#...yeah these are steering more into fanfic territory but still

[nevergoinganywherearewe]

Do You Even Lift, Bro? AU Episode 15

The gang might have underestimated the sweet-faced newbie (Ae) as he manages to win the bet by simply...asking.

How? Well...

Determination is one of Ae’s strongest traits. So, armed with all his determination, he outright struts up to Tutor and the conversation goes a little like this:

Ae, straight-faced: “P’Tutor, permission to speak freely?”

Tutor, confused but intrigued: “...granted?”

Ae, exhaling audibly as if bracing himself for impact: “Listen, I’m going to be real with you. I need this to happen. I don’t know what you want in exchange but would you...?”

Tutor, in a state of confusion™: “...would I do what exactly?”

Ae, almost pained at this point: “Would you be willing to do the twin clothes thing and send me a picture to post to IG as proof?”

Tutor: “...”

Ae, unusually flustered, word vomiting: “Our anniversary is coming up and I really want to make it special but you know Pete, he always outdoes whatever I plan because he’s so fucking amazing (and rich)...I...just...want to do something worthy of him, you know and-”

Tutor, surprised someone actually asking to win the bet everybody thinks he doesn’t know about (amateurs): “Whoa, slow down there, Nong. ...while I commend your ... bravery? What would you be willing to do in ... exchange for my [Tutor considers his words because he’s a cheeky little SHIT when he wants to be] compliance in this matter?”

Ae, earnest, almost whispering because people are starting to notice: “Pretty much...anything you want? I know you’re not unreasonable, P’.”

Tutor, considering the request, naturally has an agenda: [P’Fight won’t know what hit him] “You manage the front desk whenever Korn and Knock are out, right?”

Ae nods.

Tutor, in a calculating tone: “...the master key, for one night. I don’t want to get you into too much trouble.”

Ae, without missing a beat: “Consider it done.”

Tutor, sly smirk no longer held back: “Pleasure doing business with you, Nong. You will have the picture by midnight. You better treat him right on your day though, yeah?”

Ae, after an audible sigh of relief, directs his most winning smile at Tutor and waiis. “Don’t forget to lock up once you’re...done here. Let me know when you’ll be needing the key.”

Tutor pats Ae’s shoulder and as they part, they deliberately ignore the numerous stares from the crowd of gobsmacked onlookers, well, mostly Forth. 

“....what the fuck did I just witness?” Fighter directs at Forth.

“No idea man, but your boyfriend is terrifying.”

“...you don’t know the half of it.”

Fighter isn’t sure what Tutor’s planning but he would lie if he said he wasn’t excited (and a wee bit terrified regardless). 

[owl-with-a-pen]

Hi! I just read the fanfic about Brainy and Nia going to the future and meeting their daughter, I know you posted it a long time ago, I'm just new to tumblr, so if you can I want you to do a fic about the future, where Brainy's daughter and Nia is 5 years old. And it would be cool to see the antics that her daughter does.XD

- Sorry this took so long to fulfil, but yes! I’m sure she’d get into all sorts and this story probably only scrapes the surface! Thank you for the prompt x

Nia had always preferred the night over the day; maybe it was just her Naltorian side talking, but she’d always felt there was a certain peacefulness about the night-time that just couldn’t be replicated in daylight.

That definitely hadn’t changed since Nova had come into the picture.

The daytime had always been busy for a number of reasons. Balancing work and family life, balancing family and hero life - balancing work, family and hero life. But, now that Nova had reached an age where she was starting to explore her natural curiosities, Nia and Brainy hadn’t had the luxury of focusing on anything else. At five years old, they couldn’t let their daughter out of their sight for one second of the day.

The second the sun went down, though?

Nova’s sleeping pattern had always been pretty steady, and once she was out - she was out. She’d definitely gotten that from Nia’s side of the family. After all, Brainy didn’t really need all that much sleep, although he had admitted to her on more than one occasion that he enjoyed resting at her side, retreating to his inner network at hours Nia would otherwise be sleeping, working on small tasks and calculations reminiscent of an actual dream-state. In that way, he could still be close with her during the night, and Nia valued that time together immensely.

Of course, the fact Brainy didn’t actually need those extra hours had made him the best dad ever when it came to late-night wake-up calls courtesy of one baby Nova.

She still wasn’t old enough for them to know for certain the extent of her abilities; Brainy had predicted they wouldn’t fully develop fully until her teen years. Honestly, though? Nia didn’t care what powers Nova had; she was perfect no matter what.

Nia watched from the doorway that evening as Nova cuddled against Brainy on the bed. Her blonde hair was getting so long now, falling in relaxed waves down to her elbows, and the light green tone of her skin was almost washed out entirely by the soft purple of her nightlight on the bedside table. She was curled into Brainy’s chest, chewing idly on her thumbnail, her dark eyes scanning along inquisitively to the passages he was reading aloud to her. Nia smiled privately to herself; Brainy really got into character when reading Nova to sleep, making a big show with grand gesticulations and silly voices, even when the book of choice for tonight was an account on quantum mechanics from Carlo Rovelli’s collection.

Nova had a unique taste in literature, that was for sure and, while she was definitely getting a taste for mathematics and physics, she also still enjoyed simpler story telling. Nia and Brainy had decided to switch up who read to her each night. Sometimes, they’d choose something on Brainy’s bookshelf, and other times they would go for stories catered for a younger – human - mind, like The Far Away Tree, or even folk stories like Little Red Riding Hood or Goldilocks.

Nova really liked Goldilocks; Nia must have read it to her at least twelve times this month alone.

As Nova let out a big yawn, relaxing further into her dad’s side, Nia caught Brainy’s eye, jerking her chin towards the door.

He nodded his understanding, continuing his narration as Nia ducked out of the room, heading towards the living room where Alex was waiting for her, already working open a bottle of red.

“How is she?” Alex asked, sizing up her wine glass as she began to fill it up generously.  

“She should be asleep soon,” Nia said. “But, uh, Brainy sometimes runs Q and A sessions with her if she stays awake through a whole chapter.”

Alex snorted. “Only for Nova would I find that concept adorable.”

Nia collapsed onto the sofa, snatching her wine glass immediately. She reached out expectantly to Alex, grinning when she rolled her eyes, ditching her own wine glass to fill up Nia’s.

“Why, thank you,” Nia said, tucking her legs up beneath her.

Alex tipped her own glass with a wry smile. “It’s my pleasure, really.”

Nia took a long sip, savouring the rich taste. They couldn’t exactly go off the walls with a toddler sleeping next door, but right now, anything that could offer her a brief period of relaxation, Nia was more than eager to accept. She swirled her glass thoughtfully. “You know,” she murmured, “Brainy’ll probably need something a little stronger to take the edge off.”

“Oh, way ahead of you,” Alex said, shifting to the edge of her respective sofa to grab a bottle she had stowed away inside her backpack. She placed it on the coffee table with a flourish, giving Nia the opportunity to try and decipher the alien script scrawled across the label. “Kara recommended this,” Alex said, raising a finger. “Please do not ask me what it’s called, because I will not be able to pronounce it.”

Nia snorted, taking another sip of her own regular alcohol. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“He better, this stuff wasn’t cheap.” Alex smirked, leaning back into the sofa. “How have you guys been, anyway? I feel like this is the first time we’ve seen each other in months.”

Nia opened her mouth, only to frown. Had it really been that long? All the days had been blurring together recently, and yet each one seemed to be separated by something inexplicably unique in its own right – courtesy of one overly curious toddler.

Nia wasn’t even sure she could remember the last time she’d visited the Tower, and going out for patrol or even something as simple as date night was so far off the table right now, it might as well have been in another galaxy. There wasn’t a sitter in the city willing to take on a genius, alien five-year-old with a penchant for mischief.

To Alex, Nia only shrugged. “Nova’s just been needing a lot of our attention lately. Well, all of it, actually. Or else she’ll burn the apartment down.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Wait, like seriously burn the apartment down?” When Nia pursed her lips, Alex’s mouth fell open. “Is that normal?”

Nia rolled her eyes, leaning back into the cushions. “According to Brainy, yeah. Coluans express themselves through their intellect, and Nova’s been flexing that muscle a lot lately. Brainy thinks it’s a good sign, that she’ll probably rise to the twelfth-level, but we don’t exactly have much for a frame of reference, y’know?”

“Well, you have Brainy,” Alex considered. “How was he raised?”

Nia shifted uncomfortably, averting her gaze. She took a long sip of her wine to fill the silence. “Uh,” she said softly. “That’s sort of a… sore topic, actually.” She bit her lip, running her thumb along her glass’s neck. “He had robot caregivers for the most part.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

By the subdued look on Alex’s face, Nia knew she didn’t want to butt in with any more questions on the subject of Brainy’s upbringing. Brainy had certainly shared a portion of his childhood with his friends, at least enough for them to know that his parents were not a topic up for discussion if he could help it.

Even with Brainy occupied with Nova in the other room, Alex didn’t appear comfortable to continue the direction of their conversation.

Nia chuckled softly, trying to clear the air. “Anyway,” she said quickly, steering them back on topic, “there isn’t an earth-equivalent to a robot nanny here; well… except for…” She stopped herself suddenly, resisting the urge to grin.  

Alex narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Except for what?”

Nia shook her head, pressing a finger to her lips to keep from laughing outright. The wine was definitely starting to do its job - not thirty minutes ago, thinking about this would have only stressed her out. She reached for the wine bottle, eager to keep this high going for as long as humanly possible, topping up her glass. As soon as it was full, Nia took another long swig, breathing deeply as the wine warmed her chest. “Kelex,” she said on her next exhale, unable to keep the smile from her voice.

Alex laughed incredulously. “Wait, what? Kel- Kelex? From the Fortress?” She shuffled to the edge of her seat, almost conspiratorially. “Doesn’t Brainy hate that thing?”

Nia shrugged half-heartedly.

Alex’s eyes widened. “Why does he hate that thing?”

That question seemed to ground her, at least. Nia winced. She was pretty sure they were skirting back along unsavoury territory. “He was never totally clear with me,” she admitted, staring down into her glass, “but I’m pretty sure Kelex reminds him of his own caregivers. They – uh – didn’t exactly get along.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it doesn’t even matter. Brainy was happy to entertain the idea, but the second Kara brought Kelex over, Nova was obsessed with the thing. She rewired it in like… twenty minutes.”

Alex stared. “She’s five, right?”

“She’s also half Coluan,” Nia reminded her, toasting her glass in Alex’s direction. “Dismantling machinery is better than any toy I could buy her.” She closed her eyes at that, pulling a face. “I left her in the bathroom for ten minutes today to shower and by the time I got out, she’d turned my hairdryer into a blowtorch.”

Alex winced into her wine glass. “Oof.”

“She’s just curious,” Nia said quickly, rubbing idly at her forehead. Was she really getting a wine headache already? God, she was really out of practice. “She’s exploring her intellect,” Nia said eventually. “It’s healthy for her and I wanna encourage that, I do—” She sighed heavily. “It’s just…”

“Exhausting?”

Nia smiled bleakly. “That obvious, huh?”

“Then, take a break,” Alex insisted.

Nia stared at her levelly. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Hey,” Alex said with a smirk, pushing the wine bottle over to Nia’s side of the table. “Start with this. Finish the whole thing. Trust me, I have more.”

When Nia laughed, Alex glanced up at her, eyes flashing with a smile. “And, if you guys need a real break, you know that Kelly and I would be happy to help out.”

“You sure about that?” Nia asked warily. “Remember what I just said about the blowtorch?”

“You think a bit of fire’s going to scare me off?” Alex challenged. She leant back, gesturing to herself with relaxed emphasis. “Don’t forget, I shared a bathroom with an incredibly overpowered alien for years. Hell, I used to work for a super-secret government organisation that kept alien prisoners.” She placed her glass back onto the coffee table, folding her arms with a confident nod. “I’m pretty sure Kelly and I can handle a five-year-old super genius.” She winked. “And, if we can’t, we can always rely on Auntie Kara.”

Nia nearly snorted into her glass. She remembered a few choice stories from Auntie Kara revolving her valiant attempt at babysitting for Cat Grant’s son when she’d still been a PA. Something about him ending up on a train that had had a bomb strapped to it? Considering Nova already knew her Auntie Kara was Supergirl, the novelty of being saved from a near death experience would probably still hinge on traumatic, rather than invigorating.

Although, Nia had to admit, the idea of a break – however small – sounded pretty great right about now. She loved Nova with all of her heart, but having even just a few hours with Brainy to herself where she was actually conscious enough to enjoy them would have been amazing.

Still, she couldn’t help but picture Alex and Kelly struggling to figure out how to appease Nova’s more unique interests.

She smirked to herself, pressing her lips against the rim of her glass. “It’s your funeral,” she murmured.

Alex’s cheeks were already a little rosy from the wine and Nia knew she probably wasn’t faring much better. Still, before Alex could promise away any more of her free time, Nova’s door opened and, a moment later, out crept one very dishevelled looking Coluan.

Nia beamed from ear-to-ear. She stood, pausing when the world pitched a little around her. Wine drunk. There was no denying it, she was definitely wine drunk.

After carefully placing her glass on the coffee table, Nia made her way over to the bedroom door. She ran her hand down Brainy’s arm, squeezing gently. “Is she asleep?” she whispered.

Brainy’s expression was warm. He smiled softly, bowing his head. “I believe her excitement today tired her out more than she anticipated.”

Nia chuckled. That was the least surprising statement she’d heard all day. She turned towards the door, peeking inside. Nova’s nightlight was still on, enough to illuminate the profile of her round face snuggled against her pillow where she’d half cocooned herself in blankets only seconds after Brainy had no doubt tucked her in.

Her little mouth hung open slightly, silent breaths escaping her lips. Nia could spy the ears of her own childhood teddy bear poking out from beneath the blankets, hugged tightly to Nova’s chest.

Nia squeezed Brainy’s arm once more before sneaking into the room, summoning a swell of dream energy in her fist to keep from tripping over any mislaid toys or, more likely now she thought about it, machine parts.

Nia smiled; Brainy had promised to fix Kelex for Kara tomorrow. Despite his grievances towards the robot, he still felt guilty over the extent to which Nova had indulged her curiosities. They’d already sat her down to explain to her why what she had done wasn’t appropriate behaviour, and Nova had seemed to understand. Enough that she’d pouted when they’d told her she wouldn’t be able to go with Brainy to the Fortress to help fix Kelex in the morning. The last thing Nia wanted was for Nova to get her hands on the kinds of weapons Kara and Clark had hidden there. Nia had nearly blasted a hole through the wall on accident in controlled conditions when Brainy had been training her, she could only imagine what kind of destruction Nova could cause if she was set loose in there.

It was strange to think all of that had only been a few hours ago. Now, Nova slept peacefully, odd ends of blonde hair strewn across her face. 

Nia reached out, tucking those strands behind Nova’s ears. She perched herself on the edge of the bed, pressing a kiss against her daughter’s forehead. Nova scrunched her nose slightly before relaxing again, and Nia had to bite her lip hard to keep from making any sound.

She was perfect. Even with the chaos today had brought, Nia wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“Sleep tight, Firestarter,” she murmured fondly.

When Nia returned to the doorway, she found Brainy waiting for her. She grinned, linking her hand with his. “Come with me,” she said, tugging him along towards the living room. “We have alien wine.” She raised her voice enough for Alex to hear. “And guess who just offered to babysit?” 

[thespacebetweenworlds]

so... i’m not actually in the witcher fandom, nor do i know the most about it...but i still think you should write witcher!hyunjin + bard!jisung. i just approve of the notion idk

I WROTE IT!!!! lmao, be proud of me! this was a whole ride and I loved every second. I hope you’ll find this amusing, too!

Here's the tags: KPOP RPF, Stray Kids Fanfic, Han Jisung/Hwang Hyunjin, rated T, warnings for violence and blood, Witcher AU, 5k, complete. Read it on ao3 here or continue forth below the cut.

Inspired by this Witcher!Hyunjin edit. Beta’d by Reltic, who writes very good skz fic y’all should go read it <3

Anyway let me know what you think :]

 Hyunjin punched him in the face.

 … by accident. That was important. Or it would be important, if Hyunjin didn’t wish he could punch the annoying bard a second time.

 Unfortunately, they were currently caught and bound in the bandits’ cave, back to back, and if Hyunjin wanted to break free fast, the knife in his arm guard would also stab the annoying bard in the back. And he had to admit that that annoying mouth was currently the only thing preventing the bandits from slashing their throats and leaving them to bleed out in a ditch.

 Fuck.

 So Hyunjin lost himself in the memory of the bard’s stupid soft cheek on his knuckles, the impact he felt before the bard’s head snapped back and he stumbled away. The blood on his teeth when he smiled up at Hyunjin, who had honestly (oh, his past self new nothing) meant to punch the lackey of the village’s head who refused to pay him. The space around the bar had been packed, and someone was pushed into the lackey just before Hyunjin hit him.

 The annoying bard.

 Hyunjin, feeling sorry and embarrassed, had kicked the lackey a few metres away, relishing in the thump of a body against the wall and then the following slump to the floor accompanied with the sudden scared quiet of the room. And then he’d glared at the guys who had been pushing the annoying bard and escorted him out, meaning to apologise. He had not meant for the annoying bard to follow him on the dusty dirt road to the next village and never stop talking.  

 “You really should let us go, my dudes,” the annoying bard laughed – Jisung, oh how Hyunjin wished he didn’t know that name – “I mean come on, have you ever seen a man as beautiful as him? It would be a crime to kill us, a crime.”  

 The first that hit Jisung’s bruised face after that was deserved, and Hyunjin wished he was the one who did the punching.

 “You trespassed into our territory, we will do as we wish,” one of the bandits crossed his head and lifted his chin as if he was almighty. For the moment, he was. “We have heard of a witcher with ties to the queen, and we can’t let him run to her and tell her about our secret drug ring.”

 Hyunjin closed his eyes and groaned quietly. Life was just out to get him specifically.

 “Ah, we don’t kiss and tell,” Jisung said, and Hyunjin just knows he’s winking and putting on his ‘flirting’ face. “Wait, Hyunjinnie, you know the queen? Me too!”

 Hyunjin wished he could close his ears too. Those were definitely the words the bandits needed to hear right now. Yes. Good thinking there, Jisung.

 “Who are you that you know the queen?” Another of the bandits spoke up, walking closer. “Maybe we can exchange your dead remains for money.”

 Jisung, at least, had nothing to say to that. “Ahaha, a joke, of course! How would I know the queen! Why would he know the queen? He’s a witcher, not a witch.”

 Hyunjin groaned. “The queen and I are on bad terms right now, and I won’t tell her about your drug ring because I will kill you all.”

 Finally, blessed silence. Hyunjin counted his heartbeats and breaths, relaxing his shoulders. Quiet. Nice. Now if only there was a breeze carrying some fresh mountain air.

 “Hey,” Jisung hissed, “don’t encourage them!”

 And the room broke in frantic yells and panic as they tried to decide what to do since both their prisoners apparently knew the ruler of the kingdom, except of course if they were lying. Hyunjin sighed.

 “Hyunjin,” Jisung whispered, shuffling around, “how do we escape? You have a plan, right?”

 Hyunjin took a deep breath. “I have a knife in my boot,” he told Jisung quietly, “if we stand up at the same time, I can take it, and cut us free.”

 Jisung let out a breath. “Oh, that’s good! I knew you got this.”

 Hyunjin just brought his legs under him, swiping the dagger from his boot – really, what kind of bandits didn’t tie their prisoner’s legs? – and as he stood with Jisung scrambling to his feet himself, he cut the ropes tying them together.

 The bandits noticed a second too late, and drew their swords a second too late. Two put up half a fight, but soon they all lay dead on the floor, blood splattered all over Hyunjin. Hyunjin wrinkled his nose, and made an attempt to wipe the blood off of his daggers on the only bandit who still had a clean shirt.

 “Where did that second dagger come from?” Jisung, his wrists still bound, interrupted Hyunjin.

 “You’re still here?” Hyunjin shoved the daggers back, one into his boot and the other under his arm guard where it was concealed under black leather.

 “Wait so you could have broken free all along with the dagger in your sleeve? Why didn’t you…” understanding slowly crawled across his expressive face, followed by a bright smile. “Hyunjin! I knew you care about me!”

 “I don’t,” Hyunjin said, but somehow couldn’t stop himself from untying Jisung’s hands. He took his sword from where the bandits had tossed it in a corner and drew the blade. More bandits would still be outside. Jisung picked up his lute and hugged it close to his chest.

 As Hyunjin had expected, a few bandits were in the surrounding woods, just far enough to not have heard their companions’ dying screams. Hyunjin killed the ones that attacked him and let the others run away.

 When he reached the road, he lifted his fingers to his mouth and whistled.

 Loud breathing and stomping reached him not much later.

 “Hyunjinnie!” Jisung emerged behind him, cheeks flushed under his bruised face, lute strapped to his back. “I don’t understand how –” he gasped for air, “– you can run through the woods so fast. Wait for me.”

 Hyunjin, however, only had eyes for the beauty that approached him now. “Kkami!”

 Kkami was his trusted companion and only friend. And a horse. But she was the best. Better than all humans he ever met. A good listener too. And quiet. Unlike a certain annoying bard.

 “Oh, pretty,” Jisung stumbled towards Kkami, who neatly stepped around him as if he was just an unusual kind of tree.

 “I’m so proud of you,” Hyunjin whispered to her, leaning his forehead against hers and stroking her long neck. Kkami was truly his only friend.

 Hyunjin climbed up on her back in one smooth move. He patted the parts of her neck he could reach and steered her down the road with his legs alone. She started walking in a comfortable walk, one that she would be able to hold for days. The sun was high in the sky, the trees green, the birds singing. It was calm now. The breeze smelled of forest and moss and rotting leaves and flowers in bloom. Hyunjin could hear his own heartbeat as well as Kkami’s, their breaths aligning like they so often did on long journeys.

 It was wonderful.

 Except that his and Kkami’s weren’t the only heartbeats he heard.

 “Oh, can I also ride on your horse? No? Alright then, it’s your horse, I understand. Did you call her Kkami? That’s so cute. Like you! You were so badass back there, I had literal goosebumps. I must admit the blood splattered clothes fit you very well. And did you see their faces when they realised we got free? And oh, we busted a drug ring, if you were on good terms with the queen we could totally go to the capital and receive money for doing good deeds in the name of the crown. But alas, we’ll have to live as vagabonds! Lonely heroes on their way to defeat evil!”

 Yup. There he was.

 “I should write a song about it. I can write a song about us. I will write a song about you! Hyunjin, how do you feel about songs? I promise I’ll also credit Kkami with defeating a villain, of course, she’s lovely. Do you think a long ballad would be suitable? Or a drinking song? If you don’t mind, I’ll try some freestyles, yeah?”

 “Shut up.”

 “Ah, but I write my songs by freestyling! I just start singing, play some chords, and continue until I find sounds and words I like. You know, as a starving artist with only my lute, I can’t rely on making notes and writing my lyrics down, I have to memorize them as I come up with them! So talking to myself helps with that, obviously. And now I have you, too! You will help me, right?”

 Hyunjin contemplated kicking Jisung in the face. It would… even be possible, he realised as he studied the distance between his leg and Jisung’s head. He’d have to stretch weirdly though, and unless he shifted his weight, the kick wouldn’t be very strong. The movement would surprise Kkami though, and while she definitely wouldn’t mind or be inconvenienced, Hyunjin was sitting comfortable and breathing in synchrony with her.

 Why mess that up? He could just pretend he wasn’t hearing anything, anything at all. A fly, maybe. A bee. Human voices? The last time he heard a human speak was one of the bandits, before he stabbed him in the chest with his sword and left the body in the shrubbery.

 Oh, the calmness of the forest… so quiet… so nice.

 In the late afternoon, the trees gave way to the next village, with fields spreading out into wasteland and far away mountains. The village was just big enough to have a bit of stone ground in the middle, with a river and a mill. An inn sat in it’s center.

 Hyunjin sighed. He had exactly no money, which meant he’d have to ask for a job first before he could rent a room. However, he had yet to see a village that didn’t have at least one monster to get rid of. It just meant he’d have to go monster hunting before he could go to sleep for a day.

 “Oh, are we staying here, Hyunjin?” Jisung stood in front of Hyunjin when he jumped off Kkami. And Jisung grinned. He swaggered towards the door of the inn. “I don’t have money, but I’m sure I can get us a room in exchange for entertainment! I’ll sing of your victories, witcher, and the town will love you!”

 “Uh�� bard,” Hyunjin said, because he’d actually have to warn him, didn’t he? “Jisung.”

 Jisung turned to him with wide eyes and his grin turned into a soft smile.

 “That might not help. As a witcher, people don’t usually… like… it… when I’m around.” Hyunjin gestured to his appearance, dark leather armour splattered with blood. Long white hair bound together but he knew there were leaves caught in it. It really spoke for itself. His glowing eyes didn’t help his case. “I’ll ask for a monster to kill, which will hopefully get us a meal and a room, and Kkami a place in a stable. That’s all, and only if we’re lucky.”

 A look of something crossed Jisung’s face, there and gone too fast for Hyunjin to read. He squared his shoulders and bared his teeth. “Trust me on this, Hyunjin.”

 And Jisung sauntered into the inn as if he owned it.

 Hyunjin and Kkami shared a look. “I don’t know either, Kkami, sweetheart,” Hyunjin sighed.

 Kkami neighed quietly.

 “I know, I know, I better go and save his ass or something,” Hyunjin cringed. He was actually going to, wasn’t he?

 Kkami snorted.

 Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “Yah, don’t laugh at me! Wait here, okay? If anyone comes at you, you know how to drop kick them.”

 Jisung had maybe one minute alone in the inn. Somehow, Hyunjin expected there to be fire and screaming and new bruises on Jisung’s annoying face.

 One minute, and yet what Hyunjin found when he opened the door was Jisung pointing a finger at him, yelling, and cheering from a crowd of mostly drunk farmers and a handful of young women who curiously turned their heads.

 “That’s him!” Jisung was laughing, too. “He saved my life.”

 Hyunjin didn’t have time to process that before he was shoved next to Jisung by a smiling man with a long beard and a cup of beer was handed to him. The women oohed and aahed.

 “Jisung-ssi, why didn’t you say he’s pretty?”

 “Mr Bard, he truly looks as beautiful as you said! A hero!”

 “To have defeated a Barghest! I’ll drink to that!”

 Jisung cheered with the small crowd, and Hyunjin lifted his beer in cheers, setting it back down when it seemed like most people were briefly shifting their attention to their own drinks. Alcohol did nothing for him, and he didn’t like beer. Jisung swiftly switched his own cup with Hyunjin’s, and when Hyunjin brought the cup up to his face, he noticed it was water.

 “I told you to trust me, Hyunjin,” Jisung said quietly.

 Hyunjin could only nod.

 “Oh, your hair is so pretty,” one of the older women said, sliding into the seat next to him. “I’m the co-owner of this establishment, by the way.”

 “Um, thank you,” Hyunjin swallowed a mouthful of water. “I’ve been meaning to ask if you had a job for me here.”

 Jisung, now a few metres away, strung his lute and started singing a catchy song about ‘that time a handsome witcher saved me from the beast’ which, despite his raspy throat, sounded good – if you could ignore the terrible text. And the fact that it was all lies. Well, Hyunjin had to admit that he did save Jisung from certain death, but there was nothing heroic about it, and Hyunjin also hadn’t taken off his clothes to use his undershirt to bind a cut on Jisung’s ankle.

 “We are uncertain still,” the woman quickly tugged Hyunjin out of his thoughts with her serious tone. “A monster dwells upstream. Sometimes the river is dyed red, or pieces of ripped clothing will pass the village. My niece disappeared two weeks ago. One of the farmers went up to see what was causing the issue last week, and he never returned. One of his shoes did, though.”

 “Hmm,” Hyunjin nodded. “I have a few ideas of what it might be, and none of them are good.”

 The woman nodded, smiling worriedly. “If it really is a… monster, as you say, we will of course pay you accordingly. For now, your drinks are on us – see it as a gesture of good will for saving that bard.”

 With a polite smile, she turned to attend a group of newly arrived villagers.

 Hyunjin eyed the sliver of fading daylight streaming in through the dirty window. If it really was a drowner, it might move closer to the village when hungry. Drowners lived in streams and ponds and sewers, but if this one was upstream it might not take long for it to decide to live closer to the village. Hyunjin remembered the mill. There must be a body of water directly connected to it.

 And if the last death was already a week ago, then he’d have to hurry. He finished his water and got up.

 “Jisung,” he said when he reached him and Jisung had taken a small break from singing to hydrate. “I’m going after a monster here. I will be back by moonrise.”

 Jisung smiled a gummy smile, eyes sparkling. “You’ll be back?”

 “I’ll be back,” Hyunjin agreed, wondering if it would destroy his fragile positive image in the village if he punched Jisung in the face right now. Why bother though, Jisung’s bruises were just reaching their darkest point, another one wouldn’t even be visible.

 Hyunjin turned and left, hearing Jisung loudly announce that Hyunjin was going to defeat the monster.

 Kkami was eyeing him.

 “What,” he grumbled. “So, he was right. So what. I still have to go kill a monster now.”

 Kkami snorted judgingly.

 Together, they swiftly galloped towards the mill, and in a slower tempo they followed the water upstream.

 There were a few hills there, some shrubbery that quickly turned into tall trees, the river courving and going into the forest. The smell was the first thing that told him something was wrong here, so he got off Kkami, drank one of his witcher potions – never a fun experience, the way his insides twisted and bones shuddered just wasn’t a good vibe – and he felt his sight sharpening, eyes turning black.

 Kkami, unbothered queen that she was, turned to snack on some leaves.

 Hyunjin followed the smell of blood and death deeper into the woods to a clearing. A dark pond greeted him, and yes, this was it. He would never get the smell out of his hair.

 He kicked a pebble into the water.

 The water made waves, but not the ones physics predicted the pebble would have created.

 In the end, killing a drowner wasn’t that much different from killing a human. They were, after all, human shaped with extra gills and fins. Somewhat. The difficulty didn’t lie in their superhuman strength, but Hyunjin was a witcher, and he had drunk his potions. Not even the coldness and darkness of the water surrounding them really bothered Hyunjin.

 The difficulty lay in the fact that Hyunjin didn’t like the quiet that came after. He waded out of the pond, wet and cold, hair plastered to his forehead, the slippery head of the drowner in his arms, and what greeted him was cold starlight and absolute silence.

 He walked the way back to the village. Kkami was waiting where he left her, but he didn’t want to ruin his saddlebags by getting them wet with smelly pond water and the drowner’s blood.

 The moon rose just as he made it back to the village.

 And when he opened the door to the inn, the first thing he saw was Jisung’s annoying face. Could his day get any worse after this?

 “You’re back!” Jisung smiled again (why did he smile so much, and why did he smile at Hyunjin?) and then he saw the water dripping down his clothes and the monster’s head in his arms. Naturally Hyunjin couldn’t really grab the head in one hand, it was too fishy for that. Jisung winked at him, before turning back to the room. “The witcher defeated the monster! Your village is safe now!”

 Cheers sounded through the room, which seemed to be packed with the whole village and not just the handful of farmers from earlier.

 “Should I leave the head outside,” Hyunjin asked the woman who had spoken to him earlier.

 She took a look and briefly looked nauseous. “Yes, just leave it outside, thank you. I’ll prepare a room and a bath for you, master witcher.”

 Hyunjin blinked. He didn’t think he’d ever been addressed with this much honest respect. “Thank you.”

 “Follow me.”

 Through a crowd of mostly drunk cheering, the owner led him up a narrow stairway in the back, and opened one of the doors for him. There was a fairly big bed, a small window with curtains, and a tub behind a paper screen.

 “Uh, excuse me,” Hyunjin stopped the woman just as she walked past him with the promise of getting someone to bring up hot water, “my horse, she’s outside. Could you send someone for her? If it’s too much trouble, is there a stable I can bring her to?”

 The woman smiled. “Of course, dear. I’ll send my son, he’ll take good care of your horse.”

 Relieved, Hyunjin started to undo the straps of his armour, putting the pieces on the clothes rack next to the tub. Hopefully the leather would be dry by morning. When he was down to his undershirt and pants, the woman returned with two people following behind her, all of them carrying buckets of steaming water.

 “Thank you,” Hyunjin smiled politely, only to be told thanks in return, ‘for saving the village.’

 … Jisung must be composing an epic ballad.

 Tired, Hyunjin decided to not care about that right now, and fully undressed. He was just starting to relax in the hot water when the door behind him opened. Jisung’s familiar heartbeat sounded in the room. Hyunjin closed his eyes and sighed.

 “Are you – oh.”

 “What,” Hyunjin groaned. “Don’t tell me they only have one guest room and thus you simply must share with me.”

 “Ah, yes, actually. How did you know?” Jisung crossed the room and sat next to Hyunjin, keeping his eyes strictly on Hyunjin’s face.

 “Just – a hunch, I don’t know. Are you blushing?”

 “No.” Jisung blushed.

 Hyunjin hummed and started to cover his arms and chest with soap. It smelled too strongly of flowers, but maybe that would cover the lingering smell of blood and forest. He moved on to wash his hair, getting his fingers tangled in the knots.

 “Wait,” Jisung interrupted, “let me do that.”

 Stunned, Hyunjin didn’t move when Jisung grabbed the soap out of his hands.

 “Your hair is really pretty,” Jisung murmured. “I want to braid it and give you a flower crown. Did you know that one of my aliases is Dandelion?”

 “I did not,” Hyunjin said, because Jisung’s aliases were the most conceivable piece of information he just received.

 Jisung laughed and used his hands to wash the soap out of Hyunjin’s hair. “You pretend you’re all tough and dramatic but really you’re a big softie.”

 “Are you talking about yourself,” Hyunjin replied, because really, he did not come here for an emotional evaluation.

 “Aw, no,” Jisung lightly splashed water in Hyunjin’s face, “I never pretend to be all tough and dramatic, I am all tough and dramatic.”

 Hyunjin wrinkled his face in disgust. “You’re annoying.”

 Hyunjin noticed how Jisung’s musician’s fingers lightly lingered on the scars on his shoulders and back when he washed the soap away. He let Jisung hold his hands and massage a pleasant smelling oil into his skin after he dried and got dressed in a long nightshirt the inn had kindly provided for them. He sat still as Jisung used a towel to gently dry Hyunjin’s hair, and in the absence of a comb used his fingers to disentangle the worst of the knots.

 Jisung, for once, blessed Hyunjin with silence. Hyunjin still noticed Jisung. Even when he wasn’t talking a steady stream of nonsense, his presence was still… loud. Strong. The many buttons on Jisung’s jacket were undone with skilled fingers, and Hyunjin pinched himself when he finally remembered to look away. He walked through the room, closing the curtain, locking the door. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and looked everywhere except at Jisung, who pulled the nightshirt over his bare skin.

 “You don’t mind sharing the bed, do you?” Jisung asked at last, sitting down next to Hyunjin.

 “If I did,” Hyunjin replied, raising an eyebrow, “I’d have removed you from this room already.”

 Jisung’s annoying mouth formed a big, heart shaped smile.

 Hyunjin wanted to punch him. With his mouth. On Jisung’s mouth. He shuddered internally. Oh no. This wasn’t happening. He was definitely not going to kiss the annoying bard on his annoying mouth. Nope. Not happening.

 “Thank you for saving my life,” Jisung said, serious. “Not just from the bandits, but you also kinda saved me back at the other village. You also punched me, but I know that was an accident.”

 “I will punch you again,” Hyunjin grumbled, getting under the covers and scooting to one side, “it just won’t be an accident.”

 Jisung laughed. “You’re really funny, you know that? I think most people don’t even notice, which is a shame.”

 “You’re not funny,” Hyunjin yawned.

 “Is that a challenge? Keep thinking that, then. I’ll make you smile.”

 Hyunjin didn’t dignify that with an answer. He closed his eyes.

 “Sleep well, Hyunjinnie,” Jisung murmured, burying himself in the blanket just a hand width away.

 “Night,” Hyunjin returned after a pause.

 It didn’t take long for Jisung’s breath to even out and his heartbeat to slow. Hyunjin listened to the muffled and fading noises of the inn for another while before he allowed himself to drift off. Even witchers needed sleep.

 When he came back to consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the early morning light streaming in from behind the curtain. He still had his eyes closed and felt no need to move for the moment. Jisung’s heartbeat sounded steady, his breaths warm against Hyunjin’s neck. Hyunjin was warm and comfortable in a way he hadn’t been in a long time, the sheet comfortable around him.

 Arms tightened around him, and a voice in the back of Hyunjin’s mind started screaming like the house was on fire. Except Hyunjin really didn’t mind burning houses, he was a witcher, why was his brain screaming? He firmly told himself to shut up and enjoy the lingering sleep. Awake time would be later.

 “Hrngg warm,” Jisung murmured, and threw a leg over Hyunjin’s hips.

 That woke Hyunjin.

 Wide eyed, he stared down, only to see Jisung half on top of him. He realised that it wasn’t the blanket that was so comfortably warm and soft, but Jisung, because Jisung was draped all over him.

 Carefully, Hyunjin tried to extract himself, but Jisung only tightened his hold on him.

 “Fuck,” Hyunjin whispered.

 What did one do when one woke up with a human octopus attached? Hyunjin didn’t know, so he tried to breathe normally and not disturb Jisung further. The bruises on his face were thankfully already fading into lighter shades of purple, but Jisung must have been exhausted. One of Hyunjin’s arms was free, and he’d left a bruise balm on the small table beside the bed, in case he hadn’t healed fully in the morning.

 Carefully, Hyunjin reached over, scooped a bit up with his finger, and very carefully started to cover the bruises on Jisung’s cheekbone and temple. Jisung didn’t wake.

 After a while, Hyunjin closed his eyes and fell back asleep. When he woke up again, it must have been late morning – golden light illuminated the room. Jisung was staring up at him, wide eyed.

 “You drool in your sleep,” Hyunjin told him and gently pushed Jisung off him.

 Jisung blushed furiously and wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, eyes not leaving Hyunjin.

 Hyunjin stretched and stood. He opened the curtain, squinting against the bright daylight. When he turned to Jisung, he found Jisung rubbing at his eyes, looking lost in the center of the bed, blanket pooling around him. His hair stood around his head and looked – despite all logic – fluffy.

 “I – uh, did I sleep on you?” Jisung averted his eyes.

 Hyunjin hummed, turning to his clothes. His armour was dry, luckily, but he’d hate to wear the same undershirt and pants again. He’d have to find a river where he could wash his clothes soon.

 “I’ll go find the toilet,” Jisung mumbled and left for the door. He almost stumbled in the doorway. “Oh, clothes! The nice lady must have left them for us.” In front of their door, indeed, was a neatly folded pile of clothes. Simple linen undershirts and pants, nothing fancy but of good quality.

 When they had fully dressed and Hyunjin had wrenched his hair into a bun, they made their way downstairs just to find the barkeeper grinning widely at them, reminding Hyunjin that this village thought him a hero.

 Thankfully, Jisung did all the talking, and Hyunjin could eat as much breakfast as he liked. Maybe he should keep Jisung around.

 A handful of villagers came together to bid them goodbye, and the woman from the inn for some reason apologised for being unable to pay him, but instead offered a horse. A cute, mischievous black mare that had been her niece’s favourite, and as such had never learned how to be a proper farm horse. Jisung thanked the villagers profusely and loudly, and sang another rendition of ‘the handsome witcher saved my life’ as they left.

 Out of sight and out of earshot of the last farm belonging to the village, Jisung’s voice went high and panicky.

 “Hyunjin! I don’t know how to ride a horse!”

 Hyunjin just looked Jisung up and down slowly, making his point. Jisung was, after all, sitting on his horse. Sure, he was also hugging his lute to his chest and also gripping the saddle with white-knuckled fists.

 “Ha! I did it!” Jisung whooped then, and pointed a finger in Hyunjin’s face. “You smiled!”

 Hyunjin wiped the smile off his face, furrowed his brows and glared. “No.”

 “You did! I clearly saw – Hyunjinnie you’re so cute when you – ah!” Jisung blanched and cowered over his horse, who had just made a bigger step than usual to nose Kkami in the face.

 Hyunjin laughed. He couldn’t help himself. Jisung was confident, or good at bullshitting confidence, and pretty, and annoying, and brave. And he was afraid of riding on a horse.

 He leaned back just a bit, letting Kkami know to stop just by shifting his weight. Jisung’s horse also stopped, probably because it had decided Kkami was the best living being on the planet. What a smart horse. Hyunjin jumped off and patted the black horse on the nose, smiling at her.

 Kkami snorted loudly.

 Hyunjin grabbed the reins of Jisung’s horse and started walking. “Just relax, Sungie,” he said without looking over his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

 “What about Kkami?” Jisung sounded very relieved and adorably worried about Kkami.

 Hyunjin hummed. “She’s the best. The smartest. She’ll walk with us on her own. You’re the one that needs to learn how to communicate with your horse. What’s her name?”

 “Uh,” Jisung paused. “I forgot? Or they didn’t say.”

 “Well, then you should start by naming her,” Hyunjin replied, and then started to talk about horses. What they liked to eat, how to care for them, what they did when they felt good and what they did when they felt scared, and what to do to calm a scared horse down. He talked about saddle care and the different kinds of signals most horses learnt from humans, and then he talked about Kkami.

 Jisung listened.

 And Hyunjin, the complete and utter fool that he was, talked himself hoarse (ha, get it, horse?) and taught Jisung how to not fall off his newly acquired companion.

 In the afternoon, they rested by a stream, Jisung complaining about sore legs the entire time and whining when he tried to sit climb back up on the horse. Hyunjin laughed at him, which made Jisung smile brighter than the sun in the sky, and they decided they’d just walk next to their horses to relieve the stress put on Jisung’s legs. After a while, Jisung started singing again. Maybe it was chronic. Still, Hyunjin found himself enjoying the company, and if his ears didn’t betray him, Jisung’s lyrics were better now, too.

 As the sun set behind some mountains in the distance, the annoying bard’s voice cracked from dehydration every few minutes. Jisung settled for humming melodies. Hyunjin caught a small animal for them to eat and build a fire on a clearing off the road. Jisung found an apple tree. As night fell, they huddled close together under Hyunjin’s thin blanket.

 “I’m seriously unironically glad to have met you,” Jisung’s loud voice startled Hyunjin, who’d gotten used to the quiet and the fire’s crackling. “I forgive you for punching me in the face, too.”

 Hyunjin took it all back. The annoying bard was annoying and Hyunjin did not enjoy his company at all. He sighed, pouring all his long suffering pain into the release of air.

 “But only because you’re pretty,” Jisung continued his monologue.

 That was it. Hyunjin couldn’t listen to another word. He leaned in, punching Jisung in the face. On the mouth. With his mouth.

 Jisung made a strangled noise and returned the kiss with a small smirk in the corner of his lips.

[mybookstorecarlovinghusbands]

Oh, the Irony Part 2 (Crowley x Female! Reader)

Part One Here

Summary: As Armageddon is underway, the demon, Crowley’s relationship with demon hunter, Y/n is tested and certain flashbacks of their history together unfold even further than before.

Fandom: Good Omens, Supernatural

Warning: Angst, tiny fluff, the usual

Notes: As requested! Also, should I possibly turn this into a fanfic on Archive? I have so many ideas for it than just these two parts. Let me know!

((REQUESTS OPEN!))

~~~~~~~~~

AMERICA, TEN YEARS BEFORE THE END OF THE WORLD

Of course, Sam and Dean Winchester were worried about her after she and Crowley showed up. Scared that she might have sold her soul to the demon to help them find Michael’s sword, the brothers were rough to Crowley and interrogated him with no remorse. The entire time Y/n tried explaining the situation, Crowley had kept cool and as usual, cocky, which didn’t help the situation. Y/n thought the only reason Dean didn’t kill the bastard was because of their love for cars. Meanwhile, Y/n and Sam hear a distress call from Jo and Rufus and when they all get there, they were all tricked into thinking that each other were possessed by demons, illusions created by a member of the Four Horsemen, War. By the time they barely escaped with their lives, Y/n reported this finding in to Crowley, who stiffened at the mention of War and suddenly became serious, explaining Armaggedon to the rest of the hunting crew. It was then did everyone agree to put the past aside and help each other out by working together to find a solution in stopping Lucifer and finding God. 

After meeting a Cambion named Jesse Turner in Alliance, Nebraska, Crowley starts getting anxious to go back to London. He gets snappy and tries irritating Y/n to no end to try and get her to leave with him so the two of them could hurry up and stop Armaggedon, but Y/n had always put her foot down whenever her friends were concerned and refused to leave. She even threatened to exorcise Crowley if he tried taking her away. After a threat like that, Crowley had to give in and help. He offers to give them another weapon. It’s not Michael’s sword, but it’s powerful, maybe even powerful enough to stop Lucifer. He tells the Winchesters about the Colt, the same weapon the brothers had lost awhile back. After they demanded he tell them where it is, Crowley willingly gives them the Colt with the promise that they don’t miss when trying to kill Lucifer. A battle ensues, a battle that ends with Jo and Ellen dead, but Lucifer is still very much alive. It wasn’t a victory, and all it did was make Y/n feel heavy and defeated. After losing her friends, she knew that Crowley had held up his end of the bargain and so there was no reason to stay in America anymore.

And so, without accomplishing anything, Y/n watches as the two silhouettes of Sam and Dean Winchester slowly fade into the fog of that rainy morning before disappearing completely in the side mirror of Crowley’s Bentley. Leaning back in her seat, she practically glares at the dashboard in front of her.

Crowley doesn’t say a word as they drive off, thinking about London and was ready to whisk the car, the woman, and himself back there when said woman suddenly opened her mouth, “Thank you, Crowley.”

He turns his head at her, the car nearly swerving off the road as he does so. Y/n didn’t seem to notice as she meets his gaze underneath his glasses with sincerity, “Thank you for sticking around. You could have stabbed me in the back at any time and take off, but you didn’t.”

Crowley stares at her for several minutes before turning back to the road, frowning, “I don’t think I like you when you’re nice.”

Y/n snorts, “That would be the appropriate answer of a demon.”

“Well, maybe not every creature with black wings and a handsome complexion is evil. After all, your angel friend, Castiel, has black wings.”

“Yeah,” Y/n’s eyes are distant while thinking about it, a hint of a smile on her lips while thinking. Crowley watches the wonder sparkle in her eyes and he decides to look away before the sight affected him.

“Don’t actually take that to heart,” he quickly defends, clutching the steering wheel, “So! As we are about to head into my territory, are you going to try and stab me in the back and back out on your side of the deal?"

Y/n’s lips tighten, the moment passing while pointing him with a knowing look, "Not unless you give me a reason to."

Crowley grins.

~~~~~~~~~

LONDON, THE LAST DAY OF THE WORLD

Out of all the things Y/n imagined Crowley doing on the last day of the world, she wasn’t expecting to walk into the apartment after work to find him looking over old maps and checking off places on the globe he keeps on the desk.

“What are you doing?” She asked, setting down some groceries she grabbed on the way home while walking over to the desk to look over the maps herself.

Crowley looks over at her and takes off his glasses, throwing them onto the desk and watch them skid into a halt before talking, “Where should we go?”

“What?” Y/n frowned while tilting her head in confusion, staring into his golden hue eyes for an answer.

“England’s out,” he continues while grabbing the small globe and letting it float in the air between his hands, watching it spin, “America’s out.”

Y/n steps closer to notice a new place on the globe near Africa, reading off its name with utter shock, “Atlantis?”

“Didn’t exist yesterday,” Crowley thought she was suggesting places and continued to list off others, “It exists today. Still out.”

He tosses the globe aside and lets it float in the air on its own while he slams down The Extremely Big Book of Astronomy onto the desk, startling his girlfriend in the process. Hastily, he flips through the pages, muttering under his breath, “The moon. No atmosphere. No nightlife. Unless you plan on wearing a space suit for the rest of your life, it’s out of the question.”

“Crowley, what are you-?”

As Crowley flips through the pages, they spring out of the book and fly all around the room, causing Y/n’s hair to fly around her as she watches in wonder. Crowley plucks a certain page from the air and reads it off, “Alpha Centauri! That’s always nice this time of years. Beautiful nebula, look at that,” he pushes the floating paper in her direction, and as she holds onto the page to read it, he shrugs knowingly, “I helped build that one.”

“It’s lovely,” she comments, letting go of the page to watch it fly off before eyeing her boyfriend, “But I still don’t see what this has anything to do with the Antichri--”

“I only ever ask questions,” Crowley continues, and the whine he lets out afterward made Y/n wonder if he had been drinking, “That’s all it took to be a demon in the old days.”

Y/n’s face softens, sadly watching Crowley mope around his throne while staring up at the ceiling, groaning, “Great Plan? God, you listening? Show me a Great Plan. Okay, I know you’re testing them, you said you were going to be testing them. You shouldn’t test them to destruction,” Crowley eyes the floating globe beside them, “Not to the end of the world.”

He bats the globe aside like a cat with its toy, only to watch the globe float back into position. When the room is silent, Y/n finally found a moment to talk without being interrupted, “Crowley, again, what is going on?”

“We need to leave,” his voice lowers now that his episode was over, pushing himself off the throne to walk over to her, “Alpha Centauri. You’ll love it there. Pack your things and then we can go off together. Aziraphale wants to stay, but if we leave now maybe we’ll run into him again before taking off. Tempt him to dinner or the cinema maybe then we can all go-?”

“And leave Earth?” She finished his sentence, understanding finally crossing her mind while straightening her shoulders, crossing her arms, “We’re running away?”

“Call it what you like. But we can’t win this. Heaven and Hell, they’re going to win. It doesn’t matter which of them wins because, by the time they do, humanity will already be gone. The world will end with the victor on top next to the Antichrist. They and the Four Horsemen are going to rule the world and there will be nothing left here for you, do you understand?”

Crowley places his hands on both of her arms, “All I know is that I can save you... and Aziraphale once he gets that stick out of his arse. Now come on. Let’s get you some clothes and food and we can take off. There won’t be any monsters left for you to fight so we can leave all you weapons and gear behind--”

Y/n steps out of Crowley’s grasp, staring down at her feet with defeat in her eyes when she looks up at Crowley’s confused expression, “As long as there is still time for me to do something, I’m going to do it.”

“Y/n, there isn’t any time left! Armageddon starts today! Not tomorrow, not next week--”

“I’m not an idiot,” Y/n hisses back, “I heard you the first five hundred times you’ve said it since the day we met or did you forget that you wanted me to help you stop Armageddon? Well, I told you I wasn’t going to step out of the deal and I won’t start now.”

“I’m sorry, but did I just so happen to make up the part about where we’re more than just partners now or did you make that bit up because it would make the deal we made easier?” Crowley snapped, and Y/n realized too late that what she said came out wrong to him as hurt was practically blazing from his snake eyes.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Are you still telling me that you want to hold your end of the bargain? Because I thought we threw that deal out the window the moment we decided to be together because the deal didn’t exactly matter by then.”

“It matters to me,” she snapped, “I promised to help you. Us being together only made it even more crucial that I keep up my end of the bargain because it meant that much to you. Together or not, I want to help the world, and I will.”

“Even when I’m asking you not to?” Crowley’s voice cracks to a higher pitch as he’s desperate to get a move on.

“If we just find the boy then we can--”

“For Heaven’s sake, Y/n, we need to leave!”

“I’m not leaving!” Y/n suddenly screams, “I am going to stop Armageddon in any way I can. Even if you’re too scared to do it--”

“I’m not scared, Y/n. I’m terrified!” Crowley curses under his breath and paces the room, before turning on his heels to waltz right back up to Y/n, “How long have we been together? Five years?”

Y/n went tightlipped as Crowley desperately tries to persuade her, “Please, darling. I’ve never begged you to do anything before but I’m begging you now. Come with me. We can run away together and live out the rest of our lives among the stars. Lots of spare planets up there. Nobody would even notice us.”

“You’re asking me to leave Earth! To leave my friends and family to die here. After all the friends I’ve lost to monsters, demons, and angels, I think it’s time I do something to make sure that never happens again,” Y/n’s voice cracks, taking a deep breath before she starts walking towards the door while grabbing her bag, “Sam and Dean expect me to visit next week to tell them everything about how I helped save the world... I don’t intend on disappointing my boys.”

“Darling, wait!” Crowley moves to grab Y/n but the female hunter was faster. After years of fighting and hunting demons, she’s learned how to avoid and even kill them of course. Before Crowley could reach her, Y/n took out a small tin of salt she had in her bags of groceries and before he could blink, Crowley was stopped by a line of salt inside the front doorway, with Y/n already on the other side, dropping the salt canister with a huff of air. She stares at Crowley with sad eyes, the two of them standing on either side of the salt line, silent, a look of betrayal in the demon’s eyes. Y/n wills herself to look away and she did.

“Goodbye, Crowley.”

“Y/n!” He cries after her as she leaves, and for all that he knew, it would be the last time he ever sees her.

~~~~~~~~~

At first, Y/n didn’t know where to start. Her first idea was to go to Aziraphale and help him figure out how to stop Armageddon. When she got to his shop, he was desperate to tell her everything. The angel had felt guilty for lying to Crowley about finding out where the Antichrist is and so he told Y/n instead. After telling Y/n the whereabouts of Adam Young, Aziraphale said he had work to do and so the human left him to his own devices. Now it was Y/n’s turn to get ready for her trip to Tadfield. 

She takes the bus to the nearest cemetery, looking both ways before crossing the street towards the iron gate and climbing over it. Once she’s sure no one saw her, she makes it towards the large tomb overlooking the whole graveyard at the very center of all the stones. She fiddles with the lock and once the door opens, she makes her way inside. Without a second thought, Y/n throws the lid to the coffin in the center of the room aside, only to reveal that instead of a body, there was a spiral staircase heading down. Y/n hops inside the coffin and makes her way down the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

Like I’ve said before, Y/n had a network of hunters working for her outside of London for the very long years she has lived here. And during this time, a sophisticated hunter such as her needed to build a lair in which all sorts of weapons, traps, and other supernatural gear could be hidden away from prying eyes. Not even Crowley has been here since the tomb itself is riddled with traps for all sorts of beings. Y/n had even used blood magic so that only she could access the lair. Once inside, she turns on the light to find everything just where she left it. Guns were propped up onto the walls, and in the center was a glass case of other objects meant for the unreal monsters of the night. Salt, holy water, holy oil, dead man’s blood, Enochian puzzle boxes, the list goes on. She grabs a sawed-off double-barrelled shotgun from off the wall, loading it with a couple of rock salt shotgun shells before blowing a strand of hair from out of her face.

“Right then. Off to work.”

~~~~~~~~~

(Part 3?)

[tigerwalk3]

Secret Santa Fics

We did a Christmas game! We asked Santa for fanfic written by our favs and he didn’t disappoint with his delivery. Looks like we were all put on the nice list because the fics we wished for couldn’t have been better. And since it’s the season for giving, we’re sharing with all of you!

Happy Holidays!

I wrote this fic for @thematsaidwelcome79

XOXOXOXOX __________________________________

“Bullshit.”

“I swear.” Rick made a cross sign over his heart, though he couldn’t hide the giddy smile on his face. Daryl was less amused.

“You’re telling me you didn’t rig this shit? Ain’t no way outta all these people, you just randomly pulled your wife’s name out of that hat.”

Rick quirked an eyebrow at his friend. He really hadn’t messed with the rules—Carol wouldn’t have let him anyway—but he was more struck by Daryl’s choice of words in his accusation. “My wife, huh?”

“Ain’t she?”

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel of the van as they drove back to Alexandria, pondering that. Of course she was his wife. Though, they hadn’t actually discussed that. What he and Michonne had wasn’t going anywhere, and it felt a little trite to call her his girlfriend. She was the mother of his children, his soulmate, if that didn’t make her his wife, no ceremony would. Still though, he wondered if she had thought about the fact that they hadn’t made that official yet. She’d never said anything. But would she—

“Hey!”

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head. “Of course she is. But I didn’t rig the secret Santa thang. Sometimes you just get lucky.”

“Bullshit.”

“Who’d you get?”

“Eugene.”

…

Rick got home late that night, after Michonne and the kids were already asleep. He and Daryl had made what had become a weekly run into the city. They’d taken the whole group the first time, but now that they knew what areas to avoid, and cleared the rest, the two of them could manage just fine. Besides, this whole Secret Santa thing wasn’t gonna be possible if Michonne was with him whenever they were outside the walls. He’d lied and said he was missing his time with Daryl and she’d packed a sandwich for the both of them and waved them off.

He felt a little like the real Santa tonight, though, as he unpacked the backpack he had filled on the trip. The more essential stuff already went straight to the pantry, this was all for them. Michonne had found stockings in the attic of the house the year prior, and once they had found out about R.J., she’d made a fifth one to add to the mantel. It was red and black flannel, made from an emergency blanket he’d swiped from the trunk of a car, but she’d embroidered his name on the front and even found some white trim to decorate the top.

He plopped down in front of the fireplace and sorted his haul. A barbie for Judith, a football for Carl (that wasn’t going to fit in the stocking, so he set it aside to be wrapped somehow.) and a whole set of vintage matchbox cars for R.J.. Michonne might not approve of him playing with those yet, but he couldn’t leave them sitting on the shelf at that empty, burned out antique shop. Another thing he hadn’t been able to leave still sat in his pocket.

He stuck what he could in the kid’s stockings and hid the ball, then rifled through his pack for the little gift bag he’d found. It said Happy Birthday and had a picture of a cat in a party hat on it, but it would do. This was only day one of the gift exchange and besides, better he not give himself away by going out of his way to find the perfect wrapping. No one else would put in that effort for this little Christmas game.

He filled the cat bag with three silk headbands and some cowrie shells he’d traded Cyndi for, and crept back outside to set it on the front steps as per the rules. As soon as he opened the door, he saw Abraham approaching and he tensed. This couldn’t be good news if he was coming to knock on their door in the middle of the night. He was about to call out to him, when he noticed a package in his hand wrapped in shiny red paper. Since he had picked Michonne, and the kids weren’t involved in this game, he deduced that it had to be a gift for him.

“Rick,” he said, startled.

“Abe. What’s going on?”

Abe shoved the package behind his back and shrugged. This was exactly Rick’s objection to this when Carol suggested it. Grown men giving each other Christmas presents? Secret ones at that? It was a little awkward.

“Nothing, boss,” Abe said. “Just out for a walk. The night air is good for the old respiratory system, ya know. The lungs…”

“Right.”

“How about you? You delivering something?”

Rick looked down at the bag in his hands and glanced up the road toward Daryl’s house. He wasn’t even supposed to tell Daryl who he’d picked. He certainly didn’t want to get caught blabbing to Abraham. “Yeah, uh, was just headed out to drop it off.” He trotted down the steps. He would circle around, throw Abraham off the scent. He shook his head and headed left. This entire thing was so ridiculous.

...

Ok, maybe it wasn’t completely ridiculous. Rick beamed over his cup of coffee as Michonne tied the little shells he’d left for her into her locs. She had been so excited when she saw the little bag on the steps, that his cold, Grinchy heart had started to warm immediately. When she pulled out the headbands and gushed over the print and material, he felt like Scrooge on Christmas morning. Transformed.

He’d also found the little red package Abraham had left him. He’d opened the paper to find six cigars of different brands. He supposed even when you didn’t pick your wife in the draw, this idea still had its merits.

The next day went just as well. Michonne’s eyes practically bugged out of her head when she’d opened the original copy of the Articles of Confederation. He might have been showing off with that one, but if the end of the world wasn’t good for something…

Abe had left him a bottle of whisky, giving him the final push into all out Christmas cheer territory. Maybe he could get himself one of those ugly sweaters for Christmas morning. The kids would hate that. Michonne would love it. He was putting it on his list for the next run.

…

The next run happened to be the next day which was good timing, because after the reaction he got to the first two gifts, he wasn’t satisfied with the chocolate bars and tea he had planned on leaving her next. It wouldn’t really matter once she saw the fourth and final gift (he hoped) but still, he was on a roll, why stop now?

“So what’d you get Eugene?” Rick asked, hiding his laugh as he and Daryl cleared the aisles of an abandoned CVS.

“Hit the jackpot yesterday,” he said, plunging his knife into a lone walkers skull and shaking off the blade. “Found a pyrotechnics place outside of Hyattsville. Left him a bag full a morning glories. Should keep him occupied.”

“And what’d you get?”

Daryl reached into his pocket and pulled out a clean, red bandana, wiping his brow. “Ain’t even got any blood on it yet.”

Rick laughed. “It’s a Christmas miracle.” He shoved aside the last walker he’d put down and stepped over it to get to the aisle he was looking for. “Here we go,” he said, grinning. Bubble bath and lotion. Michonne had already used all of the products that came with the house when they moved in, and she was always looking out for stuff for the kids when she was on runs with him. She’d never get this stuff for herself.

He used his forearm to swipe the contents of the entire shelf into his backpack, then strode a few more aisles down and picked out a real gift bag. They hadn’t put out the Christmas stuff yet when the businesses shuttered their doors, so a plain red one would have to do. He even found a bow.

…

“Look at all this stuff!” Michonne dug through the overflowing bag of toiletries, holding up the pretty bottles to R.J. as he lay on his back on the blanket on the living room floor. The baby cooed as she showed him one by one.

Rick took a sip from his new coffee mug, printed with the words “World’s Greatest Boss” and smiled. Carol deserved a medal for this idea.

…

The final day of the Secret Santa was actually Christmas Day (as far as they could tell and had decided as a group). When he checked the front step, he found a pair of socks and some jerky with a note that said: “have a Merry Christmas, you’ve earned it -Abe.” Rick smiled and put his arm around Michonne who was a little dejected.

“Maybe your person is gonna deliver it later today,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. He’d already planned on giving her his gift later, after the kids went to bed. “The final day it’s not a secret anymore, so maybe they want to hand deliver it.”

“Maybe,” she said, holding the robe Carl had gotten her closed against the cold morning air. Her frown quickly turned into a smile when they walked back into the house and watched the kids play with their new things.

By the time everyone was put to bed, they were exhausted. He sat down on the couch and held his arms open for her to join him. She leaned her head against his chest and sighed happily. “It was a nice Christmas,” she said.

“It sure was.”

“I wonder what happened to my Secret Santa.”

“I don’t think he forgot you.”

“He? You know who it was?”

“Of course I do. You think I’m gonna let Carol organize someone else getting my wife gifts without me knowing who it is?”

He felt her stiffen, then turn slowly over her shoulder to look at him. “Your wife?” she asked, her eyes wide in a good way, like when she’d seen those headbands, but even better.

“Yeah. My wife.” He kissed her forehead and laced his fingers through hers. “At least that’s what I want you to be. If that’s something you want…”

She nodded, her eyes getting teary. “Yeah. I do.”

“Wait. Don’t say I do yet.” He shifted slightly so he could reach the little box in his pocket, pulling it out and setting it in her hand. “Michonne, nothing I could say could make you mean any more to me than you already do. The truth is, even this seems like an understatement in this day and age, but traditions were made for a reason, and while we’re rebuilding the world, maybe this is one we want to keep going. So…” He opened the box to show her the platinum and emerald ring he’d found in that same antique shop where he’d picked up R.J.’s cars. “...if you wouldn’t mind doing me the honor of wearing my ring, I’d like for the whole world to know what I already do. You’re everything to me, not the least of which is my wife.” He slid the ring on her finger and she stared at it while she wiped her eyes with her other hand.

“It’s beautiful, Rick. Now can I say I do?”

He reached up to press a finger in the corner of his own eye to keep his tears from falling. “Yeah.”

“I do, Santa.”

Rick laughed. “You knew?”

“Of course I did! I knew the second I opened up all that bubble bath that was so clearly wrapped by a man, and you didn’t even bat an eye!”

“Yeah I suppose I could have put a little more effort into faking it.”

“Well as your wife, I think you did a great job.”

“And as your husband, I’m gonna need you to take care of this for me next year.”

Michonne giggled, then laid her head on his chest. “Merry Christmas, Rick.”

“Merry Christmas, Michonne.”

[yukaigenohogosha]

The Bullet and The Blade... Prt 2

A Detroit Become Human Mafia AU FanFic: This one maybe a little longer than the the first one. And I want to keep it that way...

Excuse the Grammatical and factual errors and miss conceptions. It’s just for fun. Also NSFW and very gay with a hint of gore, angst, and foul language. Viewer discretion is advised.

Prev Prts : Prt 1 Next Prt: Prt 3

They’re going to take the bull by the horns. But is that a good Idea?

Gavin’s Charger hums as he reaches Ferndale pass the subways and buildings. Gavin taps his steering wheel to the beat of Ariana Grande on the radio. Lucky no one’s there to watch him lip-sync and bop to Greedy. He’d rather shoot himself than let anyone know that. Tina does and it is torture.

But at least this is able to calm him. Going to Jericho wasn’t exactly on his top priority. In fact, being in someone else’s territory is unsettling enough. But like Hank said, Jericho might give proper backup. Even though we have no idea who they’re dealing with, we’re not taking any chances.

Gavin turns a bend and reaches a ship. As he got out after of the charger, Gavin approached the old clunk of rusted metal that still held Cargo on it’s deck. It stood completely still in the midday and yet Gavin kept getting chills. He looks around and see’s Hank’s Sedan driving through.

Hank got out with Tina following suite. Gavin felt slightly relieved. At least he’s not doing this alone. 

“What?” Tina smirked calling out to Gavin as she walked closer. “Too chicken to do it alone?”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “You wish. As I would recall, I had to drag a certain Someone to the edge cuz that certain Someone wouldn’t stop crying.”

“It was one time and I had no idea that there was a net!”

Before Gavin can muster a comeback, Hank clipped both of them at the back of their heads. “Knock it off and move. Believe it or not, I got other shit to do!”

Gavin rubbed the back of his head and sticks his tongue out at him. Tina just shook her head and followed orders.

All three walk toward the edge of the rusty catwalk that seems to be used as a connection from the docks to the decks but now stood a rusty broken bridge that halfway to the ship.

But none of them minded it. They weren’t gonna using it to cross anyway. As the trio looked over the edge, Gavin’s having second thoughts.

Tina leaned in to Gavin “Bwaaak bwak bwak. Bacawk!” mimicking the flapping of the bird with her arms.

“Fuck you” Gavin adds before he see Hank disappear.

Seeing Hank go first, makes the whole thought trying to follow suite a lot easier.

Tina beats Gavin to it and moves in to enter Jericho.

Gavin watches Tina do a mid air back flip before disappearing in to the darkness.

“Show off...”

Gavin takes a deep breath and pockets his shades in to his inner pocket before finally taking the initiative.

He jumps.

***

“I don’t understand why they can’t just install a door like a normal person.”

Hank scoots out of the net. His suit wrinkled and his hair messed up. the net bounces around as Tina and Gavin reach the net. Tina was giggling like a child and Gavin was struggling to get his footing.

“Total rush!” Tina shouts as she looks back at Gavin before she rolls out of the net.

Gavin, after failing to find balance, gives up and mimics Tina by rolling off the net and hitting the ground in unceremonious thud.

Gavin groan and stood up to brush off dust from his jacket. shoved his hands in his pocket. three walked on as they climb the flight of stairs upwards into the cabin. Tina and Gavin softly wheeze after stair number 9 while Hank seems to be doing just fine.

“You move fast for an old man.” Gavin mustered through his paved breaths.

Hank smirked as he leaned on a the railing. “You guys just gotta work on you Cardio.” And continued with more stride. 53 and feeling fine.

Tina and Gavin grunt through 12 more flight before reaching the Hull. Despite what the outside of ship looks like, the interior looks modern and recently upgraded. With open windows, soft redwood coloured walls and  men and women in white suits.

Walking behind Hank, Gavin can see that he’s looking for someone. Hank then smiles as he sees a senior in wheelchair who seems to be strapped to machine that lifts him 6 feet off the floor. Hank starts walking towards him who’s occupied with painting a gigantic mural, a dynamic revision of the the Detroit River in the sunset. 

“Got too much free time on your hands, old man?” Hank spoke up. The said “Old man” turned and smiled “Hank Motherfuckin Anderson!”. The machine descended until he reached ground and he wheeled himself out of it towards Hank. “Hows it been, old timer?” Hank bent down to give him a strong hug.

The man return the hug before pulling away. “Well, retirement’s been nice but having nothing to do is getting old.” He cracked before looking at his master piece. “still, it’s nice.” He turned back round to the three. “But I know you didn’t come here to see me. Especially knowing that you hate falling into that net.”

“Speaking of which, Get a door.”

“Not my call anymore”

“Oh right, You know where Markus is, Carl?”

“Check the captain’s cabin. That’s where he usually is these days. Being the new leader of Jericho get’s busy as it is.”

“Thanks. Anyway, nice work on the wall.”

“Shut up, you can’t tell red from fucking purple.”

Hank give a low warm chuckle before turning around waving the Carl from behind. Carl just shakes his head and get’s back to his mural.

Gavin’s head is solely straight on on the task at hand. That is, until Tina elbowed him and signaled him with her eyes. Gavin turn to the direction she was insinuating and saw him. Through the rush of people in white suits, a man stood out. In Gavin’s eyes at least.

“Hey, Um... I’m going for a piss. Catch up with you later.”

Before Hank could even respond, He was off. tailing a man in white suit and blond hair. His eyes fixated to this person like a he was prey. Keeping safe distance making sure his remains undetected.

All the way up to the forecastle. He watches this man look out into the distance. Breathing in the fresh air and feeling the calming breeze and sun. Gavin marvels at the man, smiling behind a container.

“I know you’re there.”

Gave froze. He sees the man looking straight at him with a knowing smile. Gavin smiled back and shows himself.

“Hey, Si.”

“Hey Reed.”

Gavin raises an eyebrow “You still using my mom’s name?”

“I thought you like that.”

He approaches the Simon. The soft baby blue eyes staring back at him makes Gavin smile ever so pleasantly.

“Yeah, I do. You look well”

“Yup, got to be right hand man. Now that Markus is leader.”

Gavin let’s out small chuckle.

“It’s yeah, not yup. Stop sounding like a T-ball preschooler. You’re in the big leagues now.”

Simon pulls out an earnest smile that melts Gavin heart.

“Oh, right!” Simon turns to his left side and pulls out a double edged dagger.

Gavin’s face drops “Don’t make me say it...”

Simon then pouts and looks at Gavin in expectation. Gavin could only sigh.

“Let me see what you have...”

Simon bolts away pass Gavin. “A KNIFE!”

“NO!”

And they’re off. Two grown adults playing cat and mouse chase, recalling fond childhood memories. Till they’re age caught up with them and their legs gave out. They start panting and laughing like two idiots with nothing better to do.

“So, what brings you to Jericho?” Simon finally catching his breath and stood up straight before fixing his suit.

Gavin completely forgot as he too stood up. “Now that you mentioned it, We got to head off to see Markus now.” start walking over to the Captain’s cabin

Simon tilts his head but follows suite. He then give Gavin a pat on the back. 

“It’s good to see you again, Reed.”

Gavin’s heart made a slight lurched between happy and hurt. 

“It’s good to see you too, Si.”

***

As the two walk leisurely to the cabin reminiscing about old times, a woman slams open the door startling them both. She looks up and furrows her brows at Simon.

“Good, I was about to get you. Made my job easier.” Her tone serious and hard, but this was North we’re talking about. Never not an angry moment. “Get in.” She moved aside to grant them entry.

Simon and Gavin looked at each other before entering. Hank and Tina sitting opposite to the desk and a man with tanned skin and two different coloured eyes. As Gavin observed, he can see that this calm yet determined figure of Markus is the reason why Carl handed Jericho to him. If anything, he’s impressed.

“Everyone’s here then?” Markus looks around before continuing. “Good. Josh, If you please.” He looks over to another man African american man in white no older than 25.

Josh pulled out some files and looked over to the rest. “I have a bit of information on about the cut signature on John. It’s not much and some look doubtful but comparing them with Elijah’s notes, I’m able to certain some of the facts.”

“Well?” Gavin getting somewhat impatent. 

Josh hesitated before proceeding. “A katana blade.”

The room became silent before Gavin, like a complete moron, started laughing hysterically. 

For a good 5 minutes. 

Eventually it died down slowly as he looked at everyone else. Catching Hank face palming and Tina cringing on the spot. He realized something.

“Oh shit, you’re serious.”

Josh huffed lightly. “The brand of the blade is still illusive, but through the others we found-”

“Others?” Tina sat up. Shocked.

Josh looked back at Tina. “It seems John wasn’t the only victim.” Pulls other files to Tina and Hank. He offered Gavin but he promptly refused.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Hank looks into one of the files. “Hold on, some of these people were shot.”

Gavin looks over at the file in Hank’s hand and as if he read his mind, Hank held out the file to Gavin. Gavin peered into the files and Winced.

A number of individual portraits of corpses splayed out on the floor. This time, their neck and forehead shot. leaving two bullet holes and a gruesome dead stare. He closed the file. Even if it’s less gory than the first, it doesn’t make it easier to look at.

“Do we have an address to these signatures?”

“With the intel I’ve sent to Elijah, he has located a location worth noting. An establishment known as Zen Garden Towers.”

Hank now sits up “Wait a sec, you mean that hotel? On Belle Isle, Detroit River?”

They all look at Hank like he’s grown a second head. Markus tilts his head curiously. “You know something?”

Hank stand up, ready to leave. “I think I’ve got a good clue of who’s behind this.” 

***

They all make it to the Zen Garden Towers. To say it was big hotel was an understatement. It had more than 40 storey and the area was bigger than the seem to make up most of the isle. It’s a little sad, Gavin thought. Remembering the Belle as a conversed isle park only to be turned into a luxurious bed and breakfast.

They walked in to the futuristic interior of blue and white with Hank and Markus up front and the rest following behind. At the receptionist, Hank spoke up.

“I’m here to see Madam Stern.”

The receptionist calm as ever “Do you have an appointment?”

“Call her up and say “Anderson” is here.” He said grimly

As the Receptionist did as so, Gavin leaned over to Hank.

“How many fucking people do you know in Detroit?!”

“If you’ve lived long enough to make as many connections as I have, some names will stick.”

The Receptionist then nods and hangs up the phone. She stands up and leave a will return soon notice on the counter. “This way please” She walks out to guide them to the elevator.

As they got into the uncomfortably spacious elevator, three men can be seen entering the lobby. “Hold the elevator!” One of them yelled out as they walk towards it. 

The Receptionist was holding down the open button, when Gavin out of pure idiotic mischief, decides to smack the hand away and close the doors. The trio seeing this, start sprinting across the lobby. The tall one of the group starts getting exceptionally closer, which makes Gavin press the button continuously. 

But in the end, the glass doors closes only for the man to slam his hand on surface, so hard the sound slightly resonates in the elevator. Delaying the ascend. Gavin pulls satisfied grin on the mans face as he looks into the cold Ice blue stare full of annoyance.

“Take the stairs...” He mouths as the elevator starts to leaves.

***

The low elevator hum puts Gavin in a better mood than he thought, he glances over to Simon who returns them before rolling his eyes and silently chuckles. Tina on the other hand is not amused. She leans over to him again and whispers silently.

“Seriously?! All that to impress Clueless Mc-Blondielocks?!”

Gavin jumps slightly. He eyes Simon, hoping he hadn’t heard anything. He didn’t

“Get off my tits, Ching ching!”

Tina huffed and left it at that. Surprised Hank didn’t sound his opinions.

the elevator dinged as they reached the top floor. the roof. What they saw was beyond words. An oriental garden filled with a built in lake and Asian influenced paths, bridges, and a lake island with a rose trellis. 

Standing on the lake island is an African woman in cyan and turquoise robes. She had an elegant air to her as she tends to the roses.

She turns and smile. But it seems somewhat malevolent than sincere. 

“Anderson...”

“Stern”

She turns around, focusing on the roses again.

“What brings you here?”

“You know what...”

Sterns stops. And turns again.

“I do...”

Gavin’s hands readied on his holster. But Hank signals him to stand down.

“Which one of your men did it?”

“One of my sons. Richard.”

“Why...”

The elevator dings again indicating someone is entering the floor.

“Speak of the devil. Why don’t you ask him yourself?” 

Everyone simultaneously turns around. The colour in Gavin’s face drained to pale.

The trio earlier, walked in. With the tall one in the looking straight at Gavin with his blue icy stare and his right hand gripped on to a katana pommel strapped to his belt.

“Oh, Fuck me...” Gavin thought.

Because “Richard” did not look amused.

End of Prt 2 ----> Prt 1 , Prt 3

[trashpandaorigins]

Gideon’s Bible Track Five What's in a Name Part Two

As a fanfic writer I cannot express how much comments mean to me! These fics do take an exorbitant amount of time to write with flash fics taking me anywhere from an hour to two hours and longer fics taking three hours to five or six. I write for free and all I ask is comments/feedback in return when you like and or reblog!

----

“I am Groot!”

“Yes!” Rocket exclaimed, quickly making sure there was no one else on board the Milano who might hear his parental like joy. They had stopped on ThreeFold a planet made up of three small planets connected by asteroid belts. Gamora had business there and the rest of the crew decided to check out the new territory. But as usual, Rocket professed to stay behind with baby Groot as they had come to calling him. “That’s right buddy, we DID break out of a prison together on Maldar!” Slowly but surely baby Groot had begun to recall certain memories of their misadventures together. Rocket was delighted each and every time. A piece of his best friend was still alive.

“I am Groot!”

“That’s right, I am Rocket!” He said breathlessly full of hope. Had the memories of their time together come back? Baby Groot ran around the table again, reaching out his arms with their vines to knock over several dishes. The clattered to the ground smashing into bits. Rocket laughed wathing the small tree rush around and break everything he could wrap his vines around.

“I am Groot, I am Groot, I am Groot!” The raccoon like creature smiled with unsurprised glee. Baby Groot remembered his name. He had many names before he became known as Rocket. The first name he had was something he could not quite recall. A combination of squeaks and sniffs that someone, he assumed his mother, would use to identify him from the other balls of fur around him, sisters and brothers? He never knew. He tried to remember the patterns of squeaks and sniffles, tried to remember his original name but like everything else before Halfworld, it was a muddled drunken haze. It was the name he hated the most that he had the longest.

“Subject 89P13,” he could still hear them saying it in those monotone voices of theirs as they scribbled on their note pads and examined him. “Subject 89P13 reacts to electrician. Subject 89P13 has yet to achieve language acquisition. Subject 89P13 responds to sensory deprivation.” It had not been until he met Groot that Rocket got his name.

“I am Groot!” Rocket grabbed him just in time before he reached for Peter’s cassette deck.

“Hey, big guy easy there,” he put the squirming Baby Groot onto his shoulders. “Do you remember when we got free from that looney asylum?” Rocket proceeded to retell one of his favorite and only pleasant memory of that place. The day they escaped.

“I am Groot!”

“Gimme a second!” 98P13 growled, scouring at the gun. No more ammo, and fifteen security guards ran towards them armed to the teeth. The heavy wind of the launching area whipped around them, stirring Groot’s branches and his fur. Had they not been in the middle of escaping, 89P13 would have reveled in the first fresh air he had felt in years.

“I am Groot, I am Groot!” “I’M not doing anything!” He snarled, “It’s the flarking gun!” Above them sirens wailed, he could hear more ships coming above them. 89P13 smashed the gun to pieces, curing as he threw it aside and crawled up to Groot’s shoulders. From the vantage point he could see people armed with guns poking out of the building and those running towards them were closer. Groot waited for the last possible moment before roaring and lengthening his arms, striking out at the guards until all of them lay unconscious or, more likely dead. Shots echoed around them which 89P13 ducked from behind the floral colossus. Finally, they were able to fight their way backward,

“That one!” 89P13 cried pointing at a two-person star flyer not five feet away.

“I am Groot!” He nodded and they back peddled towards it, Groot using his arms to knock out anyone who came close on foot while 89P13 scrambled to pick up a gun from one of the fallen guards. Good, still loaded. He aimed at those up in the buildings with the guns taking them out with no discursion until Groot ducked to avoid hitting the swooping wing of the ship.

“Great, let’s go!”

“I am Groot!”

“No! We don’t have time for…” the large tree looked at him with such innocents it touched something in 89P13. This place, it had messed him up real good. But not Groot. Somehow he was able to remain…pure. He had not let them tear out his heart.

“Fiine…” 89P13 groaned. But stay here. I want this thing ready to go!” Groot nodded earnestly.

“I am Groot!”

“When am I not careful?” Without a reply 89P13 leveled his gun and took off, dashing past the few remaining panicked guards to the main power building. He pulled the trigger, blasting a hole in the wall and scurried through. The room was dark apart from the red flashes of the alarm. All wires and boxes with labels he could thankfully read. Outside more gun fire and screams. He ran around, desperately trying to find it until he spotted it against the far wall. “Containment,” hurrying, 89P13 flipped the switch, the green light on the box turned to off. More gun shots. Frantically he ran back, through the mess of wires, shooting a guard who ran at him as he tried to exit. Across the landing and launching bay the star flyer hovered, Groot waving as bullets ricochet off. He hoisted the gun onto his back, there was no time left. Animals one by one were coming out of the different buildings to the alarm of the guards. Rocket peered around, trying to find her.

“Lylla?” He tried, but his voice was over shadowed by the fighting. “Lylla?!” He shouted, keeping one eye on the ship and one out for the small otter he had come to know. She had been in the cell across from him during their imprisonment and had already established a name for herself. She taught 89P13 which orderlies could be persuaded to give them extra food, which guards to watch out for and most importantly, effective methods of attacking the strange people in the strange goggles and coats. He had seen her take down four of them on two separate occasions, once she’d clawed out the eye of one of them. That was the only time 89P13 had seen their faces. Like him, Lylla had been experimented on for enhancement purposes and she would come back from who knew what groggy, bruised and broken like him. She never complained, she taught him not to complain. He knew that if she had gotten free she’d be the one leading the way but he hadn’t seen her in weeks.

“Lyll-…ahh!” He fell forward. White hot pain going through his side. Staggering he made his wat to the ship, swaying as he gently secured himself in the cockpit beside Groot.

“I am Groot?”

“No,” he grimaced. “I didn’t see her.”

“I am Groot…”

“Maybe.” 89P13 gripped the steering, with a roar and a hum they were off.

“I am Groot!” Groot pointed out the window.

“A rocket? Where?” 89P13 asked, but then he saw. Under the left wing. One look at it and he glanced back to the wreckage they had caused. The asylum burned and collapsed. Satisfaction and rage melded into one. It wasn’t enough. All of the animals were out of their cages by now, so taking aim, he punched the release button and off the rocket went.

“So long motherfu****!” He watched as it soared off, landing on the building where he had been held. It erupted in an inferno as he laughed and they sped away with exhilaration.

“I am Groot!”

“Yeah that rocket was something!” he agreed, he watched the rear cams behind them as they went out of range.

“…rocket…” he thought and found his grin widening.

----

In cannon, Lylla shows up in some of the earliest comics featuring Rocket Raccoon. She serves as his love interest in a way that I feel is extremely sexist. Early MCU and even today MCU is still not great with women and other female characters. I decided to instead make her a mentor to Rocket in his early days and maybe his friend but not a romantic interest. Personally, I don't ship Rocket with anyone romantically. Or Groot for that matter. Just my own take. Hope you still enjoy!

[anamelesstraveler]

| AO3 | FFN | Wattpad | Link for mobile |

| Next |

A McHaleinski fanfic with a Scerek focus. Rated E.

Part 1 | 7,550 words

There’s a never-ending list of things that Derek regrets in his life. Offering the Bite to a group of emotionally unstable teenagers, not putting Peter back into his grave immediately after he crawled out, anything involving Kate Argent. Now he can add taking advice from Stiles Stilinski to the list.

Go track down the witch with Scott, he said. Commune with your Alpha on the hunt, he said. Finally grow a spine and ask him out, he said.

Never again. Because now there’s a child staring at him. A cherubic-faced child is frowning at him from the spot where Scott once stood.

This story includes de-aged Scott who is a cutie patoot, pining Derek, established Sterek, established Sciles, polyamory, open relationship, insecure Derek/Scott/Stiles, and angst with a happy ending.

Part 1

--------------------1---------------------

This is not happening.

There’s a never-ending list of things that Derek regrets in his life - at varying degrees. Offering the Bite to a group of emotionally unstable teenagers, not putting Peter back into his grave immediately after he crawled out, anything involving Kate Argent. Now he can add taking advice from Stiles Stilinski to the list.

Go track down the witch with Scott, he said.

Commune with your Alpha on the hunt, he said.

Finally grow a spine and ask him out, he said. Or just shove him against the nearest available surface and kiss him. Stiles suggested that too.

Hunting down the rogue witch in their territory had been the easy part. Controlling his heartbeat, keeping Scott from noticing how nervous he was - that was harder. But none of that matters now, because like everything else in Derek’s life, it’s all gone to hell in a handbasket. All it had taken was the witch blasting a spell at them as she made her escape - and Scott shoving him just of out the blast radius.

And now…

There’s a child staring at him. A cherubic-faced child is frowning at him from the spot where Scott once stood. And there’s no doubt who the child is because that’s Scott’s frown in miniature, and Scott’s nose wrinkling cutely, and Scott is a kid.

Derek breathes deeply. Fuck.

He regrets everything that has led him to this.

“Scott,” he greets cautiously.

The boy’s brows furrow. “Who are you? Why are we in the woods? It smells funny.” He rubs his sleeve over his nose. Derek can’t really blame him for that. The sharp, crackling smell of magic is overpowering in the air around them - and will be for days.

Derek kneels slowly, eyes never leaving Scott’s - as if the boy were a frightened wild animal rather than a lost child. He’s… not sure that’s a good way to approach the situation. Especially not when the little boy backs away a few steps, his eyes flashing Alpha red.

The anxiety hits Derek like a brick wall. The whine gets stuck in his throat, his eyes flashing in deference to his Alpha. He raises his hands gently, fingers spread in an attempt to show Scott he doesn’t mean him harm. “I’m Derek,” he says. “I’m your... friend.” The word hitches on his tongue. He doesn’t know what he is to Scott. Has never known exactly where he and Scott stand.

“I don’t have a friend named Derek.” And if Derek’s heart sinks a little, he ignores it. He doesn’t even know to what extent Scott is a child. Or what he remembers. “But you um…” Scott continues, almost bashfully, “you smell safe. Like Stiles too.” So he’s attuned with his powers, as young wolves so often are.

“Yes… Stiles and I are… friends, too. And we need to go home, okay?”

“I’m… I’m not supposed to go anywhere with strangers.”

Shit. “Okay… what if I call Stiles and your mom? Would that be okay?”

Scott hums, his tiny mouth pursing. “Um… okay, I guess.”

He fishes his phone out of his back pocket, quickly thumbing through his contacts to Stiles’ number. It barely gets through the first ring before Stiles picks up.

“Hey, sugarplum. How’d the boyfriend bonding go?”

Derek has to shut his eyes to keep from rolling them. “Don’t call it that. Don’t call me that.”

“But honeybunch! You’re my boyfriends and you’re bonding. What else do you want me to call it? ‘Hoping my boyfriends will man up and make out?’”

He’s going to kill him. “Stiles,” he growls.

“That doesn’t sound like Stiles,” the high little voice pipes up.

“...Derek, who is that.”

“Slight problem,” Derek replies through gritted teeth. He clicks the phone onto speaker. “Say hi, Scott.”

The child waves at the phone after a moment’s hesitation. “...Hi!”

“Holy shit!”

Scott’s eyes go comically wide, and then he giggles, like a perfect little cherub.

“Stiles!” Derek barks.

“Oh, like Scott’s never heard that word before.”

“Scott is currently, what, six--”

“I’m seven!”

“--seven, and shouldn’t be exposed to that language, Stiles.”

He can practically feel Stiles rolling his eyes. “Oh, excuse me. Hand me to Scott, then, Mister Proper.” Derek clenches his jaw shut to avoid saying something equally damning. He passes the phone into Scott’s hands. The smartphone dwarfs them now. “Hi, Scotty!”

“Hi… are you really Stiles?”

“Yeah, buddy!”

“How old are you?”

“I’m nineteen, just like you were when I saw you last. You feeling okay? You remember what happened?”

“Um… no. I don’t know where I am. Or who Derek is.”

“That’s okay. Derek, what happened? Trap, spell, what?”

Derek leans forward just slightly. This time, at least, the boy doesn’t try to back away from him. “The witch escaped. She tried to hit us with something, both of us. But Scott…”

“Don’t tell me - he was very heroic and shoved you out of the way.”

He lowers his head. “Yeah.”

“Wow,” Scott whispers. “I saved you?”

It’s Stiles that has to answer. The words get caught in Derek’s throat. “Yeah, you did, dude! Because Derek’s my boyfriend and your Second. He’s really important to us, so you can trust him, okay?”

Though Scott looks less dubious about the idea, he still hesitates. “I’ll call your Mom next,” Derek soothes.

“That’s a good idea,” Stiles agrees over the phone. “Hey, dude, can you pass me back to Derek so I can tell him about the witch thing?” As soon as the phone is back in Derek’s hands, he clicks the speaker off and brings it to his ear. It’s pointless, thanks to Scott’s heightened senses, but the illusion of privacy is comforting. “So we have the five points taken care of. If she does try coming back, she’s going to have a hard time siphoning energy from the ley lines.”

“You didn’t have any trouble?”

“Not nearly as much as you had. Lydia said the warding spell was a little bitchy with her Banshee magic. But it’s Lydia, so she handled it with poise and grace and scary intellect. Everyone’s safe and headed home. I’ll meet you at the loft tonight, okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll… talk to you then.”

“Right. Good. ...Bye.” Derek winces as he hangs up. The strain of the words “I love you” feels heavy in his mouth. Neither of them has said it yet. Neither of them have ever been good at communicating emotions without sarcasm or anger. But Derek can feel it coming, can feel it boiling over with every aborted attempt.

Scott’s staring at him as he dials Melissa’s number. Derek tries not to shift nervously.

“Derek?” Melissa’s voice is worried as she picks up. “What’s wrong, is everyone okay?”

It suddenly occurs to Derek that he’s never called Melissa unless one or more of the Pack are in need of medical attention. He cringes, because even if Scott doesn’t need a nurse’s touch, he’s still in trouble. “Mostly…”

“MOM!” Scott shrieks. And then he’s nearly on top of Derek, practically climbing onto his bent knees to get to the phone.

“....Scott?!” Derek passes the phone over once more, and stands back. Melissa’s high, urgent voice is still crystal clear even from four feet away. “Is that really you-- what happened? Are you alright?”

“Derek says there was a witch!” Scott chirps brightly. “A witch that tried to put a spell on us and I saved Derek and now I’m seven? Stiles says I’m nineteen. Am I really nineteen, Mom? Is Derek really my friend?”

“I… yeah, baby, you’re really nineteen. Derek’s your friend. Have him bring you home, okay?”

“Okay.” Derek’s just starting to relax, relieved that Scott trusts his mother’s words, when the boy wanders right up to him with the phone still pressed to his ear, and slips his free hand into Derek’s. And then Derek’s tense all over again.

This… no. He can’t handle this.

Scott’s big, brown eyes are even bigger as a child. And twice as soulful and innocent.

He regrets everything.

--------------------2---------------------

They manage to make it back to Derek’s SUV without incident. Scott holds his hand the entire way back, kicking through the leaves with his sneakered feet and generally just… being a kid. Derek has no idea how to handle that - the child thing. He hasn’t interacted seriously with a child since he was sixteen and Cora was nine and Mattie was four. Scott doesn’t seem to mind his silence any, though. He chatters to his mother over the phone halfway back, and then to Deaton once they get on the road.

Deaton is as gentle and infuriatingly vague as always. But Scott loves talking to him. He doesn’t mind answering questions about what he does remember of the spell (a painful, full-body itch; fear; blinding light; the smell of ozone and, oddly, chocolate fudge) and what he remembers of himself (he knows he’s a werewolf, he remembers Stiles and the Sheriff, but nothing about the Pack). Derek offers what little additional information he can about the spell - which isn’t much - and promises to meet Deaton at the loft.

The universe, as always, seems to have a keen sense of irony, because it’s only after Deaton’s hung up that Derek desperately wants him back. Because once there’s nothing to occupy him anymore, Scott begins to stare at him. the complete silence stretches for several minutes, until Derek can hear the steering wheel creak under his white-knuckled grip. “What?” he snaps, dragging his eyes from the road. His instant worry that his raised voice upset the boy is unfounded. Scott only blinks at him.

“You and Stiles are boyfriends?”

“...Yes…”

“Do you love him?”

‘Oh, fuck, not this again,’ he thinks miserably. The first time he and Scott had a conversation like this had been painful enough. “Yeah…”

“Does he love you?”

“I think so?”

“Do you live together? Are you married?”

“No. No. He lives with you. Why are you asking so many questions?”

Scott completely ignores his question, eyes lighting up. “He lives with me?! Are we still best friends?”

Well, shit. He doesn’t know how to explain that one. How do you explain open relationships to a child? “You’re very… close,” he hedges.

“I bet we’re still the best! Do we still hang out all the time? Do we have the same job? Do I have a job?”

“You’re… both in college right now. You’re studying to be a veterinarian. Stiles is going to school to be a cop like his dad.”

“Wow…” Scott breathes, the simple details of his adult life having dazzled him somehow. It’s… okay, it’s actually kind of cute. The revelation seems to tide Scott over for a few minutes. But soon the restless energy is stirring from the passenger seat all over again. “If I’m an Alpha, does that mean you have to do what I say?” he asks.

“No,” Derek replies, his tone flat. “It means you’re my leader, but I can say no to you.”

“Buuuuut… if I say we should get ice cream, you’ll do it?”

“No, Scott.”

“I’ll be good! I won’t even wolf out or anything, I promise.”

“No, Scott.”

“...You’re mean. Why are you being so mean?”

“I don’t know!” he snaps. “I don’t handle change every well. Stop asking.”

“I want to go home. When are you taking me home?”

A growl works its way up his throat. “God, you’re seven and this is still like every conversation we’ve ever had.”

Scott sinks lower in the seat, crossing his arms over his chest in a Grade-A sulk. The car falls into blissful silence once more… or what should be blissful silence. Instead Derek keeps glancing over at the little boy beside him, waiting for him to speak again. He doesn’t.

And Derek’s werewolf ears do not miss the quiet growling of a tiny stomach.

He turns into the next In-N-Out they pass, and orders Scott’s regular from memory. Complete with large strawberry milkshake. Which, apparently, is still seven-year-old Scott’s favorite.

“How did you know?” Scott gushes, voice muffled with a mouthful of cheeseburger.

“Lucky guess,” Derek lies.

--------------------3---------------------

Both Melissa and Deaton are waiting outside the loft when they get there. He has to stop Scott from leaping from the car before he pulls it to a halt. Not that it matters, because Melissa is at the door as soon as Derek throws the SUV into park, flinging it open and catching her son as he leaps from the car at her. “Mom!” he shrieks. And then Scott is going a mile a minute all over again, telling his mother everything that comes to his mind - gushing about everything he’s learned and about what’s happening to him.

Even Melissa looks a little dazed by it. “I’m glad you’re okay, baby,” she says, ruffling his hair. “You’re not hurt anywhere, right?”

Scott shakes his head. His attention has already shifted to Deaton, who’s been standing quietly by. Scott peers at him from around his mother, eyes wide and guileless.

Deaton smiles. “Hello, Scott. My name is Alan Deaton. You talked to me earlier, remember?”

“Yeah… I work with you, right? And I’m gonna be a vet’rinarian like you?”

“Yes. You’re working very hard to be one.”

Scott beams, in that same incomprehensible way he always does under Deaton’s praise. It’s not something Derek can understand, has ever been able to understand.

“How about we go upstairs, so I can ask you a few questions?”

Scott nods, and reaches for his mother’s hand.

Deaton gestures to him. “Derek,” he greets. “If you would lead the way.” He says it with measured politeness. But for some reason, it still rankles Derek’s nerves.

“Sure,” he grunts in return, and makes a brisk start for the door. He makes sure he stays a few feet ahead of them at all times, and tries not to feel self-conscious about the state of his building. He’s put some money into it since the Pack (minus the pups) graduated high school, so it’s mostly liveable now.

At least he doesn’t have a gaping hole in his wall anymore.

Deaton already has an idea what he’s dealing with by the time they get up to the loft, Derek can tell. The light behind his eyes has turned calculating. “The spell is remarkably stable,” he begins as Derek slides the door shut behind them.

“So you know what it is?” Melissa asks.

“I have an idea, based on Scott’s and Derek’s descriptions and the traces I can still detect. Whatever spell she used certainly didn’t go as she expected. But the enchantment is still stable, and so I don’t see Scott being in any immediate danger.”

“Why does he remember being a werewolf, but nothing else from this time?”

Derek answers this one. “Children who are bitten or born are usually attuned to the Wolf. More than a bitten adult. It’s a survival mechanism. Children never have to be taught to shift.” His gaze is drawn down to Scott, just as it always is. From day one, everything within Derek has gravitated towards Scott - as Pack, as an Alpha, as a friend, as… someone precious and unattainable. It’s something so natural, like turning to face the sun.

But Scott’s never felt that way. As evidenced by the way his eyes are locked on the door, rather than Derek. The way all of his senses are zeroed in on the too-familiar footsteps storming up the stairwell towards the loft. It’s not a surprise. Of course it’s not. Derek will never be that person for Scott.

Scott already has someone.

And that someone flings the door open in a flurry of limbs, eyes casting wildly about the room until they land on Scott’s small form. There’s a moment of utter silence, where the two of them just look at each other. And then the light shifts in Scott’s eyes, his face splitting into a wide grin. “Stiles!” he squeals.

“Scotty!”

There’s a sour burn in Derek’s throat as he watches the two of them run to each other - as if the sudden twelve-year gap in memories doesn’t matter - and it’s immediately swallowed up by cold guilt. Stiles scoops Scott up easily, swinging him around once before setting the dazzled boy back on his feet. “Whoa,” Scott gushes, “you’re so strong--”

“Well, yeah, I have to keep up with you big, strong wolves--”

“And you’re so pretty--”

“I-- you think I’m pretty? Like, actually pretty? Aww, Scotty--”

“Yeah! You don’t look goofy at all!”

“Are you… are you saying I looked goofy when I was seven?”

“...Noooo…” he breaks off in a shriek of laughter when Stiles pokes him in the sides, squirming to get away from the touch. Even altered as they are, their bond is unshakable. And no one in the room is surprised at all by that.

Derek isn’t sure if it’s the jealousy or the desire that stings the worst. He’s forced to swallow it back as Stiles finally looks his way. The smile on his face goes shuttered for an instant, and then Stiles is rising to his feet and coming closer. He steps into Derek’s space with ease, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth even easier, and that helps to soothe the frazzled nerves biting at him. “You okay?” Stiles asks quietly as they separate.

And Derek… doesn’t even begin to know how to articulate the swirling turmoil that’s been building in him long before this. How to explain the dread at how deceptively simple this magical fuck-up seems to be. So he nods, because there’s no other answer to give. Stiles is okay. His Pack is okay. And Scott…

Scott’s handling it with a surprising amount of strength, just like he always has. Even being a child doesn’t change that. He doesn’t even seem jealous to have Stiles’ attention on someone else. Instead only watching them with a child-like mixture of awe and disgust at their display of affection. Derek leans into Stiles’ side just a bit more, and just lets himself take solace in the feel of him. He doesn’t zone back into the conversation until Scott proclaims, “I wanna stay here tonight!”

Oh no.

“It may be a good idea, actually,” Deaton agrees. “If something should go wrong, or should the witch attempt to return, it would be best if Scott were in a safe place.”

Shit.

“Yeah, buddy, it’ll be like a sleepover!”

“Yeah!!”

Two pairs of brown eyes turn to him, and Derek knows he’s doomed. “Is that okay, Derek?”

“Sure…”

Fuck everything.

[Continue on AO3]

[aresaphrodites]

Into The Black - Bughead fanfic. CHAPTER FOUR.

secret dates, jacket sharing, and a little more. ;)

hope you guys like this one <3

“What will you be doing today?” Alice Cooper stands in front of their mirror in the hallway.

“I was thinking of just staying in and catching up on some homework.” It’s thrilling, lying to her mom, even though she knows that it’s not what a “good girl” would do. It’s hardly a lie though. She will do some of her homework… later. After her walk with Jughead.

Her mom just hums in satisfaction, putting on her earrings and then turns to Betty with a smile. “I left some money on the counter if you want to order in. Your dad and I won’t be home until late.”

“Late” to her parents is usually 8-9 and this is perfect for Betty. Already she makes plans to invite Jughead over for pizza in her head.

Her mom tells her goodbye before leaving, wishing her luck on her homework, and she isn’t even fully out of the driveway before Betty is pulling out her phone to text Jughead.

She sends him her address and gives him the okay to come over. He responds letting her know that he’ll be there in around ten minutes.

Betty runs upstairs to her restroom. She looks in the mirror and makes sure her hair is good to go. She’s wearing a pair of black cheer shorts and a plain yellow t-shirt. It’s a simple outfit, that way it doesn’t look like she’s trying to impress anyone, but she might or might not be wearing Polly’s old cheer shorts which are a bit shorter and tighter than the ones she owns. Veronica would be proud of her.

She doesn’t feel as nervous as she thought she would. She just feels really excited. She doesn’t know what it is about Jughead, but the boy just fascinates her to no end. She enjoys the rather short talks they’ve had with each other and she’s happy that they’re finally going to have a day that they’ve planned on. She hopes this means that they’ll be spending more time with each other.

She gives her reflection one more glance, smiles at herself, and then makes her way back downstairs. She munches on an apple while she waits for Jughead to come by and she just finishes it as the doorbell rings. She quickly throws the apple core into the trashcan and walks (runs) over to the front door.

Jughead stands in front of her, black jeans with a grey shirt and his leather jacket on with Hotdog by his side.

“You’re not wearing a jacket?” Is how he greets her, frown on his face. “It’s supposed to be a bit chilly.”

“I’ll be fine,” she replies as she walks outside and locks the door with her key. She doesn’t have any jackets that won’t make her look like a bundled up mess and that’s really not the kind of look she’s going for here. Jughead doesn’t exactly seem thrilled about her not covering up, but oh well. She can handle a little cold.

The two of them walk down the sidewalk, making their way to the part of the forest that’s closest to Betty’s house. A small passing moment of fear comes down over her at the thought of getting caught. What if someone saw her with Jughead? Would they stop her and demand to know what she was doing? Truthfully she doesn’t know. It would be interesting though, that’s for sure.

“Do you normally go running every weekend?”

“I try to,” she shrugs. “I’m not running today though. I’m walking.” She says it jokingly but Jughead gives her a side glance.

“Are you sure you don’t mind us coming with you? If you want to run then I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“I invited you, remember?” She gives him a smile and places her hand on his arm. “Besides do you know how long it’s been since I’ve gone on a walk with someone?”

“How long?” Jughead asks with a smirk, indulging her. Betty goes to move her hand from his arm, but instead he extends it out to her even more. She gives him a questioning glance but he just motions for her to take it. She doesn’t need to be told twice as she links her arm through his.

“Archie would run with me sometimes to stay in shape for football, but he hasn’t in a while. Veronica attempted two about twice, but the bugs were too much for her.”

Jughead laughs. “And Archie and Veronica are?”

“They were the two other people with me at Pop’s last night. They’re my best friends. I’ve known Archie since we were babies. We didn’t meet Veronica until eighth grade, but she came and snuck her way into our little group and we love her so much we let her stay.” Jughead just nods, but doesn’t say anything. “Archie’s on the football team. Veronica’s a Vixen with me.” She doesn’t know why she adds this information, but she’s a little lost on what to talk to Jughead about. She doesn’t go out and make new friends often so she isn’t sure what proper conversation is.

“Do you enjoy it?” Betty looks at him in question. “Being a River Vixen?”

“Sure,” she shrugs. “It’ll look great on my college applications and that’s what really matters. Why do you ask?”

“You didn’t look like you liked it when I saw you cheering last week. You smiled, you did the routines perfectly, and you seemed cheerful enough, but it just seemed like your head was somewhere else.”

The words shock Betty. She hadn’t even been aware that Jughead was actually paying attention to her.

“You were watching?” She asks.

“Of course. Why else would I go to the game?”

“To mess around with your friends? To watch the football team and not the cheerleaders?”

Jughead snorts. “Trust me when I say you are far more entertaining to watch than the Riverdale Bulldogs.”

Betty’s cheeks redden as she looks up at Jughead with what she hopes is an innocent look. “The River Vixens or just me?”

Jughead gives her an amused look before smirking and using his arm to bring her closer to him. “Just you.”

He’s giving her such an intense look that she has to look away. Is this flirting? She doesn’t really know, but whatever it is, she likes it. She’s never talked this way with another boy before and it’s new territory. It’s fun.

“I do like it,” she says in answer to his question. “I just feel like lately I might be doing it for different reasons. It was really fun last year and I enjoyed it, but this year it just feels different. I don’t know why.”

“Maybe you’re just over it?” They’ve entered the forest by now and Jughead adjusts his grip on Betty’s arm to make sure she doesn’t trip over any loose twigs. “You’re allowed to change your interests, you know.”

Is she?

“Well, either way I’ve already committed to it and it’s fine. Veronica’s doing it with me so it’s okay.” She thinks that if it weren’t for Veronica then she probably wouldn’t have even made it through the first practice, but having her best friend there with her makes everything easier.

“I’ve never understood the whole sports thing,” Jughead says, steering the conversation away from her. “My mom put me in baseball when I was younger but apparently I wasn’t having any of it.”

Betty laughs at the picture in her head. “I’m sure you were great.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, I was more focused on sitting in the outfield and picking flowers.”

Betty smiles at him. It’s a sweet picture. A little Jughead who couldn’t careless about the world around him. It seemed like this trait followed him as he grew up. Betty tries to imagine what Jughead looked like as a child. She pictures him exactly as he is now, just a lot tinier, but he still has a leather jacket and beanie on. She lets out a small giggle.

“So what do you like to do?”

“I’m a Serpent.” He says it hard and with a finality that he hasn’t really used with Betty at all before. It throws her off guard. He says it as if that’s all he is, as if that’s all he ever can be. The thought upsets her more than it should.

“And?” She says, the same tone he had used on her earlier. “You’re allowed to have other interests, you know.”

“Am I?”

It’s nearly the exact same thing she had thought to herself earlier and she isn’t quite sure how to answer it. She doesn’t know Jughead all that well and she isn’t sure what he’s really like.

“I think so,” she replies unsure. “You should be allowed to have other interests. You’re only in high school. Do you plan on being a Serpent forever?” She means it as a joke, but the hollow look he gives her makes her think that she might be stepping in territory that she needs to get out of.

“It’s not that easy.” She looks at him, waiting for him to elaborate but he doesn’t.

Suddenly Hotdog starts barking, nipping away at Jughead’s biker boots. Betty and Jughead look down at the small dog who then begins to run around Jughead’s ankles, restless.

“He probably wants to play,” Betty offers. Jughead attempts to detangle the leash from around his ankles. They’re in a large, open part of the woods and it’s a perfect spot for Hotdog to run around. “Do you have any toys for him? Does he like to play fetch?” She starts looking around for a stick or something to throw for him. Luckily she doesn’t have to look for long, because Jughead reaches into his jacket and pulls out a blue ball.

“You keep balls in your jacket?” She asks him with a laugh.

“Yeah, I keep a lot of stuff in it.” He takes off Hotdog’s leash and throws the ball for him.

“Wish I had that kind of space in my jacket.”

“Do you mind stopping?” Jughead asks. “We can keep walking—.”

“No, no! It’s fine. This is a nice spot. We can stop.” She sits down on the grass and Jughead does the same. It reminds her of the week before and it makes her smile. It seems like their thing now. She could get used to it. Hotdog and Jughead begin a game of fetch and Betty watches on with a smile. It’s nice to see the two of them interact. She hadn’t pictured Jughead as animal person when she first met him, but she can tell that Hotdog means a lot to him. Occasionally Hotdog will even drop the ball into her hands, and she’s more than happy to throw it for him.

They’re playing fetch for about ten minutes when a breeze passes through the air and Betty shivers. She tries not to make it noticeable, but she sees Jughead look at her through the corner of his eyes. She plays it off as nothing and continues to play fetch with Hotdog until another gust of cold air comes and then she can actually feel the goosebumps pop up on her arms.

“I’m so glad I bought a jacket,” Jughead says nonchalantly. “It’s getting a little chilly, isn’t it?”

Betty just glares at him.

“See,” he continues, “I actually listened to the weather forecast today. I was prepared.” He tugs on his jacket sleeves a little bit for show and Betty just rolls her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“It’s not even that cold,” she says as she shivers again. Jughead raises an eyebrow at her and she sighs. “Okay, fine. It’s kind of cold.”

Jughead just hums.

“So…” Betty drags out. She’s seen Archie give his lettermen to Veronica whenever she complains about being cold. Betty thinks she’d rather be wearing Jughead’s leather jacket. Jughead just looks over at her in question. “I’m cold.”

“I bet.”

Betty’s mouth drops open. Is he serious? She’s about to just drop the whole thing, embarrassed, whenever she sees the sides of his mouth turn up.

“Say you should have listened to me and put on a jacket.”

“Technically you didn’t tell me to put on a jacket,” she reminds him but he gives her a warning look. “I’m not saying that! There’s no reason in admitting that.”

“Except that I like to be reminded that I’m always right.”

“Oh, yeah right,” she snorts as she pushes him. Jughead laughs and the atmosphere is easy again.

“I should have put on a jacket,” she finally admits.

“And?”

“And you were right,” she grumbles out.

“See. Was that so hard?” She doesn’t say anything else, she just watches as Jughead shimmies out of his jacket. Betty would feel bad about stealing it, if it weren’t for the fact that he was wearing long sleeves underneath it. She’s ready to take it from his hands, but he wraps it around her shoulders himself and helps her put her arms into it.

The jacket is a bit big on her frame but it somehow fits her better than anything else ever has. It smells like the distinct smell of leather, faded cigarette smoke, and Jughead. She isn’t sure what to describe Jughead’s smell as, but it’s something she wants to wrap around herself forever. Despite the fact that she knows that the words and the picture on the back of the jacket stand for, she feels safe in it.

“Looks good on you,” he says. “Take care of it. You’re the only other person besides me to ever wear that.”

“I feel special,” she says out of instinct more than actual feeling.

“You should. You are.”

She looks at him and he’s giving her such a warm look, that she isn’t even sure how to take it. It’s like every time Jughead speaks, another layer peels back. She wonder how many layers there are to him.

“I miss swimming,” he says randomly. “I used to come out here by myself and swim.”

“In the river?” She asks, taken aback. “Isn’t that kind of dangerous?”

“Maybe, but then again, a lot of things are.”

She doesn’t ask him to elaborate. She isn’t sure she wants or needs to know what he’s talking about. Maybe someday but not today.

“Riverdale High has a pool,” she informs him. “For the swim team, but my friends and I used to sneak in there sometimes after hours to swim.”

“Betty Cooper!” Jughead gasps, throwing his hand against his heart in shock. “Are you telling me that you broke the rules?”

Betty laughs and shakes her head. “Hardly. I have a key to the school since I’m the editor of the Blue and Gold. I mean, I’m sure I would have gotten in trouble if anyone had found out, but it’s not like I was actually breaking in.”

“Who would have known Blondie would be a little rule breaker?” Jughead clicks his tongue and shakes his head before throwing his arm over Betty’s shoulder and bringing her closer to him. It’s a simple action really, and Betty’s not even sure if he meant to do it with any actual feeling behind it, but it makes her heart stutter in her chest and her cheeks brighten a little bit more.

“Only occasionally.” Jughead’s stomach grumbles loudly all of a sudden and Betty laughs. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, I didn’t eat breakfast.”

Betty thinks for a moment. She knows that her parents would kill her if they ever found out that Jughead came over, but she doesn’t really care at the same time. Veronica is always sneaking Archie into her room. Polly used to sneak her old boyfriend in through her window. Why can’t Betty break the rules every now and then?

“You could come over,” she offers. “My mom left me money, we could order a pizza or something. Do you like pizza? It’s okay if you don’t. There’s always Chinese.” She realizes that she’s rambling, but she can’t help it. She’s actually inviting Jughead over, a boy, a Southside Serpent no less.

“Any reason why you seem so nervous?” Jughead asks, eyebrow raised in question. “Is this you breaking another rule by inviting a boy over?”

“Maybe.”

“Betty Cooper, you are something else.” He laughs. “I’d like pizza.”

She grins and stands up, holding a hand out for him that he takes with ease. “Then let’s go.” They gather Hotdog up and make their way out of the woods and back to her house.

The pizza comes relatively fast and Jughead and Betty eat it in her room while watching TV, which is playing some superhero movie that Jughead had been intent on watching. Betty finds herself watching Jughead’s reactions to the movie more than the actual movie itself. It’s fun to see him connect with something he must actually like.

“Have you never seen a single Marvel movie?” He asks her when he realizes that she has no idea what’s going on.

“Nope.”

“That’s insane! Okay, this is Captain America: The Winter Solider which you definitely shouldn’t be watching because it has some serious spoilers for the first movie but you have no idea what the hell’s going on anyways so it’s okay.” He quickly reaches out for the remote that’s laying on the bed and turns off the TV though.

“Jughead?” She questions in confusion at his actions.

“We have to start from the beginning! By the beginning I mean we’re taking this all the way to the first Iron Man. I own all of them. You can come over and watch them sometime.” He says it so absentmindedly and it makes Betty feel special that he’s over here inviting her over to his house as if it’s not a big deal.

“You’re different,” Betty says suddenly.

“Hmm?” Jughead hums out in question.

“From how I thought you’d be. You’re different.”

“How did you think I’d be? Evil? Trying to fight people every single second of the day?”

“No,” Betty says with an eye roll. “You’re just not as serious as I thought you’d be, or as mean honestly.”

“Come on, give me some credit. I’m pretty mean.”

Betty laughs. “You’re not! You’re not at all. It’s okay, though. It’s a nice difference to my original thoughts of you.”

Jughead gives her a soft smile. It’s incredible how someone who’s known to be so evil and dangerous, is actually so kind and soft. She wants to reach out and touch Jughead, to make sure that someone like him could actually exist.

So she does.

They’re sitting on her bed, knees touching and just staring at each other. Jughead’s still smiling at her, but as soon as she reaches out and touches his cheek, his smile drifts off his face. She’s about to pull her hand away, thinking she must have done something wrong, but then Jughead closes his eyes and presses his cheek into her palm.

His skin is soft, a resemblance of his personality and Betty loves it. He places his hand over hers, it’s rough and calloused, a sign of a hard worker and Betty’s admiration for him grows. He opens his eyes and looks at her so fiercely that she feels like he can see into her soul.

“What if I told you I wanted to kiss you, Betty Cooper?”

He says the question so simply and Betty’s heart races. Jughead sits up straight, keeping his eyes on her the whole time and her hand falls away from his cheek.

“I’d say I want you to kiss me,” she answers.

“Would that make you a rule breaker?” He looks at her nervously, as if he’s scared that now that he’s said it, she’s suddenly going to change her mind.

Think again, Jughead.

“I like breaking them occasionally, remember?” She smirks and before she can say anything else, Jughead practically throws himself forward as he places his hand on her neck and brings her to him. Their lips collide and it’s both exactly like Betty had imagined it and nothing at all.

Jughead kisses fiercely and roughly, as if it’s both the first and last time he’ll ever kiss her yet, despite that, he also kisses her as if she’s the only person he’s ever wanted to kiss. His lips are soft and Betty silently curses herself for not putting on chapstick that morning. She hopes her lips aren’t chapped.

Jughead pushes her back gently into the pillows as he positions himself to lay half on top of her. His kissing slows down and now he’s kissing her gently, longingly; romantically. His palm is placed on her waist and he reaches under her shirt to touch her bare skin there. Betty gasps at the cold touch and she can feel Jughead smile against her lips.

Suddenly she feels something wet against her arm and she jumps up, pushing Jughead off of her as she screams.

“Betty!?”

She looks over and sees none other than Hotdog standing with his paws on the edge of the bed, tongue out as he pants.

“Hotdog,” Jughead groans. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

They had left the little dog sleeping on a pile of blankets in Polly’s old room, but he must have gotten bored and searched out to find them.

Betty laughs. “Well, that’s a bit of a mood killer.”

“Nothing’s a mood killer if you don’t let it be,” Jughead says with a wink, but he gets up from the bed. “I should get going back, though. I promised one of the guys I’d help him out with something.”

Betty just nods. Jughead must see the look on her face, because he elaborates for once.

“Just some construction stuff over at his house. He’s building some kind of shed or something.”

“Oh.” It’s different from what she was thinking; a good different. “I’ll see you soon?”

She watches as Jughead grabs his leather jacket off of the chair she had placed it on and throws it on real quick.

“Definitely,” he walks over to her and places a kiss on her forehead. It’s so innocent and sweet, just another surprising thing about Jughead Jones. “I’ll text you.”

He leaves her room and Betty listens as the front door opens and closes, letting her know that she’s alone again. It’s only about two thirty in the afternoon and she figures she might as well do some homework now.

She can’t help but think about Jughead while she writes out her essay for English. If she had to choose between writing an essay on A Doll’s House or kissing Jughead, she thinks the latter might win every time.

[alloverroliver-blog]

Female!Oliver x MC “Special For The Evening”

NSFW Explicit; Oliver Knight

F/F

Female AU where Oliver is a woman. No name change.

WC: 1,601

Ikemen Revolution Fanfic

I hooked my feet on the bar of the stool below me and leaned in to order dinner from the waiter. Oliver was late, but that was to be expected. She typically worked well into the evening, but always showed up at one point or another.

I pointed at the menu to the evenings special, ordering two of the same. She was never picky and seemed to like when I ordered for her. I pulled out the small novel I was in the middle of and read that as I waited for her arrival.

Not soon after I flipped my first page, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Flopping the book down in my lap without saving my spot, I looked over at the unearthly beauty standing behind me.

“Sorry I’m late”- She took a seat next to me, towering over my form. -”I got caught up with my project.”

She pushed a strand of long dark hair behind her ear, looking at me with deep red stained lips and a cocky smile to boot.

“You’re staring.” She pointed out, taking a sip from my water cup, leaving a lipstick print on the rim.

“I’m allowed to stare at you.” I smiled, scooting closer to her as she settled in. “You’re my girlfriend after all.”

I took my water cup back to my space, just out of her reach, then rested my hand on the bar top and relaxed my chin into my palm.

“Mhm.” Her gray eyes captured mine in a stare that would rival most predators. “Did you order?” She broke eye contact, waving the bartender over to us.

“Yeah, I ordered two specials.” I took a deep breath, then replaced my book back into my bag.

Oliver ordered her usual whiskey on the rocks, then cut her eyes to me. With a quick smile, she ordered me a fruity cocktail with extra garnish. I almost wished she would stop ordering extra garnish, but I did love munching on the large slices of pineapple…

My feet dangled off the bar stool as we sat chatting until our food arrived. She was able to place her feet directly on the ground, leaning towards me in a flirty manner.

At one point our hands came together, linking our fingers in her lap as we droned on. She told me about her project and I told her of my day at the barracks.

The date seemed fairly normal until our dinner plates arrived.

“Fried Oysters? I’ve never seen them serve this here before.” Oliver’s nose scrunched up at the leaflet menu.

“That’s probably why it’s a special.” I pointed out, hooking my leg around hers. “They want to roll out a new menu item, but they have to test the waters first.”

“You’re probably right.” Flopping down the tiny menu, she plucked up her fork and stabbed the seafood.

“You know,” she began, waving her fork around slowly before bringing it to her lips. “Oysters are an aphrodisiac” Her lips wrapped around the fork as she popped the utensil clean out from between her lips.

“Huh…” I turned my head to hide my face and picked up my own fork.

She chewed slowly still watching me scrambled to puncture one of the fried delicacies. Such a simple gesture made me flustered so easily, I couldn’t believe I was already blushing.

It was no secret what would happen in the carriage on the way back to our respective homes. She couldn’t stay the night due to work, and I couldn’t sleep over for the same reason. Our weekly date always ended in some state of undress in the back of that damn carriage.

The poor drivers never knew how to announce we had arrived at our destination without becoming a bumbling mess. Oliver nor I cared anymore, after so many months of dating we grew used to the semi-known make out sessions.

After finishing our meal, the plates were taken away, and we were left with finishing up our beverages. Her hand rested on my knee as her thumb rubbed circles over the skin.

Our chat became less vocal and more physical when my hand also held onto her knee. Not to be shone up, I slid my fingers teasingly up her skirt and caressed the soft skin of her inner thigh.

Her eyes narrowed in on me, daring me to move further and suffer the consequences. My fingers brushed her skin, moving slowly up, hidden by the edge of the table top and the dimness in this corner of the pub.

I used three fingers, I tapped them one at a time in a rhythm. Absentmindedly or not, her leg slid open further, allowing me to move the tips of my finger closer to brush up against her panties.

“Maybe they were a catalyst after all.” Her head moved closer to mine, breathing gently over my face.

“What was.” I slid one finger up and down over the panties, thought the center of her core.

Her breath faltered when I found her bundle of nerves and focused my efforts.

“The oysters.” She held her breath, moving her eyes down to my lips.

I bit the bottom lip teasingly, scooting as close as I could until my thigh was pressed against hers.

“I think it’s just you, and how classically beautiful you look in the red lipstick and flirty skirt.” I knew she was letting me steer the situation before she ultimately took back the control.

Her clit began to swell under my constant stimulation, heating her core.

“What about you? You never wear such a low cut shirt, yet here you are, practically begging for me to put my mouth on you.” How she could form a coherent sentence at this stage of arousal was beyond me.

I slipped my finger pasted the edge of her panties, narrowly dipping into her soaked core before she pulled back abruptly. The elastic snapped as she closed her legs, causing me to pull my hand back and rest it on top of her thigh.

Her hand then glided up my leg gently, pushing firmly on my bare thighs.

“Don’t be shy.” She smirked, tapping my leg with her finger.

My lips came together in a thin line before I decided to spread my legs for her. I moved just enough for her pointing finger to make it all the way to my wet panties.

“Good girl.” She praised, rubbing the outside of my wet panties with two fingers. “I see” She responded to the state of my arousal, then continued.

I didn’t know how she took my prodding so well, I hadn’t even had her fingers on me for more than a minute before I was squirming in my seat.

“They’re going to start the live band soon,” Oliver spoke, sounding far away through my lust filled haze.

She focused on my clit on the outside of my panties only for a moment before pushing the fabric to the side and plunging into my gushing hole.

Somehow, we moaned at the same time. My breast pushed up against her arm that was in front of me, while the tips of her two fingers rubbed my most sensitive zone.

The band did a mic check while Oliver picked up the pace, plunging all the way to her knuckles before moving back out. I held in my moans as best as I could, but there was only so much pleasure I could take before I burst.

She stopped pumping and instead, circled the tips of her fingers over the spongy patch just inside. The whimper I let out was overpowered by the musicians starting their first song.

Oliver kept her eyes on me, watching the desperate eyes I made to her in the wake of the pleasure she bestowed on me. The band kicked it up a notched and the lights went dark.

“You can sing for me now.” Oliver joked, easily adding a third finger inside my cunt.

I relaxed, letting my moans overtake me as I rested my head in my hand on the table. My back curved as the coil tighten inside of me. I couldn’t hold back any longer and Oliver knew that. She used her thumb to circle over my clit and I was done for.

My outcry was drowned out by the music as my cunt pulsed around her fingers.

“There we go…” She pumped in and out of me, pulling her fingers apart to stretch my pussy out.

I felt my essence drip onto the chair below, my skit being hiked up enough around my legs for it to do so. My body shook and my legs threatened to close while the pleasure coursed through. I squeezed down on her hand, ebbing out more pleasure as my body reeled

“Okay” I stated weakly, letting her know I was in overstimulation territory.

Oliver respectfully obliged and pulled her digits out of my wet hole. My essence coated her fingers as the brought them to her lips, sucking lightly at them.

I watched as she licked my arousal off of her before I blew out all the air from my lungs and leaned on her shoulder.

“Ready to leave? Or did you want to stay for this band?” She asked as she rubbed my back with her other hand.

“I want to get somewhere private.” I smiled up at her.

“Oh?” Her brows furrowed inquisitively.

“You got to taste me, it’s my turn to taste you.”

Her features hardened at my words. I could feel the lust radiating off of her as she helped me stand.

“You’re right. This band does suck.”

.

.

.

Thank you @ikemensengokufangirl for a fem Oliver prompt!!!! GAH I love all versions of Oliver <3

Masterlist // Support with a Ko-Fi! // Ao3

30 notes Nov 19th, 2018