#did i ask for it. no. but the freezer was frozen solid

[borealopelta]

🌟FRIDGE DEFROSTING DAY😁😁👍🌟

[maxwell-grant]

PIZZA TOWER Characters ranked by how good they actually are at making pizza:

Gustavo: 5/10, 6/10 if he really puts his back into it. 9/10 if he’s making chocolate pizza which he doesn’t anymore, since it’s bad for Brick

In theory he SHOULD be the best pizzamaker of the bunch, unlike Peppino he clearly isn’t undergoing ten mental breakdowns per minute and he’s got an actual apron, plus he’s the only one we see delivering pizzas to satisfied customers in-game in the Gnome Forest. But since nothing in the game currently seems to indicate he has a pizza business, I’m going with a headcanon that Gustavo actually specializes in pastries and sweets, which is why he can seemingly keep himself in the Freezer level where all pizzas freeze solid. He does enjoy eating pizza, but Brick eats all the cheese in the house before he can even think about making one for himself.

Mr Stick: 2/10

Mr Stick has been subsisting on cheap takeout for decades now and cannot be trusted near an oven, or near a grill, or near a kitchen period, Peppino just lets him into his to keep him away from the cash register. If you ask him to make a pizza, he will charge a stupidly high amount just for heating up frozen calabrese. Still ranked higher than other characters only because he probably still makes pizza that’s marginally edible, as he definitely won’t want to risk a lawsuit by making you sick.

Pepperman: 8/10 if you really like peppers, 1/10 if you have a pepper allergy or just don’t like them

Pepperman point-blank refuses to be anything other than completely and totally excellent at everything he sets out to do, others not agreeing with his vision of what excellence is (mainly himself) is quite frankly not his problem, and he ESPECIALLY refuses to let himself be outdone by that wretched brute of a chef. Pepperman taught himself pizza-making out of spite purely so he could outdo Peppino, and he’s actually kinda great at it? Spite IS the perennial driving force of most of Pizza Tower’s characters after all. But obviously he doesn’t know, and doesn’t care to learn, about making any kind of pizza that isn’t stuffed full of peppers. If he’s feeling charitable, he might bake you a pizza with his face on it, and then throw a tantrum if you defile it by eating it (only HE can eat his own face).

Vigilante: 1/10.

Vigi’s family business seems to specialize in dairy and I think for the most part he sees pizza as cheap grub for city slickers (getting beat up by Peppino was kind of a wound to his pride), the whole idea just kinda abominable. He’s also a sentient pile of cheese who wears dirty gloves all day, if he did try to make a pizza, it would probably taste like dust or gunpowder or even have bits of him in it. That being said, he throws a MEAN barbecue, if you can talk him into changing his gloves you should get him near a grill immediately.

The Noise: -100/10

Noise is not legally allowed to be in most pizza establishments by court order, and the Domino’s lawsuits were a massive pain to settle as is. The Noise just does not cook, period, but luckily for him he can eat basically anything. He’s paid to advertise food products and NTV has personalized energy drinks, but his main diet consists entirely of tequila and cigarettes 24/7, and dozens of doctors have diagnosed his insides as some kind of freakish medical emergency that should take effect but never will. He’s like Mr Burns, it just all cancels each other out.

Noisette: lmao good luck

Going by her comics in the wiki, Noisette is just completely incapable of making anything that isn’t sweets even when she tries, and the fact that she hangs around The Noise makes it so that she has no sensible parameter whatsoever for what’s edible or what’s gonna give someone explosive diarrhea. She does run a coffee shop with at least some customers in the cast, she’s probably fairly good at baking, but if you ask her to make a pizza, the best you can possibly hope for is that she just makes you unusually large crepes, and hope you don’t hear an ambulance in the distance before eating.

Fake Peppino: ?????

He’s about as good as Peppino, ironically enough, but it’s a 50/50 on whether you enjoy eating his pizza or his pizza enjoys eating you, but hanging around Peppino and the others at minimum has made the third outcome, that is him eating both you and the pizza, statistically less likely.

Pizzahead: 7/10 at first, score gets lower everytime you eat it again

He SELLS decent pizza, is the thing, but obviously he never has to make any of it himself, not when he has all these countless food businesses and mascots and cooks bending to his whim after he enslaved John and took over the tower. “Being good” at making pizza is a laughable concern to him, when he frankly never even has to try, when he can just sleep during your escape sequences while everyone else has to do the hard work. The entirety of the background in Don’t Make a Sound is a testament to his catastrophic carelessness, you literally find boxes saying the monsters were mail ordered by him, and how little consequences matter to him (I don’t buy the idea that he’s driven by any kind of jealously towards Peppino, so much as he just targeted Peppino mainly because he could).

Pizzahead’s pizza is the kind of pizza that you get hooked in at first, and then makes you feel kinda empty or sick afterwards after a point and makes you think you probably should have eaten something else, but you’re still coming back another day or week when you have no energy or money or time to cook or buy a decent meal, so pizza it is again, and it keeps tasting marginally greasier and shittier and more depressing everytime until at some point you can’t smell the damn thing without wanting to vomit, and you swear off pizza entirely until you wind up back there again and, hey, it’s tolerable this time, and then the process begins again, go ahead, eat Pizzahead's product, wageslave, maybe you’ll start liking it again soon enough, he makes all the dollars and you make a dime and that's why you vomit on company time.

Gerome and John: 10/10

Gerome is probably the only character in-game who keeps a clean kitchen considering his job, and John is some kind of weird god with teleporting powers and sub-dimensions tied to him, and also the secret ingredients Gerome has the keys to wind up resurrecting John, but mostly I think it’d be funny if the characters who would be the absolute best at making pizza would also be the ones who would most reasonably never want to have anything to do with pizza ever again. I like to imagine The Tower Brothers having these miracle recipes and magic touch that both Peppino and Pizzahead desperately want, able to make the most unfathomably delicious Anton-Ego-flashback-inducing pizzas ever conceived, pizza that tastes the way you thought it tasted as a kid but actually much better, and nobody will ever realize it and they will never even touch a pizza again after it ruined their lives and home.

Peppino:

5/10. 6/10, if he really puts his back into it.

Yeah, it’s okay, Peppino’s probably an okay chef. Peppino as a chef is kinda like Mario and plumbing: you know it’s what he’s supposed to do, he sells an identity tied up to it, but you never actually see him do it, you see him doing literally everything except his job and you just kinda have to assume that he's good enough at it. Peppino’s pizzas are probably the most normal thing about him, and maybe the only normal thing about him, really.

He does manage to convince the Bosses to not kick his ass in exchange for free pizza, which means said pizza has gotta be at least somewhat tasty, but also, his place is a dump in the middle of nowhere, he can’t afford proper kitchen wear, he scavenges ingredients in the wild without hygiene concerns and getting his greasy hands all over them, he doesn’t have any staff and runs himself ragged doing everything solo, everything he touches tends to be destroyed in some fashion, he has zero patience, and by now he’s gotta have some kind of pizza-related trauma or several hundred after everything that the game put him through.

I kinda like to think Peppino, in spite of everything stacked against him and how fiercely he fought to defend his business, is ultimately a mediocre but decent chef, who happens to be an unstoppably gifted wrecking ball of a fighter (and talented dancer), who really just wants to keep being a chef in peace, and peace is the last thing he ever gets.

[abbatoirablaze]

Ice, The Deep

Word Count:  701

Warnings:  depictions of death/freezing to death, dark homelander (which is normal).

“Why did you make me come out here!”

Homelander smirked, watching as The Deep shivered, “what?  You don’t like being cold?  I thought you could deal with it since you deal with the whole...fish thing...”

The Deep scowled at his leader, “my powers don’t make me immune to the cold!”

Homelander took a few more steps into the industrial freezer, his boots thudding against the frigid steel.  Deep lifted his gloved hands to his mouth, cupping them in front of his face, and began to blow hot air into them.  His smirk grew as he could hear the chattering of his teammates teeth.

“Come on, Deep.  I don’t have all day!”

He could hear the Deep behind him, shuffling along with quick steps.  He turned the corner and waited for him, his gaze fixated on the superhero who’s expression was turning from annoyed to a look of sheer horror. 

Her skin was nearly blue. 

Her wrists had been bound and the rope hung over a meat hook.

Her petite frame could barely reach the ground on her tiptoes. 

She looked like some kind of ballerina.

“You know...I thought she would be able to withstand the cold...I mean, her powers were that she could control the weather,” he scoffed, putting his hands on his hips.  He sucked in his cheeks before looking back at her, “your little girlfriend here wasn’t as impressive as you thought...or so it seemed.  I’ll give her this though...she didn’t scream when I doused her in water and watched her freeze...the bitch didn’t even beg for her life.”

“A-A-Alania.”

“A-A-Alania,” Homelander mocked with a scowl, “is that all you can say?”

“W-what did you do to her?” he asked in disbelief, “wh-why?  What did she do, Homelander?”

“Nothing, really.  But she was making you lose focus,” he frowned.  He walked up to the frozen hero and lightly knocked on her skull, “she’s frozen solid!”

“I loved her...”

“And now she’s an icicle,” he smirked, shrugging his shoulders.  The Deep went to take a step forward and Homelander lasered the bit of rope that held her up on the meat hook.  The Deep felt like his world was shattering with her in slow motion.  He felt sick to his stomach, “and now she’s ice blocks...but if you really wanted to I’m sure you could chum some water with her...have a nice Alania ice pop treat for your little friends.”

The Deep looked up at him in horror, unable to say anything.  Homelander gave him a fake sigh and walked over, slapping him on the shoulder, “look buddy...I know that you are upset.  I’m upset too!  But when push comes to shove, she’s no good for you.  She pulled your attention away from the seven.  Even Maeve said something to me about it, just the other day.  I did this for you, Deep.  You’re a better hero without her.”

The Deep felt the tears crystalizing in the corners of his eyes when Homelander removed his hand from his back, “I did it for you, bud...she was only going to bring you down.”

“But A-Train and Pop Cl-“

“Don’t even get me started on that,” he growled, shaking his head, “I took care of this because I see potential in you, Deep.  Because I know that you’re way better off without her.  You should be thanking me.  And instead you’re focused on how A-Train can’t pull away from that junkie bitch?”

The Deep looked at him once again, “I’ve been with Stormy since I was-“

Homelander rolled his eyes, dropping his act of compassion for the other superhero, “you know what...fine.  I should have just let you sink into whatever depressing shithole town you two would have ended up in together...next time I won’t help you out.”

“Homeland-“

“I don’t want to hear it!” he said both quickly and dismissively of the younger man, “I’m going back to Vought.  When you’re done...doing whatever you think you need to...come to the tower.  The Christmas party is supposed to be starting soon and Edgar expects us all to make an appearance.”

And without another word he stalked out of the freezer, leaving the Deep alone, with the love of his life in pieces.

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Don’t Tell Derek

There’s one unspoken rule that went without saying, one that they had all agreed to: don’t tell Derek.

You can also read the fic and tags on AO3, here

It was an unspoken rule that they’d all silently agreed to: don’t tell Derek.

It started one night when Stiles woke up, craving salt and vinegar chips and ice cream. However, when he began to dig through the freezer, he realised that the only ice cream there was Derek’s—his favourite chocolate chip ice cream that he bought specifically because the chocolate doesn’t mess with his wolf side. Boyd and Erica had gotten home late from date night, and found Stiles half-slouched on the kitchen counter, eating straight out of the tub. In the tense stare that ensued, he subtly reached into the cutlery drawer and pulled out two spoons, offering them to Erica and Boyd in exchange for their silence.

Since then, if you got caught eating Derek’s ice cream, your silence could be bought with the offer of a spoon and the mutual agreement not to tell Derek who ate it.

 Stiles let out a weak groan, dragging his hands down his face as he let out a broken sigh. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins and he tried to steady the breaths that heaved at his chest—the nightmare lingering in the shadows of his mind.

He sat up, letting the blankets pool around his waist. He looked over at the man who lay beside him, his outline dimly lit by the moonlight that bled through the gap in the curtains. His hair was a mess, like a pool of raven-black ink spilt across the pillow, and the harsh lines of his face had been softened by sleep.

Stiles was careful not to wake him as he slid out of bed and crossed the room, making his way out into the hallway. From the top of the staircase, he could see the golden glow of the kitchen light pooling in the open doorway.

He made his way downstairs and looked in to see Isaac sitting at the kitchen counter. He was never one to initiate the secretive ice cream eating—he would just get the tub out of the freezer, set it on the bench and wait with two spoons in his hand for someone to inevitably join him.

That’s how Stiles found him: sitting at the kitchen counter with two spoons on the tabletop beside him, staring at the tub of ice cream as if he had telekinetic abilities.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile as he stepped into th kitchen. He picked up one of the spoons and handed Isaac the other one as he pulled the lid off the tub of ice cream.

He hadn’t been there long—the ice cream was still frozen solid and the container’s lid has a thin white sheet of frost across it.

Stiles dug his spoon into the ice cream, taking the first bite and granting Isaac permission to eat.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked between mouthfuls.

“Just nightmares,” Isaac replied quietly and somewhat dismissively.

“Me too,” Stiles said, shoving another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Isaac said, using his spoon to chip away at the solid ice cream before scooping it up. “I don’t know.”

Stiles didn’t push; he knew that if Isaac wanted to talk, he would, but it had to be in his own time. And until he was ready, Stiles would be there.

“It was my dad,” Isaac said after a while, a hint of frustration adding an edge to his voice. “It’s stupid; he’s dead and I’m still afraid of him.”

Isaac didn’t look up at Stiles. His face was tense but his deep sapphire-blue eyes glistened with tears.

“The things your dad did to you don’t just go away,” Stiles said softly. “He can’t hurt you anymore, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t hurt you.”

Isaac nodded, letting out a calming breath. He poked at the ice cream a bit but didn’t eat any more.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Nogitsune,” Stiles answered.

“The nogitsune gone,” Isaac said, trying to sound reassuring.

“So’s your dad,” Stiles countered. “Doesn’t make it any easier to forget.”

Isaac paused for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper. “I took the bite because I wanted to be strong. I wanted to be able to protect myself. I wanted to have some control over my life. I got all that and more—I got the pack; a family… a place where I belong and where people care about me. But you… you had all of that. You didn’t need the bite.”

Stiles smiled slightly.

“Everyone underestimated you,” Isaac continued. “I underestimated you.”

“And you won’t again,” Stiles said smugly.

“People look at you and they think you’re weak and defenceless, but you’re the strongest of all of us. You’re brave, strong, defiant, loyal, and I can’t imagine what it was like to lose all of that—to lose control over your own body.”

“You’d think that’s the worst part, but it’s not. I thought slowly losing my mind would be the worst part, but I was wrong. The worst part was watching on helplessly as someone made me hurt my friends.”

A moment of heavy silence fell between them.

“We’re okay now, right?” Isaac asked, his voice shaky and breaking slightly.

Stiles looked up, meeting his gaze He offered him a kind, reassuring smile. “Yeah, we are.”

Stiles scooped up another spoonful of ice cream and held it up. Isaac mirrored him, tapping their spoons together.

“Cheers,” they both said jokingly before shoving the ice cream in their mouths.

A moment later, they heard the wooden boards of the staircase creak as quiet footsteps slowly approached.

Stiles pre-emptively reached into the cutlery drawer and grabbed another spoon, holding it out as Erica sheepishly peeked her head around the corner of the kitchen door.

Her face lit up with a grin as she happily waddled over to Isaac’s side and took the spoon Stiles offered with a quiet “Thank you”.

She began to methodically dig through the ice cream and pick out he chocolate chips.

Isaac’s brow furrowed as he watched her, perplexed.

“You alright there?” he asked. “You’re stealing all the chocolate.”

“Period.”

The one word was all they needed. Stiles and Isaac began to meticulously dig through the tub of ice cream to find the chocolate chips, stacking them up in the corner of the tub for Erica.

Next to join them was Boyd, dragging his feet across the floor as he lethargically wrapped his arms around Erica. He politely declined the spoon Stiles offered him; he didn’t want ice cream—he just couldn’t sleep without Erica.

Stiles looked at Isaac, shooting him a look that told him not to tease Boyd for being so sappy and sweet.

Isaac pouted, slumping his shoulders, but didn’t put up a fight. He turned his attention back to the ice cream.

The four of them were too busy talking quietly that they didn’t notice the fifth that joined their group.

He picked up the spoon that Stiles had offered Boyd and began to eat the ice cream.

Isaac glanced up, his eyes widening with terror as the spoon fell from his hand, clattering across the kitchen benchtop.

The loud noise made them all jump, eyes snapping up to Isaac. They followed the young man’s terrified gaze to the man who stood beside Stiles, eating the ice cream, unperturbed.

His short dark hair was tousled from sleep and his pale aventurine eyes were half-dazed with sleep.

Derek.

Their eyes grew wide as they exchanged scared looks, trying to read each other’s thoughts.

Boyd – who hadn’t been eating the ice cream – subtly nodded towards the kitchen door, hinting that they should make a run for it. But there was nowhere to go and they’d never outrun him.

Erica looked as if she were weighing up using the ‘period’ card again to get out of trouble and Isaac looked about ready to cry.

They waited, expecting a stern lecture or an outburst of anger and cried of betrayal.

Derek looked up at them, his eyes darting from one beta to the next.

“What?” he asked. “I know you all eat my ice cream. I just want some of it before it’s all gone.”

They watched as he dug his spoon into the tub again, making sure to get a few chocolate chips in his scoop.

“You’re not mad?” Stiles asked hesitantly.

“That you’ve been eating my ice cream? No. But I am a little upset that you guys felt like you had to hide it from me, and a little hurt that you never thought to wake me up or ask if I wanted to join you.”

They all bowed their heads, their stomachs twisting with guilt.

“I’ll buy more next time,” Derek promised, eating another spoonful. “If you all promise to stop hiding this from me.”

“Promise,” they all muttered in unison.

“Okay,” Derek said with a soft smile. He reached forward for another spoonful but froze. “Oh, Erica—if you only want the chocolate, they make chocolate bars. I grabbed a few for you. They’re in the cupboard over there.”

He nodded towards the cupboard int eh corner of the kitchen.

“You can have them if you leave some chocolate chips for the rest of us—it’s not the same without them.”

Boyd stepped over to the cupboard, grabbing one of the chocolate bars and handing it to Erica.

Her spoon fell to the benchtop with a clang as she eagerly took the chocolate. She tore the wrapper open and paused, looking down at the chocolate--thinking.

She broke off a chunk and crushed it up, sprinkling it over the ice cream.

Isaac’s face lit up with excitement. He dug his spoon into the slightly-melted ice cream and stirred it around, mixing in the chunks of chocolate before scooping out a loaded spoonful.

They ate about half the tub of ice cream, but finally sleep won them over.

Isaac was swaying on the stool he sat on, his eyelids drooping and his eyes unfocused. Derek sent them off to bed while he cleaned up.

“Some on, I,” Erica said encouragingly. “Off to bed with you.”

Isaac let out a weak groan in protest.

Erica wrapped her arm around Isaac, helping the young man to his feet and sleepily making their way upstairs. From the hallway, they heard Isaac mutter a sleepy “Goodnight”.

Boyd picked up the chocolate bar, wrapping it in the wrapper and taking it with him as he followed Erica and Isaac up to bed.

Stiles gathered up the spoons and set them down in the sink while Derek fitted the lid back on the tub of ice cream and put it back in the freezer.

Stiles turned, leaning back on the edge of the counter as he looked at Derek.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “It was never mean to be so secretive and we never meant for it to be malicious.”

“It’s okay,” Derek said softly. “I’m not upset; it just hurts that you were all so scared to tell me. Did you really think I’d be mad?”

“I guess we were scared to find out,” Stiles admitted, staring down at his bare feet.

“You’re my pack, my family. I’d get mad if you were fighting with each other or if you recklessly put yourselves in danger. But eating ice cream, why would I get mad about that?”

“Because it’s your ice cream,” Stiles suggested, the upward infliction of his voice making it sound more like a question than a statement.

“If I didn’t want any of you eating it, I would have hidden it a better place than in plain sight.”

Stiles felt his face flush red. He cringed as he realised how right Derek was and how stupid he was for feeling like they had to be so secretive. Derek never asked who had touched his ice cream; they had simply made the agreement to never tell him.

“Come on,” Derek said softly, smiling sweetly at Stiles as he wrapped his arm around the young man’s shoulders and walked him out of the kitchen, turning off the light as they left. “Let’s go back to bed.”

[vibrantbluecats]

Deltarune Chapter 2′s secret alternate route:

(img credit to u/lightiggy on reddit)

I haven’t seen any posts on Tumblr about this yet, so you guys should know that there is a REAL, VASTLY DIFFERENT genocide route in chapter 2 of Deltarune. I will provide details below, but first, be warned:

In my opinion, this route is massively more disturbing than the Genocide route in Undertale. If you can’t handle this sort of thing, please stop reading — I’m not kidding, it’s seriously fucked up.

Also, I did not discover this route, and this guide was written mostly with the help of this google doc and this video (which is where I got the screenshots from).

So, one of the big differences between Deltarune and Undertale is that in Deltarune, enemies run away instead of dying when you reduce them to 0 HP. This means that even if you try your hardest, the best you can do in chapter 1 of Deltarune is make a lot of people angry, since they’ll run away before you can do any serious harm.

Enter Noelle.

When Noelle first joins your party, you’ll notice that she has two support spells similar to Ralsei, but interestingly enough, a very powerful ice damage spell...? Well, if you use this spell to reduce an enemy to 0 HP, then instead of running away, it is frozen solid. This is the key to unlocking Deltarune chapter 2′s alternate route.

STEPS:

1. I’m not entirely sure how much your actions in the first chapter affect this route, but I’m pretty sure you’ll be fine no matter what. In any case, you can just start a new file and it’ll work.

2. When you enter the dark world, defeat every enemy in your path until Noelle joins your party. Now, you must backtrack as far left as you can go and interact with the locked door to Spamton’s shop.

3. On your way, encounter every enemy you see, and be especially careful to defeat them with Noelle’s ice attack only (the easiest way to do this is to block with Kris, then use the spell with Noelle. Do this every turn). You can tell whether or not you are on the right path because at the car room, no cars will appear and enemies will spawn instead.

4. Continue until you reach the room with the ferris wheel. AFTER killing all of the enemies running around with Noelle’s ice and BEFORE doing anything else, interact with the ferris wheel. She will comment about wanting to ride it with Susie. Choose “I will ride with you”, which will make Noelle decline politely, and then “Noelle will ride with me”. (As the video succinctly puts it, “act like a weird clingy abusive stalker” at all the dialogue prompts and you’ll be okay.) She will comment on your weird behavior, but dismiss it as a prank. EDIT: It appears that interacting with the ferris wheel is actually unnecessary for this route.

5. After talking at the ferris wheel, interact with the NPC at the far right, who will offer you Dating Shoes. When Noelle hesitantly says that you are just friends, say that “We’re something else”. As you try to walk away, the NPC will stop you and instead offer you a powerful FreezeRing for $1 more than you have. Noelle will decline at first, but just continue selecting “Get it”. Noelle will ask what you’re telling her to do; keep insisting, and...

Noelle kills the NPC (it’s a fade-to-black) and takes the FreezeRing. Instead of being horrified at what you have coerced her to do, she rationalizes it as “becoming stronger” and thanks Kris.

6. Equip the ring, and walk down, progressing normally until you reach the lightning gate. Unlike in a normal run, she will offer to stand on the switch so you can walk through and let her across. Afterwards, she says that she considered stepping off the switch and killing you as you walked through the gate, but tells herself that “it’s horrible” to think that. Tell her “It’s natural”.

At this point, a slowed-down version of the City theme should start playing, and enemies will begin to run away from you when you see them. Continue, killing everything as usual.

7. When you come across the next car room, there should be no cars. Like in the normal route, there is a secret room here (if you can’t find it, go to 14:00 in the video). You will not encounter Toby Fox, but instead continue to the following room. Interact with the dumpster to speak with Spamton, who should tell you “4 LEFT”. If he says a higher number, you have missed some enemies, or you may have not cleared out the current room yet. If you clear out the car room and Spamton says a number greater than 4, backtrack and look for any enemies you might have missed.

8. The next room is the mouse puzzle. When Noelle asks you what to do, instead of acting like a normal human, only say “Proceed”. Continue selecting “Proceed”, slowly backing her into the force-field.

At the very last moment, she will freeze the puzzle over (in a fade-to-black), letting you proceed without solving it. Noelle rationalizes Kris’s behavior as “just making me stronger,” and you hear an audio cue to let you know you’re on the right track.

Continue onwards, killing all of the enemies in your way, until you encounter the next puzzle (the one that Berdly monologues over in a normal route). Noelle will offer to do the puzzle herself, and the screen fades to black. She tells herself that she “can do things I could never do before” as long as she listens to Kris, and freezes the puzzle over. Again, you will hear an audio cue.

9. Continue as normal until you have killed enough enemies to satisfy Spamton (it should be 2 encounters after the previous puzzle), then return to the alley and buy the ThornRing from him for $1997. This ring hurts Noelle gradually, but halves the TP cost of all spells, making it essential to continue the route.

10. Equip the ring and return to where you were. In the next room, you encounter Berdly, whom Noelle will offer to freeze for you (thinking that he is another enemy). Understandably shocked, Berdly will ask what you are doing with her. Respond only with “Proceed”. A fight will begin.

In the battle, Berdly uses harder versions of his normal attacks, and only targets Kris. Noelle will also have a new spell called SnowGrave, which normally costs 200% TP. This makes equipping the ThornRing essential, as otherwise you won’t be able to cast it.

11. Once you reach 100% TP, tell Noelle to use her new spell. She will at first tell you she doesn’t know it, but persist, and...

Berdly fucking dies. Noelle acts confused as to what happened, and declares that she’s “going to go home” before walking upwards out of the screen.

And you’ve done it. There’s no way to back out now, so the rest of this post will just be dedicated to showing what happens next.

You follow Noelle’s path and see a manhole, which you enter. This takes you to the entrance of Queen’s mansion, where you reunite with Ralsei and Susie, who have been wondering where you are.

When you enter the castle the music playing is significantly slowed down, and the petrified Rouxls Kaard is blocking the cafe, so you can’t buy anything. An NPC comments that “a strange force has taken over the mansion”, and the staircase path is blocked by a forcefield, meaning you must take the secret passage (which is unblocked by default here) straight to the 3rd floor.

All of the minibosses (Mauswheel, Tasque Manager, and Werewerewire) are found in different locations, allowing you to encounter them despite the abnormal layout. All of the portraits have Spamton’s face on them, and the giant room of trays is instead filled with strange blue dots, which trigger an encounter with “Pipis” when you touch them. Interesting...

It generally continues like this until you pass Noelle’s room, which Susie enters to try to talk to her. Ralsei tries to get you to shift to Susie’s perspective like in the normal route, but for some reason it doesn’t work.

Susie returns from her date with Noelle, which we skipped this time, and says that, like in the normal route, she has told Noelle that everything is a dream, greatly reassuring her.

You continue to the top of the mansion as usual, but both Queen fights are skipped. Ralsei reveals his story about the “Roaring” before instead of after the fight, so after a brief conversation she decides to come with you to the Dark World at school.

Susie leaves to talk to Noelle and Ralsei stays to talk to Queen (blocking your path backwards), meaning you must continue to the fountain by yourself. Right before it, there is a save point and a convenient vending machine selling CD Bagels, which you will definitely want to stock up on.

When you reach the fountain, you get ready to seal it, but suddenly...!

Spamton swoops in to save the day (from you)! He explains that “YOUR [Total Jackass stunts]” have allowed him to achieve his NEO form, before making you fight him. Alone.

Obviously, Spamton isn’t really looking for mercy, so you have to FIGHT him. He gives some very interesting alternate dialogue, so go watch the video if you want to read it (though the player goes through the text kind of fast).

Finally, after a very long and difficult battle, you reduce Spamton below 10% HP, at which point he activates his “[Bluelight Specil]”. In this form he takes only 10 damage from each attack, recovers HP every turn, and only uses one move (which you can easily dodge).

Your only choice is to ACT. You call for Ralsei...

You call for Susie...

Finally, you call for Noelle, just barely whispering her name. Spamton mocks you, but suddenly realizes that it’s getting kind of cold. The screen fades to black, and...

Spamton fucking dies. Your soul arises from the darkness, and suddenly everyone wakes up back in the computer lab. Noelle is immensely happy that she has woken up, calling her experience in the Dark World a “nightmare”, and is further relieved when Susie denies having a tail (as Noelle saw it in the Dark World). Except, not everyone seems to be so lucky...

Berdly refuses to wake up. You gather up all of the stuff in the lab, and leave him there by himself.

The last major change happens when you visit Noelle’s father in the hospital. Noelle and her father are playing a game together like normal, but instead of listening to her father and using Fireshock, Noelle first suggests Iceshock. Hmm, sounds kind of familiar, doesn’t it?

The conversation continues as normal with slight changes, but just as you leave, Rudy asks Susie to stay behind. You leave the room without Susie, and one final fade-to-black cutscene occurs.

Noelle talks to herself, still shocked from her experience in the Dark World, and says that she is hearing “a voice unlike Kris’s” telling her what to do. She also comments on your strange behavior, at which point you can interject. Regardless of what you say, the following happens:

No matter your choice, before Noelle can respond, Susie interrupts after finishing her talk with Rudy. Noelle quickly leaves, and the rest of the chapter continues as normal.

And that’s it! Congratulations! You’ve successfully traumatized your oldest friend, possibly murdered your fellow classmate, and basically massacred the entirety of the Dark World.

What I love about this route is that it doesn’t change the ending significantly, which means it technically satisfies Toby Fox’s promise of “only one ending”. In any case, I’m sure this route will have massive story implications down the line, but for now we can only wonder. I hope you enjoyed! (Or didn’t enjoy, which is honestly more reasonable.)

[rosesradio]

Portwell love confession where Gina says “I love you” first which makes EJ happy to hear her say that because a girl has never said that to him in a romantic way Drabble .

a girl never said that but a guy has? as in ricky? no? okay--

jk jk, here's a end-of-s3 600 word drabble ! <3

EJ had been presented with many renditions of "I love you".

His parents said it, albeit rarely, and only when he did something especially fantastic to make them proud. His friends said it--not his water polo friends, that would be "too gay", but his theatre friends. His thousands of followers online--girls commenting in droves on how they were "in love" with EJ. But it wasn't true, it didn't count or matter. You could crush on someone through a social media profile, sure, but to say you love someone without having had a single conversation with them? EJ, a romantic at heart, found it a little insulting.

"Eej, I…" Gina started. She'd brought him up to the castle set after the show on the last night of Frozen. In the low-lights and emptiness, it was actually quite…romantic. Or creepy, depending on how one looked at it. "I just wanted to tell you something…and I don't know how to do it, or how to say it…or if I should say it…"

"What is it?" EJ asked, reaching over and holding Gina's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He cocked his head to the side, feeling a sudden rush of doubt, of anxiety. "Is it something bad?"

"No," Gina shook her head quickly. "It's actually good…" she smiled, something more reserved and crooked. EJ liked the look on her; it was like when she was trying not to laugh when he made a joke in rehearsal. "It's really good…unless it freaks you out."

"Gi, nothing you wanna tell me is ever gonna freak me out," EJ replied. He then furrowed his brows; well, some things might freak him out, but it was probably better to remain optimistic.

"I…fine…" Gina's face was flushed bright red, pulling away as her hand was sweating. "EJ, I think I'm falling in love with you. I…I love you. There. There it is. I'm…gonna shut up now."

"You…" EJ's voice faltered, a feeling blooming in his chest like nothing had before. He'd liked girls in the past, maybe even convincing himself he loved them. But this, now, with Gina. It was entirely new, entirely overwhelming. "You love me," he could feel his heart beat skip in his chest, could feel his face flush. After everything that summer, all the twists and turns, he knew this was true. Now, they felt more solid than ever. EJ just couldn't believe that someone, especially not someone as amazing as Gina, could look past his flaws and love him. Genuinely love him, besides his looks or charm, even past all the struggling inside. "You love me?"

"We established that," Gina replied, eyes slightly wide, seeming anxious, though she was unable to help but smile. "Did you want to contribute anything to the conversation besides echoing me?"

"Oh!" EJ shook his head as the realization hit him, and he clung to Gina's arm. "I love you, too, Gi. Like, a lot. And, um…" he looked down, scratching the back of his neck as a nervous laugh escaped him. "Thank you. No one's ever said that they loved me before. Not like that. I'm really happy to hear it, really." He took Gina's hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss there.

"Okay, sap," Gina rolled her eyes, though she was clearly relieved to hear it in return. "Now, since you love me so much, do you wanna help me sneak some ice cream from the CIT freezer?"

Val would kill him, but in EJ's defense, he'd do anything for the girl he loved.

[txemrn]

In your hc, did Brynn have any strong cravings or aversions during her pregnancy from the mother's day fic?? How did Sam handle that??? I hope he wasn't a dickhead like with the other pregnancy when he cheated and gave her an STD. 😒

I was just thinking 👉👈🥺😇 that might be a cute little story. 😉

Btw I really enjoy reading about them!!! I'd L💗VE more. HINT proposal??? WEDDING?????

Hey, there! *big ol' hugs* thank you so much for the ask and the "hints". 🤣😂🤣 I hope you enjoy my interpretation of your suggestion! And yes, there is more to come from Sam and Brynn. Enjoy! 🍨🍓🍨

Warning: NSFW 🍋 (tiny little squirts; don't get too excited); language; angst; pregnancy-related stuff

***

The sparkle of fresh winter snow gathers along the window sill. A hint of gingerbread and fresh spruce waltz in the air. Melting with the smokey notes of kindled embers, the fireplace crackles in the darkened master suite--the only lively room left in the penthouse for the evening.

It had been an exhausting Friday. With Christmas and Brynn’s birthday next week, the Dalton family spent their day tirelessly getting things prepared before a very special winter vacation. Brynn attended Mickey and Mason’s holiday party at school, bringing her famous cupcakes and oven-baked Chex Mix, not to mention presents for all the teachers and faculty.

Because of the school’s early release, Brynn and the boys met Sam for lunch, where they served the entire company a catered, bountiful holiday meal, complete with generous congratulatory swag for another successful third year.

Sam spent the afternoon on phone conferences, which gave him time to pack up to work remotely from home; he wouldn’t be returning until the 28th. By the late afternoon, they had completed the grocery shopping, tidied up their home, fixed and ate dinner.

But for Sam and Brynn, the jam-packed day was far from over. There was still one more very important task to complete: sex. And lots of it.

Seductive whispers, tender giggles and lustful moans penetrate the quiet suite. Their exposed bodies hungrily intertwine together as their movements are kept rhythmically in time with the subtle creaking of the bed.

Sam grips tightly to his wife’s supple breast, brushing his thumbs over her erect pink nipples. With her left hand, Brynn sinks her nails onto the top of his hand, squeezing together with him; her other hand holds tightly to the headboard, straddling her thighs on top of her husband’s hips.

“Oh, God! Sam!” she exhales with each thrust onto his swelling, hardened girth, her voice becoming louder, more raspy. “Almost--! Almost--!”

“Brynn--! I--!” With one final buck of his hips, Sam spills over into euphoria. His fingers quickly drop to her voluptuous assets. He clenches savagely to her curves, pushing her drenched, tightening center to his hilt. Sweat drips off his brow as indistinguishable groans wail from his throat.

Watching her husband come undone teases Brynn’s own release. Tossing her almond locks over her bare shoulders, she is taken captive by the sensations tickling her voracious desires. She rocks her hips against Sam’s buried length, stroking her throbbing clit through her incessant waves of reckless ecstasy. Thunderous moans of pleasure escape her mouth as she gasps for a drink of air.

Almost too terrified to disturb the perfect moment, the couple savors the quietness of them simply being together, their hearts beating in-time, connecting as one.

“I love you, baby,” Sam whispers, breaking the silence as he gently massages Brynn’s thighs. His hands intimately roam, carefully finding their way to stroke her fully-blossomed pregnant belly.

A bright smile effortlessly spreads across her face. “I love you, too, baby.” Her delicate fingers meet his. She lifts his hand to her lips, peppering his knuckles with kisses.

“Hopefully,” he chuckles, “that’ll do the trick.”

She cradles her abdomen. “I can only hope so,” she titters, her fingers caressing her abdomen as she talks to their unborn child. “That was another eviction notice, precious one--”

Brynn and Sam had a preterm labor scare at 33 weeks, which landed Brynn in the hospital for a week being pumped with various medications to stop her contractions. She was discharged home, with the instructions to “take it easy.” Though it isn’t ideal to have a baby this early, her team of doctors agreed they weren’t going to do anything to stop her labor if it were to happen again.

Tomorrow, Brynn will be 41 weeks. For the past two weeks, she has been trying every trick in the book to go into labor. Her lab technician Meaghan swore by spicy food; that only gave Brynn ungodly heartburn. Lydia, the Dalton’s downstairs neighbor, gifted Brynn a bottle of castor oil; she spent a solid two days with uncontrollable diarrhea and belly aches. Carter’s wife gave Brynn a special tea blend; she would contract, but nothing painful; she actually fell asleep because of the delicious steep.

Then, there was her mother's advice:

“You’ve gotta have sex, Brynny--”

“Mom--!”

“--and I’m not talking about the mediocre, ‘are you done yet?’ , making-your-shopping-list-in-your-head kind. You need to orgasm--”

“Jesus Christ, Mom--!”

“You need his semen--”

“I can’t believe this is happening right now--”

“And fondle your breasts. Better yet, let him do it! Now you might leak a little, so if you have him suckle--”

*click*

“Brynny? Brynny?”

“I, for one, am not minding this eviction process--”

“Samuel!” she playfully slaps against Sam’s broad chest. Blocking her hits and laughing, Sam finally grabs Brynn, pulling her body down next to his. He wraps his arms around her, brushing his lips against her temple. He rests his large hands on her gravid belly, nuzzling his nose into her neck.

“Are you okay, babe?”

“Mhmm--” Brynn snuggles into Sam’s embrace, closing her eyes. “Just perfect, babe. G’night.”

“Night, baby.”

The delightful pops of the fireplace lulls Sam to sleep; Brynn, however, started having trouble. She turned to her right side, but soon flipped to her left side. When that didn’t get her comfortable, she sat up on the side of the bed, massaging her back and her abdomen.

“Brynn baby,” yawns Sam, “you okay?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you, babe.”

“It’s-k.” Sam fluffs his pillow under his head, keeping his eyes closed. “Contractions?” he slurs.

“Braxton Hicks. I’ll be fine. You go back to--”

Sam lets out a satisfied snore before Brynn can finish her sentence. Tickled, she tucks her husband into bed before she slips on a silk robe. Pulling out her exercise ball from the closet, she sits on top of it in hopes that rocking her hips will bring her some comfort.

She suddenly stops, clutching her chest. An all-too-familiar jolt of burning shoots through her belly leaving an unbearable sour sensation clawing at the back of her throat. Carefully balancing herself to a stand, she retreats to the bathroom for medicine. And to vomit.

“Brynn? Brynn?”

“I’m in here,” her pitiful voice echoes through the bathroom.

Sam slips on a pair of sweats, hurrying to her side in the water closet. Seeing his wife crumpled over the toilet, he drops to her side, pushing her hair behind her ears before rubbing her back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispers gravelly.

“No, you’re not,” he tenderly touches her clammy cheek. “What do you need, babe?”

Brynn leans back, sitting her rear on the cold tile. Embracing her body as another contraction subsides, she quietly states, “I need ice cream.”

Sam’s eyes widen with surprise at the request. “You want… ice cream?”

“Mhmm,” she nods. “That would feel so good against my throat.”

“Okay, baby,” he chuckles, brushing his thumb across swollen lips. “Is there a certain flavor--?”

“Strawberry,” she barks, “it needs to be strawberry.”

Sam kisses her forehead, and jogs to the kitchen in search of his wife’s favorite ice cream. Scooping up three massive balls into a bowl, he returns to the bathroom with two spoons.

“Strawberry ice cream, m’lady!” He sits on the floor with her, presenting the cold dessert like a trophy.

Brynn observes the creamy pink heap. She slowly takes the spoon, poking at the frozen treat. She watches her husband take a bite of it first before she reluctantly tries it.

“No,” she spits out her small bite, “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Perplexed, Sam spoons another bite for himself. “Is there something wrong with it? Is it freezer burned or--?”

“No, no,” Brynn’s eyes begin to well with tears. “It’s just not strawberry enough,” she sniffles.

“Okay, babe, there’s no crying in ice cream,” he chuckles, wiping at her eyes.

“I think it’s because I want strawberry ice cream.”

“Honey, this is strawberry ice cream.”

“This is strawberries and cream.” She uses her spoon as a pointer, “See how there’s vanilla and strawberry with pieces of strawberry? I just," she sighs, "I need strawberry ice cream.”

Staring at the wall, Sam pretends to understand his wife’s request. “Of course, baby. I’ll go get, um--” he clears his throat to keep from laughing, “the strawberry ice cream.”

“Hey, Sam?”

“Mhmm?”

“I love you, baby.” She offers a toothy smile.

He chuckles. “Love you, too,” he shakes his head with a coy smile.

Sam returns with another heaping mound of strawberry ice cream. “Alright, baby, just what you asked for: strawberry ice cream.”

“Sam,” irritation saturates Brynn’s voice as it begins to tremble. “This has strawberry pieces in it.”

“It’s because it’s strawberry ice cream,” Sam bites his tongue, watching his words carefully as he gnashes his teeth. “It’s exactly what you asked for, sweetheart.”

Brynn hangs her head in her hands as she sobs. “I wanted strawberry ice cream, not strawberry with strawberries ice cream!”

“Babe, are you fucking kidding me right--?”

“Don’t yell at me!” Brynn begins to sob harder.

“Jesus Christ,” Sam sputters. He runs his hands down his face, letting out a sigh. He sits down next to his wife, taking her in his arms. “How can we fix this? Can you maybe eat around the strawberries?”

“It just,” her breath hangs tight in her throat as she tries to control her tears, “it doesn’t taste the same.”

“Of course, it doesn’t,” he mutters under his breath. He sighs heavily again. “What can I do, Brynn? Tell me what to do.”

“I just want strawberry ice cream--”

“No. What. Do. You. Want?” He grabs his cell phone. “Show me.”

She does a quick google search, pulling up a plain pink custard with strawberry flavoring--no pieces. “This. I need this. Please.”

“Brynn, we don’t have this here.”

“There’s a 7-11 two blocks away--”

“It’s eighteen degrees outside.” Sam shakes his head, as he walks back to bed. “No, this is getting fucking ridiculous.”

Brynn glares at the spot where her husband once stood, her eyebrows furrowing; warm streams of tears downpour on her cheeks. Red patches of skin grow across her neck and face as her breathing labors.

“Samuel!” When he doesn’t answer, she carefully balances herself from the ground and waddles into their room. “Samuel!”

“What?” his muffled words slur as he buries his head into a pillow. “I just need a little sleep.”

“Oh, you need a little sleep? You?” Brynn rips the duvet off of Sam, her small body shaking in anger. “I have given up my body for ten fucking months to grow a baby, an actual human being that will more than likely rip me to pieces just to,” she chuckles sarcastically, “look like you!”

“Brynn, I--”

“I’m not fucking done!” She breathes through another contraction, stepping closer to her terrified husband. “I have not complained once, and yet I have given up every ounce of my dignity. I can’t control my farts. I can't control my pee. I’m growing rolls and stretch marks in places that I never even knew a person could grow them!” She steps even closer, her eyes darkening. “I fuck you multiple times weekly--sometimes daily--where I hide the embarrassment that my hot, chiseled husband is staring at either my double chin or my fat, stretch-marked ass--”

“Baby, I don’t--”

Brynn holds up a finger. “I reverse cowgirl you until my legs cramp because you like it. I suck your dick off because you like it--”

“I thought that--”

“I just want some strawberry ice cream, Sam!” she sobs, “And then maybe you can get some sleep!” Brynn cradles her abdomen as another wave of discomfort grips around her belly.

Sam sits on the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes. “Fine”

“And I need to come with you.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam sarcastically scoffs. He slinks on a long-sleeve shirt before grabbing his coat. He turns back to his wife who is grabbing her coat. “Um, no,” he chuckles. “I need you stay here and just relax--”

“No, we’re going together.”

Frustrated with the conversation, Sam darts his eyes around the room, trying not to yell. “Why, Brynn?”

“Because--”

“‘Because’ why, Brynn?”

“Because my water just broke.”

***

@ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @forallthatitsworth @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @neotericthemis @pixie88 @sfb123 @shannonsaid @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @secretaryunpaid @thefrenchiemama

[angstyaches]

my fatal flaw is loving fluff more than whump, but i love whumpy nightmare scenarios…? so…what about charlie having a bad nightmare again, either due to being sick or resulting in getting sick, and being so distressed that he has to call shayne? the reverse scenario (shayne calling charlie) would also be so good but i feel like he’d be more hesitant to do that 🤧 i’m imagining lots of shaking and shaky breathing and self-loathing remedied just a little with some physical comfort? like being held idk. ANYWAY this is my request hehe

I spent ages trying to figure out a scenario where Charlie could call Shayne and Shayne could actually get to him, but when they’re apart, it’s hard for Shayne to spontaneously decide to go to Charlie’s. I could have swapped Shayne in for the sickie but I wanted to do Charlie. Sooo, the comfort is mostly verbal, although Charlie recalls physical comfort from the past. I'm sorry if it's not what you had in mind! Feel free to request more nightmare whump anytime, because I adore it.

The events of this fic are referenced (sorry for the first-person POV lol I was trying something out when I started this blog)

CW: nightmare, emeto, crying, anxiety, brief referenced past violence and blood.

___

It was the middle of the night, and the only thing Charlie could hear was the sound of the toilet tank refilling. That, and the tiny gasps that escaped him every now and then as he tried to catch his breath.

His stomach muscles were practically on fire from clenching, and he was still getting his breath back as he leaned against the side of the bath and held his phone to his ear.

The light bounced against the tiles and burned his eyes, but it was better than the dark. The dark had sprouted wings in his dream, along with a set of claws.

Charlie gasped and shook his head, burying it quickly between his knees and trying to get the image out of his head. His spine felt like his skin was crawling all over it.

“Charlie?”

His heart felt like it was going to slip up his throat at the sound of Shayne’s voice on the phone. He had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop himself from whimpering with sheer relief. He hadn’t quite acknowledged it, but part of him had been terrified that Shayne wouldn’t answer the phone at all.

He’s okay…

“H-hey.” Charlie cringed at how badly his voice was shaking, and it echoed against the empty bathroom shelves just like his retching and coughing had done a few minutes ago. “I’m – I’m sorry.”

“Hmm? What’re you sorry for?” Shayne mumbled on the other end of the phone.

“You were probably sleeping, I – I just…” Charlie rubbed at his eyes, desperate to get them dry. Nausea was still trickling lightly through his stomach, and he wondered if he’d have to rush back to the toilet bowl sometime soon.

“What’s wrong, what happened?”

“I got sick…” Charlie pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his forehead against his bare knees. His voice almost disappeared completely down his throat. “I… don’t feel well.”

“Shit. I thought you were finished with all that.”

It took Charlie a moment to realise that Shayne was referring to the food poisoning Charlie had accidentally given himself (and Rin) the day before yesterday.

He swallowed thickly, pulling a face at the memory. He’d felt so much better before going to bed; in fact, he’d been starving, his body feeling hollow and achy after purging itself for a day and a half. He’d cooked an entire bag of chicken nuggets from the freezer, made himself four slices of toast, finished off a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, and had gone to bed feeling blissfully better.

He struggled to find a way to gently tell Shayne that the problem that had woken him at 4am had less to do with his stomach and more to do with his brain.

Although the amount of heavy food in his belly admittedly may have contributed somewhat.

“Charlie, you okay?”

He started a bit, realising he hadn’t replied in a while. “I’m – no. Not really,” he whispered, a sharp sob jerking his ribs and scraping at his throat.

“Put me on the, um, the video thing.”

The phone jingled beside Charlie’s ear, telling him that Shayne was requesting a video call. Charlie made an attempt to clean his face off with his pyjama top before accepting it, propping the bottom of his phone against his knee.

“You know, you sound sixty when you call it ‘the video thing’,” he said, trying to sound upbeat.

“Really?” Shayne narrowed his eyes into a glare as soon as he appeared on Charlie’s screen. “Would you say that to my face if it was actually this close to you?”

Charlie managed a weak smile. Some of the tension bled out of him just at the sight of his boyfriend and his sleepy brown eyes. His chin wobbled uncontrollably as emotions swelled in his belly and chest. “I wish it was this close to me.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Shayne folded one arm behind his head and leaned back against his pillow. His room was mostly dark, but he seemed to be lying on his back. “Wait, are you real-crying? Not just throwing-up-crying?”

Charlie sighed shakily, rushing to rub away the tears that had sneaked up on him. He felt his lips quiver as he tried to keep the smile from turning into a grimace.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

Charlie gulped and nodded. “How could you tell?”

“Give me some credit. I feel like I know you pretty well by now.”

Charlie’s eyes were drawn towards the shrunken image of himself in the top-right corner of the screen, and tried to hold back even more tears. In his own – admittedly warped – opinion, he looked about as disgusting as he felt. He hated that he felt trapped in front of the camera, forcing Shayne to look at him in this state.

“Charlie,” Shayne murmured, his eyes softening in the light of his bedside lamp. “Talk to me, yeah?”

“They’re get – they’re getting worse,” Charlie breathed, burying his face in one hand. It felt a little silly to keep his phone held steady in the other, camera trained on himself even as he covered his eyes and wept, but he didn’t want to cast Shayne aside either. He peered out over the top of his hand, still covering his mouth to try to keep the volume under control.

“I know, but they’re just dreams, remember? They’re not real.”

A gag pulled at Charlie’s throat and he had to shut his eyes. But it was real…

“Deep breaths,” Shayne said, his tone in complete contrast to Charlie’s sobs. “You want to count back from ten with me? Sometimes I need some help. I can get to nine, and then I just get confused.”

Charlie almost laughed through the tears. He wondered if he should have been insulted by Shayne’s attempt to use Charlie’s own method on him. He decided to humour him though, rasping out numbers while thinking that it would never work because he was thinking too hard about it, but by the time they got to zero, he was able to take a breath without his chest hitching.

Shayne said nothing for a few seconds, watching to see what Charlie would do next. He frowned when Charlie shuddered harshly, making the picture wobble.

“You cold?”

Charlie nodded.

“Then go get into bed, idiot.”

He did his best to keep his phone elevated as he walked, but in his exhausted state, Charlie probably gave Shayne a prime view of the stubble under his chin as he made his way back to bed. He shakily propped his phone on the nightstand, next to Vincent the teddy bear, and went to grab a fresh t-shirt from the drawer. He’d sweat through the one he’d fallen asleep in, ruining it even before it had vomit and tears on it.

He finally crawled into bed, his stomach letting out a hollow, unhappy groan as it settled into the new position. Charlie groaned too, reaching out to take his phone in his hand again. He hated how the bedside light made his face look haggard and washed-out.

“All good?” Shayne asked.

“All good,” Charlie slurred, his eyes drooping already. “I miss you, though.”

“I miss you too, love.”

Charlie pulled his blanket tightly around himself, keeping one arm outstretched with his phone so that he and Shayne could still see one another. His sheets had cooled down a lot since he’d flung himself out from between them earlier, and after crouching on the tiles for so long, it was nice to be surrounded by something soft and pleasant.

Shayne tilted his head slightly as they both lay in silence for a moment, just looking into each other’s eyes through their cameras. “How’s the nausea?”

“A little better,” Charlie sighed. “My tummy just kind of hurts.”

Shayne clicked his tongue. “Fuck. I wish I was there with you right now.”

“No.” Although his chest panged with longing for the same thing, Charlie shook his head. “You’re better – you’re safer there, and I don’t –”

The whoosh of dark, leathery wings in the night and the splatter across the hardwood flashed in Charlie’s memory. In the dream, the blood had been Shayne’s; Charlie had watched as Watson had torn his heart right out of his chest before dragging the rest of him away into the sky.

In reality, the blood had been mostly Charlie’s; he’d cut his hands on the broken glass left behind by Watson’s exit through the window.

“Lately, I just…” Charlie swallowed sickly. “I can’t stop thinking about that – that night, remember? When Watson came to my room to find you?”

Shayne fell silent for a moment, seemed to shift position slightly. “Mmhmm.”

“I was dreaming about – about that, but… worse.”

“He won’t come for you,” Shayne said. He seemed like he was gritting his teeth. “If he or Madelyn even try to get near that house, they’ll –”

“I know.” Charlie chewed the inside of his lip. He ducked his face below the blanket and quickly dabbed at fresh tears that were starting to form. “But I was so… I was so useless, Shayne, I knew I could have stopped him, but I didn’t, I was frozen solid, I –”

“Ssshhh…” Shayne whispered, the sound crackling gently through the phone’s speaker. “Charlie, love, come out.”

Teeth chattering in his head, Charlie sniffled from under the blanket.

“Please, I want to see you.”

When he crinkled the blanket into his fingers and revealed just the top half of his face to the camera again, Charlie wished he hadn’t gone into detail about the dream at all. Not only did he look like a mess, now he sounded like one, too. He felt himself blush when Shayne’s eyes lit up on the screen, realising Charlie had come out from behind the blanket.

“You know what I think of when I think of that night?”

Charlie swallowed thickly, shaking his head.

“I think about the way you let me fall asleep on your bed, even though I was being an asshole to you.”

He couldn’t help nuzzling his head against the pillow where Shayne’s head had been that night, while Charlie had sat lengthways with Shayne’s legs across his lap. He’d had crazy butterflies in his stomach, barely able to believe that his crush had shown up in the middle of the night, unconsciously looking for comfort from him.

“It was the first night we fell asleep together, too,” Shayne said.

Without realising it, Charlie had slid one hand around the side of his own neck, fingers running lightly through the hair at the back of his head. Shayne had never touched him before that night either, but he’d ran his fingers through his hair as though he’d been doing it for years. Light shivers of pleasure trickled over Charlie’s skin. The panicked pounding in his chest was starting to slow. “That’s true...”

“You’re anything but useless,” Shayne murmured, turning onto his side and adjusting the angle of his phone. His eyes were starting to close. “I think that’s what my point was. I forgot.”

Charlie gave a light, breathy laugh which was cut off by a deep yawn. He hid his face from the camera again, to avoid giving Shayne a view of his tonsils this time. By the time he looked at the screen again, Shayne was struggling to keep his eyes open, but neither of them said anything.

They never found out whose phone dropped out of whose hand first.

[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 15

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on on Mayans M.C. are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

15.

“What the fuck did you do?”, Nina almost screamed. Filip moved his hands in a calming gesture. “Calm down, las’. There’s still a shitload of 7-year-olds downstairs”, he said. “I’m sure the mom is over the hills at the Mayan parade you’ve had set up!”, Nina snarled. She panicked, and began heaving for breath. She almost tripped over her own feet to reach her bag with her inhaler, but Tig made it to it before her, dug it out, and threw it to Filip; who pressed the canister top, and held it to Nina’s lips. She sucked in the powder, and felt air returning to her lungs. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”. “It’s fine, Nina. Everything is fine”, Filip said, and rubbed her back soothingly.

Nina ran for her bag. ”I can’t be here right now”, she said. “Good, because you won’t be for long”, Filip said. “What are you talking about?”. “You’re going home, little sister”, he smiled. She scoffed at him, and grabbed her bag. Before she could reach the stairs, T.O. once again blocked her way. “My knee. Your balls. Move!”, Nina growled. “Try me, kid”, T.O. grinned. She tried for pleading instead. “You don’t know… Please just let me go. I can’t go back. I can’t do that to… Please!”. The sound of feet on the stairs made Nina’s knees buckle, and T.O. swept her away to go sit on a stool by the bar. “Please, Taddarius…”, Nina whispered. “This is how it has to be”, T.O. replied. “Now keep your ass in that seat until we tell you otherwise”.

The Sons all gathered to greet the incoming guests. Bishop came up first, giving Filip a half hug. “It’s cold as fuck up here”, he said. “It’s 70 degrees, you didn’t come to Alaska”, Filip laughed. Bishop gave him a friendly smile, before greeting Tig. The rest of the Mayans came up behind Bishop, each in turn greeting the Sons. Nina wanted to crawl into a hole, but they all seemed to pretend like she didn’t exist; at least for now. Only EZ shot her a half smile, as he came up behind the full patches. She looked down at her hands, unable to return the gesture. When she finally lifted her eyes again, she scanned the faces of the Mayans. She saw that neither Gilly, Creeper or Angel was among them; and she was unsure whether to feel relieved or distraught at the fact that her former lover wasn’t there. Of course he doesn’t want to see me, she thought to herself. Nina didn’t know why they were there. It would be in MC fashion to throw her into a van, and drive her back to Santo Padre, to force her to fulfill her one-year promise, or lock her up in a dark room with a couple of rattlesnakes as punishment for going back on her deal; but she was also sure that SAMCRO wouldn’t let her get hurt, so the snakes seemed less likely.

Rat came up the stairs. “The mom decided to take the kids to the Chuck-E-Cheese down the road instead”, he said. “Good riddance”, Filip grinned. “Means we can break out the whiskey. Nina…?”. He looked at her meaningfully. Take you place behind the bar, he seemed to be saying. She slowly got to her feet, and slipped behind the counter, taking down the top shelf scotch. It was set up next to the framed picture of Jackson and her, at Nina’s no-baby-on-the-way-shower. Jax had a cigarette hanging from his lips, and his arm hung casually over her shoulders. In his free hand, he held a packet of condoms and birth control pills; and his grin was brighter than the sun. She’d always been impressed at how he’d managed to smile so widely, without letting his cigarette fall from his lips. Nina looked happy and a bit drunk in the picture, and her eyes were locked on her brother; full of awe and familiar love. Tearing herself from the memory of one of the happiest nights of her life, Nina lined up a row of glasses, and began pouring. Her hands were shaking, and she spilled some of the whiskey on the counter.

“Let me do that”, EZ said, having appeared next to her. Nina swallowed thickly, and handed him the bottle; before wiping her hands. “It’s a long ride to take from San Pad”, she said quietly. “We made a pitstop in San Bernardino”, EZ said, and shot her a look. “Oh…”, Nina said, and had to swallow again to wet her throat. “And Creeper, Angel and Gilly are holding down the fort at the scrapyard, I take it…?”. She deliberately didn’t mention Angel first or last, to make her seem indifferent. “Not exactly… Creep and Gilly are”. He sounded like he wanted to say more, but decided against it. Nina sighed deeply. “EZ, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I’m just sorry”, she said bellow her breath. “I know, hermanita”, he said. “We’re good”. He shot her a smile, that reminded her how too precious for this world he was, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him.

Gathering the glasses on a tray, she went over to serve the bikers, who had gathered around a couple of tables. Serving first Filip and Bishop, her eyes met the Mayan’s for a split second. His gaze was enough to make her want to fall to her knees and plead for forgiveness. He didn’t look angry, or even like he wanted an apology; but he did look like he had a couple of things he wanted to say – it just wasn’t the time. Once she got to Coco, he looked up at her, and winked slyly. A smile ghosted her face, and she went back behind the bar.

The bikers all sat and shared road-stories for a while, with the Mayans needing to relax and feel solid ground under their feet. Nina grabbed her cigarettes, and started for the stairs. Tig got in her way, and gave her a knowing look. “Not running… I just need a moment”, she said. She held out her little finger. “Pinky-swear”, she added. He smiled, crooked his own finger with hers, and kissed her forehead; before letting her pass, and walk down the stairs.

---

A couple of broken balloons and an unused piñata littered the floor of the ice-cream shop. She picked up the brightly-colored cardboard mule, and set it down on the counter, before getting behind it, and lighting a cigarette. Digging through the freezer, she found the strawberry-marshmallow ice-cream, and scooped a couple of spoonfuls into a bowl; immediately digging in. She sat for a while, smoking and eating the ice-cream, and stared into the dead eyes of the piñata. It was probably full of small packets of organic raisins, and Nina frowned at it; before punching it, and making it fly across the room. It broke open, and revealed bags of dried apricots. “Would have been better with condoms…”, she muttered to herself, and put some more ice-cream into her mouth.

“What did he ever do to you?”, Taza said from the doorway. Nina gulped down the frozen treat, and smiled embarrassedly. “She was full of shit…”, Nina replied. Taza chuckled, and went to sit across from her. “Got any pecan?”. She dug through the freezer again, and fixed a bowl for the VP; topping it off with some whipped cream and a bright cherry. “Dig in”, she smiled. Taza took a spoonful in his mouth, and smiled brightly. “This place sure as hell beats the scrap-yard”, he said. “Just wait until I whip out the sprinkles”, Nina grinned.

It was strange sitting there with Taza. They’d spoken when she was with the Mayans, but they hadn’t been especially close. She respected and liked him though; and knew that she would have come to care for him deeply, if she’d stayed longer in Santo Padre. “How have you been, kid?”, Taza asked. Nina couldn’t lie. “Not good”, she muttered. “All of this… I feel like shit for going back on my promise to you”. Taza raised a meaningful brow at her. “And you miss Angel”, he said. Nina nodded. “But this is how it has to be. I can’t go back to Santo Padre. It’s not safe”. “We’ll keep you safe”, Taza said. “It’s not about me”, she replied.

Tazza sighed. “I was in love once… He was my one and only; and when I lost him… I was destroyed. I threw in my patch, and gave up…”. Nina was surprised at the sudden sharing of heart. “But you’re still Mayan", she said. “This isn’t the first patch I’ve worn", Taza said. “Years ago, I rolled with Palo. I was a Vato”. “You?”, Nina askes disbelievingly. Taza gave her a soft smile. “I wasn’t always the intelligent gentleman outlaw you see before you now”. Nina let a smile ghost her face. “Well, if you were going to pick up a cut again, you chose the right patch, in my opinion”, she said, before frowning deeply. “If my opinion even matters anymore”. “It does, kid. You’ve become family to us”, Taza said. He took her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "But the reason I’m telling you this, is because Angel is family as well. And he’s not doing very good right now”. A jolt of pain and fear went through Nina’s body. “What did he do?”, she whispered. “He did what I did, when I lost my Davíd…”, Taza said, and let go of her hand.

Realization struck, and Nina felt her already broken heart break even more. “He left the club?”, she croaked. Taza sighed deeply. “He came on the lot a few nights ago, drunk off his ass… He threw his cut at Bishop’s feet”, he said. “I believe his exact words were; None of this shit means shit anymore. Fuck this shit”. Nina frowned deeply. “He’s not exactly eloquent when he’s drunk, is he…?”. Taza chuckled. “No… But he was speaking from the heart. He seems to have lost his meaning to everything”, he said. “To Angel, his path with the club lead to you. When you left… that path didn’t make sense anymore”. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone else. That’s why I left”, Nina said quietly. She chewed her lips for a moment. “And I hate that he is in pain… but at least my leaving didn’t get him killed. If I’d stayed…”. “He would have died?”, Taza asked. “Not him”, Nina croaked. “Hmm”, Taza said shortly.

Before tears could reach her eyes, Nina turned around, and threw her bowl into the sink. She cleared her throat, and shook herself. “Besides, Daniella will get him back on track… In whatever way she can. She’s pretty dead-set on being in his life”. Taza frowned. “You should come upstairs; listen in on the meeting”. Nina felt a chill go through her. “What did you do?”, she croaked. “She wasn’t the snitch!”. “We know… Still; come on”. He got to his feet, gave the piñata a slight kick; and went towards the back door. Nina followed behind him; heart racing, and worried about what she was about to hear.

---

“Welcome to church!”, Filip said, as all the bikers had sat down. Nina slipped through the door as quietly as she could, and went to take her designated seat by the door. She had her own chair there, for when she was asked to join a meeting for one reason or another. It wasn’t often, but it would happen on occasion, when SAMCRO were planning to receive out of town guests, and they needed her to set up the party; or when they needed to prove to themselves how very gender-inclusive they were. She still couldn’t sit at the table though. EZ was stood next to the chair, leaning against the wall, as he had the time, she’d been called in to templo at the scrap-yard.

Filip continued. “So, you’ve come to take away our girl again”, he said. “We have, yeah”, Bishop replied. He sat at the opposite end of the table, facing Filip. The great presidents were convening. “She promised us a year, and she left after less than a month”. He shot Nina a look, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Is that all? Because if it is, I’m sure we can come to some monetary agreement”, Filip said. “Nina claims it would be unsafe for her to return to San Pad. I know we agreed that we’d let you take her back there; but we’re not about to force her to go anywhere, unless we’re absolutely positive she’ll be in no danger”. “We kept Nina perfectly safe while she was with us. Any fear she felt was unfounded”, Taza said.

“You’re wrong!”. The words fell from Nina’s mouth, before she was able to stop them. “I’m sorry”, she muttered. “No, my love. Continue”, Filip said. Tig nodded encouragingly at her. “I can’t go back… It’s not about my own safety… Just, please!”, Nina pleaded. “You year is not up, and we need you at the clubhouse”, Bishop said calmly. “That’s it? You came to Charming six man strong, driving for 8 hours; just for Nina’s well served whiskey sours?”, Filip chuckled. “Might be her perky attitude”, Tig said, and looked at Nina. She grimaced at him. “Look! So cute…”. Nina desperately tried to make up a reason why she couldn’t go back to Santo Padre. Daniella would call Sala the moment she saw her; she was sure of it. Those two little boys would be dead within hours. In the end she sighed. “Ok… I’ll go with you… But not to Santo Padre. Take me somewhere else, lock me up in the dark and… sell my kidneys. I don’t care, I just can’t be seen in San Pad!”.

Bishop frowned deeply. “We’re not gonna hurt you, Nina. We care about you… But our club is in deep shit without you”. “What are you talking about?”, Quinn asked. It was one of the first times Nina had heard him speak at the table. He was still growing into his confidence as a member of SAMCRO; after his years as a nomad. Bishop looked at Nina. “Someone killed Daniella. We believe it was the Vatos Malditos”, he said. Nina gasped, and almost slid from her chair. “Oh god… Oh fuck!”, he croaked. “She was… What happened?”. “Someone let it slip to the Vatos that the woman who killed Palo’s primo was hooking up with Angel; and publicly, that was Daniella”, Hank said. Nina shot an angry look at Bishop, reminded of his master plan of making Angel treat Daniella as his old-lady. “Involved; like…?”, Rat asked. His pureness was almost too much to handle. “What, you wanna know the positions?”, Coco chuckled. “Probably doggy… reversed cowgirl… Sixty-nine…”. Nina pulled off her sneaker, and threw it at the Mayan’s head. He ducked, and narrowly escaped her attack. “That’s my sister you’re talking about”, Filip growled. “She’s a lady. Good old-fashioned missionary is more like it. Good access to the tits…”. Nina took off her other sneaker, and threw it at Filip, hitting him in the chest. “Ow!”, he exclaimed, and threw the shoe back at her. The was a rumble of chuckles around the table. “Are you done laughing at my sex-life?”, she sneered. “Fucking wannabe man-whores probably wouldn’t know a good wheelbarrow if it hit you in the face!”. “Are you sure you want her back?”, Happy chuckled. She shot him a venomous look. “What’s a wheelbarrow?”, Rat muttered. T.O. whispered in his ear, and Rat visibly blushed.

After a moment of heavy breathing, Bishop’s former words hit Nina again. “Daniella’s dead? Do you know if she talked to anyone before she did?”. “As in ratted?”, Riz said. She nodded. “She didn’t. We know she wasn’t the snitch”, Bishop said. “A couple of days after you left, Angel broke a bottle of tequila, and threatened to shove it up her infected cunt, if she didn’t talk about what she knew about you. She spilled the beans on what she’d figured out, but swore up and down your secret was safe with her”. “It was kind of sickening to watch, actually”, Riz said. “Angel was taking her home, when he was crammed between two vans on the road. One of the drivers shot Daniella in the head with a .38”, Bishop said. “Angel…?”, Nina rasped. “He’s fine… physically. His bike was pretty banged up, because one of the vans bumped in to him”, Taza said. “He managed to drive it away, but it died out about two miles from Daniella’s body”.

Nina got to her feet, and began pacing the floor. She was hyperventilating, and shaking her hands in front of her; feeling a prickling sensation under her skin. “She�� made me leave”, she rasped. “Daniella made me leave”. “How, niña?”, Coco said. Nina met his serious expression, and tears began falling from her eyes. “She found out about Abel and Thomas”, she said, and looked at Filip. “She said that if I didn’t break it off with Angel, and left Santo Padre, she’d let VM know about them…”. Once again heaving for breath, EZ came over to her and pulled her into his arms. “Do you need your inhaler?”, he whispered. “No, I’m just… Fuck”, Nina replied, and let herself be enveloped in his embrace.

“That absolute gash!”, Filip roared. Nina heard something break, and turned to see that Happy had picked up his chair and slammed it against the wall; making the legs shatter into small wooden splinters. Rat got up, and found a new chair for Happy. “I’ll call SAMDINO. Make sure Nero’s farm has some security for a while”, he muttered, and slipped out of the room. Happy sat down, and Quinn patted his shoulder calmingly. Tig looked like an actual nuclear bomb had gone off inside his head, and he had murder written all over his face. “Did they bury her yet? Because I want to rape her corpse with a knife!”. “She was cremated two days ago”, Taza muttered.

“Who are Abel and Thomas?”, Riz asked. “Jackson’s sons”, Filip said, his face grim. “He sent them to Norco with his ex-wife before he died; to keep them safe from the life… Hurting them – even threatening them – is a death sentence”. “Well, VM got there ahead of you”, Bishop said. “Nina, I’m sorry that you felt the need to keep this from us. We would have helped”. “Daniella had Sala on fucking speed-dial. You wouldn’t have been able to do anything”, Nina said. She pulled out of EZ’s arms, and stepped over to the table. Without another thought, she sat down on Rat’s free chair. Filip gave her a short nod. “I was just trying to protect my nephews”. “I get that”, Bishop said. “And I hope you know that we hold no grudge against you for leaving. I just wish we’d known, so this could have been cleared up sooner”. She gave him a sad but thankful smile. “And we still need you back”, Taza said.

Rat reentered the room, and when he saw Nina in his seat, he simply got another chair, and sat down next to Coco. The Mayan gave him a crooked smile, and nodded. “Packer is on his way to Norco”, he said. “I called Nero too, and he’s on high alert. He’s gonna call in his old gang-relations. The boys are safe”. Nina sighed deeply. Abel and Thomas would be safe; she knew it. Now she just needed to know the next step for herself. “What do you need me for?”, she asked Bishop. “Well, first of all, we want our brother back at the table”, Coco said. Bishop shot him a look, which Nina couldn’t quite read. “Palo figured out Daniella wasn’t Gael’s killer either”, Bishop said. “How?”, Nina asked. “Because the snitch sent him a picture of you and Gael dancing the night of his death”.

“Fucking hell…”, Filip said, receiving agreeing groans from the rest of the table. “Does he know where Nina is?”. “No, he hasn’t linked her to SAMCRO, but he remembers her from the party”, Taza replied. “He wants us to hand you over, Nina”, Bishop said. “It’s either that, or war”. Nina let out a muffled whimper. “Well, that’s not happening”, T.O. said. “Nina is our family, and we’re not handing her over to be killed”. “And neither will we”, Bishop said. “She’s family to us too; and beyond any unwritten rule about not letting family get hurt, we don’t want her dead”. “So what are you suggesting?”, Tig asked. “Well, as you’ve probably figured out, we’ve got a snitch in our clubhouse”, Taza said. “We know it’s a woman, because Palo let it slip that she’s been in contact with him on the regular”. “We need to draw her out; get rid of her somehow”, Bishop said. “And what better way than give her to Palo, letting him think it’s Nina…?”. Nina’s eyes widened at his words. “We’ll bring Nina and the snitch to a location we’ll set up with the Vatos; show Nina to Palo; and then switch her for the snitch, last minute”. “What is this? Mission Impossible? You can’t just put a Nina’s face on a different woman…”, Tig said. “That’s your problem with this plan? You want to let another woman get killed because of me!”, Nina said. “No! I can’t spend the rest of my life looking for women to take my place in front of Palo’s gun, whenever he figures out, he killed the wrong person…! I’m done. No one else is getting hurt on my account”.

She stood up, and stormed out of the room. Filip followed her, waving at the others to wait in church. He closed the door to church, to give them some privacy. “Look, whoever this woman is, she was willing to let you get killed. For money or whatever; I don’t care”, he said. Nina went over to face the bar, and took a firm hold of the railing in front of it; as if it would keep her from exploding in rage. “I am not letting this happen. I swear on Jax’s grave, I will run back to the border on my bare fucking feet; and throw myself in front of Palo’s gun. I’m done! I can’t have another life on my conscience!”. “Nina Teller!”, Filip growled. He only ever used her full name when he meant business. “You owe your Jackson to live! He loved you and cared for you; had you take his name when he got guardianship of you, to get you out of that loveless place you called a home up until you were 16… You are his sister! If he were here, he would not let you throw away your life like this”. He put his hands on her shoulders, and forced her to look at him. “And I won’t let you either. I love you, kid! Like a sister… like a fucking daughter; and you know what that means…”. Tears were forming in his eyes, and Nina threw her arms around his waist, and buried her face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry… but I can’t let this happen. There has to be another way”, she said.

“You have to”. Nina pulled away from Filip, and saw that EZ had come out of church to join them. “If you don’t, Angel’s gonna get himself killed”. Nina shook her head confusedly. “What are you talking about?”, she asked. “Angel’s planning on crossing the border to kill Palo. He wants to keep you safe, and he thinks taking out Palo and VM will do that”, EZ said. “He won’t make it within 10 miles of Palo, before he’s dead!”, Nina exclaimed. “You’re right…”, EZ replied. “But he’s gonna do it anyway… He’s broken, Nina. Doesn’t give a fuck about himself or anything else anymore. You have to come back with us, and convince him that this plan is better than his own. He made me swear not to tell Bishop, but…”. “I’m not gonna let him hurt himself…!”, Nina exclaimed. “He’s already hurt”, EZ said. “But this is suicide”.

Nina went to sit down on a chair, feeling her knees beginning to give under her. “So… either I let someone die in my place, or Angel kills himself; is that what you’re saying?”. “It’s the only plan we have… And going through with it – keeping you alive like this – is the only way I know to keep my brother alive”, EZ said. He sat down across from her, and took her hands. “I’m begging you… For me; for our pap… Please…”. “What if he already…”, Nina began in a panicked voice. “He promised to wait until I came back. Pap is keeping an eye on him”, EZ said. “Does he know you’re here?”, Filip asked. “No. If he knew there was a chance, we’d bring Nina back, he’d shoot out the tires of all our bikes, and probably set them on fire”, EZ replied. “He thinks she’s in danger in San Pad”. He gave Filip a meaningful look. “She’s not. You’ve got my word… if that means anything coming from a prospect”.

Filip stepped over to the table, and EZ got up to face him. “What is this woman to you, prospect?”, he asked. “She’s my hermanita. My little sister… and I love her”, EZ replied. “Then your word matters, brother”, Filip said, and placed a firm hand on EZ’s shoulder. He looked at Nina. “You are getting on the back of this Mayan’s bike, and letting him take you back to Santo Padre”. “Filip, I’m…”, Nina began. “No discussions! When I saw you in San Pad, you were alive… happy, for the first time in forever. You’ve been a fucking wreck this last week; even worse than I’ve ever seen you before”, Filip said. He took her hands, and pulled her up to stand. “Relight that flame inside you, luv’. Fucking shine!”.

Her Angel was in pain, and he was going to get himself killed. Nina couldn’t let that happen; and now that she knew that Abel and Thomas were ok, she wasn’t ready to let the chance of any kind of future with him slip through her fingers. She knew that she wanted to find a way to avoid anymore death, but for now, Angel was her focus. “Tell them I’ll go”, she said. EZ sprang for the door to church, closing it behind him. She heard muttering from inside, before it opened again, and the Mayans all streamed out; the Sons at their heels. Coco came straight up to her, and pulled her in for a tight hug. “I fucking love you, ma’”, he said, and kissed her temple. Nina smiled at him, before she turned to face Bishop. “I’m sorry I left the way I did; but my reason was valid. I know you know that”, she said. “I’ll give you your year, and whatever time after that makes sense; and I’ll go ahead with your plan for now… As long as you admit that your plans have a tendency to suck!”. “Yeah, pimping out Angel was not my best move”, Bishop admitted with a smile. “We love you, kid. I love you. And I promise to do whatever I have to do to keep you safe…”. “Are you fishing for a hug?”, Nina smirked. “No, he doesn’t hu…”, EZ began. Bishop put his arms around Nina, and pulled her in for a tight embrace; taking every Mayan in the room by surprise. “Tiggy, call Lyla, and make them clear out of Nina’s place, before she comes by to get her things”, Filip said. Nina winced. “You know what? No… After what’s probably gone on there today, just burn that shit”, she said. The Sons all laughed.

Nina looked around at the faces of her Mayan family. “Let’s go home”.

---

[miceandmonsters]

Orc Boyfriend - Ronar

Male orc x female reader; 5.5k

friends to lovers; first time

You met Ronar first year of college, bonding during a particularly frustrating class taught by an elf who thought a tweed blazer made him a good teacher. What started as mostly the two of you attempting to teach yourselves the required material and swearing creatively, bloomed into your closest friendship during school--one that even lasted past graduation. It, of course, helped that you’d stayed in the same city, both finding jobs and setting up lives less than twenty minutes from each other. You texted or spoke nearly every day and hung out almost as often.

More than once, over the years, both of your families had wondered/pestered about why the two of you weren’t more than friends. Your response never varied over the years. Ronar would always shoot you a pointed look, and you’d return with an exaggerated eye roll that would make him laugh quietly, and the conversation would move on. What you had with Ronar was good. After seeing more than one of your friends from school marry and then end up broken-hearted but a few years later, you were grateful to have Ronar’s dependable, constant, warm presence in your life. And you were nearly able to convince yourself that it was enough.

Nearly.

It was the little things about Ronar that felt the most damning. His loose smile right when he was on the cusp of tipsy to drunk. How he held open doors and helped carry groceries and picked things from tall shelves for you and anyone else he ever came across in need of help. The way the artfully selected beads in his dark braided hair glinted in the sunshine. His ass in wet swim trunks--you were only human after all and you thanked every god you’d ever heard of that he was definitely not. His serious expression when he was concentrating on his work, eyebrows knitted together and one thumb idly pressing against a tusk. It all added up to you being helplessly fallen for your best friend.

You probably should have said something already. You probably should have said something five years ago, honestly. Because now it felt like there was too much momentum, you were going too fast, too steady to try and jump tracks now. Couldn’t seem to quite get that thought through your thick head, but you were working on it. Or at least trying. 

In the meantime, however, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t let your wildly inconvenient feelings compromise your friendship with Ronar. He obviously didn’t feel the same, but he was still very nearly the most important person in your life. So you were there for him, through thick and thin, doing your best to deny your heart and support him like he supported you.

You had plans to go see a movie together one night after work, when he texted you as you pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex.

‘hey. would you be sad if i don’t want to go see that movie tonight?’

You frowned and dashed off a reply. ‘not really. everything okay?’

‘work was shit. dont feel like going anywhere.’

‘why don’t you come to my place? I can make spaghetti with pink sauce’

The little typing bubble appeared and disappeared a few times as you got out of our car and headed to your front door. Just inside your apartment, you got a reply.

‘i do like pink sauce’

‘see you soon’

You dropped your purse in its usual pile near the front door and headed to the kitchen, opening up the pantry cabinet to pull down--crap. You scoured through a few other cabinets, hoping that perhaps you’d just somehow overlooked or misplaced the required ingredients. Unfortunately, you had not. You were completely out. And there were only three ingredients to begin with. You dashed back to your purse and barely remembered to lock the door behind you before you ran to your car to go to the nearest grocery store.

Of course there were a million other people also trying to get last minute dinner supplies as well at the store. But you returned to your apartment in record time, noticing that Ronar’s car was parked a few spaces down. Thank gods you gave him the spare key when you moved in. 

You stepped through the front door to find Ronar splayed across your couch, as if he’d crossed the threshold and taken all of five steps before dropping face first into the cushions. Bad day at work indeed.

“Hey, Ro,” you said in a low voice. There was some sort of muffled return of the greeting. “Had to stop by the store real fast… you good?”

His hand lifted up to form a thumbs up for a second, then dropped back down to its place on the carpet.

“Okay.” It would be amusing if he wasn’t miserable. You went into the kitchen and set about the familiar pattern of spaghetti and pink sauce. After a few minutes, Ronar wandered into the kitchen, frowning at life in general and still in his work clothes. You hardly ever saw him in a suit. It was a good look on him.

He joined you, leaning against the counter across from the stove, arm brushing your shoulder in the process.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, tipping your head to look up at him.

He loosened his tie and a long sigh. “Not really. Just… the usual bullshit.” He shrugged off his suit coat, tossing it and the tie haphazardly to your kitchen table. 

You patted his arm. “That sucks. Do you… want a hug then?”

He looked over then nodded, wrapping you in a tight hug and tucking his face into your hair. Hugging your orc best friend was one part being wrapped in the most comforting grip you’ve ever known and one part trying to hold the sun. He was warm and solid and just absolutely the best hugger you’d ever met. You hoped that he found hugging you half as wonderful as you did and at least a little bit soothing. When you pulled back--his hands momentarily sliding across your waist, you noticed--he smiled down at you.

Yeah, you were totally doomed.

“So do you want to hear my plan for tonight?” you asked, turning back to the stove to stir the sauce and keep yourself from making all sorts of embarrassing giggling noises.

“Always,” he replied, coming to stand behind you and resting his chin on the top of your head.

You chuckled, but didn’t push him off. “This will be ready in about ten minutes or so. And I have ice cream in the freezer--it might be a lil freezer burned, but I think it’ll be okay. And I noticed yesterday that that show you like is now streaming.”

“Real Orc Wives of Forik City??”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh HELL yes!” He immediately thundered back into the living room. “It’s no Mountain Road Dwarf Truckers, but ROWFC is a classic.”

You heard the noises of him desperately searching for the remote and then the start up noise of your tv. Never down for long, that was Ronar. You smiled down at the sauce as you kept stirring, reminding your wayward, pattering heart that he was always like this.

Shaking it off, you pulled the cheese from the fridge, sprinkling a generous handful into the sauce. Then you pinched a bit more, tipping your head back to sprinkle it into your mouth.

“I saw that,” his voice came from behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, grinning at him.

“You didn’t see nuthin’.” Then you took another pinch. He growled, tossing the remote aside, and jogged back to the kitchen, the obvious intention to steal what was rightfully yours in his eyes. “Nononono--” you protested, trying to block him by turning away and bending over to protect the valuable commodity. But he just leaned over you, laughing and easily engulfing you to snatch the cheese from your hands.

“Hah!” he proclaimed, triumphantly holding his prize over his head and out of your reach.

“That’s not very fair.” You rested your hands on your hips and frowned up at him as he grinned down at you.

“All’s fair in cheese and war.” And then he dumped half the bag in his mouth. Thinking of nothing but reclaiming the bag, you jumped up at him. Finding a foothold at his waist, you hauled yourself up over his broad shoulder as he continued to laugh. You reached for the bag that he was still holding out of your reach, but then--

Your foot slipped. The world lurched backwards. You gasped. Adrenaline shot into your bloodstream. 

But Ronar’s large arm swung around your back, catching you before you slammed against the floor. His worried face filled your vision, eyes wide and terrified. For a moment that lasted a thousand years, you both just stayed frozen in that position--him bent over and holding you while you clung to him. Only the sounds of both your heavy breathing filled the air between you two. 

Despite the nasty fall you’d almost taken, all your brain could notice was how close his face was. How close his face was, and how full his lips were. You bet that they’d be awfully nice to kiss, even better to nibble on. Your gaze darted from them up to his warm brown eyes and back down. Would he groan? Would he growl? Would he bite you back? Oh gods, you hoped he would.

Stop. This was your best friend, you couldn’t just--

All thought was immediately stopped as suddenly, without any warning at all, Ronar closed the short distance between you. It still took another full second for your mind to catch up with reality and spread the message to the rest of your consciousness that Ronar was kissing you. Ronar was kissing you.

You sucked in a startled breath. You were just starting to notice that his lips were every bit as gentle and supple as you’d ever imagined, when his eyes shot open and he pulled back with a soft ‘pop’. Your world reeled as he abruptly straightened up to standing, pulling you with him. It was all you could do to hold onto his broad shoulders and blink widely at him. Had that just actually happened?

“I’m so sorry,” he said, distraught and shaking a little. He put you back down on your feet and stepped back, hands running through his dark hair. “I don’t-- I shouldn’t have… oh my gods, I’m so sorry.”

He clapped a hand over his traitorous mouth and paced away, still stuttering half-apologies. You, meanwhile, had managed to finally put your head back on your shoulders. Ronar had kissed you. Ronar had kissed you. A very stupid grin spread across for your face for a moment, before you saw him still backpedaling and panicking. You grabbed his arm and made him face you again.

“Ronar!”

“I am so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. We can just pretend that never hap--” You stopped him by smacking your hand over his mouth.

“Do you want to kiss me?” you asked, your voice suddenly gone soft.

He stared down at you for a very long moment, you could see the gears turning in his mind, weighing the potential fall out for every answer. That feeling you certainly understood. But finally, thankfully, he nodded.

A smile broke out across your face. “Then shut up and kiss me.” 

Ronar’s eyes went wider still, but he edged the final half-step towards you. His hand traced from your shoulder down to your elbow, your waist. Achingly slow, as if he was worried that he’d somehow spook you, his head dipped down towards you. Finally, your lips met in the kiss you’d spent years dreaming about. And it was better than you’d ever dreamed.

It started gentle, testing almost--wading slowly into this new world you both had apparently been wanting to venture into. But surely, you both relaxed into it, familiarity turning novel in the best way. His hands drifted back to your waist, but quickly slipped around to draw you fully into his arms. You traced your tongue across the seam of his lips, and they opened for you eagerly. The kiss immediately turned deeper, more demanding.

You finally gave in and caught that lucious bottom lip of his between your teeth. He let out a low throaty moan that would fuel your imagination for weeks and picked you up, holding you tight against him. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist as your fingers threaded through his thick, dark hair. 

Dimly, you were aware that Ronar was carrying you through the apartment, making a beeline for your bedroom. Good. Any other destination and you might have had to stop kissing him. As it was, you didn’t stop as he kicked the door open, you didn’t stop as he sat down on your bed, and you didn’t stop as you pressed him back onto the mattress--ending up on hands and knees over him but still kissing.

He pulled you flush against him when he sat up after a minute. You hadn’t had a chance yet to change out of the dress you’d worn to work, so when he sat up you definitely noticed that he was already half-hard inside his slacks. Since he’d responded so well to your nibbling, you pressed your luck and ground against him. He groaned, and his hands moved down from your back to squeeze your ass. Oh gods yes.

Then he broke the kiss. “Is this… actually happening?” he asked, looking wide-eyed at you. You were both panting.

“Dear gods, I hope so,” you answered, leaning back in to press a quick kiss to his tusk and then down along his jaw. He melted momentarily under your attentions, but pulled back again far too soon.

“Do you… want this to happen?” His brows were drawn together in concern, and you could see more than a little trepidation hiding in his eyes. Your heart melted all over again.

You nodded and cupped his cheeks. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.” Despite the world-ending makeout you were halfway through with him, the confession came out a bit bashful. “I want you. All of you.”

A smile broke out across his face along with a breathless laugh. “I-- I thought it was… was just me.”

“That’s what I thought too.”

“We’re both idiots, huh?”

“Yeah,” you agreed quickly before he kissed you again, more exuberance than passion. But it was so wholly Ronar that you couldn’t help but love it. His hands drifted down to the hem of your dress and tugged upon it. 

“Take this off then?” he asked, his voice gone just slightly rough.

You rested your arms on his shoulders, fingers twirling through his hair. “What’s the magic word?” you replied, smirking just a little.

He let out a half chuckle, half growl that shot straight to your core and was just entirely unfair. “Take this off now,” he ordered, hands dropping to the backs of your thighs, kneading the flesh slightly. 

“Bossy,” you quipped as your toes curled. But you grabbed the hem and pulled the dress off in one fluid motion, tossing it away. His gaze swept over you, and he blew out a long, slow breath, shaking his head slightly.

“Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it,” he finally said, eyes meeting yours now. “Damn beautiful.”

You would have laughed, but he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat that somehow sucked all the air out of your lungs, out of the room, out of the world maybe even. His kisses trailed slowly south as his hands moved north from your thighs--squeezing your ass again, apparently he was fond of it--up your back to pull at your bra strap. Gods, yes. You were so eager to really get this party started. But he paused half-way through.

“Is this--” he started to ask.

“Yes!” You interrupted enthusiastically. He grinned and started to lean back towards you for more kisses. You noticed then that you were about to be nearly naked, and he was completely clothed. He kissed around the edges of your bra as you felt him undo the main strap. Somehow, despite his wondrous distractions, you unbuttoned his shirt, stumbling a little on the last few as he slipped your bra off your shoulders. 

“Take this off,” you said, tugging on his shirt and not letting him pull your bra the rest of the way off.

“Now who’s bossy?” But he let go of you long enough to unbutton the last button and toss his shirt the way your dress had gone. You’d seen him shirtless a few times before, and it’d always made you weak in the knees. Thank goodness you were already sitting as the hard-packed muscle under deep emerald green skin came into view. You threw your bra off and ran your fingers through the smattering of dark hair in the center, taking in as much of him as you could in a long, quenching gaze.

“You look like you want to eat me,” he said in a quiet voice, half a smile lifting one corner of his mouth. You simply raised an eyebrow in response and thoroughly enjoyed the surprise that washed over his face followed by a low groan. “Why in the seven hells did I not say something five years ago?” 

You pushed him back on the bed, kissing up his throat and jaw to catch the pointed tip of his ear between your teeth. His hands gripped your ass again. “Because we’re idiots, remember?” you purred into his ear. 

“Right, I forgot.” Tracing your tongue over his ear made him murmur your name, fingers still kneading your flesh. Dipping down you indulged in another long held fantasy, biting his neck--not hard enough to even bruise, just enough to not be a kiss. He let out a toe curling growl and then unceremoniously, pushed you off him and abruptly stood up. You might have been worried that you’d somehow done something wrong if he hadn’t immediately started pulling off his pants.

They were about halfway down his hips when he noticed you looking, admiring really. He grinned. “Enjoying the view?” 

You would have had a quip, you always did, if he hadn't dropped his pants right then, gifting you with the stunning view of All of him for the very first time. Very proportional, wonderfully toned, sweet-merciful-gods-was-he-actually-just-sculpted-from-marble All of him.

“Fuck,” you managed, staring wide-eyed.

He was so beautiful when he laughed. He was even more beautiful as he prowled up the bed towards you, intention burning in his eyes.

“Are you always commando under your work pants?” you asked, physically having to pull your eyes away from him for a moment.

“Does it turn you on if I say yes?”

“Yes.”

He cupped your face and gave you a look that made you know his answer was going to be snarky. “Sorry to disappoint you, I’m just between laundry cycles.”

You sighed and shook your head. “A crushing blow.”

He kissed your cheek. “How will you survive it?” Then your jaw. 

“Barely, but elegantly.” Your ear. Your neck. Words were… more difficult, but you pressed on. “They’ll… they’ll make a Lifetime movie about me. Your aunt will want to watch it.”

He paused his trail down your body to grin up at you and laugh in his throat, affection in his gaze. Then he resumed his frankly miraculous work, settling down on his stomach before burying his face into your breasts with a contented sigh. For a long moment, he just remained there, kissing softly, his breath sliding across your skin. Then he lifted his hand and took your breasts gently in hand. He rolled the soft flesh under his palms, circling thumbs over your nipples. His expression was utterly enraptured.

“I’ve been wondering what you looked like, felt like for years,” he said in an nearly apologetic tone. Your response was cut off when he captured a nipple between his lips and suckled, before nipping ever so lightly, making you jolt up and gasp in response. 

“Fuck, Ro.”

“Not yet. I want to savor this.” He punctuated his sentence by running his tongue from one breast to the other, making a very undignified whine come from the back of your throat.

“You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”

He answered by taking the other nipple in his mouth and sucking soundly while looking up at you. Damn, that should be illegal. Then he pulled back with a soft ‘pop’. “You love it.”

Your fingers threaded into his thick hair, and, in lieu of saying something terribly honest right now, you pulled him back up for a bruising kiss. He settled down next to you, and his fingers plucked at your underwear.

“You mind if I take these off?” he asked, running a finger just under the band.

“Please.” And finally the final barrier between you two was removed. He caught you in a deep kiss, tongue caressing over yours artfully, as the tips of his fingers traced up your inner thigh. His hand cupped you, making you groan into the kiss--it’d been so damn long since it was anyone else’s fingers down there but yours. Much less anyone that you’d wanted like him. Then he parted your folds, both of you sighing as he discovered how wet you already were. His forehead rested on your temple as he carefully mapped you, skimming and teasing and making you whimper all at the same time.

He started indirectly, taking the undulations of your hips and soft cries as guidance for how you wanted to be touched. You gripped his arm, curling in towards him. Gentle yet insistent, his fingers circled your clit, building sparks of pleasure that were quickly catching flame. But still, it wasn’t quite enough.

“Ro, please,” you whimpered, pressing a needy kiss to his jaw. “Please. I--I want you inside me.”

He shifted his hand so a thumb was pressed to your clit and you sighed a long breath as he slipped one finger inside you, thick enough to feel filled with just that. Still--

“Not what I meant,” you huffed, rocking your hips to set a tempo.

He chuckled and kissed your hair. “I know what you meant. We’ll get there. But I want to see you cum first.” You looked up, meeting his intense, hungry gaze. “I want to know that I was the one who made you feel that good.” That made you clench around his finger, and he sped up the pace a little more. 

You were so close already, you could feel the coil tightening in your lower stomach. And though his plan sounded pretty damn good, you wanted to do something first. You wrapped a hand around his heavy cock that was trapped between you, and he groaned. 

“Cheater,” he hissed, his hips bucking as his fingers stilled.

“You knew this already. You’ve played Battleship with me.”

“Longest Sunday of my life.”

In retaliation, he added a second finger inside you and pressed against your front wall, distracting you thoroughly from anything else other than his wonderful fingers.

“Ronar,” you cried, your voice quivering as a shudder ran down your spine. Nearly there--

“That’s it. Cum for me, love. Please.” Somehow it was the ‘please’ that finished you off. Your orgasm shot from your core, cascading down your limbs, making you clench and let out an inhuman noise as you quaked. But Ronar was right there, holding you through it, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from you. 

Till eventually, you grabbed his hand, stilling his movements immediately. He kissed your temple again and slipped his fingers from you, just holding you as you panted and came back down to earth. Somehow in all your fantasies, you hadn’t thought about how wonderful this part would be. Afterglow felt very literal in his arms. Ronar was wrapped around you, his lips on your temple, his fingers tracing a mindless pattern across your hip. It was just so good. Eventually, drowsily, your eyes opened, and your hand skimmed up his arm. He was smiling when you looked up at him.

“Was that good?” he asked, honestly. “It looked good.”

You chuckled and nodded. “It was good.”

“Good,” he said, kissing you softly and pulling you closer. His hand slipped up into your hair as he kissed you, again and again, never rushed, never hurried. He was an even better kisser than he was a hugger or anything else. You thought for a minute that you could happily die here, just spend the rest of your days being kissed by Ronar and held in his arms. Till you shifted closer to him and you felt his still hard cock brush against your thigh. Ooh, right, you had better plans than even this.

You spread your legs just enough for him to slip between them, and he pulled back with a hiss. His breathing had just shifted to something deeper as he looked at you.

“Ready to go again?” you asked, smirking a little. Your hand trailed down his side to mimic his earlier actions across his hip, so close but not quite there.

He nodded. “Please. I want… you. I want you.” There was such earnestness in his eyes that you stopped teasing him for a moment, and, in fact, you had to kiss him for it. But the time for sweet and slow was over for now, this kiss was heat and desire and left you both breathless.

“How do you want me?” you asked between kisses you pressed along his jaw.

He pulled you on top of him and then sat up--the casual show of his immense strength was still toe-curling--putting you at eye level with him in his lap. “Like this?” he asked, a hand cupping your cheek. “I want to see your face.”

“Gods, Ronar…” You shook your head and laughed just a little. 

“What?”

“You! You’re just…” You struggled to find a word to encapsulate it all, but had to give up. “Wonderful doesn’t even begin to describe.”

His thumb stroked your cheek for a moment, then he added, “How about damn wonderful?”

That made you laugh as you kissed him again, your arms wrapping around his neck. He groaned as his length was trapped between you, but he just held you close. Then suddenly he jerked back.

“Crap, do you have any condoms? Or--or…” His eyebrows knitted together in worry. “I guess I can run down to the store--”

“Ro,” you said, stopping his worry spiral. “I’m on the pill, it’s okay.”

“Right.” He heaved a breath and offered you a lopsided smile in apology.

You chuckled. “You really think you could have fit back in your pants right now?” To emphasize your point, you took him in hand and circled your thumb over the head.

“It wouldn’t have been--shit, oh don’t stop--p… pleasant. But I’d do it for--” The sentence drifted off as you lifted yourself up on your knees, moving with obvious intent. 

Ronar’s eyes were wide and wondrous as he looked up at you, both of you hovering in the moment of anticipation. You memorized his face, never wanting to forget it at this exact second. Then you sank down upon him.

It was a slow process as even with your preparation, he was still larger than anyone else you’d ever been with and you weren’t looking for any painful sensations right now. But you found yourself slowing down even more just to watch the revelations wash over Ronar’s face. Pleasure looked perfect on him. 

It was more than a minute before he was fully inside you, your hips flush to his. He pulled you close, hands rubbing across your back as he murmured gentle half-phrases of encouragement and compliments. 

You took it slow at first, more rocking than anything else. Just focusing on every sensation that you were feeling right now--his hands on your back, his breath on your neck, his chest pressed to yours. Though you were going for barely a minute before he whispered, “Wait.”

You immediately stopped, meeting his gaze. “You okay?” you asked.

He nodded. “Just changed my mind.”

You didn’t have a chance to be concerned as he quickly lifted you up and set you back on the bed, leaning over you and kneeling between your splayed thighs. “Mind if I lead?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You smiled. “By all means.”

He kissed you once more then guided himself back to your entrance, pressing in slowly and watching your face intently. But you were ready for him--desperate might have been the better word. When he was fully sheathed, you pulled him down so he was resting on his elbows. You were surrounded, protected, safe and adored under him. And as he rocked into you, a relieved sigh left you. His gaze never left yours as he built up a rhythm and you did your best to match it. But soon he out paced you, so you hooked your heels around his waist and let him wash over you. 

You couldn’t believe that this was finally actually happening. You’d wanted him for so long and now here he was--in your bed, between your thighs, looking at you like you were the world’s most beautiful sunset as he was driving you to your second earth-shattering orgasm of the evening. The waiting and the longing and the heartache just made it all seem so much sweeter as he dipped down to kiss you.

“Ronar,” you whispered, your voice tight with emotions and delayed gratification. “I--I--”

“I know, love.” He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes closing and brows furrowing in concentration. “I’m so close. Can you wait for me?”

Your response was just a high-pitched whimper that quickly turned into a prayerful chanting of his name as his pace suddenly picked up. Your grip tightened on his biceps as he neared his peak and you were teetering on the edge of yours.

“Please, please, please, please,” you whined through gritted teeth.

He caught up to you with a kiss, sending you both over the cliff in each other’s arms. You shuddered and cried out as he spilled into you with a heavy moan. For a moment, everything  was radiant and glowing and perfect. It was just Ronar and you. Even as reality filtered slowly back in, the world was better than the last time you saw it, surely. It certainly felt like it was.

Ronar relaxed momentarily on top of you, and there was something deeply safe and secure about feeling the weight of his body on yours. His cheek brushed across yours, back and forth, for a minute, and he let out a deeply contented sigh.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, starting to pull himself up and off of you. 

“Don’t be. I love this.” And you pulled him back down. His arms slipped under you to hug you tightly, his face buried against your neck, tusks pressing against your skin.

You stayed like that for several minutes, his arms around you, your fingers tracing soothing patterns across his broad back and occasionally slipping up to comb at the ends of his dark hair. It was deeply peaceful there. Though the sound of some very angry hissing coming from the kitchen broke the quiet atmosphere.

“I think dinner might be ruined,” you said with a chuckle.

He lifted his head and grinned down at you. “We can always order something.” He carded his fingers through your hair. “Or I could, um… take you on that date I’ve been meaning to ask you to for a long time.”

A corner of your mouth lifted up. “How long?” you asked, intensely curious.

The deep green blush across his cheeks got a little darker. “Since the first time you rolled your eyes.”

“Wasn’t that like twenty minutes after we first met?”

“Approximately. Yes.” You would have laughed if you didn’t see how serious he was. Oh. He dipped his head to brush his lips across yours. “How about you? Or was it when I kissed you back in the kitchen?”

You shook your head slightly. “Remember back in junior year where we stayed up all night talking at the picnic table and then got donuts right when the shop opened at 4 am?”

He nodded.

“You had whipped cream on your cheek and bags under your eyes. And the sun was rising behind you. And that was it for me.”

Warmth bloomed in his eyes, and he smiled. “Guess I need to make up for lost time then. Can I take you out this evening?”

“Please.”

Masterlist

[Thanks for reading my first monster boyfriend! <3, mice]

[impaladolan]

Capture - Grayson Dolan [8/-]

summary: y/n is quick to plot revenge.. but does she get away with it..?

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, and smut :)

a/n: i seriously love you

Anonymous said:

Ooohoohohoh I’m excited for her to steal his Rolex haha omg maybe she wears it and doesn’t give him it back when he asks for it OMG u know what would be cute!! if one day she goes snooping in his bedroom and tries on his chain necklace n rings and he walks out the shower n he’s like ummmm ok ily

Anonymous said:

i want y/n to ride gray’s thigh in his office, like he’s just got in still fully in his suite w his gun on his belt and she just walks in and strips 👀👀

Anonymous said:

I have an idea hehe!! WhYi f y/n gets drunk like she f inds alcohol in graysons office or kitchen or something and shes being really bratty but it’s so cute and she’s giving him nose kissies and hugging up and telling him stuff and he’s just listening and loving her

Relaxation.

That's how you'd explain the certain state of euphoria I'm embezzled within. Young love is a treacherous trap that can either end in favor, or be torn to shreds in only mere moments. To feel so passionate and fervently invested in someone you've only ever known and loved is such a thrill, and you could never forget those memories embedded in your mind.

Like right now, laying in bed while the sun's first shine leaks through the window and gleams down upon the two of us, nuzzled under the covers. His leg was wrapped over mine and his arms hung loosely around my hips, sheltering me from ever possibly leaving his grasp. I was the first to wake, but I dared not to move an inch.

The world around me was motionless, so peaceful and calm. Nothing could bother or disrupt the atmosphere around me. Everything felt so perfect, embraced by the one I love and the man I admire. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could ever unsettle me in this moment.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself...

A darkness warped over my newly sunken eyes, shielding the world around me. I called out his name, but nothing came out. The warmth I once felt upon my body, vanished into the air and seemed like it'd never return. The world became cold and useless, all the positivity and tranquility that once surrounded me was blown away and now, I sit in darkness;

All by myself.

Him.

-

It seemed too early in the morning to be awake at such an hour, but you had crashed shortly after making it back to your room last night. You were so mortified and embarrassed, for all those men to see you so vulnerable and being punished. Though, the crazy inside you kind of liked it, but still, it pushed boundaries.

Initially, you had wanted to sleep in all day, and hopefully never leave your room ever again. Although, today's forecast decided otherwise. A ground shaking rumble of thunder made you awaken and the shoestring lighting bolts strung across the darkened sky had drawn you in. Since you essentially have no concept of time, whatsoever, you had to believe it was early in the morning, unless you really had slept in all day...

It's been presumably an hour or so since you first fluttered your eyes open. By now, you had plotted a sickening revenge to his outrageous acts he had committed only a day ago. Of course, you had created horribly ill plans that even you could never pull off. Such as vandalizing his expensive vehicles or even trashing the entire house. You had even gone as far as to planning an "accidental" fire in the kitchen.

But something inside you had put a halt to those thoughts.

Other than not wanting to be known as a malicious arsonist, you had some sort of pull towards him— but what that pull was, you couldn't figure out. The phrase; " Darling, I may be a stranger to you, but you're no stranger to me," has been left in your mind ever since the words first left his mouth. You couldn't possibly help but wonder what that even meant. You felt like you've known him from a past life somehow, and that could potentially explain the affection you have towards him. All of that aside, you have to remember that he isn't who your brain morphs him in to be. He's a felon who's abducted you and has pulled you away from society and everything you've ever been a part of.

For some reason, that's hard for you to mentally consider.

Aside from criminalizing yourself too by creating a fire or becoming a vandalizer, the best option is to state your assertiveness and trespass the "laws" that he has forbidden you ro break. Unlike yesterday's escapades of you ruining the dining room table, today you were up for higher anticipated endeavours. You had it all planned out and you knew what you'd do in order to complete your vengeances.

And he's not going to be very happy...

The atmosphere above and around you still rumbles with the loud, crackling thunder and the strikes of lightning flooding certain increments of light through the surrounding windows pave your path to the daunting door. You were still dressed in the white shirt that could barely pass as acceptable in the public eye, and your feet were frozen at the first touch of the wooden floor. You kept on like you have done in the previous times you have left your room for mischievous reasons. You silently open the door, leaving it wide open as you crept out of your assigned room and into the hallway. You knew that the very first place you would go would be the kitchen. No, you aren't creating a fire or any of the sort, but you were going to raid the fridge and have your fill with what it has to offer.

You walk straight past the opening and right into the glorious establishment of cookware, like it was your very own home and you were just up for a midnight snack. In all honesty, you could get used to living here.

If only it weren't forced onto you, that is.

Your fingertips soon collide with the long, frigid handle of the refrigerator door and pull it wide open, marveling at the large display of different beverages and foods strategically set up. Of course, it was mainly veggies and several healthy-looking meal options. Which didn't surprise you whatsoever.

He has a nice physique for a reason...

You couldn't find anything that made your stomach growl with hunger, until you opened up the freezer drawer and spotted a nice looking ice cream container. Still, it looked healthy and it'd make you all the more frozen, but it would manage to subside your aching sweet tooth for now. You pop open the lid and fish around the drawers for a utensil. With a content sigh, you plunge a huge spoonful of the solid liquid and empty it into your mouth, savoring every last flavor like it would be the last time you'd ever eat the sugary treat again. It was delicious, the absolute best ice cream you've ever devoured in the entirety of your life.

You almost ate half the jar until you decided you were parched and needed a nice drink to soothe your throat. Luckily this time you were familiar with where the glasses were kept and already had your hand wrapped around a large wine glass that was a little bit higher up than the rest of the glassware. You set it down quietly, trailing your eyes upon the clean and prim counter.

A tall, fancy upscale bottle of what looked to be whiskey was settled in the corner, nicely organized with the other alcoholic beverages that were of the same importance.

Now, you weren't exactly a "drink-whiskey-out-of-a-wine-glass" type of gal, but as they say; desperate times call for desperate measures— and you were on the search of something to loosen you up a bit, and that was that.

You brought the glass over to where you had stationed your cup, not even flinching when you uncork the liquor and pour its contents out. With improper proportioning of the said liquid, you put the whiskey back how it was.

"Fuck, here we go." You inaudibly groan to yourself, just knowing that you'll regret every decision you've made in the near future. Raising up the plum-full glass, you tip it back into your mouth and down a whole gulp.

Nasty.

It's definitely an acquired taste, but the barely detectable taste of vanilla made it hardly feasible. You dared to not put the glass down until you were finished with it and had that sour taste submitted through your fiery throat.

The least you could say was that it's pretty smooth, but not something you'd drink in your free time.

In your head, you knew you'd feel a bit wonky, considering your nearly empty stomach and your abstinence from alcohol for the last month or so. It'd be easy to feel the side effects and overall feel much better, like you were aiming for.

Once you drained the glass of every last drop, you held your breath and rushed to the sink. The overwhelming want to just regurgitate what you ingested had drawn upon you, but you refrained from doing so. Waiting out the sickly feeling, you run a bit of cold water over your hand and press it against your forehead for a moment. Everything became hot, even with the freezing temperatures, you felt like breaking a sweat.

All just the side effects of alcohol, I'm sure.

Within the passing minutes, the faintness flew away and the sounds of the thunderstorm filled your ears. A large banging of the clouds above frightened you and you knocked over the glass you had just rested your lips on.

You didn't even feel bad about all the shattered pieces on the floor, it actually brought a smile to your face and you were ready to begin the fully planned extravaganza.

First stop; his room.

You skipped back the hallway, still quiet but not as careful as before. You weren't afraid of any consequences and whatever he was going to do to you wouldn't be too harsh. It's not like he's embarrassed you enough already anyway.

You easily find his door, pushing the handle down as slow as possible, just in case he was asleep in his room. His door didn't creak as you opened it, and nor did his floorboards as you walked straight into his marvelous bedroom. It was extravagant, but yet it still felt homely. You check the bed, no sign of him or anyone for the matter. He probably at a meeting, or something.

Not that you care..

You continue your stroll, glancing around his room for anything that could spark your immediate attention, considerably his desk. It held a lot of his more—fashionably inclined belongings. Such as his masculine jewelry and expensive watches. There was even a small, purple ring that reminded you of something you had worn a long time ago. You brush that off, it brings up sore wounds from a time where you were a lot happier and everything was simpler.

I wish I could say that now..

You began to pick up the neatly placed objects, slipping a couple of heavy necklaces around your neck and the large rings upon your fingers. You laugh at the size difference of your hand and how they barely stay on your fingers.

The stationary mirror attached to the desk caught your eyes, and you begin to make funny faces at it. Which sends you into a hushed giggle fest that makes you double over in your seat. Still caught up in your laughter, you take off all of the rings, just leaving a couple on the desk and tossing a few over to his bed. You do the same with the necklaces, except for the two that you threw into one of the drawers.

That’s when your eyes caught the nice watches, stuffed in clear pouches with the brand labeled across them. Rolex is the first you saw, and the first one you picked up. You weren’t thinking clearly. Hence the reason you tore it out of it’s protective packaging and brought it up above your head, throwing it down to the ground and watching the tiny glass fragments splatter everywhere.

It’s not like he can’t buy a new one, right?

Feeling content and a little less frustrated, you left the messy scene and followed your footsteps back into the hallway. He didn't seem to hear you, so the determination to find out his name came across your mind and you became dead set on finding it, so you basically sprinted into his ominous office and delved into his comfy chair without care.

Your motor skills were altered and it seemed to take for ever to lift yourself out of the chair and tap on the computer keyboard for it to wake up. While it began its process of turning on, you led your hand down to the drawers and pulled at them. And that’s when you found the very first locked up thing in this house.

“Care to tell me what you’re doing in here darling?” His alluring voice blasted through your ears and made you leap upward. “It’s not been a day and you’re already back to being a brat?” You couldn’t see what he looked like, but his silhouette looked suited and enticing.

Very enticing, actually...

“M’trying to find out your name, Daddy.” You spoke before you could think, crossing your arms over your chest while your lips form a pout. His body leaves from the doorway, and you’re barely able to see him as he strides over towards you. Suddenly, a light flips on and you’re met with his beautiful frame, a smile daunting his face as he looks down at your innocence.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” He moves closer, wrapping his hand under your chin while his other has his blazer hung on his finger and thrown towards his back. He looks cute in a smile, until it forms into a confused frown.

“Have you been drinking, Y/N?” Your eyes widen and you quickly nod. You knew you’d be in trouble with him anyway, so might as well be honest now. “I c-couldn’t sleep and I- I just wanted a sip of somethin’.” You shrug, looking downward as you give him an okayish explanation.

“You know what helps me sleep?” He lets your chin go, dropping his jacket and beginning to roll up his dress-shirt’s sleeves. You shake your head, chewing your bottom lip as you take in his appearance. “A nice cocksucking does.” Thunder crackles loudly outside as his husky voice deepens and makes a cool wind run down your spine.

“Then let me help you..” You wrap your arms around his neck, twisting him around and forcefully pushing him down in the chair you were once sitting in. You were about to fall to your knees to “help” him, but he pulls your hips towards him and sets you on his lap. You replace your hands around his neck, sinking your fingertips into his hair and massaging the silky softness of it. He sweetly sighs, readjusting the leg you were sat upon.

And that’s when you feel the sensation you’ve been craving for however long you’ve been here.. you think..

“M’hm, do that again..” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. He actually obliges, his brows furrowed as he watches your face contort. “Like riding my thigh, huh?” He asks as he placed his large hands around your waist. You nod, moving your hips in the same direction. You eyes shut, your head falling back a little as you smoothly move against his muscled thigh.

It felt so good, everything felt so good actually. He somehow looked so much more attractive, the beard dotting his face and his hair styled nicely. Even what he was wearing had you wanting more.

You open your eyes for a moment, watching his pleased expression as he watches you needingly thrust yourself upon his warm, clothed thigh. He even steadily lifted his knee in the correct places, aiding in the pleasure that him alone could bring you. Your eyesight seemed foggy but visible enough to see the gun at his waist side, and you almost froze when you saw it. Even in your intoxicated state of mind, you knew that just the weapon could possibly help you escape and make it back to your own home.

You didn't think it through thoroughly..

You lean in, your lips next to his ear as you practically collapse upon him, though your movements to further yourself towards releasing didn't halt. You slipped your left hand down to his waist band, sensually gliding it over his tented groin. He shutters under your touch, clearing his throat as his heads falls back slightly. As quick as your body would let you, you grab for the handle of the gun and raise it up towards his forehead, stopping all your movements and gaining his attention.

"Y/N—" He starts, gliding his hands up your bare thighs.

"Don't fucking move, or I'll— I'll shoot you." You sounded clear as day in your head, but your words became slurred as they left your mouth, and he smirked at your innocence. Just as quickly as you pulled the gun, he took it away.

He grabbed the barrel and snatched it from your grip, placing it back into its holster at his side. You yelp as he grabs your wrists, twisting them around your back and slamming you into the table with an evil chuckle. "Better keep those hands pretty little hands to yourself, princess. You're too innocent to commit murder anyway." He continues his hoarse chuckles, licking a stripe up his hand before striking your slick pussy. "D-Ahh!" You hiccup, pressing your legs as close together as you can.

“Better fuckin’ pray that you can walk tomorrow, darling...”

to be continued...

[jawritter]

Elf

Summary: Maybe being stuck at home for Christmas with Dean during a snow storm, isn’t so bad after all. 

Warnings: Light Smut, unprotected smut, language, fluff. That’s about it really. 

Word Count: 2814

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Prompt: Elt

A/N: This fic was written for @janicho88 100 follower Christmas Celebration! Congratulation on the new milestone hun! This fic was also beta’d by the lovely @miss-neard95!! Thanks so much love!! As always please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this one! We need a little Christmas in September! I mean hey? Why not? LOL 

 Want more? Check out my Masterlist, or become a patreon for exclusive fics!

***MASTERLIST***              ***BECOME A PATREON***

You shivered as a cold draft of air blew into the Bunker behind you, Dean closing the door as quickly as he could with his hands full of groceries. 

It had been snowing for three solid days now, and there were no signs of letting up any time soon. Dean was convinced that this was how the world was going to end - you were all going to freeze to death. He hated the cold, hated the snow, and more than that, he hated the holidays that usually came with this kind of weather. 

You and Dean made your way towards the kitchen with this week’s supplies, as well as the next in your hands. Normally you would only buy enough for a couple of days, but since the weather conditions only seemed to worsen, you figured it might be best to stay hunkered down for a little while. 

You dumped the bags down on the counter, Dean mimicking your actions,  before the both of you shrugged out of your coats, throwing them down over the table in the corner with a huff as you looked at the sprawling display of things in front of you that needed to be put away.

“Okay,” Dean said, warming his hands by blowing on them and rubbing them together as his piercing green eyes scanned the items on the countertop. “You put away the freezer stuff, and I’ll clear up everything else except your lady products.”

A wicked smirk tugged on your lips as you grabbed the box of Tampons out of the bag, waving them around in front of his face in a  manner that you knew was childish, but Dean seemed to bring out the brat in you. 

“You mean these lady products, Dean?” You asked, giving him a cheeky smile that could make the Cheshire Cat jealous. 

Dean's wrinkled nose with his lips in a grimace was the cutest look of disgust you had ever seen, not that his perfect face wasn't a factor, swatting your hand away like you were holding something revolting.

“Yes, that. Now come on, I want to get out of these jeans, and change into something warmer.” He turned his back to you in mock annoyance as you placed the tampons back on the counter with a chuckle, and started putting the frozen foods away.

It was quiet in the Bunker for the most part. Sam was snowed in at Jody’s when he’d gone up there last week to work on a case with the girls, and that just left Dean and you alone in the Bunker for the foreseeable future-or at least until the snow melted enough for Sam to make it home. 

Cas and Jack were on some sort of 'Angel business' and neither of you, dared asking exactly what that was. Some things you were just better off not knowing until there was no way to ignore them.

Christmas was two days away, and while Dean never really made a big deal about the holidays, you always enjoyed celebrating them. It was the only thing you ever looked forward to as a kid growing up in the hunting life, something your mother tried to hold on which became a normal for you. It was the only reminiscent of your childhood, and something that you clinged to for comfort.

Once you were done, you saw that Dean was still working, so you grabbed the sanitary products and made your way to your room to change into your fuzzy pajama pants, and one of Dean’s old flannel you had stolen from him when you had first moved into the Bunker.

You didn’t need said lady products right now, but you didn’t want to be trapped here without them either. It sucked to be a female because you had to make sure you were prepared for these types of situations, hunter or otherwise. You never knew when you were going to need them, but it was usually at the most inconvenient moments of your life.

You smiled as you made your way from the bathroom after stashing the box away to your bedroom to change, thinking about Dean’s adorably childish reaction to you messing with him in the kitchen just now. 

You knew he was just playing with you. Dean wasn’t bothered by something as small as a box of tampons, but he did love to get a rise out of you and did seem to enjoy the attention of any form he could get. 

So he liked to be playfully grumpy with you, knowing you thought it was more than a little cute.

You were just finishing up throwing your hair into a messy bun when you heard a soft knock on the door and turned around to see a very confused Dean, holding a DVD case in his hand. 

“Y/N, what’s this?” He asked, holding up the new Elf DVD that you had just purchased while on the supply run to watch later tonight after Dean went to bed. 

“Whatever it is, it's mine!” You snatched the DVD from his hand. 

A smirk settled deeply on his handsome features as he strutted his way through the door towards you. Your eyes took him in, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his  tightly fitted T-Shirt did very little to hide his well toned chest and shoulders. 

“Elf? Really Y/N/N, I took you to be more of a 50 Shades type of girl,” Dean said, flopping down on his stomach across your bed, his elbows bent with his smug face resting in his hands. He’d obviously found a way to get back at you for the little teasing back in the kitchen, and you just knew that he wasn't going to let you brush him off that easy.

There had always been an undeniable sexual tension between you two, but neither of you ever acknowledged it. No, you weren’t dating, you weren’t friends with benefits, you were literally just friends. But that didn’t stop you from enjoying the view of the curve of his ass as he laid strewn across your bed.

Maybe you were more of a 50 Shades girl, but he didn’t need to know that. You liked the friendship between the two of you. He was the greatest thing that ever happened to you. He was your best friend, your rock, the person you went to when you needed someone to lean on. You couldn’t fuck that up just because you had feelings for him, there was no way that was ever gonna happen. 

“Well Dean, we can’t be all kinky all the time, sometimes you need something a little vanilla,” you answered his question with a suggestive wink in order to keep up the banter that he’d started, but when you turned to look at him, your hair fell out.

Dean sat up cross legged in the middle of your bed when you huffed looking in the mirror, watching you as you started fixing your hair again with an unreadable look on his face. 

“Well, let’s watch it,” he said with a shrug. 

You turned on the spot and stared at Dean like he’d popped out a second head. 

“What?”

“Let’s watch it.” 

“You wanna watch Elf? You feeling okay, Dean?” 

Dean’s eyes narrowed at that, sticking his tongue out at you before jumping off of the bed and grabbing the DVD from your hands.

“ Dean Cave. Fifteen minutes.” He yelled over his shoulder, and you watched his retreating back as he made his way down the hall to start  the movie for the two of you.

Shaking your head you laughed as you made your way to the kitchen to grab a few beers before you walked back to the Dean Cave.

Dean was always full of surprises. Just when you thought you had him figured out, he did something you never would expect. Like agreeing to watch a Christmas movie with you, when you knew he hated Christmas. 

It wasn’t like it was a great mystery why that was. His father didn't exactly qualify for the parent of the year nomination, and Bobby, well he tried, but he wasn’t that into it either. Good family memories just weren’t something Dean had. 

When you stepped in the Dean Cave, Dean had pulled out one of the oversized blankets you kept in the laundry room for nights like this when you would all pile up in here and watch TV, and was waiting for you with the remote in his hand. 

“I brought beer,” you said, holding the two clinking bottles high above your head as you approached the couch. Dean grinned at you before flipping the covers open for you., offering you to sit down beside him.

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” Dean said with an impish smirk, his lips grabbing your attention that you wanted to feel on your own. 

You settled comfortably next to him as Dean hit play, throwing his arm around you and tucking you into his side before giving you a chaste kiss on the top of your forehead. It wasn't anything unusual for Dean, but it made your heart flutter in your chest all the same. 

You curled into his chest, laying your head against his shoulder as his arms wrapped tightly around you with your legs on his lap. He felt warm and safe, and you honestly could have given everything you had to stay just like this forever. 

As the credits rolled on the movie, Dean reached over and flipped the TV off, leaving both of you in the dark room with the only light from the hallway peeking in through the cracked door. 

“I have to admit, for a Christmas movie, it wasn’t that bad.” Dean said, wrapping the blankets tighter around the two of you instead of getting up like you had expected him to. 

Dean’s large hand brushed a stray hair away from your face as he held you against him, his face so close to yours, you could feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your skin. 

“See, maybe you should do what I suggest more often,” you fired back, trying to keep the conversation light and ignore his hand that was under the covers slowly creeping its way up your thigh as he laughed. 

“I don’t think so sweetheart. Tomorrow we’re watching Death Race, like it or not.”

Even in the darkness of the room Dean’s eyes seemed to sparkle just a little, and the army of butterflies in your stomach started to take flight against you.

You could have sworn he was moving closer to you although it seemed impossible as he held you closer to his large frame. 

“Dean, I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you whispered as his lips came ever so close to your own that they were almost brushing.

He just chuckled in response, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t see the problem, I mean, people already think we’re a couple now.”

Before you could even register what he was saying, Dean’s lips captured yours in a sweet, slow kiss that made your toes curl and your breath hitch in your throat. It didn’t last long, but it was long enough to leave you breathless as he pulled away from you. 

“I know I joke around a lot, but I can be as soft as you need me to be, if you’d give me the chance to show you.”

You could literally feel your heart pounding in your ears as his eyes scanned yours, fear of rejection lingering not far below the surface. 

You don’t know what made you react, you just did. In a spurt of bravery you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing into his as his arms wrap even tighter, pulling your body flush against his. 

You could feel his excitement growing by the prominent bulge that was forming in his sweatpants as his teeth caught your bottom lip, tugging it just hard enough to pull a moan from your lips. 

“Let me show you baby, let me show you what you do to me,” Dean murmured, his hands tracing the skin of your back. 

You had wanted this to happen for so long, that it almost felt like a dream. But one thing was for sure, you weren’t going to push him away anymore. Dean was the kind of person that took things to heart, and if you rejected him, even if it was out of your own fear, you knew you would lose him forever. 

“Then show me, Dean.” You mutter against his lips. 

Not even for one second did Dean break eye contact with you as he pulled your shirt over your head before finding your lips again with his own, dominating your mouth, his hands explored the now exposed skin. You didn’t miss the low growl that came from him when he discovered you’d decided to forgo wearing a bra. His hands slid over your exposed breath before running his thumb over each nipple. His tongue licked into your mouth in a way that made you shiver in his hold. The man was good, and he hadn't even gotten started yet.

His hands wandered to the waistband of your pants and pulled them down in one smooth go, leaving you fully exposed before him.

His eyes travelled shamelessly over your body, his white teeth sinking into his lower lip. 

“You're fucking beautiful, sweetheart,” Dean said, his voice deep and dripping with lust. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Winchester,” you purred. 

It took him mere seconds to strip out of his clothes. You noticed that he’d also chosen to go without  his underwear and you couldn't help the smirk forming on your lips. 

He was gorgeous. His well-toned body from a life of hunting and killing monsters hovered over your small frame on the couch you were laying on. His thick length was heavy and dripping against your already wet folds as his lips found your throat, running his teeth lightly over your collar bone before sucking his mark there. 

“I’ve wanted you like this for so fucking long, baby girl,” Dean said between kisses as he rutted on your folds. His blunt tip created just enough friction on your sensitive clit to drive you crazy and want more. 

“Then have me Winchester, what are you waiting for?” You asked him teasingly. 

Dean repositioned his hips, and with one smooth thrust he was fully seated inside of you without warning, his face hidden in the crook of your neck as he panted above you, holding himself still and giving you time to adjust. 

You had never been so full, so stretched as you were right now. It took you a moment before you were able to roll your hips against his, giving him the push he needed to start moving. At first he set a slow, steady pace. Each stroke of his cock against your already clenching walls driving you higher and higher until his tip hit that special spot deep inside of you at which you cried out. 

“Fuck, Dean,” you moaned, before his lips found yours in a deep kiss that was all tongue and teeth. 

You could already feel that familiar coil begin to wind tight in your abdomen with each thrust of his hips. 

Dean could tell you were getting close, and he picked up  a faster, deeper pace, hitting your g-spot directly everytime. 

“Come on baby, I can feel you're close. Let go,” he said breathlessly, his rhythm beginning to falter. 

It was like that was the command your body had been waiting for, and you came with a silent scream as your walls clamped down around him, and his hips locked in place as he spilled his seed deep inside of you, your walls milking every drop his body could give you. 

When you both came back down from your high Dean laid down next to you in the small space, pulling the covers over the two of you and snuggling into you.

You both stayed there in silence for a minute before you finally had the courage to speak. 

“Where does this leave us, Dean?” You asked him as his lips brushed over the exposed skin of your shoulder.

“It means your mine now, baby girl. Merry Christmas,” He said, his voice cocky and he was back to being the Dean you loved so much  

Turning around you swatted him playfully on his arm before settling back into his hold, nuzzling into his chest before letting out a content sigh of your own. 

“Best Christmas present ever,” you tell him before drifting off to sleep in the arms of the man you would always love with your whole heart, but now, he was yours and you, his.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons​ @rvgrsbrns​ @bi-danvers0​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @i-love-superhero​ @akshi8278​ @lyss-dw79​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624​ @busy-bee-angel-misska​ @justanotherwinchester​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​ @lyarr24​ @amandamdiehl​ @love-jackles-37-blog​ @miraclesoflove​ @waywardsistershy​ @emoryhemsworth​ @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​ @softsebastian​ @tatted-trina6​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @hayleeharling​   @flamencodiva​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ @bxbyizzy​ @rain-dance-goblin​ @itmejado​ @supernatural3002​

[thatesqcrush]

Team Bonding

Bryan Kneef x Reader. NSFW. Warnings: dub-con, because he’s her superior. Oral sex, vaginal fingering, and fisting. Yes. You read that right. Also squirting. You have been warned. Oh, and this covers ice-skating in my naughty & nice bingo. This is most definitely naughty. 

WC: 2.8K

***

“Bryan Kneef doesn’t do ice skating.” A voice boomed from down the hall.

“Stop referring to yourself in third-person you psycho.” You rolled your eyes as you headed towards the voice. You paused in front of a decorative mirror in the empty law firm and rubbed lip balm over your lips.

“I told you, Bryan Kneef doesn’t do ice skating.”

You rubbed your lips together, and then made way to the lobby, finding the acerbic head of litigation at STR Laurie, sitting in a chair, with a scowl on his face. Which, lets face it, was nothing new for Bryan Kneef.

“Look, I know this is the last thing you wanted to be doing. But your bosses up there, wanted to make the transition with Reddick Boseman smooth.” You pointed towards the ceiling and then pointed back down. “It’s not my fault we got paired up together. You said I could choose what we got to do. I chose ice skating.”

You walked past him and hit the button, calling for the elevator. You crossed your arms and began tapping your foot, irritated. “Well?”

Bryan glowered and then stood. “Fine.”

**

When STR Laurie announced that they wanted to do a team building exercise with Reddick Boseman & Lockhart, you were less than thrilled. The last thing you wanted to do was spend more time with work on your weekend. Especially when you were paired with Bryan. You were not blind, the man was fucking gorgeous and he cropped up in many a fantasy with your battery operated boyfriend. However, his attitude left much to be desired. He would work you and the rest of the paralegal department to the bone. You knew from his bio on the firm website, that he started himself as a paralegal upon graduating from Northwestern Law – you figured he’d be cognizant of how to treat junior staff, probably having been through it himself. Instead, he chose to continue the cycle of asshole treatment. Bryan tried to get out of it himself, but his own boss Gavin Firth told him to make nice and take part – especially if he wanted to keep leading the litigation department and not give it to Diane. Backed into a corner, Bryan reluctantly agreed.

Initially, he had hoped he would be paired with a fellow colleague who he would be able to convince to blow off this event and hit high end bar with. And if not that, he had hoped it was the blonde secretary with big tits two floors down that he could wham, bam, thank you ma’am and then move on from. Instead – he got stuck with you – the mousy senior paralegal. He knew who were – he knew who everyone was. You had worked with him on a few cases before. You were very good at your job but otherwise, left little to the imagination with your baggy, shapeless sacks of dresses and frumpy sweaters. There was no desire for him to try to get under your skirt. Not when there was a bevvy of women and men he could have, just a dial away.

As the elevator went down, Bryan chose to study your profile. Though you were bundled up to the hilt in a white puffer coat and burgundy hat, he could still see your long lashes and lush lips that had a sheen from whatever you put on them. His nose caught the barest whiff of perfume and he had to admit that it smelled lovely. The elevator landed and you walked out first. He was surprised to see a shapely ass under the dark denim fitted jeans you wore.

STR was close to Millennium Park. You both made way through to the ice skating rink, barely a word between you. You were meeting a few other STR/Boseman colleagues and friends from your department who were already there. Bryan paid for the skating rental and soon enough you were both on the ice. You skated towards your friends with ease, leaving the attorney behind, gripping the sides. A look of panic was on his face as he tried to maintain balance. You turned around and let out a derisive laugh before skating back towards him, offering your hand.

“Is the big bad lawyer afraid of a little ice?” You mocked.

“Shut up and leave me alone. I am here, aren’t I? Go back to your friends and go take your pictures. Make fun of me all you want. Come Monday, I am going to bury you all with doc production.” Bryan sneered.

You skated closer to him and offered your hand once more. “Come on, it’s not that hard – watch me.” You stood next to him. “Your knees should always stay slightly bent. That position lowers your center of gravity, stabilizing you. It also helps you to skate without falling. Also, you should always have your weight positioned over your skating leg. One time you’re skating on the right leg, and the next moment on the left one. Every time you switch legs, you must shift your weight so that it’s over the skating leg.”

You demonstrated what you had explained and then repeated it. Bryan looked at you like a deer in headlights. Your lips twitched into a small smile. “Give me your hand.”

Bryan sighed, his breath causing a small puff of air. “Fine.” He grunted and took your hand. Your hand and his hand were encased in gloves and you mourned the idea that you weren’t holding hands bare skin to bare skin. You skated easily and Bryan wobbled a bit behind, but managing to keep pace. However, at one point, another skater flew by catching Bryan off guard and he lost his balance, falling, bringing you down with him.

“Mother fucking cock sucker son of a bitch!” You swore loudly, rubbing the side of your left ankle. “Ugh, I think I twisted it, you jerk!” Tears pricked your eyes.

“You? How about me?” Bryan snapped. “I can’t even get stand up without falling down.”

“Boo hoo asshole.” Two of your friends helped you up and you tried to bear weight but found that you could not. You were helped off the ice and Bryan followed, clambering to get off the ice, using the wall of the rink to help him.

You winced as you remove the skate, examining your ankle. It was starting to swell and the area was tender to touch. Bryan sat next to you, removing his own skates as well.

“How bad is it?” You heard him ask. You looked at him. “It’s sprained.”

For a brief moment, he looked remorseful. And just as quickly as you blinked, it was gone. “I’ll get us a car; I’ll take you home.”

You cocked your brow. “Excuse me, I can get home on my own just fine.” And stubborn as you were, you tried to stand but let out a grimace of pain, plopping back onto the hard bench.

“Let me take you home.” Bryan replied.

“Wonderful.” You seethed. Bryan returned your skates, along with his and brought over you shoes. You smashed your foot into your sneaker as best you could. Bryan offered his arm and begrudgingly, you took it, and limped out of the park. The ride home was uneventful, again with barely any conversation. You hobbled up the stairs rather comically and it was Bryan’s turn to roll his eyes at your pathetic attempt. You yelped as he suddenly picked you up, bridal style.

“What’s your apartment?”

“2D.” You replied mournfully, feeling embarrassed and humiliated that you could barely manage to get around and now you were being carried like a baby. There was a small part of you, however, that squealed inwardly. You clutched onto Bryan, his body solid and warm. He smelled wonderful and you allowed yourself to pretend to be swept away by the handsome lawyer.

**

“I got it from here, you can put me down.” You insisted once you were both inside. You both took off your coats. Bryan swallowed hard – for all the mousy outfits you wore at work, today you wore a form fitting sweater, which showed off the dip of your hip and swells of your tits.

Bryan carefully set you down and sharp pain shot up your leg and you swore again. “Maybe you should see someone.”

“I’ll tape it and ice it,” you reassured Bryan. “I’ll be fine.” This earned you an exasperated sigh. “I will take some ibuprofen,” you added for good measure.

Bryan grumbled in French about you being stubborn as he made way through your apartment. “I heard that, and you’re one to talk,” you replied cheekily, surprising him that you knew another language. Bryan was further surprised at your modest, but overall modern apartment. He liked the exposed brick and thought your small Christmas tree with its large, vintage bulbs was tacky, but charming in a way. He went into your kitchen and rummaged through your freezer, before returning with a bag of frozen peas.

“Put this on your ankle.” Bryan ordered. You took the bag. You propped your ankle onto your coffee table and stuck the bag on. You looked up at him. “I’m good. You can go now – and don’t worry, I’ll be in on Monday. Thanks for the lift.”

Bryan nodded and turned away, making his way back down your hallway. As soon as he did, you attempted to stand and swore loudly once more. Bryan turned on the balls on his feet. “Christ, Y/N, at least wait ‘til I am gone.”

“Wha—hey!” You shouted as he picked you up again, this time over his shoulder, so you were face to his ass. He gave your ass a playful spank and made his way down your other hallway, looking for your bedroom. “Put me down!”

He found it fairly quickly and unceremoniously threw you onto your bed.

“Are you always this stubborn?” He asked, his hands on his hips. He eyed your bedroom. It was small, like the rest of your apartment.

“Are you always a pretentious asshole?” You asked. Finally, you couldn’t stand it any longer. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Bryan didn’t respond. Instead, he sat next to you. “I know everyone thinks I am an asshole.” You snorted and Bryan let out a defeated sigh. “Okay, so I am an asshole. But I am still a fucking person.”

“The devil has feelings?” You covered your mouth and then cringed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Bryan shrugged. “For all the shit I do, yeah, I do.” He turned to you. “Look, I am sorry that I hurt your ankle. And maybe take Monday off – see a doctor. Don’t worry about it. I will make sure it doesn’t count against your PTO.”

You looked at him and you smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

You were suddenly aware that Bryan was in your bedroom, on your bed. He looked debonair in his burgundy sweater and dark jeans. You could see the dark beard with the tiniest flecks of grey. When he began to massage your foot, you felt desire pool in your most intimate of parts.

“Bryan – I…” You swallowed hard. He looked up at you, his green eyes were intense and he gave the slightest nod to you. You leapt into his lap, ignoring the screaming pain of your ankle and kissed him. Bryan kissed you in return and slipped his tongue into your mouth, seeking and exploring. His hands were over your ass, grabbing at your flesh. He gave you a playful squeeze which earned him a moan from you.

A hand moved up and under your sweater, skillfully unhooking your bra and immediately moving to your breasts. He tugged and twisted a nipple, enjoying how you squirmed in his embrace.

“Let me take care of you,” Bryan replied breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting. You removed your sweater and fished off your bra. His eyes darkened at the sight of your shapely breasts. He couldn’t wait to get his mouth on them.

“Oh yes,” you agreed, practically purring. “I ache.”

Bryan hummed in acknowledgement. He pushed you back onto the bed and helped you out of your jeans. Slowly his hand made its way back under your underwear, along your hip. Your breathing hitched as his hand moved closer to the apex of your thighs. You were already sopping in anticipation.

“You’re so wet,” Bryan noted, a single finger stroking you briefly, before slipping inside. You sighed at the feeling of his finger in you. Encouraging, you pushed your panties to the side allowing him greater access.

Bryan slipped another finger inside of you, his tempo quickening. You began moving against his hand, mewling as he continued his ministrations. His fingers pumped in and out of you faster and faster. You cried out in pleasure. Bryan slowed his momentum before removing his fingers completely. You whimpered in protest and Bryan made a big show of sucking on his fingers. “You are delicious.” Bryan commented and you blushed in response.

Leaning over, he grabbed a pillow and encouraged you to lift your hips, placing the pillow under you. You spread your legs wantonly and unabashedly. Nipping your thighs, Bryan nestled in between your legs, his tongue in your folds, licking you and swirling his tongue on your swollen clitoris. You groaned, and your hands lost themselves in his dark hair, trying to keep him in place. The added feel of his beard along your sensitive skin only heightened your pleasure.

Bryan hummed in agreement and the vibrations sent shockwaves up your body. You arched your back as his tongue flicked on your clitoris as he slipped two fingers back in, all the way deep to the knuckle. Ignoring your aching ankle, your hips rose to meet the thrusts of his fingers. A third finger slipped inside, stretching you.

“Oh shit! Bryan!”

“That’s right, take it.” Bryan whispered. His thumb rubbed your clitoris haphazardly. You like getting fucked by my hand?”

“Yes, fuck, give it to me!” Your legs were shaking. “I am going to cum.” You groaned.

“Not yet.” Bryan grunted. He withdrew his hand and you whined at the lost contact. “Do you have any lube?”

You looked up at him, curious. “Uh, top drawer. Condoms in there too.”

Bryan winked at you and moved off your bed. As he rummaged through your drawer, you eyed the tent in his pants hungrily.

Bryan removed his shirt, leaving his jeans on. Seeing his thick body, with his dusty rose nipples and smattering of chest hair – he was even more hot than you could have imagined. He spread your legs again and dipped his head once more tasting you. You watched as he drizzled lube along your folds and then over his hand. He tucked his thumb into his palm, tapering his fingers and then slowly penetrated you until his entire hand was inside of you.

You let out a sound that was akin to animalistic howl. “Holy shit, holy shit, oh my God!” Bryan began rock his hand back and forth, fucking you with his fist. You felt so full and all you could think – or even say was more, more, more!

“Cum for me,” Bryan growled, his fingers finding that sweet spot that no one else ever had. You sobbed in pleasure and he dipped his head back between your legs and flicked his tongue against your clit. You came hard, shouting his name, grabbing the sheets haphazardly. Bryan continued to pump in and out of you, while looking up at you. A smirk graced his face, and he stroked that sweet spot once more. Your lungs burned as you gasped for air, feeling tremendous pressure and then release as you squirted all over Bryan’s face. Bryan lapped at you through your orgasm until it subsided. Slowly he removed his fist. Moving back up to you, he pushed his fingers into your mouth. “Suck” he ordered. You sucked on his fingers, tasting yourself.

You nipped Bryan’s fingers playfully and he chuckled, removing them. He pressed a kiss on your lips. “Feeling better?”

“Mmmm much,” you replied grinning. Pushing Bryan gently back onto the bed, you climbed onto him. “But I do think more TLC is in order,” you replied taking his hands and placing them on your breasts. “Up to the challenge, Mr. Kneef?”

Bryan winked. “I think I like my odds.”

FIN.

--

Tags: @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @delia26 @mgarner1227 @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @caked-crusader @rachelxwayne @prurientpuddlejumper @lv7867 @permanentlydizzy @bisexual-dreamer02 @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @teamsladsandgents  

[lppsidefics]

Meihem Fanfic: Ice eyes

Chapter 1: Flurry

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Begrudgingly, Jamison Fawkes followed the big ape off the plane and into the frigid temperatures. Despite being inside the damn base, the snow and ice seemed to linger in every corner of this arctic wasteland. The solid hanger doors gaped open, having allowed years of extreme low temperatures to funnel into the massive room. It was hardly livable inside, as the climate turned the metal building into a freezing icebox.

Junkrat stomped and cursed his way through the hanger, his boots caving into the piled snow blanketing the landing strip. “Ak-choo!” He sneezed, and a string of green oozed from his nose. Rubbing his hands up and down his own arms, he attempted to keep the blood in his veins from icing up into strawberry slush.

“M’fucki’n freeze’n me nuts off Monkey! Wot’s so fuck’n important, that we had ta haul our ass’s all tha way ta the tip-top ah no-where, just ta find some abandoned ol’base that no-one even lives in anymore!?”

“Language, Jamison.” Ana scolded, flinging the long end of her blue scarf over her shoulder. She stepped off the plane right behind the younger junker, stopping to adjust his winter hat for him.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry Nan.” Jamison said, and Ana patted his cheek with her soft glove. He smiled at her sheepishly, but when she turned away to join the team leader further inside the base his grumbly expression returned.

With a deeply aggravated sigh, Winston pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mr Fawkes please, I have already told you. I don’t know the cause of the beacon’s activation…That is what we’re here to find out.” The gorilla scientist pressed a thick finger into a button on the wall, but the hanger gate refused to close.

No power, Winston surmised, and shifted his attention to the hanging bay doors. “Mr Roadhog, could you assist me.”

The large man grunted, before following the ape to the opening, where Winston pointed to the door on the left, and he himself approached the one to the right. With their might’s combined, the hanger doors pinched closed, and the bright sunlight in the room snuffed away.

It wasn’t pitch dark, but the loss of sun did give the crannies a dangerous look to them.

The cold was a little more manageable now, but still Jamison shivered beneath his puffy lime green coat. The collar of his woolen turtle neck was itchy and awful, and he’d been tugging at a wedgie in his snow pants for half an hour, but the slippery fabric just kept escaping through his gloved hands.

This trip had been miserable already, and they had only just arrived. Jamison was stuffy, pouty, and grumbly, as he tromped over the landing strip, his brows twitched in irritation on every step.

Meanwhile Roadhog seemed rather snug, layered in a collection of hand knitted jumpers, and wound in a series of multi-colored scarfs. If he was as cold as Jamison was, the large junker didn’t show it, as his masked expression remained just as calm and possibly empty as usual.

Winston quickly discovered that the lift was frozen shut, but it didn’t have the power to work anyway, so the small team instead climbed a set of iron stairs to the upper floors. Jamison’s metal peg leg slipped on only one of the many frozen steps, as they slowly made their way up to the main part of the base, and once at the top, he gave the lengthy drop below an uneasy peek over the railing.

Their foot falls shuffled down the empty corridor, as cold air streamed against their faces. Junkrat paused when they passed by a dark room, where cryo sleep tubes lined the wall in a row. Any power the chambers would have been drawing from was dead, and he could only assume the occupants were as well.

However, each pod was closed except one, which was eerily left propped open and empty.

Jamison gulped, feeling a different kind of chill creep up his spine, one not of cold but of fear. He didn’t like this place, it was all the things he hated most. Cold, dark, and clean. Just like Dr Ziglers hospital room at HQ, where needles and blood bags were stored in freezers like soda pop.

Noticing that Roadhog had also stopped beside him, Junkrat coughed into his gloved prosthetic hand. “S’noth’n.” He sniffed in a string of winter snot, and hobbled after the elder team members who’d continued ahead of them.

The cold air was swirling around them now, seeming to emanate from the beacon control room itself, as chilling mist wafted from the small sliver of an opening between the automatic doors. Winston tried the buttons on the wall, but it was pointless, so he then pressed his thick hands between the open space, and forced the metal to part wider.

As the metal cracked and shifted, snow flurried into his face, the flakes spiraling around him and showering over the new arrivals like a cloud of tiny cold fairies. When the storm settled, they each made motions to shake the collected snow piles off their shoulders and out of their hair.

Sweeping a puffy coat sleeve over his face, Jamison removed the white bits of ice that had landed on his brows and lashes, before huffing visible breaths of air into his gloves. “S-shouldn’t it be get’n warmer further in?”

“Must be another breach somewhere.” Winston said, before stepping aside to let Ana to get a look inside beacon control room.

She leaned in, scanning over the room with her remaining eye, before stepping across the gap and into the ghostly cold, soon followed by a hesitant Junkrat, then Winston, adjusting his glasses as they fogged instantly upon entering the room, and finally Roadhog who had to squeeze his belly through with a pop.

The lights in this room appeared to be as dead as the rest of the place, and Ana cracked a set of sickly yellow glow sticks, before distributing them to each of the four team members.

It was the arctic, and every room in the base was cold, but the temperature dropped significantly once they opened this room, and there was an ominous silence throughout the entire base, but in this room, there was a faint robotic beep replaying over and over.

“Beep….. Beep….. Beep….. Beep….. Beep…..”

It was like a heart monitor, one of those unfeeling rhythms that put a person on edge, and they followed the sound through the dark before the yellow glow met a reflective blue wall.

Crystallized ice towered up to the ceiling, and their eyes glided upward to it’s top in awe. The icy wall had encased the entire beacon and control panel, but it also spiked out to take half the room as well, cresting the walls with patterns of glittering frost.

“Hoolie-doolie, that’sa icicle…” Junkrat enamored it’s size and gave the glass-like casing a few knocks. “…Solid too. What d’ya think happened here mate?”

“I’m not sure…” Winston furrowed his brows at the console, watching the tiny green light blink teasingly beneath the blue coat. “…But what ever happened, it was after the beacon was activated. The ice cuts off all access to it’s panel. Unless… it was an automated system…” He trailed off, bringing a knuckle to his chin as the ape became lost in thought.

“Here is what I don’t understand…” Ana started, and the room turned their attention to her as she walked up to a light switch, flipping the tiny button up and down a few times before planting the same hand on her hip. “…if there’s no power in the facility, then how is the beacon active at all?”

“Perhaps there is a backup supply unit, only for the beacon.” Winston suggested, but Ana wasn’t convinced as she strutted her way back to the iced over control panel, and with a cocked brow she turned her eagle eye on the ape leader.

“That’s not in the standard blueprints…”

“Someone…” Winston started, before giving his wide shoulders a shrug. “…I presume who ever activated the beacon, must have modified the power input. To keep the signal working, even when all other power had been used in the facility.”

“If that’s so, then where are they?” Ana asked, gesturing to the empty room and assumedly the empty base beyond the four walls. She then pointed a finger at the active green dot beneath the ice. “…Winston, this little blinking light traveled all the way to Overwatch HQ. It brought us here… but why?”

The room fell silent again, except for the nerve rattling beep of the beacon terminal. Winston and Ana were deep in a silent thoughtful moment, while the Junkers stood idly, waiting for instruction. Jamison’s eyes darted back and forth between the senior officers, before giving a glance to the iced up control panel.

“Welp!” Junkrat clapped his gloved hands together loudly, shocking a jump out of everyone, and catching all of their attentions at once. “Won’t know why it’s act’n funny, ‘less ya can get ta tha controls ro’ight? Can’t get’ta tha control panel, ‘less this ice is cleared. Ain’t here for piss’n round! So let’s blow this block in’ta ice-cream!”

With another sigh, Winston pulled his glasses from his face, giving the hight of the glacier another inspection. His eyes following it all the way to the top, before returning to the smaller of the two Junkers. “Mr Fawkes, are you sure you can remove the ice with out damaging the machinery beneath it?”

“A’course, mate! It’ll be ace!” With the spin of a land mine in his metal hand, Junkrat stepped up onto a sheet of ice and held his arms up wide. “This’s tha great Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fawkes yer talk’n bout! I know what I’m do’n!”

Directly after his proclamation, his peg skidded on the ice and the arson’s legs tore into a split. Junkrat howled in pain, and cried for Roadhog to help him up, which the larger junker did, and Winston sighed yet again with his fingers on his temples.

“Winston.” Ana addressed the ape, holding her medical-gun on her shoulder, just in case. “This is what you hired them for… give them time to prove their worth.”

It was true, the team Winston had assembled for this task was strategically thought through, and he’d specifically chose to bring Junkrat for this purpose. He knew they’d be dealing with ice, and the demolitions expert would be useful when facing a blockade such as this one.

Though when asking Jamison to accompany him on this mission, he’d only required the single junker, but Winston was then informed that “Where ever I go, Hog goes!”, and that was the end of the negotiations.

Every team needed a medic, and that was why he assigned Ana. Angela might have been his first choice, but Ana was better at handling the Junkers, the younger one had even grown attached to her, calling her ‘Nan’ like an older relative. Perhaps it was because of their missing biological components that they shared a bond he couldn’t quite grasp.

Or perhaps Ana just views him as an orphan looking for a home… Winston considered this, watching as Junkrat excitedly pressed his thumb into the tiny button of his handy detonator, and the bombs blew with an echoing ripple of sound.

The light from the first explosion cast shadows across the room, and revealed the innards of the glacier for a moment, before the fire died and with it, the light. Just above the beacon’s panel, there was a rather strangely shaped dark spot, hovering within the thick ice wall.

The team leader disregarded it at first, seeing as the icy wall had many strange imperfections, but when Junkrat blasted it again, and again the fire illuminated the shadowed spot, he found it a bit more suspicious. Winston brought his glasses back onto his face and squinted at the dark space, but couldn’t make out it’s proper shape. He stared at it, as Junkrat detonated another bomb, and it’s light revealed the figure of a human body.

Junkrat was positioning another mine just above the panel, when Winston called out to him. “Mr Fawkes, wait a moment…” But the arson was too enraptured with his work to hear the command, and blasted it anyway.

It shook the ice, this time sending cracked bits crumbling from the top, but the person inside still appeared to be intact. Junkrat giggled as he set another mine, but halted when the ape commanded “Jamison! Stop!”, with his palm open in a forceful gesture.

“Alro’ight, crikey. Dan’t have ta shout.”

Ana quickly cracked a hand full of glow sticks at once, shaking them in her fist before holding the bouquet up to the person hidden beneath the ice. “Mei-ling?” She uttered, her brows lifting and her single eye wide in shock.

The dark spot became a girl, pale skinned and soft featured. Her hair was ash brown, her lips blue, and she was dressed for a nap, in fluffy pajamas. She was balled into a fetal position about two feet above the beacon panel, and beside her was some sort of weapon looking device.

“Mei-ling?!” Winston exclaimed, placing his hands on the outside of her ice encasement, as if she’d simply wake at the sound of his voice. His eyes searched her face for life but with a huff, he dropped his fore head against the barrier.

“Who’s it?”

The elder team members turned to Junkrat, and the sorrow in their expressions lingered as they addressed his question. “Mei-ling Zouh…” Winston explained. “…She was a researcher here when it was still an active base. When the first Overwatch devision disbanded, this site was left abandoned and the team was considered dead officially.”

“But…” Ana’s eyes trailed from Mei’s face to the persistent blink of the beacon light on the console below. “…She must have activated the beacon, and then froze herself… Awaiting rescue.”

“A rescue that never came…” Winston finished, and the room fell silent.

“That must have been nearly twenty years ago…”

Junkrat rested his prosthetic hand on his bony hip, and braced a palm against the wall of ice, admiring the sleeping face of the girl within. “Well she’s look’n pretty good for a lady push’n forty.”

“The ice kept her in a stasis.” Ana said, not even batting an eye at the junkers comment, and handed Winston the bouquet of glow sticks, before swinging her bag off her shoulder. It flopped on the floor and she un-zipped it down the middle, digging through it as she spoke. “If she’s still alive in there, she’s going to need medical treatment…”

She started emptying the contents, lining bottles, stacking supplies, and un-raveling a large tarp which was quickly smoothed out onto the tile floor. “…I don’t have the equipment to heal her properly here, but she’s been in the ice this long, it should preserve her until we can get her home.”

“What exactly are you suggesting Ana?” Winston asked, staring at the woman crouched on the floor with a hopeful brow.

“We’ll just have to cut her out…” Ana said plainly, standing again and stretching her back in a rather casual way. “We cut her out, load her onto the transport, and fly her back to HQ where Angela can take over.”

The team all seemed to be turning over the plan in their minds, looking for flaws in it, but the situation was too unusual to have any protocols to think of.

“How’re we ganna cut through this, Nan?” Junkrat asked, gliding his hand across the solid glass-like wall, his fingers dipping into the crevasse he’d created. “Even me bombs didn’t make more than’a crack.”

“This is a science lab, and we are capable…” Ana then spun, taking the glow sticks she’d left with Winston, and looked in to his eyes with her stern one. “…I’m sure we can find a way.”

The gorilla understood without being told. He can find a way. After all, Winston was the team leader, the smart one so to speak, and just like every other member of Overwatch, he had his job to do.

[vercopaanir]

Teach Me to Fly

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 3

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Summary: Making space for yourself aboard the Razor Crest, the child enlists you to break an unspoken rule that leads to something new.

Rating: E for everyone!

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: None!

Notes: God, I didn’t intend for this series to be such a slow-burn, but it is what it is. C’est la vie! I appreciate feedback. Please forgive me if I’ve misrepresented something from Star Wars canon, I am not an expert. Also on AO3.

Keep Up | Go to Sleep | Teach Me to Fly | (later in series) Don’t Go Far

Traveling through the stars didn’t feel quite as mystical as you’d dreamed of when you heard of people going off-world. Perhaps it was because you couldn’t see it for yourself, but other than the occasional shimmy and shake of the engines, the Mandalorian was an incredibly talented pilot who flew his ship with steady hands. It hardly felt different than being on solid ground.

That wasn’t due to the integrity of the Razor Crest, either. In the two weeks you had been aboard, you’d overheard him muttering quiet curses in another language any time something broke, fell off, or rattled somewhere in the ship’s engines. He would disappear into a crawl space in the floor or wall for a few hours, and you would wait nearby in case he needed help, keeping the child firmly encased in your arms.

He never did. Or, at least, he never asked for it.

It had taken you a full week to grow accustomed to the ship. You took your time, using both hands, exploring every nook, crevice, and corner of the hull. He didn’t forbid you from following him up the ladder, but you hadn’t been invited, either. So, you kept your exploring on the lower floor. It turned your hands cold and stiff until they shook, feeling the metal structure around you, but you created the map in your mind. There was a refresher, a rather large locker that you weren’t sure of the contents, the bunk you slept in, and then...further into the hull.

“Don’t,” the Mandalorian told you one day, as you started to step towards a colder corner of the hull near the back. You stopped, tilting your head towards him curiously. “Don’t touch anything down there.”

You considered the warning, the baby holding onto the hem of your robe near your feet. “Alright,” you murmured carefully, turning back. You stepped back towards his voice, where he was standing near the ladder that led up to the upper deck. The child chased the trailing fabric of your robe. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer immediately. You weren’t sure if you would have believed him, or taken him seriously if he had. The truth was a bit gruesome to someone like you-someone who had only ever lived in such a small corner of the galaxy. 

That night, you sat up with your back against the metal wall of the bunk, your knees drawn to your chest, and you stared straight at that dark, cold side of the ship. You couldn’t see the carbonite freezer he’d told you about, or the hanging encasements of his bounties. At first, the idea of people frozen in pain and fear left you feeling sick. 

But the more you considered it, you felt less unsettled you were, and more respectful you became. 

Living a life as a slave indentured you to an order of things. You’d seen the best and worst of most living creatures, and it was not hard to imagine the cantina owner hanging up on the rack. It wasn’t hard to envision the imperial officer who’d taken you from your home, slaughtering your village, your parents. For the first time in your life, you were seeing the bad things that could happen to bad people.

When you fell asleep, you dreamed of the Mandalorian hunting for the man who took your eyesight and drowning him in carbonite. You dreamt of him in the dark, rather than yourself, and you woke up more rested than you could remember being.

The Mandalorian found consistent work, but he never told you what planet you were on or where you were going next. Your curiosity was piqued, but you felt too timid to ask more about it. So far, neither of you interacted beyond what the child needed, and you were, in a small way, grateful. It took you days to accept you were no longer under someone’s thumb. Every time you brushed the back of your neck and felt the thin, healed flesh that had once held the transmitter, you felt dizzy. It didn’t feel real.

At least, not until the Mandalorian found you to give you a payment from some of his work. The credits were kept in a small money pouch, and you stared stupidly up at him as you held it like it was a detonator. You tried to thank him, but he simply spun on his heel and walked away before you could manage the words.

Such was the basis of your interactions. So whenever the Razor Crest landed, you gathered the baby up into your arms and stepped out into the hull, listening to the armored warrior descend down the ladder before he opened that mysterious locker. 

Your questions and interest grew each time over this routine, and finally, you couldn’t keep quiet. You stepped closer, setting the child down near your feet. “What are you doing?” you asked softly, tilting your head towards the light that came from the locker that was open before him. It caused his beskar to gleam, and you admired how it must have been polished.

His helmet turned toward you, and for a moment you were both still, staring at each other. The dim light from the locker illuminated enough that you could make out his shape, and you felt brave enough to take another step closer, leaning against the locker’s door. Would he push you away? Tell you to go back to your place? You didn’t need to be in the way, after all. You felt a sudden wave of reticence press down on your shoulders, but you resisted the submissive response.

“Tools of the trade.” His voice was even and low, but it held a lightness, too. 

Your stomach settled, and your shoulders relaxed. You tried to recall what little you knew of the creed of the Mandalore, and you felt your cheeks flush from your naivety. You asked, “Mandalorians use tools?”

A quiet noise came through the modulator of his helmet. It could have been a small, breathy chuckle, or even a fond sigh. He shook his head once before seeming to make a decision and reaching into the locker. He brought out something before turning towards you. 

“Here.”

Frowning, you reach out and recoil instantly at the feeling of icy metal, but his gloved fingers catch the delicate bones of your wrist. “Don’t-” you freeze, letting him draw your fingers back to the gun he holds. “Don’t be afraid.”

You swallow, taking the tips of your fingers and drawing it over the well oiled steel. Some kind of handgun, you think, hovering over the muzzle before tracing back down the barrel to the grip. He held it still as you studied it, the tension leaving you the more comfortable you became with shape. The cold dissipated the more your skin warmed it, and you tilted your head. “What kind of weapon is this?”

“A WESTAR-35 blaster pistol.”

You had never touched a gun before, never handled any weapon. The solid finality of it made you feel weak and flimsy, and you curled your fingers away from it and towards yourself. “Is it...your...favorite?” you struggled with asking, the words sounding stupid to you.

The Mandalorian seemed to consider your question, turning the blaster over between his hands before you heard him holster it at his hip. “It’s essential. Reliable.”

“How so?”

This was the most you’d ever spoken to each other, and even though it was out of your realm of knowledge, you were desperate to hear him speak more. You were desperate to talk with him more. You suddenly didn’t want to break the tenuous thread between you, finding his presence more comforting than you thought possible. It was an odd sensation for you, finding comfort in a stranger. You waited for annoyance to overcome him, irritation to cloud his demeanor or color his voice.

It didn’t.

“They can fire underwater. Sand, snow, dirt-nothing jams the machinery. Impassable to an enemy.”

The words made you shiver, but your lips twitched upward. “Like you.”

His helmet turned toward you again, regarding you. “This is the way.”

A slight tug at your ankle reminded you the child was at your feet, and you leaned down to pick him up. He cooed as he gazed up at the Mandalorian, and the bounty hunter’s gloved hand reached out to pet the small child between his ears. 

You followed him to the hatch, letting the hum of the lowering ramp fade before you asked, “Will you be gone long?”

He paused at that, a question you had never asked before. You wondered if he was so unused to talking with another organic life that it threw him off each time. You couldn’t blame him-no one spoke to you much either, before he brought you along in his ship. 

“I wouldn’t wait up,” the Mandalorian said, and you thought he might be happy. At least a little.

“Not much else to do,” you murmured, looking toward the child in your arms as he tugged your hair for attention. “For either of us.”

Warm air from outside ruffled your robe and dress, but the sunshine outside made you yearn to follow. The Mandalorian hesitated, swaying between descending the ramp and staying on the ship. Your eyes moved from beyond the world outside the Razor Crest back to his form, blinking inquisitively.

“D-Did I say something wrong?”

The Mandalorian shook his head then, stepping out of the ship and walking down the ramp. You sighed softly, hearing the door begin to close. You shifted the baby in your arms as he cuddled closer, his naptime nearing. You felt an odd sensation, a tugging in your chest to say something, to call out after him, but you had no idea what you would say. 

What did one say to a deadly warrior whose body count surpassed anyone else’s years?

“Be careful.”

He had a tendency towards hesitation when you spoke to him, and the slight pause in his stride as he walked away was no exception. You could hear it in the rhythm of his boots. You felt a small, self-deprecating smile tug at your mouth, and you reached out to the familiar electrical box that housed the buttons that controlled the ramp. You closed it, sealing you and the child in the safety of the ship, and let the sudden silence overcome you.

The baby was still tugging at your hair, and you sighed, stealing his little hand and kissing it fondly. His big eyes blinked up at you, and you gently butted your forehead against his. “Alright, let’s get you some food.” 

This was, arguably, the most difficult time. When the Mandalorian went off for work, the quiet and dark of the ship crept in on you until you thought you might lose your mind. The child, tugging at your ankle or babbling happily up at you from your lap was good company, to be sure, but it didn’t make up for your lack of occupation. Without toys, the child seemed just as restless as you were. You could keep him distracted with stories, simple ones you remembered from your childhood, but that only lasted so long before the little one was toddling off to find something else to get into. 

After finding him a small dehydrated meal in one of the crates, you suddenly realized you’d never known where the child sleeps. Usually, the Mandalorian would gather the baby from you every night and ascend up the ladder, or he’d collect him for a nap while the ship was on autopilot. You supposed the child could sleep in your bunk, and as you decide on this, you reach over to lift him up only to find him missing.

“W-Where did you go?” Your voice raises octaves higher, fumbling around the small corner you two had been occupying. Your hands frantically search for any sign of the baby, but a gurgling giggle from across the hull makes you perk up. “Oh! You little-!”

There’s laughter in your voice even as relief washes over you, and you clamber up to gather him in your arms. He tugs at your sleeve, grunting as if trying to direct you, but all that’s forward is the ladder.

“You want to go up there?” An answering coo makes you sigh. What could be the harm? “Alright. But you’re going to be napping, not playing.”

The baby fits in the bend of your elbow, and you’re able to shoulder your way up the narrow ladder onto the upper deck. It’s shadowed in darkness, and you fumble for a switch that might light the passageway, huffing in irritation. You supposed his helmet must have some kind of night vision specification, but did the Mandalorian really need everything so  dark ?

Your fingers tripped over a panel of buttons, and a sudden whisper of metal opened a set of doors nearby. Instantly, the passageway was flooded with natural light.

Sucking in a breath, you hesitated before stepping inside, your sight lighting up more than it had since before boarding the Razor Crest. 

The cockpit featured observational windows that bled the outside world in, and you blinked at the brightness, not unlike some deep-sea dwelling creature underexposed to the above world. The baby wiggled happily in your arms and continued to tug you forward. When he seemed to discover you responded to his silent pleas, he led you to one of the co-pilot seats where you found a makeshift cradle. 

“Oh. So you sleep here?” You feel the inside of the small space, finding it insulated and padded with something downy and plush. There’s a heavy blanket inside that you suspect was upcycled from another use, but the baby pulls it happily on top of himself. You can make out his two big eyes blinking from underneath, ears tucked down, and you hear him yawn. 

The scent of the cockpit hits you as soon as your mind begins to drift back to your surroundings. It doesn’t smell as metallic up here, you decide. There’s a wintry, sharp scent like trees, clean fabric and a layer of oil that comes from well preserved steel. Some of the switches on the control panel glow in front of you, and you can make out various colors from the sunlight dappling through the windows above. 

You sit carefully in the pilot’s seat, feeling uneasy leaving the child alone up here by himself. That’s the last thing you would want to deal with, you decide, imagining the ship suddenly lurching off while the little beastie played with the thrusters and dials unattended. You’re sure the Mandalorian would drop you off at the nearest port, and you wouldn’t be able to blame him.

As you languish in the streams of light, you realize the peaceful quiet outside the ship. You can hear the wind blowing, faint sounds of leaves, and the child’s quiet breathing behind you. It lulls you into security, and soon your own posture-usually perfectly, unfailingly straight-slumps back as you, too, fall asleep. Kuiil’s words of rest in safety echo in your mind.

When you wake up, it’s violent and sudden. There is someone there, and you lurch forward at the undeniable presence looming nearby. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” the Mandalorian’s voice says, his gloved hand resting on your arm. Your heart is thundering in your chest, eyes wildly searching for any sign of something wrong. The light is nearly gone now, save for the silvery glow of the stars, but as pretty as it is, you still feel as if you need to fight or flee. The child sits in your lap, staring up at you and cooing as he plays with the ends of a few locks of your hair, and his guardian is still looking you over. “Are you alright?”

You turn your face towards the Mandalorian. He’s knelt down by the pilot’s chair, where you still sat, and you take a few moments to assess yourself. You bring one hand up to the baby’s ear, gently stroking the little creature to reassure both of you that it’s alright.

“I didn’t mean to sleep,” you finally whisper, feeling suddenly miserable. The chair has left your back aching, your temples tight where tension is turning your neck stiff. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even...hear the hatch…”

“I tried to be quiet. It’s late.” There was another pause. “I told you not to wait up.” 

You take a moment to gather yourself, frowning gently at the discomfort of sitting for so long. It felt like all you’d done since boarding his ship was sleep, but...you had never slept so well, either. Even now, waking up discombobulated and tense, it was better than any of the nights spent in the cantina’s bunks, huddled on a sparse cot or on the floor with a sheet for a blanket and no pillow.

“Did you get what you came for?” you ask, tilting your head toward him. You could make out the faint shadow of his helmet, kneeling near your legs. “The bounty, I mean.”

“Put up a chase. I would’ve been back sooner, otherwise.”

His voice was a low, raspy baritone, and you wondered if he found it uncomfortable to speak after going so long without. You knew you did, at least. 

“I’m glad you were successful, then.” You slowly stand up, hissing as blood rushes back to your feet and your back seems to creak. The Mandalorian lifts the child from your arms as you stretch, and you rub your lower back with gentle fingers to chase the discomfort away. “I should do more to keep me from being idle.”

“You do plenty with this little womp rat,” he says, lifting the child up a bit higher. The baby giggles in response, and you smile at the sweet sound. 

“I could-” You pause, biting your lip. You’re aware of when he turns to face you, and you take a deep breath against the intimidation you feel bubbling to the surface. “I could do more. Be more useful, I mean.”

The silence between you is heavy with hesitation, and you can only imagine what he must be thinking. You try to hope he isn’t doubting you just because of your inability to see. The thought alone brings ire in your breast, and you flex your fingers at your sides, ready to defend yourself.

“Sit back down,” he murmurs, turning the pilot’s chair so it bumps the back of your knees. Your eyebrows fly up, and without question, you gingerly perch on the edge of the seat, feeling your heart flutter when he steps closer again. A breeze of scent-the smell of trees and outdoors, clean fabric and steel brushes your face. “Have you ever flown before?”

The question is absurd, but his lack of doubt is also...incredible. You’re not sure if it’s stupid or dignified. Your throat tightens and you don’t trust your voice to remain steady so you simply shake your head. 

“Right. Hold this,” he says, dropping the child into your lap without ceremony. You blink, securing the wiggling baby between your arms, and watch as he leans over the control panel. “I don’t think I can teach you how to fully fly a ship, but maybe...take off and landing aren’t complicated. You only need to know the controls for the propulsion and thrusters. The landing program does the rest.” 

Your heart begins to beat wildly, and you lean forward as he takes the next few hours explaining what every module, button, switch, and handle on the panel in front of you does. You take your time, feeling everything after he names it so you can commit it to memory. When your fingers brush over a red communications link, you sigh, “It’d be easier if they were all lit.”

There’s a brief pause, and you can hear his intake of breath through the modulator. The more you hear him speak, the more you decide you enjoy the sound of his voice. “It would?”

“Yes.” The child begins to squirm in your lap, trying to reach for a metal top that’s attached to a switch. You shift the child in your lap so he can see what his guardian is doing, and he moves to the other side of the chair while you speak. “I can make out shadows and some color and shapes when there’s enough light. It’s distorted at best, but it’s not total darkness. Not unless there’s light.”

The Mandalorian is quiet, and your eyes track his movements as he unscrews something on the control panel. He leans closer to your side, and you see him drop something into the child’s eagerly outstretched hand. 

“What’s that?”

“His favorite toy. There’s a button, here,” he says, moving quickly from the topic to kneel down again. “Under the panel. It lights the controls, but I don’t use it.” 

“Show me, please?” you ask, holding a hand out, palm up.

The Mandalorian takes your hand, cupping your knuckles and leading your fingers to the bulky nodule just beneath the lip of the panel. His finger lines up over yours, and he shows you how to press it with a little more force than the others. Suddenly, hundreds of lights that were previously dark flicker to life before you. The baby gurgles in delight around the toy half shoved in his mouth.

You spend a moment, looking at the glowing, slightly blurry controls, and you feel your eyes begin to sting. You’d never been trusted with something like this before, something so complex and skill-based. It was a far cry from cleaning dirty glasses and serving watered down liquor. 

Your companion takes a deep breath and leans his forearm on the back of your chair. “Does this help?” he asks, voice almost too soft for the modulator to pick up.

A tear slips from the corner of your eye, and you wipe it away quickly. “Y-Yes. Show me how-how to take off, now,” you say, not asking so much as demanding with a childish eagerness.

The Mandalorian is a good teacher. 

In fact, he’s an excellent teacher. 

His voice is direct and patient, and he allows you to ask questions and make comments that don’t make you feel inferior. He stands over you, not hovering as much as observing, and you find consolation in his presence. Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t treat you as if you’re made of glass, or because he’s not worried you’ll mess something up. Whatever the reason for his trust, you’re grateful for it, finding yourself smiling when you go through the motions of landing and he praises, “Good. Very good.”

The child begins tugging at your sleeve, and you realize it’s past time for him to be fed. As you start to get up, a gentle hand touches your shoulder. “Stay. I’ll bring it to you. Keep practicing.”

But he didn’t. He brought food for the child and yourself.

He set the plate of cold meat, bread, and cheese on the armrest, and you blink in surprise, looking up at his shadow. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

The Mandalorian was using an oiled cloth to wipe down the controls, not glancing at you as he worked. He points out, “You do it for me every day.”

“Yes, but-”

“Let’s practice take-off, now. It’s more in-depth.”

You sit back in the chair, letting the child pick what he wanted off the plate and nibbling on what was left, listening intently as the Mandalorian described different procedures and the pre-flight check-list. Something warm was building in your chest, slow and fervent, and every time his helmet tilted back to look at you, it deepened. You had never been valued before, cared for or thought of as more than a means to an end. And these feelings-they hurt, like the first breath of air you take after being submerged in water for far too long, but they felt sweet, too.

-

Taglist: @lavenderl3mons​ @itzagoodthing​ @letaliabane 

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[princess-peregrine]

Hi! So I always like the requests you've sent my way so I'm yeeting one back to you. Lark and Piper sleepover? If you're still looking for promts for writing and want too.

@grimm-the-6th Thanks for the first (and only) prompt (so far) I would have this done sooner and finished but there was an issue, I've never been to a slumber party or a sleepover. I wont be finishing it as I also had no ideas at any point during it. My mind was a complete blank. I also don't know how to like, format on tumblr.

Anyone, feel free to send me Storm Hawks prompts, I'll try to get at least 500 words out of it.

Lark and Piper sleepover, 1.5K words, sfw, and heavy on references

“Master Cyclonis, are you sure you don't need to take anyone with you?” Commander Ravess asked the young girl getting onto her sky bike.

“For the last time, No.” Cyclonis spat. “I am simply doing something that requires my personal attention. If you need something to do I'm sure the Dark Ace would be happy to have a training partner.” She said, making Ravess salute and ramble off platitudes of disagreement. Cyclonis unhooked her cape and handed it off to a night crawler before heading off. The wheels making a satisfying purr as they left the ground. After making sure that she was far off enough and wasn't being followed, she took out her shielding crystal. After donning her Lark disguise and changing the appearance of her bike, she changed course for a little shop. She hoped it would still be there, the map she had was a little outdated.

After only around an hour of flying Cyclonis had reached her destination. As she landed she was surprised by how small the terra was. And more surprised someone would want to build a shop here in the first place. She kicked off her bike and double checked her disguise before she walked inside.

“You made it!” Piper shouted from inside. There was no reason to, the only other person in the store was the clerk behind the counter. “Come on, come on.”

Cyclonis gave herself one more reminder that she's allowed to smile in this disguise and have fun, and made her way to the counter. “I'm here already, what's the rush?” she said, maneuvering her leg over the stool before sitting down.

“In case you forgot, I signed you up to buy the dessert.” Piper said as she leaned against the counter. “I ordered the stuff and it's all here. All you have to do is pay for it.”

“Hey I didn't ask before but,” The clerk said from behind the counter, eying the cart stacked three layers high of frozen yogurt and ice cream. “What's all this stuff for?” He asked in a heavy accent neither of them could place.

“We're going to a sleepover.” Lark answered.

“A sleepover?” The clerk said perplexed. “Ain't you two's a little old for sleepovers?”

“True.” Piper answered. “But a friend of mine arranged it, there are supposed to be quite a few people showing up. Hence the large order.” Piper and Lark received a look from the clerk before being given a satisfied gruff and their order. Lark exchanged the gold and paper, doing her best not to touch the clerks hand during the hand off. Received a complimentary 'Have a nice day' and was off.

Piper had brought along one of the other Storm Hawks bikes, modified to carry the load under them. The ride wasn't long, to Lark surprise. The ship they were headed for was already coming towards them. A large orange ship, clearly meant for civilian flights, probably a moving ship. Everyone else had arrived earlier than the host expected and had decided to come pick up Piper from the store.

“Piper!” A voice called out from the crowd of people in the bridge, Lark assumed it was the host. A light skinned girl with large brown hair that seemed to sphere off in different directions wearing a very large green shirt came out of the crowd. With the smile on her face as she approached Lark could tell she was the host. Especially to know all these people and invite them one had to have a smile like that. “I'm so glad you could make it!” She gave Piper a firm hug and immediately moved over to Lark. “And who's you're friend?”

“Uh,” Lark started. She was distracted by the shirt the girl was wearing. She hadn't ever been to a gathering that wasn't formal attire only and was put off by the dress code. The hem of the girls shirt went past her waist but just barely below anything important. She wondered if the girl had anything on under.

“Don't stare.” Piper chastised before turning to the girl. “Rhondie, this is Lark. Lark, Rhondie.”

“Well it's nice to meet you Lark.” Rhondie said giving her hand a shake. Just as soon as the handshake started it was over as the girl turned back to the crowd of other girls and started over. “I'm still making sure everyones getting along. Why don't you two put that stuff” She pointed towards the desserts they brought, “and put it in the freezer for later. I'll get bowls out when it's time.” She said before making her way back to the larger group.

“Boo!” A slight push on the shoulders just to startle her got the effect the person wanted. Lark turned around clutching at her necklace. “Ooh, a jumpy one. She didn't tell you where the freezer is did she?” The girl was dressed just like Rhondie only this time in a purple shirt. Her hair was much more simpler and far less physics defying as her solid black hair just fell below her shoulders. “Name's Tish, come one I'll show you where it is.”

Piper and Lark followed the girl and unloaded the desserts into an ice room not far from where everyone else was. When they finished the girl giggled and grabbed both Piper and Lark by the wrists. “Work's done now get dressed, you two look like you're going into a fight.” And shoved them into a bathroom together.

After only a few seconds of stunned awkward silence Piper started to get undressed. Lark, doing her best not to stare started messing with her shielding crystal as her clothes started to change.

“Seriously?” Piper asked. “Do you really plan on wearing armor under that the whole night?” Piper had stripped by now, only wearing boxers she supposedly was already wearing. She took a blue Tee from a pouch from her armor and threw it on, it made for a very comfortable look Lark could not deny.

“I plan on always wearing my armor no matter what.” Lark said. “What if we're attacked and I need to get away so you can fend for yourselves.”

“Okay sure, but what if someone pats you on the back and wonder why you feel like metal?”

“Accident when I was younger, metal in my back.” Lark answered with a nod. She had settled on her new clothes. A sleeveless Tee with purple sweats. “How do I look?”

“Ready for a fight.” Piper groaned. “Let's go.”

they left the bathroom and started to mingle. Everyone else already had a few hours head start on getting to know each other, leaving Piper and Lark the odd ones out. After a while the group became much smaller as most of them moved to a higher room. Tish grabbed Lark away to help make snacks as Piper went upstiars.

“Having fun?” Tish asked as lark watched the popcorn spin in the microwave. Unsure if she was doing this right, doing her best not to claim this was beneath her. How tough, the life of a royal, Lark lamented to herself.

“Yuh-huh.” Lark answered, squinting at the bag that slowly began to pop and grow with pressure. She started to wonder if she could use a similar principle with people on ships, perhaps one where a party was going on.

“You already pushed popcorn, staring isn't going to help.” Tish hip checked Lark out of the way as she passed. “Why don't you get a bowl of pretzels ready?” Lark walked aimlessly around the kitchen in a rather dull search for the snacks before. “Top shelf of the closet!”

“Why am I helping with this anyway?” Lark said as she popped the bag open.

“Well you didn't look like you were doing too well in a crowd.” Tish answered, she had been making bowls of frozen yogurt for everyone. Pre made bowls so everyone could just grab whatever flavor off the table. Lark had a feeling that wouldn't last and the girl would be taking orders pretty quick. “You and Piper came together right?”

“We did.” Lark answered.

“I saw you two were both wearing some nice looking necklaces. Anything going on between you two?” Lark was about to answer before a loud beep went off and a strong scent reached both their noses. “Popcorns done. Why don't you take that on up. I'll finish down here.”

Lark took the bowl of popcorn up the stairs and quickly found Piper. She was talking to a girl in a red onsie with long blonde hair. “Oh Lark, this is Ameil. Ameil, Lark. Her sisters a guitar player and singer, Finns a huge fan.”

“Oh he's a fan alright.” Ameil said, seemingly just including Lark within the conversation as soon as she arrived. Not even slowing down to introduce herself. “There was this one time, oh we were like what, eight? He came over and tried to give her flowers and ask her on a date. I remember it was so funny, she had to explain that she was too old for him.”

“He didn't tell me that part.” Piper giggled. “How are you doing Lark. Feel like any imminent attacks are about to happen?”

“Ha-Ha.” Lark mocked. “If one does happen it'll be egg on your face.”

“Attacks?” Ameil asked. “Rhondie said she was flying us well behind atmosian lines.”

“Oh no,” Piper said. “Lark doesn't get out much, she's a bit paranoid.”

“I'm only paranoid until we get attacked. Then I'm right, and prepared.” Lark answered smugly.

Piper thought for a few seconds before laughing. “Too bad Storks not here, you two would have a great time talking about that stuff.”

“I once thought the same thing about my friend Peggie.” Ameil said. “She sleeps with a dagger under her pillow just in case of a break in. Told her she was insane. But a few months ago someone broke into my place so I know where she's coming from.”

“I do the same thing.” Piper said.

“Well that's different. You're a Sky Knight, you have to have weapons around. Peggie's just a seamstress.”