#(to be clear: they parked someone directly behind my car. it was forward or nowhere.)

[mascwoman]

My Ren Faire experience 🙃

[a-mended-pact]

Unsteady Keys: Chapter Two!

Hey everyone! So this is part two! I'm still currently trying to figure out how to make masterlist and what not for myself so bare with me on that! I hope you enjoy! Please feel free to interact and ask any questions! My request are also open!

✒ Word count: 1,447

💬 Authors notes: thank you so much for the response of the first chapter! I'm still super nervous posting my things! The only ones I'm confident about are for the Sticks & Stones series that hasn't fully dropped with @fortheloveofcriminalminds .

⚠️ Warnings!: there is mention of drugs and torture and normal criminal minds based things⚠️

Part 1

Part 3

When I awoke it was to the sound of voices arguing. I couldn't make out what they were saying. All I remember is being ambushed into a vehicle and being speed off. What the hell was happening? Did they take her too? Did they take both of us?

I couldn’t see anything due to what I assumed to be a blindfold over my eyes. My hands were tied behind my back along with my legs tied to a chair. I was here years ago. Way before I ever met Y/N. I had been running to get to her. Something was off. I could feel it. The way her eyes were unfocused even though she was looking directly at me. She wasn’t really seeing me. She was unmoving.  The real question is who is doing this to us. Before I could even think of all the possible unsubs. I felt a sharp pain in the side of my neck. An injection of some sort I wasn’t sure, right before what was obstructing my vision was removed.

‘Time to wake up genuis.’ The voice sounded tired and drained. My vision still remained unfocused; it hasn't adjusted to the dark lighting of the room. Their hand came to hold my cheek and patted it roughly as they made me focus on them. That’s when I finally got a good look at their familiar face. This can’t be happening. The more I focused on their dark eyes the more I wanted to scream. The drug they put into my system must have started to kick in because the longer I stared at them the more their face seemed to melt like this whole ordeal was out of a hollywood horror. 

The jazzy piano music playing in the background did nothing to stop the nightmarish scene this drug was causing me. If anything it made it worse. I tried to make sense of my surroundings but I couldn’t get my brain to comprehend any information it needed. I couldn’t even remember the unsubs name which was absurd in itself. I knew I knew them but with this hullaction coursing my body I couldn’t even begin to come up with a coherent thought. Even if I wanted to. I hated it. 

My mind felt like it was splitting open as it tried to sense what was happening. The world and everything around me was so distorted I wasn’t sure what was real anymore. I heard footsteps rushing towards me. I felt peace in the fact that they sounded so familiar as if they were going to save me. ‘Ah ah ah Agent Reid, You aren’t going to want to miss this.’ That voice and the ghost before me all resembled my wife.

 The sense of safety it brought me was fake. That I already knew. So why did I let her get so close to me? She leaned forward, ripping open my cardigan and my button up in one swift stride. She was too weak to do that. Wasn’t she? Her hand touched my chest and in that moment it did. I felt a burning sensation course through my body as a loud scream erupted from my mouth. When my vision started to clear from the pain. I realized it was only my imagination laced with the drug that was given to me. There the unsub stood with a sharp heated up blade in their hand. 

The smell of burning flesh and firewood filled my nostrils. That must have been where they heated up the blade. How did I not smell it before? Was I really so gone with this damn drug that I couldn’t even notice the basic senses? You would think I had a higher tolerance to drugs at this point. My head was killing me and the blaring music of the blasted piano was enough to make me want to scream in itself. 

The unsub stalked close to me and brought the knife up to my throat where my permanent scar was from the night I saved Alex Blake. I winced as the heat got closer to the scar tissue. I could already feel blisters forming just from the presence of it being so close to my skin.

‘Tell me something Agent Reid? What’s gonna help you sleep through the night now?’

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

Being woken up by Matt banging on my window was not how I thought I would wake up. What happened? I don’t remember much of anything but messaging Emily that I was going home. I was upset with Spencer. My eyes widened as I shoved my door open, almost hitting poor Matt in the process. Wait? Hadn’t that been locked? Panic began to course through me. I needed to find Spencer. 

‘Where’s Spencer?’ my voice came out rushed and worried. I started scanning the parking lot frantically.

‘What do you mean? He is upstairs interrogating Cat Adams. He hasn’t left, he would have to have told us any new information he got.’ 

 

I glanced at him before I went running inside to get to the interrogation room. Matt hot on my trail following after me only mere steps behind. ‘Y/L/N, You need to calm down. What are you so worried about?’  I stepped into the room. Cat Adams was sitting in her cage where she belongs. 

Spencer however was nowhere in sight.  

‘Spencer would have told you all the new info if he had actually gotten any from her. He must have come out after I left. I saw him coming towards me in my car. That’s all I remember. Matt. He is in danger. He would still be here doing his job if he weren’t’ the worry i was feeling became all consuming. How do I make him believe me? I didn’t have time to even try. 

I marched into Cat’s room without thinking twice. I realize now how big of a mistake that was. She knew of me. She knew my name but she didn’t know my face. I straightened my back and glared at her. 

‘Where is Agent Reid? Don’t tell me you don’t know. Do not tell me you have no idea of where your friend would have taken him.’ My voice was as calm as I could manage it to be. In reality all I wanted to do was bash her head against the table and make her tell me where he was the old fashioned way. No mind games. Just a beat down. I think it’s about time she gets knocked down a peg.

Her head tilted to the side as she looked me up and down with a sadistic smile on her features right before she licked her lips at me. 

‘Oh would you look at that you sure are cute. No wonder he doesn't wanna play our little game anymore.’ 

I was going to flip if she didn’t just tell me what I needed to know to save my husband. 

‘Between you and me though? You aren’t much of a challenge. That’s probably why he gets so bored with you. Why he keeps coming back to play my wicked little game.’ The sadistic smile she had made me want to scream. 

I leaned down across the table to get closer to her. My face smug. ‘You like playing games with a man that loses to me on a regular basis, why not play with me? I may not be your precious Spencie but I am in fact legally a Reid. You remember what he says though don’t you? A Reid never loses.’ She looked intrigued but severely irritated with the fact that I mentioned the fact that Reid would never truly be hers. Her hot breath fanned on my face as she got closer to me. 

‘I don’t want to play with someone who is just a pawn to be used to pass the time.’ 

The laugh that erupted out of me was unexpected by everyone including myself. 

‘Oh sweetheart, you really believe you are unique and worthy of the time he spends on you. When you and I both know you could die and no one would mourn you.’ I got closer to her with a look I hoped the others couldn’t see on my face as I whispered in her ear. 

‘You may not wanna play a game with me but we’ve already started. There’s a reason he married me. You aren’t the only one that challenges him.’ My voice is steady and condescending. 

She’s very good at playing a game with a man that doesn’t want to play it. What happens when her opponent wants to play?

I supposed we’d find out won’t we?

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

Taglist! Thank you lovelies!

@sassymoon @rainsong01 @onlyhereforthefanfics

[mourntheantagonist]

a little something I wrote for @smashmouth-hargrove after converting me with all their tommy content!

Breaking Character

3.3k | Explicit

warnings: tomgrove with sprinkles of harringrove and stommy, graphic depictions of violence, drinking, sexual content, homophobic language.

read on ao3

Billy didn’t really know what to do when he woke up on the hardwood floor of the empty Byers house with his car missing from the front yard, his movement off kilter from whatever was in that vial still coursing through his veins, and a death wish waiting for him at home considering the red-head he had been ordered to fetch was nowhere to be seen. With all of his energy lost in that fight he only vaguely remembered, just little flashes of a bloody Steve beneath him and sounds of breaking dishware echoicing in his brain, he’d given up on finding her, noting the time on the clock was already passed midnight and his father would have his ass either way. So instead of searching the town on foot, or parking himself in the Byers house on the off chance she’d come back, he stumbled over to the phone on the wall and dialed the only number he’d remembered from his short stay in Hawkins.

Tommy’s.

The guy was like a fucking lost puppy with the way he had followed him around from the moment he stepped foot into the high school. Coming up from behind him, firmly grabbing him by the shoulders and boldly introducing himself as “Tommy H.” making him wonder exactly how many people were named “Tommy” at such a small school. Billy had just brushed him off at first and searched for his locker, but Tommy persisted. Following him to first period which they just so happened to share, and even cornering him at lunch to sit with him and his group of other assholes, to which he declined and instead pulled the first girl he saw looking at him aside and invited her to eat lunch in his car with him, where they didn’t actually eat lunch at all.

Billy planned to just blow the guy off completely, not interested in being part of the “popular crowd” or whatever the fuck Tommy had called it, and he was kind of getting creepy, stalkerish even with the way he followed him around and practically begged for his attention, which he wasn’t interested in giving until the two words, or rather, the name had escaped passed Tommy’s lips.

“Steve Harrington and that freak Byers look to be getting a little close wouldn’t ya say? Think we should tell little ol’ Nancy?” He said it with a string of laughs and a slap on the shoulder of the nameless guy in the letterman’s jacket that stood beside him. Billy couldn’t give a shit about who Byers or Nancy were, he was far more hung up on “Steve Harrington”. The guy who stumbled into his fourth period class five minutes after the bell had rang and followed him to fifth where he watched from the corner of his eye as he stripped down into his gym clothes. He only heard his full name when they all stood in a line alphabetically by last name when he was called directly after him. Hargrove, then Harrington. Then they were all paired off into groups of two and of course, he got paired up with a Steve and his ridiculous head of hair and thighs he wanted to crush his fucking head.

Billy stuck around Tommy after learning he was the one with the most intel on the guy. Tommy told him about the Halloween party where “Keg King Steve” might just get dethroned if Billy had anything to say about it. He didn’t know the guy he was dealing with was fucking royalty.

Tommy became a second shadow after that. He was with him everywhere he went and if it hadn’t been for the service he did provide, he would have kicked him to the curb a long time ago. And now with him standing in a strangers house in the middle of nowhere without a means of transportation and the only phone number on hand belonging to fucking Tommy, he was lucky he hadn’t.

“Hello?” Tommy’s voice came over the receiver.

“Hey uh, it’s Billy. Think you could come pick me up from somewhere?” Billy’s voice was still groggy from the drugs.

“Are you drunk?”

“No, but I wish I fuckin’ was. Look I’m at the Byers and I have no car so if you could just come and rescue me that would be great.” he said it with the utmost sarcasm to his voice, despite none of it actually being sarcastic at all.

“Okay I’m on my way, I’ll bring beer.”

Tommy pulled into the front in less than five minutes from the moment he set the phone back on the hook. Apparently he didn’t live too far from the Byers place in the middle of the woods. Billy stumbled out the front door and managed to barely make it to the passenger door without toppling over, which didn’t do much to help his story that he wasn’t in fact drunk.

“Dude! What the hell is going on? What happened to your face?”

Billy just slumped into his seat and pulled a beer bottle from the six pack sitting in Tommy’s back seat and opened it with the ring on his finger. “Just drive, I’ll explain when I can’t fuckin’ feel it anymore.” he said, kicking his feet up on the dash earning a grunt out of Tommy.

“Where?”

“Anywhere but here.”

Tommy took off the parking brake with a smirk on his face and turned the car around.

“To the quarry then.”

Billy had been around there once or twice since he’d arrived in Hawkins. The first time was when they had first driven past the welcome sign and he stumbled upon it while scoping out the town for any reason to stay in the shithole. Instead he stumbled upon the two hundred foot cliff into bone crushing waters. But he’d only ever been there during the day when the sky was overcast and it looked like nothing more than doom and gloom, much like the rest of the town. This time it was late, the sky was clear and the stars and the moon were brightly visible and reflected on the water's surface. The headlights illuminated the space around them and it was oddly peaceful.

“Now you gonna tell me why you’re getting blood all over my car?”

Billy finished off the last of the beer that was in the bottle and tossed it out the open window. “I got into it with Harrington.” He said, wiping away at the blood that still was dripping from the nose that was definitely broken. Harrington was a shit fighter but he threw a mean punch.

“Why was he at the Byers? Why were you at the Byers? What the fuck is going on?!” Tommy had his seat belt off and his body fully turned towards Billy who was still sitting with his feet up on the dash reaching his arm back for a second bottle.

“I don’t fucking know Hagan. I was looking for my little sister and Harrington chose to pick a fight with me. My sister fuckin’ drugged me and when I woke up my car was gone,” Billy took a large swig out of the bottle in his hand, “that’s where you came in.”

Tommy took the bottle from Billy’s hand and took his own drink from the bottle, committing to staying with Billy at the quarry with that first swallow of bitter liquid down his throat. Billy quickly stole it back from him and chugged the rest of it, prompting Tommy to grab his own from the pack in the back seat. “So King Steve finally won a fight huh? Never thought I’d see the day.” Tommy said while he fiddled with his key trying to pop the bottle cap off. But Billy was quick to set him straight about exactly what happened.

“Harrington did not win the fight.” Billy let out a pained laugh. “Last I remember he looked dead on the floor.” Tommy was speechless, staring back at Billy with the mouth of the bottle held against his lower lip, frozen in place. “You got a smoke?”

“Is Steve okay?” Tommy’s voice was panicked, a total tone shift not only from how they were previously talking, but a tone Billy hadn’t yet heard out of the guy before. His eyes were wide and filled with concern and Billy had been trying not to think about everything that was currently swimming through Tommy’s mind since he had woken up on that wood floor.

“I don’t fucking know man, he wasn’t there when I woke up,” Billy just ignored eye contact with Tommy and began rummaging through the glove box in search of a pack and a light. “I’m sure he’s fine, they wouldn’t have just left me on the fuckin’ floor if I was wanted for murder.” he says it to Tommy, but also to himself as he finally finds a loose pack of reds and holds a cigarette in between his fingers, letting the words and the feeling of warmth as he lights up calm his nerves about whatever situation Steve was currently in. Nothing he could do about it now.

“What the fuck Hargrove? How bad did you hurt him?” Tommy was practically yelling at him, almost becoming teary eyed, punching Billy in the shoulder like he was trying to hurt him but didn’t know how.

“Why the fuck do you care so much? You got a boner for him or something?” It was meant as a joke. Billy really didn’t have anything suggesting Tommy was “of the same crowd” as he was from his observations over the past week aside from his weird infatuation with him that he’d just written off as him using him to get chicks after noticing how every girls eyes darted toward him as soon as he stepped foot out of the Camaro. But the way Tommy reacted to the accusation without immediate denial or fucking any other reaction that wasn’t his eyes growing even wider before turning his head down and away from Billy. “Did I strike a nerve there?”

“Can it Hargrove.” Tommy’s voice is low and quiet and he’s practically one with the steering wheel with how close his forehead is to it.

“What? That Little Tommy Hagan is a queer for Harring-“

“Shut Up!” Tommy yelled and surged forward from where he was sitting to being practically in Billy’s seat with both hands clutching the collar of Billy’s shirt and pinning him up against the car door. “Get the fuck out of my car Hargrove, walk home.” Tommy said in a mean voice, his teeth clenched and his knuckles digging into Billy’s collar bones.

And Billy just laughed his maniacal little laugh he gave whenever someone tried to start a fight they would inevitably lose in the end. Instead of reaching a hand back for the door handle and following Tommy’s strict little orders, he did exactly what he always did when it came to men he could win against. He fought back.

With the same swiftness that Tommy had, he flipped the script, turning everything right back around on Tommy so that he was the one pinned up against the drivers side door, his head slamming back against the glass window. Billy took it even one step further and pushed their combined weights against the door and with a free hand, opened it, causing Tommy to roll out onto his back along the gravel path they were parked on where he let out a pained groan.

Billy walked out unscathed, the only marks on his body being the result of a separate H name. Billy reached for Tommy’s bottle out of the cup holder and finished it off before chucking it out into the water below with a strong throw.

“So, Tommy H. eats dick for breakfast, I can’t say I’m totally surprised.” Billy took the keys from Tommy’s pockets and stuffed them in his own. He was just going to leave him there, begin a chain for vehicular theft and find somewhere else to be with someone else, but Tommy just had to go and open up his big and stupid mouth.

“Yeah, and what about you huh? I didn’t say shit about the way you were rubbing all up against Steve during gym!” Tommy started to get up, but Billy quickly responded by putting him right back down. He pushed him back down onto his back with the grip of his shoulders and climbed on top of him where both his knees were sitting on both of his hands leaving him completely immobile. Tommy screamed out in pain as his knees dug into his palms and the sharp rocks cut the skin on his hands.

“You calling me a fag?!” Billy yelled, his grip growing tighter and tighter on his shoulders, thumbs digging and bruising and Tommy didn’t have the breath to stop screaming to say anything in response. Billy chose to remove his knees from Tommy’s hands so that he would stop, but he stayed on top of him, sitting down so he wouldn’t be able to get out.

That’s when he noticed it.

Tommy was fucking hard.

“Oh, so Harrington ain’t the only guy who turns you on huh?”

Tommy made a bold move, and spit up at Billy, hitting him directly in the eye. “Get off of me.”

Billy just laughed and freed one of Tommy’s shoulders to wipe away at his eye. “Nice shot. This how you treat all the boys or am I just special?”

“I’m not fucking gay!”

“Well your dick tells me otherwise.”

Tommy just squeezed his eyes tightly, like he was trying to focus all of his energy on making it go down, which wasn’t made easy by having Billy Hargrove’s literal ass pressed up against it.

Billy had told himself he wouldn’t let this happen. Not here. But he also didn’t think he’d have the temptation so readily available, already hard for him and on his back ready to go. Billy Hargrove wasn’t one to pass up a treat like this. Sure, it wasn’t Steve Harrington, but Billy wasn’t anything if not good at playing pretend.

Billy leaned his body down to where they were chest to chest, both of their hearts pounding hard enough that they could feel each other’s. His mouth found Tommy’s neck where Billy found the most sensitive spot and took the skin right in between his teeth, causing Tommy to shudder and his dick to twitch against Billy’s ass.

“So Tommy likes a little pain with his pleasure too? You learn more and more every day.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Tommy said through a sigh followed by a gasp for air.

“Would you like me to stop?” Billy asked, knowing full well by the expression on Tommy’s face what his answer would be. But for good measure, Billy rocked his hips against Tommy’s dick to milk another moan out of his mouth. “You ever kissed a boy Tommy?”

Instead of answering with his words, Tommy bucks his hips upwards and utilizes his now free hands to grab Billy by the face and bring his lips down to his own, faces slamming together with bruise inducing force that leaves Tommy breathless and craving more. He kisses him like he’s starving, like just the taste of Billy’s lips was like a drug necessary for the continuation of his life and he’s not going to let go of it for even a second. Take all of it that he can get his hands on.

And Billy just kisses him back, closing his eyes and imagining dark brown hair and pale skin peppered in moles and deep brown eyes that could turn a sour kid sweet.

Tommy reaches his hands through the opening in Billy’s shirt and wraps his hands around to Billy’s back. Tommy’s cold hands against his skin cause him to shiver as they trace up and down and pull him in closer.

Billy grinds his hips into Tommy’s at a comfortable pace, his own dick matching Tommy’s level of hard as they’re both aching and throbbing and leaking with pre into their jeans, both of them agonizingly starved.

Billy trails a hand down the length of Tommy’s chest and undoes the button on his pants the moment he reaches his waist. Tommy’s rhythm was erratic and desperate and helping the guy out a little was the least he could do for being the tool he used to live out his own fantasies. Once the zipper was lowered, Billy reached his cold and bruised hand, coated in a layer of spit from his own mouth, into the space below Tommy’s boxers where he wrapped his hand around Tommy’s dick, pretending it was Steve’s, the one he managed to catch a glimpse of while they were in the showers after practice, the one he permanently ingrained in his mind and could see just as vividly now, and pumped. And Tommy did a lot of the work himself, thrusting himself into Billy’s hand, no longer able to focus on kissing Billy from all the intense pleasure that he was just breathing into Billy’s open mouth all hot and heavy. Tommy didn’t say it, but Billy could tell that he was on the brink with the way his face contorted more and more with each thrust. The sweat was spilling from his pores like multiple waterfalls and Billy just kept on closing his eyes, picturing Steve, not the freckled face below him that made all the sounds that sent him reeling.

Because it was one thing to want someone unattainable, and an entirely other thing to want someone who was.

Tommy came into his hand as Billy had that thought, moaning out the name “Steve” as he did, reminding Billy of exactly what this was, ripping the word “attainable” directly from his vocabulary and leaving him with the most disappointing orgasm of his life.

Okay, not true. It was still ten times more epic than any girl had ever given him.

The problem was that with all that buildup with Steve at the forefront of his mind, he came to the image of Tommy, who had just come to the image of Steve, another guy’s name on his tongue.

Billy just got up from where he was on top of Tommy, pressing his boot into Tommy’s thigh with an anger induced force, and walked off. He ignored the damp and sticky mess in his boxers and took a seat in the passenger seat of Tommy’s car while Tommy was still laid out on the gravel.

“Let’s go! Not a fucking word about this Hagan, you got it?”

He just nodded his head, his face flushed likely due to the answer to that initial question about ever kissing a boy being true, maybe because he was embarrassed for himself, maybe because he was embarrassed for Billy.

He didn’t want to think about that.

“Keys?” Tommy asked as he took his seat, holding his hand out for Billy to drop them. Billy tossed them over, ignoring the outstretched hand and instead reaching for his technically third beer from the back of Tommy’s car and not saying a word about it. Letting Tommy just take him wherever he so pleased.

Tommy took him to his house, surprisingly knowing where he lived, and Billy didn’t bother to question how exactly he knew the address. He didn’t say anything, not even a thank you before he closed the car door behind him and watched Tommy drive off down Cherry Lane.

He stood out there for a while by himself. Staring blankly at the yellow front door knowing that Hell awaits him on the other side.

And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about those words that Steve said to him when he first stepped out of the Camaro outside the Byers House.

“Don’t cream your pants.”

Because it was too fucking late for that.

He should have listened to him.

[deanwanddamons]

All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You

Summary: You’re driving alone after getting into a huge fight with your now ex-boyfriend. You spot a guy standing on the side of the road in the rain, hitching a ride, so you give him a lift. That guy happens to be Dean Winchester.

Characters: Dean Winchester, You

Pairing: Dean x You

Word Count: 4427

Warning: Smut, smut and more smut! Oh and very slight angst.

Song inspiration - https://youtu.be/OAfxs0IDeMs

Heart - All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You

A/N - I have had a lot of help with this as it was my first Dean fic. So huge thank you to @mummybear​ @winchest09​ @queen-of-deans-booty​ and @1000roughdrafts​ for everything.

‘That’s it! I’m outta here,’ you yell as you slam the door behind you, running into the rain.

Jamming your hands in your pockets, you find your car keys. Having just discovered your boyfriend is sleeping with a girl that he works with, you decide to go for a drive to clear your head. Seething with anger, you get into your car and pull the door shut with a noticeable slam.

‘That cheating bastard!’ you scream, slamming your hands on the steering wheel in frustration.

The wheels spin out of the yard as you head towards the highway with no destination in mind. You just need to drive.

Deep down you knew he wasn’t happy because things had not been right for a long time. You hadn’t made love for months, but you somehow thought he would have the guts to end it rather than cheat. If you're being honest, you weren’t happy either. You and boyfriend were more like roommates than lovers and you were stuck in a rut. Maybe this was the excuse you needed to finally get out.

The rain is coming down so hard it’s getting increasingly difficult to see the road ahead. To avoid an accident, you turn onto a side road in the hope the rain will clear up soon.You look up and realize you must have driven for miles. You are in the middle of nowhere, and you don’t really know where to go next. Suddenly, your headlights catch a figure standing on the side of the road. Curious as to why someone would be standing alone in the rain, you slow down and roll the window down.

Hey, are you okay?’ you shout to the figure. As he approaches the car, you see it’s a man of roughly your age who is soaked to the bone.

‘Hey,’ he answers. ‘My car broke down just up the road, and I have no battery on my cell.’ As he leans in through the window, your breath catches in your throat. He is gorgeous. Really, really gorgeous.

Okay, so this could be dangerous.

You are miles away from anywhere that you vaguely recognize, and a complete stranger is currently leaning in through your window. He could be a serial killer or a rapist, though something about his manner tells you he’s not. If you’re wrong, the next decision you make could be your last, but you make it anyway.

‘O-oh,’ you stutter. ‘You’re soaking. Get in.’

Smiling, he jogs around the car and gets in. ‘Thank you so much. This weather sucks!’ he laughs. Your ears prick up as you register just how deep and sexy his voice is. ‘I’m Dean,’ he introduces himself with a big smile.

The interior light allows you to see his face properly. Short dark hair, sparkling green eyes framed by long lashes, plump succulent lips over perfect white teeth, a dusting of freckles across his nose, and a slight stubble on his cheeks.

‘Hi Dean. I’m Y/N,’ you respond. ‘Let me just get my cell, and we can call you a tow truck.’ Checking your pockets, you realize you left your cell in the house. ‘Shit, I don’t have it with me. I kinda left the house in a hurry,’ you tell Dean, turning to face him.

He makes a move to get out. ‘Oh okay, never mind, sweetheart. If you’re in a hurry I’ll--”

‘-no, it’s fine. You can’t go back out in that weather,’ you interrupt. ‘Is there anywhere I could take you instead?’ You notice how the handsome man next to you takes a moment to think over your question.

‘There’s a motel a few blocks away,’ he says, looking out of the window. ‘If I could trouble you to take me there, I’ll get a room for the night and sort something out tomorrow.’

‘Won’t your girlfriend be worried if you don’t come home?’ you inquire.

‘No,’ he says with a laugh. ‘I don’t have a girlfriend.’

‘Okay, just show me the way to the motel,’ you begin, revving the engine while secretly praising that he is single.

‘Are you sure? I’m just some random guy. I could be anybody,’ Dean says with a look of concern on his face.

‘If I leave you standing here in the rain, I won’t be able to sleep tonight,’ you tell him.

‘Well okay then.’ he nods, settling down into the seat.

During the ride you and Dean slip into easy conversation. You briefly tell him why you rushed out of the house, and he tells you that he had been working in the area. His brother, Sam, is also in the family business with him, but is in another state on a different job so he is working this one alone. He was heading back to join Sam, when his car broke down. It only took around fifteen minutes to get to the motel and soon enough, you see the motel sign lighting up the sky in the distance.

‘Here we are,’ Dean says with what sounded like disappointment in his voice. ‘Do you have time for a drink?’ he suddenly announces, ‘as a thank you for driving me here.’

You really don’t want to go back home, so against your better judgement you decide to go. What’s the harm in having one drink with a handsome stranger?

‘Sure, why not?’ you agree, pulling the car over to the sidewalk.

‘Awesome. I’ll go and check in. There’s a bar just over there,’ Dean says, pointing out of the window to the building next to the motel.  ‘Wait here, I’ll be right back.’ He jumps out of the car and runs toward the reception.

Watching him leave, you process what could be happening here. This is so unlike you. You're normally so sensible, so vanilla, but you're still young and technically newly single, so why not enjoy it? A sharp rap on your window disturbs your thoughts, making you jump. Dean is standing there with a smile.

‘All sorted,’ he says, raising his voice against the sound of the rain. ‘Shall we get that drink?’

Opening the door, you step into the night, the rain cold as it hits your face. Dean takes your arm, and you run together across the parking lot into the warm, dry, and gloomy bar.

It’s quiet, and there are plenty of places to sit, so you follow him to a booth in the back. As he removes his brown leather jacket, you notice how broad his shoulders are and his strong arms fill the sleeves of his denim shirt. How his Levi's fit snugly against his muscular, slightly bowed legs and very peachy ass. Wow, this guy is seriously off the scale hot.

‘What are you drinking?’ he asks as he puts his jacket on the seat.

‘Whiskey, on the rocks,’ you tell him.

‘Girl after my own heart,’ he grins as he turns and walks away.

After a few minutes, he returns and slides into the booth beside you, sitting close. The touch of his thigh against yours sends shivers up your spine.

‘So, Dean,’ you hedge, turning to face him. ‘Tell me more about the family business you and your brother are involved in.’

‘We are, um, shall we say, exterminators,’ he tells you hesitantly. ‘We travel around the country and help people to get rid of...pests.’

‘So, once your car is sorted, you’ll be leaving?’ you question.

‘Yep,’ he responds, taking a sip of his drink. His deep green eyes look intently at you over the rim of his glass. Is it just wishful thinking, or do you see a mischievous glint to them? Placing the tumbler on the table, he runs his tongue along his succulent lips. Is he flirting?

A naughty thought runs through your mind. Dean is hot, single, and has a motel room for the night. You're newly single and haven’t had sex for months.

‘Do you often take random women out for a drink when you’re on the road?’ you ask, running your finger around the edge of your glass.

‘It has been known, but they are rarely as sexy as you,’ he whispers.

Okay, you think, he’s definitely flirting. You swallow hard.

‘Rarely? I would have preferred you to say never,’ you respond with much more confidence than you currently have.

Placing his warm hand over yours, he looks you directly in the eyes. ‘I’m sorry, never as sexy as you,’ he says, his voice low and deep.

His face is so close to yours, you can count the light freckles that run over his nose. The smell of him is intoxicating. A mixture of spearmint from the gum he has been chewing, a clean, woody cologne, and whiskey.

Even though your heart is pumping so fast from nerves, that you think you are going to have a heart attack, you lean forward and kiss him lightly. His lips are soft and responsive. They part slowly, his tongue hesitant, but you allow him access, the taste of the whiskey still evident.

His arm snakes around your waist, and he pulls you towards him, deepening the kiss. You are aware you are in public, but you need this so bad that you allow yourself to relax, and lace your fingers around the back of his neck.

Breaking the kiss, he rests his forehead on yours. ‘Shall we move this conversation elsewhere?’ he whispers.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ you respond breathlessly. Sliding out of the booth, he grabs his jacket. Taking your hand, he helps you up.

‘What am I doing?’ you silently ask yourself as he leads the way to the door, your hand still in his.

When you get outside, Dean spins around to face you. Kissing you hard, he pushes you against the wall. Using his knee, he opens your legs, and his pelvis meets yours. You whimper as you feel his hardness through his jeans. His long fingers link with yours as he raises your arms above your head, his mouth leaving yours to travel down your neck.

The rain is still falling but it doesn’t bother you. The water runs down your face, cooling your hot skin. His lips have ignited a passion inside you that you had forgotten existed.

‘I want you, Dean,’ you hear yourself whisper, not really understanding where your confidence has come from. You need him so bad it escapes your lips anyway.

‘I want you too, Y/N,’ he breathes, lust glinting in his green eyes. ‘There’s a warm, dry bed waiting for us.’

‘Let’s go then,’ you respond, pulling him by the hand towards the motel.

‘Are you sure about this?’ he questions as you run through the rain.

‘Absolutely,’ you reassure him. ‘I really need this right now.’

Finding his room, he produces the key from his pocket. He fumbles as he attempts to open the door, which causes you to giggle.

‘Sorry, I laugh when I’m nervous,’ you chuckle.

‘Why are you nervous?’ He says, taking your face in his hands.

‘I was with my ex for a long time,’ you admit. ‘And I haven’t really been with many people before him.’

‘Don’t worry baby,’ he says, turning back to the door, and finally manages to open it. ‘I’ll be gentle.’ He looks over his shoulder at you. ‘That’s if you want me to be,’ he adds with a wink.

Giggling, you follow him into the gloomy room as he switches on a lamp. The room is sparse with just two double beds, a TV on a stand, and a hard backed chair.

‘I know it’s not exactly luxury, but it will do for what I need it for,’ he says apologetically.

‘It’s fine,’ you acknowledge. ‘As long as it’s clean, then it’s fine.’

Feeling a little awkward, and not quite sure what to do with yourself, you take off your jacket and hang it on the back of the chair. You sit on the edge of one of the beds and attempt to act casual as you kick off your shoes.

Having also taken off his jacket, he walks over and sits next to you.

‘So...’ he trails off, taking your hand. His fingers move a stray piece of hair from your face, placing it behind your ear. Before you have time to speak, his lips are on yours again, kissing you hard.

Falling into the kiss, you lie back on the bed with your arms around his neck, and he follows. His hands move slowly along your hips, sliding inside your T-shirt, and along your ribs. His touch is so incredible, your skin feels like it is on fire. Until now, you didn’t realize how much you needed this; to feel wanted by someone again.

You groan involuntarily so he moves, all the while deepening the kiss until his hard body is covering your small frame. His lips leave yours and move to your neck. You start to undo the buttons on his shirt. Noticing a black, almost tribal tattoo on his broad chest, you trace it with your fingertips.

‘Sweet. What does it mean?’ you ask.

‘Just something my brother and I both have. We’ll just call it a form of protection,’ he mumbles against your skin, his breath causing you to break out in goosebumps.

Taking the hem of your T-shirt he pulls it over your head. His hands tangle in your hair as he pulls your head back, and his tongue travels down your neck and back up to your waiting mouth. The tip of his tongue maps your lips before meeting yours.

Expertly, he pops the clasp of your bra and takes it off in one swift movement, flinging it aside. His rough fingertips run down your chest, and brush across your breast. You moan into his mouth as he takes a pert nipple between thumb and forefinger, gently massaging it. The taut spring in your stomach is beginning to tighten, and a hot slick pools in your panties. His tongue follows the line of your neck to your shoulders and down your chest, and he sucks a nipple into his warm mouth, tongue circling, swirling in a figure of eight.

‘Fuck Dean,’ you breathe, ‘that feels so good.’

Feeling him start to fumble with your belt buckle, you reach down and undo it. His fingers pop the button on your jeans as he slides his hands into the waistband, and with an audible pop, he releases your swollen nipple. He stands up at the foot of the bed, and wriggles your jeans down your legs, throwing them aside.

‘Jesus, you're beautiful, sweetheart,’ Dean comments husikly as his green eyes survey your body.

‘Your turn now,’ you reply with a smirk and sit up. Returning the look, he quickly takes off his boots and jeans.

Your eyes follow the delicious contours of his incredible body, and they stop when you reach his tight, black shorts. The outline of his hard cock is visible through the material. He looks so divine standing there that your heart momentarily stops beating. Your pussy flutters at the sight, and the heat in your panties continues to build. This man is exquisite and you want, no need, to feel him inside you.

He leans down to kiss you, so you pull him down. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hungrily kiss him back, with your hands balling into fists in his short hair. He wastes no time grinding his pelvis into your heat. The material of your panties causes friction against your clit, and the coil in your stomach is tightening by the second.

Slipping his hand into your underwear, he easily glides through your wet folds. His fingers find your entrance and he slips two inside your warmth.

‘Fuck,’ you purr, arching your back to meet them.

‘So fucking wet for me,’ Dean groans.

He begins to scissor his fingers inside you. You can feel your juices starting to flow, the sound of his voice turning you on even more.

‘Let’s get these out of the way,’ he says. ‘I want to see all of you.’

Standing at the end of the bed, he leans over you. Gripping the top of your panties, he slides them down your legs, and drops them to the floor.

Pulling yourself up so you're sitting at the foot of the bed, you put your feet on the floor beside his, knees on either side of his legs. Because your face is directly in line with his taut abs, you lightly kiss them and follow the line of hair from his stomach to the top of his briefs. With quick fingers, you make light work of removing them, releasing his thick, hard cock.

He is a sight to behold. He looks divine. The head of his cock is engorged, pre-cum already glistening there. The need to taste him overwhelms you. Leaning forward you suck his cock slowly into your mouth. As you roll your tongue around the tip, you hollow your cheeks. Swirling your tongue from the base to the tip, you take his length down your throat as far as you can.

‘Shit, Y/N,’ Dean moans as he starts to thrust a messy rhythm.

Putting both hands on his ass, you firmly hold him in place. As you slow down your pace, you lightly run your teeth down the underside of his cock, running your tongue back and forth along his balls. Gripping your hair in his fist, he pulls your head back so you stare up at him with hooded eyes.

‘Lie back for me baby,’ he demands, and you do as he asks. Sinking down to his knees, his big hands push your legs apart. Using butterfly kisses, he moves up the inside of your thighs until his mouth reaches your needy pussy. Your clit is throbbing at the thought of his plump lips on your heat.

As his fingers part your folds, he runs his tongue up your soaking slit. A bolt of lighting shoots through you as he sucks in your sensitive nub, the tip of his tongue stiff as it quickly flicks up and down over it.

‘Oh my god, Dean,’ you hiss through gritted teeth as a rush of ecstasy flows through your body. Waves of pure pleasure begin to pulsate in your core as he devours your pussy as if he is starving. ‘Don’t stop,’ you plead, raking your fingers through his hair as you look down at him.

‘I wasn’t planning on it, sweetheart. Touch yourself for me?’ he murmurs, the vibration of his voice sending shock waves through you.

He buries his head once again, his tongue thrusting into your hole. Noticing your slight hesitation, he takes one of your hands and guides it down your stomach, moving your fingers between your mound. You have never done this in front of anyone before. However, you’re probably never going to see Dean again after tonight, so you decide to go with it.

Hesitantly, you press your index and middle finger on either side of your bundle of nerves, and begin to stroke. The thrusts of Dean’s tongue in your hole gets faster, as he raises his head slightly, opening his mesmerising green eyes and looking directly into yours. Replacing his tongue with his fingers, he continues the rhythm he had built up. Licking along your slit, his tongue meets your fingers, and you simultaneously massage your clit. As your spring uncoils, a wonderful feeling of relief takes over you.

‘Fuck Dean, I’m going to cum,’ you groan as your fingers speed up. Arching your back, you allow the waves of pleasure to wash over you, your juices flowing over his tongue as he laps them up.

‘Hmm, you taste incredible,’ he whispers as you lay back on the bed, panting, your pussy muscles still fluttering.

Grabbing your hands, he pulls you up as he stands and swiftly spins you around. His mouth is on the back of your neck, chest against your back. He bends you over so your ass is against his hips, and you push up onto your hands.

‘Don’t move,’ he demands and moves away from you. You hear the unmistakable sound of a wrapper being torn open, and you look over your shoulder to see that he has produced a condom. ‘Always have one in my wallet in case of an emergency,’ he smirks.

Realizing this guy is obviously a player, you are relieved that he has the sense to think about protection as it had not crossed your mind; you were so caught up in the moment. You begin to feel a little self conscious because you’re bent over the side of the bed with your ass in the air, so you go to move.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he says huskily, returning to the spot he just vacated.

Running one hand across your ass cheek, he uses his other to push gently but firmly on the small of your back, which causes you to bend over the bed further. Opening your legs slightly, you push your ass back against him, and his thick cock slips easily between your damp thighs. Teasingly, the tip nudges at your opening.

Gripping your hips with his fingers splayed, he leans forward and whispers, ‘are you ready for me, sweetheart?’

An animalistic sound comes from deep within your chest. You want to feel him inside you so bad, want him to fuck you so hard, that you can barely remember your own name. Leaning your head down, you rest your forehead on your arms, tipping your ass up to him, all inhibitions lost.

‘Yes, Dean,’ you croak, ‘please, fuck me.’

With that, he thrusts into you with a grunt. Immediately, a breath is pushed out of you. A loud moan espaces your lips once you get past the brief stab of pain as he stretches you open. That pain doesn’t last long, and it’s soon turned to pleasure. As your muscles contract around him, he pulls almost all the way out. He takes a second to wrap your hair around one hand, then thrusts back into you, pulling your head back as he does.

‘You’re so tight,’ he moans in a guttural voice.

His fingers dig into your hips as he slams into you. As he builds up speed, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass mingling with his groans fills the room. The sound is strangely erotic, and the familiar tingling in your core returns. Normally, it takes your clit being stimulated for you to cum, but the way he’s fucking you is bringing on a whole new feeling that you have never experienced before.

‘Oh fuck, fuck,’ you spit as the dam in your stomach begins to crumble. Sensing your impending orgasm, Dean leans forward and grips your hair harder.

‘Move forward,’ he orders, and you don’t dare disobey him.

Getting on his knees behind you, you push your ass closer to him. Using your hips as leverage, his thrusts get harder and faster as his hands move to your shoulders. He pulls you up so your back meets his chest, and his lips find the top of your spine. His teeth lightly nip at the delicate skin on the side of your neck, and he sucks lightly.

‘Oh my God,’ you yelp as your dam breaks.

Wave upon wave of electricity flows through every nerve in your body, and your knees buckle. Dean’s rhythm starts to falter as the tip of his tongue runs along the spot he had been sucking, his strong arms around your waist. With one last powerful thrust, you hear a deep, low moan fill the air as he cums.

‘Jesus Y/N, fuck,’ he breaths as he sags against you.

Panting, you drop down on your stomach as he rolls over onto his back. You bury your head into the pillow. A moment of silence passes, broken only by you both breathing heavily. Eventually, you feel him get up from the bed.

‘I’ll just get rid of this,’ he says, his voice getting distant as he goes into the bathroom.

Having come down from your high, you begin to feel a little exposed. Sitting up, you stare around the room. An overwhelming feeling of shame suddenly envelops you.

I gotta get out of here.

Picking up your clothes from the floor, you start to get dressed. Running your hands through your hair, you consider what has just happened. You just had the most incredible sex with a complete stranger.

Shit, I just had sex with a complete stranger! Oh god, what have I done?

A feeling of panic rises in your throat. Quickening your pace, you continue getting dressed. The desperate need to get out of the room takes over you. Dean returns from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He notices you have started to put your clothes back on.

‘Oh, you're leaving?’ he asks with a confused look.

‘Er… yes… sorry,’ you squeak, shoving your feet into your shoes and grabbing your jacket from the back of the chair. ‘I’m so sorry, Dean. I have to go. I’ll admit that was amazing, but it shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.’

You lean into him, briefly bringing your hand to his face and kiss his cheek. You take one last look at his gorgeous face.

‘Bye, Dean.’ you sigh. ‘I hope you get your car sorted and get back to your brother.’

You leave him standing there, speechless, an expression of complete surprise on his face as you close the door behind you. You never saw Dean Winchester after that day, but you often thought of him, wondering if he ended up getting back to Sam. The memories of him are fantastic, and you can still see that beautiful face whenever you close your eyes. He will always be the handsome stranger that made you feel alive for one incredible evening.

Read Part 2 here

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[the-holy-ghosted]

Fate Worse Than Death

Regarding some unfinished business jon must attend to.

WARNINGS: major character death, assisted suicide (technically, in the supernatural sense), whole lotta angst

wrote this for tma villains week but they rbed my ao3 link post, i just put these here as text posts anyway, have some Lonely!Breekon content

"Er... Jon?" Martin asked, coming to a halt as the ground changed from dirt to pavement. "What are we doing here?" "What do you mean?" Jon stopped as well, turning around to face his companion. "This is The Lonely, right?" Martin stared out at the cold fog rolling over what seemed to be a vast parking lot. "We did this already, didn't we?" "Oh." Jon nodded. "We did, yes." "Then what are we doing here again?" "Hmm..." Jon thought carefully of how to phrase his words. “I suppose... This is just the way we’re going.” Martin saw through Jon’s thin excuse. “Jon. Tell the truth.” Jon made a resigned noise, "There's something here I need to take care of. Unfinished business." "... Unfinished business." Martin sounded unamused, raising one eyebrow. "With a... Person?" "You could call it that." "Uh-huh..." Martin shifted his feet. "Will it hurt us?" "I don't think it can," Jon pondered. "It has the strength, but not the will." "Great," Martin said, not sounding thrilled. "What- what is this anyway, a parking lot? Are we going shopping in a haunted Westfield London?" "A warehouse," Jon replied, grabbing Martin's hand and walking forward. This clarified nothing, but there was no use in prying for more questions. If there was nothing out for their blood, Martin supposed he could go along with Jon's vague descriptions. At some point, cars started to pop up in the distance. Not quite cars, more like U-haul vans and mail trucks. They were spotty, far enough in the distance to where he couldn't make out the company name. The logo looked familiar, though, the shape recognizable enough to ring a bell in the back of his mind. The farther they walked, the closer they were parked together, rows of idle vans on either side of them into the far and foggy distance. They were untouched and dirty, the company name still illegible. They almost warped somehow, preventing Martin from reading them no matter how hard he focused. He tried to walk towards one, just to look inside. Jon pulled him back along. They didn't need to investigate, he supposed.

Jon was right, Martin thought, as the silhouette of a large warehouse seeped into view through the mist. Its presence grew larger the closer they got, looming dark and dull over them. They approached large garage doors, but Jon took a hard left to a small side door near the corner. The door was up a few steps, two piles of mail sitting untouched beside it. Martin didn't get a good enough look to read the names on the envelopes. "Hey, Jon..." Martin whispered, stepping into what looked like someone's office. "Do we know this place?" "It’s a... It was a relatively well-established delivery service. It's a bit more niche, now." Martin understood where they were, then, and could guess the vague 'unfinished business' Jon eluded to. He caught a look at a broken picture frame on the cluttered desk, the smiling face of a man he didn't recognize staring at him. Jon seemed to not know where to go next, stopping at the office door. "You nervous?" Martin asked. "It's... It's hard to see." Jon replied. "You could try opening the door, usually that helps to see outside of it." Martin joked, and Jon chuckled. "Martin..." He sounded very serious suddenly. "This domain… it plays tricks on you. Just stay close to me and be wary.” Martin gave him a half-smile, unnerved by the ominous statement. Jon opened the door, the creak echoing into the giant warehouse. The lights were high above their heads, doing a poor job of illuminating their surroundings. Fog rolled over the ground, wafting out of their way as they stepped in and closed the door behind them. There was a hum of an air conditioner from somewhere far off. Around them were stacked boxes and crates; containing what, Martin could not guess. The other side of the building was nearly too far to see, blending in with the mist. The far wall seemed to have a door, maybe two at either end. He wondered where they led. "Now, Martin..." Jon whispered, not wanting his voice to echo. "Please don't stray too far. This place will trick you, you'll hear things that aren’t- Martin?" Martin was gone, enticed by a shadow that passed behind one of the box towers. He thought it looked at him, a glance telling him to follow. He couldn't stop himself, already turning the corner to find nothing there. Heavy footsteps echoed in front of him, Jon's voice no longer able to be heard. He waited for the footsteps to be followed by a person, but they stopped suddenly, nobody appearing with them. After a moment of waiting, he kept walking. He felt like he knew where he was going, but to where he wasn't sure. It was dim, but the fog before him showed a path of disturbed mist, curling its way around another corner. Martin turned around, Jon nowhere to be found. Perhaps he didn't need Jon, though, he felt confident enough to make his way alone. He followed the subtle trail, pulled around corners and through dark areas by shadows and faint footsteps. The path it led him down made no sense, but he felt close to something. At some point he looked inside one of the boxes, only to reveal nothing. Tapping his fingers in them as he passed revealed the same thing, they were all empty. The sound of his own footsteps flattened to the left of him, and around a pile of boxes was a door. It was left ajar. Whisps of fog rolled against the wall, suggesting someone had just opened it. The signs were clear, and Martin approached.

The door pushed open to reveal a nearly identical warehouse space. Boxes were still everywhere, but the fog on the ground was untouched. The motion of the door blew it out of his way, almost like a welcome. The air was thicker, somehow, and the hair on the back of Martin's neck stood up. Something was in here. It was dimmer and more difficult to see, every other ceiling light turned off. Martin approached another stack of boxes, tapping the sides of each. All empty. He looked around for any sign of the direction of where to go next. His mystery guide was nowhere, leaving him to wander by himself. He walked slowly, not so sure where he was going anymore. There was a presence somewhere beyond the cardboard maze, a presence Martin assumed he was supposed to find. Which one, though, was a mystery.

He heard shifting from beyond the cardboard, and carefully looked around a corner to find exactly who he assumed he was looking for. In an open circle, sat atop a crate, was a delivery man. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. As martin stared he watched his shoulders shake, sniffling softly. Which one of them he was, though, was difficult to discern. He couldn't tell, the only noticeable feature being his sheer size. Even from Martin’s distance he was giant, his hands large and covering his whole face. Martin noticed a ring on one of his fingers. He couldn't recall seeing that there any time before. He stepped out from behind the wall of boxes and carefully stalked towards him. The shake in his shoulders stopped abruptly as Martin called out. "He-hello?" He called gently. "Are you alright?" He was roughly 8 feet away now, the delivery man's size more apparent this close. Slowly he pulled one hand down, glaring with one dark, empty eye. He looked at Martin for a good few seconds, sizing him up. His hands slid off his face and hovered in the air, his head turning slowly to stare directly at Martin His movement was unnatural and unnerving. The way he stopped seemed almost mechanical. His eyes bore holes into Martin. "I asked if you were alright." He repeated himself. A moment of silence followed his inquiry. "... Do I look alright?" Said the man in a tone surprisingly deep, Martin took a step back. "You don't... Seem to be having a good time... No." Martin said slowly. "Which- which one are you? If I may ask?" The thing in front of him said nothing, simply staring with an inanimate stiffness. "Like are you Hope? Is that you're name? Or is that the other-" "Breekon." It replied, his voice stopping just as mechanically as his movements. "Hope's dead." "That's.. hm." Martin shifted, crossing his arms. " S' a bit on the nose, innit?" "Are you real?" Breekon asked, sounding genuine. "Am I- yeah? Yeah, I'm real?" Breekon stared disbelievingly, squinting at him. He sneered slightly, bearing inhumanely sharp teeth. "What do you want?" He asked, lowering his hands to hold his legs. Martin noticed an identical ring hanging on a string around his neck. "To find you, I think," Martin replied. "Some, uh... Unfinished business?" "What business do we go- do I got... Do I got with you?" "Oh, uh, not me personally." Martin glanced around, wondering where Jon was. "Jon does, though. Apparently." "... Who?" "You know Jon, the guy you kidnapped and almost got skinned once." Martins tone was sour. "Did that a couple times." Breekon huffed. "Gotta be more specific than that." "Jon sims?" Martin tapped his foot impatiently. How did he not know Jon? Everybody knew Jon. "The archivist? The all-seeing-" "He's here?" Breekon's face suddenly changed, looking the slightest bit hopeful. "Well, yeah, He's looking for you." Breekon looked surprised, with the minimal expressions his face made. He seemed to be considering the unfinished business in question. "Wait..." He started, speaking slowly. "I know you. You're one of Magnus' lot, right?" "I guess... Not really anymore. I don't think." Breekon huffed, sounding like an attempt at a chuckle. "He want revenge?" "I dunno," Martin pondered, trying not to wince at his embarrassingly exaggerated accent. "He'd be valid to." "Whatever." Breekon hung his head and rubbed his face, his gold ring the brightest object Martin had seen in the domain so far. Marting stood awkwardly, looking around for Jon to come and wrap up whatever he was there to do. Martin knew he wasn't in danger, technically, but Breekon's presence still unnerved him. He looked out of place in the warehouse but simultaneously blended in with the atmosphere. Martin thought out loud, "you know, I thought you'd be in a different domain. Aren't you a Stranger or something like that?" "Sure." "But you're... Not in a stranger domain?" "Does it look like it?" "O-kay..." Martin put his hands on his hips, a little displeased with the attitude Breekon had the nerve to have. "You know, one would also think this whole nightmare world is a dream come true for you things. You don't look very happy." "Do you think this is our- this is my dream come true? Do you know what it's like in here?” “I don’t-” “The shadows, the voices… they led you back here didn’t they?” Breekon paused, staring at Martin who timidly nodded his head, “that’s what it’s like in here. Ye’see all these boxes, do you? They’re empty. There’s nothing in there. No signs of life, nothing to deliver. We- I’m… I’m a delivery man. Do you think being led around in nonsensical directions is my idea of paradise? Wandering aimlessly and wishing for something to snap us-- snap me out of it? It always feels like there’s something I could be doing, and I always think the shadow and the footsteps will lead me to it. They never do.” Martin stared at Breekon, alarmed by his eloquence. He didn’t want to feel bad, knowing the horrible things they’d done to people. But looking into his sad eyes and the glimmering ring that looked too empty, he couldn’t help but understand. It lost its purpose. It lost hope. “If I were in another domain, maybe I could be put to use. If we were complete, maybe we could have done something together. But as is? No. Can’t say I want this to be my forever.” Martin furrowed his brow, in contempt but almost in empathy. Breekon hung its head as it quietly continued, “Can’t even remember what he looks like. S’not like his shadow lets me get close enough to, either.” The air felt stale and Martin looked around, desperate for something to end the conversation. It didn’t feel right to feel pity for the thing in front of him. He snapped his head towards footsteps coming from behind him, Breekon raising his head as well. Jon speed-walked towards them both, a nervous look on his face. He recognized Breekon, and the nervousness gave way to distaste. Breekon’s hopeful expression hardened into the understanding of his inevitable end before him. Jon’s pace slowed to a halt at Martin’s side. “Hello again, Breekon.” He said flatly. "Yeah.” Breekon replied just as stale. He hunched over and slowly rose to his feet; he was much taller than he looked sitting down. Martin followed his piercing gaze as it ascended to stare down at the both of them with hatred, and an exhaustion one could only imagine weighing on their soul. “Been told you got unfinished business to settle. Deliver the wrong package?” “Funny,” Jon sounded unamused, “but no. It’s a bit more personal than that. You want something from me.” “So kind of you to come to my aid.” Breekon attempted a chuckle, but it fell flat. “... Maybe.” “Say it.” there was no compulsion in Jon’s eyes, no new thickness in the air. A beat passed like a century as Breekon stared dull knives into Jon’s. “Kill me.” “What?” Martin gasped, not expecting this to be the business Jon had left unfinished. “I should have killed you when you gave me the coffin,” Jon said, his tone almost smug, “would have saved us both some trouble.” “You didn’t, though.” “I didn’t.” They stood in tense silence for another moment; Martin stared at Breekon and tried to comfort himself with strength, not the will. “I know what you’re feeling. This is a lonely place to be… a lonely way to live.” “You don’t know anything.” Breekon spat, “you can’t understand. Knowing is different from experiencing, we’re both aware of that… Maybe I could rip him away from you, see how you like it.” “You can try.” Martin scoffed, Breekon’s harsh gaze turning to him. “I…” Jon cut in, turning its attention back. “I can do it for you. I warn you, though, it will hurt.” “Only until it doesn’t though,” Breekon spoke low, its eyes glistening like the gold ring around its neck, “right?” Jon seemed to choke at the statement, thinking momentarily. “... right.” “Good luck.” Martin offered, stepping back as Jon closed his eyes and relaxed his shoulders in preparation. “Whatever.” Breekon replied, not moving.

The air felt heavy as Jon took deep breaths. He spread his arms slightly, palms facing towards Breekon. He looked quizzically at Jon’s strange ritual, but the hair on the back of his neck rose with the static, and he squinted at the shrill ringing in his ear. “Ceaseless Watcher,” Jon began, the muscles in his hands tensing. His eyes shimmered an unnatural green like a cat in a camera flash. “Turn your gaze upon this thing, this lost and broken splinter of fear.” The fog that pooled around their ankles quickly retreated and the lights above their heads began to flicker and squeal. Breekon’s hands shook, his face twisting into fright and pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and emitted strained protests, his voice scratchy. “Take what is left of it as your own and leave no trace of it behind.” Jon chanted, the sputtering bulbs above their heads further illuminating his wide eyes in the unnatural green shimmer. Breekon groaned and shrunk into itself as Jon’s ritual reached its climax. “It. Is Yours.”

Breekon howled in agony, his cry echoing into glitchy static. The ceiling lights flashed a bright green, and Breekon dissipated into the air. Jon lowered his arms and took a deep, shaking breath. Martin put a hand out to grab his shoulder, Jon leaning into the touch. "You alright?" "Yes, yes..." Jon stammered. "You alright?" "I... I will be." Martin cradled Jon momentarily, giving him something to lean on above his shaky legs. Jon wasn't usually this wiped out after a kill. “Was that one… different?” Martin asked carefully. “Was what different?” “Y'know, the speech thing.” Martin glanced back to the dark spot in which Breekon was evaporated. “Your Ceaseless Watcher thing. It sounded different from the other ones.” “Oh.” “I mean, it almost sounded like you felt bad.” “I did.” Martin looked back at Jon, surprised that he would feel pity for something that had harmed him. “Martin, I…” Jon stared somberly at his shoes, “It’s not like the other times. That thing couldn’t have been killed with all the horrors it’s brought upon the world. It enjoys it. It loved the fear too much to be brought down by it. “Okay, but so did Jude Perry, didn’t she? You killed her with her fear imprint, didn’t you?” “I did.” “Why not this one? I mean, god, they’ve been around longer than anybody can guess, why-” “Three hundred years.” “Th- three hundred years, sure. How are three hundred years of horror and misery not enough to kill just half of it?” “Because it's just half of it.” Martin pondered over that for a moment. If it were half, wouldn’t that make it weaker? Breekon sure looked miserable. “You don’t know what that thing felt.” Jon’s voice became sorrowful, almost sharing Breekon’s mournful tone. “There is nothing in this world or any of that thing’s lifetimes more painful than losing its other half. They relished in the fear, it wouldn’t have made a dent. But its loss? Its loss is something greater.” “... huh,” Martin hummed, thinking over it. “I mean, yeah I guess.” “There is something very powerful about having the one thing you love to be torn away from you. Being reduced like that. Killing it was a mercy.” “I’m not entirely sure it deserves mercy, though.” “It doesn’t.” His voice sharpened with his eyes, but after a beat, softened again. “... but I know I wouldn't want to suffer the same fate.” Martin hummed in response as they both glanced back to Breekon’s resting place. The fog slowly rolled back over it. “Has business been taken care of?” Martin tried to liven the mood just slightly. “... Yes.” Jon took a deep breath and recentered himself. “Yes, it has. Come on, let's get a move on.” Jon grasped Martin’s hand and let them quietly away. Jon pondered to himself if he should feel so bad about killing his previous kidnapper. He shouldn't, and he didn't entirely, but the thought of losing what he loved was a fate worse than death that he could empathize with at the very least.

[lady-divine-writes]

More than Words ... but They're Nice Anyway (Rated PG)

Summary: Aziraphale is distressed when Crowley won't admit to saying 'I love you' ... even though he's been saying it for weeks. (1559 words)

Read on AO3.

“I love you.”

“What?” Aziraphale looks up from his plate of crepes and across the table at Crowley busy buttering his slice of toast and, by all outward appearances, paying Aziraphale absolutely no mind.

“Hmm?” Crowley mutters, setting his first slice aside and starting on his second.

“Wh---what did you say?”

“When?”

“Just now?” Aziraphale glances around the dining room on the off chance someone else is about, maybe hiding in the shadows.

Someone who … loves him?

“Would you please pass the marmalade?” Crowley asks, extending a hand.

Aziraphale’s brow crinkles, curious how in the world he heard I love you if Crowley asked for the marmalade. None of those words sound even remotely alike!

“Yes,” Aziraphale says, handing the marmalade jar across the table. “Of course.”

“Thanks.”

“Is … is that what you said?”

“When?”

Aziraphale sighs in exasperation. “Just now?”

“Yeah. Why?” Crowley’s eyes meet Aziraphale’s. “Did you hear something else?”

Aziraphale holds Crowley’s gaze several long minutes before he decides he’s being ridiculous. Crowley has never exactly been shy about any of his feelings. If he loved Aziraphale, he’d simply come out and say it.

Obviously, that’s not the case here.

“No,” Aziraphale lies, returning to his crepes, his appetite gone. “No, I … I heard nothing.”

***

“I love you.”

“Wh-what!?” Aziraphale yelps, fighting to be heard over pedestrians screaming in terror as Crowley squeals around a corner and jettisons straight into traffic.

“What?” Crowley returns. “What was that?”

Aziraphale white knuckles the dash harder than required for him to keep his seat, frustrated that this volley of words above the screeching of rubber must continue since Crowley refuses to slow down and drive safely enough to engage in normal conversation.

“What … did … you … say?” Aziraphale asks through gritted teeth.

“Oh.” Crowley’s brow furrows, his eyes glued to the road as he maneuvers between cars, nearly clipping the curb when he passes a rather large lorry on the wrong side. “I said hold onto your seat. The ride’s about to get bumpy.”

Aziraphale shoots Crowley a side-long look. ‘That’s not what he said!’ he thinks. ‘That’s nowhere near what he said!’ Even if he didn’t say what Aziraphale thinks he said, he only spoke three words. Not that Aziraphale was facing him directly. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road for a second when Crowley drives in case he needs to miracle some poor innocent out of the road. Aziraphale caught Crowley’s lips move in the reflection of the rearview.

But his sleuthing gets knocked clear of his thoughts when Crowley veers to the left, throwing Aziraphale across the seat and into the door. Aziraphale swallows hard, pushing down the heart that’s lodged in his throat ready to propel itself out his mouth and escape this demonic death trap.

“I’m sorry but … it’s a bit … too late … for that … my dear.”

***

“I love …”

“What?” Aziraphale rounds in front of Crowley, stopping him in his tracks. “What is it you’re going to say? And be honest now! Because if you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, I might just be going insane!”

Crowley blinks behind dark lenses at the white fire glowing in the angel’s blue eyes despite them being outdoors in the afternoon and surrounded by humans. “I … I was about to say …”

“Yes?” Aziraphale leans in aggressively, forcing Crowley back a step.

“… that I love walking through the park with you. Reminds me of old times. The good old times, anyway.” Crowley pauses, waits for a response. He grows uncomfortable in the silence under the scrutiny of Aziraphale’s piercing glare. “You know, before we knew that feeding ducks bread was bad for them?”

Aziraphale huffs at Crowley’s attempt at humor, but only slightly. “Are you certain,” he says, enunciating each word carefully, “that that’s what you were going to say?”

“Yes?” Crowley replies unconvincingly, and with the addition of an emphatic nod. “That’s exactly what I was going to say. Why? Is there something the matter?”

His answer infuriates Aziraphale, deep down to his core.

A joke!

He’s treating this like a joke!

How can he be so cruel?

He’s a demon, yes, but this isn’t just run-of-the-mill evil.

It’s Evil.

There’s a great many things Aziraphale can stand Crowley joking about, but not this. He’s about to tell him that, too, in no uncertain terms; give him a lecture he won’t likely soon forget. But when Crowley offers the angel his arm in a gentlemanly fashion and knocks him a little bow, it topples Aziraphale’s defenses.

Aziraphale can’t fault Crowley for his feelings … or lack thereof.

He can’t be angry at him because his pride is bruised.

He takes the offered arm and winds his through.

“No, my dear,” Aziraphale says, returning to his place at Crowley’s side, matching his steps when they start strolling again. “Nothing at all.”

Aziraphale breathes in deep and exhales slow. He’s not being fair. He doesn’t know that Crowley doesn’t love him. If he didn’t love him, would he have begged him to go off to the stars as often as he did? And if that’s the case, Aziraphale doesn’t need the words if they’re what Crowley means to say. He and Crowley are supernatural entities. Their thoughts and emotions can’t be measured on the scale of common, human words. Why, he’d heard a passage in a charming older movie Tracy made him watch that explains it perfectly.

“Words, words, they're all used up, they're hard to say. They've all been wasted on the shampoo commercials, and the ads, and the flavorings. All the beautiful words. I mean, how can you love a floor wax? How can you love a diaper? How can I use the same word about you that someone else uses about a stuffing? I'm exploding with love for you and I can't use the word!”

And he was right. The distinguished older man with the unfortunately large nose who recited those words was right. What he and Crowley have goes beyond words – especially mortal words. No need for those overused and abused words!

I love you? Who needs them!? Not him! Not at all!

But once, he thinks with a heavy heart as he squeezes Crowley closer, just once … it would be so nice to hear them.

***

“Explain to me again – what are you taking me to see? Because I don’t think I understand.”

“It’s called Sixty Second Hamlet,” Crowley explains for the fifth time but with the same giddy chuckle as the first.

“So, we’re driving to a theater over two hours away to watch a performance of Hamlet that’s only a minute long?”

“Yup! And it’s worth every mile, I’ll tell you that! Someone finally figured out a way to make that damned play a helluva lot less dreary. Just wait till you see it! You’re gonna love it!”

And there’s that word, hanging in the air, directed at something other than him. And as much as he swore to himself that he wouldn’t let it bother him … it bothers him.

“Crowley?”

“Yes, angel?”

Aziraphale hangs back a step as Crowley leads him to his car, giving himself enough time and space to say what he needs to say before they go any further. Not just for now and not just for today, but for every day forward. “Before we do anything, I … I wanted to say something.”

Crowley stops with his hand on the door handle and turns around. “Yes?”

“I …” Aziraphale looks at the demon in front of him – six-plus-feet of conceit and ego and swagger that, despite himself, Aziraphale can’t see ever getting over if he lost him. Sure, they don’t need the words. But he wants the words. And if he’s the only one willing to say them then … so be it. “I love you.”

The blank expression that answers that declaration downright terrifies Aziraphale. If Crowley were human, Aziraphale swears he’d expect him to turn tail and run, leave his Bentley behind in favor of a swifter, more expedient exit on foot. Being the insufferable demon he is, he doesn’t react - not for a while. But then he grins ever so slowly, clapping his hands together in delight. “Finally!”

Aziraphale’s head jerks, taken aback by that response. “What? What do you mean finally?”

“I’ve been saying I love you for weeks, but I couldn’t get you to say it back!”

Aziraphale’s lower jaw drops of its own accord. “But … but I … I thought I was imagining it! When I asked you to repeat it, you’d say something else!”

“Because you looked so confused. A few times, you looked angry. I thought that maybe you … you know … didn’t want to hear me say …”

“Hear you say … what?” Aziraphale fishes.

Crowley’s triumphant grin becomes softer, fonder. “I love you.”

Aziraphale nods. He’s fighting not to smile. After everything Crowley has put him through, he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

But he’s losing.

“You’re quite the idiot,” he says, his lips twitching uncontrollably at the corners. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” Crowley steps away from his car and wraps his arms around Aziraphale’s waist. “But I’m your idiot. And there’s no getting rid of me now.”

[epochofbelief]

Breath Control, Chapter Ten

an A Court of Mist and Fury College Swim Team AU

Feysand and Elriel

All characters belong to SJ Maas

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 

Author’s Note: Is it too early to apologize?

Enjoy! 

Full Fanfic: Masterlist Link

TEN

~~~Feyre~~~

The world spun around me as I slammed back through the glass doors into the dark hallway of the club. I could have sworn I heard a voice shouting my name from far behind me but that was probably all the alcohol talking. I mean, I was going crazy right? Surely it hadn’t taken all of two days before my brand new boyfriend decided to cheat on me? I was just imagining that. Right? 

I stumbled through the bathroom door and barely made it to a stall before I hurled up everything left in my stomach.

“Shit,” I spit out. Then-- 

“Shit,” I said again as I somehow managed to puke up even more alcohol. It was red--what had I been drinking that was red?

Fairly certain I was done emptying my stomach, I wiped my mouth, flushed, and emerged from the stall. 

My eyes directed at my shoes, I bumped directly into Rhys’s hard chest.

“Get the fuck away from me,” I said quietly, pushing off his chest and stalking over to the sink. Well, I tried to stalk. The few steps from the stall to the sink seemed to take years, rather than a few seconds. Everything was spinning, ever so slightly. 

“Feyre, you’ve got to let me explain.” 

“No.”

“Feyre, please.” 

I turned at his desperate tone of voice. 

“Were you or were you not just kissing Amantha? I mean, Amarntha. You know who I mean!” 

Alcohol, you are not my friend tonight.

“I was. But--”

“No buts! That’sss called cheating, Rhys, in case you didn’t know. So get out of my way. I’m going--”

I realized I had nowhere to go. I was staying with him, for crying out loud. I did have my car at his place... But I was drunk. 

So I was stuck.

“I’m going somewhere and you better not follow me there! Wherever there even is!” I was shouting now, and Rhys looked like he wanted to keep talking, but I turned, stumbled, and burst back through the bathroom door into the quiet dark of the hallway. I ran as fast as I could without falling flat on my face and didn’t stop until I was in the center of the dance floor. 

Bodies pressed against me tightly from every direction. Only two people grabbed my ass on the long journey to the middle of the group. I was pretty sure I was crying, the world spinning around me thanks to the alcohol and what I’d just seen, when I finally found Mor. One look at me and she stopped dancing.

“Feyre!” She shouted, gripping my wrists with her hands. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head. “I have to leave. Can you call me an Uber? I don’t have the app!”

Mor nodded, looking concerned. She pulled me outside of the club and we sat on the curb, leaning against each other as she fumbled around in her pockets until she found her phone. Ten minutes later, our collective drunken efforts resulted in a successful call for an Uber.

When it pulled up, I looked at Mor. “Wait, where are you sending me?”

She shook her head as though trying to clear it. “No, no. We’re going to my place! Where I hope to hear everything.”

At her mention of “everything,” I started to tear up again. Damn it. Sad drunks were the worst and now I was one of them. Mor merely tugged me off the curb and we collapsed into the back of the Uber together. Twenty minutes later, we were outside yet another massive estate on the edge of town. 

“You Nights don’t mess around,” I mumbled. 

“What?” Mor asked, giggling a little.

“Nothing, nothing. Can we just go inside?” 

She nodded seriously and led me around to the back door. 

“My father really doesn’t approve of my inclination to party, so I have to sneak in and out. Shhh,” she added before another fit of giggles hit her. That was Mor. Her upbeat mood could not be beaten, even while drunk and with a crying friend tagging along behind her. And I was full-on crying by now. 

Mor carefully unlocked the back door. She led me into an enormous kitchen bathed in shadow. We made a brief stop so Mor could grab a huge bag of chips and a couple bottles of water. Except for a close call that involved a cat on the staircase, we made it upstairs unnoticed. 

Mor’s room was the first door on the right on the second floor. She led me inside, flipped on the light, and proceeded to flop down onto her enormous bed in the center of the room. Her room was… like a fairytale. The four-poster bed, hung with gauzy white curtains, seemed to float freely in the center of the room on a white fluffy carpet. The pale blue walls were covered with pictures of her and her friends, band posters, Polaroids, and other various paraphernalia. A terribly cluttered white desk sat on one side of the room, and a white dresser on the other. In one corner there lay several enormous white bean-bag chairs covered in luxurious blue and gold pillows and blankets. 

“Alright, Archeron,” Mor said, sprawled across her bed, her shoes kicked off and her mouth stuffed full of chips. “Please tell me why we just fled the club faster than Cinderella at midnight.” 

I wasn’t sure why, but I chose to sit down on the floor in the center of her bedroom, halfway between the door and the bed. “I don’t even understand what just happened, Mor.”

“Well, tell me and I’ll help you puzzle through it. And maybe start with why we stranded Rhys at the club?” 

I let out a groan and flopped onto my back. The ceiling was still spinning, but only a tiny bit now.

“Drink this,” Mor said and chucked a water bottle at me. 

I jumped as the water bottle landed right next to my head. Then I sat up, chugged it down, and put my head between my knees. 

“Mreesechertedonme.”

“What?” Mor said sharply.

I raised my head. “Rhys cheated on me.”

Mor sat straight up on her bed. “What,” she said again.

I sighed, then explained what I had seen and heard. The tears kept coming as I told her about Amarantha and Rhys admitting to me what he’d done.

Mor looked thunderstruck. Her water bottle, which had been halfway to her mouth when I’d broken the news, was slowly dripping water onto her shirt. “And he said he wanted to explain? I’m confused. Rhys would never do something like that. Ever. Especially not to you.” 

“What do you mean, especially not to me?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not serious.”

“Serious about what?”

“Rhys has been in love with you from the moment you set foot on campus for your recruiting trip.”

“That’s a bunch of bullshit. I barely knew Rhys until like a month ago, when he saved me from the Halloween party.” 

Mor shook her head slowly, her mouth hanging open. “No,” she began, eyes wide, “it’s not bullshit. I don’t know if you remember much about your recruiting trip. But Rhys and I were freshmen that year. You showed up to campus, your usual gorgeous self--” she winked at me “--and Rhys was a goner. He thought you were so pretty, and so cool, and you talked about books or something for like five seconds and then he thought you were so smart, too (which you are). And when the team decided to make the really dumb decision of drinking with the recruits that weekend, you turned down every offer for sex, drugs, whatever, that came your way from the upperclassmen guys, no matter how drunk you were. Not that he would have judged you if you had. But he could tell you knew what you wanted. It would have been easier, as a senior in high school on a recruiting trip, for you to do and say whatever the upperclassmen wanted in order to fit in. But you had those values, and you stuck to them. You surprised him.

“And then,” she added, laughing as I stared at her in disbelief, “you, drunk off your ass, got up on that table in the middle of the party, and announced to everyone that you were committing to swim at Prythian as soon as you sobered up enough to call the head coach. May I repeat--he was a goner.

“So,” she added somewhat awkwardly. “I hope he doesn’t hate me for telling you that shit. There’s a lot more behind it but I wanted to explain a little because you’re so obviously clueless!

“But none of that excuses him cheating on you, of course.” 

Now it was my brain that was spinning instead of the ceiling. Rhys had been acting suspicious around me since the Halloween party--I had suspected his feelings even then, unwilling to admit it to myself. But I would never have guessed that he’d been interested for over two years… Why on earth had he cheated, then? Being drunk wasn’t an excuse. But it didn’t make sense that someone who was supposedly… in love… with someone else would go and cheat on them two days into their very new and fragile relationship. 

I couldn’t puzzle this out right now. “Yeah. Um. I just want to go to sleep. Can you take me to Rhys’s in the morning so I can get my car and leave?” 

Mor nodded sadly. “I wish things turned out differently,” she said. “But I do think you should talk to him.” 

I shook my head. “Maybe. Where can I sleep?”

She patted the bed. “Right here. I’m about to pass out anyways.”

I merely stood up and shuffled over to the bed. I kicked off my shoes, tossed my rings and bracelets on the ground. The last thing I remember was how impeccably soft one of Mor’s pillows felt against my cheek as my tears dripped onto it.

~~~Elain~~~

***three days later***

I really did not want to do life for the next few weeks. 

Okay, that might have been a slight over exaggeration. Really, I just didn’t want to do my classes and finals for the next few weeks. Christmas break was coming up, and the last thing I wanted to focus on during the holiday season were my exams. Nursing was hard--why had I decided to do this, again? 

Of course, I did have one thing to look forward to now that I was back in Prythian. 

Azriel. 

We’d spent hours on the phone, texting, since the storm had stopped and Azriel had walked me to my car. He hadn’t kissed me. I’d wanted him to. And he seemed like he had wanted to. At least, that was what it seemed like.

I pulled my car into the parking lot, locked it, and started the trek to my eight hour long Monday morning nursing immersion ‘course’. I didn’t even want to think about all the ‘fun’ I’d be having until five pm tonight. But I only had to make it until five. Then I was meeting Azriel in the Student Union for dinner. His practice ended around five, so the timing was perfect.  And I did like my degree, and job. It was just going to be very difficult to concentrate when I knew who I’d be seeing at the end of it. 

Focus, Elain. Do your job. 

Eight hours later, I shuffled out of the building, exhausted but satisfied after a hard day’s work. I barely made it to my car. I sat there for a moment, reclining the seat all the way back, and told myself I could close my eyes for just two minutes. 

Twenty minutes later I jerked awake. 

“Shit!” 

I put the car into Drive and made it across campus to Student Union parking in what had to be record time. Still in my scrub top, I raced across the parking lot, body slamming my way through the front doors and directly into an extremely tall male standing just inside of them. 

“Oof! I’m so sorry--Az?”

“Elain?”

“Uhhhh…” I suddenly became aware of what I must look like. I was wearing scrubs, my hair hadn’t been touched since that morning, and forget about makeup. Not to mention the crazed look that was probably in my eyes after my accidental nap and subsequent frantic race across campus. “Hey!” I gave him a hug.

His arms wrapped around me and as if by magic my body relaxed. Shoulders falling, I sank into Azriel’s strong chest, my head barely coming up to his shoulders. I breathed out. “This is nice.”

“It is,” he agreed.

“But I’m starving.”

He chuckled as I broke away from him and made a beeline for the line to the fast-food place that served the best chicken in the whole world. At least, it was the best chicken in the whole world when I was this starving and had no other options. 

The line was way too long for a Monday night on campus. I was definitely going to die--of embarrassment at my appearance or hunger, I wasn’t sure which would kill me first.

“Elain?”

“Huh?”

“I asked you a question.” Azriel grinned. “But I understand if you were too busy bouncing on your toes to listen.”

I lowered myself to the ground and chuckled awkwardly. “I’m sorry--I’ve just had a horribly long day and haven’t eaten since eleven o’clock this morning.”

“I love it when you laugh like that.”

“Like--what?”

“When you’re uncomfortable--you have this laugh you do and it’s honestly the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

I covered my face with my hands and stepped forward to the front of the line. “Ohhhh my gosh. That’s so embarrassing.” I clenched my jaw to keep myself from laughing again.

Azriel gently prised my hands from my face and then put his fingers under my chin and pressed slightly. “Don’t do that! I live for every embarrassed laugh from you.”

I swatted his arm away--but I was smiling. “Alright. If you get to keep my embarrassed laughs, I’m gonna need something cute and embarrassing to hold over you.”

“Good luck finding one. I’m the portrait of smooth,” he said, rolling his eyes, hands in his pockets. 

“We’ll see about that,” I said as I flounced up to the register. Azriel insisted on paying for my food--after he swore to let me pay for our third date. (Third date!!) It was ready before we’d finished paying and he swiped the tray before I could get to it. He carried it over to a table and chairs on the second floor balcony of the Student Union. I flung myself into the chair, resting my wrists on the armrests and slouching down. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Azriel said.

I raised my eyebrows and put my chin in my hand. “What makes Azriel Umbra uncomfortable? Hmmm..” 

He shook his head, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s it!” I said. Several heads whipped over to stare at us. “I mean,” I whispered, “That’s it.”

He sat down across from me. “What’s it?” Eye roll.

“You roll your eyes way too often. Like, way too often.” 

I watched him attempt to restrain the eye roll.

“See, now that you’re aware of it you’re incredibly self-conscious.” 

He stared at me. Then rolled his eyes. “I give.”

“Ha!” 

Toward the end of the meal, I decided to be nosy. 

“So… have you talked to Rhys recently?” 

He looked up from his food so fast I thought he’d give himself whiplash. 

“He mentioned a couple of things.”

I put my elbows on the table. All around us, the Union was emptying out for the evening. 

“Feyre won’t give me any details about what happened between them. All I know is they went to a party, Rhys did something, and Feyre drove straight back to school from his place the next morning. She didn’t even come home to see if I wanted a ride. And I’ve heard squat from her since. They just seemed so… happy.”

Azriel sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I never actually saw them when they were ‘together-together’ because they got together over the break, but I know that whatever must have happened, Rhys didn’t do it on purpose. I’m not sure how much to tell you, but… he’s liked Feyre for a very long time.” 

I bit my lip. “She was just so different while we were at home for the break. Much different than she’d been since she started dating Tamlin. Carefree, bubbly, talking with my father, joking with Nesta, of all people. I don’t know what to do.” 

“I’ll try to get more out of Rhys. All he said on the entire car ride back to school was that he made a mistake, it was out of his hands, and it was probably better for Feyre if she hated him anyway. And I know that’s not true.” 

“Let me know if he tells you anything else.”

“I’ll try,” he said. “Shall we go?” 

He walked me back to my car. It was full dark outside, only the light of the streetlamps guiding us. 

I opened the driver’s side door and threw my purse in. “I had a really good time--”

The world never heard the rest of my sentence because he kissed me before I could finish it. 

His kiss was gentle, his hands cupping the sides of my face. My hands fumbled up to wrap around his shoulders as his lips caressed mine, increasing the pressure slightly. I understood and his tongue swept in. I ran one hand down his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his t-shirt, my other hands pulling him closer to me. 

But he pressed one more kiss to my lips, then kissed the top of my head. “Good night, Elain.”

I gulped down air, the chill of the night surprising me as soon as his body moved away from mine. 

I smiled at him and he kissed me again, briefly this time. “Good night, Elain,” he said again. “And there’s the laugh I was looking for!” He exclaimed after I chuckled nervously, but not unhappily, after the kiss. 

“Oh go to hell!” I said, and he rolled his eyes. Purely for my benefit, I knew. I didn’t stop smiling the whole drive home.

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

Tags

@aknymph​ @sleeping-and-books​ @queen-of-glass​ @fabfire​

[trashassassin]

Two Halves of a Whole | 5: Privacy Policy (V x Reader)

You really need to stop making such misguided decisions, my dear reader. Though, I guess if you listened to your better judgement, then this series never would have happened, would it?

Word Count: 2338

Warnings: Strong Language

You were always a little bit nervous getting out of your car after returning home late at night. Logically, you knew that if someone wished to do you harm, there was nothing that would stop them from breaking your window to get to you, but the belief persisted nonetheless. The car was safe, outside was not.

It wasn't that you lived in a particularly unsafe neighborhood. It was simply that you assumed the worst of everyone you happened to come across. And it didn't help that you'd been feeling an increasing sense of unease as of late, the source of which remained elusive.

Your own cruel mind, most likely, but you couldn't help feeling that there was something different about it this time, even if you couldn't put your finger on exactly what it was.

After sitting in your car far too long contemplating all of this, you opened the door and stepped out onto the street.

It was always a bit of a walk from your parking spot to your apartment complex due to the fact that, if you wanted to park closer, you would need to shell out for a parking pass, which you were entirely unwilling to do. You recognized that the negligible amount of money you saved was not a good tradeoff for the anxiety you felt on your nightly walks, but at this point, you continued to refuse to pay on principle alone.

Cutting through the alley was the fastest way to get to your complex, as it led directly to your back door, even if it made the journey more nerve wracking. Your standard strategy was to take it at a faster than average pace, but not at a run in case that made you a more conspicuous target for someone untoward, throwing casual glances over your shoulder every so often just to make sure no one had followed you.

On this night in particular, upon one of your glances, you noticed something in the distance that made your heart drop. It was a shadow, stretched across the brick wall behind you. At first, you tried to convince yourself that it had been there the whole time and you simply hadn't noticed it, but as you continued to stare at it, it shifted slightly.

Your mind tried to push you to run, but your body was stuck fast. Would it move again? Something compelled you to wait and see if it would.

And it did, in a way that you never would have noticed if you hadn't been watching so closely. It seemed to you that whoever, or whatever, the shadow belonged to did not wish to be seen.

This allowed you the perfect opportunity to turn around and continue to your apartment, and possibly consider picking up a parking permit after all once you'd reached it. And yet, as you turned, you found that you still couldn't force yourself to move.

Curiosity burned in your mind, egging you on to turn back around and investigate. But only a fool would do such a thing, and you were no fool.

Right?

You glanced back again and the shadow remained in your vision.

Perhaps you were a fool after all because, slowly, with one hand wrapped around the pepper spray affixed to your keychain, you started toward it. You hugged the wall to your left as you inched forward in the (likely false) impression that this would help you maintain the element of surprise. As you reached the edge, you peeked around it, only to be met with a rather peculiar sight.

There was indeed a figure there, human, you suspected, the finer details of which were all but obscured by the glare of the streetlight not far behind it. It was covered almost entirely by a black cloak, or possibly a blanket. At least, it appeared to be black in the darkness.

The confirmation of another living creature gave you the motivation you needed to finally turn around and, just when you were about to do so, the figure lifted its head and looked up at you.

Your blood ran cold and your body froze in place.

This was it. This was how you were going to die and it was all your own stupid fault for not running away like you knew you should have. Curiosity killed the cat, as you'd always been told, and today, the cat was you.

The figure stood, appearing unsteady on its feet for a moment, giving you another perfect opportunity to run away, but it was as though your feet were glued to the concrete below. As it began to walk toward you, its eyes found yours again.

It didn't appear to have a particularly threatening physique beneath the blanket it wore, but you were well aware that appearances could be deceiving. It paused about a meter away from you and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the impact of your untimely demise.

But, it never came.

Instead, the figure spoke.

"Excuse me."

You opened your eyes. It was just a man, you realized, a perfectly ordinary man. The images you'd begun to formulate of a horrifying monster hiding beneath the sheet evaporated.

"I don't want to impose," he continued. "But, I was wondering if you might be able to help me."

You cocked your head to one side.

"What, do you need money, or something?" you asked. "I don't have any cash on me."

He shook his head, then reached his hand into the blanket. You took a few steps back, half expecting him to produce a weapon and begin brandishing it at you. But instead, it was a thin piece of paper, which he extended toward you.

"I was hoping you could help me find this man," he said.

As you took the paper from him and examined it, a chill ran down your spine. You did indeed know the man whose photograph was displayed there. He was a good friend of yours.

"Where did you get this?" you asked.

"That is… unimportant," he said, and alarm bells rang in your mind.

Then again, you were familiar with the sort of business your friend was involved with and he did tend to attract a rather unusual client base. So in that way, the interaction you were currently having was par for the course.

"You got a job for him?" you ask. "Something tells me you didn't find him by accident."

"Your assumption is correct," he said.

You didn't know a whole lot about the company's goings on, but you knew enough to know that anyone who sought out Devil May Cry and, by extension, its frontman, Dante, had a very specific purpose in mind.

"Alright," you said. "I'll give him your contact information next time I see him."

"I'd rather speak to him myself," he said. "It's quite urgent."

You did not drop your guard as you continued to stare down the strange man in front of you.

"How do you know him?" you asked, and he simply smiled. "Okay, then. Well, uh…" You pulled out a paper of your own, this one taking the shape of the business cards Dante had forced you to carry. "… Feel free to stop by in the morning whenever you get a chance. He hasn't been very busy lately, so I'm sure he'll be able to see you right away."

You handed him the card and turned to walk away for what you hoped would be the last time.

"Actually," he said, and, for some reason unknown to you, you again paused in place. "I was hoping you could offer further assistance."

Everything within you was telling you that continuing to listen to this possibly insane man was a very bad idea, but you stood your ground.

"What?" you asked, your voice cold.

"You see, I have nowhere to stay for the night."

Your eyes narrowed.

"There's a motel down the street," you said, pointing off in the vague direction of it. "I'm sorry, I can't help you there."

"Please." His face suddenly took on a rather urgent expression. "I'm in a bit of a difficult situation here. I only need one night."

The thought crossed your mind that this was possibly one of Dante's weird friends playing a trick on you, but you dismissed it as quickly as it appeared.

"A difficult situation, huh?" you asked, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"I don't have anything," he said. "They won't let me stay without identification. Please."

No identification? As sketched out as you were by the situation, your curiosity was piqued once again.

"Are you from out of town?" you asked.

"In a way," he replied.

This only intrigued you further.

He did seem harmless enough as you took a better look at him. In fact, he looked rather pathetic with the blanket draped over his thin frame. You realized upon closer inspection that the blanket was the only thing he had draped over him at all. His bare legs and feet were poking out the bottom and you could only infer that the rest of him was in a similar state.

So, you'd encountered a naked stranger in an alleyway, one who just so happened to be seeking a close personal friend of yours, with no identification on him whatsoever, and you were about to invite him into your home.

You wanted to make sure that you had properly established your ludicrous plan before you carried it out.

"I don't know who the hell you are," you said. "But you seem harmless enough. Come on."

You motioned for him to follow you.

"Thank you," he said, and he sounded genuinely relieved as he said it.

Even if you did end up dead and dumped in a sewer somewhere come morning, you were sure that Dante would stop at nothing to avenge your death, at the very least, so you had that going for you, if nothing else.

Against your logical judgement, you led this strange, naked man back to your apartment and allowed him inside.

"So, what do they call you?" you asked.

You flicked on the light and grimaced as your messy living room became illuminated.

"V," he replied.

"What, like the letter?"

"Yeah."

Yet another unusual thing about him.

"Well, V, make yourself comfortable," you said. You cleared off the couch a bit, tossing its contents wherever there was enough space, and motioned for him to sit down. "Would you like anything? Tea, or coffee, maybe?"

"No, thank you," he replied.

He sat down on your couch and was visibly shivering beneath the thin blanket he wore.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

You lifted your fleece blanket from the edge of the couch and tossed it at him.

"I'll be right back," you said.

You were going to make him some tea whether he asked for it or not. You couldn't just let him freeze on your couch all night after you'd so generously allowed him inside. And so, you grabbed the first box of teabags you saw, lemon ginger flavor, and brewed him a cup, along with one for yourself.

When you returned to the living room, he was already lying down beneath the blanket you'd given him.

"Here," you said.

You thrust the cup in his direction and he sat back upright.

"You didn't have to do that," he said.

"Well, I did, so take it."

He took the cup from your hands and you leaned back against the wall across from him, taking a sip from your own cup as you did.

"So, what's your story?" you asked. "How did you end up out here with no ID and no clothes?"

He stared at the floor.

"I have a bit of inside information that may be of use to your friend," he said, avoiding your question entirely.

"Inside information, huh? So, are you from the Underworld, then?"

He didn't respond.

"I'll take that as a yes," you continued. "Well, you don't look much like a demon, if that's any consolation, but I know that looks can be deceiving."

He still said nothing.

"Look, I'm not trying to pry, here. I just wanna know a little more about the weird naked guy I let into my house."

"If you think I'm crazy now, you'll only think me more crazy if I tell my story," he finally said.

You scoffed.

"Believe me," you said. "I've worked around Dante long enough to hear some seriously crazy shit."

It was clear to you that he wasn't going to relent no matter how many questions you threw at him, so you gave up asking and went back to your tea.

"I truly am sorry," he said. "Believe me when I say that I would not ask you to do this if I had any other option."

You shrugged.

"Whatever," you said.

You would have to have a chat with Dante regarding his clients and your privacy at some point in the future.

"I'll be sure to find a way to make it up to you when the case is settled," he said.

You weren't going to hold him to this, but you had to admit, you appreciated the sentiment somewhat.

"Well, I'm going to bed," you said, setting your still partially full cup on the coffee table. "Don't touch any of my shit and be sure to close the door when you leave, alright?"

"You have my word."

The entire thing began to feel a bit surreal as you headed up the stairs to your room. You could tell that there was so much more to this than he was letting on but, rather than putting you off, this fact intrigued you. You wanted to know more, so badly in fact that you had every intention of heading down to Dante's office the following day to ask him what the hell was going on.

Regardless of what it was, somehow, you got the distinct impression that you were already in way over your head.

[stayextrafrosty]

I am Your Future, I am Your Past: Chapter 2

A Roswell New Mexico Soulmate AU

Note: So I’m clearly not following the themes for Malex week except for the AU but because I’m devoting all my time to this, the goal is to update daily for the whole week then every few days following.

Warnings: Abuse and homophobia

Read on AO3

-

Michael fidgeted in the hospital bed. He was sick of just sitting there. Maria had come back first thing in the morning and he appreciated it but there was only so much sitting still he could do. Maria was snuggled up with him on the bed as they watched some bad daytime television. Nurses came in and out periodically to make sure his vitals hadn’t changed.

“I swear if Isabel doesn’t show up soon, I’m gunna leave by myself,” he complained after another vitals check.

“They just want to make sure you’re ok. So please just listen to them Michael? For me,” Maria said, giving him a sweet smile. He chuckled and shook his head.

“Only for you. Thanks for staying though. You really don’t have to.” She raised an eyebrow at him, looking offended by the thought.

“I’ve told you before that I’m not leaving you. Not when you need me.” She pressed her forehead against his. He used his free hand to pull her close, kissing her gently. He loved her so much. She might have been perfect.

A small knock at the door forced them apart. Isabel stood there, an eyebrow raised.

“Really? In a hospital? This isn’t ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ or something.” Michael sighed and rolled his eyes. Maria got off the bed, crossing her arms. They had gotten along the night before, but the thinly veiled dislike seemed to have returned.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” she pointed out. Isabel scoffed, shaking her head. She tossed new clothes at Michael.

“Let’s go. There are things that need to get done. Sanders mentioned that you were supposed to finish fixing a car this morning.” Michael let his head fall back against the pillow.

“Shit. He’s gunna kill me,” he mumbled.

“Don’t worry. He said being in the hospital is a good enough excuse. This time,” Isabel said, grinning. “I’ll send a doctor in to get all those tubes out of your arms.” She left the room, leaving Michael to wonder if his truck was still outside.

“Hey Maria, mind telling me where my car is? And where the keys are?”

“Oh, I think Alex drove it home yesterday. I’ll take you over there to get it if you want. I just need to be back at the Wild Pony for opening this evening.” Michael nodded as the doctor walked back into the room. He hadn’t seen Kyle since the previous night. He figured he should thank him for taking care of him.

Alex was going to be a problem. The doctors made him leave before he got to ask too many questions. That was probably why he drove the truck home. Forcing a conversation. Michael had no idea how to answer the questions without freaking him out. Hell, Alex might never want to see him again.

The doctor gave him the all clear to move around and he was up. He couldn’t sit in that bed anymore. Maria laughed at his impatience as he changed.

“Shut up. You weren’t forced to stay in the same position for fifteen hours.”

“Maybe not but you didn’t used to have a problem sleeping on my bar,” she grinned and crossed her arms. Michael laughed. She did have a point.

“Man. Picking on a guy’s low points? Not cool.” Michael pulled a white t-shirt over his head, trying not to flinch at the pain in his arm.

“Hey, wait,” Maria said, eyebrows drawing together. She stepped up to him, moving the t-shirt away from his chest. Oh shit. The mark. “Isn’t this… the same tattoo Alex had…?” She trailed off when she looked up at him.

“Uh yea. Guess you caught us. We um, knew each other back in high school. Used to be friends. Did some stupid stuff,” he said, thinking on his feet. The word ‘friends’ stuck in his throat, but Maria didn’t notice.

“No… You didn’t have this a month ago,” she said skeptically. Michael cursed how observant she was. “What’s going on Michael?”

“Ok, it’s a long story—” Isabel coughed behind them from the door. She was a life saver. He had never told Maria about the curse because it didn’t matter. He thought it wouldn’t matter. But now he has two explanations to give.

“Michael. We gotta go.” He took Maria’s hand and kissed her forehead.

“Give me some time and I’ll be able to explain. But I’ve gotta go.” She opened her mouth to say something but he was already out the door. Him and Isabel pretty much ran out of the hospital, hoping she didn’t chase after them.

“No outsider has ever known about the curse. You can’t just bring her into it,” Isabel lectured quietly. Not that anyone would even be listening.

“We’re dating. I can’t just hide it from her.”

“Of course you can. People do it all the time!” Michael shook his head as they rushed through the parking lot.

“That’s not a good practice to have. Especially for relationships.” He pulled the door to her car open, climbing in, trying to be careful of his arm. He relaxed into the leather, staring out the window. Isabel pulled the sun visor off the front window and started the car.

“Look. It’s dangerous for her to be involved. If she tries to protect you or Alex, she could die. You know the trials only get worse.” Michael could hear the worry in her voice. She was right. But keeping this from her would just lead to making assumptions.

Michael didn’t respond as she pulled out of the lot. He had been stupid to let her see the mark. Of course, she would have seen it eventually but now the conversation had to happen sooner than he wanted. He shook his head. He had to focus on Alex first. It affected him a bit more directly.

“Hey, you know where Alex lives?” Isabel glanced at him and nodded. Of course she does. She probably started looking into it as soon as she found out about Michaels mark.

“Have I mentioned how creepy it is that you can get information about almost anyone?” A smile settled on her face.

“It pays to be the town socialite.”

-

Dead

The word had been ringing in Alex’s ears since the previous night. He survived ten years of war and he might die because of some supernatural curse put on him and Michael’s family? It was surreal. And why his father wouldn’t tell him about it was just as much of a mystery. But his father refused to include him in most things so maybe he shouldn’t be surprised.

He had driven Michael’s truck home last night in the hopes it would force him to talk. But if Michael really wanted to avoid him, he could just hotwire the car. Alex had watched him do it a couple times.

Back in high school, Alex found his willingness to break the rules attractive and fun. Then he started getting into fights. He wished he could have stuck through it. Maybe they would still be together…

Alex shook his head, not wanting to think about the past. Things happened the way they did for a reason. He wasn’t sure whether he believed in a God or not. The church was never exactly very welcoming to him. Even if they didn’t know. If a God that loved all his children existed, there would be no exceptions. Not for things that he couldn’t control. He just wasn’t sure. He hadn’t been to church in years, though he doubted things had changed.

A knock at the door shook him from his thoughts. He stood slowly, not bothering to put his prosthetic on this morning, though he kept it close. Leaning on the crutch, he hopped to the door. He hoped it would be Michael but something wasn’t sitting right in his head.

He opened the door to a green uniform that matched his own. He’d learned from his time in the army to trust his gut. Alex sighed and fought against rolling his eyes at his father. What he was doing here was any one’s guess.

“What do you want?” The spite refused to be contained.

“I was informed that someone saw you get shot,” he said, no emotion.

“Oh, spare me the fatherly concern,” Alex snapped back.

“I am a commanding officer in much higher standing than you. Show some respect.”

“Once I see something to respect I will.” Alex watched his father’s nose twitch. He should have slammed the door in his face right then. But of course he ignored his instincts.

Jesse grabbed the front of his shirt, putting him off balance. He stumbled forward trying to catch himself, only forcing him to rely on his father to hold him up. He was a teenager again. Helpless at the hands of a man who hated him…

Alex stumbled into the living room, his brothers nowhere to be found. His father grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back.

“Dad stop… please…” Alex cried.

“Not until you learn how to be a proper Manes man. You are a disgrace to this family.” He shoved Alex to the floor. Alex scrambled to stand up, knowing the ground was the worst place to be.

“You want to fuck around like you don’t come from a long line of respected soldiers then you’re going to learn the hard way. You’re lucky I let you live here.” All he had done was go out with some friends. His father had assumed it was Michael and that they were sleeping together.

His father grabbed him again, punching him in the gut and sending him back to the ground. Alex coughed but didn’t try to get back up again.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” he mumbled, praying to whatever god existed that this would stop.

“Alex! Get away from him!”

Pulled back to reality by a voice dripping with fury, Alex stumbled backwards and fell as someone tackled Jesse from behind. Alex pushed himself away from the bodies on his porch so he could see what was going on.

Michael had a knee on Jesse’s back and was trying to get hold of an arm. Alex watched, wide eyed. He had never seen Michael look like this before. His face was twisted into a snarl. And for just a moment, Alex was worried Michael would kill him. He had pinned his arm with his other foot, holding his face to the ground with the hand not in a sling.

“Let me be very clear. You ever come near him again and I will end you.”

Jesse didn’t have time to respond before Michael was standing and walking into Alex’s house, slamming the door behind him. Alex could only stare at the closed door. He jumped slightly as Michael crouched next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you ok?” Michaels voice had done a one-eighty. Gone was the rage only to be replaced with a gentle comfort.

“Uh… yea. Think so.” Alex tried to stand on his own but a missing leg and shaking arms made it difficult.

“Come on. Lean on me,” Michael said softly. Alex met his eyes and nodded slowly. Michael lifted his arm over his shoulder, standing slowly, letting Alex find his footing. He still had the crutch in his hand, but he hardly used it as Michael did most of the work.

Alex directed him to the couch where his prosthetic sat. He didn’t want to need Michael.

As soon as Michael set him down, he reached for the leg. He couldn’t meet his eyes, afraid he would see pity. Alex didn’t know if he could handle it right now.

“You don’t need to put it on if it’s uncomfortable. I’m here to help if you need it.” Alex paused in his movements. “Besides. I think you might want to stay sitting for this conversation.” He looked up at Michael. There was no pity. Not even the slightest indication that he thought any less of him. In fact, he seemed nervous.

Alex sat up, watching Michael as he paced around the room. He looked at photos of his friends. Liz, Rosa, Maria and others. He paused at the one on the end table. Alex wasn’t sure what emotions passed over his face.

“You kept this,” Michael asked, showing him a picture of the two of them, each holding guitars. Alex shrugged.

“It’s a good memory.”

They looked at each other for a moment before Michael cleared his throat and turned away. He set the picture back in its spot. He moved to sit next to Alex, though not close enough to touch him. He considered reaching out but it would be too obvious.

“I don’t really know where to start to be honest. Do you know anything? Did any of your family talk about it?” Alex tried to think about early conversations with his mother and brother’s but nothing came to mind. He shook his head.

“Nothing about curses. And definitely nothing about you.” Michael ran a hand over his face.

“Damn.” Alex opened his mouth to apologize but Michael spoke again. “Don’t say ‘sorry.’ It’s not your fault. It’s just kind of complicated. Now I probably won’t tell the history completely correctly, but I’ll give it my best shot.” Alex nodded, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“Well it starts kind of like a ‘Romeo and Juliet’ situation. A princess and a servant fell in love after being friends their whole lives. One night, the father caught them together and tried to force them apart. This is also the time where sacrifices were normal and the princess was set to be the next sacrifice. The servant boy broke her out and they ran away. Her father chased after them. Once he caught up, he shot his daughter in the back. He left the servant boy to suffer without her. He pleaded to the gods to take his life over hers. They did.” Alex’s eyebrows drew together.

“Ok. This is a good history lesson and all but what does that have to do with us?”

“The name of the head family was Manes. The servants were Guerin.” Alex stared at Michael. There was no way that was possible. Most last names don’t last that long unless the family was having no children other than boys. That was also assuming they all had children.

“And there were consequences for the two lovers. The condition for bringing her back to life would be a curse on the families. Every few generations, a Manes and Guerin would be drawn together and forced to complete trials. These trials get more deadly as they go on. No pair has ever survived them.” Michael moved his shirt to the side, showing the flower.

“A petal will disappear from one of us each time a trial is completed. This is like a connection between us. I can feel you and you can feel me.”

“Ok, that all makes sense… Sort of. But why did you take on my wound when I got shot?” Michael chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

“Just another condition of the original curse. I will take on any injury you receive while we’re connected. That’s what the slave boy did when he first saved the princess.” Alex looked down at Michaels arm that was wrapped in a sling.

“I… I didn’t know… I’m—”

“Stop. No apologizing. You have nothing to apologize for. It is not your fault. Do you hear me, Manes?”

“But—”

Alex froze when Michael grabbed his face, callused hands holding him firmly in place. He had pulled his arm out of the sling. He wanted to look at the bandages wrapped around his bicep but Michael forced him to keep his eyes on him.

“I will protect you. With my whole life, I will protect you.” Alex didn’t know what to say. What could he say? All he knew was how badly he wanted to pull Michael closer. Alex reached up, laying his hands over Michaels cautiously, not knowing how he’d react. He looked over his face and glanced down at his mouth. He wondered if it still tasted the same.

When Alex met his eyes again, they had darkened. Maybe… just maybe… Michael was feeling the same thing he was right now. He pressed his forehead against his. Alex sucked in a breath and everything that was Michael overloaded his senses. The smell of rain and maybe still bourbon from the previous night. He was acutely aware of the way his hands moved. He had moved one to rest over his heart. Michael would know just how fast his heart was racing. Their noses brushed against each other.

“Michael.” Alex let his name slip out under his breath.

Suddenly he was gone. Alex almost fell forward from the lack of contact. He had stood up, refusing to look at him. He wanted to reach out for him but would that make him pathetic? He was clearly just rejected. He’d be a fool to chase after more.

“Sorry, the connection can uh… make you feel things. Like things you don’t really feel,” Michael said, voice shaking. Alex flinched at his words. He may as well have smacked him across the face.

“Anything else?” He tried to hide the hurt but couldn’t be sure if he succeeded.

“I only know the main story. If you want information about past reincarnations you’d have to come to the Evans’ house. They have all the history books and diaries.” Alex nodded, although Michael couldn’t see him. “Just let me know when and we can go over there.”

“Ok.” The awkward silence stretched longer than Alex would have liked. But there was nothing he could say. If he tried it would just come out as cursing Michael.

“I uh… have to go. I have to explain some of this to Maria so…” He trailed off, looking back at Alex with an expression he couldn’t quite identify. Maria. Of course. Michael was dating one of his best friends. He wasn’t allowed to care about Michael anymore. Their time had passed.

“Your keys are in the kitchen. Sitting on the counter next to the pile of mail. Sorry for taking your car but I figured you didn’t want to pay to park it at the hospital overnight.” Michael chuckled but it seemed forced. Alex ran a hand through his hair as he walked away.

Maybe Michael was right and the connection did make him feel things that weren’t really there. But it felt real to him. He placed a hand over his heart, feeling it beat, strong and steady.

Michael returned, keys jingling in his hand. He noticed Alex and a look of pain crossed his face. Alex could feel the shift in his mood. Maybe he needed comfort. That wouldn’t make sense, given he had just torn away from him like he was some kind of poison.

“Here’s my number. Changed while you were gone. If you need anything, just call.” He set a piece of paper down on the end table next to the picture of them. Alex held his gaze for a moment before nodding and looking away. “Right... So, I’ll see you later?”

“Yea. See you soon.” With that, Michael let himself out. Alex heard the truck start but then it just sat there. What is he waiting for?

He was about to look out the window to see what the problem was but then the sound faded as he drove away.

-

He was a liar. He lied. Right to his face. Even if the connection did make them feel things they wouldn’t normally, that didn’t make them less real. And even if the connection effected it, there was no mistaking the emotions he was feeling from Alex.

He wanted nothing more than to forget everything and just be with him in that moment. Hearing his name in that pleading whisper could have broken any man. He cursed whoever got to hear it next.

But he was with Maria. And he was happy. Happier than he’d ever been. And she deserved an explanation. He wouldn’t tell her the whole truth. It would be too dangerous for her. But he didn’t know how to make her not dig deeper. Or try to protect them. She was one of the most caring people he knew and if she thought either him or Alex were in danger, she’d fight God to make sure they weren’t hurt.

Michael’s arm started to ache. He had forgotten about it. Driving with one hand was no problem but trying to maneuver his arm back in the sling while also paying attention to the road was proving difficult. He didn’t want to rip the stitches. He didn’t exactly have the money to get them replaced before they needed to be.

Pulling into the Evan’s driveway, he pulled the seatbelt off to get his arm back in the sling. Damn prick. Why’d he even have a gun? New Mexico was an open carry state, even had one of his own, but he rarely brought it places.

Michael needed information. He needed to know what the other people did to get through the trials. Would it be best stick around Alex? Leave him in protective custody? Michael shook his head. Alex would refuse that one.

He stepped out of the car, slamming the door harder than he intended. Michael searched through his keyring for the spare to the front door. He didn’t see any of the cars but that didn’t mean anything. Max and Isabel’s parents were always all over him about learning the history. The last thing he needed was to have them breathing down his neck.

Once he located the key, he pushed it into the lock, though he found no resistance. Unlocked?

He pushed the door open slowly, cursing the door as it squeaked. Nothing looked out of place in the front room, but it was quiet. Michael doubted they forgot to lock the door before they left. He shut the door as quietly as he could behind him. Looking around for items that he could improvise a weapon from, he clenched his fists ready for a fight.

Michael stepped into the kitchen, scanning over everything. Again, nothing was out of place. He let his shoulders relax as he made his way through the rest of the downstairs. Nothing looked bothered but something was not right.

He made his way upstairs to where he knew their collection of history books was. The last door on the right was usually left closed to keep guests from wandering in. Michael stopped when he saw it propped open, like someone didn’t fully close the door as they were leaving in a hurry.

He still knew the places where the hallway creaked under pressure. He avoided them easily and he nudged the door open with his foot, grabbing the small statue on the coffee table against the wall.

His jaw clenched at the sight of the room. Books scattered the floor, some pages ripped. Bookshelves had been toppled. Drawers had been ripped out of their spot in the desk. Whoever was here was looking for something. Who knows if they found it.

“Damnit,” he whispered to himself. It would take hours to reorganize whatever was left. He carefully stepped over books and papers. There were scrolls that supposedly held all the original information. Those were locked in a safe behind another bookshelf. This one didn’t seem to be knocked over like the rest of them. Michael held his breath that they were still there.

He had never read the originals. Most people in the family hadn’t. Rumor was they stole them from the Manes family a long time ago. Why was never explained. At least not to him.

Michael did the best he could to move the bookshelf himself but without the use of his other arm, it was useless.

“What the fuck happened?” He jumped at the voice from behind him. Max stood there, taking in the disaster. Michael stood slowly.

“That’s what I’d like to know. I came to read up on some stuff and I just found it like this. Where are your parents?”

“They’re out of town,” he said slowly. He walked over to Michael. “What are you looking for?”

“The original scrolls. They’re in a safe behind this thing, right?” Max nodded and traded places with him. He shifted the shelf to expose the safe. It appeared untouched but that obviously didn’t mean anything.

Max spun the dial and pulled the door open. A second door inside made Michael raise an eyebrow. This one had a keyhole. Max stood and reached to the top of the bookshelf, pealing something off the top.

“You gotta come up with a better hiding spot.” Max rolled his eyes as he pulled the tape off the key.

“It’s still there isn’t it?” Michael shook his head. That didn’t mean anything. Max opened the second door, grabbing the plastic bags with the scrolls in them.

“How would you even know they’re all there? No one ever looks through them from what I remember.” Max sighed.

“Someone counts them on a regular basis. There’s six of them in total.”

“Ok… so are they all there or what,” Michael asked, impatient. Max shoved the papers back into the safe, slamming both doors shut.

“No. One’s missing.”

-

The fire burned as Jesse Manes moved the wood around. He would show that damn boy that threatening him will be worst mistake of his life. He wanted answers to the curse? He would never get them.

If their lines ceased to exist, then this would be over. No one was ever strong enough to prevent the original sin from happening again. He would end all of them. They were the doppelgangers of the original. It was sick. Wrong.

Sacrifices needed to be made. He opened the scroll to the drawing of the two original lovers. A prince and a slave. Jesse’s nose scrunched as he looked at someone the spitting image of his disgraced son.

Then he tossed it into the fire.

[hailing-stars]

for peter, for @frostysunflowers

summary 

“What can I get for you two fellas?” asked the waitress, still grinning, still wildly amused by the way Tony bullied the manager on shift into letting Buddy come inside the diner and eat at a table.

“I’ll take a cheeseburger,” Tony told the waitress, “And he’ll have the same.”

Buddy barked three times.

“Scratch that, three cheeseburgers and a bowl of water for my friend,��� said Tony, catching the eyes of a group of men that sat at a table across restaurant. “What are you all staring at? It’s a dog, alright? What? Never seen a guy having burgers with his dog before?”

OR

Tony recovers from losing Peter to the snap by hanging out with a stray dog he found in the Parker’s apartment.

OR

An AU where instead of being dusted Peter turns into a dog and lives that five year gap with the Starks at their lake cabin.

Irondad Bingo: Fluff

1/4

Read on AO3 or after the undercut 

The door to Peter and May’s apartment was cracked at an odd angle, unnatural and eerie and evidence, somehow, that the world just as crooked as the bolts on the Parker’s door. They were unhinged, and well Tony was unhinged, too, like the lady he passed by in stairwell, who was wailing and screaming for someone Tony assumed was now only dust.

He paused at the end of the hallway, still listening to her faint howling, and stared at the door. He took a breath, released, and walked forward, towards a sight he was certain would break him.

Tony didn’t understand why he was doing this to himself.

He couldn’t even remember why he’d gotten into his car and made the drive into the city, or why his heart worked against logic, that he, of all people, had hoped that somehow the Parker’s apartment might have remained untouched from the devastation that had ransacked the rest of Queens, or all of New York, really.

Everything, everywhere. The whole universe. It was all broken and grey with grief, and Tony felt confident it was the way it was always going to be. The sun wouldn’t sun. There wasn’t any trace of hope left in the atmosphere to be kindled or sparked.

The ache in his soul would keep on aching, with nothing to sooth or comfort.

Pepper helped, sure. She was alive and breathing and real, and he could sit with her all day at their cabin and pretend like the universe wasn’t collapsing around them both. He could get lost in being with her, in her smile and her wit, but he could never get so lost as to forget that he’d never hear Peter Parker laugh again.

He’d never get to make good on that promise to watch every Star Wars movie with him. He’d never get to eat cheeseburgers with him past midnight, at their favorite twenty-four burger joint, after late night missions and patrols. He’d never get to pretend to be annoyed at his fast talking or his bad puns and jokes, or at the way he never stopped making noise.

The baby growing inside Pepper couldn’t replace all that, couldn’t replace intern he’d lost and there was no guarantee that the new baby wouldn’t crumble to ash in his hands, the way Pete had.

Tony pushed the thought away and took the door all the way off the hinges, set it aside, then stepped into the Parker’s apartment, though it was clear it wasn’t their apartment anymore.

It was only ruins of what once was.

Stripped of anything valuable, with heaps of empty candy wrappers, beer cans and chip bags littering the floor and spray paint marking up the walls. The couch Tony had sat on and pretended to like May’s date loaf was flipped over, sitting diagonal in the middle of the living room.

Um, w-what, what are you doing here… uh, hey, I’m, I’m Peter

Tony

He sucked in a breath and kicked at a pile of trash, before moving on, down the hallway and towards Peter’s bedroom. The door was propped open, and as Tony entered, he was greeted with a low growl.

It lasted a half second before the growling stopped, and a dog, a filthy, covered in dirt, dog charged at him. Tony was going to die. He was completely sold on that. He’d survived Afghanistan and the wormhole and space, only to die at the paws of a stray mutt.

He jumped up on him. Dirty paws on his cat t-shirt. He licked him, wagged his tail happily, and barked.

“Hey, hey,” said Tony, moving backwards and pushing the dog away. “We just met, alright? Give it some time.”

The dog sat in front of him and looked up with big, brown eyes, pleading, begging eyes, that had soul and spirit behind them. They were hauntingly familiar, and the memories came unbidden.

Please, Mr. Stark. May won’t let me keep him, and it’s totally unfair. I could hide him from the apartment management, you know.

Sorry, buddy, I don’t have time to take care of a dog.

Tony crouched down, hesitantly reached his hand out, stroking the dog’s fur. “So, you’re Peter’s stray, huh?”

The golden retriever titled his head at him, listening, then barked once, and turned. He trotted off to the corner of Peter’s room, where two cardboard boxes sat. He dug his nose around in one, scooped something up in his mouth, then brought it back to Tony, dropping it on the floor and nudging it at his feet.

Tony picked it up and shattered his heart. Just one cheap frame with a picture inside was all it took to make Tony stumble over, butt on the floor, back against the wall. He swallowed and stared at the picture, looking at a happier version of himself, with Pete by his side. They were holding a certificate upside down and giving each other bunny ears.

They had laughed a lot that day. The echoes rattled around in Tony’s head.

The dog barked and Tony looked up. “You’re… you’re waiting for Peter to come back.”

He stared intently back at Tony, with eyes that convinced him that he somehow understood what he was telling him.

“I don’t really know about to tell you this, buddy,” said Tony, taking a shaky breath. “But Pete’s gone. I lost him, and he won’t be - He isn’t coming back.”

Tony sniffed and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, while the dog made a noise that was somewhere between a whine and groan.

“I know, I – I’m gonna miss him, too.” He reached out again, giving the dog another good pet, and watched his eyes. There was warmth behind him, warmth that reminded Tony just how compassionate and caring Peter had been.

The dog whined as Tony lifted his hand and wiped his eyes again with his sleeve. He straightened out and stood up, looking around the ravaged bedroom and gripping the picture frame. It’d been pointless. Thinking he could save any of Peter’s stuff or somehow get transported back to the past.

It was clear why he really came there, now. To say goodbye.

Even still, the two boxes in the corner of the room looked savable. Tony put the picture frame back inside the first box, stacked them on top of each other and picked them up. He walked towards the door but stopped before stepping out in the hallway. He turned, and the filthy golden retriever was still staring up at him, expectant, waiting for someone who’d never come back.

“Wanna come home with me?” asked Tony. “Look, I’m not Peter, I’m nowhere near as good and kind, hell I don’t even really like dogs, but… I have a house with a big yard and plenty of squirrels and rats to chase and… if you’re lucky, I might even feed you.”

The retriever barked and followed Tony as he left Peter’s room, and eventually the apartment building. It only figured, and brought the briefest smile to his face, that Peter had won the dog argument. Tony ended up with the stray after all, and even in death, Peter was getting his way.

*

Pepper had been waiting for him on the front porch, with a book in her lap, and an unreadable expression on her face, as Tony watched her watch him park the car, get out, and open the back door, releasing the hound.

He jumped out and put his nose straight into the grass and dirt. He sniffed around, before yelping out a few happy barks.

“Who is this?” asked Pepper. She shut her book, put it down on the chair next to her, and stepped on the porch. Her eyes moved back and forth between the dog and Tony, until Tony turned, distracted himself from Pepper’s question by fishing Peter’s boxes from the car.

“Tony,” said Pepper. “Why do you have a dog?”

He turned back around, with two boxes gripped in his hand, and shut the car door with his foot.

“Tony,” she said, louder. She beckoned at the dog. “Who is this?”

“He’s my new best friend,” said Tony. “You’ll have to break the news to Rhodes and Hap that they’ve been replaced, I don’t think my heart could take seeing their faces when they find out.”

Pepper stared at Tony, while the retriever stopped sniffing the dirt and sat directly in front of her, looking up, giving her actual, literal puppy dog eyes. She didn’t look down. Refused to acknowledge him. If she did, Tony knew that, just like he had, she’d cave within seconds.

“Just look at him, Pep. Isn’t he adorable, uh, under all that dirt?”

“We can’t adopt a dog.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Pepper. “Maybe because we’re about to have a newborn.”

“I know that.”

“Do you know that, Tony? Because I’m starting to wonder… I know, I know things have been a nightmare, since the snap, it’s been hell, but I thought we at least had each other… but sometimes, it’s like you’re not even here. Like you never came back from space.”

“I’m right here,” said Tony, though even to his own ears, he sounded far away. “And I’m really excited for the baby. I’m pumped.”

“Oh, you’re pumped?” asked Pepper, with a raised eyebrow. Tony gave her a nod. “Then why haven’t you painted the nursery?”

“I’m gonna paint it. I’m gonna do it tomorrow.”

“That’s what you said yesterday.”

“This time I’m serious,” said Tony. He swallowed and shifted his eyes back to his dog. He still sat at attention, waiting for Pepper to notice him, the same way he’d been waiting for Peter to come back home. “Look, Pep, he’s Peter’s stray. I couldn’t just – I couldn’t just leave him there by himself.”

Pepper released a breath, her body relaxed, her eyes went softer, as she finally looked down to give the dog attention. “Does he at least have a name? Besides Peter’s stray?”

“Buddy,” said Tony. The name rolled off his tongue without any thought. It didn’t require any. Buddy was his name, and Tony, somehow, just knew.

“Buddy,” repeated Pepper, crouching down, and patting him on the head. She massaged his ears. “Welcome to our mess.” She straightened out and leveled her stare back at Tony. “He gets a bath before he comes in the house or you’re both sleeping in the shed.”

She snatched the boxes out from Tony’s hands, turned, and walked back inside, the outer door swinging shut behind her.

“Better get used to that, boy, she’s your overlord now, too.”

Buddy barked and followed Tony as he walked around to the side of the cabin, searching for the hose.

The sun beat down bright and hot as Tony dragged a metal bin he found, that he could only assume belong to the cabin’s previous owners, from the garage to yard and stuck the hose inside, letting it fill with water while Buddy watched with mournful eyes.

“Okay, we’re good,” said Tony, when the tin was half full. He took the hose out and held it out away from his shoes, so he wouldn’t get them wet. “Well go on. Get in.”

Buddy didn’t move.

Tony stuck his hand in and flicked water at him. “It’s not that cold. It’s just like swimming.”

Buddy laid down on his belly, stretched his front legs and paws out in front of him, and whined.

“Don’t be a drama queen about it, alright? We gotta get all that dirt off you,” said Tony. He hoped just plain water would do the trick. He didn’t have any dog shampoo, and he knew, thanks to one of Peter’s rambles, that he shouldn’t use human shampoo on dogs.

Grief hit him like an icicle through his heart. He’d never get listen to Peter rattle off rambles while he was trying to work.

Buddy barked, loud and abrupt, breaking Tony out of his stupor. He was suddenly up on all four of his legs, charging at Tony. He bit down on the hose, tried to wrestle it away, and in the process, sprayed Tony first in the face, then the chest, and then finally, his shoes.

“Hey! You little shit!”

Buddy released the hose, and Tony fall backwards, landing with a thud on the ground, his hair dripping wet, the hose spilling water out on the ground.

“Really, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Buddy titled his head, then raced off towards the lake, where he jumped in the water with no hesitation and happily swam around.

This dog was worse than a teenager.

He released an annoyed, slow sigh, before standing up and switching off the hose. By the time Buddy was done with his afternoon swim in the lake, Tony had a towel waiting. Predictably, Buddy had another method of getting dry. He shook the water from his fur, right in front of Tony and his towel, and had the audacity to look smug about it.

“Now you smell like lake water,” Tony complained, as he kneeled on one knee and ruffled the towel through Buddy’s fur. He wagged his tail, nipping and licking at Tony’s face while he attempted to help him get dry. “Uh-uh, no way, don’t even try making it up to me now.”

Buddy stared at him, with wide brown eyes. Tony melted.

“You’re just lucky you’re Pete’s stray or else I’d take you straight to the pound.”

*

Tony tried to ignore it.

He squeezed his eyes shut and clung onto to sleep, trying to block out the loud, repetitive and persistent barking. He groaned, and shifted under his covers, and burrowed his head under his pillow, holding the sides against his ears. It didn’t help, did not do a thing to block out the noise, but Tony wanted to pretend.

He thought Buddy would tire out and let him sleep.

Tony had no reason to think this, other than being overly optimistic, or maybe, more likely, in denial. He’d suffered through three mornings with Buddy. All three of those went the same way. The dog was an alarm clock without a snooze button. A needy, attention hungry pile of golden fluff that refused to let Tony sleep past ten.

In the past, anxiety and nightmares would not let him rest, and now, that grief and depression sapped his energy dry, it was Buddy who would not let him sleep stay sleeping.

Life, he supposed, was unfair that way.

Tony lifted his head from under the pillow and opened his eyes.

Buddy stared back at him, looking serious and intent. He barked.

“Go away.”

Buddy stuck his head up into the air and howled.

“Alright, alright, Jesus, mom,” said Tony, raising up, out from under the covers. “I’m up.”

The golden retriever ran out of the bedroom once he saw Tony put his feet on the floor, his claws scrapping against the wood as he went, just another example of how damn noisy that animal was.

If he wasn’t barking, he was howling. If he wasn’t howling, his tail was thudding against the floor or the wall, in a rhythm only Buddy understood, reminding Tony of the way Peter used to tap his pencil against his notebook when he concentrated.

Tony slipped on pajamas pants and headed down to the kitchen, before Buddy got impatient and started howling again. When he passed by the room Pepper designated as the nursey, he stuck his head in and looked at the paint and brushes she had laid out in the center of the room.

They were unused, and the walls were still off-white.

He shook his head and continued downstairs, on to his morning routine, which consisted only of eating pop-tarts and watching TV with his dog. He plopped down on the couch, ripped the tin foil off the first packet and laid it down for Buddy, then opened his and took a bite.

“Breakfast of champions,” said Tony. Buddy was too busy eating and licking up crumbs off the couch to bark his usual agreement. “That’s right. Good boy. Get rid of the all evidence.”

Pepper didn’t like him feeding Buddy human food, but Tony couldn’t help it. Buddy didn’t seem to like the dog food very much and Tony couldn’t blame him. The stuff looked and smelled disgusting.

Tony mindlessly flipped through the channels as he ate, with an actual, physical remote, since he hadn’t bothered with installing FRIDAY into the cabin yet. He stopped when Buddy started barking and landed on a channel that displayed two cloaked figures fighting each other with laser swords.

“This?” asked Tony. Buddy barked, his head looking back and forth from Tony to the TV. “You watched this with Pete, huh? At least one of us made time for him.”

Tony put his thumb back on the button, about to push down, and keep channel surfing, when Buddy stopped him with a low, menacing growl.

“Okay, okay fine. We can watch this,” said Tony, but Buddy didn’t take his eyes off him until he put the remote down on the coffee table.

He barked, jumped off the couch and trotted out of the room, only to return seconds later with a teddy bear in his mouth. On his first night in the Stark cabin, he’d dug it out from one Peter’s boxes, and slept with it every night since. Familiar smells, Tony guessed, comforted him.

He jumped back up to sit next to Tony, eventually laying down, stretching his legs and his paws across Tony’s lap, then using his leg as a pillow, with that old ratty teddy bear still nestled in his mouth.

Tony let it happen, cuddled him, even, massaged his head and played with his ears as they both watched space wizards fight each other, movie after movie. They spent the entire day watching Star Wars, only stopping for bathroom breaks and that time between movies when Buddy sat in front of the fridge and howled until Tony made them both something to eat.

*

Tony woke up the next morning on his own, without any barking. His mind and his body automatically jolted him from his sleep before ten, proving to Tony that he wasn’t just being dramatic, the world really was off its hinges and as a result, everything was crooked.

He was supposed to be training the dog, but instead, the dog was training him.

When he opened his eyes, Buddy came into focus first. He was staring at him, with a paintbrush gripped between his teeth. His woof was muffled by the object he held.

Tony blinked.

“Not today, Buddy.”

He made a sound of disapproval and ran out of the room, only to return seconds later with his leash in his mouth, instead. Tony let out a breath. He didn’t have the heart to tell Buddy no twice in the span of a minute, so he forced himself out of bed, then forced himself to get dressed.

He didn’t regret it.

It turned out to be a perfect day to be walking around in the park, or rather, Buddy had taken a regular day and turned it into the perfect day. Tony watched him chasing and barking at ducks, smelling every new smell, letting random children pet him and pull on his ears. He was living it up, having the best time, and it was hard for Tony to remember he was miserable and sad watching Buddy attempt to play with stray cat, who hissed and swatted at him.

A little girl holding hands with her mother walked by as Buddy retreated from the cat with a whine, nursing a scratch on his nose.

“Cute dog,” said the girl. “Can I pet him?”

“You know, he’d really like that,” said Tony, watching the girl smile and reach her hand out. “He never says no to extra attention.”

She laughed, pet Buddy, who wagged his tail and sniffed her, then the girl and the mother continued on their way, saying thanks as they waved goodbye. Just for a few flickering seconds, Tony pictured Pepper and their child, here at this park, with him and Buddy, and for the first time, in a long time, he looked forward to the future.

*

Quiet moments were rare after Buddy joined the family, but when things got still and the noise in Tony’s head got loud, he would sit on the back porch with Buddy and watch the lake. That night, the breeze was gentle, and the moon was high. It’s light reflected in the water below.

Nature was peaceful and calm, and yet, all Tony could hear was Peter Parker and the words he said right before he died.

I don’t wanna go

That moment, those words, they replayed over and over. They stabbed at his heart and made him wish more than anything that it’d been him instead of Peter. That kid, he just really loved being alive, and the more Tony remembered him, the more that was evident, by his laugh and his smile and the way he threw himself into everything he did.

Thanos had wanted balance, but this balance wasn’t fair.

Buddy stared up at him from his resting place on the porch, next to his feet, and Tony refused to look down, into those eyes. It was too damn hard. Buddy, though, never liked to be ignored. He only tolerated it for a few minutes before he sat up and nudged Tony’s knee with his nose.

Tony forced a laugh, and gave in, just like he always did.

“I bet Peter loved you,” said Tony, giving him a good pet. “Spoiled you, probably, with the way you behave. I guess I should’ve listened to him more and took you in when he asked me. Let him have a dog while he was still here. Truth be told, bud, there’s probably a lot of things I should’ve done.”

Buddy titled his head at him, something Tony learned to associate with listening. Really, he was starting to believe he was losing his mind. He was starting to believe Buddy the golden retriever understood everything he said. Empathized with him. That the two of them were grieving Peter together, and they both understood the paralyzing silence he’d left behind.

“I should’ve-“ started Tony. He stopped. Closed his mouth, then opened it again, forcing the words out. He had to get it out. “He… he was my son, and I never told him how much he meant to me.”

Buddy laid his head down on Tony’s knee, and let out a sad, pitiful whine.

The admission was a heavy, heavy sorrow, that somehow got lighter after he spoke it out loud. Before he denied it for fear he’d be a repeat of Howard, and then, after the snap, he’d been denying it because it just hurt too much to admit he was a grieving father.

Speaking the words out loud opened up something in him that took him by surprised.

Tony needed to feel close to Peter again, even if he knew it would hurt.

“You like cheeseburgers, boy?”

Buddy perked up with a bark and wagged his tail furiously.

“Of course you do, let’s get out of here.”

*

Plastic crinkled under Tony as he shifted his position in the booth. Buddy sat across the table from him, in his own booth seat, and they were silent while they waited for the waitress to come around and take their order. They were just man and dog, waiting for their cheeseburgers come and their grief to end.

Tony knew he’d be waiting forever.

He wouldn’t ever get over losing Peter Parker, but he could celebrate his life, by doing all the things Peter loved doing. He could still go out to diners after midnight and have cheeseburgers and remember the way Peter couldn’t ever eat without making a mess.

Tony hadn’t driven to their exact favorite burger joint, the one in Queens they had eaten at together, countless times before, but the one he found had the same vibe, the same checkered floor and greasy smell in the air.

“What can I get for you two fellas?” asked the waitress, still grinning, still wildly amused by the way Tony bullied the manager on shift into letting Buddy come inside the diner and eat at a table.

“I’ll take a cheeseburger,” Tony told the waitress, “And he’ll have the same.”

Buddy barked three times.

“Scratch that, three cheeseburgers and a bowl of water for my friend,” said Tony, catching the eyes of a group of men that sat at a table across restaurant. “What are you all staring at? It’s a dog, alright? What? Never seen a guy having burgers with his dog before?”

The men went back to their own business, whispering with raised eyebrows, and the waitress took the menus and walked off towards the kitchen. Their food arrived in under fifteen minutes, and together, Tony and Buddy went to work on their burgers.

It just was the sort of absurdity Peter lived for.

Really, he just lived for anything, no matter how absurd or crazy. Cheeseburgers at midnight, Star Wars marathons, school trips to places the rest of his classmates considered boring, and, the thought hit him sudden and hard, his new baby sibling.

If he’d had the chance to know about baby Stark, he would’ve been excited, would’ve happy for him.

He would’ve bought Spider-Man onesies and Iron Man plushies. He would’ve swung to the tower with late-night pints of ice cream for Pepper.

He would’ve helped Tony paint the nursery.

“For Peter,” said Tony, holding up his burger, the same way a champagne chute would be held during a toast. Buddy gave a quiet, sorrowful howl, then they both finished their meals.

On the drive back to the cabin, Tony cranked the music up and drove with the windows down, allowing Buddy to stick his head out the window. His ears flopped around with the wind, and his tail thudded against the car seat to the rhythm Back in Black as it blasted through the speakers.

*

“Are they closed?” asked Tony, as he pulled Pepper down the hallway by her hand, with his other hand covering her eyes. “You gotta keep them closed.”

“Yes, Tony, they’re closed, just like they were five second ago.”

Tony took his hand away from her eyes and hooked it with Pepper’s free hand, walking backwards into the nursery and stopping only once they got into the center.

“Alright, you can open them.”

Tony watched Pepper’s eyes open and look around the freshly painted nursery. He’d taken it a step further, and put in the crib, a rocking chair, a changing table, anything and everything they’d need when baby Stark arrived.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” said Pepper. “It’s perfect, Tony. Thank you.”  

Tony dropped her hands, only to pull her closer, into a hug. “I know I’ve been, uh – “

“Spacey? Distant?”

“Yeah, both those things,” said Tony. “I just want you to know, I’m all in. This is our second chance and we’re gonna make the most of it.”

Pepper let out a breath, and her body relaxed against his, for the first time, in a long time. They held each other in the middle of their new nursery and Tony was happy, grateful, even, that they still had each other, even if there were so many that were lost.

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are there paw prints on my wall?”

“Buddy wanted to help,” said Tony, smiling, at the memory of Buddy dipping his paws into the baby blue paint and then jumping up on the wall, splattering it everywhere. He’d gotten another bath after that. A real one. With dog shampoo Tony had ordered off the internet.

“You and the damn dog,” laughed Pepper.

“I can paint over it.”

“Don’t. I like it.”

Tony nodded and let himself get lost in the moment. He had his dog and his wife and a baby on the way. There was sun streaming in through the windows, and there was paw prints on the wall.

He still wasn’t okay, but he believed one day, he could be. For just that moment, Tony allowed himself to consider that it might be enough.

[readerstories]

Old Faces, New People - Jesse Mccree x male!reader - part 4/?

Slowly crossposting my fics from AO3 to here too. If you see any typos, please tell me. (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) 

Warnings: Light angst and hurt feelings

Wordcount: 2814

Summary: Jesse meets someone he never thought he would see again.This starts during Jesse’s time in Blackwatch, a few years before he left and the fall of Overwatch.

Jesse feels like the drive to your house took forever, too long with his own thoughts stewing in his head. When you blink out, he thinks you must have done it too early, there is no road that ha can see. 

But no, you turn off the road and start driving through the rough terrain. He follows, glad he had at least chosen a car that could withstand a little off-roading. 

After a few minutes and around a small cluster of trees, the start of a small gravel road appears out of nowhere. You clearly knew it was coming, swinging onto it, and he follows suit.

After a few more minutes driving through a landscape dominated by clutches of trees, dry bushes, and grassy hills, you arrive at a small forest. The road disappears in-between the denser population of trees and so do you. 

Soon he spots a wooden gate further along the road. It looks like it's close to falling apart, the wood mostly rotten and held together with worn straps. You stop, jumping out, opening it by hand.

He guesses the rund down appearance is for the purpose of keeping people from thinking that there's actually someone living here. You get in the car and start to drive again, not for long, since you have to close the gate behind him. 

He makes a point of not looking at you when you can see him, instead looking at you when you make your way back to your car a second time. It's weird that you had decided to settle out here, yet he must admit it's a clever way to hide away and make yourself hard to reach.

When Jesse drives out of the woods and onto a small clearing, he sees what looks to be an old wood cabin next to a small lake. Several cars (a few covered), and a car trailer are standing on a neat row next to the cabin. 

You pull up next to them, parking with practiced ease. Jesse follows suit, taking a deep breath before exiting his own car. He looks around, observing what is your home now. 

The cabin is clearly old, but this is much better shape than the gate and fence. All of the windows looks new, and there are several solar panels on the roof. The cars are an oddity, you had not been much of a car person when he last saw you.

"So this your place?" Jesse doesn't look directly at you, instead keeps survying the place.

"Yeah. It's not the prettiest place in the world, but it's home. Speaking of home, there is someone I want you to meet. I'm honestly surprised they haven't come forth yet." Before he can ask anything, you let out a loud whistle, startling him with the high pitched sound. 

Only seconds after the noise dies away, he can hear something running. It turns out the sound was coming from behind the cabin, since he is quickly greeted with the sight of two big rottweilers running towards you at high speed.

The dogs pay little attention to him, instead going straight for you. They are obviously excited to see you, although they are not jumping onto you, instead staying down and wagging their tails like crazy while you pet them. Which is good, because he's pretty sure they could knock you over.

"Jesse, meet Gruff and Ruff, my dogs and best friends." Jesse chuckles, stretching his hand forwards to let the dogs sniff it.

"Cute names. Who's who?" Both dogs seems to have deemed him respectable enough to let him pet them.

"Gruff is the one with the brown snout, while Ruff has the mostly black one." Jesse crouches down, letting them both sniff at his face.

"Nice to meet ya fellas." Gruff licks his face, making him laugh. You stifle your own behind your hand. Jesse pets them both a little longer before getting up, and off they go, running back to the cabin. Both you and Jesse watch them run with smiles on your face.

You start walking over to the cabin, Jesse follows closely behind. The deck of the cabin creeks under his boots, clearly old and worn. The inside of the cabin very open, the door enters straight into a big living room with a big fireplace, and an open kitchen.

There is hallway going down the middle of the cabin, leading to three doors, all closed. There's two couches and a table surrounding the fireplace, a big tv, and a small dining table with one chair next to the kitchen. The open kitchen looks fairly new, even with the brown wood interior. It's cozy, homely even.

The dogs squeeze past him where he hovers in the doorway, nearly knocking him over in the prosess. They sit down completely still next to the fridge while they watch you fill up two bowls with food. 

You set the bowls down, only going for the food when you move out of the way and gesture towards the bowls. Jesse watches the dogs start eating, enthusiastically enough to spill some food on the floor. 

You start pulling pots and pans out cabinets. Jesse stops hovering in the doorway, but moves slowly into the room, not sure where to put himself.

"You can keep the door open. I thought I'll make some stew, that sound good to you?" You look over your shoulder while pulling down a chopping board.

"Yea, I'll eat anythin'." You snorts.

"You haven't changed that much have you?"

"Not on that, I must say, the food in Blackwatch ain't that much better than the goop we ate back in the day."

"Hm, and here I was thinking Blackwatch had great food since you got fat." He can't see the grin on your face when you have your back turned chopping vegetables, but he can damn well hear it.

"Hey, I didn't get fat." The teasing is old, familiar even.

"Mhm." Jesse makes a face at you. He takes a seat at the dining table, but not before asking if there's anything he can help him with.

"No, you're my guest, so just sit down and relax." He does as he is told, just watching you make the food while you hum some song you heard on the radio. When the dogs finish eating, they come over to him, demanding attention and pets. He ruffles their fur, careful to give them the same amount of attention.

When they seem satisfied with his pets, they run outside again. Jesse looks after them where he can see they disappear between the trees, playing and full of energy.

"Is it okay for them to run around like that?" You look up from where you're adding spices into the stew and towards the door.

"Oh, yeah. They're big dogs, but well behaved enough to stay if the need to, plus there is pretty much nothing out here for miles. You know, they actually were the runts of their litter?"

"What, really? They sure don't look it." You stir around in the pot

"Yeah, the guy I got them from actually gave them to me, since he thought they wouldn't make it more than a year." Jesse feels impressed, and it must show on his face, cause you smile, just a little smug.

"It was nothing that good care and food couldn't fix. Speaking of food, ours is finished." You turn of the stove, and take down plates from the cabinets.

"Since I've only got one kitchen chair, lets eat on one of the couches."

"Sounds good to me." You let Jesse take food first, snorting when you see the amount of food he takes. He hears your snort and rolls his eyes, taking half of the stew as he should.

"What you want to drink?"

"Whatever you'll have is fine."

"Soda it is then." You grab two cans of soda on your way to the couch, settling down on the one with less dog fur on it. Jesse joins you, rolling up his sleeves when he sits down. He starts to eat, but stop when he notices you staring at his left arm.

"You still have it?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you would have gotten rid of it by now." Jesse shrugs.

"I thought about it at first, but I choose to keep it as a reminder to myself."

"A reminder of what?"

"Of how bad shit can get, and to not make shit decisions." You hum, and keep looking at the tattoo before shrugging and starting to eat. He's not sure if he should cover it again or not. 

You eat in silence, both not knowing really what to say. Jesse keeps looking around the place, surveying, a habit more than anything. He doubts he'll need to make a run for it, but he maps possible escape routes anyway, it's hard habit to stop. 

Jesse is the first to break the silence with a question he has been wondering about since he set his foot down in this place.

"How did ya get this place anyway?" He waves around with his fork, indicating the whole area.

"It was coincidence. Was passing trough town a few years back, overheard a couple of old men talking about a friend that had died and that his kids wanted to get rid off all his belongings as fast as possible, including this cabin. Got in contact them, and long story short, bought the place for next to nothing."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah." You finish the last piece of your food and stretch with a groan.

"Aren't you worried someone will find ya here?" Jesse know you probably aren't, but the question slips out of his mouth before he can stop himself. You give him a quick glance,

"Nah, what remains of Deadlock has little interest in me, plus this place doesn't officially exist anymore." You wink at him and he snorts. No doubt your own handiwork. He too finishes his food and stretch, hands behind his head.

"So ya retired out here? Must be nice." This time it's you who snorts.

"Are you sure we knew each other before? I'm not retired, don't have it in me. I'm not in any organisation or something anymore, just freelance." Jesse hums, trying to resist letting his eyes slip shut for too long. 

He feels oddly sleepy and comfortable for being in the house of someone he hasn't seen in almost ten years. He would almost say it's like old times, but it so obviously not. He can feel you watching him.

"You can stay for the night if you like. I don't have an extra bed, but one of the couches is open if you can manage to snatch it from one of the dogs." He thinks, and then says yes to the offer. It's not like he has anywhere he must be. 

You smile, but are quick trying to hide it. You get up and put your plate in the sink. Jesse does the same while you go over to the still open door, and whistle loudly again. 

Silence, and then there's two rottweilers bolting through the door. You shut it behind them and give them a couple of pats. Straightening up, you smile at him where he has sat down on one of the couches.

"I would offer you an extra toothbrush, except I don't have one."

"It's fine, I'll manage a day with stinky breath."

"Maybe you'll outcompete the dogs." You say before disappearing behind on of the doors, maybe the bathroom? As to prove your point, Gruff jumps onto the couch with him and licks him in the face. He grabs the dog on the side of his face and pulls him away a little bit. Gruff stares at him.

"He was right, your breath is real stinky." Gruff licks his snout and barks a happy bark at him. Jesse laughs and ruffles his fur. He hears a door open and close, and look over to you, standing with your arms crossed and smiling.

"Bathroom is in there." You gesture towards the room you went into earlier.

"I'll be heading to bed, sleep well with the dogs."

"I'll try, if none of them breathes on me I'll be fine." You chuckle, turning to another one of the doors.

"Good night Jesse," you say as the door closes behind you. Jesse gets up and goes to the bathroom. When he enters, he's surprised to se a very modern bathroom. 

It doesn't match the rest of the house, but when you can afford such luxuries, why not? He steals some of your toothpaste and rubs it on his teeth and gums with a finger. 

After, he stops and looks himself in the mirror. What a weird day he has had. Life is weird. He scoffs, and finishes his business in the bathroom.

When he exits, the dogs have taken a couch each. He stops and looks at them for a few seconds. Gruff then raises his head and sniffs the air. Jesse goes over to the ouch he is laying on and sits down on his couch. Gruff sniffs his hand, then shuffles down to one end.

"Thanks buddy." Jesse lays down on the couch with his hat over his eyes, a habit after many years. He lays there for a little while, just thinking of how strange his life is. After some time, he drifts of to a dreamless sleep.

When he wakes, there is something heavy in his lap, pressing on his bladder, the exact reason why he is awake. When he opens his eyes, he finds Gruff sleeping on top of him. He debates just laying there a little longer, but he really needs to go. He starts to move, waking Gruff up.

"Sorry, but ya gotta move, I really need to piss buddy." Gruff lets out an unsatisfied noise before settling down on the couch again. Jesse goes to the bathroom and does what he needs to. 

When he's back, he checks the time. 07:45 am. Not a bad time to get up. He stretches with a small grunt and goes outside on the porch, fishing out a cigar from his back pocket. He closes the door behind him, not wanting to let the dogs out in case he will go before you wake.

He has been there for maybe five minutes, only occasionally taking a drag, when the doors open behind him, and you take a seat next to him, cigarette in hand. The dogs follow, giving you both a sniff before walking away.

"Look at you, all grown up and fancy with your cigar." He hums, watching the dogs sniff around. You light you cigarette and watch the dogs as well, just sitting in surprisingly comfortable silence. 

When you are done with your cigarette, you snub it out in an ashtray set behind the railing that he hadn't noticed. 

You offer it to him, and he takes a last drag before putting his cigar out. You set the ashtray down, letting there be a few more seconds of silence.

"You can have breakfast before you leave if you like." He hums nonchalantly.

"Or you could just slip away without it like you planned to do."

"The thought did cross my mind. But I'll take ya up on the breakfast offer." As on cue, his stomach growls. You laugh and get up.

"I think I have some eggs and bacon laying around, come on." He gets up too and joins you inside.

An hour later and he's on his way out. You had cooked, eaten and then talked a little. Not about any thing important or of substance, there was many things you needed to think and talk about, but that must be for another time. Jesse stops that though in its tracks. He's not even sure if there will be another time.

"It was good seeing ya." Jesse is standing in front of the porch, looking at you where you lean in the doorway. You smile, and open your mouth as if to say something, then closing in again. A few awkward seconds, and then you speak.

"Same to you Jesse." A beat.

"You can come back again if you'll like." Jesse nods and gives a small smile.

"I'd like that. See ya around." He's not sure if he should hug you goodbye, but opts not to. He gets in his car, before he can close the door you yell at him.

"Remember to close the gate after you, I'll know if you don't."

"I will!" He shouts back before driving off. He watches you in his rearview mirror until you disappear around a bend. He smiles to himself. 

He got a friend back today, even thought there are some tension and unanswered questions left. But he'll take what he can get.

[jordanlahey]

“Wake Up.” (5)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader x Steve Harrington (Platonic!The Party x Reader)

Summary: Y/n woke up in the middle of the road, having no idea where she is. Once she finds out where or more importantly when she is she just wants to go home or at least she did. 

Warnings: language, implied smut?

Word Count: 1277

A/N: I know nothing about time travel so everything said I just made up okay.

Permanent: @doowneey , @m-a-t-91 @fuckthatfeeling , @jitterbuck , @pvnk-bivch , @etherealmandi , @pri00r @5aftermidnight , @thisismysecrethappyplace @dtftheavengers , @straycuties9 , @lanijoyxo @fourtyninekirbygamzeegirl

WA: @ivana-franz , @helena-way07 , @asfyhcseryg, @kittenthekat1234567890, @robinismyqueen , @the-first-breath-of-autumn-air , @holy-fucking-shit , @starksweasley , @jessicatheghxstgirl , @slefishpresley, @pissheadoffical, @luckyteenagedirtbag , @shannon124 

Series Masterlist

You sat in Billy’s car as he pulled in a layby on the road, his hand firmly planted on your thigh as he killed the engine. He turned to look at you, his free hand cupped your jaw pulling your face closer to yours. Your lips inches apart you could feel his breath of your face before pulling your face closer, your lips crashed together in a heated kiss both of you fighting for dominance but you end up giving in Billy smirked against your lips and pulling you over the console and straddling his lap, your hands found their way into his hair earning a growl from Billy. You both broke away from the kiss and his lips attack your neck leaving bruises- 

Your eyes shot open and you sat up, you were practically swearing. You ran to the bathroom and checked the mirror for the marks Billy had left on you. 

‘It was a dream? Thank god!’ You sighed in relief but you were also embarrassed. Yesterday that was exactly what billy had been thinking about, you heard it with your own ears and saw it in your own head. How can you look at him today? You’ll just have to avoid him today because if you look at him you’re going to most likely remember that ‘dream’. A knock at the door took you away from your thoughts. 

“Hey Y/n, I brought down some clothes for you. I was thinking after school maybe take you to the mall and you can get clothes for yourself?” Nancy suggested. “And we can kinda get to know each other since Steve and Billy keep stealing you away.” You both chuckle at that. 

“I’m all yours after school Nance, shopping sounds cool.” You sigh calmly,it would be nice to have some girl time with Nancy plus its an excuse to avoid Billy outside school. 

You showered and got dressed then met Nancy up stairs, she told you that Johnathan was driving us and you didn’t mind that in fact you didn’t mind Johnathan he was pretty quiet as far as you know. 

On the way to school you and Nancy talked and occasionally Johnathan would join the conversation, Johnathan parked his car and the three of you exited the car, you were quickly joined by Steve. Steve wasn’t on your list of people to avoid so far Freckles, Red well they have to stay clear of you, and Billy cause of your ‘dream.’ You were caught yourself thinking about that ‘dream’ how real it felt it almost felt nice- ‘wait no stop that’s just weird stop Y/n’ 

“Earth to Y/n?” you snapped out of your thoughts as a hand waved in front of your face.

“Hmmm?” You swallowed involuntary.

“Your face is red, are you okay?” Steve asked, looking slightly concerned you opened your mouth to speak but you were cut off by an arm being slung over your shoulder and it completely threw you off. Your face went a deeper shade of red by now, you weren’t listening to what Billy was saying to the group but you gently grabbed his arm hat was slung over your shoulders and spun yourself out of his grip and you walked away heading to your first class. Nancy noticed and quickly followed after you. 

“What was that all about? Your face got more red as Billy arrived.” Nancy linked your arms together. 

“It’s weird and just very weird.” you sighed, you both turned the corner to your class.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asked as you both took your seats. 

“Its gross really but if I do promise it stays between us?” she nodded and you told her about Billy’s thoughts yesterday night but the pg version and then about the dream again briefly covering the details. To say the least the whole time you spoke her jaw hit the floor. You felt utterly embarrassed and pervy but you couldn’t control that at all. 

“I know I sound like such a perv and nothing like that has ever happened before like I hear people but not their thoughts then dream about them” 

“Not at all, I won’t tell a soul but don’t you think it could have also been the fact you like him?” she wiggled her eyebrows and you pushed her jokingly. 

“I don’t like him like that Nance.” 

“Sure you do and Steve too.” You looked at her with wide eyes. “I notice, they don’t again I won’t say a thing also just because I’ve dated Steve doesn’t mean I’ll tell you not to date him, he is a nice guy just it didn’t work for us.”

“As much as I love it here already I can’t date anyone because Dustin is finding a way for me to get back to my own time. It’s kind of worrying that I’m relying on a child to help me.” You laughed at the last bit. Nancy rubbed your shoulder sympathetically. 

“I understand.” 

Avoiding Billy was getting difficult by lunch time he was constantly following you around demanding your attention along the way you got death glares from girls who tried to get his attention but it wasn’t working. You stopped by your locker and he was nowhere to be seen, you sighed in relief.

“Wanna tell me why you are avoiding me, Princess.” The sudden voice that came from nowhere startled you causing you to jump and let out a small squeal. 

“I’m not avoiding you.” You lied, he wasn’t buying it.

“Now don’t lie to me, tell me did I say something wrong last night?” he looked upset. 

“No you didn’t do anything...directly, anyway it’s just uhh.” Fuck you didn’t know what to say, you knew that avoidig him wasn’t going to help but after the dream you couldn’t look at him in the eyes.

“You’re not looking me in the eyes Y/N, please tell me.” he was pleading this time.

“You thought something last night, I heard it then out of nowhere I saw it. God I sound pervy.” Billy looked at you confusingly and he tried to make sense of what you meant then it hit him and all he could do was smirk and you groaned internally. 

“So you saw that.” he said in a cocky tone and you just replied with a ‘uh huh’ “how was it?” God you were wanting to crawl into a hole and die.

“Didn’t get that far.” You purse your lips into a tight line #.

“Yet.” he winked at you and you hit his chest playfully.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Billy.” You said as you caught sight of Nancy, you walked away and made your way after Nancy.

MEANWHILE

“Mr.Clarke we need your help.” Mike asked after their class finished. “If time travel was possible and someone accidentally traveled back in time but without a time machine how would you send the person back to their timeline?” 

“Interesting question, You could possibly make a time machine that can send them forward their time only or take them back to the place they appeared and see what made them travel back in the first place. However, there is a possibility that a person could be from a different earth that is only a few years in the future but only one of those are possible. Why are you asking?” The science teacher asked the boys plus El and Max, the kids all exchanged looks.

“Uhh a book a friend of ours is writing!  ” Dustin exclaimed then ran out the door with the party following behind him. “Thank you!” They all shouted

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

All Fair’s Fun

So someone asked me a while ago to write reader taking Arthur to the carnival, but I changed it to a county fair cause those are bigger and funner :)

I tried this is so lame I *flitters away*

“Arthur!” You called out in a sing-song voice as you walked in the house. You spotted him lounging on the sofa, fixated on the TV. Your voice roused him as he sat up, a smile on his face.

“Afternoon, darlin’,” he greeted as he stood up to close the space between you two. He gave you a peck on the lips. “You’re soundin’ chipper.”

Returning the kiss, you smiled at him. “That’s cause the county fair is in town!”

“County fair?” He repeated. “Those still exist?”

“Yes Arthur,” you answered with a giggle. “It’s one of my favorite events of the year, so we’re gonna go tonight!”

He couldn’t help but to chuckle at your enthusiasm. “Alright then, can’t wait for you to show me your favorite event.”

It wasn’t long before you were out of your work clothes and into something more casual, donning a simple tank top covered by a flannel and jean shorts. While the sun was low in the sky, the heat of the day still remained. The two of you hopped into your car and drove off, your excitement bubbling as the horizon gave way to the brightly flashing rides and colorful tent tops.

Glancing towards Arthur to see his reaction, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the rides. When you’d pulled into a parking spot and got out, he finally spoke. “Never seen anythin’ like that before. What are they?”

You smiled, reaching to loop your arm through his. “They’re rides, Arthur. They’re supposed to be fun.”

“Fun?” He repeated, his gaze set towards the Ferris wheel. “Bein’ up that high?”

“You’ll see.” Was all you said as you led him toward the gates. After waiting a decent amount of time, paying the entry fee and acquiring wristbands, you entered inside the fair. As it was dusk, the place was expectedly packed. Your ears rang with the sounds of carnie games, the unmistakable dings of the bells, indicating winners. Children ran around, their mouths sticky with cotton candy and other sweets.

Arthur dodged a couple of boys running wildly, wielding plastic swords. “Whoa-they let them kids play like that?”

You giggled at his reaction. “They’re fake, Arthur. They’re about as sharp as a paper ball. Though they still hurt if you get whacked with ‘em.”

He blinked in disbelief, and then shook his head with a slight chuckle. His gaze traveled across the fair as you walked slowly through the crowd with him. You’d been so lost in your own thoughts that you almost didn’t feel the tug on your arm. You stumbled to keep yourself balanced, only to realize that Arthur’s solid body was pulling you elsewhere. “Arthur-” you began, about to ask where he was taking you when the sight before you answered.

The one booth with guns. Of course.

He stepped up to the counter, immediately grabbing for one of the rifles that were placed upon it. They were definitely old and worn, although the look on his face told you he didn’t care.

Although the worker behind the counter peered at him with a surprised curiosity. You knew Arthur only sometimes had a competitive spirit. You understood why he was attracted to this booth. You stepped forward and paid for a round, allowing the worker to explain the rules and attempted to go over how to use the gun, but Arthur waved him off as he expertly wielded it, tucking the stock to his shoulder as he aimed down the sights.

You hadn’t watched him use any sort of firearm since…well, he was still in his game. Since his actual weapons were collecting dust in your closet, he hadn’t used one in months. While you’d gotten used to the sight of him firing his carbine repeaters and cattleman revolvers off the back of a galloping horse, seeing this held a different feeling altogether.

He had a look of focus etched across his face, his blue eyes trained to the targets. They weren’t anything but moving duck targets. You watched as he squeezed the trigger, promptly nailing the first with ease.

The rest went down easily him firing with absolutely no hesitation. Every target had fallen within fifteen seconds.

“Whoa.” You murmured, your eyes going wide.

Arthur placed the gun down, a small smile on his lips. He turned to you, the smug look prominent on his face. “What?” he asked, noting your look.

“That was…so cool!” you exclaimed.

He gave a slight shrug. “S’only natural for me.” He turned when the worker cleared his throat, wordlessly pointing to the many prizes hanging within the booth. Looking back at you, he said, “Your pick, darlin’.”

---

A little while later, you sat yourself at a picnic table, munching on greasy fair food. The giant Rottweiler plushie that you’d picked from the booth leaned on the table next to you. Arthur walked up with two glasses full of beers, sitting across from you.

“Might as well call this piss,” Arthur said before taking a swig, his nose crinkling from the taste. “And folks are lined up for this stuff.”

You giggled. “That’s why it’s cheap. Easy way to make money and easy way to get drunk.” You took a drink of your own, managing to get past the awful taste.

Arthur mumbled about having something better, yet he drank some more anyway.

Some more time had passed and you both had finished and you wanted to check out some rides. Arthur gazed around at them, the uncertainty pain on his face as he viewed the large and fast ones. You looked around as well, figuring you would start him off easy and work your way up.

You coaxed him onto the swing ride, pointing out there was nowhere to go but in a circle. He wasn’t too keen on how small the seats were, yet after allowing him to watch the ride go a few moments, he reluctantly agreed to get on.

Watching him sit awkwardly into the seat was entertaining, to say the least. Once everyone has been strapped in, the ride ascended and slowly began to spin. The warm summer air gently blew through your hair as you gazed at the lights below for a moment before looking toward Arthur again.

His grip on the chains were tight, his eyes directly on you. He was nervous, although tried to hide it behind a stoic expression. You didn’t say anything, only gestured below. He was hesitant, but eventually peered downward. You could see his eyes widen, but a slow smile crossed his face.

“Hey, this ain’t half bad!” he exclaimed enthusiastically.

“Told ya!” you responded over the gust of air.

He’d visibly relaxed throughout the remainder of the ride, which allowed it to be easier to convince him to go on more rides. From the bumper cars to the tilt-a-whirl, the pirate ship to the music express. He even gave the mechanical bull a go, which he managed to hold on for longer than average before finally falling off. He explained he’d been used to that sort of sensation from trying to break wild horses.

It was great to see him smile and laugh, as well as downing more alcohol in between activities. Decidedly taking a short break from the rides, you wandered back to some game booths.

You challenged Arthur to a few, in which you failed miserably, it wasn’t a surprise. He made it up by using his victories to earn you more prizes, thankfully small ones as you still lugged around the giant Rottie. You managed to win one, though. The water gun race which he somehow struggled to keep his hands steady for. You made it up to him by giving him a plushie of a white horse, a little reminder of his white Arabian.

You’d wandered over by a stage, where a band was performing covers of country music. Calm and relaxing to set the general mood of the night. You stopped for a while to listen, Arthur humming along to the music.

After regaining your energy, Arthur found a small stables tucked in the corner of the fairgrounds, with many horses and other farm animals on display. Arthur didn’t hesitate to spend some time with the horses, as it was the first time since his arrival since he’d seen one.

As the night wore on, Arthur had taken some of your prizes to hold for you, and you had to admit, it was adorable watching him carry around the biggest one.

“Y/N, do I got somethin’ on my face?” he suddenly asked.

You blinked. “Wha-?”

“You’re starin’ at me.” he pointed out.

You turned away, your face flushing slightly. You didn’t mean for him to catch you, and it was too awkward to explain the reason to him. Your eyes traveled across the fair, the ferris wheel practically a beacon in your view. “Hey, wanna go on that?”

Thankfully, Arthur didn’t press the matter. He looked to where you gestured, and nodded thoughtfully. “Okay then.”

After fifteen minutes of waiting on line, you’d managed to get a car for the two of you. The ferris wheel slowly made its way around, allowing a clear view of the entire fair. Arthur leaned over to observe, the lights shining in his blue eyes. His lips turned in a small smile, he said, “This is nice.”

You nodded. “Every year, I always wrap up my night here with the ferris wheel.”

“I can see why, it’s a great view,” He turned to look at you. “Beautiful.”

“Very.” you agreed.

He chuckled slightly. “I mean you, darlin’.”

That caught you off guard. Your face burned for the second time that night. Sure, you were used to hearing his compliments, although they still made your heart flutter every time. Shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you said, “Arthur, you’re making me blush.”

His smile, oh that smile of his. He reached over, his calloused hands gentle on your cheeks. Leaning forward, he placed a gentle kiss on your lips. He held it, his mouth soft against yours. You weren’t sure if the ride stopped or if it were still moving. Either way, you felt weightless.

He finally pulled back mere inches to whisper, “Thanks for takin’ me.”

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

➜ Words: 4.3k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

➜ Warnings: swearing and taxi passengers slut shaming and being general assholes.

It’s too hard to stay awake.   It’s...too—…...difficult…..   “Y/N?” You’re shaken awake by someone’s hand coming to gently squeeze your shoulder. Immediately, you jolt back to life, looking around to find yourself in the office. Right. “Are you alright?”   Sunyi comes back into focus and you realize Hyuk and Lisa are already looking at you, watching your face as if you have a spider on your forehead and they don’t want to scare it away. “What? Oh, sorry. I was...um...distracted for a second there. What did you say?”   You can tell she doesn’t quite believe you, but the lawyer doesn’t push it either. “A bunch of us are going to dinner tonight. We were wondering if you wanted to join us?”   “Dinner?” This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. It’s what you’ve always wanted. To finally be a part of the group, catch late night drinks or eat food, to actually befriend these people beyond the workplace setting. “I would love to….but...tonight?”   Of all nights. Why tonight?   “You can’t make it?”   “I...already have plans.” It hurts so bad — it’s like you’re a kid who’s been waiting for your birthday for months and on the day of, it turns out you can’t even attend your own party because of a dentist appointment.   “Aw.” Hyuk hangs his head and pouts, eyes flickering down the expanse of your body quicker than you can even register. “What a shame, thought I’d be able to finally get to know you.”   “I’m sorry. I should’ve known.”   Maybe it looks like you’re about to burst into tears, because then Sunyi smiles softly. “No, it’s okay. How could you have known? There’ll be plenty of other times. How about lunch tomorrow?”   “Lunch?” There’s a tone of hope and eagerness in your voice and you know you’re being pretty childish and pathetic, but you’re too exhausted to put on a more professional façade. “That works for me. I’ll clear up my schedule.”   “Alright.” Sunyi grins. “Tomorrow, a bunch of us can gather up for lunch.”   You smile, nodding your head. “Sounds good.”   A handful of people from the office begin to file out at five o’clock. You bid them a goodbye and goodnight. But someone else lingers behind and she seems to hesitate. “Hey, Y/N.” Lisa stands to the side and you wonder if anything’s wrong — ironic considering her next question is addressed to you. “Are you okay?”   “Yeah, I’m fine,” you reassure her with your lips upturned.   The receptionist nods. “Okay. Goodnight then.”   “Bye.” You watch as she catches up with the group, slightly touched that she shows concern for your well-being. Though, the question lingers in your head — ARE you okay? If you’re completely frank with yourself, you’re not sure.   On the way home, you accidentally fall asleep on the subway. Your head bobs up and down and ends up on the shoulder of a granny and you apologize profusely, nearly hurting your neck when you try to use your own shoulder as support. Then once you make it home, you fall on the couch to take a two hour nap. A symphony of blaring alarms is what you wake up to. After, you force yourself to get up, you wash your face, eat something quick, have a cup of coffee…   Then….   “Hello!” You twist around to face the backseat with a bright smile. “Where are you off to tonight?”   “The Kelpers Club on seventh avenue,” one of the three guys say and you nod, pulling off the curb and into the road.   “Oh, fuck!” The dude from the left seat startles you, but when you glance at the rear-view mirror, thankfully he’s not talking to you. He’s staring at the screen of his phone and his friends are glancing over. “Look what Tiffany just sent me.”   “Holy shit!” They reach over to punch the guy in the arm, laughing and grinning. They’re a rowdy and obnoxious bunch, but you try your best to keep focus on the road ahead of you. “Dude, you need to send me that. I could probably rub three or four out with that hot pic.”   They each have a water bottle with them, taking sips every so often and by the smell of their breaths that waft over to ruin your breathing space, you’re almost certain that it isn’t water they have in there. “Did you really tap that last night?”   “Yeah.” He smirks. “She keeps on texting me though. It’s so fucking annoying. Clingy bitch. It’s no wonder her boyfriend of four years cheated on her with her best friend. And she thinks we’re an exclusive item just cause I took her out once. What a joke. She’s desperate and a mess.”   Your left eye twitches and you run the yellow light that you normally would’ve slowed down at. The dude in the center laughs. “But c’mon, how is she? How does she take it?”   The other lets out a snort and rolls his shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you. She’s a freak. She wanted me to slap and spank her. The skank choked on me like five times and even took it in the ass.”   “Holy shit!” They’re in an uproar, piercing sound of their chortles deafening to your ears. They punch him again, saying things like he’s a lucky bastard and what they would give to be in that position. But what’s the absolutely last straw for you is— “You could probably get it in if you want. I bet she’d like taking two or three cocks at once too. Tiffany is a massive slut.”   They roar and howl like animals in heat and one of them opens their mouth to add a comment, but you floor the gas on an empty street and their bodies lurch forward. “Do you want me to change the radio?” you interrupt before anything else can be said and before your blood pressure spikes more than it has.   “No. It’s fine.” They catch themselves when you stop at a red light.   “Do you want me to turn on the heating or air conditioning?”   “We’re fine,” one of them grunts out in annoyance. You ignore him and slam off the air conditioning, rolling all the windows up to seal shut and hitting the heating button. It begins to blast, though you don’t mind if you get too warm. It’s much too rewarding to look at the rear-view mirror and see all three guys squished up against each other, extremely hot and uncomfortable, hair becoming wet with sweat. You hope their vodka gets too warm and stale to drink.   “I’m having trouble finding the destination,” you lie without blinking twice. You loop around and around the blocks, purposely driving over the manholes at full speed and enjoying how the car launches slightly at every bump and they hit their heads on the roof of the small vehicle.   “It’s the left!”   “Left or right?” You feign innocence and stupidity as if you don’t understand basic directions. “Which one?!”   “Left!” He shouts.   You twist your wrist roughly, swerving the steering wheel to the right. “Oops!”   “What the hell?!” They’re in disbelief and you kill fifteen minutes, going all over the blocks and taking wrong turns, somehow even ending in the suburban area. When you’re satisfied with messing with them, you pull up on the curb...in the middle of nowhere.   “Whelp, we’re here.” You turn around with a blazing smile and their jaws are dropped, brows furrowed, finding the situation completely absurd. “It’s just down the block.” More like down thirty blocks. “The traffic is too much to get close. Sorry ‘bout that.”   “There’s no traffic,” one of them says, but you ignore them and they pull out their wallets to split the fare. They get out one by one with deep scowls, slamming the car doors shut, hard enough to damage your precious taxi. Before closing the last door, one of them pops their head through and mutters something you hear loud and clear, “dumb bitch.”   You end up driving directly into a mud puddle, splashing them in the brown slush and making it look like they collectively shat in their pants. You cackle as you pull off into the street again.   They didn’t even tip you.   “Hello. Where are you off to tonight?”   “The airport, please.”   “Certainly.”   It’s not like you’re passionate about taxi driving. You specifically sought out the HR position to leave this behind, to actually chase after what you want. But here you are, crawling back to your old career and balancing between your day and night job.   Even though Hoseok declared a truce between the two of you, you still can’t get rid of the feeling that he might fire you one day. You wouldn’t know what to do if one day you’re seated on the other side of the conference table with Jimin and Hoseok across from you, delivering the news that you’re not needed anymore. You wouldn’t know what to do if you’re thrown off on the street without a job. You wouldn’t be able to pay your bills. You wouldn’t be able to pay for food.   More importantly, you would have to move back with your mom.   The nightmare haunts you.   And you still have the lease on the cab. It’s been sitting in your apartment parking spot — might as well use it, right? At the end of the night, you get another wad of cash that goes directly into your savings. Doing this is better than sitting at home and worrying about your future, mindlessly watching television and surfing the internet, walking around, and….sleeping.   A little bit of sleep sacrificed isn’t a big deal.   Your eight-hours of sleep is merely split up throughout the day — naps taken on the subway to and from the firm, a two hour slumber before taking the taxi night-shift, another four hours afterwards before heading to the office. Occasionally, you might doze off in your office too, but no one really notices when you turn your chair towards the window and it seems like you’re staring out at the cityline.   Thankfully, Hoseok hasn’t noticed either.   “Excuse me?” The girl in the backseat stirs awake from her drowsiness, looking out the window. “I think we’re here.”   “Oh, sorry. I was thinking about someone—......I mean something. I was thinking about something.” You scramble with a laugh, parking the car and getting out to help with the passenger’s luggage in the trunk. She doesn’t seem that upset with you, even smiling and thanking you for the ride, tipping you a decent five dollars.   Things aren’t too bad.   “Aren’t you driving too slow?” A middle age woman impatiently quacks in the backseat of your car, pushing herself up closer to you. “Can’t you go faster?”   “Uh...I’ll try my best.”   Really, things aren’t too horrible.   ….   It could be worse.   //   The only thing you’re looking forward to is lunch. When you wake up in the morning, you’re already buzzing with excitement. As pathetic as it is, you can’t remember the last time you shared a meal with other people. If things go well, then people in the office will really begin to get comfortable with you and maybe you’ll have a few workplace friends that will become your friends out of work too. You’re excited, and you hope it doesn’t show too much.   “Hey, ready for lunch today?” Sunyi has popped into your office first thing in the morning with a smile. “You didn’t forget, did you?”   “Of course I didn’t,” you laugh.   “Good. We’re going down the block to that italian restaurant. They have a really good lunch menu, cheesesteak and sandwiches and soups too.”   “That sounds great,” your cheeks are almost bursting with your smile. “Who’s coming along with us?”   “You and I obviously,” she jests in a light tone. “And also Seulgi, Namjoon, Hoseok and unfortunately, the leech freeloader Min Yoongi. Trust me, I didn’t want him to join, but he self invited himself like the asshole that he is. He invited himself and Hoseok. I knew I shouldn’t have talked about it with Seulgi when we were all in the elevator earlier...”   You stifle back a laugh. “That’s completely fine.”   “Alright, see you later then.” The woman sighs and checks her phone briefly. “Gotta get some work done before we run on out.”   Your head nods once and she’s on her way.   //   For the first hour, you focus on running through more applications and looking for a suitable paralegal. There still hasn’t been anyone hired to fill Sebin’s position, but there’s not too big of a rush. Hoseok would rather you take your time to go through and choose carefully, rather than picking someone right off the bat. Plus, he’s also told you that things are actually running fairly well with the three paralegals already on the team, smoother than he expected.   You make a few phone calls, setting up interview dates and times. But then someone stops by your office. “Hey,” Namjoon greets you and before you can ask if he needs any help, he beats you to the punch. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m helping Jimin with mediation. The client re-booked it at twelve thirty, so I don’t think I can go later.”   “No, it’s okay. Work takes priority anyways,” you wave him off and he smiles, promising he’ll make time some other day for lunch. Not another twenty minutes pass by before you find yet another person standing at your doorway, balancing a huge mountain of files. “Are you alright?”   “I don’t know,” Seulgi admits in all honesty and looks like she’s on the verge of tears. “I just remembered I forgot to submit the affidavits and orders yesterday that were given to me by Jungkook and I think Hoseok’s going to fire the both of us if it’s not in submission. I’m helping him and we both have to run down there and I don’t know how long it’s going to take or if it’s even possible at this point—”   “Seulgi,” you call her name calmly to reassure the girl. “It’s okay.”   “I’m so, so sorry. Can I ask for a rain check?”   “Of course you can. I’m always free.”   By eleven o’clock, a full hour before the designated time, there’s another person at your door. This time, it’s a shorter man with full cheeks and messy black hair. He rubs at his sleepy eyes, barely able to keep them open. But when he looks at you and you look at him, it’s like a telepathic message is sent. “Can’t make it?”   “Yeah,” Min Yoongi responds in a husky tone as if he just got up from a nap, but plans to take another.   “It’s okay.”   But is it? — Really. — Is this okay?   There’s nothing you can really do even if all your insides are crying. What? Should you just drop to the ground and start crying? You’re going to need at least five shots before you throw a temper tantrum at your workplace. Things get busy, life gets busy, people get busy. You’re more than understanding and it’s just lunch. There will be plenty more opportunities to come. So…   “It’s fine,” you reassure the lawyer in front of you who has her bottom lip quivering and her brows furrowed deep enough you’re certain that wrinkles will permanently mar her skin.   “I’m so, so sorry. I know you were looking forward to this. I just had no idea that my schedule was already booked up with a client. I….I could change it and we can still go out—”   “Don’t be ridiculous.” You laugh, thankful that she’s worried this much over it. At least it’s better than the times in High School where people invited you out and didn’t even show up because ‘it’s just a prank, bro’. Your hand goes to gently squeeze Sunyi’s shoulder, channeling your maternal voice that doesn’t really exist to soothe her. “We can do this some other day. I’m gonna be around for a long time, so there will be plenty more opportunities. Just focus on work since that’s what you’re here to do anyways. It’s really not that big of a deal.”   “Okay, thank you,” Sunyi breathes a long sigh of relief, happy that you didn’t take the unfortunate circumstances to heart. Little does she know just how disappointed you are.   Reminds you of that time your mom promised you to go to Disneyland and you ended up Chuck E. Cheese instead.   //   At twelve o’clock sharp, Hoseok appears at your door with his phone in hand. You stare at him, waiting for him to say something as he stares at the screen and his thumbs move, probably texting someone important. It’s an awkward thirty seconds that feel like a whole two minutes before he puts down the device and looks at you. He frowns and takes a peek out your door.   “Is there no one else?”   “No.” You scratch the back of your neck before putting your palms in your lap. “Everyone is busy.” It’s only you and him. You’re not sure how you feel about that; maybe partly tense and apprehensive while the other part doesn’t mind so much.   “Okay.” Hoseok shrugs nonchalantly, hands in his coat pockets. “There’s no point in going then.”   “Oh...yeah…” You stand up awkwardly, trying to shuffle past him. Your stomach makes a noise that doesn’t sound too healthy and you hope he can’t hear it. “I’ll uh...I’ll just grab something from the kitchen then.”   “Wait.” He stops you, grabbing your wrist before you can run off. When he realizes he’s touched you without permission, he lets go right away, mumbling some kind of apology before you tell him it’s fine.   “You didn’t bring anything with you?” He asks and you don’t answer. Jung Hoseok must read your expression like an open book because then he smiles slightly. “Okay, nevermind, let’s go.”   “Pardon?”   “Just the two of us,” he says and walks off, making you stumble behind him and try to match his wide, fast strides. The lawyer glances over his shoulder towards you. “You don’t mind right?”   “I...I don’t mind.” Except a one-on-one lunch with your boss is not what you envisioned.   Instead of the fancy italian cafe, you follow his lead into a hole-in-the-wall. It’s a warm and cozy atmosphere, with two or three other tables full. Interestingly enough, they serve comfort food and the menu is deprived of a variety of different cultures. You end making an order of porridge with a side of mac and cheese and he orders curry with cold noodles.   It’s served quickly and all at the same time, so you don’t hesitate to dig in.   The only problem is when silence settles down, you’re not sure what to say. You’re not even sure where to look. Glancing up and locking your eyes with his only makes it more excruciatingly awkward.   “You know, I already told you that you don’t have to tiptoe around me,” Hoseok mutters and takes a large bite, looking up at you with his arm propped up on the table, holding a spoon and completely amused as he gawks at you.   “What?”   “You’re always stiff and nervous around me. But I won’t bite your head off…….probably.”   “I’m not nervous,” you defend yourself even when it’s a massive lie.   Hoseok laughs and almost chokes on his food. “Yeah, you are. Your eyes keep shifting and I can see that you’re beginning to sweat. You know…” He leans closer like he’s about to exchange a secret. “...makes it seem like you did something wrong or you’re a criminal. Last I checked, I’m not a criminal attorney, so I’m not sure I can help you if you did something illegal.”   You take a spoonful of the porridge, letting the taste linger on your tongue for a second before you stuff your cheek to chew a bit and swallow it down. “The only illegal thing I’ve one is steal someone’s wifi and probably jaywalking.”   “Wait, I should record this confession for evidence,” he teases with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a massive grin. You wonder if the other people at this office know this side of him. “These are very serious crimes. How many times have you jaywalked and who’s wifi have you stolen?”   “Oh please.” You roll your eyes. “You act like you haven’t done anything ‘illegal’ either.”   He scoffs at how you use air quotations with your fingers, also slightly offended. “Just letting you know, I live a very morally upright life. I don’t break the law. I work for the law. In fact, I am the law.”   “Yeah, right.” You click your tongue in feigned annoyance, muffling back some laughter. “What about that time you were drunk and passed out in front of the library? Made me have to drag you back. That’s public intoxication.”   “I did what?”   Your eyes go wide. Right. He doesn’t remember. You might’ve gotten too carried away, too caught up when he’s sitting right across from you, and it’s only you and him. But there’s no going back now, you might as well mess with him. “Or that time you shoplifted an entire refrigerator. And that time you started a pimp business to pay off your loans. Those were the days, right, Hoseok?”   “No way.” He leans back and crosses his arms, trying to repress his laughter that threatens to spill over. “I would never. That’s something I can’t believe. You need to come up with more reasonable lies than that, Y/N.”   Your food is left abandoned when you’re trying hard not to break into hysterical laughter. “So you believe how you wanted to piss in a library book, but ended up passing out in front of the library instead?”   There’s a long held silence. “That…..I can believe.”   A cheeky grin is plastered on your face, making your jaw ache a bit and you take a few more bites before your pupils flicker up. “Thanks, by the way. Just thought I’d say that.”   “For what?” He eats, chewing and swallowing, taking a sip of his water in the process.   “This. I mean...you didn’t have to come along with me.”   “You make it sound like I’m going to treat you to this.” The lawyer points a fork towards you and narrows his eyes while the corner of his mouth twitches oh so slightly. “Is that your tactic? You think I’m going to pay for your meal?”   “No!” You can’t help your giggles. “That’s not what I’m trying to say!”   “I can see right through you.” He has a playful smile and eyes you. The glare is less sharp and pointed, lacking real animosity or frustration. It’s much cuter and the stark contrast from him outside and joking around to his professionalism in the office nearly gives you whiplash.   “I saw your photo on the firm’s website.” It’s a little out of nowhere, but the thought pops into your head as you stare at the man. “And no offence, but you look way better in real life. You’re not photogenic at all.”   “Is that an insult?” Jung Hoseok gasps theatrically and you wonder why he didn’t just major in drama and become a comedic actor. He seems to have a knack for it.   “It’s not!”   “Or are you trying to say I’m handsome?” He puts down his utensil and nods. “Oh, I see. You don’t want me to pay for your meal. Thinking big picture, huh? You’re trying to say I’m a lot more handsome in real life because you want a raise, don’t you?!”   “I never said that!” At this point, the two of you are so loud that a few patrons are looking over, but none of you notice. He twists your words so much, it’s ridiculous and you’re left baffled and laughing. Maybe it was right for him to be a lawyer after all.   “You think I wouldn’t see your strategy.” He scrapes his bowl, eating everything that’s left while mischievously shaking his head in feigned disapproval. “Trying to boost my ego for a raise. How low is that. But what’s even more unbelievable is that it’s working. Keep going.”   You laugh again, this time refusing to utter even one syllable or make a sound. Hoseok finishes eating in the meanwhile and you pierce the carrots on your plate, putting it on his clean one. He looks up at you with brows raised. “You hate carrots? I never thought you’d be a picky eater.”   “No, I don’t hate it,” you muse. “You like it, don’t you?”   If it’s possible, his brows raise even higher. “How did you know?”   You shrug, looking away from him. “Let’s just say, I really want that raise.”   “Pft.” He pierces the carrot with the fork, inhaling it all at once and chews thoughtfully. “You better not be stalking me.”   “I won’t need to if I get a little somethin’-somethin’.” You rub your fingers on one hand together, indicating a thick wad of cash and he grins, eating the carrot happily.   A few months ago, if someone told you that one day you’d be sitting across from Hoseok and actually conversing and even laughing like normal adults, you would’ve probably floored the gas pedal of your taxi to get away in fear of that person being absolutely insane.   You expected to have lunch with coworkers and perhaps establish friendships out of the workplace. You definitely didn’t think you’d end up rekindling some kind of ancient relationship with your boss. But you don’t mind at all. It’s just more than what you bargained for in the best way possible.

[early-sxnsets]

You Look Better in Person

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215168/chapters/43275707

Chapter 8/10 of It’s A Handheld Disaster

Word Count: 3030

Chapter Summary: Simon and Baz's first encounter leaves them both awestruck.

BAZ

It’s a bloody pain in my ass, headache of a drive. I barely got halfway through before turning off my music and just focusing on what I’d say--how I’d react. It isn’t just getting Snow, it’s seeing him. An experience that’s completely new to the both of us. Somehow, despite him saying he’s the scared one, I find myself being absolutely petrified. I (only slightly) doubt he’ll reject my offer of help, especially since I'm driving up the country to get him, but I do suspect him to be hesitant of me nonetheless.

Oddly enough, I feel none of that fear towards him. No matter what, I’ll be there for him. I’m not quite sure what to expect, though. Fuck if any expectations I have for him matters, really.

I’d thought too much over the drive. Frankly, I think too much overall. That, I need to stop.

Staring at my phone mindlessly truly proves it, given I don’t have half a brain cell to coherently read the maps as they show me around the city. Eventually, though (through trial and error), I find myself going down the same street twice, trying to spot a local park that's apparently down the road. Google Maps yells at me, telling me I’m rapidly approaching my destination (over and over, between each condescending “Recalculation”).

My heart pounds faster with each rotation of my wheels, making my vision all fuzzy and warped. Exhaling slowly, I peer around and spot someone lying on a bench in the centre of the park, dressed up in a hoodie, sweats, and trainers. They seem to be hugging a duffel bag close, as if everything that's left is inside of it. I can’t quite make much out of them, with to their hood being pulled tight around their face and all, but I can tell that they’re alone.

Once parked, I shoot Simon a quick text, trying to swallow back my fear of what's probably true. That it is him.

i’m in the black volvo in the lot

Suddenly, the head of the person shoots up, then starts looking around as their body rises. I still can’t see their face, shadowed down by the harsh lamp lights, but they seem to be facing me.

That… must be him.

He pulls himself to standing, a slight hunch in his shoulders as he hauls the bag over his left one. He’s broad, and a solid height, too. When the light catches the few hairs spilling from his hood, they shine a deep copper.

Each of his steps feel like a lifetime. Exhausted, heavy stomps of his feet onto the ground as he brings himself closer until he stands barely a yard away from the car. Shamelessly, I stare out the window, wide eyed and barely choking out a breath.

He’s absolutely, unbelievably handsome. Square jawed, curly haired, and blue, blue eyes. He’s got a near rugby build, and a tired, barely existent smile pressing his freckled and moled cheeks into creases. He is, without a doubt, one of the most the most gorgeous humans I’ve ever seen.

His hand rises up shakily, nearly forming a wave as he struggles to keep a face in a readable expression other than wordless, overworked sadness.

My hand slides down my door, finding the lock without me looking and flicking the doors unlocked with a clear click. I watch as he hesitates at first, looking between me and the car a few times. The fluorescent lights flicker as he swallows, neck bobbing along.

Eventually, he relents and slips into the passenger seat without taking his eyes off me once.

At first, we just stare. Silent, carefully timed breaths fill the car as we just look over one another. I must look tired; I feel tired. He looks it, too.

I cut off my own words before I speak. I know he is tired. I don’t even need to ask.

The bag pressed to his chest loosens slightly, slumping down onto his lap as he swallows again. I can’t stop myself from watching him, heart thumping. It’s unreal--he must be unreal.

“Hey,” he whispers, the same shock I’m wearing mirrored onto his face.

SIMON

He’s so beautiful that I can barely think of words. Of all things I could say, of all things I should say, none of them weasel out other than “Hey”.

Granted, I have nothing better to say, given I’d probably be stupid and call him every word I’m thinking of.

I’ve never quite met a bloke who’s as pretty as he is. Slate eyes, brown skin, and ink black hair that starts at a widow’s peak, falling onto his shoulders in the slightest of waves. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, he seems alert and a bit shaken, a hand gripping the shifting stick that’s resting clearly on “P”.

I can’t quite think of anything else to vocalize. I’ve cried too much tonight, and it’s really fucking late. I need to rest… I just want…

“Why were you at the park?” He asks, suddenly dropping my gaze. It’s fine, though--my eyes drift back down to his narrow, bony hands, gliding movements over the shift. He pushes it into “R”, pulling the car out of the spot before turning, flicking to “D”, and going. His hands are like the pictures. It’s relaxing.

“Hm? O-oh,” I say quietly, fiddling with the strap of my bag. With a glance from him towards my buckle, I realize I missed a step. Fuck. I click myself in, continuing, “I’d told Davy I-I was going to Penn’s all weekend f-for a school project after our fight, b-b-but I told Penn I was gr-grounded.”

“So…”

“So I’m stuck,” I add, gaze shifting out the window and staying there. “Nowhere to go.”

He’s silent for a second, the only sound filling the air being the popping of rocks under the tyres. Once down the street, and another street, and then another, he finally says something.

“I’ve got somewhere,” he finally starts. When I look at him, he’s avoidant--eyes unwaveringly ahead, and hands gripping the wheel so tight that his knuckles are pulled taunt. “It’s a bit far, though. You can nap, if you want. It’ll be some time.”

“Where..?”

“You’ll see when we’re there.” And with that, he’s silent again. Given the flatness of his answer, I don’t feel it proper to argue. Really, I can’t argue at all with the prospect of a rest.

So, I take it. I suppose I’m asleep for a few good hours before I’m jostled awake by the overwhelming, perpetually buzzing lights of a petrol station. It's still dark out.

I peer out to see Baz standing, glancing over his shoulder at the machine as his hands hold the pump. Instinctively, I pull my hoodie closer, finally getting a good look at him in some sort of full light.

Shit. He even looks good at the pump.

He catches my eyes briefly, staring back before quickly turning back away, and acting as if I don’t see him swallow sharply. I act like I didn’t see it either, especially not as he sits back in the car and looks towards me, but not directly at me. “Hungry?”

Always. “A bit.”

He wordlessly pulls up to the store of the station before turning back off the car. “Come on, I’ll cover you.”

Given I only have the little cash I had in my sock drawer on me, I don’t argue. Instead, I step out and follow him, glancing up once I'm entirely trailing behind him. He’s got a few good inches on me, which, frankly, makes me blush a good bit. Who gave him the right to be practically a supermodel?

“Get anything,” he says, and I do. Two bags of crisps, a bottle of chocolate milk, and a shitty, wrapped cinnamon roll. He just grabs a coffee, pouring an egregious amount of sugar and creamer into it before going up to pay. He doesn’t even flinch--just pays.

It feels odd. Looks odd. It’s like Aggie paying--a disregard of wealth beyond a comprehensive point.

Back in the car, he sips his drink, cringes, and waits until I’m buckled back in before going.

I’m up this time, and probably for the long run, as he starts driving again.

“So, where are we going?” I ask, twisting the cap off the milk and hearing the satisfying snap of the breaking seal. “I feel like I should allowed to know eventually.”

“London,” he responds borderline robotically, not bothering a look at me.

“Wait, fuck. London? Isn’t that--”

“Six hours, yes. You’ve slept for well over half the trip, don’t worry.” He risks a quick glance at me, and as if it were magic, I see him relax. His muscles drop the tension, and his seemingly permanent frown loosens to a genuine flash of concern. Then, as quickly as his composure went, it comes back. Like it was a flicker in his system. “Just rest.”

“How are you staying up?”

“Will power.”

I don’t stop the snort slipping out, biting my lip. “You really are a vampire, huh?”

His face relaxes back slightly, spreading into the smallest of smiles. “No, but that’d be more fun.”

I huff in agreement, letting myself grin along this time. “It would be, yeah.”

We fall silent again, but this time it’s a bit better. It’s an odd reminder that this, this Baz right in front of me, is the same one I’ve known for months. It’s just his flesh and blood--living and breathing body. A human.

I want to reach out and touch him, to see if he’s real. I nearly do so, but my mind stops me before my hand grips his. I think he catches sight of my reach, though, because the arm closest to me drops from the wheel, resting palm-up on the centre console.

Either it’s an invitation or a mistake. Both are something I’m dumb enough to work with.

My fingertips skate over his wrist first, glazing over the ridges where his veins sit. They ridge up, rising above the rest of his smooth arm and pumping below my touch. At first, he begins to retract before stopping himself and staying, opened up to me. A careful fingertip moves to trace the lines of his palm, my breath barely under control. He lets me have my time, and slowly yet surely, I settle my hand on top of his, fingers shifting until they’re locked between his.

His hand curls up first, holding tightly to mine, When I look at him, he’s lightly sucking on his lip, keeping his eyes trained forward as his thumb slowly slides over my hand.

If it wasn’t for the weight of the day, I might’ve started crying again. Instead, I find myself staring. I settle my head back onto the comfortable, leather headrest, eyes falling softly onto the sharp edges of his face. I trace them, thankful for each passing car of street light that illuminates the cabin just enough to let me see the details.

His eyes look puffy and dark, dark eyelashes falling onto his skin. His nose sits a bit high, and his brow seems aristocratic. His lips, at a natural downcurve, hang open in the slightest and look a bit shiny when he stops biting them.

He doesn’t put any attention onto me, but holds my hand against his comfortably, keeping the slow drag of his skin against mine. It isn't rough, like mine is, except for at his pads. They're calloused right at the tips.

I space out, watching him attentively until countryside fades into bright city lights, mixing with the creeping sun.

He pulls up into a lot, telling them the apartment number before the car climbs up into a space. Once parked, he lets go of my palm with a sorry look, glancing over me once before stepping out.

He doesn’t let me carry my bag, holding both his and mine in each arm. The walk is brief, and within minutes, he’s pushing a key into a small, comfortable London flat, letting me inside first.

The lights are all shut, and it's got the distinct layer of light dust to show it's been untouched for months. He confirms my sneaking suspicion even before I get to ask it.

“It's my aunt's,” he says away from me, settling my bag onto a chair and his on an adjacent one. “She travels in the winter to somewhere warmer, and leaves me a key to get away.”

“I know. I've followed you long enough, you know.” I'd smile if my cheeks weren't too weak to hold one.

After stealing a look at his blushing face, I drag myself to the bed, running a hand over the sheet slowly. The other side dips with Baz's weight as he settles down onto the edge, staring at the pulling sheets with his hand settling so close to mine.

I must be mad, because I reconnect my fingers with his on impulse.

At first, we're still. I'm standing, and he's sitting. We're statues, dimly lit by the outside life. He must not be brave, or maybe I just might be more stupid, because I'm the first to move. My fingers weave between his, hand pressing closer towards him as we remain in an odd silence.

I wish I knew what I was doing.

Even without a full mind, I know what feels right, and it's being as close to Baz as possible. So maybe I don't need to know exactly what I'm doing, I just need to know that it's good.

BAZ

I wish I knew what he was doing.

I know what I want. I want to wrap my arms around him and hold him close. I want us to bathe in the rising sun and forget everything else in the world.

I want his hood off, and I want my fingers in his hair.

I want it so bad that I stop thinking and I do it, reaching my hand out and slowly dragging the cotton-y cloth off. Out springs his hair, clearly darker in the faint lights, but sticking up and unruly. My hand hesitates, fingers hovering above his scalp before I feel his head tilt and rest against my palm.

It's thick. Unbrushed. Uses shit shampoo and probably rarely conditions.

Nonetheless, it's fantastic. I can barely explain feeling of just carding my fingers through it.

Simon's eyes fall only my face, dancing around before falling back shut. I can feel the rise and fall of his body with a heavy breath, making my heart nearly stop.

“Is this okay?” whisper, holding his head carefully. His curls bob with his nod, eyes still settled shut. “How… about sleeping?”

“What about it?”

“There's one bed, and a couch. I can sleep on the couch…”

He shakes his head, keeping against me. “‘M not shy,” he whispers as an odd invitation to share.

I'm definitely not the one to turn it down.

“Neither am I,” I whisper back, hand squeezing his. He just looks towards out touching skin, biting his lip while letting go to unlace his trainers. I take the hint to unlace my own shoes, settling them aside before tugging at the blankets. He shifts, allowing me to turn them down and slip inside. He doesn't follow, lying above the blanket.

“Aren't you cold?” I murmur, turning to my side. He mirrors, propping himself on his elbow.

“Rarely.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, heavy eyes falling back shut.

I want to prove it for myself.

My hand reaches out, fingertips settling hesitantly onto his cheek. Surely enough, his it’s well warm under mine.

His lashes are short, but a gentle contrast against his skin as they flutter back open. They lay on my hand, then my own eyes, lip sucking into his mouth as he bites it. He's dead silent as he extends his hand, meeting my cheek with his palm.

“You're freezing,” he lets out, nose wrinkling. His hand doesn't move away.

“Always am.”

“Damn, I'm sorry.”

Helplessly, my face falls into an open smile, shamelessly relaxing. “It's fine. It's just… how it is.”

His eyes rest back on mine, staying there as his fingers flatten down. Eventually, I feel his thumb rub back and forth against my skin, hand cupping me gently. Like I'm some prized possession of his.

“Is it cold in here? Does it bother you?” His hand moves up and slips into my hair, pushing it back with a slow drag. I feel my heart flutter, mouth parting open as I sink into the feeling.

“No,” I finally respond. There's so much to be said, but it feels like we're tiptoeing around it. A slow, languishing fight for affection from one another, and I don't quite know who's winning. “I'm rather comfortable.”

His head nods, my gentle grip falling out of his hair and settling onto his back. At a snail's pace, his hand slowly untangles from my hair and falls back to my face. As if I'd willed it to, his fingers rest onto my lips.

I risk a quick peck onto them, watching his cheeks flush at the motion. Yet, still, he's silent, keeping his fingers still.

I don't want to stop. I don't want to shut my eyes and rest, but as every second creeps on, so does my exhaustion. It isn't until my eyelids finally fall shut that I feel him scoot closer, arm draping around me.

He smells like cheap soap and chocolate milk. I wish I could smell him forever.

“You smell like cigarettes,” he tells me. His words burn like the guilt in my throat, still rough from the two I'd smoked earlier..

“Don't worry about it.”

A beat. Then, “I worry about you anyway.”

I don't know how to swallow that one.

Instead, I just keep my eyes shut, holding his still-linked hand tighter. “Don't worry about it now. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

He must be right in front of me. I can feel it--his slow exhale near my face. It's warm, and his forehead touches mine as he lowers it for a nod. “Sleep tight, Baz.”

[chicgeekgirl89]

It All Fades Away

Doing some serious wish fulfillment for myself here after “Better Angels” last week. Here’s where I hoped things were going. 

Kensi’s throat closed and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t watch this man die, not after all they’d been through today. She thought she might be sick. The world was spinning and she put a hand to her head in an attempt to try and right herself. Deeks. She needed Deeks.

When his car pulled up it seemed like nothing short of a miracle. She collapsed into him, all of the façade she’d kept up so valiantly during the day crumbling as his arms cradled her against his chest. “I’ve got you,” he murmured stroking her hair. “You’re amazing. You were so good baby.”

“It’s not fair,” she said, her voice breaking. “It’s just not fair.”

“I know,” he soothed.

Nothing he could say would make this any better, but she wanted him there all the same. She felt sick with grief and fear. David deserved more time with those he loved. He’d deserved peace and home and family and he would never have any of those things again.

He hadn’t had enough time.

And as surely as she knew that, she knew what needed to come next. She couldn’t wait. Not a minute longer.

“Deeks I want to marry you,” she whispered, tears still streaming down her face.      

“I want to marry you too baby.”

He didn’t understand and she desperately needed him to. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but this. “No, now Deeks. Today.” She pulled back, wiping her eyes so she could look at him. “I don’t want to wait anymore. I don’t need a cake and a party. I just need you.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to waste anymore time.”

 He took a shaky breath. “Are you sure? Baby, are you serious?”

“We can still have the wedding in March. But I want you today. I want our always to start now.”

He cradled her face in his hands, eyes searching hers. He nodded. “Okay. Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There was something in the desert

There was someplace wild and green

And a child in a village I passed through

There are places that I've travelled

And so many things I've seen

And it all fades away but you

 The distress signal went off at 5:00am. Nell shot up and reached over Eric, grabbing her phone. “Who is it?” he asked as he scrambled to put his glasses on.

“Kensi and Deeks.” Nell was already out of bed. She grabbed her dress from the day before off the floor and pulled it on. “Get dressed.”

They were in the car within five minutes. “Which way?” Nell asked as she hit the gas. Everything had been fine when they left last night and she felt sick imagining what could have caused both of their friends to hit their distress signals simultaneously.

“Turn left here,” Eric instructed, never taking his eyes from the GPS. A single mistake could cost them precious time. “Straight through that light.”

It took twenty minutes to find the coordinates that had been sent to their phones. They flew into a parking lot by the beach right after Sam and Callen appeared only seconds behind them.

“You good?” Sam asked, checking his gun as he got out of the car.

Callen nodded, withdrawing his own weapon. “Anybody see them?”

Nell had been scanning the beach and she grabbed Eric’s arm with one hand, the other coming up to cover her mouth as tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh my god.”

Kensi and Deeks were standing hand in hand on the sand, Kensi’s white dress fluttering in the breeze. Julia and Roberta stood on other side of them and a man Nell didn’t recognize was in the middle. It became immediately clear that the only danger anyone was in was of crying their eyes out.

“Well it’s about damn time,” Sam said.

I was sliding down a mountain

I was burning in the sun

I was crying with amazement at the view

I was capturing a moment

But when all is said and done,

Well it all fades away but you

Deeks’s eyes were suspiciously wet and he smiled as they drew near. “We couldn’t wait any more,” he said.

“It was just going to be us but then we realized, we needed our family here,” Kensi said, her voice breathy with emotion.

Nell squeezed her into a tight hug as Callen shook Deeks’ hand. “We’re glad you called,” he said.

“Is everyone ready?” The officiant they’d spent all night looking for was surprisingly pleasant for such an early morning ceremony.

“I think they’re past ready,” Sam said, eliciting a laugh from the small group.

“Then let’s begin. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

I have sailed across the oceans,

Passed the cities and the farms

On a never-ending quest for something new

And the only thing that mattered

Was the four days in your arms

And it all fades away but you

Kensi felt her heart race as the officiant looked at her and asked her to say her vows. This moment, so long in coming, was finally here and she wasn’t sure she could speak at all, let alone say anything coherent.

“We can do the traditional vows if you’d rather,” he offered .

She shook her head. Deeks deserved to hear from her heart. “Deeks,” she said, and then paused, looking into his blue eyes, so full of life and hope. “Marty. I know you’ve waited a long time for this. But you never once pushed me, you let me come to it in my own time. You took care of me, and you held my hand, and showed me in a million ways that you loved me and would wait for me to be ready.

“You have changed me.” She looked back at their team. “You’ve changed us. When you came into my world, I didn’t need or want anyone. I was scared and angry. But you made me see that love,” she took a breath, “love is worth having. It’s everything.” She looked directly into his eyes. “You are everything. I could never in my life have dreamed someone as amazing as you.”

She reached up and brushed a few curls from his face. God he looked handsome today. “You are strong and you are brave and you are kind. You’re one of the best people I know.” She blinked back a few more tears. “And because of that, you have my whole heart. You have my soul. And I love you to the end of time and back.”

Deeks swiftly leaned forward and captured her lips in a kiss, eliciting a laugh from the group. “You’re a little early. But I think we can let it slide,” the officiant said as they broke apart. “Martin, what would you like to tell Kensi?”

“Oh god,” he shook his head and blew out a shaky breath, trying to get his bearings. “Kensi, I’ve thought about this moment for forever. And I don’t even,” he laughed as he choked up, “I don’t even know how to say all the things you mean to me.” He shook his head. “Uh, my life was…so dark. And you just came out of nowhere and filled it with sunshine.

“As if you weren’t already the most beautiful, kind, amazing person on earth, you’re also a complete and total badass,” he said, making her laugh. “Every single day with you is the greatest of my life. You make me so happy and whether we have ten more minutes or a thousand years together, I’ll love you for every second of it.”

She smiled at him through watery eyes and he could barely breathe. They’d been up all night trying to put everything together and even still she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen with her hair falling down her back, the white dress she’d picked out shimmering in the sun. He took her hand and placed it on his chest. “This heart? It’s is yours. Today and everyday, forever. My world doesn’t exist without you Fern. I love you.”

Both moms were in tears and Kensi suspected Nell and Eric were too judging from the sniffles she was hearing.

They exchanged their rings and Kensi felt a profound sense of relief and happiness as the gold band slid onto Deeks’ finger. They’d made it. “I think I’ve cried more this morning than I have my whole life,” she said, as he reached to wipe another tear from her cheek.

“That’s okay,” he said. “As long as they’re tears of happiness, not regret.”

She squeezed his hand. “Definitely happiness.”

Deeks looked at the officiant. “Now?”

The man smiled. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Deeks grinned at her and twined his fingers in her hair, pulling her close. “All in?” he asked quietly, so only she could hear.

She smiled back. “All in.” His lips found hers and she heard their friends and moms cheer. When they broke apart Deeks had the most ridiculous grin on his face and Kensi was pretty sure she looked equally besotted. They’d done it. Forever was theirs.

There is one thing that's eternal

That cannot be torn apart

There is one thing that remains forever true

Past the thinking, past the breathing

Past the beating of my heart

It will all fade away but you

  --“It All Fades Away” from The Bridges of Madison County by Jason Robert Brown