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erzsebetrosztoczy · 5 months ago

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Amongst hidden ruins Part 2.

The stroy continues after a decade!! I'm so sorry it took me this long to get back to writing but gradiating university took a lot out of me and my creative side kinda died for a good half year or so. I try to get back to fic qriting slowly, so please be patient with me if it feels floppy first lmfao. I feel like when i need to re-learn ice skating every winter lol

Pairing: Hytham x reader

Genre: fluff, awkward fluff, idiots in love

Warnings: none

Note: Idk, I just love the idea of Basim being a gossip girl. There's a reason he's the reincarnation of the God of Mischief , just saying. Part 1 is here babes

It all happened a week ago. It's been a week since you last brought up the topic. Over the course of the days, whenever you met Hytham your conversations never turned to this topic. You didn't want to broach the subject, but you secretly hoped you'd hear from him soon – you nearly jumped out of your skin at the thought of finally being able to explore the surrounding areas, all with Hytham in tow.

Clenching your teeth, you tensed your muscles as you tried to pull the wolf skin as tight as possible which Petra asked you to stretch for her to dry. You were trying to tie the last knot on the wood dryer when you heard the sound of heavy boots behind you. Wiping your forehead when you were done, you turned back to greet the newcomer.

To your greatest surprise Basim looked back at you, clasping his hands in front of him and walking in your direction.

"Greetings." He nodded standing next to you, shaking his dark mane as he tilted his head to the side to look over at your work behind you. "I see that today's hunting also turned out excellently." He smiled, motioning at the skin.

"He was a strong beast, but Petra and Eivor quickly put him down. It was supposed to be the male that took one of Ake's goats." You answered with satisfaction as if you could have brought down the game yourself.

"Oh, I thought you caught it yourself..." Basim pursed his lips and looked at you with pity in his voice. "After all, you are the one who is preparing the skin now. The glory should belong to you, not just the dirty work."

His words hit you harder than they should have, even if that wasn't his intention. You exhaled tensely, grimacing as you glanced towards the forest.

"Eivor...don't let me go too far from here. And there are few game near Ravenstorpe, we scare them away." You explained with growing annoyance. Even Basim, who mostly stays out of the clan's affairs and happenings, noticed your limitations, which your brother imposed on you. Even he sees the wasted opportunity.

"Ah, siblings. They always want the best for you in the worst way." He lamented, stepping next to you, and now you were watching the movements of the green forest together. "And yet, it is rather unfair, considering that he and Sigurd have already traveled almost all over England."

"I'm not a child anymore, it's time to let go of my hands and let me experience the world myself." You continued dejectedly when you suddenly noticed yourself. Gasping, you put your palm to your mouth and looked apologetically at Basim.

"I'm really sorry Basim, I didn't want to bother you with my family's problems!" You excused yourself and felt your ears burning with shame.

The older man sneered at you from the side, and with a chortle, he turned to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Come on. No need to explain.I myself took part in those... family disagreements, so I understand exactly when the accumulated words would be released from a person's heart. You can trust me, I'm a great keeper of all kinds of secrets." He assured me cheerfully, accompanied by a wink.

"How about I try to talk to Eivor. We've crossed paths several times - I've been there for him as much as he's been there for me. Maybe he'll make an exception for me just once."

Hearing his words ignited a fresh spark in your heart - an ember of hope.

"Really?" You beamed. "Would you do it Basim?"

He nodded with a gleeful giggle. "Well, of course. I'm an advocate myself, young people should be allowed to live, that's the only way they learn."

Without thinking twice you jumped onto him, arms tightly embracing the leathers and linens around his neck. He let out a surprised huff, but was quick to pat your shoulder blades for encouragement.

"However, I doubt he would let you go on his own. I know your brother well enough to know that this request would be beyond what he would allow." Basim warned as you released him from your embrace. But seeing the despondency on your face, he quickly raised his hand to stop you from the depressing thoughts.

"Hmmm, if I remember correctly…I have to travel with Eivor to Venonis in the next few days, so we can't accompany you as armed escort." Basim hummed and stroked his beard, looked up at the sky thoughtfully, then clicked his tongue as if lightning had struck him. "Ah, there it is! I'll leave Hytham for the current trip anyway, he'll accompany you!" He clapped his hands together in satisfaction.

Your head whipped up when you heard the name, heartbeat quickening.

Maybe Basim was a mind reader, maybe he sensed that this plan had been swirling in your mind for some time? You cleared your throat as you folded your arms in front of your chest, trying to hide your intense excitement and enthusiasm.

"That's fine. Hytham can come too if he wants to… After all… quite a pleasant conversationalist, if I'm right." After some thought, you agreed, nodding casually.

Basim bowed slightly at your answer and you seemed to catch a half-hearted smile from the corner of his mouth, but you weren't sure.

"So I'll talk to them for your sake." He promised as he set off. "Look for Hytham tomorrow, agree on the way to go!" He added it over his shoulder and walked away with it, leaving you with zigzagging, bubbling thoughts.

"It's a bit unusual for you to entrust this to me, Master." Hytham muttered as he cut himself and his master some of the bread to go with their dinner while sitting at his table. "Eivor is usually the one who provides us with the scrolls and the location of the offices…"

With a curt nod, Basim took the offered food.

"Yes, but the location is already known. You just need to search, and anyone is good for that, not just Eivor. Besides, he has already promised to help me. He will come with me to Venonis." Basim sometimes surprised himself how easy it was for him to tell half-truths.

"Venonis? What are you doing there?" His young apprentice raised his eyebrows in doubt.

Basim giggled as he bit into the crust of the fresh bread.

"Sometimes you have to leave a little mystery in your life, Hytham."

"Alright then. Tell me when I should leave?" Hytham agreed submissively.

"You mean: you and your companion are leaving." Basim corrected, chewing hard on the crust. "Given your injury, Eivor and I thought it best to have someone accompany you."

"An escort? And who will it be?"

A new tingling sensation took over your stomach. The song of the unknown called you seductively, intoxicatingly, as you urged your horse to reach Hytham. The early morning fog still hadn't lifted, shrouding the ground and distant landscapes in a mysterious twilight. It was exciting and encouraging - new experiences awaited you, and perhaps a new era of your life. The fact that you will explore these undiscovered parts of your life with Hytham was just icing on the cake.

"Tell me one more time where we're going, please!" You stepped next to the man with your horse, scanning the surrounding area.

“The temple where the scrolls were hidden once stood here as the temple of Pluto. It was built by the Romans when they held the Saxon lands under vassalage." Hytham explained, sometimes glancing at you to see if you were paying attention to him.

"It's amazing how far those peoples have come." You pondered. "My people were born on the sea, we have learned to rule the waves, so it is easy for us to raid and plunder. But those you are talking about didn't make a living from it."

"Raid or conquest - the essence is the same. Acquiring land, treasure and servants, right?” Hytham replied back.

You stared at the stirrups with pursed lips.

"Everyone wants to make a living from something. Either you trample others, or they trample you.” You recalled one of your lessons that your brother Sigurd taught you.

"Well, for a moment, you have become as philosophical as Master Basim." Hytham laughed to himself, you giggling along too.

"People have always lived this way. You will survive, or your fate will be lost in the threads of the Norns. In this world, you will not find someone who would help his fellows from his heart, if he does not benefit from it..."

“Well… you're helping me right now.” Hyhtem began with a half smile on his face. "And I don't think you'll get any use out of this trip, other than smelling like horsehair for days."

Before you could think about what the appropriate answer would be, your mind was overtaken by your honesty.

"You are here for me." You blurted out; with a sheepish smile, and when you realized the weight of your words, you blushed and added: "At least I can learn more about the secrets of the past..."

Hytham almost choked at your words; he had to pretend to clear his throat a few times to hide the rising shyness and surprise from you.

"Yes Yes. And…it gives me great pleasure. Talking to you… about history.”

By the time the sun rose to its full glory, you too had reached your destination. The temple, or rather what remained in its place, stood out from the green hills with a blinding whiteness. Huge marble columns towered over your head and stretched across the ground – a reminder that even things meant to last forever will come to an end.

Getting off your saddle, stretching your limbs, you stepped next to Hytham admiring the ruin as well.

"It was once a place of power and influence, where people gathered to pay their respects to their mighty Gods." The man spoke, voice filled with awe and admiration. "And see that everything they tried to maintain has been lost to obscurity."

"But their songs remain." Turning to the man, you gave him a gentle smile. "Our songs live on forever."

"You speak the truth. At the end of everything, what will be important is what we handed over to the children. Not what we built." As you stood next to him, a light whiff brought the scent of Hytham to you. It was rich, warm, and spicy, that permeates every ounce of your body and never leaves.

"The scroll we came for…" The man continued, heading towards the ruins. You only became aware of its absence when the scent began to fade. Quickly following him, you caught up before he could notice your hesitation.

"Go ahead." You coughed, nodding your head.

"From what Eivor said, they were mostly hidden on the lower levels. So let's start the search there."

Stepping over the pavement, you were struck by the coolness of the marble, and the eery silence that sharply echoed the sound of your footsteps.

A part of the ceiling exposed to desolation had collapsed, and now only the rays of the sun filtered through those parts, covering everything around you in semi-darkness.

Before you could sneak in; Hytham lit a torch, covering the walls and your faces in orange.

The center of the square was occupied by the recess of a pool, its worn tiles glinting blue and green in the firelight.

As you got closer, you recognized the patterns that ran along its floor - fish, crabs, and seal-like creatures told their ancient stories.

"There." Hytham pointed to a corner of the pool. An iron grate lay sunk into the floor, covered in brown rust in striking contrast. "That will be the expiration date."

Stepping closer, Hytham handed the torch to you, then reaching over the grate pulled a rope from his belt.

With quick movements, he tied it over one of the iron bars, then motioned to step back, turning towards you.

Straightening up, he wrapped the other part of the rope around his hand and, straining, began to pull it up. After a while, accompanied by an ear-splitting creak, the grate began to give way, slowly rising, revealing the yawning darkness it covered. You wondered for a moment - did the lattice give in so easily because of its corruption, or was Hytham so strong that he could stretch it on his own.

The answer to your question soon came when the grate hit the ground with a loud thud. Not many people will be able to move it from there...

Gasping, Hytham turned to you and was about to open his mouth to ask you to stay behind, let him do the dangerous task alone, but you already pushed the torch into his hand, walking to the edge of the hollow.

"Is that a good idea if you—"

"Give me the rope, the grid will hold my weight." You turned back to him, eyes shining, ready for your next adventure.

You barely had to climb down a few feet, the soles of your boots hit soft, muddy ground. You reached a tunnel in which you only had to crane your neck slightly to stop.

Hytham, on the other hand, had to crouch forward when he landed next to you.

Congolese silence, yawning darkness surrounds you if not for the light from the torch.

"Do you feel this?" You turned to him whispering. "There's an air draft."

Hytham peered forward, at first the heat of the torch prevented him from feeling anything but the sensation that warmed the right side of his face, yet when he pushed it forward, a soft, icy blast hit his face.

"We have to go." He nodded and confidently stepped forward, not wanting you to be the first to face the danger before them.

"You know, you don't have to be scared for me, Hytham."

You smiled as you followed him. It was as if you could feel what was going on in his mind and heart. "I train together with Eivor, maybe I haven't been in the field much, but maybe I can still cope with the dark."

"Forgive me," Hyhtem answered politely, but his voice rang with unyielding confidence. "but it is my duty to know you, no matter how great the danger we are facing. After all, you're only here because of me. It is my responsibility to protect you.”

"I don’t object then.." You nodded, softening, watching the light movement of his figure as he glided through the shadows with the elegance of a deft cat.

Somewhere you heard the squealing of rats, mixed with the hum of the air duct, and the rhythm of a rumbling coming from deeper.

"Could these have been on a ventilation duct a long time ago?" You gasped out loud, not far behind his side.

"Or secret flights." Hyhtem looked around as he examined the burn marks on the walls.

"Secret passageways under temples..." You raised an eyebrow at the suggestion.

"Secret passages under the enemy's feet." Hyhtem nodded.

Suddenly, the man in front of you stopped, raising his free arm back, he grabbed your arm so you wouldn't trip over him. You braked with a soft squeal, swaying from the sudden stop, you grabbed his hand to keep from falling.

"The corridor ends, there are no stairs leading down." The man informed, turning back to you.

Your hand didn't let go of his arm, you waited for the next moments by holding it close to you. Stepping back, he made room for you to step next to him, to survey the revealing, yawning depth. You found yourself at the height of the ceiling of a huge room, the shadows of various shapes loomed below in the darkness. There were no stairs or ladders - the way down was shown by cuts carved into the wall, which may have once held steps.

Hyhtem held the torch in the air, illuminating the room. The shapes of tables, shelves, and statues stood silently at the bottom of the room, perhaps for centuries, when they were last touched by humans.

As you acknowledged the images spread out in front of you, your hand remained firmly on his - your fingers intertwined on the wrist, your fingertips holding the back of his hand.

Hytham noticed this too but said not a word; he observed in awe how your hand rests on his, how much smaller it is, how easily he could close it in his palm. He had to remind himself to keep his muscles from moving so he wouldn't involuntarily lace his fingers with yours.

The moment was over, too quickly for his liking - surveying the terrain, you stepped back to within a safe distance, your warm touch leaving a stinging chill behind.

"Do you think we can go down here?" You inquired, watching the trenches running below you.

"We will have to." Hyhtem nodded, blinking widely to jog his memory. "Focus on your footsteps!" He gave a warning, although he meant it more as an instruction to himself. He has to pay attention, especially now that every move could cost you your lives.

What's the point of a warm touch, if the hand that caresses it can get cold forever because of carelessness?

You nodded, your heart pounding as you took the first step into the depths beneath you. The gaping darkness seemed to swallow you, each shadow playing tricks on your mind, as you kept moving forward. Hyhtem's breathing was steady, a comforting rhythm amidst the chaos.

Taking a deep breath, you began the careful descent, feeling the weight of the silence around you.

#ac valhalla #assassin's creed #assassin's creed valhalla #ac hytham #ac valhalla hytham #hytham #hytham x reader #ac hytham x reader #ac valhalla imagine #ac valhalla fanfic #my writing #likes and reblogs are appreciated as always-if you want to drop something in my ask box i would love to hear yalls opinion and reactions! <

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peachyloveswriting · 2 years ago

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Into Eternity

Chapter 3

Summary: Being babysat by a murderer is different than you'd expect, but having him come around more often may or may not give way into an attachment.

Word count: around 3k

Content: detoxing from drugs, drug addiction.

Note: it'll be a bit till the next chapter, it's still being edited by my editor. Will post as soon as I'm able to. Until then, enjoy, and leave a comment while you're at it.

Tagged: @ceshacat @irishbelle34 @scarlet2007

You woke to the sound of humming from your kitchen, and the smell of cooking food. With a groan you grasped your throbbing head. The pain was so immense that you began to cry.

When you composed yourself well enough to peer at who your intruder was you were taken aback by the sight.

Tossed over the back of your couch was the very tan jacket that Red Hood always wore, and when you looked into the kitchen you were met with the sight of that very man, cooking.

A little more than shocked you stared in awe at the muscles that rippled across his back as he moved around. Who knew spandex was that see through?

Finally you muster up the will to speak. "Why are you in my kitchen?"

When he peeked over his shoulder at you, his mask was still on. Not very surprising, but you didn't know what you expected.

"I'm making sure someone takes care of your hangover." He muses.

Very funny considering how many hangovers you'd gotten through without his help.

Slowly, you get to your feet and shuffle your way into the kitchen.

Red Hood looks over occasionally at what you're doing but stays quiet. You appreciate it, with that hammer chipping away inside your skull beginning to rage.

"Ahw, god." You murmur under your breath as you pop open a bottle of Tylenol.

Chasing the pill with water you place the glass back down on the counter only to realize how clean your apartment looks. Furrowing your brows you look back over at the living room, surprise evident on your face making Red Hood smile.

"Yup, I cleaned up for you while you slept. You owe me." He says as he reaches up into the cabinets and takes down a plate.

"I don't owe you, this is an invasion of privacy!" You exclaimed as you gestured to all that he's done.

Setting the two plates side by side, he mocks a pout. "C'mon, I practically broke my back cleaning this place, not to mention I'm cooking for you, I brought you medicine, and let's not forget I saved your life."

He had done a lot for you without question, but you didn't know why. So you just had to ask.

"Okay, but why?"

He paused in his movements before filling the plates with scrambled eggs, ham, and cheese. It had your mouth watering just looking at it. It's been awhile since you ate food.

"Why should I tell you?" He remarks, a brow raised and that smirk right back on his face. You glare at him before he extends his arm out to you, your plate in hand.

You stare at the plate, the thought of him poisoning it only just now occurring to you.

You squint your eyes at the plate and lift a finger pointing at it. "You… didn't poison that, right?" You drawl.

He shakes his head. "No."

Looking from the plate and back, you hesitantly took it from his grasp. He smiles, "Good job, that's called trust." He shoots you a wink with his hands in finger guns pointed at you.

Turning and opening the utensils drawer, you find yourself rolling your eyes.

"And that's what I call patronizing me." You pause and face him after taking out a fork.

"I can care for myself, I don't understand why after a whole week of the drugs, alcohol, and the hangovers, that you suddenly have to butt your head in."

His face falls, his lips pressed into a thin line. With his free hand he motions for you to step aside, you do just that. He steps forward, grabbing a utensil from the drawer as well. At first he was quiet, as if in thought but then he abruptly placed his plate and fork into one hand and shoved you towards the living room. You shouted in turn.

"Watch it, you're gonna make me drop my plate you dick!" You fuss. Stepping from behind you he rushes past you to jump onto the couch.

Frustrated, you huff. He was like a man child, one you didn't want in your life.

The whole time you were eating, trying to relax, he was mowing down beside you. Being as obnoxious as possible.

"If you're going to eat in my apartment, can you please, stop smacking?" You whined.

He looked over at you, his fork still in his mouth.

"What's that?"

Cue you throwing your head back and groaning.

"First you give me something I didn't ask for, you break into my apartment, butt your head into my life where I didn't want you, yell at me like you have involvement, and then you invade my personal privacy by babying me, and now your eating on my couch without respect for yourself or me." You pause, lowering your head and taking a deep breath.

"I never wanted you here." Your eyes locked onto his. He seemed shocked. He should've expected you to react that way, after all that had happened.

After that, he stopped. He ate like a person with respect, he didn't speak and by the end of it he left without another word and even washed your's and his plates.

You were internally thankful for what he had done but he had done too much. You wanted space to yourself, he didn't know you, you didn't know him, hell, he even tried to murder you almost a month prior to just showing up.

You didn't bother to move from the couch for a while after he left, it wasn't until you stood and turned to retreat to your bed with your blanket over your shoulder that you realized he'd left his jacket.

Placed gently in the pocket of the tan fabric was a slip of paper. Curious, you placed your blanket back on the couch and made your way over to it.

You don't know what compelled you to check the paper or even consider reading it, maybe you hoped that you would have some hint as to why he took interest in you, but instead you found something else.

The note read:

"Hey, it's The Hood, obviously. When I came back last night to straighten up, I noticed that you had an eviction notice on your front door. So, I paid your rent. In the meantime I'll be watching over you, to make sure you don't do anything stupid.

If you haven't noticed already I left my jacket just in case you needed something that actually kept you warm when you went out.

;) ~ You're Red Savior"

Taking the note you fold it carefully, and lift up the jacket. It's heavier in your hands than you thought it would be, but you drape it over your arm and grab your blanket to make your way back to your room.

Tossing the blanket on the bed you drape the jacket over the back of your rolling chair that sits in front of a desk. You never used it anyway.

Taking the note you tuck it away in your bedside table.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°|

For the rest of the day you lounged around. Hours went by and you shuddered and shook, everything physically hurt. When the sun went down a sickness overcame you and you began to sweat. The heat was too much.

Jumping up from the couch and rushing to the toilet, you made it just in time to puke out your insides. The wretched feeling tugged at your insides, making you even more sick. It burned.

You knew what you needed, the only thing to make the pain go away. Finally able to move from the toilet, you began your crawl through your apartment and towards your bag.

But before you could even reach your hallway, you were abruptly halted by a boot directly in front of your face.

With a gasp you pushed yourself onto your back, scrambling away.

"Minimalistic much." Red hood muses as he observes your bathroom. With a grimace, you grasp your head, a sharp pain making you immobile.

He turns his head to you. "oh wow, you look bad." Letting a groan of pain slip through your lips, you fully collapse into your back. You're weak, feeling hot and cold at the same time as your eyes begin to blur.

Red Hood steps over you, leaning down and tapping your face. Unresponsive to his touch he sighs.

"Don't die." He grunts as he slips an arm under your back and knees.

Carefully he carries you to your bed and leaves the room, as he comes back through he grabs your bag. Peering into it he spots the different paraphernalia and grimaces.

"I'll be taking this."

It's safe to say that when you woke up the next morning, you could no longer find your drugs. panicked, you began to grow anxious. The anxiety eventually turned to paranoia.

You searched the apartment up, down, left, and right for the fix but you came up empty handed every time. Soon you began to sweat excessively, it felt so hot that it was cold. The shivers would rock your body and chatter your jaw.

Leaned over the couch, searching, you were struck by saliva pouring into your mouth. Your stomach lurches and your throat begins to burn. Knowing this feeling you rush for the toilet, you could only make it as far as the sink.

The moment you stopped heaving into the sink, you wobbled, your body felt weightless for a moment. You passed out again only to be woken up by Red Hood a few inches from your face.

Startled, you reached out punching him where his nose should have been but instead you grasped your hand in pain and cried.

"Yeah that happens a lot, you're not the first."

Looking up at him with tears in your eyes he stands. "You need to eat," - he turns towards your door - "you also need to drink."

As he steps out of your room you call out after him. "Get out!" Tossing the blanket off of yourself and swinging your legs off the bed, you moved to stand. Appearing back in front of you, Red Hood sat you properly back on the bed.

Resting a glass of water on your bedside table he shakes his head.

"You shouldn't stand, you're weak."

You narrow your eyes. "And you shouldn't be here."

He settles on the rolling office chair at your desk, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well I'm here now, aren't I?"

You clench your jaw in anger. "Stop treating me like I can't care for myself. You don't even know me."

His head is unmoving, that helmet just staring into your soul.

At first you thought you might have finally pulled the right string but then he stood.

"I'll bring snacks tomorrow."

With that he left, leaving you alone and by yourself. Your throat began to grow tight as you laid back down, it grew hard to breathe and the only thing you knew were the pills. Seeing as there was none around you spilled over your bed reaching out for the water on the nightstand.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°|

For hours after you wouldn't leave the bed, even though you had multiple fans on you - you just couldn't cool down. Not to mention the fact that everything hurts.

If you were going to get a hit off of something you were going to have to wait until you could function instead of being stuck in bed all damn day.

But that hope never came, no matter what you just couldn't make yourself budge, it was only when you started to feel sick again that you tried to scramble out of bed.

The sheet wrapped its way around your legs sending you face first to the floor, harshly you kicked your legs but the sheet would not come loose.

Sliding your way onto the floor completely and undoing the sheet you scrambled for the bathroom.

As you rounded the corner of your doorframe into the hallway, you slammed your pinky toe into the corner. Letting out a yelp of pain you grasped your foot, hopping around on one leg before the second wave of sickness hit you.

Abandoning your poor toe you went for the bathroom again, the moment you hit the tile floor your feet caught on one of your dirty shirts sending you tumbling to the ground again.

This time you caught yourself but not in time. As soon as your palms touched down, that burn filled your throat and you threw up.

Once your insides decided they were empty you fell back onto your butt, with your knees to your chest.

If it hadn't been for Red Hood then you wouldn't be having this issue, you thought.

For the next hour you deep cleaned your bathroom floor, not stopping until the smell of bleach was so strong you started to feel lightheaded.

You made yourself comfortable in the living room watching TV, the ads and game shows were about the only thing that numbs your mind without the pills.

In and out of sleep, your surroundings were just non-existent. All you could hear was the TV, not even the fan running in the background.

Then. "Wow, you sleep a lot."

Almost jumping out of your skin and twisting yourself to see Red Hood you again reached out, punching the bright red helmet.

"Fucking…fuck." You grasp your hand, clenching your eyes shut as you rock back and forth hissing through your teeth.

"Does it really hurt that bad?"

Seeing as he leaned over the back of the couch, his hands were available for you to grab. Grasping his hand you squeezed as hard as you could, the anger bubbling inside you.

The moment you made contact he roughly pulled your hand away by your wrist, his hold was tight but not tight enough to bruise.

"If you didn't do drugs that probably would have actually hurt me." He deadpans, dropping your hand in your lap.

"Maybe if you never interfered to begin with I would still have a mom."

Red hood stands straight, his hand resting over his heart as he makes a sound mocking offense.

"Ooh burn," suddenly he leans forward again, his finger pointing at you accusingly. "You're not going to start blaming me for something I had no part in."

"Excuse me mister 'it is my business' but I think you said otherwise."

Moving away from you and towards the fire escape window he speaks.

"I left some small snacks on the counter. Eat before you starve yourself."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°|

Two nights went by, since then you'd eaten some of the snacks. Your energy was back but you still felt bad. You needed something more sustainable other than sweets, so you decided to venture to the closest gas station.

When you got there the fluorescent lights above the gas pumps lit up the parking lot, sluggishly you pulled yourself from your car and made it into the store.

You were lucky enough to find small ramen packets and some slim Jim's but it wasn't enough. You'd deal with it for now, going out of your comfort zone just for food wasn't worth it.

Sadly, you had no money on you, cash nor card. So instead you stuffed it in the secret inside pockets of the jacket Red Hood had left for you.

Making your way back to the front you played it cool, nervous that the cashier was even eyeing you.

"D'you not find what you need?" She asked.

You turned with a small smile. "No, sadly not but it's okay, I'll live without it."

She smiled and nodded. "Okay have a nice day."

"You too."

Hurrying from the store and back to your car, you shakily grabbed the door handle. Adrenaline through the roof as you sat down and took a breath.

Even gripping the steering wheel didn't stop you from shaking.

You continued to make your way home, the whole way creeping just below the speed limit because you were scared out of your mind.

Pulling into the alley beside your apartment, the headlights illuminated a motorcycle in the farthest corner. No one here owned one as far as you knew. Pushing away the thought, you gathered your items, stepping from the car and mindlessly walking up the stairs you reached to open the door.

Before your hand touches the knob it opens to reveal Red Hood standing on the other side.

"Welcome home." He cheers, gesturing for you to enter.

Without saying anything you walk in, eyeing him as you do. As you walk to the counter you can hear the door shut behind you and Red Hood's footsteps approaching.

You try to ignore him in hopes that he'll leave but he's persistent.

"So are we going to talk about you stealing that?" He points his finger at the item you got from the store and crosses his arms. Turning to face him you furrow your brows.

"You knew?!"

He chuckles. "Chill, of course I knew."

"So you're not going to like, arrest me or something?"

"I don't have to, you're already suffering enough."

Unzipping the jacket and tossing it onto the couch you groan. "And who's fault is that?"

"Your own."

Turning to face him, angry, you wave him off. "Enough of that bullshit, how did you know?"

He wasn't there, not that you were looking for him in particular or even paying attention to that. But it's kinda creepy to think he was watching you without your knowledge.

Red Hood follows you around the couch, still standing with his arms crossed.

"Surprised you've never noticed." He shrugs as he walks past you, sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

"Noticed what?" You look at him.

"Me doing research."

You furrow your brows. "Research?

He chuckles.

"You'll figure out what that means eventually."

Annoyed, you pull your phone from your pocket. "Leave or I'll call the cops."

Turning his head towards you he aggressively grasps your wrist, surprised you reach to pull his hand away but his other hand grabs it. Standing he raises his knee, knocking your phone from your hand. The moment it's out of your grasp he releases your hands and snatches the phone before it hits the ground.

"I think you'll find that to be a bad idea. Even if you did call I'd be long gone before they got here."

You stand abruptly. "Why won't you just leave me alone?!"

He tossed your phone behind him with a sigh. "I have my reasons. And I'll keep coming around until you get better."

"Get better? I'm getting worse!" You point at him. "And it's because of you."

He shakes his head. "You need to stop blaming all your issues on me."

"Well I'm doing so rightfully." You know you're not.

"Also it's getting worse before it ever gets better." You know that too.

"Leave." Don't.

"If that's what you want so bad." No, please stay.

From where you stood you watched him leave, silent as a mouse the whole time.

Once he was gone you grabbed your phone from the floor tossing it into the couch cushions and made your way to your room.

You knew that he was just trying to help, you wanted that help, you needed it more than you wanted it. But part of you didn't want to accept that. In the end you only left yourself feeling guilty and mad. He was the only other person who could have saved you from yourself but you just couldn't admit it.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd #batman fanfiction #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine

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thebastardverdict · 3 years ago

Text

He’s almost got it!

#enhypen #yang jungwon #en-o'clock #he's trying really really really hard #making these gifs and staring at some of the random frames was such a serotonin boost #I don't understand not being able to wink but I do have lots of muscles in my face #so facial movement in general is easier #and so is getting fine lines #so honestly good for him!

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infernal-fire · 4 years ago

Note

I love your dark Jake Jensen and I have a request for him, so the team gets in contact with reader for supplies for a mission an Jensen feels a spark between them so he makes every excuse to talk to reader to the point the team teased but helps him out with his grand scheme to get with reader but they don't know how far he'd go to make reader his ☺️💕 thanks

I love a good dark!jake fic!! I have changed the specifics a litttllle bit so i hope this is alright :)

Warnings: implied noncon/dubcon, some creepy behaviour, mention of stalking, drugging, mention of breeding kink

Summary: 5 days; that’s how long it takes him to become fixated on you.

Wc: 2k

You’re My Delusion

They could have gone to any supplier. Fate would have it that Aisha wanted you, and only you.

The melodious tune of a piano ringtone chimed in your bag. You ask the other daycare teacher to take over for you and picked up the phone: Unknown Number. You watched the phone ring until the line went dead and resumed your day.

It may have been an ‘unknown number’, but your subconscious unequivocally knew who it was. Grumbling at the thought of being contacted again, you twisted the handle to your condo. Of course, you didn’t bat an eye when there was an envelope on your countertop, one that you didn’t put there; Aisha knew that you knew the phone would ring again, and if you didn’t answer, she would pay you a visit.

When Unknown Number flashed across your screen for the second time that day, you considered letting it go to voicemail again, but picked up anyway.

“Aisha.”

“Y/N.”

“If you’re gonna ask me for an assist-”

Aisha cut you off. “I know you don’t do missions anymore. We need a safe house that’s off the books.”

“Who’s we?”

“They’re all men.” As if on cue, you heard someone guffaw in the background. “It’s making me lose my goddamn mind,” she elucidated.

“You know I don’t really do this stuff anymore,” you huffed, “But I’m making an exception this one time. For you.” You could hear Aisha let out a squeal of happiness, and realized how bad it must be if she uncharacteristically showed excitement.

While cleaning up your old warehouse-turned-safehouse, Aisha’s words echoed in the back of your head. “Some of them are a little... bulky. Let them sleep on the floor.” You tried to protest, asking her, what’s the point of a safehouse if they aren’t resting well, but she dismissed the question. “Trust me. They’re nothing more than cavemen.”

It was 4 AM; foot tapping impatiently and sipping on the third coffee of the night, you smacked your forehead in frustration. It was way past bedtime. After living alongside Aisha for years, anyone would appreciate nights that consist of 8 hours of sleep.

You could certainly appreciate it. Being a daycare teacher, living in a civilian condominium and not engaging in government work was something you couldn’t take for granted. Not after all the shit you’ve seen.

3 brusque knocks sounded on the metal door to your right. Your head snapped to the source, waiting for Aisha to call out the code word.

“LOSERS!” a voice hollered from the other side. You trudged to the door, trying to shake off the dizziness that came with standing up too fast.

Opening the door with caution, you had only blinked a few times before a body pulled you into a tight embrace.

“You’re never this excited to see me. That bad, huh,” you sneered.

“You have no idea.” Aisha pulled out of the hug and turned to face the men who had lined up nearby.

“So… who’s this?” The guy with dirty blonde hair, nerd glasses and a horrible sense of fashion piped up. His whole appearance was an oxymoron to his build - muscles protruded out of the bright pink shirt that hugged him like a second skin. On the other hand, you couldn’t imagine him as anything more than a harmless golden retriever.

“Don’t ask as if you don’t know Jensen,” Aisha groused. You could practically hear her roll her eyes.

“What’s your name, darling?” another guy spoke. He exuded the energy of a leader; you looked him straight in the eyes and gave him your name.

The golden retriever repeated your name as if to try out the taste of it on his tongue. You gave him a lopsided, close-mouthed smile and asked Aisha for her teammates’ names.

“You don’t need to learn their names.” She stalked off, unwilling to be a part of the conversation any longer.

The guy you had assumed was the leader sighed at her attitude before introducing himself as ‘Clay’. He pointed at each person and gave you their titles.

“Okay so you’re Clay, that’s Cougar, Roque,” you skipped over Jake, “and Pooch.”

“Me?” Jake softly inquired.

The rest of the team began picking up their things and walking away, but not before Pooch nudged Jensen with his shoulder and winked. The puppy-like man flushed in response and rubbed the nape of his neck.

“What about you?” you asked once you were alone.

“You didn’t say my name.”

“I know it’s Jake… but can I call you ‘daddy’ instead?”

He froze up, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“Relax Jakey,” you put a hand on his chest, “I’m only teasing.” You winked and strutted away, snickering to yourself at how he looked like he was about to pass out.

The entire team was trying to egg you and Jensen on. Well, not the entire team.

Aisha and Roque couldn’t care less, and Cougar did nothing more than smirk at your playful banter.

Often, Jensen would start a conversation that would escalate quickly, your witty dialogue interrupting his rationale. You thought it was adorable how he didn’t know how to respond; a guy like him could have fantastic game, but he was too much of a sweetheart, not the mention, way too awkward.

One particular night, you let down your guard, just enough to actually get to know him.

“You seem like a really supportive uncle,” you commented at his excitement for his niece’s next soccer game.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I wish my parents would have done this for me.”

“Done what?”

“You know… Tell me they’re proud of me.”

“Well Jake... I think you should know, that I’m proud of you for everything you’re doing for the country.”

Jake looked up at you, sporting the signature look of the uncertainty of how to respond. It didn’t take a genius to be able to tell that he wasn’t used to being praised.

“Thank you. That means a lot more than you know,” he quietly responded.

The rest of the night was spent in a solemn, yet understanding silence, one that both of you were oddly comfortable with.

Unfortunately, that would also be the last time you saw him.

Or so you think.

The mission went sour, and for the first time since retirement, you wished you had assisted. Maybe if you assisted, the mission wouldn’t have gone south. Maybe if you assisted... you would have been able to say goodbye.

Without even realizing it, Jake had burrowed a little hole into your heart. You hoped life could go on with the little leak in your pump. Regardless, there is no time for sulking; after all, no amount of reminiscing would change the way things happened.

It had been months after Aisha and the team went back into hiding but you were faring well. Life as you knew it had continued without a trace of the burly, soft man-baby. You almost forgot about the ordeal, up until that day. Perhaps it was fate that had you switch the TV on at that time. You would never know.

A team of rogue CIA agents, presumed to be dead, have now infiltrated a crime branch operating within the US government. They have been pardoned from their status as “Enemies of State” but can no longer work for the CIA taskforce, as their identities have been indefinitely compromised.

You blinked at the screen, watching Aisha’s name and picture appear. Subsequently, there was Clay, Pooch, Jensen, Cougar and Roque. You were happy for them.

Pooch could go back home to his wife. It was hard to imagine what it must have been like for the missus; pregnant and alone. Though you didn’t know Pooch that well, you knew he was a good partner and husband.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your front door shutting and clicking in place. Your hand frantically pressed the ‘volume up’ button on the TV as you hurled for the handgun under your pillow.

Sliding to the wall beside the door, you cautiously peered into the dark hallway and made out a large figure. You huffed quietly before appearing in the doorframe with your gun pointing straight at the mystery guy. At this point, you had a good idea of who it was, but you wanted to mess with him anyway. “Hands up, and not another step forward.”

He tried to speak, but you cut him off.

“Don’t. speak,” you punctuated each word. Reaching for the light switch, you flipped on the hallway light. The dim light revealed your golden retriever standing there with his eyes wide open in fear.

“Don’t shoot?” he said, like a question.

You grinned and tucked the gun into your waistband.

“What are you doing here?”

“Thought I should come see you.”

“You could have knocked, like a normal person.”

He shrugged sheepishly.

“How do you know where I live?” you questioned. To that, he fiddled with his fingers and looked down.

“Only Aisha knows this place. And I know she would have never told you.” You intently stared at him while leaning into the nearest wall and folding your arms.

Jake didn’t want to tell you that he had been stalking you. Every spare moment he had during the remainder of the mission was spent tracking you. After a few weeks, it felt as though you had moved on. It pained him, to say the least.

“I- uhm,” he looked up at you and took a step forward, “Hey, I just-...” He stopped when you reached for your handgun again, now wary of his intentions.

He put his hands back up.

“I wanted to ask you out properly.”

“What do you mean ‘properly’? We were never going out, to begin with.”

Before you understood the spur of movement, Jake lunged for you and plucked the handgun out of your pyjama’s waistband, throwing it over the railing of your staircase. You tried to kick him, but he pricked you without giving you a moment to react.

“What did you give me?” You clutched your neck in the spot he sunk the needle.

“I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do that,” he exhaled. He tried to hold you, but you weakly pushed him off, still trying to recover from the shock of his betrayal.

“Takes 5 minutes to really work,” he scratched his neck.

Then there was the fight. You gave it your all but with no weapon or leverage, you were going up against 200 pounds of pure muscle who was hell-bent on restraining you for some reason.

2 minutes into the fight, you began to really feel the effects of whatever he gave you. He point-blank caught a punch that you tried to drill into his sternum. You look up at him incredulously, unable to still believe that he was trying to take you down right now.

At last, he snapped.

“Listen to me,” he grasped both your hands.

You momentarily struggled, but your shoulders slumped and you gave up on trying to free your wrists.

“How could you move on without me?” he asked, attempting to look you in your eyes. You wouldn’t meet them.

“Jake, you are delusional! I barely had a crush on you for 5 days,” you cried, letting the wetness spread over your cheeks freely. At this point, it was clear, what he was here for.

“You should know, those 5 days were some of the best in my 29 years of living. I want that for the rest of my life.”

“Why couldn’t you have done this like a normal person?” You finally met his eyes with an excess of tears blurring your vision.

“You keep saying that,” he began, letting go of your arms and wiping your tears, “but you know that you and I are not normal.” Jake leaned down to kiss your forehead.

Your legs were beginning to buckle, but Jake caught you, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He strode into your bedroom as if he had been there a thousand times, put you down on the bed gently, and brushed the hair out of your face.

Here we have Sergeant Linwood ‘Pooch’ and his wife reuniting. It is the first time he has seen her since his last mission, before disappearing. It is also the first time he will be seeing his child. Definitely, an emotion reun-

Your captor turned off the TV and turned to smile at you.

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” he asked, but seemed as if he were talking to himself.

You couldn’t respond, all your muscles now refusing to attend to your demands. Instead, more tears streaked down your face.

“A baby,” he whispered, “Yes, that would be nice.”

Masterlist

Tag list: @oneoftheprettynerds @partiesandblurrypolaroids @hitmewithyourbest-shot @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @bval-1 @quxxnxfhxll @sunflowerbunny2 @captainslittlegirl @sohoseb @iviesinmymind @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @old-enough-to-know-better73 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay

Other tags: @mcudarklibrary @saiyanprincessswanie @angrybirdcr

Shoot me a message or fill out the form in my bio to be added to my tag list!

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albertasunrise · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Yours - Chapter 7

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Summary: You and Javier have been sleeping together for almost two years but after his name was leaked by the papers, he is sent home for investigation. You remain behind with Steve to catch Escobar but when he’s finally dead, you decide to go after the man you’ve fallen for. You don’t like what you find when you finally reunite with him.

Warnings: Fluff, Unprotected Sex 18+

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader

The bar was practically empty when Javier walked in, just the usual suspects there at this time in the afternoon. Si was busy polishing the glasses that had just come back from the kitchen, his back facing the bar as he places each one on the shelf once he’s done.

‘Be with you in a moment.’ He says over his shoulder as he finishes the last glass before turning to face Javi ‘What are you doing here Peña?’

‘I came to talk.’ He states, hands stuffed in his pockets as he steps gingerly towards the bar.

‘Well, I don’t want to talk. She chose you. End of.’

‘Actually, she threw me out just after you left.’ Admits Javier as he sits himself down on one of the barstools.

‘Is that right?’

‘Look Si. What happened last night was completely unplanned.’ Starts the agent as he scrubs a hand over his tired face ‘The babies kicked for the first time and we got caught up in the moment.’

‘Do you love her?’

‘What?’ His tone comes out a little shorter than he means it to.

‘’Do you love her? Not that hard to understand.’

‘Yes.’ He states, not wanting to beat about the bush ‘It scares me how much. Seeing you and her together these past months has been killing me.’

‘Then go get her.’ Says Si as he shrugs his shoulders ‘I love her but we’ve been together five minutes in comparison to the time you spent with her.’ He pauses ‘You’re having twins together for fuck sakes. Yes, it sucked walking in on you fuckin’ her but I'd be an idiot if I didn’t think you two should at least try and make a go of it. For your kid's sake at least.’

‘Si I-.’

‘If you wanna say sorry then fine, I forgive you but for Christ’s sake Javier. Go and get her or I will!’ Groans Si as he points at the closed door.

‘How are you such a Saint all the time?’ He chuckled and Si shrugged again.

‘My momma raised me right I guess.’

‘That she did.’ Javier replies as he stands from his stool and leaves.

You sit there nursing your tea as you stare at the flowers on your coffee table, the turmoil within eating you alive as you remember the look on Si’s face when he saw you tangled with Javier. Taking a sip you scrunch your face up in disgust when you learn that it's tepid now, you’d not realised how long you’d been staring for. The door opening catches your attention and you look up to see Javier walking in, a look of determination on his face that you’ve never seen before.

‘Javi I don’t-.’

‘Just let me speak.’ He interrupts, raising his hand to stop you ‘I went to see Si.’

‘JAVI.’

‘Just listen dammit.’ He groans, raising his voice a little ‘I went to explain. Tell him that we hadn’t planned it. That it had just been us getting caught up in the moment. I swear that guy is a Saint because he fucking forgave us. He was hurt, understandably so, but he also told me that I should go get you. That he would be a fool to get in the way of us giving it a go.’

‘Javier.’

‘But I realised something.’ He continues ‘I don't want to give it a go with you.’

‘No?’

‘No.’ He confirms and your heart sinks ‘I want it all with you. I want to raise our babies with you. I want to make more with you. I want to call you my wife.’

‘Javi-.’

Javier pulled out a box from his pocket before slowly lowering himself to one knee, his eyes never leaving yours as tears start to form in his eyes.

‘Hermosa, I am completely and irrevocably in love with you. You own me body and soul and it has even agony these last few months not being able to hold you, kiss you, make love to you.' He pauses, taking in a shaky breath "Please end my pain and marry me.’ He finishes as the box creaks open to reveal a simple, yet spectacular, diamond engagement ring.’

Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as you gasp in shock, tears spilling down your cheeks as your shoulders shake. The longer you don’t answer the more nervous Javier becomes, his heart in his throat as he remains on his knee awaiting your answer.

‘Baby, please. Say something.’

‘Yes.’ You manage to choke out before covering your mouth again in an attempt to muffle your sobs.

Peña’s on his feet in a flash, scooping you into his arms before kissing you deeply as he slips the ring on your finger.

‘When the hell did you buy a ring?’

‘Not important.’ He chuckles before kissing you again, this time with a hunger that goes straight to your core.

You clumsily pull each other's clothes off as he backs you towards the bedroom, both of you naked as the day you were born by the time the backs of your knees hit the mattress. You fall back, giggling as he grabs you by the waist and pushes you further up before positioning himself between your thighs. Two thick fingers plunge into your heat and you yell as he curls them deliciously, pumping them in and out relentlessly.

‘Fuck Javi.’ You whine, throwing your head back as you practically growl from the stimulation his fingers were giving you ‘FUCK.’

He says nothing, just grins as you dig your heels into the mattress, feeling yourself barrelling towards your orgasm and you know it's going to be intense. He increases his pace, fingers hitting that spot over and over and over. Your toes curl as you cum, your release gushing over his hand and the sheets but you don’t have a chance to recover before he’s sheathing himself inside of you.

‘FUCK’ You scream again as he pounds into you, your moans swallowed by his mouth as he devouring yours.

Your nails dig into the muscles in his shoulders, so deep that it’s bound to leave marks but you don't care and neither does he, he wants you to mark him. Claim him. He’s yours and you are his. He changes his angle and it’s devastating, the coil within tightening at an alarming rate and you bear your neck to him as you scream his name.

‘Cum for me.’ He coos, his eyes black with lust as he watches you writhe beneath him.

As if on command you do, your walls clamping down on his length and pulling him right along with you. He collapses on the bed beside you, chest heaving as he turns his head to look at you with a blissed-out expression.

‘I love you.’ He says softly as he rolls onto his side, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he grins at you like a lovesick teenager.

‘I love you too.’ You reply as you smile at him ‘That was also quite something.’

‘Yes.’ He says, letting out a breathy chuckle ‘Yes it was.’

‘Make the most of fucking me like that whilst you can.’

‘Hmmm?’

‘Because soon, this is going to get in the way.’ You finish as you rub your swollen womb.

‘Well if that's the case then I think we better make the most of it again.’ He grins as he pulls you into a bruising kiss, already hard for you again.

‘Congratulations to you both.’ Says Chucho as he raises his beer bottle in cheers.

The bar copies the man's actions, cheering loudly and you gaze at Javi who is looking down at you with his big brown eyes, eyes crinkling in the corners. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulls you into a sloppy kiss that makes you swoon.

‘Congratulations guys.’ Comes a familiar voice and you both look up to see Si stood across from the two of you, a genuine smile filling his features ‘I’m really happy for you both.’

‘Thank you, brother.’ Replies Javier as he shakes Si’s hand before moving for you to accept Si’s hug.

‘Thank you, Si.’ You say sweetly ‘For everything and I’m sorry for you know?… For what happened between us.’

‘Water under the bridge beautiful.’ He replies ‘It was fun while it lasted.’ He finishes as he gives you a nudge and a wink.

‘That it was.’ You agree as you chuckle.

‘Well well well if it isn’t tweedle dum and tweedle dee.’ Comes a voice you'd never expected to head.

‘MURPHY?’ You yell as you run into his arms, squealing with excitement as he laughs at your reaction ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Chucho rang he.’ He states as he slaps Javier on the arm ‘Couldn't miss my partner’s engagement party now could I?'

‘I never thought I’d see the day Javier Peña would settle down.’ Comes another voice and you look up to see Connie grinning at you ‘Definitely never thought he'd be having a baby.’ She finishes as she pulls you into a sideways hug.

‘Actually, it's babies.’ Javier corrects and both Murphy’s look between you in shock.

‘Your not?’ She asks with her mouth agape and you both nod.

‘Twins?’ Steve explains and you share a loving look at Javier before nodding again ‘Well shut the front door, that's fucking wonderful!’

‘Do you know?…’ Connie trains off, grinning at you.

‘Girl and a boy.’ You answer.

‘Jackpot.’

You laugh at Steves remark as you let your head fall against Javi’s shoulder, humming in delight when he gives your hip a small squeeze.

‘You…’ Connie points at you ‘Need to tell me everything. You two.’ She motions between Steve and Javier ‘Stay out of trouble.’

She drags you to an empty booth, hugging you again before sipping her drink and slouching back against the faux leather back of the bench.

‘Sooooo?’ She starts ‘How the hell did this all happen?’

‘Well, this.’ You point at your bump ‘Happened the night before Javier left Columbia.’ You clarify and she grins at you ‘Us. Well, let's just say a lot has happened in the last 5 months.’

‘Like?’

‘I met Si.’ You point at him and Connie looks at you with piqued interest ‘We dated for a few months. Was pretty incredible and I loved him but I wasn't in love with him. It took Javier almost drowning for me to realise that I can't live without him.’

‘Wait what?’ Connie interrupts, her expression changing to one of shock ‘He almost drowned?’

‘Yeah, he uh…’ You pause, taking a sip of your own beverage ‘He saw Si and me fucking on the couch. He’d popped round to show me some baby grows he’d bought and saw us through the window.’ You shiver as the memory of him falling assaults your eyes ‘He got smashed and decided to try and fix the pier down at the end of Chucho’s land. Lost his footing on the rotten wood when I called out to him and he fell. His dad and I managed to drag him out of the river and I gave him CPR. I managed to revive him but I almost didn’t. It broke me.’

‘So how did you end up together?’

‘Well, I’m not exactly proud of it.’ You start, giving her a guilty look ‘We uh… Well, basically the babies started kicking when he’d come round with some food. It was beautiful and we got caught up in the moment. One thing led to another and… Well, let's just say Si walked in on us.’

‘Shit.’

‘Yeah.’ You reply ‘He was surprisingly good about it though. Eventually. We deserved hell but instead, he gave us his blessing. He told Javier to go get me and Javier decided to take it one step further.’ You finished as you grinned at her before letting your eyes flit down to the engagement ring on your finger.

‘Boy did good!’ Connie exclaims when she spots the ring ‘Well done Javi.’ She finishes and you chuckle, gossiping well into the night.

Chapter 8

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña #narcos fanfiction x reader #narcos fanfiction x you #narcos fanfic #narcos #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal

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sainadazai · 3 years ago

Text

When your crush is angry all the time

Ch.4

I wanna be an intern too, you ragedy ann looking ass hoe 😠

Y/n pov

°•○●○•°•○●○•°

All goes well when you are ignorant is what my dear best friend would say to me now, as I sit in the very back of the class unfocused on how our teacher is introducing an activity I have no chance of participating in. All I knew was that when Mr. Aizawa walked up to the board and wrote names of people getting offers, I wasn't one of them. Not that I expected to be, considering I wasn't in the sports festival, let alone the school at all back then.

However, I did notice a small inconsistency in the order of the most offers. I was pretty sure that boom boom had gotten first place in the festival, him being there is what convinced me to transfer, but his name was actually second on the board.

Todoroki had taken the place of first as far as offers were concerned. Todoroki the nice boy who I used to meet when I snuck away from my fucking prison cell. Call me privileged for complaining about living in a mansion All my life, but I much prefer being here. With common folk. They ground me.

I peeked up from my phone at the red and white head of hair in front of me, he didn't seem all that fazed. Although maybe it was just the lack of seeing his face that made me believe he couldn't care less about all but one of those offers. Still, his business is his, and my business is the new Ao3 update on my favorite chrollo lucilfer fanfiction. What a babe.

I decided that the class as of right now would be of no importance to me, considering I will have no offers, and bakugou-the reason I came here- hates me like I'm a piece of gum stuck under his shoe. Through that conclusion I allowed myself to dissolve into the world of hxh and forget about how boring this world is.

Could my power beat Killua or go in a fight? I mean, it doesn't enhance my strength like they did trying to get into Killua's house so physically they must be stronger.

"Y/n! Is there something you would like to share with the class?"

Mr.Aizawas voice seemed almost shot at me as my gaze rose from my phone in my lap to meet him at the front of the room. He looked displeased to say the least. Well good for him, im displeased too, I might not be able to beat a fucking twelve year old in combat.

"Huh?"

"You were grumbling, what's so important you had to tell us, hm?"

I thought it through for a second- just kidding, I never think anything through.

"Oh, well I wasn't sure if I could beat Gon in a fight, but I'm not coming to the realization that if Chrollo is my boyfriend, I shouldn't have to fight anyone at all. I can just be a pretty face in the backgrounds and then after he wins for me i'll suck his-"

"Enough, y/n." Mr.Aizawa no longer held a tired looking face, his eyes were wide and an uncomfortable cringed was set on his face. As I peered at the rest of the class many also had shocked eyes, but unlike our teacher, held faint blushes.

Minus midoriya, his face was completely red and his eyes void of life. I must've killed him, huh.

"Wait!"

In an attempt to regain some dignity, I tried to correct myself.

"I would....not suck his-?"

"Don't even say it, shitty princess !"

"Woah bakugou, you spoke to me on purpose!?"

"Shut up!"

"Hey, how come you call me princess, you like me or something?"

He growled at that, neither of us paying mind to the fact that everyone in the class was either dead from nosebleeds or extremely uncomfortable and staring at us.

"Its cuz you act fucking entitled like a princess"

"I'll be your pillow princes-"

"Enough!" A robotic-like hand sliced the air in front of me. The voice sounded firm, almost more teacher-like than our teacher's voice. I followed my gaze up the hand, not failing to notice how as I drew up the guy's arm his muscles only seemed to get bigger and bigger and- iida?

"Oh class rep-"

"Y/n this vulgar language and border-line harassment needs to cease immediately. I will not tolerante overtly sexual language and acts in this class-"

As he was speaking I noticed something ironic about the situation. If everyone here didn't like sexual jokes or banter, how were they so flustered at comments that objectively should be unknown to them.

"How did you know what I meant, iida?" I rasped in a low sultry voice, allowing my fingers to dance up his arm starting at the wrist in front of my face.

I heard a few chuckles from, who I would say are the only two people enjoying this situation: kaminari and...stinky mineta. Iida's face grew more red than previously and the arms in front of me began shaking.

"Mr.Aizawa it seems I've disarmed the robot. Is there a restart button or something?" I question with a serious face using the search as an excuse to wonder my eyes all over his body. Perverted? Yes. Rightfully attracted to this giant hunk of a nerd. Yes ×10.

"No, there is not." Todoroki, who was in front of me, finally turned around to address me. I guess he was unfazed by my words. Looks like someone here can be cool. Whether he is okay because he is more comfortable with sexual jokes, or because he has yet to pick up on them, its nice that somebody in here can still function. Otherwise, I'd feel like a nuisance.

"Y/n I'm not really sure how to- let's just say to have detention with your m- midnight. Detention. Yeah." Aizawa publicly convinced himself of my punishment?

"Okay"

"Now, back to this, even if you didn't get any offers ALL of you will have an internship"

And so went on the class, kids chose their hero names, not me though. I wasn't even sure I wanted to be a hero at all, this was just a little less boring and sad than the way I lived before. This school had people who laughed in joy, not just to mask the pain. That was the real benefit, not being a hero, or being strong. Likely no one here realized that there were many places where none of this joy was possible.

Some of the kids in class gave me suggestions for a hero name, but I didn't like them anyway. They lacked personality, and while I have many adjectives to describe my personality, my life, none of them are all that heroic.

"Dark element"

"Girl who will die if her quirk doesnt like its environment"

See, I'm not the best at this. Even bakugan names had some sense to it...well no. I'd say we're about the same, but still. Ugh.

~timeskip~

Bakugou pov 😠

She came up with no hero names. Fucking entitled brat. Everyone at this lunch table seems to have no problem with the fact that she is here, just happy to have another pair of tits to stare at like perverts. Their gross. I bet she doesn't even want to be a hero, she sure as hell doesn't act like it. We don't even know what her whole quirk is. Ive seen her do that plant shit a couple times, fucking with flowers or whatever. Still, there's more to it. Something we don't know, at least. Cuz in the middle of class she gets up and whispers to Aizawa and he just lets her go. Where the fuck does she go?

Interrupts class, got into the school because her moms a teacher, won't use her quirk. What a nuisance, I can't believe she is not expelled yet. Plus those bullshit sex jokes are so shitty. She is obviously faking something when she does them. Not like midnight, who always at least seems like she means that gross shit.

"Hey, who did you guys choose for your internship? I haven't chosen yet."

"The number three hero guy," I spoke, knowing I'm the only person here who already chose.

"Really? Best jeanist! That's so cool, but are you sure that for you bakugou?" Shitty hair raised a shitty brow at me.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!?"

"Just that he seems pretty...uptight..for you?" Dunceface added, but he spoke like it was a question. Of course he is the hero for me, he is the highest ranting hero on my list. If I wanna be number one, I gotta train with the best.

If I go to his agency I'm sure there will be a lot more action, since he is so high ranking. Then i'll get some real experience kicking villain ass, well, other than the USJ.

"Of course he is the right option!"

"Woahhh~"

Shit. It's her voice. I honestly should applaud her for using it less often around me but, how can one small girl be so goddamn annoying. I don't even know what she has to say and I already wish she would just put a sock in it. How can someone so entitled like her, probably never had to lift a finger, walk over here and talk like she has something to say.

"You're working with the best jeanist! So cool, one time he saved me from a group of rapist guys, it was awesome with all these strings everywhere and I could only see half of his face. Oh and he had goofy hair too!"

Oh. I didn't really know how to respond to the girl who looked so excited about almost being violated. Another thing wrong with her? I looked back at the other people at the table to see if they knew how to respond to something like that.

Dunceface was frozen, tape arms were frozen, shitty hair was frozen, and alíen eyes were looking like a lost puppy and trying not to cry.

It didnt seem like the shutty princess was exactly understanding how what she just yelled was making things weird. She just stood there expectantly. She kinda looked like she thought being raped was something that must happen to everyone. Did she think that? Wouldn't put it past her weird ass.

"Uhm...anyways, i'm sure you'll do awesome, he likes to put boys in tight jeans. Wish I could intern too, I'd love to see that boom boom~" she winked.

A perverted joke...and then she had the audacity to wink at me.

"You wish you could see me in tight jeans, shitty extra!"

"I know...thats what a I just said." She dead panned, blinking a couple times at me.

"Tch, screw you!"

"I would-"

"Can it, i don't wanna hear your shitty voice anymore"

The girl stopped herself after my words, pushing all her hair behind her head, except for the two blond stands in the front.

(You don't have to acknowledge these if you don't want, but I made it so that they change color depending on what element your using and I thought it was hot*if you have short hair, then you just got a lil nishinoya type thing 🥰)

Lifted her obnoxious hands that moved around while she talked and made a zipper-like motion over her lips. Then she just stood there looking at me. I really wanted to just let her stand there and go back to eating. Ignore her completely and let her hope fizzle out and die or something like that.

Yet here I am, still looking at her. Silently. Wishing she made a stupid joke so that I could stop flickering between those images I'd seen of her dancing. How even though ballet is a princess fucking dance, the pictures felt nice. Like if I was watching it live I would probably be unable to criticize it. That pissed me off, because I want to hate everything about her, but I can't hate those photos. Where she looks like she is flying, without any need for a quirk.

I see her in that weird gown, and now, in the UA uniform. I see her looking respectable, formal, and serious. Then I see her stupid little smirk as she takes pride in being able to shut up for more than a minute.

"Why are you still standing there?"

Instead of answering, she took her hand up again, made a pinch with her fingers and unzipped her mouth.

"I was enjoying the look in your eyes."she smiled.

The look in my eyes? Could she tell I was seeing two different people? What the hell does that even mean? Even said it without that shitty flirt voice. Like she meant it.

"You tryna make fun of me?"I stood up from the table to get in her face.

"Not right now, maybe later, I gotta do something." She smiled sincerely at me, for a second as she walked away, I forgot about how this conversation started. What a wierd fucking girl. I'll never respect her as a hero. Tch. (Yes, its canon he tchs even in his thoughts)

3rd person POV

Y/n briskly walked out of the cafeteria with a new goal in mind. She would come to remember how maybe being oblivious was a benefit in some ways, but for now, she had a clear plan .

"Mr.Aizawa, let me do an internship."

"You weren't in the festival, I can't just hand you to a hero who has no idea what you can do, y/n."

"Well, you know what I can do, right?"

"No. I'm not doing internships. Stop asking."

"That's not what I meant! You can just tell them, or I could, it's not that hard to explain. Just say i'm all- powerful or some play on words like 'she's got all the right elements' hehe, see how i mimicked your voice there?" Y/n grinned like a child. She was proud of herself.

"No. Still not happening."

"I wanna be an intern too, you raggedy ann looking ass hoe"

"Y/n, it doesn't make sense, insulting me to get what you want?"

"Maybe it doesn't, but I bet you feel real insecure about your hair right now."

"You already have detention, what more do you want!"

"An internship, I wanna do one with kamui Woods, I have a good reason, too. As far as my quirk control, i'm the weakest with earth, the aspect that allows me to grow and manipulate plants and stuff. That's why I've only been using that part of it all month. Im trying to get her up to speed so I can start using all four at once. He is like a tres guy, right? He manipulates earth all day long. He could teach me a lot, and that aspect of my quirk would suit his well. Please!?!?!?"

If the girl had just asked again in a normal way, his answer would have been the same. However Aizawa was taken aback to hear how much thought she put into this. From the stories of the teachers lounge, he came to understand her big life goal, was to rely fully on a rich man or woman, and do nothing at all forever. Just to try and forget about the terrible life she was destined to have because of that quirk.

This side of her was something he could not even her mother had seen, and it prompted him to speak those words she wanted to hear so badly.

"Fine."

#bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakusquad #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff #mha fanfiction #mha fluff

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xlady-saya · 5 years ago

Text

I want this touch to be familiar [Ch. 2]

Relationships: andrew/neil, side aaron/katelyn

Summary: Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It’s not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil’s hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he’s forced to acknowledge how much he’s allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

Tags: first time fic, p*rn with feelings, relationship study, fluff and communication, multichapter

Read on ao3!

Andrew is a planner.

This is one thing he's not afraid to admit about himself; most events in his life have been unplanned, disastrous things which he can only try to wrangle in the moment they make themselves known. However, if he has the time and foresight, he's much more inclined to plot out every move, making sure there are no slip-ups. Minimal error.

Thinking about and minimizing the damage to himself is new, since beforehand he wouldn't bother to care. In this case, his own reactions are things he'll have to deal with in the moment, since his limit here is unknown. He's never done this with anyone.

For now, his sole focus becomes Neil.

Of course, he knows with something like this it's impossible to get it perfect. He's more experienced than Neil, despite the fact he's never been intimate with someone on his own terms; he knows how it works, knows what to expect and all the ways it can go wrong.

He knows it most likely will be uncomfortable the first time, but can he make the good outweigh that?

At the thought, Andrew grumbles to himself, shaking his head over his cup of coffee. It's been a few weeks since that initial conversation, and his head has been a balancing act of sexual tension and precaution. He's planning as if he's made up his mind, though it's the farthest thing from the truth.

But, necessary. He needs to treat this like it's real, or it'll never sink in.

And well, the sexual part of it feels very real. His overactive mind has made sure to spin the fantasy at him almost daily, and he's been powerless against it. The thought of Neil splayed out in front of him is not something he'll ever be adverse to. Lately, Andrew's libido has spiked, doubling from what is normal. If Neil knows the reason, he hasn't chosen to comment on it, and just seems happy to satisfy Andrew in whatever way he can.

A curl of warmth unfurls in his chest, and he slides his gaze over to where Neil sits on the floor, legs kicked up as he runs through his calculus homework. The gym shorts he has on slip a little, revealing odd patterns of discoloration. Andrew can only assume they're burns.

He's real, so painfully real Andrew feels the need to shield him from a threat that's not even there. Neil isn't scared of him, Andrew isn't scared of Neil. For all their hostility, they fit.

They prepare for the worst, gentleness often escapes them, and they've never minded each other's harshness.

Even still...

Silently, he pours Neil a cup of coffee into the god awful fox mug Nicky made him at Color Me Mine, the eyes sagging and crossed, and sets it beside him on the floor.

Neil’s head tilts up just enough to smile sleepily at him, and Andrew's insides twist painfully. Harshly, he pushes Neil's head down, back to his homework, and tries not to let the soft laugh cloud his thoughts anymore.

For all his severity, none of which Andrew is ashamed of, he finds himself itching to give Neil the opposite. And he does, when he thinks about it. Andrew tries his best not to roll his eyes; Neil ends up being right at the most annoying times.

Andrew wouldn't mean to hurt him, it's true. Andrew would never willingly hurt Neil these days, he simply doesn't have the capability. But intention is seldom enough for him. He'll do this right; it's the reason he's set up a plan in the first place.

Yet, plans are hard to keep together. Steps should be easy to follow, checked off.

1. Talk to Bee

2. Talk to Roland

3. Do his own research

Simple, direct; that's what Andrew thought when he put the plan into action. Bee would be able to reveal the things Andrew could not yet see, pick his brain until the maze had a map. Roland would have experience with this, he'd be able to tell Andrew what it's like when it's consensual, the do's and don'ts. From then on, Andrew should've been able to piece the puzzle together and fill in the gaps with cold, hard information. There's only so much he can do to prepare, but he'll cover all his bases.

The plan was supposed to do all that, but hiccups forever plagued Andrew's life. Bee's words were weights, necessary, still sitting with him even now. And Roland, well, that had almost gone well.

At the memory, Andrew glares. The night before, he'd gone to talk with Roland alone, no stress or obligation to keep an eye on his family while he tried to sort this out. He told Neil, wrapped around him in bed, because it's not something he felt ashamed sharing. The reasoning was another story.

And Neil, stupid, understanding Neil, hadn't even questioned it, blindly trusting Andrew to tell him later. It would be agonizing, but Andrew would do it.

Keeping things from Neil nowadays is almost like an allergy, irritating.

It should've been uneventful. At most, he expected Roland to be obnoxious about it, which he was...

"Ohoho, it's about time indeed," the bartender crowed above the loud music of the club, spilled alcohol sticking to Andrew's boot soles. He grit his teeth. Andrew tried his best not to give too much away when he asked Roland to follow him to the backrooms, but Roland's shocked face when he brought it up forced Andrew’s hand.

It wasn't like that, it wouldn't ever be like that again and Roland knew it, was probably worried something had happened with Neil to make Andrew seek out something physical.

So naturally, Andrew told him the gist of his situation, his intentions to go all the way with Neil, and Roland had run away with it in triumph. The bartender's smirk made Andrew want to turn around and walk right out of there immediately. As if sensing Andrew's need to retreat, Roland leaned closer into his personal space, never a fast learner.

Andrew doesn't know what he ever saw in him.

"Shut up and let's go," Andrew growled in the small space between them, and Roland laughed at his expense without care. Andrew had to remind himself Roland was his only direct resource, unless he wanted to ask Nicky, which he would never do.

Whatever, Andrew would not have this conversation in public.

"Alright, alright lover boy," Roland sighed, raising his hands with a wink. Andrew employed Neil's tactic for a moment, counting to ten in German. "I'm just happy for you. C'mon."

Andrew didn't bother to respond to that.

The relief that took root in Andrew's chest was short lived, so short lived he didn't even have to shove it down himself. He pushed off the counter to follow Roland through the throngs of drunk college students, the itch in his head gearing towards the information he was about to be given, when he saw her.

The one and only, Ms. I doodle my last name as Minyard in my notebooks--Katelyn.

Andrew froze; and saw the exact moment she knew she'd been caught. She was midstep, legs locked in an awkward position, but she didn't seem to be aware. It would've been satisfying, seeing Aaron's cheerleader so thrown off if it weren't for the look on her face. Andrew could see the assumptions swimming there before the idiot was probably even aware of them, her eyes, so close in color to Neil's but not the same at all, glancing between him and Roland.

For a brief moment, cruelty sparked in Andrew's veins at being read in such a way; it was foreign, this particular anger. He never cared before what people thought of him, least of all Aaron's perfect girlfriend. Andrew knew people thought he was a monster, it never mattered, because Neil didn't.

Yet, the whole reason he was there at all was to avoid hurting Neil as much as possible, so the suspicion on Katelyn's face made him want to commit murder. He might've, but then the idiot rolled her ankle, preserving the progress he'd made with Aaron over the past year and a half.

He couldn't kill her, he couldn't leave her there either.

Aaron's words echoed in his skull; 'Our feelings are the same.'

So inconvenient, so annoying, but so impossible to avoid.

Andrew remembers glancing back at Roland, knowing they wouldn't be having that talk after all, not right then. He remembers his skin crawling as he hauled Katelyn into his car, her words setting him on edge but reminding him that some people still had the capacity to surprise him.

The word 'love' tossed into the mix of mayhem.

Katelyn had put a lot of unnecessary thoughts in his head, but Andrew came back from that night clear headed, not necessarily about the sex situation, but about how he had been handling it.

Guess she isn't totally useless.

Speaking of...

"Good morning!" Katelyn sing-songs into the living area, and Neil flinches from the abruptness. The old instinct to run is hard to bury, and Andrew watches reality settle in as his muscles go slack again. Andrew misses the peace already, but he's the one who left the door open for Aaron in the first place.

Katelyn waves at Neil sheepishly for having spooked him, hopping along on her better ankle to lean against the small counter. Andrew rolls his eyes internally from how Aaron hovers, always there in case Katelyn decides to do another swan dive to the floor.

There's a pause then, one which isn't usually there. Katelyn's eyes land on Andrew and stay there, which in itself is odd. Up until this point, their understanding has been clear. Normally, Katelyn would ignore him, keep her distance. She still does, staying out of his immediate bubble. Yet, this time she offers him a genuine smile, and Andrew hopes last night hasn't given her any ideas about how things are going to be from now on. "Hi Andrew."

Ah, but looks like it has. Great.

Despite the twitch this realization causes, Andrew only hesitates momentarily before he offers her a nod, and ignores the way his brother blanches. Katelyn, thankfully, doesn't treat it as more than what it is, and carries on with whatever breakfast concoction she has in mind. A cook, she is not, and Andrew has no intention of eating it.

He feels Neil's smug smile in the corner of his eye, and dutifully ignores it in favor of watching his brother move seamlessly around his girlfriend. They touch purposefully, and often, like a dance with added steps just for the sake of staying close.

Aaron's arm slides against Katelyn's lower back, and she bites her lip, a blush rising to the tops of her ears. It's not subtle, but it's also not something anyone would bat an eye at.

Why Andrew can see the difference, he isn't sure, but it's there. There's a clinginess between them, more than usual, a product of Aaron's protectiveness and something else.

Looks like after Matt and Dan had fallen asleep, someone else in that dorm had decided to get handsy.

Andrew stuffs down his disgust at the thought; he seldom agrees with Nicky, but thinking of Aaron having any kind of sex is abhorrent, worse when it's straight.

His brother makes it seem so simple though, doesn't he?

He and his twin spent so many years being on the opposite ends of everything that their recent developments make Andrew even more painfully aware of how they're different. They're learning to share things in common without so much teeth pulling, but Andrew knows this is one area Aaron could not understand.

Andrew isn't jealous or resentful, he's just not like Aaron in that way. He's sure his brother and Katelyn had sex soon after meeting, long before it turned into something he'd risk Andrew's wrath over. He's also sure it's not something that keeps Aaron up at night, or wracks him with guilt afterwards. Watching them interact now, post intimacy, makes that clear enough. Aaron wants her and he's happy to want her, there's nothing else to it. Aaron's own insecurities are a monster, that much he knows, but they're not always in line with Andrew's.

Aaron is not afraid to want, and he trusts himself not to hurt.

This observation, coupled with his conversation with Katelyn, leaves Andrew with little room to avoid the real reason for his plan.

Realistically, Andrew knows he's been setting up roadblocks intentionally. Talk to Bee, setback, another setback, step two, back to step one, and so forth. With this process, there's essentially no way for this to not be dragged out to hell and back.

Annoyingly, he hears Renee's voice in his head, "be patient with yourself," but that's not it at all. The steps are more than just precautionary measures or even speedbumps. No, he can't try to convince himself that he put them there to pace himself, to make sure it's what he really wants.

To want, to want, to want.

That's the thing. He knows what he wants, but part of him thought that with enough time, enough pause, he wouldn't anymore. Then, he could fall back on an old habit, push it away and pretend he doesn't care about the fallout.

He'd been giving his brain ample time to ruin this for him too. To remember that wanting is dangerous, disappointing, not worth the consideration or effort. That maybe, impossibly, if he gave himself room to fortify a new wall, he'd no longer crave Neil's everything. Then, hurting him wouldn't have to be a worry at all, because he simply wouldn't care.

But alas, he's caught himself at the end of his rope, and he should know better. He's known better since Baltimore. Because even now, his head buzzing with conflict, one fact stands out as sturdy as before.

He wants Neil. In every way, every part, all the ugly, spiked edges and harsh temper. Nothing has ever sounded better and he hates it. He hates to feel like this, but he won't try to stop.

Why?

"Andrew, what you feel is normal," Bee's saccharine voice trickles through his head, words from the last two sessions when she helped him piece through all this. Or, maybe he should say she gave him the reins. Bee knows him by now, knows Andrew prefers to do most of the work once pointed in the right direction, even if it's something he hates to admit.

What I feel is normal? Yes, yes, I know Bee.

Pleasure, joy, contentment. The lack of exposure to them all for so long means he doesn't know how to process them, according to Bee. In fact, the feelings become almost intolerable.

"As such, your instinct is to lash out at or banish these feelings. They're uncomfortable, maybe even upsetting for you."

He thinks of so many repeats of 'I hate you' and 'this is nothing.' Thing is, those weren't lies. He needed Neil to be nothing, even when he knew it was impossible. He'd crossed the line into dangerous territory again, and Neil had happily jogged over next to him.

Neil's the only one who's ever followed without question.

He means it though; he hates to want. He wonders if it's because it all feels too good to be true, that if he doesn't tell himself he hates it, he'll have to finally acknowledge how good it feels.

How Neil makes him feel.

He can't accept that, not yet. But he will take a different step forward.

Katelyn prattles on about her schedule for the week, and Andrew can't hold her ramblings against her in this case. Labs and practice will keep her and Aaron apart for most of the week; Andrew used to crave the alone time, now...

With the sounds of pots and pans joining the chorus of Katelyn's chatter, Andrew walks over to Neil with intent clear. Funny, how he expected this revelation to be a lot less anticlimactic. But here they are, on a Sunday morning, the smell of burnt toast wafting through the air.

Neil looks up when Andrew sits beside him, catching whatever must be on Andrew's face and tilting his head. He's not sure how Neil does it, doesn't think to ask. Neil won't stop anyways if Andrew tells him too.

Because...

"What you value is understanding."

Yes, this is something Andrew will not be rid of anytime soon, Neil Josten will not go away. The little thrill which runs through him at the thought is not something he'd ever think he'd feel this much again. It intensifies as the days go, and everyday he loses more of the energy to stop it.

He can feel Bee smiling that damn smile, all the way from here.

Andrew digs his thumb into Neil's already open palm, waiting for his sleepy grin, and gets rid of all the roadblocks.

I want this, he repeats, and holds Neil's gaze. I want you.

He fights back the automatic recoil, and notes how it's gotten easier to do so, to overshadow his need to pull away with his need to pull closer.

"Yes," he says, and for a moment Neil is so still Andrew wonders if Katelyn's laughter ate up the small word. From how Neil's eyes soften a second later, he knows they weren't. "I don't know when, but it's a yes."

Because they've always gotten through things in the past, together.

Neil's breath hitches, and his hand curls tight around Andrew's, the touch conveying more than words can. The world is still such a dark, unforgiving place, but on this Sunday morning their dorm room has a brightness to it. Andrew shrinks away from it, but is powerless to avoid it.

Andrew thinks it might solely come from Neil, but he's wrong.

"Breakfast," Aaron calls to the room with a sigh, all too carefree and happy with Katelyn next to him. Andrew briefly wonders if Aaron ever thought he'd get to that point, and it's something they share. Disbelief.

"Okay," Neil calls back, and it has a dreamy quality to it Andrew wants so badly to stamp out like a cigarette. He doesn't though, he can't. The word carries the smile on the striker's lips, and Neil buries his face in Andrew's sleeve, content to let their food get a little cold.

Without Andrew noticing, his fingers curl just as tight around Neil's too.

One thing Andrew cannot fathom about Neil sometimes is that there's no sense of pressure.

Andrew made up his mind about going all the way that very morning, over a week ago with Neil resting his head in his lap and eventually wriggling a little too purposefully to be cute anymore. Andrew nearly snapped at Aaron and Katelyn to get lost, but then Neil would've won.

Considering how cheeky Neil looked later on, Andrew's cock in his mouth, maybe he did.

And in the afterglow, there had been...peace.

Andrew's not sure what he expected; maybe Neil's impatience, a new layer of tension in their kisses, their touches, something saying go, go, go. The rush to dive in and get things over with before the thoughts tore him in two.

But there's not. There's nothing like that; no urgency in his head or a ticking clock telling him they need to do it before it's too late. Of course, he still thinks about it constantly, how could he not? He's only a man with an (admittedly) hot...boyfriend. A Neil. A very energetic and smart-mouthed Neil.

Closing his eyes, he can picture it, his memory a blessing for once with something from just the other day.

Andrew lets his hands follow the curve of Neil's ass, feeling the smooth skin, patches of it rough from road burn and other scarring. He digs his fingers into the one spot of Neil's lower back, swallowing Neil's gasp. Like a press of a button, Neil's back bends for him.

They're only making out, just kissing, and he's like this. Andrew is okay with just keeping things like this, it feels right.

"Andrew..." Neil moans, featherlight, so unlike his usual brashness. It makes Andrew's pulse spike, and he kisses back greedily, mind swimming. Neil wants him, he makes Neil feel good...

Neil makes him feel good.

"Quiet," Andrew scolds, muffled by the urgent press of Neil's lips. It's begrudgingly amusing, how stupid Neil is. He keeps going back in for another peck, one right after the other, provoking Andrew to just pin him and push his tongue into his mouth.

"Mm," Neil hums teasingly, and Andrew feels the glide of his fingernail along the column of his neck. Andrew can't help it, he gives Neil a grunt for that, the sensitivity overwhelming.

And Neil, so infuriating, smirks.

"You first," his junkie bites back, so predictable. He punctuates the taunt with a nip to Andrew's earlobe. Then it's cloudy, no, hazy, a dream.

Except Neil has proven time and time again he's the furthest thing from a dream; so real, so warm and solid. Andrew lets himself sink into the pleasure, and in these moments he doesn't realize he's falling, that he doesn't mind it.

"Andrew..."

Neil's voice is a fog Andrew has a hard time finding his way out of sometimes, and he leans his head back on the wall by his bed while the heat pools in his gut.

Oh yes, he thinks about this a lot, and he's too fixated on the feelings to put up a fight.

But it's not even just in these moments that he wants Neil, what once was so troubling is now simply reality...

He thinks of the redhead's sleep deprived yawns, long and drawn out enough to show the slope of his jaw. Anxious nibbling on the end of a pencil when he's focused on some stupid equation. Careful hands, patching up Andrew's bloody knuckles after sparring sessions. And not so careful hands, punching the first reporter to say something even remotely negative about Andrew outside the stadium.

Neil is so dangerous, in that Andrew wants all of him.

Yet, there's never an imperativeness to have all of him, to just lock them away for the weekend and see what all the fuss is about. No, he can savor different parts of Neil in innocent ways: the concerned touches, considerate glances, and wide grins...

And in filthy ways.

The slow stretch of his spine when he's doing warm ups, those yoga pants he wears on purpose around campus, the flick of a tongue against Andrew's biceps.

And still, neither of them feel the need to cross the line into new territory yet, not for lack of want, but for lack of good timing.

Point is, since the decision, he and Neil have done plenty of other things without the underlying question of taking it all the way. It leaves Andrew's stomach buzzing for different, non-anxious reasons. The absence of pressure, of force. It's as if now that everything is out in the open, Neil's presence is both a relaxant and a stimulant, and nothing they do together is bogged down by anything other than chasing the pleasure it brings them.

Even with Roland, when they were ready to experiment further, there was no point in waiting. No pacing. Andrew was typically ready to get it out of his system for the sake of his libido, never pushing himself too far but also not patient with himself either. He'd propose the next thing he wanted to try, made sure Roland's hands were out of the way, and acted accordingly. Quickly. Andrew did not savor.

Andrew would take what he needed from the sensations and that was that; his knees on the floor of Eden's, a heavy weight on his tongue. Roland was enthusiastic, reacting well to Andrew's touches as he got more experienced with time.

As for Andrew...

Sometimes he'd like it, sometimes not, and in those cases he'd put a stop to it and he and Roland would revert to whatever was quickest to get off. Efficient, enough for Andrew to feel the spike of control, to bring another man pleasure without putting himself at risk. Exerting power over someone, and having them like it.

It had all been controlled, because Andrew needed it to be. Many of those nights blur together now; he can remember them all, he does, but pulling those times to the forefront of his mind is not something he ever chose to do. It simply didn't affect him in that way, because Roland never got below Andrew's skin.

With Neil however…

Andrew can't help but imprint every gasp and arch into his brain to never be forgotten, to be spun into daydreams so vivid it's hard to keep still. In the mornings the thoughts drip into the front of his mind, Neil pressed close to him. Then when he's watching Neil run in the gym with strong legs, and it's like he feels Neil's legs tightening around him. When he's bored in class, the sounds of Neil's moans drown out the professor as the fantasies in Andrew's head take over.

With Neil it is pure, blinding pleasure. He savors more than he thinks he should, like there's a limited supply and he's going through an army's worth everyday.

Andrew prolongs sex with Neil as much as he can. He's never allowed himself to feel this with anyone. He couldn't. For once it's not just about gaining experience or getting off, it's all that with Neil and exploring all the ways to make him fall apart.

So, Andrew still blows him in the showers after practice and ruts against him in the backseat of the Maserati. And through it all, Neil doesn't wait or expect Andrew to bring up going all the way.

He just enjoys it, enjoys being with Andrew.

"I'm still convinced I dreamed you," he spits out later that night when they're making out on the floor. Making out is putting it innocently, since it's quickly progressing into Andrew grinding his hips into Neil's.

They haven't exactly had enough alone time for this, not for a few weeks, but Andrew tames his desperation for it as best he can. He can't be that vulnerable, and yet his hips are moving on their own accord.

With Kevin visiting Wymack and Nicky off studying, they're alone. They can take their time, and they don't hesitate to take advantage.

Andrew can no longer contain the caged animal.

Neil pauses briefly to look up at Andrew, sliding one of Andrew's hands under his shirt to touch him more. Andrew shivers at the silent request, thumbing at one his nipples while Neil tries to make words.

"D--Do you want me to be a hallucination?" Neil teases, and leans up to bite Andrew's bottom lip. Andrew pinches Neil's chest beneath his fingertips, logging away the breathy moan to recall later.

"No," Andrew snaps quickly, almost against his will, and Neil's grin is so annoyingly brilliant.

They both already knew the answer. He's not sure he could handle that at this point. Neil disappearing, like a ghost with only a compliment as a goodbye.

Not again.

As if to cement this fact, Andrew bucks forward, the friction dizzying. Again, it's been a little too long, and Andrew's movements betray it.

"Fuck Andrew," Neil says, reaching for Andrew's fly. It's already undone, his belt somewhere halfway across the room due to Neil's eager hands. Andrew had told him yes, and yet Neil's hand hovers just over Andrew's groin in a silent question. Andrew growls, leading Neil's hand under the waistband until it brushes the wet head of his cock, and they moan in sync this time.

"Andrew I want...fuck," Neil throws his head back, the frustration clear. Andrew can't help but feel the same; if he could make Neil fall apart in every way he would, but for now his body craves the friction, the desperation of his movements.

This is how he wants to get off, humping Neil into the floor.

"Use your words," Andrew breathes, swiping his thumb over Neil's lips. Neil's pink tongue flicks out, coaxing Andrew's fingers into his mouth and sucking.

Neil's eyes are so full of mischief, his response clear: sure about that?

Andrew gives a slow roll of his hips as Neil pumps him slow, pulling away when he senses Andrew's patience running thin. The striker's legs spread farther apart for him, letting Andrew slot them perfectly together. Neil wants it like this too, he realizes.

A shudder runs through him, overwhelming and definitely something he'd normally lash out against. But this feels too good in the moment to resist, his clothed cock sliding perfectly against Neil's, and the thought comes barreling through as the heat coils tighter and tighter.

It's just like the last time they did this. Andrew starts thrusting faster, the phantom of the real thing while Neil's back slides against the floor. Except this time...

This time what?

He watches Neil meet each thrust just as desperately, a few whimpers escaping and mixing with the few Andrew can't help but let loose. He looks absolutely debauched, with his shorts hanging off one leg and his underwear damp. Andrew takes a snapshot, sealing this Neil away in his head forever. Hungry, insatiable, junkie.

What if this was the real thing? Would Neil arch and writhe even more? Neil always feels too good to be true, even now. He'd be warm, Andrew knows it, his ass hugging Andrew's cock, so bent on making Andrew feel good. He'd probably be more reactive too, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. The fantasy floods in, and Andrew feels his heart rate pick up as his hips buck faster, the pace erratic and wild.

And that's the difference, isn't it? This time, Andrew doesn't feel strange to think about it, to imagine it. He's free to indulge, but should he, does he want to?

His cock twitches, and that's answer enough. The small ounce of hesitation is something Neil catches, because he throws Andrew a shaky smile as a bead of sweat drips down his forehead.

"You can think about it," Neil chokes out, voice raw and oh, it's doing a lot of things to Andrew which shouldn't be allowed. "I am too. Fuck, I want you to fuck me Andrew, so bad..."

Andrew surges forward, slotting their lips together. It's hardly a kiss, his tongue pinning Neil's down in a promise he can't say.

Me too, I want all of you.

The thought is so shocking, it doesn't make him recoil instantly. Something in him bends, snaps in two, and the only pause he gives is one used to manhandle Neil. He pulls him forward, so Neil is curled up at the perfect angle. Andrew does sometimes appreciate all the cheerleading stretches Neil borrows from Katelyn, he's so much more flexible now.

"Neil," Andrew breathes when he pulls back from Neil's lips, just his name. Neil's eyes widen, and Andrew wonders what kind of look he's wearing again. Can Neil see it all, how much Andrew really wants to rail Neil into the nearest surface?

It doesn't matter, his next movements make it obvious.

Andrew's hips piston forward until Neil is shaking apart, his orgasm pulling out a whine Andrew knows the neighbors can hear. He can't be bothered with it now, the unusual greediness he feels when it comes to Neil is second to his own rising pleasure. So close, so close--

Neil reaches up, boneless, and hums almost deliriously. Fixated, Andrew's eyes never leave the ring of blue in his eyes. Neil's fingers tap on Andrew's neck, right at the pulse. "C'mon, come for me."

Andrew does, it's obscene how fast he does. The words aren't even all the way out of Neil's mouth and Andrew doesn't have time to be upset with his orgasm coursing through him. His eyes close on their own accord, the feeling wiping out his sight for a few blissful seconds as he trembles. He's vaguely aware of Neil's hands on his muscles, feeling them clench with the aftershocks.

Andrew's stomach bottoms out, and he feels the rush all the way down his legs.

Never before, never this intense. Not with anyone but Neil.

He slumps forward, his body about as relaxed as it can be in Neil's arms. The urge to run after these moments isn't really there anymore, the need for separation either delayed or gone completely. It's the result of doing this...many times, and Neil's arms still rest loosely around Andrew, ready to let go the moment he needs it.

They lay like that for a few seconds, their pants echoing in the small space and Andrew licks the salt from Neil's neck. The striker has the nerve to give Andrew more space, welcoming all the marks. He doesn't even realize he'll be wearing sweaters for a few days in the blistering heat, if only to avoid Kevin's wrath.

Andrew pops off, satisfied with the fresh bruise, and savors the low whine he gets for it.

Eventually, he has to move, but less for the need to get cleaned up and more due to an odd feeling tugging at his abdomen. Neil's noises...they're troublesome for Andrew's self-control, and Andrew is sure Neil knows it.

The mess in Andrew's boxers is...a lot, and he grimaces as he shifts a little. He doesn't pull away completely, just to let Neil know he's alright, but he looks down at the striker with something swimming in his chest.

Neil's breathing is ragged, chest still heaving, and Andrew's eyes follow the trail of hickies he left on Neil's collarbone. The odd feeling hits him again, a simmering heat.

Unfinished.

Ah, so that's it. He gets it.

Andrew's eyes darken and he hears the moment Neil figures it out too. The redhead's throat clears, mixed with a moan as he sits up with Andrew. His eyes are still wide, pupils blown and covering icy blue in darkness. They're expectant, excited.

So, so much energy.

Andrew knows his smirk doesn't show on his actual face, but he has to fight real hard against it as he stands up. Neil licks his lips, tracking the movement as Andrew pulls the waistband of his boxers forward. He's a mess; his cock is slick with his own cum, globs of it sticking to the fabric. Without betraying his own emotions, he pulls himself out for Neil to see the state of him. In Andrew's head, the mantra repeats: you do this to me, you make me feel this way.

Neil's eyes get that hazy quality to them, the intense focus usually applied to games, and Andrew quirks a brow. Neil's glances keep flitting between Andrew's face and his dripping cock, not sure where to look, but eager nonetheless. His mouth is already open, ready. The fire in Andrew's gut is no longer simmering, it's back in full force. Not yet satisfied, not done.

His cum is about to start dripping on the floor when he finally takes pity on them both.

"Hey," he says, almost innocently, and Neil freezes. "Clean up your mess."

And oh, Neil certainly does.

Appropriately, Andrew is peckish after this, and Kevin had once again gone through the trouble of throwing away all his candy.

Honestly, Andrew could kill him at this point. Their deal is over, but then he'd have no reason to drag Neil out after 10 p.m. to try desserts Andrew knows he'll hate. His reactions make Andrew's chest feel fuzzy, and as uncomfortable as it is, he knows it's not a bad feeling or a particularly overwhelming one. Therefore, it's best to use for exposure therapy.

He's making Neil taste baklava at some 24-hour dessert bar when he says the words, unprompted and lazy, but it doesn't feel less right. For whatever reason, their moments of mundanity seem to coax the most monumental things out of Andrew, probably because they're the most grounded he ever feels.

Neil's hair is still a mess from their activities, that coupled with his scrunched up nose at the sweetness of the pastry is so routine, so familiar, it softens Andrew's edges. Andrew's fingertips are sticky from the syrup, but there's nothing filthy about watching Neil's lips wrap around them when Andrew feeds him the bite. It's so oddly cliche and cheesy, Andrew can't believe he did it without realizing.

Neil sticks out his tongue in disgust as he chews, pushing the rest of the pastry at Andrew in favor of his boring gummy bears (Andrew made him get something), when Andrew tilts his head to look at him. Really look.

He doesn't know what he's searching for, and he doesn't find it. It's a relief; Neil is the same, and it's such a comfort Andrew has to force it down.

His brain, always the betrayer, whispers: This is it.

It's not said in a romantic, or even joyful way. It's simply stating a fact; he won't have this again, and won't pursue it.

Neil's eyes soften when he catches Andrew staring, but doesn't call it out like he normally would. The striker rests his head on his arm, blue eyes shining under the shitty diner lights. They're back to normal, all ice, all color. His hand slides across the tabletop to brush Andrew's, not quite linking, but a constant. An 'I'm here' just because he feels like it.

The ease in Neil's eyes, brought on by all their exertion and from Andrew's presence, is so unlike the desire from earlier. It's apparent, but not jarring. This side of Neil is still one he knows, one he's come to expect without meaning to. There's something so innocent about it, so genuine, the words overflow.

"Neil," he says, even though he already has Neil's undivided attention. He wonders what kind of face he's making to get that kind of reaction, but then assures himself he doesn't want to know. He can't handle that yet. He clears away the tightness in his throat as best he can without acknowledging that it's there, and lets the realization wash over him. "Next time we're alone."

He's ready to try if Neil is. He knows Neil will understand what he's referring to. It's both a proposition and a promise, and Neil reads it easily.

He blinks, sitting up in that way which reminds Andrew of an actual fox. If Neil had the ears they would perk up, alert. His fingers inch forward, between the spaces Andrew has left for him already.

"You're ready?" Neil asks, voice quiet but resounding in the deserted shop. Andrew shivers, but knows the answer. He's known for a few days, but only now does he feel up to admitting it.

"Yes."

There's not much more he needs--or wants--to say. This is his decision; the mess in his mind is still there. The image of hurting Neil, or old memories surging forward in the heat of the moment. The shock of being so connected to someone, so vulnerable. It's all still there, making his skin crawl.

But then Neil looks at him like this, a mix of lust and some other emotion he won't name (won't assign Katelyn's stupid definition to) and it becomes a factor. Despite all the mess, Neil is someone he can trust and someone who trusts Andrew.

They want this, that's enough.

"Neil," he says when Neil has been quiet too long, that stupid look on his face, and watches him blush a brilliant shade of red.

"I--yes, yes of course I--" Neil stammers, and it's instinct for him to ground himself with Andrew's touch. His hand grips Andrew's tight, as if Andrew needs more convincing when Neil's tone is so excited. The striker's gaze turns firm, determined, and heat simmers in Andrew's chest once more. "I want that..."

No kidding.

"Stop being an idiot," Andrew snaps, but he tightens his hold on Neil's hand anyways. He's not sure who he's talking to.

Judging by the smile Neil is trying to force down, he knows it too.

"You have a thing for idiots," he whispers with a smirk, teeth pressing into his bottom lip, and oh yes, Andrew always knew this man was far too dangerous to keep around.

Too late now.

"Apparently," he sighs, feigning resignation. He leans against the back of the booth, and it's mostly so he can see all of Neil clearly. The disheveled clothes, the unruly hair, the sharpness. In reality, he's far from cursing his future in that moment. He's not sure if he can label the static in his abdomen and his head as excitement, but he has a feeling it's exactly that.

Troublesome, and much too powerful to try and push away.

Satisfied, Neil smiles and leans back too. They don't stay separate for long; as soon as Neil's hand is off his, Andrew feels a strong leg press into his calf. He doesn't even flinch these days.

Neil poises to throw a gummy bear, and Andrew opens his mouth willingly to catch it, falling back into their easy routine of wasting time together. Long drives, stupid questions and stupider answers.

Andrew misses three out of the ten gummy bears, not really trying. It makes Neil laugh harder when he misses.

On the fifteenth throw, realization crosses over Neil's face, and he pauses. The smirk turns deadly, razor sharp. Andrew has never seen Neil so vengeful, and the excitement only grows when Neil speaks. "You know what this means?"

Andrew raises a brow, and Neil inhales, giddy with his own spite. "We can finally kick Kevin out."

And he automatically knows what Neil means. He recalls hours spent holed up in the stadium, making out with Neil and wishing they were cocooned in bed while Kevin sexiled them for time with Thea.

The word leaves Andrew's mouth, as deadly as Neil's expression. "Payback."

#andreil #all for the game #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten

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bapyess1r · 4 years ago

Text

Amphetamine

WARNINGS: SMUT, cursing, substances

I do not own the rights to these lyrics.

CHAPTER 13

Sam’s POV

How you ain't say you was movin' forward?

Honesty hurts when you're gettin' older

I gotta say I'll miss the way you need me, yeah

Why you ain't say you was gettin' bored?

Why you ain't say I was fallin' short?

How’d you lead me out so far away?

I plucked at the strings of my guitar as Talia sang along, her knees tucked close to her as she watched me. Every pleasant note of her voice warranted a satisfied and peaceful smile. She closed her eyes, zoning out with each verse. I played a sour note by accident and she winced, opening one eye to peek at me. I made an oopsie face and she smiled at me. It didn’t phase her and I continued to play.

How could it be? 20 something

All alone still, not a thing in my name

Ain't got nothin', runnin' from love

Only know fear

That's me, Ms. 20 Something

Ain't got nothin', runnin' from love

Wish you were here, oh

We were practicing alone for a while before the band arrived. Dance classes were done for the summer which left us more time to practice. I let a cigarette dangle from my lips, ashing it quickly between breaks in the chords. I missed hearing her sing. Something about her voice was light and soulful and just hit me right where I needed to feel. She sipped her beer lightly through the intervals, immediately stopping the song. “K stop, stop. I wanna try something else.”

“Anything, Princess.” I said, gawking at her shamelessly. A could feel a lopsided smile coming on and she grinned, placing a hand on my cheek. I kissed her hand as she requested a song we’d been practicing for the past week. I immediately slid into the chord progression, puffing my cigarette, no hands. She slickly pulled it from between my lips to take a drag herself, ashing it in the crystal ashtray before us and putting it back between my lips. I smirked at how sexy she looked before being pulled in by her vocals.

I wasn't thinking when I told you to stay

It was just too hard to push you away

You don't know that you're in over your head

I'm afraid I'll pull you over the edge

I need you to go, don't fight me

Even though I wanna hold on tightly

Let me go

But you won't let me go

Too much love can kill

Get swallowed by the wave

No matter how you feel

My love, you are not safe

From me…

As she hit the last note, I felt myself moving towards her. Crashing my lips into hers, I set my guitar aside to bring her into my lap. She threw her arms around my neck as I devoured her plush lips, my hands roaming under her oversized printed sweater. Her fingernails lightly dragged across the skin of my cheek as she bit my lip swollen. I pulled at the collar of her sweater to nip at her neck and trail kisses across her collarbone. She began grinding into me for more friction as I grabbed a handful of her luscious ass. The heat was picking up between us when the doorbell rang, startling the both of us. “Shit.” I swore in annoyance as Talia touched her lips and hopped off of me, fixing her hair with a mischievous smile, a light sound of laughter dripping from her lips as she blushed. I chuckled, shaking my head as I adjusted my boner to answer the door. Standing on my doorstep, arms full of equipment, was the rest of the band. “Hey guys!” I grinned trying to act normal, taking a step back to let them inside.

“Hey man… you good?” Louie asked, carrying in a few drum heads. I picked up a few off the porch and carried them inside as I shot Talia a funny face.

“Yeah man, why wouldn’t I be?” I said catching my breath finally.

“You look a little red in the face.” Jules smirked. I paused trying to come up with an excuse.

“It’s hot outside today.” I made a face to myself knowing that was a lame excuse. It was hot every day and I never complained before. Louie made a goofy face at Talia and back at me.

“Yuh huh. Suuure…” he chuckled.

“I’m surprised we didn’t walk in on y’all…. doin’ the do.” Marcel laughed, nudging me in the side and I forced a laugh as I locked eyes with Talia.

“Who says we didn’t?” Louie added with a perverted chuckled and Talia punched him in the arm. “Ow?! When did you ever punch so hard?”

“I’ve had a very dedicated trainer.” She responded, winking at me.

We set up all our equipment and began to practice. We ran through a few songs we were familiar with, no problem. Then we practiced a few new songs, some that were suited to both mine and Talia’s voices. We sounded pretty damn good if I do say so myself. A lot of “hollerin’” as Talia would say. We belted notes and practically matched each other note for note. Jules called us vocal soulmates. I couldn’t help but smile at her for that. By the end of practice, we were all tired and ready to turn in. I bid my friends goodbye as they disappeared one by one, leaving my sweet baby girl on the couch, scribbling in her notebook. I closed the door with an exaggerated sigh, hoping she’d take the hint that we were finally alone again. I leaned against the pillar and watched her for a moment. She looked absolutely gorgeous with her smooth cocoa legs curled beneath her, the glasses she couldn’t stand to wear resting at the tip of her round nose; the bit of skin she did show glowing in the artificial lighting of my lamps. I took a deep sigh again and she still didn’t look up. I waved my hands in her face, tried talking to her but nothing. So I grabbed the mic on the stand in front of her and stared at her. “BABE!” I shouted suddenly, causing her to jump in fright. With a laugh, I ran to avoid the pillow she threw at me.

“What the fuck, Sam?!” She exclaimed. I rushed to round the couch and she managed to slap my chest again before turning back to her notes. With a chuckle, I rubbed the tension out of her shoulders.

“What cha got there, sweetheart?” I asked softly, digging my fingers into her tight muscles. I looked over her shoulder as she held the notebook up for me to see. It was a list of songs that she thought sounded best for us. “A set list…” I said reading off the titles. Still Ill, Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart, 1999, Amphetamine… “This is good…” I mumbled, reading over the list. A specific song caught my attention and I adjusted my stance. It was one of my solos. “Europa and the Pirate Twins!” I chuckled in embarrassment.

“What?! I like it when you sing that song! I think it’s cute!” She said, pinching my cheek. I didn’t know how to feel.

“Ok but of all the songs…. Europa?”

“Euuurooopa!” She sang the hook and I could feel my ears heating up. I kissed her cheek and headed towards the kitchen.

“So what’s for dinner? I could cook us something or I can order in. Your choice.” I said, scanning the refrigerator for something good only to find a beer. I cracked off the cap and began to sip as Talia walked towards the island. She leaned on the counter, biting her lip anxiously.

“Y’know I have to go home sometime.” She told me with a smirk. She had been over all week since I’d been home. And she had a point but I just couldn’t let her go.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” I said matter of factly. Leaning on the counter across from her, I began to light myself a cigarette. Crossing my arms, I refrained from asking the question until my cig was well lit. “What if…. you just stayed here?” I asked her, nervous about her answer. She stared at me with those big brown eyes and gave a very small smile. She pushed her curly hair behind her ear and fidgeted with her fingers. I grabbed her hand and smoothed my thumb over her knuckles, gently placing a firm kiss over them.

“Are you sure you want that? I have to warn you, I’m a terrible roommate.” She chuckled. I didn’t care. I just wanted her presence around me.

“I think I can handle it.” I smiled, shyly.

“Can I ask why all of a sudden?” She said. She looked a little nervous herself.

“I… had a revelation while I was on the job. There was this brief moment when I thought I wasn’t gonna make it back to you. And when I made it out, I knew I had to keep you as close as possible…” I responded truthfully. I didn’t always open up to people about my feelings but when it came to Talia I just couldn’t help it. She made it so easy for me to talk to her about those things.

“I wanna leave knowing that you’ll be here…. yknow? Physically here, safe, okay… I wanna look out for you.” I said, rounding the counter to place my hands on her face like she was a snowflake that could melt away at any minute. She placed her small but warm hands over mine and grinned at me.

“You act like I won’t be safe across the street with an entire family.” She chuckled, shaking her head. Swept up in the moment, I pulled her close.

“I also wanna be able to do this when I get home…” I mumbled before kissing her gently and passionately. I could feel her smile against my lips as I moaned into her mouth, my hand at the back of her neck to keep her at an angle. She threw her arms around my neck and jumped up. I caught her as she wrapped her legs around my waist and I walked her to my bed.

I laid her down, hovering over her, and kissed her down her neck as she clawed at my back under my thin grey shirt which prompted me to take it off. I looked into her brown eyes and I could tell she was beginning to understand me without so many words. I pulled her bra strap down her shoulder and kissed it softly as I placed more kisses across her chest and nibbled at her collarbone. Her skin was soft and flawless except for the marks I had left. She began licking trails on my neck as she grinded her body against me and let her hands roam my chest. After stripping her of her sweater, she began leaving kisses down my chest and bit my nipple slightly. She might’ve earned a small moan from me. I slipped my hand down her shorts and began to finger her in a painfully slow manner. She whined and threw her head back in pleasure before a growl escaped her lips. I shuddered as she managed to flip me on my back with a slight tug of my hair. I let out a surprised gasp, I fell back breathlessly. Her strength had grown since I last sparred with her and I freaked out a bit because I had just lost control of my own sexual journey. But her gentle touch as she ghosted her fingertips over my abdomen quickly eased me into her brief moment of domination. She undid the buckle of my jeans quickly and we tossed them and my boxers away, her shorts and panties going with them. My length was standing straight up for her. I was at a loss for words. “I’ve never heard you so quiet, baby.” She commented with a devious smirk. I stared at her posed naked body as she spoke. I began to part my lips in response but almost as if she couldn’t wait much longer, she slid herself down on me. I let out a long groan as I hit that spot for her. It was like her spot was my spot. She rubbed her hands on my chest to anchor herself as she rode me like a slow horse.

“Ooohhh fuck, Princess…” spilled from my lips as she used me, my grip on her waist getting tighter as I bucked my hips for more friction. It was ridiculously pleasurable to be honest. When she picked up speed, neither of us lasted very long either. Between being aroused by her and my own surprising reactions brought us both to climax very quickly. Out of breath, she slid off me and curled up into my side, running a finger through the hairs on my chest laxly. I stroked the soft skin of her arm and bopped her nose before kissing it. “So… I’m guessing the answer to my question-”

“Is hell yes.” She said crashing her lips into mine and a smile melted into both of our mouths.

#uncharted 4 #sam drake x reader smut #sam drake #samuel drake x reader #samuel drake #uncharted smut #uncharted #sam drake fanfiction #uncharted x reader #sam drake smut

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pajamaplants · 5 years ago

Note

Michael: 1, 3, 4, 7, 11, 12, 14, 16, 19. // Ian: 2, 16, 19. // Charley: 4, 5. // Dahlia: 10, 11. // Rosie: 1, 8. // Bia: 9 (specifically her interactions with Ian before vs. after their breakup). // This is a lot so you don't have to do long descriptions but yeah! Love you lots

sorry for the long post to everyone who isn’t anna, the only one who will know or care about any of these characters......... lol but anyway anna none of these are in the actual book 1 story, it’s all either prequel/flash backs or book 2 stuff (and also i skipped some prompts bc this is already a lot and i want your input, i craaaaave it, love you so much thank you for sending me these and kickstarting a writing mood <3)

Michael

1. Them as a child:

He’d had trouble falling asleep, and now the forest was on fire. Michael had only wanted to go back to the lake shore for a bit, and sit by the waves to settle his racing thoughts, but he’d gotten lost on his way there and wandered down a too dark trail. Narrow flashlight beam the only light a head of him, he prayed he was going the right direction back to his family’s campsite. It was dark and freezing and Michael’s eight year old limbs were getting sore, when suddenly he smelled the thick smoke of burning wood in the breeze. A campfire, he thought. Good, he must be getting close. But as Michael traveled closer a hazy fog surrounded him and the nearby trees, his flashlight beam illuminating the smoke. He saw light ahead, fire glowing through the trees, but no wait, this was much too much flame to be a campfire. Michael stopped walking and watched bright clumps of fire crackling in the underbrush. This is really bad, his tired mind registered. Nervously he tried to move down wind away from the fire, coughing as he went, but the fire grew faster than Michael could walk. He hurried through he underbrush now, chest feeling heavy and head dizzy from inhaling smoke. Suddenly Michael had run himself into a rocky cliff face, the fire sparkling dangerously at his back. What do I do? he panicked. I don’t want to die, please. Michael moved around the rocks until he saw a natural crevice traveling back into the earth. Was that a cave? Fire could burn wood, he reasoned. But probably not stone. He crawled in between the rocks, shining his flashlight as he entered to check it was uninhabited, and saw it went back a few feet. The air in here was clear of smoke and much easier to breathe. Crouching in a small cave wasn’t ideal, but it was better than burning to death. Outside Michael saw the wildfire grow in intensity slowly. As it crawled along bark and dry leaves, a soothing crackling noise came from the charred forest. Tucked safely in his cave, Michael watched, cinders in the air reflecting on spellbound eyes. The blaze passed him by and devoured entire trees, cracking apart branches. Somehow now Michael felt less afraid; the air was warm, the fire’s glow bathing the opening of the cave in a lulling orange gleam. Eventually, Michael fell asleep lying curled in place on the rocks, the wildfire’s presence helping him find sleep better in a cave than back in a sleeping bag in a dark tent. In the morning he awoke, crawled out into the ashy remains damp with smoke, and traveled by the morning light through the destroyed forest until he found a path back to his family.

3. Their parent(s) (ok listen, this post is long enough, i going to just split all the ones i didn’t do here in another part 2 post later okay? so i’ll do this one later)

4. Their laugh: (and i’ll do this one later )

7. Their interactions with their pets, if they have them:

Every night his cat played a game with Josh, a one in which Josh always ended up losing as yet again Cannelle settled innocently on Josh’s chest or kneaded her way to resting on his legs and he felt too bad to disturb her. “Well, once she’s comfortable, what am I supposed to do?” Josh told him once. Now in bed trying to fall asleep, Michael rolled over, and with a lurch his heart beat rose sharply in distress, realizing there was his cat, lying in the same space as his space. The left side of the bed, that had once been Josh’s. The left side that Michael still some how always managed to sleep to the right of, despite the bed being his alone now. Michael pulled his blankets up. “Cannelle, c’mere, c’mon girl.” he called. He’s not there, I’m so sorry, and you can’t understand why, I’m sorry. He apologized silently to the cat. She blinked her brown eyes, then rose, tail in the air, and settled down under the tent of the comforter Michael kept open for her. He stoked her fur for something, anything, to latch on to other than the buzzing ache that settled into his muscles. The first week is the hardest, he’d been told. That’s a lie, he thought. It doesn’t really get easier. Michael counted her exhales, inhales, exhale, inhale, exhales; until his eyes finally closed and he slept.

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink):

Michael stepped casually from the elevator, fidgeting hand needing to readjust the fake access badge clipped to his chest. Bia gave it to him, had it forged for him to blend in better, and Michael appreciated the way eyes never stayed on him long. Down the hospital’s long corridor of drywall-white patient rooms he stopped when he found the one he sought, slipping inside. Michael had read this man’s profile. Daniel Keaton, 25, paralyzed from the waist down, the loss of total lower motor control result of a nasty accident. Bia gave him information on a couple of her patients that were in conditions no amount of surgery would help. Understand me, she had said, when she handed him the ID. I’m not letting you do my job for me, since I am more than capable. But not everything has a cure. The man in the bed looked away from a bland television program, saw the hospital staff badge, brown leather jacket, and the lack of any hospital scrubs and asked, “Hi, are you my new counselor? I don’t feel like talking, sorry.” “No, I’m a... physical therapist.” “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re kinda useless at this point. Maybe you’re in the wrong room but I’m past the point of ever using my legs again, the doctors already told me.” ”I know. There’s a method that might bring you some relief, at least. Will you let me try?” “Knock yourself out.” Daniel sighed, closing his downbeat eyes in resignation. Michael carefully helped Daniel into a seated position in the hospital bed and proceeded to gently knead over the dead spinal nerves of his lower back. The accustomed electric warmth pulsed through Michael’s core, seeping up from his bones into the tissue, a faint glow emanating from the flat pressed palms on Daniel’s back. “Wait,” Daniel said suddenly, registering the strange sensation. “What are you doing?” “Don’t worry,” Michael assured. “It’s safe. This will help.” Daniel looked over his shoulder at Michael, slack jawed. “But... I shouldn’t be able to... why can I feel my legs?” Michael sensed his repair work was finished. He backed up a few steps. “Stand up.” “I can’t.” Daniel helplessly shook his head. “Can’t you?” Michael raised an eyebrow. Hesitantly, Daniel pulled his knees up and then gasped. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, devolving into startled tears as he did so. “I-I don’t understand. How? What are you?” “Just a man trying to help.” “What’s your name?” Michael held a finger to his lips. “Lie back in bed, Daniel. When asked, say it was a miracle recovery. You never saw me. Take care.” Before speechless Daniel could utter a question or thank you, Michael left the hospital room.

12. Them in their favorite outfit (i’ll do this one later)

14. Them in an uncomfortable outfit (i’ll do this one later)

16. Them sleepy (i’ll do this one later)

19. Them drunk:

One moment Michael was hiking side by side with Josh on the edge of a hilly forest trail, drunkenly laughing at something, but what he couldn’t remember, Josh had said something funny— when a pile of trail rocks under his feet slid loose and the world hitched violently sideways and down. As if his coordination wasn’t impaired enough by his boozy afternoon at their secluded campsite, all he saw as he tumbled down the leafy slope was green and browns, no sense of up or down. He yelped rolling on his back until he landed face first on something sharp in the creek bed that scorched his lips and face with pain. His hands clamped to his face in shock. Josh shouted something indistinguishably after him, clambering down the side of the ravine a lot more gracefully to the stony creek shore below. Michael covered his left cheek with a large hand, palm pressed to his mouth, and when Josh reached him and moved his hand to see, it came away red. “Tabernac, tabernac, tabernac, Josh cursed under his breath, quickly shedding his coat, stripping away his own t-shirt, and folding it over as a makeshift bandage to the jagged diagonal cut on Michael’s face. Tears welled in Michael’s eyes but Josh was quicker, wiping away the wetness and applying pressure to his stinging split lip. “Look, it was this broken glass right here you fell on. What the fuck is that, someone’s beer bottle?” “Fuckin’ bottle, why’s that there? ‘S not the brand you drink.” “Don’t speak Michel, god you’re sure bleeding a lot,” He paused. “I think we need to go to a hospital.” Michael was preoccupied with the trail of blonde hair traveling up Josh’s naval. He reached out and smoothed his thumb and forefinger down Josh’s naked chest. “You look... good like this.” “Ce n'est pas le moment pour ça!” his boyfriend chided. “Tabernac, you’re lucky that wasn’t your eyes!” “But...” It wasn’t supposed to go like this, they were supposed to be at camp tonight, where Josh would eat those cheap grocery store cherry danishes he liked while Michael would build a good fire for their dinner. Josh gently stood up. “No buts. I know you’re hammered but get up please, you gotta get stitches, there’s no way you couldn’t with a cut that deep,” Michael held Josh’s shirt in place over his copper-tasting mouth and Josh helped him to his feet. “Might even have a scar.” he continued. “Would you, y’still love me if I did?” “Obviously, now c’mon cher, we’ll go back and pack our things and take my bike into Fredericton.”

Ian

2. Them several years past their main adventure: (not gonna do years later, just making this book 2 Ian lmao)

Ian traced wandering lines in his sketchbook, taking his restless energy and channeling it into activity, distraction; one of the little tricks gained in the rehab center. Sobriety had been a bitch to learn, and often Ian flexed a muscle of self control he’s carefully crafted to hold him steady. Temptation tickled the back of his neck in his most stressful moments, and the times Michael left him alone for too long. And Michael, the man who took him to rehab, who brought art supplies to his room at the clinic For something nice to do, he had said. Ian had never loved a set of pencils so dearly. Michael had visited daily, talked with him about his therapy as he sat still in his chair and let Ian draw him. Ian never took Michael’s presence for granted, it was familiar and warm, a stark contrast to the first night they met. Time does strange things to people, Ian decided. But... Ian had to appreciate the change. Michael managed his medicines for him, took care of him with every meal he made for the two of them, and he made Ian laugh even in a dark moment of handling some sticky Orion business. Gradually he’d become his foothold in sobriety, his anchor point. His Michael. Ian shook the idea away. No, Michael’s not mine to have, Ian thought. Michael surely didn’t get the pesky flashes of impossible possibilities like the kind that plagued Ian’s headspace lately, of... more. He disdainfully flipped to a new page in his sketchbook, landed on a page of Michael sketches he’d drawn secretly and quickly ignored them by flipping to a fresh sheet. Ian settled back in his chair, and argued back and forth silently until he’d convinced himself Michael was his friend, his partner in literal crime, and that was enough. That had to be enough.

16. Them sleepy:

Michael returned home in the early morning, only to discover his bed was occupied. Ian was in boxers and nothing else, sound asleep. His partner’s limbs were bent up among his blankets, mouth puffing open slightly whenever he breathed out. Used to seeing Ian sleep in odd positions on the couch, Michael knew the way he tucked his arms under himself in his sleep. But it was strange to see him in here. How often did he come in here, even when Michael was awake? Michael stood silent by the bedside and watched Ian snooze peacefully, not wanting to wake him just yet. Did he miss me? This time, instead of dismissing it immediately, Michael let this thought settle. Michael imagined the way Ian must’ve been up waiting for him, maybe even worrying about him, before coming to open his bedroom door. Michael How Ian must have settled his head, nose against the pillow, and arranged the comforter Michael slept with over himself. And then his hand slipped, drifted downward, sinking down into Ian’s hair. Soft and thicker than he imagined, he combed through the wisps of black lightly enough to not disturb him. Missed you, came a hushed sentiment in his mind. Michael swept the bangs that fell messily over Ian’s forehead when his hand grazed across Ian’s temple. There had been times Michael touched Ian before; when injured pieces were in play and Michael stitched up the wounds. The burst of warmth when fingertips brushed Ian’s skin took him by surprise. Ian stirred from this touch however, and Michael’s hand flew to his side. Extending his arms, green swatches fluttered open; Ian stretched his legs and flopped his head on the pillow. “Hi, you’re back,” he mumbled, words languid like the hand that rubbed at his eye, then curled loosely on the sheets. “Hi,” Michael replied, the way Ian looked up at him striking some tender feeling in his throat. “What are you doing in here?” Starting to understand his indications, Michael saw the light flush of embarrassment rise as Ian rolled into sitting. “Did I fall asleep in here? Sorry man, my mistake. Been pretty tired lately,” he explained, kicking away the sheets and getting clumsily out of Michael’s bed. “I had all the lights off and must’ve walked in here instead of my room. Didn’t think twice, my head just hit a pillow.” “S’alright. You looked comfortable.” Michael smoothed his hand over the blanket and Ian’s eyes followed it. “... I was.” Ian shrugged before sheepishly fleeing the room for his own bed.

19. Them drunk:

“Hey, buddy.” A firm hand nudged Ian's shoulder. “Buddy.” The faint sounds of a bar swam to his ears; the clink of glasses against wood, quiet voices agreeing to go home, chairs scraping and the drone of a late night talk show host floating somewhere above him. “C’mon Ian, you need to get out of here.” With a soft sigh that left his chest slowly, he knew where he was. He sat on a stool in his favorite local dive, his body glued to the counter in his usual spot. Graham the bartender, to his credit, waited a full minute before poking Ian in the shoulder. “Mm, can I get one to go?” Ian’s voice came muffled from the crook of his arm. The sticky countertop was a comfortable place to lay his head and he liked the support it gave his loose limbs which currently felt curled up on each other. “No,” the barkeep responded firmly. “And you’re not staying the night… I’ll call you a cab.” Ian’s head popped off the counter, fingers clinging to the glass in his hand. “Don’t have to.” Ian stood, waiting for the lightheaded rush that made his knees wobble to pass before knocking back the dregs of his screwdriver and slipping a few crumpled bills under his glass. “Someone’s coming to get you?” Graham asked. Ian basked in the heat lingering in his throat, he swallowed. “H’yeah, sure.” He waved off the question with a flip of his hand and ambled outside.

Charley

4. Their laugh:

Samuel pulled through the discount rack, casting coat hanger after coat hanger aside flippantly and frowning. “Why’s this all ugly?” she lamented. Charley shrugged, back against the wall, eyes trained on the crummy mall clothes outlet across the way from the display window of theirs. They did this as part of their job sometimes, building profiles. It helped understand daily routines a target had and was the best way to learn potential vulnerabilities. “Oh, now this is good,” Samuel piped up. “I should get these Dahlia for her next birthday.” Charley turned and saw her considering a set of women’s pajamas, with blue penguins printed on the pants and another pudgy penguin on the shirt with a speech bubble saying ‘Out Cold’. Charley took one look at the pajamas and burst out laughing. “Are you fuckin’ kidding?” he snickered, gesturing. “These? With these cute little bastards on them? Are we thinking of the same woman?” He deemed Dahlia maybe a little too serious and brooding. “She could use these, I hate seeing her going to sleep in just whatever outfit she’s got on. She actually would like something goofy like this, she just doesn’t say so.” Samuel held the shirt and flipped flopped the long fleecey sleeve, before then using it to wave to Charley. He chuckled and checked his watch. “You’d know better than anybody, I suppose.” “There’s a lot of things about Dahlia you don’t know.” “Really?” Charley asked interested, hands busy tying long black dreads into a bun at his neck. “Care to share with the class?” Samuel shook her head. “I don’t betray her trust like I promised I wouldn’t betray yours.” Aside from the very first time, he thought. Samuel hadn’t broken her promise to him since. “I respect that,” Charley rolled his shoulders and glanced over into the clothing store opposite the one they stood in. An unassuming young man with green sneakers had just entered it.“Spotted him. Do your thing.” he said to his partner. The two watched him moving around the counter of the neighboring store. “He’s late for work,” Samuel said. “That’s why he’s rushing. He’s nervous his manager might be annoyed with him... here she comes. And he’s very attracted to his boss, he’s thinking about her...” her nose crinkled. “I’m not relaying that.” Samuel watched the manager cross her arms as the man blabbered on. “She thinks he’s nothing but a tiny-dicked idiot. Got him.” she concluded and Charley laughed again.

5. Their crying:

Charley sat across from his partner Samuel at a cafe table in Ireland. His panic had brought them far across the ocean, further than he meant to travel but Charley chalked it up to stress and a need to just run. Their mission to hunt a certain target ended successfully with the target’s death, but included the death of an innocent bystander. Just thinking about it made Charley’s guts coil. He fucked up bad this time, he lost control and a man lost his life because of the mishap. “You’re still learning control over your power, you did not abuse it, the reins slipped from your hands. An accident, Charley. That’s all it was.” He wiped a stubborn tear from the crease of his eye. Samuel’s brow furrowed. “You don’t need to be brave in front of me,” she murmured, reading the shame and denial of his emotions from his mind. “I’m not like him.” Charley blinked his chestnut eyes, the sour rise that made his nose tingle bringing more tears as he thought of the man who had turned him this way. His partner saw through him like tissue paper, and she saw the replaying memories; the way his face had looked, the reason he hated to let anyone see him cry, and the way that the innocent man had been knocked below to his death. He reached for her ivory hand and she took it supportively, politely looking to the far end of the cafe while Charley mopped his brow with a cloth napkin, the older man’s torso shaking with low rumbles and sniffs. A couple other lunch goers nearby looked in their direction a few times, but left them undisturbed. “... We need to see Meissa.” Samuel said finally. Charley wiped his eyes once more looked morosely at his untouched scone. “What do I tell her?” “The truth.” she suggested, wrapping her coat a little closer to her. “I’ll vouch for you, I saw them both die. The other man was not supposed to be there. It’s unfortunate, yes, but we live in the present and must go on.” Charley thought that seemed a bit harsh. “It’s survival,” Samuel added gently. “You had to change to survive and here you sit. I survived the bear trap of my childhood and here I sit. This doesn’t end here,” She retrieved her wallet and left some money on the table. “Ready? We’ll make it through this too.” Charley nodded, took a deep slow breath to collect himself. Then Samuel placed her hands in his on the table and the two vanished from their seats.

Dahlia

10. Their interactions with an enemy/rival

Dahlia kept certain rooms in her house well furnished and comfortable, and others purposefully devoid of distractions. She was leaning against her desk in such a room now, desk and a single bookshelf holding some of her dream journals the only objects beside bare floor and walls, with of course, the projection system. Projected on the walls all around her was a calming cloudy ocean scene with the horizon stretched before her. She lit a cigarette, smoke curling bright in the projection light. She glanced at her watch. The chair and the man tied to it materialized a half second later. Dahlia didn’t bat an eye. Charley stood behind the chair, palms flat on the grizzled older man’s shoulders. “I appreciate the trouble,” said Dahlia. “I know you could’ve handled him alone.” “No trouble, and thank Sammy, she lured his greasy ass into the motel room. In fact, thank her yourself.” He disappeared and within five seconds he reappeared, this time hand in hand with Samuel. Her peacock blue heels clicked on the hardwood as she moved concentric circles around the man in the chair. “Still out cold, I’m impressed Charley-boy.” “Pleasure, I’ve been practicing my right hook. It’s nice to test it out on this freak. A five year old kid, that’s sick.” he shook his head. ”Good work both of you,” Dahlia hummed approvingly. “Now we wait.” “Mind if I bounce?” Charley asked. “Gotta teach my class in an hour.” “Go right ahead. Just be back here after for disposal.” Charley nodded and vanished. Dahlia coolly regarded the unconscious man, puffing on her cigarette, lost in thought. Samuel silently watched Dahlia thinking. Samuel became a usual presence to Dahlia in this way, like a friend sitting beside her on a windowsill, simultaneously looking out the same window as herself, seeing the same vivid world outside. At last, the large man stirred, opened his bleary eyes. “The hell?” he groaned, then his eyes fell on Dahlia, then Samuel. “Who are you people? Where the fuck did you take me, you pasty bitch?” Dahlia didn’t waste time. “Mr. Clark, you don’t know me and I certainly don’t care to know you, but I do know what you did to the five year old son of your next door neighbors.” The man tried to wiggle out of his restraints. “You’re crazy, I don’t know what you’re talking about, let me fucking go!” “Take a look around Mr. Clark, this is the last room you’ll ever see.” “What?” he froze mid struggle and stared at Dahlia, who tapped her cigarette calmly in a porcelain teacup on the table. He looked to Samuel whose pallid eyes pierced daggers in his direction. “You’re not serious... I’m not scared of some dumb bitches.” “He’s lying.” Samuel contributed. “Choosing to pursue that particular disgusting fantasy of yours was the wrong choice.” Dahlia said, then extended her arm into the blue projection light and Samuel handed her a bottle of liquor from a shelf. Dahlia uncapped it and poured amber liquid into a large glass. “What are you doing?” Mr. Clark clamored as Dahlia approached him with the glass. “I swear I didn’t do it! I never touched the boy!” “It’s tacky to lie,” Samuel commented, watching as the man squirmed in place. Dahlia grabbed him by the hair, yanked his jaw up in the air, and poured the cup down his throat. The liquid spilled over the mans chin and down his shirt as he spluttered and fought, but Dahlia made sure some went down his throat. “How does it feel to be robbed of your agency?” Dahlia asked, stepping back. “I want you to meditate on that while the darkness comes. To feel like– what was his name?” she asked the man. “Evan Watson.” Samuel supplied when the man kept quiet. “Yes, like Evan when you raped him.” The man coughed out a sting of curses at Samuel and Dahlia, but the words quickly subsided until both the room and the man were still. Dahlia shuddered and turned away. “You know I like to stay distant and trust you and Charley and the others to handle this part,” she said to Samuel. “But I hated the dreams I saw. The ones with kids are the worst.” “You don’t need to explain to me, I’ve seen the way it hurts.” “Right.” Her friend’s view into her mind let Samuel understand best, but that didn’t stop Dahlia from wanting to explain things to her anyway. I appreciate you Sam, she thought. In all the ways you help me stop these people. I’d be lost without you. Samuel smiled her pearly teeth at Dahlia and Dahlia wished then that she could also see into Samuel’s innermost thoughts.

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink)

Dahlia was an early riser, and like clockwork every morning she went to her chair on the front porch and smoked under the morning sun. But this spring morning she waited to receive her brother visiting for Passover, and this morning’s cigarette was interrupted by the arrival of Michael and his boyfriend Josh with suitcases in tow. She ran down the steps to hug her brother, and then shook Josh’s hand, thinking he somehow wasn’t what she was expecting. Not that she had any big expectations but she wanted only the best for her brother. She thought he was ordinary but handsome, with a wide friendly smile, crooked at the edges. He looked eager but nervous as Dahlia introduced herself. “So you’re the mysterious Canadian man my brother’s been dating huh? Good to finally meet you. I hope you’ve been keeping him out of trouble.” Josh laughed, a bright pleasant sound. “I’m studying criminal justice actually, if anyone will be keeping him on the straight and narrow it’s me.” His accent was noticeable and musical, and Dahlia saw Michael’s eyes shining as he glanced over at Josh. Her brother looked proud and happy she realized, happier and younger looking than when she’d last seen him. “Good, well we have some lovely matzo brei mom made on the stove, you’re welcome to it for breakfast.” “Thank god, I’m starving,” said Josh. “We left too early to have breakfast and nothing at the airport sounded good.” Josh left to go bring their luggage inside, and Michael stayed out on the porch with his sister. “I’ve got a good feeling about this one.” Dahlia remarked. “What makes you say that?” Michael wondered. Dahlia offered him her cigarette and he took it. “You’ve got a love glow about you.” “I do not have a ‘love glow’,” he grumbled, blowing smoke through his nose. She laughed and took the cigarette back. “No, but seriously, you look really happy with him, not like with anyone else before. Seems like the real deal.” “Maybe. I hope so. I want mom and dad to like him.” He’s serious with this guy, Dahlia mused. Her brother caring about his parents opinions? That was a first. “I’m happy you’re home, Mike. And I wouldn’t worry about what mom thinks at least,” she said, peering into the doorway. “Look at her, she’s already fussing over him in there getting him enough on his plate.” Michael chuckled. “Better get in there and rescue him before he’s overfed.”

Rosie

1. Them as a child (i’ll do this one later)

8. Their interactions with their significant other(s), if they have them (the significant other is outta the picture, so you get Rosie and her daughter instead)

Bia clinked her raspberry gin lemonade against her mother’s glass. They sat in a private VIP room at the King’s Throne, celebrating Bia’s acceptance into one of the top medical schools in the country. Rosanne frequented this particular night club for abundance of potential customers and good relations with the owner. They were on their second round of drinks. “To the start of your career! This is all for you sweetie, enjoy yourself.” Rosanne toasted her glass and took a long sip. Bia followed suit. “Honey, I want you to know I’m proud of you.” “Thanks mom.” “I’ve been proud since the first time I held you crying in my arms.” Maybe it was the alcohol, but Bia felt a lump rise in her throat. "Even if... I turned out differently than you expected?” Rosanne set down her amaretto sour. “You’ve surprised me a lot as you’ve grown,” she started. “But never negatively. Never wanted you to work in my trade, and you surprised me by never wanting to follow in my footsteps, by picking medical school and gettin’ accepted. I’ve watched a little boy grow into a wonderful, resourceful, fucking intelligent, brave and beautiful woman. Nothing could make me prouder.” Happy tears dripped down over Bia’s expensive make up but she didn’t care. Her mother pulled her into a hug and Bia let her mascara disintegrate.

Bia

9. Their interactions with their best friend

“Your quiet magical friend told me you were here in rehab. I’m really proud of you for being here Ian.” Bia sat beside him on the edge of his bed in his room at the inpatient rehab center. She looked much healthier now, but a different version of the woman he’d known once, before Phil Lancaster had ever touched her. “Thank you Bia, and you haven’t told anyone else about what Michael can do, have you?” “No, you made me swear.” “Okay, cool.” “But listen I... I’m not the reason you’re in here now, am I?” “What do you mean?” Bia shifted her shoes on the carpet and smoothed her hair. “Well, you and me were trying different shit a lot when we were together and I’d feel terrible if I–” “No,” Ian interrupted. “Trust me, you’re not the reason I’m here. I was an addict before I met you.” Bia sighed, still looking concerned. “Okay, just wanted to apologize for ever turning you onto it.” His time dating her had been comfortable and some brief, needed stability. They spent it trying drugs and having sex, but Ian’s favorite memories had been the late hours of the night when they lay beside each other and she shared stories; these including tales of her life as a surgeon and her wild experience of growing up with a drug mogul mother like Rosanne Madaki. “I’m the one couldn’t stop Bia, and you never forced me. You were one of the few things keeping my head above the water. Taking Xanax was my own choice and so is quitting it.” She smiled meekly. “That’s the spirit.” “So, how have you been recently?” “In constant therapy for... y’know, what he did. There’s no better relief than waking up in my mother’s house and remembering he’s dead and will never be anything but dead. Mom’s barely let me out of her sight, and when she does she has one of her bodyguards tail me around, she thinks I don’t notice.” “She loves you.” “I know, she just blames herself for everything still.” “We’ve all got our struggles,” Ian said patting her arm. “We’ll try and get better together, okay?” Bia nodded and smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

sorry for the long post to everyone who isn’t anna, the only one who will know or care about any of these characters……… lol but anyway anna none of these are in the actual book 1 story, it’s all either prequel/flash backs or book 2 stuff (and also i skipped some prompts bc this is already a lot and i want your input, i craaaaave it, love you so much thank you for sending me these and kickstarting a writing mood <3)

Michael

1. Them as a child:

3. Their parent(s) (ok listen, this post is long enough, i going to just split all the ones i didn’t do here in another part 2 post later okay? so i’ll do this one later)

4. Their laugh: (and i’ll do this one later )

7. Their interactions with their pets, if they have them:

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink):

Michael stepped casually from the elevator, fidgeting hand needing to readjust the fake access badge clipped to his chest. Bia gave it to him, had it forged for him to blend in better, and Michael appreciated the way eyes never stayed on him long. Down the hospital’s long corridor of drywall-white patient rooms he stopped when he found the one he sought, slipping inside. Michael had read this man’s profile. Daniel Keaton, 25, paralyzed from the waist down, the loss of total lower motor control result of a nasty accident. Bia gave him information on a couple of her patients that were in conditions no amount of surgery would help. Understand me, she had said, when she handed him the ID. I’m not letting you do my job for me, since I am more than capable. But not everything has a cure. The man in the bed looked away from a bland television program, saw the hospital staff badge, brown leather jacket, and the lack of any hospital scrubs and asked, “Hi, are you my new counselor? I don’t feel like talking, sorry.” “No, I’m a… physical therapist.” “I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re kinda useless at this point. Maybe you’re in the wrong room but I’m past the point of ever using my legs again, the doctors already told me.” ”I know. There’s a method that might bring you some relief, at least. Will you let me try?” “Knock yourself out.” Daniel sighed, closing his downbeat eyes in resignation. Michael carefully helped Daniel into a seated position in the hospital bed and proceeded to gently knead over the dead spinal nerves of his lower back. The accustomed electric warmth pulsed through Michael’s core, seeping up from his bones into the tissue, a faint glow emanating from the flat pressed palms on Daniel’s back. “Wait,” Daniel said suddenly, registering the strange sensation. “What are you doing?” “Don’t worry,” Michael assured. “It’s safe. This will help.” Daniel looked over his shoulder at Michael, slack jawed. “But… I shouldn’t be able to… why can I feel my legs?” Michael sensed his repair work was finished. He backed up a few steps. “Stand up.” “I can’t.” Daniel helplessly shook his head. “Can’t you?” Michael raised an eyebrow. Hesitantly, Daniel pulled his knees up and then gasped. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stood up, devolving into startled tears as he did so. “I-I don’t understand. How? What are you?” “Just a man trying to help.” “What’s your name?” Michael held a finger to his lips. “Lie back in bed, Daniel. When asked, say it was a miracle recovery. You never saw me. Take care.” Before speechless Daniel could utter a question or thank you, Michael left the hospital room.

12. Them in their favorite outfit (i’ll do this one later)

14. Them in an uncomfortable outfit (i’ll do this one later)

16. Them sleepy (i’ll do this one later)

19. Them drunk:

One moment Michael was hiking side by side with Josh on the edge of a hilly forest trail, drunkenly laughing at something, but what he couldn’t remember, Josh had said something funny— when a pile of trail rocks under his feet slid loose and the world hitched violently sideways and down. As if his coordination wasn’t impaired enough by his boozy afternoon at their secluded campsite, all he saw as he tumbled down the leafy slope was green and browns, no sense of up or down. He yelped rolling on his back until he landed face first on something sharp in the creek bed that scorched his lips and face with pain. His hands clamped to his face in shock. Josh shouted something indistinguishably after him, clambering down the side of the ravine a lot more gracefully to the stony creek shore below. Michael covered his left cheek with a large hand, palm pressed to his mouth, and when Josh reached him and moved his hand to see, it came away red. “Tabernac, tabernac, tabernac,” Josh cursed under his breath, quickly shedding his coat, stripping away his own t-shirt, and folding it over as a makeshift bandage to the jagged diagonal cut on Michael’s face. Tears welled in Michael’s eyes but Josh was quicker, wiping away the wetness and applying pressure to his stinging split lip. “Look, it was this broken glass right here you fell on. What the fuck is that, someone’s beer bottle?” “Fuckin’ bottle, why’s that there? ‘S not the brand you drink.” “Don’t speak Michel, god you’re sure bleeding a lot,” He paused. “I think we need to go to a hospital.” Michael was preoccupied with the trail of blonde hair traveling up Josh’s naval. He reached out and smoothed his thumb and forefinger down Josh’s naked chest. “You look… good like this.” “Ce n'est pas le moment pour ça!” his boyfriend chided. “Tabernac, you’re lucky that wasn’t your eyes!” “But…” It wasn’t supposed to go like this, they were supposed to be at camp tonight, where Josh would eat those cheap grocery store cherry danishes he liked while Michael would build a good fire for their dinner. Josh gently stood up. “No buts. I know you’re hammered but get up please, you gotta get stitches, there’s no way you couldn’t with a cut that deep,” Michael held Josh’s shirt in place over his copper-tasting mouth and Josh helped him to his feet. “Might even have a scar.” he continued. “Would you, y’still love me if I did?” “Obviously, now c’mon cher, we’ll go back and pack our things and take my bike into Fredericton.”

Ian

2. Them several years past their main adventure: (not gonna do years later, just making this book 2 Ian lmao)

Ian traced wandering lines in his sketchbook, taking his restless energy and channeling it into activity, distraction; one of the little tricks gained in the rehab center. Sobriety had been a bitch to learn, and often Ian flexed a muscle of self control he’s carefully crafted to hold him steady. Temptation tickled the back of his neck in his most stressful moments, and the times Michael left him alone for too long. And Michael, the man who took him to rehab, who brought art supplies to his room at the clinic For something nice to do, he had said. Ian had never loved a set of pencils so dearly. Michael had visited daily, talked with him about his therapy as he sat still in his chair and let Ian draw him. Ian never took Michael’s presence for granted, it was familiar and warm, a stark contrast to the first night they met. Time does strange things to people, Ian decided. But… Ian had to appreciate the change. Michael managed his medicines for him, took care of him with every meal he made for the two of them, and he made Ian laugh even in a dark moment of handling some sticky Orion business. Gradually he’d become his foothold in sobriety, his anchor point. His Michael. Ian shook the idea away. No, Michael’s not mine to have, Ian thought. Michael surely didn’t get the pesky flashes of impossible possibilities like the kind that plagued Ian’s headspace lately, of… more. He disdainfully flipped to a new page in his sketchbook, landed on a page of Michael sketches he’d drawn secretly and quickly ignored them by flipping to a fresh sheet. Ian settled back in his chair, and argued back and forth silently until he’d convinced himself Michael was his friend, his partner in literal crime, and that was enough. That had to be enough.

16. Them sleepy:

Michael returned home in the early morning, only to discover his bed was occupied. Ian was in boxers and nothing else, sound asleep. His partner’s limbs were bent up among his blankets, mouth puffing open slightly whenever he breathed out. Used to seeing Ian sleep in odd positions on the couch, Michael knew the way he tucked his arms under himself in his sleep. But it was strange to see him in here. How often did he come in here, even when Michael was awake? Michael stood silent by the bedside and watched Ian snooze peacefully, not wanting to wake him just yet. Did he miss me? This time, instead of dismissing it immediately, Michael let this thought settle. Michael imagined the way Ian must’ve been up waiting for him, maybe even worrying about him, before coming to open his bedroom door. Michael How Ian must have settled his head, nose against the pillow, and arranged the comforter Michael slept with over himself. And then his hand slipped, drifted downward, sinking down into Ian’s hair. Soft and thicker than he imagined, he combed through the wisps of black lightly enough to not disturb him. Missed you, came a hushed sentiment in his mind. Michael swept the bangs that fell messily over Ian’s forehead when his hand grazed across Ian’s temple. There had been times Michael touched Ian before; when injured pieces were in play and Michael stitched up the wounds. The burst of warmth when fingertips brushed Ian’s skin took him by surprise. Ian stirred from this touch however, and Michael’s hand flew to his side. Extending his arms, green swatches fluttered open; Ian stretched his legs and flopped his head on the pillow. “Hi, you’re back,” he mumbled, words languid like the hand that rubbed at his eye, then curled loosely on the sheets. “Hi,” Michael replied, the way Ian looked up at him striking some tender feeling in his throat. “What are you doing in here?” Starting to understand his indications, Michael saw the light flush of embarrassment rise as Ian rolled into sitting. “Did I fall asleep in here? Sorry man, my mistake. Been pretty tired lately,” he explained, kicking away the sheets and getting clumsily out of Michael’s bed. “I had all the lights off and must’ve walked in here instead of my room. Didn’t think twice, my head just hit a pillow.” “S’alright. You looked comfortable.” Michael smoothed his hand over the blanket and Ian’s eyes followed it. “… I was.” Ian shrugged before sheepishly fleeing the room for his own bed.

19. Them drunk:

“Hey, buddy.” A firm hand nudged Ian’s shoulder. “Buddy.” The faint sounds of a bar swam to his ears; the clink of glasses against wood, quiet voices agreeing to go home, chairs scraping and the drone of a late night talk show host floating somewhere above him. “C’mon Ian, you need to get out of here.” With a soft sigh that left his chest slowly, he knew where he was. He sat on a stool in his favorite local dive, his body glued to the counter in his usual spot. Graham the bartender, to his credit, waited a full minute before poking Ian in the shoulder. “Mm, can I get one to go?” Ian’s voice came muffled from the crook of his arm. The sticky countertop was a comfortable place to lay his head and he liked the support it gave his loose limbs which currently felt curled up on each other. “No,” the barkeep responded firmly. “And you’re not staying the night… I’ll call you a cab.” Ian’s head popped off the counter, fingers clinging to the glass in his hand. “Don’t have to.” Ian stood, waiting for the lightheaded rush that made his knees wobble to pass before knocking back the dregs of his screwdriver and slipping a few crumpled bills under his glass. “Someone’s coming to get you?” Graham asked. Ian basked in the heat lingering in his throat, he swallowed. “H’yeah, sure.” He waved off the question with a flip of his hand and ambled outside.

Charley

4. Their laugh:

Samuel pulled through the discount rack, casting coat hanger after coat hanger aside flippantly and frowning. “Why’s this all ugly?” she lamented. Charley shrugged, back against the wall, eyes trained on the crummy mall clothes outlet across the way from the display window of theirs. They did this as part of their job sometimes, building profiles. It helped understand daily routines a target had and was the best way to learn potential vulnerabilities. “Oh, now this is good,” Samuel piped up. “I should get these Dahlia for her next birthday.” Charley turned and saw her considering a set of women’s pajamas, with blue penguins printed on the pants and another pudgy penguin on the shirt with a speech bubble saying ‘Out Cold’. Charley took one look at the pajamas and burst out laughing. “Are you fuckin’ kidding?” he snickered, gesturing. “These? With these cute little bastards on them? Are we thinking of the same woman?” He deemed Dahlia maybe a little too serious and brooding. “She could use these, I hate seeing her going to sleep in just whatever outfit she’s got on. She actually would like something goofy like this, she just doesn’t say so.” Samuel held the shirt and flipped flopped the long fleecey sleeve, before then using it to wave to Charley. He chuckled and checked his watch. “You’d know better than anybody, I suppose.” “There’s a lot of things about Dahlia you don’t know.” “Really?” Charley asked interested, hands busy tying long black dreads into a bun at his neck. “Care to share with the class?” Samuel shook her head. “I don’t betray her trust like I promised I wouldn’t betray yours.” Aside from the very first time, he thought. Samuel hadn’t broken her promise to him since. “I respect that,” Charley rolled his shoulders and glanced over into the clothing store opposite the one they stood in. An unassuming young man with green sneakers had just entered it.“Spotted him. Do your thing.” he said to his partner. The two watched him moving around the counter of the neighboring store. “He’s late for work,” Samuel said. “That’s why he’s rushing. He’s nervous his manager might be annoyed with him… here she comes. And he’s very attracted to his boss, he’s thinking about her…” her nose crinkled. “I’m not relaying that.” Samuel watched the manager cross her arms as the man blabbered on. “She thinks he’s nothing but a tiny-dicked idiot. Got him.” she concluded and Charley laughed again.

5. Their crying:

Charley sat across from his partner Samuel at a cafe table in Ireland. His panic had brought them far across the ocean, further than he meant to travel but Charley chalked it up to stress and a need to just run. Their mission to hunt a certain target ended successfully with the target’s death, but included the death of an innocent bystander. Just thinking about it made Charley’s guts coil. He fucked up bad this time, he lost control and a man lost his life because of the mishap. “You’re still learning control over your power, you did not abuse it, the reins slipped from your hands. An accident, Charley. That’s all it was.” He wiped a stubborn tear from the crease of his eye. Samuel’s brow furrowed. “You don’t need to be brave in front of me,” she murmured, reading the shame and denial of his emotions from his mind. “I’m not like him.” Charley blinked his chestnut eyes, the sour rise that made his nose tingle bringing more tears as he thought of the man who had turned him this way. His partner saw through him like tissue paper, and she saw the replaying memories; the way his face had looked, the reason he hated to let anyone see him cry, and the way that the innocent man had been knocked below to his death. He reached for her ivory hand and she took it supportively, politely looking to the far end of the cafe while Charley mopped his brow with a cloth napkin, the older man’s torso shaking with low rumbles and sniffs. A couple other lunch goers nearby looked in their direction a few times, but left them undisturbed. “… We need to see Meissa.” Samuel said finally. Charley wiped his eyes once more looked morosely at his untouched scone. “What do I tell her?” “The truth.” she suggested, wrapping her coat a little closer to her. “I’ll vouch for you, I saw them both die. The other man was not supposed to be there. It’s unfortunate, yes, but we live in the present and must go on.” Charley thought that seemed a bit harsh. “It’s survival,” Samuel added gently. “You had to change to survive and here you sit. I survived the bear trap of my childhood and here I sit. This doesn’t end here,” She retrieved her wallet and left some money on the table. “Ready? We’ll make it through this too.” Charley nodded, took a deep slow breath to collect himself. Then Samuel placed her hands in his on the table and the two vanished from their seats.

Dahlia

10. Their interactions with an enemy/rival

Dahlia kept certain rooms in her house well furnished and comfortable, and others purposefully devoid of distractions. She was leaning against her desk in such a room now, desk and a single bookshelf holding some of her dream journals the only objects beside bare floor and walls, with of course, the projection system. Projected on the walls all around her was a calming cloudy ocean scene with the horizon stretched before her. She lit a cigarette, smoke curling bright in the projection light. She glanced at her watch. The chair and the man tied to it materialized a half second later. Dahlia didn’t bat an eye. Charley stood behind the chair, palms flat on the grizzled older man’s shoulders. “I appreciate the trouble,” said Dahlia. “I know you could’ve handled him alone.” “No trouble, and thank Sammy, she lured his greasy ass into the motel room. In fact, thank her yourself.” He disappeared and within five seconds he reappeared, this time hand in hand with Samuel. Her peacock blue heels clicked on the hardwood as she moved concentric circles around the man in the chair. “Still out cold, I’m impressed Charley-boy.” “Pleasure, I’ve been practicing my right hook. It’s nice to test it out on this freak. A five year old kid, that’s sick.” he shook his head. ”Good work both of you,” Dahlia hummed approvingly. “Now we wait.” “Mind if I bounce?” Charley asked. “Gotta teach my class in an hour.” “Go right ahead. Just be back here after for disposal.” Charley nodded and vanished. Dahlia coolly regarded the unconscious man, puffing on her cigarette, lost in thought. Samuel silently watched Dahlia thinking. Samuel became a usual presence to Dahlia in this way, like a friend sitting beside her on a windowsill, simultaneously looking out the same window as herself, seeing the same vivid world outside. At last, the large man stirred, opened his bleary eyes. “The hell?” he groaned, then his eyes fell on Dahlia, then Samuel. “Who are you people? Where the fuck did you take me, you pasty bitch?” Dahlia didn’t waste time. “Mr. Clark, you don’t know me and I certainly don’t care to know you, but I do know what you did to the five year old son of your next door neighbors.” The man tried to wiggle out of his restraints. “You’re crazy, I don’t know what you’re talking about, let me fucking go!” “Take a look around Mr. Clark, this is the last room you’ll ever see.” “What?” he froze mid struggle and stared at Dahlia, who tapped her cigarette calmly in a porcelain teacup on the table. He looked to Samuel whose pallid eyes pierced daggers in his direction. “You’re not serious… I’m not scared of some dumb bitches.” “He’s lying.” Samuel contributed. “Choosing to pursue that particular disgusting fantasy of yours was the wrong choice.” Dahlia said, then extended her arm into the blue projection light and Samuel handed her a bottle of liquor from a shelf. Dahlia uncapped it and poured amber liquid into a large glass. “What are you doing?” Mr. Clark clamored as Dahlia approached him with the glass. “I swear I didn’t do it! I never touched the boy!” “It’s tacky to lie,” Samuel commented, watching as the man squirmed in place. Dahlia grabbed him by the hair, yanked his jaw up in the air, and poured the cup down his throat. The liquid spilled over the mans chin and down his shirt as he spluttered and fought, but Dahlia made sure some went down his throat. “How does it feel to be robbed of your agency?” Dahlia asked, stepping back. “I want you to meditate on that while the darkness comes. To feel like– what was his name?” she asked the man. “Evan Watson.” Samuel supplied when the man kept quiet. “Yes, like Evan when you raped him.” The man coughed out a sting of curses at Samuel and Dahlia, but the words quickly subsided until both the room and the man were still. Dahlia shuddered and turned away. “You know I like to stay distant and trust you and Charley and the others to handle this part,” she said to Samuel. “But I hated the dreams I saw. The ones with kids are the worst.” “You don’t need to explain to me, I’ve seen the way it hurts.” “Right.” Her friend’s view into her mind let Samuel understand best, but that didn’t stop Dahlia from wanting to explain things to her anyway. I appreciate you Sam, she thought. In all the ways you help me stop these people. I’d be lost without you. Samuel smiled her pearly teeth at Dahlia and Dahlia wished then that she could also see into Samuel’s innermost thoughts.

11. Their interactions with a stranger (feel free to say who the stranger might be! wink wink)

Rosie

1. Them as a child (i’ll do this one later)

8. Their interactions with their significant other(s), if they have them (the significant other is outta the picture, so you get Rosie and her daughter instead)

Bia clinked her raspberry gin lemonade against her mother’s glass. They sat in a private VIP room at the King’s Throne, celebrating Bia’s acceptance into one of the top medical schools in the country. Rosanne frequented this particular night club for abundance of potential customers and good relations with the owner. They were on their second round of drinks. “To the start of your career! This is all for you sweetie, enjoy yourself.” Rosanne toasted her glass and took a long sip. Bia followed suit. “Honey, I want you to know I’m proud of you.” “Thanks mom.” “I’ve been proud since the first time I held you crying in my arms.” Maybe it was the alcohol, but Bia felt a lump rise in her throat. “Even if… I turned out differently than you expected?” Rosanne set down her amaretto sour. “You’ve surprised me a lot as you’ve grown,” she started. “But never negatively. Never wanted you to work in my trade, and you surprised me by never wanting to follow in my footsteps, by picking medical school and gettin’ accepted. I’ve watched a little boy grow into a wonderful, resourceful, fucking intelligent, brave and beautiful woman. Nothing could make me prouder.” Happy tears dripped down over Bia’s expensive make up but she didn’t care. Her mother pulled her into a hug and Bia let her mascara disintegrate.

Bia

9. Their interactions with their best friend

“Your quiet magical friend told me you were here in rehab. I’m really proud of you for being here Ian.” Bia sat beside him on the edge of his bed in his room at the inpatient rehab center. She looked much healthier now, but a different version of the woman he’d known once, before Phil Lancaster had ever touched her. “Thank you Bia, and you haven’t told anyone else about what Michael can do, have you?” “No, you made me swear.” “Okay, cool.” “But listen I… I’m not the reason you’re in here now, am I?” “What do you mean?” Bia shifted her shoes on the carpet and smoothed her hair. “Well, you and me were trying different shit a lot when we were together and I’d feel terrible if I–” “No,” Ian interrupted. “Trust me, you’re not the reason I’m here. I was an addict before I met you.” Bia sighed, still looking concerned. “Okay, just wanted to apologize for ever turning you onto it.” His time dating her had been comfortable and some brief, needed stability. They spent it trying drugs and having sex, but Ian’s favorite memories had been the late hours of the night when they lay beside each other and she shared stories; these including tales of her life as a surgeon and her wild experience of growing up with a drug mogul mother like Rosanne Madaki. “I’m the one couldn’t stop Bia, and you never forced me. You were one of the few things keeping my head above the water. Taking Xanax was my own choice and so is quitting it.” She smiled meekly. “That’s the spirit.” “So, how have you been recently?” “In constant therapy for… y’know, what he did. There’s no better relief than waking up in my mother’s house and remembering he’s dead and will never be anything but dead. Mom’s barely let me out of her sight, and when she does she has one of her bodyguards tail me around, she thinks I don’t notice.” “She loves you.” “I know, she just blames herself for everything still.” “We’ve all got our struggles,” Ian said patting her arm. “We’ll try and get better together, okay?” Bia nodded and smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

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crowleysqueenofhellwithasmile · 8 years ago

Text

Saving, Mr. Holmes

Chapter Three- Calm on Baker Street

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Words: 2,679

Warnings: language

A/N: @onepissedofsquirrel longest chapter so far!

I woke the next morning with the book on my chest and the dim lamp being outshone by the sun through the window. I stood and stretched relieving the tension in my aching muscles. I walked downstairs and was welcomed with the sight of Sherlock in trousers and a dressing gown. I walked past him keeping my eyes on anything but him.

“I’m bored.” He professed like a child.

“Then do something.” I said while I made a cup of coffee. Before he could say anything ‘Back in Black’ by ACDC blared through the flat he jumped a bit then saw it was my phone and answered it like it was his own.

“What?” He looked at me while he talked “Who am I? I’m Sherlock Holmes. Who are you? She’s sitting across from me, how else would I have her phone? Well I mean I guess I would have it if she left it here last night. But she didn’t leave last night making it unlikely she left it behind.”

I took the phone from his hands quickly then “Heyyyyyyyyyyy Deano… what’s up?”

“Who was that?” he said obviously pissed off.

“Sherlock… I’m working with him and his partner. He’s a consulting detective.”

“Did you have sex with him?” he semi-shouted through the receiver.

“Dean, you need to calm down and even if I did it’s none of your business.” He hung up on me due to anger and I sighed. My eyes traveled back to the shirtless man in the living room. “If you are bored then take me shopping. I need to look less American everywhere I go.

Sherlocks P.O.V

“If you are bored then take me shopping. I need to look less like an American everywhere I go.”

“Shopping?” I said looking at her. “I’m not the best person to help you but I have the perfect person to go with us.”

I went to my room, pulling my button up on and pulling my suit jacket over it. Beside the front door I grabbed my peacoat and scarf. “You may want to get dressed.”

I watched as she bounced elegantly with every step. Moments later she came back down the stairs in a simple t-shirt and ripped skinny jeans. She pulled on her boots and grabbed her leather jacket from beside the door. She slipped the jacket on over her simplistic t-shirt before pulling her hair up. She looked to me with a gentle smile, “Done.”

I jogged lightly down the stairs while she followed behind me doing the same. After exiting the front door, I stuck my hand out to hail a cab. I watched as Kassie bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. As a cab came to stop in front of us, I climbed in and watched her gracefully do the same.

“Saint Bartholomew’s Hospital, please.” When we arrived I turned to Kassie “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“Molly, I need your help.” I said once I entered the morgue

Molly’s head snapped in my direction. “Funny I didn’t think any new bodies came in today.” she said looking down at the clipboard.

“As much as I would love doing some new experiments, it’s with a girl. An American one that just got into town. She wants new clothes to blend in more.” She smiled.

“Oh, I’d love to help.” She said smiling.

I walked out with her and opened the cab door. “The shops please, Sir. Molly, Kassie. Kassie, Mollie.”

Kassie and Molly smiled and greeted each other. I could see the way their friendship immediately sparked. I watched as they spoke back and forth during the ride there. When we got to the center of downtown, the cabbie pulled to the curb. I opened the door and held my hand out for Kassie. I helped her climb out of the cab and watched the way she moved. She was beautiful.

I watched her as she chose a shop. I opened the door for her and held it open as Molly followed her in. I sat quietly on a small couch in the shop and watched as she picked out and tried on countless outfits. I admired her in the outfits she was wearing. Some shirts would dip low enough to show off the crests of her breasts. Some dresses would ride up high enough to show off her thighs. Some of the pants she wore hugged her athletic legs and curved perfectly with the shape of her butt.

“Why don't you try on some dresses?” I asked and she smirked at me but picked out a couple. I watched people come and go from the store as she changed. Minutes later, she came out in a nice black dress with a white folded down collar. She wore a long black peacoat over her dress. She had gentle thigh high stockings pulled up her legs that stopped an inch or two below the hem of the dress with Oxfords on her feet. She looked strikingly british. She looked like one of the many girls I would see walking down the street. I hoped however that she would never lose the enticing accent she brought with her from America.

Kassie and Molly paid while I walked out side. I signaled a cab and stood silently on the curb waiting next to the parked vehicle.

When they exited the shop Molly was speaking, she looked at me and smiled “I was just telling Kassie we should go for lunch later… she wants to get dressed in some of her new clothes and I thought I’d get Lestrade to join.”

“Sounds like fun, doesn’t it? I figured I’d wear the dress and peacoat. You seemed to really like that one.”

I nodded getting into the cab and helping her get the bags in. “I’m not Lestrade’s favorite person in the world but I don’t see why we can’t make that work.” She got in next sliding close to me making room for Molly. The ride to the flat would be long, so I closed my eyes and just listened to the girls small talk.

Kassie’s P.O.V

“Don’t let Sherlock trick you into thinking Lestrade is all awful. He doesn’t hate Sherlock. He just doesn’t understand him sometimes. I think you two will get along though.” Molly smiled as she spoke. I could tell that she and Lestrade got along. I looked over then to notice Sherlock with his head back and eyes closed.

I smiled seeing him peaceful and at rest. It was rare. I wouldn't be surprised if I never saw him this way again. Molly said her goodbyes as we made it to the hospital. She hugged me as well as she could in the back of the cab and I waved as she walked back into the Hospital. “221B Baker Street, please.” I put my hand on Sherlock’s knee as gently as I could. He jumped opening his eyes quickly. “I’m sorry Sherlock I thought you were asleep. We’re almost to the flat.”

“I wasn’t sleeping, I was thinking.” He said sitting up straight. “and you didn’t scare me.”

“Never said I did. After all you are Sherlock Holmes… Who’d be able to scare you?” The cab pulled up to his flat and I got out “Could you wait here for a bit?” I said to the driver.

He nodded “Five minutes at most and you have to pay.”

Ms. Hudson smiled when she saw us both walk through the threshold “Oh Kassie you’re back. Shall�� I make you a cuppa?”

I smiled and began to respond to Mrs. Hudson when Sherlock rudely interrupted me “No she won’t be staying long. The cabbie gave her five minutes.”

“Oh perhaps I should leave you two to go upstairs then. Five minutes isn’t that long. Good thing the bedroom isn’t far.” She walked off then I felt a small giggle slip through my lips.

When we walked into the flat, John was sitting in a chair on his laptop. “Not blogging about the vampires I hope.” I said with a wink in his direction.

He shook his head and stood “No just doing some research… What have you two been up to all day? You both left rather quickly this morning.”

“Shopping with Molly. Which reminds me... We’re going to lunch around noon and I have to go get ready.” I turned and hugged Sherlock “Thank you for coming with me Mr. Holmes.”

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When I returned to the hotel, I dialed the bunker and braced myself for the worst. I put it on speaker and on the second ring, Dean answered. “Oh what finally done fucking the detective.” His voice was cold and irritated.

“Good Morning to you too, asshole. And nothing happened, so chill.” I got undressed before finding the bag with the dress and peacoat. “I’m going to lunch with Sherlock and some of the people he works with. May I talk to your brother?” I began curling my hair as I awaited the younger Winchester.

“Hey Kass how are things?”

“Great Sammy… I just need some help finding an apartment around 221B Baker Street.” I left my hair down, allowing it to cascade down my back. I pinned the top section of my hair back loosely, and began to apply my make-up. I created a subtle smokey eye and applied my ruby red lipstick, knowing it was Sherlock’s favorite. I fastened my lace red bra behind my back and slowly slipped my legs into my delicate thong. Next, as I listened to Sammy type away, I pulled my thigh highs up my legs slowly, careful not to create any runs with my nails. I then stood in front of the mirror and admired the look. Imagining what Sherlock would think of it. Sam’s voice then rang through the room, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“221C Baker Street is for rent… maybe you should ask about it.” “

Great idea. Thanks a lot. Love ya, Sammy. Calm your brother down too, I didn’t even sleep with Sherlock.”

“I’ll try.” he said with a small chuckle.

I hung up the phone then and slid my dress on before doing up the small zipper that ends toward the middle of my back and pulling on my coat. Next I slipped my feet into my oxfords. I looked at myself in the mirror as I grabbed the burgundy Cambridge Satchel and crossed it over my body. I made sure to put my colt revolver and demon knife in it. The colt wasn’t the colt but it was nice, black with intricate golden designs. The vintage look drew me into it when Dean got me my first gun as a hunter. I put a leather pouch full of bullets; regular, silver, and salt in the bag too.

I grabbed my bags and slowly exited the hotel, hailing a cab. I climbed in the cab and set my bags beside me. “221B Baker Street, please.” When the cab began moving, I pulled out my phone dialing Sherlock. He answered on the first ring and I interrupted his greeting. “I want 221C.”

“I would suggest another. 221C is molded and dirty. You could find another one somewhere else in town.”

“I lived out of shitty motels… I think I’ll be fine. I’m bringing my things anyways.”

He sighed but didn’t argue again “I’ll see if Ms. Hudson can get you a deal.”

“Thank you Sherlock.” I said in a sing-song voice “Be there soon.” I playfully made a kissing noise into the phone and ended the call.

When I arrived at the flat, I rapped on the door lightly with the golden knocker. The door opened seconds later, revealing Mrs. Hudson.

“Kassie! Hello, darling!” she hugged me tightly and I smiled returning it. “221C right? Now I have to warn you about the mold.”

I smiled and nodded “I plan on doing some major remodeling if that’s okay.” I put my suitcase down by the door.

“Yes, of course dear. Whatever helps make it feel more at home for you.”

Sherlock must’ve heard us talking because he came dashing down the stairs then stopped when he saw how I was dressed “Good afternoon, Kassie. That’s a nice dress. The same one you bought today correct?” he said his eyes looking me up and down. “Looks just as good now as it did then,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m going to go look at 221C if you’d like to join.” I said and he nodded. We all went down the stairs to the flat. It was rather abandoned and mold ran up the corners but I loved it. “I’ll take it.” I said. Ms. Hudson smiled and gave me the keys, leaving me with Sherlock. I walked around the room taking measurements and pictures. He watched me “Don’t worry Sherlock. I am doing some remodeling and redecorating. The next time you are in my flat. It will look brand new.”

He twirled and examined the room “I’m sure it will. Are you sure you should be measuring things in that outfit?”

I turned and looked at him batting my eyelashes, “ Don’t act like you don't enjoy seeing me this way, Mr. Holmes. Or do I need to highlight the obvious signs that you do.”

He buttoned his own peacoat and cleared his throat. “It is almost time for lunch. I just don’t want you to dirty your dress.”

I smirked and stood up straight and put the little pad of paper I was using on the mantle of the stone fireplace “Let’s go then shall we?” I said as I playfully pulled on Sherlock’s scarf.

I slipped my hand into his as we jogged up the stairs, removing it just before we reached the room. John was waiting for us at the door.

“No worries sweetie. I’ll put your things downstairs.” Ms. Hudson said I smiled and said thank you as she hugged me.

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The diner that Molly picked wasn’t that far away so we decided to walk. When we arrived, I spotted Molly at a table with a slightly older man. Molly noticed me seconds later and waved us over. I smiled and approached the table with John and Sherlock trailing close behind me. When I arrived at the table, Lestrade stood.

“You must be Lestrade.” I smiled in his direction and extended my hand.

He took my hand in his shaking it lightly “Lieutenant Lestrade, yes.”

“Kassandra Carter.” I spoke as I sat in my seat between John and Sherlock.

Within seconds a waitress was at our table. We all ordered drinks to start. Lestrade ordered a water seeing as how he was on the job. Molly and Sherlock ordered tea and John and I opted for a more alcoholic route, ordering to winter lagers. We continued small talk before the waitress came back and we all ordered. Everyone was on the same page when it came to food. “Five Fish and Chips, please,” Sherlock collected everyone's menu’s handing them back to the young woman. As I watched her retreat to the back, I turned to Molly.

“So Molly what do you do at Saint Bartholomew’s?”

“I am a mortician. I do lots of post mortems and am the lead technician in the morgue.”

“What do you do?” Lestrade asked looking at me.

Sherlock smirked, “Yes, Ms. Carter, what do you do?”

“Saving, Mr. Holmes.” I smiled “Saving people, it’s a family business.”

Lunch went by quickly as we all continued to engage in idle small talk which Sherlock seemed to stay out of. They told me about the royal family, and where the best places to go were. In turn, I’d talk about things in America that seemed to be the only time Sherlock really listened is when I would speak of home. Every now and then I’d feel his knee hit against mine softly, almost as though he knew I missed home and was comforting me.

When we got back to Baker Street, I went down to my flat and began my work.

#sherlock #supernatural #crossover #fanfic

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