#even though i have been determinedly driving this forward for months

[whentherewerebicycles]

.

[laceandsilkhandkerchiefs]

Tea For Two (Snzfic, Original Characters)

I was lucky enough to have writing inspiration strike me once again, thanks in large part to the wonderful holiday-themed prompts @oh-no-my-hand-slipped was kind enough to share on their blog. Go and check them out if you’re in need of writing juice, or just want to contemplate some warm and fuzzy scenarios!

Anyhow, this story takes place in the early 1900s in a fictional small English market town (a la C/andleford in the TV show L/ark R/ise to C/andleford if anyone knows what that is) and it features two new OCs of mine, Mary and Anton. Also, as a side note, Anton is originally from Ukraine, and so I tried to convey within the dialogue that English isn’t his first language without going too overboard with it. Please let me know if you think it needs tweaking, though!

I believe that’s all for now! Enjoy the story, let me know if you’d like me to write more for these two OCs, and have a happy holiday/winter season!

It was a bitterly cold evening in Kingsbury, the December wind whipping down the streets of the small town and forcing its residents inside early. Though it was only 4 o'clock in the afternoon, the streets of the usually bustling market town were empty save for a few stragglers, hurrying home from their work or their shopping as fast as possible, lest they catch a cold from the dreadful chill in the air.

Ms. Mary Williamson, the schoolmistress, was no exception. Her day had been especially long, her students rather unruly in anticipation of the Christmas holiday only one week away, and she was looking forward to an evening spent by the fire with a cup of hot chocolate and a novel.

As she neared home, however, she caught sight of something which struck her as rather unusual. Anton, Kingsbury's ice deliveryman who offered the town's residents sleighrides during the winter months, was standing on his usual street corner, tending to his horses while barely concealing the way he was shivering as the wind cut through him. As Mary continued to watch, he momentarily turned away to cough into his gloved fist, grimacing in a way that suggested it had hurt.

Well, now, this simply wouldn't do.

Turning up the collar of her coat, Mary crossed the street determinedly. Anton glanced up as she approached, and when he caught sight of her he raised his hand in greeting with a smile that made her heart skip a beat, even as she tried to focus on the task at hand.

"Good evening to you, Ms. Williamson. You have finished your work for the day?"

"Good evening to you, Anton. And yes, I have. I'm on my way home now," Mary replied.

"Ah, I see." Anton nodded and cleared his throat, rather huskily. "Would you perhaps like a ride there? It is very cold tonight, and I do not wish you to become ill."

"Thank you, but I wouldn't want to trouble you," Mary said. "I only came to say that perhaps you should turn in for the night. It sounds as though you might be catching cold, and this weather can't be helping."

Anton flushed pink, though it was almost imperceptible with the way his cheeks and nose were already red from the cold and his cough. He rubbed at his nose and cast his gaze at his feet as he spoke.

"You are kind to worry, Ms. Williamson, but I promise you that I am fine. This weather is... not so different from my country."

"Perhaps not," Mary conceded. "But surely one evening off wouldn't go amiss?"

Anton chuckled at that, though it quickly turned into a cough and he was forced to turn away from Mary as he hacked into his shoulder for a minute. Her chest ached in sympathy as he straightened with another grimace, his hand lingering on his chest as if trying to rub the soreness away. He cleared his throat.

"Please excuse me, Ms. Williamson. I... do not know what happened."

Mary waved his concern away. "Don't worry yourself, Anton. Just get home to bed. Teacher's orders."

Anton smiled at her. "Ah, well, if teacher orders it then I suppose I must obey. But please, let me drive you home first. You have been out here too long."

Mary's first instinct was to deny his offer- after all, she didn't want to be the reason Anton kept working even though he was clearly ill. But after a moment's pause, Mary realized that Anton didn't have anyone to look after him at home. He lived in lodgings above the stables where he kept his horses, which she couldn't imagine as being particularly comfortable. Perhaps, if he came to her home, she could persuade him to stay.

Just for a short visit, of course.

"Alright." Mary nodded. "If you insist."

--

The drive to the small home Mary was entitled to as per her position as schoolteacher was short, and relatively silent. Anton spoke softly to the horses every now and then, urging them on, all while turning away to cough and sniffle into his glove with increasing frequency.

When her house came into view, Anton pulled the sleigh to a stop with a practiced ease. He looked over at Mary with a smile. She smiled back.

"Thank you, Anton."

"My pleasure, Ms. Williamson. Here, allow me to help you."

Anton jumped down from the sleigh, hurrying around to Mary's side and holding out his hand to help her down. She accepted gratefully, taking care that her skirts didn't get caught as she descended. Once she was safely on the ground, he tipped his hat to her.

"Please have a wonderful rest of your evening."

"Wait!" Mary called after him as he began to walk away, feeling more than a little foolish when he turned around looking startled. "I... perhaps I could offer you a hot drink before you go? As a way to express my thanks?"

Anton stared at her for a moment, seemingly not quite knowing what to do with her invitation, before he slowly nodded. "Drink would be nice, if you are not too busy. I must tie up my horses but then..."

"Of course." Mary couldn't hide her pleasure at his agreement. "I'll get my stove going."

--

"Here." Mary extended a steaming cup towards Anton, who took it gratefully. "I hope chamomile is alright, it was all I had."

"It is fine, Ms. Williamson. Thank you." Anton took a sip of the milky tea, sniffing a little more sharply as the steam made his nose run.

By the light of the lamp in the parlor, Mary could better see Anton's features and she was glad she had all but forced him to come inside, awkward though it may be. His nose and cheeks were still painted with a pink blush, even after they had both been inside for long enough to chase away most of the cold. His sniffling was growing more frequent as well, and if the way he had sat down so heavily it made the chair creak when she offered him a place to sit was anything to go by, he was absolutely exhausted.

Mary took a seat in the armchair across from the small sofa Anton was sitting on, cradling her own cup. Chamomile tea wasn't quite the same as the hot chocolate she had been craving, but it was a warm, comforting drink nonetheless, and it was probably better for a cold anyway.

Anton sniffled yet again as he sipped at the tea, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand. When he caught Mary looking at him, he blushed and looked down at his lap.

"My apologies. I am thinking you were correct, I am getting a cold."

Mary hummed sympathetically. "I wish I hadn't been. Do you need a handkerchief?"

"No, no thank you." Anton shook his head as he reached into his pocket. "I have one." He extracted the article, a plain one made of linen, and brought it up to his nose. After snuffling into it for a moment, his face crumpled and he caught several muffled sneezes in it, the cup of tea he still held wobbling dangerously.

"Here, let me." Mary set her own cup aside and quickly took his, placing it on the end table next to the sofa to prevent any accidents. Anton gave her a grateful look, his handkerchief still pressed to his face.

"Tha-hhh... hah-chumpf! Snf! Excuse me... thank you, Ms. Williamson."

"Of course. God bless you." Mary smiled kindly at him, trying to ignore how her heart leapt at the opportunity to care for him and be alone with him, even under such circumstances. She felt like one of her pupils with a crush, much to her own embarrassment.

Perhaps sensing her inner turmoil Anton glanced at the window, where snow had begun to fall lightly. "I should perhaps be going home now. I do not wish to impose on you, anyway."

"Oh no!" Mary sprung forward in her seat, holding her hand out to stop him from getting up. "It's no imposition, truly. Of course, I understand if you need to return home, but..." she paused. "The truth is, I get rather lonely here in the evening. Really, you're the one doing me a favor, keeping me company, even when you're ill." Aware that she was beginning to ramble, Mary sat back and looked down at her hands, a soft blush coloring her cheeks. "I... I only mean to say... you may stay as long as you'd like."

Anton regarded her for a few moments, then his face broke into a grin and he chuckled softly, even though he had to clear his throat afterward. "You are kindest person I have met here, I think. So if you truly do not mind, I will stay longer."

Mary looked back up at him and shook her head, still feeling shy. "I don't mind."

"Goo-ihhh'huh... huh-uhchuh! Huh-chuu! Snf... Ah, excuse me, Ms. Williamson."

"God bless you, Anton. Here, let me get you more tea."

Anton smiled. "That sounds wonderful."

[are-you-still-writing-that]

Then I Was Inspired, Now I´m Sad And Tired

Event: Whump- The Musical

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Dean Winchester, Castiel

Warnings: Character Death

Prompt Used: Day 3 - "Then I Was Inspired, Now I´m Sad And Tired" + Betrayal

Have fun! Story under the cut <3

Then I Was Inspired, Now I´m Sad And Tired

With a heavy heart Sam looked out of the car window. Castiel was snoring in the backseat, and he could hear how Dean was grinding his teeth beside him, as he determinedly kept staring forward. The silence in the Impala, his only home since he could think, the only one he could remember, was so thick that he could have cut it with the knife, he hid in his left boot.

The radio was playing one of Deans favourite cassettes. Some rock music from twenty to thirty years ago. His brother was obsessed with that kind of music, claiming that it calmed him down. And while Sam, didn´t outright dislike it, he also wasn´t a fan of it. Usually either teasing Dean to change the music or complaining, if he was annoyed enough.

Today though, Sam stayed quiet.

He knew, that Dean needed to take his comfort from somewhere, as he was the one, that was driving them down to Detroit. The roads long and winding. Sam knew, that Dean hated the plan, but there was nothing else, that they could do any more at this point.

Sam was the vessel of Lucifer.

This was a fact, that couldn´t ever be changed. No matter what they tried. Even if Dean had been able to avoid his fate to become the walking talking husk puppeteered by Michael, Sam knew he wouldn´t be that lucky himself.

The last few years, no, his whole life had showed him that. Azazel, had been after him his whole life, because of this. His father had destroyed all their chances at a normal life, in his endless drive to get his revenge on the yellow-eyed demon. Sams life had been over before it ever even really began. And even when he thought, that he had gotten away, the demon was still watching over him.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but Sam slowly began to realize, that he was always meant to die like this.

No matter what he did. No matter with whom he pleaded. No one would be able to save him from this fate. His fate. Even the angel on their backseat was powerless when it came to his situation. And if even an angel couldn´t save him, then who could?

He sighed quietly, ignoring the quick glance Dean sent his way, as he settled himself down for the rest of the drive. Maybe Castiel had the right idea, when he dozed away.

Not having to deal with what would inevitably happen to him soon, was a nice thought. Even when he knew, that he couldn´t escape from it all for forever. Even if he knew, that he was just hiding for a moment longer from what would inevitably happen. Just a moment longer.

It didn´t come as a surprise to him, that he started to drift, still watching the world pass him by on the outside.

Dean was the one, that shook him back to awareness with a cautious „Sammy!“, and after making sure, that Sam was awake, turning to wake Castiel up as well.

Slowly, he peeled himself out of the car. Stretching to get rid of the ache, that had settled into his bones. He could hear them crack, when he moved again. But if he was honest, he would take being cooped up in the Impala for countless hours, over what he had to do now.

Popping open the trunk he looked at the gallons of demon blood, that Dean had collected for him. It made him sick to look at it for too long, and he had to suppress the urge to heave.

Though in the end, it didn´t matter how he felt about what would happen soon. He would need to consume it, for the plan to work. No matter how much his insides felt like they were twisting, if he so much as thought about it. It sickened him, as he remembered how addicted he had been to it, just a few months ago.

Still, he twisted the lid off of the first container, shooing both Dean and Castiel away, who had started to hover around him, and took the first gulp.

He immediately felt like retching. It felt like he was drinking poison. It burned as it made its way through his body, and he hated it all. Especially, because while it burned, it didn´t taste bad. No, with every gulp, he felt like he needed the next one more and more.

At once he could understand, how even though the thought had sickened him only moments before, he had been addicted to this.

It felt good.

It was something familiar. Something comforting. And it made him feel powerful. Something he could only so rarely indulge in. He could feel how the blood was slowly kickstarting his powers again. It made him feel protected. Something, he desperately needed, with the whole situation that was coming down around him.

Before he knew it, he had emptied the cannisters. Only small puddles running together at the bottom, that he couldn´t get to.

At once what he had just downed hit him. Disgusted with himself, he stowed both containers back into the trunk of the Impala, before slamming it shut. Discreetly, he wiped at his mouth, but the taste still lingered.

For some reason, he wondered what his father would think of him, if he could see him right now.

Knowing John, a bullet would have found its way right between his eyes quicker than he could have screamed „Wait!“. His father was intransigent like that. He would have seen it as a mercy to kill Sam, and maybe it would have been. Maybe an early death would have been better, than what he was experiencing at the moment.

He slowly walked back to Dean and Castiel, who had inclined their heads to each other, fervently whispering, but growing suddenly quiet as Sam came closer. As he came to a stop between them, as they had both slightly moved aside, he couldn´t help but rethink the way he grew up.

The memory of him and Dean being locked up in the Impala for hours, as Dean desperately tried to keep Sam entertained, so that he wouldn´t start bawling again, as their father was gone. Again

Or the countless motel rooms, they had been cooped up in.

And then one day, it had just been Sam.

Dean being old enough to be taken along to the hunt, which had left Sam with hours upon hours being unsupervised. Most of the time, he had spent staring at the wall, as there was nothing better he could have done.

He had dreamed himself a future up, where he could get away from the whole hunting business, but seeing as how that turned out, maybe there had never been a chance for him at all. He had tried so hard to get away with leaving for Stanford, but all it did, was cost Jessica her life.

And now he is back to walking down the path, that had always been laid out for him.

Sam just hoped, that he wouldn´t end up like his fate had promised him. He didn´t want to be responsible for the end of the world. He didn´t want to become the puppet of Lucifer either. And he hoped with the precautions, that they took, that he would be able to rise above his fate.

He hoped, that he would be able to change the path he was stuck on. That in the end, he might be stronger, than anyone expected. That he might actually be able to lure the devil into a trap, he couldn´t say no to. And that in the end, he would be strong enough to end this disaster before it could continue any longer.

It was Dean, that pulled him from his thoughts again. Slightly shaking his shoulder with a „You good, man?“, but not really expecting an answer. At least not an honest one.

Sam looked at his surroundings for the first time, since getting out of the car.

Dean had parked the Impala in some sort of ghost town. The buildings looked only moments away from falling apart, and no matter in which direction he turned, Sam couldn´t spy a single sign of life. The shops looked abandoned. Flickering lights at the ceiling, and broken glass on the floor.

The house in front of them looked even worse than the others, and Sam didn´t need Castiel to tell him, who was hiding inside.

He could feel it himself.

The facade had crumbled down. Most windows were missing, and for some reason frost was climbing over every inch of the building. It would have almost looked beautiful, no matter how strange it was, but Sam was far too aware of what caused this strange play of nature.

Pulling his jacket a bit closer, he followed after Dean and Castiel, as they made their way to the front door. It had been broken off the hinges, only lightly hanging in the doorway, and immediately fell over, when Castiel touched it.

To their right was a staircase. Not really looking like it would be able to hold the weight of a fully grown man, never mind three, but still the only way upwards. And they needed to get upwards, as the frost became only a more prominent sight. It very likely being stronger, the closer it was, to its source in the first place.

It felt like an eternity, as they climbed step after step. Both Castiel and Dean were quiet. Their bodies tensed with the anticipation of getting attacked at any moment. They were on the lookout for any kind of threat. Not trusting, the almost peaceful feeling, that was trying to lull them in.

Sam was also tense, but for another reason. He knew, that Lucifer wouldn´t let anything happen to him at this point any more. The devil was far too prideful, too stubborn, to loose his chance because a rouge demon attacked his perfect vessel, so close to the end.

Lucifer would keep him safe. In the strangest definition of the word, Sam was safe at the moment.

No, what made him tense, was not the implicit threat of getting attacked. It was the feeling, that he just couldn´t shake, that made him compare this walk up the stairs with marching to his own gallows to get hanged.

And it felt like it took an eternity.

He was almost glad, when they finally reached the floor Lucifer was hiding on. No, not hiding. Simply waiting for them.

Dean made a movement, as if he planned to push himself through the door first, but before he could go through with it Sam gently pulled him back. Having already decided to walk into the room first to meet his end.

His brother shouldn´t have to carry the burden around any more, to protect him at every step. To throw himself at every danger, so that Sam might be saved. Dean had ruined his life already once because he would always choose to save him, if he wasn´t stopped. And Sam didn´t want it to happen a second time. So he needed to be the one, that freely took the burden on.

And it started here.

But there was also another reason, he had become desperate to meet Lucifer as quickly as possible. There were so many questions running through his mind. Questions he would never be able to answer on his own.

But the devil? He might be able to give him the answers he needed.

There was so much, that he still didn´t know. Especially, about the whole apocalypse, that was breaking the world down where they stood. The end was near, and he was the reason for it. If Sam got the chance to talk with Lucifer, he might as well get the chance to understand why all of this was even happening in the first place.

And maybe he would even get to understand why it was him. Why the burden was placed on him. Him out of all people.

It was strange coming to a stop in front of him. Lucifer wasn´t even looking at them, when they entered the room. Instead, he chose to look out a window. Frost spreading from where his fingers touched the glass. Listlessly, he was scribbling forms into the frost, before they whitened out again.

But not only was his touch enough to cause frost, but the room was also bitterly cold.

It was only slowly, that he turned to look directly at Sam. Not even for a second his eyes needed to search the room. It was almost like he could feel where Sam was, just like Sam had known, that Lucifer would be waiting here for him. They knew each other. Always.

It was undeniable to him, that he was in some strange way connected to the devil.

In this moment, he understood, that there would be no other outcome, but glancing at his brother, who drawn himself up to his full height, clearly terrified, he knew, that he would still need to try. Even if he feared, that he could already see the outcome of this fight in the eyes of Lucifer.

Sam ignored the banter his brother tried to engage Lucifer in, and could only whisper out a „Yes“, into the quiet of the room.

He ignored Deans outraged little „Sammy?“, and how Castiel suddenly tensed up behind him.

His attention was completely captivated by the other, who had cocked his head to the side, watching him with a little frown.

„Are you sure?“, it was the first time, Sam heard Lucifers voice outside of his dreams. He would have never thought, that is was even more sensual, pulling at his very soul, in real life.

He swallowed, biting out, „Take me now, before I change my mind!“

The devil smiled, nodding slowly, before his sight was filled by a blinding light.

Then darkness.

He could feel how Lucifer, the being not the body, settled into his very own. His soul, for a lack of a better word, fitted itself right next to his. And while Sam fought to gain back control of his body, he could also feel, that the fight was useless.

They had made a mistake.

No matter how much demon blood Sam drank, he would never be strong enough to fight against this. To fight against Lucifer.

He started to drift. Only the voice - Or were it many? - of Lucifer keeping him grounded. Sam felt like he could just float away at any second. Lucifers soul a comforting warming presence, that wound itself around his own.

It was only suddenly, when he came back to himself, to look down upon his brothers bloody face. It was only with great strength, that he managed to convince his body to take a step back. To pull the rings out of his pockets, and open up the gate to the cage.

„Everything will be alright, Dean. I promise!“

Those were his last words, before he threw himself down the hole, that had opened up in the ground. Barrelling through the darkness, he could hear the screeching of Lucifer his „No, no, no!“, as his soul was ripped from his own.

Somehow he had managed to outplay the devil in the end after all.

The sacrifice though he needed to take was great, but now he could only hope that it had not been in vain.

He was falling. Sailing through the darkness, with only Lucifers accusations of betrayal accompanying him. Heat tearing at his body, burning his skin away, and smouldering his bones to ash.

Sam had accepted his fate, so that his brother might be able to live. He would be caught down here together with a furious angel, but his brother would be safe. It came as a surprise to him, when Lucifer enclosed his soul with his wings, a blessed coldness enveloping him.

This was their swan song.

[v-hope]

Wineless

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, established relationship

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: What do you do when you’re out of whiskey and there’s a fancy bottle of wine lying around, which belongs to your girlfriend who just so happens to be out of town? You drink it. And then replace it before she gets back. Or well, at least you intend to, for there’s no way of replacing it when she arrives one night earlier and catches you red-handed.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol (kind of obvious but still)

A/N: Hellooo, I had this request in my ask box for a longgggg time and I had wanted to write it ever since yet never found the right timing, until last night at 2am lol. I hope you guys enjoy!

Whiskey. Whiskey. Whiskey. Whiskey.

Yoongi hummed inside his mind, tapping on the counter a couple of times as his eyes searched for the bottle of strong alcohol he could’ve sworn he had left on that very shelf three weeks ago. Or maybe it had only been half of it, now that he thought about it, for he had drunk some of the expensive liquor that same week you got it for him, when he had been struggling with one particular verse he could just not feel contented with.

Although there was also that one other time last week when he came home not feeling his best after a bad day...

He pouted, defeated eyes still searching around as realisation hit him that there was no bottle of whiskey on sight and there would apparently be no whiskey at all for him that night.

Bummer.

You wouldn’t be home until the next day and he would have a long, lonely night. Hoseok had called him a few minutes ago informing him the bridge of the song he had taken upon writing and needed to turn in by the end of the week was now needed by midnight tomorrow. So, there were only two ways to get the inspiration he so badly needed:

You.

Whiskey.

And right then, he had none of them.

Or well, maybe not precisely, but he could always use some variety, right? So he thought when his eyes fell on the fancy bottle of wine your mum had gifted you when you got the promotion you had so determinedly worked for — the one that had now taken you on a one week business trip to Tokyo, and far away from him and your shared place.

He thought about it for a while —that being three seconds—, before his hand was grabbing it and his feet moved over to where you kept the glasses, grabbing one of them as well before he made his way over to his home studio so he could get started on the new track right away.

Now, he knew how bad it looked, even more when he knew you had been saving it for a special occasion — what special occasion exactly, he had no idea, and he was pretty sure neither did you. But, in his defense, you would be back home tomorrow evening, and that gave him a good couple of hours to drive around the city looking for the same brand —and year— of wine he had stolen from you. Come on, he wasn’t leaving you wineless, of course. He wasn’t a douche. He was just drinking it without your permission… and then replacing it so you would never notice.

Yeah, that was it. That was perfect.

Only he didn’t count on one little detail, and that was you making it home one day earlier. Not wanting to have him worry and make some time out of his busy schedule to go pick you up at the airport like you knew he would, you had decided not to tell him — never having guessed such decision would end up backfiring on both of you. On Yoongi, for he would have no way to replace the bottle before you found out, and on you, for you were now left without that fine wine you had been looking forward to drinking at some point.

“Working so late?” your sweet voice had his head snapping in your direction in a heartbeat.

And maybe if you weren’t so caught up on the way his eyes lit up at the sight of you, you would’ve noticed that part of them held some kind of panic in them — turning around on his chair and rolling it ever so slightly to his right so his body would block the empty bottle from your visual range.

“B-Babe…” he stuttered, partially because of the surprise your unannounced arrival had caused him, partially because of the alcohol having already started to hit. “You didn’t, um… I didn’t know…”

“I know,” you cut him off, knowing well enough what he meant. “Sorry I didn’t let you know, but I was getting here late, as you can see, and I didn’t want you to worry about having to go get me and all that…”

Just like that, he forgot about the wine of yours he was trying to hide altogether, smiling softly and stretching his arms out for you to hold his hands — that being exactly what you did not even two seconds later, having now fully entered his studio and letting his warm hands pull you close to him.

Not really giving you a choice —and not like you would’ve chosen any different—, he pulled you onto his lap, allowing you to sit comfortably on his legs before his hands left yours so they could rest on your back instead, smiling when you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and leaning in just enough to give your lips a lingering kiss.

“I missed you” he mumbled against your lips, earning a giggle from you and another small kiss to be pressed on his mouth. “Felt so lonely without you…”

“Have you been drinking?” you teased him, both because of his sweet words and because of the way his lips held a rather familiar bitter taste to them.

Of course you would notice right away.

He chuckled, because it was either laughing it off or panicking right before the inevitable happened. And that’s exactly when your eyes fell on the already emptied bottle resting next to a glass on his desk. The one bottle of yours you had been saving and that was now long gone.

It was fair to say, your previous smile was quickly erased from your face — an upset frown taking over your factions instead.

“Tell me that isn’t the one my mum gave me last month”.

And, you see, laughing in these kind of serious situations is never the best thing to do, especially when you know your significant other is upset. But, in both his state and how nervous he was at the idea of you being mad at him, it was all he could do.

“You’re laughing?” you scoffed. “You’re seriously laughing right now?”

He shook his head no, resting his forehead on your shoulder as another chuckle escaped his mouth instead of giving you a proper answer.

“Yoong—”

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” he slurred.

Although inevitably feeling your heart flutter, you rolled your eyes. “You are not trying to get out of this situation with that lame ass line”.

“But you truly are so, so beautiful, baby” he nuzzled that one soft spot in your neck, causing goosebumps to form on your skin.

“Yah, Yoongi. I’m serious” you called him out, placing your hands firmly on his shoulders and gently pushing him away so you could stand up.

“No, no” he stopped you by wrapping his arms tighter around your waist. “I’ll replace it”.

“That’s not the p—”

“I’ll buy you all the wine in the world if you want” he promised. “I was going to replace it to begin with. You were supposed to get here tomorrow”.

“So now it’s my fault for getting here earlier?”

“I mean,” he shrugged. “If you had let me know beforehand...”

Another scoff came out of your mouth, this time crossing your arms over your chest. “Unbelievable”.

“Please don’t…” a tired sigh escaped his mouth. “Please don’t be mad…”

You stayed silent, eyes fixed on the still half full glass next to the empty bottle as you could not help but sulk over the spilled milk, or well, the already drunk wine.

“You just—”

“Please,” he cut you off once more, this time speaking in that cute pouty tone of his you could never help but melt at. “I love you…” his words came out muffled as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Don’t be mad... I’m sorry”.

This time, a sigh escaped your mouth. What else could you do anyway? The wine was already gone and you were left with a soft, drunken boyfriend who was really trying to make the situation better. Or well, at least trying as hard as his current state allowed him to.

“You better get me the exact same one, Min Yoongi” your threatening words didn’t match the way your face was now resting on his head, as he had buried his face in the crook of your neck by then.

“Mhm…” he breathed, eyes closed as he somehow managed to pull you even closer.

“I mean it, Yoongi” you stood your ground. “Tomorrow”.

He chuckled, planting one more kiss to the spot his mouth had been resting on before he went back up to your eye level. “Tomorrow” his lips parted into a gummy smile. “Don’t keep saving it for too long though…” he lovingly pinched your sides. “Might have to drink it on my own again”.

“Yah!” you pulled slightly away, squinting your eyes in a threatening way the he couldn’t help but find the cutest. “My wine. I will see when it’s the right time to drink it”.

“Our wedding night”.

You froze. “Huh?”

“Our wedding night, tops” he stated, and you were not sure if that was the alcohol speaking or he had really been thinking about marriage with you for a while now. “If you haven’t drunk it by then... we’re having it that night”.

A light, breathy laugh escaped your mouth. “Will we even be home that night?” you questioned, his eyes staring into the wall behind you letting you know he had not taken that into consideration. “Besides, in that case I would only get to drink half a bottle, whereas you’d technically had downed one and a half”.

“Pft,” his shoulders went slightly up. “Okay then, alcohol measuring police”.

Throwing your head back as you now let a throaty laugh out, you went back to him, running your fingers through the short strands of hair falling over his forehead and pushing them back, earning a smile and then a muffled giggle from him when you caught his bottom lip in between your longing ones.

“I will get you two bottles then” he quietly proposed when you pulled away. “One for you to share with me and one for you to get drunk on your own whenever you want”.

“Okay, okay” you giggled, not really minding the whole wine incident anymore as he pressed his lips tenderly on your cheek. “Isn’t there something you’re forgetting, though?”

His eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought at your question — eyes travelling to his left and wasting no time in grabbing the glass that still contained a good amount of wine in it. “You can have what’s left”.

You rolled your eyes. The proposal, he was forgetting the proposal. And you couldn’t help but find amusement in the fact that he had been so quick to talk about your wedding night when there had never been a proposal to begin with. Bold of you to believe you would get your drunken boyfriend to talk about it, though.

Nevertheless, all that aside, you did not hesitate for even a second before you took the glass from his hand.

“Oh,” he blurted out when you were taking a small sip, a smile once again parting his lips as he suddenly seemed to remember something important. “And you just wait for the ring”.

[hurricanery]

If the Sun Comes Up - pt. 4

A/N: Hi, it’s been a while, but here’s part 4 of If the Sun Comes Up! (AU - interns fic). This is me ignoring s17!!! Sorry for the delay, this has been repeatedly deleted from my drafts for the last week & then i didn’t even edit or make changes SO idk what all that was for. anyway thank you for sticking with this story! Previous parts here: part 1 // part 2 // part 3

Or, you can read on ao3.

_______

And so it starts, you switch the engine on

We set controls for the heart of the sun

One of the ways we show our age

_______

She has no idea how she got here. Or more specifically, how she could be pressured into something like this. Maggie typically prided herself on standing firm; standing her own ground and refusing to be swayed by others. But none of that self-proclamation holds true right now.

Because she’s here. Driving Winston’s car. Trunk filled to capacity and two of her roommates squeezed into the backseat.

The hypocrisy of it all is almost infuriating. Because Maggie hates camping.

“I hate camping,” she voices her detest out loud.

An apologetic sigh can be heard from Winston next to her, where he sits passenger side. But ultimately, it’s Amelia’s voice that grabs her attention, the bewilderment making itself known from the backseat.

“Oh, come on,” there’s an element of disbelief to her tone, and Maggie locks eyes with her through the rear-view mirror.

“Step out of your comfort zone a little, Maggie!” She raises her eyebrows, beginning to gesture with her hands. Link shuffles in his seat, where he’s squeezed in tightly beside Amelia, in an attempt to free up a little space for her body language. Some of the camping supplies had ended up packed over half of the backseat, and Maggie can’t help but chuckle at the proximity of Amelia’s hand to Link’s face as she gestures absentmindedly. “It’s camping. It’s adventurous, it’s-”

Maggie has since focused back on the road, but the sudden pause in speech makes her feel uneasy. Amelia’s focus shifts from the packaged tent next to her, to the back of Winston’s head, and then back to Maggie.

“It’s sleeping in a tent,” she continues, a spark of gleam in her eyes as she scans the couple in the front seat. “Or, maybe it’s not sleeping. Hey, I mean, whatever the two of you-”

“Amelia,” Maggie cuts in, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as Winston’s hand comes to rest on her knee, giving it a soothing squeeze.

“Come on, babe,” Winston murmurs. “It’ll be fun. And plus, Karev would definitely be proud of us.”

Maggie grins a little, despite herself.

They’d been a bit all over the place, as a group of interns. A little bit too chaotic and never fully on the same page. As their resident, Karev was constantly voicing his impatience about the dynamics of the group. She partly thinks that yes, Alex would be proud of the bonding journey that they’d chosen to embark on, but the more realist part of her brain can’t ignore the obviousness that being roommates was probably bonding enough.

Maggie peeks in the rear-view once more, this time checking to make sure that Lexie and Jo are still following in the car behind them. She catches Amelia’s stare again and consequently feels the need to brace herself.

“Babe?” Amelia bites her lip, repeating the pet name Winston had just used. “What happened to ‘we’re just friends?’”

“We are friends.” Maggie sighs, trying her best to ignore the amusement that radiates from Winston at this specific call-out.

“And Link and I are friends,” Amelia’s quick with her rebuttal, tilting her head towards Link. “I don’t go around calling him babe.”

Link sucks in a breath, and then another one, with the addition of Amelia’s afterthought. “But maybe I’ll start.”

It’s subtle. The way Link’s face changes. He hides it just as quickly as it surfaces. But it’s there, she hasn’t imagined it, and it’s the first thing to make Maggie genuinely smile for the length of the trip so far.

“I’m kidding,” Amelia nudges Link with her shoulder. “I can come up with a better nickname than that.”

“Okay enough,” Maggie suppresses the grin she feels spreading across her cheeks. She reaches forward for the knob on the dashboard, turning the music up.

Link’s relief at the diversion tactic is almost palpable. Maggie can practically feel it from the backseat. She thinks maybe the feeling rising in her chest equates to sympathy.

She loves Amelia. She really does. Which is saying a lot, especially for her. It takes effort for her to grow comfortable with people, or to even relate on any level. She’s always felt a step ahead of most people in life. But Amelia really challenges her. It’s only been a couple of months since they’d met, and somewhere along the way, things changed. Amelia’s unpredictable nature had shifted from something Maggie initially feared, to something she appreciates. Like the human embodiment of the push she needs. The push she needs to take things less seriously, or the push she needs to open up and be spontaneous. Whatever the case, it’s never felt more necessary. Like she’s been missing out on it for too long. So, she tries to embrace it at every turn.

“Are we almost there?” Amelia pipes up again from the backseat. “I have to pee, and believe me, I’m down for a little side-of-the-road action if that’s what it comes down to-”

Maggie groans impatiently. But then she remembers about embracing it. So decidedly, her next words sound gentle. “We’re almost there, hold it together.”

_______

It ends up taking two full hours for six surgical interns to figure out how to set up a campsite. And even though the task is grueling, the level of teamwork somehow exceeds what they normally display during a typical hospital shift.

The sun starts to set as the second of the two tents finally stands on it’s own and everyone takes a moment to finally relax.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Link sits back against the tree on the outskirts of their surrounding area.

Jo huffs out a breath as she joins him, rolling her eyes. “That was two hours of my life that I’ll never get back.”

“What’s next?” Amelia steps out of the larger tent, pulling a sweatshirt over her head. “Does anyone know how to build a bonfire?”

_______

She has no idea how it got to this. How six grown adults could resort to immature party games around a campfire and feel so content about it. Maggie had been relieved when the game of ‘truth or dare’ ended as quickly as it started. She’d been hoping for something a bit more intellectual. A little less high school.

Unfortunately her hopes were never granted.

“Wait, I feel like the stakes aren’t high enough.” Amelia had tossed the observation out flimsily.

But the observation had its impact.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

And then the ideas had piled on.

“Loser has to cover my scut work in the ER all week.”

“No way.”

“Loser has to make us each a s'more.”

“Nah. Stakes not high enough.”

“Loser has to jump in the lake.”

Amelia had voiced the last one, resulting in a surprised type of silence. The type of silence that could raise stakes.

It was the ultimatum they were looking for, apparently. And to much of Maggie’s dismay, they hadn’t moved on to an intellectual game. Nothing worth raising the stakes over, at least.

Because they’d settled on a game of ‘never have I ever.’

“Okay, okay. My turn. What have I not done…?” Amelia trails off, deep in thought, and it earns some chuckles from the group. “Oh! Never have I ever had a threesome.”

Suspectful eyes dart around the bonfire, and Link’s attempt to conspicuously fold down a finger fails.

“Link!”

Jo giggles hysterically.

“You have?” There’s surprise in Amelia’s voice, and it corresponds with the way her face lights up.

“You haven’t?” Link bites back.

“Well, almost, I guess. But-”

“Okay!” Jo interjects. “No need for context! That’ll just slow us down. Link, your turn.”

“Okay,” Link grins determinedly across the bonfire, eyes landing on Amelia. “Never have I ever almost had a threesome.”

Amelia scoffs, dropping a finger.

“Wait!” Maggie fast-tracks her disapproval. “Are we singling people out now? The game will end too quickly if we-”

“Never have I ever been named after an iconic literary figure.” Amelia jumps in again, completely ignoring Maggie’s objection.

Link drops a finger, rolling his eyes. Too easy.

“Never have I ever slept with Mark Sloan.”

He sounds proud of this one. And all focus drifts to Amelia, whose eyes narrow only slightly as she drops another finger.

“You did what?” Maggie seems skeptical.

“You did what? When?” And Lexie’s voice sounds strained.

“Shit, sorry. Too far?” Link’s pride genuinely replaces itself with worry.

“I never meant for it to be a secret.” There’s something distinct about Amelia’s tone as she jumps back into the game, clearly with the intention of going after Link again. “Never have I ever-”

“No!” Maggie seems to be the only one intervening at this point. “No, stop. My turn. If we play it your way, this game will be over in two seconds.”

Amelia and Link shrug dismissively amidst the general hums of agreement.

“Never have I ever…” Maggie pauses, taking a moment to truly think on it. She racks her brain for ways to prolong the game. “Never have I ever been arrested!”

Amelia slowly drops her last finger, a grimace consuming her face, and Maggie’s mouth opens wide in shock.

“Amelia, what,” she breathes. “I was trying to keep people in the game. What-”

“We agreed on no context!” Amelia is quick to refute, forcing a grin as she repeats the request spoken earlier.

“Okay….” She draws out her response, and the next part of her sentence sounds quiet, or laced with secondhand defeat. “But you lost the game already.”

“That’s fine,” Amelia is just as quick to stand from her chair, shrugging casually at what that entails.

“Amelia-”

“To the lake? Or am I doing this without witnesses?”

Maggie’s brows furrow at the bitterness that exists in that question, but then Amelia turns, walking away from them, and Maggie is the first to go after her.

_______

"Amelia, you’re the one who made the rule. You can’t back out now.”

They’re all huddled together at the sandy area near the dock that edges out into the dark lake, and Maggie can’t hold back her impatience. She’s a rule-follower, after all. She's also cold. And she just wants to be by the bonfire again.

“I know, I know. I’m….” Amelia trails off, exhaling harshly. “Just give me a minute.”

There’s momentary quiet. The kind of quiet that nearly gives room for everyone to re-think what’s about to happen. But, if anyone's thoughts were the loudest, they were Amelia’s.  

“The sun was still out when I made up this rule!”

That’s true. Maggie can give her that. It’s late now, purely dark outside except for the glow of the moonlight reflecting off of the lake.

“We don’t know what’s in there…” Amelia adds, eyes focused on the body of water before them. “We don’t know if it’s safe to swim here.”

“It’s a state park,” Winston chuckles.

“And there’s a sign right there,” Lexie adds matter-of-factly, nodding towards the edge of the sand. “No lifeguard on duty. Swim at your own risk.”

“Amelia, it's a swimming beach.”

There’s an element to Amelia’s expression that Maggie sees herself in. It provokes that feeling. The heart-lurching feeling that comes with the awareness that you can’t bring yourself to do the thing you intend to do. The restlessness that rises with the opposition of your mind moving miles a minute but your feet remaining frozen where you stand. It takes place in the nervous system. And it’s like the physical manifestation of not being able to rip the bandaid off, or not being able to take the plunge, to be more literal in this scenario.

Suddenly, Maggie’s hit with the fleeting recognition that everyone’s the same deep down. Some were just better at hiding it than others.

The revelation almost makes her feel sympathy. Almost.

Because Amelia’s version of hiding it was turning out to be displaced over-confidence.

“I knew you were all talk and no-”

“I’ll jump in with you,” Link interrupts, nudging Amelia, who shakes from her daze as she turns away from the lake, locking eyes with Link.

“Shit, I’m down, too,” Jo shrugs. “I’m right behind you guys.”

A look of pure skepticism crosses Amelia’s face, and Link just starts to grin, hugely.

“No,” Maggie breathes. “No, no, no.”

Because she knows what this is about to turn into. And then it’s all happening, fast.

Link is stripping down to his boxers, tossing his clothes into a pile on the grass just left of the dock. And then he’s running. His feet clamber against the wood paneling as he takes off over the structure that extends along the shore and into the body of water.

There’s a huge splash. And then he resurfaces, gasping.

“It’s not that deep, come on!” He yells. “And it’s warm, too. Like a hot tub!”

The next thing Maggie registers is that Jo is following suit, peeling off her sweatshirt and tossing it towards Link’s pile of clothes.

She feels Winston’s hand grip her shoulders, gently pushing her towards the dock as he murmurs “Come on, babe.”

There’s another splash somewhere, and then Jo resurfaces, giggling hysterically. "Link!” She gasps dramatically, “You liar, this is fucking freezing!”

And all Maggie can think is this is so unfair.

_______

It’s so unfair.

The fact that five people have somehow endured jumping into this lake and yet, Amelia remains unscathed. Secure, on dry land, a smirk on her face that can only signify that she thinks she’s won.

“Amelia!” Maggie yells once again. “You have thirty seconds to get into this water.”

“Maggie-”

“No way,” Maggie cuts her off before the smug tone can set her off even further. She lets go of Winston’s shoulder, which she’s been holding onto for dear life since she jumped in, and she swims closer to the dock. Closer to Amelia. “I won’t let you play us like this.”

Amelia grins further, dipping just her toes in the water. “Maggie, I’m not trying to play anyone, I-”

“Get in the water, Amelia!” Maggie shouts, but her impatience only leads to more smugness on Amelia’s behalf.

She almost gives up. Accepts defeat. But then Link is joining her, inching towards Amelia on the dock, whose expression falters only slightly as they approach.

“Should we splash her?” Maggie tilts her head towards Link, inquisitive edge to her voice. “We could splash her.”

The threat seems to be the push Amelia needs. She shakes her head incessantly as they make their advance, and she takes a deep breath before she goes to remove her jeans, adding them to the pile of clothes that everyone else has stripped off.

Jo whistles from somewhere further out into the lake and Amelia’s smirk returns, a complete result of the knowledge that she has an audience. Her classic Harvard sweatshirt gets added to the pile and then she’s on an even playing field with everyone else, dressed down to whatever underwear she’d thrown on this morning.

They continue their approach, and Amelia looks down just as a burst of wind forcibly shakes the branches of a tree above, thus causing her to wrap her arms around herself.

“You’ll warm up faster if you get in, Shepherd.” Link says in a low tone.

“I know,” Amelia’s tone is just as low. “But I’m not jumping.”

“What happened to adventurous?!” Maggie mocks her. Not harshly, but more so aiming to re-inspire the fearlessness that previously had been.

“I’m not jumping in,” Amelia repeats as she sits at the edge of the dock, letting the water hit her up to about mid-shin. “I’m just gonna kind of slide in….” She trails off as Link pushes forward, now in shallow enough water to stand. And when Amelia goes to wrap her arms around herself again, Maggie swears it’s out of modesty this time.

“It’s harder that way,” Link smiles up at her. “But okay.”

“Okay,” she repeats his sentiment, but doesn’t make any move to get into the water.

“Okay,” Maggie interjects, directing her next words at Link. “As apparently the only rule-follower here, I give you full permission to do whatever it takes to get her into this water already.”

Her instructions result in a mischievous twitch of Link’s lips, and conversely, a look of complete betrayal from Amelia.

“Your rules.” Maggie quietly defends herself.

Link turns back to Amelia, who meets his gaze with pure panic in her eyes. But he steps closer anyway, placing his hands around her shins and pulling her a couple inches closer to where he stands in the water.

She gasps. Her hands fly out, landing on his shoulders. “Wait wait wait!” She cries, the alarm in her voice matching the frantic action of her nails digging into his skin.

Link stops his movements, placing his hands on her knees as he tries to read her facial expression.

Her eyes dart between his. “You swear it’s not too cold?”

“It’s not cold, Amelia,” he murmurs, moving his hands underneath her bare thighs and pulling her forward an inch more.

Maggie looks between the two, suddenly feeling out of place, or like she’s witnessing a private moment. But, she can’t tear her eyes away. She feels transfixed by the eye contact happening between the pair, and she lets out a stunned chuckle.

“It’s not cold,” Link repeats, and now Maggie scoffs. Because this moment is becoming almost unbelievable with tension. But then Link’s expression changes. Just as quickly as flipping a switch. The facet of mischief returns to his eyes and then he’s opening his mouth again.

“And I’m so sorry for this!” He shouts as he finally pulls Amelia into the water, throwing his head back with laughter as she resurfaces before him.

Her arms are still wrapped around his shoulders in a viselike grip. “Alright, screw you for that!” She laughs as she comes to her senses, consequently letting go and distancing herself from Link. “But thank you, I guess."

“My pleasure.”

Maggie watches, eyes burning with curiosity, and she’s not able to hide the smile that creeps onto her lips as the pair move as far away from each other as possible. The interaction is way too amusing, and part of her feels like, if she were the menacing type, this would be the perfect opportunity to pay back some of Amelia’s relentless teasing with some of her own.

“Can we get out now?” Lexie swims up, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m kinda over this.”

“I just got in. Was that for no reason?!”

“And whose fault is that?” Maggie snickers. But it doesn’t sound harsh at all, as she offers Amelia a comforting smile.

When they eventually leave the shoreline, Maggie feels a sense of fondness course through her. Or maybe protectiveness. Whatever the feeling, it was definitely the stark opposite of her previous annoyance with the way the evening was turning out.

She carefully observes as Amelia slows behind the group, and she slows with her, matching her pace.

Amelia offers her a small smile, before a shiver takes over her body, interrupting her guise. It makes sense, Maggie thinks. Because soaking wet hair and the sun going down in the middle of nowhere might just bring on that sort of involuntary action.

But she can’t ignore the shift in energy. The sudden vanishing of the confidence and even the playful competitiveness.

“You okay?” She eventually asks.

“Tired.” Amelia only offers a shrug, her thumbnail nearly reaching the corner of her mouth in a restless action. But it’s like she catches herself, as Maggie’s stare burns into her, and instead she drops her hands to her sides.

“Me too,” Maggie’s voice is soft, and an impulse rises in her that screams comfort. Suddenly, her arm is wrapping around Amelia’s shoulder tightly, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s get some sleep.”

_______

It’s a known fact that Maggie hates camping. She can think of several reasons for that. One of the side effects she’d fail to consider, though, was the consequent lack of rest that would come with it.

It couldn’t be any later than 5am, she concludes, as she unzips her and Winston’s tent and steps out into the dark campground.

To much of her surprise, she’s not alone. She’s not the only one experiencing the unwanted side effects of sleeping in a tent.

“Hey,” Amelia’s voice sounds gravelly, as she perks up from the chair she’s seated at around the empty bonfire. “Good morning.”

“How can it be morning?” Maggie groans. “Does it really count as morning when you didn’t get any sleep at all?”

“You’re preaching to the choir.”

Maggie frowns. “You didn’t sleep?”

“Link snores. And Lexie talks in her sleep….” Amelia weakly attempts a smile, and it just makes Maggie’s frown deepen.

“Everything alright?” She asks.

“Yeah, just wish I’d slept better.”

Maggie squints, because there’s detail there that she can’t quite decipher. She scans Amelia’s face another moment, before an idea strikes.

“Do you want to go on a hike with me? Watch the sunrise?”

“You don’t really seem like the hiking type.”

“You’re right. I guess ‘hike’ is a strong word. But anyway, how about it?”

Amelia stares blankly at her for a long moment, before eventually she nods, standing up.

“Alright,” Maggie grins. “Let me tell Winston where we’re going first.”

_______

They take a marked path. Signs at every turn highlight for them which way to go. It’s a few minutes into the hike before either of them speaks. It’s Amelia who opens up the conversation.

“Ready to be home?”

Maggie laughs. “Absolutely. I’ve been ready since the moment we got here.”

“Well, hopefully they have the cars all packed by the time we get back.”

Maggie nods, then reaches for the water bottle she’d brought with her, taking a few sips.

“Do I tease you and Winston too much?”

The question completely catches Maggie off guard, and she harshly swallows her sip of water.

“Huh?”

“I can be….a little overbearing sometimes. But,” Amelia offers a quick side-glance. “At least I’m self aware about that.”

“Not at all. I mean, honestly, Winston gets a kick out of it so-”

“Yeah, but do you?”

Maggie stops walking, her face muddled with confusion. It takes Amelia a moment to realize she’s stopped, and she turns around, meeting Maggie’s stare expectantly.

“Amelia….If it bothered me I would tell you.”

Amelia nods at this information, and then turns away, continuing on the path.

“Was I too harsh last night? About the rules of the game?” Maggie quickens her pace, catching up.

“No,” Amelia laughs under her breath. “We needed the discipline, I think.”

“Yeah but you didn’t need to jump into that lake. I can be a little of overbearing sometimes, too, so-”

“Nah. We balance each other out.”

Maggie squints, a little surprised by that observation. She’s taken aback by the accuracy of it, and it’s evident in her inflection.

“We kind of do, don’t we?”

Amelia beams at her, before her gaze returns to the path below. “I’m glad we came to that realization.”

Comfortable silence falls between them, and there’s a few minutes dedicated purely to the hike, before Amelia clears her throat to speak again.

“Although, I am trying to jump less. So maybe I need you to balance me out just a little more.”

“You lost me,” Maggie quirks an eyebrow at her. “Are we talking about the lake still?”

“Metaphorically. Maybe.”

Maggie’s expression just grows more perplexed, urging Amelia to continue.

“I’ve been….historically known to jump into things. Or people. Or habits, or…” She cuts herself off with a harsh breath, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’d like to do that less. The whole….jumping blindly and hoping I’ll land, thing. So. Maybe I need you to balance me out a little more.”

Maggie nods, slowly grasping the explanation. “I get that.”

“Do you?”

“Well, no,” Maggie frowns. “I’ve never been one to….do anything, really, without weighing the pros and cons first. But, I do get what you’re saying, though. Even if I can’t personally relate.”

Amelia keeps her eyes glued to the path ahead, and the lack of response forces Maggie to attempt filling the silence with her own self-reflection.

“I’ve been thinking of taking a note from you, in that way, actually. Sometimes I really need to think less.”

This makes Amelia smile. “Maybe we can try to meet in the middle somewhere.”

“Yeah, that might be good for us.”

As the conversation trails off again, Maggie can’t help but question what specifically Amelia is referencing. She doesn’t want to push, especially given her recent self-proclamation as overbearing. But part of her thinks that one last inquiry won’t hurt.

“You and Link seem to have fun.”

Amelia’s eyes snap up to Maggie’s face before the sentence is even finished.

“What makes you say that?”

There’s not an ounce of emotion in Amelia’s expression. It’s probably the best poker face Maggie has ever seen. And so she’s careful with her next words, her voice slow and questioning.

“I just mean....you know….the banter?”

“Banter?”

“Yes the banter, Amelia,” she lets out a stunned chuckle. “I don’t know how else to put it! It’s like you’re constantly play-fighting. It’s like….it’s like this weird, alluring competitiveness that’s almost uncomfortable to watch. It’s being at each other’s throats over a stupid game of ‘never have I ever.’ It’s the craziest form of flirting I’ve ever witnessed, and it’s-”

“Link and I are friends.”

“Winston and I are friends.” She bites down on her grin, trying to contain the pride that radiates as she uses Amelia’s own pointed claims against her.

“Okay, don’t pull that on me.”

“I think it’s perfectly fair-”

“Maggie.”

“Amelia.”

Two pairs of eyes tighten upon scrutinized contact.

“Amelia,” she softens her expression a bit. “All I’m saying is….despite it being weird to watch.” She releases an awkward exhale.  “I think it works. I think you’ve kinda met your match.”

“There’s no match to be made, Maggie! I’m-”

They’re both a little caught off guard by the frustration and volume of Amelia’s tone. And Amelia takes a moment to breathe before she continues, an octave lower this time.

“I’m jumping less, remember?”

Maggie wants to frown. She wants to disagree. She almost wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

But they’re edging towards the outskirts of the campsite. She can hear voices, and the distinct sound of car trunks slamming shut. Which signifies that they’re nearing the end of the hike, so she bites her tongue instead, because Amelia looks too exhausted to argue it more.

They clear the trees, entering the campground, and Winston watches them approach.

“Hey! Cars are packed, but it’ll be a tight squeeze again,” he smiles sympathetically. He walks forward to rest his hands on Maggie’s shoulders in familiar reassurance. “And you get to sleep in the car, because this time I’m driving.”

_______

Maggie doesn’t think she’s imagining this part.

Her lack of sleep the night prior results in Winston’s refusal to let her drive. Which only bothers her a little, because the exhaustion outweighs her requisite for control.

Her eyes feel heavy as she rests her head against the window. She tries to focus on the road ahead as Winston drives; doesn't want to give up being a second pair of eyes as she sits passenger side. But her fatigue gets the best of her. Although it’s difficult to separate her overtired brain from certainty, she doesn’t think she’s imagining this part.

She hears it first. Link’s chuckle.

It’s enough to shake her from her reverie. She lifts her head and tries to be conspicuous as she turns, glancing into the backseat.

Amelia’s sat in the middle seat again, squeezed tightly between the camping supplies and then Link on the other side of her. Her eyes are fighting to stay open, and she's doing that weird head bobbing thing. That subconscious move that happens quite literally before falling asleep.

“Hey. Here.”

The sound of Link’s voice causes Amelia’s eyes to widen, quickly becoming aware of herself. She continues to blink, fighting off a bout of exhaustion that Maggie completely sympathizes with.

When Amelia locks eyes with him, Link simply pats his shoulder, indicating a potential landing spot for her head.

She frowns tiredly at him.

“Just do it,” he shrugs, patting his shoulder again. “I’m a better option than that boxed tent.” He nods past her. “As far as pillows go, at least.”

Amelia seems to fight it for a second. She really does. Her eyebrows pull together as she continues to stare blankly at Link.

Maggie diverts her attention because once again, she feels like she’s intruding on some private moment. But she remains listening. She can’t help it. There’s some shuffling around and then-

“Hm.” She hears Amelia hum. “You do make a decent pillow.” It’s followed by a murmured “Thank you.”

“Sure. What are friends for?”

Link’s response is barely a whisper, but Maggie can hear it still, even over the general hum of the highway below. She doesn’t think she’s imagining this part.

What are friends for?

It’s enough to make her turn in her seat again, an incredulous stare plastered on her face as she raises her eyebrows in Link’s direction.

He seems not to notice her interest, or rather her disbelief. Because his focus is consumed by the dark head of hair resting against his shoulder.

Amelia’s eyes are shut tight, her expression revealed when she adjusts herself slightly against him. And then Link smiles to himself, still unaware of the scrutiny descending from the front seat.

Maggie allows the doubt to flood her mind as she turns to rest against her own window again, and she fights off a smile as she lets her eyes finally close.

Friends. Right.

//

[nebulous-frog]

Rest Now

Relationships: JonMartin

Summary: Jon and Martin arrive at the safehouse 

Word Count: 1682

Link to AO3   Fics Masterlist

It was thunderstorming when they finally arrived, pulling up the near-forgotten path in a beat-up old car. On the drive, they hadn’t talked much- what was there to say? Since their last real conversation, neither had done anything that they particularly wanted to remember, and the inevitable discussion of what they’d just experienced was bound to be far too intense and emotional for their unexpected journey. Now, though, roughly twisting the key in the lock stuck from disuse, it was possible they’d have a chance for it to happen. For months- years, even- of emotions that should’ve been brought up ages ago.

Jon held back a grimace at the thought, awkwardly shuffling inside with his small bag and fumbling for a light switch. Part of him was desperate to get it over with, to finally air out all the dirty laundry and start afresh, to just be there for Martin in the ways he deserved. But another part, simultaneously logical and cowardly, was arguing that it was late, they’d had a long day, they were both exhausted. The conversation they needed to have was simply too much to cover while they were in such a state, he told himself.

“Jon?” Martin asked, voice quiet and tired.

Jon turned toward him expectantly, but he didn’t offer anything more, just gestured vaguely forward, and Jon realized he was still in the entryway.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Jon mumbled, stepping fully into the little cabin.

There were only a few rooms. The kitchen was tiny up against one side and shared the main open area with the living room and a small dining table. Directly across from the front door was a short hallway with a door on either side- presumably a bedroom and a bathroom.

Jon cleared his throat in time with a rumble of thunder.

“There’s some firewood over in that corner. I’ll get us a fire going,” he told Martin softly. “We should be able to get the radiator to start with a little work, but it’ll be easier tomorrow with more light.”

Martin nodded silently and walked slowly towards the hallway, slipping into the room on the left while Jon got busy with the firewood. He’d just coaxed some kindling into a flame when Martin came back in, hands wringing together. Jon recognized it as Martin’s anxious tell, which sent contradictory feelings through his system. On the one hand, Jon hated the thought that Martin was uncomfortable, but on the other he was just relieved that any feeling at all had pushed through the residual numbness of the Lonely.

“There’s, um, only the one bed,” Martin explained.

“Ah.” Jon glanced at the rickety loveseat sat in front of the fireplace, but Martin spoke again before he could make any suggestions.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch, Jon,” he said sternly, his protective caretaker instincts shining through. “I, uh,” he swallowed, already nervous again, “I was thinking we should share anyway, since it’ll be so cold and the bed actually is fairly big and- well- I just…” he trailed off for a moment, not looking at Jon, then seemed to steel himself even as he shrunk in on himself further and kept his eyes trained on the floor between them. “I don’t think I should really be alone right now.” The end of his sentence was almost a whisper, embarrassment and vulnerability clear in the blush high on his cheeks.

It’d been a long time since Jon had seen him blush. It was even prettier than he remembered, and he hoped he could see it a lot more in the coming days, ideally as the result of more positive emotions. Maybe Jon could even cause it himself… he chastised himself for the thought, trying to focus back on the present and caring for Martin now.

“Alright,” Jon agreed. He turned his head just enough to check that the fire was taking, then moved to stand from the floor. His legs were still stiff from the drive, so it took a bit more effort than he was expecting.

Martin appeared at his side immediately, offering an arm for stability. Jon gratefully took it until he could get his cane properly situated in his other hand. He reluctantly let go, briefly looking up at Martin’s face and catching a hint of an expression he didn’t know how to interpret before Martin’s face returned to a more neutral place- although the blush was still intense.

“I don’t know about you,” Jon started, “but sleep sounds wonderful right now.”

Martin nodded. “I put sheets on the bed already.”

Together, they walked back to the bedroom. Jon changed into his light pajamas in the bathroom while Martin took the bedroom. A few minutes later, they stood side by side facing the bed.

“Do you have a preference for which side...?” Jon asked. He was determinedly ignoring the part of his mind reminding him of his feelings for the man he was about to share a bed with.

It wasn’t that he worried his feelings were unrequited- he was quite certain that Martin felt the same, having Seen each other so completely in the Lonely. But they’d barely spoken in months, and so much had happened since then. So much had happened even in the last few days. It was a big step to now share a bed without even discussing their boundaries, and Jon didn’t want to be too much too fast.

“No preference,” Martin answered, pulling Jon from his thoughts.

“Boundaries,” he blurted. He felt his cheeks heat furiously, his discomfort and exhaustion sending him stumbling towards this conversation unprepared.

Martin blinked at him, obviously confused. “We… we only have two pillows? We can’t really make one between us-”

“No, no,” Jon continued, eyes darting from the bed to Martin to the floor and back as he fiddled with the black ring on his middle finger. He’d come this far, and it really was important to discuss anyway, so he pushed through his awkwardness. “I meant, well. Metaphorical boundaries for physical touch, in- in this situation. I, um. I don’t mind however close we end up.”

Martin’s own cheeks flushed to match how Jon’s felt. “Oh. I, uh. I don’t mind either?”

Jon nodded, now staring hard at the bed. “Right. We- we should probably have a more, er, detailed discussion. At some point. I think we’re on a, uh. Similar page, so to speak,” he glanced nervously up at Martin’s face, “but it would be good to- well, to clarify. Sooner than later. But I think we’re far too exhausted to be very coherent about it now.”

Martin’s cheeks were still a bright red as he squeaked out a “Yeah, that- that sounds good, Jon.”

Jon nodded once more. “Right.” He walked stiffly towards the bed, pulling back the covers and sliding in.

Martin cautiously joined him on the other side, and they both laid there for a minute, flat on their backs, staring at the ceiling in total silence. Both men were as close to the edge of the mattress as possible, leaving a canyon between them, bodies rigid.

After a few tense minutes of being afraid to even move, Jon huffed. “This is ridiculous,” he grumbled, more to himself than anything else, and he rolled over on his side to face Martin. They’d both just established that neither of them would mind being closer together, so he might as well get comfortable. He still gave Martin some space, but he’d at least crossed into their invisible barrier and hopefully broke some of the awkward tension.

In return, Martin turned just his head to look back at Jon. He swallowed thickly, eyes flitting across Jon’s face in the dark.

“You know,” Martin began in hushed tones, turning to look back at the ceiling, “the Lonely has a real talent for clinging to its victims.” He held up a hand as Jon started to interject. “It’s just. You could be surrounded by people and still feel alone, maybe even lonelier than when you’re actually alone.” He turned to Jon again, a heartbreakingly fond yet sad expression just visible to Jon in the darkness. He smiled sadly. “You can lie in bed with the man you love and still feel Lonely.”

A pained sound punched out of Jon. His firm, official declaration of his feelings needed to wait for the morning, as he insisted they take more space and grandeur for Martin than a moment like this, but he couldn’t leave that unanswered. He scooted even closer to Martin, minimizing the gap and resting a hand on Martin’s arm.

“The man I love,” he said, pulling Martin’s hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss, soft as can be, on his knuckles, “may sometimes feel lonely and discouraged,” he flipped Martin’s hand over and pressed another kiss to his palm, “but he must know,” one more kiss, now to the inside of Martin’s wrist, “he will never be alone again.” Jon stared directly into Martin’s eyes, kissing the back of his hand again and using his thumb to lightly rub over the spot.

Martin’s lips had parted slightly in a silent gasp, his eyebrows drawn together in a complicated combination of emotions that Jon couldn’t decipher. He took in a deep, shuddering breath. “Come here?” he whispered, raising his free arm in invitation.

Jon lifted himself slightly and settled half on top of Martin, his face buried in Martin’s neck. He wrapped his arms around Martin’s stomach and couldn’t help the content sigh he let out, relaxing fully as Martin’s arms came up around him. He revelled in the closeness and the softness of Martin under him and around him.

“Thank you,” Martin whispered. He pressed his lips to the top of Jon’s head. “Thank you.”

Jon shook his head and squeezed tighter. “Anything,” he whispered into Martin’s neck. “Anything.”

They held each other tightly, just breathing together, for a long moment, feeling as though finally something had gone right. They rested in the reassurance of each other’s presence, eventually drifting off into blissfully dreamless sleep.

[one-boring-person]

Okay so request~~~~

So at the end of last blood, he never stays at his ranch. He tells the aunt “Idk. I’ll move around, like always.” And then proceeds to destroy his home and land beyond repair, you know that story i wrote about picking up first blood rambo?? Well, change that to old man rambo!

What about him having rhat random chance meeting with someone like SR(from the one i wrote) and staying with them. How they take care of him without even knowing him, and how he has a chance to try out a new life away from war and what he was with someone who’s young and starting out on their own ambitions.

I could totally see him being introduced to SR’s friends as “oh, my new roommate!” And him telling SR all about vague war stories, they teach him to cook and cook him breakfast. Honestly just rambo being taken somewhere far away and nice and staying with someone who definitely has their own problems, but takes on the therapy by helping him instead.

Basically, SR is very very damaged and rambo can tell- but they’re so sweet and responsible, mature, and loyal. They take out emotions and pain through spreading love instead of war, he can’t let that go. Not now

(Hopefully that gives you ideas!!!)

I'm sorry this took so damn long for me to write, and I'm sorry that it's so bad, too, but I hope you like it in any case!😓😅

Life Goes On.

John Rambo (Rambo: Last Blood) x Named!OC (not mine)

Warnings: injury detail, death, blood

Masterlist

John's eyes are barely open as he sluggishly guides the horse beneath him further on, their surfaces dry and sore even as he blinks them. By now it's useless, the dust in the air having gotten into his corneas within the first hour of his long ride, irritating his scleras very quickly. Exhaustion has long since numbed out any pain he still feels, his eyes becoming the least of his worries as he gradually loses the sensation in his lower abdomen, where his more serious wound is bleeding profusely onto his shirt, still oozing even after fifteen hours of being left alone. He knows the blood flow isn't too bad anymore, as his hasty attempts to patch himself up have left him with a better chance of surviving, but his other wounds are slowly driving him to a comatose state. The veteran can't move his fingers properly, the digits clunky and uncoordinated as he tries to grip onto the reins, the blisters from the tough leather split and leaking as he struggles to do so. Nausea has settled into his head, his vision blurred as his strength slowly fails him - he's too old to have survived as he used to. Without his medication, John finds himself plagued constantly by flashes of past grief and sorrow, images of his dead team back in 'Nam flooding his conscience, accompanied by the beaten and bruised face of Gabrielle. 

Beneath him, the horse walks slowly, his thighs aching from the hours of riding, chafing sores lining them under the fabric of his trousers, his body slouched forwards in the saddle. Pity for the animal also gnaws at his mind, and he feels a pang of guilt as he realises that it's unlikely it will be able to carry him much further without any respite. It's head is drooped, steps slow and unsteady, panting breaths rushing from its throat in haggard bursts. If he had any energy, John would remove the tack from the horse and let it go, but he knows this isn't a plausible idea for him if he wants to survive. He owes it to Maria to survive.

His conscience starts to slip, just as the sun comes to its highest point in the sky, heat and dry air lulling him into a false sense of security as he feels his control leaving him. Unable to keep a grip on it, he succumbs to the darkness rising up in his vision, falling into it gratefully, needing the reprieve.

Vaguely, John seems to recall a car pulling up beside him, the door slamming closed as someone shouts to him, hands taking the reins from his. Gravity seems to take control, and John falls from the horse, landing heavily in the dirt, but he doesn't lie there long. Whoever has taken hold of the horse is swift to come to his aid, pulling him into their arms as they try to drag him back to their car. They're struggling, and he wants to fight back, to tell whoever it is to get lost, but he finds he can't, his throat too raw to even force a sound past, so he can only stay limp as they manhandle him into their vehicle, murmuring gently to him the entire time. 

It's at that point that he finally loses consciousness.

*

Agony floods John's body as he comes to again, drawing a hoarse groan from his scratchy throat as he jerks upwards, his instincts still ready for action even after all these years. Blearily, he blinks, hands scrambling to identify his surroundings, dull surprise dripping into his conscience as he finds a soft duvet and pillows on top of a comfortable mattress, warmth encompassing him. Frowning, the veteran pushes himself upright, ignoring the pain in his body as he does so, his hand going up to cup his wound instinctively. Shocked to find a clean dressing plastered over the ragged injury, John blinks again and takes a look around.

He's in a small room, laying on a bed in the centre, the domicile unfamiliar to him. Idly he wonders if maybe he's died and found some kind of afterlife, but a sharp stab of agony from his side eliminates this idea from his head in seconds. The room is quite comfortably decorated, designed to be cosy and close, whilst remaining roomy enough to allow for decent living space. A few photographs line the wall, accompanied by posters of movies he's never bothered to go see, having never really managed to overcome the triggers they often set off when he's not expecting them. 

Just as he goes to climb out of the bed, the door swings open, and an unfamiliar figure steps in, a first aid kit held in one hand as they juggle a bowl of water in the other. Instantly, John's on his feet, instincts taking over as he ignores the flare of agony that springs up in him as he swiftly moves over to the newcomer. In seconds, they find themselves pinned to the wall, a hand wrapped around their throat. Yelping in fear, they let go of the bowl and first aid kit, smaller hands coming up to grip his larger arm, eyes wide as they stare at him in shock, wincing as warm water splashes the two of them. 

It takes all John has not to crush their windpipe, his rational mind taking over the militant instinct as he keeps them in a threatening hold, the youth unable to move at all. A wave of nausea washes over him, and he falters, vision spinning wildly as he drops back a step, losing his grip on the newcomer as quickly as he secured it, the sudden disorientation throwing him off as he falls to the floor again. Grunting in pain, he lands heavily, the impact jarring his bones and muscles roughly. Recovering quickly, the newcomer drops down beside him, eyes widened in concern now, rather than fear.

"Are you alright?" They ask him, voice soft with worry, searching his face for any serious problem.

It takes him a moment, but eventually, John manages a response, his usually rough voice coarse and gravelly now.

"'M fine." 

They just scoff, hesitantly reaching out to help him back up again, heaving his heavy body onto the bed again. 

"You are far from fine." They point out, "What happened, you fight a war or something?"

He almost laughs.

"Something like that." John murmurs bitterly, leaning his head back against the headboard.

Shooting him an odd look, the newcomer goes and fetches the spilt bowl of water, sighing at the mess before they hold it up for him to see.

"I'm just gonna get some more water, then I'll patch you up again, that alright?" They ask him, looking somewhat cautious.

Suspicious, John watches them for a sign of deception. Finding none, he simply nods, knowing he can easily take them out if he needs to. They smile, going to leave the room, only to stop in the doorway and turn around.

"My name is SR, by the way." They introduce themself.

"John." He grunts in way of reply, watching as they nod and leave the room.

*

Two months have passed and he's no longer bedridden, the veteran able to move freely around the house, even though there's still a little residual pain, and the mental horrors he faces every night leave him drained with no reprieve. With no medication to help him, it's no surprise that John has relapsed into a familiar state of sullen silence and brooding, finding himself reminded of the things he'd rather forget every day, in everything he does and everything he sees.

SR is no exception to this: he has warmed up to them, and he somewhat trusts them, the youth having shown him more kindness than he has experienced since Maria and Gabrielle. Their only downfall is that they remind him a lot of his murdered niece, the two having very similar traits that very quickly sussed out. Childhood trauma has led them to becoming very determinedly driven and friendly, ambitious and confident in some aspects of life, whilst also noticeably damaged in other aspects, that he realises very quickly. Somehow, however, they always keep themselves afloat, and choose not to show any of the weight bearing down on their mind, as he knows it is, though he is also very swift to realise that their way of dealing with this pain is very simple; they work to make life better for others. It's visible in everything they do: cooking for him every day, caring for him in any way they can, doing their best to let him know he can trust them. 

At first, he had been somewhat cold and closed off to them, but they swiftly worked to help warm him up again, reawakening the more personable version of himself he managed to cultivate in his time on the ranch. It was nice to become a little lighter again, but his guard stayed up, and still is, though not as much as it was before. Vividly, he can remember the time he found himself trusting them further: when their friends had come over to catch up. 

Naturally, they'd all been surprised to find some nearly hostile ex-soldier residing in their friend's home, living his life out with them. As soon as they'd said something, however, SR had leapt in to defend him, and had inadvertently shown their care for him on a much greater scale than before, reminding John of what his life was like with Maria and Gabrielle. When their friends had then left, an hour or so later, he had stepped up to them and told them how thankful he was, feeling more cared for than he ever thought he would. 

Now, after weeks of being taught how to cook, and being cooked for, plus hours and hours of talking with each other as they helped each other to overcome past grief, he can very honestly say he is immensely grateful to be with them. They know more about him than he told himself he'd ever tell anyone, SR often listening with rapt attention to his war stories, eyes wide as they hear all of the harrowing details. He feels comfortable telling these tales, and they seem content to listen, so he appreciates them in whole new ways. 

And when he finally opens himself back up to physical contact, the embrace he receives from his excitable carer is only too worth it, the first smile in months gracing his lips as he does so. Life feels like it's turning on its axis again - for the better this time.

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Bonus Scene]

Summary: A different point of view during an exciting night at the Cantina...

Requested by @hoeforthefictional 🤍🤍

Warnings: Language!

“Kid, it’s my job to tell you like it is,” Charlie grinned as you refused to turn and look at him, marching toward the cantina while determinedly ignoring him. He could tell you were confused about how the conversation even came up in the first place, but he wasn’t going to explain his exhaustion over your intense relationship with his best friend again. “Why are you denying it? It’s obvious to everyone...”

He tried to grab your shoulder and squeeze it, but you jerked out of his reach and shot him a look that screamed ‘shut the hell up’. He laughed, loudly, and you only scowled more deeply as you moved through the doors of the cantina.

Charlie had known for a very, very long time that you two were made for one another. It was hard not to see the looks, feel the chemistry, when you spent all of your time together growing up, and then again once you’d come to D’Qar and joined the Rebels with them. It was dizzying at times, the level of love and adoration you shared. And Maker if it wasn't the most annoying thing to watch you both blatantly ignore all of that and continue to claim to be ‘just friends.’ He’d thought the moment you stepped foot on D’Qar Poe would give in, after missing you as much as he had for two years and almost losing his mind in the excitement in the days leading to your arrival.

And he’d seen the look on each of your faces, right before you hugged both of them. It was like seeing two stars collide, burning and bright and overwhelming. But Poe didn’t say anything, and now it had been a couple of years of watching you both make excuse after excuse, too afraid to leap.

You had been on Gold team long enough now that Charlie thought Poe was running out of excuses. He had noticed his best friend had ceased casual dating altogether, for which he was incredibly grateful. He hadn’t ever, before tonight, really said anything to either of you about whatever it was you had. But the nights where Poe disappeared with his arms wrapped around a random stranger, leaving you with a weirdly blank look on your face before you called it a night, those had been the times he was most tempted.

It had been months now since either of you had gone home with a stranger. Charlie sensed a shift in your dynamic. He could tell you were clueless to it; Poe was easier to read, however, and he saw the looks-the ones that said, ‘I’m hopelessly in love with you and I’m going to just say it’, that he bit back almost daily. As much as he wanted to see you both happy, Charlie knew it was down to you two figuring your shit out, and really he had his own things to worry about.

Like his on-again, off-again girlfriend; Vanya.

He was trying to convince Vanya he was serious about committing, ready to settle down. He’d asked her to come by tonight, after her shift in the med bay, eager to introduce her to his family and drive home his intent with the gesture. He hadn’t mentioned it to you yet, not wanting to get up your hopes of finally being introduced only for Vanya not to show.

He followed along behind you as the crowd parted to let you both through to your usual table, where he saw, with a surge of satisfaction, Poe sitting already and giving you the softest look as you approached. When Charlie glanced at you, he could tell your eyes were on Poe and he hoped you were finally seeing what he’d pointed out to you now.

Hell, he’d had plenty of potential suitors interested in you approach him over the years and ask what was the situation between you and ‘Dameron’, not wanting to step into anything. Charlie always warned them off.

When you took your usual seat next to Poe, Charlie watched in amusement as Poe casually tossed his arm on the back of your chair as you flushed, your brow pinched. And while Flyboy gave you a look that could melt the whole planet of Hoth, you shot Charlie a warning look after catching him smirking at the whole thing.

“You look like you’re still up in the clouds, sweetheart,” Poe murmured, smiling widely at you while his eyes searched your face for clues to what you were feeling.

Raising your drink, you smiled tentatively up at Poe, “One of those days, I suppose.”

Little liar.

Charlie could reach across the table and push your heads together. He was sure after about five seconds you’d both stop fighting him and just fall all over each other instead. Kriff, you two were annoying. He was pretty sure growing up in the orbit of your love for each other was prematurely ageing him, and made a mental note to check his hair for greys later.

He had to bite back another grin, because the entire time Charlie spoke to Poe, he could see you casually attempting to watch Flyboy out of the corner of your eye. Your posture was more rigid than usual and you were worrying away at your lower lip. When you finally seemed to have enough of whatever thoughts were swirling away in your head, you leaned forward and tapped your glass, your expression inward, and almost robotically indicated you would go and order refills.

Poe watched you leave, his eyes on your back as a slow frown appeared and he looked back at Charlie curiously. “Do you know what’s going on with her?” He only flicked his eyes to look at Charlie briefly, before they swung back to you across the room.

Charlie leaned into his chair to get more comfortable, and beamed, “Nope.”

Poe glared at Charlie without any real heat behind it, “Then why are you grinning? She say something to you?” Again, his eyes travelled back to where you stood across the room.

Sometimes, the way Poe looked at you made Charlie feel a mixture of gratitude-for what more could he ask, than a man who loved his sister so deeply-and envy. Because a love like yours, even undiscovered as it was, was more powerful than anything he’d ever encountered in the galaxy.

He shook his head, “No, brother, don’t stress. She’s just doing some thinking,” When Poe only frowned further at his words, Charlie gave him a look, “Do you think I tell her what’s going on with you when you’re in a mood? Talk to her yourself.”

“Wait,” Poe sat up a little straighter, “Does she ask about me? When? What did she say, exactly?” His eyes brightened considerably as he now focused on Charlie, excited.

Charlie groaned, “Oh maker, you two are going to drive me insane,” He took the last sip of his drink, glancing around and spotting Vanya making her way toward him. The pretty redhead was smiling happily, noticing Poe and putting together his intents on inviting her out. He waved her over eagerly, standing up. “Hey Poe, want you to meet my-”

“Don’t say, girlfriend,” Vanya leaned in and gave Charlie a light kiss, her eyes shining with affection despite her teasing, “I still haven’t decided if I like you enough, Major Horn.” He held his hands up in mock surrender, glancing over at his friend.

Poe was grinning up at Charlie and Vanya, “Well it’s nice to meet you, not Charlie’s girlfriend.” He replied warmly, extending his hand to her. Vanya grasped it before taking the empty seat next to Charlie, her hand landing on his thigh fondly. Now he had to work at not flushing.

“Vanya, it’s nice to meet you officially, Poe Dameron,” Vanya glanced at the extra drink on the table, “Is your sister here too, Charlie?” He noticed the slightly nervous edge to her tone, the tell that indicated to Charlie that as much as she put him through to earn her trust, the idea of meeting his little sister and making a good impression was important to her.

He smiled, running a hand over her cheek affectionately.“Yeah, she’s just getting drinks-”

“What the fuck is going on?” Poe suddenly interjected, and Charlie looked across the table to find his friend glaring daggers towards the bar. Turning in their seats, Charlie and Vanya spotted you talking to two tall women, your posture tense. You were saying something and one of the women leaned away in surprise before aggressively slamming her drink on the bar and taking threatening steps toward you.

Now, Charlie was a protective older brother. But he also knew what his baby sister was made of, and was confident that you could easily handle a couple of bullies who clearly didn’t work in the field, even with the height difference. Vanya made a noise of concern beside him, and he glanced at her, “Don’t worry kid’s good.” He assured her, now swelling with pride as you seemed to be replying in an even tone, unflinching. One of the women looked vaguely familiar and Charlie had an idea of what might be going on.

He was therefore unsurprised when he heard Poe get out of his seat. He growled, “Fuck this,” before storming past Charlie and toward the bar.

“Wow,” Vanya whispered next to him, leaning against Charlie’s side. When you hit the woman, a clean smack across the face, Charlie barked out a laugh and the same time that Vanya gasped, “Wow!”

You hadn’t noticed Poe yet, as he approached from behind you, but the angry woman sure did, halting as she moved toward you and suddenly straightening and trying to smile. When his arm landed around your shoulders, you visibly relaxed, not appearing to notice how Poe subtly angled himself in front of you protectively.

Charlie shot Vanya a look, “What’d I tell you?”

Vanya hummed in agreement as she continued watching the scene unfold; Poe had spoken and the women were scurrying away, and he was now worriedly looking you over. Though Charlie wanted to roll his eyes he could understand that it was the one way his friend had allowed himself to show you the depths of his affection without giving himself away.

When you reached up and moved your hand in a soft caress over Poe’s jaw, Vanya cursed under her breath, “You weren’t kidding about those two, Maker. You could cut the tension with a fucking butter knife, Char.”

He laughed aloud, “They’d make some damn pretty babies one day, but let’s hope they get my brains. Stubborn idiots.”

Vanya giggled, pulling her gaze away from where you and Poe stood wrapped around one another and meeting Charlie’s eyes. “Maybe I could meet her another night? They look a little busy,” She leaned into him and pressed her lips softly to Charlie’s, then eased back to give him a sultry look, “How about we go back to my room and talk?”

He hopped out of his seat eagerly, wiggling his brows, and Vanya laughed again, taking his hand and letting him pull her to her feet. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead before wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He let her lead the way out of the cantina. With one last glance back at you and Poe, he felt a sense of calm come over himself because he could see how close you both were to realizing what everyone else could see all along.

Charlie smiled to himself, excited for everything the future had to hold.

Taglist

@mermaidxatxheart @foxilayde @eleinemk @paintballkid711 @mylifeisactuallyamess @20th-centu-fairy-girl @deitysnips @cannedsoupsucks @ubri812 @poedameronloverx @hoeforthefictional @astrological-bitch @itsnottilly @itsdameron @alex-sulli @generousrunawaydonut @wildmoonflower @onlyferorder66 @deanandbobbymcgee @afootnoteinyourhappiness

[hargrove-mayfields]

Day five of Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! Today’s prompt was monsters!

Little brat’s been in the school ten minutes after the bell.

After they both broke curfew, Max staying out late trick-or-treating and going to one of her little friends’ house to trade candy, and Billy crashing at the lingering party until he was sober enough to come home and not get his ass kicked, they were supposed to be straight home today. Used up all their free time for the week apparently.

Max knew that this morning, he already told her to forget about the damn AV club. If he had to cancel on whatever chick he was going to take out (was it Carol? No, Carol is Tommy’s girl. Fuck he doesn’t know anybody yet) Max had to give her shit up to.

He gets bored of waiting for the little twerp and tosses his cigarette to the ground, marching in there his damn self.

Only time he’s ever been in this building was to pick Max up from AV. His dad made him come all the way inside and give his assessment on the teacher. Asked (slapped him and demanded it) that he do so to check on Max. Just to be sure. Like he cares.

But it works out anyways that he knows the way now that Max has decided to disappear and it’s up to him to track her down. Only problem is he gets there, and the room is empty. Not even just that Max isn’t in there, there’s no damn kids or teacher or nothing. Just a knocked over lamp and some shit on the floor.

He ain’t trying to hunt her down, but he has to get her back home in like, the next half-hour, and she’s somewhere she ain’t supposed to be. The school isn’t very big, half the damn building is closed off for the school board to use, so there isn’t much ground to cover.

He’s not trying to get himself arrested either, so he makes quick work of the school, checking all the places Max might be. Still, he comes up empty, and he’s about to just give up and let whoever she was with keep her when he sees something scurrying across the floor out of the corner of his eye.

It’s not really any of his business whether or not the middle school is infested, but it catches his eye for the wrong reasons.

It’s a gnarly little thing, a cross between a frog and rat or some shit, but Billy’d recognize that thing anywhere. It’s a fucking monster, crawling around the halls of his sisters school.

Purely on instinct, he tracks the thing to where it cornered itself, taking advantage of the fact that it’s still small and growing into its demon teeth to stomp on the gross monster. He stops once he’s positive it’s dead and not just faking him out like they do sometimes, he’s not gross or something, but he nearly jumps out of his skin when behind him, Max shouts, “Billy!”

He turns, ignoring the pile of goop that was one of those things to face his, apparently, from the flush on her cheeks and the bitterness in her tone, “Jesus, shitbird. What is wrong with you?”

He’s hardly even got the question out before Max snaps at him, “Why would you kill it!”

“Do you even know what that thing is?” Billy raises eyebrows, no patience for Max telling him what to do, but she counters with something that surprises him, “It was Dustins, he discovered it, you jerk!”

“Yeah, no. These things’ve been around longer’n any of us have been alive. And I don't care who found it first. They’re fucking monsters.”

“How do you even know what he was? You killed him.”

“It. Not him. Don’t humanize them.” Billy hisses, warning Max, “And anyways, I seen some shit kid. Don’t ask. And don’t play around with anymore of these little fuckers. Give ‘im a day or two ‘n he’ll be the size of a gray wolf. Another month or so and he’s seven feet tall.”

“But what is he?” Max demands stubbornly.

Billy answers simply, “Something you don’t want anything to do with.”

By now, the rest of Max’s friends have followed the sound of her yelling to their little showdown, and it’s Dustin, the owner of this thing, that chimes in, “But wait, does that mean you know?”

“Know what?” Max huffs, but she gets ignored, Billy firing back at Dustin, “Do you?”

All four of the kids nod at once. Billy sighs deeply, “Jesus, how the fuck did a bunch of little kids get caught up in this bullshit?”

“How did you?” These kids aren’t very original coming back at him with his own questions like this.

Again Max interjects, being left out of the questioning just making her more confused. “Excuse me, but what exactly are we talking about?”

But again nobody acknowledges her, Billy busy answering the boys’ questions.

“Had a friend came from that lab. You know about that part too?” He clarifies, getting three attentive nods, and this time one disapproving scowl, as he explains, “Well the monsters followed ‘im. Through their portals and his head and shit, they were out in California too. That’s how I know I was right to kill that thing.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before Mike insists, “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t know, man. How else would he know about everything?” Lucas shrugs, exciting Dustin and promoting him to ask, “Do you think he knows about Eleven too?”

“I’m still here too you guys. What is going on?” Max interrupts, serving only as a reminder, Lucas turning the conversation back to Billy as he asks, “Why haven’t you told Max?”

Billy smugly tries their little deflecting shtick on them, “Could ask you the same. Why are you showing her the monsters if you ain’t gonna tell her jack about ‘em either? I was keeping her safe. You assholes were keeping her stupid.”

Max interjects, “Hey!”

“No, that’s not fair. We had to sign an NDA.” Dustin corrects, very matter of fact for a kid who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Yeah, me too kid. It wasn’t any secret that number six escaped. I’ve had those assholes watchin’ over my shoulder for years and I didn’t even do anythin’.” Billy feels like he’s having a trauma competition with a bunch of middle schoolers, and he hates it. His tone is harsh as he demands, “Which brings us into, what the hell did you do to get caught up in all this?”

“None of your business.” Mike spits, but for the first time in the conversation, Will chimes in, “I got taken. By the demogorgon.”

“Okay. What’s that got to do with this, kid?”

“The demogorgon is what we called the big one. Before El killed it.” Lucas explains.

“Look, I don’t know who El is, but believe me when I tell you, you brats don’t know nothing. There ain’t just one of those, you know. Every last one of those annoying little fuckers like the one I just squished’ll turned into a ‘big one’.” They all look collectively defeated by that, maybe because he knows more than they do, or maybe just because they didn’t want to admit it was that bad.

But none look more ghastly than Will, who barely manages to inform them, “That’s bad. Last night, I heard them while we were trick-or-treating. They were everywhere.”

“Then we’re gonna have to do something.” Dustin declares determinedly, but Billy shuts it down right away, “No. Seriously, what the hell? All you sorry little punks are going right the fuck back home and pretending none of this never happened. If you don’t provoke ‘em, they’ll stop.”

“But they weren’t provoked when they took Will.” One of then argues, but Billys ignoring them now, turning back to a no less calm Max, “I don’t care. I ain’t doing this shit all over again. Come on, Maxine. Gotta leave your little friends to their baby ‘demogorgon’ and their world saving bullshit.”

Max scrunches her face up and argues, “Um, did you forget that I still have no idea what the hell is going on?!”

“Honestly, yeah.” Billy admits, “But s’better if you don’t ask questions. Now if you please, we gotta go.”

“No. You’re being a jerk.” Max crosses her arms and glares at him, a clear sign shes refusing to leave with him.

Billy just shrugs, “M’always a jerk. Thought you’d know that by now.”

“I do. And that’s exactly why I’m not listening to you. If my friends are going to do something, I want in on it.”

“Look what you little fuckers did.” Billy grumbles at the boys before trying to reason with his sister again, “Max. We only got fifteen minutes out of an almost half hour drive to get home. Come on.”

“This is so much bigger than that! I don’t care what your stupid dad says, I want to do something!” Her attitude gets on Billy’s nerves. That’s definitely deliberate if the spite gleaming in her cold eyes is any indication.

“You don’t even know what it is!”

“Then I deserve to find out!”

Billy sighs deeply, done doing this with a bunch of little kids in over their heads, “You know what, fine, but we’re stoppin’ at a payphone and you’re gonna be the one to tell my old man I’m takin’ you out for.. I don’t know, fucking ice cream or some shit. And if we get in trouble, I’m blaming you. Deal?”

Max smiles to herself at having gotten one over on him, “Deal. Where are we going though?”

“I dunno. Ask your nerds. S’their big fucking idea.” Billy grumbles, matching Max’s bitterness.

“We’ll have to call a meeting.”

“Will my basement work?”

“No offense, but I don’t think he’s getting past your mom.” Dustin nods towards Billy, the older boy rolling his eyes even though he’s not wrong, then offers, “My mom doesn’t like visitors. Maybe Will’s?”

“Yeah, Mrs. Byers will let anybody come over.”

“And she already knows what’s going on.”

They all nod again, and Billy rolls his eyes at them again while Lucas relays their decision to Max, “Alright, meet us at Will’s in an hour.”

“Why that long though? We’re all here right now.”

“Gives us time to cover our tracks, shitbird.” Billy hums in response to Max, stepping forward and asking, “What’s the damn address?”

This ‘meeting’ the twerps called was pretty much everyone in this hick town that knows the same dirty little secret as he does getting together in a tiny house and panicking. Billy and Max get fully interrogated like, a dozen times, once by the damned chief of police himself, all the while everyone is coming up with theories and plots and arguing. So much fucking arguing among this lot.

It gets to be too much pretty quickly, day five in this place and he’s already having to jump back into some of the worst things that ever happened to him. None of these people realize how big this is. Especially not the kids who just think it’s badass to fight monsters.

He leaves without telling anyone, or without anyone noticing among the chaos, to the back porch to light one up. There’re ashtrays all over the house he could use, but looming smoke in that cramped little kitchen wasn’t going to be any better than watching it curl upwards to the stars. So outside it was.

He leans against the wall, gaze fixing straight to what’s above him. He doesn’t notice the presence of another person until he hears them speak, startling slightly at the sound of a voice breaking the calm silence of a humid November night.

It’s Steve, sitting on a rusty and banged up glider at the opposite end on the porch, lit up just like he is. “So, uh. I guess you’re a part of this now?”

“I guess I am.”

Steve just nods and responds simply, effectively ending the conversation, “Right.”

But that’s not satisfying to Billy. He might appreciate peace more than what’s going on in that house, but he doesn’t like empty silence either. “What’re we all awkward like this for, Harrington? Spit out what you’re thinkin’.”

“I dunno, man.”

Billy frowns, prompting, “Come on. I know them gears are turnin’ over there. You've been quiet since we all got here.”

Steve looks away from him, but he does answer, “I dunno it’s just.. We’ve lost so much. People died because of this. People I knew. And I don’t like that anyone else is involved I guess.”

Billy scoffs, “Even me? You don’t even know me other than the asshole you met at the party last night.”

“So? What do you mean even you? I don’t want anyone anywhere near those fucking monsters. Could be my worst enemy and I’d still save them. I’d protect anyone from those things.” The haunted look behind his eyes, which seem so tired the longer Billy looks, tells Billy everything he needs to know.

He doesn’t mean to sound so soft when he asks, “What makes you so confident you can? Save ‘em I mean.”

“I fought a demogorgon myself. Well, not really by myself. Nancy and Jonathan were there. But I took a nail bat to its fucking face. Like hell I’d just let one of those things get anyone. Even you.” Steve

Billy flicks away his burnt out cigarette, sitting next to Steve on the old glider. “That’s real touching H, but I ain’t letting nobody sacrifice themselves for me. Need I remind you I’ve fought these assholes too.”

“But you told the kids you didn’t. Said it was all your friend.” Steve looks at him, sort of doubtful, but Billy blows off the remark, “No shit Sherlock. I ain’t airing all my business to any nosy brats like them.”

“I get that, but.. “ Hesitantly, he clarifies, “Is.. your friend, you know, even real?”

Billy must look at him like he grew a second head, “Shit, man, you think I’m one of those freaky experiments? No way. ‘Course he was real.”

“Oh. You said ‘was.’ Does that mean...” Steve’s voice trails off, sparing him hearing the words out loud.

“Don’t know. He got caught about two years back. Haven’t heard from him since. They might’a brought ‘im back here, they might’a killed him. I dunno.” Billy shrugs, picking at his nails while he talks so he doesn’t have to acknowledge Steve, or the fact that he’s even admitting this shit to him, “That’s why we’re here in Hawkins though. Susan’s got family over in Hope and a little ways up by Indie, so I suggested Hawkins. Just to come see where he came from. Get some closure I guess.”

“Guess he was really important to you then?” Steve smiles softly, but Billy only sighs through his nose, “You got no idea, Harrington.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll meet someone like him again.” He offers.

Somehow that sentiment immediately sets Billy on edge though, something about his tone implying that he knows, knows him and six were more than just friends, and Billy really doesn’t want to face that kind of monster tonight. He snaps, suddenly defensive, “What the hell’s that s’posed to mean?”

Steve’s face falls a little, evidently surprised by how upset Billy is, and he tries to fix it, “Oh I just thought that, the way you talked about him- and you look so sad when you do- that he was, you know, special to you.”

“So what? You gonna leave me to the monsters or some shit for that?” Billy growls, quickly warranting more defense from Steve, “What? No way. No I.. I get it, Billy. I do. More than you probably think I do.”

Billy half nods, his shoulders untensing as he slowly recognizes Steve’s genuinity. He mumbles eventually, working through what he needs to in his head to be comfortable talking openly with him again, “Didn’t expect to be getting relationship counseling too. That your assignment on the team, mister romance expert?”

“Shut up. You’ve never seen me swing a bat before.”

“Oh believe me, I cannot wait to.”

Steve’s smile returns, something Billy is personally glad for, though he might not be ready for that realization yet. He bumps their shoulders together, to hold Billy's attention and let him know he’s genuine, “Still, in all seriousness man, I hope you can find someone else like that for you. I know it’s not really easy pickings around here.”

This time, Billy’s tone is light, his features soft and vulnerable for the boy next to him, for the way he makes him feel less weighed down, less alone in this, “You got no idea, Harrington.”

[angelqueen04]

Hamliza Month, Day 12

@megpeggs @historysalt

Tryst Summary: Eliza knows she’s about to do something improper. The thing of it is - she doesn’t really care. Note: This entry is set in the same story-line as Day 10: Reunion, set several hours later.

Eliza stared at the closed door in front of her, gathering her nerve. It was quite late. The servants had all retired for the evening, and Eliza had already seen Cornelia off to bed. There was no one in the front hall to see her standing outside of the guest chamber that had been made ready for Alexander’s use, a folded quilt draped over her arm.

This wasn’t proper, she knew that. While her parents tended toward indulgence of their children, they most certainly would have drawn a line at one of their daughters being alone in a bedchamber with a man, even if they were engaged and to be married within the next week or two. Eliza knew very well that her mother would have been horrified that Eliza was even contemplating such an action.

The thought of her parents’ reaction did not serve as a deterrence, however. Eliza narrowed her eyes as she continued to eye the door, and she straightened to her full height. This wedding was for her parents’ sake. They had been deprived of witnessing Angelica’s wedding because of her elopement with Mr. Carter, and so they had turned their frustrated hopes and plans upon Eliza’s marriage. Eliza had agreed to it, if only for the sake of peace in the family, but truth be told, she would have gladly married Alexander months ago in that military camp before an army chaplain.

And really, if something did happen, did her parents have any room to complain, considering their own conduct in their youth?

Now feeling sufficiently justified in her actions, Eliza determinedly stepped forward and knocked on the door before she lost all of her courage and bolted back upstairs to her own room like the good girl she had been raised to be.

There was a faint shuffling inside the room, but after a moment, Alexander called out, “Come in.”

Swallowing past the sudden tightness in her throat, Eliza turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. She stepped inside, and quickly found Alexander. He sat at the small table, his spectacles perched on his nose as his pen flew over a sheet of paper in front of him. She quickly noticed that he had stripped himself down to just his linen shirt, his boots, and his trousers. The shirt fell open at the neck, giving her a faint glimpse of his chest, and her heart began to pound.

Alexander must have noticed that something was amiss when she did not speak, because he stopped writing and looked up. Upon seeing her, his eyes lit up in surprise. “Betsey? I thought surely you would have retired by now.”

Eliza cleared her throat, inwardly scolding herself for acting like a ninny. Stepping further into the room, she moved closer to the bed. “I brought you another quilt,” she told him, moving to lay it at the foot. “It can be quite drafty in here in the colder months, even with the fire. Papa has had work done on this room for years, and yet no one can never quite get it right,” she said. Before she could stop herself, she babbled on, “I suspect he will eventually stop using this room as a guest chamber and will find some other use for it and –”

Alexander’s gentle laugh cut her off and she turned to look at him again. He’d laid his pen down now, and had also removed his spectacles, dropping them carelessly onto the table. “Thank you, dearest,” he said in a low, soft tone.

Eliza could feel heat creeping up her cheeks as his gaze lingered on her. While part of her delighted in his attention, another part could not help but feel nervous. Trying to hide her anxiety, she turned her attention back to the bed. Next to the quilt she had just placed there sat Alexander’s blue officer’s coat. Impulsively, she picked it up, intending to hang it on one of the pegs in the corner of the room. As she did so, Eliza spotted a few tears and frayed edges. “Oh,” she said, “I can fix those! I –”

Suddenly, Alexander was there, mere inches from her. How had he moved so fast, and so quietly? Eliza marveled as he carefully took the coat from her hands and tossed it on a nearby chair. “It’s fine, Betsey,” he said, his voice still pitched low and quiet. He took her hands in his and raised them to his lips.

Eliza wondered if this was what it felt like to be a rabbit caught in a snare. She felt caught in Alexander’s gaze, unable, even unwilling, to look away again. When he lowered her hands, he continued to hold them in his own, brushing his thumbs over her fingers. She could feel herself growing ever warmer from the contact.

“When I saw you today, it was like seeing the sun for the first time in years,” he said. “I thought I was dreaming, for how could someone so fair be real?”

She raised an eyebrow, and shook her head. “I was a mess,” she protested. “Completely unfit to be seen!”

But he was adamant. “You were beautiful,” he maintained, and then he grinned at her. “You’re still the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.”

“Flatterer,” she chided, but with no heat.

Alexander shrugged, completely unapologetic. “I’ve missed you so much these past months,” he told her. “You’ve occupied my thoughts so often that I was the subject of much teasing among the other officers.”

Eliza laughed. He had hinted as much in his letters to her, that she was distracting him even in their separation.

“And oh,” Alexander continued, “I had little to console me, since you wrote to me so infrequently!” He reached out, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. Then he leaned closer and whispered, his breath hot against her ear, “Did I not tell you I would punish you for such delinquencies?”

She shivered. It was true, he had said as much in one of his many letters. Eliza did not deny that she to wrote him far less frequently then he did to her, but there were perfectly logical reasons for that. Since Angelica’s marriage, it had fallen on Eliza and Peggy both to be their mother’s help-meets in seeing to the management of the household, and that occupied much of her time. There was also the preparations for their own marriage to consider. Much of the summer had been full of sewing, embroidering, and filling her hope chest with items that would come with her when she and Alexander established their own home.

However, that had not kept her imagination from running wild over the hints and promises Alexander had expressed in his letters. “There was much to do,” was all she managed to say.

He did not step back. Instead, his lips left her ear to brush along her cheek, moving closer to her lips. He did not kiss her, however, even though she ached for him to do so and he well knew it. Eliza could see the knowing glint in Alexander’s eyes. He was deliberately denying her.

“Much to do?” he repeated in a murmur. “So much to do that you had no time to think of me?”

Eliza shook her head. “I didn’t say that,” she replied. “I thought of you every day.” Oh, she had. And not all of it was fear for his safety. More than once, she had poured over his letters, reading them over and over again. She had devoured his words of love, but it had been the undisguised passion that had most occupied her. Alexander was explicit in his wishes and promises for their life together as man and wife, and his expressions had left her flushed and breathless more than once as Eliza imagined him keeping those promises.

“Did you, now?” Alexander asked. He leaned his forehead against hers, and Eliza’s skin prickled. He smiled slowly, knowingly. “And just what did you think, my charmer?”

Eliza knew herself to be naturally impulsive. It was why she was here now, in Alexander’s room, knowing what could very well happen. But this teasing was going to drive her mad if it did not end soon. And judging by the smirk on his face, Alexander knew it. Yet still he persisted in playing with her.

Narrowing her eyes, she replied boldly, “I thought of you, like this… and more.”

Alexander’s eyes widened at her forwardness, clearly surprised, and Eliza seized on the chance to turn the tables on him. Tugging her hands free of his, she slid them up his arms and to his shoulders. She could feel his hard, fit body beneath his linen shirt, could feel just how warm that body was, and it thrilled her. “I thought of your hands,” she continued, her voice lowering, “touching me.”

The comment was a command, and they both knew it. Obediently, his hands came to rest on her waist.

“I thought of your lips,” Eliza added. Now her tone dropped to just above a whisper as she closed what little distance remained between their bodies. “Kissing m –”

Eliza couldn’t really be certain who kissed whom. All she knew was that suddenly, their lips met with an urgency that sent a shock through her body. Was this what the scholars called ‘electricity’? Was this the substance that Dr. Franklin had studied? She didn’t know any of that, but Eliza did know that she wanted to feel it again and again, for the rest of her life, at Alexander’s hands.

She was so consumed by her desires that it did not register to Eliza that Alexander had nudged her into moving until she felt the backs of her skirt and legs brush up against the bed. She didn’t hesitate to sit – her knees were trembling so much they would not have held her upright for much longer anyway – and she kept a firm grip on Alexander’s shirt, ensuring that he followed her.

Goodness, but Alexander was good at this. Eliza could not claim any extensive knowledge about kissing, and thus had little prior experience with which to compare him to, but this… this was wonderful. His lips were a little chapped, but the sensation of them moving against her own was amazing and –

Oh! There was that his tongue teasing along the seam of her lips?! None of the few boys she had kissed in her younger days had ever tried something like this! Nor had Angelica ever mentioned any such thing! Eager to know more, Eliza parted her lips, happy to follow Alexander’s lead.

The sensation was not something Eliza had the words to describe. She could only feel, could only revel in it. She could only follow her body’s urgings, and so tightened her grip on Alexander’s shirt again and allowed herself to fall back fully onto the bed, bringing him down on top of her. His weight pressed her against the mattress.

In time, the need for air caused them to part, and Eliza found herself staring into Alexander’s eyes. They had a bright, almost feverish shine to them and his breath came in deep gasps. “My God, Betsey,” he groaned, dropping his head against her shoulder, “you are a sorceress! You’ve bewitched me!”

Eliza ran her fingers through his hair, tugging it loose from the ribbon holding it place. She was no witch, she knew. She was simply a woman in love with a man. She told him as much, and he laughed. “Oh yes, ‘tis love that has driven us to this point!” And then his lips were on hers again.

She could say without reservation that she loved kissing Alexander Hamilton, and she loved everything else that seemed to come with it. Eliza shuddered in delight as his own fingers began to run through her hair, knocking her cap loose and freeing the pins that held her dark locks in place.

It was around then that she noticed that her body was moving against him, nearly of its own accord. And if she was any judge, it was having an effect on Alexander. His hips were nudging against her thigh, and she could feel the evidence of his desire.

Eliza was a virgin, of course, but she was not unaware of what went on between men and women. She was the second child of a large family. Her youngest sibling was only four years old, and there was still yet another one on its way! It was no mystery that her parents enjoyed a loving, physical relationship. What was more, her mother seen to it that all three of her eldest daughters were educated in the mechanics of the act of physical congress. “The more you know,” she had told them, “the less frightening it will be when you begin your wifely duty. And if you’re wise enough in your choice of husband, you’ll be in the hands of a man who will care about your pleasure as much as his own.”

 Eliza couldn’t say for certain if Angelica had chosen wisely, for her sister did not share that much detail about her married life, but she had never seen any signs of unhappiness whenever Angelica looked upon Mr. Carter. In any case, Eliza knew that she had definitely chosen rightly.

She shifted beneath Alexander, trying to slide one of her legs further under him, so that she might cradle his hips between her legs. But it was difficult, thanks to her cumbersome skirts and petticoats, and she almost growled in frustration.

The movement caught Alexander’s attention, and he pulled back from her, looking down. “Ah,” he said. He hesitated, indecision crossing his features for a moment, only to then be washed away by resolve. Then he rolled off of her completely, sitting up on the bed beside her.

Confusion filled her. Why was he stopping? She didn’t want to stop, and she could tell he didn’t either. What was going on? “Alexander?”

He turned toward her. He must have seen her mystified expression, because offered her a reassuring smile. “I think it best we stop now, Betsey.”

There was no hiding the regret in his tone. “Why?” she demanded. “We are engaged! Our marriage will happen within the next few weeks! Why should we deny ourselves what we both want?”

“I do want you, my love,” Alexander agreed, leaning back down on the bed beside her and resting his weight on one of his arms. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek. “I want you more than I have ever wanted anything else in all my life.” He kissed her forehead, a gesture more tender and soothing than passionate. “But I will not have anyone casting aspersions by sniggering about how I could not wait until we said our vows to claim you.”

There was something in his voice, something that made her wonder. “Who would dare say that?!” she said, suddenly furious. “No one in society would dare so much as whisper such a thing, not when so many couples from all walks of life have been known to anticipate their wedding night! My own parents –”

“I know, darling,” Alexander said, cutting her off as he caressed her cheek. “But it is a new world we are entering. The war won’t last much longer, and if we can hold out, we will have a new nation to build. One that is far more integrated than the colonies are now. Society in Albany and New York might not think much of such things, given longstanding customs, but what about a larger society, one that draws together people from other regions, who would have different views? People that we will have to stand and consort with?”

Eliza stared at him. She had not thought of such a thing. And part of her didn’t care to. What did she care what some impertinent dandy from South Carolina might think? And what business of theirs would it be if she took her betrothed to bed before their wedding ceremony? It was no one’s affair but their own.

But as she gazed up in his eyes, she could see Alexander’s resolve growing. He would not be moved, no matter how she pressed him. He had regained control of himself, and he wouldn’t be ruled by his instincts any longer.

Disappointment filled her, but Eliza resigned herself to it. “Very well,” she said, conceding the argument and looking away. “If you think it for the best, then we shall go no further.” She sat up then, pushing herself toward the edge of the bed, intending to leave him and return upstairs to the room she shared with Cornelia.

He likely sensed her distress, because Alexander followed her movement, sitting on the edge next to her and catching her before she could stand up to depart. “Hey,” he said softly as he caught her hands, urging her to turn in his direction.

She didn’t want this to turn into an argument, so she gave in and looked at him, letting him see her sadness. But as she looked at him more closely, Eliza could see Alexander’s own sense of upset, could see just what the decision was costing him as well. But neither of them said anything, and Alexander leaned forward to kiss her one last time. She met him halfway, pouring the last of her passion into it, letting him feel just how much she desired him. Perhaps it was petty of her, but Eliza wanted him to know what he was resisting, what he was giving up until the work of gathering her many, numerous relations was done.

It was Alexander’s turn to shudder under the force of her emotions. When they parted, he sighed, “Oh, you naughty minx, how you tempt me.”

Eliza smirked, and then rose up to go. Her cap had fallen from her head and onto the bed, so she reached out and took it. She didn’t bother trying to put it back on, knowing her hair was probably in quite the state. Instead, she said, “Goodnight, Alexander.”

“Goodnight, Eliza,” he replied. She had almost made it to the door when he spoke again, halting her in her tracks. “Eliza?”

She looked back over her shoulder questioningly, and found him giving her a wicked, mischievous grin. “If it helps, my darling, think of the wait as the punishment I promised you.”

Eliza blinked, not understanding him at first. But then their previous conversation returned to her and a mixture of indignation and amusement shot through her. Impulsively, she turned to face him fully and, after balling up her cap in her hands, she threw it at him. The material was thick enough that it had enough weight to go the distance, and it hit him square in the forehead.

She left then, grinning as she closed the door behind her on the sound of Alexander’s laughter.

-----

Just FYI, if you've ever visited the Schuyler Mansion, the room I've given to Alexander is now, I think, set up as the dining room. There is a YouTube video located here that covers a tour of the mansion, and the historical interpreter talks about how, in earlier years, that room may have been a bedchamber before it was transformed. That suited my purposes perfectly for this story, so I ran with it.

[casmoments]

Marriage of Convenience; part 4

Prompt: “Arranged Marriage” -  Certain factions of heaven are on your tail, the consequence of your death a trigger to greater destruction.  In order to protect your life and others, you agree to an old custom that prevents any heavenly agent from harming you.   The basic ritual?  You have to marry an angel.  Fourth part in a series.  

Reader Gender: female Word Count: 4800 Warnings: not very rough sex, but if you’re sensitive to it, then warning.  also some forward action in an empty but public place  

part one ; part two ; part three

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You awoke to Castiel kissing your temple.  He was dressed and seemingly rushing.   You blinked your eyes open, looked at him confusedly.

“Cas?” you murmured.  “What’s—”  Your question was interrupted by a yawn but he seemed to understand, brushing some of your hair back.

“You should sleep,” he said, inclining his head.  “One of my allies is summoning my presence to heaven.   I should see what’s disturbing them.”   You groaned, shifting beneath the covers.   You realized you wore a large t-shirt though you had not fallen asleep in that—you had not fallen asleep in anything.  You looked down at yourself and he followed your gaze, smiling gently.   “It was difficult to pry myself from your side,” he said, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“’s fine,” you grumbled, lifting a hand to touch the side of his face.   “Will you be back soon?”  He turned his head and kissed your palm, looking down at you with sincere affection.

“I will try,” he said.

He was gone shortly after that, kissing you again before he departed.   You rolled over and fell into sleep, hoping he would return by dawn.    It did not happen.    You awoke to an empty bed and sighed to yourself, nonetheless rising and dressing for the day.    You met the Winchesters in the kitchen.   They appeared to be packing some provisions for the road.  

“Got another case?” you asked, making for the fridge.   Sam looked at you a bit funny and Dean had a moment of amusement, but you were still a bit groggy and didn’t heed it.  

“Yup,” Dean eventually answered, tossing Sam an apple.   Sam caught it, his eyes on a newspaper.   He bit down while determinedly skimming an article.   “Sounds like there might be a vamp nest couple states over.   We’ll be gone a few days.   You gonna be okay?”    Dean asked that every time, though his question held gravity because this was their first expedition after your marriage.   You could venture outside now and they all knew you would.   Though you admitted that despite knowing you were now protected, it was a daunting idea, especially with everyone so far away from you.

“I’ll be fine,” you said.   You decided to do some research before committing to any journey.   For now you just smiled, grabbing some food out of the fridge and returning to the table.   “You guys be safe, though, you hear?”   You always replied with such a comment and that eased Dean.   He ruffled your hair.

Not long after that, the Winchesters were gone and you sat alone in the library.   Sam had provided you with a text outlining your marriage.   You skimmed through it and verified your thoughts.  You mostly wondered what force actually prevented heavenly agents from harming you because it surely wasn’t an honour system.   But it seemed to involve the celestial consummation on your wedding night.   You had some of his grace inside of you, all but melded into your soul, and it served as some kind of shield.   It protected you as well as him.   If something happened to him, his grace somehow taken, angels attempting to break the accord by rendering him human, it would still be partially locked inside you.   Your contract would always stand; he would always be an angel and you would always be part of him.

Bound for eternity, you thought.   Once the prophet and angel had joined, it was everlasting.  Not even heaven could undo it.   Some of Castiel’s stronger abilities had waned but he was irrefutably angelic.   Thanks to this, he would perpetually remain so, regardless of his enemy’s attempts to dismantle him.

You waited in the bunker for a while, uncertain of when to expect Castiel’s return.   His visits were once rare but you supposed that would change.   Your stomach knotted in anticipation.  

Otherwise idle, you daydreamed for a moment, one of your oldest fantasies playing in your mind.   The first time it occurred, you could not meet his eye for weeks.   You were always careful to never utter his name aloud lest you be heard by someone.   Even when you were alone, you kept it all inside your head.   He could suddenly materialize and hear you and that would have horrified poor, infatuated you.  

But you had no such worry anymore, wanting nothing more than for him to appear while you murmured his name.    You slouched in your seat and closed your eyes.   His name fell from your lips with a gentle sigh, reflective, wistful, gentle.   Your daydream floated absently though your mind, dream-Castiel sitting across from you, his eyes wandering your form.   You innocently skipped around him, dressed in a skirt which lifted suggestively when you stretched or bent over.   He would admire each swivel of your hips and dip of your body, watching and watching until it was too much.   He would stand and approach you, eyes blazing with predatory intent.  A wildly confused question would fall from your lips—“Castiel, what are you doing?”—but he would just press you against the table, his front aligned to your backside, hard ridge of his cock straining through his pants.   His arms would cage you, his hands beside yours on the table.  

“You know what I’m doing,” is all the reply he would offer, and your oh-so scandalized self would gasp as he hoisted your skirt, flipping it above your waist.

“Oh, Castiel,” dream-you always murmured, an utterance in actuality this time.  But you were still alone, even as your thoughts played themselves out.   Castiel would yank your underwear down, desperate and impatient, and he would part your legs, grip your hips, undo his pants and fill you with one solid thrust.   He would be unrelenting and you would gasp, groan, writhe in pleasure.   And when he had finished, he would lower your skirt, pocket your panties, and straighten you.   He would hold you tight against him, your back to his front, and his hand would curve around your throat and hold just tight enough to lock you in place.   He would turn your head and kiss you, nip at your bottom lip.  

“You know whose you are,” he would say, and his mouth would find that spot between neck and shoulder to brand.

You touched that mark now, recalling it still existed.   You blushed when you remembered the looks Sam and Dean had thrown you that morning.   They made a little more sense now.   Still, you didn’t have it in you to be embarrassed, not while thoughts of your husband danced around your head, his mark on display, his touch like a phantom presence across your skin and—

—and waiting for him was going to drive you mad, you realized.  You had only been married a couple days but you supposed heavenly wars did not care about interrupting your honeymoon period.   At any rate, you couldn’t just sit around in the bunker waiting for him.  Making use of your newfound freedom, you pulled on shoes and a coat and took a walk.   You were a bit jumpy but your greatest adversary proved to be a squirrel.   After your walk, you decided to eat out.   By the time you finally returned to the bunker, it was getting late, and still no sign of Castiel.   You couldn’t hold it against him; the things he did were important.   You idled around the bunker for a bit, watched some television, then fell asleep listening to music.  

You hoped to wake the following morning to Castiel in your bed, but no such luck.  You spent another day out, chatting on the phone with Sam for a bit.  The day was not very exciting but you enjoyed yourself, hopping a bus into the city and spending some time just experiencing the things you had missed for the past several months.   You returned home with some dinner, ate while listening to the radio, then turned in shortly after that.

This regime continued for three more days.   You wondered how you could ever go weeks without seeing Castiel, then supposed the answer was obvious; there was never a promise of intimacy until now.    All the same, you had your independence, but damnit if you weren’t already going through withdrawal.  

Though you tried to wait, you couldn’t help but fall onto your bed with your hand between your legs, attempting to recreate every glorious sensation he had shared with you.   It was a pale comparison but satisfied some tension.  

“Castiel,” you murmured, picturing his return.   He would be absolutely mad with desire, taking you right up against the door.   He would utter stories of the past few days, how he had thought of you, wanted you, needed you like you needed him.   You gasped, moaned, whimpered, throwing your head back and bucking your hips as you came.   Then you just lay there, panting, staring up at the ceiling and bracing yourself for another day.   You dressed then stood in front of your sparse closet, frowning.

Because you had been in the bunker for so long, and because your move had been quite spontaneous, you didn’t actually own many clothes.   You would lounge in the same grungy ensembles for days at a time, your few appropriate outfits saved for when the boys accompanied you somewhere.   Now that you could come and go as you pleased, you realized you would need a bit more clothing. Grabbing the emergency credit card Dean had given you, you left the bunker and made for the city, hitting up a department store.

You hummed to yourself, content, ever anticipating Castiel’s return.   You refused to call the knots in your stomach anything but anticipation.   Nerves implied he was in danger.   You knew he could be but you tried not to think of it, attempted to be optimistic.  

A kind employee helped you with your shopping, taking some outfits to the dressing room for you to try on.   You browsed for a few more ensembles when something caught the corner of your eye.   Hmm.

You wandered over to the lingerie section.   You owned a few nice articles, purchased for yourself and your own sense of sexiness.   But lingerie was expensive and you never really went out of your way to obtain it.   But you looked over a few pieces now, pictured yourself wearing them, pictured Castiel if he returned to find you lazing in some of the more provocative numbers.

“Can I try some of these on?” you asked the employee, not wanting to purchase something that turned out to be unflattering.

“Some of them, yes,” the lady said.  “Some you can’t.  Hygiene reasons, of course.”

“Of course,” you said, fiddling with the silky material of a push-up bra.   “Could you, um, show me which are okay to… I’d like to try…”   Apparently marriage had not totally cured your blushes.   The lady took pity, smiled kindly.

“Of course,” she said.  “I’ll help you.  This way.”

You picked a few pieces and she took them to the dressing room, adding them to your other articles.   You returned to the clothing section, browsing one last time before your dressing room retreat.   The store was quite empty.  It was a decent establishment but you supposed this wasn’t a popular hour for shopping.   You were halfway to the dressing room, mind wandering absently when a hand landed on your arm.   You thought it was the lady and politely turned around.

“Castiel!”  You all but launched yourself at him, arms thrown around his shoulders and face plastered to his chest.   He chuckled, smoothing a hand down your hair, the other wrapping around you.   “Ugh, you’ve been gone for days…”   You pouted, tipping your head back to look at him.

“I apologize,” he said, blue eyes swimming with promise and sincerity.  Your heart beat faster but you swore something rippled deeper, right in the core of your being, and you wondered if it was the reunion of his grace inside you.   The culmination of everything just increased your heart rate, your smile bright, his glance affectionate.   He leaned down and kissed you, not half so desperately as you would have liked but you supposed this was a public place.   He pulled back and looked around, squinting a bit.   “Why are you here?” he asked.

“I wanted to do some shopping,” you said.  “I needed some new clothes.”

“I see.”  He looked down at you again, a certain look flashing in his gaze.  “Are you finished?”

You bit your bottom lip, unable to refuse the action, smiling a little bit.   His eyes dropped to your mouth and you freed your lip, locking your hands behind his neck.

“Why?” you asked, boldly teasing.   He looked at you dryly, humouring your feigned innocence.

“I have been securing some levels of heaven for days,” he said, hands on your hips, drawing you close, “though I seemed to endure weeks because of distracting prayers.”    You looked at him with legitimate confusion, tipping your head.   He leaned down towards you, chastely kissing your cheek.   It looked like an innocent action, and no one else knew that he leaned towards your ear to whisper lowly, “When you utter my name with such yearning, wife, you open your thoughts to a channel of communication.”

Your fantasies from the past few days all flittered through your head.   You couldn’t help but blush, thinking of the images you had unwittingly sent Castiel.   You had heaped your own sexual frustration on top of his, not to mention accidentally sharing ideas you could not openly admit.  He lifted a hand to your face, thumb stroking your pink cheek.   You were two seconds away from forgetting about the clothes, allowing him to zap you back to the bunker and just have his damn way with you… when you remembered a couple of the pieces hanging up in that cubicle.  

“I’m almost done here,” you said, sliding your hands down his chest, fidgeting with the lapels of his coat.  “I just want to try a few things on.  Will you stay while I do that or do you have somewhere to be?”   He placed a hand over yours, held it to his chest and looked at you fondly.

“I’d like to keep your company,” he said, then seemed to surrender a thought.  “Will this take very long?”  

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head.   He smiled.

“No,” you said, “I don’t think so.   Come on.”   You pulled out of his embrace, took his hand in yours.   You smiled up at him while weaving through racks of clothes, eventually turning your gaze ahead.   Your cheeks were still warm, alight with a faint blush, and you doubted it would recede—not with what you were planning.    The employee was leaving the dressing room area just as you entered.   She offered her assistance should it be necessary and then retreated.  

“She was very kind,” Castiel said absently, looking around.   The dressing rooms were tucked inside a nook, a row of cubicles with floor-lengths doors, white and wooden and slatted closed.  There was a rack of clothes to be returned outside and three full-length mirrors, framed around each other to pose and admire your own form.   There were two armchairs and a bench, though the room was empty of all people.  

“Just sit there,” you said, gesturing to an armchair in front of your cubicle.   “I just have a couple things I want to try on.”    He nodded, seating himself in a chair, sitting rather stiff before awkwardly leaning back, not succeeding in finding much comfort.   You just giggled, stepping into the cubicle and closing the door.   You looked at yourself in the mirror inside, pulled a face before shaking your head.   Right, you said.  Gotta do this properly.

You changed into pants and a shirt first, stepped out to look at yourself in the mirrors.   You had a decent idea of the ensemble with the one cubicle mirror, but there was a science to your presentation and you would not screw it up.  

“Nice, huh?” you asked, looking at Castiel.   He nodded.   He seemed to have found a comfortable position, leaning slightly to one side.   He propped his head against his fist, his other arm draped over the back of the chair.   You swallowed, looking away from him.   You still weren’t too sure why that position was so attractive but damn, was it ever.   Get it together, you told yourself, returning to the cubicle.   This is your sexy parade, not his, damnit.

You changed into a summer dress, loose and flowy, cutting off just above the knee.   You had picked it up in recollection of your library fantasy, and now that he knew about it you wondered if it would affect him.   You stepped out of the cubicle, smoothing the material over your hips, and you felt his eyes follow you as you approached the mirror.

“This is pretty, I think,” you said, turning a bit, giving him a decent view of your backside, the dip of the dress.   You looked at him over your shoulder.   “What do you think?”

His eyes were a bit low, sweeping up your legs before meeting your gaze.  Despite the inherent flirtation, his words were spoken kindly.

“You look… very beautiful,” he said, head lifting off his fist for a moment.   You smiled, looked at yourself in the mirrors before retreating.   “Are there many more?” he asked.   You looked back at him, slowly closing your cubicle door.

“Almost there,” you said, watching as he pressed his temple to his fist again.  How he could be adorable and sexy at once, you weren’t sure.    You closed the cubicle door and locked it, turning to look at your next piece.   You carefully undressed, taking your time to don each article.   You kept an ear on the space outside make sure no one else wandered into the dressing room.   It sounded pretty empty out there, though.

You looked at yourself in the mirror once dressed.   It wasn’t too brazen, lacy black panties that slung low at your hips, a black bra which pushed up your breasts, full cups but lacy like the underwear.    You snapped one of the straps against your skin, smiling as you looked at yourself.   You weren’t going to lie, the lingerie thing really worked wonders.  

You opened and the door stepped out, fighting a blush as you went over to the mirror.   You did not look at him directly but you saw Castiel was immediately affected.   His arm dropped from its perch, his head following you very deliberately.   You looked at him, expression innocent as ever.  

“What do you think?” you asked.   He didn’t seem to know where to look, gaze flicking over your body before he looked up at you.   He said nothing but tipped his head, looking at you with a sort of scrutiny—he totally knew what you were doing and that heated glance set a fire in your core.   “Not this one, then?” you asked, snapping the waistband of the underwear against your hip.   His eyes fell to the motion before he met your gaze again.   His pupils had dilated noticeably, blue pierced with black.   “Right.  Better try again then,” you said, returning to your cubicle without further ado.

The really skimpy bits couldn’t be tried on in-store, only purchased, so you couldn’t torment him beyond any brink.   But your second ensemble pushed a decent boundary.   The underwear was thin, almost see-through, the bra strapless and cups small, just covering you enough to stay on.  A sheer material draped over your middle, leaving little to the imagination.  You turned in front of the mirror, smiled to yourself, and stepped out again.

He was sitting straight this time, arms on the armrests, staring at your door.   He watched as you passed him, stepping up to the mirrors once more.

“So?” you asked, looking at him.   You gathered your hair and lifted it onto your head, arms stretching, exposing a little more skin.   You turned your hips this way and that, faced him with your eyebrows lifted.   He was breathing very evenly, like it required effort to keep that rhythm, and his gaze was fixated low on your body.  You watched him wet his lips as his eyes moved up.  Then he looked at you as one solitary word tumbled from his lips, gravelly and hot and dark.

“Fuck.”

That sound hit you right between the legs, fires melting to wet heat and you figured you would have to buy this underwear pretty soon if you didn’t get them off…

He stood when you reached the cubicle, though, and suddenly you were rushed inside.   You stumbled backward, hitting the mirror, and he closed the door behind himself.   Your heart raced, breath catching, the look in his eyes hungry and determined.  You lowered your gaze, not missing that hard bulge in his trousers.   Looking up again, you pressed yourself against the mirror and gasped as he approached.

“We can’t do this here,” you said quickly, swallowing.   He stopped inches from your face, leaning over you, his wild eyes not straying anywhere else.   “And I can’t bring this with me.  I haven’t paid for it.”

“Then you should take it off,” he said.   His hands were on you before you could blink, unhooking the clasp at the front of the bra.   It gave way, floating to the floor around you.   His hands were rough and quick, exactly how you fantasized, and you were pretty sure prayer was not intended for such usage but blessed be accidental prayers.   He shoved at the material on your hips, crouching as he pulled it down your thighs and past your knees.   You stepped out of it and he stood again, leaving you completely naked under his roving stare.

“Castiel…” you murmured, his gaze lifting to meet yours.   A hand lifted towards your face, thumb running over your lips.

“You do enjoy my name, don’t you, wife?” he asked.

“And you enjoy calling me wife, don’t you, husband?” you returned, lips moving over his thumb as you spoke.   His other hand slid over your shoulder, moving into your hair and gripping the back of your head.  You made a low noise as he tugged lightly, tipping your head back, exposing the line of your throat.   Your chest thrust forward as your back curved.   You breathed hard, murmuring nonsensical sounds as he dragged his thumb over your lips, down your chin, fingers splaying over your collarbone and freezing there while his gaze wandered lower.  

“You are irresistibly beautiful,” he said.  “This might be why heaven first outlawed our engagement to your kind.”   You shuddered as his fingers wandered lower, slipping between your breasts, down your stomach, his grip on your hair tightening.   “You’re a welcome distraction,” he said, hand moving aside, down your thigh.  “Though lesser beings would struggle to let you leave their beds.”   You made a wanting noise, his hand sliding to your inner thigh, running upwards but pulling away at the last second.  

“So I haven’t beaten down your resolve yet?” you asked.    His wandering gaze lifted again, dark, focussed.   You licked your lips, fingers curling against the mirror behind you.

“We’ll see,” he said.   “For now, I want my wife.”  

You yelped as he flipped you around, the moment whirling to dizzying heights as the scene shifted around you.   A wooden door was suddenly in front of you.   It took a moment to realize, but you were back in your bedroom at the bunker.   Your hands were flattened to the door, one of his hands on your hip and the other undoing his pants.   You moaned, a helpless, shaking, desperate sound, realizing this was a combination of two fantasies you sent him.  

You were bent over, hands braced on the door, hair falling over your bare shoulders.   His hand moved between your legs, one of his feet nudging yours.   You groaned, head dropping forward as you spread your legs as per his silent request.   You bit your lip as his hand teased at your wet heat, fingers deftly pressing upward.  

“Take me, please,” you murmured, pressing back against his hand.    A week ago, you could never imagine yourself in such a position, so open and unabashed, but you were completely undone and wanting of one thing.   You tried to press back against him again but he removed his hand, both of them sliding over your backside, moving onto your hips.

“Take you,” he repeated.   “That is very different from making love, isn’t it?”

Your response was a vague grunting noise, then you felt the head of his cock between your thighs.  You thrust back, only pausing when his hand moved between you, guiding him to your entrance.  

“You’ll have what you want,” he said, easing inside of you.  You moaned, the feel of him inside you again perfect.   “If I had ever known you were so eager,” he said with a grunt, pulling back a bit to thrust forward again, “I would have taken you much sooner… thrown you against the nearest space and fucked you until you trembled to think of me.”   You moaned, thudding your hands against the door as he started guiding your hips, sliding them over his cock with each intense thrust.   “But I would not rewrite our story.”  After a few more thrusts, he pulled out and straightened you, hand lightly circling your throat as in your fantasy.   He held you against him and you realized he had zapped his clothes away at some point—some very recent point, because you could feel the brush of material before this.   You all but melted against him, head landing on his shoulder, his fingers soft on your neck.   He kissed the side of your face, slow, warm.   “I take far too much pleasure in being your husband.”

“I love being your wife,” you said, words scarcely spoken before he sat on the bed.   He kept your back pressed to his chest but helped you onto him, your legs spread over him, straddling his thighs as he entered you.   You sunk onto his cock, tipping your head back so his temple pressed to yours.

“Then I would say I have succeeding in taking you,” he said, all but bouncing you in his lap.   You panted, reaching back to touch a hand to his face.   His breath hit your neck in short, hot bursts, his hands sliding down to your thighs, moving you over him.   His thrusts only slowed when his hand moved towards you, fingers prying, circling your clit as he moved inside you.  Your sounds turned frantic, delving to one moan as you came apart, clenching around him.   He pounded up into you, low noises rolling past his lips as you squeezed his cock inside you.  Your faint convulsions finally ceased, just as he finished.  You slumped against him, a small, weak noise still threaded into every pant.  

“Y/N,” he said, kissing your cheek, brushing your hair back.   “Are you all right?”

“All right,” you repeated, “I’m more than all right.”   He laughed at that, a short but pleased sound, his arms wrapping around your waist.   You reached back for him, groaning as he lifted you up and onto your feet.   You stumbled for a second, then found yourself back in his arms.   He laid back on the bed, not high enough to reach the pillows, but centred quite surely.   He held you against him, your head tucked under his chin, fingers on his shoulders.   “I missed you,” you said after a moment.   He kissed the top of your head.

“I did as well,” he said.  “I find it very difficult to be apart from you, even more than before.”   He looked down at you then and you looked up, curious.   He smiled gently.   “Have you enjoyed your freedom?” he asked.   You smiled back.

“Yeah,” you said.  “But it’s nice when I get to share it with you.”

“I look forward to sharing days with you,” he said, brushing his fingers over your cheek, leaning down and kissing you.    You remained there for a while, languidly kissing, unwinding from the passion before.  After a while you leaned back, arching your back a bit as you stretched.  

“Come on,” you said, slowly sitting up.   He followed, looking at you curiously.   “I do want to buy some more clothes eventually,” you said, “though I think you shouldn’t accompany me.”  He sort of grinned at that, his fingers idly stroking over your thigh.   “But that’s not where I’m headed.  After all this, I think,” you smiled to yourself, batting your eyelashes, “that I need a shower.”  

He looked like he had a comment but then paused, considering it.   He looked at you again and you lifted your eyebrows, tipping your head.

“Are you coming?” you asked, offering your hand.   He looked at it and then met your gaze, smiling.  

He placed his hand in yours.  

part five

castiel x reader masterpost

[cutieodonoghue]

dark gray (15/17)

summary: Killian Jones operates a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, preferring a life of isolation, until one day a woman and a baby wash up on his little island and change his life forever.

read it on: ao3, ff.net

and also catch up on Tumblr!

///

Fifteen

Two Weeks Later

The media had finally decided the story was over just a few days before Christmas, probably because they’d rather spend their holiday with their own families rather than staring at the Nolan house all day with no updates to her story.

And somehow, after that, it’s normal again. Well, as normal as it can be.

It’s not easy to play the part she’d once performed so easily just a few months ago. For better or worse, the time she’d spent on the island has changed her.

Without any phone calls or messages sent from across the ocean, Emma feels stagnant. If she went back for him, there would be no guarantees of leads or direction. Leaving might even make it harder for Killian to find her.

Ruby and Belle, two of her closest friends, come to the house one morning and practically drag her out the front door to take her Christmas present shopping.

“So when will you tell us about what happened?” Ruby wonders, peering over at her from the driver's seat of Emma’s beat up VW Bug.

Emma rolls her eyes. “I’ve already told you guys everything. I fell into the ocean and washed up on the shore of a tiny island somewhere.”

“Yeah, and there was a hot lighthouse keeper. What’s he like? Killian Jones.”

Belle gasps from the backseat. “Ruby! Be kind.” The librarian turns, “Sorry, Emma. How about we talk about something else?”

Their favorite place to shop for odds and ends is on Main Street, so that’s where they find themselves, baskets in their arms while they stroll through the aisles chatting and laughing.

It’s easier to forget the sadness she feels in the back of her mind while instead thinking about what gifts make sense for her parents, or while she’s trying to keep track of the latest Ruby drama.

“Oh, Emma, Belle has a boyfriend.” Ruby suddenly announces, shaking her head in surprise. “I totally forgot to tell you.”

Emma looks at Belle, smirking slightly. “You do?”

Belle wears a bright red blush, covering her face with the mittens that she holds in her hands. “I do.”

She and Ruby share a laugh at Belle’s shyness over the fact that she’s in a relationship.

Emma reaches out to touch Belle’s arm, gently assuring her that she cares. “Who is it?”

Belle hesitates, looking between Ruby and Emma. She lowers her voice slightly, as if she’s going to be overheard. “Will. You can’t tell anyone. It’s so new, Emma.”

She has to laugh again. “Will Scarlet?”

Belle gasps. “Don’t laugh! I wouldn’t laugh if one of you were seeing someone.”

“The brooding sailor and the hopeless romantic librarian.” Ruby sighs wistfully. She plucks something off of a nearby shelf to add to her basket. “They’re really cute, though, Em. After Christmas, we should get together for dinner so we can interrogate him.”

Emma nods. “Sure.”

“I don’t see why you’d need to,” Belle rolls her eyes. “You both know him.”

“But we have to. It's our job!”

It always happens like this. In the middle of mundane conversation, a pit sinks to the pit of her stomach and she loses all of the joy she may or may not have had before.

Belle must notice, because she holds Emma’s arm, pressing her hand and chin against Emma’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Emma manages a smile. “I’m fine… I just think I should get going.”

“Emma…”

“No, Emma, stay.” Ruby begs, pouting her lower lip. “We can talk about literally anything else. Like, okay,” She exchanges a wide-eyed look with Belle. “Last week I was with my Granny and she said there’s no reason for us to keep making the apple crisp? What’s that about?” Her voice lowers, “People still order apple crisp.”

Belle’s gaze follows Emma, a small worried frown on her lips. “Why don’t we look for something to give Killian for Christmas?”

Somehow, the thought doesn’t hit her as hard as it could. In fact, she thinks it would be good to buy him a present.

“Okay.”

Belle thoughtfully turns to the shelves nearby. “How does he feel about candy canes? This store seems to have an endless supply.”

They all laugh briefly. Emma tucks her hair behind her ears, thoughtful. “Let’s see if they have any journals.”

/

He’s started thinking about fleeing the hospital in the middle of the night.

Everyday, it’s the same thing. He sleeps, he eats, a nurse comes and chastises him for trying to stand on his own. Rinse and repeat.

His doctor says he has to stay put for another week, but the newspaper Smee brings him claims that it’s almost Christmas, and he can’t possibly spend Christmas wearing a paper-thin gown and a pair of socks from the lost and found.

Not when he could be with Emma. Not when she’s out there wondering if he’s even alive.

“Smee, I need to get out of here.”

It isn’t the first time he’s suggested an escape, so Smee just glances at him briefly while he fiddles with the remote to the television that hangs on the wall ahead of them.

“Will you give me my clothes at least? This hospital gown is starting to chafe.”

Smee sighs, frustrated with the remote control, and drops it on the table. He looks at Killian again. “What?”

Killian groans. “If I could hit you, I would. You’re useless.”

His only friend pivots his chair toward him and folds his hands together. “How about we have a chat?”

“About what?”

Smee shrugs. “Do you think you’ll go live in America with Emma once you’re out of the hospital?”

“That’s the hope.”

Smee hums thoughtfully. “I think it would be worth looking for her online… maybe we could see if we can find a friend…”

“Smee, I need to get to her in person.” Killian interrupts Smee’s train of thought. “I can’t… I’m exhausted of this. I need to be with her.”

Smee thoughtfully stares at him. Then, he reaches for his bag, digging into it to remove a slip of paper. 

“I know it isn’t much, but a friend of mine found an address online. It might be Emma’s...”

Sitting upright, Killian’s brow dips as his eyes narrow. “Hold on. You’ve had an address this whole time?”

Smee stares at him blankly. “You’ve been bedridden.”

He thinks about his options very, very briefly, before he determinedly pushes back the sheets and forces himself to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Killian grits his teeth. It’s never easy getting out of bed merely to visit the restroom, but he can’t force himself to stay another minute with Smee suffocating him to death with his crossword puzzles and mid-afternoon variety shows.

With teeth still gritted, he yanks the IV out of his arm, much to Smee’s alarm. “Oh! Please, don’t do what I think you’re doing. Please stay in bed. Please.”

His stocking feet hit the cold floor with a grimace. He extends an arm to Smee. “Hand me my clothes.”

Smee stares at him, not moving. Killian stares back, lifting a daring eyebrow. 

“Now, Smee.”

The man jostles into action, grabbing his folded clothes from the bag he’d kept at his side. Killian sheds the hospital gown and takes each article as quickly as Smee passes them over.

It’s not easy getting into the shirt, which really should be a warning sign that pulling on pants will be impossible, but he dives into the task headfirst anyway.

He does it for Emma. He does it for Henry. He does it for sake of his own sanity.

After he dresses, he finds his breathing labored and he aches in ways he shouldn’t, but he looks at Smee again anyway. “The address.”

Smee comes closer to him, paper in hand. He hesitates. “I can’t give it to you.”

Killian begins to cradle the pain in his ribs, but refuses to slow down. “Smee. I’m not asking.”

He glares at the man until Smee caves, slouching his shoulders as he passes him the paper. “How are you going to get there? Look at you. You don’t even have any shoes!”

“Then thank you for offering yours. Bloody kind of you.”

Smee gives him a weary look, but kicks off his own boots to offer them to Killian. For someone trying to keep him from leaving, Smee isn’t exactly doing a good job.

Holding his head up high, Killian knows the only way he’ll be able to get past the nurses and doctors is if he does so quickly and with a level head. 

He takes a deep breath and takes one step forward, already regretting the decision to wear a size of shoe too small for his feet. 

“I’m only going to ask you once more to stay. Please. You can’t make the trip like this alone.”

Killian stares at Smee. Smee stares back at him. 

Almost as if Smee reads Killian’s mind, his shoulders fall and he sighs. “I’ll collect my things.”

/

It has been four weeks. Four weeks since she’d last seen Killian. Four weeks since she’d last kissed him. Four weeks since she asked him to come back to her.

There was a voice in her mind that whispered darkly to her sometimes. Maybe he stayed on purpose. Maybe he didn’t actually want to leave. Maybe he hadn’t actually changed.

Maybe everything she thought she’d experienced on a mysterious island in the middle of the ocean was in her head.

Emma does her best to shed these thoughts, but sometimes, she clings to them.

She drives to the diner, where she’d told Mary Margaret they could meet for lunch, and sits parked in front of the building for far too long.

Her phone buzzes twice.

Mom: Henry and I are at the diner!

Mom: Come whenever you’re ready (smiling emoji)

Deciding she should go inside, Emma sighs deeply and unbuckles her seatbelt. Making life normal again felt wrong without Killian here.

She sits beside her mother at the diner, leaving room for David to join opposite them in a little while. Henry happily bounces in Mary Margaret’s arms, giggling when Emma leans in and kisses his cheek. “Hi, baby.”

Her mother smiles at her. “I think he’s going to start standing on his own soon.”

“Yeah?” Emma asks, excited. Henry squirms from Mary Margaret and into Emma’s arms. She sighs happily, pressing her cheek into his baby soft curls. “I’ll miss him being this small, though.”

Mary Margaret chuckles. “We all will.”

All too easily, Emma’s delight with being with her family fades and she finds herself taking a breath just to hold it.

“If we knew where he was, I would tell you to go find him.” Mary Margaret says, seeming to know exactly where her mind went.

Emma nods. “Yeah.”

She pauses, a pest of a thought gnawing at her, begging to be shared. Emma fights with that impulse for a few seconds. Mary Margaret didn’t need to know the very worst of her inner thoughts.

And yet, the thought gnaws. Emma peers at her mother, the ever kind and compassionate source of hope and love in her life.

“What’s on your mind, honey?” Her voice is without meaning harm or pity. It hardly ever is.

Hesitating just a few seconds more, Emma adjusts herself in the booth so she can face her mother more.

“Up until the last few days, he still wanted to stay on the island, and I don’t know if he really meant what he said. How am I supposed to know for sure? I mean, it isn’t like we’d known each other for a long time.”

Her mother frowns. “Emma, you can’t think like this.”

“It’s just being honest.” She sighs. “If he deep down had any doubts… maybe he took the easy out where he could and that’s why we haven’t heard from him.”

Her mother, who has always been filled to the brim with fairytales and happy endings, reaches for Emma’s hand and shakes her head.

“You have to have hope, Emma. Without it, there’s no chance for a happy ending. Do you think we ever gave up hope we’d find you?”

Guilt hits her in a hard pang. She swallows thickly. “No. Of course not.”

Her mother tilts her head to the side, smiling gently. “Then why should you give up on Killian?”

Abruptly, Emma’s phone buzzes on the table and her eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, shoot. I have to take this outside. It’s the doctor.”

Doctors visits had become a weekly routine. Between herself and Henry, the tests and exams seemed endless, although necessary to make sure they were alright after everything they’d been through.

Her mom takes Henry as Emma answers the phone, “Hello?”

“Hi, Emma, it’s Doctor Whale’s office. I’m Nurse Bell calling about your blood test results.”

Emma hums as she steps out the diner’s front door, the bell tinkling in her wake. Taking the steps down to the snowy patio quickly, she isn’t paying any attention when she runs straight into another person.

“Oh!”

Her phone almost falls from her hand when she staggers after the impact. Before her stands her father, who laughs, apologetic. He steadies her with his hands on each of her arms.

“Oh, geez. Sorry, Sweetie.”

She laughs in response, using his shoulder as a balance while she pulls herself back together. “It’s okay. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

He gently reaches up to adjust her hat on her head. “There you go.”

Emma smiles in thanks, softening a little at the gentleness of the interaction. “Mom and Henry are in our favorite booth.” She holds up her phone. “I have to take this. Be right in.”

David nods in understanding and Emma quickly pulls her phone back to her ear. “So sorry about that. I just... had a run-in with someone.”

The nurse laughs. “I heard. Do you want to hear your results over the phone or would you rather come into the office?”

Emma shakes her head. There’s no need to visit the doctor again if it was just a routine blood test. “I’ll take them now, if that’s possible.”

Nurse Bell pauses. “Okay, well… everything looks good. Um… well, except…”

Her heart skips an anxious beat. “What is it?”

“Well, congratulations are in order, Emma,” the nurse says with a smile she can hear even on the phone, “you’re pregnant.”

All of the blood completely drains from her face and she finds herself standing so still, so quiet, that she almost forgets that she’s on the phone.

Her voice breaks when she finally squeaks out, “What?”

The nurse rattles off a bunch of information, but Emma isn’t listening.

Pregnant.

How the hell did this happen?

Of course, she knows how. She just doesn’t... know how.

Somehow, she ends the call and finds the will within herself to lift her feet, though her mind races with thoughts of Killian.

His eyes, so blue. Would their child have blue eyes too?

Once she stands inside Granny’s Diner, she casts her gaze onto her parents and Henry.

Henry is going to be a big brother.

She’s going to have a baby.

And Killian is still missing.

Every excuse she’d made up for not going to look for him now seems so insignificant. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that they were meant to be together, but now she actually felt it in her bones.

She shouldn’t have waited for so long to go… maybe she shouldn’t have even left so quickly after reuniting with her parents. But staying here now, with the knowledge that both of her children could be without their father… it felt wrong in the worst way.

Guilt floods her mind, squashing the darkness that had been bothering her all day with a bitter flavor. She almost allows it to overwhelm her, to anchor her to the premise it feeds her, but somewhere deep down, hope stirs within.

Hope that this is only a hiccup, that she would find him, and they would be together again. No matter where, or when, or how, Emma would see Killian again.

When she comes back to the table in the back corner of the diner, she sits beside her mom, who immediately turns to her with worry knitting her brow.

“What’s wrong?”

Emma’s mouth opens, words refusing to form on her tongue. She shakes her head slowly. “I’m going to find Killian. I should get on a plane tonight.”

Mary Margaret looks across the table at David, as if she needs help wrangling Emma in, but her father nods, a kind smile on his face.

“Whatever you need to do. Let’s go. I’m with you, Emma.”

[marypsue]

Having an extraordinarily real one lately for no apparent reason, so here’s a more-than-usually self-indulgent ficlet. Enjoy. Or don’t, I’m not the boss of you.

...

The next thing he remembers, somebody’s giving him a sharp poke in the shoulder. “Hey. Are you alive?”

He tries to roll over and go back to sleep, but the prodding continues. And every inch of him’s screaming in protest, so lying here and taking it suddenly seems like the better part of valour. “No. ‘m dead. G’way.”

The weirdly familiar voice – a woman, one he knows, but can’t place – sounds amused at that, for some reason. Like it’s funny that he’s dead. He’s pretty sure it’s not. Sad, sure. Tragic. Bittersweet, a little. Ironic, even. But funny? That’s just rude. “All right, dead guy. Well, while you’re still talking, feel like telling me who you are and how you ended up in a secret Russian lab?”

Now that rings a bell. He bothers to crack an eye, and immediately squeezes it shut again. Neon and flashing emergency lights are a bad combination in an already-pounding head.

“Wh- happened?” he manages. He should ask about the kid, too, Joyce, the others, make sure they’re safe, but those are a lot of thoughts to form into words. And this feels like a good place to start.

The weirdly familiar voice has a weirdly familiar laugh, too. “I was kind of hoping you could tell me that. You just came stumbling out of that crack in the wall, cold-cocked the thug who was trying to stick my head in that big spinning blender, and then passed out all over the walkway.” Her voice goes a little subdued as she goes on, “You…probably saved my life.”

He’s not sure how to respond to that, so he defaults to sarcasm. “ ‘s what I do.”

She snorts out another laugh.

“Listen,” she says, after a beat or two of weirdly companionable quiet. The sounds of distant yelling and helicopter blades fill the silence, but they sound pleasantly like somebody else’s problem. And – they’ve gotta have given him something for the pain, because it’s starting to recede pleasantly too, behind a thick, insulating layer of pink cotton fluff. “You showed up with no ID, in a Russian uniform, in a secret Russian lab. None of us know you. The government’s here to clean this all up and sweep it under the rug, and unless you can tell me something really convincing about why they shouldn’t, they’re gonna sweep you right under that rug too. I don’t want that to happen. You really came through for us back there, I don’t think you’re a Russian operative.”

“ ‘m not,” he manages, around a tongue that seems to be trying to fall asleep in his mouth.

She sounds entirely too chipper as she says, “Great! Now can you tell me who you are?”

He manages to force both eyes open a sliver, turning to face her as he enunciates, as clearly as he can, “Jim Hopper. Hawkins, Indiana chief of police.”

Her face is a blur at first, cast purple in the flashing red and blue lights. But it quickly resolves into wide, stunned blue eyes, a sharp chin and cheekbones, a few dark curls escaping a tight braid. A face that’s familiar. Or would be, if it didn’t look a handful of decades too old.

He squints, but her face doesn’t change any more than her stunned expression does. “Nancy Wheeler?”

Her big eyes get, if it’s possible, even bigger at that. The twist of smile that crosses that foxy face as she nods is entirely unamused.

It’s what she says next, though, that really throws him for a loop.

“Yeah. Nancy Wheeler.” Her smile gets wider and whiter but no less disbelieving as she says, “Hawkins, Indiana chief of police.”

 …

 The stranger doesn’t stay conscious for long after that, whatever painkillers the paramedics pumped him full of finally kicking in. Nancy leaves him in the back of the ambulance and goes looking for that doctor. He’s around here somewhere.

She finds him at the mall’s service entrance, watching with a frown as the military guys he’d brought with him empty boxes and boxes full of tubes of glowing green…stuff out of the hidden elevator. Nancy hopes, vaguely, that it isn’t radioactive. That would’ve been the first thing they’d have tested. Right?

The doctor looks up as she walks up beside him, and lets out a little aggrieved sigh when he sees who it is. Nancy decides she’s taking that as a compliment. “Any word from our mystery man?”

“According to him, he’s dead.”

The doctor huffs a laugh, not taking his eyes off the elevator.

Nancy examines her fingernails. There’s blood dried in the beds. She’s not sure when that happened. “Also, according to him, he’s Jim Hopper. Hawkins, Indiana chief of police.”

She feels the doctor’s eyes on her, looks up, and smiles. “And you want to know the really weird part? I believe him.”

The doctor’s expression is inscrutable. All he says is, “You do?”

Nancy glances down at herself again, at the ill-fitting Russian uniform she’s still wearing. She can’t wait to get out of this stupid thing. She can’t wait to go home and sleep for about a month. The absolute last thing she wants right now is more supernatural weirdness to deal with.

But –

“He recognised me,” she says, slowly, putting her thoughts together as she speaks. “He knew my name. He – if you told me he was related to our Hopper, I’d believe it, the resemblance is that strong. He doesn’t sound Russian. And that – Gate, the place it goes to – that’s an alternate dimension, right? The kids’ ‘Upside Down’. It’s like here…but not.”

The doctor’s kind of smiling at her. Nancy bulls determinedly forward. “That’s one other Hawkins out there that we know about for sure. Couldn’t there be more?”

The doctor’s still giving her that smile. Nancy catches his eye and stares him down, and he sort of chuckles and shakes his head. “Sounds like we’ll make a theoretical physicist of you yet.”

“I don’t want you packing him off to some – secret bunker or lab or whatever,” Nancy says, like there’s anything she could do to stop it if the doctor did. If it comes to that, she’ll figure it out. She’s already starting to work on a few plans. But for now, she’ll give the doctor the benefit of the doubt that he’s actually trying to help, and use her words. “If the uniform’s anything to go by, he’s just had the same night from hell that we all have. Whoever he left on the other side must be missing him.”

“You’re forgetting, Chief Wheeler,” the doctor says, still sounding just a little too amused. “You and your…small army blew that machine down there to smithereens. There’s no way back into the – uh – ‘Upside Down’.”

Nancy glares back into that too-knowing look. Maybe the doctor does know Terry Ives still has the power to rip open worlds. If he doesn’t, and this is a good bluff, then no way in hell is Nancy going to be the one to tell him and start the Ives’ nightmare all over again.

“Well, if he ended up here, maybe things didn’t go so smoothly on the other end,” is all she says. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

The doctor’s smile gets a little wider. But all he says is, “I’m sure. You’re a resourceful woman, Nancy Wheeler.”

Nancy watches his face, carefully, for any sign that it’s meant to be an insult. She doesn’t find one.

She leaves him to poke through the Russians’ stuff and heads back around the front of the mall. Partly because she wants to see the others – and one specific other in particular – again, make sure they’re all all right. Partly because she doesn’t want that ambulance driving off with the stranger in the back and disappearing forever.

He saved her life. The least she can do is get him home.

Jonathan’s sitting with Steve and the kids, when Nancy picks her way back through the parking lot. He looks up through his bangs, and a slow smile dawns across his face at that sight of her. Nancy feels something in her chest constrict warmly, and realises she’s smiling, too. And for once, it’s entirely real.

Yeah. If the stranger’s night’s been anything like hers – they’ve got to get him home.

Mike’s sitting in the ambulance, on one side of El, holding her hand as a paramedic washes out the nasty wound in her leg. Will, standing on her other side, has her other hand. Based on the faces all three of them are making, she’s probably grinding the bones in the boys’ hands together, but neither of them looks like they’ll be letting go any time soon. 

Karen’s perched on the ambulance’s tailgate with Joyce, sharing a shock blanket. Maxine Mayfield’s got a blanket, too, even in the hot July night, and Lucas Sinclair’s arm around her. She’s got her head on his shoulder and her arm wrapped around his waist, but her other hand is loosely holding Dustin Henderson’s, like she’s forgotten it’s there. And, even though he barely seems to notice and has gotten into some kind of good-natured argument with the crowd of kids Karen hangs around with these days, Dustin doesn’t let go of her hand either.

Everybody seems to be slowly coming down off the night’s adrenaline, still a little giggly and punchy but starting to sober up. Especially Max and Dustin, who are literally starting to sober up from whatever the Russians shot them full of. Little Phil Callahan’s nodding off against Nancy’s old college friend Kali’s knee, and Kali’s even tolerating it, though Nancy knows the eyebrow she quirks in Nancy’s direction is a clear command to get the kid off her before she stops tolerating it. Jill Stephenson also seems to be nodding off, but since she’s doing it against Benny Hammond’s muscular arm, Nancy has a sneaking suspicion it’s a put-on.

And Jim Hopper – thirteen-going-on-fourteen Jim Hopper, somehow-now-Karen’s-other-best-friend Jim Hopper, definitely-not-Hawkins-Indiana-chief-of-police Jim Hopper, is sitting with his back against Joyce Byers’ knees, listening to Joyce and Karen’s animated conversation with a half-smile that, Nancy thinks, looks an awful lot like contentment.

Nancy must have been staring, trying to mentally compare the kid in front of her to the stranger in the back of the ambulance, because he twists to shoot a scowl in her direction. “What?”

“Did you find anything out?” Jonathan asks, and Nancy can’t help another smile in his direction. Good grief, she’s going soft. “About -” He bobs his head in the direction of the other ambulance. “Him.”

Nancy looks the assembled crowd over, and settles on the truth. “He says he’s you.”

It very obviously takes Hopper a second or two to work out that everybody’s looking at him. “Wh- me?”

Nancy nods. “Jim Hopper. Hawkins, Indiana chief of police.”

There’s a moment of silence while everybody processes this, before Dustin Henderson pipes up. “What – there’s another alternate dimension out there? Other than the Upside Down?”

“Like in The Magician’s Nephew,” Will says, unexpectedly. “The Upside Down’s the wood between the worlds.”

Nancy shoots him a blank look. Karen rolls her eyes. “Mom. Narnia?”

“I thought that was about a wardrobe?”

Apparently this question is just too stupid to dignify with an answer.

Dustin, thankfully, steps in, picking up Will’s train of thought. “So you can only get into the Upside Down from any version of Hawkins -”

“But you can get into any version of Hawkins from the Upside Down,” Will agrees, nodding. He catches El’s confused squint, and shrugs. “It’s a theory.”

“Worth testing,” Nancy agrees. She goes to settle her hands on her belt, and is once again forcibly reminded that she’s still wearing the stupid Russian uniform. “Ugh! That’s it. Screw the government, I’m going back in there and looting the Gap.”

She’s not sure if Jonathan’s joking, at first, when he catches her eye and says, “Oh, but I do so love a woman in uniform.”

Joyce rolls her eyes, and Mike makes an exaggerated gagging noise. Steve shuts his eyes, giving his head a tiny shake, but he’s kind of smiling. Nancy considers flipping them all off, but she quickly decides on something else. Something better.

She crosses the distance between her and where Jonathan’s sitting on the asphalt in two big strides, and bends down to catch Jonathan’s chin in one hand. He turns his face up towards hers without her guidance, though, and when she presses her lips against his, they part with no resistance.

Nancy only holds the kiss for a moment before pulling back, but when she does, Jonathan’s red from the tips of his ears to the collar of his shirt. She allows herself a little satisfaction at that. Still got it, Wheeler. “There. Now, if you hyenas are satisfied, I’m going to go make sure the government doesn’t make our new friend vanish before we get a chance to learn anything more than his name.”

With that said, she turns and walks pointedly across the parking lot toward the other ambulance, not looking back.

She deliberately ignores the hoots, her children’s noises of disgust, and Kali’s sigh of “Finally!”

[fiction-fun]

This one too is atleast a year old. Not tagging again cause idk whod want to see it hahaha

Saved and Loved

Fandom: The Simpsons

Pairings: Bart/Nelson, Lisa/OC

Words: 2876

Warnings: None

The girl swung a bit on the swing as she watched the unfolding events. They weren’t supervised on recess not really anyway.

“GET BACK HERE NERD!” A rough angry voice screamed.

“NO!” Returned a harried voice as a boy in a red shirt shoved through the swings sending her flying.

“Hey!” She shouted clutching the chains.

The boy looped back trying to lose the larger figure behind him.

“SORRY!” he yelled as he ran back passed.

She glared and huffed but this was a weekly occurrence. She sighed and went back to swinging. A few minutes later the swing beside her was occupied by the boy from earlier sporting a few more bruises.

“Sorry about that, Kay.” He said shoving off a bit.

The girl, Kay, sighed as she turned to look at her only friend giving him a look.

“It’s fine Bart, I’m used to being shoved during recess.” She returned.

The boy, Bart nodded swinging slowly. She gave him a concerned look.

“Bart it’s fine, really.” She tried to reassure him.

He let out a sigh as he stopped the swing.

“it’s not that Kaley, although I’ll try to run away from the swings next time. It’s…. just this whole thing.” Bart said gesturing to the play equipment, other kids and then to his own face.

She nodded.

“I know Bart. I don’t know why you let it happen. Aren’t they Nelson’s lackeys? Aren’t you two some kind of friends? Why don’t you tell him?” she asked looking at him.

Bart shrugged.

“Yeah I probably should but…I don’t want to bother him. Or make him angry.” Bart said seemingly adding the last bit as an after thought.

Kaley watched him for a few seconds.

“I don’t think he’d be angry at you, at them probably but not you.” Kaley said softly.

Bart shrugged and just as Kaley went to say something more the bell went.

“I have to get to class, you should too.” She said gently.

Bart nodded and stood up stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. Kaley watched as he walked away a plan forming in her mind. She went to class and ended the day.

“Bart! Call me later ok?” Kaley said as she paused at his locker briefly.

“Yeah, I’ll try.” Bart said still distracted.

Kaley smiled gently and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll help you with your homework?” she offered, trying to convince him to call her.

Bart hesitated for a few seconds before nodding.

“Alright, if mom'll let me.” Bart said.

Kaley nodded and waved as she ran out of the school, and got into her dad’s car.

“Hi Daddy.” She said dropping her bag in the back and smiling at her dad.

He leaned over and hugged her.

“Hello sweetheart how was your day today?” he asked as he turned back to the front and started the drive home.

Kaley let out a sigh and slouched back in her seat.

“They chased Bart again, and he still won’t tell Nelson.” She said looking down at her hands.

Her dad looked at her at a stop sign.

“Maybe you should tell him?” her dad suggested.

Kaley nodded and stayed silent for a minute.

“They only do it when Nelson has to stay inside. Because they know he favors Bart. Without proof it’ll be me against them.” She said voice low.

Her dad parked the car, before turning to look at her.

“Maybe we can figure something out.” Her dad suggested.

She smiled slightly, glad she had gotten her dad’s brain and her father’s cunning. Her plan was coming together nicely.

“I was thinking Daddy, maybe I could use one of the mini cams you and Father use to monitor employees? We could disguise it as a bow.” Kaley suggested mildly.

Her Dad hummed a bit before looking towards the house.

“We’ll talk with your Father and see what he says.” Her Dad said.

She nodded and the two of them headed inside. Kaley headed up to her room to work on her homework. A few hours later her, her dad and her Father shared a nice dinner and talked lightly. And then after dinner Bart finally called.

“Hey Bart, how are you?’ she asked as she settled on her bed in her pajamas with her homework spread in front of her.

She heard a groan from the other side.

“Not great but better then I’d be if they’d caught me sooner.” Bart returned.

Kaley hummed and they quickly moved on to homework since they both had to be in bed soon. About an hour later they had finished.

“Ok that’s it, thanks for the help.” Bart said and she heard a book close and then a bag zip shut.

Kaley smiled and closed her own books setting them off to the side for now she still had another assignment to do.

“No problem Bart. I have to go, I’ll see you, tomorrow right?” she asked.

“Yeah see you tomorrow. Night, Kaley.” Bart returned.

“Good night, Bart.” She said ending the call.

Just as she placed the receiver back on its cradle her parents walked in.

“Just what have you got planned?” her Father asked her.

Kaley looked up at him from her bed and pulling her notebook back towards her she pulled out a few pages from the back passing them to her parents with a smile.

“I want to record them messing with Bart, so I can show Nelson what happens when he’s not around. But to do so, I’ll have to get indoor recess one day. That is a full outline of my plan and the different things I could do to get that indoor recess. I’m not planning to do this now, maybe a month or so I want to get a lot of evidence.” She said determinedly.

Her Father nodded as he read the plan.

“I would prefer no class damage.” Her dad said in response.

Kaley shrugged.

“Then I’ll swear. It might get me two days though.” She said.

Her parents looked at each other and nodded.

“Alright.” Her Father said.

And with that they said good night and headed to bed. Over the next two months Kaley wore a bow with a camera hidden inside it, anytime anyone asked why she wore it, she just said her Father had gotten it for her and she liked it. The green bow sat adorably atop her dark brown high ponytail, recording everything. Anything the teachers did wrong, her dad who reviewed the footage with her each day, made an extensive log of. But by the end of the two months she had in her possession a video of evidence for Nelson. The class before recess that day she heard Nelson whinning that he was stuck inside and she was already a little annoyed about her math test grade so she quickly scribbled a note to Bart.

'Sorry.’ It read and Kaley passed it to him quickly.

He gave her a look and she held up a finger.

“Nelson quit bitching.” She said loudly.

“Inside recess and your Father will hear about this!” the teacher yelled, which was also caught on the camera she still wore.

When that class ended, she paused at the door and waited for Nelson.

“Hey Nelson, I’m sorry. I just needed to get inside recess today. I need to show you something. Will you show me to the inside recess room?” Kaley asked looking at him.

Nelson went from angry to curious before nodding and leading her from the room. Within a few seconds they got to the inside room, beanbags games and cards lay around in a semi organized mess. No teacher watching them, but a tv with a tape player stood at the front.

“What did you have to show me?” Nelson asked looking at her.

Kaley pulled the tape from her bag and motioned for him sit down. He did that and waited while she put the tape in.

“Nelson, this is a tape containing the days you aren’t at recess, this is the last two months but it happens every time you aren’t out there.” Kaley said simply hitting play before taking a seat by him.

He watched the TV as the video played. Kaley watched as he seemingly grew angrier and angrier. When the tape ended, he turned to her.

“That tapes real?” he asked.

She nodded and pointed to her bow.

“I have a camera in here.” She said revealing it.

Nelson nodded and rose to his feet, pacing around the room.

“It happens every time I’m not out there?” He asked seemingly to clarify.

Kaley nodded again.

“Every time.” She affirmed.

Nelson nodded and continued to pace before in the last five minutes of recess he sat back down beside her.

“You keep that bow camera and you watch our boy.” He said firmly.

She nodded but raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“What are you gonna do?” She asked.

He gave her an evil look.

“I’m going to get suspended for at least a week.” Nelson said as the bell rang

Nelson stood nodded to Kaley and walked into the hall calmly. Kaley jumped to her feet grabbed the tape and raced to the hallway, slipping the tape Into her bag, she paused at Bart’s side right as Nelson took his two goons to the ground. Skinner arriving shortly to break the fight up. Nelson paused in front of Bart and Kaley.

“Bart beat them if they do it again. Kaley you know what to do.” He said firmly.

Both of them nodded as he was walked to the office. Nelson’s prediction was right and he was suspended for ten days, just over the week he said. Kaley made sure to record everything while he was gone and Bart did his best to fight back. That seemed enough to make them leave Bart alone. Only for them to turn and go after Kaley.

“This is a bad idea.” She said calmly.

They cracked their knuckles and continued forward. It had been nine days since Nelson’s suspension.

“Oh yeah? Why?” one of the two asked, she didn’t know his name.

She rolled her eyes and looked at them with a glare.

“Because my last name is Smithers-Burns, and you really don’t want the other two with that name to come after you.” Kaley said calmly voice distant and low.

The two backed off at that realizing their mess-up. When Nelson came back, he made an actual effort not to get recess detention even though his friends had actually laid off Bart a bit. It was five years later when anything else happened. Kaley had taken to wearing the green camera bow constantly, as the camera updated over the five years her bow changed a bit. She smiled as she paused next to Bart, his silver earring glinting in the light as he slouched against his locker.

“Hey Bart.” She said happily.

He hummed lightly before shaking himself and looking at her.

“Oh, hey Kaley.” He said standing up.

Kaley looked over to where he’d been staring, seeing Nelson at his locker, she rolled her eyes.

“Seriously Bart? You’ve liked him for five years just go tell him!” She exclaimed with an annoyed huff.

Bart quickly covered her mouth and dragged her into an empty room.

“Are you insane!? He’s fully straight!” Bart half shouted back.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“No, he’s not.” She said simply.

He looked at her confused, before shaking his head and shrugging.

“It doesn’t matter, even if he’s not, he can do better than me.” Bart said with a sigh.

Kaley went to say something but the bell rang.

“Just think about it!” She called as Bart rushed from the room.

Kaley didn’t go anywhere as the room Bart had dragged her into was her next class. The next person in was Nelson and they took their seats at the lab table.

“What’s up with Bart?” Nelson asked.

Kaley sighed and looked at him with a slight glare. Nelson nudged her.

“You look like your father when you do that.” He said.

Kaley cracked a small smile and looked at him fully.

“He’s fallen for someone but won’t tell them.” Kaley said without telling Nelson anything.

Nelson huffed and turned around to the front looking glum. Kaley sighed and faced the front as well. A week later Kaley walked into the Park to see Bart getting beaten up by Nelson’s ex goons. Kaley paused took a picture texted it to Nelson and immediately called him.

“Nelson your boyfriend needs help. We’re at Springfield park.” Kaley said before ending the call just as quickly.

She ran over and tried to pull them off, being stronger than she looked had its advantages sometimes, although right now she was just struggling to keep one of them off Bart. It took a few minutes and the one Kaley held had just managed to bust free sending her slamming to the ground, before Nelson ran Into the park. He didn’t hesitate as he ran into the fray and sent both of the others to the ground, quickly getting them away from both Bart and Kaley. Nelson turned and helped Bart up, Kaley rising up by herself.

“You ok, Bart?” Nelson asked quietly.

Bart looked at Nelson and turned slightly, cheeks tinting red.

“Y-yeah I’m ok Nelson.” He said faintly.

Nelson nodded and looked him over. Kaley rolled her eyes.

“Just fucking kiss already.” She huffed looking at the two of them.

They both turned red and looked at her, she put her hands on her hips.

“You’ve been dancing around each other since you were ten. Just fucking date already. As both of your best friend, I beg you.” Kaley said with a small huff.

Nelson turned to look at Bart and drew him into a light kiss, Bart freezing for a second before kissing back. Kaley sighed and smiled softly. The rest of the year went decently no one dared to mess with Bart with him dating Nelson. Although Bart’s dad did kick him out and he started living with Kaley her parents.

“Bart! Nelson’s on the phone! Could you hurry up though! I want to call Lisa!” Kaley shouted through his door.

Bart opened his door and leaned against it, taking the phone from her.

“Hold on, Nel. It’s weird as hell that you’re dating my sister, and just use the downstairs line!” Bart grumped.

Kaley slammed her hand against the door as he tried to close it.

“It’s not weird. And I want to be able to laugh and giggle and talk with my girlfriend in my room like you get to talk to Nelson! You two always hog the phone!” she huffed annoyed.

Bart made a face before forcing the door shut. She yelled out a groan and turned to stomp back to her room.

“Kaley.” Her dad called from up the hall.

She looked up at him and smiled.

“Hi daddy, what’s up?” She asked.

Her dad smiled and waved her close before directing her into her room where her Father stood with a small platter in his hands.

“Father you’re home!” Kaley called happily and ran over hugging him gently.

Her Father smiled and nodded.

“Yes, I am, and your dad and I have decided to change a few things around here. Starting with this.” Her father said pulling the lid off the platter with a flourish.

Sitting on the platter was a landline phone.

“My own phone line?” she asked.

Her parents nodded.

“Yes, Bart is always taking the phone up here which is fine but it causes issues between you two and that’s not right. So now you have your own line.” Her Dad explained.

She squealed and hugged them both, before they hooked up the line and left so she could call Lisa. Both Bart and Kaley stopped fighting but now Waylon had the hard task of getting them off the phone for dinner. Two years later and they all graduated, even Lisa who had skipped two grades to join them. They spent the night laughing sitting in the park talking about how much they had changed. Nelson had an ear and nose piercing; Bart had his ear piercing. Both Kaley and Lisa had multiple piercings in their ears Kaley also had a tongue piercing and snake bites, while Lisa had gotten a nose piercing. They laughed long into the night sharing stupid stories from their point of view.

“Got Kaley to thank for this.” Nelson said hours later.

Bart and Lisa looked at him.

“I secretly made a tape of those idiots chasing and beating on Bart way back in what fourth grade? And when I told Nelson to stop bitching it was my plan to show him the tape.” Kaley said with a shrug.

Bart smiled and shook his head laughing.

“I wouldn’t tell him, so you found a way to show him.” Bart said.

That caused more laughter to ring through the group. Over the next few years the girls went to college and the guys started work and they ended up living in a duplex in town together, spending the majority of their time together.

[crazybagelbitch]

Part 2 Maddie finally updates chimney and he meets her at the hospital.

His legs are shaking the moment he half-stumbles out of Hen’s car-- kind, patient Hen who he has no idea if he even gave her a coherent explanation of what’s going on but knew he wasn’t in a state to drive himself anywhere. Does Maddie hate him? Does Josie hate him? And most importantly, is Josie even okay? It was just in the most mild use of the word a hurt wrist but that was only when Maddie was on the phone with her. What if Fred heard her call 9-1-1 and--

“Chimney!” Maddie calls, waving her hands at him from outside the hospital doors, “come on, let’s go see her before Maria’s done getting checked over and Fred’s done being questioned by the police.”

He nods, scurrying over and it takes a few feet into the hospital before he fully processes all that’s been said to him.

“Maria-- is she hurt? Did he hurt her?” he asks, because even if his ex-wife isn’t his favorite person, he would never, ever wish any harm on her.

“He didn’t directly hurt her, but it’s only a matter of time,” Maddie spits out bitterly, as if the words are burning her tongue and given her history, it might be true, “shards of glass gave her a few minor cuts from when he threw a vase or whatever it was this time at the wall. She’s going to be okay, they’re just taking the glass out of her wounds.”

“And Josie?” he asks, breath almost catching in his throat and making him cough.

“Bad sprain, not broken. Not hurt anywhere else except she’ll probably have a few bruises from when she fell.”

“Does she hate me?” he squeaks out, and Maddie furrows her brow.

“No, why would she--”

“Howie!” Josie whimpers, and he’d been so caught up in getting all the important details from Maddie that he hadn’t even noticed that they’d entered the exam room.

“Josie, oh my god, Josie,” he breaths, tears starting to fall from his eyes as he rushes forward to hug her, “it’s okay, it’s okay. You did the right thing and called for help, I’m so proud of you.”

“Was scared, so scared,” she cries, burying her head in her ex stepfather’s shoulder, “I-I don’t want to love there anymore. Not unless she leaves him.”

“I know, Josie-Girl, I know,” whispers, kissing the side of her head, “I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

“You can stay with us,” Maddie says determinedly, “I’m not letting you go back there.”

Chimney turns to give her a “hey, you know we can’t promise her that” sort of look but Maddie’s not having that, shaking her head as she continues.

“Chimney, you know it’s not safe there.”

“I know, of course I know that,” he sighs, “you think I want to let her go back there? Of course we’re taking her home with us tonight but this, even though it should, it’s not going to get her legally removed from her house. Her mom is the only one with legal custody of her and now she knows where to go looking if Josie isn’t home. We’ll keep her as long as we can but you and I both know what happens the minute Maria goes to the police...”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Maddie, you know we can’t promise anything, as much as I’d love to because I don’t want my Josie getting hurt ever again.”

“I can try and pull a few strings for tonight and maybe the next few days,” Athena announces, walking into the room with a frown on her face, “this is enough to get CPS to take a look into it, and while they should have her semi-permanently removed I don’t expect that to happen. But they probably won’t want her to go home tonight and I can see if I can arrange for her to stay with you two instead of foster home, given that if I argue it well enough they might see Chimney as family. Does Maria have any family in the area?”

“No, they’re all in the Midwest.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Athena nods, flashing Chimney a sympathetic smile as pulls out her phone and exists the exam room as quickly as she entered it.

“Hurts,” Josie sniffles, holding out her bandaged wrist and Chimney gets the hint right away, pressing a few soft kisses against the bandages just as he used to do for her when she was hurt as a little girl.

And this, Maddie thinks, hands on her almost nine months pregnant belly, this is what family is, right? Josephine might not be related by blood to either of them,  but Chimney loves her and helped raise her for eight years and Josephine clearly feels more safe and comfortable with him than she does at home. She belongs with them, at least until Maria leaves her husband.

She’s sympathetic to an extent, of course she is after going through what she did with Doug. But it’s hard not to want to scream as she knows Maria is going to back up all Fred’s lies and excuses, trying to feed a story to the police that absolutely did not happen, and knowing that Maria didn’t kick him out of the house for rejecting her daughter when she told them she thinks she might be a lesbian.

No, Josie is theirs until her mother leaves Fred, if she ever does.

The law might not be on their side, but the law is failing a child in this instance, so they’ll figure something out.

They’ll have to.

[floatingpetals]

Boys in Blue || Pt. 4

Pairings: cop!Stucky x F!Reader

Warnings: none, maybe language

Word Count: 2700+

Summary: (Cop AU) There was just one crappy thing after enough that happened to her. It possibly couldn’t get any worse, or so she thought until she saw the dreaded flashes of red and blue behind her. Could things get any worse?

A/N: I dunno what to say here. Things get a little saucy at the end but nothing to pg rated. Let me know what ya’ll think! now that I’m up to date on what I have written on this series, i’m gonna jump between my other ones I’ve put off because of this story. It probably wouldn’t be much longer, but it all depends on what feedback you give me! more feedback, probably more parts! Enjoyy!! 

The gifs are not mine, credit to the owner.

Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Series Masterlist

After finishing her grocery shopping, Y/N went home and started her short list of chores. She still hadn’t heard back from Bucky or even from Steve for that matter. Either way, it was fine with her. She knew if she didn’t take her mind off things, she’d freak out about the dinner. A simple freaking dinner, she kept reminding herself. It wasn’t until around 4:15 that her phone finally lit up.

(Unknown number)- Hey doll, it’s Steve.

(Unknown number)- Just wanted to let you know I got off. Bucky said your gonna meet us for dinner tonight?

(Y/N)- Hey! Sure am! Hope that’s okay with you.

(The Stevenator)- Of course it is! I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to come.

(Y/N)- Man you caught me.

(The Stevenator)- ??

(Y/N)- I thought Bucky would give me a ticket if I said no.

(Y/N)- 🤣🤣

(The Stevenator)- … you’re a punk.

(Y/N)- ❤. But seriously, I do really want to join you both tonight.

(Y/N)- Bucky never said a time though since he wasn’t sure when you’d get off.

(The Stevenator)- how about 5:30? I want to shower the office off first.

(Y/N)- Works for me! Just text me the address and I’ll meet you there.

(The Stevenator)- 👍

Y/N giggled and spilled her phone in her pocket and went to get ready for her dinner. She already had an argument with Maddie earlier. It wasn’t a date. They asked her out to eat, probably to get to know her better, but never once said it was a date. So why were her palms sweating when she pulled up to the restaurant?

Taking a deep breath, Y/N grabbed her purse and slowly stepped out of her car. When she walked in, she was hit with the mouth-watering smell and the upbeat atmosphere of the little restaurant. She spotted Bucky and Steve sitting on a high top on the other side of the room. Bucky was facing the door, his face lit up when he spotted Y/N walk in. She waved and made her way to the table. Steve and Bucky both stood, beaming at her. Her breath caught in her throat. How does she always forget how attractive these two are? Both were dressed casually, opting for jeans and simple t-shirts, but it was enough to get her heart racing.

“Hey! I guess you found the place okay.” Steve said, leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek. Y/N’s face lit up, a giddy giggle slipping from her lips. Bucky reached out and gave her a side hug before ushering her to the empty seat beside him.

“Yeah. I’m surprised I’ve never been here before. I hadn’t realized I drive past this place every day.” Y/N hung her purse on the back of the chair as she sat. She couldn’t help but notice Bucky scoot his chair closer when her back was turned, his arms brushing against hers. Y/N titled her head to look at Bucky, noticing instead of his hair slick back he left it to curl naturally at the top and gave him a softer appearance than last night.

“This is one of our favorite places.” Bucky grinned, motioning to the menu. “We got a call a few months back about a fight. The owner wouldn’t let us leave without a free meal after we took care of the drunk and we’ve been hooked ever since.”

Y/N laughed and picked up the menu.

“Well, anything can be good if it’s free. But if you keep comin’ back, it probably is. What do you recommend?”

More than happy to help, the two showed her their favorites and then some. It was funny watching them bicker over what was better, the two act more like a married couple. After much deliberation and plenty of feedback on what was best, she was finally able to pick something.

“I swear you two are a bigger handful than me.” Y/N chuckled. Both men ducked their head, blushing at her teasing. “No, really. I’m impressed. I didn’t think I’d ever meet someone on my level.”

“Well, we’ve learned some tricks from the best.” Bucky chuckled and nudged her with his shoulder. He shared a glance with Steve, the corners of Steve’s lips turned up. She had no clue what the look meant, but she could tell it had a hidden meaning. Clearing her throat, Y/N shifted in her seat. Their gaze snapped to her, something unreadable in their expressions.

“So, how was work today?” She asked. Steve let out a sigh and sank back in his seat.

“It was… well, work. I wasn’t actually supposed to be in today, but there was paperwork that didn’t get filed right so I had to go in and help.”

“Technically, you didn’t,” Bucky interjected. Steve narrowed his eyes at Bucky, his lips curling into a frown. Bucky ignored the glare and turned to Y/N. “Steve has a plan to be captain one day. So, he feels it's his duty to take care of every problem that comes up.”

“I don’t feel-.” Steve started. Bucky waved him off with a hand.

“Nah, you do this a lot. I get you want to be captain, but sometimes you have to let people figure their shit out first before you jump in to help. It’s a nice thought, but he runs himself ragged most days because he over works.”” Y/N could tell from Bucky’s tired tone this has been an ongoing argument between the two of them.

“Well, being a captain would be great.” Y/N jumped in. “But I’d have to agree with Bucky. People need to learn from their mistakes, but you, more importantly, need to worry about your health.”

Steve shrugged and pushed around his silverware. She could tell he at least felt guilty, but Y/N also had a feeling he wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

“What about you, Bucky?” She asked. “Any plans on moving up in the ranks?”

Bucky shrugged. “I was planning on at least making it to sergeant. I have a test coming up here soon, but I don’t think I’m going to pass.”

Steve snorted. “Oh please. I found you last week passed out on your textbooks on the kitchen table. If you're not at work or eating, you’ve got your nose buried in the books. You’ll pass no problem.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Bucky sighed. Y/N elbowed him in the side, not liking his tone.

“Hey. Don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Thanks, doll.” Bucky blushed, ducking his chin. Steve chuckled and shook his head.

“And what about you? I’m guessing you have to go through the ranks too?”

“He’s actually is already a sergeant.” Bucky grinned, pride oozing out of his pores. Steve blushed bright red. Y/N’s eyes shot up to her hairline.

“Really? You never said anything about being a sergeant when you pulled me over.”

“Yeah, well. It’s a recent development.” Steve mumbled.

“Steve started a year before me, so he’s had a head start. But yep. He’s a sergeant and I’m under his command.” Bucky chuckled.

“For four more weeks. Then you’ll take the test, pass and then in seven or so weeks have your own squad that will drive you up a tree.” Steve corrected him. Y/N giggled softly as Bucky’s scoff.

“You asked for it when you wanted me in your squad. Not my fault the Captain picked Wilson too.”

Steve groaned and rolled his eyes, landing on Y/N.

“So, what about you? You know what we do, what do you do?”

A giggle bubbled up her lips and Bucky rolled his eyes at Steve’s veer in the conversation. She explained what she did, nowhere near as interesting as their line of work, but they didn’t seem slightly put off with it. They soaked in every word she said, not once turning their attention away from her as she spoke. It wasn’t until their food was set in front of her that they let themselves get distracted.  

The food still didn’t stop them, they filled the silence on her end by chatted about anything and most everything as they ate. Bucky and Steve seemed more interest in knowing as much as they could about Y/N than talking about themselves. Not that she complained, they actually seemed interested in what she was saying.

“So, no cats or dogs?”

“Nope.” Y/N shook her head. “I haven’t had much time, but I’ve been thinking of getting maybe a cat. What about you?”

“Nah, we don’t have time either. With one or both of us gone, we couldn’t really get a pet right now.” Steve shrugged, taking a bite from his fries. Y/N’s brows furrowed, questions she had were quickly being answered, but also opened up a lot more.

“Do you live together?”

Bucky nodded. “Yup. We’ve known each other for years, so figured it wouldn’t hurt to live together.”

Y/N hummed, taking a sip from her drink. She missed the meaningful glance the two shared, their lips twitching to hide their grins. When Y/N turned back, the looks were gone. Unaware, Y/N moved on in the conversation while picking at her food. Twenty minutes later, Y/N had to stop touching her food.

“I can’t eat anymore.” Y/N sighed, leaning back in her seat. She still had some food left on her plate, but the other two’s plate was completely wiped clean. They echoed her sentiment, Bucky rubbing his stomach while Steve slouched back in the chair. The waitress stepped up then, motioning to their plates.

“Can I clear any of these plates for you?”

“Sure can.” Bucky nodded and stacked the plates, passing them her way.

“Are these separate checks or all on one?”

“I’m separate.”

“All on one.”

Bucky and Y/N said at the same time. They both stopped short, mouth’s snapping shut and turned to face each other. Steve and the waitress giggled while the two sitting next each other had a short standoff. Bucky raised a brow, almost as if inviting her to start arguing.

“I’m the one who invited you out.” He stated determinedly. Y/N started to protest, but Bucky cut her off look. “Nope. My treat. You can pay next time if you really want.”

Y/N sighed and threw her hands up. Bucky was dead set on paying, and she was too full to argue. He nodded for the waitress to leave, smugly grinning with his arms crossed against his chest. Steve shook his head and turned to Y/N.

“You know he’s not gonna let you pay next time, right?”

“Oh, I’m fully aware.” Y/N let a huff of air through her nose. Bucky ignored the two, leaning back with his arm draped along the back of her chair. Y/N’s face burned when she felt his hand brush against her shoulder.

“What can I say? My mamma raised me right.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you’re still sitting here.” He pointed out with a smug girl. The waitress came back with the check, and Bucky set a few bills in the servers wallet. Y/N knew this was the end of their dinner, and she had a lot she had to tell Maddie the next day. However, right now, she didn’t want to leave their company. From the looks on their faces, they didn’t either. Bucky let out a heavy sigh, his thumb brushing softly against her shoulder. Y/N unconsciously leaned into his hand, finding comfort in his touch.

“Well, as much as I’d like to sit, we should probably head out before out before it gets much later,” Steve said unhappily and reluctantly stood. Bucky grumbled and withdrew his arm. He pushed back to stand and stuck his hand out to help her stand as well.

Walking to Y/N to her car, the two-sided up beside, surrounding her in their warmth. Y/N already found it harder to leave them, being between them didn’t help either. She couldn’t ignore the butterflies growing in her stomach. They made her feel safe, and not just because they were police officers. They had been nothing but sweet and attentive the entire night. Crap, she thought as they stopped beside her car, she was quickly falling for them. And she had a feeling there was something more going on between the two men.

They stopped at the front of her car, Y/N taking one step forward to face them both. Bucky and Steve filled in the gap, standing so close their arms brushed against each other. Y/N let her eyes linger for a moment, noting they were equally oblivious to the fact they just stepped closer. She smiled and looked at their faces, both appearing a little troubled by her silence.

“I had a really good time tonight.” She said softly.

Steve slowly smiled back, untucking his hands from his pockets to step forward for a hug. Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist, letting him tug her close and nuzzle against her head. Her eyelids fluttered shut, unconsciously taking in a deep breath, his clean and pleasing scent hitting her senses. He remaindered her of a rainy spring day. She bit the inside of her cheek, holding back a groan.

Steve was reluctant to pull back, but Bucky cleared his throat behind him. He glared at the brunette over his shoulder, but stepped back, his hands lingering on her hip. He pressed a kiss against her cheek, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose before he pulled back.

“I really enjoyed tonight too.” He murmured; his blue eyes boring deeply into her own. She couldn’t stop her body from trembling at the fire behind his look. It was enough to turn her brain to mush and to forget all coherent thoughts. Given no time to recover, Bucky was there, sweeping her up in his arms into another hug.

Y/N didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms under his, tightening her grip on the back of his shirt. Just like Steve she was hit with his smell, only sharply different. While Steve smelled clean, Bucky was a dark and heady. It was almost like dark chocolate and oak. He tightened his grip around her waist, holding her for as long as he could before he too stepped back. Not to be outmatched by Steve, he placed a kiss on her opposite cheek.

“We’d love to do this again sometime if that’s alright with you?” He rasped, tilting his head to the side while he watched Y/N’s face. She glanced over to Steve, who had the same earnest expression and back to Bucky.

Y/N couldn’t find her voice, nodded and licked her lips. Bucky’s gaze snapped down to her mouth, watching her tongue slip back between her lips. He had to step back, not only for himself, but he could tell Y/N needed a chance to catch her breath.

“I-uh. Yes.” She stuttered. “I’d really like that.”

The two men grinned, the shoulders relaxing. Steve’s phone vibrated in his pocket, the shrill beep shattering the atmosphere. He sighed.

“Probably someone from work.” He groaned. Bucky frowned and glared at the phone.

“Well, you’re off tonight and tomorrow. That can wait till Monday if they can’t figure it out on their own.” He snapped. Turning back to Y/N he nudged her towards her car. “Text us when you get home doll.”

“Right.” Y/N agreed, still trying to gather her wits. She unlocked her car and swung the door open, stopping just before climbing into the seat. She looked over to Steve and Bucky, who were still standing at the front end of her car. “Don’t go in, if that’s what they’re calling you about. You need a break to regroup yourself, and you can’t do that if you keep going in every time someone calls you about spilled milk.”

Steve blinked in shock, his mouth falling open with no reply. Y/N didn’t wait, climbed into her car and shut the door. As she started the car and put in reverse, she watched Bucky elbow Steve in the side, a giant smug grin on his face. She could tell him was bragging about him being right from the way Steve rolled his eyes. She giggled and back up, waving once before pulling away.

She drove home, dazed and happy. When she pulled into a parking spot in her apartment complex, it smacked right in the face her. She just had a date with Steve and Bucky. And she just agreed to have more. Maddie was going to get a kick out of this.

Perma Tag: (CLOSED)

@dolphinpink310 / @breezy1415 / @hymnofthevalkyrie / @sebbyismyking / @vivideley / @cherrynat / @heelsandfaces / @lovely-geek / @libbymouse / @the-crime-fighting-spider / @dkpink123 / @moderapoppins / @chuckennuggets1213 / @jack4xx / @witchymarvelspacecase / @xxxunluvablexxx / @mannatgalhotra / @kingslaxerpark / @xxashy999xx / @silver-starburst / @cartersbarnes / @thinkwritexpress-official / @feelmyroarrrr/  @m-a-t-91 /  @pizzarollpatrol /  @sea040561 /  @thefridgeismybestie /  @sergeantjbuckybarnes /  @jasura /  @palaiasaurus64 /  @teller258316 /  @disagreetoagree /  @lazinessisalliknow / @palaiasaurus64 / @bfuckjames / @sxdapxpcutis / @doraola / @kkaos15 / @tylerrose931617 / @mummy-woves-you / @claraoswinns / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @delicatelyherdreams / @thisismysecrethappyplace / @dsakita / @look-to-the-stars-and-wish / @tomhollandtrashtm / @delicatelyherdreams / @cuddle-me-muke / @joyfulzipperpersoneclipse / @lisadickenson / @revenqers  / @dannydelay / @musicgirl234 / @iamwarrenspeace / @breathlesspeter / @thebunkerofatlas / @geeksareunique / @ravennightingaleandavatempus / @mcdesij / @unlikelygalaxygiver / @tranquility-or-chaos / @bandbooktvaddict / @mywinterwolf / @piensa-bonito / @nevernotfangirling / @cutie1365 / @harryngtonewithyourshit / @slytherinqueenie / @famouslastlove / @riseandshibe / @blizzbx / @electra-hxart / @lianadelphius / @steebrogurz / @foundthezucchini / @bi-bi-bi-bisexualz /  @whileinparis / @for-the-love-of-the-fandom / @delva-stardust / @awkwardfangirl2014 /

(Let me know if I missed you, the strike means I can’t tag you for some reason.)

Boys in Blue Taglist: (CLOSED!!!)

@debgreenleaf / @thorins-queen-of-erebor / @merigoldcaroline / @urbanrights / @taliarosej00 / @stuckysheart / @thenightkillers /  @desertrose-saku / @weyheycraicey /  @apocalypse-zombiie / @inspiration2001 / @impalaimages / @reading-stan / @angelicdisgrace /