#all i remember is his shitty pickup line and how fucking warm he was and how incredible it felt to kiss him

[sanaxking]

When Night Comes - Prologue

arrangement by @kaexloey • credit to all OPs, do not repost.

Genre: Vampire!AU

Rated: M, 18+

Word count: ~1.7k

TW: mild sexual themes, language, violence/gore, blood, mentions of alcohol & intoxication

As Sana opens the door to the dive bar, she is immediately hit with the smell of cheap alcohol and cigarettes. Taking a look around the bar, everything perfectly matches the smell. There are plenty of gross looking men (and women, for that matter) all over and in various states of intoxication.

“Ugh, I hate these fucking bars. Why did he have to be at a shitty place like this,” Sana mutters to herself as she takes her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans.

Unlocking the phone, she opens her photos app to a specific picture of a tall, fair skinned man with blonde hair and green eyes. He's smiling directly into the picture without a hint of anything he does in his free time. Looking up from the phone with her temper already boiling, she begins to scan the room in search of the man in the photo.

It doesn't take too long as her eyes settle on the handsome man deep into conversation with the unsuspecting bartender. "Got you, motherfucker," Sana says to herself with a villainous smile as she makes her way over towards the bar.

As she walks towards the bar, a pair of eyes watches her closely from the other side of the room. The unseen person slowly takes a sip of her drink as she watches Sana approach the bar next to the blonde-haired man.

"So that's when I said, 'I'll have whatever he's having!’" Sana rolls her eyes as she hears the punchline of what was no doubt a terrible joke from the man she was searching for, feeling bad for the bartender that has to act like she likes this in order to boost her tips.

"I'll have a Jack & Coke on the rocks," Sana says to the bartender, giving her a look to know she'll be taking this idiot off her hands for the rest of the night. The bartender looks incredibly grateful for the gesture, mouthing "thank you" before turning to make the drink.

Within seconds of settling onto the barstool, Sana can feel the man already burning the side of her face with his intense gaze. "Just push through, Sana. You need this," she quickly says in her head as a way to work up the courage to continue on.

“I haven’t seen you in here before, blondie. You must be new in town. I would have for sure remembered a face like that,” he says to Sana, raising his voice to get above the chatter of the crowd inside the bar. Her skin crawls slightly at his cheesy pickup line as she gathers herself to respond.

“Somewhat. I’ve been here a few months, but just thought I would try somewhere new. Can’t find many men as hot as you at my usual spots,” she responds, hoping that she didn’t lay it on too thick with the comment. Thankfully, this guy is as dense as he seems, not noticing at all that she’s obviously just leading him on.

“Well, you’re not wrong there. How about we get another round on me?”

Sana really would rather not spend more time talking with him than she absolutely has to, but in order for this to work, she knows she needs him to drink a bit more. She begrudgingly obliges as the drinks flow for three more rounds. By this point, the man is pretty drunk. Not drunk enough to blackout, but certainly too drunk to drive. Which is all Sana needs.

“Alright, alright,” Sana says into the man’s ear after he tries to push the date to a fourth round. “As much as I would love another drink, how about we call it a night and get out of here? I know a perfect place.”

“Shit, you don’t have to tell me twice. Let’s go,” he responds, while fishing his car keys out of his jeans.

“Not a chance in hell. No way are you driving us anywhere like this,” Sana says as she snatches the keys from his hands.

“Hey, you had just as much as I di-,” he begins to say in protest as you put a finger up to his lips to silence him. “I’ll be just fine, trust me,” Sane replies, hoping that he buys it without further explanation.

Once again, the guy is too dense to notice much of anything as he simply shrugs and grabs her hand as the pair head out of the bar into the misty night air.

Getting him to the car wasn’t much of a struggle, as he was perfectly content to lean as close as possible into Sana’s body to steady his stumbling feet. As she slammed his door shut and made her way around to the driver’s side, Sana took a quick look around, making sure no one saw her getting into the man’s car. Not a single soul was spotted on the empty street, giving her enough peace of mind to see this through.

As she got into the car and started the engine, a pair of eyes once again was keenly watching her every move. A few seconds after Sana pulls the Audi out into traffic and down the street, a black BMW slowly falls into place half a dozen car lengths behind.

After a painfully long 30-minute drive filled with plenty of handsy advances from her passenger, Sana pulls the car up to the seaside cliff she had previously scoped out. She puts the car in park and shuts off the engine before turning in her seat to face her passenger.

“How did you find out about this place? Seems kind of random. Hey, were your eyes always that red?” he asks her as he undoes his own seatbelt with an inquisitive look on his face.

“Don’t worry about it. All you should care about is making this a night neither of us will wanna forget,” Sana responds, internally cringing at the ridiculousness of her words. She always hates this part of these encounters. As she utters her response, the man seems to catch a glimpse of something flashing in her red eyes before his expression seems to go slack.

Sana then crawls over the center console and into the backseat, making sure to jut out her ass to give him an enticing view. When he seems to hesitate for a few moments, she quickly takes off her shirt and tosses it into his face in the front seat.

This seems to be all the encouragement he needs as he quickly snaps out of his trancelike state and climbs into the backseat with far too much eagerness for her taste. Swallowing her own hesitation, she then crushes her lips into his, allowing herself to get lost in the moment. He may be an asshole, but she was going to let herself enjoy this, even if briefly.

Sana feels his hands slide up her waist towards her semi-exposed breasts, completely bringing her out of the moment as she remembers who he is and what he did. She then feels something take over her senses as she pulls back from the kiss to get a better look at his neck. Her vision begins to pulse and it’s as if she can see his blood pumping through his veins.

A slow, sinister smile begins to spread across her moonlit face.

“How about we take this a bit furth-,” he begins before his sentence is cut off by a searing pain in his neck.

As he was beginning to mutter his advance, Sana was seeing red and finally exposes her fangs. She slowly ran her tongue along them, taking one last whiff of the intoxicating smell before swiftly latching onto his neck.

The man’s guttural scream is cut short as her fangs sink deeper and deeper into his neck, Sana attempting to suck out as much blood as she can in her first few swallows. It takes less than a minute before he loses consciousness, his body going into shock. By the time 20 minutes has passed, any traces of life have completely left his body. She continues to drain his body until she’s finally had her fill.

Feeling satisfied, Sana sits up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. As she leans into the front seat to grab her shirt, she looks down and catches a glimpse of her bra, noticing the blood that’s smeared all over it.

“Fuck. I just bought this last night!” she curses out loud, annoyed at the carelessness of wearing brand new clothes out tonight. Before she has too much time to berate herself, a pair of headlights illuminate the interior of the car. She quickly grabs her things and hops back out into the cool air.

Just as she slams the door shut, she hears the tires of the black BMW screech to a halt along the dirt road.

"It's about fucking time, Sana! The sun is up in a couple hours and the crew still needs time to clean up your mess. You always cut this shit so close."

"Calm down, Momo. We have plenty of time to get back before dawn. You worry too much."

"Maybe if you actually followed the rules for once in your life, I wouldn’t have to worry so much," Momo responds with an annoyed look on her face.

Sana rolls her eyes at the insinuation. “Whatever. I follow the stupid rules just fine. Let's just get the fuck out of here, okay?"

As Sana gets into the passenger seat, Momo doesn’t even wait for Sana to get her seatbelt on before she throws the car into gear and speeds off down the road.

It was at about this point that Sana used to feel guilt for taking the life of a stranger. Looking into the mirror in front of her, she sees that her eyes have gone back to their normal, warm brown tint.

“Eh, he was a piece of shit anyways,” she thinks to herself with a sly smile as the car lurches forward towards their estate.

[hillbillied]

I'm about to be a basic bitch and ask for andyeddie for the domestic ship meme please and thank you?! 💜

fuck yeah you can, i want all of these!! and if this means we’re basic then call me bottom-line PH neutral, my dude - this is an andyeddie brain rot zone, you know this and i thank you so much for it!!

DOMESTIC SHIP MEME - AndyEddie

who reaches out to new neighbors

Andy. mr personality over here got it all. smooth voice, soft accent, award-winning smile. some neighbours take a while to even realise the tall, scary-looking guy in the blue pickup lives in the same house.

who remembers to buy healthy food

Andy, sort of. he buys a range but he does love his fresh fruit and veg. Eddie, on the other hand, shops simultaneously like he’s only got $5 and is on death row. not necessarily unhealthy just… bread. pasta. bacon. ready meal shit. bags of snacks. buy in bulk, Andy, it’s cheaper.

who fixes the oven when it breaks

Eddie, more practical knowledge from the machines. Andy would rather just call someone but has accepted just watching. (Eddie wears a dirty vest when he’s fixing it. got it tucked into his jeans with that big ol’ belt he wears and his tattooed arms are out so Andy just sips his drinks like cool, cool, please hurry up or this is going to turn into a bad porno.)

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s)

Andy waters the plants because he loves his plants. he has a flowerbed when they get a garden but even in an apartment he had flowerpots on the windowsills; he loves gardening. (pet wise, when they get a dog, they both feed it. they share cleaning, though Eddie is more maintenance and Andy more cleaning.)

who wakes up earlier

Eddie. six in the morning, without fail. marine clock, baby, that shit will never die. (not without heavy drinking or an all-nighter anyway.)

who makes the bed

Eddie. because Andy’s shit at it. military-corners Eddie’s fucking ass; Andy’s terrible at keeping things tidy. he’s clean but he’s not neat.

who burns breakfast

Andy. Eddie is a great cook, he does deliciously simple comfort foods and he makes dinner every night. full-on stereotypical house-husband in that regard, because Andy’s the breadwinner of the two in the boring hetero sense. Andy can cook, as in he can follow instructions and not set the kitchen on fire, but he’s the only one who’ll burn anything.

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house

Andy always kisses Eddie on the forehead. he’ll probably smooch him properly first – or worse, because he’s a a bastard, and will grab his ass before leaving – but he always marks that he’s actually leaving by kissing his forehead. he will go find Eddie specifically to give him his goodbye kiss.

Eddie shouts. hollers he’s going out in the shortest, blunted transfer of information. a grunted “Goin’ work” kind of deal. unless it’s spontaneous, he’ll also give Andy a kiss. it’s always on the lips and its chaste but heavy, pressing hard like he’s trying to remember the sensation. then he’ll get out of bed or grab his keys or go shower or whatever, and leave with a shout to mark him actually opening the door.

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home

Andy’s talkative. he’s “You have a good day?” or “You’ll never guess who turned up this afternoon!”. first one is default if nothing interesting’s happened. he wants to start a conversation, even if he talks and Eddie grunts. he doesn’t get up to greet; he knows Eddie will come find him and either sit down in his lap or come up behind him and wrap two strong arms around his waist. whatever suits, no rules

Eddie wanders out to meet Andy. he’ll come downstairs or walk into the entrance hallway. he’ll always have his arms folded, because he wants Andy to tell him what happened while he was out. (he doesn’t consider himself very interesting, yet he always wants to hear about the most basic shit Andy does.) normally he’ll add a “How was it?” or “Evenin’”. then he’ll wait because Andy usually answers him but not before he’s given him a greeting kiss.

who brings home little gifts like flowers/chocolates more often

both. Andy on the chocolates, Eddie on the flowers.

Andy knows the flavours Eddie enjoys and likes popping them into his mouth while Eddie berates him about wasting money. Andy buys things he thinks Eddie likes, but he also buys things Eddie needs and will not buy himself. lighters, jeans, shoes, wallets, picture frames, glasses cases. things that are worn down to the bone and need replacing. but also things like books and records.

Eddie’s a traditionalist, even if his reasoning might be a little tainted by heterosexual bullshit and toxic masculinity. he thinks flowers are beautiful, he knows Andy loves them, even memorised what kind he loves most, but there’s a-whole-nother level of gears in his mind about buying them. eventually he does because he desperately wants the ‘romance he can never have’. it’s a semi-special occasion the first time, like he’s picking Andy up from the station. he brings his bouquet and he looks way more uncomfortable holding it than Andy ever could be receiving it. (Andy, of course, is overwhelmed with joy. he puts them in the front window so everybody can see and he prunes them daily and he changes the water so they last longer and he plays with Eddie’s hair while looking at them and talks about how much he loves them. Eddie starts buying him flowers a fair bit after that.)

their favorite kind of movie to watch

I’ve been doing these for canon-era (1950s) so for that it’s any western movie and specifically The King and I. (they’re a couple of gays who love a good musical.) they don’t enjoy all the war movies, particularly since most of them are about Europe and are just completely surreal.

modern AU: shitty horror movies – they’ve seen every Final Destination and can rate them in order of ‘watchability’ – and 1990s classics like Jurassic Park and Jumanji, they’re simple guys.)

who first suggests a pillow fort

Andy. he secretly wants to give Eddie the childhood he’s certain, by piecing together a lot of clipped information, the man never had. so, he’ll make sure he’s already halfway down with it in the living room when Eddie comes home because then they might as well finish it and sleep there, right?

who builds the pillow fort

Andy starts it, Eddie watches and considers whether he’s going to participate. then Andy smiles at him and asks if he can help tie up a blanket to make one of the walls and yeah, Eddie’s building it too.

who tries to distract the other during the movie

Andrew Fucking Haldane. stupid fucking horny man does not have the attention span for movies. he’s impossible. luckily, he’s polite and will just entertain himself, running his hands up Eddie’s sides and kissing his neck even if Eddie himself wants to know whether Dorothy makes it to the Emerald City or not.

who falls asleep first

Eddie. in the marines, you have a time when you sleep and it is limited. he lays down, shuts his eyes, switches off his problems, and sleeps. dead to the world, he’ll be up at six. Andy doesn’t have trouble falling asleep usually but he can be known to lie awake and think too hard. Eddie’s occasionally found him downstairs reading the newspaper or pacing or sipping tea at the early hours when he’s really stressed. (and hiding it as best he can.)

who is big spoon/little spoon

both. Eddie will happily wrap himself around Andy protectively and just listen to the man talk. he’ll squeeze him tight and breathe deeply so Andy can feel it and simply let him know he’s there, he’ll keep them safe. when Andy’s the big spoon, he’ll kiss the back of Eddie’s neck and whisper in his ear and thread their fingers together. he tells Eddie that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be and how warm he feels and wonder what they’ll get up to tomorrow.  they also both like to come up behind each other for a standing-spoon, if you will.

coffee, junkfood, movie night pick ones here

[julessworldd]

Manager Duff x McGhee!reader

Little manger Older!Duff Mckagan X Fem!Reader

I love older Duff but there's not many stories about him.. I've been reading a few older guns fics lately. Summary: Reader is Doc McGhee's niece, following in her Uncle's footsteps. Happens to manage Guns N Roses, opening act, Blue Kennedy's.  A certain bass player’s attention gets caught by Doc's niece. Warnings: Mention of drugs, alcohol, start of smut, horrible flirting and Duff sorta being a prev. Should be it, sorry if I missed any

Today was the first day of tour for The Blue Kennedy's, the second band I've managed. Managing bands can be fun but also stressful, I've not had a band be like Motley Crue. My uncle said I would want to retire and take a vacation forever. So far, I'm not on a beach, naked and drinking my worries away. I was very excited for this tour because it was Guns N Roses reunion tour. Growing in music, I got to hear all the classic bands from the 80's even 70's. Guns N' Roses were my all time favorite after The Runaways, thank god for Uncle Doc. I was at the venue waiting for my band to show up for soundcheck. 

I walked towards the stage hoping they would be on stage talking and waiting for me. "No, Angela I said not bring this jacket. It's new and I don't want to be in dry cleaning already!" Axl rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Are you my other assistant, I'm suppose to have a new one here today?" He asked me. I pointed at my chest, "I'm your opening act's manger, not your assistant and thank god I'm not" I sassed. Holy shit, I sassed Axl Rose. "I'm sorry huh?" He trailed off. "Y/n McGhee, I know who you are" I smiled reassuring him he was okay. "McGhee? Do you happen to have a dad or uncle named Doc?" Axl said walking to me. "Uncle and yes that's him" I smirked. "Cool, I remember him from touring with Motley in 87ish" Axl smiled. "Have you seen my band? They're suppose to be at soundcheck and I've not heard them or seen them" I asked.  "What band? Ax said something about two bands this tour" I turned to see Duff McKagan behind me.  "Huh, Blue Kennedy's, punk band from Seattle and Pasadena" I blushed.  "Oh, if it's the one with the chick singer, they look scared and confused." Duff smiled. "Yeah, that's Sasha. Uh thanks" I trailed off and decided to walk away before my soul left my body.

"Y/n, you made it! We thought you bailed on us", Rocky, the bassit ran up to me. "No, rock just ran into a couple Guns members.We got to talking. Now you guys come here." I smiled. The band stood in front of me, "Now this is your first real tour, first show that the world sees The Blue Kennedy's, You are gonna be amazing and people will love you much as I do. Okay so kick some ass, you gotta have an audience now" I said glancing up and seeing Axl, Slash, Duff sitting in the stands. They all looked at the older men and flipped. "Hey, it's okay ignore them" I smiled and the band grabbed their stuff and Rocky asked what was gonna be played.  Sasha suggested a cover to get warmed up, I sat on a cart down from the stage, a proud mother hen moment. This band had potential and amazing chemistry and I knew they were gonna be a success one day.  Sasha danced and jumped around, striking the style of Joan Jett back in the day. 

"Okay guys, forget what Thomas told you about going out there. This is for you guys not the label so fuck that. Go put on a killer show like you would at the Whiskey or another club on the strip" I smiled before they went on stage.  'My babies' I smiled as I watched Rocky standing at Allie's drumset rocking away.  "I never caught your name, Sweetheart?" A deep familiar voice said behind me. "Prolly cause. Oh hi, Duff'' I blushed having my childhood and still celebrity crush. "Come what's your name?" Duff smiled. "Y/n McGhee'' I gulped. "Pretty name, you okay?" Duff asked. "I'm fine, aren't you married?" I asked but instantly regretted it. "Not anymore, we got divorced after my oldest daughter's graduation." Duff said, meeting my eyes with his.  "Duff, we have twenty until we're on and are you gonna wear that gross t-shirt?" Slash said walking to us.  "Nice talking to you, Y/n, but I gotta change'' Duff rubbed my shoulder as he passed the guitarist. "Your band is pretty good, by the way" Slash grabbed one of his Les Pauls, pretty sure one was for the Use your Illusion tour. "Thanks" I grinned as my band came running backstage. "Y/n, it was amazing, '' Rocky said, picking me up. "Okay okay, put me down" I laughed. The band wanted to go to a bar but I told them to go rest. Needed to know what was going on after the show, if it was a hotel or road. Guns finished their set and Axl wanted to go to a bar and invited the band. 

Sitting at the bar as the band sat in a booth, drinking, reminiscing about the show, I was in my dark thoughts.  Mostly over thinking and missing my shitty ex, making the tequila bottle sit in front of me. "Tequila, huh? You good?" Duff asked sitting down at the stool next to me. "I like tequila and just over thinking is all. I'm okay" I said taking�� a shot. "Didn't even cringe, rare I see a girl who can take liquor that good without a chaser or cringing" Duff smirked.  "Nice pickup line" I rolled my eyes. "What is an ex alcoholic doing in a bar anyways?" I asked. "Tour life" Duff said playing with a napkin. "Axl drag you? Cause my band did, I didn't even get to process what Sasha said when Alex threw me over his shoulder" I smirked. He looked really sexy right now.  "Alex, what's he play?" Duff asked leaning towards me. "Lead Guitar, pain my ass mostly" I laughed. Duff smiled looking at me.  "Hey do you need a cab?" The bartender asked. "She's with me and I'm sober. She'll be okay" Duff spoke for me. Two bands decided enough was enough and headed to the bus. Duff and I trailed behind, "Seattle band?" Duff asked. "Singer and bassist are from there and the others are from Pasadena. Sasha dropped out of college and moved to LA, Rocky, his Dad's job had him move here" I rubbed my arms as a breeze came around.  "Here" Duff said laying his jean jacket over my shoulders as we hit the parking lot with the buses. The 17 year old in me was jumping around almost dying right now, "I'm good, Duff" I slided it off and handed it back to him as we got to mine and the band's bus. "Hard to get huh" Duff smiled. "Just the Doc McGhee way, night Duff" I smirked and got on the bus.  "Day one and Duff McKagan is trying to fuck you. This is gonna be a good ass tour" Sasha smirked. "Sash, he is not gonna fuck me" I laughed walking to get ready for bed. The next week we were in Denver and had a day off.  The hotel was nice had a indoor/outdoor pool, game room, a gym. I decided to hit the gym for a few, the tour was busy and left me with no time to workout.  "Hey Y/n, where are you going?" Alex asked me. "Gym, Al," I said as I passed him for the elevator. Gym was huge and no one in sight was perfect. 

"I can spot you if you want?" Duff asked

"I'm good thanks, only lift when I'm doing squats and already done those" I smirked while taking a drink of water.  "What else are you doing?" Duff asked. "Probably treadmill" I walked towards the treadmill getting my phone ready for music.  Duff huffed and went and grabbed some dumbbells. After a while, Duff threw his shirt off. I almost tripped on the mill looking at him. Fifty six never looked so good.  I decided that my muscles had enough toture and deserved a hot shower before the show. 

"Damn, girl will be the death of me" Duff said as I walked out of the gym

Now we're in Dallas or Huston, can't really remember my hangover and coming down from coke. Lately the tour has been one big blur, couldn't tell you what day it was.  "Y/n, you in here?" I heard Duff asked through the door. "Yeah give me a sec" I yelled. I opened the door for Duff. "Hey" "Hi" I smirked. My phone rang making me jump.. "Y/n, its Rocky, he's hurt" 

"What happened? Where are you guys?" "ER, downtown" 

"Shit, Duff I gotta go. Rocky got hurt and is in the ER. I'm sorry" I noticed the flowers and food. "Its okay, maybe next time. Do you need a ride?" Duff brushed it off. "Uh no, I can have Allen take me. Thanks. I'll make it up to you" I smiled rubbing his arm. Rocky busted his hand and couldn't play for a month. Tour is still 5 months, I need to find a bassit quickly. I knocked on Duff's door, Duff smiled down. "Hey, how's Rocky?" "Busted his hand and can’t play for a month. I need a damn bassit before tonight's show, guess the band could do cover songs until we get someone-" I trailed off. "Y/n, it's okay. You have someone" Duff said. "Duff, no you have your own show. A two hour set, your hand will be dead" I said looking up at him.  "Just offering for tonight, love" "I know and I appreciate it. I can call management and see if there's any local bands or send someone. Ashton, I can call him." I pulled out my phone.  

I climbed on top of Duff as he pulled me down for a kiss, his hands ran down my sides. Shouldn't be doing this, it's wrong. I've always broken rules anyway, and this is amazing.  Suddenly Duff pulled away and pushed me to the side. "All of the tour, you've been drooling over me and now you push me away like I'm some groupie and your wife is here. What the fuck is your problem?" I sighed. "You're a fetus is what" Duff yelled. "I'm 27 and gonna be 28 in August.  You're not the only old rockstar who has been with a younger girl. Duff, it's okay" I looked up at him. "I'm old enough to be your father, Y/n'' Duff sighed pushing me on the bed. "I don't know my dad, he bailed before my mom gave birth.  Doc is my father figure" I said. He's been chasing me like he's 24 again so I was just giving in.  

Duff sat at the table and looked out the window. He was quiet.  "Duff, I like you, I have since I was 17 and found appetite in my brother's room. Sure, I was a toddler when you were married the second time. It will be looked down upon, but screw that Duff. I want to spend my days off with you in bed, be in the studio with you, so what if people judge us. I can respect you and leave you alone forever and move on. Much as I would hate it but you have a bigger spotlight, kids, image to protect. But chose me, try it out for a bit more. I'm not a bitch like Rocky and Alex put me out to be." I said standing in front of him.  He just looked at me, "Sorry I said anything. I'll go now" I said turning around but landed in Duff's lap.  "Okay, I chose you, Y/n '' Duff said, laying his hands on my waist. "Good choice, a crazy one but a good one" I smiled kissing him.  “Not the first time, I’ve done something crazy” Duff rubbed his hand on my thigh. 

The band done great even without Rocky, not seeing a bass player hop around was odd. Rocky managed to get on my nerves, a pair of big hands wrapped around my waist pulling me towards them. I looked to see Duff, “Hi” I said where he could hear me. Rocky was smirking at us, “Uh Rocky” I looked at him as Duff almost had me pressed agaisnt his chest. “What?”, Rocky asked like a child. “Go away, now” I said rolling my eyes. Rocky gave in and huffed away, “Sorry about him” I giggled as Duff pulled into his chest.  “They really love you huh?” Duff chuckled. “Yeah I guess”  “You don’t love them?” Duff asked. “I do, but its like hurding drunk kittens, who have seperation anxitey” I smirked making Duff laugh.  “Duff” Axl yelled making us pull apart and Duff sat me on the equipment box.  “Hey handsome” I said making Duff turn around. “Good luck” I kissed his cheek as he grabbed one of his basses.  Sasha walked up to me as Guns n Roses walked towards the stage, “Hi” “Hi, Sash. What’s up?” I smiled watching Duff and his long legs walk away. “Honey, your motor is leaking on my boots” Sasha smirked. “Get bent” I rolled my eyes as Meegan walked by with her camera.  “Have you fucked yet?” Sasha asked. 

__________

“Watch the lamp, Duff” I laughed as he threw me on the bed and impact made the bed side lamp move a little.

“I can pay for it, I did in 88″ Duff pulled me to the edge of bed as he threw his tank top on the floor. He looked up at me for an ‘Okay”, “Go on then” I smiled at him before he spreaded my legs open far as they would go. “Mhm come on, Duff do something” I whined as he looked down there. He looked at me and went back to my exposed heat, “Damn, you’re fucking beauitful” I blushed at him. 

There was a knock at the door, Duff got up and answered it

“Who was it?” I asked sitting up

“Noise complaint” Duff smirked. “Opps” I looked at him doe- eyed. “Not the first time, baby” Duff smirked and flopped next to me.

__________

I smirked biting my lip

“Said you two would end up fucking. I’m happy for you, I was getting worried about you. After Scott, you’ve not-” “Okay thank you for being happy” I cut her off. “Sorry, Y/n” Sasha said looking sad, “Hey, what’s wrong?” Duff asked. “Oh nothing” I smiled. Duff stared at me trying to find an emotion visble, “Just making sure, I don’t have to kick some young buck’s ass for making you upset” Duff said making Sasha and I laugh.  “Young bucks? Sasha write that one down” I smiled. Duff had to run back on stage with Slash.  “You love him don’t you know?” Meegan came back for water.  “Is that fuzzy feeling in my chest”, I asked. Meegan smiled and nodded, “Yeah and usually don’t go away. Slash has had a headache since Duff won’t shut up about you” Meegan laughed. “Tell Slash im sorry” I leaned on Sasha’s shoulder. 

I looked out to see Duff and Slash back to back playing ‘My Michelle’ 

I really do love that ‘Old Buck’ damn he got me good.

[writingforyourpleasure]

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Characters: GERARD WAY x Reader 

 Link to chapter four :   https://writingforyourpleasure.tumblr.com/post/616411340391759872/on-the-road-again

Warnings : None 

 Author’s note: Hello ! Hope you’re all doing okay during those strange times ? Sorry for not posting but I had my en-of-the-year exam, but it’s now done and , I only got a few homework to hand-over now and my second year in college’ll be done !Here you go thank you to keep reading .

5.      “ Pun-master “

  You woke up, feeling something or someone moving in front of you . You started to groan at the uncomfortable feeling not wanting to get up just yet.

“And what owe me the pleasure to be assisted by your presence tonight sir Way?” You said while looking for plates.

The mass finally moved away , listening to your complains .

You woke up what felt just five minutes later but probably was in reality hours after it. Your eyes fluttered slowly as if they were disconnected from your brain. A light shine from the outside was peeking through your tinted window as soon as you truly started to wake up , you realized that Gerard wasn’t here anymore.

“Right…” You breathed out to yourself. Honestly you didn’t want to wake up. You were scared , scared of overthinking this , and because of that you actually was overthinking it . Your brain wasn’t playing on your favor . You didn’t knew how you were gonna survive today. The worst was, you didn’t knew how to act with Gerard , what happened yesterday night wasn’t that big of a deal, really , but again ; you were overthinking it . You just wanted to act normal with him , and was prying your brain to not let you down once you’ll see him. You felt so stupid for having a crush on one of your coworker and friends. You got up and hoped for the best.

You got out of your nest , only to find that you were alone in the bus and that you already had arrived into the next parking’s venue . You went directly to the kitchenette and groaned realized that you guys were short on coffee. You finally resigned yourself and went for the shower.

You got out of the bus a dozen of minutes later to find the parking lot empty except for the security that was already keeping everything on check. You checked your phone to see that it was 3pm . You had enough time, to get yourself a coffee somewhere and not stressing about when to comeback since you didn’t had to repeat with Dex or anything. You put back in your , old black Green Day’s hoodie, pocket your phone . You’ve dressed yourself as unfashionable as it is socially allowed , your laziness was clearly reflecting itself through most of your actions today. You put your headphones on , listening to the last Fever 333’s album and searched on google maps for the nearest Starbucks, once again a reflect of your laziness you figured.

You arrived to the welcoming smell of dirty beans being ground and hot milk.

Once you got your order you looked around for a seat since the place was pretty full, luckily you got one in front of the glass and on both sides what appeared to be two couples . Great. You hope that you’ll be lucky and won’t have to witness the same amount of smooshing in both of them. The teenage one , on your right , were the ones all over each other, with the boy groping at every part accessible of his what-you-presumed-to-be his girlfriend. The one on your left were two men in suits holding each other hands while talking , you sat facing the widow and the other empty seat. You got out of your backpack your sketch book and a pencil starting to draw people passing by while music took you in other world. A tap on your shoulder took you of guard , you got off your headphones .

“Yes ?” you turned around your head to see who was trying to get your attention.

“Hey, is this seat taken ?” Dex was smiling down at you with a big smile.

You said nothing instead kicking the seat in front of you, back to the glass for them to seat.

“I feel like it’s been a while since we talked .” Dex said sitting and looking expectantly at you.

“What are you talking ‘bout we talked just yesterday.” You said not looking up from your sketch book.

“Don’t play dumb y/n , you know what I mean. Like just the two of us ?” Dex sighed , seeing that you decided to not play cooperative . This time you did look up to your friend with a blank expression . Watching their eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It’s true , lately you tried to somewhat distance yourself since you were trying to figure out what the hell was happening with Gerard and you knew that being close to Dex would not help one second . Your friend knew how to read you even when you tried to hide something as well as you could. You had thinked that if Dex was about to ask questions it would make it weird since you were all working together . If you fucked up at any moments , you’ll have nowhere to hide and sometimes it can be a great deal of pain . But apparently you didn’t succeed not to make it awkward since your friend was not so happy that you act a little colder than usual . You were already fucking cold to any strangers , so to be cold to them was shitty. You sighed and run a hand through your now greasy hair . You needed to take a shower quickly , maybe it could wait after the show .

“Hey earth to y/n, hellooo?”

“Huh yeah sorry I was gone for a few…”

“Yeah no shit .”

“Sorry… like for all of it it’s true I’ve been kinda avoiding you guys.”

“Meh it happens , I mean it’s okay we all got our own problems.”

Dex tried to stay warm inside of the Starbucks but you could sense that being against a cold ass window wasn’t helped them to get the warmth that provided the Starbucks.

“I’m so cold….” They whispered as they took a gulp from their drink.

“Well….then stand in a corner .” You replied taking a large gulp of your hot drink too.

“What-Why ?”

“Think..”

“No….. please tell me it’s not because of what I think dude.”

“Coz’ corners are 90 degrees.” You said with a smug smile.

“Ho god …. Ok you know what maybe it’s for the best to be socially distant haha. It is so bad please do not do that again?”

“You’re asking way to much to the pun master .”

“More like the master of fucking nothing y’mean .”

“What did you said peasant , I think I didn’t quite hear that ?”

“Ho nothing .” said your friend smiling like a fool.

“Y/N I’m still fucking cold !” Said your friend trying to warm themselves up by rubbing strongly their arms.

“And how is that my problem , my dear?”

“Someday I really am going to kill you , y’know?” Told Dex between their teeth, with a little grunt along the way.  

“Y/N , Can I borrow your scarf? I’m seriously freezing. ”

“Well I can’t turn into a heater for you now can I? So do you want me to set you on fire? Because, I mean it’s still an option? Like I have my lighter right here so….?” You joked while giving them your scarf.

They gave you a warning glance as if they believed you . Then on a very exasperate note they sighed and said :

“Why are you like this?”              

You both laughed at that getting some curious looks from other clients. Once both of calmed down you try to get serious talking about the elephant in the room .

“Hey , can I ask your advice on something?”

“Absolutely , but I only advise communication, homosexuality, or murder.” Answered your friend earning a smug know-it-all smile out of you.

You were about to start to get off of your chest the whole “Hey I think I may or may not like the lead singer of the band for which we’re working for.” They cut you off.

“WAIT!”

“Yeah ?”

“Are you absolutely positive this isn’t dangerous or something?” They looked very serious about this , which had the reflex to make you roll your eyes deep inside your skull.

“I’m 95% sure, but yeah, I’ve failed fourth grade math so…” You decided to answer her stupid question with a stupid answer.

“Ho okay then we’re good I failed second grade! So just before we start , how long will this take ? I got to pick up my dog at the salon. «You both laughed at that. «No but like seriously we’ll have to go back to the bus eventually . Maybe tell me along the way back?”

“Alright , alright” You both got up from your seats and finally got out of the Starbucks.

“So huh, you remember when we got the 1 week break , alright?”

“Right. “

“Well huh, me and Gerard started talking by text pretty often during this time.”

“Ho. Did you now ?” They said waving their eyebrows in a suggestive way.

“No not like that calm down, you demon fuck .”

“Always a pleasure to fill my responsibilities.”

“You weirdo….” You whispered under your breath.

“Ho do not act if you aren’t even weirder man ! “

“Anyway, I just , I don’t know . I think, I think I may like him y’know?”

“Well it’s pretty comprehensible , I mean he’s hot .”

“I’m not talking about this you twat!”

“Ho c’mon you can’t say he isn’t !”

“Haha ,He is , I ‘ve sight too I’d let you know. It’s just not the point here .”

“You do? Sorry it’s hard to tell when you dress yourself like that .

“You bitch!” You choked on your drink , coughing violently.

“I’m just kind of dreading to really assuming the whole ‘hey by the way I’m hitting on you’ I don’t want to make it weird during the tour , when we’re not even at the half of it. And I don’t wish for everyone to see that I am hitting on him. I’m not ready.” You explained to Dex , not really wanting to expose everything you and Gerard said or do , foremost because there’s not that much to say

“Maybe not hitting on him is a good call since if you do I’m pretty sure he’s gonna freak out hearing your lame puns.”

“May I recall to you that I’m the pun-master AND the master of pickup lines ?”

“You completely suck at pickup lines, bro.”

“No I don’t !”

“The last time you tried one of you’re pickup lines was on this poor cute girl in Louisiana when you said ‘Are you Google –“

“CUZ YOU’RE EVERYTHING I’M SEARCHING FOR !!!”

“Yeah no wonder it didn’t worked !”

“I’m a genius , you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

“You wish . So why are you’re feeling attracted to the guy ?”

“Well you see my kink is when people actually care about my feelings and what I have to say. And Since I know him he seems to correspond to this criteria , so I find it pretty attractive and hot since it’s my main kink.”

“Yeah , too unrealistic. Settle for bondage like the rest of us.”

“Where you ever nice Dex ?”

“2012, worst year of my life.” You laughed at what your friend said . “No but more seriously y/n, just let it happen y’know? And when you have the feeling that both of you are having a moment then maybe hit on him but stay subtle y’know?”

“I just want him to take me out…”

“Like, on a date or with a sniper ?”

“He’ll have to surprise me .” You both laughed before changing the subject to the little surprise you’ve both had planned for Max, since he was spending all of his nights and days working on your band , you wanted to do something nice for him. You bought a cookbook a few weeks ago for him as a present for the occasion, he often baked pastries as a distressful way to exhale from work time. Even though the bus condition made it hard to cook anything big it already was a good start. And you bought some bottle of Irish hard cider, since he had said it was the best thing he ever tasted when you all took a vacation to Dex family house there. After getting back to the bus everything went pretty fast , but the talk with Dex about Gerard was still playing in your mind. Ames saw that you were lost in your thoughts most of the time and ask you several times if everything was okay, you tried to act like you didn’t knew what he was talking about and you all moved on with your day . Mikey, Frank , Gerard and Ray were already in your bus when you had come back from your coffee session, and they yelled at you for not texting them and taking them with you. You brushed it off saying that next time you would. Gerard had tried to share looks with you during the day but you were too much caught up into your head to notice.

The show this night was nice and almost too short even if you guys took a ten minutes on My chemical romance planning since you played a special song. Once you were backstage Ames and Billy started their routines taking everything off stage to let place for the boys. To go faster Max offered to help them. It gave you and Dex a chance to run to the bus to prepare your little plan. You took any cushions , pillow and anything fluffy you could find , when you were done the bunks were quite a mess but you didn’t want to think of it since you still had to prepare the hard cider and the cake you brought from the Mark & Spencer’s not having too much time to find anything else. By the time everything was served , you knew that My chem was done with their show too , so you decided to prepare them a part too , you made a point to serve a apple juice instead of the cider for Gerard , not wanting him to feel excluded or anything. Max had been held backstage by Billy and Ames who were your dearest allies as ever.

You installed yourself with every plates and drinks giggling between the two of you alone in the bus to stupid jokes.

A knock made itself hear through the bus and Billy appeared into the kitchenette area before being followed by Ames and Max , who where looking at you with huge smiles spread across their face and a snort from the three of them.

“What the fuck did you do with our beds ?” Asked Max between a laugh.

“Well we did a pillow fort !” Answered Dex.

“Isn’t that a little childish ? “

“Does it means you don’t want to join us ?” You asked Max.

A silence swept through the bus.

“…Move over .” Said Max entering your huge pillow fort and already going for the cake and drink.

“Wait there’s a party and you guys didn’t told us about?! “Said Frank entering your bus.

You handed a plate in his direction , earning a smile from him before he arrived by your side as well as everyone else too.

Frank was on your right while Gerard was on your right and all of you were in a cercle eating and joking about stupid stuff.

“Hey you look better than this morning it’s good to see.” Whispered at your side Gerard offering a sweet smile before readjusting a few locks behind his ear.

“Well It’s because in the end we migrate towards comfort , and I realized that I am most comfortable around you , all of you.” You said returning a bright smile to the man.The night went along before Frank spoke up .

“Guys how are you gonna clean this mess to sleep tonight ?” Painful groans made themselves heard from all of you.

[demonsonthemoon]

Keep Shelter (Behind Glass About to Crack)

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Sam Winchester/Charlie Bradbury Word Count: 7474 Rating: M Summary: ~ “Don't leave.” ~ After their encounter with the Musca, Sam and Charlie stop at a motel for a night. They share a room, a bed, and some of their deepest fears. Notes: Title is from "Monster Town" by Go! Child, a song I am quite frankly obsessed with. Notes on the pairing: Remember when Apocalypseverse!Charlie asks of OG!Charlie and Dean had a thing and then says "good for her" about OG!Charlie being a lesbian? That line gave me brainrot. It led to me starting to ship Sam/Charlie, but only ever in two specific ways, which are AV!Charlie being bisexual and/or Sam being transfem. This fic is mostly the former, with very discreet hints of the latter peppered in for taste.

Read it on AO3.

“Don't leave.”

The amount of emotion Sam puts behind those two words surprises even him. It's only after they leave his lips that he realizes how much meaning there is behind them. Don't go away. Don't leave me alone. Don't die don't die don't die-

He keeps speaking, out of instinct, out of self-preservation, doesn't know what he's saying, exactly, until he's halfway through his tirade trying to convince Charlie that to keep hunting is worth it. Trying to convinced himself, still, after so many years. (Years after Jess, years after Amelia, years after the Trials, after going to his knees in front of Dean and Death and so many other times when he had accepted his own end only to be thrown back into a hunter's life again.) He watches Charlie's face, desperate for an answer that might justify his own choices or free him from them.

“I'll think about staying,” Charlie replies and her smile isn't all real but it's not all fake either and there is something blooming in Sam's chest that threatens to make him choke on petals.

They drive in silence for a while.

Sam can't stop looking back at Charlie, and he knows she's noticed. He turns away, tries to focus on the scenery, but it's too dark to see much and his gaze settles on his companion once again.

“Do I still have fly goo on my face or something?”

Sam shakes his head, embarrassed. “No. No. You're fine.”

Charlie sighs. “I know you miss her. It's okay, you know.”

Sam runs a hand across his face. “I do miss her. But you don't have to indulge me, you know? I was kind of shitty, before, saying that stuff about her and Dean... It's not your baggage to bear. It's not fair.”

“Yeah well. Not much that's fair in this world or mine.”

More silence, broken up by Charlie this time.

“Weren't you close?”

Sam frowned. “What?”

“You and the other me. You talked about her-and-Dean, but not about her-and-you. Weren't you close?”

“I don't know,” Sam shrugged. “I mean, we were but... not as much.”

He'd always liked Charlie. He'd gotten on well with her. But Dean was the one that she had immediately clicked with, and Dean had been... She'd been good for him. He'd been freer around her than he was with almost anyone, and Sam hadn't wanted to intrude on that. He hadn't wanted to force anything, had thought that he would have more time, that he could build something with Charlie in a gradual manner.

That plan had been cut short after her death. (After he'd dragged her into his mess, because it was his fault that she-)

“It's a shame,” Charlie says, when it appears that Sam won't be providing any additional information.

Sam stares at her.

“What? I like you.”

“I like you too,” Sam replies, inanely. Still, Charlie seems pleased to hear it.

And it's true. He does like her. This Charlie, not just the memory of the old one. Her edges are more jagged, sometimes a little cruel, and she doesn't smile as carefreely as her other self, but she still shares a lot of the things that drew Sam to the other Charlie in the first place. She's smart and nerdy and more comfortable in her body than Sam thinks he ever will be, although the way she has of showing it is far more lethal than the other Charlie's. She's pretty, too. And there's another thing that hasn't changed between one Charlie and the next: Sam can't help but find himself attracted to her, and he still feels uncomfortable and ashamed about it.

He's fine with Charlie being a lesbian. Obviously. He doesn't think her being a lesbian has anything to do with him being attracted to her, because that would just be... no. So maybe the shame is irrational, but it's still there, just like his attraction. Unwieldy, an imposition.

Sam doesn't say anything else.

It starts raining. Not lightly either, but the kind of rain that would drown out the radio if they had put it on, the kind that makes Charlie's pickup truck shake slightly. The visibility becomes non-existent, and Sam can see Charlie clench her steering wheel.

“We should stop at a motel for the night. You can drop me off in Lebanon tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Charlie asks, but she's already scouring the side of the road for signs of a place to stay.

“Yeah. I'm pretty tired anyway.”

“From all the sitting around that we did?” Charlie asks with a smirk.

Sam shrugs. He's not about to say that he's worried about the fall that Charlie took when they found the Musca, fairly certain she'll shrug off his concern even more aggressively than Dean usually does.

They pull into the first motel they find, the rain still pouring down over them. It seems like a decent enough place. Sam is halfway out of the truck before he realizes that Charlie isn't moving. He sits back down.

“You okay?”

Charlie is worrying her lower lip slightly, but she smiles as she turns towards him. “Yeah. I'm fine. Got a question for you though.”

“Yeah?” He's already half-soaked from the two seconds he spent outside the vehicle, but waits for Charlie to speak anyway.

“Do you wanna share a room?”

Sam doesn't exactly know what he'd expected, but certainly not that. He searches Charlie's face, trying to decypher the exact meaning behind those words. She might just be suggesting that they share a room to save on money, or so that they'd both feel safer, or-

But she meets Sam's gaze and raises an eyebrow.

“I-” Sam starts, then stops.

“I mean, no offense taken if you're not in the mood. I did rant at you about losing the love of my life two hours ago, I know that can be a downer for some people. But I like you so... offer's there.”

Sam's brain goes to static for a second.

“I thought you were a lesbian.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he wants to lay is face on the dashboard and never look up.

Charlie chuckles. “I think your Charlie was a lot stricter in her preferences than I am.”

The admonishment stings because, yes, once more Sam had just assumed. Assumed he knows the person next to him because he'd known someone who looked like her.

“Sorry.”

Charlie shrugs. “Proud bi girl with a preference for women. Trust me, you're not the first one to make the mistake.” The set of her shoulders harden, and then she's moving, pocketing the car keys and opening her door. “Come on, let's get our rooms already.”

“Charlie, wait!” They're both standing in the rain, immediately drenched. Sam feels silly and awkward and like this really isn't the right time to do this, but he had wasted time once, with the other Charlie, and he's not going to do it again. “We can share a room.”

“Yeah?” The grin that takes over her face is so warm that he immediately thinks of the other Charlie. But that isn't fair to either of them.

“We could even share a bed.”

She laughs at that. Sam finds himself grinning in return. Then Charlie offers him her hand with a flourish and he only feels half-ridiculous when he takes it.

They step into the motel room – generic but clean – and Sam drops his bag at the foot of the king-sized bed. He just stands there, clenching and unclenching his hands.

It's been a while since he's felt so nervous about sex. Despite Dean's incessant jokes about him being a virgin, he's usually pretty confident in bed. But being here with Charlie throws him off a little. Especially this Charlie, which he's constantly reminded he doesn't actually know that well.

“Heads up,” Charlie calls. He looks up, and she throws something at him.

A flask. Yeah, he can see why the old Charlie clicked so well with Dean.

He untwists the cap and takes a sip. Charlie is apparently a rhum kind of person. Another thing he didn't know.

“We don't have to do anything, you know. You look nervous.”

Sam takes another sip of alcohol, then goes to sit on the bed, close to Charlie so he can hand her the flask back.

“I guess I am.”

Charlie considers him a second. “Still hung up on the lesbian thing? Or is it because of the old Charlie?”

“The old Charlie?”

“Well, you didn't hesitate that much after my invitation, so I figure you might have thought about it. With her. Despite the lesbian thing.”

Sam blushes. Childishly, he lets himself fall backwards onto the bed, staring at the ceiling instead of at his friend's face.

“Come on, don't be like that. I know it's weird, but weird is our life. I can handle it.”

Sam sighs, closes his eyes. She's not wrong. Weird is their life.

“Sure, I thought about it. I liked Charlie, and you're pretty. She was too.”

Charlie tosses off her shoes and lies down on her side, looking at him.

“Never seriously, though. It wouldn't have happened, with her. I was fine with that. I guess I'm kind of weirded out that it's happening with you.”

“If you want to. It's not because we have this big bed that we have to fuck in it. We could just have a sleepover. Braid each other's hair.”

She means it, too. Sam can see it in her eyes. She'd be just as happy to spend the night chatting and sleeping. Might even be better off that way. Sam doesn't think there was a lot of time for that sort of things in the Apocalypse world.

But he's selfish, and Charlie was the one to offer so...

So he turns on his side as well, scoots over a little, and kisses her.

It's sweet, and soft, and probably not what either of them really wants, but it's what they want to want and that's enough.

They break away. There is the slightest twinkle in Charlie's eyes and Sam feels himself glow with the pride of putting it there.

“Or we can do that,” Charlie says, jokingly.

There's a question there, though. The same question that is always on Sam's lips in moments like these. Can we have this? Do we deserve it?

He closes his eyes. This isn't going to work if all they want from each other is reassurance. They're both too terrified to give it.

Charlie runs a hand through his hair.

“You know, I really don't think I'm a fly monster. The musca, he left his community because he didn't fit in, right?”

Sam makes an assenting noise, though he doesn't move.

“I could fit in in the bunker. With the other hunters.”

With you, Charlie doesn't say, although the words could have easily filled the second of silence at the end of her sentence. This isn't that kind of night, theirs isn't that kind of relationship. Sam knows that.

“I think that's why I wanted to leave. I'm scared that if I stay I'll never be more than what the war made of me.”

Sam nods in assent. He has no word of comfort to offer, too conscious of having taken that exact same path.

He used to dream of other things, after all. Used to dream with enough force that he actually attempted to change his fate, first in Stanford, then in Kermit. But that second time was already only a poor attempt, he'd felt too conscious of the fact he was lying to himself.

He's a hunter now, or a Man of Letter, or maybe something in between, the balance his mom and dad never got to strike finally established.

This is what fighting has made of him, and it is too late now to regret it.

He's also Dean's brother, first and foremost, always, and he's done pretending that that doesn't at least partly rule the shape that his life takes.

That love is tangled in the war, and too often the two are indistinguishable. Once again, Sam is tired of wasting his time regretting it.

“I'm not going to lie and say that this life doesn't change you,” Sam says. “But it's never going to be all you are.”

Charlie runs a hand through his hair again. Sam closes his eyes without meaning to.

“I know how to fight, Sam. You don't need to reassure me. You don't need to pretend you're not scared.”

He buries his face in her shoulder, smelling sweat and monster goo and not caring one bit. This is the smell of a body that has been lived-in. It is the smell of a body that is safe.

Yes, Sam is scared.

He had to be a leader to the refugees from Charlie's world, and he's trying to be some kind of role model to Jack. It doesn't leave a lot of space for vulnerability. It doesn't leave a lot of time to deal with all the people he's lost over the years, all the ones he's found again in not-quite-right ways, the multiple lives he's lived and all the deaths he's been through.

He knows that the universe can throw so much more at him still. It hasn't stopped in 33 years, after all.

Of course he's scared shitless.

Still, right now, they're safe. Right now, they're together. They're alive and the rain is still pounding on the roof of the motel, shielding them from the rest of the world for a little while.

So Sam breathes through the fear and kisses the junction of Charlie's neck.

“Sometimes things you don't need are still nice,” he whispers against her skin.

She shifts, drawing away enough that they can look at each other. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He could blame his light-headedness on the sudden changes of mood they keep going through, but he's pretty sure that it's actually Charlie. She pushes against him until he's on his back, straddling his thighs and grinning.

Sam is still wearing his shoes and socks, and he tries to kick them off without changing position before admitting defeat. Charlie laughs with him as they move to let him undress. He takes off his jeans and shirt too, feeling freer now that the wet fabric isn't clinging to his skin.

She undresses as well, until they're both standing in their underwear, the air hitting their humid skin a little too coldly to be entirely pleasurable.

“Come on, Princess, back on the bed.”

“I thought you were the queenly one,” Sam starts before wincing. “Sorry, wrong Charlie.”

She pushes him back against the bed until they fiund their position from earlier again, Charlie hovering above him. “So I was a queen, uh?”

Not you, Sam thinks, his brain running in frustrated loops as it keeps confusing the woman in front of him with that in his memory.

“Yeah, you were. In Moondoor.”

“Moondoor?”

Right. This Charlie had never run away from Roman Enterprises, so she'd never started playing Moondoor.

“Yeah. It was a LARP-game. Pretty awesome.”

“You larped?” Charlie asks with a chuckle, clearly finding the thought outrageous. Sam doesn't know how they managed to get side-tracked so easily, although he doesn't mind it much.

“I can get my nerd on. When I find the time.”

Her gaze softens at that. Sam guesses that she is very familiar with that struggle. He imagines there weren't a lot of opportunities to play role-playing games when she was fighting for her life in a militia.

Then the spark in Charlie's eyes turn to mirth.

“Well, now you can get this nerd off.”

He stares at her for a second as his brain catches up with the horrible, horrible pun. Then he wraps his arms around Charlie, pulling her on top of him so he can bury his laughter in her hair. Charlie indulges him, giggling a little herself. The vibrations in their chest echo in the other's body and it's nice. It's nice and easy and Sam is breathless with the power of it.

Once he has regained a semblance of composure, Sam puts his hands on either sides of Charlie's head and pulls her in for a kiss. He lets her set the rhythm of it, lets her drive him out of his head, lets her weight press him into the mattress so that it becomes the only place he could think of being.

Sam wishes it could be simpler than this. He wishes he could ask less of the woman on top of him.

But they both carry their trauma right behind their teeth, and Sam was pretty bad at controlling the intensity of his feelings before he even went to hell.

It's good that he's doing this with Charlie. She does her best to lighten the mood, but does not begrudge Sam for the way his hands scrabble at her skin, for how he sometimes grips just a little too tight, afraid that she might slip right between his fingers, scared that she might come too close.

Sam touches her and tries to breathe, and at some point he has his fingers between her legs and her mouth is right next to his ear, and Sam shivers as she says his name.

“Do you really think we have time for teasing?” Charlie asks before nipping at his jaw, biting at his skin like she can somehow get inside of him. Sam doesn't think he would let her. He hopes he wouldn't.

But it still feels nice to pretend, it feels nice to act like the barrier between their bodies is porous, like they are both more than the weight of their own past.

Sam lets Charlie take charge, closing her hand around Sam's fingers and guiding two of them inside her. She's wet, slick enough that he breaches the ring of her muscles without much resistance, feeling her clench around him as she gets used to the intrusion.

Sam looks up at her, staring at her openly since her eyes are closed.

He is a lot more used to being the one taking the lead in bed. For quite a few years now, most women took one look at the size of him and decided that he must enjoy taking charge. And he does, it's never been an issue, not something he felt strongly enough about to even bring it up. But there's something freeing about the way Charlie uses his fingers to get what she wants, how he doesn't have to think about anything, how he can just lie there and know that he's doing enough, because this is what she wants.

Sam moves his thumb so its rubs against Charlie's clit every time she moves her hip, and she groans appreciatively. Her hair falls over Sam like a curtain, still slightly wet from the rain, and Sam feels a sudden urge of jealousy that he hides against her mouth.

“Wanna change this up a little?” Charlie whispers.

There are many things that Sam would do without her needing to ask as sweetly. So he hooks his hands under her arms and flips their position.

Charlie giggles, gripping his shoulders. “You have no idea how much I hoped you would do that.”

Sam grins at her. The admission warms something inside him, the fact that she thought of him, that she imagined this, even if she has had a lot less time to do so than he did.

(Not that Sam let himself imagin much. It hadn't felt right to, with the other Charlie.)

Sam moves down Charlie's body, laying a kiss between her breasts before sitting up a little so he can really focus on putting his fingers back inside of her and taking his time stretching her out. Sam has a lot more control this way, but Charlie still raises her hips to deepen the angle before hooking her legs over his arms, her heels digging into his back just painfully enough to make him gasp a little.

Sam hasn't touched himself since this started, and he can definitely feel it. His arousal is a tightly-wound coil in his gut, and he is all too aware of the fact that his new position makes it much harder for him to rut against anything or get any other type of friction.

He gets another finger inside Charlie, watches her arch her back into his touch as she searches for the best position to accommodate him. She is so open in her reactions, wholly immersed in her simple search for pleasure, and Sam drinks that in like he might lap at an unexpected stream in the middle of a desert.

His body has never been an easy place to live in, even before Lucifer, before he knew he had demon blood flowing through his veins. It didn't mean he never managed to open himself up. He found a way to do it with Jess, even though it was far from perfect, too many secrets between them that she was unaware off. He tried to make it work with Amelia, patching a relationship together from broken pieces, always surprised when they found a way to fit.

But even then, there were secrets. Secrets have always been his way of life. It was what he had been taught, from childhood, when he realized that for years his father and brother had hid from him what they really meant by “business trip.” At the time, thinking about Dean hiding something from him had felt like a knife carefully sliding between his ribs. Now it fels like just a regular part of breathing.

“I'm ready, come on,” Charlie says, pushing at Sam's hand, snapping him away from his drifting thougts one more. Sam slips his fingers out, and freezes for a second as he realizes he needs a condom. He isn't used to doing this anymore, he didn't think ahead, but then he remembers that he usually has one lying around his toiletry bag, just in case, and suddenly he's glad that the reflex to take his overnight duffel wherever he goes is still ingrained so deep within his body.

He's never been able to settle into having a home, not since Jess' death, and most of the time he's not really happy about it, but in some cases it has its perks.

Like when he needs to run for his life or have sex with a beautiful woman.

“Wait a second, I need to get my bag-”

“Oh, shit, right,” Charlie says, scrabbling upright and blushing. “Didn't... think of that. It's been a while.”

“Since you had sex with a guy?” Sam asks as he rummages through his things. He can't help the note of curiosity in his voice, still isn't used to the idea of Charlie sleeping with men. He doesn't know what he can ask or not, isn't familiar with openly talking about sexual orientation at all. His family hadn't really been big on exploring anything outside of heterosexuality, and although Sam considers himself to be open-minded, he knows there are a lot of things he just doesn't understand.

“Yeah. I mean, also since I had sex period, because seeing my world get destroyed and losing my girlfriend was kind of a mood killer for a long time. Also, barrack beds really aren't that comfortable.”

“You don't say,” Sam says with a soft smile. He gets what Charlie means. H's tried to explain the exact same thing to Dean whenever he insisted that Sam needed to loosen up, to take a break, that sleeping with someone would get him out of his head, that it could only be good for him. It isn't that Dean is wrong, it's just that Sam can't really muster up the desire for sex when he's in a hypervigilant state because of whatever is threatening their lives that week. Hunting is part of who Sam is, down to his deepest core. He'd tried to deny that for a long time, tried to run away from it. But he's old enough now to accept it for what it is. Sam can't turn his fear off, even for just one night, because being afraid is what has kept him alive against all odds for so long. It doesn't mean he's letting the fear run his life. He still makes his own decisions, he still finds ways to mitigate the anxiety (by going for runs, mostly). He's still in control. The fact that that control doesn't extend to much beside his own body isn't sad. It's just how his life works.

When he's ready to climb back on the bed, feeling pretty victorious about the condom in his hand, Charlie is sitting up against the headboard, two fingers casually rubbing against her clit. It's a sight that makes Sam's insides ache with want. She holds herself so confidently, the edges of the fighter eased away by the darkness around them, and she makes it seem all so easy. Charlie – whichever one of them – has always looked like she knows herself in the way that Sam envies without clearly knowing why.

“What?” Charlie asks, challenging his gaze. “I wasn't just going to lie there and wait.”

“Wouldn't have even thought of suggesting such a thing,” Sam replies. He sits on the edge of the bed, feeling awkward about turning away from her, but it's just more convenient as he tears open the foil package and rolls the condom onto himself carefully.

When he turns once more, Charlie is looking at him, a small smile on her face, and there is a current coursing between their eyes that makes Sam's hair rise up on his skin, makes his mouth water, makes him hungry in a way he doesn't know whether he likes about himself.

“So, how do you wanna do this, Princess?” Charlie asks. He doesn't know where the nickname comes from, what she means by it. Part of him thinks he should be irritated by it, like he is when Dean call hims Samantha, the insinuation of something negative hiding just behind the joke. But it doesn't feel the same, the way Charlie says it. It's not meant to hurt, not meant as a jab. It's easy, like the rest of this has been. It's affectionate. There's something about the way she doesn't question her use of it that makes him wonder if she knows something he doesn't. If this is one of the things that his family has never taught him to speak about.

“However you want,” Sam says. He's not feeling like calling the shots right now, not with Charlie, not with how simple it seems for her to ask.

She thinks about it for a second, while Sam runs a hand over his cock, the touch electric as he remember that he hasn't been touched yet tonight, that the pleasure coursing through his skin is all just from touching her.

“Get down here,” Charlie replies, gesturing to the mattress, and they both shuffle to switch place, so Sam is the one against the headboard and Charlie can spread her thighs on either side of his hips and hover above him. “Been a while since I did it like this, too,” she says, and Sam puts his hands under her thighs to help support some of her weight, can't help but stare at the way his fingers splay out, under and around her.

Charlie has one hand on the headboard, right next to Sam's head, and one hand between her legs, three fingers fitting inside her easily, making sure she's still stretched out enough.

Sam holds his breath.

She lowers herself onto him, and Sam would say that it feels like a revelation except he's been trying to ban religious vocabulary from his life. He's met God and wasn't much impressed. This feels a lot better than that, profane and real and something he can both hold onto and drown in.

He's careful, so careful, letting her go slow, refraining from bucking up into her. It is delicious and agonizing, even more so when Charlie lets out a little sigh, shifting up then down again, accepting the whole of him inside her with what sounds like relief.

Sam lets out a whine, closing his eyes and flushing in embarrassment. He doesn't know how it got so intense, doesn't think he should let it go on like this, has no idea how he can let Charlie go after this. He doesn't know how he can bear the thought that she might leave forever, even after their conversation in the truck earlier.

Except this is too much, and Sam knows he will ruin the moment if he tries to cage it between his fingers. He knows his strength and how easy it has always been for him to kill everything he's ever loved. So he's not going to let this be anything like love, because it isn't. It's just two desperate people who need each other, in the absence of anyone else willing to look the cracks of their souls head on. It's two bodies finding a way to make the world more bearable, fighting to survive in it. It is two human beings that were just reminded of how easily loneliness can make a monster out of someone, and who are struggling not to let themselves fall into that trap.

It's Charlie raising herself up again, the walls of her vagina clenching and unclenching around Sam, the slow drag of her disarming in the intensity of it.

Charlie sinks back down, one hand now on Sam's shoulder, clenching unconsciously as she moves. He looks up into her eyes, notices her already staring and wonders what she sees, what she's feeling, if this is too much for her too, so much more than he'd bargained for when he had agreed to share her room.

Sam groans, and his hips rock up without him meaning too. Charlie just smirks, rotating her pelvis as she seeks out an angle she likes, and then she's moving up and down with intent, mouth falling slightly open. Sam can't bear the sight of that and so he surges up, takes her lower lip between his own and sucks, swallows a little sound of surprise, the neediness with which Charlie kisses back. He fucks up into her once more, and she presses into him, a sound rumbling in her throat almost like a purr. The hand that was on his shoulder moves to the nape of his neck, settling into his hair and pulling just enough that Sam feels his scalp tingle as he raises his chin.

“You don't have to take care of me,” Charlie whispers into his ear. There's something dark in the way she says it, a reminder that has some danger to it even though it stays away from being a threat.

Sam has many words on the tip of his tongue, wants to tell her that he doesn't have to but still wants to, wants to tell her that it's not because something will not break that you should handle it with no care, wants to show her that he can still be soft despite the calluses on his fingers from handling too many guns, wants to make sure she knows she deserves something sweet despite the scars littering her skin.

But Sam is weak. This is something that he has accepted, just like he has accepted being scared. In the face of all that the world requires of him, Sam will always be weak. It is part of what makes him human and so Sam lets the truth of it sink within his bones along with the Enochian sigils Castiel carved out so many years ago, and he lets himself be anchored by it.

So he listens to Charlie, uses the strength in his arms to push her up and bring her down, snapping his hips in the same rhythm, going deep, going hard. And Charlie keeps her hand in his hair, bites down on his lip, moves right along with him.

Maybe it's better this way. Maybe they both need tenderness too much for it to fit within this one night.

They find a rhythm and an angle that satisfy the both of them, and at that point they're not so much kissing as pouring hungry noises into one another's mouth. It's not in any way dignified, but it's good, it's mind-blowing and right in all the wrong ways.

Sam doesn't last. He's dismayed at the fact but not altogether surprised, and he brings a hand to Charlie's clit as feels his balls draw tight, hoping to bring her as close to the edge as he can while he start coming inside her, hips stuttering out of rhythm.

She laughs against his mouth, breathless and pleased instead of mocking. Sam closes his eyes as he chases the last overwhelming ripple of his orgasm, before he is forced to stop his movements, too sensitive to take any more.

Charlie is still rocking against his fingers, tiny jerks of her hips as she chases her own pleasure. So Sam slips out of her, replaces his cock with the fingers of his other hand. There is a moment when Charlie seems like she is about to fall, her muscles protesting the absence of Sam's hands to take some of her weight. Time seems to slow down as they teeter on that edge right before equilibrium is lost. But Charlie catches herself, takes control of her own body like Sam knows she had learned to do well before the Apocalypse, because her other self had acted the same way before Sam and Dean had intruded into her life.

(Sam his surprised to realize he no longer thinks of the old Charlie as his Charlie. It had never been fair, because she hadn't been his, just like the woman above him isn't, but that hadn't stopped his brain from latching onto the word. He is glad to be letting it go now, to set free the memory of a woman who died too soon, too much alone, and who did not deserve to be held down by the weight of Sam's guilt.)

Still, although Charlie has learned to rely on herself and protect herself from most threats, she shouldn't always have to. So Sam ignores her half-hearted protest when he takes his hands away and pushes her gently to her side. He ties off and discards his condom before lying back down and turning to face her. The way they're looking at each other could easily be too much if they talked about it. So Sam goes back to work, fingers slipping inside Charlie easily as she moves one leg to make more way. The angle probably isn't the best for her, and Sam couldn't keep it up very long without his wrist protesting, but with two fingers inside her, two against her clit, and Sam's mouth peppering kisses over the juncture of her neck, Charlie is shaking apart in a matter of minutes.

Sam looks at her face as she comes, watches her features tighten then go slack as her muscles give in to the wave of sensations. He waits until her pelvis twitches away from him before he gently pulls his hands away, his fingers slick from her arousal and the smell of sex hanging heavily in the air. Sam is tempted to just wipe his fingers on the bedsheet, but he knows they still have to sleep here. He grimaces and stands up, going into the tiny en-suite bathroom so he can rinse his hands at the sink, and gets a washcloth while he's at it.

“I do feel like a queen now,” Charlie says, lazily content as Sam carefully wipes away any trace of their activities from her inner thighs.

“I'm happy to be a service,” Sam replies. It's meant to be a quip, but comes out a little too honest, and something softens even more in Charlie's gaze.

Sam wonders what she thinks of him. He's used to feeling protective of her, the rookie hunter, the one he tried to protect from how brutal the world could really be. The other Charlie hadn't really warranted that attitude either, at least not after what happened to her in Oz. This one deserves it even less.

He wonders if she thinks of him as the one to be protected. After all, Sam has done and seen many things, but he has always had a world to fight for. Charlie hadn't been fighting for much more than survival, back where she came from.

She threads her hands in his hair again and, yeah, Sam can admit that this is part of the reason he keeps it long, he's not above that. She pulls carefully enough that Sam doesn't feel any real pain but is still forced to move up her body, letting the washcloth fall to the floor so he can put one hand on her cheek as he kisses her.

He's a bit surprised that she wants him to, because this once again feels like more than they had bargained for. This is just supposed to be one night of sex, just a pleasurable moment shared between their bodies. It's not supposed to mean anything.

“Stop thinking,” Charlie admonishes with a chuckle. “This is nice. Let yourself enjoy it.”

“I just...”

“We're friends, Sam. It's okay to cuddle a bit after sex.”

She uses a tone like she's talking to a four-year old, and Sam can't help but laugh at that, at this woman so much younger than him and yet who has so much to teach.

“Right.”

Sam moves away, but only so he can settle on his side and bring her close against his chest. Charlie does a little wiggle to make sure there isn't any space separating them and Sam sighs out all of the tension left in him.

They stay quiet for a long time, each lost in their thoughts.

In another life, they might have fallen asleep like this, but neither of them can find slumber that easily.

“I'm not like the fly monster,” Charlie says, cutting through the moment. It's strange how talking makes Sam a lot more aware of their respective nakedness.

He hums agreement, deep in his throat. They've already had this conversation.

“If I leave. I keep thinking about the musca and how it left its people behind. How the legends say it only happens to the bad eggs or whatever.” She moves away from his arms, and Sam lets her. Luckily, she only turns to face him, staring at him from eye level for once. “That's not what's happening here. I'm not leaving people behind because I'm bad.”

“Of course not. Charlie, if what I said made you think-”

“No, it's not you,” she shakes her head. “I know you didn't mean it like that. I mean... I mean that I've been fighting for a long time, now. I thought I had lost everything I could lose, and I kept going. And then I lost my entire damn universe, if you can believe that.” She chuckles darkly.

Sam doesn't feel like laughing. He would like for her to still be in his arms so he could just hold her tighter instead of having to find the words to comfort her.

“And I came here, and we all just kept fighting. Because it felt like all we had, like all we could do, I guess. This isn't our world. I think a part of us will always believe that we don't belong. So maybe hunting is how we find a place, is the way we earn our right to stubbornly cling to our survival.” She grimaces. “Fuck. I guess the fly monster metaphor does kind of work, in the end. Because maybe it didn't want to leave, maybe it didn't do anything to be cast out, maybe that thing just felt, in its bones or its exoskeleten or whatever, it felt that it didn't belong. So it left, and then it did everything it needed to to try and carve itself a place in a world that never felt like his.”

“Charlie...”

He tries to reach for her face, but she catches his fingers in hers, stopping him. He's bracing to be pushed away, but Charlie just lays their hands between their bodies, keeping them entwined.

“I'm not done. What I mean is, if I'm the musca, it's not for leaving. It's for getting here in the first place. It's for clinging to the fight, to the rules of that other world. I think I want to learn how to belong, Sam. I think I want to learn what it feels like to own my own life, to feel like I have something to protect.”

She looks at him, and there is something searching in her gaze, a question on the tip of her tongue.

But Sam knows Charlie, or a version of her anyway, and he knows that she isn't asking him to come with her. They don't have that kind of relationship. So he waits her out.

“You know you could still do it, right?”

And yeah, that line has been run through so many times that Sam should have expected. It certainly shouldn't have come like a slap to the face.

Sam closes his eyes and turns away, lying on his back.

He tries to tell himself that she doesn't really know him, doesn't know how many times he's tried, doesn't know how deep the hunt runs in him, how it sticks to every pore of his skin. But of course she knows him. This is why she's saying this. Because she see the places where they match, and Charlie has never looked at something broken and not given it a shot to fix it.

That is how the other version of her had started hunting, after all. That is how Sam and his brother had gotten her killed.

“Maybe,” Sam says to the ceiling. “I've tried before. It's always felt like running away to me.”

“What would be so wrong with running away from a life that's slowly killing you and everyone you love?”

There is so much bitterness in her voice. Sam hasn't been paying enough attention, if this is how she truly feels. He hasn't suspected, and how much of a leader can he call himself if something so big flies completely under his radar? He's been working himself sick trying to run the bunker and help everyone in it, trying to make a different, trying to let them be a part of something good, but if this is what they think, what result does he have to hold up to the light as he tries to fall asleep?

Sam doesn't want to feed the resentment in his friend, especially not in this moment that was meant to be sweet. He doesn't want to keep circling back to the dark thoughts he's had a thousand times before. He has made peace with his life, although it is not a peaceful one.

And this does not mean he begrudges Charlie for her desire. He could not and will not, because there is nothing more natural for him than the visceral feeling of wanting out. He does not want to see her leave. He will miss her, the other refugees will miss her, and the hunting world will miss her. But that shouldn't influence her decision.

“There's nothing wrong with it.” Sam doesn't turn to look at her, afraid that something on his features might betray his words. “There's nothing wrong with you,” he adds, because they were talking about the musca, at some point, that was the crux of the matter.

Maybe that's why she can take that decision and he can't, Sam thinks, ever unkind with himself. He doesn't say it aloud, because putting those kinds of thoughts into words give them power.

Instead, he finally shifts to his side again.

Charlie has her right arm folded under her head, bright red hair splayed over the pillow. She's still entirely naked, just like him, lying on top of the covers. It seems incongruous right now, in the context of this conversation. The motel room is warm, but they should probably still put on some clothes. There is both sweat and rain still drying on their skin.

Charlie looks beautiful and Sam knows about love and about letting go. And this isn't that kind of love, but he still cares about her. She makes that easy.

“There's nothing wrong with you,” he says, looking her in the eye, hoping that his features might reveal the depth of that truth, for once.

[sarahbethimagines]

Chapter 13: Get Along

Chapter Log!

Michelle had shown up at house unexpected, and uninvited later on that same Friday. And somehow, someway convinced me that going to the gathering would be a good thing. Sitting in the passenger seat of her 8-year old Camry. I was still trying to decide if she'd been right or not. KISS 95.9 was currently playing on the radio. Love in This Club by Usher blasting through the speakers. And at just number eight on their top-forty countdown, it had me counting the mile markers on I-83. Just praying each one would be the last we'd pass.

I'd asked Michelle just about a hundred and seven times since she'd shown up at my door where we were going. And each and every time I did, she gave me the same cookie cutter response. Just a small smirk, and a "you'll see" that had my eyes rolling and my brain contemplating just ending it all. But in Heinz sight, if shitty radio play and a sketchy best-friend were the worst things I had going on in my day, I guess I was doing okay. Still, I impatiently tapped my fingers on my tanned knees the entire remainder of the drive. Only stopping when she suddenly slowed down and pulled off the main road and onto an uneven dirt path. One that certainly didn't look like it was meant for any form of recreational use in the past generation or so. "Okay, where on Earth are we actually going?" I asked at the sight of it. Our small bodies bouncing and swinging around in the cab of her car as it jumped and jostled. Thanking God for the second time in my life for inventing the seatbelt. "Lord, is your patients as thin you are!" She joked, rolling her eyes. And I couldn’t help but start to mutter under my breath for a greater power above to give me some patience. Because if I was handed strength in that moment I probably would have just up and punched her. She was the one that dragged me out to the middle of nowhere and wouldn’t tell me where she taking me to probably get wacked and left for dead. But thankfully for both me, and Michelle's arm a second later she somehow managed to round a brushed corner without bottoming out her little gold car. Pulling into a large open field. We rode down the grass and destroyed patches of road, kept in a straight line by sporadic metal posts till we passed a small white structure caving in on itself. Other cars soon came into view. An array of varying vehicles from little ones like Michelle's to large pickups were parked in a semi-circle, people gathered in the middle. And soon I spotted the most bizarre thing just beyond the group. A towering fifty-foot-tall screen stood sky high. Small white panels pealing at places and completely missing in others leaving nothing but holes or exposed plywood. We were at an old drive-in movie theater. My eyes were probably the size of bowling balls by the time she'd parked her car and turned to me, calling my attention back to her. "You good?" She asked simply. And I looked out through her windshield at the group of people wandering around. Unable to make out exact faces. "I'll be right beside you the whole time if you get overwhelmed." I nodded thoughtfully and chewed on my lip. Not daring to make moves to unbuckle myself, even when Michelle did. There were about twelve or so people in the group if my math was correct. And all things considered, there was probably one person I knew for certain, and only two to three others whom I'd just recognize. "Tweedle Dee?" She called again, probably noticing my internal debate. I looked over to see her now up and out of her car, standing in its open door. "Just remember, all these people are your friends, whether you remember them or not." I nodded my head and forced my hands to move. "You're right" I muttered, crawling out of the car. I tried to repeat Dr. Walker's words in my head, telling myself how this would help me remember. But it was kind of hard to once Michelle ran around to me. She hooked her arm in mine and lead us off towards the crowd, rambling the entire time about how excited everyone would be to see me. But I didn’t need her assuring words for long. Because the second we drew close enough to identify, a long-legged, skunk haired kid was running right at us. "KENNERS!" He screeched, straggly arms waving through the air. A trail of dust being kicked up behind his brightly colored Nikes as he stormed towards us, throwing himself at me the second he could. His sternum crashed into my cheek with full force, knocking me back a few steps and clean into a memory. "Allright, everyone! Listen up!" Jack shouted, from behind me. Causing everyone in our small huddle to turn around and see the raven-haired boy by Alex's truck. His long limbs contorted in strange and certainly uncomfortable ways as he swung himself up onto the dropped tailgate and rose to his feet. Bible in his left hand he'd swiped from the glove box, was then used to tap the beer bottle clutched in the other. Once a gift from Alex's grandmother after his confirmation was now just a prop. His feeble attempts to make any sound fell short. But still, everyone around who hadn't already been watching on turned to see what the commotion was. The air was warm as it swirled around us, ice cold Coronas and Busch Light cans were in everyone's hands as we gathered in the center of our favorite spot in town. The old abandoned Timonium Drive In. It was the core of the summer, and the usually scorching sun just begun to set, dipping slightly behind the large screen which somehow still stood. But Alex's skin was still speckled with sweat as he threw a bare arm around my shoulders. Warm sun-tanned skin sticking to my own. I knew just as well as the boy beside me that the fleeting light wouldn’t stop that twenty-person party from raging on into the night. And as the golden hour shined down on Jack where he towered above us, it was as good of an assumption as any. "Tuesday, July 15th 2005 will be a day for us all to remember!" He shouted, beginning to walk back and forth across the rusted bed. "A day greatness was released from the womb of the greatest band to ever come from the suburbs of Baltimore, Maryland and out into the world!" "Pretty sure were the only ones in the area!" Rian hollered from behind. His arm slung causally around Kara's waist. "Shut up, I'm giving a speech you, turd licker!" Jack laughed, "Today, we as a band, released our first ever full-length album, The Party Scene!" And on that note, everyone started to cheer. Hoots were hollered and beers were sipped but Jack wasn’t quite done there. He kept on talking, pacing and swinging his drink as though he here Charlie Champlin. And our small group of friends were watching his movie. "You don't get much for certain in this life, and we sure as Hell didn't think this little garage band would make it this far, that’s for damn sure!" He drunkenly rambled. "But as I stand here, managing to convince you all somehow that what I'm about to say may have some hidden wisdom or be sweet and meaningful to hold onto and laugh about in years to come. I'll tell you right now, you're dead-fucking-wrong." "Oh, then just get on with it!" Another friend yelled. "Well," Jack popped, coming to a stop and turning to face us all. "I would, but to be honest I forgot what I had to say the second, I climbed up onto this truck. So, I'll just say what mamma Merrick always has. All you're really given is the sunshine and your name!" "My mom doesn’t say that?" Zack chimed in, and not a second later the most miraculous thing I'd ever seen started to happened. As though mother nature was toying with Jack's mention of the sunshine pouring over us all. Not a second more passed before small drops of water began to fall from the sky. And I couldn't even begin to describe just how magical the chorus of our laughter sounded in that moment of time. "Look what you've done now, you fuck!" Rico manically yelled as one drop became two, and then three. And before we knew it large rain drops began to fall all around us from the still sunlit sky. In a matter of seconds, the mere drizzle was a full-blown downpour and people began to scatter. I was ripped from the memory almost as quickly as I'd been knocked into it. Looking up once I could to see Alex holding Jack by the shoulder and rolling his eyes. "You're going to crush her to death if you squeeze her like that!" "Well, I'm not going to apologize for it!" He laughed, turning to me and letting his black and bleached hair fall into his eyes. "I've missed you Kenn, like the dessert misses the rain!" His small, clueless remark made me laugh a little too hard at its relation to my memory. But still, my shoulders instantly rolled back. Now free from his death-like grip and much more relaxed than they'd been just moments before in the car. "I've missed you too, you crazy." I smiled. Not knowing exactly what I'd been missing, but the words felt right as they rolled off my tongue. He smiled at me, big brown eyes glistening in the fading sunlight. I could practically see the sporadic thoughts bouncing through his skull as he tossed an arm around my shoulder and started to walk. "Well how 'bout we say hi to everyone else who's been missing you almost as much as I have." I could hear Alex and Michelle's steps as they followed close behind. Talking softly to one another as Jack lead me by my neck towards the crowd. A few slowly turned around one by one to our direction. But not everyone had seemed to notice us approach, most just carried on with their loud conversations over the even louder music flowing from a Jeep. But one boy seemed to pick up on my presence instantly, a smile spreading across his face I could see clearly from even a foot away how bright and perfect his teeth were. He was a broader man, his head was buzzed, and subtle tuffs of scruff lined his jaw. He didn't look like anyone I'd pictured before, but for some reason my brain drew a connection I didn't even know was there upon seeing that smile of his. "Hey Rian," I waved. His already large smile growing even bigger as he managed to pull me out from under Jacks arm. Tugging me instantly into a brief, firm hug. "How are you?" "I'm good!" He nodded and let go. His smile still so wide I was beginning to think he would start to catch flies soon enough. "How are you, how have you been doing?" "I mean, I've certainly been better." I shrugged, trying to laugh it off like I'd been getting in the habit of doing. He just gave me a knowing nod. "I'm sure, but hey, Alex has been telling us you've been coming along pretty good!" He said motioning to the singer who'd stepped up beside Jack. Already blushing profusely by the time I'd looked over. "Is that true?" "It is..." I dragged. Watching for a second with a smile as Alex kept his hidden before I looked to my other side at Michelle. The shorter brunette shooting me a grin. "I didn't know Alex talked about me so much." "No more than he used to!" Rian laughed, receiving a swift smack to the arm by his shaggy-headed friend. "Alright, well that's enough of a re-introduction to Rian, I think!" Alex cut in right after, deciding that conversation was dead and buried. Being quick to replace Jack's place at my side as he grabbed my hand and hauled me off to the others. Being dragged around that makeshift party and being re-introduced to person after person in my life was a lot of things. For starters, it was outright just a lot. A lot to take in, a lot to digest, a lot of fresh names in the bank, a lot of faces I just straight up didn’t recognize, and a lot that I vaguely did but had no idea of why. It was confusing at times, but fun at others. For instance, when I was put in front of a boy with a rather interesting last name, I remembered him. Not much, but now at least I know Alex Grieco. And that I was assigned to be his guide when he came into Dulaney High just one year after the rest of us. And how we'd laughed the entire time at the fact that even I still didn't know how to get around that damned high school. And the entire time I had someone with me by my side walking me through it all. Either Alex, sipping a beer and sharing a story of something ridiculous and borderline unbelievable I’d done with someone. Or with Michelle, which I almost preferred, not that Alex wasn’t helpful. But purely because anytime someone that didn’t even begin to ring a bell would walk away, she'd turn to me and whisper a juicy bit of gossip on how I'd felt about them back in high school. All of which had the two of us laughing and snickering like immature school girls again. Eventually we'd all found ourselves gathered around Alex's truck. Zack was sat on top the truck's cab. Someone who I'd recognized almost instantly despite his drastic change in appearance from the dark and stormy kid I’d envisioned. I was perched on the tailgate, legs swinging over the edge. Wedged between Michelle and Alex while all the others wereeither sat in collapsible chairs or standing around. Each and every one having a story to share of a time they'd spent with me they just couldn't wait to get out. "And I just stood there, completely shocked," One kid Timmy, a rather robust individual told. "You just slapped the dude clean across the face, no warning or nothing!" "There is absolutely no way I did that!" I laughed along with everyone else. Leaning over and hiding my head in Michelle's long hair once Timmy was done telling his story of me. Large hands up in the air the entire time he explained it. "Oh, but you did, my little fire-cracker!" He pointed at me, exposing my bright red face to the whole group in the process. "Yeah that's a good one," Zack laughed from behind me, hopping down and making the truck jolt just a bit. "But not quite as good as the time we went to Dick's Last Resort!" "Oh, my gosh I almost forgot about that!" Michelle laughed, turning around to look up at Zack as he placed a hand on my totally confused shoulder. Everyone around me beginning to chuckle and nod. Each and every one seeming to recall the moment with ease. I on the other hand was having a much more difficult time. "Why, what happened at Dick's Last Resort?" "Well you know how the whole point of Dick's is that you go, and get those funny paper hats and the waiters basically just pick fun at and mock you the entire time?" Michelle excitedly asked, staring cheerily into my lost eyes. "I mean, kind of, I guess." I shrugged, trying to recall. Still not really seeing how this could lead to a memorable story. Unless my friends really thought a waiter laughing at me was just that hysterical. Which they just might of, honestly. "Well we all went there to celebrate something-" "My birthday!" "Yes," Zack sighed at Michelle's interruption. "And were just downright miserable the whole time! Our waiter was basically bullying you the entire meal. Calling you Scrooge, saying you could drive a preacher to drink with an attitude like yours all this crazy shit!" "Eventually you basically snapped!" Jack chimed in with a chortle. "What did I do?" I asked, genuinely a little worried to hear their responses. But I of course was only immediately answered with a wide variation of laugher. "You made some absurd remark about being able to charm the dew off a honeysuckle or something bizarre like that and went on this hilarious little rant about how cheery of a person you were!" Zack started again, "But then you made the big ole mistake of spewing out that you used to be a cheerleader!" "I was a cheerleader?" I asked, not believing it for a second as I turned to the grinning boy. Scrunching my nose up at his smile. "Not that we knew of!" He chuckled, shrugging a bit. "You cheered for a little later on in high school and hated it they were so bad, but I guess in Boston you were really good at it." "Yeah, you were smoking at the ears practically when our waiter only started to pick on you more, saying that you probably couldn’t get your scrawny legs of the ground!" Michelle laughed, borderline crying she was giggling so hard. "Hey, this is my story for Kenn!" Zack snipped, smacking her lightly on the top of her head. "But yeah, like she said, you were pissed as all Hell, and you made a bet with the guy that if you got up on their stage right then and there and did a back flip that he couldn't say one more word to you the rest of the night!" "I didn’t know I could do a back flip!" I chocked, looking wide-eyed at my boney knees swinging over the tailgate's edge. "Yeah, neither did we!" The boy continued to laugh. "We all thought for sure you were about to eat hardwood when you got up on the platform, but crazily enough you landed it! Still probably the coolest thing I've seen you do." "We did get banned for a year though because of it..." Rian muttered. And everyone started to laugh again. Including me this time. "I don't know, Zack..." Jack sang, taking his turn as he sloshed his beer around in its can. "I think the concerning number of drunk backflips she's done in Gaskarth's back yard would have that story beat!" "I did not do back flips drunk!" I laughed, shaking my head in utter disbelief. "Oh, sweet pea," Michelle sighed, "You've done so many, so far from sober we lost count after fifteen or so." An eruption of laughter exploded through the friend group after that. And I laughed along ever so slightly and I fell, red-faced into Alex's side. "I didn't realize how crazy I was growing up..." I chuckled. So soft probably only the singer had heard. He just sighed and wrapped his arm around my back. Pulling my blushing form closer into him. "It's one of the many, many things we all love about you. Kennedy Paige."

[brynne-lagaao]

(Fanfic) Set in Stone - Chapter Eight

Title: Set in Stone

Pairing: Sarumi

Chapter: 8/18

Rating: M

Mirrors: AO3 | Website

Summary: Yata wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he performed a summon on his own in a fit of drunken loneliness. It definitely wasn’t some asshole demon with a bad attitude, even if that demon happened to be frustratingly hot. But breaking their contract was going to mean working together, and he wasn’t sure how much of that he could take before he snapped… one way or another.

Note: Thank you to @dropletons for being my beta and to @chromekins for helping with the magic aspect. This fic is not entirely accurate in terms of modern magic and the demon lore was basically made up to suit the story, but I tried to keep somewhat of an authentic feel, so hopefully that succeeded.

He ended up saving the retrieval for last – not only because it was the worst job, but because he didn’t wanna go in with anything of value on him that he’d end up having to replace or pay for. Usually if some punk stole his shit, he could get it back easy enough, but he’d spent enough time around Jungle to know not to underestimate them.

Fucking Jungle. Fucking Hisui Nagare. Fucking… Munakata. That bastard.

The rain had petered off into a little drizzle by the time they walked out of the train station and onto the street that would lead them through the residential area. The sidewalk was narrow in that part of the city, the houses thin and squished in together like they were huddling for warmth. Foot traffic was sparse at that time of day, and the roads were quiet but for a few cars here and there – most of them zipping by above the speed limit. As they turned to head down a different block, there was an impressive piece of graffiti art splayed across the wall that lined a nearby schoolyard – a snake biting a lion’s tail, and ‘bite back’ in large bold spray-painted letters above it. Inside the schoolyard, a group of kids were playing, and the sound of laughter and shouting made for lively background noise.

It was a familiar sort of place – not exactly the neighborhood he’d grown up in, but close. Would’ve been comfortable if not for… those guys.

“There’s a coven headquarters in a place like this?” Fushimi commented blandly.

Yata shot him a narrow look. “What’s weird about that?”

Fushimi shrugged. He seemed to be sizing up the area, in a lazy sort of way. “There’s not a lot of space.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” He was getting defensive, even though Fushimi hadn’t exactly said anything derisive. Yata reached up to rub at the back of his neck, expelling a sharp sigh. “Doesn’t take a lot of space for rituals – you saw my apartment, right?”

“Mm.” Fushimi’s tone was thoughtful. “True.”

It didn’t seem like he was gonna say more, but something small and restless stirred in Yata’s belly. He couldn’t resist the urge to add, “Y’know, I grew up in a place like this.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected in response, but Fushimi turned to regard him with something almost like interest. “Nearby?”

“Huh?” Yata blinked at him, caught off guard. “Uh… no.” He recovered his equilibrium quickly, offering a small awkward shrug in response. “Other side of the city.” Not wanting to leave it hanging like that, he added, “This place just kinda gives off a familiar vibe, y’know? Guess it’s normal, though – I mean, it’s like my home when I was little, so yeah. It’s nice.”

“Is that right?” There was something inscrutable in Fushimi’s expression. He turned his head to regard his surroundings again; when he spoke, it was almost like he was mumbling to himself. “I guess most people would feel that way, huh?”

Something about the way he said it felt off, but Yata shrugged that aside. “Right!”

They had to walk two more blocks and then down another street before reaching the intersection that was sort of a crossroads between the residential area and the more industrial area. There was a construction zone that made the distinction that much more stark – large wooden structures and protective plastic lined the solid brick buildings that dwarfed the houses opposite them. It had been like that for as long as Yata had been coming here, as if the work was in constant limbo. He’d never seen any actual construction workers, either.

Sometimes he wondered if it was just a glamor spell of some sort, but it had never given off any ‘fake’ vibe, and he was usually pretty good about picking that shit out.

Whatever. Not like it mattered.

“I feel like I should’ve waited with my question from before,” Fushimi drawled, dispelling his umbrella illusion as he followed Yata through the opening in the plastic to the cramped temporary walkway. “It’s really hard to imagine a coven operating in a place like this. Is it even safe?”

Yata snorted in response, pulling around the rucksack to stow his own wet umbrella. “Probably not. These guys like it that way, I think.”

The sharp sound of Fushimi’s tongue clicking met his ears in response. “I haven’t even met them and already they seem annoying.”

“Yeah,” Yata offered another huff of agreement, “just wait.”

About halfway down the construction walkway, there was another opening in the plastic that lined the wooden path. It wasn’t too conspicuous, but behind it there was a boarded-up door. Yata reached through the plastic and rapped his knuckles against the wood. “Yatagarasu,” he identified himself, raising his voice to be sure it went through clearly.

There was a long moment of silence, and then loud, rapid footsteps approached from the other side.

The door, which looked like it should’ve opened outward, slid to the side instead. A platinum-haired teenager glowered out from between the boards. “What are you doing here?”

It fucking would be him. Yata resisted the urge to swear, frowning back. At least if it had been Yukari, all they’d get were some vague suggestions and a smug smirk. “Picking up for Munakata.”

“Nagare never said there was a pickup.” The kid sneered back at him. Gojo Sukuna had the biggest attitude problem Yata had ever had the displeasure of coming across. And, unfortunately, a hell of a lot of power to back it up. But right now he looked like the bratty teen he was, ripped jeans and ill-fitting T-shirt completing the picture. “And who’s that guy? Some new shitty member in your shitty coven?”

Yata bit back the immediate, angry response. Not fucking worth it. “Yeah, I’ll tell Anna you said so,” he gritted out, and had the satisfaction of watching Gojo’s face stiffen and grow red. Somehow or another, those two were classmates – and she was the only member of Homra he didn’t bad-mouth. “He’s not a member, just a…” The word ‘friend’ was on the tip of his tongue, but he managed to chew it back in time. “He’s with me.”

“Duh.” Gojo rolled his eyes, fixing Fushimi with a belligerent look. “You – what’s your name?”

Fushimi looked down his nose at Gojo as if studying an insect, then shifted his gaze to Yata slowly. “Do I have to answer this brat?”

When it wasn’t directed at him, somehow that attitude was awesome. Yata couldn’t help his answering grin. “Nah.” He turned back to Gojo, who looked about ready to commit murder. “Hisui’s gotta be waiting for us – sure you wanna leave him hanging?”

Gojo glowered at them, shifting from one to the other for a second or two, and then snapped, “Stay there!” and slid the door shut so fast it banged against the handle.

Yata heaved a sigh, reaching back to ease the tension at the back of his neck. “Pain in the ass,” he muttered.

Fushimi clicked his tongue. “I’d happily strangle this stupid brat.”

That at least got a huff of laughter from Yata. “Least you gave ’im hell – that was pretty cool, by the way.” He tipped his head a bit, feeling hesitant for no real reason as he offered up a genuine smile.

Fushimi blinked at him, raising a hand to adjust his glasses as if to mask his reaction. “You’re easily impressed,” he muttered back, gaze flickering away from Yata as his eyelashes lowered.

It was an oddly endearing reaction. Yata wasn’t sure why but his cheeks warmed all the same. “Yeah, well… ‘enemy of my enemy’, right?” He shrugged and let it drop there, feeling weirdly awkward. “If we’re lucky, Hisui’ll just give him the quartz to pass on to us and we can get the hell outta here without going in.” It wasn’t likely, but still possible if Hisui was busy with something.

“Mm,” Fushimi agreed, and clicked his tongue again. “Are the rest of them as bad as this?”

Yata didn’t even hesitate. “Yup.”

Fushimi’s frown deepened. “Great.”

There was no chance to respond to that, because the same loud footsteps from before approached and the door was flung open once again. Gojo glared at them both, reaching out to rap his knuckles against the wooden planks barring the entrance. They swung open as if they were all attached to a solid door. “Nagare said come in,” he grumbled, stepping back to give them space, “so hurry it up.”

Of course things couldn’t be that easy. Yata let out a soft ‘ch’ under his breath, moving to step forward.

“Is there a protection ward on this place?” Fushimi asked abruptly, halting him in his tracks.

Oh yeah… right.

“’Course there is,” Gojo answered impatiently, shifting irritably from foot to foot as he waited. His gaze narrowed. “Why, you got something to hide?”

Fushimi ignored him, gaze fixed on Yata instead. “Did you want to tell him first, or should I be a surprise?”

The prospect was too good to pass up. Yata grinned back, showing teeth. “Hey, everyone loves surprises, right? Let’s go.”

The corners of Fushimi’s mouth turned up; he let out an amused huff, shutting his eyes briefly. “Just remember this was your idea,” he murmured.

“What are you two blabbing about?” Gojo demanded suspiciously, as Yata moved through the doorway into the dark, empty room beyond. He took a few extra steps to leave space and turned just in time to catch Gojo’s jaw drop as Fushimi followed him, wings flaring out and horns sprouting from his head. “Wha… what… the hell?”

“That’s a good way to put it,” Fushimi drawled. His illusionary clothing shifted back into place, covering the expanse of pale-skinned chest that had automatically revealed itself when he’d stepped in.

A tiny thread of disappointment wormed its way into his thoughts; Yata shelved it firmly. Not now.

Gojo rounded on him, eyes blazing. “You brought a demon here? Are you crazy? Wanna start a war or something?”

Yata shrugged. “Hey, Munakata probably said something to your leader before we got here.” He spread his hands, widening his smirk. “Not my fault Hisui doesn’t pass that shit on to his doorman.”

Another furious flush crept onto Gojo’s cheeks. “Nagare’s gonna kill you,” he growled, and then managed a smirk, eyebrows lowered almost dangerously. “I hope he lets me do it.” Turning sharply, he headed for the back of the room. “C’mon!”

Yata waited while he opened up the trap door in the back corner, dim light from the opening glowing through. “Little shithead,” he muttered under his breath as Gojo climbed down the ladder and out of sight.

“That’s an understatement,” Fushimi murmured in response, and clicked his tongue. “After you, I guess.”

“Yeah, sure.” Might as well get this over with.

The ladder didn’t go down all that far. At the bottom was a short, narrow hallway leading to the main room in this dank, poorly lit basement. It had been designed – for some dumb reason – to look like someone’s bachelor pad. The tiled walls had a greenish tint, the carpet under the sofa and TV was threadbare, and there were boxes piled atop the cabinets and fridge. Gojo was lurking near the back, slouched against a wall near where a tall man in a priest’s robe was diligently hanging laundry from a wire. He paused every so often to lift a can from the counter behind him and take a long swig.

How’d you expect clothes to dry with no airflow in here, huh? It had to be some kinda spell they used, but the point of it wasn’t clear at all. Yata really didn’t get these guys.

Hisui Nagare himself sat on the couch, a tablet in his hands. He was dressed in an oddly formal way, black pants and suit jacket over a white shirt, but his hair was unkempt. When Yata stepped forward through the open door, he looked up from his work with a smile. “Ah,” he said, “Yatagarasu. Good of you to come.”

Yata clenched his teeth, but didn’t bother reminding him not to use the nickname. It wouldn’t make a difference. This guy could be frustratingly oblivious of other people’s preferences and feelings. “Can we just make this quick?”

“Of course. Iwa-san,” Hisui addressed the tall man, “would you be able to find the quartz that Munakata requested?”

“Sure thing.” Giving the shirt he’d hung one more tug, the man – Iwafune Tenkei – stepped back. He offered Yata a shrug and a smile and then turned to examine the drawers behind him. “Now where the heck did I put that…?”

Coulda got it ready when you heard I was here, assholes…

“I appreciate it,” Hisui responded smoothly, and let his gaze slide with obvious interest to where Fushimi had stepped up beside Yata. “What an extraordinary friend you’ve brought. Won’t you introduce us, Yatagarasu?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue before Yata could respond. “I’m fine with being a stranger.”

“Is that so?” Hisui blinked, tilting his head a bit as if trying to get a read on the situation. “I’m afraid I’m not quite familiar with the salient points of demon etiquette.  My apologies if the request was impudent.” He set the tablet aside and leaned forward in his seat, bracing his elbows on his knees and creating a bridge with his hands, on which he rested his chin. It was an oddly hunched posture for him. “Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself. I have a particular interest, you see.” He smiled again. “I’m very curious about the extent to which demonic illusion challenges reality.”

That must have been a pre-arranged signal, because faster than Yata could blink, Iwafune spun from the counter, pointed a gun at Yata’s head with uncanny accuracy and fired.

The instinctive rush of alarm and panic at being shot at struck him in the same instant that the shot itself rang out; Yata flinched back automatically…

… And barely managed to catch sight of a projectile from beside him catching the bullet mid-flight and knocking it aside.

The shock hadn’t quite faded but his body was already tensing for action; Yata whipped his head up just as Fushimi spun up two more throwing knives and slung them with practiced ferocity at Hisui, Iwafune, and Gojo, shifting as he did to place his body between Yata and them.

The reality of that deliberate movement stunned him even more than the sudden attack. Yata felt his breath catch in his throat, so sharply he nearly choked on it, and couldn’t help but stare at Fushimi’s back, tense and poised with his wings at full span. What is he…?

As expected, the knives bounced back harmlessly from their marks, falling to the floor in tandem. Hisui sat up straight in his seat, looking thoroughly pleased with himself as he regarded Fushimi. “It seems as though your demonic rank is quite high, to create an illusion of that caliber.” His eyes gleamed with interest. “As expected of Munakata’s protégé. I’m impressed.”

The tension seemed to ease off of Fushimi all at once; he straightened, letting out a sigh. “A trick, huh?”

“Hey, asshole!” Yata shook aside his own shock, focusing on glaring at first Iwafune and then Hisui. “The hell was that about, huh? Don’t just fucking shoot at people!” He balled his hands into fists. “You wanna start a fight?”

Gojo stepped away from the wall, placing himself between them and Hisui. “Try it, Shittygarasu. I’ll take on you and your pet demon both!”

Yata balled his hands into fists. “What was that!?”

“There’s no need for that, Sukuna.” Hisui settled his hands in his lap with polite diffidence. His eyes were still on Fushimi. “I expect you’ve noticed by now, but this room is warded against physical harm to any living being within its walls. My apologies for not mentioning it. It was necessary.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, but didn’t answer. When Yata tilted his head to catch a glimpse of his face, he noticed that those grey-blue eyes were narrowed, fixed sharply on Hisui.

What the hell? Yata turned a glare in that direction as well. “Was that s’posed to be some kinda test or what?”

Iwafune chuckled. “I guess you could call it that.” He’d stowed his gun and was reclining against the counter, beer in hand. In his free hand, he hefted the chunk of rose quartz that Munakata had requested. “You wanna hand this off to our guests, Sukuna?”

“Huh? Why should I?” Gojo shot him a petulant look. “Do it yourself!”

Iwafune sighed. “Kids today. No respect for their elders.” He pushed himself away from the counter, crossing the room and even stepping around Fushimi with an apologetic grin to hand the quartz to Yata. “Thanks for your hard work.”

“The results were most enlightening,” Hisui added, pleasantly.

Yata scowled at him and then at Iwafune’s back as he retreated across the room, before letting out an agitated huff and depositing the quartz into his empty rucksack. Finally! “Shoot at me again and I’ll fuck this place up.” With a final glare for the inhabitants of the room, he turned to leave. “C’mon, we’re going.”

“Hah! I’d like to see you try, Shittygarasu!” Gojo taunted.

“That is the lamest insult I’ve ever heard,” Fushimi muttered, just loud enough for his voice to carry as they moved through the door.

Yata snorted. “Right?” He tossed a smirk over his shoulder at Gojo, who glowered back at him. “Like a grade-schooler trying to act tough.”

“What? You got a problem?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, pausing at the base of the ladder for Yata to go on ahead of him. “What I have is a headache. What a noisy brat.”

“You’re telling me.” Yata let out a soft ‘ch’, climbing deftly toward the opening and hoisting himself out so that Fushimi could pass. “He doesn’t get any better the longer you know him.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

Yata made a point of leaving Jungle’s front door wide open when they were through. Gojo was going to come up and close it pretty quick, but it still felt satisfying in a petty way to leave it like that. “Pain in the ass,” he muttered, pushing through the plastic of the construction zone with more force than was really necessary. He pulled his umbrella out of the rucksack, holding it ready to open when they reached the edge of the walkway.

Fushimi was right on his heels. “You weren’t kidding about that.” He clicked his tongue. “I hope you don’t go there often.”

“Not that often.” Thankfully. The interest in Hisui’s eyes kinda bugged him, though. “Hopefully he doesn’t start asking for a bunch of shit just ’cause you’re with me…”

“I doubt it.” Fushimi clicked his tongue again, lips curling. There was a frustrated edge to his voice. “He already got exactly what he wanted.”

“Huh? You mean that shit about your powers and all?” Yata frowned. “I didn’t really get what he was after. That was some kinda test, right? But why’s he so interested in you?”

“It’s not me.” Fushimi shook his head. His frown deepened. “I’m pretty sure that was aimed at the Captain. Nothing to do with me – unless…” He furrowed his brow, and then shook his head again. “No. That can’t be it.”

Yata stared at him, baffled. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Obviously I don’t know the details, but it seems like the Captain has some kind of feud going on with that Hisui guy.” Fushimi shrugged. “Or maybe it’s a one-sided thing on Hisui’s part, but I doubt it. He outmaneuvered me too easily for the Captain to take him lightly.” He clicked his tongue again. “This wasn’t so much a test for me as scoping out what kind of force the Captain has behind him.”

“Seriously?” Yata blinked, surprised, and then narrowed his eyes. Kusanagi would probably wanna know if that wasn’t something he’d already picked up on. “You think he’s planning an attack?”

“Who knows,” Fushimi responded, slipping back into that drawling tone. “Could be just a battle of wits. I wouldn’t put it past the Captain.” He reached up to push his glasses higher on his nose. “Either way, it’s not like I’ll actually have anything to do with it. I can’t manifest on this plane without a contract.”

That was news to Yata. “Huh. Really?”

“Yes, really.” Fushimi’s voice was flat. “Only the elite ranks can – and there’s not all that many of them.”

“Oh.” Speaking of contracts, though… Yata shot him a sideways glance, the question he’d been holding back on asking surfacing immediately now that they were outside. “Hey… about earlier…” It felt awkward to ask, especially when Fushimi’s gaze shifted to him, but he had to know. “That bullet was coming for me, not you. Why’d you – ?”

“Of course it was,” Fushimi interrupted him, and clicked his tongue, turning to face forward again. He’d retracted his wings, tail, and horns again, and with his hunched posture and sour expression, he looked completely human. “I wouldn’t have to do anything if they’d shot at me. Guns are no use against demons.”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Yata insisted, his eyes still on Fushimi’s face as he did. “Why the hell’d you save me? You didn’t know about the ward, so you thought it’d kill me, right?” He narrowed his eyes. “Wouldn’t that be good for you? No more contract.”

There was a brief second of hesitation – not much of one, but with all of his attention focused on this, Yata definitely felt it. Fushimi dipped his head forward slightly, his frown seeming to deepen again. “That was… instinct. I reacted to your emotions.”

“My emotions?” Right, he had kinda panicked there, hadn’t he? Somehow, that answer was dissatisfying, though… Yata frowned. “So because I got freaked out, you moved without thinking?”

“Something like that.” Fushimi clicked his tongue yet again, looking disgruntled. “Seriously… again…”

“Huh? ‘Again’?”

“Never mind.” Fushimi picked up his pace, materializing an umbrella as he reached the end of the walkway and pushed through the plastic. “Like I said, it was just instinct. That’s all.”

That’s all? Something was still nagging at him – some fact or memory that contradicted that last bit – but Yata couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He hurried after Fushimi, passing through the plastic and staring at his back as he brought up his own umbrella.

His back. Right – that was it. The image of Fushimi’s tense back as he placed himself in front of Yata. Even just thinking about it sent chills through him – a kind of gratifying rush that he couldn’t explain. He hadn’t really needed it, but… He protected me. Even after knocking that bullet aside.

Somehow, that thought… gave him kind of a nice feeling.

Fushimi was a few paces ahead of him; Yata jogged to catch up. “Liar,” he said confidently, leaning forward to peer at Fushimi’s face again. “You moved in front of me before throwing knives at those guys – which was awesome, by the way! You’re pretty good!” He smirked when the compliment earned him a glance. “But seriously, you’re gonna call that instinct?”

The expression on Fushimi’s face was nonplussed; this time the hesitation was much more noticeable. He clicked his tongue, turning away again. “I told you, I wasn’t thinking,” he muttered, almost resentfully. “You’re reading too much into this.”

“Heh!” That reluctant attitude felt like a confirmation somehow. He’s not as uncaring as he acts, huh? The thought made him feel like a little of the distance between them had been crossed; Fushimi had saved him, even if it wasn’t really necessary, and Yata couldn’t help but warm up to him a bit. “You should be more honest, y’know. Trust me a little. S’not like I bite or anything.”

“You should learn – maybe then you’ll be quiet.” It seemed to occur to Fushimi what he’d just said, and some of the irritation faded from his expression. He let his eyes grow lidded, offering a twin to Yata’s smirk. “Actually, I could teach you.” When he spoke again, his voice was pitched lower and he drew his words out deliberately. “Unlike you, I do bite.”

The unexpected innuendo brought warmth rushing to Yata’s face; he sputtered for a moment, thrown off track. That’s kinda hot, his traitorous brain supplied – a thought he clamped down on immediately, pushing it to the far back of his mind. “Wait – that’s not what I – ”

“Hm?” Fushimi drew the hum out mockingly. “What did you mean, Misaki?”

“I – wait, hold up a second!” Yata scowled, glaring through the flush he could still feel on his face. “I never said you could call me by my first name!”

“Can’t I?” Fushimi’s gaze was smug. “I thought you said I saved you. Doesn’t that put us on a first-name basis?” Drawing each syllable out with relish, he added, “Misaki.”

“Ugh.” Yata glared at him, thoroughly disgruntled. “I take it back. Nothing about you is awesome.”

“Weren’t you the one talking about honesty just now? Hm, Misaki?”

“That’s totally different! Anyway, stop calling me that! We’re not that close, asshole!”

“Really? Is that the kind of gratitude you show to your savior?”

“Seriously, shut up!”

Even as they bickered on the way back to the train station, Yata still couldn’t shake the memory of Fushimi’s body deliberately moving between him and the perceived danger – or the shiver it sent through his own when he considered what it meant. Something had changed between them for sure this time, although he didn’t really know how much difference it’d make. He couldn’t tell where it would lead in the end either, but…

As surprising as it was, it turned out Fushimi Saruhiko was a guy he could trust with his life.

[thepatricktreestump]

Saudade: Ch3

There was a queasy, sick, miserable feeling in the pit of your stomach. You fluttered open your eyelids, groggily waking up only to realize that you weren’t in your own house. Your eyes widened, taking a moment to recheck that this wasn’t just a dream, looking around. Nothing looked familiar. You began to roll off the mattress when you realized you were completely naked. You instantly were embarrassed and confused, slipping out of the bed and looking around. It was morning, judging by the sunlight shining through the window. You swallowed uncomfortably, trying to ignore the aching pain in your head and attempting to remember something, anything, of how the hell you got here. You closed your eyes tight and then decided to venture out of the bedroom, realizing there was a hallway with an open door leading to the bathroom. You looked around to check if anyone was there before rushing towards it, locking the door, trying to process everything that had happened. You felt your stomach doing flips before you ducked your head into the toilet, puking into the porcelain bowl, feeling absolutely horrible. What the fuck had happened last night?

Steadying yourself on the toilet seat, you staggered up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, closing the lid and flushing the contents down. You walked towards the sink, starting to wash your face. This was absolutely crazy. That’s when there was a knock on the door and you froze, the only sound between you and the stranger outside being the rushing water flowing into the sink. Well, that was, until your heard your name. There was another knock. “Y/n? Is that you?” How did they know your name? Where were you? You frantically looked around, then grabbed a towel from a shelf, wrapping it around you before opening up the door. When you did, you came face to face with the hottest man you had ever seen in your entire life.

“Woah,” you couldn’t control the amazement that fell from your mouth. “W-who are you?”

“You okay?” he raised an eyebrow. “You look a little sick.”

“I feel miserable,” you admitted. “And I uh, I don’t really remember that much.”

“Wait…” his voice trailed off. “You don’t remember anything?”

“Not at all,” you shook your head. “I don’t know where I am or where my clothes are or how I got here or who you are. All I know is that I feel absolutely miserable.”

“Okay,” he took a deep breath. “Well um, let me go grab you one of my shirts and some shorts. Your underwear too. Just take a seat, I was making breakfast.” He led you towards his living room, setting you down on the couch and handing you a cup of coffee and some painkiller meds. “I’ll explain everything. Hold on.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. He came back with the clothes and you stared at him confused before he explained that you could change in the bathroom, then come back out and he’d give you the run down. You nodded, changing and staring at yourself in the mirror, wondering what kind of crazy mess you had gotten yourself into, before going back outside and sitting on the couch.

“Well, first off, I’m Brendon,” he laughed. “I’m guessing you’re not a big drinker, huh?”

“I don’t drink,” you narrowed your eyes.

“Well apparently you do,” he insisted. “At least, you did last night.”

“No way,” you shook your head. That’s when it dawned on you. You must have. It would explain why you didn’t remember anything, and why you had a miserable headache, which you now identified as a hangover. “Good lord.”

“Believe me. You drank,” he continued. “So um, we met at this bar last night. We had a bunch of drinks, talked for hours, then came back to my place, and yeah.”

“And yeah?” you inquired.

“We had a little fun,” he explained.

“Fun?” you were still confused.

“We fucked,” he stated rather blatantly. Your face turned completely red.

“H-how many drinks did I have?” you stammered.

“I don’t remember,” he shrugged. “A lot. And you seemed already tipsy by the time I found you, so there’s a likely chance I couldn’t even tell you if you wanted to know.”

“This is bad,” you ran a hand through your hair. “Fuck.”

“Hey, look, I didn’t mean any harm by it,” he insisted.

“No, it’s not your fault,” you reassured. “I just uh, I’ve never done this before. The whole bar, one night stand, disappear in the morning thing. I should probably go.”

“You don’t have to,” he protested. “I mean, I don’t want you to, if you don’t want to. You can stay. I made breakfast and stuff.”

“Oh,” you murmured. “Um, okay.”

“Plus you look really sick, I don’t want you going home like that,” he added. “Especially now that you don’t have anyone to take care of you anymore.”

“Anymore?” you raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Your boyfriend,” he recalled. “The one that broke up with you like a month ago or something?”

“He didn’t break up with me,” you stated.

“You said he left you,” he remembered.

“He left for tour,” you clarified. “He never broke up with me.”

“Oh,” Brendon looked shocked. “Well shit.”

“Speaking of,” you took an exasperated breath. “Uh, do you know where my phone is?”

“No idea,” he sighed.

“That’s great,” you closed your eyes tight. “You know, I don’t want to infringe or anything, but I’m probably still in no shape to go home. Mind if I stay here for the day?”

“No, not at all, absolutely,” he answered quickly. “Stay as long as you’d like.”

“I’m sorry, I just feel super shitty,” you groaned.

“Don’t sweat it,” Brendon insisted. “Let’s go get you something to eat and then you can take a nice shower and just rest for the day. Got it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly. “Thanks so much. Honest. You’re really sweet.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he gave a small smile. “I hope I didn’t um, I didn’t freak you out too much this morning. I know sometimes we do stuff we might regret when we get wasted, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or guilty or anything. I’m sorry, I should’ve-”

“Don’t say that,” you laughed nervously. “I just uh, I can’t actually believe that we, uh…”

“We what?” he raised an eyebrow, wondering what the next part was.

“We had sex,” you swallowed uncomfortably.

“Why? Are you a virgin or something?” he inquired.

“No, no,” you shook your head. “I just uh, you’re like really, really, um, super hot.”

“Me?” he chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Nah, I’m just a doofus.”

“You look like a movie star or something. Way out of my league,” you argued. “I normally look like trash, so I can’t even imagine what I looked like drunk, much less now sick.”

“Don’t say that,” Brendon frowned. “You’re beautiful.”

“No I’m not,” you insisted. “I don’t even make it into the same category as you.”

“Whatever,” he just giggled. “You’re fucking gorgeous, babe.”

“Shut up and feed me that breakfast you keep yapping about,” you teased.

“Of course, my lady,” he joked with a smirk, taking your hand and leading you up off the couch towards the kitchen.

Needless to say, you and Brendon got along as if you had been friends your entire life. He had witty comebacks and silly remarks, flirtatious pickup lines and the funniest jokes, as well as sweet compliments and genuine concerns. You had to keep yourself from staring at him sometimes. You would find yourself glancing at those hands, the tattoo ink engraved in his arm, the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, how his lips curled into a smirk, moments when his forehead wrinkled when he thought hard about something, or how he ran his fingers through his hair. After you had both downed a cup of coffee, some eggs, bacon, toast, and a doughnut, he showed you to the shower. “How do you work it?” you wondered, setting the clothes he had picked out for you on a stool and walking over to him.

“Well uh…” he slid the shower door open and stared for a moment. “I don’t want to get my shirt soaked, hold on.” He quickly slipped the fabric from off his body and then tossed the shirt to the side, leaning into the shower and turning on the faucet. You couldn’t help but stare this time. His chest was gorgeous, his stomach just as amazing, and you felt yourself start to blush just at the thought of it. “How about you give it a feel and tell me if it’s warm enough for you or not?”

“What?” you instantly snapped back into reality, realizing you hadn’t been listening to a word he had been saying.

“The water,” he explained. “I can adjust the temperature if you need it.”

“Oh,” you still couldn’t manage to pry your eyes away from his body. “Uh, yeah sure.”

“Here,” Brendon stepped aside, letting you lean into the shower and reach a hand out to touch the water. “How’s the water?”

“Hmm?” you glanced at him, biting on your lower lip as you watched him run a hand through his hair.

“Too hot?” he asked.

“I don’t know about the water,” you gave a soft laugh. “But you on the other hand…”

“What?” he smirked. “See something you like?”

“Maybe,” you admitted shyly, turning around. You took your shirt off, reaching for your bra strap and beginning to undress yourself, ready to get in the shower when you head Brendon clear his throat rather loudly behind you.

“Ahem?” he announced his presence.

“You’re still here,” you raised your eyebrows, turning around to face him.

“You never answered my question,” he reminded, eyes flickering down to your breasts before pressing his lips together, returning eye contact with you. “How’s the water?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, dipping a finger into the waistband of your pants, inching it down just below the waist. “Maybe you can help me find out if it’s good enough.”

“What do you mean?” he dared to ask.

“I think you know,” you whispered, taking one step closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him closer. “It’s definitely going to be too hot for me.”

“Yeah?” he raised an eyebrow, sly smile on his lips, gripping your ass tight and making you gasp. “You think you need a little help in the shower, baby?”

“I think I do,” you hummed, closing your eyes for a fraction of a second before opening them back up, staring at Brendon. “I think you know how to make me feel just right.”

“Do I now?” he chuckled, pressing your body closer to him and making it obvious that he had a hard on. “You want me to fuck you in the shower, sweetheart? Make you scream my name? Try to help you remember all the things you forgot last night?”

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding slightly. “I want you to show me.”

That’s all it took before his lips were on yours and you were kissing each other, your hands trailing down his chest, his hands on your back pressing your closer to him, your tongue slipping in his mouth and his fingers toying with the clasp of your bra. You fumbled with the zipper of his jeans and before you knew it, both of you were naked, his mouth on your neck and your fingernails digging into his back, moaning out his name, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you into the shower. The warm water cascaded down both of your bodies, and he lined his cock up with your entrance, thrusting into you several times, making you moan out his name. You were so close when he pulled out, forcing you to your knees, instructing you to suck him off. “Goddammit that feels so fucking good, y/n,” he gasped, grabbing fistfuls of your hair and rocking his hips up to your face, the water spraying on his back steadying himself against the wall as your hands gripped his hips, your tongue swirling around his length. “I’m going to cum, and you’re going to be a good girl and swallow it all, understand?”

You bobbed your head up and down, staring at him as he bit down on his lower lip, starting to shake. You slowly began to pull away, sliding your lips all the way to the head, sucking softly before taking him all into your mouth quickly again, hollowing your cheeks, just enough to make him orgasm. He was moaning out your name along with a handful of curses, tugging on your hair, the warm liquid sliding down your throat as he pumped in and out of your mouth. You began swallowing it all, listening to his whispers and mumbles of praises, his fingers tangled in your hair, fucking your face until he was exhausted. When he was done he pulled you up to your feet, then kissed you on the mouth. “You like that?” you murmured. “You like how you taste on my tongue?”

“Mmm but I’d sure love to get a taste of you,” he suggested. He trailed a hands down your chest, giving both of your tits a squeeze before sliding down your stomach, then towards your thighs, meeting in the middle and using one hand to grip your waist, the other to brush past your folds. “So fucking wet for me, babygirl.”

“Please,” you begged. He inserted a finger and you began to moan, grabbing handfuls of his hair as he started to pump it in and out of you, then adding another, sliding them in and out, causing you to gasp. The shower was filled with steam at this point, Brendon’s lips hot on your shoulder, most likely leaving hickeys by the intensity he was using as he sucked on your skin, and when his thumb found your clit, you moaned out his name loudly, cumming around his fingers.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he hummed, curling his fingers as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the water rush down your hair, his hand slowly withdrawn from your center, catching your breath, watching in a daze as he licked your juices off his fingers, savoring the taste.

“You feel so good,” you mumbled, kissing him again.

“Productive shower,” he joked, and you narrowed your eyes at him playfully, both of you chuckling. “Come on, sweetheart. Let me get you all nice and clean.”

The following moments were filled with Brendon whispering sweet nothings into your ear, or other dirty things about how beautiful you sounded when you moaned his name or how lovely you looked with his cock in your mouth, massaging your body with soap and lathering shampoo and conditioner in your hair, leaving kisses down your back and stomach. It felt like hours, him talking to you, you both kissing, the water flowing down both of your bodies, until finally he suggested maybe you should get out, take a couple more meds, and then rest. You agreed, and he helped guide you out of the shower, snatching a towel and drying you off, then wrapping one around his waist, taking you hand in hand to his bedroom. He flung open the blankets, then curled up beside you, wrapping you in his arms and telling you to get some sleep, fuck the clothes and the meds, covering you both with the warm blanket, reassuring that you’d figure it all out tomorrow.