#But I'm planning to lay out their motivations over the fic

[aceghosts]

DEAD MAN WALKING

Series Summary: In February 2005, Captain Hunter Delaney is tragically killed in action on a BSAA mission in Northern Canada. After their death, scientists and BSAA agents related to the mission start to die. Albert Wesker intends to find out who is killing them, hoping to use this stranger to his advantage. Rating: Mature Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Murder, Graphic Descriptions of Corpses, Betrayal by Teammates, Body Horror, and a conspiracy to cover-up Murder. I highly recommend you head the warnings. This is going to be a gory, brutal fic; it's primary genre is horror. If this isn't your thing, please avoid. If I forget to warn for anything, please let me know. Words: 5,904 words. Ships: No ships in this chapter, but this is intended to be an Albert Wesker x OC fanfic. Author's Note: It's finally here; the first chapter of Dead Man Walking! I really hope you enjoy this! I apologize if this chapter happens to be set-up heavy, I promise future chapters will be less so. Also, Chapter 1's title is from Bring Me The Horizon's Parasite Eve. AO3

CHAPTER 1: IF THE SUSPENSE DOESN'T KILL YOU, SOMETHING ELSE WILL

“Are we clear on the plan?” Hunter asks, shifting in their seat slightly. Through the opposite side helicopter window, they catch a glimpse of the stark white expanse of Northern Canada with little signs of life below. After the destruction of Raccoon City in 1998, some corporations, like the Sirona Corporation, relocated their facilities to remote areas to avoid a similar shitshow. However, like it always went with these fuckers, shit went FUBAR, and the BSAA was called in to deal with the mess. Hunter and their team were going to investigate the outbreak, helping any poor bastards still left alive. They shake their head, wondering how many more innocent people might still be alive if these corporations didn’t try to play God. 

“Yes, we’ll enter the facility from the roof top entrance, determine the nature of the outbreak, and deal with any potential threats.” Arthur responds, his tone sharp and cold. He glares at Hunter, sitting in the seat across from them. Hunter’s frown deepens, uneasy concern settling in their chest. Arthur shouldn’t be here; they shouldn’t have let O’Brien talk them into taking him on the mission.

--

The door swings open forcefully as Hunter stomps into O’Brien’s office. “O’Brien, you can’t be fucking serious about Arthur being allowed to come on this mission,” They exclaim loudly, the door swinging shut violently, shaking the bookcases on the wall.

“Hunter…” O’Brien pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing at their outburst.

“Don’t ‘Hunter’ me. Ever since his actions in Europe, Arthur’s been more of an asshole than normal, which is a fucking achievement. And before you ask, I’ve tried playing nice. None of it fucking works. He barely obeys orders and doesn’t consider the safety of his teammates or civilians.” They cross their arms, letting out a frustrated sigh. Ever since that mission, Arthur had been different. Unhappy with how Hunter interfered, Arthur seemed unwilling to listen as if he wasn’t part of a fucking team. No matter how many olive branches they offered (and they tried-Hunter really did), Arthur was still a major asshole. A major asshole who was going to get someone killed.

“We’ve talked about this Hunter, but I can’t pull Arthur off the team…”

“Because you’re too much of a coward to go against his dad.”

O’Brien shoots them an unamused glare. “Senator Edwards is a major ally of the BSAA, which we have few of. I know you don’t understand this, but sometimes, you have to play politics, Hunter. You can’t brute force your way through everything.”

“What happens when politics gets someone killed,” Hunter seethes, uncrossing their arms and slamming their hands down on his desk, “What then? You gonna look the family in the eye of the person he killed? Or is that duty going to fall on me while you offer fucking platitudes?”

“Agent Edwards understands that if he makes another lapse in judgment like he did in Europe, he will be relegated to desk duty.”

Throwing up their hands, Hunter lets out a dark laugh. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, O’Brien, you make it sound like he’s a puppy who had an accident on the carpet. He needs more than fucking desk duty; He needs to be off my team.”

“Agent Edwards isn’t going to kill anyone. He understands exactly what kind of situation he is in. Understood, Captain Delaney?” Fuck it, O’Brien isn’t going to fucking listen.

“Mark my words, O’Brien. Arthur is going to kill someone, and when he does, I hope you know you’re just as fucking responsible.”

--

“And assist any survivors!” Kevin pipes in helpfully, next to Hunter, pulling them from the memory of their earlier conversation. Hunter nods encouragingly while Arthur scoffs. They shoot him a glare as Arthur rolls his eyes. The team needs to be a united front, especially if they are going to survive this mission. Even on the best days, dealing with outbreaks was dangerous and difficult, prone to going wrong in all the worst fucking ways.

“You think we’re going to find anyone alive?” Patrick asks doubtfully, sitting next to Arthur on his right.

“We need to be prepared for that possibility,” Hunter replies, knowing they could find any untold number of horrors within the facility, “We could find no survivors, or we could find a hundred. As the response team, we need to be prepared for anything.”

“I’m thinking it’s towards the lower end,” Natasha quips on Arthur’s left. Next to her, Arthur smirks, watching Hunter’s reaction.

Ignoring the bait, Hunter opens their mouth to talk more about the mission, only to be cut off by Vincent, their pilot. “Arrival estimated in ten minutes!”

“Everyone, check your gear. We don’t want anyone to go home in a body bag,” Hunter warns.

--

Approximately ten minutes later, Vincent lands the Helicopter on the roof, allowing the team to disembark. The roof is covered in a thick blanket of white snow, crunching beneath the team’s boots. Warm mist escapes Hunter’s mouth as they suck in a deep breath of air, trudging forward. Well, here goes fucking nothing. Everyone pulls out their weapons, preparing for the unknown behind the rooftop entrance. Natasha and Patrick flank the door on either side before Hunter uses the card provided by Sirona Corporation to open it. They push the door open with their left shoulder, reattaching the card to their belt. Flicking on the flashlight attached to their rifle, Hunter steps into the dark stairwell, holding their assault rifle in the ready position. Red emergency lights along the floor guide Hunter’s way as they slowly descend the stairs to the first door they see. Their team follows behind them, the door slamming shut as Natasha brings up the rear. Hunter looks over their shoulder, and everyone nods, indicating they are ready.

Pushing the door open slowly, Hunter’s flashlight illuminates the dark hallway, save for the small portions lit by emergency lights. The hallway is utterly silent; Hunter’s team moving in a careful and controlled manner. There are no signs of life. No survivors rushing into the hallway. No infected hurtling towards the team in a crazed frenzy. Looking down, Hunter spies a puddle of congealed dark red blood. They step around it, Arthur following behind them. As the team walks further into the hallway, all they find is destruction. Tables are flipped over, and medical supplies and papers are strewn all over the floor. Office windows are cracked, the cracks spider webbing out from the center. Some are even broken, splattered with blood and viscera, a stark reminder of the unyielding violence. It’s absolute fucking madness, and it makes Hunter so angry. These people should be alive, not dead because of fucking greed.

Hunter and their team move further into the hallway, eventually finding the body of a woman. Her dark brown eyes are glassy, wide open in fear. Her blond hair is matted with blood as she lies unnaturally still, throat torn open. Her fingers are caked in blood and flesh, probably from a desperate, futile attempt to save her life. Hunter sighs; the woman is dead. The longer they’ve worked on this job, the easier it is to tell the difference between the truly dead and the living dead. Arthur trains his gun on the woman as Hunter kneels, knowing there is no use checking for a pulse. “First casualty confirmed.”

“Not surprising after all we’ve seen,” Arthur responds.

“Do we need to put a bullet in her head? Ya know? To be safe?” Patrick asks.

Hunter shakes their head. “She’s dead, and I don’t want you to desecrate someone’s corpse by wasting a bullet.”

“We don’t have to use our guns,” Arthur slips his combat knife out, kneeling and planting it in her head. He pulls the knife out quickly with a loud squelch, wiping his knife on her black suit jacket. Standing up, Arthur holsters his knife, looking unbothered. “Now, we don’t have to worry.”

Patrick and Natasha share glances as Kevin looks worried, biting his lip. Hunter stands, exasperated by his actions. “Arthur, that was unces-.”

“I was just doing what needed to be done, Captain.”

They shake their head. “It wasn’t what needed to be done. We both know she was a corpse, not one of them.”

“We couldn’t know for sure. Sometimes, you have to make hard choices, Hunter. I know you really-.”

That’s fucking it! Seeing red, Hunter loses their cool, shoving their finger into Arthur’s chest and snarling, “I know all about making hard choices, Arthur! Don’t you dare lecture me on that!” Arthur’s expression turns dark, malice burning in his eyes. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Hunter needs to regain control of the situation. Now. “Listen,” They order, stepping away from Arthur, “From now on, no sticking corpses with knives unless you believe they might move. I don’t want anyone to get the drop on you because you’re too busy making sure the dead are dead. Be fucking smart about it.”

“Yes, Captain.” Everyone echoes. Natasha and Patrick don’t look convinced while Kevin seems relieved. They don’t even look over at Arthur, too pissed off to even spare a glance in his direction. Fuck, this was not going to end well.

--

The team descends further into the facility, the reality of the situation hanging over them like the blade of a fucking guillotine. Reaching the labs, Hunter’s stomach sinks, dread heavy in their chest. Corpses litter their journey downward, silence and echoes of violence their only companions. Uneasy, Hunter knows the infected will make their entrance soon. They always do, especially in the belly of the beast. As the team steps through the door of the emergency elevator with their rifles at the ready, a monotone voice announces over the loudspeaker: “ORANGE LEVEL THREAT! ALL PERSONNEL EVACUATE!” Red emergency lights light the way forward as Hunter motions for their team to spread out. The team moves into a V formation, stepping silently and slowly as they move forward.

Click.

Hunter stops, their feeling of dread worsening. Fuck.

Click.

They hold out their left hand for their team to stop. Everyone stops as the clicking noises continue, sounding like claws against hard flooring. Hunter looks to their left, meeting Arthur’s eyes. He nods, mercifully giving Hunter no pushback.

Click. Click. Click.

The Licker rounds the corner, unaware of the team’s presence. Hunter and their team have the drop on the Licker, but not for long. Motioning for their team to focus on the Licker, Hunter starts silently counting down with their fingers.

Three. Click.

Two. Click.

One. Click.

On zero, guns fire, shattering the stillness of the facility. The Licker screeches, an unnatural cry of terror and pain before it slumps to the ground, dead.             

Click. Click. Click.Click.Click.Clickclickclick.

Shit, more goddamn Lickers. There always are fucking more. Two more Lickers race into the room, drawn to potential prey by the sound of gunfire, emerging from the same hallway as the last one. Hunter, Kevin, and Patrick fire into the Licker on the right while Arthur and Natasha take care of the one on the left. Gunshots ring loudly, mixing with Licker screams, echoing loudly in a gruesome symphony. The Licker in front of Hunter thrashes, succumbing to the hail of bullets. Looking towards the Licker on the left, Hunter finds it dropping to the ground, pretty much fucking dead.

Glancing over towards Arthur, Hunter catches sight of a third Licker, emerging from the shadows, Arthur seemingly unaware of its presence. The Licker screeches, pouncing toward Arthur like a lion on a gazelle. Without thinking, Hunter throws themself into Arthur, checking him with their shoulder. He grunts as the two crash to the ground. The Licker misses them narrowly; its claws coming too close to Hunter for their comfort. Natasha, Kevin, and Patrick both fire on the Licker, immobilizing it fairly quickly. Hunter scrambles off of Arthur and onto their feet, raising their rifle to shoot a final few shots into a dying Licker.

Sighing in relief as it collapses into a pool of its blood, Hunter turns towards Arthur. They hold out their hand to help him up, “We got lucky that time. Are you okay?” Despite Arthur being a major asshole, Hunter doesn’t wish for him to turn into Licker chow.

Arthur snubs their offered hand, gruffly replying, “I’m fine.” Hunter shakes their head, giving Arthur room to step past them. He kicks the head of the Licker, scoffing as if it wasn’t anything serious. “We should split up. Search the building in Teams.”

No way. Normally, Hunter would be for splitting up, but it just feels like a bad idea in this situation. “Arthur, are you fucking serious? The best plan is for us to stick together, especially if we’re already encountering Lickers.”

“If we continue as we are, we’ll never get through the base.”

“Splitting up might give us the chance to find more survivors too,” Patrick offers nervously, afraid to get between the two.     

They sigh, knowing that Arthur and Patrick have a point, but they don’t have to like it. “Fine, Natasha and Patrick will go on one team. Arthur, Kevin, and I will go on another.” Together, Natasha and Patrick are a solid duo. Hunter trusts them together as long as they aren’t with Arthur. Besides, Hunter wants to keep an eye on Arthur during this mission.

“No, I should go with Natasha and Patrick,” Arthur sneers, shooting a dismissive look toward Kevin.

“Arthur-.”

He cuts them off, “I’m going. Natasha and Patrick, follow me.” Arthur walks off, toward the direction Hunter had ordered Natasha and Patrick. 

“Fucking idiot,” Hunter shakes their head, “If he does anything, radio me immediately. Got it?”

“Yes, Captain,” Natasha states as she and Patrick go to follow Arthur.

Looking over toward Kevin, Hunter finds him with a wounded expression. When Kevin joined a year and a half ago, Arthur had been neutral toward him. After Europe, it was like a switch was flipped. Arthur started trying to make his life miserable. At first, Hunter tried the HR-approved route: reprimand Arthur, write reports to O’Brien, and take incidents to HR. Yet, no one did anything, and Arthur grew bolder. It mercifully stopped when Hunter, fed up with the system failing, snapped and broke Arthur’s nose. They were lucky Redfield and Valentine were there that day to pull Hunter off him. Otherwise, a broken nose and black eye wouldn’t have been the only thing he walked away with. Hunter got in trouble, but they considered it the best kind of trouble: trouble that was worth it. Meanwhile, they encouraged Kevin to get out of the BSAA, implying they would give him a glowing recommendation. Kevin was a good kid with a promising future on his shoulders. He didn’t deserve any of this fucking bullshit. “Come on,” Hunter pats his shoulder, trying to ignore the rising guilt, “We should get a move on.”

“I don’t understand why Arthur has it out for me.” Kevin sounds frustrated, clearly overwhelmed by this and the stress of the already fraught mission.

Hunter stops, Kevin stopping beside them. Turning to him, Hunter grabs his shoulder with their right hand, “You didn’t do anything Kevin. Arthur’s being an asshole. I promise I’m not going to let him hurt you, understood?”

He nods, slightly relieved. “Okay. Thanks for looking out for me.”

They smile. “That’s what teammates do. We’re supposed to look out for each other.” Hunter squeezes his shoulder comfortingly, before releasing him. “Come on. We should continue forward.”

—

Hunter and Kevin venture further into the labs, encountering little on their path. As they round the corner, Hunter hears something, motioning for Kevin to be quiet as he nods in response. They lead the way, holding their rifle ready. If needed, Hunter and Kevin would shoot, but Hunter hopes it was someone alive, someone who could shed some more light on what happened. They turn into the doorway, Kevin following behind them. In front of the pair, a scientist is loading samples into a briefcase, unaware of the two agents behind him. “Sir,” Hunter orders, their voice commanding as they stop moving forward, “Immediately stop what you are doing and raise your hands.”

The scientist stops, not turning to face Hunter or Kevin. He hums thoughtfully, glancing over his shoulder at the pair. His gray eyes narrow, derision clear in his eyes as he notices the BSAA patches on their uniforms. “BSAA Agents,” He replies, his gaze returning to the samples in front of him, “I’ll go with you, but these samples-.”

“No.” It will be a fucking cold day in hell before Hunter lets him take any of those samples outside of the facility. “They need to be destroyed along with the rest of the infected.”

“Destroyed?” The scientist hisses, finally turning to face Hunter and Kevin, sneering at them. “This is my work; it cannot be lost. Do you understand what we might lose?”

“If it creates bastards like the Lickers,” Hunter replies, raising an eyebrow, “I would consider it a win.”

The scientist snorts. “Of course, you would think it a victory. You’ve only seen specimens built for military application. What I aim to do will bring humanity into a new dawn, once I find the missing piece. One day, you will thank me for it.” Hunter glances back over their shoulder towards Kevin, who shrugs his shoulders. This guy was off his fucking rocker. The scientist scoffs, turning back to the briefcase. They hear it snap shut. “Obviously, you wouldn’t understand. You only seek to destroy out of fear because you cannot understand it.”

“Turn around, keep your hands in the air,” Hunter orders, moving closer until they were only a few steps away. They didn’t want to destroy his virus because they didn’t understand it. Hunter understands exactly what it was capable of. They want to destroy it because it will hurt and kill innocent people, something that Hunter was already too familiar with.

“I will acquiesce to your demands, Agent…,” The scientist stops, facing the pair with his hands by his side. His hands are curled into tight, still fists. He looks at them both expectantly, waiting for Hunter to give him their name.

“Captain Hunter Delaney and,” Hunter motions towards Kevin, “Agent Kevin Zhu. We are here to rescue or detain you, based on your perspective. You’ll be brought back to the BSAA for questioning and a medical examination by BSAA Medical Staff. I promise-.”

CRASH!

Hunter and Kevin both turn towards the door, Kevin shooting a glance at Hunter before returning his gaze to the door. “What the fu-?”

Something pricks their neck, followed by a sharp burst of pain. Hunter elbows the person behind them hard, hearing the scientist gasp and slam against the counter. Reaching up, Hunter pulls out what was stuck in their neck. They open their palm to find an injector. An empty one. Fuck.

They open their mouth to ask what the fuck he has done, but their throat tightens, intense pain consuming them. Howling, Hunter drops their gun and falls to the ground, writhing in pain. Every inch of their body feels like it’s burning. Their muscles spasm, heart beating out of their chest. Hunter’s screams stop, as they try to take in air, barely able to breathe or make noise. “CAPTAIN DELANEY!” Kevin yells, running towards them. He drops by their side, looking over them with concern. “What the hell did you do?”

The scientist chuckles, staying out of their view. “I did your Captain a favor,” He lets out another chuckle, “if they manage to survive the process.”

“What do you mean if they survive?”

The scientist enters their view, briefcase in hand. As he edges towards the door, he looks at Hunter curiously, almost as if he wishes he could stay. “None of the other subjects survived yet,” The scientist emphasizes the yet, watching Hunter with a deep fascination as they writhe on the floor. FUCK! Everything hurts so badly! Their skin feels tight, muscles constricting painfully. “Now, if you will excuse me-.“

“Don’t!” Kevin yells, only for the scientist to ignore him. He looks down at Hunter, conflicting emotions running across his face. “I’m sorry, Captain Delaney. I-.” Kevin stops, guilt overwhelming him.

Jaw locked tight, Hunter shakily raises their hand towards him, trying to assuage him of his guilt. Kevin’s eyes widen, taking their left hand into his own. It wasn’t Kevin’s fault; it was Hunter’s fault for not being more careful. “Okay,” He whispers, squeezing their hand in comfort. Good.

--

Hunter doesn’t know how long they spend laying on the floor, but it feels like an eternity, every inch of their body burning. All they can do is watch Kevin’s face contort in terror as their body convulses, painful cries escaping them. Eventually, the fire beneath their skin starts to dim, leaving Hunter feeling feverishly warm. Their muscles relax, allowing Hunter to finally move, their body sore. “Kevin…” They croak, trying to push themself up into a sitting position.

 “Captain!” He sounds relieved, helping them up. Pulling their water bottle from their belt, Kevin helps them take a sip. “How are you feeling?” Kevin asks after they gulp water down like a dying man.

“Like fucking shit,” Hunter grumbles, exhausted by the simple act of drinking.

“I’m-.”

“Don’t.” Hunter doesn’t even have the energy to wave him off. “We need to find the rest of the team and get out of here. Help me up.” It hurts to speak, the act of speaking feels like rubbing sandpaper against their throat. Yet, Hunter pushes through the pain, knowing all they have to do is make it out of here. They’re going to make it out of here.

Kevin nods, pulling Hunter up to their feet. He slings their left arm around his shoulder, slightly taller than Hunter. “Where to-?”

“The control room,” Hunter takes a deep breath, swaying slightly next to Kevin. “Need to set off the purge sequence and then get out.” Fog swirls around their brain, their head pounding. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, it’s so fucking hard to think.

“That sounds like a good plan.” Shit, Kevin sounds scared.

“We’re going to make it out.” Hunter promises, trying to reassure them both.

“But, Captain, you’re inf-.”

“Don’t,” They snarl harshly, panic threatening to overtake them, “I’m not infected; I’ll be fucking fine. Do you understand?”

Kevin doesn’t look convinced as he replies, “Okay.”

—

Hunter and Kevin venture further into the facility, slowly making their way through the winding, labyrinthine hallways. Occasionally, the two duck into a room, hiding from any infected, mainly zombified lab workers. With Hunter’s current condition, neither is in any shape to fight back, leaving their best option to hide. Inhaling shakily, Hunter catches sight of themself in the reflection of a lab window. They’re deathly pale, so much more than normal. A sheen of feverish sweat coats their skin. Dark purplish-black circles form under their eyes, their normally faded green eyes appearing glassy. Hunter’s thoughts are slow, making them feel as if every thought or reaction is in slow motion. Taking another shaky wheeze, Hunter shivers, leaning closer to Kevin. They still feel like they’re on fire, the pain right beneath their skin. Their muscles are weak, leaving Hunter trembling and unsteady as they stumble on. Hunter’s back hurts, something pressing onto their spinal cord. Yet, Hunter feels as if they are being consumed, burned out until they’re nothing more than a hollow husk. Even if it’s a figment of their feverish mind, Hunter will not be consumed. They’re not infected; they’ve survived too much to die here.

“Captain Delaney-?”

“I’m fine,” Their voice is rough and hoarse, Hunter wincing at the stabbing pain in their throat. “We’re almost there.” Kevin doesn’t respond, wisely choosing to help Hunter continue forward. As they reach the outside of the control room, Hunter hears the sound of the keyboard clacking. Their head hurts, every clack a jackhammer slamming painfully into their brain. Kevin pulls out his pistol as they slowly approach the room and enter. Hunter spies a familiar face; one they’ve been itching to wrap their hands around his throat and strangle. “YOU!” Hunter snarls, reaching down for their own Beretta. They manage to pull the pistol out of its holster, only to fumble, dropping the gun as it skitters towards the door. Hunter growls, ripping their gaze away from the gun and back towards the object of their hatred.

The scientist turns away from his computer, raising a grey eyebrow in surprise. He checks his watch, returning his gaze to Hunter a mere few seconds later. The scientist stares at them with interest, making Hunter deeply uncomfortable. If he keeps staring, Hunter is going to punch him in the fucking face. “Interesting,” He muses, a slightly demented gleam in his eyes.

“What’s interesting?” And now the situation was truly fucked. Arthur steps into the room, Natasha and Patrick flanking him. He looks over at Hunter, frowning at their fucking pathetic state. “What the hell happened to you, Hunter? You look like shit.” Natasha and Patrick smirk at each other, like they’re fucking amused. Couldn’t fault Arthur about this one. Hunter looked like fucking shit; hell, they probably looked like they were on death’s fucking door.

“Really? And here I thought I looked fucking fantastic,” Hunter quips as Kevin eases them over to lean against the counter of the terminal. He steps away, almost fearful Hunter might collapse to the ground. Trying to stand up straighter, Hunter reassures their teammates, “I’m fine; I just need to have one of the Doctors at Headquarters look me over.” The scientist chuckles, shaking his head. Fuck.

“Why are you laughing? And who are you?” Arthur asks, pointing his gun toward the scientist.

“Dr. Charles Griffin,” As he speaks, Hunter notices his eyes never leave them, determined not to miss any detail, “Captain Delaney will not be okay. If they survive, they will be better than okay. If they don’t, well…”

“You’re wrong.” A foreboding feeling falls over Hunter, and they swallow, slightly swaying. What Dr. Griffin was saying wasn’t true. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, it couldn’t be fucking true. “I’m not-I’m fucking not…” They can’t get the rest of the words out, their throat tightening up.

“You’re infected, Captain Delaney. I’m sure you are competent enough to understand what that means.”

The world falls out from Hunter as they grip the terminal tightly, knees bucking underneath them. He’s wrong; They’re not infected. “You’re lying, You’re a fucking liar,” They plead, inhaling panicked breaths. Yet, Hunter knows that is not the truth. They’re infected, and there is only one cure for infection. A bullet in the fucking head.

“I am not lying, Captain Delaney. You know this,” His tone is harsh as if he doesn’t have time to deal with a dying person’s hysterics, “Although, you should have mutated by now. None of the subjects lasted this long.” He tilts his head, his gray eyes pensive. “I wonder if there is something special about you, Captain Delaney. To last this long means the virus has found something in you, unique to the other subjects.”

“What happened when the others turned?” Natasha asks, her voice trembling. Her eyes flicker over to Hunter, sympathy and fear both at war.

Dr. Griffin smiles, getting some fucking sick twisted pleasure from the team’s reaction. He turns towards the computer, quickly pulling up a video on the monitors for all to see. With little fanfare, he presses the button, the video playing. A man in his late twenties-early thirties is pacing around a white cell. Even through the not-so-great video quality, Hunter notices he is sweating profusely, feverish like they are. “What did you do to me?” He wheezes, swaying as he paces back and forth. Something grumbles, and the man groans, hunching over. Beneath his skin, Hunter sees something ripple along his spine. “WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME?” He screams, an animalistic howl of pain and torture. Hunter’s breath catches in their throat as they realize it’s almost like something is moving beneath his skin. Another howl escapes him, and so much happens at once. The man mutates, bones cracking and skin ripping as he changes into a monster. They grip the edge of the terminal tighter, feeling faint. His screams are the worst sounds Hunter has ever heard, and they’ve heard some truly awful fucking sounds. He writhes on the ground, his body changing. Eventually, he stops, laying still for a few moments until he twitches, a sign that he is still alive. A fucking creature rises to its feet, two long appendages protruding from its wrists. The mutation marred the man’s face, his body distorted from the transformation. It had turned him into a tyrant, something Hunter was all too familiar with. The Tyrant looks up at the camera in the room. With a quick motion, it whips one of the appendages, causing the video feed to cut out.

Hunter looks over toward Dr. Griffin in pure horror, only to find him already looking at them. “My virus is not supposed to cause that. I’m missing something,” He pauses, a curious look in his eyes, “but it’s possible that I’ve found that missing component in you, Captain Delaney. I might have found the first perfect host for the virus.” Yet. Their stomach recoils, Hunter rejecting the idea. They weren’t some perfect host for an Evil Genius’ fucking demented virus.

“Is Hunter going to turn into that?” Patrick steps back, training his gun on Hunter.

“I’m not fucking turning into that, Patrick,” Hunter motions to the screen, “I mean, fucking look at me, Patrick! Do I look like a BOW to you?” Hunter wasn’t going to mutate; they would make sure of it.

“No.” Patrick lowers his gun, looking away in slight shame.

“What is the virus supposed to do anyway?” Kevin asks.

“My virus will extend our lives beyond their natural limit, slowing the aging process. It will make humanity faster, stronger, more intelligent. Obviously, I’m missing an essential key to this virus, but one day, I will revolutionize the world with it.”

“Oh? Is that all it’s supposed to do?” Natasha offers sarcastically. Her gun is lowered, but Hunter notices that it’s pointed in their direction.

“Yes,” Dr. Griffin snarls, “I’m not like that hack, Spencer and his ilk.” Another spasm hits Hunter and they let out a low groan. “You should probably do something about your Captain.”     

Arthur raises his rifle at them, Natasha and Patrick following suit. “Sorry, Captain. I hope-.”

“WAIT!” Hunter yells, raising one of their hands as if they might fend off their inevitable death. “Dr. Griffin says most don’t last this long. We may have enough time to get me to the closest BSAA facility.” Dr. Griffin snorts derisively at the mention of the BSAA.

“And what’s to stop you from turning in the helicopter?” Natasha refutes.

“We can’t take the chance that you’ll turn or attack us. We have to do this for the good of the mission.” Arthur states coldly, but Hunter swears they hear something akin to ‘Fuck you, you hardass bitch’.

“There has to be a way to transfer them without them turning. Maybe, we can-.”

Hunter bitterly laughs, cutting Kevin off. “Don’t pretend you’re doing this for the good of the fucking mission,” They sneer at Arthur, “You’ve wanted to put a fucking bullet in my back since Europe. This just give you an excuse.”

“I think the virus is scrambling your brain.”

“Fuck Yo-.”

BANG!

Time slows as Hunter stops mid-curse, looking down at their torso. Spots of red appear; Hunter feels nothing at first. Unfortunately, Hunter doesn’t have long to dwell on that revelation, time resuming its course. More bullets hit their body, knocking them back onto the terminal. It all hurts so fucking much, their body feels like it’s being torn apart. Hunter tries to grab on to steady themself, but their fingers twitch uselessly, barely responding. Sliding down to the ground, Hunter finds themself propped up against the terminal.

“CAPTAIN!” Kevin screams, as Hunter’s eyes still focus on Arthur. He drops beside them, grabbing their right hand as Arthur, Natasha, and Patrick lower their guns. “No, don’t-don’t go.” Kevin pleads, gripping their right hand tightly.

It hurts. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, it all hurts so fucking much. Hunter draws a wet breath, their lungs filling with their own blood. They take another, choking on all that blood. Hunter’s brain screams desperately for oxygen as their heart sluggishly struggles to beat. The edges of their vision blacken, slowly creeping in as their consciousness diminishes. Hunter doesn’t want to go yet. Fuck, they’re not ready to go yet. Faces of family and friends flash through their mind as they fiercely cling to life. Death will not take them. Yet even Hunter Delaney finds that they cannot fend off death, darkness eclipsing their vision. Their consciousness fades into the ether as they drown in blood and pain, only feeling fear and rage as their final emotions.

Hunter Delaney dies for the first time.

—

Kevin sits numbly as the helicopter flies away from the Sirona Corporation facility. He stares down at the blood-stained dog tags, tags stained with Captain Delaney’s blood. It hits Kevin all at once, like a freight train. Captain Delaney is gone; they’re really gone. He tears his gaze away from the dog tags, looking out at the facility. A few seconds later, it explodes, flames and smoke shooting out. Eventually, the building collapses on itself, dust rising. His hand tightens around the dog tags, tears stinging at the corner of his eyes. Shit, what was Kevin going to tell Frankie? What was he going to tell any of the Delaney Family? Captain Delaney had been his mentor, and their family had become close to him. He was supposed to watch Captain Delaney’s back, and they died. It was his-. “There was nothing you could do for your Captain. They would have most likely died anyway.”

He looks up, glaring at Dr. Griffin. “Don’t you dare speak about them,” Kevin snarls, “Besides, we’re all responsible for their death, you included Dr. Griffin.”

Dr. Griffin shakes his head. “I know you are upset about the loss of your friend, but blame is very unhelpful.”

“Speaking of blame,” Arthur cuts in, glaring sharply at Kevin from Dr. Griffin’s right as he lowers his voice, “Captain Delaney’s death was tragic, but unavoidable. They were infected and mutating, giving us no choice but to kill them. Understood?”

Natasha and Patrick nod while Kevin stares at him in stunned shock. “You want me to-?”

“No,” Arthur shakes his head, his hand dropping down towards his pistol, “I want to make sure we all understand what happened on that mission.” Yet, the threat was left unsaid. Play along or you might be the next one to end up with a bullet in your back.

Kevin looks around, wondering if anyone else is bothered. Natasha and Patrick both look away from him while Dr. Griffin looks bored. Turning back to Arthur, who is watching him with cold eyes, Kevin quietly admits, “Okay.” The only person who would have looked out for him is dead. His gaze drops down to Captain Delaney’s dog tags. No one else is going to help him. Kevin is alone, utterly alone.

“Good. I’m glad we all understand what happened.” 

Taglist: @sstewyhosseini, @detectivelokis, @mishwanders (If you want to be added or removed, just let me know!)

[dollfacefantasy]

MAKE HIM DO WHAT I SAY ♡

pairing: older bf!!logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you and logan make a little bet. who can last longer without sex? as much as he wants to deny it, he's starting to think the answer might be you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief daddy kink (one mention)

a/n: a commission for my sweet @sleepyluxe who i love so very much <33 this fic takes place after the events of dofp when things are fixed.

Seven days. One week. A quarter of a month. That's how long it had been since Logan and you had fucked.

It was brutal. Some may say he's being dramatic, but that's because they've never had the luxury of you. They couldn't understand losing a paradise they've never experienced. The past several days he's felt like a man wandering through a barren desert, the oasis in sight but never close enough to drink from. Absolute torture.

Unfortunately, this situation came about because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

You'd been getting some work done late last Sunday evening. Just a few plans for the upcoming school week. Your fingers punched away at your computer while Logan lay on the bed twirling a stray cigar between his fingers.

"How many more pages you got?" he asked, boosting his head up to glance at you.

At the sound of his voice, you spun your chair around to face him. "Not that many. Just finalizing a few details for the field trip they're taking the kids on next weekend," you said.

"You're not even going. Why're they making you do that?"

The fat stick of tobacco continued to glide between his digits. One of your legs crossed over the other as you watched him.

"I'm not going because I offered to do all the planning," you reminded him. 

Your eyes stayed on the tantalizing movements of his fingers.

"You know you can't smoke in here, so don't even think about it," you said.

He rolled his eyes and puffed air through his pursed lips as if that was an outrageous warning. Sitting up, he put the cigar back in the drawer on his side of the bed. He rose to his feet and began to cross the room in your direction.

"Maybe you should give me something else to do with my mouth then," he teased, his voice lowering to the octave that reverberated with want for you.

Then it was your turn to roll your eyes. You turned your chair back toward the desk and continued grazing your fingertips over the raised letters.

It didn't deter him though. He kept on in your direction, stopping only when he was directly behind the backing of your seat.

His hands landed on your shoulders, fingers massaging the tight muscles fanning out from your neck. He leaned forward so his head hovered beside yours. You could hear each breath he took. The smell of that cigar lingered around his form even if he hadn't lit up tonight.

"C'mon, babydoll. You've been working so hard. A little break won't hurt you," he murmured, lips pressing against your cheekbone.

"I have to have these done by tomorrow morning. Just give me a few minutes, and then I'll be done for the night and completely focused on you," you'd rebuffed him gently.

But that didn't satisfy Logan. When he wanted you, he got you. He proceeded with his tender touches and luring pecks. You remained focused on your work though. He figured he should vary his approach.

"Just let me make you feel good then, honey. Give you some extra motivation," he whispered. His dedicated hands drifted to your waist, squeezing in a way that teased the idea of lifting you up and putting you on his lap. As good as it would've felt to be full of him, you knew you had to get this done.

"You're so bad," you said with a smile, head falling back a little as his mouth moved to your neck, "You act like you haven't gotten any in decades."

"Is that your way of telling me you're getting tired of me?" he teased.

"No. I'm just saying you're insatiable. It's getting to the point where I don't think you could live without me," you responded with a tone matching his in arrogance.

His eyebrow raised, and he pulled back a little to laugh. "That so?"

"Mhm," you nodded. Your sweet eyes stared him down, begging him to disagree.

Looking back, he wishes he could travel through time again to slap any further words out of his mouth. He should've just agreed! Should've told you that you were absolutely right. That he can't live without you, can't survive this life if he doesn't get to slip inside of you at the end of each day. He should've waited the fifteen minutes it would've taken you to finish your paperwork and then gotten laid.

But he didn't do any of that. He had to keep going and dig himself into a deeper hole.

"Don't act so innocent, princess. You're just as bad as me," he'd said.

"No way," you'd huffed, smirking with amusement, "I want you a totally normal amount. You want me like every second of the day. If you could, I don't think you'd ever let me do anything. You'd probably keep me chained to the bed, yours for the taking at all times of the day.

"Like you wouldn't love that. I'm not the one pawing at you every morning, whining about how bad I need it," he taunted.

"Oh shut up, that's happened like a couple times. Every day you're right in my ear, feeling me up. You practically drag me away from what I'm doing when you wanna fuck," you fired back, "I am nowhere near as bad as you."

And then he'd spoken the three cursed words that launched him into this predicament.

"You wanna bet?"

You laughed more at that and nodded again. "Sure. Because I know I'll win."

And that unofficial vow of celibacy was why the two of you had been dancing around each other for the past week. He was starting to feel like that old love song counting the amount of time it'd been since he had you beneath him last. Fifteen hours and seven days or however it went.

You didn't make this trying time any easier for him either. That night he went to sleep with blue balls. The next morning, he woke up to you getting ready. You weren't dressed in your usual style of clothing though. Instead, you had on a dress, Logan's favorite dress of yours. You'd styled your hair real pretty too, letting it compliment your features in the best way.

As his heavy lids blinked open to consciousness, he watched you fasten a shimmering necklace over your collarbone. It sat just above the neckline of the chiffon fabric that adorned your bust.

You caught his waking eyes with your own in the reflective glass, turning to look at him with a bright smile. 

Despite his bleary vision, he could hear the light steps of you prancing over to him. The mattress dipped with your weight as you sat down and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Your fingers slid through his dark hair just the way he likes, with your nails scratching his scalp a little. Worst of all, that close, the scent of your perfume became all consuming. It hit him harder than normal. He wasn't sure if he should blame you or himself for predicting the trials of the coming days.

He hummed in acknowledgement of your presence and nuzzled into your palm.

"Hey, sleepyhead," you cooed, your voice extra soft and sweet. It was too caring to be seductive, but of course, that's where his mind went anyways.

"Hey, baby," he'd mumbled.

"I gotta go drop off that paperwork, but I'll see you later. I love you," you whispered in return before laying one more column of kisses from the tip of his nose back to his forehead.

Then you'd left, leaving him half-hard and yearning for you. A pattern that would plague him over the next week.

Each day it was some new form of torture. The day after that, you'd worked extra hard in the danger room, coming back to him at night covered in a light sheen of sweat. Your heady natural scent filled the bedroom in moments.

The following afternoon, you wanted to cuddle when you both had some free time. The fact that you draped your leg over his torso, slotting your clothed cunt right against his hip, inches away from his cock, was pure accident of course.

Over the last few days, your games have become less specific. You peppered your speech with innuendo. Looked at him with your fuck-me eyes and spoke in the tone you always used seconds before he ended up bending you over the nearest surface.

He tried to fight back, he really did. He stopped wearing a shirt in your shared room. Every time he talked to you, he made sure to rub your ass or stroke your cheek. He was so desperate he stooped to embarrassing levels of lovey-dovey when the two of you were alone. But no matter what he tried, it seemed like you'd been right. Of your pair, you had the superior restraint.

With each passing hour, his frustration grew.

Today, it reaches its zenith.

The mansion is empty because it's Sunday. All the students and other teachers are out on the trip to the observatory today. You and Logan are the only remaining residents in the school. He ended up not having to tag along with the rest of the group after volunteering to fix the sprinklers bordering the school's patio. Babysitting kids had never been his forte even with all the practice he gets at it now. Simple handiwork he could do no problem.

The two of you take the morning to sleep in. This was a rare occasion where no early meetings or classes occupied your schedules. You stay tangled up together well past sunrise.

Logan is the first to leave the warmth and comfort of your embrace. He pulls himself from the nest of pillows and blankets, stretching his limbs out as he does. He rubs the tiredness from his features before rising and heading to the wardrobe to pull on some clothes.

In addition to his normal black t-shirt and jeans, he grabs the tool belt on his way out to the lawn. He slings it around his hips before walking through the back door. Heading past the basketball court and rows of hedges, he finds the line of leaking sprinklers besides them. It would probably take him a while given that he had to first identify the source of the problem and then recalibrate all of them with the adjustment.

He sighs but gets to work. At least he'd have a distraction from the desires haunting him.

Crouching in the dewy grass next to the little faucets, he begins examining the hard plastic shells. To his surprise, scanning for breaks does attach his mind to the task and give him a brief reprieve. It's quiet outside. Besides a small chirp from a distant bird or a grunt out of him, no other sounds echo over the open space. The sun shines in the sky, but it's not beating down on him. The air tickles his skin with warmth but not to the point of being miserably humid.

All the conditions meet in the perfect middle to keep him calm. It's the most peace he's had since he agreed to this bet between the two of you.

But all that tranquility is shattered about a half hour later when he hears the patter of footsteps against the stone pathway. From around the tall thicket of green foliage, comes you. Your face breaks out into a smile the second you burst into his vision. He would look the same if not for what you'd decided to wear.

You trot over to him across the grass in a pair of tiny black shorts with lacy frills on the hems. They sway with each of your movements, highlighting the shape of your legs. A gray camisole graces your upper half; a delicate white bow sits at the center of the collar, dead center between your breasts. The fit of the garment displays the contour of your chest just right. He feels like he's gonna start drooling before you make it near.

Despite his reaction, the outfit wasn't that provocative. It wasn't like you'd strutted out in lingerie. But he was so pent up that a flash of your ankle in the proper lighting could probably get him hard.

Bounding up to him, you wrap his body in a tight hug. Every curve of your form presses up against him.

"Look at you, working so hard," you praise playfully with a kiss to his cheek.

He laughs it off, returning the hug in an attempt to be normal, so you wouldn't see how vulnerable he was right now, how this was the perfect opportunity to strike. He couldn't let you know that in this moment, he could easily become the prey.

"Were you missing me already?" he asks, rubbing his free hand up and down your spine.

"Mhm. Woke up and you were gone," you reply. You nuzzle the crook of his neck, planting a few electric kisses on his skin.

"I didn't wanna wake you. You're pretty cute when you're sleeping," he mutters.

"Well now I'm gonna be cute out here with you," you say and pull back. You peck his lips one more time before plopping down in the grass behind him.

He glances back at you to see what that means. All you're doing is sitting there. Your legs extend out in front of you, straightened for his eyes to rake over. You lean back with your palms against the moist greenery below you.

"You don't got anything better to do with your day off?" he asks.

That earns him a small pout. "If you want me to leave, I will. I just wanna spend time with you."

He can tell by your tone that your intentions aren't so innocent. You're leading him into allowing your presence. But denying his girlfriend has never been one of the wolverine's strengths so of course, he acquiesces.

"Relax. I'm not telling you to go anywhere," he says as he turns back to his work, "I just don't think this will be that interesting to you."

"Watching you do anything is interesting to me," you joke back.

He rolls his eyes and gets back to work.

At first, things are smooth as before. He continues messing with the small, bendy pipes. You're quiet behind him. Almost too quiet, but he lets it go for now since he thinks he's found the source of the malfunction.

It doesn't take long to patch up. The more difficult part is going to each individual head and fixing the tightness. His fingers twist the little knobs to the correct settings. He then turns to you when he's finally done.

The sight of you feels like a gust of fresh air filling his lungs. You're laid out where you were before, but you've reclined across the ground. One of your arms is sprawled outwards, soaking up the sunlight while the other lazily covers your eyes. Your shadow outlines your figure against the emerald blades below you.

You look luscious and ripe, like a precious fruit ready to be picked and devoured. In any other circumstance, that's exactly what he'd do. He'd spread you out further for him and take you apart piece by piece. He wanted your nectar running down his chin with each savoring lap of his tongue. He craved the feeling of your heat wrapped around him, your walls massaging his shaft during every punishing thrust.

Imagining it now only gets the blood pumping down South to his hardening length.

He runs a hand over his hair and sighs. Why didn't he do that now? What was the point of this stupid fucking contest? It's not like there was anything on the line. The only stake was his pride, which to be honest, he'd already compromised for you multiple times over the course of your relationship.

Unbuckling the leather from his waist, he discards the tool belt. Next he peels his shirt from his body and tosses it to the side.

He makes his way to you on the grass. He drops to his knees and leans forward. His muscular frame cages you in against the ground. Starting at your navel, he drags his nose up your body. He coasts over the valley between your breasts and past your collar bone. His soft exhales breeze across your throat before he finally reaches your cheek. With a gentle pull, he clears your arm from your face.

Your eyes flutter to adjust to the sunlight beaming down on them again. They take in the vision of him so close to you and the way he gazes down with adoration.

"Hey, pretty girl," he says, his voice much softer than it'd been before, "You falling asleep on me?"

His thumb rubs over your jawline while the other strokes the crown of your head. A smile blooms across your lips. You can't help it with how he's behaving.

"No... well, maybe a little. I think you were right. Sprinklers are pretty boring," you say.

He grins and leans in to kiss your lips. With the exchange he hopes to communicate everything he doesn't want to say. I give up. You win.

You reach up and cup his scruffy cheeks. Your tongue swipes against his lips, sensing his longing for intimacy. He allows you in, and you deepen the connection. A long breath oozes from your nostrils.

He presses you down against the ground further as your hands slide over the little white streaks in his hair. Your fingers embed themselves in his locks. You feel his hands sliding down your body. They stop at your hips and give the plush flesh a squeeze.

It's obvious what he wants, but in case there was any doubt, his digits then hook around the top of your shorts and give them a tug.

A giggle bubbles up out of you against his mouth. You pull back to look at him with smug eyes.

"Is that your way of admitting I was right?" you ask.

He grumbles and ducks his head down to start kissing your neck. "Don't get cocky or I'll change my mind."

That makes you laugh more. You yank on his hair and pull him back up to look at you. 

"No you won't," you tease and brush your noses together. Looking into his eyes again, you can see how bad he wants this. "Just say it."

"Say what?"

"Say you're giving in. And that I win. And that you can't live without me."

He gives you a blank stare. Silently, he contemplates if there's any way around this. He wonders if there's a way he can avoid utter humiliation.

"C'mon, baby. Throw an old dog a bone," he grumbles.

Giggling, you shake your head. "Nuh uh. I wanna hear you say it."

He sighs and rolls over, pulling you on top of him. You straddle his hips with learned ease. Your smile glows from this angle. The sunlight above cascades over your frame and only further accentuates your body in your tight clothes. He rubs his hands up and down your sides. His dick is already at half-mast under the denim that covers his lower body. Your heat rests right on top of it, teasing him through the barriers of cloth. It dangles what he could have if he gives you what you want right before him.

The words that challenged you and created this trap for himself came out so easy. Why couldn't these be the same?

To coax him along, you grind down the slightest bit. The pressure's so light and gentle, a mere graze of your mound on the outline of his growing bulge. He hisses at the feeling.

"Just admit it," you say, planting your palms on his chest, "Just say I was right and you were wrong."

He watches you above him, knowing you're not going to drop this. If he wanted this self-invoked dry spell to end, he'd have to make it happen.

You roll your hips down with more force, impatient to hear him comply with your request. A small whimper leaks out of you. He can tell from that sound alone that you're getting worked up. That arousal is beginning to collect between your thighs.

The thought of it makes his need for you almost biological. His hands clamp around your waist and press you down harder. He rocks his up a little to meet your own movements.

"I need you so bad, princess," he sighs, his eyes shutting as he takes in the dull pleasure of you on top of him.

"Then you can say what I told you," you tease.

"What was it again?" he asks as he continues dragging your covered pussy back and forth along his now fully hard shaft.

"Say you're giving in. That I win. And that you can't live without me," you remind him, visibly proud of your victory.

With a sigh, he repeats, "I'm giving in. You win. I can't live without you."

You smile and laugh as if it was the best thing you'd ever heard. Your head falls back with glee before coming up so you can see his face again.

"Actually, can you say that again? I'm gonna grab my phone. That way I can film it this time. I just wanna have a record-" you continue to tease, but you're cut off by your own squeal when he grabs you and flips you back over onto your back. He keeps you quiet by smashing his lips against yours as your back thuds against the grass.

This kiss burns hotter than the last one. His mouth moves with bruising passion as he pulls your shorts down your legs for real. You help him by kicking them loose. His hands roam around over your smooth skin.

He glances down and finds what he thought he felt. No panties.

Eyes flitting back up to you, he shakes his head. "You were gonna give in anyways," he accuses.

"Yeah, but you gave in first," you giggle.

A small growl rumbles in his chest, but he still leans in to pull your tank top up. He brings it across your stomach, letting your breasts fall free as he bunches the material above them. He cups the plump flesh, taking a look at the beauty he holds in his palms. You watch him in the fleeting interval in which you're forced to separate.

"So... since I win, what do I get?" you continue to gloat.

"My dick inside you," he answers as his fingers yank his zipper open and shove down his pants in a similar fashion to your shorts.

"But I'm gonna get that anyways. I think I should get a real prize," you say, aiming to stoke the flames higher.

Your hips get hauled closer across the grass, so fast that you're in danger of having green smeared across your skin.

"I don't think you'll be complaining in a few minutes, ya little brat," he mumbles.

His fist pumps over his cock as he lines it up between your legs. The leaky tip smears some precum over your folds before he slides inside. He groans as he sinks in, cherishing the feeling after the week of its absence.

You're quick to adjust to the stretch. With a sharp breath, your back arches off the grass. He had already snapped back and slammed in again. You knew he wouldn't be patient after being deprived of this. Watching him above you, your eyes study how his chest puffs in and out with harsh breaths. His strong arms extend down on either side of your head, his fists holding clumps of grass between them. 

It's a gorgeous view, but you know it can't beat the feeling.

"Closer..." you whine and grab at his shoulders, pulling him down so he's right on you and smothering your body against the turf, "Missed you, old man."

"How many times have I told you to quit it with that?" he asks as his pelvis begins setting a rhythm.

"Enough to know that I'm never gonna," you say. It's the last thing you can get out before moans shatter your plans to speak.

His warm flesh pounds against yours over and over. Your body rocks with the bounce of him on top of you. It feels so good. The world feels bright again, like you'd transitioned from an existence of black and white to living in color. It was so open out here but also so empty. Like you and him were the only two people on earth.

Your voice tapers off. Words become second to whimpers of pleasure. His hands grope the swell of your ass before returning to your sides for steady leverage.

"We'll have to work on that then," he grunts, "If you're not gonna stop, I'll just have to make sure you can't speak at all."

You preen at the idea, clutching at his muscular shoulders and back. He pants right next to your ear. Each stroke drives deep into you, brushing a spot that had ached for him to touch it again.

"Never wanna go that long again," you babble around whines.

"Me neither, baby. Think you were right. Not being able to feel this pretty little pussy every day almost killed me," he says.

A rush of euphoria flows through you upon hearing that. Your moans become more breathy, more full of need for him. You grab one of his wrists and tug his hand off your hip, pushing it in between your legs.

He knows what you want. His fingers apply some pressure and rub at your swollen bundle of nerves. Immediately, he's rewarded with a whine out of you and a buck from your hips.

"Impatient," he huffs between a set of deep thrusts.

"I won," you retort, "I get to do what I want."

Even in the heat of the moment, he chuckles at your petulant tone. His hips keep rutting against you on the grass. He's sure his next task of yard-work will be covering the mysterious indents in the soil out here.

"I needa cum, Logan," you whine several seconds later, "So close."

"Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need to let it out after keeping it from me for so long?"

Your head bobs up and down in an enthusiastic nod. "Please, please, please."

"Well, it's like you said. You won. So I think you can finish when you're ready."

"Mmmm- o- ok..." you whimper out.

Your hips roll up and down to reciprocate the fast pace of his own. He's battering right up against that special spot inside you that makes your mind blank and your eyes gloss up.

With a handful of whimpers, you cum. Your face scrunches as your cunt tightens around him. His fingers keep up the same rhythm on your clit, swirling around the little bud through your pleasure high.

"That's my girl," he praises, "Let it all out for daddy."

Your body seizes up at that command. Every cell of your being somehow knows to obey. You stumble over words and let them leave your lips half formed.

He keeps driving into you as you're coming down, chasing his own release. You're well into the territory of overstimulation now, all parts of you fizzling like a lit sparkler.  Your thighs quiver against his sides violently. They lock around his waist when you finally feel him slam in and drain himself.

A loud groan erupts from him. He makes no effort to restrain it given that only the two of you are here to hear it. He fucks it into you, ricocheting himself against your center a couple more times and letting every last drop pour into your dripping hole.

When he feels sated, at least for the moment, he reluctantly pulls out. He takes a couple deep breaths as he watches a bit of his cum ooze out of you. It didn't matter though. That wouldn't be the last load you took today.

His body topples over next to yours on the natural ground. You both lie there for a few moments catching your breath before you roll onto your side to look at him.

You just stare for a few moments. Your eyes roam along the shape of his face to the slope of his jaw and the curve of his chest. Leaning in, you kiss the space below his ear.

He responds to the touch by curling his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side.

His head turns to meet your loving gaze.

"I think we have some more time to make up for," he says.

You respond with an eager nod and hop up to your feet. Both of you pull on the basics of the clothes you'd been wearing before and rush back into the mansion, giggling as you stumble through the halls like a couple of lovesick teenagers.

The door to your room stays shut for the rest of the day. You spend the remaining hours you have enmeshed in each other; intertwined with him enough to recover from the lack you'd put yourself through.

Logan doesn't venture beyond the barrier of your shared sanctuary until the sun has gone down and darkness coats the halls of the mansion.  He walks quietly, taking his steps carefully to ensure none of the wooden planks beneath him creak.

All he had to do was go downstairs and grab you some water. In and out. Five minutes. But as he rounds the turn into the room, Scott's already there, looking through the fridge. He freezes and stands there awkwardly in his black tank top and loose sweatpants.

Having heard the sounds of his footsteps, the other man glances over at him. 

"There you are. Didn't see you around when I got back," he says simply.

Logan shrugs, trying to play it casual. He walks across the room toward the cupboard that holds the glasses. The other man's eyes follow him. He can feel that even through the scarlet shades on his face.

"Haven't seen your other half either," Scott continues.

Logan can tell from the tone of his voice where this is going. 

"Don't call her that," he scoffs, forever downplaying his attachment to you, "She's tired. She's upstairs sleeping."

"On her day off? I wonder what would have her so drained," Scott replies. His tone is flat in contrast to the little smirk on his face.

"Don't start," Logan says. He goes to the fridge to fill your cup with water. The trickle of the fluid is the only sound in the room until Scott keeps going.

"I didn't say anything," he says, raising his hands in surrender, "Only that this is the best mood you've been in all week."

"A couple hours without you around does wonders for me," Logan grumbles, wishing the liquid would pour a little faster.

"I'm sure. A couple hours with no one else around. Just the two of you after you've both been stiff the whole week," he taunts, "It's ok to admit you're whipped."

Finally, the cup is full. Logan takes it and turns away, holding one finger up as he walks from the kitchen.

"See you tomorrow, Scott."

"Yeah. Tell her if she's feeling sore, she can skip the early meeting," he says with a little laugh.

[oreoluvskento]

hate sex w nanami

a/n: uhhhh heres that hate sex fic i promised two months ago :D my bad yall i got really busy and lost all motivation to keep writing on here, but i'm back now :)

cw: female reader, wrote this with black reader in mind but no mention of specific race, NOT PROOFREAD, no use of y/n, cunnilingus, overstimulation, cum swallowing, brat tamer nanami, brat reader, im very horny, that should be me honestly

"fuck, what are we doing?" you ask as you and nanami kiss feverishly. he climbs up onto his desk with you, laying you down onto your back roughly.

"don't know," he growls, his hand coming up to cup your jaw as he kisses his way down to your neck. your eyes widen as he bites you, and you feel your knees go weak when he pushes his thigh against your throbbing core while sucking your neck at the same time.

"i thought you couldn't stand me," you moan, rutting yourself against him, to which he groans at. he reaches down and tugs your pants off, your legs kicking them away.

"i can't," he answers, now tossing your underwear to the side and kissing his way down your thighs.

about two minutes earlier, you and nanami were just yelling at each other about your recent mission. you had a plan and nanami completely disregarded it for it's lack of, well, planning. you were more erratic and spontaneous, wanting to go with the flow, while nanami was more calculated and careful, always wanting to stay organized.

you barged in immediately after your checkup with shoko, still fuming because he ignored you when you tried to ask him on your way back about why the plans changed. you complained to shoko about it, to which she said "instead of yelling at me, why not go yell at him," to which you took literally.

nanami didn't acknowledge you once ever since you came in, which infuriated you even further. although his face was stoic, a slightly noticeable vein was popping out of his forehead and his fingers were gripping his pen tighter.

you spun him around in his seat, still complaining in his face, your noses almost touching, which ended up being his last straw. "you are incredibly childish, irresponsible, and i simply have no respect for you at all! you endanger our lives every time we go on a mission together, but all you can think about is how much fun you're having! you're selfish, and honestly a little bit dense, and i wish you'd shut up and leave, you're disturbing my peace."

your eyes widen as he speaks, his voice barely raising but his anger clearly showing. "you can kiss my ass." you grit and the look of disgust that appears on his face makes you even angrier. before you can say anything, he beats you to it.

"please leave," he says, standing up and now looking down at you.

feeling stubborn, you stand your ground and cross your arms. "no," you childishly protest and he leans his head back with a sigh.

"leave or-"

"or what?" you interrupt, moving closer to him and something in the atmosphere changes. for you it could've been the way he looked at you with such an intimidating expression, one that made you submit almost too quickly. for him it could've been the way you were pressed up against him, your chest against his and your pelvises almost touching.

before you could process what was going on, you were sitting on his desk, his lips attacking yours furiously and you were kissing him back.

his mouth is now on your pussy, eating you out like you were his favorite meal, his anger fueling his actions. "fuck don't stop, it feels so good," you moan and nanami grunts against your clit.

"stop fucking talking," he growls, his tongue darting back out to play with your clit and you slide your hands into his hair.

"fuck...you," you respond, breathless as he continues to mercilessly eat you out. nanami sucks your clit into his mouth over and over again, essentially treating it as a pacifier, and just when you think you're about to cum, he stops and inserts two fingers inside you.

"who knew something so sweet could come out of someone so bitter," he teases, watching as your pussy swallows his digits. you're unable to speak properly, your mouth open mid gasp and your back arching off the table. nanami speeds up, the sound making him even harder, and you finally gain your ability to speak again.

"shut up and eat- oh fuck- me out," you moan, pushing his head back onto your pussy and he complies, slurping away what has been produced by his ministrations. you choke on another moan and rut your hips against his face, to which he responds by holding your hips in place with his free hand. now completely controlling your pleasure, nanami fingers you faster, the tips of his fingers constantly brushing against your g-spot and before you knew it, you were having an orgasm.

you struggle to stay quiet as your body lights up but you find it difficult as nanami refuses to let up, his fingers fighting against your constricting walls and his tongue still hard at work on your clit. as you come down, you truly start to feel the overstimulation and try to pull away. "mm mm, stay right here. you should've left when i told you to. now it's my turn," he says, muffled by your pussy and you cry out when he starts sucking your sensitive clit again.

"please, its too much, i can't," you plead but it falls onto deaf ears as he goes on. nanami adds another finger and your eyes roll to the back of your head, the stretch adding a new sensation to focus on.

"if only you were as obedient as your pussy. look at how she sucks me right in," he coos and you subconsciously get tighter at his teasing. he chooses not to say anything about it yet, and focuses on stretching you out for his dick. your breathing picks up and nanami recognizes the cues for your next orgasm so he dives back onto your clit, spitting on it and slurping it loosely.

you cum unexpectedly this time and nanami keeps fucking you through it, your body thrashing against his hold. he finally pulls away from you, sitting up to look at your blissed out face. you open your eyes when he grabs onto your jaw with one hand and prods at your mouth with the other.

"open," he commands and you do as he says, the fuzz in your brain stopping you from thinking clearly. he puts his fingers into your mouth and you moan as you suck away the mess on them. he pulls you off the desk and leans you against it, your upper body folded over it now.

he pushes his clothed erection against you from behind and groans when you push back against him. nanami thinks about teasing you some more but he has a meeting with yaga about your partnership soon and he's racing against time. he quickly pulls his dick out, the tip turning slightly red as it's been begging for attention sine he kissed you.

your head is down when he pushes into you and you snap it up when you feel the way it stretches you out. a high pitched moan escapes you and nanami slaps his hand over your mouth while pulling you up to talk to you. "shut up, i'm not even all the way in yet," he rasps and you et out a sound of desperation.

once he bullies the rest of his cock inside of you, he pulls out and snaps his hips back into yours, and if it wasn't for his hand on your mouth, the entire academy would've heard the moan that came out of you. nanami sets a relentless pace, his anger towards you growing the louder you get.

"you really don't know how to be quiet, huh?" he growls, pushing all the way into you, shimmying his hips to get deeper, and you fall over, stopping yourself from moaning this time. tears come to your eyes and he fucks you deeply, the pleasure too much for you to handle and your knees going weak. nanami realizes you effort and scoffs to himself. "so you do know how to follow directions? i knew it wouldn't take much to put a brat like you in her place," he says and nod furiously, not even sure of what he's saying.

he speeds up now, his eyes fixated on the way your ass jiggles every time he thrusted into it. your pussy begins squeezing him like it did earlier but nanami isn't having it. he pulls you up by your hair and grabs you by your throat. "you'll wait, do you understand me? hold it until i say you can cum," he instructs and you let out a whine in protest. ultimately, you listen, and although it was extremely hard to focus on not cumming, you succeed.

nanami takes the hand on your throat and begins rubbing your clit with it. "make sure you stay quiet just like this. go ahead and cum for me," he says and not even a second later your gushing all over his dick. he moans out curses as you cum, your pussy holding onto his dick and when you're done, he pulls out. he yanks your shoulder and pushes you onto the ground, and you catch on, taking his dick in your hand and stroking it.

this is your first time seeing it and god was it big. you take the tip in your mouth and bob your way down his shaft, wanting to feel it in your throat. nanami moans as you suck him off and before long, he cums in your mouth. you swallow it as it comes and when he's done, he pulls you back to your feet. he carries you onto the desk and rubs the side of your hips as he comes down from his own high, his head on your shoulder.

"i'm sorry for barging in here and acting an ass," you say softly and he chuckles, his head still down.

"i'm sorry for calling you childish, irrisponsible, selfsih-"

"alright, i get it you're sorry!" you interrupt and he laughs a little harder. he stands up, tucks his dick away, and helps you put your pants back on before giving you a bottle of water and watching you leave.

later that day, during his meeting with yaga, at which he wanted to request a partner switch, he decided on sticking with you for just a little longer.

[rowanmutt-afterdark]

I've gotten a LOT of Mirage x Reader requests, so here I am feeding the lot of ya. Hope you enjoy! I got a couple ideas this one was by far my favorite. I already planned on doing an oral scene but a suggestion to do it helped motivate me.

I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope to write more Mirage and other Transformers Characters I'm the future.

Enjoy~

WARNING : ⚠️ 🔞 NSFW themes, oral sex, and masturbation included in this short fic. Please do not read if you are under the age or 18. This is a NSFW blog so if you are under the age, please move on!

ROTB Mirage X Gender Neutral Reader

It's night, that's all you know. You've lost track of the time. The amount of time you've spent on your back with your legs suspended over a pair of shoulders for… you can't even remember. All you can feel is a mouth and glossa teasing your sex. It's like his glossa is dancing around, leaving your back tingling and your legs shaking as he starts to bring you towards yet another orgasm.

You are making the lewdest of sounds as you buck against his face. His glossa slowing down as he helps you ride through your orgasm until he feels you go limp, is only when he pulls away to smirk down at you. A shit eating grin that makes you glare at him through your half lidded lashes.

"What number was that?" Mirage asks as he pulls away briefly to lick his lips, his blue eyes casting a glow over your body in the darkness of your garage.

"I-I can't remember." You admit, breathing heavily as you try to catch your breath. You hear a tsk and his glossa clicking in disappointment.

"Now, Mami/Papi, I told you to count for me. It seems I may have to start all over, again. I don't mind doing that, but from your bodies reaction. You're getting tired. Now, let me ask again, baby. What number?" He asks. You rack your brain for a number, your brain is so hazy with lust and the feeling of floating on cloud nine makes it even harder.

"N-nine?" You ask.

There's silence before you feel his mouth on you again making you sob in pleasure as he picks up where he left off. Sucking at you rather loudly, pulling your hips up off the table and closer to his mouth, your hips were practically pressing against his nose!

"Not quite, baby. The number you were looking for was thirteen. Seems you need another to help jog your memory. Don't worry, I'll keep you awake. We still have a few more hours until your roommate gets back. For now, enjoy the ride, baby."

You groan before squealing as his glossa is quickly working at you again. You can hear his lips smacking and sucking around you, it's loud and lewd. You love it. Though your body was starting to scream at you that it was starting to get to be too much. Mirage has you so focused on his glossa that you don't hear the sound of his paneling covering his spike opening with a soft 'click'. A soft glow and his arm not holding you is moving jerking motions.

You take a peek to see his servo wrapped around his erect spike. It's bright blue and red bio light lighting up his torso and thighs as he strokes himself while he's enjoying getting a taste of you. It's hot to see him getting lost on the pleasure he is feeling and giving you.

Mirage is a giver, he loves seeing you get worked up and begging for him. Due to the size difference, it's rather difficult to take him. So, you have found other ways around penetration. Though after the incident involving you almost popping yoru jaw out of place trying to give him oral, he's not let you do anything to his spike besides giving him a handjob or using your thighs.

"I can feel you getting closer, Ven a mí, nena~" He purrs against your sex making you arch your back and open your mouth in a silent scream as you cum again. This one hits you so hard that your vision goes white as Mirage helps keep you still against his mouth so you can ride it out.

When you come back to, Mirage has you laying on the blanket he laid out earlier. You are laying on your back and him laying on his side with his servo on your middle. You glance at his crotch to see his spike has already been tucked away, but his thighs are covered in his release.

"Have fun, mi amor?" He asks with a cheeky smirk. Your response is smacking at his chest rather weakly.

"Fuck you."

"We just did."

"I hate you."

"Love you too, mi amor."

[fluentmoviequoter]

Imagine: being in a long distance relationship with deacon and you surprise him at home. He doesn’t know it and is still at the HQ. Hondo knows about your surprise and sends him home with a knowing smile after the shift. When Deacon comes home he finds you sleeping in his bed

Oh my gosh, this is adorable. I'm not totally sure if you wanted a fic or not, but I wrote one! I hope you like it and please let me know what you think!

Warnings: fluff!

Word Count: 1.3k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Long Distance to the Future

Since you left Los Angeles to take a new job across the country, you’ve stayed committed to Deacon and he to you. The job is supposed to be temporary, only it is indefinitely temporary. It’s been nearly three years since you started dating Deacon, but it will be your first anniversary away from him. It would be a lie to say long distance is easy, but it’s worth it. You haven’t used a single vacation day since you started, so you’re checking the price of flights to LAX, hoping you can afford to surprise Deacon for your anniversary. The first few months of long-distance were surprisingly easy since you were getting settled and forming a new routine, but now that things are settled, you miss Deacon more than anything. The screen finally loads, and you cheer in your quiet bedroom when the low price appears. You quickly book your ticket, prepared to see Deacon in person again. You text Hondo and ask him to call when he has time, hoping to get his help in the surprise.

Your phone rings less than a minute later, and you answer before the second ring. “Hello?” you greet, expecting Hondo.

“I have big news!” your boss cheers. “You got the promotion; if you want it, its yours!”

“Are you serious?” you ask, experiencing the second miracle in less than ten minutes. “This is such an honour, I don’t know what to say.”

“Think it over for a day or two then let me know, okay? Congratulations, you deserve it!”

“Thank you! I- can I sign the contract while I’m on my trip?”

“Oh, I forgot you’re off this week. Yes, we can do it online or we can just get a written acceptance and handle the paperwork when you get back. I’ll let you get back to your vacation, but I couldn’t wait to tell you. Have a great time and talk soon.”

The call ends, and you lay back on your bed, kicking your feet up in excitement. Your phone rings again, and you see Hondo’s name, smiling as the pieces of your plan begin falling into place.

✯✯✯✯✯

The landing in LA is a little bumpy, but nothing can take the smile off your face. You practically skip through the airport, energized by your countdowns until you are back in the same time zone, state, county, and now, city as your boyfriend. Hondo is leaning against his car, smiling, when you walk out.

“Thank you so much,” you tell him, hugging him before he takes your bag to put in the trunk.

“I should be thanking you. He misses you,” Hondo replies as he opens your door.

“I missed him, too.”

“When do you leave?”

You let the question hang, waiting until Hondo is in the driver’s seat with the door closed to answer, “About that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Hondo drops you off at Deacon’s house, giving you his spare key to get inside before Deacon returns from work. Waving at Hondo, you go inside and lock the door behind you. You leave all of the lights off and hide your shoes and bags in Deacon’s closet so there is no evidence of you visible when he walks in. Checking your watch, you see that Deacon should be home in about an hour, so you order his favorite food for dinner and wait in the kitchen, away from the windows (in case he gets home early), for the delivery. Once the food is dropped off, you hide the containers in the microwave and throw away the bag before walking to Deacon’s bedroom to wait. The adrenaline is wearing off, and you’re getting tired, even though you know Deacon should be home soon. Sitting on the edge of his bed, you wipe your eyes before realizing how tired you are. You yawn once and fail to find the motivation to get back up.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Alright, Deac, head out and get some rest,” Hondo says. “The rest of us got behind on our paperwork.”

“Okay,” Deacon says, his brows furrowed as he walks by. “Have a good night, guys. Don’t work too hard.”

He walks out to his car, a little suspicious as to why Hondo seemed so eager to send him home, but he’s tired and misses you, so he’s okay with a quiet night at his house.

Parking in his driveway, Deacon sighs before exiting the car and going inside. He puts his backpack in the front closet and then walks toward his bedroom, ignoring the kitchen and planning to order food later. When he walks into his bedroom, he freezes, part of his mind telling him to get a weapon while the other works on recognizing who is sleeping on his bed.

He whispers your name and smiles when you move your arm, exposing your face. He sits on the edge of the bed beside you and lays a hand on your back, leaning down to kiss your temple. You stir slightly under his touch, unconsciously moving closer to him.

Running his fingers over your hairline and down your jawline, Deacon keeps his attention on you, questions to ask when you wake up flooding his mind.

You stir again and crack your eyes open. When you see Deacon, you sit up slightly and blink before asking, “Deacon?”

He nods, slipping his arm around your waist to help you sit up. You lean against him and look up into his eyes. You missed his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I was trying to surprise you and didn’t realize how tired I was, I guess,” you apologize, pinching Deacon's shirt collar between your fingers.

He takes your chin between his forefinger and thumb, looking into your eyes as he speaks. “Don’t apologize. I’m so happy to see you. Why am I seeing you?”

You laugh at his question, leaning against him as he twists you so your legs are draped across his lap as he leans against his headboard.

“I had a bunch of vacation days built up and.. I really wanted to see you. I missed you so much and our anniversary is coming up,” you explain.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” you and Deacon say together.

“Well, it’s an excellent surprise. You didn’t leave any evidence you were here. Although, how did you get in?”

“Hondo let me use his key.”

“Hondo. Of course. That’s why he wanted me to go straight home. Are you hungry?”

“I ordered food. It’s hidden in your kitchen,” you reply.

“You’re amazing.”

“I know. You’re pretty amazing, too.”

“This was an excellent surprise. Thank you,” Deacon says as he pulls you to your feet.

“There is one more thing,” you say, squeezing his hand.

“Okay,” Deacon says slowly.

“I got a promotion.”

Deacon’s eyes widen as he picks you up, twirling you around. You laugh, holding onto his shoulders. Your hands stay on his shoulders as he sets you back down.

“That’s amazing! Congratulations, you deserve it!”

“That’s not the good part.”

“What’s the good part? That seems pretty good.”

You lean up, close enough to kiss him, as you say, “It’s in Los Angeles.”

Deacon closes the small gap, kissing you like you’re his source of life. When you finally pull back, breathless and feeling whole with Deacon in your arms, you know you made the right decision to come home and take the job.

“Did you forget about the food?” you ask, laughing as Deacon kisses your cheek.

“We can reheat that. I had food earlier, I haven’t seen you in,” he looks at his watch to say, “11 months, 2 weeks, and 14 hours.”

“No minutes?” you ask.

“Just this one,” he replies, pulling you in just to push you backward onto the bed where he found you.

You laugh and cup his face in your hands. “I love you, Deacon Kay.”

“I love you,” Deacon says, his eyes glancing toward the top drawer of his nightstand, where a black velvet box is hidden. Future Mrs. Kay, he adds to himself.

[siriuslysmoking]

Slow Down

Part 5 of Meddle About

Series Masterlist

A/N: Oops... I maybe haven't posted an update to this fic in months... my bad. But um, here it is. Again, so sorry guys.

Pairing: Fem!college student x sugar daddy!steve

Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, alcohol consumption, age gap (R:21, S:29), Reader STILL fawning over Steve every moment she can, Thoughts of unrequited affection, talks of unsuccessful past relationships

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Working and being a student is tough, you never seem to have a moment to yourself, so when one of you co-workers needs a shift and offers to take your saturday night double, you take it. Finally going out with your friends you encounter a strange man with a strange proposition.

-I don't know if you already know how But girl, I got the feeling that you know now You're buried in the pillow, yeah you're so loud But I'm about to show you, baby, slow down-

it's been weeks since you and Steve got back from the bahamas, you've been texting back and forth but haven't seen each other face-to-face since.

you've tried to distance yourself, you're getting far too deep, and you've been burned too many times to fall for it again.

It's not that you didn't trust him, you did wholeheartedly. But you don't know what he wants from you, what he expects. You've been trying to pick up on any signs at he's been giving you, but nothing.

You can't go off of nothing. You're not going to walk up to Steve and say 'Hey, I might be in love with you! Best of luck! I suck at being in love!'

You wake up, as normal, and go to your classes as normal. It's hard to focus, your mind keeps wandering to him. And damn him to being so him.

He calls you that night, "Hey Honey, what are you doing?"

"Um, nothing, just reading in bed."

"Watcha reading?"

"Just something for my Psych class, The Fundamentals of Psychological Disorders."

"Is it interesting?" You can hear him shuffling around, as if he was laying down.

"Yeah, it is, I've got pages of notes." You flip through your pages while you speak.

"Good, I'm glad you're liking it."

"What's up with you?"

"Uh- nothing, I'm just sitting on the couch with Daisy, she got an ear infection so I had to clean it up and I booked her an appointment to the allergist, I think she might be allergic to something in the house."

"Ah, that's no good. Hope she starts feeling better."

"She'll live." You could practically here his smile in his voice. You're imagining her laying on his stomach while he rubs behind her ears. "About what I called you about-"

"Alternative motives." You sing, he just laughs at this point instead of getting panicking.

"I want to make you dinner."

"I get to finally taste your famous cooking?" You smile through the phone.

"If you want, how does chicken and risotto sound?"

"It sounds wonderful, if I knew what risotto is I'm sure it would sound splendid."

"Rich people rice is what Robin calls it, I believe." Robin, his best friend, who you learned the name of a week ago.

"That gives me a clear imagine, thank you."

"What are you doing know?" You can hear the laugh bubbling up his throat.

"Nothing..."

'I hear- I hear typing." It comes out as a laugh.

"I'm definitely not searching it up."

"Definitely not." He says in mockery seriousness, "I must be hearing things."

"So when should i expect this fancy rice?"

"How about tomorrow night?" He's never asked you on such short notice, it makes you get in your head. Maybe he had plans cancel, maybe a date, and now he's asking you.

"Tomorrow?"

"Unless that's too early, I- It's just been a while since I've seen you."

"Ah! Missing my face Harrington?" You say, jokingly.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Tomorrow then." You nod you head.

"Tomorrow."

You arrive at Steve’s apartment at six, heart racing slightly at the thought of seeing him again after all this time. The door swings open before you can knock, and there he stands, a warm smile breaking across his face.

“Hey, honey,” he greets, his eyes sparkling with genuine happiness. “You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply, stepping inside and taking in the cozy ambiance. The smell of something savory wafts through the air, making your stomach growl. “Wow, it smells amazing in here.”

“Just wait until you try it,” he says, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I hope you’re ready for a culinary masterpiece.”

You chuckle, watching as he moves around the kitchen with ease. There’s something oddly charming about the way he navigates his space, a mix of confidence and casual grace.

As you help him set the table, the conversation flows effortlessly. You share little snippets about your classes, and he updates you on Daisy, who’s now comfortably snoring on the couch.

“You know, I didn’t think I’d enjoy being a dog dad,” Steve says, pouring wine into two glasses. “But it turns out I’m pretty good at it.”

“Seems like you’re good at everything,” you tease lightly, taking the glass he offers. “You’ve got the whole ‘mysterious, handsome rich man’ thing down to an art.”

Steve laughs, leaning against the counter. “I’m just a guy who makes a decent risotto and has a cute dog.”

“Cute dog, great cooking skills… it’s a whole package,” you reply, letting the compliment linger. He raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your flattery.

“Careful, or I might start thinking you’re sweet on me,” he shoots back, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

“Me? Never,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant, but your heart races nonetheless. “I just appreciate good food and great company.”

“Speaking of great company…” He gestures for you to sit at the table as he brings over the food, steam rising in delicious clouds. “I hope you’re ready to be impressed.”

You take your first bite, and your eyes widen. “This is incredible! I can’t believe I doubted your cooking skills.”

“I told you,” he beams, clearly pleased. “It’s all about the right ingredients and a little love.”

“Love? Is that the secret ingredient?” you ask, leaning in slightly, relishing the moment.

“Maybe,” he says, holding your gaze for a second longer than necessary. “But I think the company has a lot to do with it, too.”

You swallow hard, the air thickening with unspoken tension. “Well, I’m glad I could be part of it,” you say, trying to keep your tone light.

As dinner progresses, the conversation flows from school to random trivia about each other. You laugh more than you have in weeks, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you like a blanket.

“Okay, one last question,” Steve says, leaning forward, a teasing glint in his eye. “If you had to choose between never having dessert again or giving up pizza for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Ugh, that’s cruel!” you exclaim, feigning distress. “I can’t live without either!”

“Choose wisely,” he presses, clearly enjoying your dilemma.

After a moment of mock contemplation, you finally say, “I guess I’d have to give up dessert. Pizza is life.”

Steve laughs, a genuine sound that fills the room. “Good choice. I’ll have to remember that for our next pizza night.”

“Next pizza night?” you echo, your heart racing at the implication of “next.”

“Yeah, you know, when I take you out for pizza. It’ll be great.” He grins, seemingly unfazed by the implications of his words.

“Sounds like a plan,” you reply, the moment stretching between you, full of possibilities.

As the evening winds down, you both move to the couch, Daisy curling up at your feet. The soft glow of the lamp creates an intimate atmosphere, and you can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and something deeper brewing between you.

Steve glances at you, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “I’ve missed this—just hanging out, you know? It’s nice to have someone to share it with.”

“Yeah, it really is,” you agree, feeling the warmth in your chest again.

You both sit in comfortable silence, the world outside fading away. It’s moments like these that make you forget about the uncertainty, the lines you’re both dancing around. You lean back into the couch, letting out a contented sigh.

“Just so you know,” you say, glancing over at him, ��this was exactly what I needed.”

Steve smiles, that gorgeous smile that makes your heart flutter. “Anytime, honey. I’m always here if you need a little escape.”

And as you sit there, surrounded by the scent of good food and the comforting presence of Steve, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

-

-

Taglist: @glamourbabe17 @eddiesguitarskills @paradise-summertime @taeteddybear @strangerparks @ali-r3n @sunmoonandstars2000 @rvllybllply2014 @crazycat-ladys-blog @the-fairy-anon @frogtape @jlovesjj @whomstdev

Notify me if you want to be added or removed from this series taglist.

Repost and Likes are appreciated <3

[a-killer-obsession]

Wanna say real quick if you're a fanfic writer and you're looking at my page like "ohhh they hit 500 followers so fast and they have a upload schedule and post twice a week, maybe i have to post twice a week to get followers" - Stop

This turned into a whole guide for newbies so more under the cut

Please do not use me as an example! Im disabled and unemployed which means i have time to write two chapters a week, please do not put that sort of pressure on yourself!!! I only let myself have a upload schedule because i keep a small backlog of chapters, meaning i have some buffer if my health is bad or i get writers block, and as yall saw recently i will take a break if i loose that backlog. If i was forcing myself to write two chapters a week on a strict deadline i would absolutely loose my shit and probably burn out very quickly. And to be entirely honest, I haven't seen much difference in follower growth now that I have a schedule versus when I was just posting whenever I remembered to. I really don't think a schedule makes a huge difference, I just like having one because it gives me some sense of routine now that I'm unemployed.

What im trying to say, especially if you're new to posting fanfics, is please dont stress yourself out by thinking you need a strict schedule for anyone to like your fic or follow you. You shouldn't be writing for followers anyway, write for yourself! Write because YOU want to write. And if you fall out of love with that writing, dont feel like you need to force it just to make others happy! When i get burnt out writing Wavelengths, I keep going because *I* want to get to the ending, I've been excited to write it for months. Its another reason i dont start writing new long forms until i have a generic plan of where im going, which is something i highly recommend. Having a chapter you're excited to write really helps when you're trying to find motivation.

While I have you here, let me lay down some general tips for new fanfic writers, especially for those who post on tumblr:

Write because you want to write. Don't ever feel like you need to cater to someone else, that's a sure fire way to get burn out

If you do get burn out: don't worry about it, either it'll pass or it won't. Maybe you'll drop that idea all together and move to something new. Don't sweat it, write what makes you happy. Forcing yourself will only make it worse and it'll show in your writing. Writing fanfics is a hobby, it should be FUN. Sure someone might come across your fic years from now and be sad that it's not complete but they'll probably only be sad for a few days at most and then they'll forget about it. Its not a big deal. Who knows, maybe you'll find inspiration years down the line and make someone's day by randomly updating after years of hiatus. It happens 🤷

Dont worry about how much engagement your fic gets. I know absolutely incredible fics that get barely any engagement, and some frankly hard reads that have a ridiculous amount. Its all just dumb luck really. Again - write because you want to

Don't sweat typos too bad. I recommend finishing your chapter/one shot, giving it a day or so, and THEN come back to proof read. I find doing this gives me fresh eyes and I often find a lot of ways to improve the chapter while I'm fixing typos. If you accidentally leave typos in there, don't worry too much. As long as it makes enough sense for people to understand what you meant, people will still read it. Just look at the first few chapters of Wavelengths for example, they're riddled with typos from swapping from 3rd to 1st person, but people still read them (I'LL FIX THEM SOON I PROMISE LMAO)

Don't worry about being cringe. Cringe is dead, make your characters as self inserty and over powered as you want. CRINGE IS DEAD. If you think its fun to write powers and tropes that you're worried will be cringe, fuck it, write it anyway. As long as YOU have fun writing it. Do you know how many "whoops accidental pregnancy" trope fics I've written? Every single one of my long forms has either had it, or planned to, because I like that trope! I don't care if its cringe, I will continue to get my characters knocked up

Some quick accessibility things:

Please left align your fic! I've seen people posting center and right aligned because it "looks cool". These alignments should be used sparingly! As well as things like italics and different fonts/font sizes/colours! They should be used to highlight small sections only! Otherwise they can make it very difficult for people with reading difficulties to read!

If you're posting on tumblr:

Make sure the majority of your fic uses the default black font. Some people set the whole thing to a different font or the "small" font or a different colour and I literally can't read them, and it makes me so sad! I'm sure I'm not the only one with this issue! Its okay to use other fonts for things like headers and descriptions, but for the bulk of your fic use the default! Theres a graphic designer out there somewhere who spent a long time picking the best font for the body text on this website for a reason!

If your fic is longer than a few paragraphs, use the READ MORE function!!! Either cut under a description or the first few paragraphs so people get a preview of your fic. You may think it's silly to hide most of your fic, but if someone, especially on mobile, comes across your fic automatically trimmed on the fyp, and likes your stuff, and they go to your account to see more and have to scroll for a million years just to get past your newest post, they're quickly going to give up trying to read your other stuff. Using the read more function makes it easy for people to browse your blog and check out more of your works!! It also makes it more likely people will reblog for the same reason.

Along the same lines: have a masterlist. This can be as simple as a pinned post where you add a link every time you post something new. This makes it super easy for people to check out more of your work!

If you have a long form/multi chapter I also recommend going to the previous chapter and adding a "next chapter" link when you post the next one. Not 100% needed though, if you have a masterlist that can be enough on its own, people just appreciate having that next chapter link for binge reading. PUT IT AT THE BOTTOM PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. I hate when I finish a chapter and have to scroll for a million years to get to the top for the link

Feel absolutely free to use the way I format my fics and masterlist as example, but like I said, it can literally be just as simple as a list of links. I recommend listing the links at bare minimum as the title of the fic, and the pairing people can expect (including if its nsfw is a good idea too)

Speaking of NSFW: if your work isn't suitable for minors please make that clear! Even just a 'minors DNI' at the start of the post is good! If you wanna get fancy there are lots of creators who make lovely 18+/minors dni banners you can use for free, just google it and plenty will come up. If you're not adding a cut before the NSFW content then make sure you mark the post as for mature audiences (idk how you do it on the computer because I'm mostly a mobile user but on mobile you can find it bottom right, the icon with the two people). Not appropriately censoring your posts can result in tumblr restricting and possibly banning your account.

Finally, and this one is oddly specific to people who use google docs, but you can use a copy of this google doc to automatically add all the html to your writing so you can just copy and paste it into tumblr or AO3, instead of having to manually fix all the formatting. Do not just copy and paste AO3 html into tumblr, for some reason it has major issues with italics and will cause you a major headache. Just use the linked doc, its a super time saver, I've been using it for ages now

Okay thanks for reading bye

[blkkizzat]

would you ever consider writing soft Toji? like Toji who did a complete 180 when he met you?

Short Answer: Hmm...I think it would depend on how 180 tbh. I feel like any softness Toji would show would be more subtle then the overt displays of affection or affirmation you'd get with Nanami or Choso. In that sense, I have shown glimpses of affection for reader with a softer Toji in a few fics of mine. ex. Toji's acceptance of reader and her hobbies/kinks in toji x smutwriter!reader. Or in werewolf toji even though he's not being completely honest with you, the plans hes been laying shows his commitment to you. Or in my multi-char fluff halloween fic, Toji harbors jealousy and feelings of not being good enough knowing you used to date gojo. Long Answer:

But I'm a firm believer in meeting people where they are at. I don't think it's very realistic to start dating someone and have them completely change for you, but you can inspire people to be better versions of themselves—however the decision is still more on them.

That isn't to say I think Toji is a one-dimensional asshole and can't be soft—on the contrary I think he is very complex. But I think a 180 right when he meets you isn't something I could really get into. So much of his character is based on the fact he is in constant survival mode.

Although there are plenty of amazing toji x reader stories that are based on more passionate meets like enemies/bully to lovers, etc. On a more practical and ordinary note, it would be a slower burn.

I just think with Toji, that would take time and be kind of rocky to start, but you'd have to slowly but surely domesticate him. He's like the booty call guy who fucks you so good he starts coming over more and more. Ending up staying longer and longer each time. Then he starts helping you out: to fix your sink, take you to get a quote on a new car so they don't rip you off and then grabbing a bite/beer with you after. Before you even realize it, he's stayed over a week and you just watched a whole 6 hour Netflix series on the couch together all night while Megumi is asleep in the other room.

All that said, because he is the way he is with his baggage and trauma, I think it makes for a more engaging dynamic with reader. This way the bonds you build are stronger as you know when he whispers, I love you into your hair once he thinks you've fallen asleep and can't hear you—he really fucking means it.

I do have a virgin!toji x reader fic coming up thats more angsty and although he still damaged by his family, hes not completely closed off by any means. Him and the reader serve as a comfort to each other before they fall for each other.

Also my yakuza!Toji fic coming up yeah he's stalking you and yandere as hell but he's still soft in the way his main motivations are wanting to take care of you and for you to be his wife.

Writing Toji this way is much more interesting to me. No offense, to anyone who writes/prefers him different.

Hopefully you see where I am coming from a bit more nonny! Ty for asking. I love talking about characterizations literally could have went on for hours LOL

[clip-the-simp]

Not Much Else [Pt.5]

Ao3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3,036

Warnings: alcohol, no real warning for this chapter honestly

Tags: Mild Proofreading, reader had bat wings, Bounty Hunting, deviation from TV show, pre!show events, pre!war cooper shows up in flashback, (Again I'm bad at tags so let me know)

Summary: You're a vault experiment that makes it to the surface. Quickly you learn the lay of the land and a few years later end up working the same bounty as The Ghoul. You convince him to let you tag along after having a feeling that you just had to follow him. Where will this story lead? Only time (and my motivation) will tell.

A/N: Another part added to the fic! This part shouldn’t have taken as long as it did but I was on vacation so writing was a bit on the back burner. My bad. The beginning of this has a flashback from before the bombs where the reader is at a party with Coop. This is kinda filler chapter but the one after this is gonna be fun so stay tooned. Anyways, enjoy!

You had been invited by Emil originally but when you seemed reluctant he sent Cooper to convince you to come. It’s not that you hated the events, but after the week you’d had this wasn’t what you needed. However there was never a time you would refuse Cooper. He always knew what to say in order to get you somewhere you didn’t want to be. His excuse this time being that it would, in fact, be good for me to get out.

You had showed up to the party early in hopes to get an excuse to leave even earlier but that wasn’t the case. Everyone had decided you were the best person to talk to and so you never got the chance to sneak away until three hours into the event. Cooper had also been swept away in the hustle and bustle of the party which left you without proper company.

The party was bustling inside where drinks were made and other party goers gossiped about whatever was hot in Hollywood at the moment.You swirled around the drink in your hand and watched as the liquid hit the sides while the ice clanked against the glass. While everyone else was drinking martinis and high dollar wine, you had managed to sneak behind the bar and made yourself a rum and Coke. However, If you were going to make it through the night you were going to have to get something stronger eventually. Even if you hadn’t originally planned on getting drunk, it was inevitable.

You heard the door open and the sounds of the party goers blared through the door. It was quickly cut off when the door slid back into place and your head turned slightly.

“What’s a pretty girl like y’self doing out here all by her lonesome?” His voice was unmistakable that there was no need to turn the rest of the way. You knew instantly that it was Cooper Howard joining you on the balcony in the calm night.

“Hey Coop.” You greeted, keeping your eyes fixated over the balcony, on the yard laid below and furthermore the forest beyond it. Cooper came up beside you and leaned back on the metal railing. You rested a hand on the cold metal as you raised the drink in your hand to your lips.

“Rough night?” Cooper asked, looking at your tired face as you drank. The makeup you wore only covered so much. His eyes were trained on your movements as he waited for your response. Slowly lowering the glass you thought about the week you’d had.

Besides the usual mishaps of working on a movie set there had been quite the moral dilemma that arose. Vault-Tec had offered you a place in the vaults. They informed you it would be for medical research to provide the future with proper care. When you told them it would be a decision that would require some thought, they left a folder of information laying on the table in your movie trailer.

You didn’t understand the hesitation you had toward the vault. Although you didn’t hate the idea of a safe goat if something happened. It wasn’t like you had any particular interest in buying a spot in the post nuclear world. You would be volunteering for medical research. They had talked about all the benefits and how it would be a great service to the country. But something about it all didn’t feel right.

“It's been a long week.” You eventually answered and rested your beverage on the railing, your eyes finally met Coopers. He was looking at you with genuine concern before trying to make light of the situation.

“Tell me about it. First with the skipt mishaps and shoots running late. You would think Emil would have his shit together by now.” Cooper sympathized as you chuckled lightly. You finally took the moment to look him over. His suit was pressed to perfection and his hair was slicked back with a few strands having gotten loose from the night's activities.

“You would think. The man can’t organize for shit.” You stated before throwing back the last of your cocktail, the ice cubes sliding around as the glass emptied. The slight burn of the liquor and the fizz of the soda was welcomed as it hit your stomach.

“He puts all his organization skills into hosting parties.” Cooper laughed which you returned happily. It did seem that Emil always put the most into organizing his parties but never into his movie productions. He was still a great person to work with, but his lack of planning did throw a wrench in things.

“Ain’t that the truth.” You agreed while looking back to your empty glass. While silently debating if you should go back for more, Cooper placed a hand on your shoulder which instantly got your attention. His calloused hands laid gently and radiated heat into your exposed skin.

“You seem awfully distracted. What’s going on Sugar?” His voice was smooth as butter and helped ease only a smidge of the anxiety. You wanted to confide in him but couldn’t help the pit of worry that resided in your system.

“Where’s Barb?” You asked with a bit more shake in your voice than you had expected. Cooper’s eyebrows raised a microfracture before he looked away, taking his hand with him. He turned to rest his arms on the balcony as you had.

“At home with Janey. Why?” His eyes met back with yours. You had thought as much when he was the only one who had gotten out of his car earlier. Hating to admit you had kept close to the windows overlooking the driveway to try and catch Cooper as soon as he showed up. Unfortunately you hadn't been lucky enough to make it to the door before he was swarmed by others.

“She works at Vault- Tec, right?” You already knew the answer, but the look on Cooper’s face said a lot. Barb had quickly climbed the corporate ladder which had been a wonderful thing at first. However soon after the raise it seemed like she was keeping secrets. Cooper tried to ignore it, but you couldn’t. Having gotten close with the Howard family it felt like their troubles had become your own.

“They made you an offer, didn’t they?” Cooper questioned, his voice betraying him. It was full of worry that he had tried to hide. You averted your gaze which told him everything he needed to know. His shoulders tensed under the fabric of his suit jacket, his grip on the metal bar of the railing tightening. You remained silent, starting to feel goosebumps forming on your skin. Not knowing if it was the chilling air of the night or the tension that was starting to build.

“Are you going to take it?” Cooper continued to question, still trying to conceal his worry. He did a poor job considering he was an actor for a living. Your gip on the empty glass in your hand tightened slightly trying to relive the building worry.

“I told them I had to think about it.” Your voice held an edge of frustration which hadn’t gone unnoticed. Cooper understood you better than anyone so when he scenced the anger he knew it was a cover for your worry.

Your mind began to race through what you knew about Vault- Tec and what you had heard about the company. As soon as you had gone into that train of thought you had been brought out of it by a hand being placed on your shoulder once again. Your head snapped to the side to see Cooper’s hand back on your exposed shoulder before your gaze shifted to his face.

“That’s definitely for the best.” His eyes burrowed into your own but his expression was unreadable. It was a mixture of emotions, none being pleasant and just fed into that pit of worry that was in your stomach.

“How com-“ before you could finish your statement, someone opened the glass door. The sounds of the party bombarded your senses that were already heightened. Cooper’s hand left your shoulder in a rush, the heat from his hand steadily leaving your skin

“Hey you two! The party is in here and everyone is wondering where you’re at!” Emil exclaimed, clearly drunk. Both Cooper and yourself turned to him with smiles, yours having been forced. Emil, who had left the door open, had moved to cut between Cooper and yourself. He looked down at your empty glass, quickly pointed out your lack of drink and proceeded to encourage you to get another drink.

Emil then turned his attention to Cooper and began talking about making appearances or something another. You had zoned out for a moment, thinking of Cooper’s reaction to the vaults, but were quickly brought back when Coop reassured Emil that the two of you would be back inside shortly. Once Emil had gone back to the party and the door was firmly closed, Cooper turned back to you.

“We should get back in there.” Cooper gestured to the door with a cheerful expression now plastered on his face. You gave a dramatic sigh, trying to lighten the mood from the previous conversation. Although stress was still swimming in your stomach, you had to bottle it up until you made it home.

“You're right. But Imma need something way stronger if I’m going to stick around for another hour.” You held up your glass and shook it lightly to emphasize the lack of alcohol you were holding, the ice tapping the sides as you did so. Cooper chuckled and moved to lay an arm across your shoulders. His warmth definitely was a comfort to you in the now biting cold of the night.

“Well let’s get you that drink then.” He took the glass from your hand and led you inside. People quickly took notice of the two of you, but were quickly dismissed politely as he got you another drink. This time with more of a kick to hopefully clear your mind of your anxieties, at least for the night.

The morning sun appeared sooner than you had expected as its rays seeped through the tree leaves to wake you. Having peeled your eyes open you took in your surroundings now that the world was brighter. The fire was smoldering, having come to the end of its use as the new day began. You noticed rather quickly that the meat that had been cooking was now charred to oblivion and as black as cole. With a swift evaluation you came to the realization that The Ghoul hadn’t moved at all. Not to poke the fire or to flip the irradiated bear meat that was now inedible.

“You could’ve moved, you know?” You mumbled out, dragging a hand over your face to remove the sleep from your features before finding your goggles and putting them on to avoid the harsh sun. Slowly righting yourself, you stood to stretch out the ache that resided in your joints. You had moved a bet away from The Ghoul in order to unfurl your wings to release the pops that had built over night.

“You needed the rest.” Cooper responded as he rose from his spot on the ground and watched you. With your wings tucked back in place you realized your jacket, along with some other items, were still on the ground. You started by picking up the jacket from beside The Ghoul to throw it on before looking at your shoes that also laid about. Raising your eyes to The Ghoul you realized he looked even more tired than when you had fallen asleep. Your brows furrowed as your arms crossed over your chest.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” You asked him but was met with silence. The Ghoul averted his gaze and began to pack up whatever belongings had gone astray in the night. A bet of concern seeped into your bones. You knew he was adjusted for the wasteland but even a resilient man like himself couldn’t run on empty. “Coop-”

“I’m fine, Sugar. Just get your things. We’ve lost enough time as is.” He cut you off with his statement, his tone wasn’t harsh but still held authority. The Ghoul threw his bag over his shoulder and urged you to do the same which you did. Quickly shoving your boots back on from where they hadn’t been put back on from the night before, images from what happened coming to mind. Your face had burned from the thoughts as you tried to bury them.

Had that actually happened? The feeling in your lower body definitely confirmed it had. Maybe you should’ve taken the radaway, but there would hopefully be another opportunity to take it. Quickly gathering your things you threw your bag over your shoulder and began to follow The Ghoul as he walked into the forest once again.

Walking closely beside The Ghoul, a comfortable silence had remained between the two of you since leaving the campsite. The bounty’s trail you were following wasn’t too difficult to pick back up even after calling it an early night. Tracking the lead had quickly led to the edge of the forest which ended abruptly over a steep cliff. Standing at the edge revealed the expanse of bare ground that stretched for miles which you hadn't been looking forward to.

Staying on the ledge of the cliff you observed the area that laid below. There appeared to be a larger than normal town a mile out which looked to be fortified. Even at that height, its tall walls allowed no one to see what was happening inside unless they passed through the gates. Other than the buildings ahead the area was fairly bare. The topography of the area was rolling with hills but no trees stood past the point of the forest. However a few trees that had fallen over the corroded edge of the cliff laid dead on the outskirts. As for the ground, it was littered with dry grass which grew with bald patches scattered throughout. The air remained hot but the humidity level allowed the heat to not be as unbearable as the dryness of the Mojave wasteland.

“They’re close.” The Ghoul remarked as he also took in the surroundings. Having taken your focus off of the new scenery, you looked at him. His face reasted in its usual scowl as he looked over the area. “Those wings of yours work or are they just for show?”

“They work just fine, why?” You asked with a slight scowl of your own. He hadn’t mentioned anything about your wings since traveling together. Other than when he had messed with them the night before.

“I want y’ to scout out that town over there. Get close to it without being spotted.” His eyes remained fixed on the buildings ahead, almost as if staring at them long enough would cause its walls to crumble and reveal what layed inside. Your eyes widened and a bet of excitement bubbled in your chest.

“Really?” Your excitement seeping its way into your question. You hadn’t expected Cooper to actually want to use your abilities. Sure that had originally been a selling point of you joining him, but you hadn't thought the opportunity would actually present itself to use them.

“Yep. I have a feeling the bounty has sought out shelter there. But there’s no way we’re getting in without force.” His eyes finally came to yours and it was clear that you were overjoyed to fly. You looked like a kid who was just told she was getting a kitten. He didn’t let his face reveal how he felt, but the joy you felt was definitely contagious. “With those walls bein so high Imma need an estimate of how many people are armed and if they have any other weaponry.”

“I’ll go take a look then.” You peeled your jacket and your bag from your body before handing it over for him to hold. It was best to fly without additional weight or anything that would cause too much drag. Once those elements were removed, you walked back a few yards from the cliff's edge before spreading out your wings to their full expanse.

Each wing reached about ten feet from the base of your back to the tip of the wing. You weren’t sure how the logistics worked when it came to the wing to body ratio but somehow they still worked.

“Be careful.” The Ghoul said before you could take off. He had moved to your side with your things in hand. Making sure to stay out of your way, a smile crossed your face as you turned to look back at him.

“I will.” You reassured him before turning back and planning your route. There were a few tree limbs you would have to look out for but overall it was a clear shot. You brought your wings back in just enough to avoid those obstacles but made sure to keep them ready for the plunge. With a few steading breaths, you began to run towards the edge. Adrinalen now pumping through your veins as you barreled forward and leaped off the edge. Quickly unfurling your wings the air caught them as you began to flap them to keep in there.

Not wasting any time you pumped your wings rapidly to climb in altitude. A smile plastered on your face as you did. It had been so long since you had the chance to fly, let alone on a bounty hunt. Once at the proper height to avoid being spotted, you began the journey to the fortified town.

[kingsansa]

Writing questions, when you start a new story do you mostly have it planned out or do you sort go with the flow? Do you know the beginning, middle and end and all the in between is changeable/movable? How much time do you spend on the characters before you start writing?

I love your writing and I'm always so impressed by how you manage to adapt them into you stories, I feel like they are how the characters would be in the time/setting for each of your stories.

Thank you for writing and sharing your stories.

Over the years, I’ve definitely gotten more neurotic about my writing process. In this sense, writing fic sort of gave me training wheels in a way and I’d say I’m more confident in my ability to lay the foundation for a story than I was five years years ago. With that being said, I’m still half of the belief that there is a such thing as over planning. There are times where I’ve written so much that I feel like I’ve already written the story and I have no interest in it anymore. So I tend to stick to these three steps.

where are we going? I’d say that I spend more time immersing myself in the setting than I do with the characters. When I say setting, I don’t just mean the country and city they live in, but the world they exist in, the circumstances that have led them to where the story starts. Sometimes I’ll write a timeline of precanon events. Sometimes I’ll create a Pinterest board. Sometimes I’ll make a playlist. Sometimes I’ll do all three. But some settings require more work than others. I prepped for IY by watching the proposal and rereading the wall of Winnipeg and me. I prepped for pp by watching spinning out on Netflix and reading a book about a girl who got pregnant as a teenager. The last three one shots I’ve been workshopping are all set in England in some regard, so I’ve spent a lot of time watching British shows. The goal is to lay a foundation solid enough for me to build the rest of the story on.

Who is all gonna be there? - I don’t spend a lot of time on the characters before I write beyond choosing who I’m going to write. During the hiatus after s6, I probably rewatched the show fifty times. I have all the books on audible. I even have the interactive editions with the maps, the character glossary, and the art. I have f&b and twoiaf. So I guess all that was my character work? I’m not claiming to be the number one asoiaf fan (it’s not even my favorite fantasy series) but I am a die hard stark loyalist, so I like to think I know those characters very well. But, with the exception of Robb and Rickon, they’re POV characters. We don’t have to draw conclusions about their personalities and motivations and hopes and dreams. We know them. For me, the more interesting character work lies in the characters that manage to make an impression without having a POV. We know Jeyne Poole is dramatic, irrationally romantic, and has a bit of a mean streak. We know Edmure is a lot more intuitive than people give him credit for, a hothead with a heart of gold. We know Mya is beautiful, brave, and wears her heart on her sleeve. I also like using what little we know about them to draw conclusions. Myranda and Mya grew up together, so it’s more than likely they’re friends. Benjen and Edmure are around the same age and share siblings by marriage but couldn’t be more different from each other. How much do you wanna bet they butt heads at family functions? Brandon was fucking anything in a skirt. Did he learn that from Rickard? Arianne had feelings for Oberyn, was in talks to betroth herself to Edmure, and was once betrothed to Viserys. That’s three different uncles! Is she an uncle fucker? These are the questions that keep me up at night! And I love finding ways to fit these different characters together in my stories. Myranda, Mya, and Theon have more in common than their age—they all have daddy issues, a flirtatious disposition, and are secure in their sexuality. Why wouldn’t they be friends? Or lovers? Robert has 16 children—and those are only the ones we know of—there’s no way all of them are white. Theon likes milfs and Cersei likes pretty boys that flatter her. They would definitely hook up. Jeyne is Sansa’s best friend (and possessive of that title, judging from her friction with Arya) she would DESPISE Margaery. Catelyn and Alerie are both southern girls that love popping out kids. What if they were in the same sorority in college? I’ve come up with ships you guys have probably never even considered based on as little as one shared trait. I have an entire tik tok collection dedicated to Mya and Waymar. Why? Because it’s fun! That’s what character work is for me more than anything else, having fun.

How are we gonna get there? - after I establish where the story will start and where it’s gonna end, it’s just a matter of getting there. With that being said, my outlining process can be fickle. I like to do three outlines. The first outline is extremely sparse, just a list of events I want to happen in no particular order. In the second outline, I rearrange these events I see fit. The third outline is where I break these events down into scenes. For every scene, I write down what I need to remember for when the time comes, including bits of dialogue. This is the skeleton I use to write. Sometimes, when I’m writing, I find that what I wanted doesn’t actually work on the page and I have to go back to the drawing board, which is the first outline. Hell, I’ll even start over from scratch, which calls for three more outlines. But with wips, my second outline is my Bible, so on a macro level, I try to keep everything static. The things I do end up changing and rearranging are never drastic.

Hope this all made sense. Thanks so much for reading!!!! 💗💗💗💗

[delfiore]

a few words before the new year.

Hi everyone.

As 2024 is almost upon us, I would just like to thank every one of you for reading, interacting and making delfiore a wonderful place for myself but also for everyone else who enjoys the stuff I put out on here. Whether you've been here since the days of my Wanda Maximoff fics or you've just recently been following me for my WOSO fics, thank you for giving me stuff a read and liking it enough that you had considered following the blog.

2023 has been quite a year for me. I went through a lot of personal growth, in terms of my personal life as well as my professional life. I discovered things I liked, things I didn't like, things I thought I would like but then ended up not liking as much. Through all of it, I have writing fanfics and delfiore as my little safe haven where I can just forget about my life and the growing pains for a bit, and just have fun. I also have all of you to thank because—as much as people might say otherwise—being able to gain traction for my fics really keeps me going and motivates me to write more.

I will admit, at the beginning of this year, I did consider deleting this blog altogether. In the few months leading up to it, my writer's block was crazy and I felt like I didn't want to continue. But luckily, I stuck through it with time and decided otherwise. I knew that there would be something coming along that would motivate me again, and something did, but it happened with time.

I also feel like leaving it up to time is also a common theme on this blog, as it is my personal belief that everything will be okay with time. That's why I don't force myself to post on a schedule or doing requests because I only want to post what I'm proud of instead of making it about quantity.

The name of this blog itself, delfiore, is also a reflection of this idea. It comes from the Santa Maria del Fiore Cathedral in Florence, Italy. I had just finished watching the show Medici when I picked this name. Construction for the base of the cathedral began in 1296 and didn't finish until 1418—that's over a century of building! Then the cathedral sat domeless for another two years until a certain Filippo Brunelleschi came along and drew up the plan to construct the dome (Duomo). Even then, the technology to erect such a structure was limited, and Brunelleschi had to pioneer ways to bring the bricks up top and lay them in a way so they wouldn't just collapse. It took 16 years alone to build the Duomo, but they did it. With time.

So if there's anything I want you to take away from this loooooong post is that everything will pass with time. So don't worry your little heads, because one day, it will be okay. As the new year approaches, think about that, just to give yourself a bit of peace of mind.

I will not bore you anymore. Thank you for reading, more fics to come and see you in 2024!

Special shoutout to @rednoexiste, my little homie rat who PMed me because they liked a fic of mine two years ago, and now we send each other tiktoks every day.

-L, delfiore.

[mellybouboulove]

My guardian angel🤍𓆩♡𓆪☁️

Chapter 7

Plot summary: Drug Dealer Ellie Williams X OFC slowburn fic, out of universe and takes place in college, set in the 2000s. Smut content to come.

previous: Chapter 6 , next : Chapter 8

Tags: #wlw #sapphic #drugdealer!ellie #modern!ellie #tlou #slowburn #smut #fluff #tlouau #au #modernau #drugs

CHAPTER 7

The morning after, I woke up just a couple minutes before Ellie and felt like the luckiest individual alive. I enjoyed these precious minutes the universe gave me to contemplate her peaceful sleepy face laying just next to mine. She looked so cute and innocent, her breathing was calm and relaxed, her hair was messy and falling on her face. The sun rays that were enlightening the room through the thin curtains of my window were reflecting on her face but didn’t seem to bother her in her deep sleep which helped me fight the urge to wake her up and cover her face with kisses. 

My room was a mess, our clothes were spread everywhere, I could see my bra on the edge of the bed next to one of her socks while my skirt was under my bedside table and her boxers near the door. The sheets were half removed from the mattress and the blanket was upside down, only covering our chests. I passed my fingers through her fluffy hair, not strong enough to resist the temptation anymore. I noticed she started to move and quickly took my hand out of her face, pretending nothing happened. She finally opened her eyes, yawning and smiling when she saw me. 

- Morning babe, did you sleep well?  - Best sleep of my life. She answered with a raspy morning voice which made me smile and giggle.  - Was I THAT great last night ? I chuckled. - Yes, you were sooo so great.  - Thanks, you were not so bad yourself.  - Not so bad ugh? That’s it? - I'm just kidding, it was perfect. I never felt so good with anyone before. I feel very good around you Ellie.  - Me too. I really like you, I care for you a lot, you’re an amazing person and hanging out with you has been making me feel so much better too. But I really want you to get better. You should focus on yourself and on your healing process. I don’t want this to go further before you manage your addiction; I will stay by your side and help you with everything you need but I don’t want anything to be official before you handle this. I hope you understand.

It took me some seconds to process this. It felt like a knife in the heart but I knew she had good intentions.

- Oh okay. I understand, you have a lot going on too. I don't want us to get together if it is to become a burden for you either. I guess you’re right it’s better like that. 

Saying those words broke my heart but it was the right thing to do. She thanked me for understanding, kissed me and took me in her arms. As we started cuddling and about to make it the only plan for the day, her phone rang. She rolled over me to reach it and picked it up.

- Yes? yes. okay. now ? ugh, ok. okay okay I’m coming. 

She sighed as she hung up. 

- Ugh I’m sorry babe I have some work today. She kissed me once more before standing up and collecting her clothes to dress up. 

She went to get herself ready and then I heard the door slamming, her footsteps running from outside and the sound of her car driving away. I was now left alone with my thoughts; I kept on staring at the ceiling and didn’t move an inch since she left the bed. I felt the warmth she left next to me slowly fade away as I kept her words on repeat in my mind. I will have to put in so much effort for her to accept me; I’m already feeling bad again, the creepling need for drugs in my blood submerging me again. 

I tried to focus on something else. I placed my Britney Spears CD in my Hi-Fi system and blasted some music to motivate me. I started to clean my bedroom then took some time for myself. I took a bath, did some beauty masks and shaved. I watched TV and chilled a little as I kept on thinking about Ellie and about last night, I smiled at the thought. It was helping not to think about drugs. 

Four hours later, Ellie still wasn’t home and I had no idea when she would come back. I got bored and decided to go for a walk to get some fresh air. This day alone gave me the time to take a step back and put everything into perspective. Ellie was right, there’s no way this is gonna work if I don’t get better first. I want to give us the chance to work, and I have to try my best to get better not only for her but also for me. And just like that I began the first step of my desintoxication journey.

[anecdotal-acorn]

What Things Should Be (Barricade Day 2024 fic)

Enjolras did not particularly enjoy Grantaire's presence at the Café past midnight. Typically, this was his time to take a mental reprieve from the jovial banter of the day, and plan that revolution which would one day be the stuff of myths. But it wouldn't, not if his friend remained here downing drink after drink in the corner with many a gurgle and slurp.

"You should go home and start sleeping off the wine, my friend. It does you no good." Enjolras was careful only to glance at the form in the corner hunched over the bottle.

"Almost finished. Why don't you come and join me?" The reply came out in a languid slur. Enjolras sighed. "You know I don't drink, Grantaire."

"First time for everything," the other man said. This, of course, was followed by a burp.

Enjolras looked down again at the map on the table in an attempt to resume choosing the spot where they would construct the barricade. Somewhere which was not too narrow, but a street, where the people could see their fight, could join in it. Somewhere where all could see the ruthlessness he knew the soldiers would show. But somewhere where the spirit and courage of a people would fly and enter each man, filling him with nearly divine bravery—

"How do you do that?" Enjolras snapped up like a schoolboy torn from a daydream by an inquiring teacher. He looked at his friend's back with knitted brows. "How do I do what?" he asked, folding his hands on top of the map.

"Motivation," was all the answer he got. He cleared his throat. Evidently, they'd reached the point in the night when Grantaire was too far into the drink to be cheery. "You should go home, Grantaire." If ever Enjolras was to fear anything, it would be seeing Grantaire like this. Not because he perceived any threat to his safety, or his scholarly sensibilities; though the latter didn't go a day without narrowly escaping peril, he had long since come to accept this, and he knew the former was in the gentlest of hands. He was certain Grantaire would never hurt him. No, the sight wouldn't scare him for any of the reasons that a drunk usually engendered such a foreign feeling as fear in other men. It would scare him as comets raining down on the earth might scare those men, because a cog in the machine that was the world had broken so horribly that they were all destined for destruction. It signified that things were not what they should be.

“...This place is more of a home to me than anyplace where I might by some chance lay my head and sleep," the slumped form protested, eyes glassy, yet wholly focused on him. Enjolras shivered—even through the foggy windows of the addled state where he currently resided, Grantaire was somehow looking on him with perfect clarity. Well, some level of clarity, at least. And looking back on him, Enjolras did not need to question why, not in the slightest: Grantaire did not want to leave, and even if he did, he had nowhere to go but the alley.

"Then stay, but I cannot promise you entertainment. I plan our attack as we speak." And again he turned to his work, but now his mind was far from barricades and freedom. Now, he was ensnared by Grantaire's hopeless gaze. He cleared his throat a second time. "How is it, my friend, that you manage to be so happy?" Perhaps bringing up the subject of happiness as if doing so might steer Grantaire towards the emotion, might set the world right once more. Sitting beside him now (though he could not recall moving from his post at the center table), Enjolras studied him. With what intent, he knew not—he simply knew that things were not what they should be, and he hated it.

"The truth?" Grantaire asked. Enjolras nodded.

"...I take note of what you are doing at the moment, and do the opposite. And if you are not there, I think of what you might do if you were." Both men smiled, and Enjolras laughed. "And I'm glad for that." Then he took a long breath, his upturned lips fading downward. "It may sound absurd, but it brings me peace to think that you are being happy when I’m being...”

“A pain in the arse? A stick in the squelchy mud? An overbearing enigma?”

“Yes, yes, yes, and yes to all of the other names you call me, if only in your mind. But, as I said, it's comforting to know you are enjoying yourself…As if you're being happy for me, in my stead, beginning where I end.” At last, he let that long breath leave him, waiting for not Grantaire the drunk, but Grantaire the friend, to give a reply.

“Beginning where you end, I quite like that,” Grantaire said. But which Grantaire had uttered the words? Did it matter? “And, I suppose then, I end where you begin.” Enjolras swallowed. Excepting their conversation, the night was so quiet, the silence had a nasal, piercing noise. “Then I’m glad for that, also—and you should be, as well. It can be a heavy cart to pull, being a leader.” His head turned towards his map, those certain sections which were outlined in crimson ink catching his eye. They were, he'd concluded, the best spots to fight. If the map were Grantaire’s, it would be splattered with the ink as if it wasn't ink at all, but paint. It might even be beautiful.

“But if you didn't lead, who would I follow, eh?” Grantaire chortled, and nudged him in the shoulder. And it was then Enjolras confronted it, confronted that he knew Grantaire the drunk and Grantaire the friend were one and the same.

“Things are not what they should be,” he muttered, staring blankly at the wall. Chipped brick, with chipping mortar.

“They rarely are,” Grantaire answered. They sat side by tired side, and though things remained not what they should be, what they were became a bit more bearable—and, perhaps, even, the smallest bit beautiful.

[profound-bouquetbird]

Okay another Johnny ask you can make it platonic or romantic but can u make it a comfort fic where he plays the guitar to help comfort reader

Sure! Sorry for responding late to your request 😅 school has just been up my ass lol. But now that it's summer break, I'll (hopefully) have more time to write :)

Anyway, sorry if this is kind of short, it is written from a romantic point of view but maybe it can be read as platonic?

I do apologize, Johnny may be ooc

Also, sorry if this didn't turn out the way you imagined 😅 anyway, I'm gonna start the fic now-

You were in your room, laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling with an emotionless expression. Your head was rather cloudy today

You couldn't pin point the problem, since your mind was all over the place, but you've just been down in the dumps. And no one was there to comfort you... Or was there?

"Hey!" Your thoughts were interrupted by none other than Johnny Abbot. You let out a sigh and turned your head towards him, he furrowed his brows and stared at your blank expression with a confused look

"Are you okay?" He asked, sitting down on your bed. You sighed and continued to look at the ceiling

"Not at all, Johnny. Not at all." You muttered, your hands now resting on your stomach as the clock in your room ticked

"Oh? And why are you not okay?" He asked, laying down beside you and looking up at the ceiling

"I wish I could tell you, but... I don't know." You said, scrunching up your face. He looked at you with a slight frown and furrowed brows, his hand found it's way on yours as he squeezed your hands gently in comfort

"Well... what can I do?" He asked, sitting up while still holding your hands. You took a glance at him before looking back at the ceiling

"I don't know, let your imagination run wild." You sighed, eying him slightly, "just keep it PG-13." You joked, he laughed and put a hand under his chin as to show that he was thinking of ideas, it made you smile

"I've got it." He mumbled, letting go of your hands as he quickly left your room. You sighed and continued looking at the ceiling

A couple of minutes go by and your door bursts open. Your head shot towards your door to see him holding his guitar

"And what are you planning to do with that?" You asked, as if it wasn't already obvious

"I'm going to play it?" He said, in a 'isn't it obvious' kind of tone. You shook your head lightly before sitting up in your bed and turning towards him

"Well, knock yourself out." You said, waiting for him to sit down and start playing. He smiled and nodded before sitting down next to you

He tuned the guitar first before pressing his fingers on the strings and playing a chord (I'm gonna let you pick a song since I have no idea what to add)

He started to sing and you couldn't help but watch him in awe. His beautiful singing voice matched with the way he played the guitar created a perfect melody

You wanted to jump up and dance, you wanted to sing along with him, you wanted to be productive, his singing and guitar skills alone were enough to make you happy and motivate you to do whatever you wanted

You stared at him with a soft smile as he continued to sing and play. You could've sworn you heard birds singing along with him and- was that the wind whistling to match his pitch?

As the song slowly came to an end you just stared at him with wide eyes and your mouth almost dropped. Sure, you had heard him playing his guitar through his room's door, but you had never heard him sing along

As he played the final chord he looked at you. You just started to clap and whistle as he laughed to himself, before standing up and bowing towards the invisible croud

"Well thank you, thank you." He bowed, setting his guitar down on your bed

"That was amazing, Johnny! How come I never hear you sing?" You questioned. He sighed and sat down next to you

"Don't know." He simply answered, staring down at the floor

"Well, I wouldn't mind you singing to me from time to time." You sighed, standing up, "now that you've motivated me, I think I'll head back to work." You said, stretching your arms and back

"And.. thank you, Johnny. I probably wouldn't have gotten out of bed if it weren't for you." I smiled, he smiled back

"Any time, Y/n. Any time."

[noxemma]

Chapter 4 for my Hot Summer Art challenge fic

Posting twice today since the last chapter was short (and I'm way too excited to wait). Excerpt for this one is from later in the chapter because one bed trope 😂

Tags, Rating, Word Count, AO3 link, etc. at the bottom

Beside Your Side

Fic Summary: Dean convinces Sam to look into a potential case where people are going missing from a New Jersey beach town. Of course, they have to bring Cas and Eileen along, just in case it's not a monster. Dean is excited to get the case over quickly and enjoy a well-earned vacation with the people he loves the most. Nothing ever seems to go the way Dean plans it though, and this case is no exception.

Chapter 4: Shelter in the Storm

Cas

He doesn’t linger in the shower, even though the hot water feels amazing on his skin now that he can no longer warm it with just a thought. He’s too worried about letting Dean out of his sight.

That’s not exactly true, Cas corrects himself as he finishes rinsing and steps out to dry himself, I want to be close to Dean, to comfort him as much as he'll let me. It's absolutely not because I want to hold his hand again.

After dressing he scoops up both Dean and his wet clothes and tosses them into the washing machine in the next room.

“I should probably get our other clothes if I’m going to run this,” Cas mutters to himself, barely attempting to cover up his ulterior motive for entering the bedroom where he’s sure Dean is already passed out.

He hasn't gotten to indulge in the guilty pleasure since he became human, but he could spend years happily watching over Dean as he sleeps. He knows he'll never lose his fascination with the way the worried crease of the hunter's brow finally eases or how his mouth will fall open if he’s particularly exhausted or how soothing the repetition of his slow breaths can be.

Just a quick look while I grab the laundry, just to make sure he’s resting, Cas rationalizes to no one.

He eases the door open slowly, just wide enough for him to slip in. The room is nearly black with the curtains drawn and the sky outside darkened with clouds and Cas has to feel his way on the floor for the dirty clothes pile they’d started yesterday. When he thinks he’s grabbed everything he moves back toward the door.

“Cas, whaddya doin’ crawlin' on th' ground?” Dean asks, his sleep-slurred voice deep and husky.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I was going to wash our wet clothes and thought I’d grab these too.”

Dean rises up on one elbow, squinting at him in what Cas can tell is annoyance even in the low light. He knows he should make his escape, should leave Dean to sleep, but Dean licks his lips and the motion of his tongue roots Cas to the spot.

“Forget the clothes, just come to bed,” Dean barks, patting the space next to him. “I know ya don’ think’re tired, or ya think ya need less sleep ‘cause you’re a big bad angel 'n' all that, but you don’t. You need sleep too, ‘kay.” 

He wants me to sleep with him, Cas’ breath catches in his throat at the connotation of the thought, but he quickly amends the thought. No. He wants you to sleep next to him.

Cas knows he should try to resist more, shouldn’t take advantage of how Dean seeks physical comfort when he’s tired like this, but he doesn’t want to. What he wants is to climb under the covers and lay next to Dean, to let the man he cares about take whatever comfort he needs to find peace, if only for the next few hours.

“Okay, Dean.” Cas abandons the pile of clothes near the door and makes his way toward the bed, only stopping as he hesitates to actually get in. “Are you sure you don’t-”

“Get in the damn bed, Cas.” Dean barks, sounding a bit more alert.

Cas doesn’t need any more convincing, climbing under the covers and resting his head lightly on the pillow, making sure to stay as close to the edge as he can so he doesn’t accidentally touch Dean. Dean twists his head over his shoulder to make sure Cas has obeyed him, grunts in approval, then sinks back into his position facing the wall.

Cas follows Dean’s example, turning onto his side and facing away from him and toward the door. Despite Dean’s insistence that he needs it, Cas doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep, not when his body is hyperaware of every small movement Dean makes behind him.

I’ll stay until I’m sure Dean won’t wake, then I’ll slip out with the laundry.

The rain continuing to fall, the soft pillow beneath his head, and the gentle rhythm of Dean’s breathing have a different plan and soon his limbs and lids grow heavy and he succumbs to a dreamless sleep.

--- 

Cas blinks awake sometime later when the door opens. He winces against the band of light that arcs over him and instinctively tilts his shoulder up to block it from disturbing the man next to him.

Somehow, Dean and Cas both turned in their sleep, Cas now facing the ceiling and Dean curled up against him. One of Dean’s hands is tucked underneath him, and the other is flung over Cas’ waist.  Dean uses his chest as a pillow, sending warm puffs of air into his shirt. Cas has one hand draped down the curve of Dean’s spine and the other holds his shoulder, holding Dean as close as possible.

He remains where he is despite the intrusion, not wanting to wake Dean or move from the comfort of their current position. The smell of Chinese takeout and apple pie drifts in, causing his stomach to grumble in reminder of the meals Cas has missed, but Cas ignores it. Dean waking and pushing him away is the only thing that could force him to relinquish this grip right now.

As his eyes adjust in the darkness, he can make out the vague shape of Eileen’s head peering into the room. They make eye contact. Eileen tilts her head in question and Cas bashfully shakes his head no.

More time. Please, just give me a little more time to hold him like this. The way I've longed to.

Eileen gives an understanding smile, nodding before quickly pulling the door closed again at the sound of footsteps behind her.

“They’re still sleeping. Let’s throw it in the fridge and they can reheat it whenever they wake up.” Cas hears Eileen’s muffled voice tell Sam, fading into the background as they move away from the door.

“Thank God. I was not ready to get up yet,” Dean grumbles into Cas’ chest. “Hey! Not too tight, buddy.”

Cas lets go of the death grip he’d initiated at the shock of finding out the man in his embrace had been awake the entire time. He slowly tries to start retracting his arms, but Dean makes an angry noise of protest and nuzzles sleepily into the space below his jaw, stopping his retreat and possibly his heart.

Like what you read? You can find the whole fic here on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 4/? (hopefully 9 😂)

Chapter Word Count: ~5,500

Tags: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Case Fic, Established Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Beach Case, Cannon when convenient, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (Dean and background characters), Non-Consensual Touching (Not between Dean and Cas), Hurt/Comfort, I promise it's not as dark as it sounds, Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, clueless Sam Winchester, Chick-Flick Moments, Cannon typical misunderstandings, Angst?, One day I'll learn how to tag, WIP, JackieDeeArt's Hot Summer Art 2024 (Supernatural), Hot Summer Art, Greek Mythology if you Squint, No Beta, Everyone is bad with words, Except Eileen who is the only emotionally stable person for miles, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Angel Grace Dysfunction, Poor Coping Mechanisms, There was only one bed

[kaylinlmao]

YAY!

Here is the highly requested PT 2 to this fic. Read it first if you haven't read it and enjoy my lovelies. Added telekinesis as one of her powers. Y'all are only getting this because your girl pretty much only gets motivation at midnight, 3am, or 5am.

"I knew he was hiding something from me!" The man standing in the doorway said. Just then, I saw the grabber coming down the stairs behind him, weilding an Axe. "NO!" I screamed, too late. As the Axe came down on the man's head, I freaked out as the blood flung all over me. He pushed the man down the stairs and he closed the door after saying, "look what you made me do". I looked at the man dying on the floor as I ran over to him, my pain from healing Griffin completely forgotten. I began to use my power to heal the man when someone pulled me away. It was Finney. "I'm sorry, angel but I can't let you do that." He said, with an evil smirk on his face.

"What?" I said, concerned. "He said, we can't let you heal him dollface." "Why? You can't stop me." "Oh butterfly. Who do you think planned this all out?" "Who do you think watched you for weeks, doll?" "Who do you think kidnapped you, pretty girl?" "We did, baby. We did all of that." Finney said. "Why?" "Because we love you, darling." Bruce responded. "Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. You stalked me, kidnapped me, let me heal Griffin and take all of that pain, had me watch a man be murdered, and FUCKING TRAUMATIZED ME BECAUSE YOU LOVE ME?!" I stood up, my eyes turning purple as I was flooded with anger. All I could see was red. I was livid.

"I WENT THROUGH ALL THIS PAIN AND TRAUMA FOR NOTHING? NOTHING?" I yelled, the anger was becoming too much. I screamed and the boys were flung against the wall. I was beginning to get tired but I was still furious. I fumed as I used my powers to pull the door off its hinges and walk upstairs. But someone grabbed my arm before I could make it halfway. "You leave this basement, we will kill everyone you know and love, and we'll make it painful. And right before they die, we'll tell them it was all your fault so they can die hating you. Get your fucking ass back down here now, angel" (A/N: I feel like Finney would be the most crazy because of what he went through)

I slowly walked down the stairs. I used my powers too much, too fast. The anger was fading and was being replaced with being exhausted and sad. As I reached the other I asked them sadly, "why? Why did you have to put me through this?" "Because we love you darling." Bruce said. "Now lay down and go to sleep pretty girl." I walked over to the mattress and layed down. "Good girl, princesa." I didn't react but as they walked away I said,

"Someone who loves you wouldn't do this."

Hope you guys like this! It was highly requested! Love y'all! :) -Kaylin