#Had a sudden urge to draw Andy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

its-my-whump · 1 year ago

Text

June of Doom - Day 26

"I made a mistake."

Ambulance - Hopelessness - Numb

Follow-up: Day 25

TW: domestic abuse, unconsciousness, blood, failure to render assistance, angst, fear of death, vomiting, swearing

It was just one of those everyday-days, that were his life now. Andy gladly hadn't encountered the edge of cruelty his stepfather was capable of, but he was due to find out.

They had an "argument". Since that bastard started to punch his frustration out on Andy, the kid had problems keeping his own anger at bay. So more than once defamations slipped out of his uncontrollable mouth, that he was to regret afterwards, always.

Andy refused to call this fuck by his name anymore. Because he decided, that his stepfather was a monster and not a human being entitled to a given name.

So, it may have happened that he called him by one of his many unpleasant descriptions, not only in his head, but out loud.

The kid wouldn't know which one it was later. But at this very moment, only one thought occupied every inch of his mind. "Oh no. I made a mistake."

Everything happened very fast, merciless and painful. That dickface was up from his chair and around the kitchen table. They had been starring at each other like gunslingers ready to draw for a few seconds before.

Andy had no chance to escape this man's grasp fast enough, because he was sitting in the corner and had to circle the half opened door to flea.

A big hand grabbed him by his collar and his back was pushed against the door frame with force. Air leaving Andys lungs with a huff just out of shock.

The hand on his chest was heavy and kept him in place. Despite all his fear Andys anger was still there. What gave this idiot the right to punish him, to tell him off, to make split second decisions about what was right and what was wrong? Where did he earned that right? What gave him the audacity?

The hand was still invading Andys personal space, rational thinking was pushed aside from his boiling blood and his body reacted. The kids right hand had developed into an angry fist, knuckles white and he brought it up with all the force he could master. Locked fingers connected with the fragile and bony part where hand and arm of his tormentor were linked. Andy couldn't hear the wrist breaking over the noise of his own blood rushing through his ears. But the furious curse that followed did reach his attention. The kids left hand went up and landed a semi-successful hit at his stepfathers jaw. The man had put his own left around his damaged wrist and stumbled back.

Andy was panting, the jet stream of blood still running through his head was ear-splitting, but he was free from the man's grip. Fuckface was blocking his exit to leave the apartment. The kid hadn't thought this through. Actually he hadn't thought at all. Just reacted to the urge of his survival instinct.

What was he supposed to do? That bastard was gonna kill him for sure!

His feet took the advantage while his head was shutting down in panic just before his stepfather had collected himself. He took off into the opposite direction of the front door away from the man, directly to his own room at the end of the hallway.

But the devil was right behind him, whoever the hell he pulled that off, was a thought Andy hadn't the capacity to process, while he was aiming for the baseball bat under his bed.

His heart was beating to his neck. Deadly terror was pushing him forward.

He reached his door, entered the room. His persecutor managed to grab his shirt. Instead of being just stopped mid-run, Andy was yanked back forcefully.

He was surprised, the adrenaline had him on high alert, but loosing his footing still shocked him, his body turned in mid-air out of reflex. Both of them stumbled by the sudden change in motion and went down.

The boys field of vision changed in a brief moment. He could see the bed coming towards him, the wooden bedpost rushing near, too fast, too near.

A brief thought, that it would suck for his mother to find him dead laying in his own blood when she came home, jumped through his head, when pain beyond his imagination exploded at the right side of Andys head. As if someone had split his skull open with an axe. The feeling rushed in and faded away at the same moment. The sickening sound of cracking bone and breaking skin alike echoed into the most far corner of his consciousness when all went black.

Nathaniel had heard the sickening sound a laceration produces while it's inflicted. He had seen blood spray from the boys head colouring the sheeting. He had heard the indescribable sound someone makes when he's not sure how to pronounce shock, astonishment and pain at the same time, when air left the kids lungs. He had seen how the head snapped back after the encounter with the bedpost and how unnatural the limp body bounced of the side of the bed and went down to the floor. Just to stay there dead still on his side, eyes closed, strain in his face, hands by his side, palms up.

Blood was instantly soaking the carpet. The boys' already pale face was white like a sheet.

Nathaniel started to panic. There was absolutely no movement. The man also still on the floor, grabbed the kids leg and shook it.

"Ey. Wake up." Nothing. Nathaniel pushed himself up and approached. He kicked the limp legs lightly, his voice getting louder, frantic.

"Ey. ANDREW. LOOK AT ME." Still nothing.

There was absolutely no movement. Fuck! Not even his chest. Fuck.

Nathaniel got back on his knees and looked closely. Holy hell! There was a shallow breath through his nostrils, when the man hold his hand to the boys face. His chest moving all so slightly.

The person responsible at least had the mercy to put Andy into his bed and dressed his wound. The blood flow had stopped pretty quickly but the kid didn't regain consciousness until around 11pm. That was about the time he started to puke his guts out, occasionally interrupt by him drifting back into unconsciousness.

By 2am he had puked 6 times and even the few sips of water, Nathaniel tried to infuse, didn't stay in.

The man had a bad conscience, but had started drinking after he had made sure the boy was still breathing and not bleeding anymore.

Mom came home exhausted around that time, joined her husband for a few drinks and then went straight to bed without checking on her child being under the impression he was sound asleep. Nathaniel significantly drunk by now stayed behind at the kitchen table, consciously keeping quiet about the events of today. The kid was breathing and puking. He would have a headache tomorrow, but was alive, right.

Around 6am Mom woke up from dry heaving in the next room. She was sleepy, still slightly drunk and needed a moment to process the scene.

Andy was a pain in the ass, always fighting with her new partner since the beginning more than a year ago, not able to show some gratitude. Becoming more aggressive and agitated over time, clearly hitting every road bump during puberty. She was mostly annoyed with him, inwardly wanted him to move out more than once, but as she saw his ghostly white face, the bandage around his head and him leaning limply over the edge of the bed, his head over a bucket, her heart sank.

He looked bad, really bad. So bad, this wasn't manageable at home anymore. The What, When and Why didn't come to he attention. She would need to asked those questions later. First her motherly instinct kicked in and she knew he needed help. Susan left his room to grab her phone from the bedside table, to rush back a moment later. Nathaniel didn't move from his position in bed.

Andy was still laying half over the edge of his mattress. Liquid was dropping from his half opened mouth, his eyes not completely closed, but he didn't stir, when she tried to talk to him. He was unconscious again. Vomit and salvia were covering his shirt, cushion and bed.

Both adults intoxicated, Susan did the only thing reasonable and called an ambulance. She tried to raise him, but beside his eyes flickering a bit, nothing indicated him coming around.

Andy was under water. Frizzling ice cold water, that was so heavy pressing on his head, that it threatened to explode. Occasionally his eyes opened a bit, but everything was blurry and vanished in black once again.

His body released the not existing contents of his stomach again and again. Ringing the bells in his head with every movement of his intestines and the resulting necessary movement of the rest of him, so he wouldn't suffocate on his own vomit. Finally and mercifully the pain pulled him under after every uprising.

The paramedics hadn't had much success in waking him either. One of them rubbed his knuckles on the boys sternum, but only his eyes flickered. A low moan escaped his lips. His face was distorted in pain, but he didn't come around.

TBC (here)

Masterlist

#juneofdoom #june of doom #day 26 #whump #whump community #writing #i made a mistake #ambulance #hopelessness #numb

3 notes · View notes

imaginedreamwrite · 3 years ago

Text

Love On The Brain: Part 10

A/N: Smut from beginning to end

The heat had come with a warning, and you expected it. What you hadn’t expected was to be drawn forward, to be propelled by some sudden urge that drove you from your bed and the nest you’d built. You had followed your instincts, like a beacon flashing in the dark, as you had left your room and your feet padded on the floor, every footstep drawing you closer to the first alpha you would have this cycle.

As you got to the top of the steps, you had shifted your weight from foot to foot, then raised your hands and brushed your fingers along the buttons of the shirt you’d stolen from Andy.

You had seen him wearing it before, the light blue dress shirt he’d worn to the office a few times and had always admired it. It was a shirt that had brought out the lighter shades of blue in his eyes, the soft shade complimenting him so well, and it was well within your favourites. He had given it to you when your heat had started to set in, gifting you the shirt with the promise to give it back when it was over so he could smell you on it when he needed it most.

It was yours now, even if it was temporary.

“Andy,” you hummed and turned your head, brushing your nose against the soft collar, inhaling the notes of his scent and letting it stir your senses. His smell, his phantom touch, was like a compass driving and directing you down every step that was in between you and him, every square inch of floor and past every door until you were propelled to him.

Every step and sashay of your hip had this borrowed shirt brushing against your flesh, and in turn, it had felt as if it was his fingers. It felt as if it was his touch against your bare midriff and the curve of your hips; it felt as if he was dragging his thumbs over the expanse of your nipples as you moved. It was as if his scent was the personification of the alpha you wanted to seek out.

And when you had gotten to the door of his office when you had stepped outside and caught the scent in all its thickness, you had already felt your slick pooling between your thighs, and the delicate little strips of cloth you’d worn underneath had been soaked through from your increased desire and want.

You had raised your hand and brushed your knuckles against the door to knock, yet the action had fallen short when you caught the rise and fall of his voice as he spoke to someone on the phone.

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you rubbed your thighs together to sate the ache and the hunger, the burn that demanded to be filled by Andy. You debated turning away and coming back later when he was done with his phone call when he was no longer busy, but the opportunity before you was far too tempting.

You had the chance to tease him; the opportunity to get your alpha worked up.

You knew what would happen if he had caught the scent of you in your heat; you knew what would happen if he was on the phone while you were in his office whining and pleading for his knot. You wanted that; you wanted to expose the possessive and sinfully aggressive alpha who would throw you onto the desk and fuck you stupid. You wanted the alpha who would fill you with his knot and whisper praises in your ear when you were fucked out and satisfied.

You didn’t turn away like half of your mind was telling you to. Instead, you had glanced down at the buttons covering the little number you had put on for him and smirked with mischief. You had toyed with the buttons and popped one more open, and then the other.

“Whatever you’re going to do,” you had hesitated only when Bucky had walked behind you, his fingers stretching across your waist, “prepare for the consequences.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you turned your head and bit down on your bottom lip, an air of sinful innocence about you, “alpha.”

“Sure you don’t, you brat.” He groaned and paused a moment to inhale your scent, his teeth grazing against your neck. “The next time you go into a heat cycle, you’re going to be fucked by all of us.”

“Is that a promise?” You questioned airily, another rush of slick spilling from your core at the image alone of being handed from one alpha to the next, one massive and beautiful man to another to be played with.

“You think you can handle all of us?” Bucky questioned, trailing his knuckles down your cheek in a manner of innocent-seeming affection that counteracted the intention falling from his tongue.

“Do you think you could handle me?” You bit back, your eyes drawing from his plump and kissable lips that had been wet by his tongue as it grazed his flesh, to his blue eyes darkened with lust.

“You’re rather feisty for an omega who’s about to be crying her alphas name.” Bucky had lifted his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone before he shifted it lower to your jawline and then finally to your throat.

“Yes, alpha.” You preened and purred, your nipples hardening from his heated gaze, and it took all your restraint not to follow him as he dropped his hand and turned away from you.

With Bucky departing, you focused your attention back on Andy and the conversation he was still holding. Your smirk had built again; the mischief and the thrill at being the one to tease had only spurred you further. You placed your left hand on the doorknob and turned the handle while your right hand was pressed flat against the side nearest the hinges. You slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside, a moan immediately catching in your throat when the thickness of his scent had dusted over you like a heavy blanket of warmth and comfort. You had purred as you took calculated steps toward his desk, glancing to your left when you saw his lust-driven eyes settle on the junction of your shoulders and neck, exposed by the loose fit of his shirt as it was draped on you.

Your first contact with his desk was your fingers that had pressed against a file that was open before him. The physical copy had tracings of his writing in the top left corner, and you had feigned interest in what was written on the page as you started the first motion of your teasing charade.

You had leaned over the desk and parted your legs, the air of your scent, and the slick that had coated the inside of your thighs was as potent as his scent, and although Andy had been holding the conversation without breaking, you could feel the tension rolling off of him.

“You can send me what you need via email. I have no reason to drive there-“ Andy reached for your hand, his fingertips brushing against your knuckles, the touch brief as you had pulled away and turned your back to him.

The cut of his shirt had risen as you stretched your arms above your head, exposing your slick covered thighs and the soaked strips of lace that had been calling his name. It was moments, mere moments before Andy had barked an order to the person he was on the phone with. You heard the phone drop before you listened to his growl, the sound reverberating off the walls. You glanced over your shoulder and brushed your fingers against the hem of his shirt, languidly pulling the seam up over the curve of your ass and hips, the slow-motion driving his scent toward a new high.

“You know I was on the phone.” Andy’s voice was husky and deep, the rich baritone sending a shiver down your spine. “You like being a brat?”

You turned on your heel and walked around the desk, trailing your fingers across the top. As you rounded the other side, you sat down on the edge and angled your head back, exposing your neck and the healed mark of Jake and Frank. Your eyes fluttered closed, and your fingers toyed with the holdings of his shirt, pushing the ivory-coloured buttons through the holes. As the dress shirt had come completely undone, you let it fall down your arms then raised your head. You turned and cast a glance behind you, your entire body becoming electrified when Andy’s hands immediately dropped to his waist and started to pop the metal tongue of his belt through the holes in the leather.

“Andy-“ You brushed your thumb across your bottom lip, batting your eyelashes at him. Every passing moment between you two had added to the tension in the room, and you were captivated by your alpha, who had said nothing as he yanked his belt through the loops, undid the single button in the way then tore his suit pants down his legs, kicking them under the desk.

You were captivated by every inch of him from the seeping head of his swollen cock, and his hand that pumped up and down his dick twice.

You bore witness to the beads of precum glistening on his fist as he stroked himself, teasing you while you were teasing him.

“You need me, omega?” His voice was heavily laden with lust, with undeniable desire that was ready to burst.

“I need you.” You whimpered and spread your legs, your hand falling between your parted thighs and your fingers stroking your puffy pussy lips.

“You’re going to present for me.” He commanded with ease, and the order was all too easy for you to follow. It was all too easy for you to jump off the desk and stride around to the other side, your hips swaying with every step. His eyes were on you, watching your every step and the movement of his shirt as the edges brushed against your hips and the curve of your ass. When you had crossed to the other side of the desk, Andy had reached out and grasped your waist with his left hand before he changed its position again and rested the width of his hand against the small of your back. He had held you against him and leaned in to brush his nose against your own, his gaze dropping to your lips briefly before he caught your gaze once more.

“Alpha-“

“Present.” Andy had commanded once more, his voice thick and brimming with lust as he watched you turn your back to him. You had reached for the desk and placed your hands on the flat surface, and slid them to the other side, your fingers gripping the edge. With your fingers gripping the edge, you leaned in and rested your stomach and breasts against the cool top of the desk; you felt Andy’s hands lifting his shirt to expose your soaked panties and your dripping honey.

“What a mess you made.” He commented and first ran his hand over your ass cheeks, barely obscured by the cloth of your soaked panties. Then he had recoiled his hand before smacking your ass cheeks, the friction and the slight sting pulling a soft cry from your throat. “I think you need to be stuffed, don’t you?”

“Yes, alpha.” You purred, desperate for the moment when he would fill your cunt with his thick, heavy dick. “I need it.”

“Of course you do.” Andy had placed his hands against your hips and yanked you back toward him. “I’ll buy you more.”

He commented on the state of your panties after he had hooked his fingers in the band and ripped them off. As they fell, Andy had jerked his hips, the head of his cock bumping against your swollen pussy lips. You felt the nudge of his head, yet you had no immediate relief. Andy had ground himself against you again, his cock splitting you in two in one fluid motion.

You cried his name, immediately hit with immense pleasure as the thick head of his cock parted your swollen pussy lips, and his wide length had stretched your walls. You bucked your hips against him as he fucked into you; the sound of his grunts and your moans, skin slapping skin and the rattle of the desk beneath you as he took you with such ease and want, was otherworldly.

It was rough and dominant, the way he attached his lips to the shell of your ear and whispered his dirty little ramblings to you. It was everything you didn’t know you needed; you didn’t know you wanted from him. You were spread on his desk, your breasts trapped between the top of his desk and the weight of his body on yours.

“Alpha,” you whimpered as he pulled out and slammed back in, thrusting roughly yet not enough to cause you immense pain, “it feels so good.”

You cried in pleasure; every thrust and jostle of his hips had caused his cock to hit a different part of your cunt that was equally desperate to be fucked. It was a process, the sound of sex filling the room until you felt that end that was approaching too quickly.

“I can’t-“

“I know you can’t.” He nibbled on your earlobe, his beard brushing against your cheek, “you’re going to cum on my knot and then when you’re done, I’m going to fuck you again and again.”

You couldn’t hold back your cries, your whimper and whines, as he changed the angle of his thrusts and hit your sensitive little spot with such ease. You jerked your hips against him, desperate to feel every inch of him that you could, and as he had snaked his hand under your belly to help lift you from the desk, you felt that sharp white-hot peek.

“Good girl.” He praised you the moment the tidal wave hit, and you were drawn forth into a blinding orgasm that was extended by his teeth digging into your neck below Jake’s mark and the swelling of his knot in your seeping cunt, locking the two of you together. “Good girl. You’re a good omega.”

He whispered praise after praise, his hand smoothing down your hair as he jerked twice more as the last droplets of seed had spurt into your cunt.

Your fingers went lax, and you had melted against the desk, your eyes fluttering closed as you revelled in the warmth of his seed within you and his cock making a home within your cunt.

“Andy,” you shuddered pleasantly, “I love you.”

“What’s the point of this show?” Fingers drawing against your side had one key element in making you sleepy as you pushed further into his side. Your arms were tucked into his chest, your fingers playing with the seam of his sweater while your head was resting against his shoulder, revelling in his warmth and the ability to be content sitting with the television on as background noise.

“I’m not sure,” Bucky mumbled quietly as not to disturb you while you were tucked into his side. “I just found it and put it on.”

“Hmm,” you shifted on the couch, nuzzling your cheek against his chest, “you’re so warm.”

“Are you feeling better?” Bucky alluded to the night prior after you and Andy had been in his office for yours, after which he had taken regular care of you before handing you off to Jake.

You and he hadn’t done anything, not really in the grand scheme of things. Andy had helped clean you and got you something else of his to wear, and Jake had taken you into bed, providing you with good food that would restore your energy.

After you’d eaten the food Jake brought for you, it was all too easy to curl up on his chest with your legs intertwined and tangled. Sleep came easy with Jake whispering soft tales about his arms days, the rumble of his chest beneath you lulling you into a well-needed state of rest. When the morning had come, and you had awakened, you were alone in the bed, but you hadn’t been for long.

It was Steve, who had brought you coffee as you like it, and a quick and small granola bar to eat so you didn’t wake with an empty stomach. It was just the start of the morning to stave off any nausea that could have come from your body recovering from the wear and tear of your heat.

When you had managed to get dressed and escape Jake’s room, which your body had protested, you had painstakingly headed downstairs to the kitchen. Your arrival was met with enough food to feed an army nearly, and the second cup of coffee provided for you, another round of pick-me-ups before your heat spiked again.

You’d eaten breakfast, you enjoyed your coffee, then had attached yourself to Bucky, seeking out the second marked and mated alpha.

“I’m feeling better.” You sighed and nudged your nose into his shoulder, inhaling his scent and filling your senses with everything he had for you. It would be a matter of minutes, a matter of moments before your heat had started to spike again, and the next round of mating would begin, although you were holding off until Ari was back from his run.

“He said he would be back soon.” Bucky had turned his head and kissed into your hair, his fingers trailing along your jawline and neck before he dipped his hand beneath your clothes. You sighed wistfully in response to his mark on your shoulder, the healed scar sealing you to him and soothing yourself in his life, in all their lives. “He wasn’t going long.”

Your answer was quelled by a sharp shooting pain that had brought a rise to the fire within your veins. You had shifted against Bucky and hissed under your breath as your body had decided enough time had passed, and you were being flooded with the same concoctions of hormones, the same visceral bite that would make you insatiable soon. You removed your left hand from Bucky’s chest and rested it against your stomach, laying your palm flat against the material of your top as you felt the tightening of your stomach in response to the new wave.

“Ari just got back.” Andy’s voice had given you comfort, and as he passed by you to get to the other side of the couch, he had brushed his thumb against your cheek, his gaze roaming your face. “You’re beautiful.”

“Alpha.” You whined again, your eyelashes fluttering when he had leaned in and kissed you softly, temporarily distracting you from the sound of the front door opening and Ari’s clean and crisp scent permeating the house. With the click of the front door and the sound of his footsteps on the staircase, you had jerked away from Andy and craned your neck, attempting to see him as he moved.

“I’ll be back.” Your promise was empty. However, it didn’t stop you from squirming yourself off the couch and away from them. It didn’t prevent you from nearly falling on your face in your urgency to find the alpha you needed.

You had hurried from the living room and skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, observing and studying the upper floor for any movement he may have made. When a minute passed, and you hadn’t seen or heard anything, you had placed your hand upon the railing and took that first step that would lead you to Ari. The succeeding steps that had followed the first had mirrored your heartbeat; the response to his naturally projecting scent was calling to you as if it was a siren’s song, and you were the unsuspecting soul being dragged to the depths.

“Ari.” You spoke his name as the slick, like with Andy, had started to coat the inside of your thighs, as it had created this dense warmth that was just as potent as the fire itself that was in your belly. “Ari.”

You stepped off the top step and kept your hand on the railing for balance when the pure and masculine smell of alpha had been thickened. It was intensified by the need that was surging through him with just as much potency as it was surging through you. It was hitting you with the rhythmic pulsation that had simultaneously almost knocked you off your feet and given you new life.

You had lifted your hand and pressed the inside of your wrist to your forehead, your skin burning as it usually had with every cycle you had gone through, and this was no different.

“Ari.” You called his name for the third time, and then you had turned sharply and started shuffling toward his room, your hands balled into your shirt and your teeth gritting from the thrash of sexual hunger that was not going to go away without feeling him.

As you stepped outside his door, you had taken note of the crack between the door and the frame that allowed you a peek of the inside. You had seen him standing facing away from you with his broad, thick back on display for you to gawk at. The golden kiss of his skin was even more delectable than usual when you saw tiny beads of sweat rolling down the confines and ridges of his shoulders, his back muscles and his firm waist before they slipped beneath the band of his running shorts.

“Fuck.” You whimpered, your hands shifting on their own to the hem of your shirt to yank it up to your body and expose your heated skin to the cool air of the room.

“You can come in.” Ari’s voice carried, and even though he wasn’t looking at you, you knew he was smirking. “You don’t need to linger at the door, omega.”

You swallowed thickly and pushed the door open with your right hand, then stepped over the threshold. When you had entered the room, you finally got to catch Ari’s gaze. He had glanced over his shoulder with a smirk on his face, his eyes roaming from your exposed shoulder and neck to the hem of your shirt you had still tried pulling up.

“I was going to shower, omega. Join me.” He beckoned you over, his broad back now hidden from you and his thick chest stealing your attention instead. “It’s okay, princess.”

You took slow and calculated steps as if you were his prey, and yet you weren’t inherently afraid of him because you had no reason to be.

“You’re needy, aren’t you?” Ari hummed, the very sound stirring a whimper, and when you had come within reach, he had extended his hand out to yours and gently pulled you toward him. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

“Don’t rip it.” You mumbled as he held your gaze. “it’s Jake’s.”

Ari had only nodded his head, and then in one fell swoop, he had yanked the shirt off your body and exposed you, nearly naked for him. There was a guttural growl that escaped his mouth as he looked you over, the weight of his gaze burning through you. His hands hadn’t stayed dormant, nor had his touch stayed to himself. He had reached out his left hand and cupped your breast, his thumb and forefinger teasing your hardened nipple as he pleasantly hummed and enjoyed the look of you standing before him.

“Come with me.” He spoke again, and through your haze, you nodded your head.

Ari had dropped his hand from your breast if only to grab your hand once more and intertwine your fingers to guide you to the bathroom.

Ari had closed the door behind you with a soft click, and keeping some contact with you, had stepped behind you to keep his chest flush to your back and snaked his left arm around your waist to hold you there. He had turned the water on for the shower using his right hand, the sensation and sound of water starting to pour from the shower head was only a mere distraction before Ari had placed his lips on the back of your neck, nipping and suckling on your flesh as he ground his thick, heady cock against your seeping cunt. The bumping of his seeping head against your core had been the encouragement you needed to part your thighs and grant him access, and yet he still hadn’t pushed the head into your pussy.

Instead, Ari had tasted your flesh with his tongue and brought forth a rise of goosebumps to your meat with his lips. He has teased your needy pussy and coated his cock with your dripping honey, the slick covering his throbbing shaft. With every stroke of his cock against your puffy pussy lips, the need to be filled and fucked was turning you into a puddle within his reach, and he knew it.

“Join me in the shower.” Ari had pulled away only long enough to help you into the shower, holding you steady as you stepped on the wet floor. As the two of you entered, and he had closed the door, there was a passing moment between you two where nothing was said or done.

“Ari.” You reached for his hands and placed them on your breasts, arching your back into his hold. “I need you.”

“I know what you need.” He stepped closer, kept the barrier between you two minimal. “I know what you want.”

He dropped his hands from your breasts and settled them on your hips before he pushed you back against the shower wall; the chill from the tiles and the heat between you two was a delightful contrast that made you croon and whine. You couldn’t and wouldn’t look away as he lifted you with ease, then stepped between your legs. He had angled his hips and gently thrust his cock toward your pussy, the gentle prodding of the head of his cock against your slick-covered cunt was electrifying.

“Please.” You whined and arched your back, moaning deliriously as he bent down and captured a nipple in his mouth, his tongue lapping at the hard nub. “Ar-“

Your plea was cut short as he snapped his hips and thrust his length into your cunt. Your request had been turned to a sharp cry as white-hot pleasure surged through you, and the tile scraped against your back when he started thrusting in and out of you. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he fucked you against the shower wall. He was ruthless yet gentle, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and your whining pleas, the irrevocable growls as he tasted your breasts had all aided the feeling of euphoria. It was Ari and you; it was your alpha that was going to fuck you senseless.

“You’re already losing yourself.” Ari had mumbled into your neck after he popped his mouth off your nipple. “You’re already going to cum for me.”

“Yes! Fuck! I can’t-“ Like with Andy, you had reached your peak too soon.

“Cum for me.” Ari nipped at your shoulder, claiming a spot for his mark. “Cum for me, omega, and I’ll fill you with my seed.”

“Please-!” Your back arched when you felt his cock swelling within you; every desperate sound you could make was bouncing off the shower walls when Ari had parted his lips and bit down on your shoulder, the surge of white-hot pleasure slamming into you as you went limp against him, as you fell lax in his arms.

It was barely a beat, hardly a flash before Ari was whispering sweet nothings into your ear. It was instantaneous, the comfort that came after the fucking. It was instant, and it was blissful, as he had wiped the water from your face and kissed you softly; the beautiful promises he had whispered against your lips were endearing.

“Is everything okay?” Frank had been leaning against a fabric headboard, the plain and ordinary artwork usually found in hotels had been hanging above his head, and there was a weariness about him that made your heart skip a beat.

“Everything’s fine.” You mumbled, leaning back against the wall of the reading nook you’d been sitting in, the laptop nestled on your lap was held secure by a lap desk, and the discarded book you’d lost interest in was tossed to the floor. “Andy and Ari have left their marks. Now it’s Steve.”

“You’re okay, though?” He was worried; even from a thousand or so miles away, you could feel his worry and his tentative longing to be home. “I mean…you’re resting well in between?”

“I haven’t had time to do much else between the highs, but I’m fine, Frank. They’re taking outstanding care of me. Andy and Ari are wonderful, and Bucky and Jake keep making me eat. Steve brings me coffee and tea even when I don’t think I need it.”

“I miss you.” He rushed hen ran his hand down the side of his face, sighing slowly. “When I come back, I wanna take you out. You and me.”

“They’re going to be sick of me when you come back.” Your joke fell flat as a grimace had taken hold of you.

“You’re reaching the final peak of your heat.” Frank’s voice offered you so much comfort despite the pain, and you wished he could have been here with you. “It’ll come quick.”

It was, and you were sure he could sense it through the bond. You were sure Frank could smell it, just as if he was the one feeling the heat and the drive for himself. If he could have handled your heat, then you could have felt his desire to come home and be with you, come home and feel you again.

“I should go then.” You shifted again, the sharp jab of neediness not sated by you subtly rubbing your thighs together. “I love you. I’ll see you soon?”

“I’ll be back in a few days. I promise.” Frank had swallowed hard; the lull of his shoulders had been telling of his state of loneliness and homesickness. “I love you, baby.”

“Have a safe flight home.” You ended the call with a final goodbye before the three beeps came as the screen returned to its original state. You sighed and closed the laptop, running your fingers along the back edge before you had lifted it from your lap and set it down by your feet in the reading nook.

When you had leaned back against the wall, your eyes fluttered closed, and you turned your head to rest your right temple against the wall. You had sat there in silence, resting for a moment; your attention had been briefly stolen by the sounds of footsteps approaching the room.

You knew the scent and the gentle nature of the alpha, who was such an even mix of Ari and Andy that it was Steve. You also knew without having to look at him that he was watching you with tenderness and concern, his eyes likely hooded slightly.

“I’m okay. Tired.” You answered a question he hadn’t asked and took a deep breath in, filling your lungs with air and the scent that was gentle prodding at you.

“Can I show you something?” Steve walked closer to you, and upon opening your eyes, your attention immediately settled onto the wicker basket in one hand and a sketchbook in the other.

“Aren’t we..?” You tilted your head as your heat demanded to be placated.

“Come with me.” Steve reached for your hand and helped you stand, his fingers weaving into yours before he gently started leading you from the library in the home toward the back door that led to the garden.

“We’re going outside?” Your question morphed into a squeak when Steve had picked you up and balanced you in his arms while carrying all his items effortlessly. He had propped the door open with his hip and took you outside, walking among the stone path throughout the garden and the hedges that offered beautiful, lush privacy though it was no more clear where you were going.

“Steve-“

“I wanted to give you something different.” He set you down on the path when he had stopped before a tiny little cottage on the property, the red bricks encased with white stucco.

The tiny little place was beautiful and looked as if it had been ripped right from a fairytale. The windows were ensconced with dark frames, and through the glass, you could see a fireplace that had been producing heat and smoke that billowed from the chimney at the top. An old and vintage-looking chaise angled in front of the fire with a cozy white blanket draped across the back and a stack of soft velour pillows against the other end.

“This…I didn’t even know this was here.” You grinned, your heat at the back of your mind as you picture all the possibilities, all the moments of peace you could have.

“It’s for you. This is all for you. I know you have your room in the house, but this is specifically yours. After tonight, you can do whatever you want with it. If you want alone time away from us all if you wanted to bring one of us here to have an alpha without the rest-“

“Thank you.” You folded your hand in front of you and tucked your knuckles under your chin, eagerly waiting to head inside and see what else was there.

“I want to sketch you.” Steve had mumbled in your ear, setting his hand on the small of your back to lead you up the steps to the front door gently.

“You did this for me?” You asked Steve while turning the brass doorknob and pushing it open, revealing the little hideaway that hadn’t seemed so small once you were inside.

The cottage was large enough to have a king-sized bed pushed against the wall and a bathroom set against the other wall, fit with a double soaker clawfoot bathtub and sleek silver fixtures. There was no kitchen, but the living room had the aged and vintage-styled couch and a record player set by a bookshelf filled with some titles you had recognized and others that were foreign to you.

“Can I draw you, little one?” Steve closed the door and clicked the lock, keeping you two in this isolated haven.

“Yes.” Your smile was slow to grow, and you hadn’t hesitated to pull down the waistband of your sweats, kicking them to the side. “I would like that.”

“Sit on the bed.” Steve’s heated gaze penetrated you, though he was relatively silent otherwise as you had removed what little clothes you had.

As you had approached the bed, you rested your hand against the iron-wrought frame, feeling the twisted metal beneath the pads of your fingers as you slowly sank onto the bed. The mattress was covered in faux fur blankets, the warmth and softness of the material a cushion for your knees as you rest and wait for further instruction.

“Keep your back to me.” Steve’s voice was husky and laced with lust but soft. “Rest against your heels and look over your shoulder.”

You sank onto your heels like he had asked, your slick seeping down your thighs to the blankets and the mattress, and although you were tempted to snake your hand between your thighs to touch yourself, you wanted to wait. You wanted to see what he had planned.

“You’re gorgeous,” Steve muttered under his breath as he yanked a chair toward him to sit on, the wood creaking as he sank, the sketchbook in his hands flipped open to a new page, and the drawing pencil he had been holding was briefly tucked behind his ear.

“The light is hitting you perfectly there.” He growled under his breath; the act of being naked in front of him was erotic and sensual in such a different manner.

Andy and Ari had known you needed something rougher and intense. Andy and Ari knew you wanted something more intense than the last.

Steve knew you needed something different, something someplace in between.

“Keep your head like that. Bend your arm behind your back; I want to see part of your breast.” He was commanding you, yet it hadn’t felt rough or demanding. He was using his alpha tone of voice, yet it was sweet. “God, you’re so damn beautiful.”

He had lowered his head and started sketching you as you maintained that position, with your head turned toward him and your arm behind your back. You watched him draw you, the furrow of his brow deepening as he stroked the pencil against the paper, his lips pulled into a firm line as he concentrated on the act of transferring your image from the real world to a sketch on the paper in his hand.

The act was sensual, and each passing moment that you were exposed to him, and for him, was endearing and equally erotic. Your nipples had become hardened pebbles beneath the weight of his gaze as he looked at you to study you. Your slick had become thick and dense; the warmth spilling from you as you alpha kept you naked to capture your image was electrifying.

You stayed as still as you could, resisted moving despite the heat and the driving need to feel him. You stayed as still as you possibly could as whimpers and whines fell from your lips, and you had become nearly ravenous. You wanted him, he wanted you, yet he was on a mission to get the sketch done.

“Alpha,” you whined and had begun to rub your thighs together to get friction, to feel relief of any kind, “I need you.”

Relax, omega.” Steve had crooned, looking past the edge of the sketchbook to study you, then you saw his lips twitch, and the motion of the pencil moving against the paper had ceased. “I’m finished.”

Your relief was not delivered. Steve had stood and tucked the front of the sketchbook back and had gently set it down on the chair. He had taken his time depositing the pencil on the top of the sketchpad, and then he turned toward you, his eyes blown wide with desire and lust.

“You’re so needy.” He had purred, stepping before the bed. “You need me just as badly as I need you.”

“I do.” You pleaded, begged even. “Please…”

“I know.” Steve set his hands upon the bed and leaned in, his lips brushing against yours exhaling against you. “I know what you need.”

You stretched out your hands and rested your palms against his chest, feeling his heart beating through the thin cotton of his shirt, the rhythm matching your own. Steve pushed forward, deepening the kiss and making you falter, the bed meeting your back when you fell.

“Let me see you.” He had pulled away and started pulling his shirt over his head, exposing his thick and broad chest, the glistening muscles making your stomach lurch with need. You were blinded by him, distracted by the sight of your alpha standing before you with such beauty.

“Show me yourself.” He asked again, and your legs had immediately parted, the sheen of your pussy brightened by the glow of the fire that seemed to cast the whole place in warmth.

“Darling,” he had just as easily rid himself of clothes as quickly as you had, and your breath had become bated when he had gotten on the bed and started to crawl toward you, “we’re finishing this with the same intense warmth as when you started.”

You sighed against his lips when he had kissed you, your hands snaking up his naked chest to rest against his shoulders. Steve had touched you just as gently as you had touched him, with one hand gripping your hip and the other resting against your cheek. He was lazily closing in, the seeping head of his cock dripping precum onto your pelvis and the gentle brush of his chest against your own had resulted in airy sighs against his lips.

“I love you.” Steve pulled out of the kiss and mumbled into your neck while he hooked his hand under your knee and yanked your leg up to brush against his own. “Frank started this process with love, and I’m going to end it with love.”

“Please,” you arched your back against him, jarring your hips in need when you felt the bulbous head teasing your cunt, “please, Steve….”

“I know.” He nipped at your neck, taking his time to feel you, to tease you, before you thought the first moment of penetration. “I know, little one.”

He pushed further, taking his time to fill you with his length and delivering sweet words of comfort into every kiss. He had slowly bottomed out, the head of his cock hitting your cervix while your pussy had encased his length. You moaned his name and moved one of your hands against the back of his neck while keeping the other on his shoulders.

The feeling of being full was sating your appetite, and the stretch of your pussy around his cock was what you had craved and wanted. You loved the feeling of being full of him, of all of your alphas.

“Does it feel good?” Steve muttered into your ear as he began thrusting his cock in and out of you, his question not meant to feed his ego but to make sure you were okay.

“Oh,” you shuddered and bucked your hips against him, “it feels so good.”

Your back arched against him and your head lolled back, exposing your neck for him, and the opportunity was taken. Steve’s name fell from your lips as a mantra when he grazed your neck with his teeth and followed the action with his tongue, cooling your heated flesh. Every action was bringing you closer to a pleasurable end, every kiss placed against your flesh, and every squeeze of his hand was mind-blowing.

You were a broken record, repeating the same moans, the same whimpers and whines as he stretched and filled you, as he fucked you sensually.

“I can feel your pussy squeezing me.” Steve huskily whispered in your ear. “She’s meeting her end, isn’t she?”

You could only cry his name as a response, you could only make unintelligible noises as Steve changed the angle of his thrusts and his cock hit the back of your cervix.

“I know you’re going to cum. Don’t hold back, little dove.” Steve pulled out and thrust back in, your nails digging into his flesh as that peak was hit, as that tidal wave was about to crash down onto you. “Don’t hold back from me.”

It was too much; it had become too much. You screamed his name through the pleasure of his teeth breaking your skin and marking you as his, as the flood of his hot and sticky cum spurting from the head of his cock to fill you.

It was too much, the feeling of heat bursting within your cunt from his cum, and the knot that locked him in place with you. It was done; you had been marked and mated by them all; you knew Steve had been right.

“You’re ours.” He muttered into your ear. “You’re ours, and we’re yours.”

#alpha!ari levinson x reader #alpha!andy barber x reader #alpha!bucky barnes x reader #alpha!frank adler x reader #alpha!jake jensen x reader #alpha!Steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #ari levinson x reader #bucky barnes x reader #frank adler x reader #jake jensen x reader #steve rogers x reader #love on the brain series #love on the brain masterlist #love on the brain #love on the brain part 10

153 notes · View notes

whitefoxed · 3 years ago

Text

Come Wake Me Up

@the-muse-mansion | Re-Archived: Written to this.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, three seasons have since passed from the last time the ground here crunched beneath the soles of his shoes. Stumbling in the dark, Lise saw the previous barren trees and shrubbery were now heavy with leaves, rustling dryly like quiet murmurs of disapproval at his approach. The night’s cold wind chilled him to the bone.

Dressed in only a white dress shirt, black trousers and loafers, the doctor’s usual tidy appearance was nowhere to be seen. In its place was a look of disarray, the shirt’s top buttons missing, leaving a vulnerably revealing V neck though its upturned collar was an obvious attempt of trying to curb that indecency. Its sleeves were rolled up to the man’s elbows however, making no effort to hide the hand like purple marks around his wrists. That brown hair too, was in a tousled mess, though it had traces of fingers having combed through it in failed effort.

Yet except for that and the lack of colour on his lips, the brunet who now stood at Adam’s door and knocked with the back of his knuckles, was not that much different from the he who stood here last. Breathing in, he let out a quiet sigh. “Open the door… it’s me.”

It was exquisite torture. Waiting each day for a word, a call, a letter, anything to show that he wasn’t hated and despised for some mysterious reason. Though he could not think of any reason for that to be the case, Adam could not think otherwise. Silence was all too telling after all.

So he lost himself to his music, compositions darker than any he’d written before, harsh and jarring manifestations of his own self loathing born of the conviction that he’d managed to screw this up somehow. It was all that kept him from ending it all in a desperate attempt to escape. That and the small undying hope that Lise would return one day.

Cursing to himself, Adam worked to re-hair his violin bow. It had not stood up well to the last bout of emotional outpouring. It was a task he was not fond of but one he was well practiced at. Even so his fingers stilled as a step sounded at his door. The words that followed would have sent him to his knees had he already not been seated. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

If he’d been asked, Adam couldn’t recall leaving the couch and yanking the front door open. “It’s you,” he echoed almost feebly as he drank in the sight before him. Had he finally gone off the deep end and was now left to hallucinations? Would his mind manifest such vivid markings and bruises on the pale skin? Would he imagine the disheveled state as some sort of explanation as to Lise’s absence? He simply had no way of knowing. “Is it you?” he asked with hope coloring his voice like a child hoping the nightmare wasn’t real.

There wasn’t any sound beyond the door, nor would it be unexpected if the one he called upon chose to ignore him, but Lise knew it wouldn’t be long before he was answered. Because despite having ran away from this very porch months ago and abandoning his friend behind, he could still keenly feel that man’s gentility that would afford him at least a word: to stay or go away.

Just as the lingering beauty that was their friendship resurfaced from the watery depths of his memories, the door opened and Lise saw, his lily maid still alive and gazing upon him in the familiar form of a dark haired man. The hand he had kept raised to knock again slowly fell to his side, as he took in the sight, as haunting and beautiful as the name his mind had bequeathed Adam.

“… Yes… May I come in? It’s cold out here.” Tiredly, grey eyes - brighter than normal, as if touched by fever - raised and met the other’s searching gaze proper as he spoke with long shallow breaths in between. It was indeed cold out here, but what truly bothered him was the vulnerability of being exposed in the open. Where any predator could take him.

Seeing how Adam was looking at him and thinking he should explain his sudden return, Lise broke into a chuckle and dropped his head to his right shoulder, revealing dried, new scars on his pale neck. His own pallor was not the same as Adam’s, it was livelier, like the blush of pink sunlight over fresh snow. But it made the dull red craters all the more grotesque.

“I made a mistake last year… I left a true friend.” Voice cracking with a broken smile, Lise blinked away his watering eyes, unconscious of how his arms had wrapped around himself defensively.

By force of habit, his dark gaze flicked out to the night stretching out beyond the circle of his porch light. Lise, by all appearances, was alone though why Adam was concerned by that, he couldn’t say exactly. Perhaps it was nothing more than instinct.

Stepping aside, he invited the human into his home, door closing and locking behind him. Questions flooded to the fore, each jostling for position to be the first voiced. And with each detail the vampire’s eyes noted, the more difficult it became to remain calm. Whatever had happened in the past, and it was clear a great deal had occurred, Lise was safe here. Only Eve ever sought him out Others avoided this dying and decrepit city in favor for the more thriving metropolises or artistic meccas.

“Where have you been?” Fuck. He tried for neutrality in tone but damn him if there wasn’t the brush of hurt and accusation underlying his words. Biting back the rest of his questions, Adam busied himself with tugging a blanket off a chair and wrapping it around the slender frame of his friend and urging him to sit closer to the fire.

Where indeed. “…Lost.” Not that he hadn’t thought of giving a proper answer, like being at his work and the hospital, staying in strictly human places during the day and home at night, drinking with people he knew and just plainly avoiding vampires… until recently. But he couldn’t bring himself to, seeking the comfort of what was their friendship with such poetic conversations.

It was a shame he only realised now how he disappointed and failed to reciprocate the respect Adam gave him.

A blanket was then draped around his shoulders, drawing his scattered gaze back upon the dark man beside him before he followed Adam’s urging and brought himself to sit nearer to those flames. Chill had permeated deep into his bones and as if the strained vigilance he had kept on his journey back here finally broke from knowing he was finally safe, the cold suddenly became unbearable and his teeth clattered, shivers turning even his hands shaky.

Lise wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, turning his eyes back upon Adam. “I’m sorry.”

“Lost? A simple word for the time that’s passed. A simple word for the look I see in your eyes now. A simple word for the way you are curling upon yourself.” The idea of an apology, no matter how heartfelt, was put aside for the moment. Understanding must come first, if understanding was to be had.

“Be clear with me Lise. Something has happened and I would have the truth of it before this goes further.” If there were revenge to be had, by all the darkest demons that resided within him, Adam would have it. First he needed answers, he needed information.

Warmth from the blanket and fire seeped through his skin, calming the tremors. The fear that hounded his heels since he woke up and made his way here seemed to have been held at bay by the door. His gaze flickered from Adam to where it was, then back around them, and for the first time felt grateful that Adam kept his curtains closed all the time.

Shaky lips pursed and parted, far too dry as he thought about how to phrase his words. Feeling safe, he did not even think of lying, nor did he have the energy or intention to. “I’m sorry… I got scared. So… I’d left. Stayed home. Worked. Stayed with humans.” With every word he spoke, his arms got tighter around his legs, having brought his knees up somehow. He could not look at Adam anymore, too ashamed, keeping his gaze on the wooden floor.

”But… I missed you… and us… it’s been too long, and I didn’t know how-” Guilt strangled his throat and he choked, coughing before he could continue. “So I thought I’d try to know more first.” Read up on vampires, ask questions on the net and-

“There was a human-friendly bar.” Different from his words prior, these echoed out emptily and Lise’s eyes blanked out, having found their direction somewhat at the fire. When they came back into focus, they dropped to his bruised wrists. “Been there for a week… met someone. He was cool… said he had something in his car to show me. Then…” This.

Two nights. He had been lucky. Guy went out and the ropes were not that tight. Kicked a window and made his way here. But he did not want to think about those two nights.

Adam watched and listened in utter stillness. With each second it seemed as if Lise turned into some hardened but brittle thing that would shatter at the wrong word or gesture. And so Adam remained unmoving lest he misstep.

Ah, but then, the words started to sink in and the images they painted became clearer. And the knot in his stomach grew and tightened. He knew of such bars and the dangers they presented to the overly trusting or the unwary. He was humbled by the intent Lise had held but infuriated by the way he went about satisfying it. With a clenched jaw and a dark look that was quickly averted, Adam managed to maintain his calm exterior.

“What did he look like? What was his name?” The vampire’s voice was soothingly soft but no less intense. He now had intentions of his own. Someone beloved to him had be terrorized and he could not let it stand. “Where was the bar?”

Led by Adam’s gentle voice, Lise answered without thinking. “Andy… I think they called him Andrew.” He blinked and shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind. “Brown hair, tall… bigger than me or you…” He was shaking again, but this time it went unnoticed by the man himself, who was busy soaking in the warmth of the fire. “Looked like them P.E. teachers…” The nice, sunny kind of guy… funny how a vampire could be sunny… Lise gulped, remembering how it all turned terrifying instead.

He didn’t notice the change in Adam, still too caught up from his escape.

Bar?… Lise’s eyes finally moved to try and meet Adam’s, as his head took its time to shift from remembering that vampire to reverse and recall the bar he mentioned earlier instead. “Erm… it’s called the Hook-Up… you can find it on main street at Corktown… just knock to go to the basement… that’s why I-” His breath hitched again, before he stopped talking. Instead he stared at his long lost friend… well, the friend he abandoned for so long.

Adam moved closer as he stored the description away. The name wasn’t familiar but that meant little in the long run. Names were as changeable as the seasons for those who lived centuries. “Shhhh,” he said softly, attempting to soothe the tremors away the best he could. “You don’t have to worry about him,” he continued, assuming that the shaking was born of the fear that this Andrew would find him again. “That’s why what?” he asked, genuinely curious as to the ending of that sentence. It didn’t really matter in the long run what Lise had been going to say but damned if Adam wasn’t just a little starved for his friend’s company and quick thoughts. In the back of his mind the vampire was busy trying to sort out everything necessary for Lise’s recovery but he found himself at a loss. So for now it was this; a comforting hand on a shoulder and a soft word. Revenge could wait for now though no forever.

“-Thought it was safe.” Staring at Adam, the words he had forgotten finally returned to his tongue and he breathed. After so long, his friend was still his friend and still cared. It was like the fact finally caught up with him. Lise breathed in deeply as he tried to keep his eyes from watering.

Corktown was filled with humans. It wasn’t that popular, but there were plenty of bars popping up in the area that made it attractive. Even at night there was quite a crowd with enough neon lights to brighten up the whole street. For just one of them to have a small vampire friendly bar downstairs seemed well- friendly enough. He just didn’t think he could be so easily kidnapped in ‘broad daylight’. “Adam, I’m sorry.” He apologised again, more lucid this time.

“How… have you been?” Without even noticing, his tremors had ceased and the blanket around him was finally warm enough.

Resolutely, Adam shook his head. “You have nothing to apologize for. I, on the other hand, do. I made you feel unsafe, made you feel as if you had to flee.” With a clenched jaw, he bit off the rest of his words. This was neither the time nor the place for self recriminations. He focused on practical issues instead. “I have nothing to offer in the way of food or drink but I can order out easily enough. Are you hungry?”

He stood and went in search of his phone. Having only recently joined the current decade in regards to telephonic communication, Adam often misplaced the device as he rarely had use for it. He located it under a stack of papers after a minute of searching. “Allow me to correct myself,” he muttered as he fished out the charging cord. “I’ll be able to order in a minute or two. Damned thing is dead again.” He glanced at Lise as he spoke, pleased to see that he looked more at ease than he had.

Lise bit his lip. Guilt still clawed at him listening to Adam’s reply, but he already couldn’t quite remember why he was so scared of Adam in the first place. Sometimes a perfect memory isn’t all that perfect. What he felt made little sense.

“Mn… yes.” It had been two days since he last ate. Apparently Andy didn’t think much of feeding a soon-to-be-dead prey. Lise snuggled in the comfort of the blanket, soft from age and use. Watching Adam fish out the dead communicator, a nostalgic smile crept unknowingly unto his lips, amused and relieved that Adam’s still the same after all this time. Such was the image Adam would see when he glanced back at Lise, who was much more relaxed than when he came in before. Quiet crackles of firewood and Adam’s rustling about fixing the phone were all very comforting sounds, with familiarity rushing back after two nights of horror. With it, came the exhaustion that slowly weighed itself on the young man and he leaned against the coffee table nearby, trying not to sleep.

He gave a glance to the clock on the wall then moved to check the heavy drapes. It was nothing more than nervous fussing in an attempt to keep questions and anxiety at bay. What should he be doing now? What would be best for his friend? What were the chances that Lise would be followed here? On a level he was hoping that would be the case but not at this moment. Now was for his friend.

He moved with careful deliberation, not that he ever truly rushed anywhere anyway, stopping to kneel next to the huddled figure. “Your eyes are starting to close,” he observed quietly. “Let’s get off the floor and find a place for you to sleep?”

"We’re not ordering food?...” Lise mumbled groggily, squinting his eyes open to look at Adam. Struggling to keep himself awake, he nodded anyway to what Adam said, thinking he should listen to him to not trouble him further. Stumbling as he tried to get up, another wave of dizziness from the anemia rolled over him.

He would try to follow where Adam led him though, and as soon as they reached their destination, his remaining strength drained out of him and he crashed down, legs left hanging off to the floor. It would be at least some hours before the man will wake up again.

#themusemansion #t.themusemansion #t.adam.come wake me up #t #'sorry it's short ><

6 notes · View notes

hoodoo12 · 4 years ago

Text

Festival (22/30)

@beejiesbitch @turtlepated @memedemonhours @monsterlovinghours @yankyo @go-commander-kim @clairjohnson @saucymangos @edosunshine @beetlebitchywitch

Jessie watched Ollie reluctantly set about the task he'd been given with a small frown. Sometimes it bothered her the way that the two interacted, but the quick interruption of her vicarious indignation and the kisses against her chest and stomach cooled her off quickly. She never could stay upset at Beetlejuice, especially when he followed up with his reasoning. She reached to stroke his cheek and gave him a half-smile.

"I . . . I guess I understand. Still, I think you should thank him. If these things still work when we can use them later, you'll want to. Hell, I'll want to, too. I don't know what's in those things that makes them so intense, but I can't wait to see how you feel . . . take that as you will," she answered, leaning to kiss his cheek afterward in a physical assurance that she wasn't angry, though she hadn't made any effort to withhold her initial shock and irritation and then warm affection and lust from him.

The sound of Beej pinning Carmen and growling as he eased his cock into her made Jessie turn in interest, watching the two of them a little enviously.

"Oh . . . well, looks like you must have had a good time. Wanna tell me about it? I don't see you taking it up the ass, so how did it go?" she asked in a sultry purr.

Just as he’d felt her anger at the asshole who’d dare touch Ollie, BJ felt the spike of upset Jessie had at the way he’d treated her pet. Only for her would he be contrite. He sighed a little and addressed her directly. “I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have been so sharp with Ollie. He wanted to show you a good time--the little bastard loves you, you know that, right? He’d steal you away if he had the chance. It’s stupid of me to be jealous of him, but old habits die hard. I’ll be nicer to him, okay?” Her slow nod in response made him realize he was going to have to make an effort and not just say what she wanted to hear. She, however, was the one who changed the subject, speaking of the aphrodisiacs again. Then her eyes went to the two focused on each other on the ground near them. Despite all the coupling still going on around them, it was hard not to watch something that was so close, and so raw but plainly full of adoration. Carmen’s cries were sharp, and the other ghost’s thrust was slow, drawing out the beginning. BJ brought the hose of the hookah to his mouth again, saying as he slipped the mouthpiece to his lips, “You’re right, baby--I didn’t bottom. That ghost has some interesting control over himself. I’ve got tentacles; he’s got a clone. I can change shape; he let me fuck his pussy while he was railing Carmen. He’s pretty interesting . . .”

His voice trailed off a little, musing about the coincidence that they shared a name, and they both took human lovers. Well, as close to human as Jessie was, which made him wonder about Carmen, and if there was something secret about her too. BJ gave himself a shake, but not hard enough to dislodge Jessie from his shoulder.

“He conjured up this hookah too. You like it? I’ll make sure there’s enough for Ollie when he gets back too.” As the couple on the ground grew louder, he smirked and flicked his gaze to Jessie. “If you were your normal size I’d say we could give them some competition.”

⁂

"Oh . . . I see . . ." Pink murmured as Kadus informed her that there was not much known of her kind.

Still, a curiosity burned in her . . . she wondered if perhaps the lack of knowledge was due to a lack of exposure. She was sure Beej would be just as curious to learn more about himself as she felt- that was a universal desire of his, across every part of himself.

She realized as she thought about this that he likely couldn't quite see Beej and Carmen. It made sense to her, across the field, he was a sight to behold and ringed around by witches. It'd be much easier to miss two other, smaller figures no matter how passionate they might be. It crossed her mind that perhaps he would be interested in meeting them, though she didn't know that Carmen would be comfortable if his harem of unsuitable suitors followed.

"No, I am a piece of a specter . . . a demon, born in the world of the dead." she answered in matching volume. He'd asked further questions, and so the pink did not allow her to take offense to the change. "It must have been . . . don't remember much about when I happened . . . we're a shape-shifter, I'm the bitch of the bunch." She chuckled a little at that. "Just the cunt, not the heart, hun."

He nodded, as some of the things she said he did have a reference for. “Shape-sifters, yes, like King Lycaon, or the lukánthrōpos. Although you seem to have more control and options than people like that.” Kadus took a second to think, continuing to stroke her back. Lost in thought, his hand wandered to her front, over her belly, to her chest. Her nipples tightened under his touch, and he ran his thumbs over them lightly. “Although I know of no tale of someone like you, that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one. Knowledge, unfortunately, is incomplete or even lost. Even the truth gets molded when it is passed along; I have heard of Christian hell and, and it is not the Underworld, but similar. Perhaps some elder is familiar with your kind, and could educate me more.” He fixed his gaze on her for a moment, as if committing her face to memory. “If someone did know of demons born dead, would you want to learn more as well?” It was more a rhetorical question than anything, but he asked out of pure curiosity.

⁂

With his thick cock hilted inside her pussy, Beej shuddered and wrapped the arm he had been using to knead at her tits around the barrel of her chest, holding her tight as he fought off the urge to slam himself into her. Her pussy stretched so tight around his sensitive and drooling cock that it was bordering on painful, but the heat of her and the sounds she made, her body's abundant response to the intrusion was addictive.

It was a bit of a struggle to resist the urge to rut like a beast into her without a care for her body being prepared for him, but he couldn't bring himself to be so careless. Not with Carmen. Instead, he held her tight against his base as his shaft pulsed and jumped inside her, held as though by a vice.

"Fuck, babes . . . " was all he could muster, a low and gravelly rasp of his voice as he eased his hips back, enjoying the drag of his shaft against her gripping walls, smearing her slick along his length that felt cool as a few inches slid out of her heat. Half of his length had been pulled from her before his trembling legs reversed intent and began pressing back into her. He moaned against the back of her shoulder and shivered at the feeling of her body clinging to his cock while he attempted to rein himself in.

"S-say the word . . . when yer ready babes . . . god/satan yer tighter 'n hell . . . " he panted against her earlobe, offering her some small bit of control as he relinquished custody of their pace. "Dunno how long I can hold back . . . don't wanna hurt ya, love."

The tremble in him telegraphed into her. A small bit of her wondered if she’d asked too much of him--her thoughts went to the night in his crypt when he allowed himself to be brutal and take what he wanted, gaining bulk and destroying furniture during it. He’d been conscientious of her, of course, but a demonic shift may not be well received in this company! Carmen couldn’t concentrate on that worry for long, though. Beej moved slightly, a half thrust as if judging what she could take and what control he had. She panted sharply at the immense friction; just that minor movement made aching pleasure erupt throughout her. “It’s so much, căţeluş--your cock, oh fuck--” Deliberately she took a breath as Beej panted in her ear. His grip had tightened, his tremor had increased, and she could sense that he was doing his best to hold back, even without him voicing it. “Okay, yes, yes please, fuck me, I’m yours, fuck me, fill me up--oh god Beej--!” she cried. He’d said she didn’t know how he could hold back, and a sudden wave of arousal and deep seated need to have him claim her made her not want him too. Carmen pushed back against him as best she could, pinned under him.

⁂

Surprise made her heart flutter as BJ expressed some understanding of her protectiveness. She could understand, she supposed. Their agreement that she could indulge with Ollie was mostly based on what they'd both seemed to agree were hypothetical and impossible circumstances . . . and yet here she was having just had several loads of not only the leprechaun's seed flooded into her, but a handful of other small fey as well. It made her feel confident and sexy, though she had to confess that it made his jealousy of Ollie more understandable.

Still, there would be time to see if his words would be true when Ollie returned. She felt a flickering of worry for a moment, but that abated as she reminded herself that there were people to stop Andy should he try to grab him up again. Carmen and Beej were making delicious sounds that drew her attention back, and her mouth watered and her groin radiated heat as she watched them. She took another pull on her tiny hookah hose as he spoke. Her brows raised at the way he spoke, in comparison rather than a linear telling of their interaction.

"Pussy, you say?" she asked, letting the smoke slip from between her lips as she asked the rhetorical question. She had heard him . . . but the way he phrased everything led her brain down a different avenue. "Both able to change form? Well now, sounds like the two of you are the recipe for an awful lot of fun, baby. How was it? His pussy, that is . . . feel the same as a normal pussy?"

She licked her lips and swallowed thickly at the thought that came into her mind. A snippet of BJ tied up on a bed with an exposed cunt, the sounds he'd make with her mouth surrounding his--Jessie wriggled on his shoulder, uncomfortably warm between her legs now and feeling the urge to put her mouth to good use on a soaking mound.

She realized that she hadn't withheld anything from him and glanced at him with her cheeks burning red. Embarrassment wasn't common for her, especially not around BJ... but it had been so long since she'd last tasted a woman, and he had commented on how similar he and the other ghost apparently were. If this pink-haired specter manipulated himself to have a pussy . . . she groaned softly.

"I . . . really hope you didn't mind that too much, babe," she murmured softly, turning to press her hot cheek against his cool neck for some relief.

Like Jessie, BJ wasn’t embarrassed about watching the couple near them. He couldn’t quite make out what the ghost had said, but Carmen’s fevered pleading response was clear, as was the shake in them both. His cock half-filled at the animalistic display of passion.

It dawned on him she’d asked a question.

“Yeah, it felt pretty good, baby,” he admitted, although he left out that it was like other pussy he’d had in the Netherworld: namely wet and tight, but chilly. “Not as good as yours, though--”

His praise was interrupted by images that invaded his mind’s eye.

--tied wrist and ankle--

--legs spread, a pillow under his ass--

--Jessie crawling up the bed between his thighs, looking hungry--

--her keeping direct eye contact with him as she dropped her mouth to his--

--pussy--

Jessie bodily pressed herself to him and the vision was broken, and she was apologizing for such a dirty daydream. “I don’t mind,” he murmured in reply to her. He’d also gotten the unmistakable sensation of her arousal, originating between her legs. “Fantasies are good an’ all, but you want a little something right here and now? I know you’ve been having a good time with all the fey and I know I can’t fuck you like Beej is doing Carmen, but I love tasting you on my tongue, baby. We did it earlier, and I’ll do it again if you want.”

tbc . . .

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Movie Beetlejuice #Beetlejuice x OC #OC x OC #Festival #Musical Beetlejuice #rp #long fic

5 notes · View notes

hillbillied · 4 years ago

Note

Hii. I'm soo loving your writing for Hillbilly/Andy. Please can I request no 48? X

Send me a prompt with a character/pairing. “If you want to get me naked, you’ll have to convince me it’ll be worth my time.”

thanks very much!! love me some andy/eddie writing frankly

(NSFW under the cut, 18+ only)

Andy’s reading the paper.

Got to keep informed on the happenings of the world. He’s old fashioned like that, in a lot of ways. The harmless kind of traditional; he likes to get the daily print, he wears shirts with collars, he owns a record player. The radio’s tuned to the country channel because they both like it. (Andy’s got Stockholm syndrome for the twang of a soft guitar thanks to his boyfriend’s prowess with the instrument.)

He’s enjoying the sports section when Eddie disturbs him. Which normally means one of two things, Andy thinks; something important is needed or the man's horny. Glancing up from the local football results, they both know it’s the latter.

Arms folded across his chest like he’s got some justice to serve, Hillbilly cracks his neck and asks; “Y’ gon’ read that thing front t’back?” It’s an accusation Andy doesn’t rise to.

“Maybe.” He says and it’s teasing. He licks his finger (purposely) and turns the page. “Why, is there something you need?” The formality is his Captain Voice, through and through, the tone reserved for sitting behind a marine office desk about ready to tear his hair out from boredom.

“Well, I jus’ pulled these out the closet.” The table shakes as Eddie lifts his leg, planting his boot firmly on the wooden surface. (They agreed on buying a strong, sturdy kitchen table. The kind that could take the weight of, say, two grown men. Or a big meal or something, whatever.) This particular pair are cowboy boots, not originally owned by Eddie. Who, he reminded Andy at the time, is Appalachian. Cowboys are a vaguely South-western, cow ranching, rattlesnake wrangling, Bible thumping, biscuits-and-gravy kind of thing. Not where Hillbilly’s from.

Andy didn’t care then and he certainly doesn’t care now.

Those boots make the heat flare in across his skin, a sudden need to draw breath taking him. He plays it cool.

He pretends he doesn’t have the saddest, most embarrassing kink in the universe - and just turns back to his paper. He plays it cool. “Oh?” He muses, “I’d forgot about those.” (He had absolutely not forgot about those.) Eddie glances away in exasperation, stopping short of rolling his eyes. Still, he persists; boot on the table, arms crossed, piercing stare trained back on his boyfriend.

Andy lets out a sigh, still ignoring the heated silence. “If you want to get me naked, Eddie, you’ll have to convince me it’ll be worth my time.” He says.

Immediately, he receives a look of awe-inspired shock. Eddie’s lips are parted, eyebrows raised at the insolence on display before him. The absolute audacity and honest-to-God disrespect. The surprise fades as Hillbilly’s leg is pulled from the table. (Briefly, Andy believes he’s overplayed his hand and will be going to bed giggling but sad, with no hope of getting any. It would not be worth the bit.)

“Well, I couldn’ possibly know” The taller man begins, “how t’make it ‘worth y’time’…” Andy is relieved Eddie’s still here but focusing on the newspaper has become a new challenge, those boots snapping against the floorboards. Circling the table, Eddie’s finger remains on its surface. Dragging, slowly, over the polished wood. The fine print blurs as Ack Ack desperately squints its way.

“It’s warm out,” Eddie’s talking softly as the newspaper brushes his chest. He leans over, reaching across the table. Back arched and ass raised away from Andy, more’s the pity. His lips brush Ack Ack’s ear as he says “maybe I could slip off this ol’ thing.” His free hand toys with his t-shirt for a moment. Fingers catching on the fabric, he drags it up over his hips, drawing the hem carefully across his ribs. With the newspaper slipping further and further downwards as Andy’s grip slackens, he gets a close-up of Eddie’s muscles, the curves of his stomach, the heavy belt he wears that conceals all but the top of his happy trail.

“Or,” Hillbilly mumbles quietly, and his hand changes course, letting his t-shirt fall back into place. (Ack Ack’s cheek twitches as he is robbed of seeing his boyfriend’s pecks, that handsome display of skin torn cruelly from him.) “I could place m’self-” One hand still on the table, the other grips the back of Andy’s chair, “right here.” The man jolts as he’s tugged closer, having to bite his lip as his strong boyfriend prepositions his boots, one at a painful time, on either side of Ack Ack’s knees.

With the chair and table as leverage, Eddie can lower himself down agonisingly careful, concentrating on carefully straddling his boyfriend’s lap like it’s a complex routine. (Every muscle in Andy’s body has to fight the urge to grab Hillbilly’s hips and pull.) When that pressure finally lands and their groins are pressed together, Ack Ack can’t help but shut his eyes. Momentarily, of course. Eddie can’t hold back his menacing grin. The newspaper’s been abandoned to the floor, Andy’s hands instead curled into fists, one on the table and the other by his side.

Hillbilly arches his back, pretending to stretch. It grinds their cocks together through far too many layers of denim, their stomachs brushing in the movement. They can feel the heat of each other’s skin through their thin shirts. Andy can’t resist and grunts, his hands moving to squeeze the muscles of his boyfriend’s thighs. His hands are dutifully removed as Eddie tuts, relocating Ack Ack’s grip to the chair he sits on. (He obediently grips the seat instead, nails digging into the wood in frustration.)

“I can also, if y’remember,” Hillbilly says, his breath carrying his words that short inch to Andy’s ear, “Pull these off-” As he speaks, one hand moves back to the hem of shirt, lifting it in order to hook a thumb into the waistband of his jeans. He pulls with that thumb, levering both his pants and underwear away from his skin. (Ack Ack tilts his head instinctively to get a better look downward, the cruel lighting between them only revealing the shadowed outline of his boyfriend’s cock.) “without-” Eddie mutters and the pause is punctuated by the snap of his waistband springing back into place, “taking the boots off.”

With his thumb tugged free, his hand slides up to his mouth as he pulls back from Andy’s ear to face him. That single digit is inserted between his lips, sucking on it briefly like he’d tasted something sweet. The soft pop when Hillbilly’s pulls his finger free has Ack Ack’s nostrils flaring.

“Do y’think that might be-” Eddie whispers, his lips ghosting against his boyfriend’s, “worth your while?”

Unable to cope, Andy releases the grip on the chair. He’s too slow; Eddie rolls his hip one final time, grinding their cocks together before he pulls away, gracefully bringing his legs free and straightening up again. He hums along with whatever radio tune has been fulfilling the role of white noise to Ack Ack’s growing erection.

Tipping his head back, Andy releases an aggressive groan. Eddie laughs at him, already sidling his way towards the bedroom. A grip on his wrist means he doesn’t make his destination. The couch is apparently closure.

#the pacific #andyeddie #i had a lot of fun and that's derived from Dragging Andy's cowboy kink #fucking idiot of a man i stan #hey nonny nonny

9 notes · View notes

fics-not-tragedies · 4 years ago

Text

In a Week: Chapter 8 🌲

It’s more like a filler chapter, at least it feels like that to me when I look at the number of words which is quite low but hey, who doesn’t love a good talk while having the lunch?

Words: 1821; Warnings: none, but really, none; Summary: After the encounter in the woods Andrew and Flo are back to their hotel ready for new adventures.

Hozier tag list:

@letoursilencebreaktonight; @angelpeachamber; @sgt-morgan; @julessbrown;

Monday, 11:50am

“So you say that foxes make weird noises?” She was playing with the lunch menu, pinching its ends with her fingers again and again.

“Yes, they basically sound like, em, women screaming” he took another sip from the cup of tea he ordered, desperately trying not to touch her hands.

When the waiter came to take their order, they chose an oversized platter of tiny finger sandwiches - ham, chicken, cheese, then one with double the amount of cheese and some cakes too, little over decorated pieces which seemed too dainty to eat when they arrived.

“I’ll get it” he mumbled, as soon as the waiter placed the cheque.

“No, I’ll get it” she countered, taking a sip from her lemonade.

“Flo…”

“Andy…”

“I don’t need you paying for me.”

“Halves then?” He offered before she could moan at him, knowing he’d never fully win this round.

“Fine.”

Monday, 12pm

After little consideration, Andrew picked up a cheese sandwich between a finger and his thumb - too fancy for him to comprehend, too small for the price they were paying. It was gone in two bites and he was unsatisfied so picked up another and another, wolfing it down with no regard for any possible future indigestion. They ate between polite conversation, surrounded by the sound of splashing from the pool water and quiet chatter from everyone else in the room. Flo chewed gingerly, watching people from where she was sat, occasionally lifting her head back to his gaze and turning away again when he was too much.

After polishing off the sandwiches he’d chosen, the sweetness of the cake distracted Andrew, hungrier than he’d realized and he savored each bite of sugar, licking his lips. Flo tilted her head into her palm, just taking him in, chuckling at how emotive his face was even in the quiet moments. He was busy pondering whether going for a swim in the small pool the hotel had would be the worse idea than skinny dipping in a creek in the dead of the night as he tried not to devour her with his eyes, when she spoke again.

“Do you regret meeting me?” Flo slurped the rest of her lemonade and sighed deeply, like she already knew the quite obvious answer that will fall from his narrow lips in the upcoming few seconds.

“Why would I?” He answered her with another question and she rolled her emerald eyes at him, “I don’t run from boars and climb trees with every girl I meet at the bar” Andrew smiled at her with the kind of smile that weakened her knees.

“It’s quite insane what we did so far…” she sighed again, rubbing her neck. Flo looked up at his face, leaning back in her chair, hoping he’d have something clever to say.

“What, em, you always wanted, but never had the courage to do it?” He asks out of sudden.

One corner of her mouth twitches upwards and she tilts her head to the side, but just a little, “Hmm… dancing. I always wanted to join a dancing class in my town, but I was too frightened to do so.”

“Why?” He leans over the table, his long body towering over the furniture. Andrew gently grazes his fingertips over her wrist and Flo flinched it backwards.

“Because I’m like an elephant in a glass castle.”

Andrew couldn’t help and laughed out loud, brushing the stray strands of his locks away from his face, “You’re a quite gorgeous elephant then, honey.”

She shakes her head at him, her straw hair moving around her head like a permanent halo and in that moment Andrew feels like he just found his own little angel, here in the middle of the woods.

“I shouldn’t even try to dance… I’d end up crushing people’s toes and probably like breaking few mirrors in the dance studio.”

“Oh love…” he laughs again, probably after picturing her trying to crush his toes with her tiny little feet, “I, em, I know one dancer myself.”

“A dancer?” Her eyebrow rises and she moves with her chair closer to the table.

“Yes, I did one music video with Sergei Polunin and-”

He wasn’t given the chance to finish his sentence, because Flo interrupted him quite violently with her high pitched voice, “Sergei Polunin?! You know Sergei Polunin?”

“Well, em, he’s a really nice guy” he said, giving her a little smile.

Monday, 12:30pm

“I’ve got another question for you, honey” he announced.

“Go on then” Flo sighed, intrigued.

“Where do you want to be in five years from now?

Flo tried to engage her brain, tried to think of an answer worthy of his question and one she would feel comfortable saying out loud. If someone ever asked her that question at the beginning of her adult live, she’d probably come up with many various things. A promotion, perhaps an engagement in the near future, the possibility of starting a small business on her own, a better place to live than the one she already had. But now all those things were irrelevant; she got that promotion, her boyfriend still wasn’t existing, she didn’t have enough funds to open that store on her own and she didn’t wanted to live at all now.

“I’m not… sure…” she sighed truthfully, needing just to say something to ease the anxiety bubble blowing inside her, “I- I thought I knew. But now, it’s…”

“Now it all changed?” He replied, soft, his eyes locked with hers.

“Yeah…” she said quietly, “everything is different.”

Andrew mulled it over for a second, trying to know what she feels now, what she’s thinking about now, but he was clueless what was the reason behind her coming to this god forsaken hotel in the middle of nowhere.

“Do you want to know what, em, I think?”

“Always.”

He wet his lips then spoke again, “Make a new list, really, em… just take out everything on the old one and, em, start over with whatever you want.”

She bit her lip focusing. What did she want?

She’d previously wished for a promotion - but she already got that. Then there was the engagement. An obvious one to throw in the bin. How could she even dream of starting a family when she had no one to start it with? And anything would be better than the apartment she currently still owned, but it was overly haunted with the ghosts of her past.

And then she considered what she really wanted.

More time to work on her hobbies, to become better in drawing. Perhaps to see more of the world. Finish all the creative projects she started, but never really had the time to finish them. To bake more cakes… She tried to form few cohesive sentences, but her reply wasn’t quite as sophisticated as she would’ve wanted it to be.

“Maybe in five years I’ll have traveled a bit more? Drew more pictures? I’ll find a hobby that excites me? Have more nights being drunk without worrying about the next morning?” She paused for a second, avoiding his eyes, so she could stare at the wall behind him, “I want to be shamelessly happy - and really feel it.”

He smiled, couldn’t help himself, felt his heart swell with pride at how much stronger she was since he’d first spoken to her and he was busy crafting a reply along those lines when she interrupted his train of thought.

“What about you, Andrew?”

It was stupid of him to assume that she wouldn’t ask, but the same question thrown back at him was a shock. He felt frustrated, unprepared.

A couple more albums? Maybe one fully acoustic? Another world tour? More time to rest? To focus on his own needs? Find his safe haven?

Andrew was so used to have everything mapped out, a response for every question, but he didn’t know how to put it in words now that she was asking. The pause was too long. Too uncertain.

“I just want to be, um, equally happy with my career and my personal life. If I really have one now…” he drawled, “I want to keep working on my music and, um, meeting amazing new people, rediscover myself somehow.”

“Rediscover yourself?” Flo asked him, her emerald eyes back and focused on his face.

That small smile that never left his lips when he was around her was too tempting, too inviting for her and she desperately tried to fight off the urge to lean over the table, move her body closer to him and just simply give in to the thought of feeling his mouth pressed closer to hers.

“Know who I really am, since I’m, em, quite far from that right now…”

Monday, 1:40pm

“So, what’s next?” She asked, her eyes full of inquisition and curiosity, looking at him like she just read his mind. He smiled warmly, pushed his fingers through his hair for good measure then pulled her into his side, his arm slinking around her, hand cupping her waist to hold her against him as they walked together. His fingers brushed against the fabric.

He pressed his lips close to her ear and murmured: “Tell me something you’ve never done, Flo Hayes.”

“Oh, not again…”

Monday, 1:45pm

“So you really never smoked a cigarette?” He asked, eyes wide, like he just seen a little green man in front of him.

“Never ever” Flo replied with a shrug, meeting his eyes as she tilted her head upwards to look at him. They were still in the corridor on their way back from the restaurant, linked together like old friends, his hand wound around her hip to keep her close. She watched him watch her as they walked, loved the curiosity in his eyes then added sarcastically: “Why? Do I look like a dirty smoker, Andrew?”

“Em, no, it’s just… I wasn’t expecting, I…” Andrew spluttered, never ready for her responses. She was so quick sometimes that it took him off guard, “you just look like someone who, em, tried many things in her life…”

“Is it my sweater? Well we both know that’s not true…”

Andrew rolled his eyes which prompted a laugh. He knew she was so much more interesting than she pretended to be, that she liked to portray her life as quiet and boring, but there were so many things about her that excited him - her passion, her drive, all her little secrets she kept so close, how well she held herself in every situation. He did like how in control she was but he also knew that there was so much more underneath the enigma she still was to him. He had a feeling that if he could just get her to relax a little more, push past that top layer of insecurity, then she would finally realize how wonderful she really was.

10 notes · View notes

mychemicalficrecs · 5 years ago

Note

do you have any unusual pairing fics like lola/gerard or party poison/gerard?.. i hope they're exist at least. ty in advance

Hi Nonny!

Well, if this wasn't an interesting ask :DYou can rest assured, there are so, so many different ships on AO3, some of them truly are unusual.Just for funsies: There are currently 223 different relationships for Frank, 89 for Ray, 262 for Gerard, and 210 for Mikey!

Unusual Ships

all-natural by Trojie, Andy/Mikey, 2k, Explicit. Sometimes Andy's straightedge thing harshes Mikey's urge to party, it's true, but y'know what, there are other ways to get chemicals in your system. All-natural, 100% vegan, cruelty-free chemicals, straight from your own hindbrain.

i have photos of him then that would break your heart by Trojie, Andy/Ray, 2k, Explicit. Five snapshots of a friendship with benefits

Be Your Own Spotlight (Like Bowie in the Morning Sun) by jedusaur, Edward Cullen/Mikey, 833 words, Mature. EDWARD CULLEN STALKS MIKEY WAY AND THEN THEY HAVE WILD BACKSTAGE SEX I DON'T EVEN KNOW *hides forever*

it's not the life it seems by akamine_chan, Frank/Frank, 5k, Explicit. Frank woke up struggling to breathe. He sat up in his rumpled bed, fighting against the oppressive pressure in his chest. There wasn't enough air. He heard himself gasping and choking, felt the congestion and blockage in his lungs stealing his ability to inhale. What little air he managed to draw in jammed in his throat and suddenly he couldn't exhale, could only wheeze in more air as his chest expanded and dizziness made his head spin.

Not Immune by sperrywink, Frank/Patrick, 874 words, Explicit. Patrick isn't immune to overblown flirtations, just Pete's. Who knew?

homesick at space camp by Trojie, Gabe/Patrick/Gerard, 6k, Explicit. Patrick's never actually been into a guy before this whole tour, this whole … sudden awareness of Gerard Way. He's always been theoretically open to it, but it's always been totally academic, right? Because he wasn't into any guys, so he never really got into a situation where he could try it, like … like would you like to go to the moon, Patrick? Well, sure, theoretically, but that's never going to happen, is it. But all of a sudden, Patrick Stump is an astronaut.

Reaching Through The Mirror by ladyfoxxx, Gerard/Gerard, 6k, Explicit. The one where Party Poison and Basement!Gerard have sex.

Pillow Talk by akamine_chan, Gerard/Tentacle Alien, 4k, Explicit. Gerard always knew that there had to be life on other planets. He just never planned on meeting it.

boy division by Trojie, Mikey/Mikey, 2k, Explicit. Mikey meets a dude in a bar who has a lot more confidence in Mikey's future as a rockstar than Mikey himself does.

A Penny For Your Thoughts by dear_monday, Party Poison/Gerard, 2k, Explicit. "You're shitting me, right?" he says, looking Poison up and down disbelievingly. "You're not. You narcissistic fuck." Poison shrugs. "Hey. Suit yourself, motorbaby. You're not the only hooker out here tonight, you know."

Fucking Bassists by KateMonster, Patrick/Mikey, 856 words, Teen And Up Audiences. Patrick hates bassists. Sort of. Fine, maybe not really. Not like, a lot. Whatever.

Alien sex time by snazzybaby, Lola/Gerard, 890 words, Explicit. Idk why I write this I just needed to ok? It’s just sex

It Might Get Loud by brynnmck, Frank/Pansy, 1k, Explicit. A boy never forgets his first love.

This Tall To Ride by there_must_be_a_lock, Frank/Sam Winchester, 3k, Explicit. “When it’s time for the show, the band starts to troop toward the stage. Frank goes careening off a wall and takes a running leap onto the blond one’s back, only to get shaken off like a fly. Frank, undeterred, looks speculatively at Sam. “Must be this tall to ride,” Sam deadpans, holding out a hand about an inch over Frank’s head. Frank just giggles, bright and gleeful, and skips ahead to heckle the one with all the hair.”

A Good Use of a Time Machine by phylocalist, Fun Ghoul/Frank, 4k, Explicit. “So, Ghoul,” Frank started out casually, moving his lips from behind Ghoul’s ear to his jaw and letting his breath ghost over it, sending shivers down Ghoul’s spine and creating goosebumps on his arms. “Why did you decide that coming back to hook up with yourself was a good use of your time machine?”

Anakin Skywalker Makes Gerard Want to Touch His Dick by venomondenim, Anakin Skywalker/Gerard, 1k, Explicit. Gerard watches Star Wars a bit too many times and starts to notice how attractive Anakin Skywalker is, and let's his imagination have some fun. He also lets his dick in on some of the action.

Bruised Colours by Ischa, Damon Salvatore/Gerard, Jeremy Gilbert/Damon Salvatore, Jeremy Gilbert/Damon Salvatore/Gerard, 5k, Mature. A story about Damon corrupting innocent young artists. He starts with Gerard while Gerard is still at art-school and picks it up again in Mystic Falls while his brother is busy saving the world and having sex with Elena. He stumbles upon the sketchbook the next morning, kicks it aside on his way to the door and it slitters under one of the chairs. Some people have no sense at all. Ringing the bell at ten o’clock in the freaking morning on a Saturday. Damon has killed people for less.

Choke Me by shadowhive, Klaus Hargreeves/Gerard, 2k, Explicit. Gerard has always wanted to be with someone who had powers.

Chord and Sinew by Green, Billy Tallent/Mikey, 504 words, Teen And Up Audiences. Mikey likes the guitarist's hands.

Soldiers Poem by dishonestdreams, Party Poison/Gerard, 478 words, Not Rated. Gerard can’t remember the last time he saw stars.

On The Road by auctorial, Robert Downey Jr./Mikey, 525 words, Explicit. Mikey has never felt more like a rock star than he does in this moment.

Future Self by shadowhive, Ray/Ray, 869 words, Explicit. It was still so strange, seeing his face on another man. It wasn’t like looking into a mirror, with his reflection staring back at him, this man... this future version of himself, looked different.

#fic rec list

6 notes · View notes

madamairlock · 5 years ago

Text

Fictober Day 11: “Scared, Me?”

Fandom: Major Crimes

Pairing: Sharon Raydor/Andy Flynn

Rating: M, language, angst

Read: AO3 or below

Andy hummed softly, his fingers gently combing through Sharon’s hair as she slept with her head in his lap. He was mostly focused on the Dodgers game on the TV, but part of his mind was focused on listening to her raspy breathing. A combination of hospital stays, heart issues, and overall stress had caused her to succumb to a summer case of pneumonia. Although her heart and most of her body were finally healing and she was set for a full recovery, the pneumonia had kicked her back a few steps and made her miserable. And, by association, Andy too.

She shifted and groaned quietly, her fingers pulling her blanket closer. Andy moved his hand from her hair to her back, stabilizing her as he carefully got out from underneath her. He watched for a moment to make sure she wasn’t fully awake yet before walking into the kitchen. He filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove before gathering her next round of medication. Sighing, he angled himself against the counter so he could watch Sharon and the game while still being able to keep an eye on the kettle.

It didn’t take long for steam to start rising from the kettle. He grabbed a mug and a teabag while the water finished boiling. As he reached for the kettle, he felt the ground give a sudden jerk. Before he could fully process it, the ground started rolling and shaking violently.

“Shit!” He tried to push off the counter and head for the living room, but was easily knocked off his feet. “Sharon!”

He heard a cough and what might have been a reply, but it was cut off by the rumble and shake of the earthquake. He managed to draw under the table and grabbed some of the orange pill bottles when they hit the ground. He heard plates and pictures shattering, but had to squeeze his eyes shut against the debris filling the air. He buried his face inside his shirt, holding to the base of the table as the earthquake seemed to go on for minutes, but was barely even 30 seconds.

When it finally ended, he cautiously climbed out from under the table. He kept his shirt over his face and barely registered the destroyed kitchen as he focused on Sharon. He could see beams and plaster and upstairs furniture filling the hallway to the living room and his heart dropped.

“Sharon!” He shoved the medicine bottles in his pocket and started picking his way through the mess, cursing softly that he didn’t have any shoes on. “Jesus, shit,” he muttered, shoving what remained of their dresser out of his way.

He finally made it to the living room, panting softly. The couch was tipped over, a large wooden plank resting on it. The floor was covered with debris.

“Sharon!” He tried again, coughing as he kicked more dust into the air.

He spotted the bright red of her blanket and rushed to it, carefully pushing things off it until he uncovered her curled up form under the blanket. He knelt down beside her, one hand gently cradling her head while the other went to find her pulse. He let out an audible sigh of relief when he found one, pressing a firm kiss to her head.

“Sharon, honey, look at me.”

She whimpered softly and tried to open her eyes, but the dirtiness of the air immediately stung and she quickly closed them. Andy grabbed a cleaner portion of his shirt and wiped as much off her face as he could.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” She opened her eyes again, but it took a moment for them to find him and focus. Several coughs shook her body and he held her close. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head slightly, struggling to take a deep breath. “Just... bruises,” she managed, a few tears leaking out and staining their way through the dust on her cheeks.

“Hang on, I think I grabbed your inhaler.” He dug in his pocket, smiling a little when he pulled it out. “Can you sit up?”

He wrapped his arm around her and helped hold her up while she puffed on the inhaler, feeling as she relaxed a small amount and managed a few steadier breaths.

“We need to get out of here.” He glanced around them and then up at the ceiling. “Can you walk?”

She shook her head and clung to his arm to make sure he didn’t let go.

He coughed and continued looking around, trying to determine their best exit strategy. ”I’ll be right back.”

“Andy...” She brushed her hair out of her face, genuine fear in her glistening eyes.

“I’m not leaving you, I promise. I just need to find a way out.”

She shook her head and tried to hold on to him, but he easily pulled free. He tried to give her a reassuringly smile before he stumbled back to the hallway.

He knew the kitchen was no good, but there was still the possibility of the family room or worst case, upstairs. Taking a deep breath, he started toward the front of the house, ignoring the pangs he felt as the sight of their house completely destroyed. He barely made it a few steps down the hallway when he heard the house start to creak. He felt a sharp feeling in his gut and instinctively turned around and kneeled back down next to Sharon.

“Get under the couch,” he told her, ignoring her questioning look.

He helped her under the furniture as best as he could, covering what was left with himself. He pulled the blanket over their head as the house started creaking and groaning more.

“I love you,” he whispered, before the remains of their house came crashing down.

He expected to feel extreme pain or to feel absolutely nothing. Instead, he felt small pricks here and there as debris hit what was exposed of his body. It was only when Sharon whimpered beneath him that he knew they were both alive.

“Hey,” he murmured, squeezing her gently. “Can you breathe?”

He felt her give a slight nod and slowly pulled the blanket back enough that he could see but Sharon was still protected. He was greeted by almost complete darkness with small rays of sunshine poking through.

“Fuck.”

“Andy?”

He pulled the blanket back over his head and took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. “We’re okay, sweetheart.”

“We’re trapped.” Her voice trembled and he instinctively pulled her closer.

“We’re okay,” he repeated, forcing his voice to be steady.

She was quiet for a moment. “Are you scared?”

His instinctive answer was, “terrified,” but he held that urge back. “Scared, me?” He asked instead, managing a forced laugh.

She relaxed a little beside him and he stroked her back, feeling the exhaustion radiating off her. In the silence, he heard the muffled sound of a phone ringing. He held his breath and tilted his head, trying to determine how close the phone was. He pulled back from Sharon and carefully rolled onto his hands and knees, trying to ignore how his body protested at the weight and movement.

There was a small bubble of space around them, caused by the larger debris getting caught on the height of the couch. He coughed and covered his mouth and nose, the phone sounding a little louder. It took him a few moments of searching and carefully digging before he found Sharon’s phone. The screen was shattered and he couldn’t see who was calling, but it was working and it was a light source.

“Hello?” He pressed the phone between his head and shoulder while he made his way back to Sharon.

“Andy, Jesus Christ! I’ve been calling for the past ten minutes!” He had never been so relieved to hear his partner’s voice. “Are you and the commander okay?” He couldn’t help but smile a little at how Provenza addressed Sharon even after her retirement. “Jesus, they said the worst was in your area.” There was no trace of sarcasm or snark in Provenza’s voice, only pure concern and what might have been fear.

“We’re alive,” he answered, settling back under the blanket with Sharon. “The house collapsed. We’re... trapped.” He hesitated saying the word where his wife could hear and he felt her body tense up immediately.

“Christ! 911 is overwhelmed but I’ll see what I can do. Are you both okay?”

“I’m fine, but the air isn’t good for Sharon.”

“Shit, okay. I’ll call for an ambulance and get the team over. Sit tight.”

“Don’t have much choice,” he replied dryly.

“Sit tight,” Provenza repeated.

“Keep me updated.”

Provenza huffed and Andy easily saw him rolling his eyes. “I’m in charge, remember?”

“Good, then you’ll have information to update me with.” Bantering with his partner gave him a small amount of piece of mind, but he could still feel how stiff Sharon was beside him.

He hung up and pressed a kiss to Sharon’s shoulder. She buried her face into the blanket and coughed, and he could hear her breath catch and tremble with each inhale.

“Do you want to call Emily or Ricky?” He offered, his mind rushing through ways to try to keep her calm and distracted. He knew if she panicked, it wouldn’t end well.

She shook her head and he turned the phone screen on as he tilted her head toward him.

“We’re okay.”

She nodded this time and he kissed her forehead.

“We are okay,” he repeated. “Do you think you can swallow a few pills without water? They’ll help your chest.”

She hesitated and he saw her internal debate play across her face before she finally nodded. He shifted to pull the bottles out, quickly grabbing one of each pill and handing it to her. She swallowed them one at a time, grimacing at each one and barely managing to get the last one down.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Not your fault. You didn’t cause the earthquake or give me a broken body.”

He wrapped his arm back around her and shifted to cradle her against his chest. With his free hand, he found Sharon’s favorite music album and turned it on with a low volume.

“It’s not your fault either. If I remember correctly, it’s called life.”

She wrinkled her nose and coughed into his shirt. “Don’t like it.”

“Me neither.” He played with the ends of her hair, absently picking out larger pieces of debris. “You know what sounds amazing right now?”

“Healthy lungs and heart?”

“You have one of those, you know. But I meant a nice hot bath.”

“Don’t tease me,” she mumbled, trying to burrow closer to him.

“I promise to get you a nice hot bath as soon as I can, sweetheart.”

“I’m holding you to that.” She tangled her fingers in his shirt and he watched as she started losing the fight to stay awake.

“Sleep,” he murmured. “Save your energy.”

She didn’t argue, but tried to fight sleep for another few minutes until she lost and drifted off. He held her close, one arm around her and the other holding tightly to the phone while he listened for any sounds above.

It took a while, and Andy was relieved that Sharon slept through most of it. She woke up just before Provenza called to say help was almost there. Her breathing had grown more ragged and he didn’t think he could feel any more relief than he did when he heard shouting nearby. Carefully, he crawled out from under the couch and brought Sharon with him, letting her lean against him and keeping her wrapped in the blanket.

“Down here!” He called. Sharon turned the music volume up and handed him the phone so he could push it closer to a small opening. “We’re here!”

“I found them!” He heard a voice shout, and he watched as one of the openings started growing. “They’re over here! Get the stretcher!”

He ducked his head, the bright sunlight easily filling their small shelter. He felt Sharon recoil beside him and pulled the blanket over her head.

“See? We’re okay,” he murmured.

“I love you,” she whispered. ��Don’t leave me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He rubbed her back and shifted her closer to the opening.

He helped her up and into the firefighter’s arms before he carefully climbed out himself, pausing to take in the damage around them. Most of their neighborhood was rubble and he sent a silent prayer that everyone else had been as lucky as they were.

He waved off the paramedic and stumbled to Sharon’s side as they settled her on the stretcher, his hand immediately finding hers. She looked up at him, the fear finally fading from her eyes as they placed an oxygen mask on her face and she managed her first full breath in hours. He rubbed his finger over her ring and squeezed her hand.

“The sooner we get to the hospital and get you checked out, the sooner we can find that nice hot bath. In a nice hotel room we don’t have to clean.”

“You’re speaking my language now,” she murmured, giving him an exhausted but sincere smile as her eyes closed.

He followed her into the ambulance, all of his own exhausting slamming into his body as he sat down. He let out an involuntary groan, knowing both of them were likely to be completely immobile for at least the next few days, but also completely content to do nothing but hold his wife close for the next few days.

#kaitlin writes #fictober19 #major crimes #angst #lotta angst #shandy #mcrimes #sharon raydor/andy flynn #fictober 2019 #fictober

15 notes · View notes

ramblingrybo · 5 years ago

Text

There’s a Mad Monk in the Garden Shed

Last Thursday morning at seven o’clock, I was shaving and looking out of the bathroom window. I was still numb from sleep but awake enough to appreciate the rich translucent light which bathed the garden below. Just beyond the pergola, the pantiles of next door’s outbuilding were splashed with the first colourful flushes of honeysuckle. The thatch of green leaves which covered the roof was dotted here and there with pink, yellow and cream flower clusters. I could almost smell them. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly caught a flash of white. Yes, beneath the gloom of the damson trees and behind the shadowy glass of the garden shed, a form materialised. I stopped shaving. My neck prickled. Then, to my horror, the shed door opened and in an instant I was looking down upon the hooded figure of a monk. The belted habit, bare calves and sandals merely confirmed it. What the...? A host of alarming possibilities presented themselves, all of them frightening. Was this a squatter monk and if so how was I going to get rid of him? Or was he a mad monk bent on establishing a new holy order in Tealby? Perhaps he was neither of these and just a ghost or a figment of my imagination. But what was I thinking? Just a ghost? Was I going to be haunted for the rest of my life? And, if a figment of my imagination, what did this suggest about my sanity? Because I could swear this figure was real.

It was only then, a full five seconds after its initial appearance, that the figure turned to gaze into the pond and I could see that the mad monk was in fact my wife. Feeling stupid, I covered my embarrassment by tutting angrily. What right had she to be in the garden at this time of the morning? What right had she to scare me in this way? Who in their right minds wears a dressing gown outside?Wasn’t she supposed to be in the kitchen eating her breakfast? Gruffly patting my face with the towel, I quickly turned on the shower and stepped under the drilling water to try to forget this annoying breach of my early morning routine.

Why am I telling you all this? Perhaps because this episode illustrates two weaknesses in my character - that I scare easily and that I don’t like dressing gowns. Let us start with the first of these. As a child, shyness and a vivid imagination meant that I could suffer the jitters in any social gathering. Fairs, circuses, zoos, children’s parties, school fetes, all had the potential to overwhelm me. Then there were the specifics. Clowns’ feet, ventriloquists’ dolls, beards and the coal house were truly frightening closely followed by incisors, swimming, tomato sauce and toy sharks in the bath. As I got older, I would carry out nightly rituals in my bedroom to ward off evil - looking under the bed three times, sniffing the gas tap six times and so on. Then came the crucifix on a chain dangling from the bedhead. Thankfully, by the time I went to college, I could control the urge to scream every time I saw a bearded man eating a hot dog. But watching ‘The Exorcist’ was a big mistake, leaving me virtually catatonic for weeks afterwards. Nowadays, I still scare easily but the fright soon dissipates which is why the mad monk quickly transformed from nasty shock to source of irritation.

Now we come to the subject of dressing gowns. Obviously, when I was young everyone wore a dressing gown because in those days houses were freezing and bedrooms didn’t have carpets. But as soon as I could make a choice, I gave them up entirely. As a teenager, dressing gowns made me think of those line drawings by Spike Milligan of soldiers wearing voluminous shorts out of which protrude a pair of thin, hairy legs and knobbly knees. In my mind, I had reduced them to items of clothing you might find in a fancy dress box. An illustration of this occurred when I was a student in London. I was staying with a friend, Andy, in Southgate for the weekend and on the Saturday night we went to the pub wearing nothing but dressing gowns and slippers. Any details of the evening have been lost in the mists of time. I can’t remember the reaction of the clientele or how we got home but I suppose we must have thought it was funny or else we wouldn’t have done it. A further episode, this time involving another friend, Dave, also springs to mind. We were on holiday in a house in Newton Abbott when he suddenly started to dance to ‘Kung-Fu Fighting’ in his girlfriend’s kimono. Unfortunately, he wasn’t wearing any underpants so that every time he executed a high kick, he revealed himself. It is an image scorched on my memory and one which I will always associate with dressing gowns.

It was only when I was sixty that I was finally forced to bite the bullet and buy a dressing gown and slippers. I was going into hospital for a hip replacement operation and these items of clothing were considered mandatory. Not wanting to spend a lot of money, I bought a navy blue towelling dressing gown for £5 from Primark and a pair of moccasins for £6. After one wash in the washing machine and a stint in the tumble drier, the dressing gown was shorn of its fluffiness and resembled a hessian sack. The moccasins looked like smoked kippers. Six weeks later, after a period of rest and recuperation, these items were abandoned and now lurk in some darkened corner of our house.

Isn’t it amazing where a sudden shock can take you? Who would have thought that a vision of a mad monk could lead us via a bearded man eating a hot dog to a dodgy dance in a kimono? And that was just the short journey. I didn’t have time to tell you about Derek, the ‘Slipper Man’ who gained entry into the Guinness Book of Records in 2007 for wearing his slippers non-stop for twenty three years. Now, I thought I had problems.

#Fear #horror #dressing gowns #slippers #sheds #Excorcist

1 note · View note

bluekrishna101 · 8 years ago

Text

Here, Here I Quake Ch61

A/N: Holy shit, I’ve been gone awhile. Lol. Sorry, all. Here’s the next chapter, if you still follow this silly thing that I keep meaning to dive back into. Enjoy!

Links to: Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8,Ch9,Ch10,Ch11,Ch12,Ch13,Ch14,Ch15,Ch16,Ch17,Ch18,Ch19,Ch20,Ch21,Ch22, Ch23, Ch24, Ch25,Ch26,Ch27, Ch28, Ch29, Ch30, Ch31 Ch32, Ch33, Ch34,Ch35,Ch36,Ch37,Ch38,Ch39,Ch40,Ch41,Ch42,Ch43,Ch44,Ch45,Ch46,Ch47,Ch48,Ch49,Ch50, Ch51, Ch52, Ch53, Ch54, Ch55, Ch56, Ch57, Ch58, Ch59

“—a wonder they didn’t throw me out! The hostess just stared at my … my exposure, then asked, calm as anything, whether we’d like a table or a booth!” Elgar’nan’s tale finishes with a arm-flailing flourish, and the elves all around burst into raucous laughter.

Nearly choking on his mouthful of food, June shakes his head as he points his fork at the old guitarist. Syllaise pats his back, chuckling.

Andruil, wry but smiling, says, “Most of us were there, El.”

“It’s still pretty funny, even the hundredth time he’s told it,” June manages, finally clearing his throat enough to speak.

Falon’din grunts. “It’s the delivery that makes it funny. Otherwise, it’s just El forgetting to wear pants. Again.”

“Well, I hadn’t heard it before,” says the only human at the table. Andruil’s private detective. She turns to Elgar’nan with a wide grin. “So, this happened pretty often, I take it?”

“Too often,” says the rest of the former bandmates in unison.

Elgar’nan sputters his drink and glares all around for a second before capitulating. “Fine! Yes, it happens. What’s wrong with a man enjoying the feel of the wind ‘round his nethers?”

Solas clears his throat. “Nothing at all. In the privacy of his own room. But I believe the old you would not have rested until all of Thedas had a good look at … your business.”

“Indeed. His … little guy was awake for more gigs than he was.” June laughs.

Falon’din contributes, “If I had a sov for every time his pixelated … hardware made the cover of the scandal sheets—”

“Cock!”—every eye in the restaurant swings toward their group—”Just say it,” Andruil growls, exasperated. “I swear, you men can be so squeamish when it comes to talk about dick.”

Ghilan’nain giggles. “As if you have more than a just passing acquaintance with dick, Andi.”

“Hush, darling,” she retorts, kissing Ghilan’nain on the tip of her nose. “One need not want to handle them to have an opinion. Or be an adult about the whole thing. They’re just cocks, you infants.” At this, the rest let out a burst of laughter. Andruil huffs and rolls her eyes. “Really.”

“Excuse me,” says the nervous host as he sidles up to the table. “I ask that you please keep it down. This is an upscale establishment, after all. A family establishment. The crude language and noise—”

A thundercloud gathers in Elgar’nan’s eyes. Solas steps in before it bursts into a deluge with a terse, “Our pardon. Bring us the check, please.”

“All together?” asks the shuffling human. His eyes and wringing hands say he wonders if the group of elves will suddenly disappear the moment his back is turned.

Pushing down the stab of anger in his gut, Solas pulls out his wallet and hands the host a jet-black credit card. White Spire’s jacquard logo glitters in the light of the low-hanging chandeliers over their table. Solas says, cold, “Just put it all on that.”

When the host scuttles off, the others look at Solas. June whistles. “Hear that, guys? Fen’s got it.”

“We could have pitched in,” admonishes Andruil. “It’s got to be at least six hundred sovereigns altogether.” Everyone else mutters similar sentiments.

“What’s an expense account for, if not to use?” asks he. Solas peers at them all, looking for signs of jealousy or bitterness. Then relief warms him as he finds nothing but simple worry that they’re taking advantage. How different this would have gone once upon a time.

Elgar’nan smiles. “I guess you got us there. Things must be going pretty good for Inquisition then?”

“Yes.” He returns the smile with one of his own.

“I’ll say!” Ghilan’nain exclaims, blue eyes glittering. She tosses her gold hair to one side, and leans forward. “They’re all the kids talks about. My store can’t keep the CD’s on the shelf, they move so quickly! Speaking of which, have you looked into streaming services, like Spotify, SoundCloud or Fadio—?”

“I, too, have questions,” June says. “Why now? Why them? How did you meet— ?”

Syllaise joins in, “Yes. Tell us all about your new band, Fen. Are they headed for the top?”

The rest chime in with a chorus of variations of, “Tell us!”

“I—” Solas starts, a little overwhelmed.

“I’ve met them,” Elgar’nan interrupts, puffing up a little under all the sudden attention that swings his way. “They’re good! That Ellana has a great voice, and she’s-she’s, like, grounded, you know?”

As they all turn their questions to Elgar’nan, Solas shoots him a grateful glance. The older elf grins and fields the flocking queries like a master.

“I think he just saved you a fair measure of aggravation,” says Andruil’s private investigator at his elbow.

“No doubt,” he agrees, turning to the human with a tip of his head. Then he asks, “I’m sorry. I never caught your name.”

“Elizabet Cousland. Betty, to my friends,” she says, sticking out her hand. “And you’re the Dread Wolf.” Her sudden lop-sided grin disarms the tickle of mocking razz right out of her tone. Not that her teasing bothers him at all. They’d chosen melodramatic stage names for a reason.

“Call me Solas, please.” He shakes her hand, then pauses. “Any relation to Teyrn Cousland?”

She nods. “To my father’s great chagrin, yeah. I’m his wayward daughter. Bringing shame onto the family is sorta my thing. My jam. My cuppa.”

“Who hasn’t disappointed a parent? But you don’t seem that bad,” Solas reasons. “From your attire, you’re well off. Successful. And Andruil told me many clients keep you on retainer, so you must be good at what you do.”

“Says the one it took the longest to find. Every time, I might add,” she says, as she mimes a playful poke. Pushing her brown hair over one rounded ear, Betty snorts. “I pride myself on being a good fisherman, but you were a very elusive fish. That’s what they should’ve called you. The ‘Elusive Fish.’ What’s that in elvhen?”

“Unflattering,” he shoots back, then chuckles as Betty lets out a single hearty guffaw.

“That’s as may be, but it’s more apt, possibly. And you? You don’t seem all that dread.”

“You didn’t know me before. Everything from my dress sense to my manners. Just dreadful.” He raises an impish brow.

“I don’t know,” she drawls. “Some of those outfits in the vids were … scandalous. Low, low, looow rise pants. Ha! And had they not yet invented the shirt back then?”

He chuckles. “It seemed the thing to do at the time. Sex sells and all that.”

“Yes, it does! A whole ton of records, from what I gather,” Betty cajoles, holding up her drink for a toast. He obliges her with a clink and a nod. Then she waves around and comments, “So what’s this then? Trying to recapture the lightning? Gettin’ the band back together?”

“No!” Solas blurts, taken aback. Others at the table glance towards his outburst and he can’t help but notice some have shifted in their seats to split their attention between regaling Elgar’nan and himself. Chagrin trickles over his nerves as he clears his throat to say in a more reasonable tone, “Not at all. We’re just catching up. I have my obligation to Inquisition, after all.”

“I’m just sayin’. All of you. In one place. Someone’s bound to notice, if they haven’t already. And those someones are gonna draw certain conclusions,” she says, waving a hand. Then she points suddenly, and Solas turns his head just in time to see a flash of light coming from a cell phone half-hidden in another patron’s hands. Betty chortles. “Six, by my reckoning. So far.”

Resisting the urge to slump into his seat, Solas growls, “Wonderful.”

Settling the tip, he stands. “Ladies, gentlemen, I bid you goodnight. I have a long flight in the morning—” He waves his hands in the midst of the chorus of groaning and booing flying his way.

“C’mon, Fen,” Elgar’nan wheedles, reminding Solas of why ‘getting the band back together’ would be folly at best. Insanity, at worst. The older elf continues, “We were gonna go to that club down the street.”

“The one with the neon legs above the door? No, thank you. I’m headed back to the hotel.” Solas turns away as the booing renews, waving one dismissive hand over his shoulder. “I’ll be better entertained diving into the Fade for some much needed rest.”

Another flash catches his attention. “Besides, I think I’ve done enough damage for one evening.”

Sitting in the midst of the stark, white landscape of the huge hotel bed, Solas winces at Madame Vivienne’s response to his text—

‘Get ahead of it, darling? Of course we’ll try, but you know as well as I how these things get blown out of proportion. Already we’ve had phone calls asking if Inquisition’s breaking up, and if we’re going to represent Evanuris for a big comeback. Really, my dear, I wish you would think of the consequences before acting.’

The digital clicking of his keyboard sounds in his ears as he picks out a reply, ‘I’ll own that. I should have insisted on private dining. Enough of blame, Madame. What can be done?’

Three dots flicker over and over next to Vivienne’s avatar, the White Spire logo. Then they disappear. And reappear. This happens a few more times before he types, ‘When you actually have a plan, call me.’

The dots disappear altogether this time. He imagines outrage on the other end and smiles. Then a new message pops up on his screen. This time from Morrigan. The sheer number of expletives deplete her word cap.

Solas feels a bit more guilt in this instance, for the former metal diva works very hard on their behalf. Still, insults are uncalled for. He shoots back a tart rejoinder and refers her to Vivienne.

Then more messages arrive in rapid succession. Leliana with civil, calm questions asking for clarification and his first-hand account. How many photographers did he notice? Were there any outside when he left? What was the name of the restaurant? And so forth.

Josephine texts, ‘Band meeting as soon as Cassandra returns. These issues need to be addressed as a group. Making the label nervous doesn’t do us any favors. We have tour dates lined up and it’s not fair to the fans who’ve already purchased tickets to make them think they’re suddenly going to be cancelled.’

‘I know. I apologize,’ he responds, heart heavy. ‘And I will apologize again when we meet en masse.’

Irascible Varric is the only one to actually call, gifting him with a saucy, “Hey, did you happen to snap one yourself or get the name of one of the guys who did? I’d pay a pretty penny for it! Picture the headline—Evanuris Returns! Three exclamation points. Or is that too many exclamation points?”

“Far too many, I’m sure,” he replies, with a weary hum of humor. Leave it to the dwarf to lift his spirits. Solas sinks into the cloud of blankets. “And not true, in any case. Evanuris is dead. They will never, ever return.”

“Never say never, Chuckles. Still, you got Inquisition. If Evanuris did re-form, they can always do it without you.” Varric’s confidence almost dispels the sudden, tiny pang in Solas’s chest.

Shaking it off, the elf says, “Truer words, Master Varric. I have my hands full.”

Varric laughs. “Speaking of Rosy, I haven’t spoken with her for weeks. How is she doing?”

“Elated to be near the end of her probation. Excited to be back on the road,” Solas answers, ignoring the rush of warmth in his cheeks. “I was about to call her, actually. See how she’s faring on her own.”

“What do you mean ‘on her own’?”

“Well, the band dispersed to take care of private matters before the tour. Out of town, most. Out of country, others. I admit to guilt at leaving her alone, but she insisted. Quipped about a vacation of her own, away from the band drama.” Solas laughs, thinking of the mischievous grin on her face when she’d said that.

“That funny girl of mine, eh? Well, I suppose I should let you call her then. I’m serious about those pics, Chuckles. Well, halfway serious. News is news, and my magazine could use the bump!”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Wouldn’t that just irritate Vivienne to no end?

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Varric.” Solas smiles as the line clicks closed. Then he opens the Skype app, giving an eager tap on Ellana’s photo. The lyrical ‘bwoops’ cascade as they seek to summon the image of his love over the hundreds of miles separating them.

The call ends, uncompleted.

Frowning, Solas tries again. To no avail.

Four more times and nothing. Uneasiness blossoms into outright nerve-rending apprehension.

He attempts to contact her through social media and reaps nothing but more worry. Solas then tears through his phone directory, searching for someone who might still be in Kirkwall.

Anyone who can go check on Ellana—

“The P.O.,” he mutters, staring at the qunari’s number. Chewing his lip, Solas casts about for another option. Any other choice.

Taking a deep breath to steady shaking hands, he says to himself, harsh and decisive, “No, Ellana’s probably in the bath. Or-or left her phone in the fridge again. Everything’s probably fine. Her P.O. will find her. Safe. At home, during curfew. Like she hasn’t failed to be once.”

Squashing the sense of dread foreboding to make space for hope, Solas pecks at the Arishok’s number.

#solas #rockgod!solas #solavellan #return of the AU

6 notes · View notes

gratitudejoyandsorrow · 8 years ago

Text

Wanderlust

Prompt: “She was a nomad at heart. Unlike him, she didn’t need to have a place to call home.” Told in Lin’s POV.

Pairing: Lin x reader

A/N: I’m glad I got this out in time for V-day! Though I’m not as satisfied as I should be, I decided to share it with you guys. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Lin was going to do it tonight.

He had the support from his family, friends, and even some random old lady on the subway he told last week.

He was partnered up with Y/N in an acting class during his Sophomore year of college. The second her eyes landed on him and she gave him her million-dollar smile, he should have known he was doomed.

He and Y/N became fast friends and spent every single waking moment together. They would text each other at night, have breakfast and coffee in the morning, head to class, and then do whatever the hell they pleased until it was time to go home.

Junior year they met each other’s parents. Y/N had her mother’s looks, but everything else about her was her father. Her personality, the way she carried herself, her love for travel and adventure… it all came from him. And of course, his parents loved her. They called her their daughter and fed her bottomless stomach with food whenever they would visit.

Senior year, even though they were both stressed and drowning in exams and projects, they managed to find time for each other. It helped that she was practically living with him. She cleared space in his tiny closet for her clothes, left her toiletries in his bathroom, and slept in his bed. Somehow, she managed to book small affordable getaways, either in nearby states where she would drag him around and explore the city or a “staycation” in New York where she would show him things even he, a native, haven’t even heard of before.

It was during a random night in the middle of the semester, where she was cramming for an exam that was in the morning, that he realized how much he really loved her. He sat in the kitchen across from her, papers sprawled on the table and his laptop in front of him, watching as she began to doze off. The pencil in her hand fell to the table with a thump and he chuckled when her head began to bob, drifting further into the calls of sleep.

“Time for bed,” Lin whispers, getting up and going over to her side.

As he pulled her up from her seat by her hand, she began to protest. “No,” she yawns, rubbing her eyes.

“You need sleep,” Lin urged, pulling her towards his bedroom.

“But I need to study,” she whined, but let him lead her to bed.

“I’ll wake you up early in the morning so you can study,” Lin smiles, opening up the duvet and helping her inside.

Just as he was about to turn and leave, she stops him by grabbing the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Stay with me, please?”

Her question tugged at his heartstrings.

She scooted over to make room for him and kept the duvet open to let him in. Lin’s smile gets bigger, and with a defeated sigh, slips in beside her. She immediately attaches to him, tucking herself under his chin and swung her leg over him. She was asleep within seconds.

Lin stared at the ceiling, heart hammering against his chest.

He wanted this every day for the rest of his life.

He wanted to come home to her, sleep next to her, be with her...

Lin wanted it all and more.

And today, after months and months of suppressing it, he was going to tell Y/N. Even if she didn’t feel the same, he had to do it. So what if the little hope he’s built after overanalyzing every conversation, every single touch, every unspoken word he’s had with her is crushed?

At least he gave it a shot.

“Lin! I have exciting news!” Y/N came rushing in the bar full of graduates, graduation cap still pinned to her head and heels clicking with every step.

Lin spreads his arms open and she runs forward, squeezing him tightly.

She draws back, eyes gleaming with excitement, and grabs his hands. She jumps up and down, not able to contain her excitement.

“I got the job!” she squeals.

Lin’s heart drops.

“The job?” he echoes.

“The job for The National Geographic, silly! How could you forget?”

He didn’t forget.

It was the freelance journalism job with The National Geographic.

She was going to be whisked away from New York, away from her home, her family, him…

“Oh my god, Lin! They left a voicemail earlier today and they said they want to fly me out to Australia tomorrow. Can you believe it? Australia!”

“Australia…” Lin whispers, throat feeling tight.

He felt as if the floor was going to slip from under him. She was finally going to travel the world and experience all the things she’s dreamed of, but he felt so devastated.

She lunges forward, hugging him again.

“I’m so happy!”

Lin lifted his trembling hands to embrace her.

“Me too.”

The rest of the night passed by in a haze.

It didn’t go away even after he said goodbye to her at the airport the next day.

For the last five years, the only way he kept in touch with Y/N were through emails. She had a horrible habit of losing her cell phone and it was almost impossible to find signal in the middle of nowhere.

She’s been to every single continent, every nook and cranny of the world. From the Great Pyramid of Giza to Seychelles, she was there, her smile brighter and bigger than he’s ever seen it.

She was a nomad at heart. Unlike him, she didn’t need to have a place to call home. The whole world was her home. She didn’t want stability, she wanted excitement. She didn’t fear the unknown, she thrived in it and faced it head-on.

She was the polar opposite who he was, but damn, every time he would scroll through her pictures, he felt a deep sorrow in his gut of what could have been.

He knew that they would have been amazing together.

He could just picture it... Y/N, in the front row of the Richard Rogers Theater on the opening night of In The Heights and then Hamilton, screaming her head off in some gaudy dress. Her getting annoyed with Karen and her sass, adoring Chris and his big-brother tendencies, and silently rooting for Jasmine and Anthony…

But she wouldn’t have been truly happy.

She would’ve felt trapped and miserable if she stayed in New York. That’s why he let her go, why he chose to smile and ignore every cell in his body that begged to speak up the day she left. It would have been unfair and selfish of him to say anything to her. He didn’t want to hold her back from experiencing the world.

So instead, Lin sent her scanned Broadway pamphlets and newspaper clippings his mother saved, cast recordings of the musical, and pictures of people she would never meet.

They emailed each other every day and he hung on to each and every word she sent. From three sentences to a full page of words, he saved it. It was pathetic that even after all these years, Y/N was all he could think about. Every girl he’s dated was nothing compared to her.

Maybe it was time to stop pining for a girl that was always seemed to be out of his grasp.

“Lin, are you ready?”

His father’s voice pulled him out of his musings. He glanced around his surroundings, remembering that he was supposed to do a press conference for the record-breaking Tony nominations Hamilton set. He cleared his throat and nodded, leaving the dressing room and heading towards the stage.

After he was announced, he walked onstage, the bright lights of the cameras blinding him. One by one he was asked routine questions from reporters: his inspirations for the play, his reaction to the sudden popularity of the show, and how he felt about the nominees of each category.

The final question came from the back and Lin squinted his eyes, barely making out a form of a man.

“Andy from the New York Times,” he said, “back in your college years, I heard that you got banned from the girl’s dorms after being caught in bed with one of the students multiple times. Would you like to comment on that?”

Lin reared his head back and laughed when the crowd let out a murmur. “You must have done a lot of digging to find that story,” he hums, tucking his hair behind his ear, “but, you’re correct.”

There was another buzz from the crowd, but this time, it was accompanied with flashes from the cameras.

“But, it’s not as wicked as you think it is,” Lin continued, smirking, “I spent a lot of time with a very dear friend in her dorm, studying. We had a lot of classes together and it was easier to stay at her place than to go back to my own dorm. The RA just happened to catch me sneaking into her dorm at night and assumed the worst.”

The crowd seemed unconvinced, but Lin didn’t have a chance to elaborate because time was up. He was escorted off to the side to take pictures and he posed as best as he could as he walked through the row photographers.

“Lin!”

The familiar voice caught his attention, and with a grin, Lin walked towards Andy. “That was a tough question,” Lin says, shaking his outstretched hand, “I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned that story during any of my interviews.”

Andy returns the grin and winks. “I have a great source.”

“Oh? I’d like to meet them,” Lin responds, genuinely intrigued.

Andy laughs. “You’ll have to wait for it.”

Lin was left to ponder his cryptic answer as he was ushered to the fans that awaited him.

Lin didn’t know why there were so many parties he had to attend.

He was currently getting ready for a banquet to celebrate the Tony nominees. In all honesty, the question from Andy completely threw him off-guard and caused him to feel a mix of emotions, longing the being the strongest. He wanted to stay home and reminisce the precious memories he had with Y/N, but it would have caused him to spiral into the depression he fought so hard to climb out of.

His phone buzzed, indicating that the escort was in front of his apartment, waiting. With a sigh, he pocketed his phone and wallet, mentally preparing himself for the event.

He swung his door open, stunned to see a woman whose hand was poised to knock on his door. A woman who strangely looked like…

“Y/N.” he whispers, eyes wide.

She drops her arms, letting them fall limply against her side.

“Hi,” she breathed, a sheepish smile on her face, “I… I got your address from your Father. He told me about your event tonight, but I couldn’t wait. I needed to see you.”

Lin felt his eyes water and his heart felt like it was going to burst. His eyes took in Y/N, her skin tan from all the days she spent out in the sun, baby-face long gone, and body slimmer from all her travels.

She’s still as beautiful as ever.

“You’re here.” Lin couldn’t recognize his voice.

“I’m here,” she repeats, “for good.”

Lin couldn’t comprehend what Y/N was saying. “For good?”

She swallows thickly, and wet her lips before she speaks. “My contract with National Geographic is over and I didn’t want to renew it. I’m done, Lin,” her voice wavers, “I got a job with New York Times a couple weeks ago –”

Lin lets out a sharp laugh. “You’re Andy’s source.”

She pauses. “Yes.”

Lin runs a hand down his face, trying to make sense of the situation. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you were back, Y/N?”

She frowns, her eyes searching his face as she explains herself. “I was scared, okay? It’s been five long years... Things change, Lin! Would we really be able to pick up where we left off? I’ve missed so many important events in your life. I should’ve been there,” she stops, voice quivering.

Lin smiles sadly. “I wanted you to be there too.”

“But I’m here now, and if I have to, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Lin stares at Y/N, her declaration causing the tears in his eyes to spill. His heart felt full and wordlessly, he opens up his arms for her.

She runs into his embrace and it felt like he was young again.

The nomad finally decided to stop wandering.

“I’m home,” she whispers.

“Welcome home.”

#Lin x reader #lin manuel miranda x reader #lin manuel miranda fanfiction #lin manuel miranda imagines #lin manuel miranda preferences #hamilton x reader #hamilton fanfiction #hamilton imagine #hamilton fanfic

727 notes · View notes

bromfieldhall · 8 years ago

Text

“Redwood” - A Mentalist Fanfic

TIMELINE: Set some time after season five episode, ‘Red Sails in the Sunset’. Goes AU from there.

SYNOPISIS: Jane and Lisbon are forced into a deadly game when they try and catch a new serial killer.

PAIRING: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon - Jisbon

Previous Chapters 1

CHAPTER 2

Lisbon slammed her car door shut and waited for Jane and the rest of the team to join her before striding over to where the local Sheriff stood and waited by the roadside. He was a well built man in his late forties. His chestnut brown hair was greying slightly at the temples lending him a distinguished air of authority.

"Agent Lisbon?" he queried, holding out his hand for her to shake. "I'm Andy Newland, county Sheriff. I called you about our victim."

"Yes. It's good to meet you," Lisbon replied, shaking his hand before turning and introducing the rest of the team. "This is our consultant, Patrick Jane, and Agents Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt."

Newland touched his hat respectfully and nodded a greeting to the rest of the team then turned and led them a few hundred yards down a forest track towards a cordoned off area where there were several police officers milling around a large tarp canopy erected for protection against the elements.

"We've done our best to keep the direct sunlight off, but Hicks has been clamouring to remove the body for the past five hours," Newland told them as they came to a halt by the tented construction.

"Who's Hicks?" Jane asked.

"Coroner from Eureka. He's concerned that any evidence trace could be compromised because of the heat," the Sheriff explained as he bent forward and pulled back a piece of the tarp so that they could enter the makeshift tent.

"You guys take a look around and talk to the other officers; see if they've found anything," she ordered the rest of the team before she and Jane went in to look at the body.

It was a young man of athletic build. He was in running gear but he had a shoe missing and one of his sleeves appeared to have been ripped off. There were three gunshot wounds to his chest and a cut to his exposed arm that Jane immediately thought was out of odds. Leaves and twigs clung to his clothing and hair but as there was no blood pool present, it supported the theory that he'd been killed somewhere else and then dumped. The consultant knelt down and began to inspect the body more closely, drawing a disgusted expression from the Sheriff.

"He always do that?" he asked in repugnance.

"Pretty much, yeah," replied Lisbon casually before then asking, "What can you tell us about the victim?"

The brown haired man spared Jane one last incredulous glance then flipped open his notebook and ran through the list of details he'd written there.

"His name is Daniel Miller, age 19. Lived at home with his parents in Blue Lake, no priors. Been missing for a week. I went and spoke to his family when they first reported it. They said he was hoping to have a career in boxing and he was out for a run as part of his training regime but he never came home."

"Poor kid," Lisbon murmured as she gazed down at the deceased youth. So young to have lost his life. "Have you informed his parents that you've found him yet?"

The older man let out a sigh and nodded. It obviously hadn't been easy.

"You think this is the same guy who killed those others?" he queried.

"We won't know until…" began Lisbon, only to be interrupted by another voice.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

She turned to see a skinny man with thinning, sandy coloured hair standing at the entrance of the canopy staring furiously at Jane.

"And you are?" Lisbon asked with a touch of annoyance at his sudden appearance.

"Ah, you must be Hicks," Jane cheerfully interceded as he quickly stood then stepped over the body and held out his hand to the slightly shorter man. "I'm Patrick Jane, CBI consultant."

Hicks' brown eyes narrowed slightly as he ignored the proffered hand and held up his own, rubber glove encased digits.

"Then you should know better than to go crawling all over the evidence," he retorted as he brushed past Jane and Lisbon and looked down at Miller as if searching for some sign that the consultant had left any trace of himself somewhere on the dead boys' person.

"I didn't touch anything," the blond assured him lightly.

Hicks merely grunted in response then looked at Lisbon and requested brusquely, "Now that you've finally got here, can I take him? I don't want to waste any more time."

The brunette bristled with irritation at the man's tone but nodded her compliance. They weren't realistically going to find anything that would help them anyway. She turned and walked out of the makeshift tent, giving Jane's arm a tug on the way past so that he would follow.

"I bet he wasn't nominated 'Most Congenial' in his yearbook," the consultant commented as they walked over to the rest of the team where they were standing by the SUV.

"No, more like, 'Most Likely To Piss People Off," she said then shot him a glance and added with a small smile, "Like someone else I know."

Jane grinned at her joke. He wasn't offended. He knew he could be an ass at times.

"Did you get anything?" she asked in general when they'd joined the team.

"No, looks like this was same as the other five," Cho answered.

"I thought it might be," the brunette said in a resigned tone then let out a sigh. They'd only been handed over the case the day before so, although they all knew the basic details, they hadn't really had time to go over the files as thoroughly as she would have liked before they'd landed another victim. "OK, look, it's getting late. We're booked into the Quality Inn at Arcata; you go there and get checked in and I'll follow on when I've finished here. We can meet for dinner at about eight and go over the files. Maybe we'll find something that the local's missed."

The team nodded their agreement. They were all tired from the long drive and could do with some time to freshen up and eat.

Expecting them to all do as she'd directed, she went over to Hicks and told him that she'd be by to see him the following day regarding the autopsy results. He hadn't seemed particularly pleased but the brunette figured that it was par for the course when it came to that man. She then went and spoke to Sheriff Newland and he agreed to send over all the details he had about Miller to their hotel.

Finally, she headed back to the SUV to find Jane lounging nonchalantly against the front grille with a grin on his face. She should have known he wouldn't have left with the rest of the team.

"Get in," she said as she passed by him but he gently caught hold of her arm to stop her from walking away.

"Wait, Lisbon, just pause a moment to take in our surroundings," he urged with a smile as his free arm gestured to the woodlands around them. "Listen to the birds singing, look how green everything is, smell all that fresh air and pine."

He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, savouring the rich aroma of nature itself before exhaling slowly.

Lisbon also drew in a sharp breath, but it wasn't to enjoy the scent of the trees; it was because she simply couldn't take her eyes off of the man in front of her. The waning rays of the sun caressed his face, bathing it in a warm glow that enhanced the pure joy that seemed to radiate from within him. He took such pleasure from the simple things around him at times that she almost forgot how tortured he really was inside.

With his eyes still shut, she couldn't help but let her gaze slide down the column of his tanned throat to the vee of his white shirt that stood out in stark contrast to his navy suit. She swallowed convulsively. The amount of times she'd wondered what it would be like to press her lips to his neck; flick her tongue over his rapidly beating pulse point; feel his skin under her finger tips as she trailed them down and under his shirt…

She felt his hand tighten around her arm suddenly, breaking the spell of her wishful daydreaming and causing her to bring her startled gaze back to his face.

His eyes were open now and he was staring at her with a mixture of curiosity and puzzlement that quickly transformed into a knowing smile of amusement as she felt a telltale heat invade her cheeks.

Mouth tightening in annoyance, more with herself than him, she roughly pulled her arm from his grip and turned away.

"Let's go," she ordered curtly as she got into the SUV and quickly snapped her seatbelt into place.

Jane followed suit and calmly strapped himself in unable to keep the small smile that was tugging at his mouth. He'd be damned if Lisbon wasn't just checking him out. Oh, it was subtle, but he recognised the signs; the minute parting of her lips, the slightly deepened breathing, the pupil dilation…not to mention that wonderful giveaway blush when she'd realised she'd been caught. She'd looked adorable and so, so awkward. He loved that he was the one that had caused her consternation. It meant she wasn't so immune to him as she liked to pretend. He could work with that…should he ever find the courage to do so.

The journey to the hotel took around fifty minutes with neither of them inclined to make much in the way of conversation. After they both checked in, Lisbon couldn't get away from Jane quick enough. She was mortified at being caught practically ogling the blond and the drive back had been uncomfortable at best, although her consultant hadn't seemed unduly bothered. Naturally, that had irritated her even more.

She just wasn't used to having such an obvious lapse of mental self-control. It wouldn't do for Jane to catch on that she felt anything more for him than friendship. If he did, she knew he wouldn't hesitate to use it against her if the need should ever arise. It sounded harsh even in her own head, but her consultant had made it very clear on more than one occasion recently that when it came to his pursuit of Red John, nothing and no-one was sacred anymore.

She found her room and once inside saw that it was comfy and functional; she'd certainly stayed in worse places during their cases away from Sacramento. Glancing at the time, she decided on a quick shower and a change of clothes. Once clean and refreshed, she quickly blow-dried her hair then slipped on a pair of black jeans and a simple light grey scoop necked top. Not the most inspiring choice of eveningwear she supposed as she eyed herself critically in the bathroom mirror, but then again, she wasn't trying to impress anyone anyway. Was she?

Shaking her head, she left the bathroom then grabbed her wallet and key card from the small nightstand and shoved them into her pocket. Next she picked up the case file folders from beside her bed then finally exited the room to meet the rest of the team for dinner. By the time she reached the restaurant, the others were already there seated at a table, reading through their menus.

There was a chair free next to Jane and one next to Cho. She glanced at her consultant who raised his eyebrows and nodded discretely to the seat next to him, then opted for the latter, ignoring the grin that graced the blonds face at her snub.

"What looks good?" she asked as she sat down and placed the files on the table.

"Everything," Rigsby replied with a grin.

"Is that what you're having?" Cho quipped wryly as he continued to peruse the list of choices in front of him.

"I bet I could," the tall agent responded easily.

Interest piqued, Cho looked up, sensing the chance to win a quick few bucks but Lisbon forestalled any horseplay because she needed them to focus on the case.

"Let's not put that to the test, shall we?" she suggested firmly before quickly looking her own menu. "I think I'll have the steak."

There was a general murmur of agreement then the waiter arrived to take their orders. Once placed, Lisbon handed out the files for everyone to look at.

"This is what we have from the other local police departments that have handled the case up until now. Let's go through them and see if there's anything that connects these guys."

"Newland dropped off the file for Daniel Miller by the way," Jane said as he held up another folder. "I was passing through the lobby when he turned up."

"Great, thanks. You can look through that one too," she replied blithely, sparing him a quick glance before going back to her own file.

The consultant decided not to push it. She was obviously still annoyed and probably a little embarrassed about earlier and he knew better than to aggravate her when she was in that kind of mood.

Dinner was served and they shared details of the case between bites, trying to piece together any motive that might link the six men that had been murdered. At first there didn't appear to be anything apart from the fact that they had all been shot with a .30 calibre hunting rifle somewhere before being dumped near the side of a road a couple of days to a week after they'd been reported missing. Their ages ranged from 19 to 38, they each came from a different town in the surrounding area and four of them had jobs, the other two didn't.

"Wait, didn't Newland say that Miller was out running when he went missing?" Lisbon queried suddenly.

"Yes, he did," Jane concurred then shuffled a couple of papers around in the victim file he held and looked back at her with a smile as he revealed, "Jacob Simmons was out running too. Redwood National Park."

The others immediately checked their files and one by one read out that their victim had been out exercising in Redwood too. They'd found the link. Not that it would be too helpful. The forest was a huge place; one that they couldn't possibly be checked for any kind of evidence that six murders had been committed there but at least they could assume it was where the victims were killed before being dumped.

Technically, due to the number of victims and the fact that the homicides had happened over the course of the past eight months, it would class the murderer as a serial killer. But Jane wasn't convinced. Something felt off about the killings; like he was missing some vital piece of information, but he couldn't for the life of him fathom out what it was. He certainly wasn't going to get it from the files. He needed to have a good look at Miller's body again. Maybe he'd missed something earlier.

"OK, that's enough for tonight," Lisbon announced once dinner was over. She held out her hand and took back the files before standing up. "Enjoy the rest of your evening but don't forget we have an early start tomorrow morning. I want to revisit all the sites the victims were found and speak to their families again. We need to find out if they ran a particular route. With any luck we can narrow down the area that they were taken from and go from there."

The team nodded and she bade them a quick goodnight before heading off back to her room. She wanted to go through the files again by herself and make up some notes before she spoke to any relations. She needed to all the facts in straight in her head, she hated going in unprepared.

"Who wants a drink?" asked Rigsby, looking around the table expectantly.

"I will," said Cho immediately.

"Me, too," replied Grace with a nod.

"Jane?" queried Rigsby when the consultant remained quiet.

"Sure. Why not?" he acceded with a smile.

The others got up and he followed after them casting a lingering look in the direction Lisbon had gone. He wished that she'd stayed but he had to admit that she'd looked tired. Not that she was going back to her room to sleep anytime soon, of that he was certain. Knowing her, she'd be burning the midnight oil long after the rest of the team had retired for the night.

He sat with the others and idly listened to them chat about sports and grouse about the guys from Fraud who apparently were a 'bunch of losers' according to Rigsby. After half an hour of his mind insistently wandering back to Lisbon and how she'd looked at him that afternoon, he decided he'd had enough of being social and told them he was turning in for night.

He headed off down the corridor to his room but walked right past his door and two others before coming to a halt in front of the third. He glanced left and right then seeing no one around he raised his hand and knocked firmly on the door. He waited a few moments and ducked his head closer, trying to hear if there were any movement from inside.

Suddenly the door flew open and a very disgruntled Lisbon stood before him, arms crossed. Apart from not wearing her shoes, she was still dressed and when he looked over her shoulder into the room beyond, he could see that suspicions were correct; the case files were spread out all over the bed.

"It's late. What do you want?" she demanded with a frown.

"To help you of course," he stated as if surprised that she hadn't realised that. He brushed past her into the room then grabbed a chair and moved it over to the side of the bed. Discarding his jacket, he hung it on the back of the chair then rolled up his sleeves and sat down. Completely ignoring her, he picked up a nearby file then opened it and began to read as he settled more comfortably onto his seat.

Lisbon stared at him from the doorway uncertainly for a moment, her arm still tingling from the brief contact. Considering the way her mind had been wandering today, having Patrick Jane in her room was probably a bad idea. Still, she couldn't deny she could use the help and some company would probably keep her awake. Letting out a heavy sigh, she pushed the door shut.

"You want some tea?" she asked, heading over to the tea maker.

"Lovely. Thanks," he murmured not taking his eyes off the paperwork.

She made the brew then handed him a cup before sitting back down on the bed where she continued on with the notes she'd been compiling. They worked well together and it was just over an hour and half later when they were finally done.

"I heard you telling Hicks that you're going to see him tomorrow," Jane said once she finished placing the files neatly in a pile. "Mind if I come along?"

"Sure," she agreed readily then frowned slightly. "Any particular reason?"

"Not really," he denied with a shake of his head. "It's just that he performed the autopsy's on all the bodies and apart from the obvious wounds and the basics he's never reported finding any trace of evidence. Not even a partial."

"It's probably because the bodies are being left exposed to the elements. Simmons had been dead two days by the time he was found and it had rained too," she pointed out reasonably.

"True, but I'd still like to come along and have a little chat," the blond insisted. "I want to look over Miller's body again as well. There was a cut on his arm that looked too clean to just be a scratch. I want to know what he says about that."

"Really?" she queried, digesting the piece of information before making a decision. "Fine, we'll go first thing after breakfast."

Jane grinned and nodded then stood up in preparation to leave.

"Well, I'd better go so you can get some sleep," he said, his expression softening at her obviously tired state.

"Yeah, you need to get some rest too," she replied as she glanced at the clock and saw that it was past midnight. "I thought we'd finish up quicker than this. Sorry."

"No problem," he replied easily as he stretched his arms above his head then rolled his shoulders to work out a kink from where he'd been sitting hunched over.

The action pulled his shirt out a little from his waistband and Lisbon found her gaze drawn to the tiny patch of tanned skin that had been inadvertently revealed. She briefly wondered if there were any part of him that hadn't been kissed by the sun then realising the potential danger of those kind of thoughts she quickly looked away and walked over to the door, opening it for him. It was late and he needed to go.

"Goodnight," she said curtly.

Jane dropped his arms to his side, baffled at her unexpected change in demeanour. He'd wanted to sort out his shirt and put on his jacket before he left but the look on her face told him he'd suddenly more than outstayed his welcome and he thought it prudent to just go.

Sometimes he just didn't understand the enigma that was Lisbon. Letting out a sigh, he picked up his jacket and walked over to the door. When he drew level, she moved back a little so that he could go past her into the corridor. Just as he stepped out, he caught sight of Cho and Rigsby heading towards him, obviously just coming back from the bar.

As soon as they noticed him they stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide at the realisation that he was leaving their boss' room just gone midnight looking plainly dishevelled.

Naturally, being Jane, he couldn't resist turning back to Lisbon with one of his most charming grins.

"I enjoyed this evening, Teresa," he said, his tone intimate yet still loud enough so that the shocked agents could hear. "If you want me again, you know where I am."

He turned and walked away before she could answer then slung his jacket over his arm as he sauntered towards the two men.

"Night, Cho; Night, Rigsby," he acknowledged each of the dumbfounded agents pleasantly as he walked past tucking his shirt back into his trousers. "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

He entered his room and couldn't help the chuckle that escaped as switched on the light and tossed his jacket over a nearby chair. He hadn't had that much fun in months. It felt good to tease the guys again and really, it wasn't his fault that they'd immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion when they saw him leaving Lisbon's room…he just hadn't done anything to dispel their assumptions.

He undressed quickly then, after visiting the bathroom, got into bed with a sigh. At least he was happy in the knowledge that Lisbon would be getting some much-needed sleep.

He just wished he could allow himself to do the same.

Leaning over the side of the bed he reached for his jacket then pulled the worn notebook out of the pocket and opened it up to stare at all the familiar names.

Someone on his list was Red John and he wasn't going to rest until he'd worked out whom.

END CHAPTER 2

#mentalist ff #mentalist fanfiction #jisbon ff #jisbon fanfiction #jisbon #mentalist

2 notes · View notes