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spookyboywhump · 10 months ago

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More Eve!!!!! This is her coming home + her first major injury :3c From here it’ll probably stop being chronological whatever I post with her and instead spaced out whenever just for funsies

Word Count: 2,240

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, burning of the whumpee

***

The girl looked around her new home curiously, her hands clasped together behind her back. From the moment they walked through the doorway she was overwhelmed by how neat and pristine everything looked, like the modeled rooms of a furniture store. She didn’t want to risk touching anything, like she would somehow break or dirty something just by putting her hands on it.

The woman, who had explained her name was Natalia Fairfax, but she could only refer to her as Miss, or Miss Fairfax, led her from room to room, a living room with a large television mounted on the wall, a well stocked kitchen and adjoining dining room, an office with bookshelves full of more books than she’d ever seen outside a store or library. Upstairs was Natalia’s bedroom, the guest bedrooms, and the guest bathroom. They were about to walk back downstairs when she finally spoke up, her voice soft and timid.

“Uh- um, Miss Fairfax…?” She asked hesitantly.

“Yes, what is it?” She paused with her hand on the staircase railing.

“Which room will be mine? I-I just want to make sure I ask before it gets too late-“

“Room? You think that pets get rooms?” There was that hint of a smile again, she was amused by what she thought was a simple question. “No, I’m sorry to say that I don’t spoil my pets. Bedrooms are for people, come with me downstairs and I’ll show you where you will sleep.” She told her.

“Yes ma’am…” She followed her back downstairs, being mindful to hide her disappointment. She knew that not all owners were as kind of generous as others, but it still hurt a little, she’d been so hopeful about sleeping in a real bed after so long on a concrete floor or uncomfortable cot.

In the kitchen there was another door aside from the one that led to the pantry, she hadn’t questioned it the first time they went through there. Natalia opened it up and turned a light on, leading her down another flight of stairs into the basement. Each step down made her more and more nervous, she’d always hated going down into the basement as a child, there were always spiders in the house she grew up in, and before she’d been bought she’d heard so many horror stories about owners with whole torture rooms in their basements, not unlike the training rooms she hated so much.

As they actually entered the main part of the basement, she saw it wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d been expecting, nothing special but clean, no weapons of torture in sight, just a nice washer and dryer, some racks containing extra household items and cleaning supplies, what looked like a closet for extra space, and some storage containers stacked up against the wall. She let out a sigh of relief, she almost felt silly for being so afraid.

“I hope you know how to do laundry, you’ll be responsible for all of it now as part of your chores.” Natalia said, and she nodded quickly.

“Yes ma’am, I can do that.” She assured her.

“Good, and you’ll be sleeping in there.” She said, gesturing to the closet door. “I’ve already left some things you’ll need in there, but I’ll have to do something about getting you more clothes and properly fitting shoes.” She said, looking her over, it felt like she was scrutinizing every aspect of her appearance. “You can take a look and take some time to rest if you need to, come find me upstairs when you’re ready.” She told her, and she nodded again. She watched her go back upstairs, waiting until she heard the door at the top shut before she finally relaxed. Natalia put her on edge, she was very cold and her eyes were intense no matter how she looked at her, she felt like one wrong move would get her in big trouble.

Now that she was alone, she went to check out what was supposed to be where she slept. It looked like a closet that had been cleaned out just for her, it was big enough to walk into, probably big enough to comfortably lay down in, but rather narrow. The shelves were almost empty, aside from some folded up blankets, a pillow, and a digital alarm clock.

She looked around the basement a little bit longer, getting herself familiar with another part of the house she’d be working in. Finally, she went back upstairs where she found Natalia in her office. She looked up from her laptop when she entered the room, giving her a disapproving look.

“You’ll want to knock before entering a room unless I’ve called you inside from now on. Go ahead and come here though.” She said, pushing her chair back from her desk. Nervously, she walked over to her, and after Natalia gestured to the floor, she dropped to her knees. “I need to get you a new collar, which means you’ll get a name tag with it. I’ve been thinking about the name Eve for you.” She told her.

“Eve…?”

“Yes. It’s short, but I think it’ll fit you nicely. I expect you to respond immediately when I call your name, do you understand?” She’d been anxious about what Natalia may choose to name her, she’d heard of all kinds of demeaning and humiliating names pets had gotten stuck with, but Eve… she thought it was pretty, she felt lucky even.

“Yes ma’am.” Eve told her, accepting her new name without complaint. She wouldn’t say she had no attachment to her actual name, but she’d happily take this over anything insulting.

“Good girl.” Natalia smiled at her. “As long as you obey me and do your job here well, then you should be fine. I intend to keep you only as long as you’re useful, but you seem like you’ll last a while.” Eve chose to take that as a compliment, she wanted to last a while, forever even. After all, she didn’t want to find out what Natalia did with pets that were no longer useful.

***

Eve settled down n and tried to adapt to the rules here quickly. She learned the hard way the first morning he woke up in the house that Natalia would allow her to learn to cook, but that she should learn quickly as she wouldn’t be allowed to eat anything she hadn’t prepared. Natalia had put instructions for making breakfast on the counter and told her to start learning or go hungry, and sadly, she was not a natural in the kitchen. For the first few weeks her diet consisted primarily of burnt toast and overcooked eggs, most of the other food she messed up wasn’t even edible.

The rest of the chores were easy, but exhausting on a nearly empty stomach. She cleaned her mistakes in the kitchen multiple times a day and tended to the upkeep of every single other room in the house. She felt like she was cleaning before the mess could even be created, but she supposed this was just what was necessary to keep a home like this looking as picture perfect as it was.

She didn’t think it would be hard, only Natalia lived there after all, but with the amount of things that needed to be done every single day, she hardly had a moment to herself until she was allowed to go to bed. That alarm clock would go off at five thirty every morning, when she would have to get up and start everything over again.

After nearly two months there, her skills with breakfast had improved immensely, she could make a variety of things now and she felt more confident in her abilities there, but dinner was causing her to struggle. She was always overwhelmed, there were always so many things to do at once and it never came out right. She’d usually end up going to bed hungry after Natalia scolded her for messing up again.

She’d been punished for some of the most ruined meals, made to kneel on dry rice for two hours after she mistakenly burnt the rice for dinner, salt rubbed into preexisting cuts and scrapes when she seriously over salted one meal, she never resisted the punishments and as she cried, Natalia would tell her she would know better next time now, she wouldn’t have to repeat this, and she’d keep those punishments in the back of her mind whenever she went to start preparing another meal.

The worst of it came late one evening. She’d fallen behind on her chores so dinner was running late, and though Eve was doing her best, she was in a hurry and things were not going well. The chicken she’d been cooking in one pan had clearly burnt and there was no going back from that and the water she was trying to boil for pasta seemed like it would never reach a boiling point. She kept stirring the sauce in the pot on a back burner, anxiously biting her lip as she knew there was no way in which this could end well for her. She froze as she heard footsteps entering the room, Natalia approaching her.

“Again, Eve?” She asked, sounded exasperated.

“I-I’m sorry ma’am, I’m sorry, I was trying but there was just-“

“I don’t want to hear your excuses!” She snapped at her. She shoved her away from the stove, looking over the damage she’d done this time. “I feel I’ve been more than patient with you and yet you continue to fuck up completely simple tasks, I’m starting to wonder if you’re even worth keeping around!” The comment felt like a punch to the gut, Eve’s heart pounded in her chest, sweat pricked at the back of her neck and suddenly the spacious kitchen felt much smaller, much hotter, she thought she was going to be sick.

“N-no!” She blurted out. “No, please, I promise I’ll do better, please punish me, give- give me more time, I’ll do better!” She insisted, tears welling up in her eyes. She didn’t know what would happen to her if Natalia decided she wasn’t worth keeping around, she didn’t know if they’d take her back and let her work again or if they’d finally just put her down and get it over with. Natalia just looked even angrier with her, her hand wrapped around the handle of the pot of hot water.

“You do not tell me no.” She said through gritted teeth. Eve took a step back, she knew she was in danger, she hadn’t seen Natalia this angry before.

“I’m sorry…” She whimpered. Apologies meant nothing to Natalia though, and she knew that, it had never helped her before, but Natalia’s punishments were always strategic and thought out. She didn’t take even a second to think about this, she lifted the pot from the stove in one quick movement and splashed the hot water onto her, eliciting a shriek from Eve as she instinctively turned away to protect herself.

She didn’t throw the whole pot of near boiling water on her, but it was certainly enough, and she’d only managed to protect her chest and stomach from getting the worst of it. The right side of her body was still soaked, searing pain from her shoulder all the way down her leg, she could feel it in her ribs, her shorts wet and sticking to her thigh, she desperately shook water off her arm as she cried, stumbling towards the sink for cold water.

“H-hot, it’s really hot, please- please help me, I’m sorry ma’am, I’m sorry, please help!” She cried, trying to run cold water from the faucet over her arm but it just wasn’t enough, too much of her body felt like it was on fire for just the kitchen sink to help her, her legs were shaking and all she could think of was how badly she needed the pain to stop.

“Why should I? You brought this on yourself.” Natalia said, glaring at her.

“Please!” She sobbed, collapsing against the counter, barely managing to hold herself up by gripping onto the edge. After a moment Natalia sighed heavily, she stormed over and opened a drawer next to the sink to get a hand towel before shutting the water off. She used the towel to dry off the remaining water on her, she was so rough in doing so it caused Eve to start screaming again.

“Quiet! I’m trying to help you but I won’t if you’re going to keep shrieking in my ear!” She hissed, and Eve bit down on her lip, whimpering pitifully as she tried to keep quiet. Natalia took her arm in her hand, looking over the damage done with a scowl on her face. “I think you’re going to need to see someone for this.”

“Like… Like a doctor…?” She asked.

“Yes, a doctor.” She said it like Eve was stupid. “Not the kind you’re used to I’m sure.” Eve didn’t know what she meant by that, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

She assumed if she was going to see a doctor, she’d be given treatment, even time to recover. She was already praying that it wouldn’t take too long, Natalia was being gracious enough to get her seen at all, she just hoped she intended to keep her afterwards.

#whump #whump writing #my writing #my oc’s #Eve #Natalia #pet whump #dehumanization #Eve my beloved…..#yeah that’s gonna leave a pretty bad scar on the poor girl #lady whumpee #Natalia has been fun to write #because she’s always been the least developed of the Fairfax siblings #but I always imagined Nicholas is most similar to her #and I get to see that more the more I write her

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sangcreole · 4 months ago

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A single dark brow is raised upon Daniel's response referencing an excuse to leave. He's grown bold during their time apart, and Louis cannot decide if he ought to be impressed by the outward casual air in the wake of all that has befallen them these last few days, or fully outraged at the audacity that lines each syllable. He wouldn't dare speak to Louis with such flippant disrespect when last they met, but then again, he was not yet filled with the great, auspicious blood of the vampire Armand.

Daniel looks at him, and Louis cannot help but stare back. For how many years had the last image of Daniel in his mind been that of the unconscious boy, dropped dead in that dusky old apartment? How many times had he wondered what had become of that boy— any time he'd pass by the bar, every time he sank his fangs into a dirty blond, every single night until that one evening when a certain title in the window of the bookshelf had caught his eye.

"Yes," he manages a small breath of a laugh at Daniel's initial comments.

"What have I been up to? Not nearly as much as you, I should think."

He braces his back against the balcony railing, looking back through the fall French doors into the immaculate rooms which Armand and Daniel had so graciously invited their new little coven to stay.

"Did he build this all for you?" Wandering eyes take stock of the drapes, the shiny floor panels, the glistening television mounted on the wall in the next room.

"Or did you build it together?"

The answer made for Daniel to follow the other's gaze towards the closed door. You could only hear the fast clicking of fingers on a keyboard should one press their ear upon the wood ( not that Daniel did that before, if he were to be asked if he had ). But his gaze did not linger. He turned it back to Louis, then back to the ocean down below the balcony as his thumbnail flicked open the cover of the lighter once more. Click. Clack. Click—

But Louis' comment made him stop again. To gather the lighter in his hand and encase it with his fingers so that it was out of view finally. ❛ Would make for a faster excuse to leave though, ❜ he said, glancing down at the thing and finding a warped image of himself on the smudged, cool surface. But he soon then pocketed it which freed his hands to do ... nothing. Instead, they pressed upon his thighs for a moment, lips pressing simultaneously into a thin line. Thinking ...

To say the least, he was bored.

A glance again to Louis. It had been a while. Louis changed very little, even past the decades as if he wore the same dusty clothes no matter what the century called for. The only change Daniel could surmise was within his eyes. The way he looked about the room with a better purpose. Lestat was back in his life. The book the guy wrote that Daniel ate up from front to back repeatedly, seemed to be all that it called for. Or it was just the subsequent vampire apocalypse ... a brush with death could make anyone change their minds ( as if that mind ever needed to change in the first place remains to be seen ).

❛ You look ... well. ❜ Small talk. Seemed odd despite where they both left off at. Daniel couldn't help the amusement. ❛ Fresh. Cape-less. What've you been up to this past decade or so? Anything fun—revelations to be had, certain soliloquies to be announced? ❜

#guacamolloy

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jiminstonic · 2 years ago

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In The Night | jjk

pairing: stalker!jungkook + fem/afab!reader

word count: 2.3k

genre: smut, yandere, thriller

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, stalking, male masturbation, female masturbation, obsessive thoughts, yandere behavior, mention of filming without consent, vibrator use, body worship, breaking and entering, use of “princess”, it’s hot

— synopsis: When you find out that the shy tech guy has been watching you at night, you take matters into your own hands.

Eleven P.M. on the dot. It’s almost time. Excitement bubbles in your stomach, nerves flowing from your toes to your fingertips. Immediately, you open your window just enough to leave a crack. Then, you sift through your dresser for something just right. Walking around in a bra and panties would be too obvious—you have to keep up the clueless act as best you can, but still be a tease.

So, you fish out an old shirt you had accidentally made into a too-short-to-wear-to-the-grocery-store crop tee, the graphic on the front more than halfway cut off. It’s perfect to show off the expanse of your stomach, which is key for what’s to come. Perhaps you can go with only that and panties—no doubt it would be game-changing, but you still grab for your heart pattern sleep shorts that do wonders for the shape of your ass. It’s perfect, and just in time.

Eleven-Ten P.M. He’s here. Adrenaline pumps through you at a speed incomprehensible, putting your heart to the test as you can practically hear it pounding. Remember, play it cool. You’re not supposed to know that he’s watching.

Yes, the hot, nerdy tech guy that seems to lose all collectiveness around you watches you through your window every single night. And honestly, you love it.

Of course, you’ve had the inner monologue about how it’s supposed to creep you the fuck out and that you probably should have called the cops by now. But that just wouldn’t be any fun, now would it?

You remember the first time you’d noticed him watching you. He was only on the rooftop of the neighboring building, sitting with his tripod set just over the cement railing, pointed straight into your bedroom window. That was about three weeks ago. Now, though…he’s gotten bold. Instead of being atop the next building, he now sits right outside your window on the fire escape, just out of sight. Although, he tends to become sloppy with staying hidden when he can’t keep from stroking himself faster and faster at the sight of you.

The feeling of eyes on you is unbelievably strong, especially now that you know his routine. It only fuels your actions further.

Laying flat on your bed with your right leg propped, you pretend to channel surf on your tv that’s mounted high on the wall facing your bed. As your left hand is occupied with pressing buttons on the remote, your right is lightly tracing over your stomach and fidgeting with your naval ring every now and then. Starting at your sternum, the tips of your fingers ghost over your skin, all the way down the waistband of your shorts, and back up; never breaking pace. You can practically feel his eyes following every movement, and you’re positive you’re not the only one wishing it was his fingers on you instead.

Audibly sighing, you feign boredom and act as if you couldn’t find a channel to settle on, so you just power off the television and toss the remote to the side. This is where the fun truly begins.

You look down at your stomach, pretending to ponder, as you rest your hand against your skin. Slowly, you begin to move your hand further down your stomach and under the waistband of your shorts. From there, you press your fingers slightly onto your mound where your clit lies right between your folds, feeling the small phantom of sensation. It’s nothing much at all, but you want to take this slow to leave him anticipating your every move.

Your chest caves with an exhale, then making sure to exaggerate your inhale and puff out your chest, nipples more than visible under the thin material of your crop top. This has to be driving him absolutely insane.

And is it ever. Jungkook’s back is pressed against the brick wall of the building, his neck twisted almost painfully in order to see through your bedroom window that he’s sitting right next to. His legs are folded against his chest in an effort to stay concealed from view, mainly from you since he could give a shit less if anyone else sees him. He only cares about you. He only cares about what you think. You are the only one he craves. And goddamn do you look ravenous right now.

He could almost feel your skin under his fingertips with everything you’re putting on display. The way your breasts move up and down with your deep breaths, he could almost hear your gasps. If he tries hard enough, he just actually might be able to. It was impossible to miss the small opening in your window. His eyes are glued to where your fingers are circling in between your thighs. It’s almost as if you want him to see with the way your leg closest to the window is lying flat on your bed, giving him a front row seat of your clothed cunt.

The erection between his legs pushes against his dark skinny jeans, something he fears may become painful if he gets any harder. And with the direction you’re taking things, he most likely will. So, to relieve some of the pressure, he unbuttons his jeans and lets the zipper slowly slide down on its own. Afraid to miss something, he turns back to look at you, only to see that you’re practically mimicking his actions by sliding down your own shorts. The sight of it moving gracefully down your legs only to fly off of your ankle and onto the floor makes him wish more than anything that he were the one undressing you.

For now, he’s more than grateful to be able to see you like this, in one of your most vulnerable states, thinking that you’re all alone. The tip of his dick peeks out from his waistband, precum smearing onto his stomach as he watches you slowly grinding on your own fingers. You’re teasing him, you know you are. It’s the whole reason why you’re still rubbing yourself over your underwear and not directly on your pussy. That and the thin cloth gliding against your clit coupled with the feeling of a certain pair of dark eyes on you is electrifying. You’re starting to have a hard time not losing yourself in what you started.

Fuck it, you think as you twist around and reach to your bedside table where your pink vibrator lies. It’s a few inches long and not exactly thick, but the vibration does wonders every time. Once it’s in your grasp, you make yourself comfortable over the duvet with your back propped up against the pillows. It takes everything in you not to look out your window and meet his eyes as you slide your underwear down your legs. He still thinks I don’t know he’s watching, I have to keep going. With your underwear at the foot of your bed, you bend your legs and let your knees fall to either side of you, giving him a perfect view of your glistening pussy with your legs wide open. You wonder if he knows that you’re this way for him—because of him.

At this point, Jungkook’s cock is already out and in his hand. His pumps are slow while he simultaneously tries to focus on you and relieving his problem that you caused. His eyes are glued to your form, heart practically jumping out of his chest when he watches as you grab the vibrator. He’s torturing himself with the lagging movements of his hand, fingers only gently brushing that sweet spot just under his tip. It’s all driving him crazy. You’re driving him crazy. It’s as if he’s in a lustful frenzy with the way his chest rises and falls rapidly with deep breaths. His body is on fire.

And then, your legs open like the doors to heaven. His breath hitches, dick throbbing violently in his tight grip as a drop of precum trickles over his thumb and down his length. His pupils are blown wide as he looks on at your glistening, glowing cunt for the very first time. God has he dreamt of this. And you’ve beyond exceeded his expectations. Of course, he knew your pussy would be pretty, how could it not when it’s on your ethereal body? But this…it’s perfect. His mouth waters as he could practically feel your clit on his tongue, the taste of your juices so sweet and so you. Fuck, he thinks as he tears his gaze away to look down at his length, having to harshly pinch his tip in order to not cum just from looking at you. He wants to feel good with you, and he’ll be damned if anything’s going to ruin it.

Once he turns his head toward you again, you’re already gliding the pink vibrator against your bare clit. With that, he resumes his strokes on his now insanely hard dick. As his hand goes up, he closes it around his tip and twists lightly, only to go back down, smearing precum over his length. The sight of you watching where the toy makes contact with your pussy does so many things to him, he doesn’t know how much longer he can take it.

That is until your jaw drops slightly—lips parting with a gasp he wishes to hear—as you slowly push the vibrator into your cunt. He can’t help but jerk himself with a now bruising pace. You’re practically giving him a visual aid of what it’d be like to fuck you. Him inside of you. He’s toyed with the fantasy often…very often, but always dismissed it thinking that he doesn’t deserve to feel the soft walls of your pussy around him. Yet, there isn’t anyone else that deserves to either.

You’re definitely enjoying this more than you’d originally thought. Originally, you weren’t even going to go this far, but now you’re in too deep, and you have to see it through. You’re also not complaining. You don’t even have the breath to do so when all that passes your lips are moans and groans from the euphoria flowing from your core. A thin layer of sweat coats your chest, giving you the perfect opportunity to lift your top, revealing your breasts. Your nipples immediately harden from being exposed to the cool air of your room, only enhancing the feeling when your fingertips smooth over one of them. With one hand on your cunt and the other toying with your nipple, a jolt of pleasure shoots through your body as your back arches and your head falls back onto the pillows. The otherwise quiet room is filled with your noises and all you can think about is him and what he might be doing to himself right now. You must be sick to be getting off to your stalker, but you don’t want any medicine either. It’s the best high you’ve had in a long while.

Your walls clamp around the vibrator as you move it in and out of you at a steady pace. For the first time you can feel the vibrations on your clit from inside, and it’s ecstasy. You’ve tried it before, yet your attempts were futile. It has to be him doing this to you; the effect he has on you is dangerous, but it feels so good.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is having a hard time not reaching his climax before you. He feels blissed out, both from his own motions and just looking on at your form. If he could only replace the hand on your breast with his, and the vibrator with his cock—oh, he’d stretch you out so fucking good, he just knows it. And while he hadn’t heard your moans before, he sure as hell hears them now. Your sweet, pleasured noises make his head spin and he is absolutely feral. The things he would do, the people he’d kill to put his mouth on your skin, on your pussy, on your lips. Oh, those lips of yours would look so pretty around his cock.

Suddenly, he sees your chest heaving, eyebrows furrowing, and mouth opening wider as you move the vibrator in and out of you at a faster rate. He mimics the pace on his own length, the feeling getting stronger and stronger and he knows—you’re about to cum together. He doesn’t stop, just as you don’t, and his eyes are practically superglued to your pussy, watching it suck in the toy every time you pull it out. Shit, you must be so tight and—

Simultaneously, your body jolts right as cum shoots from his tip. You ride out your orgasm on the vibrator as Jungkook milks his throbbing cock with gasps in the night. In his mind, all of his cum is shooting deep into you, so much so that it would leak from your cunt. It’s much better than the reality, which is all of it landing onto the fire escape and even over the railing.

You push the vibrator into you one last time before turning it off and pulling it out. Your walls spasm at the friction, extremely overstimulated, and you hiss at the feeling.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the same thought runs through both of your minds: That’s the hardest I’ve ever came.

And you’re satisfied with yourself, confident that you put on a good show for him. And who knows, you might even do it again sometime. You know for sure he’ll be back after tonight.

But right now, you’re spent, completely exhausted to the point that you don’t even bother putting your clothes back on and just pull the duvet over your form. With the last bit of energy, you reach over and pull the string to your lamp, blanketing your room in darkness as your heavy eyelids fall to a close.

You’re just on the edge of slumber when you feel a dip in your bed. Finally, your cat Minx came to lay with you for the rest of the night. With that thought, you let yourself fall asleep once again.

Until you remember that Minx never jumps on your bed by herself.

Your eyes snap open to find Jungkook’s dark and bulky form crawling onto your bed, now much closer as his face is mere inches from yours. The smirk on his lips is sinister, striking fear into your soul.

“You didn’t think we were done just yet, did you, princess?”

a/n: this is my first time writing smut so go easy on me pls! this was originally in my drafts forever and i finally got the will to finish it, and im so glad i did. i hadn’t initially planned on releasing it this early, but decided to for the follower milestone because that is more than i could ever ask for. the support is amazing and im so thankful <333

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dcbbw · 2 years ago

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Wednesday WIPs

It is 10pm ET on a Wednesday night, and I am so behind on deadlines here and in the real world, it is not even funny. But I have been making (very little) headway on a few fics that again, did not get posted when I thought they would.

I’m hopeful to have at least two stories posted before the weekend is over if life can ease up just the tiniest bit.

I do have two sneak snippets to share, mostly to prove I still exist in the tumblr world.

As always, everything is in a state of flux, and final publication will be revised, edited, and may vary from what’s posted today.

Everything is below the cut. Happy reading!

Coitus Interruptus (Riley ask; pairing is #Riam)

The couple had a rare weekend free; their sons were at Applewood visiting with Regina and their Aunt Lena. Both had plans for the weekend.

Neither had communicated their plans with the other.

Liam had plans for his wife that involved no clothes, no work phones, and lots of sex.

He wasn’t chancing an argument.

“AND you had breakfast this morning, so not starving,” he quickly changed the subject.

“Do you know how long ago THAT was?” Riley demanded.

Liam did know. Riley had eaten breakfast aboard the royal family’s private rail coach at 8am. It was now 11:30am.

“You call TWO pancakes and ONE sausage patty breakfast?? THAT is NOT breakfast! A snack at most.”

Riley’s plans involved eating food she wouldn’t have to share, simping over Gong Yoo, and finding a new hiding place for her snack wagon and hamper.

Ever since Liam’s children had entered the picture, Riley had no food to herself any longer. From the moment of conception, his kids had been nothing but crumb snatchers stealing all her food. If they had been her children, they wouldn’t do her like that.

Riley often wondered how she ended up a single mother and sole food source to kids that weren’t even hers.

Liam moved closer to his wife, his lips ghosting her jawline. His thumb grazed against her nipple, hidden beneath a red cotton camisole tunic and black sports bra. His lips curved as he felt it harden beneath his touch.

Riley slapped his hand away. “I’m trying to make a phone call!” she chided snappishly.

“To WHO?” Liam demanded as he rubbed the offended spot on the back of his hand.

“The kitchens! I need sustenance!”

“We’ll be home in a matter of minutes,” the King argued. “You can order from the rooms, and we can … pass the time until it’s delivered.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively as his palm rubbed her thigh.

Riley stared at her husband; her expression was neither agreeable nor amenable.

We’re hungry for two different things, she thought. I’m Team Chicken Kiev.

Siren Song (for #HYAW which is long over).

Set in my Three’s Company AU where Damien, F!Kai, and Asian M!Hayden are in a throuple. The PM gang are drawn into Eros intrigue not through the Sirens Project, but one that shows the Androids aren’t the ones who are inhuman. Not a one-shot, and will quite possibly piss off 2-3 fandoms.

Eros

“Cecile, is everything prepared for the noon meeting?” Rowan West asked, his flame-blue eyes going between the newspaper on his desk, and the wall-mounted television.

Cecile Contreras rolled her eyes slightly as she glanced up from her phone. “But of course, Rowan. We’ll be convening in the Empire Conference Room, and lunch will be delivered at 11:45. Old World Deli will be catering.”

The founder and CEO of Eros Incorporated was skimming over an article about a non-profit hospital network that was being investigated for non-compliance with federal, state, and local laws by demanding and eventually harassing low-income patients who were protected against payment for payment … in full, sometimes for services not rendered.

The network was working frantically to sell off their facilities while destroying evidence of any wrongdoing.

“St. Frank’s may be the smartest investment I’ve ever acquired,” he mused.

“The smartest move you ever made was buying Edenbrook from Leland, then offering Ethan Ramsey the chance to head his own hospital, and be Western LLC’s Chairman of the Board,” his department head observed.

“He’d better not fuck this deal up,” Rowan growled.

“Stop being paranoid, Rowan! All he has to do is give the board a check. This is Ramsey’s chance to achieve his every dream. Project Hybrid exceeds the Siren Project in every way imaginable. He won’t let anything go wrong,” Cecile Contreras assured her boss.

The chirping of her phone caught her attention; she glanced down, a satisfied smile slowly curving her lips as she read the text message.

Mission accomplished

Cecile raised an eyebrow in approval. Harley was proving to be useful in more ways than one.

Three floors beneath Rowan’s office, his Chief Technology Officer lounged in his Deputy Assistant’s doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. Khaan Mousavi’s lips held a small smile as he watched Sloane Washington go through her just-arrived-at-the-office-routine: Placing a bag of greasy breakfast and a cup of hot green tea on her desk; slipping out of her sweater coat and hanging it on a wall hook; fishing her phone out of her slouchy denim patchwork purse before placing the handbag in her bottom left desk drawer. Sitting in her chair before swiveling to face him, a sunny smile on her face.

“Good morning, boss!”

As if they hadn’t woken up in the same bed, rode the same train, and arrived at the office together.

Fraternization was frowned upon at Eros.

Khaan took in his girlfriend’s creamy café au lait-colored skin, her bright brown eyes hidden behind fashionable glasses, and her braided hair done in an elaborate topknot. She was beautiful.

“Tonight is boys’ night out with Hamza,” he reminded her. “Pizza, movies, maybe some bowling.”

Sloane nodded as she sipped her milky tea. “I know. I’ll be at Hayden’s; it’s his birthday!”

Khaan frowned slightly. “Is there going to be a party? My son and I love parties!”

Sloane giggled. “You won’t like this one. Kai’s cooking and Steve’s lemon bars, followed by me performing routine maintenance on Hayden before Damien and Kai whisk him away upstate.”

Khaan frowned good-naturedly. “Kai is not the best cook. Someone needs to convince Damien and Nadia to order pizzas.” he looked pointedly at Sloane.

His girlfriend shook her head slightly, a half-grin on her lips. “I’m a tech geek, not a party planner.”

She opened her laptop, prepared to log on. Instead, her brow furrowed as she saw the folded piece of paper sitting on her keyboard. Her boyfriend saw and made his way inside her office.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he peered over her shoulder.

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @burnsoslow @marietrinmimi @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @cmestrella @liamrhysstalker2020 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @phoenixrising308 @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @foreverethereal123 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @jovialyouthmusic @21-wishes @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @queenrileyrose @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame @bbrandy2002 @eversoaringqueen12 @queenmiarys @lizzybeth1986

#dcbbw writes #more WIPs #riley x liam #trh fanfiction #perfect match #hyaw

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janicho88 · 3 years ago

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Operation: Christmas Couple -Part 4

Pairing- Jensen, x Female!Reader eventually

Word count- 6,056

Warnings- Some language, fluff, plotting friends, implied (like barely there) future smut. I think that’s all.

A/N- This is going to be a slow burn. It’s the first time I’ve done RPF. It’s season 7, but for the purpose of this fic some of the characters made earlier season appearances than they actually did on the show. Thank you @deanwanddamons for your help with this series! All mistakes are mine. Square filled for @spnchristmasbingo Baking Cookies.

Summary- Some of the cast members of Supernatural have been watching the interaction of two close friends around each other. Neither one will admit to there being anything more between them. With the most magical season of the year upon them, what better time to open their eyes? Brianna and the girls, along with some help from Jared have come up with just the way to accomplish that. But are Jensen and the reader going to cooperate, or are they going to foil their plans?

Chapter Summary- Finally at the house, it’s time for your friends to put their plan into action. Are both you and Jensen going to cooperate, though? Or will his former comment ring true?

This story has its own separate taglist. If you would like to be added, let me know!!

Series Masterlist

You turn away from Jensen after his last comment. You move your luggage over to the bench. That is when you really take in the room that Briana sent you up to.

This bedroom was bigger than your one back home. There is a king size bed in the middle, with two large end tables on either side. In the far corner is a dresser with a television on top. A chair on either side of the room.

Your favorite part has to be the window seat you just set your luggage on. It was the length of four windowpanes, and plenty wide enough you could lean back against the wall to look out and not worry about falling off.

“Guys! Come back here!” Brianna calls from somewhere below.

“I guess we are being paged,” you tell Jensen, walking away from your just opened suitcase.

“Sounds like it. We better get a move on.”

He opens the bedroom door and waits for you to exit before following. Looking over the railing along the hallway you can see your friends in what you're sure is the living room. Making your way down the stairs you look around at the house, you didn’t have much of a chance when you first arrived.

Coming down the stairs you are in the living room, somehow you missed the large fireplace in the middle when you walked by before. The open kitchen and small dining area on the other side of the living room. Behind you is a short staircase, you think it leads to the front door you saw outside. Walking toward an empty spot on the couch you think you can see another dining area. You greet your friends you haven’t seen yet along the way to your seat.

“Aunt Y/N!” Tom runs over grabbing your leg, leaning down, you pick him up.

Jensen follows behind, taking the seat next to you. Tom starts waving at him. Briana, Kim and Felicia are standing in front of the fireplace. Travis and José are sitting in the high back chairs. Jaci is sitting on one end of the couch, with Rich next to her. Rob is standing behind Ruth, who is next to Jaci. Jared on the other end, Gen sitting on his lap.

“Welcome everyone,” Briana starts off, “welcome to this lovely chalet. It is part of the Mount Seymour Resort area, so ski passes are included if anyone wants to take advantage. It is a ski in/ski out area. The main lodge does rentals if anyone needs to get some.”

She pauses to look around before continuing. “I’m so excited to spend the holidays with all of you. It’s going to be a blast! We have some great Christmas activities planned for the week or, so we are here. Wouldn’t it be so much fun to do them in pairs?”

“Bri,” Jensen interrupts her, “you do know Christmas is in three days, right? And there isn’t an even number of us.”

“Well, Mr. Killjoy, we’ll just start celebrating the 12 days of Christmas after Christmas is over.”

“Not you, too,” Jensen sighs.

“Anyways, what I was trying to say before I was interrupted,” she glares over at Jensen, “is we have so much planned to make this the best trip ever!”

“Since there is an odd number, as Jensen pointed out, I’ll judge the first activity.” Felica takes over speaking. “Which we are going to do tomorrow afternoon. That gives everyone time to get what they need.”

“Wait a minute!” Jared interrupts this time, “you never said we were being judged for any of this.”

“Not all of it. Vicki can’t stay more than a night, so when it’s just Misha after Christmas I’ll work with him. We’ll take turns until then.”

“I’ll judge that way you can participate,” Jensen is quick to offer.

“Are you abandoning your partner already?” Kim wants to know.

“How do I already have a partner? This is the first time you've mentioned what we’re doing?”

“We all decided to use couples for partners,” Briana tells him.

“Again, how do I have a partner?”

You’re watching between Jensen and the girls, you have a feeling you know what’s coming. It’s why they have you and Jensen making dinner together.

“Y/N’s your partner. You two spend as much time together as a couple does anyway,” Felicia informs him.

“I spend almost as much time with Jared,” your roommate defends.

“You don’t go home with Jared, though, do you?” Briana comes back with.

“Well, sometimes we might…”

“So what have you ladies planned first?” Ruth jumps in, trying to get it back on track.

“I’m so glad you asked,” Felicia tells her. “It’s a Christmas cookie bake off!”

“We made cookies at home and brought some.”

“You aren’t getting out of this, Ackles,” Kim tells him.

You turn to whisper in his ear, “will you quit trying to be a pain?”

“It's Christmas, the calories from sweets don’t count right now. So we’re going to stuff our faces, while we’re here. Okay?” Briana asks.

Jensen just throws up his hands in surrender.

“Each group is going to make two cookies. To start you are going to make your favorite sugar cookie and frosting combo. The second cookie is a Christmas cookie or bar, of your choosing, just not another sugar cookie.”

“What if your favorite recipe is the one where you grab a bag and add an egg or something to it?” Rich asks.

Jaci lightly smacks his arm, shaking her head. “Ignore him, I have cookie recipes.”

“I brought some baking things up just for this. If you need something that isn’t here, you’ll need to get it before tomorrow. We start baking after lunch,” Briana tells the group.

“That concludes tomorrow's big Christmas activity. Any questions?” Kim asks, looking around at everyone.

“Okay then, some of you have already checked out the house, for those that haven’t, kitchen, dining room, main dining room, living room.” She points to each of those rooms as she goes. “Briana, José, Travis and I are in the two rooms behind the dining room area. There is a bathroom between them. Padalecki’s have the room over the front door, with a spare bed for Tom. Felica and the Collins have the bunkroom in the back corner. Another bathroom between those. Rich, Jaci, Ruth and Rob have the two rooms in the hallway overlooking the living room, again a bathroom in between. That leaves Y/N, and Jensen in the room at that end over the dining room. There is a bathroom attached to your room.”

“Now for the fun stuff,” Kim claps her hands together, “the hot tub is out on the deck, through those doors. The basement has a movie viewing room..”

“You mean it has a tv?” Rob interrupts.

“Yes, it has a few couches and a lounge thingy. It’s like a mini movie theater. There is a pool table and foosball table in the game room. It also has two tv’s. One for video games, one for watching. The sauna is downstairs, along with a room to hold your ski equipment, another bathroom and a changing room.”

“Does this place come with a map?” Jared jokes.

“Maybe someone will draw you one, moose,” Rich teases him.

“Just be careful, remember this house isn’t actually ours. So don’t break anything and keep the rough housing that you guys tend to get into, outside. Please, and thank you.” Briana finishes up.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Jared asks with a laugh.

“You’re paying for anything you break buddy,” Brianna warns him.

The others start to get up and move about, Jared, Rich and Rob heading to the basement. You turn to Jensen. “I’m going to unpack some things from my suitcase.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

Standing from the couch, the two of you turn toward the basement steps when you hear Rich yelling, “That’s not how you play you giant moose. I call cheating!”

“Who said you make the rules?” Jared responds.

“Yeah, too early in the week to get in the middle of that,” Jensen says standing up.

He lets you go in front of him, then follows you up the stairs. The bag with some of the gifts ended up in the room, you set it by the door to take back down. There is one present you leave in your suitcase. This room has a walk-in closet on the other side of the wall behind the bed, you hang up some of your clothes in there. Taking your bathroom bag into the bathroom you stop in the doorway.

“Wow!”

“What’s up?” Jensen asks.

You can hear him walking your way, and step into the bathroom. He takes a look around before agreeing with your sentiment.

“I think Dean would be very pleased with this shower.” There was a large glass shower on one side.

“He can have that. I can’t wait to soak in that tub and watch the snow fall.” After the shower was an inviting bathtub next to a window that overlooked the backyard.

Back in the bedroom, Jensen asks about the cookies you need to make while finishing up with his clothes.

“Do you have an idea? What do you want to make?”

“I have a couple of thoughts, but I wanted to see if there was a certain cookie you were hoping for?”

“No, it doesn’t matter,” he tells you, shaking his head.

“Alright, do you remember the cookies I made for your 4th of July party?”

“You made a few if I recall.”

“The blue ones with frosting.”

“Oh, okay. I think so.”

“How about we make red and green ones for Christmas.”

“Whatever you want, Y/N. It honestly doesn’t matter to me.”

“Okay.” Grabbing your computer from its bag you head to the window seat. “Did Bri say anything about the Wi-Fi password?”

“No, I’ll ask her in a minute.”

While the computer is booting up, Jensen goes out to check on a password for you. He comes back a couple minutes later with a picture of the information you need. Looking up pinterest you browse through your saved pins to see if any other ideas jump out at you. Jensen is sitting on the bed, typing away on his phone.

“What do you think of White Chocolate Ginger cookies?”

“I heard Gen talking to Tom about making Gingerbread.”

“Alright, Peanut Butter Blossoms?”

“The ones with the kisses in the middle?”

“Yeah.”

“Rob and Ruth were talking about those.”

“Alright then, Jello cookies it is. That means we’ll need a few things from the store.”

Looking back at the computer you begin writing a list, adding the few things you’ll need for your sugar cookie and frosting recipes. Done with the laptop, you close it up and place it on the closest nightstand. Jensen had claimed the far side of the bed. Grabbing a new sweatshirt out of your bag you put it on.

“I’m going to go look around the house.”

It takes him a minute to respond. “Hmm?”

“I said, I’m going to go look around. Do you want to come?”

“I need to make a call, but I’ll be down shortly.”

With a nod, you walk out of the room, taking the time to look around the hallway up here. From the location of the other bedroom doors, it looks like you and Jensen have the largest room up here. Pausing on one side of the tall fireplace, you look down over the living room area and out the windows facing the snowy mountain. You can see the kitchen area off to the side. It really was something. A hand on your back has you jumping.

“Whoa, careful. You don’t want to fall down the stairs right there, or go over the railing.”

“Yeah, that might put a damper on the holiday spirit. I didn’t even hear you come out of the bedroom.”

“My training as a hunter keeps me quiet,” Jensen replies with a smirk.

“Is she back?” you question, having an idea who he was on the phone with.

“Back in Canada, but not Vancouver yet.”

You just nod at his response.

The two of you head down the stairs, but don’t see anyone around. Cheering from the basement, gives away the others location. Following Jensen down the steps you see Rob and Rich on one side of a foosball table, with Jared and Travis on the other.

There is an intense battle going on when Jared takes one hand off his bar, quickly puts a finger in his mouth and reaches across the table, sticking it in Rich’s ear.

“Ah, what the hell?” Rich wipes his ear with his own hand.

Rob is distracted and turns to Rich while Jared keeps playing followed by Travis. One of Jared’s players knocks the ball in the goal, and he cheers.

“We win! Ha!”

“No, you giant man child, you cheated! That goal doesn’t count.”

“You backed away, I don’t force you to leave the table. You stopped playing, we scored, that means we won.”

“Whatever. This isn’t over, we’ll get you next time.”

Jensen softly chuckles beside you, but it draws Rob’s attention.

“Hey Ackles! Get over here and kick their butts.”

“Yeah, come on Jackles, see if you can beat us,” Jared goads him.

“I’ll take you down, Padalecki. No problem. I need a partner, who’s in?”

“Y/N!” Both Briana and Felicia yell out, as José holds up his hand behind them.

Jensen looks between you and the three of them.

“I think it’s safer watching. I’m going to keep my ears away from Jared.”

You move over to the side watching your friends compete. Jensen’s side took an early lead, but Jared and Travis were doing all they could to catch up. The trash talk was flying, but you didn’t expect anything less. Jared’s side took the lead, soon it was 9-8 their lead. Jensen and José tied it up, now it’s next goal wins.

No one notices Rich lean down next to Tom for a moment before walking away. All of a sudden you hear, “Daddy look!”

A surprised Jared quickly looks over at his son, while Jensen’s players kick the ball in.

“That's game, we win!” Jensen calls out.

“What, no. I was checking on Tom.”

“Doesn’t matter, you chose to look away,” Jensen responds with a smirk.

With a sigh, Jared turns to his son, “what’s up buddy?”

“Nothin.”

“Why did you call for me?”

“He told me to,” Tom explains, pointing toward Rich.

“Hey! That was supposed to be our little secret, dude.” Rich responds

“That’s cheating! Game’s not over.” Jared moves back to the table.

“Ah, no. You choose to look away from the game. No one made you. Ackles’ team wins,” Rich tells Jared with a grin.

The guys move on to play pool, while the ladies move upstairs to the large kitchen. Briana pulls out a large sheet of paper.

“Do you all have your lists?”

One by one everyone told her the items they would need.

“What about mixers?” Gen asks.

“They have two here, and Kim and I both brought ours,” Bri answers.

“I have one in the car. Jensen laughed at me when I put it in there, but I wasn’t sure what would be here.” you tell them.

Kim counts groups, “So that leaves us one short right?”

“I’ll put it on the list,” Bri goes back to seeing if there is anything else needed. “Ruth, you and Rob are making dinner tomorrow, right?”

“Correct. We brought everything we’ll need.”

They’re still talking about food when you once again look around the house. “That Christmas tree is pretty. Did you ask them to set one up?”

“Oh no, it was already here. They told us we could decorate it,” Kim tells you.

“What time did you guys get here? I thought you said come at 4?”

“The other group left a day early, so they said we could get in this morning. Kim and I wanted to get some things set up, so we got here around 11,” Briana supplies.

“You did a nice job.”

“Yeah, it looks better than the tree Y/N, put up in our apartment. It’s this little white thing, with a few ornaments on it, doesn’t even have a star.” Jensen informs your friends, as he walks up from the basement.

“Hey now! I tried. We aren’t usually around here for Christmas, so I had to pick a few things up for a tree. The stores aren’t that full a week before Christmas.”

“What did you do to help her with the tree, Mr.?” Briana asks Jensen.

“Did you go shopping for any ornaments?” Kim wants to know.

“I was in Texas,” Jensen responds, while grabbing water.

“If you didn’t do anything to help, you don’t get to bitch,” Felica tells him.

“Apparently I’m out numbered here, I’m going back to the basement.”

When Jensen leaves, Brianna steers the conversation back to Christmas food needed. When the list is complete the seven of you move onto the current gossip. Making sure there is nothing too bad for Tom’s little ears.

Around dinner time, Kim calls in the pizza order. Turns out the place didn’t have a delivery driver tonight, so she sends Travis and José to pick it up. Tom really wanted to go play in the snow, so Jared and Jensen took him out while waiting for dinner. You stand with Gen, watching from the front deck as Tom runs around the snow.

That evening, Bri ushers everyone down to the viewing room for a movie. You aren’t surprised when you end up sitting right next to Jensen. To be honest you were expecting a Christmas movie, but instead Just Friends starts playing on the screen.

As the movie plays you suspect there is a reason behind this film choice. It isn’t long before your suspicions are confirmed.

“Isn’t it a shame, their friendship ruined because they kept fighting their feelings,” Felica comments with a shake of her head.

“Things would have been so much better if they could have just talked things out,” Briana says with a sigh.

“So much time wasted because of that, so sad,” Kim joins in.

“Didn’t he tell her how he felt at the beginning, and she turned him down? Seems like that worked out really well for him.” Jensen throws out.

Things were quieter after that.

Walking upstairs after the movie, Bri stops you all in the kitchen. “Wait up, I need to know if there is anything else needed from the store tomorrow for either cookie baking or Christmas?”

When no one speaks up she continues, “okay good. I drew a name earlier for which couple was going on this run. Y/N, and Jensen you're up.”

“You mean which team; couple isn’t really the right term there.”

“Just go with it, Ackles.” Kim tells him with a glare.

“You’ll want to head out after breakfast, or before. It’s at least a thirty-minute trip to town, I’m not sure if you’ll be able to find everything at one store.”

“No problem, if you’re done with the list, I’ll put it in my purse.” You tell your friend before turning to Jensen. “If you want to stay here, I’m capable of going myself.”

“No!” Felicia calls out.

“You can’t do that,” Ruth injects.

“What if you have car trouble, or a snow issue? It will be better to have someone go with you,” Kim says next.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry,” Gen adds.

“It’s fine, we'll get it done quicker if there are two of us,” Jensen tells you.

You are talking to the ladies in the kitchen, when Jensen and a few of the guys bid everyone goodnight. You watch him head up the stairs before turning back to Ruth.

Up in the room, Jensen is about to walk into the bathroom when there is a knock on the door. Opening it up, Jared is standing on the other side with a small smirk.

“I thought you might need these,” he tosses a bag at him before walking away.

Jensen opens the bag, and looks inside. “Really dude?” he calls out to his friend.

“Don’t forget to wrap it!” Jared walks back to his room laughing.

Walking into the bathroom, Jensen throws the bag of condoms Jared handed him into his bag, before getting himself ready for bed. He is sitting in bed watching tv, when you come in. After getting yourself ready, you grab your computer and slide in next to him.

“We went over the dinner schedule for the week. We’ve got Monday night. I was going to look for a dessert so we can grab the ingredients for that tomorrow. There anything that sounds good to you?”

Turning down the tv, he looks at your computer screen as you are scrolling through your Pinterest.

“Those are some bright cookies,” he points to the screen.

“Grinch cookies.” You pull up the recipe looking it over. “It’s just a butter cookie recipe, they would be easy. We can make a batch tomorrow.”

You continue scrolling, coming across some Grinch themed cupcakes. Food coloring goes on your list.

“So, are we doing either of those for dinner?” Jensen asks.

“I was thinking for Christmas dinner.”

“Okay Betty Crocker, what about for after dinner?”

Leaving the Christmas pins you search for sweets. There are a few pins you pause to look at, then Jensen stops you.

“That cake looks good.” he says pointing to a picture.

“Lemon Velvet Cake, hmm. Recipe doesn’t look too bad. Works for me, if that’s what you want?”

“I’m good with it.”

You add ingredients to the shopping list, while Jensen goes back to watching the television. When the show ends, he shuts it off. Turning off the bedside lamp, the two of you get comfortable on the bed.

Waking up the next morning, it takes you a moment to realize there is more light shining in the window than usual. That’s right, we’re at the Mountain house, you think. Closing your eyes, you try to fall back to sleep. As you start to drift off, something shifts under you, then the weight you didn’t realize was across your back starts to rub it.

“Morning,” he yawns out.

“Morning,” you reply, carefully rolling back over to your side.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Jensen stretching as he works on waking himself up. Looking over at the clock you notice the time, 7:30. So much for sleeping in. Sliding out of bed you make your way to the bathroom, throwing a sweatshirt on when you exit. By that time, Jensen is out of bed and enters the bathroom after you.

Heading downstairs, you see Tom playing in the living room, and Gen watching him from the kitchen. After greeting her, you move over to the coffee maker, and pour a cup for Jensen. You know the man well enough to know he’ll need it to fully wake up. Then you start the teapot and prepare a mug of hot chocolate for yourself.

Jensen comes down a few minutes later, hair dripping and dressed in sweats. You hand him the mug as he walks over. He gives you a small smile, taking it from you and drinking.

“Is anyone else up?” You ask Gen, looking around before you take your mug to sit beside her.

“Jared went for a run down the road, Kim was out once, and went back into their room. I haven’t seen anyone else yet.”

Jensen fills his mug up again behind you, then moves over to look in the refrigerator. “Do you want to grab breakfast out before we hit the store, or make something here?”

“I don’t care.”

“There is cinnamon raisin and Italian bread in the cupboard, along with mini muffins. Also, eggs, and cereal here,” Gen tells you both.

“I think we passed a diner on the way through town, we can try that,” Jensen suggests.

“Alright, I’m going to shower and get dressed so we can go.”

“I'll be up to change in a minute.”

Ready to go, Jensen’s carefully heading down the driveway, waving at Jared as he is running back. It’s about a thirty-minute drive to town. Finding the diner, he pulls into a park and follows you inside.

Once you are seated at a table, the waitress brings over a pot of coffee to see if either of you want any. Although, she almost drops it on the floor.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. Jensen Ackles, and Y/N Y/L/N, I can’t believe it. Supernatural is my favorite show. I love you guys. Is Jared here, too?”

“Hi Kate,” Jensen greets her, reading her name tag.

“Hi,” you smile at her. “He’s in town with us, but not here. Sorry.”

Someone walking by clears their throat and Kate jumps. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Would you like coffee or something else to drink?”

Jensen takes coffee, and you order orange juice. She leaves you alone to look over the menu.

“I think I’m going to do the hungry slam, with scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, toast and pancakes,” Jensen announces, closing his menu.

“To eat all that you would have to be hungry.”

“What are you getting?”

“I was debating about pancakes or oatmeal; I think I’m going with oatmeal and a bagel.”

“Get your pancakes, I know how much you like those.”

“Maybe another time.”

Kate comes back for your order and refills your drinks before disappearing again. It doesn’t take long for your breakfast to come out. After breakfast, you go up to the register to pay the bill. Kate is chewing on her lip; eyes keep flicking up to you as she rings the order up. You have an idea of what she would like to ask.

“Did you want to get a picture, or…?”

“I would love one, my friends will never believe it. I’m not sure my boss would be happy if I asked.”

“You didn’t, I did. We would be happy to.”

“Thank you so much!”

Leaving the diner, Jensen heads to the nearest wholesale store.

“Do you really think we’re going to need this stuff in bulk?”

“Have you met Jared? You know how much he eats.”

“Fair point.”

The two of you made your way through the grocery section first, checking off the items on your list. Then the two of you walk through the other aisles looking around. You stop in front of a selection of puzzles.

“Want to do a puzzle with me?”

“Uh, I guess I can.”

“Which one do you want?” you ask, holding up two puzzles. One has dogs, the other is a picture of New York city.

“Why don’t you just get them both.”

“Okay.”

Setting them in the cart Jensen was pushing, you continue on. You were looking at holiday plates, when he came over with a couple of plastic wine glasses.

“I think we should get these. Which one do you want?”

You look over the different designs in his hand, “which one are you getting?”

“The ‘Stop Elfing Around,’ I think.”

“That is very you. I’m not sure. The ‘Have A Holly Jolly Christmas,’ is pretty, and I like the ‘Holly Juice.’”

“Get both,” Jensen tells you putting the three of them into the cart.

Passing the Christmas candy, you pause to look over the selection.

“What are you looking for?” Jensen asks, watching you.

“Chocolate covered cherries. Usually, my mom and I make them, but that’s not happening this year. I was going to grab a box, but I don’t see any.”

He looks around, then shakes his head, “you’re right. I don’t see any either.”

“Oh well.”

You walk through a few more aisle before moving to the checkout. When the car is loaded you slide in next to Jensen.

“Do we need anything else before we go back?” He asks, starting up the car.

“Not that I can think of.”

“How about lunch?”

“Seriously? You’re hungry already, after that giant breakfast?”

“That was at 9, it’s already 11. Plus, by the time we get back and unload it’s going to be close to noon. We can take it back with us.”

“Sure, what do you have in mind?”

“How about sandwiches?”

“Works for me.”

He stops at a sub shop before heading back up the mountain. The house is full of life when you arrive back. Tom is being chased around by Rich and Rob. Travis, José, and Jared are watching from the couch. Felicia and Kim had gone out skiing. The other ladies were in the kitchen, watching the chase and talking over a pot of tea.

Seeing you and Jesen come up the steps, they get up to help put the groceries away. Once everything is in, Jensen takes the puzzles and glasses up to your room.

It isn’t long before the girls return, and Tom goes down for a nap. Bri gathers everyone back in the kitchen to start the baking. Kim and Bri are working at the large island in the kitchen with their husbands. Rich, Jaci, Rob and Ruth are stationed at the dining room table next to the kitchen. Which leaves the Padalecki’s, Jensen and you in the dining room, at the large table.

The various ingredients are spread out over one section of counter space for all to use. Everyone takes their bowls and mixers to their respective spots. Jensen and you wait for the craziness in the kitchen to calm down a little before going to grab what you need. He starts mixing the butter, sugars and eggs, while you are mixing the dry together. You talk him into drop cookies, since they would be faster than cutouts. You aren’t the only ones who decide to go that route. The Padalecki’s are doing cutouts. Gen told you Tom likes the different shapes.

With the first tray in the oven, you start mixing up the other batch. After talking with Jensen, the two of you decide on Grinch cookies for the bake off. You’ll make the others after. He starts to add the dry ingredients, but you stop him.

“Wait, we need the food coloring.”

You add the yellow, and blue before allowing him to mix those together.

“That’s a bright green.”

“That’s the idea.”

The M&M’s are added next. You measure out what you need and turn to grab a sheet of baking paper. Turning back around you see him pouring a few more M&M’s in the mix.

“Really?”

“It needed a few more.”

“Do we have enough to put on top?” You pick up the now empty bag, “Jensen!”

“Oops. Good thing I grabbed an extra bag, huh?”

“Yeah, good thing.”

After that batter is mixed up, the bowl goes into the fridge to chill. The rest of the sugar cookies are rolled out while you are waiting. Thankfully the kitchen has a double oven to accommodate so many trays.

You have some time to kill, so you start mixing up one of the jell-o cookies batches. When the first is done, it’s time to roll out the Grinch cookies. While rolling the green dough into balls, a flash of green flies by. Looking up, you see Jensen and Jared, throwing pieces of dough at each other.

“Guys, really?”

Hearing you, Gen looks up just in time to see Jared throw a ball of her gingerbread dough.

“Jared Tristen Padelicki, what are you doing?”

“I...uh… Ackles started it.”

“Hey! No you did.”

“The green flew first.”

“I don’t care who started it,” Gen interrupts them, “I’m ending it.” “I thought I only brought one child along, not three,” she mumbles.

While the sugar cookies, and Grinch ones are cooling you work on the second jell-o cookie batch. Putting those in the fridge, you pull the first out to roll. Most everyone else is done with backing their two cookies, so you turn down the oven so you can cook these.

Before the kitchen is cleaned up from baking, you quickly mix up the cupcake and the cherry cookie batters. With the batter ingredients put away, the items to make frosting are brought out. Most of the guys were surprised there were different ways to make the frosting.

While you are mixing the frosting, Jensen’s phone goes off, signaling a text. He steps to the side to answer, a few more dings later he comes back. What you don’t see is Jared watching his friend.

While working on the cookies Jensen went a little sprinkle happy. He paused at one point to watch how you were decorating the frosting. “How did you learn how to do that?”

“Baking shows. My guilty pleasure when you aren’t around.”

“I thought you just watched the Halloween Wars, thing?” Jensen asks.

“That’s the only one you know about. Mostly because you will actually watch it.”

“I love those pumpkin carvers.”

Everyone but you are finishing up their decorating, and cleaning up their spots. The jell-o cookies come out of the oven, and you check with Ruth to make sure you won’t be in the way of them preparing dinner, if you cook the cupcakes. Moving to the smaller dining room table, Jensen cleans up your spot on the large table.

Tonight’s dinner has everyone gathered around the long dining room table. The conversations flowing. After dinner one of each of the cookies are placed on a plate for Felicia to sample. She liked your and Jensen’s sugar cookies best, and chose Ruth’s Jam filled snowball cookies as the top variety cookie.

After dinner is cleaned up, you head back to the kitchen. Removing your sweatshirt, you set it on the chair. Jensen follows you in.

“You’ve had that on and off all day.”

“I don’t want to get it dirty.”

“They make these fancy things called a washing machine.”

“I’m aware. I do a lot of the laundry back home.”

“Do you need any help with these?” he asks, changing the subject.

“If you want, sure. I need to make the buttercream frosting. Both the cookies and cupcake use it.”

He sets the cupcakes and cookies on the table, while you mix up the frosting. Jensen offers to frost the cookies, while you do the cupcakes. Over halfway through, he calls out to you.

“I didn’t catch that, what did you say?” you ask, turning toward him.

He wipes a finger full of frosting across your face, “I said check this out.”

“Hilarious, Ackles, hilarious,” you tell him, getting up to wipe off your face.

“Just trying to sweeten you up.”

“Ha ha.”

When the kitchen is once again cleaned up, you find your friends downstairs watching the end of The Santa Clause. Tom begins to panic a little at the end.

“Mommy, how will Santa know where I am? What if he doesn’t come?”

“Santa knows, don’t worry buddy,” Gen does her best to soothe him. “Santa’s elves are keeping track of everyone so Santa will know.”

When Jared takes Tom up to bed, Bri speaks up. “Misha is coming up with Vicki tomorrow, right?”

“They’re supposed to,” Felicia replies.

“I have an idea to help Tom,” Bri says with a sly smile.

After the second Santa Clause movie finishes everyone starts dispersing to their own rooms for the night. Jensen is in the bathroom brushing his teeth when you enter. Grabbing your pajamas, you make sure you have everything you need to get yourself ready.

When you climb in bed beside Jensen he rolls over, facing you.

“I’ve never spent much time baking before this week. It’s kind of fun, I’m beginning to see why you enjoy it. You get a sweet reward when you’re done.”

“True, it can be relaxing when you’re stressed. I’ve tried to get you to help me before.”

“I know you have. I might just take you up on it sometime in the future.”

“Sure Jens, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The two of you continue talking, the yawns coming frequently. You’ve already drifted off when Jensen pulls you close, letting you use his chest as your pillow.

Thank you for reading!!

Part 5

Tags are open, if you would like on the list let me know!

Tags- @amyzombie1013 @maralisa124 @nancymcl @siospins2 @deanwithscissors @sexyvixen7 @kobe-mitchell @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @chlodavids @deans-baby-momma @samsgirl93 @hearteyes-j2 @440mxs-wife @leigh70 @stinawrites88

#operation Christmas Couple #jensen ackles #jensen x reader #supernatural #Christmas #spnchristmasbingo

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thran-duils · 3 years ago

Text

Lost in Your Current (P.2)

Title: Lost In Your Current (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Tony Stark. After the snap, the team realizes that certain males were given Alpha status and certain females were assigned as Omegas, all across the galaxy, as a way to control procreation. Only Omega can give birth now. Both are marked and their DNA is tied through their marks. Tony lost Pepper and fell into depression after being rescued by Carol. Even the information that he could have happiness again could not pull him out. Until the loneliness and his new Alpha gene got to be too much. When Steve contacts him that his Omega had been found, Tony cannot resist to collect her. Words: 3,044 Warnings (for the whole fic): Dub-con, a/b/o elements, smut, forced mating, 18+ as always For this chapter specifically: FORCED. MATING.

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“He’s probably gotten cabin fever and the opportunity for bonding drove him to this,” Carol said, trying to be diplomatic.

“It is alpha arrogance is I what it is! I thought they – Steve and Tony and every other man I worked with that have been afflicted – were insufferable before. This just makes it all that much worse! Thinking they know what’s best and the fucking obnoxious over confidence!” Natasha spat.

Her and everyone else had woken up hours after Tony had left with Y/N. She had immediately gone to the security recordings and saw Tony entering Y/N’s room, cornering her, and knocking her out. As she fell, he activated his suit, holding her up until he could pick her up when the suit was done building around him. He used the suit to blow a hole through the wall with one of his repulsors and left the building that way, cradling Y/N. ‘He couldn’t have used a goddamn door like a normal person?’ Natasha had spat when she saw that.

She turned away from the security recordings and took a deep breath.

“Maybe it’ll be fine. Y/N was on her way to weaning off,” Carol pointed out. “Not the most chivalrous ways to go about collecting her but when she wakes up, she may be comforted by Tony’s presence. That’s the way with Omegas isn’t it? Just having him nearby will calm her.”

Natasha shook her head and pierced Carol with a stony look. Carol closed her mouth, seeing that.

Natasha started firmly, “He should have listened to me! What is more likely to happen is that he’s going to fall into a rut and then he’s going to lose control. Which means he is going to hurt her if she struggles which she is likely to do considering she is not in heat! Or off her suppressants completely in the first place, so even if she’s drawn in by him, it’s not going to be the same as if she was presented to him clear and clean. It’s not going to be good!”

“It worked out with Steve’s omega.”

“Steve locked her away – just like Tony is going to do – and I’m sure the coupling was not gentle. I saw the ghosts of bruises on her cheek and shoulder!”

“Oh…”

Carol had not gone with Natasha to check up on them and Natasha had refrained from divulging those details before.

“Should we go up to his place?” Carol asked quietly. “Get her back?”

Natasha sighed, leaning against the desk, her eyes fixated on the replay of Tony taking Y/N, seriously considering it.

Finally, she admitted, “No. That’ll just make it worse.” She slammed her hand on the desk and stood up straight. “That stupid son of a bitch! The only good thing is that we know she’s going to be safe up there in general with him because he won’t let harm come to her.”

<><><>

You woke in a luxurious bed, stretching out. Your face rubbed against the silk pillowcases, and you sighed in contentment. You sat up immediately realizing you were in a room you did not recognize. Eyes darting, you took in the wall of windows, spotting the tall trees outside and evening fog. And the large flat screen television mounted on the wall across from the bed. It was a room of wood, you realizing you were in a cabin.

The room seemed familiar though.

More accurately…. The scent was familiar. It was all over the bed.

You looked down, pulling the covers completely back, finding yourself in a t shirt and boxers. That was not what you had been wearing. You had been wearing a hospital gown…

The hospital.

It came back to you.

Not a hospital, a facility. Government secret. Natasha Romanoff, along with SHIELD, had had you under surveillance as you came off your suppressants. And then… Tony.

Your eyes looked around the room again, nervous energy thrumming beneath your skin. Where was Tony? And more importantly, where were you?

Slowly pushing the blankets back, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and your feet hit the sheepskin rug running along the side of the bed. You nestled your toes into the softness as you pushed yourself up.

A thought came to you suddenly and your hand slapped up to your neck. No. It had not been penetrated, your mating spot. You thought again of how you were in different clothes and what strength that must have taken him to dress you without taking you. Yet, you could scent him on your skin. He had not resisted touching you.

You stepped off the rug and the hardwood creaked. You grimaced but what did you expect? You took more steps towards the windows, looking down out over the yard. Dusk would fall soon. There was a vast lake, partially hidden by large trees further out. Some deer were grazing in the yard. There was no one in sight and that set you further on edge. You did not want to be alone.

Pulling away from the window, you turned to go towards the bedroom door.

Halfway down the staircase, you saw Tony sitting at the table. And he was already looking up at you, eyes piercing. You stopped on a dime, straightening up, hand gripping the iron railing. He was waiting and you took the bait.

“Where are we?”

“Our cabin.”

“‘Our’ cabin?”

Tony did not miss the resistance in your voice. He closed the hologram he was working on, fully focusing on you. “Yes. Ours… now.”

You scanned the rest of the ground floor, what you could see of it. It truly was just the two of you. You descended the rest of the stairs, keeping a wary eye out. Tony could sense your unease.

He gestured at the seat beside him. “Here. I’ll get you something to eat. Sit.”

You slowly sunk into the chair watching him as he got up and went towards the fridge. He was tense, you could see that in his shoulders. Both of you were on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But the tenseness in him… that was setting the hair on your arms on end. He was worked up… too worked up.

Still, you sat still, not wanting to antagonize him any further.

He brought back a plate with hardboiled eggs and fruit, placing it in front of you. He must have peeled the eggs beforehand in anticipation of feeding you.

“Thank you,” you said gently, pulling the plate towards you.

Tony’s hand reached out, brushing yours, tracing up. And you froze. He merely inhaled deeply as his hand fell away. He had scented you again.

Oh. He was most certainly worked up about you. You knew your cycle was due, the worst time for you to be coming off of your suppressants. And he had put you in his bed, scented your skin with his sheets and his own hands to mark you as his. A warning if there happened to be any Alphas around, which you doubted. But he was possessive. You were destined to be his after all.

“Toast?” he asked.

You gave a curt nod. He set to make that for you, and you kept your eyes on his back as you bit into the egg.

<><><>

He fell asleep later in the evening and you pulled yourself off the couch. He had insisted you sat close as the two of you watched a movie. He was trying to court you, something unnatural for him you assumed having known his reputation throughout the years. He was a celebrity, how could you not know?

He did not stir, and your eyes went to the door.

<><><>

Moments after the screen door closed, FRIDAY piped up on Tony’s watch, startling him awake.

“Sir, your guest utilized the front door.”

Tony turned towards the door, shaking his grogginess. Y/N was indeed not in the cabin, and he got up from the couch quickly, moving towards the door. Rage was quickly overtaking as he thought of her trying to leave him.

<><><>

You were bolting towards the dock and came to a stop at the end of it. It was vast. And you could not spot any other houses along the lake from here. You had no hope of escaping this remote place without his help. He held the keys to the boat in the boat house and to his car.

You were truly stuck here.

“Y/N!” you heard his voice bellow across the yard.

Whipping around, you saw him quickly closing the distance.

Your heart started to hammer, realizing what you had probably done to him. You had come out to check your surroundings without him watching over your shoulder. But by sneaking off, you had certainly flamed his Alpha, causing him to fly into a rut at your absence. Even further than it had been before. You had been warned about this in the underground; it was dangerous to do this, especially to your Alpha you had been destined with.

Without much thought, you dove off the dock and swam to try to hide yourself in the brush along the lake. Hoping pathetically that the scent of the water would do some to hide you from him until you could find a clear path back inside and lock the door until he calmed down.

Your lungs were bursting but you did not surface again until you were beneath the branches overreaching the lake to the right of the dock. You did your best to keep quiet. You heard him calling your name angrily, his pacing on the dock. He could not tell which direction you had swam to, the right or to the left to the boat house.

Through the branches, you clung to one, watching him as you floated.

He looked furious, territorial. His eyes were searching for the lake and in the succumbing darkness, you knew it was harder for him to see if you had surfaced anywhere.

Stupid.

You should have waited longer to go wandering.

But if you had waited longer, you may have also been mated. You had been stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Tony started storming back up the dock towards land and went to the left towards the boat house. When he disappeared inside, you crawled out of the lake, your bare feet sinking into the mud as you made your way back through the shrubbery and back into the yard.

You gasped when you set off a motion sensor light and your head whipped towards where the boathouse was. It was only a split second before he emerged again, eyes directly at you.

“Y/N!” he called out threateningly as he took off towards you, his tone woven with his Alpha tone.

It was powerful. You felt your knees go weak upon hearing it. He must have studied up, practiced. Tony Stark was not a stupid man by any means, and he had no doubt been given intel about how the Alpha and Omega connections worked. Or maybe he was just a natural.

Regardless, you fought against your jelly legs as he was gaining on you. He was getting close and you swore at yourself loudly in your head, tearing away from the spot as you gained control again. He let out a roar of frustration as you sprinted away from him.

You tried to run back inside. You flew up the stairs, breath short. You felt his hand at your back, grabbing hold of the fabric. You stumbled as he yanked, and it slowed your movement. With a rough tug, you lurched forward though, and your hand was on the screen door, throwing it open. You did not care to try to close it as you came into the cabin, hand landing on the edge of the door. You went to slam it closed.

Tony was too quick though, barreling straight into it, coming in through the still wide-open screen door.

You were sent spiraling onto your backside with his force. Tony was on you in the blink of an eye, pawing. His knees were on the outsides of your thighs, holding you down to the ground.

“Y/N! Stop it!” he demanded, his hands gripping your wrists painfully to stop your thrashing.

Panting, you stared up at him, stilling your movement. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, eyes blown wide from lust. At the sight of you still, a possible sign of acceptance, he ground his hips slightly as he tested your temperament out. He was so close. And he smelled so good and was holding you so tightly. It was what he was supposed to do and what you were supposed to do was obey him. He wanted to mate.

Supposed to.

You took the opportunity that he was distracted to yank a hand towards you, and you bit his hand roughly.

He shouted angrily, letting go, pulling back. It gave you the momentum to toss him off of you and you scrambled away from him. You almost lost your footing on the hardwood, but you regained it quickly. Another Alpha roar tore from his throat, sending a wave of dismay through you that your Alpha was upset and upset with you specifically. You were panicking as you heard him following you. Circling the stairs, you went to go up them. You could lock yourself in the bedroom. The door was heavy and that could hold him until he calmed down enough.

Tony’s hand closed in on your calf as you took to the stairs, and he yanked you back. You collided with the stairs painfully on your stomach and elbows, the air forced from your lungs on the impact, and he was holding you there suspended on the bottom of the stairs.

“Making me hurt you,” he snarled as he struggled with you. “Why can’t you just be good like you’re supposed to?”

“Alpha!” you begged pathetically.

That only drove him more insane. Tony groaned, tearing your boxers down your thighs, and yanking them off from around your feet.

You tried to scramble away again, a hand slapping on the next stair up, but he barked, “Omega!”

That caused you to freeze, your hormones overwhelming you. It was so hard; your soon-to-be mated brain was clashing with you. You were in pain, fighting him. Not just physically but mentally. Your body wanted to give in so badly; you were already wet. But your sensible side was pleading with you to fight back.

Tony’s fingers were in your pussy and your sensible side was quickly becoming overshadowed. Alpha was holding you tightly, working you up, prepping you like he should. Just so he could take care of you. You were safe in his embrace. You felt his hard cock pressing at your thighs.

No no no no. You were pulling away again. Or tried to.

Tony hiked your hips up and he drove himself home. You squirmed, trying to get away from his grip, to pull away so his cock was not in you. Tony responded angrily. He fought you, pinning you tighter against the stairs with his weight.

“You want this Omega, you need this,” he breathed shakily, his cock pulling slowly in and out. You were becoming more wet, giving him lubrication. It felt like you were adjusting specifically for him, his cock fitting perfectly inside you, no matter how deep he went. Your body was betraying you, responding to him and not yourself. And he was taking advantage of it to the fullest. He groaned as he buried himself again to the hilt this time. “So tight, Omega. You’re mine. All mine. Always going to be mine.”

The sound of your slick and his pelvis bouncing off of your ass filled the space.

Yes. Yes. You arched your back and it allowed him to drive deeper, drawing a groan of approval from him. You melted underneath the sound of it.

His. You were Alpha’s. You were sinking beneath the fog that had threatened to overtake you. You were desperate to please him. Your fingers spread out on the stairs as you relaxed ever so slightly, letting him drive easier up into you even further.

Alpha was happy with that.

“What did I say? See? You want it. So badly. Mine. Mine,” Alpha was giving broken husks of praise as he drove himself into you. “Perfect for me.”

It felt so good, you were drowning in his scent.

You pressed back onto him for more, but he took that as a threat and he let out a low, rumbling growl. You stopped the pressure, whimpering in submission.

Alpha was not having it though, his hand holding tighter. You felt the tightness in your core and you were quickly becoming breathless as you felt the oncoming wave.

<><><>

Tony’s hold on her neck was going to bruise, he sensed that even above his Alpha rut. But he simply did not care. She had fought back, tried to run, disobeyed him above everything else. She was never going to do that again. He was going to make sure of that.

His teeth dug into her mark, and she cried out. She tasted as sweet as she smelled to him. His cock brushed her sweet spot and she whined. It was a siren song and he fell under the wave of it.

She went lax, whimpering. He practically purred at the physical submission.

Finally.

“So good, Omega. Taking me so well,” Tony praised against her neck, much to her pleasure. She loved praise, that much he had discerned. He kissed roughly as he worked her up. Her breath was becoming short, and he knew she was close. He was so eager to fill her up.

He moved quicker feeling her so close now that he had bit. And she fell quickly, quivering around him, crying out in release. The tightness was too much. His cock was thickening, and he moaned.

“Gonna breed you, Omega. You’re going to be so beautiful, round with my child,” Tony husked against her neck. She whined needily and he let go, fully seated inside her, coating her walls. His groan was loud and long.

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney @biiskuitx @buttercupfangirl

#tony stark x reader #dark!tony stark #dark tony stark #alpha tony stark #dark marvel #my shit

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fightmewiatch · 3 years ago

Note

“Are you testing me?”- Eames

The house seemed quiet, any noise drowned out by the storm raging beyond the walls. You glanced through the doorway into the office as Arthur rifled through the drawers, through the filing cabinet, before you carefully moved down the hall. Occasionally, you could hear voices downstairs, Cobb louder than the target. With a quick peek over the stair rail, you dipped into an open door, looking around the bedroom.

It was laid out like a normal bedroom, the bed against the wall, flanked on either side by dark wood nightstands. There was no dresser in the room, just a vanity in one spot, and a television mounted in another, but you could see two doors, closed, against the wall that ran behind the door. Glancing over your shoulder, you partially closed the door, and headed over to the doors, The first was the bathroom, making you frown slightly as you looked it over.

“Darling?” You jolted, heart leaping into your throat, and spun, exhaling slowly as Eames closed the bedroom door behind him.

“You scared me.”

“You have to keep your wits about you, darling.” You raised a brow, curious.

“Are you testing me?” Chuckling, he reached for your hand as you flipped the light off and stepped back into the bedroom. You bit your lip, blushing, but smiled as you moved into his space, eyes fluttering as his lips pressed to your cheek.

“I’m making sure you’re safe, because you didn’t stay with Arthur.”

“He wasn’t finding it...so I thought I’d see if there were any safes.” With a nod towards the second door, you pulled away, tugging the door open.

It was the closet, a large walk-in, and once you flipped on the light, you could see several dressers that matched the nightstands in the bedroom, several sections of hanging clothes, everything laid out as part of a modular system. You could see a few drawers built in under one of the shelves, and crossed the closet, peeking inside.

“Anything?”

“Watches...who needs this many watches?”

“People who like to be sure they match from head to toe.” You glanced back at Eames with a raised brow. “What?”

“The man who lives here wore brown socks with black dress shoes. He absolutely doesn’t wear these to match,” you pointed out. “But they may have been gifts,” you added with a shrug. You closed the drawer slowly, before checking the seams against the wall, and peeking behind some of the clothes.

“...wasn’t there a painting downstairs with watches in it?” Eames asked slowly, moving around you to open the drawer again.

You looked back, frowning, before remembering the piece of art, which you had thought looked strange when you slipped in behind the boys. But you crossed back to Eames, peering over his shoulder, as you both studied the watches.

“...swap...swap that one...and that one…” you murmured, watching him pluck at the watches and reorder them. Once they were in their new order, he pushed the drawer closed, and the mod clicked, popping out just enough for him to grab the side and open it like a door.

The safe was empty, save for a single folder on the bottom of it. You rushed towards the door as Eames removed the folder and closed the safe, quickly moving the watches back into place. Grasping your hand, the two of you snuck out of the bathroom and down the hall to get the folder to Arthur, closing the door most of the way and listening as Cobb continued to distract the man downstairs.

Waking up, despite the kick, despite how many times you had done it, despite knowing you had succeeded and you were fine, always left you disoriented for several minutes. You stared up at the ceiling tile above you, surprised for a moment by the clear stain of water damage despite it being such a high class office.

“Darling.”

“I’m up,” you promised, pushing yourself to sit up, and carefully climb to your feet. “The others?”

“Cleaning up. C’mon.” He pulled you to your feet, squeezing your hand and kissing your cheek as he wrapped his arm around your waist. “But he won’t stay asleep long, so we should get moving.”

“I’m following you.” Eames chuckled, leading you out of the office, as he squeezed your hand once more. “Just like always.”

“You know, sweetheart, I do believe most of the time, I’m following you,” he replied quietly, smirking and winking, as you both joined the others and slipped out of the office.

#eames #inception #eames x reader #my fic #drabbles requests

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alleiradayne · 3 years ago

Photo

Four-Leaf Clover | Art Master Post

A Destiel AU Series

After six months in prison, Dean Winchester turns state's evidence against his mob boss, Francis McGill, and cuts a deal. Assistant District Attorney Castiel Novak is tasked with organizing a case against McGill, and through that, he meets Dean. Together, they analyze Dean's statement, and with each interview, they unravel not only what appears to be a coverup, but a romantic spark between them that neither had anticipated. Can the ex-criminal and the attorney navigate their relationship while juggling the case? Or will their incongruent pasts prove insurmountable?

Chapter 10 - If I Ever Leave This World Alive

Summary: A happenstance reunion... Warnings/Tags: Fluff Characters/Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fergus (Crowley) Word Count: 3,063 Song: If I Ever Leave This World Alive - Flogging Molly

Brits. Like a moth to the flame, unwitting and unaware, Castiel had traipsed across town aimlessly. Some subconscious need—desire?—had led him back to that bar. Had he allowed it, knowing all the while where he was headed? Or was he truly that oblivious? After three months of nothing but trial and casework, anyone would feel a little out of sorts. Even to the point of subconsciously revisiting a pleasant memory.

The door swung aside with his weight, arm pressed against the metal. Dim but for the amber lights above the bar and booths, Castiel squinted into the near dark until his vision focused. The bartender stood between a stool and a patron, elbows leaning against the rail as he chatted amicably with the patron beside him. Together, they gestured at the television mounted high on the back wall over the bar, commenting on the late newscast. Castiel looked to the television and saw none other than Francis McGill as he was handcuffed and led from the courtroom earlier that day. Imposing block letters at the bottom of the screen read “McGill Convicted On All Charges”.

The bartender clapped the other man on the back as he pushed off the bar and returned to his station. They continued trading lighthearted banter until the bartender spotted Castiel and froze mid-sentence. His stare flicked to his patron, then back to Castiel, and he nodded towards him. Castiel, too, looked at the only man sitting at the bar and cursed.

“Son of a bitch.”

Dean raised a curious brow at him, and for a single, terrifying second, Castiel considered leaving. But then Dean smiled his crooked, confident smile and waved him over. “Saved you a spot,” he said as he smacked the seat of a chair beside him.

One foot in front of the other. That was it. That was all he had to do, and yet, he balked. Dean appeared in good spirits, vastly improved since their last personal conversation. Both trials had only strained their relationship further, forcing them to proceed in an unpleasantly transactional matter during testimony preparation and the interview itself. But given the results, it appeared to Castiel that it had either been worth it or none of it mattered any longer.

The curiosity, that wicked hopeful thing, swelled in his chest beyond containment. He had to know. Not just if he had been correct. But if it indeed had been mutual the entire time. And if he were to be honest with himself, Dean’s ridiculously pretty face popping up was the proverbial icing on the cake.

So one foot shuffled in front of the other, compelled. Dean slipped from his barstool as Castiel neared. Then he embraced him in a surprisingly tight hug, one Castiel had not anticipated. And he held on, lingering there as if waiting for Castiel to reciprocate even though he already had. Twofold, he squeezed Dean as tight as he could, intent on holding him accountable for his promise all those months ago. Don’t let go, Castiel had said. And Dean had agreed, hand in hand.

“You did it,” Dean muttered. “You put that bastard away, and it’s over.” He held him out at arm’s length and clapped him on the shoulder. When Castiel winced, Dean grimaced sheepishly. “Shit, I suppose that’s still sore.”

“It’s… don’t worry about it,” Castiel said as he rolled it. “Works fine, just needs a little more physical therapy.”

That stupid shit-eating grin returned. “I could probably help with that.”

“And I might enjoy it too much,” Castiel said as he slid into his chair. “As long as there weren’t any quid pro quo’s involved.”

Dean turned to the bartender then and said, “Get this guy a double of that Bowmore eighteen you’ve got up there, Fergus. He deserves a goddamn drink.”

The haggard man returned and grabbed a small tumbler from the rail, then the bottle from the shelf. “What are we celebrating, boys?”

“Mr. Novak here put away Boston’s finest mob boss,” Dean said with a toothy grin and pointed at the television.

“I helped,” Castiel added. “There were several lawyers involved.”

“Bullshit, you did all the hard work,” Dean said as Fergus handed over the brimming glass. “I didn’t see anybody else’s arm in a sling for eight weeks.”

Castiel raised his glass and held it out. “To dislocated shoulders.”

Dean hefted his drink, and their glasses chimed with a gentle touch. “To warehouse brawls.”

Warmth coated his tongue with the first sip. That smoky peat seared through the sweet amber liquid, slid down his throat, and set alight a fire in his belly. Months of tension seeped from his shoulders. Released, relieved. He breathed a long sigh, then leaned against the bar. With one hand propping up his head, he regarded Dean. Gold brown hair teased his brow, the cropped cut outgrown over the last few months. He wore it well, a youthful look that contrasted the crinkle at the corner of his eye, the gray at his temples. Warm, like the whisky that filled his stomach, Dean radiated an inviting ardor. And so, Castiel stared openly, drinking him in as he had that fine scotch.

“Better?” Dean asked.

“Much.” He sipped again from his glass. “I have more news, though. Beyond what they know,” he added as he pointed to the television.

“I was worried about that,” Dean said as he leaned closer.

“I… hate to be the one that is informing you of this, but we’ve gotten word that someone is already replacing McGill,” Castiel explained. “So, as much as I had hoped this would be the end, I have a feeling we’ll both be looking over our shoulders for quite some time.”

Dean’s furrowed brow and severe stare narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘some time’?”

Castiel scanned the bar, ensuring their solemn presence. Fergus had busied himself with a glass at the opposite end, cleaning it beyond clean. Safe. Or so he hoped. “Naomi is putting together the retrial for extortion and money laundering.”

“But McGill’s… he’s never getting out,” Dean said. “Unless there’s something that can—oh.”

An epiphany the likes of which Castiel only witnessed in courtrooms widened Dean’s eyes and dropped his jaw. His fingers drummed on the rail, a rapid thudding that mimicked the churning gears in his head. And those wide eyes darted about the middle distance, seeing something else, someplace else. Castiel reached for him, instinctively touching his knee. “Oh?”

“Hold on.” Dean withdrew his phone from his pocket and began typing. “What was the name of that arcade again?”

Castiel reeled, hardly able to keep up. With a bewildered shake of his head, he asked, “What does an arcade bar have to do with this?”

“What was the name of it?!” Dean repeated with an insistent hiss. “Something about a castle…”

“It’s ‘The Other Castle’, but why does that—”

“Cassle’s!” Dean shouted.

Castiel eyed the bartender, then looked back to Dean. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Cassle’s bar was the name of the bar I grew up in,” Dean said as he held his phone up to him.

Castiel took it, skimmed the page, but remained confused. “What does Cassle’s bar have to do with ‘The Other Cas… tle’. Oh.” Impossible. The coincidence was far too extraordinary. “Oh no, that’s… that cannot be right.” He scrolled through the page again and found the address. “It’s the same lot. How did you not notice?”

“I hadn’t been to Cassle’s in years, well over a decade, if not two,” Dean said. “That whole neighborhood has changed a whole helluva lot since I hustled the Asteroid cabinet. Lots of money, big money. Like McGill. Gentrified everything, pushed out most of the poor blue-collar families out. Like mine.”

“They demolished the original bar and put that complex in,” Castiel added as he continued reading. “Cassle bought the space for a new bar right after it finished. With what money? Cassle’s shuttered, they went under.”

“McGill,” Dean said. “No doubt he funded it. He needed to maintain laundering sites, might as well do it in a squeaky clean part of Boston where nobody would notice that much money moving. Not through an arcade bar. And they had a lot of startup costs. Construction, furnishing. Tons of activity to hide money. Son of a bitch, it must have been so damn easy. That’s why I didn’t get involved, someone else handled those books. I only ever cleaned up the garbage, never stood up new sites.”

The connection weaved a pattern so neatly Castiel worried it was too perfect. “Are you sure it’s the same guy? This Kieran Cassle?”

“Lemme look,” Dean said as he gestured for his phone. Castiel handed it back to him, but for a single second, he held onto the phone. Dean’s hand enveloped his, and Castiel refused to move. Too long, he had gone without that touch—tender yet firm, confident. When Dean remained equally still, Castiel looked at him and found a stoic calm on his face. Not unkind or cold. Something between consideration and contemplation, eyes narrowed and the faintest hint of a smirk teasing at one corner of his lips.

Commit. Go big, or go home. Castiel breathed in deep, filled his lungs with fresh resolve, and spoke. “While I wouldn’t mind sitting here all night as you hold my hand, I believe Fergus will eventually want to close.”

Dean took his phone from Castiel with his free hand but continued to hold him with the other. Dean returned to his phone then and, after a few quick swipes, had pulled up a picture and showed it to Castiel. “Kieran. We’ve known each other for the better part of thirty-five years. It’s him.”

Dare he push his luck? Castiel slipped his fingers between Dean’s, and Dean opened to him, a flower greeting the sun. Laced together, so much like that night at the warehouse, Dean leaned closer, his phone lowering to his lap. And that hint of a smile stretched, curling into a small thing Castiel had only seen once before. The bar would never close if he had any say in the matter. They could sit there like that as long as they wanted. But another quick check of Fergus suggested the better of it. He cleared his throat and asked, “So if it’s essentially the same bar, what does that mean for my case?”

“Follow the money,” Dean replied as though nothing had changed. “Follow it all the way back to the beginning. You’ll find plenty of people. Some might talk, most won’t. But enough will. Just need to find evidence to back up their talk.” Dean squeezed his hand then and smiled. “We’ll bring the whole damn empire down. And I’ll piss on the ashes.”

Once more, hope. Damn his hope, his endless optimism. “Dean, I… can’t make any promises. I’ll get subpoenas started, but please don’t… I can’t…”

“I’m not gonna hold my breath, Cas,” Dean stated. “I get there’s a lot of red tape, and it might not go down the way I want. I get that I might end up looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. But at least I’ll know I—we—did the right thing.”

We. Such faith. More sinister than hope, faith had claws that clung and buried themselves inside the minds and hearts of lesser men. To see Dean succumb to such wishful thinking…

“Time to say good-night.”

Fergus’ drawl snapped them both from their thoughts, Dean startling and Castiel shaking his head as they released their hands. “It’s only ten o’clock,” Dean protested.

“Yeah,” Fergus started, “and between the two of yeh, I’m going broke.”

Dean hopped from his chair and waved a dismissive hand at him. “Don’t get your panties in a wad.”

Fergus promptly flashed him the middle finger. “Fuck off, Winchester. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbled, then hesitated as he stepped towards the door. “Fergus is an old friend. From before McGill.”

Castiel followed, stepping down from his chair, and turned to the door. “Good to know there are some folks in this town that avoided his… patronage.”

A cool summer breeze greeted them as they ventured into the night. It carried on it a hint of fall, a little drier, a little softer than the blistering summer heat. Cloud cover blotted out the moon and stars, a blessing and a curse. Shadows for the lovers to secret away in the night for more private quarters. Or shrouds to hide their truth, to shroud their faces and keep locked away that which terrified them both.

Touch. He wanted it more than ever. Until that moment in the bar, he had eluded such longing. Sure, small reminders had tugged on that thread during the trial, reminding him that the nerve yet existed, frayed, worn. But tonight? Every thought, every feeling, every single sensation, all of it had returned, grabbed that thread, and with an almighty heave, unraveled him head to toe. Simple as that, he came undone. Exposed. And so he reached.

With that same unnerving faith Dean had in him, Castiel reached out to Dean for absolution.

And Dean was there. Ready. His hand held out as if he had known, had expected his need. Their fingers twined together, and they walked. Aimlessly rudderless souls adrift in an endless sea of concrete and asphalt. Silence so unsettlingly comfortable enveloped them. Solace, maybe. An incomplete solitude quietly accompanied closer than his own shadow.

“Don’t think so loud. You’ll wake up the whole neighborhood.”

Just like that, Dean eased them out of the shadows and into the light. “Sorry. I get… lost in my head sometimes.”

“What’s on your mind?”

What, indeed. More like who. “I never wanted you to end up so… trapped,” he began. “The trial was supposed to close that chapter of your life, and yet it feels like it only made things worse.”

Just as they strode beneath a streetlight, Dean stopped them. With their fingers still threaded, the other slipped beneath his suit jacket and found his hip. And in that golden glow, Dean smiled that small, curious quirk as he spoke. “Cas, don’t ever apologize again for it. Any of it. You did more for me and this city than anyone I’ve ever known. Hell, the only reason I connected the dots on Cassle was because of you. All we can do now is keep fighting the good fight.” His stare wandered, danced along Castiel’s face, his hair, his lips, then at last returned to his eyes. “Son of a bitch,” he said with a laugh, “I could kiss you right now, this is it. We’re gonna bring down the whole fucking empire.”

He couldn’t have lobbed up an easier pitch. “I’d let you.”

Like a confused dog, Dean cocked his head. “What?”

“Kiss me,” Castiel repeated. “You said you could kiss me. I wouldn’t… I’d like that.”

The lifetime of a second’s hesitation dragged, stretched impossibly thin, too thin. Under such pressure, the liminal instant snapped. Dean reached, and Castiel responded, dancers beneath the spotlight. As though they had rehearsed it a million times, they met one another in perfect rhythm. Dean’s smooth grasp slipped to the back of his jaw, just below his ears, and long fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck. And Castiel enveloped him, arms wrapped around his back from shoulder to hip, pinned to his chest. But his lips Castiel would remember most. Sweet liquor matched their sway, dancing along his tongue with Dean’s, and he all but melted.

Precipitous grace overwhelmed Castiel in that connection. Despite all the qualifiers and quantifiers he had given Dean, for once, Castiel agreed with him. Everything was going to work out. No matter what happened, they would make it work and figure it out together. Never alone again.

But all too soon, they parted for breath, for words. For a little reprieve before the next kiss began, then another, and another. If they lingered too long, Castiel imagined their private stage would be found, and they would be shuffled along. So when they broke next, Castiel held Dean still a moment. The light of a million stars shimmered in those startlingly green eyes as Castiel stared, unable—definitely unwilling—to look away.

“Can I… walk you home?”

Dean licked his lips, then said. “We’re already doing that, Cas.”

“I… believe we’re making out in the middle of the sidewalk beneath a streetlight.” Castiel pointed at it, then scanned the street. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Alright, you win,” Dean teased. A wickedly coy smirk hooked his lips then as he said, “You can walk me home under one condition.”

“And that condition would be?” Castiel asked.

“Don’t leave.”

He blinked, once, then twice. “What?”

“I want you to stay tonight. At my place,” Dean explained as he wrapped his arms behind his neck. “Have a nightcap, pass out together in my bed. No expectations. Just… be together.”

Together. Castiel’s heart hammered against his ribs as if to escape. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Again, that wicked grin. “You never backed up your big talk. I still don’t believe you’re packin’ anything other than that pea-shooter in your boot.”

Bastard. If Dean wanted to play euphemism chess, he was in for a rude awakening. Castiel pressed closer, his body flush with Dean’s, and the faintest hint of a gasp broke past those perfect lips of his. “Still no expectations?”

His jaw worked, and his lips twitched with the start of so many thoughts. An exasperated breath separated them half a foot, and Castiel couldn’t help but laugh. Never in a million years had he imagined he would see Dean Winchester so flustered.

Check.

Fortunately for Castiel, Dean recovered quickly with impressive aplomb. “Okay, one expectation.”

He wrapped an arm around Dean’s waist as he set out walking once more, and Dean followed, an arm draped over his shoulder. “Only one?”

“Just the one,” Dean repeated.

“Are you going to tell me?”

Rumbling laughter roiled deep in Dean’s chest, reverberating through Castiel as he spoke. “Convince me that wasn’t a .44 Magnum in your pants.”

“Close,” Castiel teased. “More like a Colt 45.”

Dean Winchester cackled for half a block, and Castiel vowed to hear that laughter at least once every day for the rest of his life.

Checkmate.

This series is complete! Reblogs are loved and feedback is welcome!

#destiel #destiel fanfiction #destiel fanfic #destiel fanart #deancas #deancas fanfic #deancas fanfiction #deancas fanart

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ethanlivemere · 3 years ago

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Half-Life²: Anticitizen - Chapter 3

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

_____________________

Chapter 3

Trespass

The true citizen knows that duty is the greatest gift.

The true citizen conserves valuable oxygen.

The true citizen cooperates with his Civil Protection team.

The true citizen’s job is the opposite of slavery.

The Consul’s brief messages echo across the pavement, each one followed by a hollow chime. It has an almost hypnotic effect, as I find myself staring up at the cluster of screens hanging over the intersection. It’s an Orwellian sight to behold: the citizens going about their day while the Consul’s watchful gaze looks down from above.

The true citizen embraces the Universal Union.

I think back to my encounter with the Vortigaunt. It had been a shock to hear English words coming from the mouth of the alien. Its voice was guttural and rough, and it continually made insect-like hissing and clicking sounds, but it spoke English nonetheless. Quite eloquently, even. Vastly different from Black Mesa, where the hisses and clicks had been the only components of their communication. But perhaps the bigger shock in seeing the Vortigaunt was not what it said, but the way it spoke to me. Like I hadn’t killed dozens of its kind in Black Mesa after seeing them slaughter my coworkers. After such hostility, I expected this Vortigaunt to charge up a bolt of green energy and attack me, and my instincts wanted me to reach for a weapon I didn’t have. The last thing I expected was for it to greet me as an ally.

“Your presence gives us hope, Freeman,” it had said. “As you saved my kin in the border world, so shall you save us again on this miserable rock. For now that the lesser master lay defeated, the greater must also fall in time.” Ah, so that’s how it is, I thought. When I killed the Nihilanth, I freed the Vortigaunts from their enslaver, and now they expected me to do the same once more. I remembered the slave camps and factories on Xen, where, for just a brief moment, they didn’t attack me – until the Nihilanth’s Controllers arrived and forced them to fight. They must have realized I was their one hope for freedom. A freedom which, ultimately, was very short-lived.

The Vortigaunt then walked to the contraption that held another one of its kind in its dark liquid. It placed its two-fingered hand against the glass and, despite its alien features, I could see sadness fall across its face. “The Vorti-cells drain power from my kin to support the Combine’s machinery. Those who enter them seldom emerge. The few who do are weakened almost to the point of collapse. Truly, it is a fate far worse than the shackles I bear.” The shackles were different from the ones worn by the Nihilanth-enslaved Vortigaunts. Instead of shining green, they were a dull gray. Their design remained very similar, though. Wrist bracelets, a collar, but also a sort of codpiece that I didn’t remember seeing on the Nihilanth’s slaves. Apparently the Combine deemed it necessary to cover the Vortigaunts’ loins – even though they housed no visible organs of any kind.

The Vortigaunt proceeded to grab a broom from against the wall and told me it had to resume its duty or suffer punishment. It seemed rather ironic, almost comedic even, that an alien race powerful enough to power factories was also being employed to sweep the streets. Recalling the instructions Jeremy had given me, I asked the Vortigaunt if he knew how I could get to the Manhack Arcade, where Barney was supposed to meet me. “Ah,” he responded pensively. “The Manhack Arcade. The hall of the unwitting executioners.” He proceeded to give me clear directions. I was to go to a place he called the Stenographer’s Chasm and then continue in a straight line. I wondered what he meant by ‘unwitting executioners’, but before I knew it, he had already said his goodbyes and disappeared around the corner.

The strange encounter had left me confused and a bit shaken, but I resolutely continued my journey and followed the Vortigaunt’s directions. I had a hard time imagining what this ‘Stenographer’s Chasm’ could be, but I could never have imagined what it turned out to be. An enormous, Combine-modified warehouse consisting of one long room that extended far into the ground, filled with rows of workers perched on stools behind desks, frantically typing on typewriter-like machines. But the stools and desks weren’t on the ground: they were mounted onto single, suspended rails that ran across the room. There were multiple levels of these rails and desks reaching all the way to the ceiling and down into the chasm. The workers had nowhere to go. My guess was that at the end of their shift or when their quota was fulfilled, the rails transported them to a place where they could safely dismount their stools. Until then, they could do nothing but work. I didn’t know what it was they were doing. What kind of paperwork could the Combine have? They didn’t seem like the type to bother with those kinds of things too much. Then again, an intergalactic empire is bound to have some unavoidable paperwork. Probably keeping track of resources and the like.

More disturbing sights awaited me, though. It all began at a building that produced a continuous sound of whirring and chugging, like a giant steam engine. Looking through the window, I saw a black and white tiled hall that was filled with enormous, diagonal pistons moving back and forth. At their base, people were working on the large engines that seemed to drive the pistons. I then realized that the engines weren’t just large, the figures knelt at their base were also small… they were children. Children, no older than twelve, were working on heavy machinery under the watch of Metrocops. And that wasn’t the only factory where children were being forced into labor. A bit further down the street was a smaller brick building that housed a large furnace. More children were stationed at a conveyor belt that lead into the furnace. They took white, ellipsoid objects from barrels and placed them onto the conveyor. They weren’t being burned in the furnace: they reemerged out of the side, attached to the ends of poles, and were transported into another machine. I had seen the white objects before on the brown-robed, flamethrower-wielding beings in the station and on posters that Jeremy had referred to as ‘Cremators’. These were Cremator heads. I tore myself away from the windows and continued my way through the industrial area. I never looked through another window again.

The factories eventually made way for a busier commercial district, which is where I find myself now. It’s the busiest place I’ve seen in this city, apart from the military parade. This must once have been a street with many successful shops, but now most of the display windows stand empty. One of the buildings still in use houses the same ration dispensers I also saw in the station. Another one showcases multiple television screens, all of which display the Combine logo.

“Can you believe it? Free TVs!” says a citizen gazing through the window.

“Don’t get too excited,” his companion replies in a cynical tone. “Those things only have one channel: the Consulcast.” He points over his shoulder at the cluster of screens overhead, where the Consul’s many faces are still naming the values of a true citizen.

But the Consulcast nor the free TVs are the reason why there is so much traffic on this street corner. In fact, I’d wager the Combine strategically placed those here so that as many citizens as possible would be exposed to the propaganda. The real eye-catcher everyone seems to be here for is across the street: the Manhack Arcade. It’s a large building that forms the corner of the street. Completely Combine-made, no recycling of old buildings. The people in the street flock towards the wide entrance on the corner, which is flanked by two Metrocops. Above it hang a number of yellow posters and banners and even more screens, all showing Combine logos and imagery.

I wonder if I should go in. Jeremy told me Barney would meet me at the Manhack Arcade, but it’s unclear if that means outside or inside. It seem risky going into a Combine facility, but it doesn’t seem like the citizens get scanned like they did at the checkpoints, and I could probably slip by the two guarding Metrocops unnoticed by hiding in the crowd.

I wait a little longer, hoping Barney will show himself. The clouds have gotten darker still, and before long a light drizzle starts pouring from the sky. Not only am I not dressed for rainy weather, I also want to avoid getting into too much contact with this water, which, judging from the greenish color of the clouds it originates from, could have all kinds of toxins or undesirable pH values. And so, when an exceptionally dense group of people approaches the entrance to the Arcade, I join them and walk past the Metrocops without either of them giving me a second glance.

Inside is a corridor that leads to the main room. Like the Stenographer’s Chasm, it’s long, tall, and extends down into the ground. Instead of rails with desks and tired workers, this room is filled with catwalks leading to strange machines. Citizens queue in front of them and when it’s their turn, they step onto a pedestal in front of the machines, grab hold of two control handles and lean forward to place their heads in some sort of virtual reality display built into the arcade.

A screen above the player allows bystanders to follow the game. A citizen near me has just started: at first, the screen shows only a grid of red lines in a black void. Then, the grid bends and reshapes itself into a three-dimensional environment that resembles a ruined building. Several humanoid shapes appear in yellow and orange tints, like heat vision, but with a clear red outline to them. The player navigates the environment, seemingly flying, and moves towards the outlined targets. The targets start moving around, trying to evade the player, but eventually he catches up to one. It’s not clear what happens, but when the player bumps into the target, the red outline disappears and a score of one hundred appears in the bottom right corner of the screen. “Ha ha, got one!” the player exclaims. Another nearby player is already at a score of eight hundred, when one of the targets suddenly rushes at him, holding up some kind of long object. The screen goes black and the words ‘GAME OVER’ appear on the screen. “Damn it!” the man shouts. “I was almost at my high score!”

Something’s not right. The way the targets move – it doesn’t look like a video game character. Much too erratic and lifelike. And from what I’ve seen of the Combine so far, I doubt they would put effort into providing ground-breaking AI technology for their panem et circenses. The Vortigaunt’s words echo through my mind: ‘the hall of the unwitting executioners’. I can put two and two together, but I don’t want to. I refuse to believe that what I fear is true. People slaughtering their own, cheering while they do it – and without ever realizing what they did. Or, at least, I deeply hope they don’t.

I don’t want to stay here any longer. Watching these innocent people enjoying the Combine’s twisted games turns my stomach. I have to find Barney. But how can I simultaneously hide from the real Metrocops and try to get Barney to see me?

As I pace through the room, I notice a Metrocop eyeing me. It’s hard to tell with the gas masks, but it seems like his gaze is following me. Is he Barney or a suspicious guard? I try to act inconspicuous and wait for a signal. Suddenly, the Metrocop turns away and walks towards a door. He interacts with the locking mechanism and it opens before him. He throws another prolonged glance in my direction before stepping through, out of sight. I wait. The door doesn’t close behind him. I cautiously make my way to the door. It leads to some sort of backstage corridor, clearly a ‘staff only’ area. I can’t see the Metrocop. I look around the Arcade one last time, but none of the remaining guards seem to notice me, so I enter the corridor. It’s cold and dark, and my footsteps are loud on the metal floor. I arrive in a small room with one of those Combine consoles. The wall is lined with a rack containing dozens of small, deactivated drones whose purpose I can’t discern. I hear the door I entered through close.

“Hey, you!” I hear from one of the neighboring corridors. A Metrocop – the one I followed in here – enters the room. “Do you have your identification?” He menacingly steps towards me. Seems it wasn’t Barney after all. Tough luck. “You are not supposed to be in here. I need to see your identification.”

Well, I seem to have gotten myself into a sticky situation. The Metrocop is trying to drive me into a corner, drawing his stun baton. “Overwatch, restricted incursion in progress in sector 8. Permission to enact civil judgement?” he says to seemingly no one. There’s a short blip and a burst of static following his question. I’m not thrilled about the prospect of ‘civil judgement’, so I decide not to wait until he gets his answer from whoever Overwatch is. I place my hands on my head, feigning surrender, while I scan the exits. The corridor back to the main Arcade hall is sealed and I can’t tell where the others lead, so I’ll have to trust my instincts.

Either the Metrocop has received his permission from Overwatch, or my eyes darting around the room have made him suspicious, because he suddenly swings his stun stick at my head. I try to duck and the blow lands against my elbow, sending a shock through my entire arm as blue sparks fly from the weapon. In response, I kick at his shin as hard as I can. He grunts and loses his balance, and I take the opportunity to dart down the nearest corridor. I hear the Metrocop’s heavy boots give chase behind me as he mumbles a status report to Overwatch. I round a corner, praying I won’t run into a dead end. I see a T junction ahead. Suddenly, I hear a deafening bang behind me, and the sound of a bullet hitting metal. Damn. He has a gun. I have to reach the junction as fast as possible. No time to look which way to go. As the echo of the gunshot fades out, I speed off into the left corridor just before another bullet plunges itself into the wall.

Suddenly, my surroundings open up into a larger room that’s two thirds Combine architecture and one third concrete rubble, remainders of whatever building was here before they installed their Arcade. I could get out through the collapsed walls and floors, but I’d be an easy shot. There’s also what looks like a Combine elevator with a bright red button inside it. I have milliseconds to make a decision. How far behind is he? Can I pull it off?

I slam my fist into the red button, rush back out of the elevator and then dive behind a half-collapsed wall. The doors close and the elevator starts to rise as I flatten myself against the concrete, bent rebar poking into my shoulder. My left arm is numb from the shock of the baton. I hear the Metrocop charging into the room. I hold my breath and pray he falls for my trick. It’s a trick as old as time. He stands still and I wait, my heartbeat ear-deafening.

“Subject is headed for top floor, secure perimeter around elevator.” I have to keep myself from sighing in relief. He isn’t gone yet. In fact, he seems to just stand still in front of the elevator. He must be waiting for the elevator to reach its destination. If he waits for the top floor units to report an empty elevator, my cover is blown.

“Copy,” he says. My functional right hand grabs hold of a loose chunk of concrete near me. I hear him walk a few steps, and then a couple of beeps. “Elevator power disengaged. Heading to your location.” With that, he walks out of the room, and I can finally breathe again. They don’t know the elevator is empty yet. They think they have me trapped in an unpowered elevator. Now to finally get out of here.

Easier said than done, as it turns out. The ruins are a concrete maze, and I constantly have to watch my step. It doesn’t help that the rain that seeps down through the broken ceilings makes everything slippery. The downpour has changed into an outright storm: the water beats down loudly on the concrete and every now and then a roaring thunderclap tears through the sky. Meanwhile, I guess the Metrocops discovered I wasn’t in the elevator after all, because I suddenly hear the cold, disembodied female voice – Overwatch, I assume – echo through the air once more: “Individual, you are charged with anti-civil activities: 63 criminal trespass, 148 resisting arrest, 243 assault on Protection Team. All local Protection units: code alert: locate, contain, prosecute.”

I spot one of the lambdas painted by the resistance group on a pillar. It leads the way down a slope of collapsed floor into a sub-street level area. Knowing the Metrocops are looking for me again, I try to speed up my pace a little while heading down – a mistake. The wet rubble gives way and I lose my footing. The world spins around me as I slide and tumble down the slope. I try to shield my head with my arms. I roll over the floor after reaching the bottom before coming to a stop.

I lie on my back as my surroundings come back into focus. I’m in some sort of underground sewer chamber: I see a ladder on the wall leading up to a manhole cover and there’s a grate in the ceiling through which light and rain pours down in a small waterfall, though the ground I lie on is thankfully dry. I do a quick damage report: my palms are chafed and I’ll undoubtedly have a few bruises, but no lasting damage. I’m lucky I didn’t hit my head on any of the protruding edges of the concrete.

I become aware of a sound, just barely audible over the storm. It sounds like a fire – no, more like a flamethrower. At the same moment, I notice the dancing orange light on the brick wall, and my nostrils are assaulted with the stench of burning flesh. I immediately jolt up. Pain shoots through my back at the sudden movement. I look around and immediately spot the source of the sound: there’s a Cremator standing on the opposite side of the room. The two lanky, leathery-skinned arms sticking out of its brown robe carry a heavy flamethrower which, I notice for the first time seeing one up close, is connected to a spherical fuel tank in the middle of its stomach with a thin tube. ‘Flamethrower’ might be an incorrect word, however. Instead of producing flames, it shoots the green particle jets I also noticed being used to clean trains in the station. It must be some sort of corrosive liquid that only affects organic matter. The source of the orange light on the walls turns out to be a burning pile of charred flesh being sprayed by the Cremator. The flesh is being set ablaze by the green particles, but not only that: where the jets hit the flesh directly, it seems to blacken and disintegrate. Despite the fact that the corpses have turned black as coal and have been turned into an amorphous, ever-shrinking pile, I can still make out just enough to see that these were once people.

The Cremator stops what it’s doing and turns its white, oval head towards me, alerted by my sudden movement. Its tiny, expressionless eyes lock onto me. I hear mechanical breathing from the Cremator’s mouth-tube as it steps closer. It tilts its head like a curious animal before it points the nozzle of its weapon towards me. I could try to run, but I doubt I could get far enough to evade the scorching cloud. I briefly wonder if I should not have moved an played dead. It probably wouldn’t have saved me from being disintegrated.

“Cremator! Stand down!” A Metrocop charges in and stands between me and the Cremator. “This prisoner is property of Civil Protection and is to be transferred to Nova Prospekt for processing.” The Cremator tilts its head again, then turns around and returns to its previous work. The Metrocop turns around to face me. I should be worried, but I’m not. Despite its distortion, I have already recognized his voice. I once again hear the click of the mask detaching and am greeted by Barney’s smug grin. I’ve never been happier to see that stupid grin.

“So Gordon, is this what you call ‘not drawing any attention to yourself’? You’ve got practically every Metrocop in the sector looking for you!” He reaches out and grabs my arm to pull me onto my feet. The numbness from the stun baton is almost gone, though it now hurts from the fall instead. As I rub my elbow, I glance at the Cremator. It seems to be minding its own business, but I don’t feel comfortable hanging around near it much longer, and I wonder if it’s a good idea for Barney to unmask himself and be so friendly with me in its presence. Barney follows my gaze and says “Don’t worry about him, he won’t bother us again. They’re not too bright, these Cremators. Mindless synths. They were made to be janitors, primarily. Destroy biological waste, contain the Xen infestation…” He looks down at the charred corpses grimly. “… clean up after the Civil Protection patrols.” He beckons me and starts walking. “The reason he was about to disintegrate you is because you are not a registered citizen or Combine unit. So to him, you would have to be either a Xenian creature or a very lively corpse. Either way, you were considered ‘unauthorized biological mass’ and had to be disposed of.”

We enter an underground utility tunnel. The sounds of the storm fade away as we follow the cables and pipelines down the dimly lit corridor. “You’re lucky I found you,” Barney remarks. “Those Immolators of theirs can give you a nasty burn. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you at the Arcade, I was held up by unforeseen complications on my shift. I had just gotten back to Dr. Kleiner’s lab when I heard the local CP units go crazy over some guy causing trouble at the Arcade.” He flashes me a smirk. I tell him what happened at the Arcade, with the Metrocop I had thought was him. “You got baited,” he replies. “Some CPs will bait citizens into breaking rules, like trespassing, just so they can enact some civil judgement.”

We march through the underground network in silence for a while before I cautiously bring up Jeremy. Barney sighs sadly and lightly shakes his head. “Yeah, I heard what happened.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment, seemingly choosing his next words carefully. “Listen, Gordon… don’t worry about it, okay? I can probably pull some strings to make sure he turns out okay.” He doesn’t sound all that certain. “Either way, don’t blame yourself. Each of us knows the risk in what we’re doing. We’re all prepared to... go all the way for our cause.” I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Barney is being uncharacteristically serious and grim. This is not the same man I knew before Black Mesa. Then again, the same goes for myself.

His face lightens up again and he slips back into his usual grin when we go down a side tunnel with another lambda, at the end of which is a short staircase with a metal door. “Well Gordon, looks like we’re finally here.” He opens the door and the sound of machinery pours out. Not harsh, loud and aggressive, like the Combine factories, but light beeps and clicks over a soft hum. A familiar sound that invites me inside. The sound of science.

_____________________

Consul screens

Stenographer's Chasm

Piston hall

Cremator factory

Manhack Arcade exterior + Citadel

Manhack Arcade interior

Cremator

Underground

And for the first time, there aren't just images for reference, but also sound: here is the original Vortigaunt voice.

As always, really excited to share this new chapter of Anticitizen with you. We've finally reached Kleiner's lab, so from now the story will start picking up pace. And as always, please let me know what you think :)

#anticitizen #half life #half life 2 #half life 2 beta #my writing #fanfiction #gordon freeman

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