#yes I finally drew him after 3 goddamn years

[dracomeir]

Stuff I drew in an aggie today. (Idk how tf I drew samurai Pico's hair like it was nothing.)

[redpandaramblings]

Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 3.

Part 1- Here

Previous part Here

Next Part Here

Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate, Shinso/Denki side relationship

Where we left off-

You glanced up at the sound of the door. In came your parents, then the Yokomadas. You did a double take as the final person, the omega you were here to meet, entered the room. They looked equally as startled as your eyes locked.

“Y/N?”

“Denki?!”

You slowly walked through the teahouse garden, your electric blond friend oddly silent as he kept pace with you. Your parents and the Yokomadas had allowed the two of you a bit of privacy to talk. So far, neither of you had mustered the courage to break the awkward atmosphere. Neither your parents or the Yokomadas had seemed to pick up on Denki or your mood. If anything, they were thrilled you two already knew each other. With a sigh, you sat on a bench by the koi pond, not looking at the blond as to settled down next to you. After several minutes, he spoke.

“So. What are you doing here?”

You snorted, and gently dumped your shoulder against his.

“Right back at you, Pikachu.”

“I’ll tell you. After you tell me.”

You chuckled humorously, and tilted your head back to look at the sky.

“Would you believe me if I said I was just here to appease my mother?”

Denki considered for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. You’ve been saying no to her for years. So tell me, why are you here.”

You take a deep breath and let it out again slowly through your nose.

“I… I think I wanted to be here. Needed to.” You wrung your hands, throwing a sideways glance at Denki. “I… I want to be mated. Have a family. Have someone who needs me and lets me need them. I used to think Kat… I used to think Bakugou was my person. But I’m not sure anymore, Denks. You know what he’s like and so do I, but I’ve waited for years, and nothing, and I’m so tired, and I’m not even sure he even likes me anymore, and…” You’re stopped by Kaminari gently rubbing your back.

“Breath, Y/n. Come on. Deep breaths.”

You inhaled shakily. You hadn’t even noticed you’d been hyperventilating. Quiet settled again, aside from the sounds of nature and your slowly slowing breathing. After a few moments, you spoke again.

“I’m just so lonely, Denks. I see him every day, and I’m still so goddamn lonely. So I think… I think it’s time to let go.” Your lips twitched slightly upward as you tilt your head to look at him. “Am I terrible?”

Denki huffed out a breath and shook his head. “You? Never.” He sighed, removing his hand from you back as he began picking at the hem of his sleeve. “I wish I could say I didn’t understand. But I do. I’m kinda here for the same reason after all.”

You gave an encouraging hum and reached out, taking his hand in yours and running your thumb over his knuckles. He interlaced your fingers, giving a squeeze before continuing to speak.

“You know how I feel about Shinso, right?”

“I think everyone but Shinso knows how you feel about him.”

Denki snorted. “Yeah. Not surprised. But that’s the problem. I’ve liked him for years. Little bit of a crush but at UA, thought I could play it cool and it would go away; but then the agency paired us together and, well.” Denki gestured with the hand not holding yours. “It was so easy! I’d go boom! And then he’d go pow! Then shoom! It was amazing! He was amazing… And so I tried to get his attention. I tried so damn hard. And you know me.”

You snorted, giving his hand a squeeze. “You’re about as subtle as a brick through a living room window.”

“Exactly!” He shouted, pulling away to stand up and pace. “I flirted. I used all my best pick up lines. I asked him out to the club, and he said yes. But do you know what he said afterward? He said though it wasn’t his usual scene, it was really good being able to hang out with a friend. I… I asked him to spend my heat with me.”

You inhaled sharply. Kaminari looked at you with an expression you hardly recognized. He collapsed onto the bench, leaning heavily against you.

“He said ‘I’m glad you’re that comfortable with me, but it probably would be better for you to ask someone else.’” Denki whispered, sniffling.

“Oh.. Denki.” You wrapped your arms around the blond, squeezing him tightly. Half out of instinct, you tried to pump out soothing pheromones while you gently scented his hair. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing, sweetheart. You’re a wonderful omega!”

That was all it took for Denki to start sobbing heavily in your arms. You squeezed him tightly as tears filled your own eyes. The tears fell when Denki wrapped his arms around you, hugging you just as tightly as you held him. There in the tranquil garden you both huddled together as you finally allowed yourself to cry. Years of hurt and longing fell from your eyes one drop at a time.

You weren’t sure how long it had been when the two of you slowly pulled away from each other. You used your thumbs to wipe Denki’s cheeks. He gave you a halfhearted smile.

“So,” you asked tentatively, “what should we do? They’re going to expect an answer from us about this whole…” You waved a vague hand “Marriage date thing.”

Denki hummed, puffing up his cheeks as he blew out a breath. “God, I don’t know. Certainly wasn’t expecting it be you, you know? No offense.”

You drew back, gasping in mock anger. “Full offense!” You could only hold your expression a few seconds before you started snickering.

Denki grinned his first really grin of the day. “Well excuuuuse me for insulting your alpha sensibilities.”

“You’re excused. For now.”

You both chuckled. Looking out at the pond, you spoke again. “I just wish I had the right answers. And I really wish we had more time.”

Denki furrowed his brow. “Well… Technically, we could.”

“What do you mean?”

Denki bounced on his seat. “Okay. So. Hear me out. We both need time to process, clearly. Also clearly, our families are just not gonna give us that. So… Why don’t we do this?”

“Wait. Wait. We do this?” you asked, both curious and incredulous.

“Yeah! Think about it. One! They mainly want us in relationships they approved of. They set us up, so clearly, they approve. Two! If we say we’d like to try out this match, they obviously aren’t going to set up any more dates; therefore buying us time. And bonus of no annoying randos. Three! We can say we’re going to take the relationship slow because we’ve both been burned before and want to make sure. Four! Four…” Denki trailed off, looking at his feet.

“Four is maybe if we can’t find a love match at least we’re friends who work well together?” You murmured.

Denki nodded, glancing at you with a rueful smirk. “Yeah. Exactly. Vibe on the same wavelength. Hell, we even want similar shit in life.”

“Actual house, few pets, stability…”

Denki nodded again. “Sucks, but would make sense for us to consider it. As much as I fucking hate the ‘You’re not getting any younger’ speech, they are kind right. We can’t waste all our time waiting for things that aren’t gonna happen.”

You shook your head with a chuckle. “God, don’t you hate it when they’re right about shit like that?”

“You have no idea.”

You stood, stretching. “Well, I guess we go tell them, then.”

Denki groaned. “There isn’t enough saki in the world for that conversation.”

“And just so we’re clear, this stays between us for now, right? No one knows but us, our folks, and I guess your cousins.”

“Agreed. I don’t want to think about what anyone would say. Bakugou would kill me!”

You winced. “Unlikely. I doubt he’d care. But if Mina finds out, everyone will know.”

“You’re not kidding. No worries from me, I don't want this getting out any more than you do.”

“So… Engaged, I guess?”

Denki dusted himself off and stood. “Deal. Engaged.” Denki stuck his hand out, and you shook it.

You both turned and started making your way back to the teahouse, taking your time and going the long way to be sure to avoid and of the other patrons. This was fine. A good plan. Nothing could go wrong as long as no one found out.

And there you have part 3! Sorry the wait and thank you all for being patient! If anyone has any questions regarding the fic or how this particular omegaverse operates, please feel free to shoot me an ask. Also, please note that @snuggleyourredpandas is my main account, so it you see a message reply from them, that's me!

TAGLIST- @yzviea, @not-a-pushover, @thelilypieforever, @kumihayu, @aomi04, @ladybakugouu, @one-simp-more, @hakunamatatayqueen, @my-thoughts-are-weird, @left-alone-yuki, @officialtrashbusiness Just a reminder, if you want tagged make sure you have the ability to be tagged turned on; and I'd have to be informed if your blog name changes! Cheers, Darlings!

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

3 Oct. Suptober: Rainbows

With his finger, Dean traced the outline of one of the rainbows arced on Cas's knee. "Is it weird that rainbows remind me of you?"

s15 au; deancas

In hindsight, Cas was preoccupied, not only by the task at hand but by the person he was undertaking it on behalf of, which was likely why he didn't realize he had company in the bunker kitchen until Sam said, "Hey, Cas," and Cas almost fumbled the glass into the sink. 

"Oof, sorry," Sam rushed to say next. 

His expression was a variety of things, none of which Cas clocked as fundamentally apologetic while he refilled the glass. 

Sam cleared his throat. "Whatcha doing?"

Cas squinted at him. Maybe Sam was drunk, or ill. "Just getting a drink of water." He left the statement there; Sam had seen him consume water before.

Sam fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt and did not look at Cas. "Sure. You." He made some kind of gesture with his hands that did not seem relevant to anything. "You seen Dean lately?"

"He's asleep," Cas offered, since he knew it to be correct.

"In his room?" Sam's voice cracked on the second word.

Cas drew out the word 'yes' into something of a question. What was Sam looking at on the ceiling anyway?

"His room. Which. You just left?" Sam bounced on the balls of his feet for a second.

Cas looked around for intruders, hex bags, strange fogs, spooky auras, blood stains, a bucket of empty beer cans -- something that might explain why Sam was speaking like someone who'd just learned English. 

"Yes, Dean's room." 

Cas suppressed a smile that wanted to surface as his thoughts quickly flitted to Dean -- Dean curled boneless beneath a body-warmed blanket, his eyelashes fanned dark against the tops of his freckled cheeks -- and back again. He sat the glass in the sink and stepped toward Sam carefully.

"Uh huh. Okay." Sam took a step backwards. His line of sight popped back up to the light fixture. "Wearing. ...What it is you're wearing?

Cas glanced down past his bare chest to the flannel covering his legs. "Pajamas?"

Sam nodded a series of tight little nods, like an invisible puppeteer controlling him was getting restless. "Okay. Okay. And Dean is." He didn't trail off as much as seem to run out of ideas for the rest of the sentence.

"Asleep," Cas reminded him. 

Another Sam nod. "Right." 

"He tends to fall asleep for a while within thirty or so minutes after we--"

"Dude," Sam said. 

Understanding clicked into place. "Ah. I apologize, Sam," Cas said, with a small sinking sensation in his stomach. "I did assume Dean had told you." 

He was leaving out some words, and he didn't mean to play coy; it just seemed like perhaps Sam would prefer fewer details over more with regards to -- how to say diplomatically? -- recent developments.

"Dean tell me? Really?" Sam stared at him directly for the first time the whole encounter. His pupils were big black dots reminiscent of the ones he'd had when they were all cartoons for a while.

"No." Cas paused. "But I did think maybe you just knew." 

An honest confession, since Sam, a skilled hunter with decades of experience beneath his proverbial belt, was often quite good at discerning patterns beneath the surface of verbal communication. Cas had not always been as certain of his own feelings as he was in the present. Indeed, it had taken years for what he felt for Dean -- unfamiliar, prismatic impulses occasionally strong enough to almost bring Cas to his knees -- to coagulate into something fierce and unshakeable that could in part be described in words, much less translatable to more tangible actions. Just because Cas had been slow to realize the depths of his own emotions didn't mean Sam had been.

Except.

Sam's eyebrows jumped into his hairline like worms fleeing chicken beaks. 

"What," he choked out. "Why. No. How would I have known about--" He was flinging his hands around again. "--This?" The hands flew toward Cas like Sam was casting a spell at him. "You are like my brother."

"Um," Cas said.

"And Dean is my brother."

"Uh--"

"And I have literally heard him refer to you as our brother."

"Right.”

"Like, we're all brothers here." Sam gave a helpless chuff of laughter.

"Okay."

"So you understand," Sam continued, "why I might be concerned that my two brothers are apparently sleeping together." The volume of his voice went lower in direct counter to its pitch by the end of the sentence.

Cas chose not to comment on this, nor on the shadow that lurked in the doorway and then dissipated. He said instead, "I don't really sleep all that much, but I take your point."

Sam buried his face in the palms of his hands. 

"I'm." Cas swallowed. He stood a bit taller, the way a soldier might when either respectfully yielding to an enemy or accepting that opponent's surrender -- not that Sam was a villain here. "I'm sorry you found out this way, Sam."

"It's." Sam took a deep breath, then coughed once. "You don't have to apologize."

"Sam, could you... There is nothing on the ceiling that could be that interesting."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." Sam spoke like he meant it, or at least wanted to mean it.

Cas let out an inward sigh of relief. "All right."

"The stress," Sam said. "What we do. Monsters. Apocalypses, plural. It's-- I know it's a lot." Now he had slipped into hunter wrangler mode, all rallying the troops and leftover law school pragmatism. "And I can see how the two of you might, you know, need to blow off some steam. Sometimes."

"Sam--"

"Dean always does get a little antsy when he goes a while without." Sam shook his head like he'd realized this was absolutely not a topic he wanted to think about. "You know."

"Sam," Cas said sharply.

"I'll stop talking now."

"I'm in love with your brother, Sam." Those truest words were spoken so easily that once upon a time it might have bothered Cas; in the present, it assuredly did not. He let Sam gape for a moment and then softened the statement with, "It's not just a casual, friends with insurance sort of thing for me. For the record. If that helps."

Sam looked like the human equivalent of the little tri-colored beachball that would spin and spin onscreen when one of his computer tablets got overwhelmed. Finally, his eyes cleared. "All right." His mouth quirked. "The phrase is 'friends with benefits.'" 

Cas blinked. "Insurance is often a benefit extended to citizens in the United States, isn't it?"

"Less often than's helpful," Sam said.

Cas nodded. The two of them stood there by the sink, not really looking at each other. A thought came to Cas.

"I love you too--"

"Dude," Sam said.

Cas held up a hand. "--But I'm not in love with you." This distinction was one that had taken him a long time to understand; it seemed worth sharing.

The ceiling had recaptured Sam's fascination, but he was smiling when he said, "I know." He clapped Cas on the shoulder. "I love you too."

Cas returned the smile. "You, and Dean, and Jack -- you are all my family."

"Yeah." Sam ducked his head, as if pleased. "Yeah, I know."

Cas picked the glass of water up out of the sink. He raised it to Sam in a small toast. "Okay. I'm going to go back to Dean's room now."

"'Night, Cas."

Cas padded back down the hallway, opened Dean's squeaky door, and crept inside the room. The bedside lamp had been turned on. He watched the blanketed lump in the middle of the mattress for movement before asking quietly, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Most of it." Dean sat up and yawned. He scratched at the side of his head where his hair was sticking out. The blanket puddled below his pelvis. Cas glanced away like he hadn't personally and enthusiastically pressed those hipbones into the mattress less than an hour before.

When Cas walked around and put a knee on the bed, Dean said, "I also wanted water."

Cas bumped his arm with the glass. "This is for you."

"Oh," Dean said, taking it from him. "Thanks."

"Because I don't drink all that much water."

"Right."

"Because I don't sweat as much as you do."

"Hmm. You sweat some," Dean said, a hint of slyness in his tone. He leaned away to leave the water glass on the bedside table.

Cas sat on the edge of the mattress and let Dean scoot up to him. "Are you bragging about making me sweat?"

"Mmm," Dean said, splaying his hand over Cas's clavicle. 

"You should probably talk to Sam in the morning."

"This is the morning."

"Later, then."

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's waist like he owned the span of it. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

"Maybe you could just--

"Nooo." 

A sharpness tapped underneath Cas's ribcage, an angel blade's point pressed with deliberate aim. It took a minute before he could speak. He gathered his courage. "If you want to stop--"

"No." The word fell from Dean like Cas had knocked it out with his fist. His eyes were fever bright and anguished, and another, better ache flooded Cas's chest at the sight. "No."

"I am very much in love with you." Cas took a breath. "Sam's reaction, I know, wasn't entirely out of nowhere." 

Dean tipped his forehead to Cas's. "I don't think he was objecting so much as he was surprised--"

"I'm only saying, I have thought of you both as my brothers, at various times in the past." Cas studied, not for the first time, a collection of freckles on Dean's shoulder. "I still think of Sam as a brother, in a way. He may not be incorrect that the situation, as it has evolved, is something a bit… Atypical." He considered a further implication. "And each of us is one of Jack's dads."

Dean huffed, a bluff since his fingertips were memorizing Cas's vertebrae like he planned to sketch them later. "Well. We can't all be the goddamn Waltons, or whoever."

Cas agreed, "We definitely do not live on a farm." He let himself sway toward the ardent way Dean was looking at him. "It might be nice to live on a farm, with cows and ducks, maybe some sheep--"

"And I am very much in love with you too," Dean said softly. He pressed his lips to Cas's cheek.

"Yeah?" Cas's eyes felt hot.

"Yep."

Cas thought to say, "You know, Sam is exactly who you raised him to be: a good man."

At that, Dean squeezed his eyes shut. "New rule," he said hoarsely after several seconds. He wiped his eyes and shook his head. "We cannot talk about Sam, like. When we're not even dressed."

Cas stretched out his right leg and wiggled his foot. "I have on these pajamas pants. Can no-one else see them? They're covered in so many things."

This was an understatement. Technically, the pattern contained no less than the following items: rainbows, unicorns, blue whales, yellow stars, shield-wielding pugs, and anti-whale flags, whatever and why-ever those were. Put simply, the pajama pattern was like an indecipherable code of images that seemed to illustrate the illicit drug use of the manufacturer's designer.

With his finger, Dean traced the outline of one of the rainbows arced on Cas's knee. "Is it weird that rainbows remind me of you?"

Cas thumbed a spot on Dean's throat, his mouth going dry with the desire to taste the pulse fluttering there. "In my celestial wavelength form, I suppose I would be more closely related to a visually-deducible electromagnetic wave than I would be a pug riding a whale into glorious battle."

"These pajamas are a work of art," Dean contended, kissing Cas's temple. "Hmm."

"What?"

"I guess that story about God -- Chuck -- using a rainbow to seal a promise about never again destroying earth with a flood is just apocrypha, huh?"

Cas thought about it. "Yes. Unfortunately." He tried not to sigh. "Sometimes I have to remind myself Chuck created some beautiful wonders despite...being who he is."

"Yeah. Going out after a hard rain and seeing a rainbow's colors arching through the clouds -- still seems hopeful." Dean started pulling Cas down beside him on the mattress. "Maybe that's what reminds me of you."

Unable to speak, Cas tucked his face into Dean's throat. 

Dean's fingers were slipping beneath the waistband of the pajamas, ever so slowly. "Anyway, these are mine." Cas hummed an affirmative. "I would like them back," Dean said.

"Now?" Cas heard himself gasp.

Dean pressed him onto his back to nose his way down the line of Cas's breastbone, his warm breath teasing over cooled skin and coaxing out a shiver Cas felt splintering through his whole body. 

"I would settle for you just not having them on at the moment," Dean said, using both hands to reclaim his property, and before raising up to kiss anything Cas might have wanted to say in response entirely out of his mouth.

[ravenousgf]

"Screw you for being so perfect." @wesper-week Day 1: Jealousy

It wasn't like Wylan wanted to think about it.

It wasn't like he mapped out the slow descent to insanity, first when the thought randomly popped up as he did the dishes, then as he looked in the mirror at his unremarkable eyes and nearly invisible, too-short eyelashes, then as he lay awake in the dawn, staring at Jesper's sleeping form bathed in rose-gold from the open window that his boyfriend would definitely grumble about when he woke up.

No, when he wondered how many other places and people had seen Jesper in that same position, sprawled over white bedcovers, long lashes brushing his cheekbones and face uncharacteristically at peace--it was uninvited torture.

It had only been half a year, and already he was growing old and insecure. Seventeen, and he already felt like he wasn't enough--no match for Jesper's vivacity, his keen wit and keener gaze, no match for Jesper's smarter, calmer, tougher friends. Jesper had always been a rolling stone, even as the path chipped and chipped away at him though he deserved better (he deserved the goddamn world) and he sparkled through it all, stayed the wondrous boy he was. Wylan was something he'd had picked up, something Jesper, like his dad, like the part of his brain that should have gotten him to read, could easily drop back down, forget about, if he wasn't good enough for them.

When he stared at the silver rim around his teacup, Madeline's blue-gray eyes flashed before him; when he saw Jesper swallow the bitter coffee he needed to focus, sometimes, Kaz's eyes appeared, liquified; and every interaction that Jes was better at than Wylan--which was every interaction ever--only served to remind him of how easy it was to fall in love with Jesper.

It had taken him far less than was prudent, after all.

Now, as Jesper plucked a flute of champagne off a passing waitress and scanned the room, the butterflies in Wylan's stomach multiplied, going haywire.

'Ready?' Jes asked, dark eyes twinkling, and Wylan nodded vigorously. Fuck no.

Jesper flitted about like one of the butterflies, a wink here, a brush of shoulders there, a one-armed hug even as his hand remained firmly clasped in Wylan's. Jesper had always been magic, with his too-fast thoughts and shimmering restlessness and ever-expanding host of crazy ideas, but today, in his neon blue outfit and diamond stud, he outshone plain, awkward, blushing, Wylan even more than usual.

Saints. Where had that come from?

That night, he stayed up just as late as Jesper, and when they finally went to bed at 3 bells, he felt like a hammer had been taken to his brain over and over.

'Jes,' he whispered into the darkness, their fingertips brushing. Sparks never left the points of contact. His chest felt like it could burst with everything he'd left unsaid so far.

'Hm?'

'Do you think we should go out more, like this?' Say no, he pleaded. Say I'm enough for you, with my stupid flute and stupid flirting that could never compare to your charisma and my even more stupid dependency.

Jesper's eyes were black sockets in the dark, graying as he blinked. 'Are you really asking me if I like great drinks, better food, and company at its finest?' he laughed, a low, stuttered sound that did things to Wylan's chest. 'Sure, merchling. Is that what you want?'

'It's alright.'

Jes trailed his fingers up Wylan's arm, touch featherlight. 'Alright? What about my outfit today was alright?' his tone was teasing.

Wylan turned his head so their noses were nearly brushing. 'I suppose I've seen worse.'

That damned laugh again. It was like music. No, even better. Warped music, toughened and deeper and far too gorgeous for a time like this, for feelings like his. Wylan wondered if the thudding of his heart could really be felt through his arm.

Jesper drew closer, and before Wylan could react, warm, honeyed lips were pressing against his, strong arms pulling him in, his soft gasp swallowed like the golden drink swigged earlier that night. He shut his eyes as Jesper buried his hand in his hair, and gripped Jesper's shoulders, pushed every doubt, every painful, atrocious, petty comparison to the back of his mind as he bit down on Jesper's lip, lightly, craving the groan that would inevitably ensue--

Jesper pulled away, hard enough to roll to the opposite side of the bed. Wylan's eyes felt like bulbs in his face.

'What's wrong?'

Jesper took his hand--thank Ghezen. 'You tell me, Wy.'

But how could he?

'Was it the party?' The mattress shifted as Jesper propped himself up on one arm. 'I suppose it was too tame, but it was only our first in a while. All those damned jobs...I can always take you someplace more interesting soon.'

Saints. That was tame?

Jes' foot pushed up against his, warm as an armchair by the fireplace or a loved one's smile, and rings clinked together in the near-blackness.

Say something, idiot. 'It was fine,' he mumbled, before Jesper could worry himself any longer. 'I'm sorry I don't know any places better.' Now come closer and continue where you left us off.

'We both know that's my job, merchling.' Jes squeezed his sweaty palm and for the millionth time, Wylan repressed a shudder at the strangeness of all this, of Jesper Fahey still finding him new and interesting and worth getting his palm all gross over. He could almost hear Jesper's grin. 'You're the smart one, remember?'

His cheeks heated in the dark. 'No, I'm not. They're not mutually exclusive.'

'Sure they're not. But that doesn't mean I'm not right.'

'You're not right either way.' his voice had risen above a whisper almost without his knowledge.

'Ok, what's this about? What did I fuck up?'

Wylan almost laughed at the very idea. 'What? No. That's ridiculous.'

'Why, thank you. I live to serve.' The bite was evident enough.

Ghezen, I'm horrible at this. 'No, no, no, that's not it. It's not you, it's me!'

'Did you just--'

'Shut up.'

'--really? that's what you're--'

'I'm sorry I'm so boring, alright?' he burst out. He felt rather than saw Jesper freeze up. 'You called this one tame and it's the most social I've ever been, and I'm not sure if your clubs, or your...your...' he struggled to say it. 'I don't think I could ever love all that. It's not my scene, never will be.'

Jes reached out, untangled Wylan's hands, and he realised that in his distress he'd wrung them together rather aggressively. It stung now that he'd stopped.

Jesper was quiet. Then, 'Have you ever been to one of them?'

Oh, saints. Lie or truth, lie or truth. 'Ye--no, actually. I don't have to go to know that it would be too much.'

'But--'

'Would you go with Inej?'

'What?'

'Would you go off with Inej, live out your year on the seas in a pirate vessel, etcetera etcetera...?'

'Did you really just say the entire word?'

'Answer the question.'

'Alright, fine. I see your point. But Wy,' he threaded their fingers through each others' so Wylan could feel the individual cool presses of Jesper's rings, 'that's fine. I mean, it does matter to me, but at the end of the day I could never say no to staying in with you. I mean, I'd be mad to. And all this'--he gestured, arms shadowed swirls in the night--'a magnificient house, and your books, and not having to worry about money, well, I'd be an idiot to want to go out all the time. This is what my dreams were of on that terrible ship to the ice court. Well, those, Inej dying--nightmares, honestly--and you, of course.'

'What was I wearing?' it popped out without a second thought. Wylan's heart was beating double time, speeding faster than ever now that the heavyweights were lifted off it.

Jesper's third genuine laugh of the night was uproarious. Thank Saints for you Jes. 'Well played, merchling.'

'I try,' Wylan whispered, as they reached for each other again, and this time Jesper's muffled reply was cut off by Wylan. Good. Let me surprise you.

'I'll make my wild, wild parties less frequent,' Jesper whispered against his lips, 'now I know you'll be waiting at home.'

Wylan laughed a little. 'Oh, how romantic.'

'I try.' was all Jesper parroted with a gleam in his eye before flipping them, and Wylan lost all rational thought to better feelings.

The room echoed with their slowly building bliss.

[anightflower]

Come and Find Me

Chapter Two: Paint It Black

Hello Loves! Just to let everyone know, my chapters go from flashbacks to present day! Thank you all for sticking with me and I am sorry this chapter is posted a bit late! 

Spencer Reid x Reader 

Warnings: Mentions of Gore, violence, swearing

Read Chapter One Here 

He had spent several hours outside your window, trying to figure out the next phase of his plan. But once the Doctor had arrived and swept you into his arms, he had decided to go home. Not back to his apartment, that was the place he resided. His home was a place nobody could know about. 

It was a place for only him and his mentor Drew. 

He walked into the kitchen to find Drew cleaning up his knives. “Hey little brother, out with your girl again?” Drew asked with a mischievous smile. 

Little brother was Drew’s nickname for the boy, they weren’t blood-related, but being 7 years younger than Drew, he had taken the boy under his wing.

“Yeah, until her stupid fucking doctor came.” the boy replied. 

“Don’t worry about the Doctor, your time will come.” Drew reassured. “Come, sit, I just finished up making dinner.” 

The boy sat down, pushing aside Drew’s papers so he had space to eat.

“Ah, ah,ah, you’re going to want to look at those. Those papers contain all the fun things you need to know. I’m not teaching you all of this for nothing huh?” Drew smiles, placing the papers back in front of the boy, alongside a bowl of stew.

“Do you really think this will work?” The boy asked, glancing over Drew’s explicitly written notes.

“Don’t worry little brother, this whole thing is trial and error.” Drew reassured. “Don’t be intimidated I’ve had this whole thing planned for a while and she won’t be the first, she can be our finale-” Drew was interrupted by a scream. He rolled his eyes. “Goddamnit, this bitch just never shuts up. I wanted to surprise you with her, but now she spoiled it.” 

The boy gave Drew a curious look. Drew chuckled. “Come on little brother I will show you.” Drew led the boy down to their basement. “After she’s gone, I’ll soundproof the basement better. I just needed an idea of how loud these whores will scream.”

The color drained from the boy’s face as his gaze fell on the woman. She was tied to Drew’s metal table, she looked like one of the frogs that the Boy had to set up for dissection for Professor Irving’s class, except she was very much alive, and slightly bloodied. 

“Meet trial number one little brother, she looks quite like your girl huh? I think all of em’ should just so you can be prepared for your finale with her.” Drew turned to the Boy. “Surprise.”

“How long has she been missing?” the Boy asked, panicked. How could Drew not warn him? “Relax, like I said she’s trial one. Just a corner whore, no one will even notice she is gone. The next one will be the real challenge, I want to find one exactly like your girl and I already found her, this one we will just pump and dump. Did you get those chemicals from your professor like I asked?” 

The Boy nodded “It all in my backpack.” The Boy couldn’t drag his eyes away from the girl on the table. Yes she had your hair and eye color, but she was a hideous thing compared to you. A mere whore could never compare to you. “If she’s a whore I don’t want to touch her. I’ll try the next one.”

Drew huffed. “Fine, you only have to watch this time virgin boy. But next time, I expect you to be hands on. I’m not doing all this work for nothing.”

The Boy’s face was emotionless the whole time he watched Drew, even when the blood spurted, even when the girl looked at him, pleading for help. Even when she stopped breathing and the chemicals he brought were used to melt her flesh. 

The Boy felt nothing.

________________________________________________________________

There was an extra flounce to your step as you made your way to your favorite cafe. Maybe it was because you had successfully hired a few new employees to help your company flourish, maybe it was because one of them had already settled a new deal in Ohio, or maybe it was because you knew Spencer was coming back from a case today. 

Hell, you had just had a fantastic day and you needed to update Ava and grab your favorite mocha latte to top it off. And maybe it was your 4th coffee of the day, but so what?

Your face lit up even more when you saw Ava. “Hello my darling best friend.” You said causing Ava to grin. 

“Hey there babe, what’s got you so preppy today?” Ava asked. 

“Well, let’s see; I hired 3 new employees who already are fantastic, one of which already booked us a design job in Ohio. Oh and my superhero hot boyfriend is coming home from a case tonight.” You grinned.

Ava rolled her eyes. “I still can’t believe you told him I call him that. I wanted to dissolve into the floor and simultaneously kick your ass.” She laughed. “As for the new employees, are any of them hot? Single? Oh and Ohio is good I guess.” 

You giggled. “Well Thomas is incredibly handsome, but I am afraid his soon to be husband might want to have a word with you if you try anything. As for the other two, Aiyla and May, I think you’ll find them stunning and single.” 

Ava wiggled her eyebrows. “Don’t tempt me girl, you know I swing both ways. Anyway, grab a seat, I’ll grab your coffee and bring it out to you. I get off early today so we can actually talk to each other rather than me hopping back and forth between the counter. James gets to hold down the fort with Emma and the newbie Jane today.”

“Well, maybe Jane will help him get out of his shell.” You hoped. Ava shrugged. 

“Maybe, anyway, Ohio?” Ava questioned.

 “Oh! Yes. My new minions are sketching our designs as we speak. The company is called Ohio technological, a very original name yes-” You said as Ava snorted. “But they’re trying to create an office space like Google, however I am going to one up that and add my own spin to it. Also your girl has a fantastic budget from this company and I am being paid bank!” You squealed.

Ava squealed with you, grabbing your hands and squeezing them tight. “(Y/N) that’s fantastic! I am so proud of you girl, you’ve been working so hard on this and I am so glad it’s all working out.” 

“There is one downside though.” You said with a sigh. “I have to get my plans to them by next week and once they approve of them, I have to head to Ohio for three weeks. After that I will just have Thomas overlook the project and tie up any loose ends. Either him or I will have to fly down and check in on the progress every couple weeks until then.”

 “Could be worse though.” Ava shrugged.

“That’s true, but Spencer and I have been dating for almost 3 months and half the time we can’t see each other. I’m worried that the distance will ruin us.” You confessed.

 Ava's face went completely serious and she grabbed your arm gently. “(Y/N, I have never seen a boy more in love with you. You have never seemed happier in your life. You two will make it work I promise. You’re both so in love it makes me sick.” You snorted out a laugh and Ava smirked.

 “Like I said, if he has a brother-” 

“AVA.” You groaned.

 _______________________________________________________________

The boy burst through the door, startling Drew. 

“Yo, what the fuck man?” Drew hissed. 

“She’s leaving. Fuck, fuck, fuck Drew. She’s leaving.” The Boy slammed the door shut, he leaned against it and slid down, hiding his face in his hands. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey little bro, take a breath, what happened?” Drew came over and pushed the boy’s hands away from his face.

“She’s leaving me Drew. For three weeks! She’s going to Ohio for THREE WEEKS. 21 days, almost a month! I won’t see her and when I do she will probably be with that goddamn doctor! What do I do?” The boy cried. 

“That fucking whore, it’s like she knows she’s making you suffer. She’s probably reveling in it. Don’t worry. While she’s gone, we will perfect our craft and get you ready. Then when she comes back you’ll strike.” 

Drew reassured the Boy, pulling him in for a hug.The Boy pulled away, dragging an arm across his tearful eyes. 

“You promise?” 

“I swear it.” Drew growled. 

________________________________________________________________

Present Day

“Garcia what did you find?” Reid asked, pleading that it would be a reliable lead. 

“Something that you won’t really like Reid.” Garcia said seriously, her usually bouncy personality was flat. “Something about your gift irked me, I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, but then I remembered; the Curtis case.” 

Spencer’s heart fell into his stomach. The Curtis case had happened a few months after Spencer had started dating you. It had happened right here in Quantico, which terrified Spencer, especially since you fell perfectly under the unsubs victimology; 20-30 year old females with (Y/C/H) and (Y/E/C), successful middle class women who lived alone for one reason or another. You had luckily been out of town for a business trip at the time, working on an office design for a company in Ohio. 

Spencer remembered a phone call he had with you one night during the case. He had called you after finding yet another dead victim, raped and torn to pieces, whore scribbled all over their wall in their blood. It had made him sick, because all he could picture was you in their place.

It was late when he called you, but he had just needed to hear your voice and know you were okay. “Hi baby, are you alright?” Your voice was sleepy, but concerned, you had kept up with the news and had heard about the horrible murders going on while you were gone.

 “Not really, but I just needed to hear your voice. There’s a sick selfish part of me that is so glad that you aren’t here (Y/N). All of these girls look so much like you-” Spencer paused, you could hear the tears in his voice. “I just am so glad you are safe, I don’t think I could focus as well on this case if I knew you could possibly be in danger.”

 “Aw Spencer, I am so sorry baby. You aren’t sick or selfish for wanting me to be safe, everyone focuses on the safety of those they love, it’s only human. I know you are going to catch this guy, you are the most brilliant man and agent I have ever met. Just don’t tell your team I said that, I don’t want a bad reputation before they even meet me.” You teased, trying to lighten his dark mood.

 It had worked slightly as you heard him let out a small laugh followed by a sniffle. “Listen Spence, I can stay here a bit longer if it will help you focus, but when I come home I am taking self-defense classes and such. I want you to have a sane mind knowing that your girlfriend actually can handle herself. I honestly think it will help me keep sane too, after hearing everything about this case.” 

Spencer paused and thought for a second, part of him wanted you as far away as possible, while the other part just wanted you in his arms. “I appreciate you considering me, but I want the ultimate decision to be made by you Princess, I trust your judgement and I don’t want you living your life based on my fear.” 

You breath caught in your throat at the sentiment. “I love you Spencer Reid.” 

“I love you more (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” A true smile beamed across his face, you guys had never said that to one another before and it meant just as much over the phone as it would in person.

Spencer flashed back to the present. “Andrew Curtis is in jail right now with three life sentences, how could this have anything to do with his case?”

 Garcia cringed a bit, “His calling card.” The words hit Spencer like a ton of bricks, how could he have not seen it before?

The gift box, the red bow, the eyes scratched out of the picture, that was exactly what Curtis had sent to his victims before they were attacked by him. Most of the women had thought it was a prank, a way to scare them into submission, they were incredibly wrong.

“So what could it be, a copycat?” Emily asked.

 “That is a possibility, they are using the exact same delivery company Andrew Curtis used, I found this on the security footage.” Garcia pulled up an image of a man wearing a uniform; it was a hideous orange color with the words “Swiftly Delivered” on it, khaki shorts, and white tennis shoes. 

“You think the company would have shut down or at least redesigned their hideous uniform after all the association with Curtis.” Emily mumbled.

“Well, I think in this case it’s lucky they didn’t, that way we could easily find the connection.” JJ said.

 “How could something like that have gotten cleared by security?” Rossi wondered aloud. “You think someone would have possibly recognized it, the case is still pretty fresh.” 

“Well, the box had no threat, no weapons, they must have just scanned it and sent it through. Alyssa was the one who brought it up with the rest of the mail. She said nothing seemed off about it when she brought it up, she just thought it was someone who was sweet on our pretty boy.” Morgan explained.

“Everyone is just so invested in my love life that we miss obvious clues.” Spencer growled frustrated.

“Well, at least we have a lead.” Hotch interrupted. “JJ, Morgan, I need you guys to head over to Swiftly Delivered. Ask them about their past customers and see if they can remember our unsub. Emily, you and Reid head over to (Y/N)’s apartment and see if you can find anything. Rossi and I are going over to talk to Curtis.”

“Hotch, I need to talk to Curtis.” Reid protested. “If he knows anything about (Y/N)-”

“No Reid. You know (Y/N)’s apartment better than anyone. You will notice if anything is wrong.” Hotch explained sternly.

“Hotch-” Reid argued. 

“No. I don’t trust Curtis, he seemed too interested during his original case. If he knows something, I can’t have him getting under your skin. Reid’s head fell in defeat. “But-” Reid’s head shot back up. “If you guys finish before us. Meet us at the prison.” Hotch ordered. 

Hope filled Reid’s eyes.

TAGLIST

@andiebeaword @haylaansmi @parkastoria @possessedjoker @amronsparty @generaltheoristexpert @sierraraeck @coniumalces @tamedbyafox @anotherr-fine-mess @adoregin @rainsong01 @canyonnmoonn  @mggshoe @boxofsparklingmuses @richardpapensmuse @deanlenaz​ @rainsong01 @goldentournesol @annesauriol @itsametaphorbriansblog @secretpickleprofessordean @shameleswhorehourstm @stepsofthefbi​ @iifloweringnightsii

[transbuckaroo]

pain, applause

hello. my name is andrew, and i wrote a short lambden fic a few days ago. this will be based on the “following the thread” quest from “the witcher 3: wild hunt” developed by cd projekt red. the characters are based on dev patel as sir gawain in the 2021 film “the green knight” as directed by david lowery, and paul bullion in the upcoming 2021 seaon 2 of “the witcher” as directed by stephen surjik. i haven’t written very much these past two or three years, but i am proud of this finished product. please keep any comments/criticisms kind. thank you, enjoy!

_________

The moment Aiden realized how well and truly fucked him and Baby Steadfast were, he was already surrounded on all sides. He could sense them. His medallion hummed gently against his chest with the signal of danger with every step he took. If he could get out of this clearing, he thought, just into the tree line to stay hidden. It wasn’t far; he could make it, just keep going. The Cat kept his hand at the ready to make quick work of grabbing his battle axe and kept his breaths even as he walked. Aiden knew what was waiting for him. It seemed the fox did as well. Always intuitive, the little one.

Jad Karadin came out of the trees in front of him like a shadow from an alley, looming and dagger drawn in his right hand. Aiden slowed his pace, too exposed, ears picking up the slide of multiple steel swords off to the left. Then two figures emerged from behind Jad, appearing as if they had come directly from within his body. Lund first, after came Hammond. Baby laid back his ears flat, centering himself lower to the ground in a defensive position. He placed himself between the three and Aiden as he went.

There was no running from them. These people were never meant to be his enemies; Jad was supposed to be his brother especially. If anyone here was supposed to be on his side more than anyone, it was Jad. An elder Cat, someone Aiden was supposed to be able to look up to as a mentor. Jad had broken the mold. Had children, a wife, a life away from being a Witcher. Beyond it. He had proof that there was more.

These things didn’t matter anymore. Whoever Jad Karadin was supposed to be was pointless now. Because he was an evil man today. He and whoever else followed him here.

Aiden drew his axe, pulling a deep and centering breath as he went. There were more of this group, hiding somewhere in the thick of trees, awaiting their moment. This was only to end one of two ways. There would be no other option besides these. For a split second, Aiden found himself missing the presence of a certain Wolf over his right shoulder.

Lambert. Lambert wouldn’t let him get hurt. He would protect Aiden here and now, and the Cat wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. In fact, Lambert would have already drawn his sword and made a calculated advancement on their enemy. He would have won, too, because Aiden has never seen him fail a task when he gets that crease between his brows as they furrow in his determination. Lambert, with his fiery curls and attitude to match. Lambert, with his impossible wit and unrelenting promises made to Aiden that have never broken. Lambert, the little brother of Kaer Morhen, baby of the lot of them.

Lambert, who Aiden swore to see back in the valley in Kaedwen where the Buina and Gwenllech rivers part in Daevon so them and Baby Steadfast could finally make the trek up to Kaer Morhen together.

The heat in between Aiden’s shoulder blades told him he wasn’t going to make it up to the keep this year.

“Aiden,” Jad spoke, knuckles white around the hilt of his dagger. Aiden snapped back into focus. He didn’t even dare to blink. “You know why I’ve come?”

“I didn’t kill the Duke’s daughter. I couldn’t save her. I tried.” The contract Aiden had held just months ago in the start of spring. A young girl, cursed, incurable despite the Duke’s pleads and Aiden’s best attempts to reverse it. She had succumbed to her circumstances. Aiden was paid for his efforts, bowed his head with sorrow as the Duke grieved, and went on his way.

“I’ve come to hear otherwise. You’ve botched it, boy. People are angry with the results of your work and lack thereof. You fucked up, and you’ve not shite to say for it.”

“I didn’t botch anything, I did my job. Not everyone gets a happy ending, Karadin. You’re a Cat. A Witcher. You should know.”

To be completely honest, Aiden hadn’t a goddamnable clue how he was going to get through this. Maybe he could take them. Most rivals don’t tend to waste time talking through events, let alone listen to their target. This time, maybe this time, Aiden could walk away with a mere banishment from the city. Possibly, hopefully, he could meet Lambert in time in the valley.

“You’re right,” said Jad, some semblance of resignation on his face. It wasn’t real, his tone sounded fabricated. “Aiden. Not everyone gets a happy ending.”

The arrow came right in that moment, whizzing through the air and lodging itself into the ground by Aiden’s left foot. He startled, stepped back, whipping his head around to try and follow its trajectory. Someone was up high. Someone was in the trees. Jad brought a sniper with him. Of course he did. Oh, of course that motherfucker did. This horrid, abomination of a man. The tree line was too dense, impossible to know where in the leaves the arrow came from where Aiden was standing in the field. He had only tried to look for a moment though before the sound of running footsteps came too close for comfort. And fuck, he could only gain so much momentum with his axe from this angle but he had to try.

Aiden spun back around on his heel, hands braced on either end of the hilt of his axe, prioritizing blocking the blow and creating distance before landing a strike of his own. Jad was successfully pushed back at the chest. Sent fumbling backwards to regain his footing. He growled in anger at the same time Aiden swung at his accompanying attackers, just barely missing them with the blade of his weapon. Steel struck and sounded a metal clang through the clearing. Aiden grunted with the effort of three-and-a-sniper against one, swinging his axe to catch a sword under the head and vaulting his enemy away. Distance was vital, energy was crucial to use sparingly.

“Baby!” He shouted towards his fox, whom of which was bee-lining for the trees where the arrow had come. “No! Run home! Home! Go home!”

It was something they’d agreed upon once. Home. They knew what home was, who home was. Where home was. The valley. Lambert. The point they meet and part at every year, the small town the Wolves have passed through many times in prior years. It was an easy place to go. That was where they found home, him and Baby. Lambert was home. Baby Steadfast knew this command well and clear as day. Go home. Go find Lambert; he’ll know what it means for the fox to show up without the company of his Cat Witcher. He’ll spring into action.

All it took was one incorrect turn, expose just a little too much of something or other, at just the right moment. It wasn’t because he’d called out to Baby; he knew how to give direction without faltering in his task. It was fucked luck. Terrible, awful, shit luck. All he did was avoid another two arrows in the ground, one grazing his cloak as it went.

Jad caught him in his right side with his dagger, blade plunging in deep and ripping a pained and surprised shout from Aiden’s throat. All the way in and right back out. Aiden staggered, snarled, and lunged at the man in front of him. Jad was a monster on this day, and Witchers know damn well to dispose of those. His side was on fire. The younger Cat swung, but Jad ducked underneath the blade. As Aiden turned with the momentum, one of the others kicked a boot into his chest and sent him backwards into Karadin’s grasp. The dagger entered the same area as before as Jad grappled an arm around Aiden’s throat. He was stuck. He was bleeding horribly. Baby Steadfast had gone to get Lambert. There was no way they would find one another in time.

With a strong shove from the man behind him, the dagger dislodged, and in the same moment whoever was at his left ripped his axe out of his hands. Aiden tried to spin around to face them as he propelled forward, but only managed to end up on his back on the grass. It was still cold with morning dew. Aiden could see the fog of his breath as he fell.

And in the most startling of realizations as Jad came to kneel over him, Aiden realized he was going to die. Without Baby. Without his dignity. Without Lambert. Without telling Lambert how much he truly and purely loved him.

He thought he had more time. Had it all planned out. They would meet in three weeks hence, and the night before they would make the ascent to the keep for the winter, Aiden would tell Lambert that he loved him in their room. This incredible, selfless, beautiful Wolf. Part of him even believed Lambert might say it back. He would feel the same. They were just like comfortable lovers already, what with the way they shared beds and blankets and curled up in the night to sleep, the way they helped wash and put up one another’s hair, cooked for each other, looked out for each other, lost all sense of personal space with each other. Melitele, the two of them even refused to separate their bedrolls while they camped out during their travels. They called each other “pup” and “kitten” respectively, dressed wounds, mended clothes and armor, cleaned weapons, hunted together, laughed and smiled and hugged and shared stories. Oh, Lambert was beautiful. Of course Aiden was in love with him. To expect anything else were a fool’s game.

“Oh, kitty cat,” he heard from above, and focused his eyes on Jad. The coldness of his gaze, so detached and unaffected. The only indication he’d ever been in a fight at all was the way his chest pulled bigger breaths than before. “Don’t go and cry now, will ye? This is just the natural order of things.”

Oh, Gods above, Aiden was crying. Silent little tears slipping free from the corners of his eyes, sliding down into his hair that lay fanned out in the grass below. Without dignity indeed. Wounds screaming in white-hot pain, vision blurring with tears that he could not control, heart aching, voice beyond him.

“Please,” the younger Cat spoke in a soft, quivering voice. He blinked hard once, twice, willing the tears away. They did not relent.

“Please.” He was being mocked. Then someone spat from out of his sight right into his hair. It smelled of salmon and tobacco. This time Jad’s dagger entered slowly, and new hot tears fell from Aiden’s eyes with the hurt of it, hand coming to grab his wrist in a feeble attempt to stop him. It did nothing. If anything it encouraged the man.

Aiden couldn’t grant him the final victory of looking away from Karadin’s eyes. Even as the blade ripped out of his body once more. Karadin spoke again. “You beg me to spare your life. Your pathetic little life. Insignificant, worthless, liar’s life. You were never going to change; your batch was doomed from the start. Your death is hardly any repayment, but it is the best we can do to provide peace and closure for the Duke and his people. A life for a life. It is but the way of the world, Aiden. Certainly you understand.”

Oh, he understood. A life for a life was the most polite way to speak of revenge. Talk of debts and dues, exchanges of wins and losses. A life for a life meant a day of reckoning to come. Lambert, kind as Aiden ever saw him, would cash this in as quickly and mercilessly as he could. He was coming no matter what. If he was unable to save Aiden now, he as sure as all things was going to tear apart whoever hurt him. What a gorgeous soul he was.

The fourth and final stab, a telling sign of Karadin’s assassinations. Aiden couldn’t fight it this time. A cluster of wounds just under the right side of someone’s ribs, always in four, always fatal. Aiden choked out a cry of searing agony, feeling the blade twist inside of him with force, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw so tightly he should have broken a few teeth. It twisted again as it was taken out, and all Aiden could do was let the fat tears roll as it happened. He felt Jad grab his medallion from under his shirt and opened his eyes as it was ripped off his neck and placed into a pouch at Karadin’s hip. Proof of death. The easiest form of it, but still worth enough to get paid. Hired by anyone associated closely with a Duke, Jad was sure to be rewarded handsomely for his work.

“Now,” spoke Jad. Aiden’s eyes were starting to get heavy, chest heaving, vision spotting behind the blur of tears. “You’ll be gone in moments, boy. A few minutes and this will be over. The pain will dull just prior, don’t fret. I will not seek out your fox nor that Wolf you travel with, but should they come I will be ready. Goodnight, Aiden. Sleep well.”

Then Jad started to walk away. Hammond and Lund went with him. Aiden could only lay there in the grass, sending his apologies to Baby and Lambert skyward and hope they would understand. He never meant for this to happen. If there hadn’t been that damned sniper, then maybe he could have taken them. But there was no time to dwell now. Darkness crept in, and Aiden’s breathing slowed, and it went dark once and for all as he bled out. He had failed. He was sorry. He could only imagine how horrifically pathetic he appeared. Perhaps he could be forgiven in time by his fox and his Wolf for never coming home.

In some months, when the snow lay thick on the ground, white and untouched blanketing where grass once resided, there would be the choking gasp of a man within the Brokilon Forest. Waking from a healing sleep induced by an old magic, cast by resident Dryads within the cover of trees that towered above. Known by many as the forest of death, breathing life back into someone who simply had not been due to die.

“Sir Witcher Aiden,” said a calming voice, a person standing kindly to the side. Her palm lay gently at the crown of his head, soothing. “We welcome you back to the living world. It has been some time.”

[first-and-last-neocount]

Whumptober Day 2

So much love to @theobscurepotato and @peregrinealpha, you guys are fantastic and I really appreciate the support, it means the world to know that I’m not the only one excited for this! <3

I have no excuse for this one. Pretty sure this is the purest definition of an id fic, because it just kinda wrote itself, and when I was done and went back to read over it the front of my brain was like ‘what the hell did I just create’ and my lizard brain was purring ‘yesss, good’ like goddamn Palpatine. This is definitely not a scenario that I think would actually have happened in canon, but apparently it’s a scenario my brain wanted to play with, and I definitely do blame it on Gerald canonically having way too much fun needling Damien for no obvious reason other than for the sake of winding him up. 

Much like day 1, this is right in the grey area where I wasn’t sure whether to tag it NSFW or not, but I’m erring on the side of caution because I’d rather be overly conscientious than not. I also wasn’t entirely sure how to word the content warning tags, so I tagged it for general self destructive behaviour, because uh - what Gerald is doing here is not how to have a healthy relationship, kids. This is ‘personal experience with adolescent trauma’ meets ‘horrifically bad coping mechanisms’ with a dash of ‘really really warped views on intimacy’. This is also a consent nightmare, because Damien is not aware that Gerald is intentionally provoking him. Please do not try this at home. 

Day 2 - Theme Chosen: Choking

Gerald Tarrant wasn't above using deception to further his own interests, but he preferred evasion to direct falsehood, and he certainly wasn't in the business of lying to himself. Thus, he was well aware of why he was engaged in his current endeavour – that being, inciting yet another argument with his companion, intentionally goading the priest he'd spent the last few months travelling with into a heated debate over the fate of the little girl they'd unintentionally absorbed into their group after encountering the Terata. The part of his mind that was coolly analyzing his actions, though, was smaller than the part which was focusing on the argument itself.

Both of those part combined were smaller still than the part of his brain that was fixated on what the priest's hands would feel like closing around his throat.

“For the last vulking time, I am not just abandoning her!” The Knight's fraying patience finally snapped, and the bulkier man took a step toward the adept, his eyes blazing. He was only letting go this much because Jenseny was well away from the cave that was currently their refuge, gathering sticks with Hesseth to make a fire; the rakh-woman had sensed the building tension, and had deliberately taken the girl out of the way so that the two men in the group could clear the air.

“I don't care if you think it would be easier, I promised to keep her safe -”

His hands were clenched into fists at his side, the force of his indignation expressed through the whitening of his knuckles, the corded tension in his arms as he held himself back from violence. Gerald fired back a retort on autopilot during an appropriate pause in the priest's rant, his own manner cool and detached, his mask of indifference firmly in place despite his mental preoccupation. God, the strength in this man – Damien Vryce was a fighter, and the proof of that was in every line of his body, the broad stretch of his shoulders and the thick muscle that layered his naturally-sturdy frame. His hands were large and strong-boned, the skin tanned and weathered by years of travel, thickly calloused by the tug of leather reins and the hilts of weapons. Fae-augmented healing or not, if Vryce hit him, it would hurt. It would leave a mark, at least for a while.

It would feel real, in the way things rarely did now, isolated as he was by his own carefully crafted cocoon of power.

The words of a past lover drifted through his memory, that long-gone voice dripping with disgust. You're pathetic. So desperation for attention, you don't even care what it looks like. I could make you bleed and you'd say 'thank you', wouldn't you?

“Are you even listening to me?”

Gerald snapped back into the present moment fully, his unnaturally slow heartbeat accelerating a little as he registered the building fury in Vryce's voice. His lack of attention had been noticed, it seemed, and the priest's handsome face was turning an alarming shade of red as his temper swelled. Pride simmered in Gerald's chest at the reaction he'd provoked from the normally level-headed man, satisfaction slithering through his veins even as he replied in a deliberately bored tone.

“It's not as if you're saying anything you haven't said before, Reverend. Given the intensity of our pursuit, the girl would likely be safer out of our presence than in it. Regardless, though, it comes back to the same point; our goals are too important, we can't allow ourselves to be sidetracked by one insignificant chi-”

He read Vryce's intentions through the fae before it happened, the sudden resolve bleeding off the priest in an unmistakable wave of crimson, but his own surprise at finally eliciting such a concrete and visceral reaction kept Gerald from responding in time – not that he knew, necessarily, what response he might have tried to make. In a single smooth movement, the Knight grabbed Gerald's shoulder with one hand, shoving him forcefully backward while the other settled around Gerald's neck. As the Hunter's back slammed into the rough stone of the cave wall, Vryce pinned him there, leaning in as he snarled out his words in a voice gone guttural with rage.

“Don't you dare call her insignificant.”

The vitriolic reply he would have given in any other situation died unspoken as Gerald's usually turbulent mind went utterly, blissfully quiet, only a single line of thought remaining to him.

Yes. That's it. Do whatever you want. Hate me.

Hurt me.

Just don't let me go.

A dark and twisted lesson it might have been, but Gerald had learned one truth of human nature early in life, and had never forgotten it even as centuries passed. People were more than happy to lie and cheat their way through life, and would deceive you at every turn; you could so rarely be sure of  where their real intentions, or attentions, might lie. They could talk, laugh, eat, fuck, and at every moment their thoughts could be elsewhere – but not when they wanted to hurt you. If they were that angry at you, no distractions existed.

Once you drove them over the edge enough to put their hands on you, you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Gerald tipped his head back against the unyielding stone behind him, just to feel the way Vryce's hand was clenched around his neck a little better; he didn't technically need to breathe to sustain himself, but he was reeling and lightheaded nonetheless, from the heady mixture of triumph and adrenaline pumping through his veins. A sensation of mingled horror and satisfaction, so deep it made him nauseous, made him swallow reflexively against the way his mouth flooded with saliva in response – and then swallow again, when Vryce's grip tightened on his flexing throat, strengthening the whirl of emotions in his mind until Gerald felt a very real stab of fear that he might actually faint.

All of it lasted, however, for only the briefest moment.

He could see it as the Knight came to his senses; their faces were only inches apart, wide grey eyes staring into burning hazel, and he saw the exact instant that the blind haze of fury fell away and Vryce realized how far he'd lost control. A wave of horror doused the smouldering blaze in those warm green-and-brown irises, and Vryce wrenched himself away, his hands going lax and falling back to his sides as he stared at the Hunter in horror.

“I'm – I didn't mean – hell!”

Gerald drew in a ragged breath, now bracing himself against the cave wall intentionally as his head spun; there was a vague sense of loss echoing in his mind, but far louder was the roar of victory, the greedy hunger in his chest transmuted to a throb of purring satisfaction.

Yes, I can hold you, I can draw your focus, I can make you care...

Careful this time to show nothing of the emotional tempest in his mind, Gerald lifted one hand to rub lightly at his no-doubt-bruising neck, casting the Knight a sardonic glance.

“Don't flatter yourself, Reverend,” he muttered, with a icy steadiness that he most certainly did not feel. “I assure you, if I felt you posed a genuine threat, you would never have gotten that close to me. You couldn't truly hurt me if you tried.”

At least, not when I can make you look at me with that much fire in your eyes...

Vryce seemed to have registered his words as the subtle threat Gerald had meant them to be taken for, though, if the priest's thoroughly shaken expression was anything to go by. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then hesitated for a long moment, looking deeply conflicted and vaguely sick. Finally, he shook his head sharply, and bit out a curt few words.

“It won't happen again.”

With that proffered statement – surely meant to be reassuring, or perhaps pacifying, for no doubt he assumed the Hunter was furious about Vryce's presumption in laying hands on him – the priest turned and strode hastily out of the cave. Gerald stayed where he was, hands splayed out against the cold rock behind him, feeling his pulse beating forcefully in his throat as he closed his eyes.

Oh yes, it will. If that's the only way I can have your hands on me, I'll make sure it does.

[unforth]

Ko-Fi Commission for Diminuel

@diminuel here you go love! <3 (sorry it’s not Naga Dean, I got it written before I saw your reply)

Fandom: Supernatural

Ship: Destiel

Rating: Explicit

Tags: A/B/O dynamics, canon adjacent, omega bottom Cas, alpha top Dean, mutual pining and idiots kinda sorta using their words, heat, mentions of Dean/Kevin (in a platonic “alpha helping an omega friend through a heat” way.)

Word count: 1,646 words.

Read on AO3 or read more...(ugh Tumblr is being impossible about formatting sorry it ate all the italics, sigh...you’re probably better off just reading it on AO3)

“Where is he?” Dean demanded, slamming open the door of bunker library and storming into the room. 

Startled, Sam jumped up from his chair, hand reaching for a pistol he didn’t actually have at his side when they were at the Bunker, and then relaxed. “Who, Cas? How did you kn--?”

“No, I mean the fucking Easter Bunny - of course I mean Cas!” Anger and arousal and anger about the arousal simmered beneath Dean’s skin. “And he’s been lighting my phone up with texts like you wouldn’t believe.” This was all wrong. “I didn’t even know he knew how to use the goddamn camera on his phone, much less how to send me a dick pic.” Cas didn’t - couldn’t - want Dean. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Oh, um.” Swallowing, Sam looked away, cheeks flushing. “Maybe you should, uh...I mean, he’s in his room. I thought you two…”

Dean glared, eyes narrowing. “We...what?” 

Come on, Sammy, I dare you to say you legit thought we were a couple, when you know better. He’s a fucking angel, and I’m a fucking mess, and he’d never…

“Nothing! I...look, Dean, I’m not involved. I offered, but he said it had to be you, so...go.”

...I’d never…

“What had to be me?!”

...that’s a total lie, I would if there was even a prayer that he’d want…

“Just go,” ordered Sam, gesturing toward the door and dropping back into his chair to hunch over whatever esoteric nonsense he was reading today.

...but he never would.

Grumbling, Dean obeyed, leaving the library and navigating the tunnels of the Bunker. His nose tickled, an unfamiliar scent permeating the air, and he tried to place it. It smelled a little like Charlie, with the soothing aspect of her betaness easing Dean’s tension even when he didn’t want his tension eased. It smelled a little like Kevin, especially that one annoying time he’d gone into heat, spicy and clinging and inescapable. It didn’t smell like Cas, who never smelled like anything. Jimmy had been an omega, Dean thought, but if Cas had a presentation type, Dean had never caught a whiff of it.

It smelled good, tempting, taunting. An itch teased down Dean’s spine, a whisper of desire thickening his dick.

It smelled wrong, like it didn’t belong, like Dean shouldn’t be following it.

Except he had to check on Cas.

Except the scent intensified the closer he drew to Cas’ room.

Except that Dean didn’t think he could stop himself pursuing the source of that enticing aroma if his life fucking depended on it.

Finally, he stood before Cas’ door. The mystery aroma suffused the air, and the explicit selfies Cas had sent him suggested intriguing possibilities, and Dean stood there, paralyzed.

If he added all the pieces up, it was hard to imagine anything other than that, somehow, Cas was an omega and had gone into heat.

And, if that was the case...the last thing Dean should be doing was knocking on that door.

Cas did not want Dean...but apparently, when he was in heat, maybe he did. Dean would never be that alpha. He would never--

“Dean?” Cas’ shout, frantic and deep and raspy and fucking sex incarnate, was barely muffled by the door. “Dean, you came! Please...oh, please…”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, heart aching. “I’m here.” He should walk away. “But I can’t…”

“I know,” Cas moaned, the scent intensifying. “...I know, I know, you don’t want...I mean...but…” The air was awash with musk and a heavy scent like a thick fog descending, and Dean’s erection stiffened. “...but just this once...please…”

Catching a lip between his teeth, Dean furious debated in his head as Cas continued to beg. On the one hand, Dean was never one to take advantage of an omega in heat. On the other hand, there was a world of difference between scenting a stranger and getting a dumbass alpha boner, and helping a friend through a difficult time. When Kevin had been desperate, Dean had offered himself up, after all...consent was a bitch in cases like those but friends were friends, and working it out after the fact was a time honored tradition...if Dean went in and helped Cas, it wouldn’t be any different.

“...Dean, I’m begging...I need you so badly...need you...only you…”

Right. Not a bit of difference. Nope. Not like Kevin really is just a friend, whereas Cas is…

“...I’ll do anything…”

...is everything...

“...I’m so hot…”

...is nothing...nothing to me...we’re nothing to each other…there’s nothing between us...

“I can’t,” Dean muttered, hoping like hell Cas could hear him, hoping like hell Cas couldn’t hear him and might stop babbling enticingly long enough for Dean to escape. “Cas...look...I get you feel all...some kinda way...right now...but you don’t actually…” Dean laid an arm over the door, leaned his forehead against it, and took a deep breath despite himself. “...you don’t actually want me…” 

Fuck, Cas smelled amazing.

“I do!” said Cas frantically. “I do, please - I need you.” He sounded like he was sobbing, and Dean’s heart could have broken - he wanted to help so badly, wanted to believe Cas so, so badly. 

But...

“...you don’t…”

...he couldn’t.

“I’ll show you!”

Surprised, Dean took a step back from the door and blinked as if the dull gray would tell him what the fuck Cas meant.

Naw, don’t need X-Ray vision to know what he means. He’s horny, and of course between Sam and I’d pick me, I’m hung, and Sam’s a little bitch. When I open this door, he’ll be on his bed, presenting a slick hole, and if my willpower doesn’t snap it’ll be a fucking miracle.

“Please!”

And even knowing all that, Dean couldn’t resist the desperate catch in Cas’ voice.

Fuck, but Dean was gonna hate himself when this was over.

Fuck, but I already hate myself…

With a resigned sigh, Dean pushed the door open and stared.

He’d been partially right - Cas was on the bed presenting a slick hole.

The wings were a surprise, though.

And Cas’ scent was fucking insane, powerful, unearthly, drawing Dean into the room like a siren’s call. He’d heard some nonsense about how a true mate might smell and had never believed a lick of it, and he didn’t believe it now, no matter how amazing Cas smelled, no matter how drawn to him Dean felt - this had to be some bizarre angel mojo, no “meant to be” involved, for all that Cas moaned like a damn pornstar when the first gust of Dean’s scent swept before him into the room. There was no fucking way this was Jimmy’s humanity at work. This was pure angel grace insanity, complete with black feathers, and Dean wanted...Dean needed…

“Bedside table!” Cas gasped, craning his neck to look back at Dean. His eyes were wide, his pupils blown, his cheeks coated with sweat and tears.

Who’d’a thought Cas would have protection next to the bed...good thinking though, I’m about 2.3 seconds from sinking in balls deep, and--

Dean tugged the drawer open.

There weren’t any condoms in the drawer.

There was a book with a leather cover and all the hallmarks of being a journal. 

“Read it - please read it - and then help me, if you still want to - I’ll understand if you don’t - but I need...need...and it can only be you, it has to be you, has to be…” Cas’ supplications dissolved into sobs as, confused, Dean withdrew the book and leafed through the pages…

...Dean, it said on one page...my mortal love, it said on another...anything for him, it said on yet another...doesn’t want me, on another page...here for him no matter what, on another...don’t need more than this, on another...but I want him, on another...page upon page of devotion and care written in Cas’ unmistakable neat handwriting.

Impossible.

The book dropped from Dean’s numbed fingers.

He can’t want me.

He can’t think I don’t want him.

“Dean!”

He couldn’t possibly…

Slowly, Dean turned toward the bed. Cas panted desperately, rocking back against nothing, eyes fixed on Dean...no, fixed on the bulge in Dean’s pants, his gaze was definitely directed down with the look of a starving man...and Dean stared.

...why would he…

“...need you…” Cas whimpered pathetically.

...but he does.

Certain this must be a dream, Dean crossed the scant steps separating them, fumbling hands undoing his belt on the first step, letting his pants drop on the second, stepping out of them on the third and fourth, and then he was beside the bed, and Cas was displayed before him like a banquet, and Dean’s cock was so hard it ached, and the scent of angel heat made him dizzy, and there was nothing, nothing between them except years of devotion and uncountable words of near-confessions that never said everything and desperation and pining and need and devotion…

...there was nothing between them, not a shred of cloth, not a single inhibition, not a hint of uncertainty.

Dean climbed onto the bed.

Though...they would have a fuckton to talk about once Cas’ heat was over.

Or it’s a dream, and I’ll wake up...either way, awkward feels talks can wait...hell, they can wait forever if I’m lucky...and Cas needs me now.

“Don’t worry,” murmured Dean as he pushed forward and the head of his dick breached that perfect, tight pucker for the first time. “I’ll take care of you.”

Everything could wait until Cas was sated - until Dean had been the alpha that Cas deserved.

“I know you will,” Cas whispered, rocking back against him. “You always do...always...always…”

Yes, Cas...always...always here for you...always your alpha...always your Dean…

...always yours.

[amanda-teaches]

Til Death Do Us Part? (1)

Series Summary: At a work party with your best friend, Dean, you panic when your new boss asks if you’re couple. Lying to protect your promotion, you wind up fake engaged before you can take it back. When Dean agrees to go along with your lie for a weekend retreat, you end up finding something neither of you had bargained for: love.

Pairing: AU Dean x Reader

Square filled: Fake Dating/Marriage for @spndeanbingo​, Fake Marriage for @spngenrebingo​, Mistaken for a couple for @spnfluffbingo​, “He’s always been there for me through all my terrible relationships and shit, and I can tell him anything” for @spnquotebingo​

Word Count: 2135

Warnings: A hint of future angst, some swearing, fluff

A/N: This is the first part of a little mini-series I’ve been working on. It will probably be around 3-4 parts, or more depending on how much fluffy cuteness I plop in the middle, but I’m pretty excited about it, so I wanted to share the first part with you all to see what you think. I hope you like it! Let me know! I haven’t finished writing yet, so you never know if your reactions may influence the series. ;)

Til Death Do Us Part? Masterlist

In the dead of the night, sitting on a deserted train station bench in the middle of the pouring rain, you finally felt safe enough to let yourself cry.

So, you sobbed. All alone, in the silky, golden evening gown that you’d felt so goddamn beautiful in, you sobbed, the tears running down your face and into your already-wet hair.

You pulled the note out of your pocket, watching as the words began to smear and run down the page.

To the Future Mrs. Winchester,

You look gorgeous tonight. Just like every night. Remember to save me a dance.

D

You closed your eyes and cried even harder, the sobs wracking your body. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It was all supposed to be fake, a means to an end, one friend helping another...

You weren’t supposed to fall in love. 

Damn that Dean Winchester.

One week and two days earlier…

You opened up the dating app on your phone, and scrolled through the dozens of “hey, sexy” and “what r u wearing?” messages before closing it again in disgust. “Oh my God, what’s the point of this stupid thing?”

Your best friend, Francesca, plopped down on the couch beside you, a bowl of popcorn in her hands, and looked over at your phone with a smirk. “The wonderful world of online dating?”

“How did you ever guess?” you answered sarcastically, amusement softening your tone. “Geez, it’s crazy! For every nice guy I find, there’s like 100 creeps.”

“Hey, what happened to that one guy? The therapist?”

You groaned. “He tried to psychoanalyze me all night. Wound up crying on my shoulder over his repressed daddy issues.”

“The architect?”

“Drew up the plans for our dream house within the first 10 minutes of the date.”

“The musician?”

“Texted his ex the whole night.”

She laughed and shook her head. “God, am I glad that I’m married.” Then, she turned to you, tucking a leg underneath her. “Hey, when are you going to give up on this whole online dating thing and just go out with Dean?”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. “I’ve told you a thousand times. Dean and I are just friends.”

“Oh, sure,” she laughed. “Just friends who text everyday, spend hours on Facetime with each other, and act as each other’s emotional support systems. Y/N, you’re practically married. The only thing missing is the sex.”

“Francesca!” you cried, an undercurrent of laughter running through your voice. “We are not practically married. Look, I love Dean, he’s always been there for me through all my terrible relationships and shit, and I can tell him anything, but that’s all it is. We’re just friends, I swear.”

She looked at you for another moment, skepticism filling her eyes. “Mhmm, keep telling yourself that. I’m just saying, you could do a lot worse than Dean Winchester. You don’t snap him up now, someone else will. And, ‘just friends’ or not, Y/N, I can guarantee, if that happens, you’re gonna regret not going for it.”

She sat back, focusing on her popcorn and queueing up the movie for the night, but you stayed staring straight ahead, her words lingering in your head. You wanted Dean to be happy, to find someone, just like you were trying to. You wouldn’t regret that if it happened...right?

Picking up your phone again, you stared at the picture of you and Dean that lived on your lockscreen, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. You were going to see him tomorrow. He was your “date” to a party your new boss was throwing to get to know everyone, but you’d only asked him because you didn’t want to go alone. He was always your plus one to these kinds of things, and vice versa. You both knew it was strictly as friends, there wasn’t anything more than that. Besides, you were sure that the two of you could never really work. 

At least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

The sound of Dean’s Impala rumbling up to your house the next morning made your heartbeat a little faster than you were willing to admit. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath to calm yourself and grabbed your purse and phone, heading towards the door. You were sitting in his passenger seat in no time at all, with him smiling at you from across the bench seat.

“Ready to impress the new boss?”

“Hell yeah,” you nodded. “Thanks for coming with me. I hate doing these things alone.”

“Course,” he replied, shifting the car into gear with an easy smile on your face. “You know how impressive I naturally am.”

“Mhmm,” you laughed, shaking your head slightly. He grinned and winked at you, pulling the car into the street on the way to the “garden party” as your boss was calling it.

You were expecting some sort of outdoor barbecue/picnic situation, but when Dean pulled up in front of the mini mansion the address led to, and you saw the valets parking the cars, you were glad you’d worn your nicest sun dress.

“Damn,” he whistled, under his breath, staring out the dashboard. “Who’s your new boss, Richie Rich?”

“Apparently,” you muttered, still in disbelief. “I was not expecting this when I woke up this morning.”

“But, good news,” Dean pointed out, stopping his car in the middle of the circular driveway. “I bet the free food’s gonna be out of this world.”

You laughed as Dean got out, rushing around to your side of the car to open the door for you. You smiled and thanked him, and, after watching him warn the valet to treat his baby better than his own mother, he escorted you inside, your arm intertwined with his. He whispered something that made you laugh again, and you leaned into him, whispering back, as if being this close was the most natural thing in the world. If only it was this easy with every other guy.

When you got to the backyard, Dean dropped your arm, making a beeline for the rows of white-linen tables stacked with food. You started to follow him, but, when you spotted your new boss out of the corner of your eye, you changed tactics, wanting to make a good impression on her before she was inundated with too many people.

“Clarissa, hi,” you stammered, a little awkwardly, once you reached her. “You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you,” she said politely, turning to you. She studied you for a brief second before recognition registered, and her eyes lit up, a genuine smile replacing the formal one. “Oh! Y/N, right?”

“Uh, yes, yes!” You couldn’t believe she remembered your name already. Since you were one of four people vying for a coveted promotion at the company, this could be your big chance. “I’d really love to get a chance to talk with you about my thoughts on the Newman project.”

“Oh, of course, dear,” she humored you, dismissing the work talk by looking around. “Where did that nice young man that you came in with go?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, Dean? He went to get us some food.”

“That’s so sweet of him. You’ve got yourself a good one there.”

“Oh no, we’re just…”

“You know,” she said, cutting you off. “There’s a couple’s retreat next weekend for some of the higher ups in the firm, a little bonding experience, so to say. There’s an open spot left. Maybe you and your young man could come?” She leaned in and gave you a conspiratorial wink. “We’d have plenty of time to talk more if you were there.”

“A couple’s retreat?” you repeated back, growing flustered. “But, Dean and I, we aren’t…”

She glanced at your ring finger. “Oh, dear, you two aren’t married yet. Such a shame. Unfortunately, the retreat is for married and engaged couples only.” She sighed, staring down at her mimosa. “Oh, I guess I’ll have to give Stuart your spot.”

Stuart? Oh, no way in hell. That guy had been gunning for your promotion for well over a year. You panicked, looking over at Dean, who’d piled two plates full of food over at the buffet. Watching him, you imagined your promotion flying away, and you blurted out the only hail mary you could think of. “Wait! Dean and I are engaged!”

Clarissa’s eyes widened with excitement. “Oh, really?! I didn’t see a ring, so I just assumed.”

“Oh, well,” you bluffed, struggling to think of a believable cover. “It’s all pretty recent, so the ring’s, uh, getting resized. But, yes, we’re engaged. Fully committed and engaged to be married.”

“That’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Then, you two can come to the retreat next weekend! It’s up at the Mountview, all inclusive.”

You whistled under your breath. Damn, the Mountview. It cost like 1,000 a night to stay there. Suddenly, you realized what you were doing, and you knew this innocent little lie was spiraling way out of control.

“Actually…”

She waved you off, looking over your shoulder. “This is so great! I’ve heard really great things about you, Y/N. I can’t wait for you and your fiance to knock the socks off our executives. Now, if you’ll excuse me for just a second.”

Before you could stop her, she was gone, having spotted someone across the room. You were left standing alone, and, looking up, you spotted Dean smiling at you from across the lawn, holding up his plates of food triumphantly.

Oh God, were you screwed.

“YOU SAID WHAT?!”

You looked around for a second, putting your hand on his chest to quiet him. “Shh, someone might hear.”

“So fuckin’ what if they hear, Y/N! You told your boss we were engaged!”

“I know, I know,” you whispered. You grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled him further into the hallway off the doors to the backyard, so your argument would be blocked from where the party was still going on, in full swing. “I’m an idiot, okay? I fully admit that.”

He looked down at you and exhaled heavily, running his hand through his hair. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know!” you sputtered, beginning to ramble. “She thought we were a couple, and I tried to explain we were just friends, but then she kept talking and talking, and the retreat was all BAM, Mountview! And, then, then, she wanted to invite Stuart, I mean Stuart, of all people, and I just panicked, and, I...”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, placing his hands firmly on your shoulders. “Chill before you pass out on me. Deep breaths.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, leaning into him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, the argument instantly forgotten, and pulled you into a warm, safe hug. “I’m so sorry…” you mumbled against his chest. “I just wanted that promotion so bad, I think I went a little crazy. I’ll go out there right now and tell her the truth.”

He sighed, his breath ghosting against your hair. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

Pulling back, you looked up at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Well, you already told her we were engaged, and if you backtrack now, she’s going to think you’re a crazy liar. Besides, it’s only one weekend, right?”

“Wait, are you saying we should actually go? And, pretend to be engaged?”

His face split into an eager smile. “Yeah. We’re best friends, so we already know everything about each other. How hard can fake marriage be? We pretend to be engaged for a weekend, you get your promotion, then we ‘break up’ and decide we’re better off as friends. No one’s any wiser.”

You stared at him for a second, the ramifications of his plan running through your head. Francesca’s words came screaming back at you. “Y/N, you’re practically married. The only thing missing is the sex.” Dean was right, you did know everything about each other. How hard could it be to fake a relationship for a weekend. “Are you sure?” you asked sincerely. “I mean, really, really sure.”

He nodded, taking your hands in his and dropping to his knee with a dramatic flourish. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you fake marry me?”

You laughed looking down at him, the sight of his goofy grin instantly bringing a smile to your face. You nodded, agreeing, but, no matter how much you tried to ignore the voice in the back of your head, Francesca’s other words lingered. “You don’t snap him up now, someone else will. And, ‘just friends’ or not, Y/N, I can guarantee, if that happens, you’re gonna regret not going for it.”

Shit, you really were in over your head this time.

Forevers- @atc74​ @babypieandwhiskey​ @be-amaziing​ @carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @deans-dirty-writer​ @deanwanddamons​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @dolphincliffs​ @edgeofreality35​ @emoryhemsworth​ @focusonspn​ @hannahindie​ @heyitscam99​ @impala-dreamer​ @impandagrl​ @karikatz12481​ @katymacsupernatural​ @maddiepants​ @masksandtruths​ @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester​ @mysterious-398​ @ohmychuckitssamanddean​ @pinknerdpanda​ @roxyspearing​ @spnbaby-67​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​ @wi-deangirl77​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester​

Dean Tags - @adoptdontshoppets​ @akshi8278​ @alexwinchester23​  @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @squirrelnotsam​

[namorres]

DO WE HAVE A DEAL?  ∞  E. MIKAELSON

part one | part two | part three

requested by: @mo-whore​ / @thesnugglingduck​ / @derangedangel​

wc |  3.2k

warnings |  y/n is a salvatore! so lots of wittiness :) but other than that, neh. 

notes: this part was going to be over 5k words and then i was liiiike nah. so look out for a part 3! :)

masterlist

Y/n’s foot bounced nervously against the hardwood of Mystic Grill, her fingers mindlessly swirling the drink in her glass. She’d been sitting there only a few minutes, maybe, but minutes still felt like hours when you were waiting for someone. An itching thought in the back of her mind told her he wouldn’t show, that this place was too obvious, but as her eyes scoured the surrounding patrons, she saw no one who could go back to her brothers and rat her out. She sighed though a bubble in her cheeks, flipping her phone over and checking for any texts of cancellation, or perhaps of the fashionably late excuse, but there was nothing on the screen. 

Her gaze drifted to the twisting alcohol in her drink, eyes low with annoyance at both him and herself. Herself for thinking he, an Original vampire who was beyond mysterious and definitely out for something, would trust her to meet up with him; him for just… existing. Her straw stuck to her lips and she took a drink, eyes drifting up to the entrance and locking on the entering guests. 

He almost slipped past her — though she wasn’t sure how that could happen. He was clad in a grey suit, neatly tailored and hugging all the right places. His hair was neat, but still casually laid on his head, and she found her heart skipping a beat. He was absolutely one of the most handsome men she’d ever met, and simultaneously, so goddamn insane. When his head turned and their eyes met, she sat straighter in her seat, legs crossing under the table and a fleeting smile gracing her lips. 

He gave a nod, then headed over, scoping out the rest of the Grill like she had. When he was within earshot, she snickered lightly, “I promise no one here knows who you are. Hell, doubt they even know who I am.” 

His lips parted as he breathed out, pinching his suit jacket apart as he sat down across from her. “Hello, Ms. Salvatore.” 

She flinched a little at the name, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth before shaking her head lightly, “Please, call me Y/n, Elijah. I’m not one for formalities.”

“As you wish,” he nodded, “you must forgive my tardiness, Y/n.” He propped his elbow on the table, fingers gesturing upward and lifting with his eyebrows, “I was caught up in some… business.” The way her name had come across his lips sent a strange shiver down the center of her back, forcing her to situate herself a little differently in her chair. This, most definitely, did not go unnoticed. 

“It’s no worry,” she dismissed, even though minutes before she’d been absolutely anxious out of her wits. “So, now that you’re here, would you mind indulging me in who Elijah Mikaelson is?”

He smiled, looking down toward the table as his hand fell flat against it. His eyes found her’s again after a moment, “What would you like to know?”

“Start from the beginning,” she lifted her chin, “tell me everything about why this Klaus character is after my brother’s girlfriend, why it matters so much that she stay alive, and why it matters to you that she’s alive.”

He gave a thoughtful nod, a small scoff leaving his chest as he let out a long breath, “Niklaus… is my younger brother.”

Y/n’s brows furrowed as she looked on at Elijah, “That’s not what I’ve heard. They said Klaus was the oldest of the Originals.”

Elijah chuffed out a laugh, leaning back in his chair and tapping his finger against the table, “At times, I’m sure he wishes he were. But, no. That would be me. I see people do their research.” She let out a chuckle at that, catching his eyes as they crinkled in the corners. She admired how witty he was — stark contrast from the deal-making, strictly-business Elijah she’d heard about from Rose. 

At the thought of the vampire, she pointed a finger to the ceiling in thought, “Quick question. A– well, an acquaintance of mine,” she cleared her throat — Rose was no friend to her, “claimed that you were… the easter bunny compared to Klaus.” She offered an amused smile with the delivery of her words.

Elijah’s eyes rolled and shook his head in annoyance, “Your acquaintance must be rather ill-informed, then. I can assure you, where Klaus is concerned, I am the worser-evil to cross.” 

“Oh,” Y/n said with a crinkle of her brow, “I don’t doubt it. You strike me as very threatening, Mr. Easter Bunny.” 

His eyes narrowed at her, head tilting to the side and a smirk threatening the corner of his lips, “Ms. Y/n, correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe you are… mocking me.”

She feigned thoughtfulness, tapping her chin with her index finger, “I think you might be right!” She laughed quietly with her statement, and Elijah couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face.

“You bring me here to answer your questions, and instead I am met with mockery— quite frankly, I see no reason why we should deal any further,” he taunted, going to push off the table with one hand while the other pulled his jacket together. 

“No, no! Wait,” she surrendered, her hands up by her shoulders, “I give.” She chuckled, smiling a rather giddy grin, “I’ll stop. I’m seriously curious. It’s just funny!”

He raised a brow at her with a tight smile on his face, sitting down and returning to his laid-back position in the seat. “Very well, so, from the beginning.”

For the next few minutes, Elijah explained the curse that they were trying to break. Y/n was taken by much surprise when he revealed that the curse wasn’t real at all, instead written by him and his younger brother hundreds of years ago for kicks and grins. Then, he discussed with her Elena’s importance in it, detailing the necessity for the blood of a dopplegänger, as well as the other ingredients — a vampire, a witch, and a werewolf. 

“Niklaus will stop at nothing to make sure this curse is seen through,” Elijah sighed, eyes closing, “and I must make sure that it isn’t.” 

Y/n studied him for a moment, processing all of the information before drawing in a breath, “Elijah?”

He looked up at her in question.

“Why? Why do you not want Klaus to break his curse and embrace his natural state?” She wasn’t siding with the other Mikaelson, not in the slightest; the idea that you could finally be who you were after thousands of years of being only half of yourself, she was sure she’d jump at it every opportunity she had, too. 

“If he succeeds,” Elijah started, brows dropping and gaze levelling her’s, “then he will be entirely invincible. A hybrid. And, if that happens, he will rage a war on every species he can until he makes everyone cower before him.” He leans back and his chest swells with breath, “That is his natural state. A creature of bloodshed.”

“Oh,” she said, smally. Her eyes fell to the table, gears turning in her mind as she thought of what that could possibly mean. Everyone would be in danger once he became a hybrid — impervious to wooden stakes and practically any harm. 

There was a thick silence between them. Y/n wasn’t sure what to ask from there. It just seemed so dim, so dark, like there was no good in Klaus becoming a hybrid. And, truthfully, if the curse was not real, and vampires would always be damned to wear rings else they burn, then there was no good. The ritual was only a very bad idea. 

When she looked at Elijah again, his eyes were locked on the window, staring off and lost in his own thoughts. Then a question sparked in her mind, and without much thought, she blurted, “Can you kill him?”

Elijah blinked as he came back to reality, looking to Y/n with a narrowed gaze, “Yes. But that in itself will prove the most difficult task.”

Y/n had the thought of offering her help, but it was quickly squashed by the much more realistic thought that she truly wouldn’t have been able to do much. That, she figured, was a much more deep-rooted familial issue, and she had too many of those to deal with right now. She was not going to get in the middle of them. Instead, she sipped her drink and asked, “You have an idea of what you’re going to do, right?”

He nodded, “I do. Keep the most vital part of the ritual in my possession, strike when the time is right.” His vagueness made her temples itch with curiosity, but she knew it was pointless to ask. He was not going to reveal it all to her — there was trust, but not that much. She respected that. 

The rest of their visit was filled with lighter conversation, Y/n filling Elijah in on some of her own life with her brothers. She explained how she was there to help Lexi help Stefan, how she was there when Stefan had found Elena. She skipped over a few of the worser parts of her history — her selective distaste for her eldest brother, being one. But Elijah listened, and she was sure even with the blanks, he could tell just why she’d made this deal in the first place. 

“You care deeply for your brothers,” he murmured after a moment, fingers drumming lightly against the table.

“Yes,” she nodded, “you figured that out the first night we met.”

“Well,” he gave another smirk, “it was an educated guess at the time. Nothing more than a shot in the dark, as they say. But, you’ve proven me right.”

She scoffed, licking her lips and nodding, “You know, ‘Lijah,” her name slipped across her tongue so casually it took him almost by surprise, his eyes narrowing for only a moment, “I find it so strange that I can trust you.”

He gave a shrug of his shoulder, “I’ve been told I’ve that effect on people.” 

Another laugh, another exchange of adoring glances, and she nodded, “I’m sure you do.” 

They held each other’s look for a moment. Her heart was racing in her ears, and she knew he could hear it. But she didn’t mind. Something about the man in front of her drew her nearer, like a drug to an addict, and she was not at all appalled by the idea. In fact, she was intrigued with him. The secrets he held behind those brown eyes, the unsaid words held back by his tongue, the smile that graced his lips, it all told her so much yet so little about him. And she loved it. 

Then his phone rang. Quickly, he gave her an apologetic look and answered. His expression dropped, the smile replaced with a slack frown. “Alright. Make sure nothing happens until I get there.” Then he hung up and turned to her with a plastered smile, “Forgive me, Y/n. But I must find my leave.”

“Business?” She offered, witty yet sincere.

He nodded, standing from his seat and fixing his suit jacket. Then he took her hand that had been resting on the table and placed a gentle kiss to the knuckles, “I hope we have the chance to meet like this again, Y/n Salvatore.” Then, he was gone, as if he’d never been there at all.

                                                              ∞

Over the next few days, it only proves harder and harder for Y/n to keep her side of the deal with Elijah. Elena continuously puts herself in the position of absolute death, and it’s driving all three of the Salvatore’s up the wall. She hadn’t heard from the Original, but she was sure he was aware of all of it, as well, and it the annoyance was settling deep with him, too. 

Y/n sat low on the couch, entirely invisible to anyone who were to walk in. She’d heard Damon leave earlier that morning, heard Rose say something of not leaving a girl hanging, and she’d cringed. Of course Damon was sleeping with a kidnapper. Makes perfect sense. She rolled her eyes and scoffed lightly, scrolling through her phone and pushing away the rather horrid mental image.

Then the door opens behind her, yet she doesn’t bother to check to see who comes in. She can already tell by the light feet and the rapid heartbeat. Elena had made her entrance. But she doesn’t say anything, and Y/n thinks a moment about sitting up and asking her what she wants, but Rose beats her to it by coming around the corner and making some flirtatious comment about how Damon left a naked girl in his house. 

Again, gross. 

She heard their awkward conversation, Elena’s need for something from Rose, and then she perks up when Rose pads away. Why hadn’t she gone to her brothers? Surely if she truly needed something, she would’ve gone to Stefan. But then again, how could she? Stefan, the dumbass, ever valiant white-knight, had gotten himself stuck in a tomb with Katherine, and the reminder of the thought made Y/n wince. 

Even then, with their current plight, she would’ve at least considered going to Damon, first. Not Rose. Y/n sighed, sitting up from the couch and catching Elena’s gaze almost instantly. “What, pray tell, are you up to?”

“N– Y/n, I’m not– Nothing, I’m not up to anything,” the Gilbert girl stuttered and Y/n’s eyes narrowed. The vampire didn’t have to say anything before Elena cracked under the weight of her glare, “Fine! Fine! I’m– You can’t tell Damon, okay?”

Y/n looked off to the right, then considered the possibilities. If she didn’t tell her brother, she would likely get a stern talking to, and then life would go on, and if she did tell her brother, he’d probably rip Elena a new one for keeping something so important from him, and Y/n had made a deal with Elijah to keep her safe. Giving in with a sigh, she shrugged, “Fine, I won’t tell ‘im. But you’ve gotta tell me, and if you’re going somewhere, I’m coming with. No argument.”

Elena seemed annoyed enough, but she didn’t come up with anything to say in retaliation. “Yeah, okay. I’m gonna find Klaus. Or get information, anyway. Whichever comes first.”

Y/n stared at her for a moment, lips parting and brows furrowing, “Why?”

Elena said nothing, shrugging.

The vampire’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head. She’d have to play it off like she didn’t know about the Original and his wants, and she knew that if Elena started asking too many questions too soon, there was going to be someone bound to come after her. Y/n wasn’t stupid — there was more to this game Elena was playing and she just had yet to show her hand. “You know that is a terrible idea, yeah? If you go poking around too much—” She cut herself off as an open-ended warning. 

Again, just a doe-eyed look in response.

Y/n huffed, walking toward the girl and then directly past her, grabbing her jacket from the hook. “Fine. I cannot let you get yourself killed, and you, obviously, are hellbent on doing that, so looks like I’ve gotta step in, huh?”

Y/n’s smile was genuine, but the sarcasm that laced her tone was anything but. She was annoyed, yes, but she did want to make sure Elena stayed safe — both for her brother’s sakes and her own. Rose joined them moments later, clad in leather, and she stopped at the sight of Y/n. Then Elena quickly explained that the Salvatore sister would be coming along, yet the tension didn’t lift.

Y/n was nothing if not critical of the women that were so carelessly brought into the Salvatore’s lives. Especially when they brought ancient vampires out for blood along with them. 

“Shall we?”

                                                              ∞

“So,” Y/n sighed as they approached the rather large looking apartment doors, “this Slater guy has everything you need to get to Klaus? Is that what you’re saying?” “Slater has information on every vampire that’s ever lived,” Rose offered, looking up the door, then down at the handles, “if there’s anyone with a connection to Klaus, he knows them.”

“Well,” Elena gestured to the door, “let’s ask him.”

Rose shot her a look, then knocked once, shouting his name. When there was no response, she was ready to turntail and leave, and Y/n couldn’t say she didn’t agree. But Elena stood her ground, “No. We didn’t come all the way out here for nothing.”

With a roll of her eyes, she pushed in the door and chains rattled to the ground, “After you.”

Y/n and Elena walked in ahead of her, looking around the apartment. It was spacious, modern as modern could get. The vampire smiled at the appreciation this Slater guy had for architecture. There was another beat, Rose calling out Slater’s name before stopping dead in her tracks.

“I don’t think he’s going to be much help,” she called. Elena raced to her spot, and Y/n followed behind, the three of them stopping to stare at the dead vampire lying on the ground. 

“Damn,” Y/n whispered, walking past the two women and crouching down to Slater. The wooden stake hadn’t been a stake at all, but something broken off. “Doesn’t look like he struggled with anybody,” her eyes darted around the room before she stood up. “Everything’s in its place, nothing’s messed up. Whoever killed him was in and outta here without so much as a shoeprint.” 

Rose deflated as she walked over, leaning down and pressing a soft hand to his shoulder. Within a few minutes, they had covered his body and moved on to what they’d come here to do. Elena walked over to the computer, Rose standing right next to her, and Y/n standing back just a little. When she clicked the mouse, a password screen popped up. “It’s password protected, I can’t get in.” 

Rose was quick to offer up the idea of leaving, and once again, Y/n couldn’t see why she was wrong. Then, any thoughts were interrupted by an abrupt clatter from further back in the apartment. Y/n turned over her shoulder, and Rose warned Elena to stay back. The two vampires walked to the source of the sound, Rose looking to the Salvatore before opening the door. At first, it didn’t look like anything had been in there, then a woman peeked around a cabinet, shaking and absolutely terrified. 

“Alice?”

“Rose!” The woman came from behind the cabinet, sobbing and falling into Rose. Y/n looked at Rose, then to Elena, the three of them exchanging knowing glances. 

It was only becoming harder to convince Elena this was a bad idea.

[liveyourlastbreath]

Slipping PT 3

A broken leg, a sprained ankle, crack ribs, a fractured arm, and a brain bleed. 

Neil Josten was the miracle kid, he shouldn't have survived. Though he had tried to land on his legs, the way he flipped around in the air had only made the landing worse. For three days, it seemed like Neil wouldn't make it, but one surgery later and he was stabilized, but not awake. Seven days passed, however, with Neil being completely unconscious and under heavy monitoring. It's unbelievable, the doctor had said, he shouldn't be recovering this fast. Nicky joked it was because Neil wanted to be back on the court as soon as possible, which received halfhearted laugh from Renee and then a punch to the gut from Andrew. 

Andrew. He hadn’t  left the hospital since day four, when the Doctor finally caved under his knife and Wymack had given up trying to keep the twin at his place.

The rest of the team had been coming in and out, trying to leave flowers and cards that Andrew always ended up throwing away. (Kevin's flower's hadn't even made it into the room. Andrew shoved them in Kevin's face and then slammed the room door shut.) Andrew had only let the Doctors get close to him, anyone who so much as looked at Neil too long was escorted out with two separate knives. Andrew "I don't give a shit" Minyard most certainty did give a shit, and he was making it well known to the team. 

Renee was the only one that had been allowed to stay longer than ten minutes. Mostly, she sat in silence, studying Andrew's growing eye bags and tense shoulders. Once she had tried to say something, but the words had died in her throat when Andrew brought his hands up to his own face and shuddered. Needless to say, she left him and Neil alone not long after that. 

On day ten of Neil being unconscious, Andrew came into the room with the thick smell of cigarettes following him. Nciky, Renee, Allison, and Kevin were all strewn around the room, in the same place they were when he left. His face was stoic, but the atmosphere he brought with him was bone-chilling. "Out." He hissed, the venom in his voice almost knocking Kevin over. 

They were out in less than thirty seconds, only Renee hesitating at the door and then closing it softly. Andrew scowled at Neil, then took a seat near the window and folded his arms. His mind flicked back to the conversation they had had freshman year, thinking back on it now was making his blood boil. 

"Give me one good reason to not push you off the side."

"I'd drag you with me. It's a long way down.”

Goddammit. He had been right, Andrew would never admit, but Neil had been goddamn right. It was a long way down, and only his fear had stopped Andrew from going over the edge with the Junkie. “I hate you.” Andrew spit out, clenching his hands tight against his side and pushing off the wall. “I hate you so much.” 

As usual, no response. Neil only laid there, eyes softly closed and breathing calm. Andrew glanced down at Neil’s arm, which had an IV nestled between two long scars, and scowled once more. The Doctor had asked how this had happened, his scars, and Andrew gave the asshole a nice, long slice down the arm for talking out of turn. They were not to ask about Neil, about his past or about Andrew. 

They simply had to heal him enough so they could leave, so Andrew could take him home and gut him himself. 

Andrew turned, but this time kept his left side facing the man. Deep down, whether he realized it or not, he would never turn his back to Neil again. Because he was scared, scared of him slipping away only to never return.

“Asshole.” Andrew spit, going to take a seat near the window. 

“Drew...?” The blonde froze, not even daring to look at Neil. He had to have imagined it, Neil wasn’t- “N’Drew, what happened?” 

“You fell off the roof.” Andrew muttered, turning to Neil and shoving his hands in his pockets. The feel of the cigarette box offered him no comfort. Neil’s eyes were hardly open, but Andrew could make out a small sliver of blue underneath his auburn eyelashes. 

“Right,” Neil looked away from Andrew, and around the room. “I’m in a hospital.” Andrew wanted to break Neil, right then and there. His sanity was on the brink, and if Neil kept talking Andrew would slip over the edge as well. 

“Shut up.” Neil looked back to Andrew, and grinned softly. 

“Andrew, Andrew, Andrew.” 

“I said shut the hell up.” Andrew ground out, stepping so he was at Neil’s bedside. Neil looked up at him, then reached for Andrew’s arm with his uninjured one. The man stopped just before his fingers brushed against the concealed blades, remembering, even in his state of delirium. Andrew grabbed onto Neil’s wrist, placed it back down on the bed and held onto it. 

God, did he hold on. “I hate you.” 

“I get that a lot.” Neil hummed out, running his thumb over Andrew’s cracking knuckles. “Yes or no?” 

“No.” Neil looked downright shattered at Andrew’s denial, gripping onto his hand tighter and attempting to sit up. Andrew watched him, and helped him back down the moment he realized his mistake. 

“Drew,” Neil cried, holding onto he blonde a little tighter. “Drew, it...it hurts.” 

“Then don’t be stupid, Junkie.” Andrew carefully and meticulously looked Neil over, and then move him over and laid down next to him. 

“Yes?” 

“No.” Neil was in no way, shape, or form able to give consent right now. But after a minute, he seemed content with Andrew’s arms wrapped carefully around Neil’s shoulders, and being pressed into the blonde’s chest. “If you do that again, I’m not going to get you.” 

Neil shuddered, holding onto Andrew a little tighter. “M’ sorry.” He cried, tears welling up in his eyes. “I didn’t wanna fall. You’re scared of falling, so am I.” Andrew didn’t respond, he could have, but didn’t. Instead, he hugged Neil’s fragile body as close as he dared and pulled the blanket up over them. 

Neil sobbed into Andrew’s chest, a groan of pain slipping it’s way through his lips every now and then. “It’s worse ‘han Baltimore.” Neil whimpered out. “Broken bones...hurt more than broken skin.” 

“Shut. Up.” Andrew ran a hand gingerly over the bandage on Neil’s head. Neil reached up with his unbroken arm and linked his fingers with Andrew’s, and then met his eyes. 

“I remember.” Andrew’s body went ridged, but Neil didn’t seem to notice. “Laying on the cement, I-I watched you run towards me.” Neil dropped his gaze to just past Andrew’s shoulder. “You screamed my name.” 

“Go to sleep.” The blonde did not want to talk about this anymore. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He just wanted Neil to heal faster so they could leave. In time he would, he would heal and go back to the Court as if nothing had happened. 

And Andrew would heal too. Despite his fear of heights, him and Neil would in time, find themselves on the roof again. Smoking, kissing, talking, it would be okay. 

Then when the time came for Andrew to leave Neil, to forge his own path while Neil stayed in school, they would be okay.

They would be okay. 

End 

PT 1

PT 2

PT 3 (You are here) 

[ragingbookdragon]

To Challenge The Flow of Fate PT. 1

An Adrian Tepes (Alucard) x Reader Story

Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Violence Author’s Note: So, after binge watching seasons 1 and 2, of course, I started a mental story, and I’ve finally put it down to word. Enjoy! Cause I have no idea where this is going tbh. -Thorne <3 Update: I changed the title from ‘To Challenge The Flow Of Immortality’ to what it is now, because I feel that it fits better with the story!

Her eyes snapped open the second after they hit the ground, and she shoved at the legs across her torso. “Trevor. Get the fuck off me before I amputate both your legs.” His chuckle quickly dissolved into a groan as he rolled off her, clutching at his stomach, and she leaned up, hands coming to her side to help push herself up. She muttered to herself as she dusted off her pants, slipping the sword back into its scabbard, “What type of genius lands on metal beams that have been under the goddamn ground for who knows how goddamn long?” Trevor rolled his eyes as he helped Sypha to her feet and retorted,

           “Will you stop complaining (Y/N)? You’re alive, aren’t you?” She jerked around, narrowing her eyes into a glare.

           “You won’t be in the next few minutes if we don’t find a way out of here.” When Sypha found her feet, he looked over at (Y/N), pulling a smug face.

           “And what are you gonna do? Stab me?” Her hand went to her hilt and she spat,

           “Don’t tempt me you arse.” Trevor stuck his tongue out at her, but stopped when the Speaker next to them groaned,

           “Will you two please stop fighting? You’re acting like children.” The siblings glared at each other for a moment before they scoffed and began walking to the hallway. They entered the room, and (Y/N) immediately drew her eyes around the walls.

           “Wow…look at this place…it’s amazing.” She drew her gaze to the center of the room, scanning the large coffin. “Is that what I think it is?” Trevor shrugged and muttered,

           “Won’t know ‘til we find out.” No sooner did the words leave his mouth, did his foot sink into the ground. The sound of gears turning echoed through the room and he blurted, “I didn’t do that.” (Y/N) glowered at him from his right and quipped,

           “Nice goin’ loser. You just woke up whatever’s in there.” Before he could retort, a cloud of gas released from the coffin and they stared at it as it rose, the top sliding off. She leaned over slightly, voice soft as she murmured, “Trevor…is that…” He nodded, lips pursed into a thin line, and (Y/N) gripped the hilt of her sword. The lid dropped against the marble with loud thunk, and she felt it resonate in her chest as the man rose from it, coming to levitate above it. He hunched over, voice low and gravely as he asked,

           “Why are you here?” Sypha’s eyes grew wide as she exclaimed,

           “The story…the Messiah sleeps under Gresit! The man who will save us from Dracula.” The man didn’t respond, simply turning his attention to (Y/N) and Trevor.

           “And you two? Are you in search of a mythical savior as well?” (Y/N) opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off as her brother remarked,

           “I fell down a hole.” She grunted, elbowing him in the side.

           “Will you fucking shut the hell up before you say something even more stupid?” He eyed her from the corner of his eye, tempted to stick his tongue out again, and she turned to the man. “We need your help.” Sypha nodded, adding,

           “Dracula is abroad in the land. He has an army of monsters and is determined to wipe out all human life wherever he finds it.” The man’s head simply tipped as he acknowledged her, but then asked,

           “Is that what you believe?”

           “That Dracula’s released his horde on Wallachia? That’s fact. There’s no belief involved.” (Y/N) watched carefully as her brother spoke, hand tightening around the hilt of her sword as his voice dropped and he questioned, “But that’s not what you’re asking.”

           “No.” Trevor drew his gaze up and clarified,

           “You’re asking if I believe you’re some sleeping Messiah who’ll save us and no, I don’t.” Even Sypha’s shocked call of his name didn’t stop him as he growled, “I know what you are.” (Y/N) knew a grin was on the man’s face as he challenged,

           “And what am I?”

           “You’re a vampire.” At this, the man finally looked up at them and with Sypha’s gasp in her ears, she caught sight of pointed fangs. “So, I have to ask myself, have we come down here to wake up the man who’ll kill Dracula…or did we come here to kill Dracula?” The man rose to his full height, but before he could speak, (Y/N) announced,

           “He’s not Dracula.” Everyone’s eyes turned to her, and Trevor scoffed,

           “He’s a vampire (Y/N). Under Gresit. That doesn’t leave a lot of room for misinterpretations.” She side eyed him before glancing at the vampire, eyes scanning his face.

           “And Dracula’s forces are attacking Gresit in a war on humanity. No person, not even a vampire, would sleep as they waged war. You have to be awake and present.” She observed the man for a moment. “Trevor, he might be a vampire…but he isn’t Dracula.” The vampire lowered towards the ground, eyeing (Y/N) as she inconspicuously moved to Trevor’s blindside.

           “One calls me Dracula…the other doesn’t.” Trevor grunted at him.

           “I’ll call you whatever you like if you’re gonna show me your teeth.” The vampire gestured to Sypha.

           “She called you Belmont…are you from the House of Belmont?” (Y/N) could feel the tension rising as Trevor affirmed,

           “Trevor Belmont. Last son of the House of Belmont.” The man glanced at (Y/N).

           “And you? The one who is standing at his back?” (Y/N) met his eyes, amazed at how they looked like pools of molten gold.

           “(Y/N) Belmont. Last daughter of the House of Belmont.” The man’s eyebrows pulled together, and he explained,

           “The Belmont’s fought creatures of the night, did they not? For generations.” Trevor barely spared the two women glances before he moved, ignoring (Y/N)’s hum of concern.

           “Say what you mean.” He threatened, stepping to the sides, watching as the man’s eyes followed him.

           “The Belmont’s killed vampires.” Trevor huffed.

           “Until the good people decided they didn’t want us around.” The nonchalance made (Y/N)’s fingers twitch as she started moving the other direction, opposite of Trevor. The vampire’s eyes darted to her moving figure, letting her know he was aware as he said,

           “And now Dracula is carrying out an execution order on the human race.” He paused, then raised a hand. “Do you care Belmont?” The question gave Trevor a pause, and he looked at the wall in front of him.

           “Honestly, I didn’t, no.” He took a breath and continued. “But now…yes, it’s time to stop it.”

           “Do you think you can?” Trevor turned, hand moving to his whip and declared,

           “What I think…is I’m going to have to kill you.” Sypha grunted, taking a step forward.

           “Belmont! No!” She argued. “He’s the one we’ve been waiting for.” Trevor moved back a bit, (Y/N) doing the same.

           “No, he’s not. He’s a vampire. And he’s not been waiting here for hundreds of years, have you?” The man’s eyes narrowed into slits as he warned,

           “I don’t like your tone, Belmont.”

           “This place is old, but it’s not been abandoned. It’s alive and working. So, go on, vampire, tell her exactly how long you’ve been waiting down here.” The man’s attention turned to the Speaker.

           “What is the year of your Lord?” Her voice was clear as she responded,

           “1476.” He turned back to Trevor.

           “Perhaps a year, then.” Trevor nodded.

           “There. And on top of that, what kind of messiah creates mechanical death traps to buy himself an uninterrupted nap in a stone coffin?”

           “My defenses we not for you.” Trevor huffed.

           “You could’ve told your defenses that.”

           “They are machines, nothing more. They were not intended to protect me from you.” The vampire’s tone was clipped, and (Y/N) quickly concluded,

           “Defenses of that power would give even the best monster hunters trouble.” She regarded him with a look of suspicion. “You’re protecting yourself from something more dangerous than simple monster hunters.” He nodded at her, turning to look back at her brother.

           “I asked you a question. Do you care?” Trevor leaned forward and announced,

           “I care about doing my family’s work. I care about saving lives.” He turned his body. “Am I going to have to kill you?” At this, the man’s tone colored with anger and he sneered,

           “Do you think you can? If you’re really a Belmont and not some runt running around with a family crest, you might be able to.” He flicked a finger, and (Y/N) heard a clinking sound before a silver sword spun through the air. He caught it and slung it back, the air cutting before it with a sharp slice. “Let’s find out.” Sypha leaned forward.

           “Belmont you can’t do this!” She turned to (Y/N). “(Y/N)! Stop him, please!” Trevor cut her off before she could speak.

           “Tell it to your floating vampire Jesus here.” The man’s face pinched and he countered,

           “You’ve got nothing but insults, have you? A tired little-” The whip cracked the lower end of his torso, sending him flying. He skidded across the ground, and looked up, a hiss passing his lips, and (Y/N) warned,

           “Trevor.” He didn’t look at her.

           “Stay there (Y/N). I’m fine.” The two began to fight, and (Y/N) moved back near Sypha, knowing she couldn’t help her brother.

           “(Y/N), please! Stop them!” She glanced at the woman and grunted with laughter as she watched Trevor knee the man in the groin. Her laughter quickly faded into shock as she watched her brother’s short sword snap, then get punched to the ground. The vampire dropped his sword, moving to Trevor, one hand gripping the hair at the crown of his head, the other shoving his shoulder down.

           “Do you have a god to put a last prayer to, Belmont?” A grin played at Trevor’s lips and he quipped,

           “Yeah. Dear God, please don’t let the vampire’s guts ruin my good tunic.” The man’s bled with confusion as he asked,

           “What?” He let out a pained grunt as the dagger entered his chest. He leaned forward, hissing, “I can still rip your throat out.”

           “You can, but it won’t stop me staking you.”

           “But you will still die.”

           “But I don’t care. Killing you was the point. Living through it was just a luxury.” The vampire let out a chuckle, but stopped as a hand tightened in his hair, pulling him back, and an edge of a blade rested against his throat. He made no movement as he felt breath next to his ear.

           “I might be the only Belmont willing to talk my way out of fights, but make no mistake, I will cut your head off if you kill my brother, vampire.” A bright light appeared in the vampire’s gaze and he looked forward at Sypha, who stood in front of him.

           “And I will incinerate you before your fangs touch that man’s throat.”

           “I thought I was your legendary savior.” Sypha’s head lowered.

           “So did I. But he saved my life.”

           “You’re a Speaker-Magician.” She nodded.

           “Yes, and his goal is mine…” Her eyes shone bright as she added, “To stand up for the people.” The vampire regarded her for a moment before looking down and muttering,

           “Good. Very good. Two vampire hunters and a magician.” The cut began to heal on his torso, and he leaned up off Trevor’s dagger. “You’ll do.” He let go of Trevor’s hair, but made no more movement when (Y/N)’s blade didn’t move.

           “You won’t kill us?” She queried. He nodded, as best he could and added,

           “On my honor.” With his confirmation, she drew back her blade, and released her grip, smoothing the hair down from where she had it gripped. He stood up and turned to them. “I am Adrian Tepes. Known to the Wallachians as Alucard…son of Vlad Dracula Tepes.” Before he could continue, (Y/N) leaned around his body, pointing at Trevor.

           “Fuckin’ told you dumbass.” Trevor’s blue eyes filled with annoyance and he gave her a sarcastic clap.

           “Congratulations sister, shall I give you a pat on the back for your excellent deduces?”  She scowled at him.

           “How ‘bout you bend over and let me plant my foot up your ass.”

           “Children, please!” The two went silent at Sypha’s exasperated call, and Adrian continued.

           “I’ve been asleep here in my private keep under Gresit for a year,” He placed a hand over his chest, and (Y/N) caught sight of the angry red scar across his pale skin. “to heal the wounds dealt by my father when I attempted to stop him unleashing his demon armies.” Sypha’s hand lowered and she marveled,

           “You are the sleeping soldier.” Adrian turned to her.

           “I’m aware of the stories. I’m also aware that the Speakers consider the story to be information from the future. Do you know the whole story?” A dust of crimson touched the tips of Sypha’s cheeks, and she ignored (Y/N)’s snicker as she nodded.

           “Yes.”

           “The sleeping soldier will be met by a hunter and a scholar.” Trevor’s neck disappeared into his shoulders as he muttered,

           “No one told me that.” (Y/N) waved him off and questioned,

           “The hell am I then? Chopped liver?”

           “You smell like it.” She flipped her middle finger at Trevor who snorted, and Adrian turned to her, golden eyes zeroing in on the onyx raven crest at her chest.

           “A huntress from the Order of Shadows…I never expected to see one in person.” (Y/N) blinked in stunned silence. When she found her senses, she asked,

           “You know the Order?” Adrian nodded.

           “Only by the outstanding reputation for being protectors of the innocent and oppressed.” He eyed to silver sword in her hand. “And for being deadly in combat.” He looked back at Trevor. “I think I might’ve lost if she’d engaged me instead of you.” Trevor rolled his eyes, ignoring the barb, and Sypha took it as a chance to speak.

           “Why do you think my grandfather tried everything to make you stay?” Trevor picked himself off the ground, groaning,

           “I hate speakers.” The three waited for Adrian to dress, then Sypha inquired,

           “So, what happens now?” Adrian shoved the scabbard into his belt.

           “I need two hunters and a scholar. I need help to save Wallachia…” The sword lifted from the ground, sheathing itself. “Perhaps the world and defeat my father.” Trevor glanced at him, suspicion coloring his tone.

           “Why?” Adrian’s feet stopped and he murmured,

           “Because it is what my mother would have wanted…and we are all, in the end…slaves to our families wishes.” The words made (Y/N)’s heart heavy, but she ignored it, tightening the armor at her wrist.

           “You’ll help us kill Dracula and save Wallachia?” The four met at the doorway, and Adrian nodded.

           “My father has to die.” He glanced at them, eyes stopping to rest on (Y/N). “We four…we can destroy him.” For a moment, no one spoke, then (Y/N) pointed to the doorway, deadpanning,

           “Not to break the dramatic silence here, but numbnuts broke the gears and shit coming down, so how the fuck do we get out of here?” Adrian passed her by, his eyes so focused on her, it almost made her sweat.

           “Follow me.” The vampire walked ahead, Sypha following him, but the two siblings stood solemn. The two didn’t speak at first, then she whispered,

           “Are you sure about this Trevor?” She looked aver at him, watching as he glared daggers into Adrian’s back.

           “No…no I’m not.” (Y/N) took in a breath, then let it out.

           “Well…nothing we can do about it now.” Trevor nodded, following her as she jogged to catch up with the other two. “So, Goldenrod…do you prefer Alucard or Adrian?”

[xxrainbow-princessxx]

Unspoken Truths - Royal Romance/TRR AU

As things come to a head, can Isabella or Leo find some mutual agreement? Does Liam, Drake and Leo’s hunt for Barthemely gain momentum?

Chapter list:

Chapter 1: Enough

Chapter 2: Homeward Bound

Chapter 3: Band of Brothers

Chapter 4 Dearest Sympathies

Chapter 5: No Expectations

Chapter 6: Line of Succession

Tag list: @lorirwritesfanfic @drakewalkerfantasy @desireepow-1986 @rainbowsinthestorm @lorircreates @itslaniquelove @liam-rhys @hopefulmoonobject @speedyoperarascalparty @kimmiedoo5 @rafasgirl23415 @kingliam2019 @mom2000aggie @texaskitten30 @the-everlasting-dream

Trigger warning: Violence, death, premonition of death, sexual innuendo, swearing

“We’re getting nowhere!” Liam barked slamming his fist onto the table, “If Barthelemy has been under our noses this whole time, where the hell could he be hiding?!” Drake began to slowly shake his head, “...we’ve checked every corner of each of the provinces over the past two weeks... you don’t think...” Drake ran his fingers through his hair, his dark features smouldering in the dimly lit room, “Maxwell’s and Bertrand’s disappearance will have spooked him?” Liam took a deep breath, his shoulders were tense as he stared at the map of the Cordonian Kingdom, “No...” Liam’s tongue clicked “...we’re obviously missing something...” tracing his finger across the North River. “We’ve had the Kings guard check each of these points...” Drake agreed, “Yes, and they are currently in the Valtoria forests... should we send in another party to scour the Fydelia to Portavira intersection?” Leo stood on the veranda with one hand in his jean pocket whilst taking a drag of a cigarette staring out into the Cordonian landscape. He was glad that Liam was now focusing on what was important; he was fighting for what he believed in but he missed Isabella, he missed his own family. As Leo’s sea green eyes gazed towards the flickering stars that glistened in the dark midnight sky, he wondered if they missed him too? Once Camille was safe, it would allow Liam to return to rule the Kingdom in his own way and if anything; this would establish a message to neighbouring Kingdom’s that Cordonia is not for sale.

Once everything was signed and sealed. Leo would finally be able to let go. He would finally feel like the burden he placed upon his brother’s shoulders when he abdicated would become less painful or at least, in his heart, the guilt he held to gain his own personal freedoms would no longer keep him up at night. It had been over a decade since Leo abdicated but Leo felt duty bound to repay that debt, no matter his own cost. Drake looked over his shoulder, sighing as he watched Leo standing quietly in the archway; the cigarette smoke lingering in the Cordonian air. “Liam...” Drake began to shake his head, “He needs to talk to her...” whispering under his breath so Leo didn’t hear. Liam nodded in agreement as he sadly looked out towards his brother, “He’s more like Father than he cares to admit...” Drake snorted at the comparison as Liam up the map that had been sprawled across the desk, “Leo is crazy if he thinks that Sánchez will be sitting waiting for him when he gets back?” handing Drake the map, Liam shrugged his shoulders, “My brother and his wife’s circumstances are none of our concern...” Drake’s dark brow lifted as he angrily the map from Liam, “Talk to him...” Drake snapped, “He’s throwing his marriage away to help you and that’s all you can say?! If you don’t say something...”

Liam took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, “This is not the time, go rally the Guards before we lose the cover of darkness...” Drake had heard enough, gritting his teeth, he stared down his friend and King, “Make it the goddamn time!” before pushing passed Liam. It was hard for Drake knowing the truth, even after all these years - he adored her. Isabella was the only one that Drake felt was there for him with no agenda. Anything Drake ever needed, she did without him having to ask. Many a night he crashed in her townhouse when he needed to get away from the suffocating pageantry of the Cordonian Palace or needed to vent about life in general she supplied the alcohol and listened but deep down Drake knew if he interfered, he would say something he’d immediately regret. Running his fingers through his dark mane, he refocused proceeded to the Guards armour to plan for the next search. “Bas...” Drake quietly murmured, “Tonight’s checkpoints are the Valtorian Pass and the Fydelia to Portavira intersection...” Drake picked up rounds of ammunition and a rifle, throwing it’s strap over his shoulder, “I’ll head out with the second team to the Valtorian Pass... you head out to Fydelia...” Bastien nodded before signalling to the guards to fall out, “You heard the man... let’s go!”

Drake’s words however played on Liam’s conscious. He wasn’t Isabella’s biggest fan by any means but he knew deep down that she made his brother happy and that’s all that mattered. Pouring himself and Leo a drink, Liam walked out onto the veranda where his brother had stood silently for what felt like hours, “Here...” Liam handed him the crystal tumbler as he sighed, “I appreciate the sentiment brother... but putting your marriage on the line...” The Cordonian King’s sparkling river blue eyes met his brother’s, placing a hand gently onto his shoulder, “You don’t have to do this...” Leo bit down on his bottom lip as he held the bourbon in his hand, “I must do something...” he murmured before taking a drink, “I won’t allow Cordonia to fall...” Liam remained quiet as he allowed his brother to speak, “Felipe mentioned before that he knew the Cordonian Royal Council were dirty rats but even I could never have believed him...” shaking his head, Leo sighed heavily, as his grip onto the tumbler tightened, “These people were our family, our friends....” turning his head, he glared at Liam, Leo’s sea green eyes burned with hatred, “... how can I trust the woman I married when I can’t even trust my own fucking shadow right now?!” Liam tilted his head slightly, his heart heavy as he empathised with Leo, “Brother... you need to speak with Isabella... I’m sure she would understand... You still love her don’t you?”

Leo’s sea green eyes rolled to the left towards his brother sadly, “With all my heart... Of course I do...” a lump was forming in his throat as Liam placed his hand on Leo’s shoulder, a passive smile barely graced his face, “Tell her before it’s too late...” Leo nodded pensively and without a word returned to his suite twisting his wedding ring as he walked. The pure Laurentian gold band was plain but it stood for much more than just their marriage; it was everything he and Isabella ever fought for. It wasn’t new that Leo lay in an empty bed without Isabella beside him; the last six months affirmed that but with a deep breath, Leo removed his phone staring at the lock screen. Isabella’s bright, warm dazzling smile drew him in and made him fall in love with her all over again every single day. He could almost hear her giggling happily in the quiet room as he took the simple photograph of her smiling back at him. Closing his eyes, Leo sighed heavily. What he wouldn’t give for Isabella to look at him like that again. “You have no idea...” he quietly spoke, running his finger down the screen, “...how much I miss you...” Biting down onto his lip, Leo began to type, holding his breath as he sent Isabella a message, the first time they had spoken in weeks.

‘Can we talk?’

‘Please...’

Isabella’s dark chocolate brown eyes rolled to the left as she saw her phone lighting up. Her heart was in her throat as Sasha and Lia pouted, “Is that papa?” Turning her phone over, Isabella raised her brow, “You two need to focus on getting ready for school, than what’s on my phone...” as she nursed Nico, brushing his little cheeks gently. “But Mama...” the pair begged, “Can we FaceTime him later?” Isabella began to sigh, “Mi queridas... he is busy, I can’t promise anything...” Leo’s texts infuriated her but she couldn’t allow her children to see the pain she felt, “Now go get dressed you two... Jimena will need to take you to school today...” Unimpressed, the pouting Princesses slid off of their chairs sulking off towards their room knowing it was best not to argue with their mother. Isabella rested her elbow onto the table, cradling her head as she looked at the empty chair to her right where Leo would have sat each morning. She was so confused, on one hand, he made her blood boil - the other; she still loved him which made things so much harder. Isabella reluctantly opened the messages, her cheeks sucked in as her eyes gazed upon the text. “You want to talk huh?” she sarcastically mumbled, “Look Nico...” as she cradled the little one “...Your papa actually has something to say...” before rolling her eyes and coldly replying,

‘Fine... but you can video call me in Conference Room 2...”

Isabella knew she’d have to wait; Leo was never on time on a good day let alone when he was on Cordonian time. Fixing her nightdress, she lifted her baby boy upwards giggling before she rested him against her chest rubbing his little back. She cooed happily as Nico snuggled into her shoulder, “Who loves you?? Mama loves you!” as she carefully carried him back to her suite. Since Leo had left, Isabella had the crib moved to her room - he wasn’t there to complain that the kids were in the room or the baby’s crying would keep either of them awake. Sitting up on her bed, Isabella propped the infant against her legs, tickling him and making funny faces as he smiled back at her trying to giggle, “Sí mi amor... puedes hacerlo...” she cooed, “Eso es....” as Nico stared up at her with his father’s green eyes, Isabella could only beam with delight, her and Leo’s children were getting her through this mess. It was hard shielding them from the rows and pain she felt but she tried her hardest. “Who’s my handsome little Prince... huh?” Isabella carefully brushed Nicolás’ soft sandy blonde hair back as he was drifting off to sleep. Isabella gently manoeuvred herself to place Nico into his crib. As his little body was placed onto the mattress, Isabella bit down onto her lower lip. He was his father’s double, same hair, same eyes, same nose and like his father, he was the most beautiful boy his mother set eyes on. Swallowing hard, Isabella brushed his cheek, “Please when you are old enough, don’t you break someone’s heart like your father’s broke mine...”

Stirring the spoon in her afternoon tea, Isabella tapped the silverware against the delicate china crockery. She was becoming anxious that Leo hadn’t called yet and it was near time that the girls arrived back from school. Isabella was famously known for being patiently impatient as her long manicured nails tapped the table waiting for Leo to call. Isabella felt her chest tightening as the screen updated, the waiting video call was just a push of a button away. Would she get the answers she wanted? Would Leo tell her he was coming home? Did he even still love her? Nervously she accepted the call, her heart racing with trepidation as the screen flickered to see her husband looking at her. “Hey...” Leo spoke softly, “You look...Sorry I’m only...” Isabella sat still, her stony expression only added to the icy atmosphere between them. Leo began to run his fingers through his sandy blonde hair nervously as he cleared his throat, “Yeah...” she mumbled, “So... how are the kids?” Isabella raised her left brow slowly as her lips finally parted speaking quite matter of fact, “They miss you... they want to know when their father is coming back or if he is coming back...” Leo began to shake his head sadly as he shrugged his muscular frame, “Bella I...”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” The Laurentian Queen screamed, “It’s a simple answer!” as she gesticulated her arms widely, eyes darkening with anger, “Why the fuck are you playing games? There’s only two options here Leo, either you want to be here or you fucking don’t!” He was not in the mood to be chastised, taking a deep breath Leo clicked his tongue, “Isabella... we’re not all as fucking perfect as you... Things are complicated right now, I need more time...” Isabella’s lips began to pout, taking a moment to process what Leo had just said to her. “Time?” Isabella questioned, “You’ve had nearly six weeks of time!” slamming her hands into the table caused her china cup and saucer to shake, “I am trying to understand right now Leo I really... really am...” Isabella’s nostrils began to flare, “But you are making this exceptionally difficult!” Gritting his teeth, Leo tried to hold in his anger, “You’re not fucking listening!” he growled, “I’ve already told you, I can’t go into details! It’s not safe...” Lowering her head, Isabella pressed her fingers against her temples taking a deep breath before looking up at Leo. Her lips were pursed, eyes narrowed slightly as she finally spoke, “I can’t live in a marriage that’s based on secrets or lies... if you can’t talk to me, then...” she began to laugh shrugging her shoulders, “what is the point of anything?” Leo began to beg, “Bella... don’t... no...” but Isabella simply shook her head, tears began to roll whilst her mascara stained her cheeks, “I’m done... I can’t live my life waiting on a promise...” Leo closed his eyes, it felt like a knife was stabbed through his heart, “Kitten... don’t do this...” he began to panic, “I’ll tell you everything!!” Leo held his hands up as a knock came at the door, “... just...just wait!” but Isabella moved, her finger hovering over the end call button, “No...” she sniffed as she pressed the button. The Queen stood from the table wiping her tears as best she could with the sides of her index fingers, blinking away the excess, “Yes... come in...” she cleared her throat until her eyes widened, “Your Majesty...” Jimena rolled her eyes, “Duke Ramsford to see you in the throne room... he insisted you made yourself available...”

[verai-marcel]

The Light That You Shine (RDR2 Fanfic, John Marston x F!Reader, Chapter 6 of 6, 18+)

Tags, Warnings, & Notes in Chapter 1.  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3  |  Chapter 4  |  Chapter 5

AO3 Link is here, sweetheart.

Chapter 6 - A Place to Call Home

Word Count: 1954 

The two of you headed upstairs, hand in hand. There was a tenseness in the air, but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was as if the string tying the two of you together had been drawn as taut as it could go, and in mere moments, you felt like it was going to snap and the two of you would crash into each other, uncontrolled, unrestrained.

But before that could happen, you needed to tell John. You needed to open up to him, just as he had opened up to you.

His hand caressed the small of your back as you made it to the top of the stairs.

You turned, and he took one step and engulfed you in his arms.

“Baby, I need you tonight,” he rasped. Then he quickly added, “But only if you want to.”

You pressed your hands against John’s chest. He pulled back to look at you, concerned.

“I…” You swallowed and tried again. “I’ve never been with anyone before.”

John stepped back. “Do… do you want to wait?”

“No, no!” you nearly shouted. “I just… Don’t expect me to be any good, I guess,” you mumbled.

He held your face in his big, warm hands. “Sweetheart, it ain’t about bein’ good or experienced. It’s about feelin’, it’s about emotion.” He moved in a little closer and gave your lips a sweet, chaste kiss on the lips. “I just want to show you how much…” He took a deep breath. “How much I love you.”

“John?”

“I love you,” he said with more conviction. “More than anything else.”

You lunged forward and kissed him, full force, filled with a desire for this man unlike any other you had ever felt. And just as with every touch before, it was as if a thunderstorm rolled through your bodies, sparkin a fire in you as you started to tug off his jacket.

He chuckled as he shrugged his jacket off, his hands coming back to you to rub up and down your back, to your hips, gripping them and pulling you tightly against the line of his body. You could feel his desire for you against your thigh, and you rubbed against him, moaning softly. 

“I want you, John. All the way.”

“Oh, baby girl,” he breathed, walking backwards until his knees hit the bed. He sat down, holding you between his legs as he helped you take off your shirt. He fumbled with the back of your bra, trying to unclasp it, but only ended up cursing.

“I never understood these damn things,” he mumbled as you laughed, reaching behind yourself to undo the clasps, flinging the bra across the room. John let out a small sound of unbridled desire as he reached up to grab your breasts, teasing your nipples before taking one into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud as he tugged at the other one, making you moan and lean into his touch.

“So goddamn beautiful,” he said as he kissed his way down to your stomach. He looked up at you then, his hands resting at the fly of your jeans. He waited, watching your reaction.

You reached down and unbuttoned and unzipped your fly, then let him take over as he slid your jeans down your thighs, down your calves, his hands running down your legs, taking a moment here and there to squeeze, to touch, to feel. He let out a shuddering breath as his hands were busy memorizing the shape of your body.

Staring at your pink bikini panties, he slipped his hand under the waistband and pulled down slowly, as if he was unwrapping the most precious of gifts. You were wet, and he noticed with a smile, caressing your inner thighs with two fingers, closer and closer to your nether lips until he finally stroked your clit.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“Like what I’m doin’ to you?” he teased as he slipped his fingers through your folds, gently stroking you around your opening before dipping one finger inside of you, just a little bit.

“Yes, fuck yes.”

John laughed softly. “C’mere.”

He lay back on the bed, his hands on your hips, guiding you forward. “Put your knees here,” he said, patting the bed on either side of his head.

You tentatively crawled forward, and once you were in reach, John wrapped his arms behind your thighs and grabbed your ass, pulling you towards his mouth. You fell forward onto your hands and looked down to see John looking up at you with a grin before shoving his face between your legs.

You nearly fell on top of him as he lapped at your core, his hands kneading your ass. He explored you with his tongue, making your toes curl and your breaths come out in short gasps. When his lips closed around your clit and started to suck gently, his tongue pressing against you, you mewled helplessly.

You felt your core tighten, felt your heart pound harder as he pleasured you, until the dam burst and you cried out his name, coming hard against his mouth. Your legs trembled and you struggled to stay upright as he held you close, kissing your core until you finally settled, your legs about to give out.

He gently rolled you over, moving you so that you were lying on your back in the middle of the bed before getting up. Giving you a cocky grin, he pulled off his shirt, toed off his shoes and socks, and took off his belt. Then he rested his hands on the fly of his jeans.

“You ready, baby?” he said with a smirk as he slowly pulled off his pants and kicked them aside.

“Fuck me already,” you nearly growled as you glanced down at his hard shaft, making him grin proudly. He kneeled on the bed and spread your legs, leaning forward to rub the head of his cock along your slit. 

“You asked for it,” he said as he started taking you, slowly, inch by inch. When you winced, he stopped.

“Keep going,” you demanded.

He leaned over and held your face in his hands. “Only if you tell me you’re okay,” he said.

“I’m good, please John, please, more,” you begged as you lifted your hips, taking in more of him.

“I like when you beg me,” he rasped as he pushed forward, his eyes focused solely on you as he took you the rest of the way. When his hips came flush with yours, he let out a breath. “You feel like heaven, sweetheart.”

You kissed him, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him close. He responded in kind, deepening the kiss as he rolled his hips, starting off slow until you whimpered and undulated your hips under him, reaching around to grab his ass and push him in deeper.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” you urged, letting the wilder side of you take control.

He growled as he gripped your hips and started driving into you with more strength, his biceps flexing as he held himself up, giving himself more room to slide out and ram back inside of you. You wrapped your legs around him, crossing your ankles as you let go of his neck and gripped his arms, feeling his muscles as he fucked you harder and faster with each moment.

“Come for me, baby,” he said in a rush of breath, slowing his hips just enough so he could reach down to thumb your clit. Your body tensed, your pussy tightened around him as his irresistible touch drew out your climax.

“Oh fuck, yes John, yes!” you cried out as you felt that blissful wave of pleasure rolling through your body, your hips lifting up to meet his powerful thrusts.

John couldn’t hold back, watching you writhe under him; he came with a shout, moaning your name as he emptied himself inside of you, his final thrusts shaking the bed as he drove himself as deep as possible.

He collapsed next to you, catching his breath, his hand caressing your belly as you caught yours. You turned to him, a big goofy grin on your face.

“That was amazing,” you said breathily.

“You’re amazin’, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you close and kissing your forehead.

Then he suddenly froze and pulled back. “Oh god. I didn’t wear a condom,” he said, his eyes wide in panic.

You patted his arm. “Don’t worry, I’m on the pill.” You yawned, feeling sleepy. “Been on the pill since our third date.”

John let out a long breath in relief. “You could’ve told me sooner about that.”

You grinned cheekily at him. “I was waiting for you to make a move.”

“You could’ve made the move, you’re more of a go-getter than I am.”

You slapped his arm. “Even I have my weaknesses,” you muttered.

“Oh? Wasn’t aware you even had any weaknesses,” he teased, poking your cheek. Then he cupped your cheek instead, giving you a serious look. “You can be weak around me. I’ll be here for you. Always.”

You smiled and turned your head to kiss the palm of his hand; you knew he would keep his word.

***

It had been six years since then. You smiled as you watched John hang up the last sign inside your new flower shop; you now offered more services, and with Javier’s help in marketing, you had more customers than ever.

So together, you and John rented a larger space, with a larger apartment. It would be the second time you had moved since you first started your business, but it would be worth it. After all, you would need more room.

“Mommy, Mommy!”

Rachel, your four year old daughter, came bursting through the shop doors.

“Careful, sweetpea,” John said as he came down from the ladder and scooped up his daughter. “No running inside the shop.”

“Sorry Daddy,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“She’s quite a handful,” a familiar deep voice amusedly said. Arthur came into the shop, carrying Rachel’s unicorn backpack for her.

“Uncle Arthur says I’m his favorite girl,” Rachel boasted. “I’m gonna marry him one day.”

You laughed hard as you watched John grow deathly pale. “Uh-oh John, you aren’t your little sweetpea’s favorite person anymore.”

John shot an angry glare at Arthur. “You been spoiling her again?”

“Would I do that?” Arthur said, a grin on his face.

“Thanks for watching her today,” you said as you reached out to take Rachel’s backpack from Arthur. 

He immediately held it away from you. “I can carry it to her room.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my god, not you too? I can carry a child’s backpack.”

This time it was John’s turn to laugh. “See? I told you, don’t try to carry anything around any of us.” 

You let out a resigned sigh. The other guys had also treated you like a glass vase, carrying everything for you whenever they came to visit.

“Anyways, I owe you,” Arthur added.

“For what?” you asked.

“For savin’ John,” he said without a hint of irony as he walked past them, holding his hand out to Rachel. “C’mon little cowgirl, let’s put yer stuff away.”

“Yeehaw!” she yelled as she ran past Arthur, opened the door to the apartment and ran up the stairs, Arthur following after her at his usual languid pace.

As the door closed, you turned to John. “I saved you?”

John smiled as he walked closer to you and placed his hand on your growing belly. “Yeah, you did. You made me want to be a better man.” He kissed your forehead. “You’re the light that brought me home.”

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

End Notes: Some info that I couldn’t really shove into the story from a narrative perspective, so I’m just noting it here: 1) Dutch controlled Arthur & John’s phones, so he cut off John’s service. 2) Arthur and Dutch had a talk after all the other guys left, but that story will have to be told at another time. Anyway, so a couple of the restaurants I mentioned reference real life chain restaurants. Let me know if you can guess what those are! And finally, in keeping with the first fic in this series, I made the title of the fic a lyric from a song, and I tried to make sure the song sort of matched the theme of the fic. Because, you know, I’m crazy.

[harleyquinnamiright]

Crossroad High - Chapter One

also on Wattpad and AO3 Ships: (Eventual) Analogical, Royality, and Dukeceit/Demus Triggers: None that I can think of, please tell me if you’d like me to tag anything!

a/n: I don't know a lot about cheerleading and most of what I'm taking for Patton's cheerleading stuff is my fencing experience. Since it's a winter sport I didn't think it'd be fitting of Patton so. sorry for messing anything up there.

Remus Sanders is not a happy camper. After spending the entire summer at his Aunt and Uncle's house where all he could do was chores and school work, he gets one day to be at home. One day off before school starts again with the exact same day to day schedule as his so-called vacation. It would be bad enough having to do chores, having to do them while your guardians sit around and just tell you to be a different person is horrendous.

“HONEY! I’M HOME!” He chirped loudly the second he slammed opened the door, successfully scaring someone if the sound of something crashing had anything to say about it. He smirked to himself as he grabbed the door, seeing no dent in the wall, and kicking it back into place. His camo duffel bag that was slung across his shoulder was the only thing that he went to his Uncle’s house that he came back with, so he felt very smug waltzing into his kitchen. Even his wardrobe he wasn’t able to keep completely, though he was still wearing an outfit he had been able to hide by burying it. It was covered in dirt, but that never mattered to him. It was a black Billie Eilish shirt of her with her green hair, a pair of dark purple fishnets, and black ripped baggy jeans.

“You’re home.” Remus’ mother said with a sarcastic smile as she watched Remus walk into the kitchen. She was leant over the sink, a broken plate clearly having been just broken below her. Remus mentally high-fived himself. “You’re still doing makeup.” She said after a moment of silence, not trying to hide her disgust. Remus’ smirk turned into a smile as he remembered the loud purple eyeshadow and cat-eye he put on this morning.

“I am here. And yes, makeup is still on my face.” Remus smiled brightly, leaving the two standing in silence. “Welp. Bye!” He screamed the last word just to see if he could shock her again. It didn’t work, but it was worth a try. Walking to and up the stairs, it wasn’t surprising nothing changed. Whenever he left something seemed to change so it was a bit refreshing to see that the decor had left the same. No one else seemed to be in the house, which was a bit strange, but he didn’t note anything as he was glad to be home.

He almost screamed the second he opened his bedroom door. He didn’t actually scream, but he goddamn he wanted to. Everything that made his room his was gone. There wasn’t even a dresser anymore. His clothes he left were folded neatly on a silver shelving unit that looked like it belonged in a cafeteria, and there was no longer a mirror or desk. Half of the clothes there weren’t even his, or weren’t when he left, and he could tell that from the doorway. There wasn’t a trace of makeup and the walls had gone from his favorite neon green to a hospital white.

Not screaming, not thinking, he threw his bag at the bed that now had a sporty blue bedding instead of the green and purple octopus quilt he had specially commissioned, and climbed out his window. The roof below his room wasn't very strong but he walked on it enough to know where to step to get to the lattice and climb down relatively safely. He still wasn’t really thinking, but he got to his family's garage pretty easily.

Before he knew what he was doing he was holding a baseball bat above his mother’s favorite car. The only thing that made him stop and start to think was the garage opening to show his Dad's car. Knowing he wasn’t visible yet, he threw the bat half-hazerdly towards the corner and left the room garage towards the door facing his backyard, not really rushing, but still very much fuming.

—-

Seeing someone climb down the side of what seems to be their own house is not an everyday occurrence. Though, being in Roseville is not an everyday occurence for Janus Glass, so it’s not like he can actually speak about it. He couldn’t stop staring as he watched the interesting boy across the street climbing, but it was clear the other didn’t notice him. From what Janus could make out the other boy had white hair or white in his hair and was wearing clothes very different then from what Janus knew.

“Jay!” Janus heard, turning to see his Dad waving excitedly from the new house. It was a two bedroom house that was way bigger than it should have been, but the fact they could now afford it was amazing, and something neither of them had considered before.

J walked up to his front door and looked around, his dad running up the porch stairs excitedly. Neither of them had much time considering the fact that J had to get to the school soon for a tour, but it was nice to look around a house you never thought you’d actually get.

“What time was your school thingy again?” His dad shouted, now far inside the house.

“2:23,” J lied, wanting to be at the school early and liking the way the time sounded better. He looked around the living room which was connected to the front door briefly for a clock, coming up empty, but already spotting where one could go.

“So 2:30 or 3:00?” His dad responded, knowing his son's language.

“Former.” J responded, trying to visualize the rest of the room and decorations, a lot of which he and his father had already agreed on, but imaging again with different decor was nice.

“We, my boy, are going to be late.” His father said running down the stairs, walking quickly back into the car.

“What?” J asked deadpan as he followed him.

The two got into the car in silence, Janus half worrying about being late, half trying to imagine what the school would look like. Both thoughts got cut off by his Dad's car stopping shortly in front of a boy with sunglasses and a brown leather jacket. The boy looked up from his phone, gave the both of them a half dirty look before backing out of the way of the car. The two drove away with nothing but a look at each other. The rest of the car ride didn’t leave a lot of room for thought, being filled with Queen. Janus and his dad only got through two songs before arriving at the bland looking building that tomorrow would officially be Janus’s new school. The back of the building was boring at least, a solid wall of grey brick. The front had more sectioning off and was painted different quotes and pictures representing pride in the school and town, though not distracting from the statue in the middle of the front courtyard.

“Well look at that! This place looks fun! Am I dropping you off or should I know where your classes are? What are we doing?” Janu’s dad asked excitedly, clapping loudly once.

Janus totally didn’t flinch. He didn’t. Chad still looked apologetic. “You’re just dropping me off, Dad.” Janus replied, nodding to himself. The word dad made Chad light up as he unlocked the car. Despite the fact that Janus had gotten comfortable calling Chad Dad long ago, the fact he did made the other very happy.

“Text me when the tour is over! I’ll see what we can do about milkshakes afterwards, yeah?” Chad continued to smile brightly, not matching Janus’ low energy at all.

“Sure. Bye.” Janus was once again deadpan though trying not to be rude as he turned away from his father and towards the front entrance of Crossroad High. This was going to be a fun year.

—-

Roman should not have shown up 15 minutes early. It wasn’t a good idea when he left the house for the 10 minute drive, and it wasn’t a good idea when he got to the building. The front door was open by the time he got there, but there were no people around for what seemed like miles. The back parking lot full of cars, but it always was, and there never seemed to be any people.

The fifteen minutes wasn’t hard to fill when there was finally silence to think. In a house filled with the fights about Remus coming soon or Logan just needing people to know they were wrong, it was very hard to think. Sitting on the floor was also very nice. The silence was nice until there was a random voice behind him.

“Hey.” The voice was quiet, but it was still there.

“Hi.” Roman responded, turning around, instantly glad he spoke before looking as he looked at the others face. He seemed to have heterochromia of the eyes, one being almost yellow, the other a tawny brown. Also, half his face was covered in burns that looked so organized it looked like a waffle iron was pressed to his face.

“So. I, um, I assumed you were, a, my tour guide? If not, sorry for bothering you?” The other said cautiously, his voice rasping slightly, dragging out his s’s, going from somewhat deadpan to panicked in his time talking.

“Oh, yeah, no, yeah! I’m your tour guide! I’m Roman! Hello!” Roman said with a princely flourish as he stood up from his place on the floor, wiping his hips slightly.

“Greeeaaaaaat.” Janus nodded slowly as he drew out the word. “I’m Janus, with a u-s. Did you want the schedule I had or are we going around the whole school? or..?”

“We could do either! I wasn’t given a lot of strict instruction so I think we can do whatever. I was told you and I had the exact same classes, hence why I’m the one showing you around, so. Yeah.” Roman explained, smiling awkwardly. “That’s the front door.” He said after a second of Janus just staring at him.

“Math.” Janus seemed to force the word from his throat, for some reason not being able to speak. His face also had a slight tinge to his face that could have been blushing, from his burn scars, or because of the school lighting.

“Math. Yes. We have Algebra first. That starts upstairs. We go from here, down all the way to the middle school blocks, then use the left staircase, go all the way up, and the second door is the Algebra room. It sounds a little more complicated than it is.” Roman explained, pointing at the path he was talking about as he started walking.

“Middle school blocks?” Janus said a little easier as it was clear Roman would be able to hold most of the conversation for the day.

“Yes, the middle school isn’t really connected but it used to be. The 9th graders have to sometimes come here for elective classes because sometimes. I took a theater class that could only be held in this auditorium so me and my class walked here everyday from the upper lot.” Roman explained, smiling accomplished while talking about theater, obviously passionate about the subject.

“Oh, so you’re also a freshman?” Janus asked, surprised, his face turning confused again in the middle of his sentence.

“Yes, I have an older brother and again, theater class, so I am quite acquainted with the building.” Roman once again explained, turning to open the door but searching Janus’ face for reactions. There wasn’t much of any.

Janus nodded when he realized Roman was expecting someone and continued nodding throughout the rest of the tour. The school was broken up into wings so it was pretty easy to navigate. By 3:30 there was only one place left for Roman to show Janus.

—-

Cheerleading practice was rewarding but it was hard. A lot of people seemed to think it was easy, Patton at first included, but wow was it hard work. Not even mentioning the exercise before and after actually practicing things specifically for cheerleaders.

“Pat! We were all going to the movies later today, wondering if you’d like to come?” Regina, the head cheerleader, asked him cheerily.

“I’d love to! Should we meet in your locker room or mine?” Patton asked, already knowing the invitation was going to be revoked.

“Oh. Um. We kind of have to leave now.” Regina smiled apologetically, though she started tensing a tad.

“Oh, alright, then I guess I’ll see you next time!” Patton waves as he was the first one walking away, not pointing out several of the girls preferred to change too, and that many probably invited were already walking towards the school. Or that it was the fourth time they had invited him only to not revoke that when he reminded them he used a different dressing room.

It’s not like he was the only male cheerleader, he was just the only one who didn’t try out and get in in kindergarten. He joined in first grade, never thinking he was out of the loop. He didn’t even realize he was until 6th grade, when he and the three other male cheerleaders were chosen for the main twelve cheerers who were picked for competitions.

Suffice to say, thinking you’re alone in the locker room then hearing voices is pretty scary.

“And this is our last stop of the day! These are the locker roooo--- HI PATTON.” Roman, a boy Patton knew from theater class announced loudly upon seeing Patton. Patton laughed slightly, unsure of the loud reaction seeing as he was still fully in uniform and wasn’t doing anything he thought would cause such a thing.

The boy next to him waved slightly after a sec, looking at Roman strangely.

“Heyyy, Rodrick?” Patton asked unsurely, smiling brightly.

“Ro, uh, Roman.” Roman answered, though his tone was very questioning.

“Alright, hi Roman! And hi, you! I’m not sure we’ve ever met before! I’m Patton!” Patton waved more enthusiastically.

“Janus. With an u-n. It’s nice to meet you, Patton.” Janus nodded, smirking slightly on the side of his face that wasn’t burned. Patton was unsure if he wanted to ask but he was sure he wanted to know whatever or whoever was behind that sooner or later.

“Well. This seems a little awkward.” Patton said, closing his locker, deciding not to change out of uniform today. “I know why I’m here. Can I ask why you two are here?”

“I’m starting this school tomorrow and I needed a tour around.” Janus explained easily, drawing out the s, though his voice seemed like an emotion Patton couldn’t place.

“Oh. That’s fun. When walking in I think I heard you,” He paused and pointed softly at Roman, “say that this was the last stop? If that’s true, would you guys want to hang out? I’m a bit bored.” He finished, smiling and scrunching his nose, hoping it didn’t sound like he wanted to take over their day.

“That’d be nice. I’m also new to town so finding where to hang out would be, well, nice. Heh.” Janus answered after it was clear Roman was going to do no such thing. He stood there smiling like a polite cat, nodding continuously.

“Awesome! Let’s go!” Patton turned around, giving Roman a polite smile as to ask if he was coming. Roman just kept nodding. “Alright.” Patton shrugged, and started walking out the field to the back parking lot.

—-

Logan knew, for sure, that school didn’t start until tomorrow. He did. Then again, his brain never officially decided school was over, therefore he was in the clear of deciding he was overworking himself. It wasn’t like he was starting freshman year over again, he was going to school as a sophomore. He didn’t know why, but it seemed like this year was going to be important. Or dangerous. It’s school, who knows.

He was startled out of his thoughts about scheduling when his phone started playing Fergalicous. “Babes, you better not be hunched over your desk.” Logan’s friend, Remy, said after Logan answered the phone.

“I’m not hunching.” Logan answered honestly, pressing up his glasses.

“Working counts as hunching hun.” Remy paused to slurp his coffee, “Also I’m at your front door.” Remy said, sipping again.

“Of course you are.” Logan rolled his eyes fondly as he walked downstairs. He had earlier heard a crash of some kind of already figured his younger brother had been home and had probably left by now. Logan didn’t support what his parents had done to Remus’ room but since he didn’t stop anything he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to Remus yet.

“Why was your brother climbing down the side of your house?” Remy asked as soon as Logan opened the door, confirming his suspicions of Remus being gone. His mother was now also nowhere to be found but she typically didn’t mind Remy being over.

“Probably because our parents completely cleared out his room after sending them to our Uncles.” Logan answered, walking upstairs, trusting Remy to shut the door and follow him up the stairs.

“That a quote?” Remy asked scandalously, obviously wanting more information.

“Not directly. Here’s what was said,” Logan started as soon as he closed his bedroom door. Talking with Remy was always fun, he was trustworthy, and truly the only one who appreciated gossip as much as Logan.

The fact that Remy was only not in Roseville for a week did not stop him from having a world of new information from where he was and Roseville. Logan didn’t have as much info as the other but he had plenty and he had plenty of new information on people to walk into sophomore year. —-

When Virgil got home, he genuinely did not know what day it was or when it was. He knew it was dark. It’s not like he was gone for long but when the sky gets dark around 6:00 you can lose track of how long you’re outside. The only reason he left in the first place was because his mother's boyfriend Derrick was coming over and Derrick didn’t particularly like him. He didn’t ask him to leave but while he was there it was clear he didn’t want Virgil there. In his own home. Virgil didn’t mean to fall asleep in a public park and get driven home by a cop with no clock in the car whatsoever.

“Honey! Oh my gosh I was so worried!” His mother said, hugging him tightly the second she opened the door. He tensed and squirmed but she didn’t care. Despite the fact they were still semi outside, Virgil knew Derrick wasn’t home based on his mother's closeness.

When she finally let him go, before he was able to say anything, she glanced at something and suddenly got a hard look in her eye. “Sweety, you have school in two hours. None of your chores are done. I’ll let you know when you have time to change.” She was swaying slightly and her eyes showed she clearly wasn’t all there, but when was she ever.

Virgil just nodded, not like his mother was in front of him anymore. She was probably going back to sleep herself, but Vee couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t know how long he slept and still doesn’t know an exact time, but he just plugged his phone in before getting to work on chores. He had no idea why he needed to change but then again his mother did care about what others thought about him. In public at least.

His mother never called him to get changed but luckily he set an alarm his phone was loud enough to alert him of. He didn’t really have time to fully change what he was wearing so he just grabbed the first sweater he saw and the backpack with all his summer work in it. He was dressed fine, an intentionally ripped dark purple shirt and distressed black jeans, the sweater being a favorite and one he worked to fix when broken many times. He heard the bus coming before he saw it and he didn’t get a second to breathe until he was sitting in the seat directly behind the driver. He realized he left his headphones home way too late, but tried to comfort himself by knowing there wouldn’t be time throughout the day to listen to them. It was the first day of freshman year, after all.

taglist (ask to be added or removed): @fandomfan315 @dragon-hair @a-long-suffering-artist @aleiimm @sadgayisme @falsehoodx @jessibbb @notveryglittery @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @izzyfandoms

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

California

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x OC

Warnings: None

A/N:  Another shorter chapter (don’t worry I have some longer ones coming), but we’re now back in present day.  For those that have been wondering what it all means, you got the backstory, now we’re starting to answer some real questions.  The next two are action packed and I excite.

And if you’re here because of some Mandalorian smut, then welcome.  Just know there isn’t smut yet for California (but y’all get a WHOLE ASS CHAPTER OF IT later), but some people on here seem to think this a good story.  So, welcome and I hope you enjoy it!

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]  [PART 5] [PART 6]  [PART 7]

Part 8 

Like a Hunted Animal

 Today

As she knelt in the boardroom, Shirley began to sense a metallic taste in her mouth.  As it grew stronger, she crawled over to the trash can and bent over.  With perfect timing, she began to vomit and as she emptied the contents of her stomach in the bag, she began to feel better.  She spit a final time to get the taste out of her mouth and she rocked back, still shivering as the cold lump in her chest remained.  She took a deep breath.

Jack would protect her, she told herself.  She’s at HQ, this is her turf.  The agents were out there looking for him.  Merlin was probably with Ginger, trying to find him.  Agent Port wasn’t going to get her.  She was going to be fine.  This wasn’t California.

She felt marginally better after the mental pep talk and she stopped shaking uncontrollably, although the shivers were still there every so often. Despite her fear, she smirked. Dr. Orange would be proud of her. Lost in her thoughts, she let the therapist’s calm voice guide her.  

Breath in.

Breath out.

Again.

You’re doing fine.

You’re doing fine.

---***---

As the agents quietly left the board room, they went their separate ways. Brandy and Vodka stalked through the halls, recruiting other agents to join them and moving staff into offices out of harms way.  Champ drew his revolver and radioed for Chai to call West Coast immediately.  Tequila cocked his rifle and went office by office looking for his quarry.  Merlin joined up with Ginger to stalk Agent Port through the cameras.  And Jack drew both his guns and walked directly to the library.  Every agent was on high alert and nothing was going to stop Champ, Jack, and Tequila from murdering this son of a bitch with their bare hands.

As Merlin and Ginger tracked him the best they could, the confirmation that their suspect was indeed a Statesman made them both look grim. While they could find some movement, he was too good to be caught on camera.  Ginger radioed the rest of the team and relayed her findings.  Without a good picture and no information from Shirley, they were going to have to rely on knowing their crew in HQ to suss out him out.

Chai turned around and called back to Ginger, “West Coast is sending guys out, but they said Agent Port’s been dead seven months and besides their Port was a woman, not a man.  They haven’t gotten around to reusing the name.”

“Likely the victim of the serial killer.”  Ginger replied.  She had been right on a lot of things on this case and she bet against the house her comment was correct.  Whoever Agent Port was, he was their man, but remained an enigma.  But he was here, and they were going to finally get some damned answers.

“THIS DAMN CASE!”  Ginger shrieked at her computer and slammed her fists on the desk.  Chai and Shirley jumped a mile at the sudden outburst. “WHY CAN’T I FIND THE GODDAMN LINK?!”

“Okay, Tequila, Jr.  What’s the problem?”  Shirley stood up and looked over her friend’s shoulder, resting her hand there.

“It’s the damn case.”  Ginger wasn’t much calmer, but not as loud.  She pointed to the large screen on the wall, where the case files from California were splayed out.  “I know the answer is here because you guys were close to it yourselves, but I know we’re missing stuff.”

“Well yeah,” Came the reply.  Shirley was looking at the files and she looked down.  “I don’t see any of those microdrive files here.  We had way more stuff than this.”

“That’s the problem, though, Shirl.  The drive is gone, all that work is lost.  I’ve been trying to recreate this case from scratch practically.”

“No, it’s not.”  Ginger swiveled her chair around to look at her friend.  It had been more than four years since California.  There was no way anything was still around they could draw evidence from, Shirley’s memory – whatever she may remember – wasn’t enough.

“I hid the drive in my shoe before we left the house.  If my shoes were destroyed, then yes, the drive is gone. But if they weren’t, it should still be there.”  Shirley looked at her friend.  She knew they tip toed around California, but she was shocked that all this time had passed, and they never once asked her about the most important piece to this whole thing.

“Son of . . .”  Ginger got up and left.  When she arrived at the evidence room, she asked the manager, Punch, to grab what she needed.  West Coast had sent everything back to HQ for storage and in the third box, she found the shoes.  She ripped out the insoles and when she withdrew her hand, she had the drive. And all it’s information.  They were going to nail this bastard.

---***---

Shirley continued to sit there, running through the calming techniques, feeling more and more in control.  That didn’t mean she wasn’t still scared, because she was, given a complete and utter psycho was after her.  But in the moment, the fear that spurred her from the library wasn’t in control anymore.  But before she could move or even open her eyes, she heard a tapping noise.  Almost like metal on glass.  Shirley opened her eyes and whipped her head around to the bank of hallway windows behind her.

She sat frozen in place as she watched through the frosted glass as a large, masculine body slowly walk down the hallway.  The end of his gun was dragged along the surface as its owner continued his methodical pace.  He was getting closer to the door.  The closer he got, the more panicky she felt.  She got up to her feet to rush over and lock the door, but it was as if he knew and suddenly, the shadow disappeared, and the door swung wide open.

Agent Port stood in the doorway, his gun in hand and a feral smile on his face.

The shock made her drop back to her knees and she began to crawl backwards away from him. She was breathing heavy again, but her focus on him blocked out everything else and suddenly she found herself in the corner, trapped. She kept looking him in the face as he moved closer to her.  When he stood five feet from her, he squatted down to her level and looked her in the eye.

“Hello Sirah.  I’m here for my microdrive now.”

All she wanted to do was scream and in that moment her voice failed her.