's about to pull a job and we're runnin' out of time." Carson didn't want to listen but he left her no choice,  "Those truckers, they're not layin' down anymore. And you know, maybe they'll make it out tonight, but every single law enforcement agency in California's coming down on 'em." and just like that, Carson tensed up. "If you don't want anythin' to happen to Dom, to Letty, to Leon, to Vince," more tears coated her face and Brian wanted nothing more than to wipe them away."

Carson looked down, head pounding with all this new information, trying to decipher the real from the fake. She couldn't look at him, she couldn't stand to be around him. If only she listened before, to Vince, to Leon, hell even Keelie had prior convictions about the guy and she ignored it.

It's like Brian knew what she was thinking, "You have to just get in that car with me right now. You have to help me. Sonny –" he dropped her nickname when he was met with a harsh glare. "You are the only person that can help me right now. Please. Please, help me."

And that's how Carson ended up in Brian's car, looking everywhere else as he sped down the road. Mia wasn't in danger, she was going to Keelie's and that was one less person she had to worry about. Jesse was missing and the rest of the team were –

"Carson," Brian pressed pulling her out of the wave of worry she was drowning in.

"Civics are stashed somewhere outside of Thermal," she informed, voice dry and raspy from all the crying. He winced after hearing her speak.

It added to his guilt.

She stared down at the map with eyes bloodshot, making her wish she still had her glasses but they went along with his cover.

"And they wouldn't double back, and Highway 10's just way too well patrolled." Brian replied, glancing between her and the empty road, "So, what does that leave us with then?"

"That leaves us with all of this," she managed to reply, briefly holding up the map for him to see just as he reached for his phone, dialling a number and pressing it to his ear.

"Yeah, this is Officer Brian O'Conner," he announced, making Carson flinch and look away. It sounded like poison. His name was fake, she realised. "Serial number 34762. I need a cell phone trace. Carson, what's the cell number?" he didn't receive an answer, he could see the tears in her eyes. She was surprised she had any left. "Come on, Carson. She needs Dom's cell phone number now."

Carson scoffed, snatching the phone from his hand, much to his shock and uttered the number, "323-555-6439."

Brian wished he could've explained it all differently, but there was no time, "Thank you." he sighed when she tossed the phone back to him, he pressed it to his ear again, "Yeah, you get that?"

Carson tossed her head back, wishing, or needing it all to be a dream. She tried blocking out his voice as the phone rang again but it was impossible.

So when he hung up, he carefully took the map from her lap, "Let me see this." His eyes darted between it and the road a few times. "All right, I think we're about 40 miles away."

"So, what are you gonna do?" Carson asked, if she was going to have to listen to his voice, she wanted to at least get answers. So when he didn't say anything she repeated, "What are you gonna do?" she let out a humourless laugh when he remained silent, staring ahead as he sped down the road. "Okay, if you won't answer that, listen to this. All the calls you took in private. All the questionin', the secrecy, the intense mood swings, look I knew there was somethin' wrong. I felt it in my gut, but I put it aside and ignored it because I starting to love... Shit, I was fallin' for you."

His mouth gaped and his heart swelled, "Love?"

He sounded so hopeful and she happily put an end to that.

"Loved... it's past tense now you fool," she snapped. God she hadn't been this angry in years and Brian felt the full force of that anger, he couldn't hide. He was defenceless against his... ex-girlfriend, "You used me, you were usin' me this entire time, I'm so naive to think that you could ever love me."

His grip on the wheel tightened, "Baby, I do, I love you, these feelings are real, I didn't think it would happen."

She snapped her head towards him, "Fuck you." She completely disregarded his confession. He was lying, everything he says is a lie.

"That's not what I meant," he tried, heart beating out of its chest. "The time we spent together, was more than enough to show me how much I care about you, how much I was fallin' in love with you. I mean fuck, even my boss could see it."

After punching one of his co-workers in the face due to the derogatory way they spoke about Carson made it clear to his sergeant and captain that he was in way too deep.

The Baker racer just couldn't believe him, not about something as serious as love.

"Hurtin' you was never my intention," he exclaimed, gutted that they were losing what they had. "It was the last thing I wanted."

"Nah, but it was still on your list right?" She mumbled, scoffing as she watched the dark roads breeze by. "You had another life, you have another life, it might not be some white picket fence, but it's a badge and another name."

The only thing stopping his head from bowing in shame was the tinge of light immersing through the night.

"The raid on Tran's house, that was you right?"  Brian wordlessly nodded, annoyed at the mention of the man. Carson couldn't believe it. "So what? You and you're pigs weren't gonna stop until we were all behind bars?" she didn't want an answer to that. "Officer O'Conner... are you incapable of tellin' the truth? All those calls you were gettin', they were your little cop friends right?" she shook her head, lie after lie after lie. And to think she was comfortable sleeping with him, beside him and it was all part of the game, his role. "I can't believe you."

"Everything you feel, or felt is what I feel. It was real, what we have is real. You don't have to believe anythin' else but believe that please."

His pleading was nothing to her, even though she wanted so much to forget everything and restart she couldn't. He betrayed her. The team. The family.

"Vince was right, Keke knew somethin' was up with you..." and just when he went to argue, she spat out, "Just drive and save my family, that's the least you can do."

They soon reached northbound 86, night bled until dusk. Down the road, Carson noticed several vehicles. Panic coursed through her, seeing the semi-truck with black cars in front and behind it.

"Shit," she cursed as the black car stopped and Brian sped up, pulling up next to the truck, and that's when she saw Vince, hanging from the side, arm caught in a thread of wire, while a fresh bullet wound gaped open. "Oh my God!"

"Here," Brian said, about to hop out of the window, "Take the wheel." She didn't hesitate and took it, so worried so she did what she was told. "Put your foot on the gas. I'm gonna get him. Put your foot on the gas!"

"Okay, okay!" Carson yelled, leaning over, placing her foot on the gas as she took control from the passenger seat. It was an awkward angle for her.

"Come on Carson. Keep it steady," she heard him.

"Okay, got it!" Carson tried not to panic more and stayed composed, seeing through her peripheral as Brian couched on the frame of the door.

Vince was injured and she couldn't let him down not when she allowed Brian in.

"Hey, he's havin' a hard time holdin' on!" Brian shouted. "Get me a little closer!"  Carson drifted. "Closer!"

"I am!"

"Hold it right there!"

"Go!" Carson shouted and Brian threw himself onto the side of the truck. She used it as a chance to slip into the driver's seat. She took a peek to see the blonde firmly holding onto the truck. Hearing him shout at Vince wasn't comforting even if it helped him get his hand free.

Brian held up his body.

Carson hadn't been this scared since her father passed.

"Carson, come a little closer!" she shifted the car, a little shakily this time. "Carson, get closer!" she did, eyes pooling with tears, "Come on! Come on, Vince! Here we go!"

Vince was suddenly thrown on top of the car, somehow Carson extended his arm and helped him slide into the passenger seat, whimpering when he held onto his bleeding side.

"It's okay, you're already V –" A gunshot ripped through the air, cutting off Carson's reassurance. It happened just as Brian jumped onto the car, gripping the windshield as the truck rammed into the side making Carson lose control, drawing it to a halt on the side of the dusty road. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

She panted, completely stunned by what happened, she tried comforting Vince but he was mumbling to himself, going in and out of consciousness.

Brian rushed over to the driver's side, throwing open the door and checking Carson for any injuries, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asked desperately, worried that she wasn't speaking, only blinking in a slight daze.

Brain cupped her face, and his touch brought her back as did the sound of Vince's groan.

She rushed out, pushing past the blonde, they helped Vince out of the car and further out so they were surrounded by the desert-like ground.

"You're okay," she breathed out, trying to convince Vince as well as herself. "It's gonna be okay," she repeated. Brian wrapped his wound with his belt, trying to apply pressure just as a black car came to a halt with Leon, Letty, and Dom. The guys got out, and Leon stayed to check on Letty, leaving Dom to rush over to Vince. "You're gonna be okay."

Carson didn't even feel her zip-up hoodie being removed, she only saw it around the wound, soaking up the blood that was now on her hands.

"Come on, Vince!" Brain shouted, "Hang in there. Come on!"  Dom dropped to his knees beside him, casting a fearful look at Carson as she kept muttering the same thing over and over again. "If we don't get him an ambulance in ten minutes, he's dead." The blonde's gaze darted over to Carson, "Hey, Carson. Sonny," Brian had to yell, snapping her out of her trance and putting her hands onto the belt and hoodie, holding it in place. "Hold this, Just like that. Don't let go. Hold his arm."

"Vincent please, just hold on!" Carson choked back her sobs.

Dom was doing everything he could to help but Vince started coughing.

Brian pulled out his phone and pressed it to his ear. "Yeah. Yeah, this is Officer Brian O'Conner." Dom turned to him instantly, face slapped with betrayal as he stared in shock. Brian apologetically held eye contact with Dom as he continued. "I'm off-duty L.A.P.D. I need a Life Flight rollout right away. My 20 is, uh, Highway 86, mile marker 147."

Dom knew it was true from Carson's tear-stained cheeks and the heartbreak tattooed on her face.

Brian held his phone with his shoulder, grabbing onto Vince's arm once again. "I got one trauma victim, about 24 years of age. Six feet, maybe 200 pounds." Dom couldn't look away, disgusted and angry by what was revealed. "He's got a real deep laceration to his right arm with arterial bleeding."

When Vince began convulsing, only then did Dom turn back to him, hoping that he would pull through.

"He's gotta -- a shotgun wound. Close range to his left flank. Yeah. Yeah, and he's going into shock." Brian hung up, aiding the injured guy.

Carson looked up, shakily sighing when a helicopter neared in the sky.

Minutes passed and Vince was strapped onto a stretcher moving him quickly to the helicopter, with Brian's help.

Carson stood afar, motionless with the memories of the night flashing through her mind. Leon pulled up with Letty and Dom started walking toward the car.

It was then that Brian stared at her, pleadingly, but she cast him a pained look and shook her head, it hurt her to do so, but he hurt her even more.

So when Dom shouted for her to get in the car, she did it without regret.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

this has got me crying alongside carson. (ignore how long their relationship was. let's say it was a month or so) and i feel like you can fall in love in just that short space of time. lmaoo, i catch feelings after an interaction. carson and brian were love, but it's unfortunate it had to be this way.

and although what they had was cute, he was lying to her and had been since the very beginning. she knew something was wrong, it was her gut feeling and her dad told her to never ignore that.

we've got one more chapter left, i hope you have enough tissues for that.

-

[ninebluehearts]

I need a part two!!! I need to know if Elvis comes back :’-((

Sure thing, my darling!! Lemme make this fluffy to fight all that angst 💕

Part 1

It's safe to say you didn't get much sleep last night. You tried your best to lay down and sleep, to just focus on your breathing and forget about the fight. But the thoughts had their way of creeping in and running circles in your mind until you acknowledged them.

Even through the tears and racing thoughts, you tossed and turned, going as far as pressing two pillows over your head to try and drown out the thoughts that only lead to more pain and sorrow.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly when you fell asleep, but you did know it was around the same time the sun started rising and birds began their songs.

Though, you didn't wake up until you felt the weight of another person on your mattress. You slowly blinked your eyes open, turning to see who it was.

Elvis sat on the edge of the bed holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, chocolates, a small teddy bear, and of course, a small teal bag with the Tiffany and Co. label across the front. "Good mornin', darlin'. I was hopin' we could maybe talk?" He whispered, using his free hand to rub your arm.

You shook your head and sighed, rolling back over. "You can't just buy my forgiveness, Elvis." You sat up and yawned, rubbing your fingers against your forehead to soothe your growing headache. "You really hurt me last night.. That can't be fixed with flowers and chocolates. Not this time."

Elvis nodded, setting the gifts towards the end of the bed, then completely facing you, taking your hands in his. "I know, mama. I bought all that for you as a physical apology, a reminder of how much I really do love you. But I know you actually need to hear it from me, huh?"

You simply nodded, focusing on your hands so you didn't cry again.

Elvis gently cupped your face in his hand, guiding your head up so you would look at him. "There she is. That's my girl. I hate to see you so upset, baby. I just get so caught up in the moment, that I don't stop and think about how you're feelin'. I'm sorry that I upset you last night. That really wasn't my goal, I just- My fans mean the world to me.. I'm just showin' em a lil' extra love is all."

You shook your head, pulling Elvis' hand away from your face, but continuing to hold it with both of your hands. "But it makes me really uncomfortable when you kiss those girls. It makes me feel insecure; like I'm not your girl if I have to share you, ya know?"

Elvis nodded, rubbing his thumb against the top of your hand. "I can see where you're comin' from. But you've gotta know that you'll always be my girl, mama. No matter what. Ain't nobody gonna change that." Elvis leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours, both of you taking in each others words.

"How about this," You said, pulling away from him to look into his deep blue eyes. "What if you just kissed them on their cheeks, foreheads, hands, whatever. Just not on the lips, okay? Those are reserved for me."

Elvis chuckled, dropping his head as a giant smile spread across his lips. "If that's what makes you happy, then it makes me happy."

You smiled too, pulling him into a tight hug. "Thank you." You whispered, two tears slipping down both of your cheeks simultaneously. "Let's not fight like that again, okay? I was worried sick."

Elvis pulled away just enough to push the hair out of your face to behind your ear, that goofy grin still on his face. "Agreed. I'm sorry I worried ya, mama. And for everything else. Could ya ever forgive me?"

You nodded, leaning in to give him a deep, passionate kiss. And when you pulled away, you had a giant smirk spread across your face. "Depends.. What's in the Tiffany's bag?"

Elvis shook his head, a smirk of his own growing. "You little.." He mumbled, before engulfing you in his arms, falling back onto the bed as he attacked your face and neck with kisses.

Every relationship has it's up's and down's, but everything can be fixed with a little communication and love.

And maybe something from Tiffany's...

[stressy-enby]

Hello! So here's my request:

The 1-A girls including reader are having a girls night in one of their dorms playing Minecraft (teaching Momo how to play for the first time), giving out study tips, eating snacks and watching movies, etc... When their in a topic about their crushes and reader shyly tells them it is Tenya Iida... While the girls are shocked and ask a lot of questions why iida much to reader whos not really liking the questions, the girls decided to help reader out by setting both iida and reader on a date by grabbing readers phone and texting iida, much to readers protest and what the girls don't know is that the boys are having a boy night at the common room too and doing the exact same thing, helping iida out to finally ask reader on a date.

so yeah, haha that's all and you can add your own ideas there and can this be a oneshot? I also want to see the perspective of iida if that't possible? I hope this is okay? thank you!! ☺

Took a few liberties, included some personal touches, I’m really happy with how this came out and I hope you are too!

Risks

Masterlist

Weekend nights in Heights Alliance were arguably the best. 

Mr. Aizawa was more flexible about curfew on Friday and Saturday nights, so the class took those nights as opportunities to have slumber parties and late night get-togethers. 

This was one such night. You, Ochaco, Tsu, Momo, Toru and Kyoka had gone to Mina’s dorm room with snacks and games in hand. Your hostess had offered up her wide selection of video games and her Netflix, Hulu, and Disney+ accounts. Toru had even come through with an impressive assortment of face masks, nail polish, and hair accessories. Needless to say, everyone was more than set for a night of careless fun.

“Wait, how do I craft something?” Mom held her controller out to Kyoka, brows pinched together.

“This button, here,” she took the controller, demonstrating by crafting an axe.

Upon realization that Momo had next to no knowledge of Minecraft, the party had abandoned its Super Smash Bros. tournament in favor of showing her the ropes. You’d vowed to help her make a simple house by the end of the night.

“Pro tip: make sure you collect all the same type of wood.” You suggested, eyes focused on the white stripes you were attempting to paint onto Tsuyu’s light green nails with some success. 

“Yeah, unless it’s on purpose, like if you use a different wood for the roof or floor, it’s just gonna look like you hobbled it together in less than a minute.” Mina agreed, before promptly shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

Ochaco gasped playfully, swiping the bowl away. “Don’t eat all of it!”

“I’ll eat whatever I damn well please!” Mina retorted, making a grab for the snack as Ochaco floated it over to Toru.

“Okay guys, I can’t take it anymore.” The invisible girl grabbed the bowl out of the air. “We’re all together, hanging out with zero stress for the first time in months! Does anyone have anything juicy to share? Someone’s gotta have something!”

Kyoka rolled her eyes. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I didn’t come to gossip.”

“This class is a pretty tight-knit group, ribbit. Nothing really happens that we don’t all know about.” Tsu pointed out.

“Okay then. Crushes.” Mina prompted.

“What about them?” Momo asked.

“Who’s got ‘em?”

There was a moment of silence. You noticed how a few pairs of eyes flicked to Ochaco, who had gonna very red and very quiet. You sighed, musing to yourself about the things you did for friendship.

“I, uh, I kinda like Iida?”

You hated how you phrased it like a question. You hated how you mitigated the confession with the word “kinda”. You hated that silly, totally inadequate word “like”. Your feelings for Iida went beyond a simple crush. You’d had them for him for months now, you were long past the “like” phase. You were head-over-heels in love.

Toru gasped dramatically. “Really? Iida?”

Ochaco smiled at you, gratitude evident in her eyes. “You two would make a sweet couple.”

“What do you like about him?” Mina asked excitedly. “When did you fall for him? Are you gonna confess?”

“Take it easy,” Kyoka chuckled lightly.

You also laughed, albeit uneasily. You were beginning to regret not keeping your mouth shut. “Okay, I’ll take those one at a time. He’s kind and attentive, and he’s very loyal. I think I realized that I liked him a few weeks after the sports fest, and absolutely not.”

“Why don’t you want to tell him?” Momo asked, pursing her lips. “I think he’d appreciate the honesty.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t wanna make things weird between us or potentially ruin our friendship.” You explained “I don’t wanna jeopardize what we have now by confessing.”

“Plus, Iida doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’s want to date someone, ribbit.” Tsu put in, examining her newly painted nails. “He’s very serious. He’d probably see it as a distraction, these are really pretty, (Y/N), thank you.”

You smiled weakly at your frog-like friend as Toru threw a piece of popcorn at her head. “Tsu!”

“No, she’s right.” You sighed heavily, motioning for the popcorn bowl, intending to drown your sorrows and maybe yourself in it.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” Momo patted your back sympathetically as she passed the bowl down. “I can’t imagine how frustrating it is.”

You hummed in agreement as you shoveled the snack into your mouth. “Whatever. It sucks, bur I’ll get over it.”

“Like hell you will!” Mina snapped “Ochaco: our romantically challenged friend’s phone, if you please?”

Ochaco dutifully and bemusedly took your phone from Mina’s bedside table and handed it over to her.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, suddenly on high alert.

You were ignored. Mina instead took your hand, and placed your thumb over the home button on your phone, unlocking it.

“Seriously, what are you doing?” Kyoka asked.

“Texting Iida.”

It took you a few seconds to process her words and what they meant. Once you had, though, you made a sudden grab for the phone. “Oh no you’re not!”

“Chillax, I’m not gonna send him anything embarrassing.” Mina swatted your hand away as she scooted safely out of your reach. “I’m just gonna suggest that you two go out sometime and heavily imply that it’ll be a date.”

“Now hold on,” Momo cut in, setting down her controller. “We shouldn’t be interfering. This is between (Y/N) and Iida.”

“Yeah, if (Y/N) wants to ask him out, they’ll do it themselves, ribbit.” Tsu chimed in.

Mina sighed, slumping. “I know you’re both right, but I can’t just let them wallow! Iida really likes you, (Y/N)!”

“Oh yeah?” You raised both eyebrows.

“Yeah! He’s a lot softer with you then with anyone else!”

“He does tend to let you get away with things,” Kyoka admitted. “Remember the other day when you were sitting on your desk? The guy didn’t even bat an eye.”

“He also seems like he talks to you more than he does the rest of us!” Toru pointed out.

“Plus he worries about you more than the rest of us!” Ochaco added on.

“He looks more relaxed around you.” Tsuyu threw in.

“Sometimes when we have class representative meetings, he’ll offhandedly mention you.” Momo reported thoughtfully. “He’ll tell me about something you said or did that he found funny or endearing. It’s actually pretty adorable the way he talks about you. It’s like his whole face lights up.”

You were quiet for a very long moment. It was too good to be true. You liked playing it safe. You kept your cards close to your chest until you were absolutely sure you had the wining hand. And if you’d learnt anything in your hero education, it was that sometimes you needed to take a risk.

“Can I have my phone, please?”

Mina tossed it to you. Without another word, you navigated to your messages, and typed something out quickly. Before you could reconsider, you took a risk.

You hit send.

. . . 

This isn’t actually all that bad.

When Kirishima and Kaminari had suggested a “boys’ night”, Tenya had been apprehensive at best. He was all for class bonding activities, but what was the point if it was only a fraction of their group?

“(L/N) and the girls are having a sleepover, so we may as well something ourselves.” Sero had pointed out.

Despite his skepticism, Tenya found himself thoroughly enjoying himself. After admitting he’d never seen a Marvel movie, Midoriya had immediately logged the common room TV into his Disney+ account and began the first ever 1-A Marvel movie marathon.

“Ugh, does this mean we have to watch Age of Ultron?” Ojiro groaned “That one sucks.”

“Yeah, but at some point I’m going to make Iida watch Wandavision.” Midoriya replied “Ultron is important to understanding it, sucky as it may be.”

“That’s not gonna be for a while if we’re watching every single Marvel movie, though.” Sato chuckled. 

“Yeah, we’re definitely gonna need more than one night for this shit,” Kaminari chortled “Wandavision not withstanding.”

Tenya smiled, not quite following but listening all the same. He suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

(L/N): Random question. Want to go out and get dinner tomorrow, just the two of us?

It was indeed a random question. He had no qualms about spending time with (L/N) though. Even if it was just the two us them. Especially if it’s just the two of us. Tenya quickly shook the thought away though, feeling he’s cheeks flare.

Me: That would be great! Do  you have a time and place in mind?

(L/N): Would 6 be ok? As for the place… would you be up for a surprise?

Tenya hesitated. Usually he’s say no. He liked everything to be perfectly planed to a T. But something about (L/N) made him want to be spontaneous. They made him want to take risks. So he decided to do precisely that. He threw caution into the wind as he sent his response.

Me: 6 is more than ok, and I’m always up for a surprise if it’s with you.

Tenya cringed immediately after hitting send. The instant regret was crushing and depressing. He wished he could be honest about his feelings, about (L/N) without overthinking every move he made.

Oh well. What’s done is done. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, praying you wouldn’t respond. However, his plea went ignored a minute later when he felt his phone vibrate yet again.

Biting back a groan, Tenya opened his texts, inwardly bracing himself.

(L/N): Awesome! I’ll meet you at 6 in the common room tomorrow, then. Can’t wait! ❤️

He gaped. That tiny red emoji wormed not his brain and burned itself behind his eyes until that was all he could see. He barely even registered the rest of the message.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Iida?” Kaminari, never one to understand personal space, leaned over to glance at the class rep’s phone phone before he could angle it away. “You sly little- IIDA HAS A DATE!”

“No I- that’s not- Kaminari!” Tenya sputtered incoherently, arms flailing. “That was entirely inappropriate. You shouldn’t look at other people’s devices without their permission. It’s rude, demeaning, and an invasion of privacy!”

“Forget that, what’s this about a date?” Sero leaned in on Kaminari’s other side.

“Iida and (L/N) were texting,” Kaminari announced “They asked him out to dinner, he said yes, and they send a heart emoji.”

“What color?” Aoyama demanded, squinting.

“Red.”

“Oh my,” Aoyama leaned back in his seat, a coy smirk playing across his lips.

Sero chuckled, leaning across Kaminari’s lap to pat Tenya on the arm. “You lucky bastard.”

The blue haired boy brushed his hand away, bristling. “Not that my personal activities are any of your concern, but it’s not a date. We’re just going to get something to eat.”

“I’m not an expert or anything, but I don’t think many people go out one-on-one for dinner if it’s platonic.” Midoriya pointed out. 

“Yeah, plus, that emoji says a lot.” Kirishima added “(L/N) clearly means this to be a date. If you don’t feel the same way about them, you need to tell them.”

“You don’t want to go on a date with (L/N)?” Todoroki asked, raising an eyebrow “I would’ve thought you’d be happy for an opportunity like that.”

“See! Even Todoroki can see you’ve got it bad for them!” Sato exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the confused heterochromic boy.

Tenya ignored his overly-excited classmates. He flipped back through his conversation with (L/N), staring at every text until he’d inadvertently memorized them all.

Me: Is this a date?

. . .

“So much for subtly, I guess.” Kyoka remarked.

“Subtly gets you nowhere with Iida!” Ochaco insisted “You have to be upfront with him!”

“But I sent him a heart,” You groaned for the fourth time.

“Well, there’s no sense in bemoaning it now.” Momo reasoned.

“It was a calculated risk.” Toru admitted, an undercut of worry in her voice.

“A risk, huh?” You chuckled humorlessly “I seem to be taking a lot of those tonight.”

Ding!

Seven pairs of eyes darted to your overturned phone at the same moment. No one moved an inch.

“Well,” Tsu nudged you “are you going to look at it?”

You gulped, shakily taking the device. The girl’s gathered around you. As you opened your text messages.

Iida: Is this a date?

“No backing down now!” Ochaco squealed, gripping your shoulders tightly and shaking you.

“Go, go, go, go, go!” Mina bounced on her knees like it was a sporting event.

You took a deep breath, then texted back.

. . .

(L/N): That was the idea, lol. It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be, tho

Tenya pursed his lips, showing the response to Midoriya.

“C’mon, Iida.” His friend chuckled lightly “Just tell them the truth.”

The truth. He did want it to be a date, but a simple “I want to go on a date with you” didn’t seem sufficient. It wouldn’t do justice to how he really felt.

Tenya had already taken a risk tonight, so what was one more? But knowing what he now knew about your feelings, it didn’t seem quite so scary anymore.

Me: I’d love nothing more than to go on a date with you, (L/N). Truth be told, I’ve wanted to for a while now, I just haven’t had the courage to ask you myself. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. ❤️

[thiswasinevitableid]

1. Siren Indruck NSFW, Duck is hauling supplies for the small town of Kepler on a tiny boat. Due to dangerous storms, Duck takes a longer but safer and less traversed route. He doesn’t know he’ll be passing through a Siren’s territory. A siren who is looking for a strong and sturdy mate

Here you go!

Duck never tells anyone what he finds on the beach that day. 

He’s fourteen, looking for useful flotsam and jetsam tossed onto the sand by an ongoing storm. What he finds is an empty boat and a merman, silvery tail impaled with a spear in a piece of driftwood. Each time he tries to free himself, he winces and is unable to pull the weapon from his body. When he sees Duck, his red eyes widen and he bares sharp teeth in a hiss. 

“It’s okay” the boy kneels in the bloody sand, “I ain’t gonna hurt you. Or, uh, this’ll hurt for a sec, but it’ll be better than tryin to ease it out bit by bit.” He grabs the end of the fishing spear and pulls. The merman shrieks, quickly clamping his hands across his mouth as Duck pulls his handkerchief from his pocket to bandage the wound. 

“There, you should be able to-”

The creature is gone with a whip of his tail, sliding down the sand and into the waves. As Duck stands, a strange song floats from the foam for the briefest instant. A seasoned sailor can tell a siren from a normal mer on sight; Duck has never been to sea. It’s weeks later that he wonders what events resulted in the wounded siren and an empty boat. 

-------------------------------

Any other day, Duck would put off this run until the black clouds no longer hung over the horizon. But the supply run last week didn’t come, so the isolated, coastal town of Kepler is running low on, among other things, the medicine needed to treat an illness spreading from house to house. He could put this off until tomorrow, but he won’t sleep well tonight if he does.

The boat loaded, he starts out to sea under unfriendly skies. Today is a day to follow the coastline and then circle Greenbriar Island to reach Kepler, rather than trying for a straight shot.  It’ll double his travel time, but it’s far safer in a storm and no one but a few locals know how to navigate it. Duck takes this route once or twice most years. This summer alone he’s had to take it six times, with today making a seventh. The abnormal number of storms weighs on the minds of coastal residents. Duck tries not to obsess over it, given that it’s solidly out of his control and there’s no use fussing over wind and rain; there’s only getting through them. 

Halfway through his journey, a rogue swell catches the underside of the boat and drags it along a rock, springing a leak in the hull. He ties off on a thin spire of stone, clambering onto a rock to try and repair the damage. It’s not a big leak, but it’ll be trouble if he lets it go. 

As he’s laying awkwardly with water lapping up his legs, a human head rises from the water a few feet from him. Silver hair, red eyes and, when it smiles, very sharp teeth. Harmless mermaids have teeth much like his own, which means he’s alone in the ocean with a fucking siren.

Duck’s learned many things since that day on the beach; how a song can paralyze a man better than poison, how the bite marks on the skin of certain bodies that wash ashore are called siren kisses

The siren begins swimming closer. Duck sighs, “If you’re gonna drown and eat me, can you do it on the way back?”

Red eyes blink, confused, but the siren stays where he is. 

“If I don’t make it to Kepler, lotta folks’ll get sick, some will even die. And I don’t think you got much use for medicine and canned food.”

The siren shakes his head. 

“Glad you understand.” Duck finishes his repairs under watchful eyes. At one point, the siren swims all the way to the rock Duck is perched on, resting his chin on his hands, as if enjoying the view. 

Duck scrambles back into the boat the moment he’s done, but no cold fingers try for his ankles and no splash announces something lunging upwards after him. A cautious glance as he starts the engine finds the siren sitting on the rock, silver-blue tail still half in the water. When he notices Duck looking, he waves. 

The rest of the journey goes as planned, the relief on folks faces when Duck docks worth the peril. When he reaches the siren’s territory on his return, no song tempts him. A lithe shape keeps pace with the boat, fin breaking the surface now and then. When he hits open water, the siren turns back, disappearing from view. 

-----------------------

There are sex dreams, and then there’s whatever the fuck Duck is having right now. Fingers stroke his hair, cling to his shoulders. Kisses coat his face and a voice whispers his name as the speaker offers themself to him again and again. He sees himself tangled with a man, face always just out of focus, who spreads his legs and lips so Duck can sink himself into the heat of his body. The dream is endless and he doesn’t care, doesn’t ever want to wake up. 

Saltwater in his lungs renders that desire useless. He snaps back to consciousness as another wave hits him; he’s up to his neck  in the cove below his house. 

“The fuck?” It’s only his footprints visible in the moonlight in the sand, so no one dumped him here. 

“Oh dear.”

“Jesus!” Duck stumbles back as glowing eyes peer around a rock. It’s the siren from yesterday, swimming purposefully as Duck wades backwards. 

“Look, uh, when I said I wanted you to wait to eat me, I wasn’t bein serious. Or, uh, I was, but I meant I didn’t want to be eaten ever, not just then. It was a, uh, a joke.”

“I am aware.” The siren stops as Duck topples on his ass in the shallow water, “and I am sorry. I, ah, I did not mean to lure you from your bed. I was not aware my mindless singing was enough to wake you. In most futures, you slept until dawn.”

“Uh huh, sure, because sirens are known to just serenade folks without wanting to drown ‘em.” 

“We do it more often than you might think.” The siren sighs, “I came here to keep you safe, and succeeded only in making you afraid.”

Duck, having scooted inelegantly onto dry land, watches the tan upper body of the siren sag. It’s awkward, a word not associated with this kind of mer. That suggests he’s telling the truth. 

“You gonna tell me why you’re playin watchdog at my house?” 

The siren chirps, intrigued, “In all but one future you told me to go away.”

“That’d just leave me with more questions. And so far, you ain’t done anythin other’n watch me; if you say this was an accident, I’m willin to hear you out.”

“Wonderful!” The siren claps his hands together and the tip of his tail flips out of the water. Then he clears his throat and recites, “I am known as Indrid Cold. As you noticed, I am a siren. I am also a gifted seer, artist, and lifeguard when humans are unconscious and thus will not try to kill me for rescuing them. I am an excellent fisher, and well-liked and/or feared by the larger creatures of this coastline. This is why I think I would be an excellent mate.”

“O-kay. Did you call me out here to practice your personals ad?” Duck smirks, charmed by Indrids earnest tone.

“This is not practice. I did a great deal of that earlier today. This is my formal declaration that I would very much like you to be my mate.”

“Ma--hold on.” The images from his near-fatal dream return, “were you singin’ to hit on me?”

Indrid crosses his arms, “For the last time, that song was not for you. It was about you, because I was daydreaming and my formless melody unintentionally conveyed the contents of said daydream into your mind.”

“So everythin in it, all that wild fuckin stuff, that’s stuff you wanna do with me?”

A nod, accompanied by a flash of white light under the water. 

“Why?”

“Because you are strong, and handsome, and capable on the water. I watched your futures yesterday and today and saw you are kind as well, well-liked by other humans but a little lonely at night. You are very nice to that small land-otter that lives in your house.”

“You mean the cat?”

“That’s the word! Yes, you are nice to your cat. You are not brash or cruel, and you look so very nice without a shirt. I...I like you, Duck. You are everything I want in a mate.”

“Feel like I might be missin’ some gills and fins.” He jokes to cover the fact he’s scanning his mind and body for the same dreamy lull he felt during the song. What he finds in it’s place is his ego purring from praise and wondering exactly what a siren would do for his mate.

“There is no rule that says I must choose only my own kind for such activities. I, ah, I know it is strange, given how little we know of each other, but I thought that, ah, since humans will have casual sex with each other maybe we could, or, ah, that is…” He’s watching Duck with such unconcealed hope that the human almost joins him in the water.

“Indrid, I’m real flattered. But I’d be a damn fool if I didn’t point out this feels like a fuckin trap. Pretty easy for you to drag me to my death once we’re, uh, in the middle of things. Not that I’m sayin you would.” He adds when the sirens smile dims. 

“A sensible concern. May I join you on land for a moment? There is something I want to show you.”

Duck pats the sand beside him, eyes following the ripples of Indrid’s tail as he swims, slithers, and slides onto the beach. It reminds Duck of an oarfish, though when Indrid spies him looking the scales flash deep purple. 

“Look there” Indrid points toward the end of the silver ribbon of scales; a round, white scar stares up at Duck. The details of a day over two decades in the past return to him.

“You’re the siren I found when I was a kid.”

“Indeed. I remember you by your eyes, though your face has some echoes of that day in it’s curves. You saved my life, showed me mercy when I expected none. Sirens do not forget a favor, and we do not kill those who once spared us. I will never harm you, even if you turn me away tonight. You will be safe, whether that is in my arms or merely in my territory.”

Duck avoids the stranger sides of life by the sea, citing a lifelong incompatibility with the weird. Turns out all he needed to find his exception to that rule is a handsome siren looking at him like he set the tides in motion. 

The human runs a finger up the sirens tail, sparks of purple and pale blue light igniting in it’s wake. 

“Didn’t know y’all changed colors.” He pets Indrid’s hip and the whole tail lights up this time. 

“I am a deep-sea siren by birth, we use light to communicate emotions.”

“Mind, uh, loopin me in on the conversation?”

“Purple means desire. It’s a common color in mating displays.” Indrid watches Duck’s hand  glide along his scales, and a burst of pale blue reflects across their faces. 

“And that one?”

“Submission.” Indrid murmurs, “it is, ah, not the most desirable color to show. My kind value strength and power; enjoying the opposite is an invitation to mockery.” The siren’s eyes stay downcast, even when Duck smooths silver hair from his face.

“Now, I like to joke as much as the next fella, but that don’t seem like somethin to tease about.”

“No?” Indrid’s gaze flicks onto Duck the instant before the man straddles him. Duck doesn’t even have to push him onto his back; he goes instantly, hands flat on the sand and tail twitching excitedly in the shallows. 

“No. Seems to me a sweet thing like you oughta be takin care of.” 

Indrid snickers, “That is not usually an adjective one uses for meAHahnn” he arches as Duck tugs his hair.

“Let’s get one thing straight, sugar; I decide what you get called. I wanna call you the most perfect creature in the sea, I will. And if I wanna call you a needy little mer who’s good for nothin but gettin fucked into the sand, you’re gonna nod and say ‘yes.’ Understood?”

The blue light flashing up his tail brightens, “Y-yes but, but why do you call me sugar? That is a food.”

Duck giggles, leans down to brush their noses together, “It’s a nickname, call you it because you’re sweet and I can’t wait to get my fill of you.”

“Ohhhh, I see.” 

“You wanna see somethin else?”

“Very much soOH, oh goodness.” Indrid gasps as Duck forces his gaze towards his cock attempting to free itself from his boxers. He grinds on the supple muscle of his tail to take the pressure off, chuckles when the siren whines and tries to kiss his chest. 

“Since you’re the only siren I’d ever even consider fuckin-” Duck pauses as Indrid moans loudly, digging his fingers into the sand, “you gotta show me how to go about it.”

“If, if you just continue as you are a little higher upyes, yes right there” He rolls his hips, purrs with such a blissful expression that Duck is powerless to do anything but kiss him. His affection grows when he notices Indrid clearly restraining his kisses so as not to catch Duck’s mouth or tongue with his sharp teeth. The last guy he fucked shoved his tongue down his throat without any build-up or finesse, and now all he can think is if only Indrid had made his feelings know sooner, Duck could have done away with shitty human dates and had an obedient, eager mer instead. 

“Mmmmm” Indrid licks his lips, runs his fingers up Duck’s sides, “kissing is nice. It is not something sirens often indulge in, so my chances to do it are few and far between.”

“Ain’t that a shame” Duck kisses the corners of his mouth, “lips like these were made to be kissed sore.”

Indrid purrs, wiggling his tail, and Duck looks down to see a slit opening where his clothed cock has been rubbing. 

“Huh. Kinda figured you had-”

“-I have both this and an appendage below it much like your own.”

“Handy.” Duck, in no mood to climb off the purring, otherworldly man, eases the waistband of his damp boxers just under his balls. 

“This, uh, this ain’t gonna actually create a, I mean, I don’t wanna accidentally-”

“Nono, there is no chance of procreation”

“And you’ll be okay with so little of you in the water?”

“Yesyes I will be fine.” Indrid tugs at his hips, bucks his own into the air in frustration. 

“Just checkin’ oh, oh fuck” Indrid is tight and ridged around his dick as it slides in, “fuckin christ, no wonder sailors’ll crash into rocks at the offerin of fuckin a siren, wait, fuck, that was probably rude.”

“I will let it slide” Indrid teases, the end of his tail curling around Duck’s left ankle, “on account of your body is so lovely I would beach myself and die gasping on your doorstep for a chance to touch it.”

“No need for that. All you gotta do is wait here like a good little mer and I’ll fuck you as much as you want.” The slit pulses as Duck slowly fucks in and out, and he knows he’ll have to throw out all his fleshlights after this because nothing will ever compare to the deliciously alien feeling of Indrid around his dick. 

“Do, do not joke about such things.” Indrid whimpers, clinging to his shoulders.

“I ain’t. You wanted a mate, right?”

“Yes, you, so very badly.”

“Well, you got one, and you feel so goddamn good on my cock I ain’t inclined to let you swim off and be someone else’s.”

“I do not want to, I only want you, please, please let me stay.”

Duck stills his hims and the siren writhes as he leans down. The human cups his cheek, “I want you to stay, ‘Drid. I wanna get to know you. Long as you promise you ain’t gonna fuck me unless you want to, and not because you’re scared I’ll turn you loose.”

“I promise.” Indrid initiates the kiss this time, purring when Duck takes his time kissing back. 

“Good. Now that we got that cleared up” Duck sits up, “be a good mate and take what I give you.” He fucks in as hard as he dares, dives back down to kiss Indrid’s lips and throat as the mer’s cock emerges. Duck finds he can grind his ass along the twisting shaft at the same time he drives his own into Indrid’s body, resulting in a wail of pleasure and teeth sinking into his shoulder. 

“Fuck!”

“Sorry!” Indrid squeaks, hiding his face in Duck’s neck, “it, it is a reflex-”

Duck yanks his head back to his shoulder, near the first mark, and holds it down, “Do it again.”

Indrid trills and pain lights up Duck’s body, the perfect counterpoint to the pleasure coursing through him with each roll of their bodies. The siren chirps and moans, nips his arms and ears, slides his tail along his legs as his cock pumps frantically against his ass.

“That’s it sweet thing, cum for me while I fuck you. Show me just what my mate is for.” Duck bites Indrid’s neck and cum splatters the backs of his thighs as Indrid’s repetitions of his name drown out the noise of the waves.  Duck’s orgasm follows fast, sweeps through him like the crescendo of a song carried on the night air. 

Duck stays buried in him well after he’s finished, mind already conjuring images of tying Indrid down in shallow water and keeping his cock warm all day.

“Duck?”

“Yeah, sugar?” 

“I, ah, I need to get back in the water.”

“Oh shit, yeah, sure.” He pulls out, tosses his sea-soaked boxers up the beach as Indrid slides into the sea. Duck wades in, stopping where it’s waist deep as the siren swims lazily circles around him. 

“Such a perfect mate.”

“Glad you still think so.”

Indrid curls up to him, rubbing their cheeks together, “Thank you for indulging me. Do...do you wish me to come back tomorrow? Or to stay tonight? There are no other mers between here and my territory, so there is no reason I cannot count this stretch as mine.”

Duck kisses one of the hickeys blooming on tan skin, “How’s about you stay the night. We got some things to talk about. And, if you’re real good, I might let you fuck me when we’re done.”

Indrid grins, “My dearest one, I believe we have a deal.”

----------------------------------------------

Nowadays, if you ever go near Kepler and the surrounding islands, you may hear people talk about Duck Newton, beloved native son, skilled park ranger, and the only man receive siren kisses and live to tell the tale. 

[cycat4077]

Stuck-On Cheese

Summary: Sometimes “the best intentions are fraught with disappointment.” Set during summer 2016 (S17). Pairing: Sonny x Reader Warnings: ANGST. Relationship troubles. Couple’s fight. Telling the squad. A cuss or two. Words: 1844  AO3: here

Part 9 of the Changes verse - but it can be read as a one-shot too.

A/N: I really, really like this one. I honestly felt that this plot was necessary to progress their relationship. I enjoyed writing it and I hope you like reading it too :)

Sonny’s gonna love this! There’s an extra little bounce in your step as the thought runs through your mind.

Entering the squad room again feels so nostalgic. It’s where you met Sonny, and for that, it will always hold a special place in your heart.

Carefully clutched in your arms is the purpose for your visit – a bag of Tupperware housing a steaming slice of Mama Carisi's lasagna. What's special about this particular batch however, is that you made it.

After Sonny phoned you earlier in the day saying he wouldn't make it home for dinner, you called up Mrs. Carisi and she gladly dictated her infamous lasagna recipe to you. You thought making one of his favorites, complete with delivery, would be the perfect surprise!

Marching towards Sonny’s desk, you greet all the familiar faces. Despite not having seen them in a year, Sonny’s incessant stories made you feel as though you had been around every day since you left.

“Hi, Fin! Hey, Amanda! How’s Jesse?” you rhyme, cheerfully. But instead of having your friendly addresses returned, you’re met with puzzled looks on confused faces.

Then you see Olivia. She emerges from her office to lean against the doorframe, surveying the bullpen and your arrival.

“Uhh…nice to see you…?” stammers Rollins from where she sits at her desk. But you can tell from her inflection that she doesn’t understand what’s going on.

Your voice grows meek. “Is Sonny here? I…brought him supper.” You turn to glance at each and every face that surrounds you, yet all turn up with blank stares.

The world starts to spin. Your throat tightens. Your stomach churns. You feel the thud of your pulse hammering in your ears.

Does no one know? Did he not tell them that we’re together? It’ll be a year in November!

Rollins’ voice slices through the silence. “We figured Carisi was dating someone but we just didn’t know who. It makes sense that it’s you though since you seemed to hit it off pretty well.”

You can barely make out Fin's retort through the ringing in your ears, but the words I told you so and, pay up, Amanda come across loud and clear.

Your body draws itself close in attempts to make yourself small. You wish you were anywhere but here. This revelation feels like a huge slap – except your face doesn’t sting, your heart does.

Why wouldn’t he tell them? You question yourself. Why? Why? Why?!

Lieutenant Benson repeats her words, dragging you back to reality. “He's in an interview right now,” she gestures to the two-way mirror behind her, “but I can get him for you if you’d like.”

Your brow furrows. The Lieutenant’s voice is laced with…with…pity! While you whole-heartedly respect her, you hate being pitied.

“No…No,” you say firmly. Everything is a daze. Anger bubbles up inside you.

You toss the lasagna on Sonny’s desk a little too forcefully, mumbling out a good to see everyone again, before turning on your heels to leave.

It’s surprising that you’re able to make it to the subway since your vision is blurred by tears. You try your hardest not to let them fall, dabbing the corner of your eye with your pinky to soak them up. It feels as though you are on autopilot, somehow getting off at the right stop and making your way back home – well, Sonny’s apartment, you suppose.

You enter, lock the door and fly past the kitchen. The supper dishes sit abandoned in the sink, cheese hardening on the casserole. But none of this even crosses your mind as you head straight for your bed.

The tears now flow freely, doubt preying on your mind like a raven plucking at roadkill.

All this time and not even one mention of me?  Sonny had been so excited to introduce me to his family…All the ‘I love yous’. Is it because he’s afraid of moving too fast?

Time slips away while you drown in your thoughts and so, when Sonny’s keys jingle in the door, it causes you to startle. That sound once filled you with excitement and would lead you to greet him with a giant hug and sloppy kiss. Tonight though, you have no will to move. Your body feels heavy, yet hollow and you shrink under the covers, pulling your knees to your chest.

You hear a clunking noise belonging to Sonny setting down his things and locking away his gun. Your heart rate picks up. You wish he would just leave you alone, but of course you know that won’t happen.

Your intuition is confirmed by the shuffle of feet crossing the apartment, drawing near to the bedroom door. The nob twists and the door creaks open. Refusing to look, you shut your eyes tight, awaiting the inevitable.

"Doll?" the familiar voice says. A few seconds pass before you feel the foot of the bed dip. Sonny softly speaks your name.

This time you cautiously look over. Your eyes are puffy and your face is tear streaked. You shift in place, sitting up ever so slightly to face him.

Sonny's features are wrought with distress. He hates seeing you like this. "Don't cry, please," he begs.

But instead, you snap. "Don't cry?! Why? Is it normal for someone's boyfriend to keep their relationship a secret for almost a year?" Sonny opens his mouth to speak but you talk over him, emotion pouring out. "You spend most of your life with these people; people who are so important to you, yet don't even think to mention the person you 'love'." Immediately you know that the air quotes are a low blow. Sonny winces. "What, keep me a secret in case things don't work out? Or…or maybe you just enjoy living a double life!"

"No!" Sonny protests, his voice tainted with frustration. "That's not it at all!"

"Then what is it, Sonny?!" Your anger is at full peak. "I told you about my insecurities. I told you that I've been led on before and just how much it hurt me. If what we are is just some trial period, I need to know. I...I can't waste time loving someone if they don't love me back. I just can't. Not again." Defeated, you let the tears flow, unable to control them.

"Doll," he urges. "I love you. I truly ‘n honestly do. More than anythin’ in this world! I meant everythin’ I said to you before. You're the one person who I can be myself around ‘n who loves me for everythin’ I am. You're the most important person in my life ‘n it's for that very reason why I haven't told people at work about you!" Your face crinkles in confusion. "We see some pretty fucked up cases." His language shocks you. “Yates, for example. Psychopath. We're their enemies, ‘n because they're so…so...so fucked up in the head," he raises his voice, "they'll stop at nothin’ sometimes. Hell, even Lieu got kidnapped ‘n tortured a few years ago! One little vulnerability,” Sonny snaps his fingers, “’n they've got their in. A way to manipulate ‘n get revenge. And I can't have you be my collateral." Desperation rinses away the anger in his voice as he sits there on the edge of the bed before you.

You stare in shock as he exposes his greatest vulnerability. His blue eyes are pleading, needing you to understand. "If there's no trace of you at work, then no one can ever harm you. No one can ever take you away from me. Please understand that."

This is all so sudden and confusing and, despite his rationalizing, it irritates you. “I don't want to be protected from you, Sonny!” you argue. “I know your job has risks. You've accepted them and by being with you, so have I. Liv and Amanda and Fin are all so important to you, so why keep me from them? I can't live like that. What if, God forbid, something did happen to you?” your voice strains. “How would I know? Second- or third-hand news from one of the other Carisis? How do you think that makes me feel? Maybe I am insecure about whether or not I deserve love, but I've gone all-in when it comes to loving you. I need to know you've done the same."

Sonny groans in frustration. "I have! A long time ago ‘n I've neva looked back. I wanna share all the good things with the squad ‘n tell them how in love I am. I wanna tell ‘em everythin’ about you. I want your picture on my desk, on my phone, in my wallet. But I'm scared. Hidin’ you has been the only way I can make sure I don't lose you. But...but if you want...if you're okay with the risk...Okay.” Sonny exhales. “I don't wanna push you away. I need you more than you could ever know.”

His words go straight to your heart. “I don't want to fight, Sonny,” you concede. “I just felt so...humiliated when I walked in there today and no one knew why. Like I was some cheap, secret fling."

Sonny hangs his head, voice growing soft. “I'm sorry. I shoulda told you about them not knowing. I shoulda told you why. I just didn't think. Please,” he looks at you with those big blue eyes, “I don't wanna fight either. Will you be able to forgive me? Is this somethin’ we can overcome?” You can see how scared he is. His jaw flexes and he swallows nervously. Sonny truly is worried that he’s created a rift between you that's too great to mend.

But you nod out a ‘yes’ because you love him and he loves you. His intentions were in the right place even if he didn't think about how it could affect you. The blame however, is neither all his to own. You instantly jumped to conclusions and assumed the worst. It’s a trait you've always hated yourself for, having gotten the best of you too many times in the past.

“I’m sorry too,” you admit, trying to convey your sincerity.

Offering you a gentle smile, Sonny inches closer on the bed, opening his arms. You shift forward and he wraps you in a warm embrace. This is where you belong.

Fresh tears escape your eyes and dampen Sonny's shirt. He tilts back to look at you, blue eyes soft and loving. You reach up, caressing the side of his face and he leans into your touch. Slowly Sonny bends his head and kisses you, lips offering silent apologies. And in your kiss is forgiveness.

When you part, a sniffle escapes you. "I've gotta go and wash those dishes, otherwise the cheese will never come off."

Sonny lets out a lighthearted laugh. "C'mon, doll. I'll help you." He then stands, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

The evening passes with the sound of clinking dishes and sloshing water filling the tiny kitchen as the two of you work in tandem to wash away what remains of the stuck-on cheese.

---

Feedback is loved! And let me know if you wanna be tagged :-)

Part 10 here

[megan-is-mia]

Number 7 on the monster prompt for rook please NSFW if possible, female reader

7. “You scream and cry over me but how do you think I feel?" (Yandere! Rook Hunt x Fem! Reader) (WARNING NSFW AND NON-CON AHEAD) “So what’s your type Hunt?” (Y/n) said rather suddenly making Rook’s head shoot up with a bemused expression spreading on his face. Epel and Vil who both had the misfortune of also being present let out grunts and sighs respectively. “What was that Mademoiselle Aeon?” Rook said tilting his head to the side. He hadn’t expected this sort of question out of the second-year girl but that did not mean he was not intrigued by it and her by extension. “You heard me, what’s your type? You like em tall, short? Dark and dusky or pale and fair?” (Y/n) rattled off the list of traits on her fingers. “Everyone has a type Hunt, tell me what’s your?” the girl reiterated smoothly. “I am a fan of all beauty, it’d be a damn shame to discriminate after all” Rook said knowing that his answer would not satisfy the girl and reveling in the knowledge that he was irritating her. “Fine, okay. Personality then! You must have a personality preference! I’m gonna hedge my bets on someone smart but not as smart as you right?” (Y/n) said stoutly refusing to let her annoyance be shown. “You’re wasting your time (Y/n) he isn’t goin to give you a straight a—“ Vil began before being drowned out by a burst of laughter from Rook. The dorm head merely leaned back and resumed reading the cosmetic manual he’d be perusing before. “You’re right on the money Mademoiselle Aeon. I do like them a little less clever than myself, a hunter cannot be outwitted by his prey now can he” Rook said once he had control of himself after laughing so hard. “Ah-hah! I knew it! I knew you liked the clever type! Ohhh Cotton is gonna own me 30 gems for this!” (Y/n) said with a childish grin. “The silly bunny said your type was probably the baby-faced but dirty-mouth type” she went on which caused Epel to choke on his drink nearby. “I do appreciate those too, but my heart cannot resist a wily mind. What can I say? I am but a mortal man” Rook said tilting his head to the side. “Someone with a beautiful mind and a beautiful physique is my dream partner” he added sending a loaded look (Y/n)’s way which she missed as her eyes were directed on Epel. “Well I’m off to bed” (Y/n) declared swinging her legs off the couch she’d been lounging on and preparing to stand when Epel suddenly put his cup down to wrap his arms around her waist. “Do you have to go already?” Epel asked older girl pressing his face into her side. He’d grown attached to her, looking up to her as a big sister figure of sorts. More importantly he didn’t want to be left alone with Rook and Vil who’d get ‘ideas’ when the first-year lingered to long. “I gotta get some sleep, I volunteered to be the student first aid giver at the kendo club’s match tomorrow morning” (Y/n) said affectionately as she ruffled Epel’s hair and gently detangle herself from his arms. Going up the stairs to her room, the girl did not bother locking the door as she undressed and slipped on pajamas to sleep. Turning off the lights and pulling up the covers she was soon asleep. Only to awaken a few hours to the sensation of someone on top of her and her arms bound above her head. “Welcome back to the waking world Mademoiselle Aeon~” Rook chirped from his position atop her as he pulled down the covers of the bed and gazed at her barely covered form in her nightwear. Almost immediately (Y/n) opened her mouth to scream for help when Rook stuffed one of his gloves into her mouth and gave her a chiding look with his finger wagging at her. “Oh we’ll have none of that, we wouldn’t want to wake Vil from his beauty sleep now would we?” Rook said gently tapping (Y/n)’s lips with his still gloved hand. “I need you to stay quiet if this is to remain a pleasant experience for both of us” he added letting his hand drift down to squeeze her throat lightly before releasing its grip and wandering down to her bosom. “You look oh so cute in this pajamas but I’m more curious how cute you’ll look without them” Rook cooed pulling the wide neckline of (Y/n)’s pjs down and under her boobs for his easy access. (Y/n)’s nipples stiffened in the chilled air and she experienced a full body shiver. “It’s almost a shame you hide such magnificent breasts under an ill-fitting uniform every day” Rook said with a sigh cupping a boob in each hand and massaging them lightly. The difference between the cool leather on one side and warm skin on the other made (Y/n) lurch violently as tears formed in her eyes as she tried to scream through the impromptu gag that was the leather glove in her mouth. “You scream and cry over me but how do you think I feel? How I’ve pined for you ever since you became a member of this dorm?” Rook said pinching both of (Y/n)’s nipples harshly making her flail in pain until he released his grip. “How I’ve tried to catch your eye only for you to be oblivious or worse mistake my interest in you for friendly banter?” he went on dipping his head down to suck feverishly at one peak and then the other to turn them red and puffy. “Tonight for a moment... I hoped. When you asked me those silly questions I thought that was your way of confessing your feelings back” Rook said staring up at (Y/n) with lusty eyes. “But it seems I was mistaken, you only have eyes for Epel as it were” he added with a sigh moving down and taking both the sheets and (Y/n)’s pajama bottoms with him. He let out an approving hum at the sight of how soaked his darling already was from his ministrations. “I respect your taste, but you could have done better. You could have had me after all” Rook proclaimed as he began to strip down, tossing his clothes around the room willy-nilly in his excitement. “You’re so clever after all, how could you have missed out what I was offering you (Y/n)?” the blonde went on before sticking his fingers in his mouth to lube them up before slipping them one by one into (Y/n)’s exposed cunt. (Y/n)’s toes curled in response to Rook’s probing fingers as they mercilessly pressed her sweet spot. “But I suppose you were still not smart enough to realize what could have been. That’s alright though, I’ll just have to show you what you’re missing, what you could have” Rook crooned pulling his fingers free of (Y/n)’s pussy to coat his cock in her fluids and his remaining salvia. “I almost forgot to ask, are you by chance a virgin?” Rook questioned as he positioned himself right at (Y/n)’s entrance. The averted eyes and lack of a clear nod or shake game him his answer as he slowly plunged in. Rook lowered his head to his darling’s neck planting kisses and lovebites to distract her from the pain of loosing her maidenhood. (Y/n) kept her eyes squeezed shut trying to block out the experience both of having her virginity stolen and Rook’s efforts to comfort her through the pain. The glove in her mouth was removed as Rook pressed his lips against hers, his tongue teasing her own gently. “That’s it almost there, just hold on a little longer love” Rook cooed softly as he fully sank into (Y/n)’s heat. He was still for a moment to allow her muscles to grow accustomed to his presence, then he slowly shifted into action using his years of experience to make it more pleasurable. One hand slipped down to toy with (Y/n)’s clit to help her relax more while the other braced against the headboard to hold one of the girl’s captive hands. Rook played (Y/n)’s body like an instrument. Able to pull out all kinds of cute little gasps, moans, and whines from her unwilling lips. He was also determined to make her cum before he himself lost it in her inviting depths. Picking up speed he pounded her into the mattress, giving no heed to the possibility that their dormmates might hear the sound of the headboard banging against the wall from the force of their lovemaking. (Y/n) was starting to see stars as her vision began to blur and the ecstasy of orgasm overtook her. She was too dazed to realize that Rook has cum in her not long after until he’s pulled out and jizz dripped out of her bloated cunt. She was also too weak to resist the kiss he forced on her as he undid her restraints and yanked the pj top she was still wearing off onto the floor. “I think you can see my point now (Y/n). No man will be able to satisfy you like I can” Rook murmured as he made himself comfortable beside (Y/n) and wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her close. “Tomorrow we can make it all official to the rest of the dorm that we’re dating alright?” he added kissing her nose and nuzzling his face against her chest as he drifted off. (Y/n) stared out the window at the moon unable, unwilling to accept the terrible fate she’d been dealt... THE END

[earlysunsetsoverambrose]

Fool For You (2/4)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader 

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Part 2 of a request for @mynameisliterallycash!

When Lester said he was getting dog food, you figured he meant one or two small bags. Instead, you watched as he hefted two huge bulk bags of food over his shoulder. They each had to weigh around fifty pounds and he carried them like they were nothing. Your eyes widened as your jaw dropped, awestruck by the casual display of muscle.

Dazed still, you trailed after him to the checkout. While he made idle chatter with the clerk, he was completely unaware you were wrapped up in an entirely different check out of your own. Heat rose to your cheeks, allured by Lester’s physical strength as daydreams of him literally sweeping you off your feet flooded your thoughts. He turned around, snapping you back to reality as you tried to wipe the dopey expression off your face.

“Alright then, ya ready to –” Lester stopped short, sending you a puzzled look, “Hey are ya okay?”

“What? Of course, I am. Why are you asking?” you responded rapidly, embarrassed you’d been caught staring a third time.

“Ya sure? Ya look a little red. Ya ain’t gettin’ sick or nothin’, are ya?” Lester said concerned. He reached out his free hand and pressed its back against your forehead, “Don’t feel like ya got a fever.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” you stuttered, his hand against your head sending static through your brain as you tried to come up with an excuse, “It’s just from the cold air today, I think.”  

“Okay, if ya say so.” Lester shrugged as he gestured for you to follow him out the door. You cleared your throat, thankful for the gust of wind that cooled the fire trapped in your face.  

“You sure you don’t need help with those?” you asked.  

“These? Nah, they ain’t so bad,” Lester responded, “You oughta see some of the bucks I gotta haul ‘round. Damn things weigh a ton! Nearly threw out my back once tryin’ to throw one on the truck.”

“Never knew you were a regular strongman. I guess it never occurred to me the deer can’t carry their own dead weight.” You said with growing admiration.

“That’s what I’m there for!” Lester said gleefully as he tossed the bags in the back. He closed the bed and rested against the truck as he crossed his arms.

“Well, thanks for taking me along for the ride, anyway.” You said, leaning next to him.

“Sure thing! I love bringin’ ya ‘long like this,” Lester told you, affectionately nudging you with his elbow, “I’ll tell ya, havin’ someone to talk to wouldn’t hurt during my day job neither. Might go a long way makin’ some of the time go by. Gets a little too quiet drivin’ ‘round all day all by myself.”

“Well, would you mind if I tagged along once in a while?” you proposed, looking up at him.

“Ya’d do that? I mean, ya’d really want to?” Lester asked excitedly, “It can get kinda gnarly.”

“Sure. Why not? Can’t be any gnarlier than Bo on a bad day. It’s got to be better than sitting around getting old in Ambrose.” You said, smiling back at him.

“Ya really don’t have to, if ya don’t want.” He said, giving you the option changing your mind.

“I know I don’t, but I would really like to go with you. That is, if you don’t mind.” You could practically see him vibrating with joy.

“Mind? Course I don’t mind! We’re gonna have so much fun together, I promise! Thanks, Y/N! You’re the best!” he exclaimed, elated. He jumped up from the truck and wrapped you up in a tight hug, swinging you back and forth. You couldn’t contain you laughter, even if you couldn’t breathe with the way he was squeezing you.

Lester set you back down, leaving you with only a ghost of the feeling of his warm embrace. You lingered in place trying to memorize the sensation while he went ahead to open the passenger door for you without a second thought. Once you were seated, he closed the door and got back in beside you. He threw you a carefree smile as you took off once again.

The two of you made lighthearted conversation on the way back to Lester’s cabin. You started going back and forth about the art of catching various animals that try to make a home in your garbage. Well, it was mostly Lester walking you through the process, breaking it down by species. You listened to how he had basically mastered the art of pest wrangling without killing them. Your heart swelled hearing how insistent he was that killing them wasn’t necessary. He never wanted to hurt anyone or anything if he could help it.

You were just about to ask him a question, when he abruptly hit the brakes. You both lurched forward before falling back into your seats. You glanced around, collecting yourself from the sudden stop.

“Is everything okay? Why’d you stop?” He didn’t answer, as he began to carefully scan your surroundings, “What are you looking for? Lester?”  

“There she is!” Lester shouted, pressing his face up against his window, totally distracted from your questions. He smiled back at you over his shoulder, “Follow me!” He threw his door open without another word and jumped out, anxiously waiting for you to join him.

“Follow you where? Wait for me!” you called after him. You swiftly slid out of the car and onto the ground, clueless as to why you stopped here of all places. Lester darted ahead, chasing something you couldn’t see. You did your best to follow close, but he ducked down into the grass. You jogged to where he disappeared to find him on his knees, reveling in an assault of kisses from a delighted stray dog. Surprise took over your features, thrilled to be meeting a new friend.

“I missed ya too, girl!” Lester gasped through his uncontrollable laughter, echoing through the woods, “Ya been good a doggy? I bet ya have! Hope ya ain’t been too lonely out here!”

“Who’s this, Lester?” you asked in gentle voice, immediately enamored with the dog before you. She was about Jonesy’s size, with a blonde shaggy coat. She looked young with energy and enthusiasm that gave Lester a run for his money.

“Oh, Y/N! I’d like ya to meet Buttercup!” Lester said as he separated himself from the dog’s abundance of affection, “Buttercup, this is my friend Y/N!”

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Buttercup.” You said as you got down to offer your hand for a sniff. Buttercup took a few whiffs before deciding you were in fact a friend. Her tail wagged back and forth as she allowed you to pet her as well, “She’s so cute, Lester!”

“I know! Ain’t she the sweetest?” Lester concurred, “I found her snoozin’ in a patch of buttercups, so that’s what I started callin’ her!”

“How long has she been here?” you asked, scratching Buttercup behind the ears as she jumped up to rest her front paws on Lester’s shoulders, licking his face once more.

“A while now, I see a few strays runnin’ ‘round while I’m workin’. So, I try and visit with ‘em, if I can. But I left some bowls to fill when I’m on my route, case they get hungry.” Lester managed to gesture to an empty bowl a few feet away from you despite being smothered by more kisses. That explained the industrial sized bags of food. “Speaking of which – you hungry, Buttercup?” she barked in response.

Lester grabbed the bowl and jogged back to the truck to fill it with Buttercup in tow. Your eyes followed after him, the dopey look returning to your face. He conversed with Buttercup like an old friend as he scooped out her food. He was so attentive and kind, listening to her response and matching her excitement. They made their way back to you, thick as thieves. Lester set the bowl down when he made it back next to you, petting Buttercup while she dug into her meal, “Now, don’t eat so fast ya get sick, there’s plenty where that came from. Ole Lester’s got ya covered.”

You let out a deep sigh, endeared by the scene before you. Lester treated every person and creature with such consideration and care; and he never asked for anything in return. He had so much love in his heart and he was willing to share it with anyone who wanted it. With as much as he gives to everyone else, you wondered if anyone had ever told him how much they care about him or appreciate his presence in their life. He deserved to have someone who could give him back all the love he put into the world.

You wanted to be the one. You would finally treat him right. He all but stole your heart and he deserved to hear it from you, even if he might not feel the same. The consequences suddenly didn’t seem to matter so much in this moment. You wanted him to know how important he really was to you, because everyone deserves to know they are loved. You needed to tell him now while you were brave enough.

“Lester, there’s something I need to tell you.” You started, heartbeat racing in your ears, drowning out all the doubt and second thoughts. He perked up, listening close.

“Ya can tell me anythin’, Y/N. Ya know that.” Lester said softly, that warm smile pulling at your heartstrings again.

“Lester…I lo–” a deafening crack of thunder cut you off. With that, Buttercup hightailed it back into hiding. You gasped as you stood, starting after her, worried she may get lost or hurt in the impending storm. You moved to run after her, “Oh no, Buttercup, wait!”

“Hold up, Y/N! Ya can’t catch her, believe me, I tried.” Lester called to stop you, “I tried gettin’ her in the truck a few times to go to a shelter, but she don’t like it. If she ain’t ready to go, we can’t make her. She’ll come ‘round when she’s ready.”

“But we can’t just leave her out here.” You said, searching the area for any sign of her.

“Don’t worry ‘bout her too much, she’s a survivor.” Lester said, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “’Sides she’s got a little hideout not far from here. I found her there a couple times and left a few blankets after makin’ sure it wouldn’t cave in on her. It’ll keep her nice and dry ‘til this blows over. Alright? She’ll be safe, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, almost tearing up at the thought of her shivering somewhere all by herself.

“Sure as my name is Lester Sinclair. We can even come check on her tomorrow, if ya like.” Lester offered, “But we really oughta get outta here ‘fore the rain starts.”

“Okay,” you said hesitantly, “Promise we can check on her?”

“Yes ma’am, I swear. Cross my heart.” Lester assured you, drawing an X over his chest.

You both started toward the truck once more. You silently cursed the weather for interrupting your confession. The moment had passed and the doubts had returned to their work. Despite this, the affection swelling in your chest still pulled you to act on some part of it.

Without thinking too hard for once, you took Lester’s hand in yours. He glanced down to your linked hands and then back at you.

“Are ya scared of thunder storms?” He asked curiously.

“No. Why?” You responded, confused where he got that idea.

“Ya just look a little nervous is all. Thought ya might not like thunder or somethin’.” Lester explained, “I know storms used to scare the hell outta me when I was a kid. Never used to like ‘em one bit, ‘specially if I was by myself.”

“No, I kind of like storms.” You told him.

“Oh, then are your hands cold or somethin’?” Lester asked, gesturing with your connected hands, trying to understand the reason for the spontaneous handholding.

“Uh, well, not exac–”

“Cause ya look a little rosy again. Just makin’ sure ya ain’t gettin’ frostbite or nothin’.” He interjected.

“No, I’m okay.” You told him with your hundredth sigh of the day.

“Well, just in case. Take this.” He said as he released your hand and took off his hat to pull it over your eyes with a chuckle. He readjusted it on your head, revealing the way he was beaming at you. You rarely got to see him without his trusty hat. Even with his hair being a little sweaty and sticking every which way, it was still ridiculously tempting to run your fingers through. The energy radiating from him was so wholesome and pure. Looking at him, you could swear the clouds lifted and the sun was shining all of a sudden. He squeezed your cheeks in his hands, with a laugh, “There, now ain’t that better! Nice and toasty.”

“T-thanks, Les.” You stuttered, reaching up to feel the soft fabric of his hat, the heat in your cheeks only growing more intense under his hold on your face.

 “My pleasure! I gotta say ya look mighty cute right now. Helluva lot better than I ever looked.” He told you, releasing your face and patting you on the back, “Now, let’s make like Buttercup and get to shelter!”

You made it back to the truck right before the heavy rain started pouring down. Lester took off down the road again, toward his cabin. You watched through the window as the storm raged on outside, matching the storm in your mind. The time had felt so right to tell Lester everything, but now you weren’t sure. What you were sure of, however, is that you needed to tell him soon. You thought you might actually burst if you didn’t. You couldn’t keep living like this.      

[ssa-jennifer-prentiss]

Safe Here With You

back with more jemily! i decided to rewrite the end of 200 because jj going to a bar after being kidnapped was just not it. i hope you like it!

pairing: jj/emily

words: 2936

tw: blood, guns, death, ptsd

read on ao3

JJ stood with her hands suspended above her head in the middle of the cold, dark room she had been in for over 24 hours now. Matt had just given up his security codes, so she figured she didn’t have long now. They heard shots ring out from outside the room. Hastings ran out to investigate, leaving JJ, Matt, Askari, and his helper alone.

Askari took care of his assistant first, slitting his throat without a second thought. He made his way over in front of Cruse. “Stop!” JJ yelled despite knowing she couldn’t stop what was about to happen. Askari stabbed Matt in the abdomen. He removed his knife and lowered him to the ground. JJ was horrified by the amount of blood she watched pool around her friend’s body.

She heard footsteps come up behind her, now it was her turn. She felt Askari’s breath as he closed in. Before he managed to raise the knife to her neck, two shots rang out. She screamed slightly as she watched her captor drop to the ground.

She felt two familiar hands press against her side. It was Emily. Real Emily. Her Emily, here to save her. “Emily,” she said, voice wavering slightly. Emily knelt down to grab the keys to the handcuffs off Askari. “I knew they’d call you. I knew it.” And she did know. The only thing that kept her going was the certainty that Emily would find her. Emily would always come through for her.

“Shh,” Emily whispered, unlocking the handcuffs from JJ’s wrists. JJ’s arm wrapped around her side, the pain from the burn still present. Emily placed a hand on her back, wanting nothing more than to hold her, but knowing she couldn’t in the moment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” JJ insisted. “Help Matt, please.” Reluctantly, Emily made her way over to where Hotch was crouched by Cruse.

“Hastings is headed to the roof,” Matt said while struggling to breathe. “You have to stop him.”

“Comms aren’t working down here. He’s lost a lot of blood. How’s JJ?” Hotch asked.

“She’s standing but that’s-,” Emily turned around to check on her friend. “Where the hell did she go?”

“She went to get Hastings.”

“It’s personal for her,” Matt muttered.

“Go help her. I’ve got him.” With that Emily took off looking for JJ.

JJ ran after Hastings as fast as her tired, dehydrated body would allow her to. He was making his way to the roof, JJ didn’t trail too far behind. He made it to the final ladder that led to the top. JJ rounded the corner behind him, firing a few shots in his direction. Hastings dropped down off the ladder and fired back.

After a few more shots JJ had emptied her gun. Frustrated, she tossed it on the ground and sighed with relief at the sight of Emily running up behind her. Emily pushed JJ behind her, firing a few shots of her own in Hastings’ direction. It only took a few more shots before Hastings emptied his own gun. He returned to climbing to the roof. Emily and JJ followed suit.

Emily made it to the top first. She attacked Hastings from behind. JJ was right on her heels, going for Hastings as soon as he knocked Emily down. As they fought they moved closer and closer to the edge of the roof. Emily stood just in time as Hastings and JJ rolled over the edge of the building. She managed to catch JJ’s arm as Hastings fell to his death.

“I got you,” Emily breathed, hanging on to JJ with every bit of strength she had. Simultaneously, the two looked over to see Hastings' lifeless body lying flat on the concrete beneath them. Emily was painfully aware of the reality she would be facing if she had been even a second longer.

JJ turned her head, eyes filled with fear locking on Emily’s. Emily pulled JJ back over the edge of the building and into her arms. She wasn’t sure how much longer JJ could stay on her feet, so she lowered them to the ground. JJ collapsed against Emily’s chest, trying to focus on slowing her heart rate. She had a grip on Emily like she was in the middle of the ocean and Emily was the only thing keeping her from drowning.

They sat in silence for a while as Emily rubbed comforting circles on JJ’s back. JJ’s head was spinning with the events of the last day or so. She wasn’t entirely sure how long she had been locked in that room, but she knew those hours would stay with her forever.

JJ lifted her head from where she had it tucked against Emily’s neck so she could look her in the eye. “You came for me,” her voice was barely above a whisper. “You came the whole way from London to rescue me.” Her eyes filled with tears as she stared at the brunette agent in front of her.

“Did you ever doubt that I would?”

“No,” a few tears slipped out. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against Emily’s. “I knew you would come. I just wasn’t sure I would make it to the time you found me.”

“But you did Jayje, you made it. You held on.”

“Because of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you,” she hadn’t planned on telling Emily about what she thought she saw, but she decided it was something she should know. “I was lying on the cold floor and I thought they had just shot Matt. I didn’t think I could keep going. I thought I had to give in, but if I did then they would have killed me.” She took a deep breath and continued, “I hallucinated you. You found me. You were right in front of me. I heard your voice and I felt your hand. It was so real.”

“JJ…” JJ shook her head and looked back at Emily.

“You kept me going Em. You’re the reason I didn’t give in. I knew you would find me. I didn’t know how long it would be, but I knew in my heart that you would.”

“Always, sweetheart. I will always be here,” she smiled down at the blonde. “Now, can we please get you down there and checked out by a medic?” JJ nodded. Emily stood, offering the younger agent a hand. JJ threw her arm over Emily’s shoulders. Emily wrapped one arm around JJ’s waist and her other hand held JJ’s that was hanging off her shoulder.

They made their way to the ground floor where the team stood waiting for them. JJ made her way around, giving each of her friends a hug. She then walked out to the ambulance where Matt was being tended to so she could thank him. Emily stood by, waiting for her so she could make sure JJ actually allowed one of the medics to look at her.

“You know I can take care of myself, right Em? I’m a big girl.”

“I know. But, I also know that you like to say you’re fine when you’re not. Besides, if you really think I’m going to leave your side right now, you’re crazy,” JJ smiled at her before turning to walk toward the medic waiting near the other ambulance.

The medic looked JJ over. She was very dehydrated, covered in bruises, and her burn mark needed immediate attention. He cleaned up her wound, but recommended a hospital visit for further care overall. Emily thanked him for his help however, JJ was not happy.

“Emily I do not need to go to the hospital. I’m fine!”

“If the medical professional says you need to go then you need to go! You spent over 24 hours hanging from your wrists. You’re going!” Emily put her hand on JJ’s arm and pulled her over to the SUVs.

It was a rather short ride to the hospital. JJ was taken back almost immediately, Emily never leaving her side. The doctor checked her shoulders, making sure nothing appeared to be torn. They hooked her up to an IV of fluids due to her level of dehydration. She didn’t have to stay long, just until she was able to get some fluids in her.

“See Jay, aren’t you glad we came now?” JJ glared at Emily.

“No,” she pouted. “I can drink water on my own. I don’t need this.”

“This hydrates you much faster. And besides, you’ve got the best company,” she grinned widely at her friend. Most of the time was spent with Emily telling stories about London to try to distract JJ from the thoughts she knew would creep up on her when it was silent. It wasn’t long before JJ was discharged. They walked out to the waiting room where Spencer and Morgan were waiting to ensure everything was fine with JJ before heading home.

Emily stood watching her friend carefully. JJ hadn’t spoken since they first arrived at the hospital. It had only been a few hours since she barely caught JJ from tumbling off of that building. Only a few hours since JJ’s constant torture ceased. Emily had a feeling where JJ’s head was, but she knew if she pushed she would just shut down.

After spending years working alongside the best profilers, JJ knew how to hide her feelings, how to convince everyone she was okay. Emily though? Emily was different. There wasn’t a single thing she could hide from her. She could feel Emily’s eyes on her as she stood beside her coworkers attempting to be present in the moment.

The last 48 hours have been a blur. She had spent the last few hours in the hospital, now she stood alongside her friends as they were deep in conversation. JJ though, she was deep inside her head, thoughts spiraling too fast for her to handle. JJ hadn’t been able to process anything that had happened. She wanted to go home, shower, and give in to the overwhelming exhaustion she felt.

“Well guys,” she started before she could talk herself into staying even longer, “I think I’m going to head home.” She stepped out into the chilly night air, checking her surroundings carefully before turning to walk towards the car.

“Jen!” She turned to see Emily step out of the door behind her. “Do you maybe want to come back to the hotel with me? I’m not sure alone is the best place to be right now,” she said with a soft smile.

“I don’t know Em. I don’t want to intrude,” she looked down at her feet. She wanted nothing more than to be near Emily, the person who could always make her feel better, feel loved, feel safe. But, JJ never wanted to feel like a burden to her.

“You’re not intruding if I’m asking. Please Jay?” She took a step closer and JJ’s eyes met hers. She simply nodded and slipped her arm through Emily’s. They walked in a heavy silence to Emily’s vehicle. Emily opened the passenger’s side door for JJ to slide in before turning to climb in her side.

JJ sat quietly watching as Emily pulled out of the parking lot and into the street. She still felt like none of this was real, like she was still in that cold room in the middle of another hallucination. Before she could think twice she reached out and grabbed Emily’s hand that was resting on the center console. She needed that reassurance that this was real, that she was safe. She smiled softly to herself when Emily intertwined their fingers and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

The drive to the hotel wasn’t long and Emily pulled into a space at the front of the building. JJ made her way around the car to meet Emily, immediately slipping her hand back into hers. They rode the elevator to the top floor and made their way down to Emily’s room. Emily opened the door and allowed JJ to slip past her. The room was undisturbed besides the suitcase Emily clearly threw across the room in a hurry.

“I think I’m going to take a quick shower,” JJ whispered softly. Emily just nodded in response as JJ walked quickly into the bathroom. She didn’t want to let JJ out of her sight, but she thought feeling clean may help her feel a little better.

Emily made her way to her suitcase and pulled out two pairs of pajamas, being sure to pick out JJ’s favorite shirt of hers. Her brain had not quite caught up to the events of the day. Everything happened in a rush, but she vividly remembered almost losing JJ. Twice. Emily kept trying to remind herself that JJ was safe and alive. That was all that mattered. She changed as fast as she could, needing to see the blonde.

“Jayje?” She knocked gently on the bathroom door. “I brought you a change of clothes.” She waited for a response, but there wasn’t one. Her nerves escalated as the minutes passed. “JJ, are you alright? I’m gonna come in, okay?”

She pushed the door in and the scene in front of her broke her heart. JJ was sitting in the corner of the shower. She had her knees pulled up to her chest and was staring blankly in front of her where the shower was still running. She seemed to not even notice Emily had entered the room.

“Jen?” She opened the door to the shower and knelt down slowly so she didn’t scare JJ. “JJ, it’s Emily. Can you look at me?” JJ didn’t move, her eyes were still fixed on the running water as her body trembled slightly. “Jennifer,” Emily said with a little more force hoping to break through, “look at me please.”

“Em-Emily,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper and still not meeting Emily’s eye.

“Yeah baby, it’s just me. You’re safe, okay? It’s only Emily. Please look at me,” slowly JJ turned her head, tired blue eyes meeting concerned brown ones. Emily could see the fear reflected in her eyes, a drastic difference from the light and joy usually seen. “Can I help you?” JJ looked nervously at Emily. “Please Jayje, nobody is going to hurt you now.” JJ nodded as Emily reached up to turn the water off. “Is touch okay or is that too much?”

“It’s okay, just keep talking please. I need to know it’s you,” she whispered and Emily nodded in response. She helped JJ stand and her heart clenched when she saw the countless bruises covering JJ’s entire body. She wrapped one of the soft hotel towels around the blonde and helped her from the shower to sit on the toilet. Emily continued speaking softly to her. She kept reminding her where she was and who she was with.

JJ’s entire body was shaking as she tried to hold back tears. “I can do this by myself Em. It’s okay, really. You can go lay down” Emily crouched in front of JJ. She placed her hands on JJ’s legs, rubbing comforting circles on her thighs to try to give her something that would keep her in the present.

“I’m not leaving you Jen, just let me help you. It’s not a problem, I promise.”

“I don’t want to burden you. I’m not weak, I can handle it,” she whispered, a few of the tears she was holding back slipped out.

“I know you’re not Jayje,” Emily cupped JJ’s face, using her thumbs to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “You’ve been through hell, your body is tired. I’m here to help you. You are never a burden to me, okay?” JJ nodded. Emily began helping her to dry off, being careful around her wounds. She never stopped talking, always letting her know what was happening before she did it. She helped her slip the shirt over her head and then her pajama shorts on. Emily carefully brushed through JJ’s damp tangled hair.

Eventually, they made their way back into the room. Emily pulled back the covers and sat down against the headboard. JJ slipped into the opposite side.

“Come here,” Emily whispered, opening her arms for JJ. JJ slid over, throwing her legs over Emily’s before tucking her head under her chin. She could hear the brunette’s steady heartbeat where her head rested against the older woman’s chest. Emily ran her fingers through JJ’s hair and down her spine. JJ took her free hand in her own, sliding their fingers together and holding on tight. In that moment, JJ needed to have as much contact with Emily as she could. They sat like that for a while. Emily hummed softly to JJ as she held her tight.

“Are you ready to try to sleep?” the brunette asked softly after JJ yawned a third time. JJ nodded and moved away slightly so Emily could lay down. As soon as she did, JJ’s head found its place on her chest again. Their legs tangled together so their bodies were pushed flush against each other. Emily leaned down to press a soft kiss to the blonde’s forehead.

“I love you, Jen. You’re the strongest person I know,” she felt JJ press a light kiss to her collarbone.

“Thank you for saving me,” she heard JJ murmur against her chest. “I love you.” JJ fell asleep quickly, Emily not too long after. They knew the road to recovery would be long, but at least they had each other to take that journey with.

thanks for reading! please let me know what you think!

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 12: Hello Poodle

We were pretty miserable that night.

We camped out in the woods, a hundred yards from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obviously been using for parties. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast-food wrappers.

We'd taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but we didn't dare light a fire to dry our damp clothes. The Furies and Medusa had provided enough excitement for one day. We didn't want to attract anything else.

We decided to sleep in shifts. I volunteered to take first watch.

Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground. Percy took the spot beside me and was laying on my lap. Grover fluttered with his flying shoes to the lowest bough of a tree, put his back to the trunk, and stared at the night sky.

"Go ahead and sleep," I told them. "I'll wake you guys if there's trouble."

He nodded, but still didn't close his eyes. "It makes me sad."

"What does? The fact that you signed up for this stupid quest?" Percy hissed.

"No. This makes me sad." He pointed at all the garbage on the ground. "And the sky. You can't even see the stars. They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr."

"Oh, yeah. I guess you'd be an environmentalist."

He glared at him. "Only a human wouldn't be. Your species is clogging up the world so fast ... ah, never mind. It's useless to lecture a human. At the rate things are going, I'll never find Pan."

"Pam? Like the cooking spray?"

"Pan!" he cried indignantly. "P-A-N. The great god Pan! What do you think I want a searcher's license for?"

A strange breeze rustled through the clearing, temporarily overpowering the stink of trash and muck. It brought the smell of berries and wildflowers and clean rainwater, things that might've once been in these woods. Suddenly I was nostalgic for something I'd never known.

"Tell me about the search," I said.

Grover looked at me cautiously, as if he were afraid I was just making fun.

"The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago," he told me. "A sailor off the coast of Ephesos heard a mysterious voice crying out from the shore, 'Tell them that the great god Pan has died!' When humans heard the news, they believed it. They've been pillaging Pan's kingdom ever since. But for the satyrs, Pan was our lord and master. He protected us and the wild places of the earth. We refuse to believe that he died. In every generation, the bravest satyrs pledge their lives to finding Pan. They search the earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping to find where he is hidden, and wake him from his sleep."

"And you want to be a searcher."

"It's my life's dream," he said. "My father was a searcher. And my Uncle Ferdinand ... the statue you saw back there—"

"Oh, right, sorry."

Grover shook his head. "Uncle Ferdinand knew the risks. So did my dad. But I'll succeed. I'll be the first searcher to return alive."

"Hang on—the first?"

Grover took his reed pipes out of his pocket. "No searcher has ever come back. Once they set out, they disappear. They're never seen alive again."

"Not once in two thousand years?"

"No."

"And your dad? You have no idea what happened to him?"

"None."

"But you still want to go," Percy said, amazed. "I mean, you really think you'll be the one to find Pan?"

"I have to believe that, Percy. Every searcher does. It's the only thing that keeps us from despair when we look at what humans have done to the world. I have to believe Pan can still be awakened."

I stared at the orange haze of the sky and tried to understand how Grover could pursue a dream that seemed so hopeless. Then again, was I any better?

"How are we going to get into the Underworld?" I asked him. "I mean, what chance do we have against a god?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But back at Medusa's, when you were searching her office? Annabeth was telling me—"

"Oh, I forgot. Annabeth will have a plan all figured out."

"Don't be so hard on her, Percy. She's had a tough life, but she's a good person. After all, she forgave me...." His voice faltered.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Forgave you for what?"

Suddenly, Grover seemed very interested in playing notes on his pipes.

"Wait a minute," I said. "Your first keeper job was five years ago. Annabeth has been at camp five years. She wasn't... I mean, your first assignment that went wrong—"

"I can't talk about it," Grover said, and his quivering lower lip suggested he'd start crying if I pressed him. "But as I was saying, back at Medusa's, Annabeth and I agreed there's something strange going on with this quest. Something isn't what it seems."

"Well, duh. I'm getting blamed for stealing a thunderbolt that Hades took."

"That's not what I mean," Grover said. "The Fur—The Kindly Ones were sort of holding back. Like Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy... why did she wait so long to try to kill you? Then on the bus, they just weren't as aggressive as they could've been."

"They seemed plenty aggressive to me."

I shook my head. "They were screeching at us: 'Where is it? Where?'"

"Asking about me," he said.

"Maybe if you haven't steered, we could've found out."

"Maybe ... but Annabeth and I, we both got the feeling they weren't asking about a person. They said 'Where is it?' They seemed to be asking about an object."

"That doesn't make sense."

"I know. But if we've misunderstood something about this quest, and we only have nine days to find the master bolt...." He looked at us like he was hoping for answers, but neither of us had have any.

"Maybe... Had--- the big guy isn't actually that bad."

"I haven't been straight with you," Percy told Grover. "I don't care about the master bolt. I agreed to go to the Underworld so I could bring back Y/N's parents and my mother."

Grover blew a soft note on his pipes. "I know that, Percy. But are you sure that's the only reason?"

"I'm not doing it to help my father. He doesn't care about me. I don't care about him."

Grover gazed down from his tree branch. "Look, Percy, I'm not as smart as Annabeth and Y/N. I'm not as brave as you and Y/N. But I'm pretty good at reading emotions. You're glad your dad is alive. You feel good that he's claimed you, and part of you wants to make him proud. That's why you mailed Medusa's head to Olympus. You wanted him to notice what you'd done."

"Yeah? Well maybe satyr emotions work differently than human emotions. Because you're wrong. I don't care what he thinks."

Grover pulled his feet up onto the branch. "Okay, Percy. Whatever."

"Besides, I haven't done anything worth bragging about. We barely got out of New York and we're stuck here with no money and no way west."

Grover looked at the night sky, like he was thinking about that problem. He turned to me, "How about I take first watch, huh? You two get some sleep."

I nodded and turned to Percy who wanted to protest, but he started to play Mozart, soft and sweet, and he turned away. After a few bars of Piano Concerto no. 12, I was asleep. He was sleeping.

"You're still awake?"

"Barely. I call the next shift okay?"

Grover nodded so I slept.

Believe in them.

Where is this coming from?

Water is our enemy, air is our demise, the darkness shall be our ally and the land should be haven. You should befriend Hades. We need someone on our side. We've already angered Poseidon and Zeus.

Why'd have to be him? He seem like the reason we're in this quest.

Trust your allies.

I was woken up. It was still dark and I could see Grover was droopy. Percy held my hand tight as he was trembling in his sleep.

When Grover saw me awake he just passed out on where he was sitting.

"Percy," I called him trying to keep quiet not to wake up the others. "Wake up." I slowly shook him.

His eyes shot open and looked at me in fear.

"Y/N..."

"Are you okay?"

"Nightmare..." He whimpered snuggling closer.

"Want to tell me about it?"

"Well... I was in a pit and someone was talking to me I think. I saw your parents' last moments... And my mom's then... I saw you drowning... desperately trying to save yourself. The voice told me to help them rise. I couldn't do anything..."

It is not us. I dare not hurt our hero.

"It's okay. Percy, don't worry. You should continue sleeping. Come on, I'm on watch."

He looked at me in hesitation and slept while I ran my hand on his hair.

~

"Well, good morning to you Peabody." I greeted Annabeth.

"Weren't you the first watch?"

"Grover went first watch. I went to sleep with Percy."

She turned to look at Percy who was asleep holding my hand. "Isn't it weird that he's so attached?" She grimaced.

"Well, to be fair. I feel like I have to stay with him no matter what. Like my subconscious telling me, don't leave him and stay. I'm not sure about his case though."

"Where's Grover?"

"I don't know he said he's going to look around. I'll look for him. Stay with Percy without killing him will you?"

"Eh, I'll try." She smiled.

"Good enough for me." As gentle as I could I remove his hand from mine and stood up to look for Grover.

It didn't take me long to find Grover who was sitting in the middle of no where in front of a pink poodle.

"Uh, whatcha got there?"

"He's our ride west." He looked at me. "His name is Gladiola."

"Uhm... hello." The dog looked at me then barked. "Well, let's bring him to Annabeth then."

Annabeth was as confused as I was when I found Grover. She greeted it hello reluctantly.

I shrugged at her as a response.

Grover sat cross-legged on a blanket with the dog on his lap.

I walked up to Annabeth and laughed, "I have no idea."

Percy stirred awake and sat up.

"Good morning." I smiled.

"The zombie lives." Annabeth tossed him a bag of nacho-flavored corn chips from Aunty Em's snack bar.

Percy eyed Grover confusedly and back at me and Annabeth.

The poodle yapped at Percy suspiciously. Grover said, "No, he's not."

Percy blinked. "Are you... talking to that thing?"

The poodle growled.

"This thing," Grover warned, "is our ticket west. Be nice to him."

"You can talk to animals?"

Grover ignored the question. "Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy."

He stared at Annabeth and I, as if we were kidding.

"I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle," He said. "Forget it."

"Percy," I said. "I said hello to the poodle. Annabeth said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle."

The poodle growled.

He said hello to the poodle.

Grover explained that he'd come across Gladiola in the woods and they'd struck up a conversation. The poodle had run away from a rich local family, who'd posted a $200 reward for his return. Gladiola didn't really want to go back to his family, but he was willing to if it meant helping Grover.

"How does Gladiola know about the reward?" I asked.

"He read the signs," Grover said. "Duh."

"Of course," I said. "Silly me."

"So we turn in Gladiola," Annabeth explained in her best strategy voice, "we get money, and we buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple."

"Not another bus," Percy said warily.

"No," Annabeth agreed.

She pointed downhill, toward train tracks I saw last night. "There's an Amtrak station half a mile that way. According to Gladiola, the westbound train leaves at noon."

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@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

[obeymeluv]

Random Spooky Thing

Something spooky I thought about. I don’t know what really got me thinking about it besides spooky season and the fact that the boys are 5,000+ years old and have probably made secret friends/lovers with a few non-RAD humans over the years.

This is pre-RAD program, post-fall. Boys are still probably at odds with their new demon instincts or have just barely settled into them.

Trigger warning for scary situation. Namely: almost being a legit sacrifice for a demon summoning. 

I also have personal headcanons that the bros used to be Avatars in heaven, but for the trait opposite of their sin (Lucifer would be humility, Mammon would be charity/giving, Asmodeus would be love (I guess?), Satan doesn’t count because I don’t think he was in the Celestial Realm when it all happened (based on where I’m at in the game). Beel championed a good harvest/abundance. and Belphegor had the blessing of reinforcement/encouragement/inspiration/productivity)

Lucifer’s got unexpectedly long so this part will have Lucifer and Mammon only. I have to study for exams and stuff TT_TT

Lucifer:

The concept of being summoned by dark magic is very foreign and forceful. He hates it, and he hates that this is what his life is now

There was a certain beseeching vulnerability to humans when they prayed - it was soft and glowing and he misses it

This is a rough yank, like he’s nothing more than a petulant child that needs to be dragged around. Or worse, some dog. 

He spills out into the human world and it smells of smoke and brimstone and ground ingredients he’s starting to get familiar with 

Lucifer’s used to being intimidating in an angelic way, but he can feel the magic spill off of him here. He can feel his aura manifest into something dark and terrifying.

His eyes now glow in the dark; he can see a reflection of them in the humans’ eyes.

They give a very archaic, overdone address (”O’ great Lucifer...”) and he doesn’t even let them finish before he’s scoffing.

The fall may have broken his wings and shattered his reality, but he’s still fairly arrogant and ready to lash out

There’s a beautiful smell that makes his stomach ache something ungodly now that he’s a demon, and Lucifer realizes with abject horror that a wounded human is somewhere in this room

Celestial Realm or not, his eyes still have the ability to see human souls and intentions. There seems to be a lamb among these idiotic wolves

He sees that dagger rise, the muffled wail enough to pierce his ear and Lucifer snarls as he snatches that hilt in an iron grip

It’s enough to break the human’s grip and send his hands down the dagger, spilling rancid blood

“If you wish to summon me, do it with your own blood. Lay yourself before me and beg.” he says in a voice that is so grating and booming that it makes him flinch a little

His voice was never like this in the Celestial Realm and it makes him angry that it will never be angelically velvety again. Just something semi-twisted and possible of corruption

Perhaps because of the blood or the injustice, Lucifer throws out his wings and punishes the mortal for their insolence. Then the others who try to dogpile him and throw their books at him and shout words that have no meaning.

His grip now crushes things, and he forgets. Pinching is basically stabbing. A shove is basically a fracture.

You’re sobbing uncontrollably when he approaches where you’re being held and Lucifer realizes that he looks a sight. Truly frightening. He never had these murderous impulses as an angel and still surprises himself when he falls to them. They’re still so new!

“Be not afraid,” the words are comforting but fuzzy. They feel foreign on his tongue. He pets your hair. “I shall do you no harm.”

He has to remind himself that he’s so much stronger in this form, tugging and ripping at the rope while trying not to break your little limbs.  

You have this resigned trust, this hope, this faith that he will keep his word and it makes him miss humans. Makes him miss Lilith and how he’d catch her and Belphie sneaking around to watch them.

You ask him if he’s really Lucifer, like that Lucifer. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he is. Instead he says, “I am the Morning Star.” and insists on taking you home.

He will guide you home, the bringer of light.

You hug him and it’s the first burst of warmth--genuine warmth--he’s felt since the fall. “Thank you, Lucifer.”

He’s called back by a greater force--Lord Diavolo--and prefers to forget the whole thing happened. That he ate people. That they almost hurt you.

He secretly checks in on you from time to time but doesn’t have the courage to talk to you again. 

Every time he looks at you, he’s emotionally drained for the rest of the day. He’s starting to understand what Lilith felt so strongly about and it just makes that gaping wound that much deeper.

He drowns his guilt in Demonus and damns his hypocrisy. 

Mammon

He hates being summoned because it burns like when he fell

It reminds him of his body screaming in pain as he adamantly tried to hold onto his Holy Weapons during the fall. His body converted during the fall and Holy Weapons are sheer agony for demons.

The burns on his hands were deep and tender and took days to heal. He doesn’t even remember how he broke his wing, but he knows it drags and its lame. It can’t unfold as well as the other one.

Being summoned just leaves a bad taste in his mouth because he disagrees with being cast out, in general. Seems like some of those angels were morally corrupt, not them! How could what he and the others did be considered wrong?! 

Mammon hates the fact that turning into a demon really ripped the veil off his eyes. He used to be a symbol of charity and giving, bringing joy to people, and now he just sees how nasty they are on the inside. Scummy, scummy people.

“What’s your business with the GREAT Mammon, hm? I’m a busy guy, ya know.” he stuffs his hands in his pockets as he looks disinterestedly around the room.

Dull souls, the lot of ‘em. Not a nice smell in the bunch! Some shiny bits and bobs he might take for his time, though.

Sometimes he bites his own tongue to try and fight off the demonic powers that converted him. To get his brain back on track. He doesn’t WANT to be so blunt and careless, so trained on shiny things. but it’s like he can’t help it!

It burns in his soul and sometimes he can hear his old self, his old ways, fizzling out like his wings as they disintegrated not long ago

The dumb humans start ranting about sacrifice and exchange and Mammon stops them cold, louder than them. It’s mostly the ‘older brother’ voice but he forgets that a demon is just scary to humans.

“Not really interested. What else ya got?”

No one expects that. He can tell. They take the thing off your head as if that will change his mind and something about the shininess of you catches his eye. Makes him feel kind of like a puppy.

Is it your soul? Your earrings? The genuine innocence of a human? How glittery your tears look?

He knocks them aside with his wings, stomps over to you, and picks you up (chair and all). 

They start yipping about how he technically accepted the deal and how he needs to do their bidding or grant them a favor. “Hang tight, sweets,” Mammon sets your chair down before pointing out every technicality on how the deal wasn’t finished and the terms weren’t agreed upon.

Technically they just summoned him; they didn’t complete a pact ritual

“I’m takin’ that--he points to you--just because I can!” Mammon laughs at the dumb little humans. “You guys didn’t do your homework! I’m the Avatar of Greed!”   

One of them tries to sneak around behind him and stab you (like that will change anything?!) and Mammon notices. He grabs the one in front of him by the face, throws him into the one by you, and just starts swinging

He doesn’t kill them, but he DOES raid their pockets of shiny things and interesting things. 

Mammon takes the knife, the weird clasps off their ensembles, and breaks the chair to set you free. Debates on taking the screws, but tosses them over his shoulder (not good enough)

As an act of good will, you’re recruited to pillage this lame location they picked

He gets you home with a spell, some kind of homing magic, and just stands there looking at you quietly. He didn’t really look after humans like Belphie and Lilith did so he’s not sure what to do

The urge to comfort is strong but the genteel pat is corrupted by the desire to feel your earring between his fingers. Some guttural demon noise of glee comes out of him and it makes him embarrassed. He never used to make noises like that...

You unhook your earrings with a tentativeness that reminds him of the humans who left offerings at his alter, fretting over if they were good enough and wondering what they would bring.

You fold his big, tan fingers over the earrings and Mammon holds onto them for a while after he finds his way back to the Devildom. It’s his first gift as a demon.

He ignores getting yelled at and the little brothers pestering him about why he smells good, telling him that they’re hungry. and all their other little gripes. 

Mammon never goes looking for you after that, trying to fill the ache in his soul with time and money and fame (oddly?) but he thinks of you often. He keeps your earrings in a special box at the front of his magic-locked hoard room. On his bad days, he’ll go sit in that empty room of knickknacks, open the box, and stare. 

He picks up the little things, careful not to break them with his nails or strength. “You’re one silly human, aren’t you?” he smiles at the twinkling jewelry.   

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [55]

x. die all, die merrily

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: I mean, the title says it all, people die, there is fighting and violence. also some light smut, a lil touch of kidnapping, and some language to finish it all up.

Summary: the final conclave begins, and 13 clans fight for the ultimate prize: surviving the apocalypse. 

a/n: I AM NERVOUS TO POST THIS BC APPARENTLY THIS IS A LOT OF YALLS FAVORITE EPISODE EVER SO I HOPE I DID IT JUSTICE! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

March 27th, 2150; Polis

You wake to the sounds of yelling outside. 

Your eyes pull open slowly, blinking against the bright light of the sun that streams into the room from the balcony. You roll over, coming face to face with Bellamy, who is looking down at you and smiling. You give him a sleepy smile in return. “How long have you been up?”

He glances towards the balcony, before his eyes fall on you again. “An hour or so. Sounds like they’re prepping for the conclave.”

You hum in agreement. “Didn't Clarke say it starts tomorrow? I’m sure there’s a lot to be done and not much time to do it in.”

“Does that mean we have to help too?”

You laugh at the grimace on his face, clearly not excited about this prospect. “Probably.”

He sighs and starts to stand from the bed, but you grab his hand and pull him back down towards you. He looks at you in surprise as you give him a mischievous look, pulling him down even closer, until his face is inches from yours. “We can have some fun first though, don’t you think?”

He catches onto your line of thinking easily, and he gives you a look full of fire and passion. He answers your question with a searing kiss, your previous separation making you savor the kiss more than you usually do. His hands come to land on either side of your face, holding you in place as he kisses you like his life depends on it. Like he’s a drowning man and you’re a tank of oxygen sent to save him. His hands slide from your face, down to your body, sliding all over you, the feeling of his skin on yours electric. 

He pulls you closer to his body, tugging until you move to straddle him, the fur blanket sliding off of you as you do. You run your hands down his already naked chest, his shirt on you, your favorite thing to sleep in, and he smiles up at you. You tug the shirt off and toss it to the side, and his eyes roam your body with appreciation, taking you in. You have to resist the urge to cover up, knowing how much he likes to look at you, but still, you whisper, “You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring. I’m drawing a detailed image of you in my brain for later, and I want to make sure I don’t miss anything.”

His fingers trace over a few of your scars, the one on your shoulder from the arrow, the one on your leg from Roan, and the one on your side from the assassin, and you can see his eyes mapping their location on your body. You copy the motion with him, carefully tracing the scar on his side, the one you stitched up. He glances down at it, the small, jagged little scar, shaped like an uneven lightning bolt. “It is crooked. Sorry about that.”

“Don't be, I like it. It reminds me of you.”

“It looks like lightning. The perfect scar for my stormy boyfriend.”

He gives you a peculiar look. “You think I'm stormy?”

You lean down and kiss him, chasing away the insecurity that seems to creep up. “Not in a bad way. Storms are powerful, forces to be reckoned with. Sometimes they rage and crackle, but they cleanse too, and help the Earth grow.”

He smiles up at you, his face softening and his earlier insecurity now gone. “And you are radiant. Breathtaking. Beautiful.”

He kisses you in between each compliment, lingering on the last one, making it long and slow. You open your mouth, granting his tongue access, and they dance and move together in a perfect symphony. As he kisses you, you both slide out of any remaining undergarments, both of you naked and warm against each other. The usual vulnerability, and fear, that comes with being naked around another person is lost on you, because Bellamy is careful to radiate nothing but love and adoration, wanting you to feel safe and secure. 

He breaks the kiss to watch you as you sink onto him, both of you moaning with pleasure. He rolls you both, situating your body beneath his, his arms supporting his weight next to your head, caging you between them. Your eyes lock as you move together, finding your rhythm, and his other hand slips between your bodies to bring you closer to the edge. You fall first, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back in pleasure, and the sight of you sends Bellamy over right after.

He kisses you again as you come down from your high, the kiss lazy and sloppy, both of you feeling like jelly as your pleasure rolls through you. Bellamy eventually rolls off you, laying down at your side, turning to watch you. You turn to face him, smiling up at his freckled face and messy curls, “Tell me about the gods.”

He smiles, always ready to oblige, before launching into his story. “Persephone, better known as the goddess of the dead and Underworld, wasn’t always known that way…”

-

March 28th, 2150; Polis

Bellamy’s hand is held tight in your own, slick with sweat from nerves as he leads you down the hall, towards Octavia’s room. The tradition of the Final Conclave has now begun, and in mere minutes, Octavia will walk onto the stage in front of everyone, and accept the sigil of her clan, your clan, and fight until the death for Skaikru. 

When Bellamy reaches the door, he turns and looks at you, nervous, and you nod your head, reassuring him. He lifts his hand and knocks, and Octavia looks his way, quickly looking away again when she realizes who it is. “You here to give me a pep talk?”

He drops your hand and steps into the room, settling onto the couch beside her. You linger in the doorway, here for emotional support more than anything, watching Bellamy make his last attempt to save his sister. “You don't have to do this. We can find someone else to fight. “

“If I die, I die. At least I go down fighting.”

“O-”

She cuts him off immediately, shutting down his argument. “Don't. This is my decision, Bell. I know what the odds are, I don't need you pointing them out.”

You hear footsteps from down the hall, and you peek behind you, watching as your twin approaches you. Her face is set in a grim expression, not optimistic at all, and as soon as she looks up and meets your eyes, she calls out, “It's time.”

You nod, turning to pass the message along to Octavia, but she must have heard because she is already standing and walking your way. You get a good look at her make up as she approaches, the dark war paint painted over each of her eyes in the shape of an upside down “L”. You realize immediately what her inspiration is, and as she stops in front of you, you whisper, “Lincoln’s tattoo.”

She nods once, confirming your suspicion, and you see a quick pass of nerves cross her features. You reach out and squeeze her shoulder, offering her comfort. “He’s always with you, especially now, and I know he's proud of you.”

She gives you a small smile before walking past you and out the door, walking down the long hallway to the stage. You and Bellamy follow her path until you meet up with Clarke, who leads you out a side door and into the crowd, just in time to watch Gaia, Indra’s daughter, announce, “Octavia kom Skaikru, step forward.”

Octavia steps up onto the stage and ducks her head, allowing Gaia to attach a necklace around her neck. “Accept the sigil of your clan and fight with honor as their champion.”

She walks across the stage and comes to a stop beside Roan, and you and Bellamy exchange a look as Gaia begins her final speech. “Soon will begin the Final Conclave, a battle to the death within the walls of Polis. These warriors will fight until only one remains. When that warrior collects all of the sigils from the fallen and delivers them to me, they will be declared the victor. This final champion alone will tell us which clan is meant to survive in the crypt of Bekka Pramheda, and which clans are meant to perish in Praimfaya. Osir koma op daun bilaik slip daun kom bleirona, ba mafta op Won bilaik hef em op mou beda.”

Kane translates for you and Bellamy, able to understand the words faster than both of you can. “We honor those who fall by the sword, but follow the One who wields it best.”

Somewhere behind you in the crowd, someone yells, “Daun bilaik ai!”

That would be me. You all turn and watch in shock as Luna stalks through the crowd, shoving people out of her way to get to the front, and you can sense trouble brewing as soon as you see her face. “Shit.”

Bellamy looks at you, not understanding what you mean, not aware of just how bad things got for Luna on Becca’s Island. She stalks onto the stage and comes to a stop in front of Gaia. “I'm Luna kom Floukru, and I'm the last of my clan.”

“We know who you are...The Natblida who ran from her conclave.”

“I'm not running from this one.”

Gaia turns and grabs the last necklace from the bowl, turning to face the angry Nightblood. “Accept this sigil, Luna kom Floukru. But with your clan gone, who will you fight for?”

“I fight for no one. I fight for death.” She snatches the necklace from Gaia’s hands and turns and holds it up for the crowd. “When I win, no one will be saved.”

Her words immediately send a wave of murmurs through the crowd, and Gaia quickly solves the problem by dispersing the crowd and sending the warriors down into the weapons room to arm up and prepare for the battle. You, Kane, Bellamy, Clarke, and Jaha all cluster in a circle, quietly discussing Luna's arrival when Gaia comes over to your group, voice full of authority. “Skaikru! Three advisors to the worgeda. The rest of you, report to your designated safe zone. Now.”

Kane gestures to you and Bellamy, “Come on. We have to get her ready.”

Jaha reaches out and grabs Kane’s arm, stopping him from leaving. “This conversation isn't over. The death wave will be here within three days, and here we are, risking the fate of our people on a blood sport?”

Clarke corrects him, “The fate of all people, You heard Luna.”

“She's just one of 13.”

You wince, remembering when you walked in a room to save Luna from at least 6 men, only to find that she had already saved herself. And that was after being repeatedly tortured. “You're wrong. She's a Nightblood novitiate, which means she trained in combat exactly like this.”

Bellamy looks at you, misunderstanding you. “You want us to cheat?”

“No.” You look at him, shaking your head. “I only mean that Luna is the walking definition of killer warrior, and that scares me.”

Kane adds, “Besides, you know the rules. If we break them, we lose, and if we lose, we die.”

“The rules are not the problem, Marcus. The game is. Even if we stop Luna, even if Octavia finds a way to win, does anyone truly believe that the Grounders will accept Skaikru as the lone survivors?”

“Yes. The conclave is sacred, they'll honor the winner. Like it or not, we're all Grounders now.” The words tug at a memory, Bellamy standing in the middle of a circle of delinquents, convincing all of you to fight the Grounders coming your way. But Kane pulls you from that memory when he looks at Jaha, and says, “You get our people to the safe zone, we'll have Octavia ready for the fight. The rest is up to her.”

You and Clarke nod at each other, knowing you’ll see each other again soon, after the Conclave. Either as the sole clan to survive Praimfaya, or as one of 13 clans left outside to perish. Bellamy walks close to you as you follow Kane into the weapons area, leading you over to Octavia. As you walk towards her, you eye the competition, taking notes on their weapons, their fighting, anything you can gather that might help her. Kane seems to have the same idea because as soon as he stops in front of her and you and Bellamy stop beside him, he starts, “All right, listen to me. The Blue Cliff Warrior, she has two corvo blades. I just saw her practicing. She's left handed, you go for her weak hand.”

“Okay.”

You add to his point, “Plains Rider and the warrior from Shallow Valley, they're strong, but slow. You can avoid them, not to mention the black rain, which could fall at any moment, so stay close to cover.”

Beside you, Bellamy fidgets in place, turning and looking away, which does not go unnoticed by you or Octavia. She snaps, “What, Bellamy? If you've got something to say, just say it.”

“You don't need any of this. When the starting horn blows, just stay out of sight and let the others thin out the competition.”

“You want me to hide?”

“You don't need to go up against the strongest warrior from every clan.”

“I came here to fight.”

Bellamy bends down a little, matching their heights, his voice almost pleading, “You were the girl under the floor. Use that, just like Mom taught us.” 

Kane nods, “Bellamy's right. You don't have to kill all 12 warriors.”

“I just have to kill the last one.”

All of you exchange a nod, now on the same page in terms of strategy. Behind you, one of the Flamekeeper scouts announces, “Ambassadors and advisors, to the tower. Champions, to your flags.”

Kane and Octavia hug, quick and fierce, before she turns to Bellamy. They hover near each other, unsure whether they should hug, and eventually Octavia settles on, “May we meet again.”

“Damn right we will.”

Bellamy’s voice is sad, and he looks like he wants to hug her, but he’s so worried about upsetting her before the battle that he doesn’t. He just turns and starts to walk away, leaving you and Octavia alone. You don't hesitate to hug her, reaching out and grabbing her, squeezing her tight and passing along as much love and strength as you can through the hug. She hugs you back tight, almost desperate, and when you pull away, both of you have tears in your eyes, aware this might be your last goodbye. You smile through your tears, “You were my first friend on the ground, and the first person to see me as someone other than the Invisible Twin. Now you’re my people, my family, my sister. I am so incredibly proud of you.”

She smiles at you and you see her fighting back her tears, not wanting anyone to see her crying. She squeezes your arm and whispers, “I love you. Bellamy too.”

You nod, already aware, because you knew the siblings couldn't stay upset with each other long. Lincoln's death left a mark on their relationship, but that doesn't mean their relationship was irreparable. You start to answer when one of the Flamekeepers grabs your arms and pulls you away, pushing you towards the door to the tower. You turn and wave one last goodbye to Octavia, eyes watching the small girl melt into the crowd of warriors who have been fighting longer than she’s been alive. You meet Bellamy at the elevator, and his face is fallen, completely upset. You slip your hand in his and he looks over at you in surprise, so lost in his own head that he didn't even hear your approach. “What did she say?”

“She said she loves you.”

Surprise takes over his expression, then regret, and he immediately drops your hands and turns away, “I have to tell her I love her.”

But the Flamekeeper who pushed you out of the room blocks his path, pushing him back towards the elevator, not allowing him to leave. You can tell Bellamy wants to fight it and fight him, but you reach out and grab his hand again, pulling him towards the now waiting elevator. “She’s going to win, Bellamy. You can tell her afterwards.”

He nods and you ride the elevator to the top, meeting up with Kane in the throne room, just as the horn sounds, signaling the beginning of the conclave. You can hear the sounds of fighting immediately, and the tensions inside the room are high as you hear the clang of swords and the thud of fallen bodies. Minutes later, Gaia comes into the room and announces, “The first two champions have fallen.”

Everyone turns towards her, absolutely terrified that she will say the name of the warrior from their clan, and you, Kane, and Bellamy are no exception. 

“Gael kom Ingranronakru, yu gonplei ste odon.”

One of the Flamekeepers walks over to the candle that represents the Plains Riders and puts the flame out, ending their battle for the bunker. You all watch the Flamekeeper turn away from the snuffed candle and walk towards the next one, and your heart drops as every step he takes brings him closer and closer to the Skaikru candle. Bellamy whispers, “Please don't be her.”

Luckily, but still heartbreaking, the Flamekeeper stops just shy, in front of the Trikru candle, as Gaia announces, “Fio kom Trikru, yu gonplei ste odon.”

Relieved, you turn to Bellamy. “Octavia's still out there.”

Bellamy’s eyes turn towards you, full of tears, his expression breaking your heart. “I couldn't tell her I loved her, even with the world ending.”

You squeeze his hand, still held tight in yours. “Trust me, Bellamy, she knows.”

He nods and his eyes drop to the floor, lost in his head again, and you and Kane share a look. With nothing else to do now, except wait, you and Bellamy head out to the balcony with your binoculars, watching the fights alongside Gaia. Kane comes out onto the balcony as you watch the Blue Cliff warrior kill the Sangedakru warrior, and Bellamy lets out a small gasp at the sight of the death. When you turn to look at him in confusion, he nods towards Kane, and you follow him as he leads you over to the Chancellor. Bellamy’s voice is low when he mutters, “We just saw the Blue Cliff warrior kill the Sangedakru warrior with a bow.”

“So?”

Bellamy looks at you, and you remember your pre fight conversation with Octavia. You tell Kane, “So, we saw her before the fight. She didn't have a bow, she had two swords.”

“Yeah, the corvo blades.” He shrugs, not understanding your worry. “Well, she could have picked up a bow off the battlefield.”

You and Bellamy exchange a look, both of you aware that someone you know is exceptionally good with a bow, and exceptionally good at betrayal. You both step back inside the room, scanning for the Azgeda spy, shaking your head when you don't see her. Kane comes up beside you, looking between you in confusion. “What is it?”

“Echo's gone.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Bellamy stalks out of the room, looking like a man on a mission, and you and Kane look at each other in panic before running after him. “Bellamy, wait!”

He spins around to face the two of you, annoyed at the interruption. “My sister is down there. Echo is cheating, and I'm gonna stop her.”

Kane shakes his head, “Let one of Gaia's scouts find her, and then Ice Nation will be punished.”

“They'll never catch her. Echo's a spy, this is what she does.”

He tries to walk away again but you grab his arm to stop him. “Listen to me, Bellamy, I’m with you. But running out there in broad daylight is not the way to fix this.”

“So, you think I should just stay here and do nothing?”

You shake your head, and Kane vocalizes a plan you were already starting to form in your head. “No. You wait until dark so you don't get caught. And then the two of you get her out of the fight and get back here without being seen. Clear?”

“Clear.”

-

The wait until nightfall is agonizingly long, and all you can do is hope that Octavia makes it until then, safely away from Echo’s arrows. When darkness finally blankets the city, only five lit candles remain. Floukru, Azgeda, Podakru, Louwoda Kliron, and Skaikru. 

Bellamy leads you through the streets of Polis, heading towards the building Echo is hiding in, careful to keep the both of you hidden from the view of any warriors or Flamekeepers. You’re close to the building when Bellamy abruptly stops and pulls you back behind a wall, disguised in the shadows. You know it’s too dangerous to ask why, but you don't need to, because a second later the Shallow Valley warrior comes into view. He seems to see something in the distance that you can’t see, because you watch him brace himself before a scream breaks free from the unseen force, and Luna comes running into view. She kills him quickly, easily, and just like that, five lit candles becomes four. 

Luna stalks out of view again, and as soon as Bellamy is sure it’s clear, he takes off running again, leading you the last few steps to the building. The two of you creep up the stairs slowly, remembering that Echo is up high, and when you reach the door to her hiding spot, Bellamy gives you two hand signals: push the door open and then immediately get down. You nod your head, letting him you know you understand, and then he counts you down from three. As soon as he puts his last finger down, you swing the door open as quickly and quietly as you can, before you immediately duck, Echo’s arrow landing in the door right above your head.

Bellamy runs forward and tackles her to the ground, and the two of them fight back and forth until he gets the upper hand, wrapping his hands around her neck and choking her. She is seconds away from death when you feel a knife to your throat and you freeze in place, voice frantic when you call out, “Bellamy.”

He turns and his face drops when he sees you, his hands instantly releasing Echo’s throat, allowing her to breathe. He steps away from her and the person at your back shoves you towards Bellamy, who catches you with ease, and when you turn around you really aren't surprised to see Roan standing there, sword pointed at you and Bellamy as he glares at you. “I should've known you three couldn't stay away. I heard you all the way down the street, you're lucky I wasn't a scout.”

Bellamy nods towards the Ice Nation spy. “We came to stop her.”

“Explain yourself.”

“I was only trying to help save our people.”

Roan sneers at her, “I am not my mother. I'm not willing to cast aside honor for power.”

“No one has to know.”

“You misunderstand. I will not allow your dishonor to give Luna an advantage, and you will not shame our clan ever again. You are Azgeda no more.”

Shock takes over Echo’s face, and you have to resist the urge to smirk at her. “Sire, wait.”

“You're banished, Echo, and when I win this conclave, make no mistake, there will be no place for you inside that bunker. Now get out of my sight, and off this battlefield without being seen, or know that you are the cause of the death of our people.”

She swallows hard, fighting back tears, before turning and leaving the room, sneaking out and off the battlefield, despite having nowhere else to go. Once you and Bellamy are alone with Roan, the sword comes back towards the two of you again, everything about the king threatening. “I take it by your presence here that your sister's still alive.”

“That's right.”

“If I call for a scout, she'll be executed right now.” He lowers the sword, leaving enough room for you to eventually pass. “But what fun would that be? You really think she can win, don't you?”

Bellamy smiles, looking proud. “I wouldn't count her out if I were you. She's survived harder things than this.”

“Before she dies, I'll tell her she's lucky to have you as a brother.”

“I got a better idea. After she guts you and before you die, you tell her I was the lucky one.”

Roan smirks at him and you feel Bellamy's hand slip into your own, letting you know it’s time to go. You step away first, pulling Bellamy behind you, both of you keeping your eyes on the Ice Nation King until you’re out of the room and back on the street. You begin the careful retreat back to the tower, taking a different path than before, just in case. It takes longer this way, but this path is darker, and easier to stay hidden in, and after a few minutes, you’re just outside the tower again. You and Bellamy look at each other and smile a little, relieved to have made it back without getting caught, but that relief is short lived. 

Just as the two of you start towards the door of the tower, two people jump out of the shadows, each one of them grabbing each of you, holding a rag over your mouth. The substance smells awful, and you know without a doubt that you shouldn't be smelling it, but you don't have much time to process that. You and Bellamy look at each other, both of your eyes wide in panic when you see the other in danger, and you fight against your captives. But by then, it's too late. The chemical has kicked in and you feel unconsciousness seize you rapidly, pulling you under at an alarmingly fast rate.

-

The first thing you notice when you wake is the heaviness in your head. 

It feels like someone popped open your skull, stuffed it full of rocks, and closed it up again. You try to pry your eyes open, but they feel heavy, weighed down by anchors. You groan and try again, prying them open with all your strength, closing them back again when they are met with a bright light. But then you hear someone next to you groan, and a hand brushes against yours, familiar and warm.

Bellamy.

This time when you get your eyes open, you turn his way, both of you looking at each other in shock before you confirm that each other is real. You reach towards each other, silently checking the other out, making sure you're okay. And as soon as you realize you are, you both turn and look around the room, realizing you must be in the bunker. Your eyes land on Clarke, standing at the desk in the room near Jaha, both of them looking towards you. You look between them, at the clench of Clarke’s jaw, the extra weight on her shoulders, and your stomach sinks. “What the hell did you do?”

Jaha is the one to answer, sounding unashamed of what he has to say. “If only one clan could survive, it might as well be ours.”

Bellamy turns to your twin, not believing what he’s hearing. “Clarke, you agreed to this?”

“It was her idea.”

You and Bellamy share an incredulous look, before you turn it on Clarke, in disbelief of what she’s done. She sets her jaw, trying to convince herself, and the two of you, of what she’s done. “We did what we had to do.”

-

next chapter

[ohblackdiamond]

curved air (ace/peter, nc-17)

They didn’t do it every single night on tour. Just a lot of nights. Peter wasn’t even sure when it had started—it had to have been early on, when they were still sharing rooms. But at some point, years ago, he and Ace and Paul had started showering together after the show.

Notes: For @planet-neun. Merry Christmas, and I’m sorry I’m a day late, as usual!

It had been a brilliant show. 

Even now, a month into the reunion tour, Peter couldn’t quite believe how brilliant. How invigorating. How many people. The kids—kids younger than Jennilee, out there on their dads’ shoulders, wearing their makeup. The college girls, their hair and clothes so different from all those years prior, but their wants the same as ever—he wasn’t as interested in them as he used to be, but it was still a thrill just to see them there. Five or six of them had tossed bras up at the stage, and Gene and Paul had collected them like trophies, gleefully hooking them to their mic stands during the show. Like they’d never seen them before, when Peter knew they had. Gene had even brought the bra with the biggest cups backstage, half-jokingly telling a roadie to find the owner, like a demented version of Cinderella’s glass slipper.

The want was more exciting than the money. Seeing so many peoples’ faces lighting up. No one had wanted to see him in so long. He remembered the clubs and bars he’d been reduced to. Even when he’d been on tour with Ace last year, the crowds were nothing, less than nothing, in comparison. Almost no one had asked for his autograph in years, outside of the convention circuit, and now—

It was surreal. A second shot. He wouldn’t waste it. He couldn’t.

The one thing he’d been scared would hold him back wasn’t yet. The pain in his arms hadn’t been bad enough to affect his performances. He was trying, desperately, to prevent it however he could. He’d started dipping his arms in big bowls of ice immediately after getting off the stage. He had all sorts of wraps, too. None of the cortisone injections like he’d had in the seventies. The idea was, these days, to try to treat the pain and stiffness as naturally as possible, and he hoped to limit himself to over-the-counter anti-inflammatories, if he had to take anything. He’d be really careful.

His arms were still a bit pink from the ice. He rubbed at them absently, rolling up the sleeves of his bathrobe. He hadn’t stripped out of the costume and paint yet, the sweat making both stick to him like a second skin. He was waiting. Next to him, leaning against the wall and nursing a can of what Peter hoped was actually Pepsi, Ace was, too.

“Where’s Paul?” Ace asked. Peter had only seen him backstage briefly after the show. Gene was gone, too, but that was expected; he’d always head straight back to the hotel to bang groupies. He’d never been part of their post-concert routine. “Isn’t he hanging around?”

“I thought I saw him talking to Pam earlier.”

“That’s been at least fifteen minutes.” Ace hesitated, rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. Peter watched him blink at the black lipstick smear left on his skin, then laugh quietly, almost to himself. “She didn’t look too thrilled.”

That was an understatement. Paul’s wife had looked mildly humiliated after every concert so far.

“He’s probably cheating on her.”

“Fuck, he’s been cheating on her. But now he’s got lots better pickings than he used to.” Ace put his finger to his lips again, smudging away the lipstick at the cener. “’S different.”

“Cheating’s cheating.”

“Nah, man, I mean… he’s different, we’re different.” Ace took a swallow of his drink. Peter stepped up closer, trying to get a whiff of what was in the can without being obvious about it. Ace needed to knock it off. For Monique’s sake if not for his own. Keep his addictions more than an arm’s length away. Pete had done it more than ten years ago now. But Ace just seemed to keep on and keep on. It felt worse now than it used to, now that he saw him every day. It was like watching a man drown in an inch of water. “It’s not just the crowds. The show makes us different.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think Paulie’d be smacking his own ass onstage if he didn’t have the paint on?” Ace didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Nah. Pam’s not, y’know, used to that side of him.”

“The only side I see of him onstage is his ass. He’s not turning around like he used to.”

“Aw, Petey. Lemme make it up to you.”

Ace set the drink down on the table. Peter grabbed it, taking a sip, relieved when the only thing he tasted was Pepsi. Ace’s expression was unreadable at first, before the right side of his mouth raised up just slightly in a smile.

“I ain’t doing so bad. I promise. You wanna wait on him?”

It took a second before Peter realized what Ace meant. He hesitated, uncertain. If Paul and Pam were really having a row, Paul wouldn’t be back, ritual be damned. Part of him wanted to wait despite that. The rest of him wanted to step out of his sweaty spandex as soon as possible.

“Let’s just go. Any longer and this shit’ll be glued to my skin.”

“Wouldn’t be that bad a look,” Ace said, and clapped an arm around his shoulder. “C’mon.”

--

They didn’t do it every single night on tour. Just a lot of nights. Peter wasn’t even sure when it had started—it had to have been early on, when they were still sharing rooms. But at some point, years ago, he and Ace and Paul had started showering together after the show.

It would get pretty stupid. They’d done all sorts of comparisons on each others’ dicks, hard and flaccid. Soap-dropping. Smacking each other with washcloths. And they’d fooled around—sure, they’d all fooled around. It was if the shower was just another barrier to the real world. Like the inverse of Superman’s phone booth. Painted monsters coming in, regular guys coming out, with no one aware of the process in-between.

Peter had been surprised when the band showers resumed. Thought Paul would demure out of ego, not wanting the other two to see him stripped bare sixteen years on. But he’d been all for it. They hadn’t screwed around, just teased each other about the gut that those workout regimens hadn’t gotten rid of, but that was all right. It was fun. Reassuring. It felt good to know there was still a piece of the old times that really was just for them, a piece that had nothing to do with summoning up someone else’s nostalgia. It felt really good.

They’d usually use the showers by the dressing room, rather than the hotel. Ace would step in first, tinkering with the temperature, and then Peter, with Paul following behind. Twenty minutes easy of soaping up and shooting the shit. Which reminded Peter—

“You bring a pack of razors?”

“Said they’re in the shower.” Ace crooked another small grin. “They got everything ready for us right here whether we used ’em or not. Even the cold cream. Rider’s a mile long.”

“I can’t remember the last time I had a rider worth anything.”

“I can.” The velcro made an almost itchy sound as Ace, as blase about nudity as ever, peeled away the vest of his costume, tossing it on a chair for wardrobe to gather up later before starting on his boots, socks, and the leotard beneath. Wardrobe. They actually had wardrobe. A month in and it was still unbelievable. Peter inhaled sharply, then tugged off his shoes and socks, his bullet-belt of a vest. Stepped out of the leotard. The relief was almost instant, the cool air a balm on his sticky skin as they padded barefoot to the shower. “Last time I was with you.”

--

They really did have the cold cream there in a huge, personalized caddy in each shower stall. Had regular makeup removal wipes, too, and a fat stack of white towels of various sizes. Six different shampoos. Body wash. Acne cleanser. Bar soap. Loofahs. Razors. Condoms. Lube. God, and this wasn’t even the hotel. They didn’t even know whether KISS would even use the showers on-premises. He would’ve expected all this excess sixteen years ago. Now, it never failed to impress him. Never failed at all.

He picked up a washcloth and the cold cream out of habit and preference, unscrewing the jar and taking it with him back to the sink. One illusion he could take care of pretty quickly. He could hear Ace turning on the shower, and he waited, half-expecting Ace to call him in, but he didn’t. Instead, Ace headed over to the sink just as Peter dipped his fingers into the thick cream.

“Hold on, man.”

“What for?”

“Lemme give you a hand.” Ace scooped up some of the cream and started to spread it across Peter’s face. Messy dollops on his forehead, cheeks, and chin, before Ace rubbed it in properly with his fingers, the cream smearing away the paint, gradually exposing his skin. Ace smiled a little bit as he traced the tips of his fingers against Peter’s cheeks, turning the whiskers into smudged, blotchy ovals, and then nothing at all.

“Paint doesn’t hide as much as I thought it did,” Peter said dryly, after a glance in the mirror. Ace was still working on getting rid of the makeup, casually, slowly.

“You still look pretty good under there, y’know.”

“I’m fifty.”

“We can round down.” Ace took the washcloth, wet it, and wiped away the excess on his cheeks. “Close your eyes for me.”

Peter did. A second and Ace’s cream-coated fingers were carefully rubbing at the paint on his eyelids, spreading it out and up, towards his eyebrows and forehead.

“I never thought I’d be back to doing this at fifty. It’s… it’s far out, isn’t it? I still can’t believe it.” If the outdated turn of phrase bothered Ace any, he didn’t say anything, and Peter could feel the cloth against his eyelids next, just as gentle. “I can’t talk about it with Gene and Paul. They don’t get it.”

“They get it a lot better than you think.”

“Nah, nah. They…” Peter trailed, trying to come up with the right words as Ace kept wiping away his makeup. He wasn’t even mad at the other two for not getting it. He just wanted to explain. “They’ve been in that world so long. They dunno what it’s like to be down to nothing.”

“They’ve got a good idea. Maybe it was worse for them.”

“Worse? Are you serious? Come off it, Ace, they’re neck-deep in Hollywood bullshit and yes-men, they never—”

“This wasn’t just our last chance, Petey. It was theirs, too.” Ace didn’t elaborate any further. Peter opened his eyes, and saw Ace rinsing off the washcloth in the tap. The remnants of cream mixed with black greasepaint left a gray streak in the sink. 

“I’ll get your makeup for you, Ace.”

“S’okay, I’ll get it.”

“No, I--”

“Don’t want you holding your arms up anymore than you gotta.”

A slight warmth started up somewhere in Peter’s stomach as he shook his head.

“It’s not so bad. Nothing like it used to be. C’mon, let me.”

Ace bit his lip, then nodded.

“Okay. But in the shower, yeah? There’s something else I wanna get up to.”

--

He tried to be careful, taking Ace’s makeup off. Ace was still mixing up some kind of powder for the silver starbursts, one that bothered his eyes. The cold cream almost melted between his fingers from the steam of the shower before he could even get it on Ace’s face, sliding off easily. He didn’t look so bad under the greasepaint. Not so bad at all, but there was a tiredness along with that old eerie awareness now. It was too early in the tour for Ace to be tired. Too early for Ace to be worried.

Peter kissed him as soon as the last remnants of makeup were washed away, on down to the lipstick. Ace returned the kiss almost immediately, looping an arm around him, pulling him close. They lingered like that awhile, under the spray of the shower, quiet and warm and wet. Then Ace, less lethargic and lackadaisical than usual, mouthed along his throat while his hand reached for Peter’s dick.

“Takes longer than it used to,” Peter warned, as if it’d really been that long since they’d last messed around. Maybe it’d been years since the last shower ritual had ended in handjobs and blowjobs, but it hadn’t been more than three days since the last time Ace’s body had ended up against his. Ace just winked.

“I got the time if you got the money, Cat.”

His hand was familiar. It felt the same as ever wrapped around his cock, pumping absently. Only the backdrop was different. Peter grunted, let Ace slowly ease him backwards until he felt the cool wall tile against his skin. His breath hitched as Ace worked him up to full attention. No hurry. Never any hurry. Not even in those shitty motels from ’74, the ones that ran out of hot water less than five minutes in. He and Paul would hop out, cursing and shivering, but Ace would just cackle once it turned cold. He acted like they always had all the time in the world to come.

The onslaught of water wasn’t direct now, just stray droplets amid the steam. Ace’s grip slacked off almost as abruptly as it had begun, as he sunk down to his knees in front of him, hands tracing his thighs.

He’d watched Ace take him in hundreds of times before. More times than he’d watched Ace’s knees buckle to the floor during the show. Down-down-down. It didn’t mean anything there. It meant something here, here in this in-between space, where all the magic of spandex and greasepaint faded and left them as they were, flawed and ordinary. It always would.

Peter’s hands found Ace’s soaked hair, pushing the wet strands back from his face. He closed his eyes again, and smiled.

[cowboisadness]

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x F!OC} Chapter 18

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC

Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: Swearing. Micah

.....

Chapter 18

Arthur didn’t return that night, nor was he there by the time morning arrived. I spent all day unable to focus on anything. Like everyone and everything around me was moving at a higher speed than I was. Leaving everything as a blur. Once I was done with everything and positive that Grimshaw wasn’t going to find something else for me to do, I made my way over to the horses. 

Tossing the finished cigarette I was smoking to the side I strolled over to my girl, Orion. Giving her a few rubs on her chestnut and white nose and sharing my apple with her, biting into it a few times as she looked on waiting to get some herself. I usually take a couple of minutes every day to spend time with her, but the last few days I had been neglectful. Thankfully that O’Driscoll boy, Keiran, was doing a fine job of taking care of her and the others. You could always find him here a little away from the camp and the teasing comments.

“Do you have a spare brush I could borrow?” I asked him as he tended to Old Boy.

“I do, Miss.” He replied quietly. Going over to a bag propped up against one of the hitching posts and retrieving the brush. Handing it over with a timid smile before going back to what he was doing. 

I brushed down Orion, giving her soft words of comfort. One of her hind legs resting as she relaxed from the attention. I couldn’t help but look out towards the path beyond just hoping for him to turn up, unharmed and with an explanation. Drowning out all noise from the camp behind me to focus on what could be heard within the canopy of the trees surrounding us. Nothing but the rustling of small creatures through the grass and birds in the trees. I offered to take watch. Relieving a thankful Javier of the duty. 

The hours ticked on as I stood there, the next feeling longer than the last. With the rifle at my side, I kept myself hyper-aware of any noise or disturbance. The day eventually turned into night. But still no sign. Maybe being here alone with my thoughts wasn’t a grand idea. Various thoughts and scenarios at the forefront of my mind. He could have been captured and killed by the O’Driscolls on his way to meet up with Dutch and Micah. His body dumped where he would never be found. The law or Pinkertons could have apprehended him. In a cell ready to be hanged if he hadn’t already been executed to prevent any risk of him getting away. My hands shook with agonising worry. Taking slow deep breaths in an attempt to steady myself lest I lose it completely. 

John approached at some point when it was completely dark, carrying a lamp with him. He offered to take over. Stating I had been out here for almost six hours. 

“Abigail told me you are worried about Arthur,” he said, lighting up a cigarette as he leaned against the tree I was previously attached to.

Still unable to tear my eyes away from the path I took in a shaky breath before speaking “Seems like I’m the only one.”

“It’s not strange for him to be away for days. But even I can tell this is different.”

“Has Dutch given any implication that he’s going to look for him?” I eventually looked at him. The lamp he placed on the floor lighting up the side of his face, his healed scars more pronounced in the yellow glow.

He just shook his head. He handed me a cigarette from his pack as I made my way back to camp. Probably his attempt of comfort. I picked up a couple of beers as I passed the wagon, completely passing the surrounded fire and made a beeline to my tent. Ready for another restless night.

…..

The morning I was welcomed with the watered-down, piss-water excuse for coffee at the fire. Swallowing it down with a grimace and debating to switch it to beer or whiskey for breakfast. 

Micah made his way over, pouring himself a cup. “Whoever made this coffee needs to be banned from doing so ever again,” I said, my tone as bitter as the liquid in the cup. 

He just huffed and groaned as he sat beside me on the log. Keeping his distance but still much closer than I would like him to be.

Soon letting out an aggravated hum after the first taste. 

“Ya know. It’s cute the way you worry about us men,” He leered at me, taking another sip.

He’s not wrong in thinking I would be worried if it was any of the others. Just not to this magnitude. 

“Of course I’m worried.”

He moved closer closing the gap slightly, my body tensing in preparation to move away. I should have because once he placed his hand on my knee I froze as I looked down. Wondering what the fuck made him think he could put his hands on me.

“I’m willing to take out of camp for a few hours. Take your mind off it…” I could feel his eyes on me, his foul breath on my face. It took all my willpower not to shove him to the floor.

“...Make you forget for a while.” That’s it. I latched onto his hand to force him away. Now standing so he was out of reach. Anger and disgust plain as day on my face when I faced him.  

“What makes you think I want that, Micah?” 

“Just suggesting a bit of fun.”

“First of all…” I began pointing my finger in his direction “We must have a different meaning of fun. Secondly, never put your hands on me again.” My brows raised waiting for his retort.

“Well, I didn't take you for a prude.” He snarled 

“No. I’d just rather lay with someone I like as a person.”

“Like baby-blues Morgan? All over each other like a rash. That's why you’ve been a sour bitch lately? Ya ain’t getting ya legs spread?”  He stood then, drifting closer and oozing cockiness. That smirk still on his face.

“What if he doesn’t come back? 

“Get fucked, Micah.” I didn't give him time to respond, turning on my heels and towards the lake to calm myself down before I throttle the bastard. Inhaling the warm air slowly to ease my irritation. Focusing on the sun's rays rippling on the surface of the water.

…..

I stayed by the river most of the day as it rolled into the evening. Taking the pile of clothing that needed repairing or altering with me. Taking short walks along the water when the pain in my back and hands got a bit too much. The sky changed from its brilliant blue into intense oranges and yellows, like the sky was ablaze for those couple of hours. The full moon now making its face detectible amongst the lingering clouds. A single Blue Jay with a coat in such a vivid deep blue and white that I had never seen before perched on a rock nearby. My silent companion.

It was then, still sitting on that log with a steaming coffee in hand and a pile of fixed garments at my side that I heard a commotion on the other side of camp. 

Mary-Beth’s usual delicate voice now one of panic, shouting for help.

I rushed into camp, preparing to pick up my gun from my tent fully expecting the panic to be an ambush of some sort. That we had been found by O’Driscolls or the Pinkertons finally brought their men to kill everyone as promised. I wasn’t expecting to see the Tennessee Walker that has been missing for days. Mary-Beth and Karen stood over a body. 

Running over I could feel the panic now setting in. Falling to my knees beside him. Relief washing over me knowing he was still alive. But he was in a serious way, the ragged wound on his shoulder emitting the stench of iron and gunpowder. Dutch made his way over then, the man in complete shock. 

“I told you it was a set up, Dutch…” His voice was strained and hoarse. It was a miracle he was able to get back from the state he was in. His hand went to me, holding on with what little strength he had. But I held him anyway, my other hand propping up his head as he tried to sit up but completely unable without help. Dutch called out for Grimshaw and Swanson. Pearson now beside me, apologising profusely. Dutch continued to shout as Pearson and I lifted him, his full weight bearing down on us as we made our way to his cot, dropping him down as gently as possible with a groan from the three of us. Grimshaw came barreling through then, pushing me out of the way causing me to lose my grip on him. Swanson dropping a bag of medical supplies beside her. Both of them getting to work. 

“Best if you stand outside, Miss Bella,” Swanson advised. The sounds and movements surrounding me seeping back to my senses. 

I looked at Arthur again, a faraway look on his sweat covered face. Letting out pained gasps every so often.

“I’m not leaving,” I said matter-of-factly

“Do as he says. This ain’t gonna be pretty.” Grimshaw glanced at me then. Sharpness to her tone and her face contorted in determination. 

Leaving the area I let the canvas fall in front of me but I didn't go far. Stood rooted to the spot only a few metres away. They must have been stitching him up, his agonising inhales and grunts being the only thing I could hear. I felt a hand tenderly placed on my shoulder, making me jump. It was Abigail and I didn’t realise I was crying until my eyes met her face. She squeezed my shoulder slightly but didn't speak. 

It wasn’t long till Grimshaw and Swanson made their exit, blood covering their hands. 

“He’s weak and slightly drunk, but he should pull through,” She said flatly, taking in my tear-stained cheeks. “Go in, he asked for you.” 

I made my way in immediately. His union suit pulled down to his waist. His shoulder now wrapped in gauze and bandages. He must have been slipping in and out of consciousness or the alcohol was putting him to sleep. I sat on the chair beside his bed, a bucket of water at my feet with a clean rag in it. I took the rag and wrung it out, folding it up and placing it on his forehead to help cool him down. My free hand taking hold of his once again. He roused slightly from my touch. His eyes glazed and distant when he looked at me. The exhale was drawn out as he closed his eyes again, murmuring something incoherent, letting sleep overcome. But I couldn’t miss the squeezing of my hand, no matter how faint.

@kashasenpai​ @fallout-cowgirl​

[eirist]

A Taste of Summer II

SUNKISSED

One-shot #: 5

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T  (Teasing… Flirting… lots and lots of teasing and flirting. Plus a hint that they probably will have an unwritten sexy time.)

Note: Last prompt for the ZoNami Week 2020 at zonamievents in Tumblr. Day 5: Tan Lines. And it only took me months to finish this collection. But it’s done so I can now start my Autumn/Fall prompts.

Summary: His grey eye met hers. And the heat behind it was unmistakable. It was hotter than the sun she loves basking under.

It vaguely registered to him how brilliantly her orange hair shone against the sun.

How it glowed so radiantly…

Vibrantly…

As fiery as her personality.

Any more thoughts running inside his head came to a standstill when her lips slanted against his to deepen their kiss, prompting him to give her more access to his mouth.

She hummed—a rather, satisfied sound—as her fingernails scratched lightly against his scalp.

Her other hand started rubbing the well-defined muscles of his chest; his own was grasping her by the nape, pushing her closer to him while his free arm all but caged her body against his as their kiss turned aggressive.

She shifted on his lap slightly, pressing herself to him as they continued their lip lock.

They were on the top of the island’s lighthouse. Nami had seen it when they docked a few days ago and figured it would be nice to get a view of the whole area from that vantage point. But she only got the time to put her plan to action today—after arm twisting him to accompany her by reminding him of his accumulated debts these past few weeks from all the stress and waiting he subjected her to. 

He wasn't all too happy to acquiesce and she already expected that. So she threw in a promise of an undisturbed nap and some booze from the Sunny's secret stash as well. 

That changed his mind and sealed the deal.

So they headed towards the old white structure after breakfast despite the irritating, non-stop whining of that stupid love cook about how his Nami-swan shouldn't be left alone with him—the idiot moss head. 

Once at the top, Zoro settled down the wide gallery deck as Nami set up her surveying tripod and telescope.

The moment she finished… she made herself at home on his lap. 

What was supposedly a 'thank you' kiss had turned into a full blown make out session. And now they are kissing each other like there's no tomorrow.

This is most likely the result of all the tiptoeing they've been doing around each other these past weeks. Ok, more like the tiptoeing HE had been doing these past weeks… because Nami already knows what she wanted and was just waiting for him to come around.

“Mmmm…” she murmured against his lips, finally managing to pull away after a little while. “At this rate, I’m not gonna finish surveying this island.” Her voice was husky, eyes a bit unfocused as she gazed at him.

“Not my fault,” Zoro drawled, stealing one last kiss on her lips before giving her a rather arrogant smirk. “I’m not the one who got comfortable in my lap.”

“It IS comfortable here,” she agreed cheekily, her hand still rubbing at his pectorals.

"I can see that."

“You complaining?”

The corners of his lips quirked up some more and he shrugged. 

Her laugh was melodious as she untangled herself from him.

He must say... he was rather disappointed. How can he easily miss the way she was wrapped around him when it was just merely seconds ago?

"You should stop distracting me Zoro," she teased as she stood up. 

"Can't help it if you can't stay focused on what you're supposed to be doing."

Nami just chortled at his response. There was that certain twinkle behind her brown eyes as she regarded him... a naughty gleam he had just recently got accustomed to seeing.

She gave him a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin before swiveling around to finally pay attention to her surveying tools.

Zoro leaned back against the metal wall, hands behind his head, ready to pass out anytime as Nami gradually gets into her zone. It’s not like he will be able to disturb her without risking an increase in his currently renewed debt. Plus, she did promise him booze and an undisturbed nap.

And damn he’s going to get 'em both.

He yawned widely as he felt himself relax at the soporific sound of the waves crashing on the rocks below. His grey eye flitted towards Nami to check on her first before he succumbed to sleep.

The swordsman silently observed her… admiring the serene look she had on her face as she scribbled and doodled on that small notebook she had remarkably pulled out somewhere from her tight, pale yellow sundress.

Her orange hair whipped wildly across her face, prompting her to tilt her head towards the wind so they will be blown back and away from her pretty face…

…and sun-kissed shoulders.

“Quit staring at me Zoro,” she suddenly said, looking back at him with a smirk. “You’re making me blush.”

He scoffed.

She snickered at his reaction and went back to charting the island.

He, on the other hand, went back to watching her.

Her brows were furrowed in what could only mean deep concentration. She chewed on her lower lip as she focused on whatever was jotted down her notebook. 

He always marveled at the discipline and effort she puts out for her beloved maps. It was almost the same as what he devotes to his training and swordsmanship.

When she’s like this… Zoro realized that he can stare at her forever.

“You’re still looking, Zoro,” her playful voice broke into his thoughts.

He blinked up at her.

Nami was eyeing him again. Though despite the mischievous grin on her lips, he can see that her cheeks were slightly flushed and he knows that it has nothing to do with the sun.

He inwardly smirked.

“I take it you like what you’re seeing?”

He returned her grin with his signature shark-like one. “And if I do? Are you going to charge me for looking?”

“Yes. That’s 200,000 belis added to your debt.”

“200,000 belis are for groping.” Zoro pointed out, cocking an eyebrow at her.

She looked genuinely surprised that he knows that. 

“How come I owe you 200,000?” He asked, frowning. “Wait, don’t tell me you put a price on earlier?! I didn't grope, you greedy onna!”

“Idiot,” Nami reached down to pinch his cheek. “That doesn’t have a price. The charge is for catching you ogling at me twice!”

“The hell? You sure are evil,” he grumbled, wrapping a hand around her wrist. A wicked smile suddenly appeared on his face and he tugged her down to him.

She easily let him pull her right back into his lap… arms automatically wrapping around his neck.            

“And that’s why you like me,” Nami joshed, beaming at him.

“Who says I do?”

She pouted. “Didn't you kiss me because you like me? Oh you wound me!”

The corner of Zoro’s lips twitched amusedly. “You’re mistaken.”

“Am I really?”

“Really.”

"That wasn’t what you said last night.”

She was right. He did say that when they finally talked about what happened in the orchard after they  sneaked out of the villa for a late night stroll along the beach and almost got caught by Robin and Franky. 

And Brook.

And Usopp.

And Sanji for crying out loud!

Why are their crew mates such night owls?

Luckily they were able to wrap things up about their relationship and managed a kiss or two before nearly encountering their still awake and about friends.

“Hello?” Nami tapped his forehead with her knuckles. “Are you still there Zoro?”

“What?” He must’ve zoned out, thinking about yesterday’s events.

“Getting lost in your own thoughts huh?”

"Shut up."

He playfully sank his teeth on one bare shoulder.

“Hey!!!" 

Zoro grinned roguishly at her and immediately planted a kiss on the spot to appease her. “Can't resist. You're being more cheeky than usual."

Nami scowled at him. "Biting will cost you another hundred thousand belis!”

"Just put it on my tab. You have my permission to cash my bounty once my debt reaches it.”

Her eyes widened. Then she sniggered. “You must like me so much that you’re actually willing to be surrendered to the marines.”

“Yeah.”

She blushed when he easily admitted it but instantly recovered her composure as she tossed her head back and laughed loudly. 

Damn! Who knows Zoro can be endearing sometimes?

Nami kissed his cheek adoringly. “I’ll hold on to that. Nothing can make a woman fall so hard than a man willing to be handed over to the marines.”

“To cash out his millions worth bounty.” Zoro added.

“To cash out his millions worth bounty.” Nami agreed with a wide smile. “I really like that part a lot.”

“Tch. Of course you do. You're a money fiend after all.”

She laughed again and childishly stuck out her tongue at him. “Priorities Zoro.” 

“Glad to know I’m one of the least.”

“Uh-huh,” she nipped him on the jaw. “Now I'm going to focus on my other priority," she gestured to her equipment. "The earlier I finish, the sooner we can head back. Robin and I planned to sunbathe while we babysit you boys. Pretty sure you all want to run amok and play before we leave this island.”

“Is that why you’re wearing a swimsuit underneath this?” Zoro inquired as his fingers played with the thin strap of her dress.

“That and you know how spontaneous our crew is. First it's a barbecue party then the next thing you know one or three of our idiot hammers’ in the sea, drowning."

“You rarely go after our hammers.”

Nami rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “That’s because we have you and Sanji-kun for that.”

“Hnnn…” he traced the strap on her shoulder before his finger strayed off path, to run along the bikini string that was diagonally traversing her collarbone.

She shivered slightly under his touch. Something inside her immediately sparked.

“I don’t see why you still need to sunbathe,” he was saying as he hooked a finger on her strap, nudging it to the side. “You’ve already had too much sun while we’re staying here.” He touched the tan line she was sporting underneath. “Still not roasted enough?”

Nami looked indignant. “What the hell do you mean by that?!”

He chuckled, dipping his head down and kissing the still pale skin.

And she melted just like that... her annoyance instantaneously dissipating. A familiar heat crept up her entire body and she groaned. “Damn it!”

He was looking smug. Absolutely liking the way he affects her. 

This is better than he expected when he kissed at the orchard.

"Thought we're here to map and nap Nami?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. She was slowly learning that Zoro can be a tease when he wants to.

But she wasn't the kind to just let him one up her. Together or not she wouldn't let him take the upper hand.

She batted her eyelashes at him. 

"Oh," her voice took on a flirtatious tone. "Here I thought you want to see and touch more."

Apparently Zoro was thinking just the same thing. 

“Of course I do,” he played along, whispering in her ear. “How about you lose the dress? Lemme see those tan lines you worked so hard to get?”

It took all her willpower not to let her jaw drop in pure amazement.

Was he really the same person who was hesitant to make the first move? Who managed to turn his back on her while she was top naked in front of him after skinny dipping on the lake?

Who consistently refused to kiss her despite every damn opportunity they have until he cannot stop himself anymore?

She heard the low rumble of his laughter as she just stared blankly at him.

“Is this…” she managed to say after a few seconds of short circuiting. “Your not-so-subtle way of saying you want me naked?”

“I think I’ve waited long enough Nami.” He stated in that deep, lazy yet light-hearted voice that she was secretly fond of.

A delicious shiver of anticipation ran all over her body and made her skin crawl.

“And you actually want me to believe that Roronoa Zoro’s actually interested in things like tan lines and a naked girl?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“You!” She exploded when she saw the corner of his lips twitching. Her moron swordsman was trying not to laugh. “Quit teasing me, you idiot!” She bopped him on the head lightly as he finally laugh out loud.

She glared at him as he continued laughing at her expense.

This is going to be one hell of an interesting relationship.

With a vexed-sounding huff, she scooted away from his lap to stand up, giving his leg a nice, good kick.

Zoro caught her by the ankle. Still grinning up at her, he said, “Just go back to your mapping Nami, I still want my nap.”

“Damn right you still do! By all means kindly please pass out now!”  

“And booze.”

“I will drown you later in favorite sake!”

He threw her a cocky smirk as his thumb rubbed circles on the inside of her ankle. “The sooner you finished the better. We can continue where we left off back at the villa.”

Nami raised an eyebrow at him. “Where we… left off?”

His grey eye met hers. And the heat behind it was unmistakable. It was hotter than the sun she loves basking under to get tanned.

“You actually thought I was just teasing you?”