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kometqh · 9 months ago

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𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭

Captain Rex x F!Jedi!Reader Pt.2 Your first kiss with Rex, when the two of you were young and hopeful, and your last one, where he wished for nothing more than to protect you, to be by your side until your very last breath. Word Count: 5389 Warnings: Minor swearing (?), sad Rex, creepy man alert. A/N: I'm not proud of or satisfied with the first half, but I needed to pour my Rex love out into words <3

The first time you and Rex shared a kiss, it was.. Sudden. It was thrilling. It was indescribable, really.

It had blood rushing to your cheeks in spurs, heat spreading throughout your body as his fingers gripped bruises onto your hips, his lips hot and soft against your own, trapping you between his broad shoulders and an old, sticky counter.

The two of you had been sent on a mission, a Jedi and a Clone Captain. Hand in hand, the two of you played a newly married couple as you had been tasked by the Jedi Council. At first, you had no objections, but when you realised it meant the two of you would be fully and wholly alone, your hands began to tremble, your heart began to rattle and all your resolve seemed to crumble.

Sure, you were solid in your beliefs, and that included ignoring your ever-growing crush on the blonde, tan-skinned, honey eyed Captain of the 501st.

But with more convincing, General Skywalker and Kenobi had managed to get you to agree, and soon the two of you were shipped off to a supposedly Neutral planet, where your bounty hunter had taken cover from the GAR's watchful eyes.

The air on this planet was nothing short of stuffy, particles clinging to your lungs like thick lumps of goo. The streets were nothing but grime, sweat and dirt as your eyes scanned the place. There were potholes in the roads, small crowds of traders and sellers and horse-riders, as well as the occasional trios of smokers that hung outside bars. The streetlights were the only source of light, the planet's moons having been hidden away behind a thick, lingering swarm of clouds.

Rex could feel your shoulders stiffening, and on instinct he had pulled you closer. According to the coordinates provided by General Kenobi, the bounty hunters' hideout was just a mere few-minute walk away from your current position, and so, the two of you made your way there.

Numerous stall owners had attempted to steal your attention away, offering glamorous jewels and accessories and flashy trinkets, but were quickly shut up and dismissed by one hard glare from Rex, his fingers finding solace on your shoulder, keeping you protectively close.

He himself wasn't all too willing to embark onto this mission, but an order was an order, no matter how hard General Skywalker attempted to mask it as a request, as a choice.

And now, having you this close, Rex was almost forced to question all the rules and regulations that the longnecks and the Council and the Republic had imposed, had implanted into the clones, onto himself. With your scent invading his senses, with your warmth being shared between the two of you, Rex wasn't so sure if he was willing to stay single for the rest of his life.

Not when your nimble fingers latched themselves around his biceps like soft snares, caressing and squeezing the flesh, feeling the sturdy muscle beneath. He could feel goose bumps rise across his arms and shoulders, as your touch set off fiery sparks on his skin, as your gaze melted away his cold exterior.

As he glanced down at you, his chest tightened, seeing the way the orange lights warmed up your face, created a warm glow, made you look prettier, enhanced your features. A hint of a shadow danced across your cheekbones from under your lashes, microscopic freckles scattered across like stars in the night sky. Maybe, just maybe, one day the two of you would live in a Republic where he could, where he would, confess his adoration for you.

But he saw no such thing happening anytime soon.

His thoughts were interrupted as a loud, irritating whistle caught his attention, and you came to a slow halt.

"Whatcha got there, lad? You sellin'?" A scratchy voice had asked, and Rex's eyes narrowed as he noticed a Weequay pirate had made his way over to them, his eyes scanning you up and down, hunger swirling in his thin, cat-like irises. A smirk tugged at his awfully chapped lips, and his right hand was perched on his hip, settling just above his blaster.

A weak gasp left your lips as Rex half-shielded your body from view, and if you hadn't been pushed behind him, maybe your heart would have pumped faster at the sight of his frown.

"Can't you see she's taken, lad?" Rex asked, his voice loud and sturdy as he glared at the man. You didn't have your lightsabers on you, nor could you fight off the pirate whilst undercover.

"Woah woah, calm down my friend, I was merely asking." The pirate stated, a frown appearing on his face as he looked between your seemingly spooked figure and Rex's ready-to-fight stance.

Looking up at Rex, you tugged on his hand, silently pleading to keep moving. Your lightsaber was safely stored away in Rex's backpack, and it meant you couldn't have acted as swiftly as you would of if it had instead been attached to your hip.

With a groan, Rex shoo his head, puffing his chest out like a proud lion. "She is not for sale, she's with me, she's my wife, and you, you better keep your grubby paws and eyes off her." Rex growled out, his chest rumbling with a newfound dominance.

"Or else-"

"Rex.." You whispered, one handlightly tugging his shoulder, "It's okay. Let's keep going." You insisted, snaking your hand along the side of his neck to cup his jaw. His gaze softened at the sight of you, and with a small nod of his head, the two of you moved away, Rex bumping into the pirate's shoulder with more than enough force to knock him to the ground.

The two of you walked in a semi-comfortable silence, not exchanging any words, and you preferred that. If you had to speak now, you were worried you'd stumble over your words and start blushing like a teenager. He was so effortlessly kind, so thoughtful, so sweet.

What would you do without your favourite Captain?

Probably sink into the earth or something.

Looking up, a small smile appeared on your lips; the clouds were scattering away under the wind currents, and the twin moons were beginning to peak out from under their cover. A cool, blue light engulfed the two of you, mixing with the war orange glow from the street stands, and your breath was caught in your throat as you looked up to Rex.

His honey eyes reflected the purple mix, darkening under it as he stared ahead, occasionally glancing at his holopad. There was a familiar crease settled between his brows, crows feet crinkling at the outer corners of his eyes as his expression screamed 'Focused!', his gloved hand warm against the bare skin on your bicep.

His stubble, which he usually kept cleanly shaven, was now beginning to grow back, giving him a more mature, yet tired look. Your fingers itched to just caress his face, to feel those short, spiky hairs against your palm, to make him feel at ease under your touch.

He glanced to the side, his eyes widening as the two of you made instant eye contact, but a soft smirk appeared when he noticed you hurriedly looking away, anywhere but him.

He definitely liked to see you flustered.

After a short while, the two of you came to a stop in front of a small staircase, a few lingering figures smoking, and tall, dark brown doors that led to the inside of the club.

The figures scoffed at the sight of you, muttering something about being 'rich' or too 'formal', but you paid them no mind as Rex placed his palm on the small of your back, glancing sideways as he ushered you forward.

As the doors opened, your senses were flooded with the smell and feel of thick smoke, choking you from the inside-out more so than the air outside. Loud music pumped through hidden speakers, and a swarm of bodies was tangled up on the dance floor, moving in rhythmic beats, flashing lights and singing making the room feel stuffy, and much smaller than it really was.

There was sweat on the walls, different coloured lights basking the otherwise dark space in all shades of the rainbow.

Quickly, you took a hold of Rex's bicep, stuttering in your steps as you looked to him for guidance, and the male felt a surge of pride sprouting in his chest, knowing that you trusted him enough to seek protection from him.

Without a second thought, he lead you to the bar, ordering the two of you drinks strong enough to survive the clamminess of the place.

Then, the two of you found seats at a faraway booth, sitting close enough for your arms to touch. You took an awkward sip of your drink, a horrible bitterness hammering your tongue, a shiver going down your spine as the liquid burned the back of your throat.

"What was this called again, Rex? Beer?" You semi-shouted over the loud music, your lips just inches away from touching his ear.

Without a thought, Rex turned his face to you, towering lightly over you as you leaned against his shoulder. Your eyes widened, a soft gasp parting your lips. His own eyes looked over yours, a smirk on his lips.

"Yeah, it's called beer, mesh'la. Why? D'you not like it?" He asked, nudging his chin to point at the glass. He watched as you chewed on your bottom lip, suppressing the grimace that fought to make its way onto your face.

He never really saw you be so expressive around anyone else, not even around General Skywalker and General Kenobi. Was he an exception? He had waited to spend one-on-one time with you for so long, always being stuck by Skywalker's side.

A smirk tugged at his lips, and Rex couldn't stop himself from putting an arm around your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer. The gasp that escaped your lips was luckily covered by the loud booming of the music, and the flush on your face was somewhat masked by the bouncing lights, or so you hoped.

Rex's breath fanned over the top of your head, his hand tracing circles into your skin, though his eyes remained observant, scanning the room, as he took another sip of his own drink.

You looked back to your own drink, a scowl forming on your face as you cringed at the thought of having to finish it. But, a plan formed in your mind. The two of you were supposed to be playing a couple in love, right?

Why not.. spice things up a little?

Without a second thought, you turned to Rex.

"If you drink that whole glass in ten seconds, the rest of the drinks will be on me tonight." Your voice was loud, your lungs straining to produce sound over the music, but it seemed to work as Rex thought about your offer, taking a moment to reply.

"And I get to choose?" He asked, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

With an eager nod, you watched Rex sigh defeatedly, reaching over for your glass.

"But you better be fair, or else." He winked at you, and neared the glass to his lips. His brothers often engaged in games like this, making bets or starting competitions, their favourite being 'How to get Fives drunk the fastest' or 'How to make Fives strip tease for the civvies'.

He himself never got drunk, only somewhat tipsy, so it would definitely be a new experience for him.

Drinking with you by his side, without the peering eyes of his brothers or the Republic. Here, it was just him and you.

"On the count of one," You begun, a grin growing on your lips as Rex readied himself, "Three.." His posture straightened up, his gaze daring you, "Two.." His grip on the glass tightened, and you felt yourself swallowing a growing lump, looking up at Rex through a thick curtain of lashes, lips parted, "One!"

With that, you began counting down, swallowing thickly as you watched Rex tilt the glass, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with every gulp he took. You almost considered speeding up your counting, as in five seconds he was done with half of the glass.

A laugh escaped you as some of the beer began to spill down his chin, rolling in thick beads down his neck. At that point, he won. Your attention was completely focused on his neck, eyes glazing over him eagerly, and you wondered what it would be like to trace the column of his neck, to lick the alcohol off of his neck, would he like that? What would he sound like?

"Done!" Rex's exclamation startled you, the bang of the glass against the table effectively making you jump out of your skin.

A loud laugh echoed, and as you looked up, Rex was just wiping his lips.

"Now, you owe me a drink," He said, taking a hold of your chin as he cheekily smiled, "Or a couple." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, and rested back against the booth seat.

With a roll of your eyes, you got up from your seat and made your way towards the bar.

"Five shots of Spotchka for me mesh'la!" He shouted after you, and a laugh escaped your lips. As you ordered the drinks, a giddy smile tugged at your lips. Who would have thought that the two of you could share such a normal, such an ordinary day together? Especially at a bar like this of all places? Not even in your wildest dreams would you have imagined Rex and you playing a couple, clinging onto each other like koalas, or sharing drinks like this.

Never would you have imagined you would get the chance to be close to Rex like this, maybe if one of you were carrying the other off a battlefield, but that's it really.

You were one lucky-

"You alone miss?" Someone spoke lowly into your ear, a foreign hand caressing the small of your back.

"What the-" You turned around, shaking away from their touch. "Who are you?" You asked, one eyebrow quirked as you looked the man up and down. He was definitely a local, dressed in dark brown trousers and khaki coloured shirt, his face looked worn, wrinkles scattered all over, his beard outgrowing a stubble and his breath reeked of alcohol and cigarrettes.

His eyes though, they were sullen and fighting against his will to stay awake and upright, they showed an exhausted man, a vexed man, a dangerous man. You knew that without your lightsaber you'd be completely and utterly screwed, but maybe you could talk your way out of this?

"I've been looking for some.. fresh meat," He paused, licking his lips as he looked you up and down, expectantly. His breath stank, and you had to fight really hard not to let your disgust show. "You looked a bit lonely, y'know.." He continued, and you felt a shiver run up your spine as he reached a hand to caress your shoulder.

Thinking back to how Rex was probably waiting for you, you felt a sense of comfort; he'd come if you took too long.

"Well actually I-I'm with someone-" You tried to reason, but the man shut you up with a sharp glare and a sloppy shake of his head.

"No no, sweetheart, I think you misunderstood me," He growled out, voice rumbling in your ears, "You're coming with me."

His rough hand felt like sand paper to your skin, unlike Rex's gentle, careful fingers that worked their way to yours, held you with so much care.

His shirt slouched over his bony form, and you could see sweat staining the material.

"Sir, I would advise you to let go of me or-"

"Or what? What are you gonna do, sweetheart? Scream? Kick?" He taunted, trapping your body between his own and the bar. Why was no one batting an eye at this? Was everyone so horribly drunk? Where was Rex?

You shook your head, pushing at his chest.

"Just let go of me you creep." You hissed, freeing yourself from his grasps. A scowl overtook his features, a red light shining directly onto his face. What the hell? Why was he so stubborn on taking you away?

Just as his lips parted, his small frame was roughly shoved to the side, and you paused in your tracks as something soft, something warm crashed against your lips.

Large hands held your hips in place as his lips melted against yours, pushing against you, body flush against your own. Your eyes snapped open, but closed once more when you realised who it was.

Your arms snaked around his neck, nails grazing against his scalp as you reciprocated this welcomed feeling. Your breaths mingled together, his tongue poking out to lick at your bottom lip, wordlessly asking for permission.

Granting it, your tongues swirled together, and he hummed in approval as his hips pushed you further into the counter, the wood digging painfully into the skin and bones. His body towered over yours as the two of you kissed, completely lost in each other's warm embrace, completely forgetting about the creep that had now moved away, shaking his head and muttering disgruntled 'Okay I get it's'.

As Rex slowly pulled away, you found yourself chasing his lips, almost whining at the loss of warmth. But a small smile tugged at your lips as you looked into his eyes, noticing how glazed over his irises were, how softly he looked at you, as if you were his precious treasure, his whole world, his universe.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that for, mesh'la." He mumbled as he leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttered close with a content smile on his face.

A soft huff escaped through your nose, and you softly nodded, placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Me too, Captain, me too."

The last time you and Rex kissed, it was passionate, it was hopeful, it was precious.

There was a spare hour before you and your squadron were to depart for another search-and-rescue mission, off to a rather politically-influential planet, busy with preparing your ships, guns, provisions, belongings and, most of all, your goodbyes. You were confident that the mission would be a successful one, after all, how hard was it to find a missing princess?

However, the creases etched onto Rex's features had your chest tightening, had you gnawing on the inside of your cheek, had you fiddling with your fingers. That familiar scrunch of his eyebrows, whenever he was anxious, was present, crow's feet dancing at the outer corners of his eyes.

He kept his hands grasped together behind his back as he paced the hallway outside your room in circles, muttering and mumbling under his nose with hushed breaths.

The apples of his cheeks that were normally so full and chubby, were now sullen and drained of their usual roundness, the familiar bright glint in his starry eyes you loved so much, suddenly replaced by a dark, dusky chill.

As the door to your room slid open, Rex had lifted his head, golden puppy eyes widened, relief flooding his features. His pacing had come to a slow stop as he peered at you, breathless.

A sigh escaped your lips, the muscles in your throat tensing, your shoulders stiffening.

"Rex..? What's-" He was quick to interrupt your words, grasping your shoulders in a gentle hold as he pushed you back inside your quarters, the doors shutting behind him with a gentle whizz and thud.

"Mesh'la.. You can't go." As the words left his lips, your heart squeezed, like a wet rug being drained of water. It twisted and pulled, tugging at the heartstrings until they were ready to burst. Where was this coming from, why was he so worried? It was only going to be a simple mission. The corners of your lips tugged downwards in a frown, suddenly gaining on a new weight to them that hadn't been there before.

Your hands came up to hold his face, smoothing out the lines that had scattered across.

"Rex, what's gotten into you? What's wrong?" You asked, your voice merely a hushed whisper as you neared your face to his. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed harshly, nervously. His eyes searched yours, the first hint of tears surfacing.

His hold against you was tight, yet so full of love and care. One of his hands had slid up to cradle the side of your face, the pad of his thumb gently caressing the soft skin underneath, his warmth radiating onto you like a heavy blanket. His scent, the scent of fresh aftershave and gunpowder, was invading your senses, binding you completely useless under the spell of your lover.

With a shaky exhale, his eyes fluttered closed, crows feet tugging at the corners before he opened them back up, his feelings hidden behind an array of lusciously thick lashes and a steel-hard facade.

"That thing.. What Fives said b-before he- before he died," He paused, his gaze dropping down to the floor, his shoulders stuttering under the shakiness of his breaths, "About the chips. What if it's true?"

At that, your lips merged into a fine line, your hold on his face losening just the slightest.

"Rex, look at me," You spoke, lifting his chin with the tips of your fingers, soft stubble brushing against the pads, "Do you truly believe in what he said?" You questioned, searching his eyes for something, for a clue. If this worried him so much, then why did he keep it hidden from you until now? Did he hear something he shouldn't have? Did he see something that confirmed what Fives had said?

"I didn't see or hear anything, if that's what you're thinking, mesh'la," His quiet voice just barely reached your ears, the gravelly hum grazing against the shells of your ears, like waves crashing against a sandy shore, and you wouldn't have heard his hushed whisper if you weren't leaning in so close, "But General Skywalker.. he- he hasn't been the same since Ahsoka left the order, he's been more unnerved, more reckless, more irrational and he's putting my squadron, my men, my brothers in danger, kriff, even you!" He exclaimed, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. His stomach twisted and turned, bile readily rising, burning, in his throat as he realised what he had just said.

If this was anyone but you, he was sure to be court martialed, accused of treason or desserting the army, or conspiring, even. But this wasn't just anyone, this wasn't General Kenobi or Master Windu; this was you. His General, his friend, his comfort, his love.

Surely, you'd understand where he was coming from.

You had allowed him a short respite, pulling him into your embrace as the tears had begun to spill over. One hand caressing his hair, the other rubbed comforting circles into the tense muscles on his back. He wasn't wearing his armour, for some weird enough reason, though you could inquire about that later.

For now, Rex's wellbeing was your priority.

Your lips gently brushed against his ear as you spoke, your voice smooth and soft, like velvet, barely rising above a whisper. "Rex, we both know, forming attachments, relationships, is strictly forbidden.. But, has that ever stopped anyone? It certainly hasn't stopped me or you, so it definitely hasn't stopped General Skywalker," You paused, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his sickeningly sweet scent, "Ahsoka was like a daughter to him, Rex, a little sister to you. He's going through the same pain as you, but multiply that by two." You whispered, feeling Rex's silent tears ease into light, stuttering breaths, his gloved hands grasping tightly onto your robes.

The distant hum of active machinery and faraway footsteps filled the silence between the two of you, bouncing off the iron-hard walls, drowning out the sound of your breathing, masking the sound of Rex's gentle, feather-light tears and sobs.

He had been through far too much in his short life, he had seen too much, heard, experienced more than enough. The numerous, countless deaths of his brothers, each dying on a cursed battlefield, sacrificing their lives dying for a cause that did little to care for them. The disappearance of Echo, the death of Hardcase, the death of Fives. All men who had been by his side for so, so many years.

And then, General Tano leaving the Jedi order.

That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

He could no longer force and tie down that sense of fear, that sense of insecurity which twisted at his heartstrings, constricting painfully each time a new terror occurred. It squeezed at his lungs, suffocating him, dragging him down like a boulder tied to one of the many seas found on Kamino.

Kamino.

His.. home?

The longnecks never did care for the Clones, all they were to them was a moneygrab. An expensive one, at that. Who knew when the Republic would run out of money to produce more clones? Who knew when they would get tired of the many fruitless battles they so bravely fought? Who knew?

Those questions plagued Rex's mind like a stalkish nightmare, always there, hiding away in the deepest corners of his mind, creeping in every time he'd let his eyelids flutter closed.

But then, there was a light.

A golden, brightly burning flame, offered by an extended hand.

It came in the form of your touch.

Anytime you'd touch his shoulder, graze the soft skin of your palm along his jaw, place feather-light kisses against his nape, Rex could feel the tightness-

No.

He could feel the fear that clawedat his chest slowly dissipate away. Inch by inch, the feeling of your skin against his, the sound of your voice dripping like honey, the warmth that radiated off of you like the sun, it washed the sticky, oozing black substance away in waves, it purged the darkness that tried to taint his heart and mind, his resolve and his beliefs.

His breathing had slowly come to a still, the trembling that had travelled throughout his body had eventually ceased, allowing the two of you to sit in a comfortable, peaceful silence.

His fingers caressed the soft material of your shirt, tracing each slight bump of bone within the curve of your spine, his heart swelling with adoration at every soft exhale and chuckle that escaped your chest at his ministrations.

With you hidden away in his arms, away from harm's way, Rex began to feel at peace again.

But that's just what you did; you put anyone and everyone at ease. You just had that effect.

He didn't know if it was something to do with your force-sensitivity, or if it was just a personality trait. He wasn't about to complain though.

The tip of his nose gently nudged against the top of your head, slowly, taking note of the change in the scent. The corners of his lips nudged slightly upwards, crows feet tugging at the corners of his tired eyes.

"New shampoo?" He asked, his voice low and raspyed as he continued inhaling your scent.

Underneath him, he felt vibrations, your shoulders shaking as you snickered in his arms, the air escaping your lungs in short, joyful tufts.

"Yeah, I was getting fed up of the one provided by the Republic. It's peach scented, d'you like it?" You had asked, tilting your head upwards to catch a glimpse of his honey-glazed eyes. As he looked at you, he couldn't help the rapid rattling of his heart, warmth flooding his chest at the sight of you.

Your face tilted upwards, hands grasping his biceps, lone tufts of hair framing your face, the smug smile on your face as you looked up at him with those beautiful, glassy irises. It was like you were his own personal sunshine, small enough for him to cradle you within his clutches, tuck you away into his pocket, keep you by his side during combat.

Warm enough to chip away at the foul insecurities and fears that clogged his mind during his every waking moment.

His gaze flickered to your lips, and Rex sucked in a sharp breath as he noticed you nibbling lightly on your bottom lip, a shadow cast onto your cheekbones through a row of long, luscious lashes.

Neither of you said a word as Rex's hand cradled the side of your face, closing the short gap between the two of you. You closed your eyes, a joyful huff escaping your chest as his lips collided with yours in a passionate, slow exchange.

His fingers caressed your skin with such care, with such gentleness, with such love, it made your heart beat faster and your blood burn hot with adoration. They swept down from the top of your cheekbone, along the shell of your ear, and finally found their place on your jawbone, his pinky settling for caressing small, short strokes along your jaw and the top of your neck. His other hand came up to do the same, pulling you closer than was thought to be humanly possible.

His breath fanned over your face, and his scent flooded your nostrils, soft vanilla mixed with his natural musky scent.

It invaded your senses, engulfing you like a chilly summer afternoon on one of your rare days off, like the warm summer rain that soaked your clothes, tugged at the tips of your hair, like the warm rays of sun that peaked through the windows as you slept, summoning you to wake up, to feel alive, to feel loved.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your tongue brushing against Rex's bottom lip. You felt his shoulders shake under the heaviness of your palms, and it was soon followed by a soft chuckle as his hands tilted your head, angling it to provide him better access to your body, your lips, your soul.

Your lips melting together, your heart swells with admiration and love for your soldier, and for a moment a fleeting thought wedges itself inside your mind; you and Rex. You and Rex and small children, a tall farmhouse sat behind your figures as the children splash around in a shallow pond, their joyful screams and shouts bringing a smile to your face as you and Rex relax further back, his arm cradling you close to his body.

But that thought is gone as fast as it came, a ghost of your past wishes and longings. But maybe, just maybe once the war ended, the two of you would be able to achieve such a future. Afterall, where there is love, there is hope, and where there is hope, there is life, right?

The two of you are interrupted as your intercom goes off, signaling for your attention. The incessant beeping is loud and repetitive, enough to cause a tension headache in you.

Slowly, you began to pull away, your eyes fluttering open once more, your lips stinging as the cold air of your room replaced the warm plush of Rex's lips. You swallowed hard, releasing a short breath as you looked up into his golden eyes again, a pained expression settled in them again.

"Rex.. It's time for me to go," You whispered, bringing your hand up to caress his face as the man pulled you close, his fingers fiddling with the material of your shirt. He burried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent one last time, "I will contact you as soon as we land, or if anything happens, okay?" You asked, nudging his forehead with yours.

As he lifted his head, Rex felt that same fear overcome him again, tearing away at his heart, choking him up in an iron-tight hold.

"You better update me on everything, and I mean everything, do you understand?" He asked, his gaze hardening and his eyebrows furrowing as he maintained steady eye contact, conveying his worry for you.

With a small nod of your head, you rose from the bed, whispering a soft 'I love you' before you gave him one last kiss, your touch leaving burning trails on his skin as the doors quietly slid shut behind your retreating figure, looking back at Rex one last time, committing the sight of him to your memory, your voice reaching his ears as you answered your intercom.

His gaze remained on the doors, and Rex heaved a long, deep sigh.

"Get a hold of yourself, Rex, she's gonna be back."

But were you?

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inkluvs · 1 year ago

Text

sunburnt

cowboy!steve harrington x reader

content warnings: super fast paced ; fake dating ; they r exes ; uhhh forced proximity i think ; most likely inaccurate southern slang ; (2.0k)

summary: steve and you broke up a few years ago. but you live in a small town, and when you bump into him this time round, you’re told to go for it, or him, perhaps

a/n: ok this is v short just a baby one shot that i’ve been hoarding in my drafts for way too long <3 thank u for reading xoxo

masterlist / taglist

Steve’s nose is dusted pink, the freckled skin sunburnt from one too many times in the heat without protection. His lips are twisted into a smile. The kind that feels rare. The kind that has the same effect on you as a shooting star or an eclipse. You have to stop and stare for just a moment, turning the smile on his face from one of joy to the teasing kind.

The way you’re staring isn’t rude in any way, just more intense, full of the need to pull at the seams of his very being to figure out how he is who he is; To figure out how the same person, who’d been cooing at a puppy a moment ago, a furry tiny thing, can now be staring back at you with the same intensity, his mouth opening, and closing as he does so.

The leather hat on his head is a faded brown, clearly well-loved over the years. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, taking with it any hope that he’ll say something — anything.

It’s laughable really, the way that even after all these years you still find yourself staring. That you stayed there. In that fancy restaurant with the fizzy drink you ordered on your left-hand side and the boy, you’d just been staring at in front of you. He was younger, his hair darker and his skin lacking the freckles he’d gain in the years to come.

You stayed there.

In the way Steve put his hand on yours when the words left his lips. The same lips that’d kissed you so many times you’d lost count. The same lips that’d mouthed at the slope of your cheek every time you smiled because he thought it was endearing.

Your memory isn’t that great really, but somehow you’d managed to engrave every detail of that moment into your mind, down to how Steve’s voice had lifted at the end of each sentence. Like he was asking you a question rather than informing you of something. Like if you’d begged he would’ve listened.

You thought about it — about pleading with him to stay and asking him what went wrong, convincing yourself for a while that closure was what you needed. But it didn’t seem to matter now.

No amount of closure could truly satisfy you and time had taught you that. No amount of closure would prevent bumping into him at the grocery store or the way heat still blossomed in your chest when he looked at you. No amount, you’d decided, would fill the gap he’d left in his wake.

“You’re starin’,” the voice comes from beside you, a little boy whose face you only half recognize, “my Ma says it isn’t nice to stare.”

“Yeah?” he nods, “tell your Ma it’s only rude if they catch you.” The boy grins and turns around, no doubt running home to tell his mother what you had said. You imagine she’d laugh at that, shuddering and failing to hide a smile as she tells off the boy for believing such things. The boy would then nod in confusion. Perplexed as to the way his mother’s words and expression contradicted each other, and that would be the end of that. You assume so at least.

What you don’t expect, however, is the boy coming back a few minutes later, this time tapping the man you’d just been staring at on the shoulder. A part of you wants to call out, to stop the boy from saying something he doesn’t know the consequences of, but one small foreign part of you tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing. The boy points at you and there’s that smile again splitting Steve’s cheeks, the kind that lights a fire underneath your skin, slowly melting you like wax from the inside out. Steve pushes his hand down quickly, checking to see if you’d noticed before turning back.

“Your Ma ever told you that pointing is rude?”

“She says it’s only rude if they catch you.” Laughter bubbles in your chest like water in a tea kettle and you try your best to suppress it, a huff of laughter making its way from your throat instead.

“Think this one already has,” Steve gently lifts the boy's hand with his index finger until he was pointing to you again, “Look.”

“Talk to her then.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, though to anyone else it might have been. The concept seems foreign to Steve – you haven’t been in his life for years now so why would he bother changing it now?

“What?”

“She was just starin’ at you, it only makes sense.”

“Guess it does,” he lets go of the hand in his, his eyes flitting from yours, now looking back at him, to the encouraging ones of the boy in front of him.

“You’re stalling,” he observes, “why are you stalling?’

“I am not stalling,”

“Why are you here,” Steve tilts his head, as if to say, fair point, before turning back to you. A shiver ripples through his spine, distributing all of his nervous energy to the tips of his fingers and toes.

One foot in front of the other, he decides. He stepped forward, his right foot now an inch closer to you, then his left, and before he knows it he was tapping on your shoulder.

“Long time,”

“Wonder why that is,” he almost smiled at that. After all these years, you’re the same. The same tendency to speak before thinking that he had adored at some point, the same crinkle in your nose he’d grown fond of years ago.

“Sorry,”

“Don’t go ‘round saying things you don’t mean”

“I do—“

“You don’t.” There is a sort of weary resignation in your voice, the kind that showcases the years you spent wondering what you’d done wrong. He isn’t sorry, and he would make the same decision over and over if he was given the same options today.

His lips part ever so slightly, heart-shaped and pink, “you see the boy over there,” his words topple on top of one another as he rushes to change the topic, “little shit pushed me in this direction, something about it only making sense.”

“Figured,” you pause, considering your next words, “did the same to me.”

“D’you think he’ll notice if we go our separate ways?”

“I think he’d grab us by our ears and push us together like dolls.”

“Doubt he’d be able to reach our ears.” He says, his voice lifting with a crack of humor.

You’re laughing now, a lovely sound he doesn’t realize he missed until he heard it. “Our ankles then.”

“So we're stuck?”

“Don’t act like this is the worst thing in the world,” you smile. “There were times when you’d pay to be near me.”

“Still would peach,” he murmurs. “S’just an observation.”

“An observation hm?” Steve nods. “What else is an observation?”

He ponders the question for a moment. “You haven’t changed at all, same attitude and tongue like a whip.” That he’d always adored, he wanted to add, but he didn’t, no point in telling you things he’d told you multiple times before. No point in reminding you of things he’d rather not think about.

“Yeah?” Steve hums in agreement, “And what gives you that impression?”

“The boy,” his voice is low, both rough and smooth in a way that made your skin burn, “when he pointed to you, I asked him if he’d ever been told by his Ma pointing is rude, y’know what he said?”

You do. “No.”

“He said ‘s only rude if they catch you,” his breath is warm against your neck and suddenly you realize he’s gotten closer to you, “and something tells me his Ma isn’t the one who taught him that.”

“Why would you think that?”

The corners of his mouth twitch and you mirror him, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. He swallows in a desperate attempt to stifle his laughter, failing a moment later. He’s right. You haven’t changed and you haven’t yet decided if you like that or not.

He looks at his wrist, as if to check his watch, only to find the skin bare, a slight tan line apparent from hours spent in the sun. His face falls.

“Lost your watch?” you inquire. Steve adores that watch more than anything, though you can never figure out why. You just assume it was a gift of some sort.

“Stolen,” he mutters.

Your lips form an ‘o’ shape for a moment before breaking eye contact, “‘s about to be dark anyways,”

“I’ll see ya later then? Tomorrow?” You can hear the grin in his voice. You can hear it in the way his voice twisted into a pretty breathy noise at the end of his question, hope tainting his tone.

“You askin’ me out Harrington?”

“Depends,” he tapped his chin and you bit your tongue to hold back any remark you’d later regret, instead taking his bait.

“On what?” You wouldn’t ever tell him but you had the incomprehensible urge to squeeze him then, when his grin got wider and his cheeks split with the force of it. To make sure that this moment has substance and it isn’t something you conjured up in your free time.

“D’you want me to?”

“Think the kid’s boutta answer for me,” his brows pucker, “So yes, for the boy.” You decide.

“For the boy.” He agrees.

“Till tomorrow then?”

“Till tomorrow.” He agrees. There’s a sort of unspoken agreement between the two of you. Treat whatever it is that there still is between you like it doesn’t exist. Assume that every interaction from now on would be for the boy. No matter how much you enjoy it, it couldn’t possibly be because you want it. Ridiculous.

He follows through the next day, though you half didn’t expect him to, opening the door to find Steve all dressed up with lavender in a bouquet. You tell him you’re just finishing your hair—you hadn’t even started. Steve can tell, noticing the familiar frantic note in your voice.

“Take as long as you want, yeah? I’ll be right here.”

The sweet smell of flowers travels down the hallway and reaches the bathroom. Heat blossoms in your chest and rolls over your skin, filling you until your cheeks are full of warmth. You’re out about 30 minutes later, haphazardly pulling a confused Steve into the bathroom to help you pick a necklace.

“Honey, couldn't you have shown me this out there?” He whispers after pointing to a piece of jewelry.

“Didn’t think of that then,” you turn around and hand both ends of the chain to him before continuing.

“D’you get here okay?”

It’s a dumb question and you know it. He loves less than 10 minutes from you and he’s been to yours more times than you can count. But he indulges you.

“For the most part yeah, rode through a storm or two though.” You can feel a huff of his laughter against your neck as he fiddles with the clasp. Steve had never been good with chains and clasps smaller than his fingers, having grown accustomed to thick ropes and metal and leather reins.

“Oh?” Your lips quirk at the corners. “D’you dry off before you came in?”

“Of course, wouldn’t wanna get mud all on your floor now would I darlin’.” His tongue pokes out of the corner of his lips as he focuses, exhaling suddenly as he finally connects the clasps. “S’that it?”

Your thumb and index feel at the little chain links, searching for the clasp. “You know what?” You smile.

He mirrors it. “What?”

“I think you might’ve done it. Well done, Steve.”

“Did I?” He adjusts the necklace. “Maybe I did.”

“That’s what I like to call growth Harrington.”

“Yeah?” His voice is warm with affection. Positive reinforcement always did wonders for the boy.

You hum your approval, “Last time I asked you couldn’t even undo the latch when I handed it to you.”

“Last time you asked I was 17 and dumb.” His tone is flat like you’d struck a nerve. You aren’t exactly sure why—he’d brought your separation on himself.

“‘m not exactly sure being able to successfully put on a necklace is what measures intelligence.” He smiles, your attempt to lighten the air having been successful. One day you’ll tell him that you only ask him to help with your clasps because the fire it lit under the skin of your neck was an addictive one. No matter how much time apart you’d spent and how bad he is at it you couldn’t help but crave it. But today isn’t that day.

“Couldn’t tell the difference between a stallion and a mare.”

“Steve, I still can’t do that.”

“Shit like that is part of my job peach.” His voice drops to a dramatic whisper. “Though if you really need to know you could always look at the underside. ‘s pretty foolproof.”

A puff of laughter erupts from your throat. “Steve ‘m gonna ask you somethin’ and you gotta be honest.”

“Shoot.” He seems to know what you’re planning on asking him, warmth flushing his cheeks even before your lips part

“How many times have you done that?”

“Oh come on darlin’ now you’re just tryin’ to embarrass me.”

You smile and his cheeks flush with warmth

“You need humblin’ every so often, I'm just taking it into my own hands.”

“You want me to be honest?” You nod and his voice drops to a whisper, “A lot. More than you would believe.”

“Makes sense. You were always real good at limbo.”

He laughs at that. “You think I’m good at limbo all ‘cause of looking at a horse's underside?”

“You said it, not me.”

His heart is filled with sticky sweet adoration, the feeling running through his veins and under his skin. “I’ve missed you, peach.”

“You gonna take me out first or not Harrington?”

“How could I possibly forget with you lookin’ like that? You all dolled up just for me?” He tips his head forward, the brim of his hat eye level with you as he takes your hand in his.

You press your hand to your chest, a little dramatic but that’s the point. “Who else would I look like this for, hm?”

Steve grins, the kind that’s gorgeous and just a bit too cocky and you love it. He tugs you out the door with that, unlocking his car and opening the passenger side door before getting in himself.

“Say, the storm you rode through, which horse got stuck in it with you.”

“Think it’s the one you named, Cinnamon.”

“You went through with naming that poor horse, Cinnamon? Steven, it was a drunken suggestion.” He laughs, warm and low.

“Cinnamon doesn’t mind it, I’ll tell ya a secret though,” his voice lowers to a whisper, “I think Nutmeg despises her for it. The whole spice thing.”

“Stole Nutmeg’s thing hm?”

“‘s what she says.”

Your finger trails up the length of his arm, connecting freckles on tanned skin. “‘s romantic y’know, riding the horse I named to my house.”

“Of course it is, I came up with it.” You tilt your head and lift a brow. He laughs. “Not without your help of course.”

You hate how much you perk up when he says that. You hate how much you want yourself to hate him but you can’t bring yourself to, because no matter how many times you thought over the way Steve left you however many years ago, he still has you. And you still have him. And neither of you want to say it, but in this moment the boy that's brought you together couldn’t be further from your mind.

#ivy is writing !#steve harrington (ivy’s version)#steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington concepts #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stluvs #cowboy!steve harrington #cowboy au #steve harrington au

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hiddendreamsstuff · 1 month ago

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A Day at the Beach... Part 1/3

(Okay so this is my first longer story so I hope you enjoy this first part. I am working on it part by part but wanna drop this first part to get your appetite going with some good ole beach smut which involves some sexy play on the beach between two very sexy women. It will lead to some great Baywatch style resus play in later parts. I am considering doing "alternate endings" with darker resus stuff but we will see when/if things come to me).

Samantha and Julia, or Sam and Jules as they have become known to friends, have been together for about six months. They are strongly attracted to each other and spend all their time together. One day, early in the beach season they decide to go a the beach at a large lake.

Sam has been a lifeguard for years and loves the water. The lake is her happy place. Everything about the beach just brings her peace so being there with Jules is a dream come true. She is about 5’8 with long, straight jet black hair, B cup breasts and tanned skin. She is wearing a stringy bikini showing off her flat tummy and sleeve tattoo on her left arm of flowers.

Jules, however, doesn’t love the very much beach, but she loves being with Sam so she agrees to go. Jules is 5’6 with medium length light reddish hair and C cup breasts. Her milky white skin tends to burn or get all freckled. Today she is wearing a sky blue halter neck bikini which can be unhooked in the back with a t-shirt over it. She feels very self conscious about her body even though she is objectively beautiful. She likes being in the water and tends to go in and not come out in order to be seen too much in her bathing suit.

When Sam and Jules get to the beach they pick a secluded spot at the end of the beach where they can have some privacy. This makes Jules feel a bit better about showing off her very beautiful body to Sam as no one else can get a close look. There is a lifeguard stand which has two women atop it, and a few people on the surrounding beach a little less than a quarter mile away. They can hear chatter and laughing in the light breeze happening on this unusually warm day. This eases Jules's anxiety a lot.

Jules, who is prone to sunburn asks Sam to help her put some lotion on her back. Sam is more than happy to do so as it gives her the chance to explore Jules's body right there in her favorite place. She slathers some lotion on her hands and gets to work as Jules sits with her back to her and is pulling her long hair out of the way for Sam to do her work. It feels nice for Jules to be touched in this way and she shudders a few times with pleasure when Sam gets close to the bathing suit lines. She turns her head around and kisses Sam deeply which makes them both smile and giggle while Sam continues putting sunblock on Jules's body reaching around front to her stomach and under her breasts.

Then Sam gets up and pushes Jules down onto the blanket and starts rubbing lotion on her front side which again makes them both giggle. Sam very slowly makes her way around the bikini lines of the breasts and walks her fingers up Jules's sternum to her lips. She then kisses her lips lightly cause a rush of pleasure in Jules' pelvis. Jules reaches up to Sam's breasts and caresses them while reaching her head up for a kiss which Sam denies with a laugh. Sam leans in and bites on Jules's lip turning them both on a bit more.

They continue this kind of play for a few minutes and switch positions so Sam can be lotioned up as well. While Jules is straddling her leg, Sam raises her leg up and Jules leans back onto it and feels a rush of pleasure go through her. She grabs Sam's breasts and lets out a satisfied moan which makes Sam even more turned on.

Now that they have fully covered the other with sunscreen from head to toe, the two decide to take their play out into the water where they are less visible. Immediately upon getting deep enough Sam pulls Jules towards her and runs her fingers along the bottom of Jules' bikini under the water. Jules gives a nod consenting to what is about to come next...

She is not disappointed when Sam's fingers make their way below the bikini line and rub gently on her clit. She moans with pleasure after becoming so wet and horny up on the beach. Sam continues and moves her mouth down to Jules' breasts and unhooks the back one handed to get the material out of the way to be able to suck her nipple. The rest of the bathing suit hangs around Jules's neck. Jules starts to come almost immediately and runs her fingers through Sam's soft luscious hair and pulls a bit as an orgasmic sound escapes her throat. Sam kisses her neck and sucks a bit until there is a red mark. Sam keeps rubbing until the orgasm becomes more intense and Jules lets out a groan that could be heard on the shore if anyone was there.

When she is done Jules looks deeply into Sam's eyes and whispers "I love you" for the first time. Sam smiles and kisses her on her nose and says "I love you too," passionately and pulls her in for a deep kiss with her fingers in her hair pulling it. "Now I'm gonna fuck you harder..." says Jules before pulling Sam closer to the shore. Sam is so turned on and cannot wait for what Jules is about to do to her. It's so exciting to see her girlfriend so confident. Now that their bodies are more exposed to the sun, Jules can see the light glisten off of the water droplets on Sam's skin.

Jules is feeling really assertive in her post orgasm bliss and expression of love. The two women are close enough to shore that they are able to stand on their knees and have their pelvis's exposed. Since its a lake there are not strong waves. Jules reaches down into Sam's bathing suit and with the other hand starts untying the strings that hold the other sides together. As they begin to come apart she pulls them off and throws them to shore. She buries her fingers deeper into Sam and kisses her deeply while running her other hand through her hair. Sam rocks herself against Jules' hand until she comes loudly with her head turned towards the sky... her sternum reaching upwards and into Jules' ready face to receive those beautiful mounds. Jules moves her hand to Sam's left breast and pinches the nipple through the material and then moves the material sideways to expose her breast fully.

They both fall over when a slightly larger wave comes in. They are practically at the shore. Jules pushes Sam down and moves her lips to her bare breast bites lightly at it as well, which drives Sam's lust to be more intense. She then moves down Sam's body, kissing her as she goes, before getting to her clit and starting to suck. She begins to moan louder and louder until she reaches climactic bliss.

Jules stops, smiling snuggly, and moves back up to Sam's upper body, which Sam uses as an opportunity to jump on top of Jules, straddling her, and begins gyrating back and forth on her thigh as she kisses her naked breasts. Jules pulls at Sam's hair as she comes again right there in the water.

They roll over and start making out and grabbing at each other's chests until they get tired and re-dress themselves. They head up to the blanket and Sam lays down flat. Jules puts her head on Sam's chest and listens to her heartbeat as they both fall asleep.

A while later, Sam wakes up and becomes disoriented. She is expecting to see Jules on her chest, or at least on the blanket. She sits up quickly and looks around. She doesn't see Jules anywhere on the beach. Then she looks in the water.....

To be continued....

#girl cpr #resus #cpr #defib

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jakekiszkaenthusiast · 2 years ago

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cinnamon- j.t.k

warnings- smut, oral (f.receiving), cockwarming kinda??

author’s note- hey! hope you all enjoy this kinda fluffy but also sexy fic for my favourite baby boy jakey <3 not the most original but i haven’t written in a long time sooo just enjoy it lol

•••

the sun warmed jake’s skin as he slowly woke up, but it wasn’t quite the type of heat he craved.

what he wanted was the feeling of your body close to his, creasing the sheets and tangling yourself around his legs, but you were nowhere to be found. his eyebrows scrunched, confusion lacing the features you so loved to admire, and he quickly sat up, adjusting the sheets covering his body.

“stay where you are!” your voice, his favourite sound, called out, and a quick look across the room told jake that you had left the bedroom door slightly ajar.

you were standing outside of the room, albeit struggling to enter it what with your hands being full, but you were determined to ensure jake stayed in bed. if he got up, he’d busy himself with getting ready for the day, and you were intent to steal him for as long as you possibly could.

“o-kay?” jake uncertainly agreed, sitting back into the pillows, though not without a doubtful look shot towards the door you were struggling to push open.

eventually you risk just kicking the door open, nudging it with your elbow to make sure it actually lets you through, and the smile you wore only faltered once, when you almost drop a mug of coffee.

“what’s all this, sweets?” jake laughs, eyebrows lifting as he took in you, your arms laden with plates and mugs and even more, and your skimpy attire.

you were balancing a large box on top of two plates, with a smaller box on top of the larger one, while two mugs dangle precariously from your fingers. you wore a short, thin powder-pink dress you only reserved for when you wanted to feel extra pretty, and the most beautiful smile jake had ever had the pleasure of seeing.

“tad-ahh!” you cheer out, breathless with the effort it took you to get upstairs.

with jake’s help, you safely extract the mugs from your fingers and place the boxes down on the bed, from which a delicious smell was emanating. baked goods.

“what did you do for me, angel?” jake asked, watching you crawl back into bed and gently sweeping your hair off of your shoulder to give him the chance to kiss it.

“just ordered us breakfast, your favourite!” you explain, quickly opening the boxes to reveal cinnamon buns in one, fresh berries in the other.

it was like watching a child open a christmas gift, the way jake’s eyes grew. he sat up eagerly, taking a plate and immediately reaching in the box to serve himself a warm, soft cinnamon bun.

as he took his first bite, his eyes fell shut, and a satisfied groan sounded from the back of his throat. you took the time to admire him in all of his morning glory- messy hair, soft, tired brown eyes, his golden skin delicately kissed by the sun shining through the open window. every detail of him was perfect, down to your favourite freckle of his sitting against the top of his stomach.

“thank you, love. cmere.” he beckoned you, leaning over to press a kiss to your lips.

“oh, jake, you’re getting me all sticky! stop it!” you laugh as he continues to kiss over your cheeks and jaw. the icing from his breakfast left sticky marks all over your lips, and you felt your face crinkle in displeasure at the feeling.

“can’t help it, you’re too sweet.”

“god, that was cheesy.” you poke fun at him, and yet you find yourself wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him kiss you again.

jake pushes the plate in his lap away with a blind hand, too focused on kissing you with more intention this time, leaning his body into yours until you were both sinking into the pillows. he tastes sweet, full of warmth and spice. his tongue gently runs over your bottom lip, and you can’t find a reason to deny him.

“jake…” you sigh, after breaking away from his mouth.

“what…” he matches your tone, though he makes no effort to catch onto what you both know you’re trying to say.

“the food.”

“can be eaten at another time. i want you now.” he mutters against your lips, nudging his nose to yours.

“the coffee will go cold.” you warn, as you let jake place the boxes and plates onto the floor, out of the way.

“we can heat it back up again.” he offers a solution to every problem you present to him, so who are you to keep trying to stop something good?

“just let me taste you, that’s all i really want.” he whispers, slowly crawling down the bed and along your body.

“please?” his brown eyes meet yours, full of pleading and a delicate love you knew you could trust.

you reach out a hand to cup his cheek, stroking over his soft skin as a contented smile overtakes his face. his body is nestled between your legs now, warm hands pushing your thin dress up over your hips.

still, he doesn’t go any further. he waits for you to say yes, to allow him what he so desperately wants, with baited breath and subtly wriggling hips that told you he wanted this even more than his imploring eyes were letting on.

“of course, baby.”

quickly, his hands push your thighs open, baring you to his eager eyes. he looks far more hungry for you than he ever has been for cinnamon buns, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“so fucking pretty, always have been.” he murmurs, before licking a stripe from your core to your clit.

“taste so sweet, i don’t think i’ll ever get enough.” he chuckles and shakes his head, like he couldn’t quite believe he could he addicted to someone’s taste- and yet here he was, aching for more of you.

“you can have me whenever you need a fix, honey.” you joke, but your fingers threading through his hair and pushing his head back down tell him you don’t feel much like talking anymore.

jake wraps both arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to him and effectively suffocating himself between your legs. once upon a time, you would have been concerned, but after a stern conversation in which jake told you that he would happily die with his face between your legs, you stopped caring so much and let him enjoy his happy place.

he lets out a muffled groan as he buries his face even closer to you, lapping and lavishing his tongue over your core before attaching his lips to your clit, suckling softly until you gasp and tighten your grip in his hair.

“fuck, jake.” you whine out, feeling your hips buck up against his mouth.

“mhm.” he moans back, nodding his head and consequently pressing his tongue harder against your clit.

he nuzzles his face from side to side, watching for the way your face changes, your mouth falling open and your eyes scrunching shut at the sensation. your hips can’t stay still, it seems, because they grind against his tongue without thought.

his hands slink up your stomach to tug at the hem of your dress, his brown eyes flicking up to meet yours as he draws circles with his tongue against you.

“take this off. please.” he pauses, remembering his manners even in his greediest moments, and you comply, shrugging it off and tossing it somewhere across the room. all the while, jake is sucking and rolling your clit over his tongue. he made it a very distracted, hard task, but you were eventually completely naked for him.

pressure is building deep in your stomach, and it only amplifies when jake snakes a hand away from your hip and slides two fingers inside of you, curling and massaging at your sweet spot until you felt your eyes rolling back into your head.

“i’m gonna- jake, please.” you manage to choke out, before your orgasm hits you hard.

still, jake continues licking and sucking at your now sensitive clit, relishing in how you throb and squeeze around his fingers still fucking into you.

“god- fuck, oh my god.” you groan, tugging away at his hair, but he can’t seem to pull himself out from between your legs.

your second orgasm hits you twice as hard as the first, your oversensitive cunt clenching down on his fingers, twitching and aching for a reprieve jake isn’t ready to reward you with yet. your hips twist, trying to get away from the all-consuming feeling his tongue was pushing you into, but his strong arms held you in place.

eventually you sink back into the bed, weak and spent, as jake finally comes up for air. he runs a finger through his hair, licking at his lips to savour every last drop of you, smiling brighter than you had seen in a while. he truly was a kid on christmas, spoiled with all of his favourite things.

“my sweet baby, you’re so good to me.” he coos, kissing a messy line along your stomach and between your tits, until he reaches your mouth. you can still taste yourself on his tongue, mixed with a faint hint of cinnamon.

“i love you, idiot.” you breathe, pressing your sticky forehead to his.

“i love you more.” he whispers, kissing your lips softly.

you break away from him, reaching over the edge of the bed to find your long-forgotten breakfast. jake shifts his leg and you find yourself slipping further down the bed until you could press your hand against the floor, a gasp leaving your mouth.

“what are you doing?” jake asks, taking his opportunity to grab a handful of your ass while it was there, sticking up right in front of him.

“trying to get more breakfast- unsuccessfully.” you grumble, barely managing to push yourself back onto the bed.

jake’s hand never leaves your ass, nor does he try to help you get back up, simply enjoying the show of your hips moving from side to side, and how he got an occasional glimpse of your glistening cunt every time your thighs spread.

“i don’t think i’m finished with you, sweets.” he says, using both hands to pull your hips up until you could feel his hot breath against your clit.

“reach over and have a taste of our breakfast, some of the icing.” you obey before you can really think about it, swiping through the icing and sucking it clean from your fingers.

“isn’t it good?” he asks so casually, while his large hands spread your ass cheeks apart.

“mhm, very good. i picked well.” you mutter, breath hitched in your throat in preparation for whatever he was going to do next.

“now tell me,” he interrupts himself to lick over you, collecting your juices in his mouth, “does the icing taste better than you do?”

he takes a strong hold in your hair and pulls you up, twisting your head until he was hovering above you, forcing his thumb past your lips to pull your mouth open. he spits into your mouth and makes sure you swallow with a satisfied smirk upon his lips.

you’re so unbelievably turned on that you forget jake had even spoken, so when he tilts his head expectantly, eyebrows lifted, you can’t quite figure out what he wants from you.

“answer my question, baby. do you think you taste better than the icing?” his strong hands cup your cheeks, cradling your face delicately as you slowly nod.

“yes, i do.” you whisper.

“smart, smart girl. you taste better than any baked treat. the sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted.” he murmurs against your lips, pressing a deep kiss to them until you’re pulling him closer and gasping for air at the same time.

“ ‘m gonna fuck you now, pretty girl. is that okay?”

you could’ve screamed yes in that moment. you wanted nothing more than to have him fill you up, make you a mess and mark you as his, but words seem to be failing you in this current moment, so you opt instead to nod so hard you think your head might fall off and reach for his cock, stroking over it with shaking hands.

“please.” you manage to squeak out when he still doesn’t move despite your legs haphazardly flung open for him, the most graceless but also the most desperate and ready position you could possibly be in.

suddenly, you’re being flipped over, with one of his hands pulling your hips up and the other pushing your head down into the pillows.

“god, so fucking pretty and pink. wish i had a camera nearby so i could document my pretty, pink pussy.” he groans, his thumb rubbing over your clit.

“all yours, jakey.” you practically purr, shoving your hips further back to chase his touch as his thumb moves away.

a swift crack to your ass cheek keeps your greedy tendencies in check, and you remain still as he admires you.

“all mine. all of you belongs to me, don’t you?” he asks, and all you can do is whimper in response.

“this pussy belongs to me,” he begins, sliding a finger inside and hooking it into your g spot,

“this ass belongs to me,” his free hand smacks at the plush skin of your ass, taking a handful,

“these tits belong to me,” his hand travels along your back and snakes over your stomach in search of your nipple, squeezing and tugging away at it until a high-pitched whine squeaks out of you,

“and this pretty, pretty face belongs to me too.” his hand abandons your nipple in favour of grasping your jaw, squeezing your cheeks until your lips puff up and your neck aches from twisting too far in the wrong direction.

jake lets go of your face, combing his fingers through your hair before he traces lines along the rest of your body. his spare hand slips out of you, and before you can begin to complain, you’re met with the very welcome sensation of his cock stretching you out.

softly you sigh as you get used to his size, happy and so full you can feel the weight of him deep in your stomach, that delicious ache being quelled finally. your favourite craving.

his hips begin to rock, slowly pushing in and out of you, until you push your hips back and he gets the message.

“don’t be gentle. just fuck me, jake.” you sigh, glad to feel his hands take a harsh grip on your hips and his body begin a faster pace.

soon, he’s slamming into you so hard you’re not sure you can remember exactly what ‘gentle’ means anymore. it’s intoxicating, feeling him everywhere, stealing your breath away, scratching at your skin, pounding your cunt over and over again until it hurts- in the best way possible.

“so fucking tight, feels too damn good.” he grunts out, just barely cutting himself off with a choked moan in the back of his throat.

“keep fucking me like that, please, god, don’t stop.” you whine out, reaching down to press quick circles into your clit, feeling your toes curl as your orgasm quickly approaches.

“just cum for me, angel. don’t think about anything else.” he pants, hooking an arm under your hips to keep your body from sinking into the bed and stop him from chasing his end too.

the extra support only provides more pressure right where you need it, his forearm pushing down on your lower stomach and making the pleasure altogether too much, and soon all you can do is scream his name into your pillow, crumbling into the feeling of your orgasm washing over you.

“good girl, that’s my sweet baby. keep cumming for me.” he rasps out, his hips stuttering as he tries to hold on for just a moment longer.

“gonna fill you up, make you mine. you want that, baby? wanna be all filled up with my cum?” he always gets vocal just as he’s about to cum, trying to talk himself through it as his body convulses and twitches with overwhelming pleasure.

“give it to me, please, jake.” you whimper, fisting the sheets beneath you.

he lets out a throaty groan, forcing his hips against your ass as he finishes, pressing his weight into your body and kissing over your shoulders.

you clutch at his hips, reaching out for the softer skin of his tummy, desperate to keep him close. you need him to stay with you for just a while longer, begging for the weight of his body on top of yours for as long as you selfishly demand. maybe it was a strange position to some, but it felt so complete and right for you in that moment, you couldn’t help but cling to it until someone’s foot inevitably falls asleep.

“i’m not going anywhere, angel.” he whispers into your hair, smoothing kisses over your hairline as you quietly whimper and moan underneath him.

“just wanna stay like this for a while. feels nice.” you mumble, feeling his hand take yours and squeeze it gently.

“we can stay like this for as long as you want. we don’t have anywhere to be. we even have snacks, see? you planned ahead without even realising.”

he points your intertwined hands towards the box of cinnamon buns still sitting on the floor, waiting for you to tear into later.

#greta van fleet #fanfiction #jake kiszka #greta van fic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka x reader #jake gvf #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fan fiction #gvf fic

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imekitty · 2 years ago

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Star Error XI

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Star investigates Danny’s glowing freckles.

-----

"Star, is it true?" asked Paulina in the hallway after the last bell. "Did Danny really dump you?"

"Yeah, he did," whooped Dash. "Didn't you see it on TikTok?"

"Wait, it was caught on camera? Let me see!" cried Kwan.

Dash pulled up the video and played it for Kwan. They snickered and pointed at different moments in the video, mocking Fenton's words. Star imagined slapping the phone right out of Dash's hand and stomping on it over and over.

"Your face is so red, Star," laughed Dash. "Have you seen it?"

"Guys, lay off," said Paulina. "Star's our friend, in case you forgot."

"Come on, a dweeb like that dumping an A-List girl? That's priceless," said Dash.

"But did you really try to kiss Foley?" asked Kwan.

"She and Foley dated before," said Dash. "She was just going back to her ex."

"I was not!" squealed Star, stamping her foot. "And I didn't try to kiss him! I was just—ack!"

Star stormed off, ignoring Paulina's calls to come back. What was the point in trying to explain anything to them? Until she could prove Fenton's freckles glowed, they weren't going to believe her.

She had to find Fenton, confront him, demand to know where he even got the gall to humiliate her like that in front of the entire school.

She searched everywhere around the school, but Fenton seemed to be gone already. She checked the time. She was on the schedule to tutor a couple students but this was far more important.

She exited the school and ran entirely off campus. She hoped Fenton was at one of his known hangout spots around town, but she was willing to show up at the front door of Fenton Works at this point.

She spotted Fenton through a window in the Nasty Burger. He was chatting it up with Manson and Foley, looking very happy indeed as he laughed about something.

Star clenched her fists, her face red as she threw open the door into the restaurant and stomped up to Fenton's booth.

"Fenton!" she hissed through gritted teeth.

Fenton blinked and cocked his head. "Can I help you, Star?"

"You, me, outside," spat Star. "Now."

"Star." Fenton sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry if this is hard for you, but we broke up."

"You broke up with her, if I remember correctly," said Foley cheekily, popping a fry into his mouth.

"Oh, that's right, I did," said Fenton with a smile.

"You don't even have to remember," said Manson, holding up her phone. "It's all on video."

Star became aware of a few Casper High students sitting at other tables. They were turning to stare, whispering behind their hands.

Star leaned over the table and lowered her voice. "Fenton. Don't make me ask you again."

"All right, all right. Just let me finish my milkshake."

Fenton picked up his shake and began drinking it through the straw. The seconds dragged on and on as he noisily slurped it all up. Star watched him, her eye twitching.

At last, Fenton popped the straw out of his mouth and loudly sighed, sounding quite satisfied. "That was so good. You really should get one, Star. I would buy you one, but we're no longer dating, as you know."

"We were never dating!" shrieked Star, about ready to pull out her hair.

"Ouch." Fenton pressed a hand over his heart. "Did our two-day relationship really mean so little to you?"

"Move it, Fenton!" ordered Star.

Fenton smirked as he slid out of the booth and followed Star out of the Nasty Burger and around to the back near the dumpsters. Star checked that no one was around before railing into him, forcing him up against a wall.

"What the hell was that at lunch?" demanded Star. "What were you even doing there? You were supposed to be in detention!"

"Oh, I was," said Fenton. "But Lancer let me out early, so I went looking for Sam and Tuck. Then Sam told me you took Tucker somewhere, and I decided to go find you."

"But why? I mean, why did you have to make such a scene?" Star huffed. "I mean, flowers? Really?"

Fenton grinned. "That was a nice touch, wasn't it? Sam has connections and was able to call up someone who could get them delivered super fast."

"But why did you tell everyone that you were dumping me? I don't get dumped, Fenton! Certainly not by freaky losers like you."

"Hey, don't try to make me the bad guy here. You were the one cheating on me."

Star slammed his shoulder into the wall. "Cut the shit, Fenton. You embarrassed me in front of the whole school."

"Oh, wow, did I?" Fenton's bottom lip trembled. "Being embarrassed in front of the whole school, that's rough, Star. I'm so sorry." He scratched behind his ear. "I mean, I can relate, because, you know, this one time, someone spread a rumor around the whole school that I tape pictures of girls to pillows and dolls and then use them to practice kissing."

"So this was your revenge, was it?"

Fenton shrugged. "Well, you were right that I'm too nice to make up a lie about you and spread it around, but I'm definitely not too nice to take advantage of my supposed girlfriend trying to weasel information out of my best friend by seducing him."

Star grimaced. "I wasn't seducing him."

"Oh? So what you were planning on doing when you were leaning in toward him with your lips all puckered?"

"I—they were not!"

"Star, I saw you. Why are you denying it?"

"But I wasn't really going to kiss him!" protested Star. "I just wanted him to think I was."

"Mmm hmm. Sure. Just like you wanted everyone to think I practice kissing on dolls and pillows."

"You have only yourself to blame for that." Star scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Really, Fenton, I just don't understand why this is such a big deal to you."

"Well, it's pretty embarrassing for everyone to think that I even need to practice kissing—"

"Not that!" hissed Star. "I'm talking about why you're so against everyone knowing about your glowing freckles. I don't get it."

"I wouldn't expect you to." Fenton narrowed his eyes. "But as I've already told you, this is something I have to keep secret. I can't let anyone know."

"Sam and Tucker know, don't they?"

"They're my best friends."

"Well, I know. You even confirmed it for me and let me ask questions about it. Why are you okay with me knowing?"

"I'm not." Fenton groaned. "But I was stupid and let you see them glow. I really hoped you'd leave it alone if I just satisfied your curiosity by answering a few questions."

"Nope," said Star. "I am still very, very curious."

Fenton turned and raised his forearm just above his head, pressing it to the wall as he leaned against it. He hung his head, sighing deeply. Star scrunched her mouth and folded her arms.

Nothing was said for a couple moments.

"Okay, look." Star held up her hands as a gesture of goodwill. "I'm getting real tired of all this back-and-forth tug-of-war between us—"

"You're only tired because I'm winning right now."

Star reddened. "Can we maybe just come to some kind of compromise?"

"Hmm." Fenton held his elbows. "What did you have in mind?"

"How about this? I'll stop trying to prove to everyone your freckles glow if you just tell me why they glow."

"I already told you why."

"No, I don't mean how to get them to glow by getting you excited about something. I mean what it is inside of you that makes it happen."

Fenton frowned and slumped against the wall.

"How did it all start?" asked Star. "I mean, you weren't born like that, right? I know you said it's the reason you can't donate blood, so obviously it's something in your blood that makes it happen, but what is it?"

Fenton shook his head. "I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not a yes-or-no question."

Star's mouth hung open. Fenton smirked.

"Fenton, come on," whined Star. "I really promise to stop trying to prove your freckles glow if you just tell me why it happens."

"No," said Fenton, his smirk vanishing. "That's an even bigger secret I definitely don't want anyone to know."

Star pouted. "I can keep a secret."

"No, you can't," said Fenton. "Everyone knows you're the biggest gossip in school. You'll sell out anyone's secret if it's juicy enough."

Star raised a brow. "I highly doubt that your big secret is juicy, Fenton. It's probably something really dumb."

"Hmm. Well, you go on thinking that."

Star groaned. "Fenton, I'm trying to make peace with you here, put an end to all these silly pranks between us."

"You call making up a rumor that I practice kissing on dolls a 'silly prank'?"

Star sniffed and turned up her nose. "I could've done a lot worse, you know."

"Oh, I have absolutely no doubt about that," said Fenton. "I have no doubt that you're capable of sinking much lower than that."

Star narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms, her nose wrinkling as she exhaled sharply.

"Look, Star, I don't trust you. I really don't," said Fenton. "And you know you've given me no reason to trust you now."

"You're not still butthurt about that picture I took, are you?"

"It's everything, Star. It's everything you've been doing to me." Fenton paused to close his eyes and breathe a moment. "I don't trust you, but I promised you five yes-or-no questions, and you still have one left. So even though you really don't deserve even that much from me, I will answer a final question for you."

Star scrunched her mouth, gliding a manicured nail down her chin.

"But then can we please be done with all of this?" Fenton gestured to the air between them. "Can this game we're playing be over already?"

Star swished her lips back and forth a couple times. "So you won't make me go on a date with you? I can go ahead and ask whatever yes-or-no question I want and you'll answer it?"

"Well, I mean, we're kind of broken up now, but sure, we can go on another date if you want."

"It would be our first date, and no, there will be no date at all."

Fenton shrugged and crossed one leg over the other as he folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"I'm not asking here next to this dumpster. As if." Star scoffed. "Besides, I need some time to think about it."

"Well, when you think of something, let me know." Fenton kicked himself off the wall. "I'm going back inside." He started heading around to the front of the Nasty Burger.

"Wait!" Star called, holding out a hand to stop him. "I do have a different question. It's not a yes-or-no question, though."

Fenton turned, not looking at all irritated or tired but simply curious, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Those flowers you gave me. How did you know orange is my favorite color?" asked Star.

Fenton chuckled. "I heard you mention it to Paulina in class once."

"What, so you were spying on us? Eavesdropping?"

"It's not eavesdropping if you're talking loud enough for everyone to hear."

Star scowled but could feel herself blushing as well.

"Did you like them?" asked Fenton. "The orange flowers."

"Um. Yeah." Star shrugged, remembering how she placed the bouquet in her locker because she couldn't bring herself to throw it away just yet. "I liked them okay."

"I liked them, too," said Fenton. "I thought they were really pretty."

Fenton gave her a small wave before walking away and disappearing around the corner of the Nasty Burger. Star groaned and released a sigh.

Part 12

#danny phantom #star error #imekitty writes #star rainsdon #danny fenton #tucker foley #sam manson #danny/star

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pentopaperhandstokeys · 4 years ago

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Some urban fantasy fluff for @mysunfreckle based on this post

The sun was warm on Nia’s face as they sat in the backyard with a cup of tea. Molly stood behind them, eagerly brushing their long hair.

“Ahh it’s so unfair, I wish I had hair like this.” She said, tugging on part of it to accentuate her point.

“I mean,” Nia replied, “I feel like it’s more yours than it is mine. Considering the fact that you’re the one yanking on it.” “Oh hush,” Molly said, “like this is a hardship for you, you’re practically purring.”

Nia hummed, taking a sip of their tea. Molly took that for the admission that it was and started separating their hair into sections with a smug look on her face. Nia couldn’t see her face, of course, but they knew.

It was nice in the sun, Nia really should sit out here more. The breeze on their skin, the smell of grass and was that jasmine? Absurdly pleasant. Having Molly braid their hair was certainly adding to that pleasantness as well, which is probably why she tutted a moment later.

“Could you wait until the braids are done? It makes it hard to see.” She said, depositing a few small flowers into their lap and putting one behind her ear, the yellow of it bright against her dark skin.

Nia grinned, “Sorry,” they sighed happily, “it’s just nice out here.”

Molly’s face appeared again over their shoulder, a smile just as bright as Nia’s flowers on her face, “It is nice.”

“Okay,” she said, coming around to face them and continuing the braid to the front of their head before pinning it in place. “Go on then, Nia.”

Nia took a breath and grinned, letting the good mood that had been settling around them condense until their braid crown became a flower crown.

Molly grinned, pleased with herself, “Nice indeed.”

Yeah, Nia had to do this more often.

#OCs #my writing #Nia #Molly #fluff #I hope this satisfies your order freckle <3

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intheticklecloset · 3 years ago

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Some Kind of Way (My Hero Academia)

ShinDeku AU

Summary: Shinsou begins to realize he may have feelings for Deku, and it makes him act so out of the ordinary that his crush decides the best way to help him relax is the very thing that kickstarted his feelings in the first place.

A/N: I am so unbelievably excited to finally share this with you! This one has been waiting in the wings for quite a while! Welcome to the first fic in my official ShinDeku AU! This story takes place after the events of "Say Mercy" and creates an entirely new storyline. While these two remain good friends in the Primary Universe, in this AU, things go a little differently.

I will admit this is pretty self-indulgent, but I know I'll want to keep writing for these boys, and what better excuse than to create an alternate reality in which they get together? Cute boyfriends and lots of tickling - what more could you want? I hope you enjoy! <3 <3

Word Count: 2,275

~~~

Midoriya: Video games at my place! Kaminari and Todoroki are coming – do you wanna join??

Shinsou stared at his phone screen for so long it went dark on him three times. He’d nearly forgotten that at some point he and Deku had exchanged numbers. Their spring break had just started; today was Monday, which meant that Deku’s mom was probably at work right now, as it was just after ten in the morning.

It really shouldn’t have been this hard to reply to a text. Yet here he sat, struggling to do just that.

It’s video games, Shinsou berated himself. You’ve played video games with him before. That’s what you were doing the last time you hung out. Just answer his text!

Shinsou: Yes. I don’t know where you live, though.

Midoriya: I’ll send you the details! Can’t wait!! :D

Shinsou set his phone aside, heart racing. This is ridiculous. What’s happening to me? He rubbed his eyes tiredly, his mind flashing back to the last time he’d hung out with Deku. They’d gotten into a tickle fight, which he’d ultimately won, but there had been a…a moment. When he’d pinned Deku for the last time and ordered him to beg for mercy. The way Deku had screamed the word over and over through hysterical fits of laughter…

He swallowed. It had been so satisfying, but more than that, it had been…cute. No, adorable. Completely, utterly adorable. Deku was adorable. And for the first time, Shinsou was noticing.

He tried not to think about it as he gathered up his things and walked out the door, heading to the destination the green-haired boy had provided him with.

Seeing him in person was so much worse.

Deku opened up the door with a bright smile and an invitation to come inside. It was the first time Shinsou had seen him without his school uniform or hero costume on. He wore a bright yellow All Might t-shirt and blue shorts, and he was barefoot. Shinsou awkwardly took his own shoes off in the entryway and followed him into the small living room, where Todoroki was already seated on the floor.

The icy-hot hero raised a hand in greeting. Shinsou nodded at him, then took a seat as well.

“Kaminari should be here any minute,” Deku said, pulling out his phone to check for a text from the blonde. “It’s so cool to finally have friends over at my place! Make yourselves at home. We’ve got juice and soda in the fridge if you want some, and later we can have lunch together, too.” Deku smiled so brightly it lit up the whole block. “Plus I’ll get to introduce you to a racing game that’s not Mario Kart for once!”

Shinsou couldn’t take his eyes off of him. He found himself noticing things more and more. The particular shade of green that his eyes were. The spattering of freckles across his face and arms. How scarred his right arm was. How muscular he was despite his smaller stature. Shinsou noticed all of it, and it made his heart beat faster and faster. Crap, crap, crap, he thought frantically. I…I’ve got a—

Someone knocked on the door, Deku hurried to answer it, and the spell was broken. Shinsou blinked several times. Seriously, what was happening to him?

“Heyyy, it’s my man Shinsou!” Kaminari greeted enthusiastically, slapping him on the back. “And Todoroki, of course. Ready to lose some video games?”

Shinsou let out a sigh of relief, then smirked up at him. “The joke’s on you, Kaminari. Midoriya says we’re not playing Mario Kart.”

“Dude, what?” Kaminari whipped around to face Deku. It was so much easier to look at him with Kaminari in the room as well. “You can’t take my crown away like that!”

Deku grinned. “I’m introducing you to a different racing game. Kacchan and I play it sometimes – Team Sonic Racing!”

“Sonic has a racing game?” Kaminari asked, then hummed. “Well, he is a speedy little guy. I guess it makes sense.”

“Team racing?” Todoroki asked. “What does that mean?”

Deku lit up at the question, then launched into a long, rambling explanation of all the ways it differed from Mario Kart, and why it was superior, as well. After a little while they finally got to the actual playing part of it, and before they knew it, the morning hours were long gone.

Getting lost in the world of Team Sonic Racing did wonders for Shinsou’s mind. He was able to focus on something that wasn’t Deku, for once – even if Deku’s character of choice did cause him a lot of trouble during the races. It gave him a chance to calm down, clear his head, and get back to his normal self. At least, until a couple of hours later when it was lunchtime.

Kaminari had announced early on that he had lunch plans with some others from their class, so it was expected that he’d leave after a couple of hours. But it was a surprise to both Shinsou and Deku when Todoroki announced he was also leaving.

“My apologies,” he said, “but I got a text from my sister that asked me to meet her downtown for lunch with her and my brother. I’m…trying to get back in touch with them, as it were. I can’t really do that while I’m at the dorms.”

“That’s okay,” Deku said, sounding sincere. “I understand. Go have fun with your family.” Then he turned to Shinsou. “Do you want to stay, or do you have somewhere to be?”

Shinsou’s heart was racing again. He was about to be alone with Midoriya again.

“I…I can stay,” he said, nodding. “If that’s all right with you.”

“Of course!”

After bidding farewell to their other friends, Deku led Shinsou back into the kitchen and opened up the fridge, pulling out various things they could use to make sandwiches. Shinsou got the bread out of the pantry (after struggling for a few moments to even find the pantry), and soon they were both at work making lunch for themselves.

“How’s your spring break so far?” Deku asked.

“It’s…fine,” Shinsou murmured. He didn’t really have anything exciting to report on. “You?”

“Great! I kind of took it easy this weekend because All Might insisted I actually rest, but we trained together this morning before I invited you over for video games. We’ll train again tomorrow, too.”

Shinsou glanced at him. “It’s spring break.”

“I know, but I don’t want to stop training. I’ve got to work as hard as I can to get even stronger.”

“Rest is important, too, you know.”

Deku smiled. “You sound just like everyone else.”

“Because we’re right.”

“I’m resting more than I’m training this week. Don’t worry, Shinsou. I won’t burn myself out.”

Shinsou nodded. “Good.”

“So,” Deku continued, expertly changing the topic as he finished up his sandwich, “want to play some more after lunch? Or we could watch a movie or something instead. What do you want to do?”

“Um…” Shinsou hesitated. Again that image of Deku laughing and begging entered his mind. He shoved it away. “I…I don’t know. Midoriya,” he added quickly, before he lost his nerve, “why do you want to hang out with me so much?”

Deku went silent for a moment. “Because you’re my friend? And you’re really cool! I think it’s so awesome that you want to join the hero course, and your quirk is so useful, especially with that voice changer thing you have now, and—”

“Useful?” Shinsou turned to look at him, surprised. “No one’s ever called my quirk useful before.”

“Then no one’s really known you before,” Deku replied confidently, taking his first bite of his lunch. “Mmm, this is good! What’d you make?”

Shinsou glanced down at his half-finished sandwich and reached for some lunch meat. “To be determined.”

When they’d finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen, Shinsou and Deku went back into the living room, where Team Sonic Racing sat waiting for them on the screen, should they continue to play it.

“Are you okay, Shinsou?” Deku asked, his voice gentler now. “You seem bothered about something.”

Dear god, was he really so easy to read? Shinsou cleared his throat. “No, I’m fine. I’m just…” He searched for the words. How could he explain to Deku that he was pretty sure he had a crush…on Deku? “I’m just…I don’t know. Fine.”

“You know, if you’re not up for video games anymore, we could play a different game,” Deku said. Shinsou glanced up at him, hearing the teasing tone in his voice, and his eyes widened when he saw the green-haired boy wiggling his fingers and smiling wide.

Instant. Blush.

“Uh, I-I mean…I mean, i-if you…want to, then…” Shinsou stammered, hating every word he tripped over. It had never been difficult for him to speak to Midoriya before. Why was it suddenly the hardest thing he’d ever done?

“Actually, maybe we shouldn’t have a tickle fight,” Deku announced even as he lunged for Shinsou and tackled him to the floor. “Maybe I should just tickle you! You really need to relax, Shinsou. You act like I’m about to bite you or something.”

“I d-dohohohohon’t – I cahahahahan’t help it!” he giggled, the light pinches along his sides and ribs enough to help him loosen up a little, but not enough to really make him panic just yet. He fell onto his back on the floor, letting Deku tickle all over his torso, drawing giggle after much-needed giggle out of him.

“You don’t have to be nervous around me,” Deku continued, oblivious to Shinsou’s struggle. “We’re friends! If you want to talk about something, I’m happy to listen.”

Crap, crap, crap! Shinsou brought his hands up to cover his face, growing really, truly flustered now. “I’m sohohohohohohorry, I cahahahahan’t – I cahahahaHAHAHAHAN’T!! NAHAHAHAHAHA!!” The violet-haired boy shot his arms down to try and shove Deku away when he reached his hips, squeezing with a wicked smirk on his face. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO!! MIDORYA!!”

“Relax, Shinsou~” Deku teased, swinging a leg over to straddle his friend and pin him more firmly in place, still squeezing his hips. “Sometimes it’s best to just laugh it all out, right?”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! GOD, MIHIHIHIHIDORIYA!! NOT THEHEHEHEHERE!!” Shinsou cackled, twisting and writhing on the ground. “YOU KNOHOHOHOHOHOW IT’S BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD THEHEHEHERE!!”

“Why do you think I’m tickling you there?” Deku laughed, too, finding his hip bones and pressing in deeply. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~”

“DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHON’T!!” Shinsou cried, flustered and embarrassed but also having a lot of fun despite himself. He let out a loud shriek and kicked his legs when Deku focused on that one spot that drove him absolutely crazy. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! MIDORIYAHAHAHAHA!!”

Deku chuckled. “Feeling better? Feeling relaxed yet, Shinsou?”

Shinsou squealed, prying his eyes open just enough to see Deku’s huge smile, his bright eyes, his looming form over him, and the boy from 1-C simply could not take it anymore. “PLEHEHEHEASE!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT!! MIDORIYA, PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! MERCY!! MERCY MERCY MERCYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!”

Deku stopped, but didn’t climb off of him. Shinsou gasped for breath and looked up at him, still giggling, surprised to see a tiny blush on the boy’s freckled cheeks. He blinked a few times. “M-Midoriya?”

“I…I’m s-sorry, I, uh…” Deku stammered, blinking as well. His cheeks got even pinker. “Oh! I’ll let you go—”

Shinsou reached up faster than either of them could think and grabbed onto Deku’s arms, stopping him from climbing off just yet. He forced himself to make eye contact with the smaller boy, and when he did, what he saw there gave him the encouragement he needed to finally get this off of his chest.

“Midoriya,” he said quietly, “I think I need to tell you something.”

Deku swallowed. He suddenly seemed nervous, too. “Y-Yeah?”

Shinsou’s heart was pounding against his ribcage. “I…I kind of…like you. Like…you know. That way.”

Deku let out a little gasp in response, but he never broke eye contact. His cheeks went from pink to red. “I…I t-think I like you, too, Shinsou…”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Shinsou finally moved to sit up, wrapping an arm around Deku’s back to keep him from falling over as he did so, and when he was upright again the two of them were face-to-face. Shinsou’s eyes flicked all over Deku’s blushing features, from his shining eyes down to his lips and back up again. Then he brought his free hand up to scribble against the smaller boy’s side.

Deku immediately smiled wide, giggling slightly, and Shinsou’s suspicions were confirmed. “Ugh, you’re adorable,” he muttered, pulling him into a bear hug and burying his face in his shoulder. “You know that? Adorable, Midoriya.”

“I-I think you’re cute, too,” Deku stammered, sounding incredibly flustered.

“Only cute?” Shinsou teased, digging his fingertips into the boy’s ribs, feeling him jolt in his arms but holding him tightly all the same. “Wow, and after I just poured my heart out to you.”

“Ahahahahaha nohohohohohoho! I’m sohohohohohorry!” Deku squealed, giggling and squirming but unable to go anywhere or protect himself. He tossed his head back and laughed freely. “You’re adohohohohohorable, too! Plehehehehehease, Shinsou!”

“Too late, Midoriya,” Shinsou replied, grinning into his shoulder, feeling more confident now. He slid one tickling hand down to Deku’s hip and laughed with him when he spasmed so hard they both fell to the floor. “You said I was just cute. Now you’ll have to face the wrath of the tickle monster!”

“Nohohohohohohohoho!” Deku cried, giggling hysterically, but it was obvious to both of them that he didn’t really want any of this to stop, and neither did Shinsou.

So it didn’t.

#fanfiction #tickle fic #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #hitoshi #shinsou #izuku #midoriya #deku #shindeku #shindeku au #crushes #cute #confession #tickling #ticklish #tickle

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handsswritten · 2 years ago

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mericcup month | week 3: fairy-tales

find this on spanish here! ¡toca acá para leerlo en español!

(A/N) english is not my first language and this was not proofread, also new at translating my writing.

strangers!mericcup, with a lil toothless appearance because, how could i not write him in? (no nsfw)

word count: 2,011

A loud bear roar echoed through the forest, loud enough to give me goose bumps and send several birds flying out of the trees.

“Gods.” I said to myself, shaking my head low.

Toothless is somewhere in this eternal forest and now it turns out there are bears. This is really the last thing I need right now. With any luck, that bear is as far away as heard and my very enthusiastic and curious dragon has nothing to do with him. Or her.

Thor, if it's a she I hope she doesn't have cubs.

“Toothless!...” I lengthened his name as I called him without raising my voice too much. The bastard should be able to hear me perfectly.

I don't even know what happened to him, he seemed to detect something in the distance and by the time I saw his ears straight up it was too late; he had run off, half flying and I lost him in the bushes.

I kicked a small rock, where are you, buddy?

My concern was put aside as I heard rapid footsteps, coming closer and closer to me. I turned, in the same direction as the roar. I squinted and in the distance I could see an... orange ball.

When it was close enough I distinguished that it was hair, and that it belonged to a woman. I stopped analyzing it when I noticed the three bears behind her and completely ignored something that appeared to be a blue light that disappeared when they passed through it.

I didn't know how to react.

But she did.

They were getting closer and closer and when she ran past me, grabbed my hand and practically dragged me away, it was like waking up.

I screamed loudly as we ran as fast as we could, I ended up dragging her and gulped for air when suddenly my feet caught on something and we fell.

One of those falls that you know it's going to hurt before you hit the ground.

I let out a groan and put my hand to my shoulder as I tried to catch the air that left my body after crashing backwards into what seemed to be the hardest rock in the world.

I opened my eyes, as I felt some dirt fall on my face and as I looked up I saw the three bears; standing on the edge of the huge pit. They stood there a bit longer, touching the surface with their paws but ended up choosing to leave.

“Damn it!”

Oh right, the girl. “Are you all right?” I got up after checking my prosthesis and making sure everything was in order.

“Damn you, little hideous freckled monsters!”

I looked at her quizzically; she was sitting on the floor, legs outstretched and staring at a fixed point. She didn't seem to really care about the situation, as if it was nothing more than a casual occurrence.

“Are you all right?”

Only then she seemed to notice my presence, looking up so she could see me, as I was standing next to her. She didn't answer me, the only sound in the cave was the sound of our heaving breaths.

I looked at her, this time with more attention and noticed that her dress was torn and stained in more than one part, my eyes passed many places before reaching hers.

Big and by the light coming through the giant hole, I distinguished the blue in them.

She stood up, pulling out a twig sticking out of his hair and approached me as he tossed it dismissively. “Who are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Who are you? And what were you doing in the woods,” she grabbed her waist with both hands, “just walking around?”

I blinked, was he really interrogating me, with that accusatory tone?

“To be fair, I wasn't the one being chased by three bears.”

She seemed satisfied with my answer. “… Come.”

I looked at her incredulously, but followed her anyway. “This is all way too confusing. I have about a thousand questions—”

She covered my mouth with one hand, squelching a “What's your name?” as we both frowned; me at her and her at something she seemed to be seeing in the dark. Officially entering my top of strangest interactions.

A ray of sunlight hitting us where we were standing, illuminating our heads and half of her face.

Turquoise, his eyes are turquoise, I corrected myself. One has a slight hint of green around the pupil.

“Did you hear that?” She kept looking for something in the shadowy part of the cave, I admired her profile.

Small, pointed nose, full, slightly parted lips.

I pretended I was also looking for something in the dark when I felt the heat on my cheeks.

Soon after she decided it was nothing and we kept moving through the cave. Well, rather, she walked and did things while I followed her and asked her every question I could think of.

She would answer vaguely, something about her brothers' oats and that it was “a long story”. But when I wanted to know if she had seen a black dragon around, her interest rose incredibly.

Now she was the one asking, as I was looking for a way to make a ladder in the big wall that would lead us out of here.

“You must have something special,” I noticed she looked me up and down as I tried to make the wall more textured, more things to step on. “maybe it has to do with your dragon, and you don't look like any other boy I've ever seen.”

I tore off part of the vine, leaving a single prominent branch; hard and stable. “I'll take that as a compliment.”

This time, she didn't settle. “So where did you say you came from?”

I swallowed hard, picking up a rock from the ground to break a hole in the old wall. It doesn't tend to go over well to say I'm a Viking in unknown lands, more than once I've been thrown into a dungeon, accused of theft, attacked, among other things. I remembered when, once, they laughed in my face because I don't look, at all, like a typical Viking and I rolled my eyes mentally.

“From far, far away you might say.”

“Hmm,” She picked up another stone and started to do the same as me, but higher up. “And may I ask, why did you come from so far away?”

I am the son of a stubborn Viking chief, trying to prove that the inhabitants of other lands can be friendly, contrary to what we have been thinking since, well, the beginning of time.

“Can you tell me why so much interest?”

She shrugged. “Curiosity. Just like you, until just now.”

Touché.

We finished trying to make some sort of makeshift ladder and decided that we should be able to climb well by now.

“Ladies first.”

Taking her dress in both hands, she easily curtsied as she looked at me, sarcasm practically dripping from the expression on her face. “A lady wouldn't let a stranger see under her skirt.” She took that branch, giving it a little tug to make sure it would hold, and pushed herself up.

Never before in my life had I turned red so quickly. “No, not what I, I’d never mean—”

She looked down at me from above, over her shoulder, and let out a mocking laugh that sent the heat back up my neck. She seems to enjoy teasing me a little too much if you ask me.

When I had climbed high enough, I prepared to climb up myself as well.

I brought my right foot up, managing to get it into the makeshift crevice. I grabbed the branch, but stopped when I wanted to bring my left foot up. My very, very metallic left foot.

I wanted to be swallowed by a dragon, I had forgotten.

“Don't tell me you're afraid of heights,” She raised his voice from above.

I burst out laughing, I couldn't stand it. The irony was too comical.

If you only knew, you sassy redhead.

“No, but my prosthesis doesn't like climbing very much.”

She poked her head out, a huge bundle of curls making a cloud in the light coming through the hole and I simply stretched out my leg, pointing at her with both hands open. I could make out her curious eyes even though she was backlit.

I sighed, squeezing the branch tighter and resigned myself to a very difficult climb. After a humiliating amount of near-slips, I made it a little more than halfway up until I heard and felt movement above.

A scream, and then something lunged at her. Grunts, curses.

My whole body tensed and I scrambled up incredibly fast, ready for whatever was attacking her on the surface. Several pieces of the old wall popping out on the way up.

I leapt up instead of taking the last step and was met with the last thing I expected to see. I let out a huge gulp of air; Toothless was on top of her, running his tongue over her face and swatting at her as she laughed and squealed.

“I want to believe that this,” she was interrupted by another lick and I moved closer, “is the dragon you were talking about.”

“That's enough, Toothless, leave her alone.”

He didn't listen to me and this time he stuck his head as far as he could into the curve of the redhead's neck, making a loud noise as he inhaled. Why does he smell her? He's acting like when he finds something he's been looking for with effort.

“Toothless!” I made sure to sound sterner and his ears perked up, moving away from her completely.

I looked away as, still laughing, she wiped her dress all over the places where he had drooled on her. I took the opportunity to pounce on my dragon in an attempt to tackle him.

“Where were you, huh?” he dropped to the floor, with me on him “you think you can walk around by yourself? you're nothing but a whimsical” I scratched him in that place he likes on his neck “dragon baby!”

He looked even offended and I saw in his look that he was telling me “A twenty-one year old baby dragon” and I rolled my eyes.

“Yes, I'm twenty-one too but I'm not an immature—”

“Twenty-one?” I stopped scratching him, confused that I actually heard an answer and turned around, I had forgotten about her for a second. “I didn't think you were older than me.”

“Older?”

She nodded and I got off Toothless. “By how much?”

“Three years, almost two.”

I took my hands behind my back and walked around her, unable to keep from smiling. “So, I know you have siblings and you had a problem with them, their oatmeal and it's a long story. You're eighteen and about to turn nineteen, you seem to be half crazy considering you were chased by three bears and you were incredibly calm, but I still don't know your name.”

She almost laughs. “You wear weird armor, you have a dragon that's the last of its kind and I'm pretty sure you're a Viking despite not really looking like one. You're also kind of crazy for coming to explore these lands and, from what I saw, your prosthetic and "Toothless’" chair” She made the quotation marks “have similar mechanisms. I take the liberty of assuming you're either an inventor or know a thing or two.”

By Odin's beard.

After that we spent our time trying to guess each other's names as we walked around a bit. Merida, her name is Merida.

... I didn't guess it.

And I knew, it was literally impossible for her to guess mine, so I told her after a few failed attempts. She laughed so hard I thought she might die; it got worse when I said my middle name was Horrendous, and then said my full name, which almost killed her.

#mericcupmonth #mericcupmonth22 #mericcup #disneyworks #brave #httyd #httyd2 #merida dunbroch #hiccup haddock #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #hiccup x merida #toothless #httyd toothless #disney princess #disney #dreamworks #pixar

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frogtanii · 4 years ago

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x pairing. yamaguchi tadashi x fem!reader

x genre. s m u t lol

x warnings. sub!yamaguchi, thigh riding, mommy kink, handj0b, uhhh, good boy(??), soft dom!reader

x request. yes!

hi i love ur writing especially ur tsuki smau 🥺 i have a yams request !! could we get sub yamaguchi with fem reader and he is riding her thighs trying to get some friction because he’s needy and she’s kind of busy or something 🥺🥺

x an. I HATE IT HERE GRRRR BARK BARK 😼😾 i love y’all xx <3<3 sorry it takes me ABSOLUTELY forever to finish requests 😔✨ i am finishing them tho v v slowly

———

yamaguchi loves you. you are honestly the best thing to ever happen to him. you’re kind, loving, honest, beautiful, and the fact that you love him back is more than enough for him.

with all of these amazing qualities that you have, you also have one that yamaguchi isn’t so fond of.

you’re always so busy.

he really does admire your work ethic and how you always make him strive to be the best that he can be (not to mention you sound very hot when you tell him to leave you alone) but sometimes yamaguchi gets needy.

tonight was one of those times.

you’d had a long day full of paperwork and all you wanted to do was take a warm bath and cuddle up with your boyfriend. unfortunately for the both of you, your evil boss sent you home with a stack of papers high enough to rival mount everest.

of course you were being dramatic but it really did feel like that much, especially after your third hour of ignoring yamaguchi’s whines while sitting on the couch in front of the tv with your laptop.

you felt horrible for doing so but you really, really needed to get this done and you knew if you stopped to take care of him, there was no way these papers would be finished before the deadline.

yamaguchi understood too but he was painfully hard and he knew if he couldn’t have your touch, he wouldn’t get off.

“yn~” your boyfriend called your name for the seventh (or was it eighth? you stopped counting) time, adding an extra whine on this one. he knew how much that got to you judging by the self-satisfied smirk on his face. besides the heat between your legs, you felt another kind of heat coming on; anger.

it wasn’t often that yamaguchi disrespected you, usually being all too eager to please but today it seemed, he wanted to be a brat.

that’s okay. you can do brat.

you silently set your papers next to you on the couch but you kept the laptop teetering precariously on your left thigh. yamaguchi had gone quiet, watching you intently as though he was just waiting for you to close your computer and ravish him in bed.

unfortunately for him, that was not at all the case.

not once did you remove your gaze from your computer screen as you motioned for him to come closer, to which he hastily obliged. he was hoping that you’d unbutton his pants and suck him off or maybe you’d push him on his back and ride him. of course what he was really hoping for was for you to push him down on all fours, press his face in the mattress, and just rail him. the strap was in the back of the closet and yamaguchi was practically vibrating with anticipation. that was until you snapped your fingers at him to get his attention and pointed to your thigh.

oh. oh.

you had never had him ride your thigh before. usually when you were super busy, you would just jerk him off quickly, leaving him sleepy and satisfied. he clearly was not expecting to have to do the work this time, the shock very apparent on his freckled face.

your patience was running out, snapping once more, prompting yamaguchi into action. he tentatively made his way towards you, placing his long legs on either side of your right thigh. a soft whimper left his lips as his hard cock met your thigh, his hips immediately bucking at the pressure.

you let out a slow sigh through your nose, your eyes trained on your screen as your boyfriend rocked himself against you. your cunt clenched around nothing as his hand found it’s way to your shirt, holding on tight. by now, a steady stream of noises were escaping his lips, most being moans of your name and needy curses.

you tried to continue typing but yamaguchi proved to be distracting even like this, his head dropping forward to rest on your shoulder and his cock leaking precum against your bare thigh. your eyes flickered over at the wet sensation only to feel your breath catch in your throat and another wave of slick to stain your panties.

yamaguchi was panting brokenly against you, a warm blush overtaking his cheeks and tears pricking his tightly shut eyes. as your eyes moved further downwards, you pulled your lower lip in between your teeth in order to keep the whimper from slipping out. when you weren’t looking, yamaguchi had pulled his dick out of his shorts and now openly rutted against you.

“mommy, please,” he moaned against your neck, tears slipping down his cheeks. you rolled your eyes and shut your laptop causing yamaguchi to let out a moan of relief. of course you still needed to get your work done but your boyfriend was more important at this moment (plus when he was moaning your name so prettily, he was hard to resist).

you turned to place one of your hands on his hip, gently moving him against you while pressing soft kisses to the freckles littering his cheeks. “what do you need baby? be a good boy and tell mommy what you want her to do, okay?” you muttered against his ear making him cry out again, hips moving faster against your thigh making an absolute mess of you.

“i-i need you, mommy, i ca-can’t make it feel like it does with you, please, touch me~” his words came out like a flood, only serving to cause your stomach to clench in arousal.

something about your boyfriend not being able to come without you, made you feral.

you nod, not trusting your voice to speak, too afraid that you might give away just how affected by him you were. your hand wrapped around his leaking cock and he keened, a long, loud moan of your name leaving his lips alongside a few stray tears spilling from his eyes.

you gently moved your hand up and down his shaft, making sure to rub your fingers over his sensitive, red tip. he bucked his hips into your touch, desperately chasing his high while your own arousal was ignored for his sake. his quivering lips, pink cheeks, bright red cock, and twitching thighs signaled to you that he was close. he just needed one final push.

quickly switching hands, you moved the fingers coated in his essence behind him, tracing their way down his back and between his cheeks. yamaguchi tensed in your hold at the feeling but as you continued to jerk him, he relaxed, arching his back and asshole towards your wandering fingers. you couldn’t help but grin at his eagerness, two of your fingers slipping inside of him.

his back arched as a whimper left him and your fingers continued their search on his insides. after what seemed like years of being held teetering on the edge of the biggest orgasm of his life, your fingers in his clenching hole finally found their destination, carefully rubbing on his prostate.

the reaction was exactly what you had hoped- yamaguchi’s eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth dropped open in a silent scream, and his thighs and abs twitched as his cock emptied rope after rope of warm cum all over his stomach, your thigh, and the couch.

the pleasure was so immense that he passed out, only barely registering the warm cloth in between his legs cleaning him up. his mind was still in a haze as you helped him to your bedroom, lying him down on your plush sheets and tucking him in. you smiled down on him before mentally rolling your eyes at the memory of all the paper sitting on the couch.

you turned to go back to the living room when a hand shot out from the mountain of blankets, grabbing your wrist and yanking you onto the bed. you opened your mouth to protest but yamaguchi’s hand covered it before pulling you further into his chest and kissing you on the forehead.

you thought about fighting it for a moment but the need to sleep and cuddle with your boyfriend overwhelmed the thoughts of anxiety and work. your eyelids grew heavy as you melted into his strong arms. you were nearly asleep when you heard yamaguchi’s voice whisper softly in your ear, the words leaving a smile on your face as you drifted off to sleep.

“sleep well honey. i love you.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi x y/n #yamaguchi x you #haikyuu yamaguchi #hq yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi smut #yamaguchi fluff

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pizzarollsareokayiguess · 4 years ago

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Close Enough? (Kuvira x Reader)

This is a Kuvira imagine, reader and Kuvira are not established. K? Also, this will be sad :D questionable ending. if you want more, ask and you shall receive <3

TW: blood, spoilers for LOK Season 4 WC: 2620

Kuvira’s reign across the Earth kingdom had started to slow as she was met with resistance from Zaofu and the Avatar. Dealing with them had been easy, beating Korra had been easier, and now she was on her way to Republic City, to rightfully claim the district as official property of the Earth Kingdom.

Kuvira felt powerful having so many people support her, especially when it came to her. Y/n had been there at the beginning, supporting Kuvira and boosting her esteem so much so, Kuvira’s own motivation took the step forward to claim the Earth Kingdom. Locked eyes, lingering touches, shivering shoulders made up the tension between the two; with the passion of war, it made it all that more bitter sweet. So why did Kuvira feel this way? She knew that y/n was loyal, perhaps the most loyal of them all, and yet the little voice in her head was screaming that something, somewhere, someone was going to betray her. Zhu Li was kind of a given but y/n? Trusting, beautiful, y/n?

Kuvira’s relationship with Baatar, in her eyes, was political: losing him would be surprising, considering how strong his feelings were against his own mother. Could he be persuaded? Hopefully not, but yet here we are.

Kuvira’s hands were formed into fists as she listened to his pleading. Leave this? Now? We are so close, why would I give up now? Why would I when the last piece of the puzzle is in my hands?

Aiming the spirit weapon towards his location was easy. Pulling the trigger was even easier. But the voice in her head was now a full roar, claiming that no one was loyal, no one was on her side. So as the war machine rebounded from the shot it took, Kuvira straightened her shoulders and looked to her left. Sitting in one of the command chairs, was y/n. Back straight, hair gleaming, Kuvira wanted to swallow her whole, wanted to take her existence and keep it to herself. Y/n might have been lying this entire time, and Kuvira didn’t want to lose her to the avatar. That is one thing she couldn’t stand for, losing this war was not an option and Kuvira would do anything to reach her goal.

“Y/n.”

Snapping her head towards Kuvira, she stood and walked over, placing herself to the left of the platform. Looking her in the eyes, Kuvira stood even taller and her plan was falling into place. This will be easy.

“Come with me for a moment.”

Kuvira commanded the remaining soldiers to stay in their positions and alert her if there are any changes. Knowing the efficiency of the spirit weapon, she doubted that the avatar would have survived the latest shot.

Stepping off of the platform, Kuvira and y/n walked down into the belly of the weapon, where the roar of the machine made the thundering in her heart a little lighter. They came to a stopping point and y/n’s shoulders relaxed. It was just the two of them, perhaps this was a pre-game to victory? Kuvira was faced away from y/n and she could see where the muscle tensed in the uniform that Kuvira wore. Where the metal framed her shoulders and where it flared at her waist and constricted at her knees. She wondered how long it would take her to map every freckle that Kuvira had. Not knowing how many, she wondered if she would have the opportunity to ever count. Is this going to be it? She snapped her eyes back up when Kuvira turned around, crowding her space.

“It’s happening. The end is near and victory will be ours,” Kuvira murmured.

Their eyes were locked and their breaths were shared. How y/n craved to get closer.

“You’ve done wonderfully, I can’t imagine any other trying to accomplish what you have,” y/n whispered.

Kuvira smirked, “Oh? Tell me, y/n, what have I accomplished?”

Y/n shivered, hearing her name come from her lips was a taste of heaven that she wanted every drop of. She wanted more, she craved more, so she easily answered, if only to savor every drop.

“Conquering the city-states, making the lords bow to you, creating a super weapon that is extremely effective, and should I mention the fact that you won against Korra?”

Toe to toe, their noses almost touched, their breaths were clouding each other and y/n jumped at the feeling of gloved hands fiddling with her own. Oh. Oh Oh-

“I could stand to hear more, if you’ll humor me,” Kuvira whispered.

Y/n took the jump and linked her left hand around Kuvira’s, and she looked her straight in the eyes. She could smell the metal and lavender that left Kuvira and y/n thought she would erupt.

“Taking apart Zaofu to create something for yourself in a direct response to Su, you are incredibly powerful and what I wouldn’t do-”

Kuvira brought her face to y/n and latched herself to her lips. Her right hand clutched the back of her neck and she squeezed, playing with the hairs that rested there. Her left hand traveled from y/n’s hands to her lower back, pulling y/n forward.

Y/n felt conquered and completed and finished, any word you could think of, her brain had fried with the machine and her insides turned to jelly. Being placed in Kuvira’s arms and kissing her was something that Y/n yearned for. Her center throbbed and she looped her arms around Kuvira’s neck. She wanted all that Kuvira could give her. Even if Kuvira left her now to take out an entire city, Y/n could live with that, her spark of life had turned into an inferno and had burned her inside out. She wanted to share that fire with Kuvira and as if the devil had knocked on her door, Kuvira licked her bottom lip and Y/n was so easy. She would let Kuvira do whatever she pleased, even right here on the machinery floor. She was entranced by the whole essence of Kuvira. She whimpered when her lip was bitten and she sighed when Kuvira seemed to ravage her being. Closer- She needed to be closer-

Pain.

Wha-

What is that?

Heat radiated from her side, what is-

Y/n’s eyes snapped open and she pulled herself from Kuvira. Kuvira had a grimace on her face, her eyebrows drawn together and lips tightened into a line.

Y/n’s breath stuttered and she looked down, red was encompassing her right side. She had been- Kuvira?- Why would she? Kuvira stabbed her? What?

Kuvira metal bended the weapon back into her sleeve and caught Y/n as she started to get dizzy. She lowered her to the grated ground as Y/n clutched her jacket, hissing in pain. Lips red, cheeks flushed, your eyes are so pretty like this.. Kuvira held y/n’s head in her lap as blood dripped from her wound. Pity, how distraught you look. The voice claimed victory and screamed in her head. See? How easy? The avatar will never touch her and the city will be yours. Just flatten the republic and you’re as good as gold.

But it wasn’t easy. Kuvira’s eyes watered but never flushed.

“I had to, for you, for me. I have to finish this now, I hope you understand.”

Kuvira placed her head gently on the ground, taking advantage of y/n’s stunned silence. Wiping her eyes, she left y/n there and composed herself to rejoin the bridge. Scaring the officers on deck, she ordered them to continue, they had a city to recapture.

Then a hummingbird got too close to the sun.

Her chance at freedom was disabled.

And the avatar, as always, brought balance to the world.

…

Her whole body hurt.

It would start as a dull throb and then crescendo into a sharp point that radiated from her right side. Y/n was stunned, when she said that she would let Kuvira take over the world, she didn’t really expect to be a martyr. But did she really believe in Kuvira still? The blood that was staining her uniform said no, but the stuttering of her heart and the tears on her face said otherwise. She was gonna die in the center of destruction, how fitting. At least it was warm. . . She closed her eyes to the rhythm of a stepping behemoth and took a breath, knowing her fate was just the same as Baatar. They were both foolish, loving someone who couldn’t feel anything and yet thinking, I’m different. I can change her, she will love me, right?

Look how that turned out.

A shrill screech interrupted y/n’s pity party and she opened her eyes to see Su and Lin Beifong. Their determined eyes meeting hers. At that moment, she was made priority number two; number one being the destruction of the spirit weapon. Once the Beifong sisters had wreaked havoc with their metal bending, Lin dropped down to y/n. Gently placing her arms around her shoulders and her knees, Lin rejoined Su. The trio was then tossed around the metal tavern surrounding them before they tethered themselves to the wall. When the spirit weapon finally descended and crashed to the ground, y/n had passed out from blood loss. Stepping out from the carnage, the sisters stopped the bleeding enough that it wouldn’t cause a mortal end. Once they were satisfied with her steadying heartbeat they placed her with the other wounded. Then, they turned to finish the war.

. . .

Y/n had heard that Kuvira surrendered after she witnessed the power of the one and only avatar. To be honest, y/n was shaken to her core after finding out that Korra created another spirit portal. The avatar was so powerful- she created a rip in space and caused two different worlds to mesh together in a brand new location? Holy Avatar did y/n regret being on the wrong side.

Repercussions were being made of course. Baatar Jr was to spend life in house arrest for his involvement in the spirit weapon. After being seen by water benders, y/n’s trial was next, and she entered the courtroom in a wheel-chair. Although the wound didn’t sever any major organs, it was a major stress to the body and her back muscles were cut clean through so major movements weren’t recommended. That wasn’t the worst of it.

The hurt that clouded her heart had leaked to her eyes and her brain and she felt numb. Her brain kept going in a loop, kuvira’s eyes, blood, floor, kuvira’s eyes, blood, floor,- y/n was stuck in a mental carousel that try as she might she couldn’t get off of. She could sense the person behind her who was pushing the chair and when she looked up, she could see the council in all their respective colors and robes. She stopped moving and two officers stepped up behind her. But she didn’t try to escape. What was the point? She would take the punishment and move on. What about kuvira, don’t you wanna know why? Did it matter? Did the heat spread to her too? Move on. move on. move on?

The shuffling of papers interrupted the parade of self-pity that y/n seemed to be the mayor of and she dragged her eyes away from her fiddling hands to look up. Korra was there too. Should y/n bow? Korra saved everyone’s lives and without her-

“-without knowing the direct involvement of the individual before us how can we decide her fate?”

“She didn’t help with the weapon? What about the seizing of the city states? Anything?”

“Baatars testimony proves negative on the first but other witnesses say that she is seen on several occasions with Kuvira herself.”

y/n flinched. Pain pain pain

“Well, Beifong, your jurisdiction houses the inmates, what say you?” The woman in question sighed and y/n wished she could sigh too without being condescending. Jail or home? Not that hard of a question.

“Community service. Either with the water benders or the rehabilitation of the city. I don’t want this one near my jail.”

. . .What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is she not good enough for jail? For Beifong’s jail? Rude.

“Then it’s settled. Y/n L/n, you are hereby sentenced to 25 years of community service, provided by the council before you and supervised by the United Republic of Nations. Dismissed.”

Y/n nodded and bowed her head to show respect to the leaders that handed her fate to her. Much better than house arrest.

. . .

Y/n heard later that Kuvira was given a second chance, because Korra saw something in her that she saw in herself. Kuvira was sent to Zaofu to live out her house arrest with her adoptive family. Baatar is there too? Is she allowed to ask? Did he give her a second chance? Would y/n? Y/n was stationed near the infrastructure creation center in the city. She was there to help rebuild. Lin was her only visitor. Y/n’s family was disgraced that she chose the wrong side and she didn’t have any friends besides Kuvira, who happened to be a couple flying bison away. Lin would ask her how her wound was doing and Y/n would tell her. Then Lin would end the visit by insulting y/n’s bending and then she’d leave. It was nice. Y/n had a feeling that Lin felt sorry for her, did she know that y/n was betrayed by the one she thought she loved? Did Lin know that the inferno that raged within her dwindled to a flicker of heat? Sometimes it seemed that way when the silence got too loud but then Lin would go back to insulting her. She needed that routine. She probably would have been lost without it.

Y/n was back to moving again and on a nice, sunny day in republic city; she was just about to finish the base to an apartment complex with the other volunteers (If you want to call them that, y/n faintly recognized some of the earth benders from Kuvira’s forces). When Korra had pulled up near the site on her polar bear dog. Jumping off of the animal, Korra waited until the supervisor started talking to her. After several beats, the supervisor nodded and shouted across the field, summoning y/n towards him.

Meeting them on the edge, y/n respectfully greeted them both before questioning the avatar’s presence.

She sighed, “Many of the soldiers lived in Zaofu before the war, you were one of them. The metal domes are in grave need of assistance and since you are tasked with community service, it seems fitting that you return there.” “Is that all? I thought this was supposed to be a punishment? Wouldn’t going back home be a little too comfortable for me?” Not if Kuvira’s there, laughing with her eyes closed, hair frizzy from the day, freckles winking in the sunshine.

“Su requested it. Said, ‘that your greatest potential was misplaced with love that had nowhere to go’” Korra sighed.

Y/n felt like she got slapped in the face by the avatar. That would’ve been better. Of course Su knew y/n, she practically raised the child. Su saw the wandering eyes and the yearning sighs, she wasn’t stupid.

And yet, here she was, extending a hand of forgiveness, a hand withered by betrayal, a feeling that y/n knew quite well.

Should she take it?

#Kuvira #kuvira x reader #Kuvira imagines #LOK imagines #legend of korra #tw: blood #questionable ending #wlw #angst #I am a lesbian herald #I love her #my writing #I've never posted before #new!#I have to go sleep now k bye

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lilravenswritings · 3 years ago

Text

Waves of my Heart

A commission I did for the wonderful @witchesconstellation <3

Thank you so much for letting me work with your ocs and give them the honeymoon they deserve!

Oc: Keira Shepard (Merit), Jules Merit

A day at the beach

2k Words

********

Beautiful scarlet strands floated in the air behind the pale woman running along the sand, her laughter a melody of music Jules never wanted to live without again. The sound of the crashing waves beside them deafening, splashing tiny droplets of water onto their feet.

Jules ran after his wife, his joy palpable, overwhelming. To be with her at this moment, knowing they had each other for the rest of their lives, everything felt right in the world.

The sun had just begun it’s descent towards the horizon, bringing with it a light breeze. Keira’s black cover up danced with the wind.

Catching up to her easily, he lifted her, spinning around dramatically. Keira squealed, clutching tight to his shoulders. Feet safely planted back on the ground, she pressed her lips against his gently.

This kiss was no different from the others before it, a fire melting ice, an earthquake cracking a foundation, a firework lighting the night sky. Jules could feel how much his wife loved him whenever they joined like this; she put her whole weight behind it, cupping the back of his neck like she never wanted to be apart.

“You were right,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. A questioning hum vibrated through her, eyes shut. “The beach is definitely the best place to spend our honeymoon.”

Her cheeky grin could have lit up a thousand night skies. “I told you so.” They pulled apart, her melted chocolate eyes searching him, amused.

I don’t deserve her. The knowledge crashed through him every time they shared a tender moment. He watched as her love twisted to sorrow.

“Don’t do that,” she chastised. Her hand cupped his cheek, and he nuzzled into it. “Jules, there is nobody in the world I would rather be with. You are everything to me, don’t let your doubt get in the way of that.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had that conversation; she’d always find a way to let him know. Still, the little voice in his head never stopped trying to bring him down. “I know.”

Another chaste kiss, a tug of his hand, and Keira was able to, mostly, dispel the thoughts. She chatted animatedly about the wedding, all the cards they had gotten, and how sweet they all were. How it was so very lovely to see their families together at the reception.

She described how it felt to walk down the aisle and see him standing there, handsome in his suit and tie. How emotional it made her to know they were seconds away from belonging to each other. How their first dance made her feel, and how the song they danced to would always be her favorite for the rest of eternity.

A deep flush colored her cheeks, making her light freckles stand out. Their hands stayed connected throughout the walk back to their belongings; Jules kissed the top of hers every so often. She couldn’t hide her shy smile whenever he did, biting her lip and looking at the sand at their feet.

“I love you, Jules.” He startled at the words, having been deep in thought. She didn’t look at him to know he had heard her. It was just something she knew he knew, never even questioning whether it was obvious or not.

Keira loved him, and she was his Mrs. Merit. He beamed, pulling her close to wrap and arm around her shoulder. “I love you, my wife.”

She kissed his chest, warmth spreading through him at the action. “Let’s go swimming?” She suggested, turning them towards the water before the question had even been fully revealed. He followed obediently; why would he ever say no?

Water splashed everywhere as she lunged in, instantly diving beneath the water. Juled meandered in after her, moving much, much slower to adjust to the cooler temperature. Keira scoffed, throwing water at him playfully. His eyes went wide, he stumbled backwards. “Hey-!”

“Don’t be dramatic, it’s not that bad! Get in here,” she laughed, hitting the water at him again.

A sound of disbelief flowed off of him. Oh, you’re in for it now.” Keira squealed as he dove into her, tackling her under the water. She sputtered when they came back up, Jules’ arms wrapped around hers. Water dripped from their hair into their lashes.

They both cackled, peppered kisses shared between them before Keira puledl him back into the water. Using her feet to kick off of him, she had hoped for a quick getaway.

He caught hold of her foot last minute, tugging her back. He lifted her into the air, goosebumps rising along their skin as the air hit them. She giggled, struggling to loose his grip. “Jules, I’m cold. Come on, let me go!”

“Oh, you’re cold? Here, let me help you with that.”

Understanding immediately, Keira squirmed roughly. “No, no don’t you-” He let her go, tossing her into the water kicking and screaming. A loud gasp echoed around them as she emerged, amusement tickling her voice when she shouted: “Jules!”

“What?” He mocked with a grin. “You said you were cold.” She kicked water at him again.

Later, as Keira laid with her back pressed against Jules on their beach chair, they watched as the sky bled from blue to yellow, to orange, to purple, eventually turning into the black of night; stars shone bright without the lights of the city to dull their glow.

“Look!” Keira shouted, pointing up. “A shooting star! Quick, make a wish.”

Jules placed a kiss on her temple. “Everything I could ever want and more is right here beside me.”

He could just imagine the blush spreading across her cheeks as she swatted him. “That was so cheesy.” He chuckled, brushing his lips over her freckled shoulder. “I wish to always be this happy with you.”

A satisfied sigh of agreement grazed over her. “You’re right, I wish for that too.” His voice turned soft, quiet, like he didn’t want to disturb the moment. “And that was way cheesier than mine.”

“Not even close!” She scoffed. Then, turning so she could get a good look at him, she asked: “Do you want kids?”

Chewing his lip in thought, he pondered this. Did he want kids? He could picture them, sure. A little girl with Keira’s bright red hair and freckles swinging back and forth on a little playset in their backyard, eyes as blue as his pinched in joy. A brown headed little boy teetering down the stairs to run into Jules’ arms. A ghost of a smile danced over his lips. “With you? Yeah, I’d have them all.”

Her answering grin turned his limbs to mush. “I think we should get a dog too. Maybe a beagle? Although a fish might be the best thing for the kids for the first couple of years.”

“Woah, woah. Slow down there, we just got married. Let’s finish our honeymoon first, yeah?”

Her laugh was girlish and teasing all at the same time. “I know, I was just messing with you.” She paused, eyes drifting over his shoulder in thought. “Although, I would like to know where you see us living in a few years.”

“Hmm,” he pondered, eyes catching on her full lips. “I think a nice ranch style home, with a big fenced in yard for the kids to run around in. A big enough porch for us to sit on one of those swings and watch them, maybe even go out at night to look at the stars. A flower bed on both sides of the steps. No rose bushes, though. I don’t want the kids to get pricked. Maybe some trees in the yard, and a hammock.”

She pushed at his shoulder playfully. “Hey, slow down. We just got married.” Her brown eyes glinted, mischievous but oh so soft at the thought of their future together. His arms tightened around her. He snuggled into her neck, breathing in the soothing scent of coconut mixed with salt from the ocean.

“You’re right, but I can’t help it. I look at you and imagine it all. Imagine our house, our yard, our kids. I think about the adventures we’re going to have, all the places I want to see with you by my side. I think about the mundane things, like cooking you breakfast on Mother’s Day, dancing with you in the kitchen after we’ve put the kids to bed, helping you do laundry even though you know I like my pants folded a certain way.”

She cleared her throat; Jules knew she was holding back tears. “And yet a pet is too much to handle?”

He snorted. “I’m thinking about our kids! Who knows if they’re going to be allergic, or if they’re even going to like the fish. And a beagle? Kind of small, don’t you think? How about something bigger, like a german shepherd-”

“Oh, nice-”

“-or even a husky? A dog to protect the home if I’m away,” he continued, speaking over her remark.

Keira pursed her lips in thought. “I guess we could get a german shepherd and name him Shepard, like my last name.”

“You’re old name,” Jules corrected.

A rush of air came out her nose; laughter. “My old name,” she conceded. She kissed his nose, nuzzled it with hers. “Let’s go down to the water and try to build sandcastles.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “Right now? It’s nearly two in the morning.”

“Exactly! How many people can say that they’ve built sandcastles on the beach at night?” Before Jules could even think to respond, she remarked: “Not a whole lot of people, that’s who.” Her head bobbed in triumph, confident in her decision. How could he ever tell her no?

They walked across the sand, so much cooler now that the sun had been down for hours. The wind held a little more bite. A shiver ran down Jules’ spine.

“That one should go here,” Keira ordered after they had settled in their spot, plopping down a lump of wet sand on the spot she had picked out. “That will be the guard tower. And here, this will be the barracks. Oh, and we can’t forget the moat, who’d have a castle without a moat? That’s just idiotic.”

He’d never get used to the way his heart would swell over these simple moments. How, during even the most mundane of tasks, just being near her, hearing her talk, he’d instantly think I love you, I will never stop loving you, you have my heart.

“Okay! I think we’re ready for the flag now, don’t you my love?”

Swallowing, he put the fabric into her open palm. “Absolutely.” His voice sounded hoarse. She proudly placed it on top, standing to see the finished product. The castle looked… Horrible, if Jules had to be honest. Multiple places were already falling in on itself, the water from the moat overflowing and collapsing it from the bottom.

He’d never tell her though, especially as she pouted and looked to him for comfort. He pulled her into his embrace, instead looking over the beautiful ocean view.

“Look love, you can see the moonlight reflected on the water like it’s right here for us to touch.” He let his fingers drag across the skin along her spine. “I never thought about the fact that you’d be able to see the stars in the water as well.”

“Huh, I don’t think I ever have either.” She hummed, impressed by the revelation. It was one of the many things he loved about her, the way she was always eager and willing to learn anything she possibly could. She drank in information faster than a dehydrated animal, and it was never enough.

Clouds were slowly starting to form in the sky, crossing over the moon to leave them in total darkness for longer than a few seconds. “I think… We should probably get back to the hotel,” he offered, head tilting.

His wife sighed, “I guess we should.” His attention turned to her, inquisitive. She rushed on. “I’m not ready to go home yet. I want to stay on this vacation for the rest of our lives.”

“I want that too,” he whispered. “But we are needed back home. Besides, if we stay here, who will take care of our children? We can’t just leave them with the dog every day.”

She laughed hard, lightly bumping his shoulder with her head. Oh, shut it.”

His grin was infectious. “Never. You’re stuck with me, Keira Merit.”

#my writings #commissions #commissions open #asks open #others ocs #fluff without plot #fiction #oc: keira shepard #oc: jules merit #writing commissions #thank you so much for letting me write with them again!#I hope you enjoy it <3

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years ago

Text

Light My Fire - CH16

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: Fluff, NSFW

WC: 3024

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

BECOME A PATRON ~ BUY ME A COFFEE

The next two days went by too quickly for her liking. This place is truly magical and Dean really went out of his way and made an effort on making the fake honeymoon memorable for her.

He had taken her on a snorkeling trip and they have things lined up for the rest of their stay. There’s still so many things to do and see. She really wants to see it all, and she’s especially curious about the waterfalls.

However, they still didn’t get out of the bungalow much because they were too busy staying inside. She thinks that Dean has probably fucked her all over the place and there’s no spot or surface that they haven’t christened yet.

Dean says that she’s too hard to resist, but actually she thinks that it’s the other way around.

On their third day, Y/N wakes with Dean spooning her from behind. They didn’t draw the blinds last night and the sun’s already high in the sky. They’ve slept in like this every morning since they’ve been here. Dean has slowly got used to sleeping for so long. She thinks that he’ll have a hard time once he’s back home again.

She stirs, and winds herself around in Dean’s grip. He is still sleeping, his lips are slightly parted. He looks peaceful and content, his freckles stand out more than they normally do on his tanned skin. She could watch him sleep for hours, but there’s a knock at the door.

Slipping out of bed, she drapes the bathrobe over herself and opens the door to a butler delivering their breakfast. He places the big tray on their coffee table and is quick to leave again.

Y/N pours herself a cup of coffee and drinks half a cup before getting back to bed.

Dean stirs when he feels her beside him. He squints his one eye open, and there’s a frown on his forehead, “You’re wearing too much,” His voice is raspy, full of sleep. It’s also sexy as hell.

“Well, good morning to you too,” She smirks.

“No, seriously, lose the robe,” Dean mumbles, as his hand reaches out to tug at the collar of the robe.

She hesitantly takes it off and Dean’s closing his eyes again but he’s grinning, knowing that he’s won. Sometimes, Mr. Winchester can be a little shit, and she hates that she likes him like that.

He quickly draws her closer to him and spoons her from behind. She can feel his swelling cock poking at her ass. His one arm drapes over her, holding her tit in his hand and he nuzzles his nose against the back of her head, “Could get used to waking up like this,”

Y/N’s cheek always flares up when he talks like this. Sometimes, his words make it seem like what they have is real, and she doesn’t really know what to think of it. She doesn’t want to get too invested. Does not want to get her heart broken. What she does know though, is that she’s trying to enjoy this as best as she can.

Her phone chimes with a message and she gets out of his grip to reach for it to. Dean starts to whine at the loss of her in the bed, and he makes a sound of content when she goes back into his embrace.

She unlocks her screen, sees the message from Ruby.

R: [picture]

R: Hope your honeymoon is fucking worth it. We’re swamped here. I have to work through this today!

It’s a picture of Ruby’s desk covered in papers.

Y/N: Hey, don’t blame me. Blame the boss.

R: Ugh, I know. I’m happy for you but I also can’t wait til you guys get back. You will get back, right?

She chuckles, which prompts Dean to ask if someone has sent her a dick pic again. “Nah, just Ruby showing me all the things she has to do today.”

“Send her a picture of things you have to do today,” Dean suggests.

“What?”

“Me.” He chuckles, satisfied with his own joke and she can’t roll her eyes to the back of her head fast enough, “I’m serious.” He grabs the phone from her hand and holds it up, and she makes sure that her boobs are covered by the sheets. Dean snaps a couple of pics with him nuzzling his face into the back of her neck and she doesn’t even look into the camera because she knows that she looks like shit in the morning.

Y/N: The boss said I should send you a picture of things that I have to do today.

Y/N: [picture]

R: Fuck! I’m so jealous! Well, not with Dean but I’d like to do someone too.

Y/N: How’s it going with Sam?

R: Good, he’s taking me out tonight. I’m excited!

Y/N: Dean’s taking me out tonight, too. Finally.

R: What, you haven’t been out? Not even for dinner?

Y/N. Only room service. We were kind of busy.

R: Oh you little minx. Anyway, I need to get this done and you should do your… thing.

She grins and places her phone back onto the nightstand. Just when she was about to turn around to check if he fell asleep again, his hands wanders around her front, brushing along her stomach to cup around her pussy.

Dean groans into her hair because she knows what he feels. He strokes along her folds while he rubs his now fully hard cock against her ass cheeks, “Fuck,” He slips in a finger, then another and she arches her back, drives her backside deeper onto his hard on.

Her pussy’s still so slick and full of his cum from last night, she’s sure that he can feel it too.

“C’mon,” he whispers and pulls his fingers out, making her whimper at the loss. Dean maneuvers her over him so she’s lying with her back to his chest. Her lower back is on him while her shoulder blades hang down his body and rests on the mattress. He slips a hand around her shoulder, with his other hand, he lines himself up at her entrance before he moves that hand up to cup her around her chin, tilting her head to be able to kiss him while he pushes his cock up and into her.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I love being inside you,” He whispers, kisses her jaw and her chin.

“Shit,” She can’t really say anything else, it feels too good. She likes the thickness of him, likes how good he fills her up.

He soon picks up his pace, fucks up into her faster, and there’s something about the position that they’re in that brings her over the edge way too fast. Her legs cramp up and she shakes above him as she comes on his cock without even touching her clit.

Dean’s lips are resting on her cheek, he pants hard, “So good,” Kissing up her face, he licks at her ear, “Such a good girl coming on my cock,”

His one hand is around her throat, keeps her pinned against the pillow and his arm, and her face turns to him as he applies a little more pressure. She gets light headed. Dean starts to fuck her harder, “You like my cock, don’t you? Like it when I fuck you hard and rough?”

Oh god, what is he doing to her?

“Y-yes— oh fuck—”

He kisses her again, as rough as he fucks her, as hard as his fingers around her throat. And she comes again without any warning.

Dean grunts, his hips twitches and his hands are trembling as he feels her pussy walls clamping down on him. He buries his face into her neck, bites and sucks at the junction where it meets her shoulder, and starts to shudder all around.

“Oh my god,” She pants, and she hears him chuckle into her skin. He quickly turns her around to spoon her again without slipping out of her.

He sprays kisses along her shoulder and back and she strokes her nails along his arm. She starts to chuckle and he asks her what’s wrong.

“I finished my to do list for the day,”

Dean laughs out loud, the bass of his voice rumbles at her back, “I think my name’s on that list twice.”

For Y/N, the rest of the day was spent lounging around. Dean has another two hours of conference calls he couldn’t talk himself out of.

He makes it up to her by booking a masseuse to come over and give her a massage while he is in the meeting. He deliberately locks himself in the bathroom to talk, so as not to distract himself while the masseuse kneads all the tension out of her body.

When the masseuse finishes, she lets out a deep content sigh and feels light all over.

Dean walks out of the bathroom to find her on the bed with a contented smirk on her face, “I feel like I should be the one to make you feel like this and not a masseuse,”

“Nobody can make me feel like this but the masseuse, don’t worry,”

Dean frowns before he bends down to kiss her.

Dean wears his dress pants and a simple white shirt, sleeves rolled up to right below his elbow, two buttons loose around his collar. She opts for a simple dress in white, thinks that it goes great with her tan. Not that she doesn’t want to wear anything fancy. It’s more because she doesn’t have anything fancy and she feels bad asking Dean for shopping money, he’s already spent too much money to take her on this trip.

When she steps out of the bathroom, Dean’s lost in his phone but when he notices, he looks at her with that intense gaze that makes her stomach turn and her heart flutter.

“You look lovely,” he says and licks his lips before he stands up to reach around her waist. He pulls her closer, and kisses her cheek. She’s glad she’s tanned, and her cheeks don’t flare up so fast anymore.

They arrive at the restaurant and the waiter shows them their table. Dean orders wine that goes down quite easily. It’s the first time that they have had dinner with just the two of them outside of their confined space, and it feels easy. It feels like there’s not a contract between them. She likes that easiness.

It’s after they had their appetizers that they heard a familiar voice.

“My, my, look who’s here!”

They look up to see Amara, and Dean’s expression changes from easy to stern.

Amara has her hand around the arm of someone and the waiter is about to show them their table when she suddenly says, “Oh, can we join you?” Before she turns to the waiter, “You know what? We like to sit with our friends.” She doesn’t even wait for their answer, sends the waiter away to set another table next to them and they cater to her wishes without even asking Dean who has his hands balled into fists.

The people from the resort restaurant are quick to set up the table and Amara sits down next to Y/N.

“Y/N, you come sit next to me,” Dean’s voice rolls loud and deep above the chatter around them. It’s that authoritarian voice she normally only hears at work.

“Why? I think she’s perfectly fine next to me,” Amara smirks.

“I want my wife close to me,” Dean growls and Y/N scrambles off her seat, takes her wine glass with her. Because she wants that too, wants Dean close when Amara’s around.

When she sits down next to Dean, he quickly places his hand on her thigh as a way to calm her down, but he’s tense himself, she can feel it.

Amara introduces her companion as her boyfriend. His name is Arthur Ketch and his cousin is apparently some Duke from England. She gushes about him, as if Dean or Y/N would care.

So Amara has a boyfriend but she still doesn’t want an annulment. She doesn’t really understand Amara’s motives. It’s not like she needs Dean’s money. Amara has plenty herself.

“I see Dean still didn’t give you money for proper clothing, did he honey?”

“None of your fucking business, Amara,” Dean scoffs.

“I just think if you’re really married, you would want your wife to look presentable,”

“Not everyone is as shallow and greedy as you are,”

It’s a heated exchange between Dean and Amara and her and Ketch just look at each other, neither of them saying a word.

Amara’s really ruthless. She doesn’t back away and then she laughs, all loud and fake, “Oh, Dean, who are you to talk about greed? You’re the one who wants to help my greedy brother push me out, aren’t you? Well, too bad for you that I’m going to walk away with the money and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Dean,” Y/N whispers, tries to calm him down because she can see Dean’s lips twitch. He’s doing his best to hold himself back so as not to make a scene in a full restaurant. She moves closer to him, weaves her arm around his and lays her chin on his shoulder, “Look at me,”

Dean’s gaze is still fixed on Amara and he looks more than pissed.

“Hey, look at me,” She whispers again, waits for him to register her voice. He reluctantly tears his eyes away from Amara and slowly tilts his head in her direction.

Y/N smiles at him when he finally looks at her. Her hand cradles his face and moves in to kiss his chin, his jaw, his cheek, moves up further to his nose and there’s finally a smirk on his face. She kisses his lips and Dean kisses her back, his hands on the back of her neck, pulling her closer into him. She breaks the kiss before it can get too heated, and she looks at him, “You okay?”

Dean nods, pecks her lips again, “Yeah,”

“We can go if you want, okay?”

He nods again, “Okay,”

Amara clears her throat audibly, “Ah, I almost believed that the kiss was real. You’re both too cute.”

Dean wants to open his mouth to protest but Amara cuts him off, “I talked to your brother, Y/N,”

“Jack?”

“Yeah, but his lips are tight. Wonder how much Dean pays him to stay silent. I bet I can get him to crack.”

“Leave my brother alone you stupid bitch!” She stands up so fast, it sends her chair skidding back and she thinks that everyone’s staring at her, but she just doesn’t fucking care. Jack shouldn’t be pulled into this, at all cost.

“Baby, come on,” Dean stands up, “We’re leaving.”

“Awe, you didn’t even get to your main course!” Amara just doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up.

Dean takes her hand and leads her out of the restaurant.

As soon as they're in their bungalow, Dean makes a call to Ash, the company’s IT guy.

“Yeah, sorry to disturb, Ash, but I need you to do some research. Name’s Arthur Ketch. Report everything you find about him back to me asap.”

He pockets his phone and walks to her. She’s sitting on the bed, still shocked that Amara is casually talking about her brother, that she talked to him when Y/N didn’t even have a chance to do it herself yet.

Dean sits down next to her, wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close to kiss her temple, “I want you to call Jack now. Tell him that I’ll book him onto the earliest flight we can get out here. Tell him that he needs to take some time off from college to come to Jamaica. I don’t trust Amara, I need Jack here. I wanna be able to explain it to him. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, sure,” She nods. She wants that too. Wants for Jack to be here where she can keep an eye on him.

Dean kisses the top of her head before he gets up to call Sam and Y/N calls Jack in the meantime, waking her brother up. To her surprise, he sounds thrilled about taking a trip to Jamaica. Which is understandable, really. The last trip they made was two years ago, when they went to visit their aunt in Canada.

She still sat in the same spot when Dean comes back to sit next to her.

“Ruby’s booking the flights right now,”

“Okay,” She nods.

“Are you hungry? We could order something, we didn’t even get to the main course,”

She shakes her head, “I feel nauseous,”

Dean chuckles weakly, “That always happens to me when I see Amara.”

Once they calmed down and sent Jack his itinerary, they got ready for bed.

Dean slips in beside her, pulls her into his chest, and she breathes in the now familiar smell of him. He strokes her hair, cups her cheeks and tilts her head to place a kiss on her lips, “Don’t you worry about it, okay? We will talk to Jack and explain everything. Soon, this will all be over and you can go back to your old life. Jack can finish his degree. I’ll help you pay it off. You can use your money for other things, maybe buy more sappy books,”

She punches his chest and Dean lets out a chuckle before he kisses her forehead.

“Sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” She says.

But what she actually wants to say, but doesn’t know how, is that she doesn’t really want to go back to her old life. That she wants to be like this, with him. Wants to wake up to him next to her. Wants to feel his lips on her skin, wants to feel his hands on her body. She fucking wants him, and to know that she can’t, really breaks her heart.

CH17

#light my fire #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #ceo!dean winchester #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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consumedkings-archive · 4 years ago

Text

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter seven: a little death

word count: 11.1k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: gore. so much gore. "a little death”? more like a lotta death. yeah it’s just blood and guts, and then john is kind of a fucker for like .0000005 seconds

notes: hi folks! we've got another big'un, a little more john/elliot centric with some plot threads starting to weave together. i'm really excited with where things are going and how things are shaping up, and i hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!

special thank you to @shallow-gravy for lending me her eyeballs to proof this chapter <3 dani and sylvia both are characters of @starcrier's beautiful talented mind and she was kind of enough to help me fill out the cast for the world i'm working on!

as always, thank you so much to everyone who reads/comments/kudoses/likes; whatever your form of support is, it really means the absolute most to me and it's the whole reason i keep going!

“Well, well, well, Mr. Seed!”

It was Sylvia’s cheerful voice that first put a smile on Elliot’s face. It was the ensuing expression on John’s face when he realized he’d have to slide into boots worn by at least twenty other people that kept it there. He grimaced as he set his own perfectly tidy shoes to the side and pulled the first Wellington on.

John had done the right thing by swapping out the collared shirt he’d been halfway through putting on into a black turtleneck—still, certainly, more expensive than perhaps any item of clothing Elliot herself had ever owned, but less pretentious than a silky button-up.

“Right size?” Via asked.

He forced the grimace into a smile. “Perfect fit.”

With a satisfied nod, the blonde turned back to Elliot and handed her the lead to the horse she was going to brush—a hefty Clydesdale that plodded out of his stall obediently. He nosed her pockets for treats, whuffling against her offered but empty palm before she started tying him to keep him in place for a good brushing.

“You look fit as a fiddle and ready to ride,” Via announced, clapping John on the shoulder once he’d gotten his shoes swapped out. “What do you think? Wanna climb on up?”

“On that?” John asked incredulously when the blonde indicated the bay.

“Yes sir. Hugo’s great for beginners.”

“Hugo’d be great to stomp me to death,” he muttered. “Ah, no thank you, Sylvia—I think I’ll stick with the ground for now.”

“Suit yourself.”

She gave Elliot’s shoulder a quick squeeze before setting off at a brisk pace. At the barn, Via always seemed to operate on a different kind of frequency—she was still quick to smile and quicker to laugh, but there was definitely something more businesslike going on. John watched her go for a minute, mouth downturned in a frown, before his gaze returned to Elliot.

“So,” he said, “what are we doing?”

“I’m brushing Hugo,” she replied primly. “You can...give him a treat, or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to do something?”

Elliot sighed, patting Hugo’s neck and giving him a scratch. The bay turned his head, regarding John for a moment before bumping his muzzle against her hip affectionately.

“Here,” she said, holding out a brush. “You can brush him.”

It was John’s turn to do the regarding, then, eyes darting down to the brush and then back up at Elliot. He did still look a bit ridiculous—walking around in the Wellingtons, brushing loose wisps of hay that had somehow managed to cling to his turtleneck, the normally perfectly-slicked back hair falling loose and unruly. As John weighed the brush in his hand like it was some kind of artifact, he gave Hugo an awkward pat on the nose and one stilted brush along his neck.

“Great,” Elliot chirped. “Just keep doing that, but...better.”

She stepped away, leaving John with the horse and heading down the main hall. She’d taken about five steps before she heard John go, “Wait, where are you going?” and she turned to look at him, brows pulling together in something close to pity.

He looked so uncomfortable. And it was so good.

“To brush another horse, honey,” she replied, voice dripping with sugar. “What, did you think we were going to hold hands while you made yourself useful?”

John’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve gotten mouthy,” he said, eyes on her as she clipped a lead onto her usual equine companion, a handsome palomino named Butterscotch.

“I’ve always been mouthy, John.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

A few minutes of silence lapsed between them, filled only by the occasional whuff of horse breath or John muttering a swear. Elliot had just gotten into the rhythm with the palomino, gliding her hands and the brush across his neck in slow, even strokes, when John said, “So, you’ve been coming here a lot then, huh?”

Elliot let out a sigh. “This is supposed to be my quiet time.”

“I’m just curious,” John replied. “What made you want to start spending time around big, smelly animals?”

She dropped the brush in a bucket, fishing out the comb and starting to work on some of the knots. “Doctor’s orders.”

John made a low noise, agreeable even though she thought that he might be burning over there. Back in Hope County, he’d been determined to know her—get inside of her, get in the nitty-gritty, dig his elbows up into her guts and gore and figure out every little thing about her and what it was that she was keeping from him.

It made her wonder if he had read the file Joseph had compiled on her. It had been given to him, after all, like a trophy. Like she was a trophy, a gift from Joseph to him. His reward.

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Maybe that is what John thought; that all of his ragged attempts at convincing her that what they’d had, those fleeting moments, had been love. But she’d seen the way he’d looked when Joseph had praised him, the way he tiptoed around himself and his true nature, always with a foot on Joseph’s side and one on hers. Now, watching him stand awkwardly to the side of a giant Clydesdale, making an attempt at integrating into her daily life—it was almost sickening, to think that she had been the prize in some weird game for Joseph’s approval.

“Left him all alone with Hugo, huh?” Sylvia asked, jarring her out of her thoughts and reminding her that she’d been brushing the same spot in the palomino’s mane for a while now.

“Ah, yeah,” Elliot replied, clearing her throat and focusing on a different spot. You make me sick, she wanted to tell him, the warmth of the morning evaporating in the wake of her anger. You make me fucking sick, I won’t forget it, I can’t forget it, fuck you fuck you. “He could squirm a little. Builds character.”

Via’s eyes narrowed playfully, squinting at John as he gave the bay a hearty pat on the neck. “Not an animal person, huh?”

She felt her mouth twist wryly, wanting to say something vicious. Something mean. Something—

( I’m glad I didn’t break that wrathful streak out of you, )

“City boy,” is what she ended up supplying, to which Via went ahh, as though that explained a lot. In a lot of ways, it did.

“How’re you holdin’ up over there, buddy?” the blonde called down the hall, Hugo’s ears flicking in her direction. John glanced up and planted a smile on his face that was so canned Elliot thought he couldn’t have seemed like he meant it any less.

“Fine,” John said, like he was on automatic, and then quickly added, “Great, actually. We’re bonding, Hugo and I. The two of us.”

“Yeah?” Via’s head tilted. “That’s nice to hear.”

“Yes. A pair, he and I.”

“Good,” she replied cheerfully. “You can take him on a walk then.”

“Huh?” came the intelligent reply, followed by the unceremonious drop of the brush in the nearby bucket. “What?”

“Take him out, stretch his legs a little,” Via explained, her voice warm. “He’s a nice boy, you two are pals. Should go fine.”

John grimaced. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Elliot had to swallow back a laugh when Via asked, “You don’t know how to walk?”

The brunette sucked his teeth. A little smile was on his face, but it was the same kind of smile he’d given Elliot when she said something particularly mean-spirited—and though Sylvia West was clearly not a mean-spirited person, she had yet to find John very charming at all. Jury was still out, after all. Elliot was sure that bothered him.

“I’ll show you,” Elliot sighed, after a few seconds of Via waiting patiently for John to explain himself. “Just unclip the—”

“Don’t stress it, Freckles,” Via interjected gently. “You’re busy with Butterscotch. I’ll help John.”

She hesitated, feeling a sudden jolt of panic. Via was saying, take care of yourself. She was saying, put yourself first. She was saying, you don’t have to jump to do the stuff all the time. But it had been so long—so long of trying to prioritize herself and choosing other people.

You don’t have to Atlas this thing yourself, deputy, Jerome had said, like she wanted to let someone else handle it, like she wanted to be alone with herself.

But before Elliot could convince herself that it was more important that she show John how to do something fairly self-explanatory, before she could protest that Via was too busy, the blonde picked up the brush, put it back in her hand and crossed the hall to John with great purpose.

“Don’t worry, bud, I’ll make sure you don’t get trampled,” Sylvia chirped at John, unclipping the lead from the hook in the wall and setting it in his hand.

“Thanks, Sylvia.”

“No sweat, that’s what they pay me the big bucks for.”

“Lot of money, having people walk horses around?”

She flashed a smile that was all teeth. “Tons. I fill my pool up with hundred-dollar bills just for fun. Swim around in it and everythin’.”

John’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. He glanced back at Elliot, their eyes meeting for a moment—and maybe it did make her regret, a little, all of the poison she’d been thinking about him; maybe seeing him standing there and jesting with Sylvia and giving her that boyish smile made her regret thinking about how much she hated that he wanted to know her, all of her, all of the yucky, nasty bits of her that she wished didn’t exist.

Watching him walk out the front of the barn in the rubber boots, Hugo plodding along amicably behind him while Sylvia chattered, made Elliot wonder what it would have been like if he’d kept his word; if he’d meant it when he’d said that they would leave Hope County. There had been a time where she’d thought maybe she and John were meant for each other like he’d claimed. There had been a time where she’d thought maybe she didn’t want anyone else, maybe she wanted someone who kissed her when she was still covered in another man’s blood, who didn’t mind when her fingers itched and burned for acts of violence.

Yours must surely be the sin of Wrath.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he was it for her, Elliot thought while John and Sylvia walked the Clydesdale in a big loop around the snowy parking lot. Maybe she never would find someone who loved her, all of her grit and gore and venom, the way that John did.

The way that he’d looked at her scar, then a wound, with adoration, his hands red with her blood. The way he’d said, It’s going to look so good on you.

“That’s okay,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone, feeling the palomino’s velvety muzzle bump her hand impatiently for her attention. “I’m—”

Not ‘I’m’. It wasn’t ‘I’m’ anymore. It’s not just about you, anymore.

“We’re,” Elliot amended, swallowing thickly, “just fine being alone.”

If she said it enough times, maybe she would learn to believe it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You really never walked a horse before, huh?”

John glanced up, his gaze darting to the blonde that had been walking alongside him as they circled the parking lot. This is not what he wanted to be doing. When he’d said he was coming with Elliot to the barn, what he’d anticipated had been something closer to getting time with her—out of the house, away from the dog and her mother, and in a situation that was more comfortable for her. She clearly liked coming here, or she wouldn’t have strongly considered objecting to his tagging along.

Hm, something inside of him said, doesn’t that say something, that she doesn’t want you in a place she feels happy and safe?

No. Not really. Not in the least.

“I haven’t,” John replied after a moment, realizing that Sylvia was waiting very patiently for his answer, without rushing or prompting him. That was probably why Elliot liked her. “It’s funny, I grew up in Georgia and never seemed to be around a horse my entire life.”

“That is funny,” Sylvia agreed, without laughing or cracking much more than a polite smile.

His eyes narrowed. He pushed a smile onto his face, the rope hung loosely in his hand as Hugo trailed along beside him, content to brush at the ground with his nose once in a while. John thought, there’s got to be a way to figure you out. There’s got to be something. What did Elliot say to you about me, Sylvia? What did she tell you that’s making you this obstinate?

Just as John opened his mouth to say something, the blonde said, “You know, I don’t like you much, Mr. Seed.”

He closed his mouth, stopping at the far end of the parking lot. Sylvia turned to look at him, her gaze scrutinizing, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “I don’t know what I did to disenchant you, Sylvia, but—”

“I spend a lot of time with troubled people,” she interjected, and infuriatingly she did it so kindly that it almost lost its insulting edge.

Swallowing, John’s brain scrambled rapidly, looking for some kind of footing before he began as amenably as possible, “I hear equine therapy is beneficial to plenty of people—”

“Doctors and therapists send folks here all the time to try and get some kinda relief. I don’t always know what it is, but I’ll tell you one thing: that girl in there—she came in looking more haunted than a cemetery, and the way she looked when I first saw her is the same way she looked when I caught y’all on the street.”

The polite smile dropped from her face. “I don’t like that she got that look back.”

John bit back his venom and said, “To be frank, you don’t know anything about our relationship.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Sylvia replied lightly. She turned to him, and reiterated with pointed firmness, “All the same, I don’t like it, and I don’t like you, John Seed.”

“You’re awful polite,” he said tartly, “for a woman who doesn’t like me.”

Sylvia sucked her teeth in a gesture that was reminiscent of going come on, shaking her head again and huffing out a sigh. “You strike me as a man that hasn’t ever been just plain old disliked before,” she said, planting a hand on his shoulder even though he easily had two or three inches on her. “Just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I think you’re hopeless, John. Jesus Christ, people been givin’ up on you that fast, huh?”

John blinked rapidly. That was not the answer he had anticipated. The words rattled around in his head, clanging painfully loud, foreign and unfamiliar and scary in how it felt to have someone, Sylvia, look at him and say, people been givin’ up on you that fast?

Mentally scrabbling, he brushed her hand from his shoulder and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m perfectly fine. I just don’t understand putting yourself through the trouble of being nice to someone if you don’t like them, that’s all.”

“People can change,” Sylvia told him plainly. “After all, you said you’ve never been around a horse before, right?”

“Well—”

“And now here you are, walking a horse around an empty parking lot in Nowhere, Georgia. I’d say that’s changing, wouldn’t you?”

John snapped his mouth shut. There was something unsettling about the way Sylvia was looking at him; like she was seeing him, really, right then and there, after knowing her for so little time. It was the same—

It was the same way Joseph looked at people. Seeing them, for exactly as they were, with everything they brought to the table. So why did it feel different when Sylvia looked at him? Why did it feel different from Joseph when she looked at him and said, I’d say that’s changing, wouldn’t you? Why did it feel more real?

“You’d probably best head back in,” Sylvia continued after a minute, smiling at him brightly. “Hugo’s an old man, he doesn’t like to be out that long. Much rather prefer to be inside and warm.”

“Yeah,” John said after a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I’d better.”

He didn’t like this, not at all. He especially didn’t like the feeling of Sylvia, a woman who blatantly did not like him, seeing him.

Turning, John started back across the parking lot to the barn, the hefty Clydesdale trailing obediently behind. It wasn’t until he was nearly to the doorway that he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket; pulling it out with his free hand, John brought the horse to a stop and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, John.”

It was Joseph. Speak of the devil, something in him whispered as he glanced back over his shoulder at Sylvia beginning to trek down into one of the riding yards.

“Joseph,” John said, clearing his throat, “I’m so happy you called.”

“How are things going?” His brother’s voice maintained its typical serenity, but there was a strange idleness to it, like he wasn’t fully invested in their conversation. It was unlike him, to sound like this—to sound absent, or troubled.

“They’re good,” he began cautiously. He wondered if Isolde had told Joseph about him hanging up on her. It would be just like her. “Really good. There was a doctor’s appointment yesterday—” That Elliot didn’t let me go to, he thought, as Joseph made an agreeable noise to show he was listening, “—and the baby is healthy. Really healthy, and good, and next week we’re going to find out the gender. Elliot’s been going to these stables because the doctor thinks it’s good for her stress—”

Joseph’s voice cut in over him, sharp and impatient. “Do you know what’s going to be really good for the deputy’s stress?”

He shifted on his feet. “It’s just, she’s been talking to the doctor about it—”

“There will be bombs dropping, John.”

“I—know that,” he replied quickly, glancing back at the barn and seeing Elliot dusting her hands off on the top of her jeans, having put the palomino away. “I know that, Joseph, I promise, I—”

“There will be no baby to be worried about,” his brother continued, “if you and our sister are not here when they fall on us.”

Joseph bit the word out, sister, like it was a cyanide pill crushed between his canines. Just hearing his brother’s voice change like that made John’s throat feel tight. The anxiety of hearing Joseph’s displeasure was rising up high and hot in his throat, and Elliot was walking towards him, head cocked to the side curiously, and if she knew he was talking to Joseph she was going to go ballistic. She would, and he would be back to square one—and he’d only just gotten a little bit closer; the feeling of the soft skin of her throat beneath his fingers from earlier that morning still lingered, burned in his memory.

“I understand,” John said automatically, pitching his voice low. “I do, I’ll—”

“You have a week left. I won’t wait for you.”

“Joseph—”

“I’ve given you great freedom to fetch your wife and child, when I have every reason to have left her to Hell.”

His stomach wrenched. He knew it. He knew Joseph was angry about it. Regret flooded him; he should have stayed back in Hope County a little while longer, until Joseph was done in his solitude, to talk to him first. “I know, please, if you would—”

“The next life is something that has to be earned,” came his brother’s voice, sharpening as he spoke, “and your wife has done nothing but reject the absolution that I—” He paused. “—we offered her, at every turn.”

I know, John wanted to say, but could not; what would be the point? What would it matter? He’d said it a handful of times already, but Joseph was angry, he was so mad, so mad, and all that time spent back in Hope County felt very suddenly like it had amounted to nothing.

“The gates will be closed to you.” And then, his voice harder now: “Tell me you understand, John.”

He gripped the horse’s lead tight. For a second in time, the comedy of it all—trailing after Elliot into a stable, joining her and her friends that didn’t like him at a bar, listening to her mother expertly sliding in barbs—had been overwhelming. His life had temporarily become a rom-com, and by the season finale they’d make amends and everything would be fine.

This was a reminder that was not how things were going to go. He didn’t have the leniency to just take however long he wanted; there would be no time to make friends, even ones that looked at him and said, just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I think you’re hopeless.

Get Elliot and baby. Bring them home.

“John.”

“I do,” he whispered. “I understand, Joseph.”

“Good.” Joseph paused, and then after a moment: “And no secrets, John. I’ll know if you’re keeping something from me.”

The words washed a strange, cold sense of dread over him. For a second, John thought, have I been keeping a secret from him? Have I been lying to him about something?

Elliot had stopped a few feet away, her head tilted inquisitively. She was far enough that John thought she might not be able to hear him, but still he turned his head like he’d seen something interesting back in the parking lot when he said, “I would never do that.”

There was a little exhale on the other end of the call. “I know. You’ve always been good.”

Something frantically pleased lit up inside of him, rapidly firing the neurons in his brain. Good, they said, chanting, we’re good, we’re good, he said we’re good, Joseph thinks we’re good.

Just as John opened his mouth to reply, Joseph said, “We’ll talk soon,” and the line clicked. Call Ended, said the screen when he pulled the phone away from his ear and turned back to Elliot, who’d started making her way over to him again. Something in his chest sank a little; he quickly tucked it away, focusing his attention back on the task at hand.

You’ve always been good.

“Who was that?” Elliot asked as she came up, rubbing her hands together in the cold absently. John gestured for her to head back inside, and she did, letting him fall into step between her and the horse.

“Just a wrong number,” he replied with a little smile. “It’s a new phone. I’ve been getting them a lot.”

“Ah.” She didn’t sound convinced, but he supposed he never expected her to. “And how was your walk with Hugo and Sylvia?”

“You would be surprised to know I feel much the same as before I walked.”

Elliot’s mouth quirked up at the corners, tugged into a smile. It wasn’t the first time that he’d seen that little smile on her face, but it was the first time that it didn’t feel forced, or driven by something sour or venomous.

John offered, “Sylvia has confessed she’s not fond of me.”

The redhead next to him made an inquisitive noise, though she didn’t remark on it. He imagined this was not news to her, given the way they’d been chatting when he’d come back from warming up the car the other night. He’d be lying if he said that it didn’t spike a little bit of jealousy in him; that Elliot found it so easy to connect with Sylvia, even though they had history, even farther back than Eden’s Gate, if he was going to be a stickler about it. And he was. He wanted to be.

A little, he thought, maybe he was jealous that despite everything, Elliot still found some way to make a friend that defended her so fiercely.

Stupid, he thought, letting Elliot take the lead from him. It’s stupid. I have people who will protect me too. Jacob, and Joseph—

“But you already knew that,” he added after a moment, watching her. The redhead moved with a kind of surety around the horses; there were no darting eyes, no furtive glances out into the distance, searching for an invisible threat that only she could see.

“Well,” Elliot replied, “you didn’t really endear yourself to her. She met us in the middle of an argument, and then you proceeded to try and use your snake charms—”

“My what?”

“—on her, and that’s just not really her style,” she finished plainly, working to take the halter off and then sliding the stable door shut. “You don’t have all of your little cultists here to chant ‘yes’ at you whenever you please. You have to make a real effort with people.”

“I am,” John snipped out, “making a real effort.”

“Mm,” came the reply as Elliot slung the halter over her shoulder and started heading off down the hall without waiting for him.

“Elliot—”

“John,” she replied amicably. “I’m not going back and forth with you about this.”

He closed his mouth. Every single nerve-ending felt violently frayed from the onslaught; first Sylvia, then Joseph, and now Elliot. John could feel the headache blooming behind his eyes. Even though he’d felt that rush of adrenaline the second Joseph had praised him, there was still a knot in the pit of his stomach; just there, rolling tight and painful, reminding him that he still would have preferred that Jacob called instead.

Elliot returned, picking a loose piece of hay off of his shoulder and dropping it to the ground. “We going or what?”

Regarding her carefully, John said, “Only if you’re done. We’re staying however long you want.”

“Oh, are we? It’s all about what I want now?”

“It was always about what you want.”

She gave him a look. As she shrugged the heavier coat back on her shoulders, and he tugged the boots off, Elliot said, “You know how you’re always saying I need to find a new catchphrase?”

John pulled one of his shoes on. “Uh-huh.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” Elliot continued. “The whole ‘I’ll give you anything you want, Elliot’ bit just doesn’t hit the same when you spent the whole time lying to me.”

“I—” He let out a frustrated breath, pulling his other shoe on. “I meant it when I said it, Elliot.”

“Fucking me,” Elliot replied, “does not amount to giving me anything I want.”

“But it is what you wanted,” John retorted.

“Among other things.”

“Among other things,” he agreed.

They stood like that for a minute, regarding each other with tight expressions and the sourness of their exchange still lingering in his mouth. John exhaled through his nose and passed a hand over his face. It was one thing to be on edge because Sylvia had come right out and said she didn’t like him; another to then follow-up with a conversation that reminded him of his existential dread; yet another to be putting up with Elliot’s vitriol.

“When I said,” he began, “that I l—”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t fucking say it.”

“When I said it, I meant it,” he amended tartly. “I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean, too, but I meant that.”

“Yeah?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “You didn’t mean to tell me that I’m never going to find someone that’s going to love me and all of my ugly too, is that what you’re trying to say? That whole ‘no one’s going to love you with all that red in your ledger’ bit was just a fun little jab—”

“No,” John replied evenly, feeling that petty little spike in his chest, “I meant that.”

His words seemed to catch her off-guard, immediately unseating her. The expression that crossed her face was bewildered; the animosity had fled it, and instead what replaced it was hurt—bright and blooming across her features, flushed under her skin in a gorgeous high color. It wasn’t unlike the flush in her cheeks from when she’d been frenzied by the killing of Kian, and it looked just as beautiful now, too.

John thought, I love her, just like this. Wretched and wicked and furious with me. Hurt and needing.

He had seen her in fury, in grief. Watched the remains of what happened when she sank her teeth in down to the bone, whether it was to kill or to howl in her sorrow. And he had loved her then, too.

I meant it, he thought, because no one is good enough to love you except for me.

“Well, it doesn’t fucking matter,” Elliot replied after a minute. Though her words carried with them the same cadence any other angry response would have, her voice sounded small, like he’d sucked the wind right out of her sails. “What you think, it doesn’t matter. You don’t know fuck all about me or what kind of person could love me, and—” Her lashes fluttered. “And fuck you, John.”

John watched her expression for any giveaway that he’d gotten where he wanted: inside. Before, he’d known her quite well—could gauge her anger and her grief and catch it before it exploded. Now, with the baby, things had changed a little.

“I think I’m familiar with exactly the kind of person who could love you,” he said after a moment. And then, gesturing ahead of him: “Shall we?”

The tension in her jaw tightened, flattening and flexing the muscle when she clenched her teeth. Those spiteful little eyes; he’d missed them, missed the way she’d looked at him. As of late, she’d gotten too comfortable withholding her attention from him.

Get Elliot and baby. Get home.

It was a mantra now, running its track in his head over and over until it wore a rut into his brain. As Elliot brushed past him to walk to the car, and he fell into step trailing behind her just a foot or so, he let the words sink in. He’d gotten distracted; strayed from the path—but he wouldn’t let that happen again. Joseph was right. He was good, and he would just have to make Elliot see that.

One way or another.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Staci Pratt was doing alright, all things considered.

The Veteran’s Center was empty. Had been for weeks, in fact—after a particularly tense call with Joseph, Jacob had evacuated most all of his Chosen except a select few into the bunker and locked it down. He’d grabbed his keys, looked Pratt dead in the eyes and said, “I want to see you sitting in that chair waiting for me when I get back, Peaches.”

How long was he going to be gone? That was a question that had been sitting on Pratt’s brain for the last two months.

It might have been more than that; it honestly could have been a little less, too. He had no idea. Three days after Jacob had left with his chosen, and left Pratt in the Veteran’s Center, the radio chatter had fuzzed out. Interrupted by something. A day after that, he saw strange convoys along the streets.

Well, he’d thought, Jacob did say to stay put.

So, stay put he did.

There was food, and water, and even though the snow was falling, the place stayed pretty warm. He hadn’t heard Jacob’s voice on the radio for weeks. He’d stopped checking it. He thought that since it had been so long, maybe Jacob and the others were—

“Staci,” came a sweet voice from the other room, “come here, quickly!”

Pratt pulled himself to his feet. His limbs felt heavy, but pleasantly so; like he’d been grounded to the earth, finally, at last. For a second, the floor seemed to stretch out under his feet, as far as he could see; the leaves, having blown in before the snow through then-open windows, folded and melded against his shoes. Like they were trying to be with him. What had he gotten up for again?

“Staci!” The sing-song voice came again. Dani, he thought, taking an unsteady step forward. Shit, Dani’s calling me. That’s what I got up for.

“Coming,” he managed out, taking a few steps and then catching his momentum and carrying himself into the next room over. The glossy-haired brunette was sitting with her legs tucked up at the desk, watching the security monitors avidly. Sheridan had come knocking a few days after the convoys had passed, and at the time, Staci had thought she was some kind of test—after all, Jacob had said to stay put. Sitting in that chair, waiting for me when I get back. That’s what he’d said. Getting up for a pretty girl at the door was directly disobeying him.

But he’d let her in, because she smelled good and smiled at him with pearly teeth and a cute accent he couldn’t place, and asked if he had room for her in the building, and said things like, You can call me Dani, if you want!

That was what—four weeks ago? Maybe more? She’d made herself at home, explained she’d gotten lost from her family and that she’d been worried because she saw strangers with guns running around. She had food, and water, and warm clothes, and—

Drugs. The “herbal” kind. It will open you to the influence, Dani had told him, giggling when he blinked owlishly at her. Brings you closer to the earth, Staci. It feels nice, I promise. Pratt thought it might have been Bliss, at first, but it was different; it didn’t jar him on his way down, the crash felt so much gentler, and Dani offered it to him to use whenever he wanted, and he just wanted to feel. Good. For a little while. That’s all. Just a tiny while.

It wasn’t hard, to feel good around Dani. It was like he’d spent all that time in constant fear and stress, listening to Jacob tallying body counts from Elliot. Sometimes the redhead would suck his teeth and say, what the fuck is my brother doing with that girl? and shake his head, and the idea that Jacob Seed wanted to turn Elliot into a perfect killer had washed him with a cold, ferocious dread.

Then, Jacob had left. No more body counts. No more radio calls, listening to the redhead’s urgent voice from the other side of the door. A tiny while had turned into four weeks, and now he was here: stumbling his way into the security room where she was curled up. Somewhere in the distance, a little alarm bell went off in his head. Jacob would be so mad, that alarm bell said. He would be so mad, so fucking mad, so so so mad.

But the thought was a small voice, easily washed out by Dani’s blinding smile when he got close.

“You remember I was telling you about my family?” she asked. She was tearing tiny bites off of a piece of fruit leather; Pratt reached blindly around in one of the drawers and pulled out a bag of beef jerky.

“Yeah, you said they’d be looking for you,” Pratt replied. That was weeks ago, he thought to add, but did not. “Did you find—?”

His eyes fixed on the screen. It was a stranger there, on the screen—which was to be expected—but she didn’t look like Dani. Not at all. They looked to be the same age only, but the woman on the screen had short-cropped, light-colored hair, and she was swathed in dark fabrics high up to her throat.

“That is my sister,” Dani told him excitedly.

“No way,” Pratt said, blinking at the screen. The woman on the screen was obviously not related to Dani by blood. He watched her move, wraithlike, a ghost skimming along the side path up to the F.A.N.G. center—one of the only places Jacob had left some of his Chosen out and about.

Oh, no, he thought suddenly. Oh fuck, this is bad. Oh fuck, Dani’s gonna watch her sister get killed, holy shit—

“We have to stop her,” he blurted out, starting to fumble around for one of the radio’s batteries—he was sure he could charge it up enough, he was sure, he was sure, slamming the walkie talkie on to the charger he’d conveniently left off because he didn’t want Jacob calling for him—when he saw the flicker of one of the Chosen coming out around one of the building’s corners, suspicious. “Um—that guy, he’s—”

“Shh, shshsh,” Dani said, waving her hand at him and watching the screen. “Do not be so noisy. I am watching.”

“Dani, you don’t understand,” Pratt tried again, more urgently, “that man is going to—”

The brunette made a sharp little noise, a quick tst, and planted a bit of fruit leather in her mouth, knee tucked up against her chest. It was like she was watching a movie. It was like—

Oh, God, Pratt thought, swallowing thickly as the figure of Dani’s “sister” came scooting around the corner behind the Chosen. She was going to get killed. She was going to get fucking murdered, right there on screen, in front of this nice young woman who’d been nothing but kind to him, and he was going to have to explain to her what it was he’d watched Jacob do and—

Something sleek and metal glinted on the video feed. Dani’s sister was not sneaking, anymore, but grabbed the chosen’s shoulder with one hand and drove the point of her blade straight into the junction of his shoulder and neck.

It was hard to make out expressions on the screen, details and nuances, but there was one thing clear from the woman’s body language: she was not troubled, fighting for her life, and she had done this before.

“Dani,” Pratt whispered, feeling his stomach lurch when the knife was pulled out of the Chosen’s neck, arterial spray coloring the ground in black and white on the computer screen. “Dani, what is—”

“You are going to miss it,” Dani told him, shooting him an annoyed look.

“Miss what?” he croaked. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see whatever it was Dani was afraid of him missing. The only thing he wanted was—

But she reached up, snagging his hand and squeezing it absently. She had been doing that sort of thing a lot—touching. She’d bring his hand to her pulse so that they could breathe in tandem, touch their foreheads like she was checking him for a fever, take his hand while she walked through the halls and looked around. Another thing Jacob would be furious about, if he found out.

When he found out.

Dani’s hand offered him little comfort now, though. She leaned in to the screen a little and murmured, something in a thick, rolling language that Pratt couldn’t quite make out, and said, “Oh, how many people do you think are there?”

“I don’t know,” he said, fixing his eyes back on the screen. “I don’t know, a lot, Dani, there’s probably a lot—”

There were a lot. There were a lot of them, crawling around the F.A.N.G. center, and he watched Dani; watched her watching the screen as her sister—“sister”—dispatched each one of them with distinct, violent ease. Like it was a dance. One, two, three, waltzing as she picked up whatever she could find and used it to incur blunt force trauma.

Blood, everywhere. Viscera when she shot both kneecaps of one out. Spray when she pushed yet another’s face into a broken plank of wood, falling off of the side of the building. The picture was in black and white, but even still, Pratt could see it: red, everywhere. Red in the snow. Red on her hands. Red on their faces, on their clothes, on her knife on the gun because she twisted it out of one of their hands and pushed it into his mouth and fired, insides painting the wall of the building behind him.

So. Much. Blood.

“What—” Pratt swallowed, his mouth dry as sandpaper. Suddenly, feeling like the world was a conveyor belt under his feet didn’t sit so well anymore. “What is—?”

“This is the important part,” Dani told him. “You have to watch her. Återfödelse.”

“What does—”

“Shh.”

He watched. He watched, and he wished that he hadn’t, because the woman on the screen shrugged out of her coat, pulled some black latex gloves out of her pocket, and snapped them on.

And then, she gutted them.

Like fish.

Stripped their shirts and jackets off. Cut them from the hollows of their throats down to the tops of their jeans—which she had enough generosity to leave on them—and then scooped their insides out like a butcher at home in her own work shop. Scooped them, dumped them, sat them up against the wall of the building. The woman moved with the unhurried but thorough, single-minded pace of a woman determined to finish her plate and lick it clean.

He was going to be sick. He was going to be fucking sick. He pushed the forgotten bag of beef jerky onto the countertop beside the computer. Dani must have thought he was offering it to her, because though she was fully engrossed in her sister’s work, she said sweetly, “Oh, no thank you. I am vegetarian.”

Pratt pulled away from the computer screen and the chair where Sheridan sat, admiring the bloody gore being laid out before her. The world pushed and pulled in his vision in time with his rapidly increasing heartbeat; he stumbled into the next room, reaching blindly out of muscle memory alone before his fingers found the edge of the trash can and he could bend over and throw up whatever was in his stomach.

He was wrong. This was worse than Bliss—Bliss was one kind of trip, and you knew immediately what it was going to be from the start. But this? This was a fucking nightmare. Each time he closed his eyes he kept seeing them, Jacob’s Chosen, entrails scattered in the snow and jaws lax and ribcages split open.

Fuck, he thought, breathing over the trash can as another wave of nausea hit him. Fuck fuck fuck, fuck fuck—

“Oh, Staci,” came Dani’s sugared voice, teeming with pure, unadulterated sympathy, rippling bright pink and blinding in his vision. How long had he been knelt over the trash can like this? “Are you feeling unwell? It can be a lot, you know. The first time you see it.”

“There—” Pratt lifted his head weakly, looking at the girl who’d happened to wander in here, just after he’d seen those glossy gray vans patrolling the area. Separated from my family, she’d said. “It happens more?”

His words came out in a wail, pitching almost into hysterical. Dani clicked her tongue, smoothing the hair back from his forehead in a gesture that was supposed to comfort him.

“Of course it does,” she told him, crouching beside him, bringing his hand up to her cheek. “Återfödelse. Rebirth. It will happen to us all. If we are lucky, Helmi will be the one who does it for us.”

The last thing he wanted was for that woman—Helmi—to do anything for him. He struggled to keep his eyes open, the exhaustion of his adrenaline and the crash of his high digging straight into his skeleton.

I have to get the fuck out of here, he thought. I have to get out of here and tell—tell the others—tell Jerome and Hudson and Elliot and—

“It is okay,” Dani murmured, planting her hand on the back of his neck and giving it a little squeeze. “She knows I am here. That was good thinking, to get the radio all charged up.”

It took every ounce of his strength not to moan in misery at that. The brunette smiled at him, radiantly and with pearly teeth, and he was suddenly filled with dread at the idea that there may be someone out there worse than the Seeds.

“You should lay down, get some rest,” she suggested gently. Coming to a stand, Dani glanced back at the monitors, and then back at him, lips still quirked in that pleasant little smile.

“You will want to be at full speed when she gets here.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Things in the car were uncomfortable. That is to say, Elliot was still nursing whatever wound his honesty had given her, and regarding him warily out of the corner of her eye every time he attempted to strike up conversation with her.

I’m not going to apologize, John thought resolutely, between the stop at the pharmacy and the house. I meant it. I’m not going to apologize for something I meant. And mean. I know I’m the only one meant for—

“What is going on?” he asked, slowing to a crawl when he came to the turn up the Honeysett’s driveway. It was packed with cars—lining the parking area in a little cluster. The redhead beside him let out a frustrated, agonized little moan, burying her face into her hands.

“It’s Tuesday,” Elliot replied tartly.

“Okay, and?”

“Tuesday’s the day mama has all of her debutante friends over.” She shifted in the passenger seat, gesturing with her hand. “Well, you gonna park or what?”

John’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Great. An audience, a crowd, for the impenetrable, unshakeable tension sitting just there, right between them. But even now, it was a relief; all of those weeks spent without her had reminded him that even when things hadn’t been the most ideal, when they’d been fighting constantly, at least it had been something. As long as she wasn’t acting like he didn’t exist.

“Can’t wait,” is what he said, pulling the Jeep down the long drive and parking it where no one would need to have him move it later. Through the glass, he could see gauzy shapes milling about, drenched in amber light; Southern women, hair curled and faces powdered and the flowy fabrics of their loose-fitted (and yet, somehow still miraculously tailored) clothes, martini glasses in hand.

Elliot said, “Stepford housewife does seem on-brand for you.”

He shot her a dry look. “I prefer my women with a bit more bite to them.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

So, it was going to go great, then.

As he made his way up the steps, Elliot paused, turning and looking at him before they could reach the door. He looked at her expectantly; eyebrows lifted.

“I don’t have to tell you to behave,” she began.

“No, you don’t.”

“But I will anyway.” Elliot’s hand rested on the doorknob. “These women are nicer than mama. They’ll want to know all about you, ask you tons of questions—I need you to give them vanilla answers. The most vanilla. You’ve gotta be as unthreatening as a wafer, John.”

Still recovering from the pleasant swoon of hearing the words I need you come out of Elliot’s mouth, John said, “Scout’s honor, Ell.”

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. Loose wisps of ginger hair tumbled out of the half-pony she’d slung her hair in, and her eyes darted—unsure, wetting her lips, like there was something that she wanted to say to him but she didn’t quite trust herself to.

“I’m—” She stopped.

“They’re going to wonder why we’re standing out here.”

“I’m trusting you,” Elliot bit out. The words were almost as sweet as I need you, he thought. “Trusting you not to...take advantage of the fact that I may or may not have omitted important information about what was going on back home. I would really like it, John, if we could get through this evening without my life coming apart.”

The urge to reach up and brush the hair from her face, cup her cheek—it burned in his fingertips, itching. But he kept his hand at his side and said, mood instantly elated by the idea that Elliot needed something from him, “No nuclear bombs dropping tonight, my love.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. We get in and we get out, no casualties.”

“Just like old times,” John agreed. “Sans the ‘no casualties’ bit, of course.”

Elliot’s mouth twisted. He thought she might have been trying to stop herself from smiling, but the expression was wiped so quickly from her face that he didn’t have any time to dwell on it too long before she opened the front door and he was hit with a blast of heat and floral perfume.

Oh, yeah, he thought, stepping inside after Elliot to the sound of bright, vibrant chatter cascading over soft music playing in the background, that’s debutantes.

“Is that Elliot?” exclaimed one woman, perhaps a few years older than Scarlet, coming to a stand and setting her glass to the side as she hurried over to wrap Elliot in a hug. “My goodness, look at you. You dyed your hair, didn’t you? I love it, it’s beautiful, sugar.”

“You’re home late,” Scarlet remarked as Elliot shrugged out of her jacket, perched on the couch. Boomer had come racing down the stairs at the sound of someone’s arrival, little feet tapping excitedly against the carpet as he begged for Elliot’s attention.

“We had to make a stop, mama. And—thank you,” Ell replied, clearing her throat, returning the embrace for a second before she pulled away. The interaction was an interesting one to watch—and gave him, perhaps, more insight into the dynamic between Scarlet and Elliot than his wife would have wanted. After all, it wasn’t Scarlet getting up to embrace her pregnant daughter after not knowing where she was all day.

Elliot turned and gestured to John with a smile that looked more like a grimace. Her hands had gone to Boomer, though, rubbing his ears—more for her benefit than his, it seemed. “Delia, this is—um, John. John, this is Delia, she’s—kinda like my aunt.”

The woman, Delia, turned bright eyes on him. “Well, um John, isn’t it nice to finally meet you!” she exclaimed, hugging him tight and filling his senses with perfume and chiffon.

“Pleasure,” John replied, beaming, “is all mine, I assure you, kinda Aunt Delia.”

She’d been right, of course. All of the women in the room regarded the two of them with nothing short of warmth, glowing curiosity—certainly, they gossiped, but nothing quite as scathing as Scarlet Honeysett’s own impression of him and even, to an extent, Elliot. For the most part, the matriarch’s disdain of him was carefully bottled, though she made no move to greet him or show him off like a mother-in-law ought to.

“John is Elliot’s husband,” Scarlet said lightly from the couch, where the other women made various noises of feigned excitement and disappointment alike. He could about hear Elliot wanting to crumple in on herself.

Delia left one hand on John’s shoulder, the other affectionately twisting one of Elliot’s coppery curls and letting it fall to the side. “Dyed hair, married—honey, is there somethin’ you haven’t been up to? And what about a weddin’?”

John had never seen Ell turn into such a shrinking violet before. She blinked owlishly at the women—even the one she claimed close enough to be her Aunt—and shifted on her feet.

“We didn’t really think about it,” Ell managed out shyly, cheeks flaring pink. “And no, I haven’t, but—well, except—”

Painful. It was painful, how much she was suffering through this. “It was an unconventional thing,” he supplied easily, flashing a charming smile. “We thought about maybe having a nice reception, but we’re just not in a rush right now. Can’t do anything nice in the middle of winter, after all.”

Instant relief flooded Elliot’s face. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“Finally,” Delia hummed, “a man who has some taste. You know, Scarlet, my boy’s been trying to find indoor places to have his weddin’. I asked him, what, does he think folks want to be sweatin’ like a sinner in church the second they step foot in there? It’s no less than—come here, John, honey, you can sit with me—no less than two hundred guests, and...”

John let Delia manhandle him into a chair nearby the fireplace. It had been quite a blow to his ego to have Scarlet regarding him with so much disgust, like he wasn’t even worth her time of day; even now, when his mother-in-law came to a stand, beckoning Elliot into the kitchen with a single elegant hand into the kitchen, she barely spared him a glance. Like he was nothing.

That’s where she gets it from, he thought dryly. Honeysett women.

“John, you ever been to one of Scarlet’s Christmas parties, honey?” Delia asked him, jarring him out of his thoughts. He planted a polite smile on his face.

“Unfortunately, I’ve not had the opportunity,” he replied lightly. This was easy—older women, dying to know more about him? Easy as pie. “Christmas is next week, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” Delia replied, patting his hand. “You’ll have to come. I mean, of course you’ll come—Elliot will be there. Where are you staying? Scarlet didn’t put you up in a motel, did she? I’ll tell you what, I hear the most awful stories about that place. In fact, just the other day, Justine Adler was telling me...”

The woman launched into another bustle of gossip, busying herself with pouring a drink which was then promptly planted in John’s hand. Somewhere close to halfway into that, Scarlet and Elliot returned, the older woman resuming her spot at the center of the couch and Elliot sitting herself on the ground beside him, back to the fireplace.

He leaned over, as the women burst into glittering laughter, and said, “Wanted to sit by me instead of your mother, huh?”

“She told me to pretend like we like each other,” Elliot muttered back. “What are you drinking?”

John flashed her a grin. “Delia made it for me.”

“Elli,” Delia said sweetly from the chair, “do you want somethin’ to drink, too?”

Elliot flushed. “No thank you, ma’am. I’m alright.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

The conversation resumed, and John let a few beats go by before he leaned to the side again; this time, he pitched his voice lower, and he saw Elliot tuck the hair behind her ear. “I like when your accent comes out,” he told her, turning his head to look at her, and she did the same at the same time, putting them almost nose to nose. “It’s cute.”

“You’re on thin ice, buddy,” she replied, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t forgotten what you said.”

“I’m counting on that elephant’s memory of yours, Elli.”

“John, are you fixing to get glassed or what?”

He couldn’t stop the grin from hitting his face again. She had to behave here—she couldn’t kick up a bit fuss about it. But even when she asked him if he was trying to get his face bashed in, a little bit of wry amusement bled into her voice, like muscle memory demanded the jab be more playful than threatening.

“I’ll drink to your health,” John added amenably, “and merciful nature.”

She squinted at him, the corner of her mouth twisting into something close to a smile.

“Sure, John,” she replied. “You’ll need all the help you can get on that front, anyway.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time the last lady had left and the glasses and plates were cleaned up, night had fallen deep and dark over the Graves (Honeysett) home. Elliot thought she’d never been more tired her entire life than she had been sitting through that little gathering, listening to the women ply John with questions about what he did and what he was doing, and how did they meet, and wasn’t he just so happy to be down here in Weyfield? Wasn’t he so pleased to have Scarlet as a mother-in-law?

To his credit, John upheld his promise to behave. He took only one alcoholic drink from Delia and spent the rest of the time sipping it, engaging more freely with the other women than she’d seen him do with her own mother or even Sylvia—likely because they had no reason to dislike him. On a surface level, John Seed was a very charismatic man. Charming. Thoughtful. Perceptive. He laughed and he made the ladies laugh, and even her mother seemed a little pleased; not without her carefully placed jabs, but for a second in time, Elliot felt less like she was going crazy and more like a normal girl. A real girl.

It made her think about the night she’d first met him, almost two years ago now, and the way he’d looked at her and said, a lot can happen in a week, beautiful. She’d been a fucking fool back then, and in a lot of ways, Elliot thought she still was a fool—but at least she was on the defense. At least she felt comfortable with the idea that her baby might never know John, in any capacity.

She was ready to cut and run, if needed.

And why haven’t you? Something inside of her asked, as she moved up the steps and stopped at her bedroom door. Why haven’t you cut and run already?

“Elliot?” John turned to look at her, pausing when she did. His eyes were inquisitive. No, not inquisitive—prying. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in my bed?”

Lonely, another part of her replied. We haven’t cut and run because we’re lonely.

“I’m sure,” she said after a second. “Nice try, though.”

“You’re still mad,” he said, his voice rumbling teasingly. His eyes darted over her, lingering on her mouth before fixing on her eyes. “Didn’t I do good? Just what you asked?”

“You—did,” Elliot allowed after a moment. It was true. “But of course I’m still mad, you fucking idiot. You told me no one was ever going to love me, and that you meant it.”

John sighed. There was a brief moment where he neither said nor did anything, but after a second he reached up and swept the hair from her shoulder. The gesture made her skin prickle; anticipation curled at the base of her spine and began its stretch, luxurious and leisurely, up to her neck. Tight, tingling anticipation, when his fingers brushed the side of her neck.

Push him away, she thought.

“I do mean it,” he said, “because, I don’t think—”

Push his hand off of you.

“—anyone else is going to love you—”

He was closer now, much closer than before, like she’d blinked and suddenly he was there, in her space. Elliot felt her lashes flutter; the smell of his cologne washed over her, drowning out all of the alarm bells in her head, speaking to a creature inside of her that craved comfort.

“—the way that I can love you.”

John’s forehead brushed hers. So close, too close—but she thought about waking up this morning and the way he’d put his hand just there, in the same place, the way he’d murmured concernedly, you said you’ve been sleeping fine.

“Ell.” His voice was pitched soft, low, something safe and warm and just between them, his fingers threading into the hair at the base of her skull, and now their noses brushed, and John had crowded her up gently against the doorframe, just the way that he knew she liked. “I want to kiss you.”

Elliot’s throat felt tight. I want to kiss you too, that wretched, sad little thing inside of her said, but instead she thought of something else—she thought about John, holding her under the water, and John, saying enough of that sad little whimpering, deputy, you’re pulling on my heartstrings, and John, spitting mad, telling her he was never ever going to take her back even though no one was going to love her because of the things she’d done.

“Can’t,” she managed out, her voice hoarse. “You can’t.”

John exhaled through his nose, his eyes shutting like he was trying to stop himself—from saying something, doing something that he wanted to do very much but would regret later. It took a second, but once she gathered herself, she reached up and gripped his wrist with her hand, applying just a little pressure—and that was all it took for him to drop his hand from her neck.

“Okay,” he said after a moment. It sounded more like a way to console himself rather than an answer to her. He passed a hand through his hair.

“We can’t.”

“Okay, alright. No kissing.” He lifted his hands in a show of innocence. “You’re the boss.” The brunette’s eyes glided over her face for a moment, almost ruefully, before he stepped back and started heading down the hall. “Goodnight, Elliot.”

She stayed put, up against the doorframe to her bedroom, fingers curled into fists. Everything in her felt like it was burning—rioting, that she had denied herself something that might give her some temporary relief, some temporary pleasure.

But it wasn’t just about her, anymore.

“John,” she said, waiting until he turned to look at her. “Why are you even here?”

He stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she continued, hating the little tremble in her voice, “did you come here because you wanted to be with the baby and I, or did you come here because you were mad we left?”

Elliot watched the muscle of his jaw tense and tighten, flexing as he tried to come up with an answer. And he was, having to come up with one, because he was doing that thing where he wanted to say something that was true to him and would make her happy.

And she didn’t want that. She just wanted him to be honest.

“Alright, good talk.”

“Elliot, listen,” he started, and she stepped into her bedroom, shaking her head.

“Goodnight, John.”

She closed the door behind her, pleased to not hear any follow-up knocks on her door or John’s voice coming through the wood. It was five minutes of waiting before she finally dragged herself into her pajamas, put a sleeping pill in her mouth, and crawled into bed with Boomer curled into her knees.

That’s okay, Elliot thought tiredly, shifting and closing her eyes. That’s alright. It can be just you and I, baby.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Staci?”

Roused from his sleep, Pratt lifted his head. When had he fallen asleep? How long had he been sleeping? He struggled to a sitting position, clearing his throat and blinked his eyes rapidly to try and get them to focus. It was Dani’s face that came into view, then, her hair slung up in a ponytail and her nose scrunching up in an amused little smile.

“Good morning. You must have been exhausted, you slept for so long,” she teased him, and for a second he felt relief flood over him. It had been a dream. It had all been an awful dream. Now, more than ever, he was sure that he needed to get to the Resistance—take Dani with him and get out of this fucking nightmare of a building. Yeah. Then he’d feel better.

“Yeah, I must have been,” he said a little sheepishly, his voice rough from sleep. “Hey, d’you think we could—”

“Is he finally awake?”

The voice that came from the other room filtered straight into his brain, crisp and sharp and distinctly un-accented. The sound of footsteps echoed across the tile before an unfamiliar woman filled up the doorway, leaning one shoulder against it and regarding him with dark, scrutinizing eyes.

No. Not unfamiliar. Very familiar, painfully familiar, disgustingly, awfully—

“Yes, Helmi,” Dani replied warmly, “he is awake. It was his first time seeing Återfödelse.”

The woman, dark and swathed in fabric up to her throat, swept her eyes over him. “Dani told me you puked.”

“I-I-” Pratt tried to function through the panic in his brain, rioting bells going off nonstop. Helmi had washed herself of any blood, that did nothing to erase the image of her driving a man’s face into a splintered plank until he was skewered on it, or the way she had methodically emptied out Jacob’s own chosen and propped them up.

To get found. To send a message.

“You?” Helmi prompted, her voice flinty. “You what, boy?”

“He is still coming down,” Dani said, pouting her lips. She no longer struck him as affectionate on an equal level, but instead gave him the distinct feeling of a girl fawning over a cute animal. An animal she thought was also stupid.

“Why do you think he’s been holed up in the big one’s base of operations? He’s their lap dog,” the blonde bit out. She took a few steps over, leaning down—she was tall, but dextrous, her mouth curving in a smile that was distinctly threatening. She reached up, and when Pratt felt his body flinch, she grabbed his chin. “Aren’t you, doggy?”

“I-I’m not!” he said quickly, jerking his face out of her grip. “I’m not, I swear, I don’t even like the Seeds, I swear I don’t, Jacob was keeping me here and then he got everyone in the bunker and—”

“Wait,” Helmi said, eyes narrowing. “You know where the bunker is?”

“Yes!” Pratt said quickly. His eyes darted between Helmi and Dani, nervous. “I do, I know where it is, but—but no one can get in without Jacob now. Everyone in there is locked down until h-he gets back.”

“I told you,” Dani said to Helmi eagerly. “I told you he was helpful, Helmi.”

Helmi sucked her teeth, giving him one last scathing once-over before she planted a pleasant smile on her face.

“Come on, doggy,” she said, grabbing Staci’s shirt collar and hauling him to his feet. “You and I are going to make a little trip. And—”

She paused, thoughtful, even as Pratt scrabbled to push her hands off of him. They made his skin crawl—long and elegant, but he had seen what they could do. What they had done. Helmi shoved the walkie into his hands, as well as a heavy coat.

“Why don’t you tell me everything you know about our friends the Seeds on the way there?”

#fic: witching hour #john seed x female deputy #my writing #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #ch: helmi #ch: sheridan stark #ch: staci pratt #i have sated my desire for blood and now we can get back to getting these two idiots to fucking kiss already #far cry 5 fic #far cry 5 oc #john seed/female deputy #fc5 oc

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