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webanglikethat · 1 month ago

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⋆⁺₊❅. Lonely winter, cradle my heart.

Pairing: Vyxaria x Walter. Words: 4004. Tags: for @agattthaa’s birthday, @eeriedreamer, @malbontesmrs and @liykaii — thank you for always believing in me. & shoutout to tswift for writing peace, give it a listen!

🎼 “could it be enough, if I could never give you peace?, ts.

Raindrops fell down the window, as if chasing trails they were afraid to lose, slithering down like snakes on a fresh slippery bruise. The wind whispered against the walls, similar to how waves crash into the shore with more strength each time, as if seeking something, demanding it. The room was dimly lit and warm, but the heart of the succubus felt anything but.

It was truly pathetic; and the worst part was … she knew that.

A creature like her had no use for pain or sadness, let alone grief, but her heart felt consumed by it.

Vyxaria laid on the bed, eyes closed, replaying over and over the scene that would haunt her till her bones decayed, and her spirit vanished — …. Xantheia stabbing her.

Surely that couldn’t have been her Xantheia right? Not the Xantheia she spent all of her valuable moments with – not that succubi were supposed to have valuable moments, not with mortals, and certainly not with each other. But Xantheia had always been her exception. The Xantheia who laughed with her under moons swollen with silver light. The one who would trace her fingers along Vyxaria’s cheek, murmuring words too sweet to belong to their world. The Xantheia that would sit on the thrones of kings they’d manipulate, pretending that the kingdom now belonged to them. The Xantheia that – as human said – took her under her wings, as if some kind of protecting angel – and oh, how cruelly heaven turned out to be another fake.

It couldn’t be her Xantheia.

Maybe she imagined it. Maybe the chill of the air perforated her stomach. She had read somewhere that the mesosphere of this world was becoming weaker – whatever it meant. She hadn’t understood it then – for what did she care for human science? It made no sense to her nor brought her any kind of advantages — but now it cruelly reminded her of her own figure. Wasn’t she just the same? Once impenetrable, now fractured. Once strong, now laying on a bed of a house she couldn’t call her own, in a world that didn’t listen to her, eyes that closed which betrayed her with the same image under her lashes and in the depth of her iris. She could almost feel it, that weakening, spreading through her veins like frost, breaking apart everything she thought she was.

She pressed her hand against her chest, fingers trembling as though searching for a heartbeat. Of course, it wasn’t there; there was no pulse to find. There never had been. But now, the absence felt louder, deafening.

How could someone miss what they had never needed before?

What good was power, when she couldn’t even protect herself from a mere memory?

She closed her eyes, damning her own figure. Centuries of hunting, scheming, attacking, and yet all it took was one betrayal to crumble her down. Her chest heaved, and before she could stop herself, a sob clawed its way out of her throat, as if begging to finally be let free – something she could never be. It was raw, jagged, unfamiliar – a sound she didn’t recognize as her own. Her grief had welled up, transporting itself from her organs to her mouth, climbing the soundbox of her lips, and it finally bled.

The flood was open.

Dark blue drops bruised her bedding, as if to shame her, drown her into her incompetence. Tears spilled over her lashes, unbidden, and the sky itself seemed to react, for the wind got stronger, smearing the windows of her room, the jalousies of her face.

No, no, no.

This wasn’t her. This couldn’t be her.

The storm outside screamed as though mocking her, ridiculing her for behaving like a weak mortal whose heart had been broken, but her own grief was louder, more strident, intrusive, pushy as if to say - yes, I know, and I’m already punishing myself.

She tried to stifle the sound, dissect it with her fingers clamped over her mouth, but the battle had been lost long before it began. It couldn’t be buried, it was implanted. And so, the roots of pain grew over her figure, reaching her neck, and in a twisted way, it reminded her of the touch she so desperately wanted to forget.

Vyxaria wished she could turn it all off. She wasn’t supposed to feel in the first place, perhaps a curse disguised as a blessing. She was a soulless creature, mistress of the night, conquistador of men and women alike. So why, why did she now feel like a spider in the corner of someone’s room? Weaving, weaving, weaving till her fingers bled.

Feelings weren’t for her.

She was not for this world.

She wasn’t for her “home world”, either.

A Soulless creature who felt too much. Foreigner on earth, stranger at home. Everywhere she went, it wasn’t enough. She was rejected, as if her mere presence was a toxin nobody could withstand – too eager to be purged, buried, forgotten.

She wished she could reach into her stomach, cradle her bones and caress the spot where her body’s warmth had been cascaded with blood, warm blood, blood that had begun at her hips and ended at her head, where it ultimately stayed, festering the remains of the cavity of her ruin.

It was pathetic because all the times she had been hunted, she had assumed that one misstep would lead her into a trap. One day she’d be too slow, maybe she’d slip, perhaps she’d accidentally turn around and be hit right in the chest. It would be a scheme, a well thought plan, a step-by-step approach for her downfall.

But alas, the world sneered at her, for it wasn’t strength, desire, fury or confusion that brought her down, but affection.

Pure, unbridled affection.

She should have never let it into her chest, but she didn’t notice the way her guarded bridge opened itself for the closest thing she had to family. Her castle had crumbled overnight, both by the admission and the betrayal. It was nauseating, the kind of disease you cannot name. Maybe in fifty years humans would look at her, dichotomize her bones and blood, and classify it after her. ‘The plague of trusting’ – and so, she’d be immortalized as a weak, fragile creature whose sin had not been existing, but trusting.

Vyxaria pressed a hand to her abdomen, feeling the presence of the phantom wound. It lingered, and lingered, and lingered, braiding itself in the marrow of her being.

Pathetic. Truly fucking pathetic.

The name burned on her lips, seared through her arms and dissipated in her legs — for yes, the blade might have only plunged into her stomach, but it spread like a wildfire through the rivers and valleys of her body.

Perhaps this was the hell humans so ardently feared.

Fires of hell, daughter of seduction.

Maybe this was her home call.

Caught in the place that she had sneered for others.

A spider, suffocated by its own construction.

A knock broke through the storm’s howling, pulling her away from her thoughts. She rolled her eyes, the sound reverberating in the small room, against the mournful rhythm of the rain. Even with tears on her face, she could feel annoyance. Of course, of course she wasn’t graced with silence when she needed it!

Another knock, this one softer, almost hesitant, tentative.

There was only one, who could treat even her door so softly.

Only one who had ever treated her so tenderly.

“Vyxaria?”

The voice was unmistakable — she could’ve written down the notes of his talking if she were to go deaf. It was accompanied by a warmth that didn’t belong in the cold chaos of her night, or the tempest of her mind.

Walter.

She didn’t answer. Her throat felt dry, and the thought of facing him — of being seen like this — was unbearable. But Walter was nothing if not persistent. The entrance door creaked open slowly, just enough for him to step inside.

“Vyx? The door was open. Are…are you here?” If the demon felt anything at the nickname, she didn’t show it. She quickly stood up, annoyance replacing her hurt. How dare he intrude? How dare he be here? But as she thought that, something else intruded her heart too. Blue warmth, the colour of his eyes.

She wouldn’t let that drown her too.

“Don’t come inside!” she yelled at him, now standing up in her room. She couldn’t risk him seeing her like that. She was a mess, both inside and outside. He couldn’t view the unravelling. It wasn’t meant for her body, nor his eyes.

“Vyxaria… I’m not going to leave unless I know you’re alright”, he whispered, as if trying to not intrude with his voice. Even then, he respected her space, as if it was some kind of human being. He was too nice for his own good, she thought with a slight grin. Maybe he had been right, maybe they should’ve just stayed out of each other’s orbits – she brought nothing but upheaval.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, as she left her bedroom. She was going to regret it, she could feel it in her bones. Her voice was shaky despite her attempt to sound biting. “Always needing to be the hero.”

She finally reached the living room, where he stood. As soon as their gazes met, his softened, while hers hardened. She knew her eyes were probably red, she knew her hair was probably a mess, she knew but yet… she let him witness that. Her hair was falling like a curtain to shield her expression, but even in disguise, Walter knew her too well.

“Maybe,” he replied softly, stepping closer, his movements deliberate and slow. “But heroes don’t walk away when someone they care about is hurting.”

Her breath hitched, the word care ringing in her ears, unwanted but impossible to ignore. She clenched her fists tighter, her nails digging into her palms. What was she thinking? She couldn’t. She couldn’t let him in. What was care in the face of death?

‘Care? Is that what this is? Your way to look better?’, she answered, trying her best to sound enraged. But she wasn't. She wanted him to feel it, to reject it, to reject her. But she never could do the opposite.

“You don’t get it,” she added sharply, her voice cracking despite her best efforts to sound composed. “You think you can just — what? Walk in here, say the right things, and fix this?” She laughed bitterly, her fists clenching. “This isn’t something you can fix, Walter. I’m not a cloth for you to iron and smooth over. I’m not a crease you can undo. I’m not a toy whose batteries have been drained. And you’d be foolish to think otherwise”

Walter flinched at her words, but he didn’t back away. Let the waves of her anger overtake him, he thought – as long as she reached the shore of understanding. He clenched his hands, to stop himself from reaching for her. The action didn’t go unnoticed, making the demon’s hurt bleed even faster. Even then, he respected her choice, even if it tore him apart. “That’s not true,” he said, stepping closer despite her glare. “Whatever you think you��ve done—whatever’s tearing you up inside—”

“Stop!” she snapped, her voice rising as she took a step back, putting distance between them. Her legs hit the couch, but she didn’t care. She needed space, needed air, not whatever this was. “Don’t act like you know what this feels like. You don’t know what it’s like to be … betrayed by an embrace that turns into the gates of death. To be—” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard, forcing the rest of the words out. “To lose the one thing you held onto. This world isn’t for me, Walter, and now I lost my only bridge to home. Or whatever that world was. I can barely call it home now, can I?”

His gaze softened, his iris moving in confusion, understanding, and fear all in one. He could see the same reflected into her own face. ‘This isn’t your f–’

“Don’t you dare tell me it’s not my fault. I let her in, Walter. I trusted her. I wanted to trust her. I let myself believe—” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep going. She might as well unlock the vault and let the contents spill. “I should have seen it coming. I should have known. Affection isn’t for creatures like me. I should have known better. That thing? That thing you clutch so desperately? It’s not in my chest. But for a moment it felt like it. And I liked it. I liked that feeling..”

“For a moment, I let myself forget I was a succubus. And now I feel anything but. Look at me!”, she almost screamed. His eyes had never left hers, but he knew what she meant. “I’m a mess. But I don’t break. I shouldn’t break. I’m the one who conquers, who breaks, who disturbs, who crumbles and separates — and now … now I’m this”, she spat out the last word, as if it was choking her.

Walter moved closer, step for step, till the distance between them was of arm reach. It wasn’t hesitation, far from it. He wanted nothing more than to extend his hand, let her face be caressed by his affection, to unravel the strings of the pain that chocked her and transform it into jewelry to be adored. He wasn’t here to challenge her or further rattle her — when, and if, she wanted to, she’d be the one to close the gravity between them.

He spoke again, "You think being unbreakable is strength, that it is something to admire and parade – and I can understand why! We were taught that, you and I. But even those stones that you admire in passing in the streets? They crack under pressure, Vyxaria. That doesn’t make them useless or futile, does it? And you — God, you're more than that. You are so much greater than the parts you’ve lost or feel like you’ve abandoned. So let yourself break if you must — because even in pieces, you'd be more whole than anyone I've ever known. You're not a simple 'this.' You're so much more."

The words hung, like roots on a wall, battling her, confusing her… comforting her, all at once. Vyxaria hated how they made her chest tighten. Hated the way his presence, calm and steady, made her want to crumble. She wanted him to leave, but she needed him to stay. To stay, stay as he was — stay with his ocean filled irises, his sweet smile that always reached his eyes around her with his shoulders that would slump when laughing, guards falling down as if to welcome the mistress of the fortress home.

“What do you think this is?”, she whispered, brows furrowing.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but I want to be here for you” his arms were shaking as he raised them, as if to touch her face. And she let him. She finally let him. His touch met her skin, and waves of pain met the shore of tenderness, the moon’s somber light mingled with the gleam of elliptical celestial bodies.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for”, she muttered, leaning into his touch, even when her mind asked her not to. She felt his fingers move tentatively, as if not daring to break the moment, as if afraid of breaking her.

“Perhaps. Perhaps you’re right. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know how to undo it, I don’t know how to come up with words that can alleviate it. But I know you. And that’s enough for me”

Her breath hitched at the sincerity of his voice. They weren’t words that could be faked, no, not when his voice sounded like he had been hit himself by the dagger. And for once, she didn’t know what to say, how to retort, how to push him away, to change the situation in her favour.

And it terrified her.

Not because his touch hurt her, but because it didn’t.

The clouds lifted from the sky, and she finally crashed into him, shores welcomed home, at last. It felt like a magnetic pull, a thread pulling her closer and closer, and she followed it, she trusted it, she let it happen. Because it was him, it was Walter. Her arms found the back of his neck, his hands the dips of her waist, and they held each other as if lost in the sea, as if their gazes were the only lifeline available.

“I hate you”, she whispered, “No you don’t”, he replied with a smile that finally bloomed again. Winter unfurled, spring brought its suitcases and sat down. It felt like a promise, one she didn’t dare accept, but at the same time couldn’t fathom refusing. She traced the lines of his smile with her fingers, and he let her. He’d let her do anything, even destroy him, if she needed to. He’d drown in her sadness if it meant saving her from it. Not that she needed saving, that part was clear. Not a bayonet, not a spear — perhaps a shield, a crossbow. He could be that for her, if only she let him.

Her nails dug into his shirt, as if holding onto him could keep the flood contained, but it was too late. The dam had broken, and she was drowning in it, spilling the parts of herself she swore no one would ever see. Tears unraveled again, this time quicker, as if they knew they now had a vessel, something that would catch them.

Walter simply held her closer. He didn’t flinch, he didn’t push her away, he didn’t grab her and scream at her for how pathetic it was. He simply stood there, held her as if the mere proximity could heal her panic, his hands circling the back of her neck, as if to soothe her. She hated how easy it was to fall, if he was there. She hated how easy she let herself crumble because in his eyes, she wasn’t a wrinkle. She hated how he was her truest undoing, and at the same time, the only shore she wanted. Her rusting armour fell, and instead of glaring at her scars, he held her. And she knew, deep down, that she didn’t hate it.

He pulled away only to be able to look at her, and before she could react, his lips pressed to her tears, as if they were bandages keeping the flood at rest. The world was in pieces, draining on the floor, bodies circling in the bleeding rain. But here, here she was at rest. In the final storm, what is there to do if not stay? Everything else drowned in the wreckage, but it was her whom he held onto. She was the only real thing. He simply caressed her face with his lips, as if to absorb the pain she couldn’t name.

She didn’t push him away, instead she let him kiss away her pain. It was new, unfamiliar, and she didn’t know how to react. She was used to pushy hands, tore clothes, messy lips and selfish demands. She didn’t know what the procedure was for affection — perhaps he would have to teach her. But it didn’t matter, nothing did when he looked at her and wasn’t afraid of what he saw. The inundation slowly stopped, and he smiled at her — something crashed, clung, ached in her chest. His fingers softly wiped the remains of her pain, and with him, she could pretend it was never there — but for once, she didn’t want to. She wanted him to view her, not the artificial figure she put up. The rawness, the anger, the ugly and the messy — for his eyes only.

She searched her mind for things she could say, sentences that would explain what this meant for her, but instead she rushed out “… Well, were you that thirsty? I didn’t take you for a guy who liked salty things”. As soon as she did, she cringed at her attempt to let a joke break the tension she had created, but he looked at her and pure unbridled laughter broke from his throat. It wasn’t a polite, perhaps nervous chuckle or the forced sympathy filled grin she expected. It was the kind of laughter that rattled your body, that made you shake your head in disbelief, and your eyes light up. And she liked that, being the reason of his reaction. She liked being the cause of his eyes closing in joy, his hands rising to cover his face as he laughed and laughed.

“Oh, Vyx…”, he replied, still laughing as he now held her even closer, “You’re lucky you’re not allergic to demons”, she added with a shrug, her hands reaching again for the back of his neck. She liked the position, she never wanted to be untangled again.

“Vyxaria, not even an allergy could stop me from reaching out for you”, he continued with a smile that began on his face and ended in her eyes, as if the very essence of his joy ended in the vast depth of the affection on the stage of her face. It travelled from his hands to her legs, and there it reached for her chest. She didn’t know how to respond, not with words, so she simply leaned into him again, breathed in his scent, and smiled to herself. A pure, gentle smile.

“You’re impossible”, she whispered against his shoulders with a grin she couldn’t veil.

“For you, I want to believe the opposite”, he admitted, holding her by the waist, as the sun finally turned to greet the two lovers. A little too late, she thought to herself, but she didn’t care, not when he held her Ike this.

And perhaps, Vyxaria could never give him the kind of peace he desired — she didn’t even know how to, but perhaps, they could still be enough.

Maybe the sky would bleed again, and the sun would hide to worlds they couldn’t reach — but they could be more. Fire to warm, protect, guide. So fierce it could create a new dawn, just for them. So soft it would erect sanctuaries.

“Does it always feel this …empty?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She let the words find place on her tongue, and freedom in the space between them.

He didn’t answer at first, afraid his words might break the fragile stillness between them, so he simply held her tighter, lulled her. One day, he decided, he’d sing for her – the way his chest did when she touched him like this. He gently cupped her hand in his. His thumb traced the delicate curve of her knuckles, a silent promise he didn’t know how to voice.

“No,” he murmured finally, his voice low and steady. “…not when you let someone stay.”

It wasn’t the grand confessions or fervent kisses she thought she would experience — it was more. The warmth of a hand that didn’t let go, the quiet strength of someone willing to hold her loneliness until it was no longer just hers. To be a vessel, a repository. To pull the strings of sadness of their chests, and make a sweater out of it to share.

Vyxaria and Walter both knew they weren’t perfect, and they might never be, but this was enough. It was enough to just exist, to be in each other’s orbit and let their hands find home in the dips, curves and heights of their bodies.

The rain outside stopped, windows finally shining again, and spring bloomed, fragile yet relentless. In the chest of the azul eyed merman and the succubus’s stirred soul, something new began to grow.

It wasn’t peace, but it was something more.

And it was enough.

It finally was enough.

#no beta reader we die like CEOs.#rc fanfic #rc fanfiction #rc vyxaria #rc walter #fanfic for agatha <3 #<- my fav walter girlie + check her fics!#— JB is writing ᝰ🖋️ˎˊ˗#writeblr #romance club #very ooc vyxaria

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dontfeeltoohot · 24 days ago

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A tiny little something for Chase bubba

+ + +

“h’tSChuh! Huh’iIKtSH-uh! SNGF!”

Chase rubs his right eye after surfacing from where he’s ducked his face into his arm, letting out two sick sounding sneezes. Foreman doesn’t look in his direction at all, either too absorbed in the new case file to hear or just too indifferent of Chase to care. Probably the latter.

Cameron on the other hand is frowning and gives him an over eager ‘salud’, which the blond pointedly ignores. Acting as if nothings happened, still looking at his own folder and writing down possible ideas, another sneeze prickles at the back of his sinuses. Throughout med school he’d been able to somehow avoid getting sick like the rest of his classmates, and even now his immune system is pretty hardy, he’s not been sick in years, until today, it seems.

He’d woken up with a faint ache in his throat and his body unusually tired. As he’d pulled on clothes and brushed his teeth his sinuses felt as though they’d been stuffed with cement and his ears had started feeling uncomfortable with every movement of his jaw.

He just needed to get through today, get home, down some cold medicine and sleep. He’d be fine tomorrow. Staring at the words on the page in front of him, the doctor wrinkles his nose and presses the back of his wrist against it, trying to discreetly rub the tip, the tickle growing. His breath catches as House starts asking them to bounce ideas around and he thinks he hears Foreman say something about encephalitis but can’t be quite sure.

“hh’KTSCH! Uh-IKSHuh!”

Chase manages to turn and bury his face into his arm, muffling his sneezes as much as he can. If he was in the comfort of his home, alone and uncaring, he’d not bother to cover, not when he’s the only one in the space. But here, at a hospital, he’s all too aware of other people. Plus it would give House yet another reason to-

“Ew, germs much?” House’s voice makes him look up, his tone full of mock disgust.

“I covered!”

“You grossed up your coat. Go sit in the corner, I don’t want your wombat illness. Who knows what kind of damage it could do. Might even come with rabies.”

Foreman rolls his eyes and Cameron lets out a huff. Chase just ignores the jibe. A moment later the end of the eldest doctors cane pushes against his arm.

“Corner. You. Now.”

“House, I know how to-“

“Nope. You’re the baby, and babies share their germs because they’re too inept to understand basic hygiene.”

“I’m twenty nine!”

“And that makes you the youngest child. Don’t worry, if you’re good maybe you can have a lollipop. Now go and sit over there, and try to do your job.”

#my fic #rc

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hexesandroses · 17 days ago

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Feeling unmotivated and struggling to work on any of my wips so. Have this snippet from a cainlane fic I started writing in June; semi nsfw

#look at my priest dawg i'm going to hell #aleksandra has yet to use cainlane's freak to her advantage #those two should be up to NO GOOD! but instead they're running in circles and doing god knows what in new york of all places #i miss being crazy about hsr and cainlane #it's a shame they're boring now #i have got to finish this fic soon #rc heaven's secret requiem #rc hsr #rc cain #rc lane #cainlane #my writing #romance club

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andorerso · 4 months ago

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farmer's daughter Jyn and ranch hand Cassian

#i may or may not be watching yellowstone #and ofc i inevitably turn everything into a rebelcaptain au #but i truly think the beth/rip dynamic would make such a fun au for them #shut up sissi #rc fic ideas

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pjoseries · 2 years ago

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Okay so I'm not a crazy stalker but I have read Rip Current no less than three times since finding it yesterday. If you would want inspo/ideas for future chapters please let me know because I have 'em. If not no problem just thought I would offer.

omg hi thank u sm !!! u are always free to drop ideas 🫶 idk if/when i can write tho 😭

#je réponds #la poste #realangston #f: none #fic: rc #t: ask

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rcmclachlan · 1 month ago

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One of my most persistent headcanons is that the 118 and the 217 work together in secret to try and get Buck and Tommy back together because none of them can take it anymore. They're all sick to death of the moping, the constant checking of phones, the sad, wistful smiles, the baking—oh god, they're so sick of the baking. Hen's ready to throttle Buck because Chimney's AIC levels are through the roof and if he becomes pre-diabetic she won't be responsible for her actions.

Not to mention the sad playlists. Lucy has been forced to listen to "Wasted Time" by the Eagles so often that if she ever sees Don Henley on the street she's gonna beat the ever-loving fuck out of him.

It isn't long before someone from one station reaches out to the other, because enough already, and then the 118 and 217 are meeting every Friday to brainstorm ways to get these idiots in a room together. But, oddly enough, it feels almost like the universe is working against them.

For one thing, their shifts never line up, even though Bobby and Captain Carson coordinate almost daily on making sure Buck's and Tommy's schedules match. They've even roped a few folks over at Dispatch into it to ensure the 217 and the 118 work the same calls. Despite this, there's a slew of emergencies that manage to mess up all their planning, pulling the 118 and the 217 to opposite sides of the city—or, in some cases, keeping one on the ground while the other is called to the sky.

Once it becomes apparent that The Great Reunification™ isn't going to happen on a call, they shift their efforts to group outings. The 217 are regular haunts of The Naughty Pig—they have a designated table and everything, right next to the staircase. So Eddie starts making noise about wanting to check out this one bar in West Hollywood that he hears is really cool and unpretentious, with an excellent selection of beer and cocktails, and after about a week of him dropping the most unsubtle hints in history, they get Buck to leave King Arthur and his flour in peace for a night so they can grab a drink at The Naughty Pig.

Except, when they show up, Tommy's nowhere to be found. While the others distract Buck by trying to get a table, Dana catches Hen's gaze and makes a small, throat-cutting gesture. They meet in the bathroom and Dana says Tommy went home sick earlier with what she suspects is pneumonia. Which means Hen's going to spend the night in this cool bar while Buck gets white girl wasted on Bud Light. By the time he's on his 8th and warbling into the table about Glee for whatever reason, Hen decides to call it a night.

A week or so after that, Eddie goes for broke and disconnects the battery in his car. That same night, Buck comes over to hang out and play video games (and offload a metric fuck ton of muffins), and when they decide to grab pizza, uh oh! Eddie's truck isn't starting.

He makes a big scene of looking under the hood, but he just can't find the problem. Buck's like "That really sucks but we can always take the jeep?" but no, Eddie needs his truck, how can he live and work without his precious Denali? He decides to call a buddy of his to come over and try to fix the issue, so he leaves the room and calls Tommy, who's surprised to hear from Eddie (which makes Eddie feel like a monster, because, yes, he hasn't really been in touch with Tommy since the breakup but he never meant for Tommy to think their friendship was collateral damage).

Tommy agrees to make the drive over, and Eddie walks back into the living, patting himself on the back, only to find Buck putting his shoes on. Maddie had called while Eddie was on the phone: Mrs. Lee was taken to the hospital by ambulance after a bad fall and Chim and Maddie need him to babysit Jee while they go to LA General. So not only does Eddie's plan backfire spectacularly in a way he can't even be mad about, but Tommy gives him shit for a week because Eddie apparently can't plug a loose cable into a battery on his own.

After that, the 118 and the 217 convene at their usual Friday spot and the mood is dour. Nico thinks it might be time to throw in the towel, and despite everyone making noise about it, no one can really argue with him. They'd given it their all, but the house won.

Then Lucy swans in, takes one look at their disappointed faces, and slaps a piece of paper down onto the table. It's a flyer for the Backdraft Ball next month.

Chim looks up at her, expression grave, and asks, "Do you really think this will work?"

"It's either this or I go to jail for murdering every single living member of the Eagles," Lucy says. "Which I might do anyway. I haven't decided."

"Well, we've come this far." Hen lifts her glass and surveys the rest of the table.

"And if it fails," Dana says, the corner of her mouth twitching like she maybe, possibly thinking about smiling within the next decade. "I can't say I haven't enjoyed this. It's been fun hanging out with you weirdos."

Rapping his knuckles on the table top, Eddie cheers, "Hear hear!"

"Your speaking privileges haven't been reinstated," Dana snaps. "Put a sock in it."

"I told you, the mustache was a toxic symbol! You can't still be mad about me shaving it!"

Dana sniffs and takes a dainty sip of her wine. "You look like a mutant four-year old."

"All right," Chim announces, standing. "Operation: Last Ditch Effort is a go."

They clink their glasses to seal the deal. When Dana knocks hers into Eddie's, his stein shatters.

A month passes and everyone's been talking about nothing except the Backdraft Ball, which Buck can't understand. In the eight years he's been a firefighter, they've never once attended.

"Didn't you once call it a pathetic get together for people who had to get their stomachs pumped on prom night?" He asks Hen, who's browsing the Local Eclectic website for earrings to go with her admittedly amazing jumpsuit.

Hen shrugs. "What can I say, Buckaroo? I've grown as a person."

Meanwhile, at the 217, Lucy corners Tommy in the Bell-205 and says, "If you don't go to the Backdraft Ball with me, I'm gonna tell everyone you said Elon Musk is a genius who's going to save the country."

Horrified, he says, "That's a fucking lie! You know I hate him more than my dad!"

Lucy smiles meanly. "I do know that. No one else does, though."

Later, when she's alone, she sends the group chat two emojis: a helicopter and a thumbs up.

Finally, the big night arrives and everyone's dressed to the nines. Even Buck can't help but be a little excited, because he's in a really nicely tailored tux, courtesy of Ravi for some reason, and there's a literal mountain of scallops wrapped in bacon, which he stands next to for most of the night until Maddie, who came as Chimney's date, wanders over and asks why he's not mingling.

"I dunno," he says, shoving his sixty-seventh scallop into his mouth. "I-I always thought... I guess I hoped I'd come to one of these with Tommy, you know? He's such a sucker for the whole all-eyes-on-you thing. He never went to any of his school dances, not even prom, because he wouldn't get to dance with the people he really wanted. I... I wanted to be that for him."

While Buck turns to the scallop mountain—which is more of a foothill now, thanks to his tireless efforts—Maddie looks across the ballroom where Lucy is talking to Tommy. Their gazes lock. Over Tommy's shoulder, Lucy jerks her head toward the dance floor, where they're playing some golden oldies and dozens of ancient captains are dancing with their wives to The Girl From Yesterday.

Maddie nods, then grabs Buck's hand. "C'mon. I want to get at least one dance in before the night's over."

Pulling a scallop off a toothpick, Buck squints. "Where's Chim? Isn't that, like, one of his duties as your husband?"

"Last I saw him, he was trying to convince Chief Simpson to install crazy slides in all the firehouses," Maddie says sunnily. "And honestly? Chief Simpson looked intrigued. So suck it up and take your sister for a spin."

Buck rolls his eyes and pops one more scallop into his mouth for the road, but he goes with her without complaint. Maddie stops at their table and says she's going to text their babysitter. She sends the group chat the green circle emoji. It's go time.

Elsewhere, Lucy slips her phone into her purse, then grabs Tommy's arm and says, "Great news! Dana's gonna make the DJ play something else before I burn the building down, which means we can get a dance in."

Wordlessly, Dana gets out of her seat and heads toward the front of the room.

Lucy drags Tommy into the crowd and makes sure to keep his line of sight away from where Maddie is doing the same to Buck. They've only got one shot at this and the timing has to be perfect.

Her cheek on Buck's chest, Maddie holds Lucy's gaze and gently leads him into a half circle, just as Lucy does the same with Tommy. Lucy gives a sharp nod of her head and, hands on Tommy's arms, spins him around so that when Maddie puts a hand on Buck's chest and shoves him as hard as she can, Tommy's there to break his fall.

"H-Hey, what was th—" Buck looks up with wide, outraged eyes, but the words stick in his throat when he sees who caught him.

Tommy's mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Even if he'd been able to find the words, the sweet keys of an old piano would've drowned them out.

Smirking, Lucy shoves Tommy a little closer, just as Nat King Cole croons "Unforgettable... that's what you are."

Lucy makes a note to buy Dana lunch the next time they're on shift, because, damn, good choice.

Almost as if he's helpless to stop himself, Tommy tightens his hold on Buck's waist, wrapping his arm a little tighter around him, and Buck can't prevent a shaky gasp from punching out of him when he gets a whiff of Tommy's cologne. He puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder to steady himself, unerringly stepping closer until they're chest to chest.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't..." He trails off, caught in Tommy's gaze, and he doesn't blink out of fear that this is some mercury-induced hallucination from all the scallops.

Smiling a little, Tommy takes Buck's hand in his. "You're free to say no, but—"

"Yes," Buck says immediately, nodding, tightening his fingers around Tommy's. "Yeah, let's, uh. Yeah."

Catching Maddie's gaze, Lucy jerks her head back toward the refreshment table, where the rest of their group is waiting. Hen's got the biggest shit-eating grin on her face, and Nico is dabbing at the corners of his eyes with a corner of Dana's shawl.

"Nicely done," Lucy says to Maddie, who preens a little.

"If you'd let me in on your little scheme earlier, I could've had them back together in a day."

They accept the back slaps and high-fives they've more than earned, then turn just in time for Buck to rest his cheek against Tommy's as they sway together. Maddie squints a little, but she thinks she sees Tommy murmuring along with Natalie Cole. "No, never before... has someone been more..."

She sniffles a little and happily takes the plate of fruit and cheese that Chimney hands her.

"Save the Studio Ghibli tears for the wedding," he says teasingly, then adopts the weird Brooklyn accent he busts out sometimes. "Ya did good, kid."

"I did good," Dana breaks in. "And if they use this song for their first dance, I take full credit."

She looks over at Nico, who's using a toothpick—with a zucchini and goat cheese rollup still skewered on it—to get something out from beneath his nail, and smacks him upside the head.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I've stopped shaving," Eddie says to her, gesturing toward his face with a can of ginger ale. "Am I allowed to speak again?"

She gives him a deadpan look. "Give it another week, then maybe. Right now you look like you're going through puberty again."

"Better than being four," he says cheerfully.

The group content themselves with watching Buck and Tommy for another minute, but when Buck tilts his head ever so slightly to brush his nose against Tommy's, Lucy makes a face. "I guess this means we don't need to keep meeting up on Fridays, huh?"

"Whoever said that?" Hen grins. "I still haven't managed to beat you at air hockey, Donato. I demand a rematch."

"Plus, my friend Josh has been a little unlucky in love these days and could use a hand," Maddie chimes in, then gestures toward the dance floor. "Our results speak for themselves."

The song has changed, but Buck and Tommy haven't noticed, too busy wrapped up in each other.

Lucy tilts her head and smiles. It looks like Tommy's exhaled for the first time in weeks.

Don Henley gets to live another day.

#bucktommy #this is not a serious story #rc's 911 fics #rc's harbor ocs

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allertonhoe · 8 days ago

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partners in lies - rafe cameron (smau)

masterlist ☆ 53 ← 54 → 55

summary: in which two public figures need help getting back into the public’s good graces after being bombarded in scandal.

content warnings: model!rafe x actress!reader au, original afab!reader, cameron family still gets along au, suggestive content, mentions/allusions to revenge p*rn (HOWEVER ALL CONTENT ITSELF IS SFW), mentions of cheating, mentions of alcohol, general fuckboy behaviour.

a/n: welpp 😱 the cat's officially out of the bag 💔💔 lol did anyone see that one coming?? hope you guys enjoy & appreciate all the love!! 6 chapters left 👀

taglist below!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #outer banks fanfic #obx fanfic #rafe cameron smau #rafe smau #obx smau #rafe cameron au #rafe au #rc #partners in lies fic

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edwardslvrr · 18 days ago

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TOUGH LOVE ⌗ rafe cameron part 1

౨ৎ f1driver!rafecameron x exgf!model!reader

the one where rafe cameron and reader had been together for 10 years before breaking up but well, breaking up isn’t easy when they have an almost four-year-old daughter together because now they still have to see each other every non-raceweek and rafe, he just cannot move on from her.

taglist if you'd like to be added to my taglist, message me privately or comment on this post

warning this is all fake and just for fun, no hate to any of the people mentioned. Just a reminder that this is pure for entertainment хохо

⌗ 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙚 ⌗ 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰

main masterlist ౨ৎ rafe masterlist

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 🧸 new notification from ‘Rafe Cameron’ 𓂃⋆.˚ imessage

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 🧸 new instagram story added 𓂃⋆.˚ ig/close friends

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 🏎️ new instagram post added 𓂃⋆.˚ ig/rafecameron

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 🏎️ new instagram post added 𓂃⋆.˚ ig/mclaren

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 🧸 new notification from ‘Sarah 🤍’ 𓂃⋆.˚ imessage

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 🧸 a look into the portfolio 𓂃⋆.˚ nova talent agency

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 🧸 new instagram story added 𓂃⋆.˚ ig/yourinstagram

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 🧸 new notification from ‘Rafe Cameron’ 𓂃⋆.˚ imessage

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 🏎️ countdown to testing has started!

edwardslvrr talks - hell yes y’all lets get started ‼️🙂‍↕️

taglist - @bradshawed @maybankslover @uarmyhopeworldwide @inthelibrarybtw @ursogorgeous13 @sereneera @lmaowhatt @mrsdrewstarkeyy @lomlolivia @marleymarleymarleymarley @akobx @ihateschool34 @yolgart @hadids-world @mima116 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @lilithblackkk @jkmylove97 @stereading

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astrea-lil-fantasy-world · 2 months ago

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Training Season

David x oc 7k+ words Tags: romance, angst, sexual tension, emotional conflict I've taken a lot of creative permissions, this doesn't follow any episode in the game, so keep it in mind

"Are you someone that I can give my heart to?

Or just the poison that I'm drawn to?''

The room was suffocatingly still, save for the fading echoes of a guttural scream that had moments earlier reverberated through the cracked walls. She leaned against the doorway, her damp hair plastered to her forehead as she clutched her coat tighter around herself. The exorcism was over—the malevolent presence banished—but the oppressive weight it left behind clung to her like a second skin.

David strolled in from the adjoining room, his dark curls falling messily over his forehead as though he hadn’t just faced down an ancient demon moments ago. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal forearms faintly smudged with ash. His casual demeanor felt out of place, but the nonchalance was as much a part of him as the mischief in his dark eyes.

“Well, that was fun,” he quipped, flashing the easy grin he seemed to wear in every situation. “What’s the verdict, Little Witch? Not as thrilling for you, I’m guessing.”

Kith shot him a weary but sharp look. “If holding down a possessed teenager while they spit venom counts as fun, then sure—a blast.”

David’s grin widened, but a flicker of something more serious passed through his gaze. “You’re handling this better than most humans would,” he said lightly, brushing past her to lean against the wall. “Empathy can be a liability, though. Demons feed on your emotional reserves, you know.”

“I can’t just switch it off, David,” she replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “That kid is gone forever. I can’t pretend it doesn’t matter. Maybe you can shrug it off, but I’m not like you.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” he said softly, his teasing grin dimming into something almost solemn. “You’re good at what you do, Kith. That empathy of yours? Annoying as hell sometimes, but it keeps you human. And trust me, that’s rarer than you think in this line of work.”

She blinked at him, caught off guard by the sincerity tucked into his words. Before she could respond, the sharp click of heels against the charred floor interrupted them.

Felonia appeared in the doorway, immaculate in her tailored suit, her dark hair swept back as if untouched by the chaos. “Are we ready? We should head back before Somnus and Furious decide to make a dramatic entrance.”

David groaned theatrically. “More lectures about ‘protocol’ and how I’m the root of all inefficiency. Can’t wait.”

“Likely,” Felonia replied with a smirk. Her sharp gaze shifted to Kith. “You holding up?”

“Getting used to it,” Kith answered, standing straighter despite the exhaustion tugging at her. “Still not my favorite thing.”

Felonia gave her a sympathetic look. “You’ll toughen up. Or you won’t. Either way, it’s entertaining.”

David rested a hand briefly on Kith’s shoulder, the warmth grounding her. “You’re doing just fine, Little Witch,” he said, his touch lingering a moment too long before he stepped away.

As the group moved to leave the room, the oppressive air seemed to shift, a faint crackle of static brushing against Kith’s senses. She paused in the doorway, her hand lingering on the warped frame, and glanced back into the now-empty space. The remnants of the exorcism still hung heavy in the air—broken symbols scrawled on the walls, the faint scorch marks from hastily extinguished sigils, and the lingering chill that spoke of a malevolent presence that had been only partially expelled.

“Something wrong?” David’s voice cut through her thoughts, steady but tinged with curiosity.

Kith shook her head, though the uneasy feeling twisting in her chest lingered. “No. Just making sure it’s really... gone.”

David gave her a half-smile, his dark eyes flicking back toward the room before returning to her. “Trust me. If it wasn’t, you’d know.”

The oppressive weight in her chest hadn’t lifted, but at least she could breathe again. David walked beside her, his usual teasing arrogance softened into something more approachable.

“Never a dull moment, huh?” he said, flashing her a small, crooked grin.

She rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked upward despite herself. “Yeah. Thrilling.”

With a resigned sigh, Kith stepped fully into the hallway, her boots crunching over splintered wood and debris. The building groaned faintly, as though it had been wounded by the events that had unfolded within its walls.

The journey back to Astrea’s felt endless, the aftermath of the exorcism pressing down on Kith like a lead blanket. She clenched her fists to stop them from trembling, her nails biting into her palms. Her damp hair clung to her neck, and the faint burn of adrenaline lingered in her veins, refusing to let her fully unwind.

The car’s engine hummed steadily as Felonia drove, her focus unwavering as the city’s rain-slick streets blurred past. David sat in the passenger seat, one arm casually slung over the backrest while the other toyed with the ash-streaked cuffs of his shirt. Kith sat in the back, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stared out the window.

“You’re quiet,” David said, his tone light but probing.

Kith didn’t turn her head. “Just tired.”

David’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, catching her reflection. “You’re always tired after these. It’s not just that, is it?”

Felonia cut in before Kith could respond, her tone wry. “It’s called having a soul, David. Something you’re only loosely acquainted with.”

David chuckled. “I’ll have you know my soul and I are on excellent terms.” He glanced at Kith again, this time more serious. “Still. Something’s eating at you.”

Kith sighed, her fingers tightening against her arms. “It’s nothing new. Just the usual existential crisis after watching a kid lose their life to something they never asked for.”

David leaned back, his expression softening. “It doesn’t get easier, you know. You just learn how to carry it differently.”

Felonia’s sharp laugh broke the tension. “Spoken like someone who’s pretending to be wise. He means you compartmentalize until it eats you alive, Kith.”

“Thanks for that, Fel,” David muttered.

“Anytime,” she shot back.

"Play fair, is that a compass in your nature? Or are you tricky?

Cause I've been there And baby, I don't need to learn my lesson twice."

David walked beside her, unnervingly composed, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. Every few steps, she felt his eyes on her—measuring, calculating, watching.

“Alright, spit it out,” he said, breaking the silence.

“What?” Her voice came out sharper than she intended, more defensive.

“Whatever’s got you wound tighter than wire,” he replied, his tone maddeningly calm.

Kith’s steps faltered for half a second before she pressed on, her gaze fixed ahead. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

David scoffed, his curls bouncing slightly as he tilted his head in disbelief. “You’re a terrible liar, Little Witch.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered, her voice low but clipped.

“Too bad.” He sidestepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. His posture was casual, but his sharp gaze betrayed his persistence. “You look like you’re about to implode. If you’re gonna lose it, at least warn me so I can duck.”

Kith glared up at him, her hazel eyes blazing with frustration. “You think this is funny?”

“I think you’re carrying a lot for one person,” he said, his voice low, the teasing edge softening into something steadier. “You don’t have to.”

Her laugh came bitter and sharp. “And who else will? You?”

David’s jaw tensed, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something unreadable. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You act like none of this touches you,” she snapped, stepping closer, her exhaustion spilling over into anger. “Like it’s just another job, another day. How can you not care? That boy—his family—”

“Kith,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through her rising anger like a blade. “Stop.”

“No!” Her voice rose, trembling with raw emotion as she took another step forward. She was close enough now to see the faint glow behind his eyes, barely contained beneath his calm facade. “You make it look so easy, like you’re above all of it. But you’re not. You can’t be.”

David’s hand shot out, gripping her waist—not tightly, but firmly enough to root her in place. His gaze locked onto hers, and the usual glint of mischief in his expression was replaced by something darker, heavier.

“I care more than you think,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, near her ear. “But caring too much in this job? That’s what gets people killed.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the heat between them shifting from anger to something she couldn’t quite name. She wanted to pull away, to fire back, but the intensity in his gaze froze her in place.

The moment stretched unbearably long, charged with unspoken tension, until a voice shattered it like glass.

“Am I interrupting something, or is this foreplay?” Felonia’s dry tone cut through the air, breaking the spell.

Kith took his hand out of her waist, stepping back quickly. David turned to face Felonia with an exaggerated sigh, his smirk returning with practiced ease.

“Don’t you ever make yourself known?” he asked, his tone exasperated but tinged with amusement.

“I’d hate to ruin your moment,” Felonia replied smoothly, brushing past them toward the debrief room. “They are waiting. Better get in there before they decide to make you their chew toy.”

David glanced back at Kith, his expression unreadable. “You good?”

She nodded stiffly, avoiding his gaze. “Let’s just get this over with.”

As they followed Felonia into the room, Kith couldn’t shake the weight of David’s words—or the lingering heat of his hand on her waist. She clenched her fists again, her nails digging into her palms to ground herself.

Somnus and Furious were already seated, their presence as oppressive as ever. Somnus lounged with a lazy grace, his sharp eyes glinting with amusement as they entered. Furious sat rigid, his sharp features carved into a perpetual scowl.

“Late,” Furious growled, his voice low and biting.

“Fashionably,” David quipped, sliding into a seat with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Kith followed silently, sitting straighter than she felt, her exhaustion threatening to pull her down. Felonia took her seat beside Kith, her expression calm but watchful.

Mikael entered moments later, his piercing gaze sweeping the room before landing on Kith.

“Well?” he asked, his tone coldly efficient.

Kith swallowed hard, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. “The exorcism was successful. The parents are safe, but the boy…” Her words faltered, the memory of his hollow eyes flashing before her. “The boy didn’t survive. The entity left a mark. On the house, and—” She hesitated. “Possibly on me.”

“Residual energy?” Furious snorted. “On you? What a surprise. Humanity’s greatest weakness: fragility.”

David’s chair scraped loudly as he sat upright. “Don’t start,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

“Enough,” Mikael said sharply, silencing the room. His gaze lingered on Kith. Mikael studied her for a long moment before nodding.

Kith bristled, the condescension sparking a flare of defiance. “I’m not fragile,” she said, her tone sharper than she intended. “i’m human, and the only one capable of feeling something inside this room.” Kith straightened, summoning a strength she wasn’t sure she had. “With respect, I’ve earned my place. And the people we help deserve someone who cares.”

“Careful now, human,” Somnus chuckled darkly. “Admirable. But care won’t protect you when things turn... unsavory.”

Furious leaned closer, his looming presence meant to intimidate. “This isn’t your world, girl. You’re chasing shadows with creatures who’ll devour you the second you falter.”

"You’ve shown resilience, Kith," Somnus began, his tone deceptively soothing. "But humanity is fragile. Are you certain this is where you belong?"

David’s gaze snapped to Somnus, but Kith spoke before he could. “I can handle myself.” The tension was suffocating, an invisible thread pulled taut between them. Kith’s heart pounded, but she refused to look away. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

“Clearly,” Furious said, leaning back with a smirk. “Such confidence for someone so…new. But tell me, Kith, how much of your humanity are you willing to lose before you realize this world isn’t meant for you?” His demeanor was always measured, his words laced with subtle encouragement that bordered on manipulation.

Her breath caught, the words cutting deeper than she wanted to admit.

“That’s enough,” Across the table, Mikael’s coldly kind gaze settled on her like frost creeping over glass.

Kith clenched her fists beneath the table, refusing to look away.

“Let’s hope you continue to prove yourself,” Mikael added, his gaze shifting to David. “And David, make sure that your… distractions don’t jeopardize the team.”

David’s jaw tightened, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the table.

“I’m sure Kith will rise to the occasion,” Felonia interjected smoothly, her tone a perfect blend of support and sarcasm.

“Dismissed,” Mikael said.

As his attention shifted to the next report, Kith felt David’s hand brush against hers beneath the side table—a fleeting touch, but grounding nonetheless.

“I need someone to hold me close, deeper than I've ever known,

Whose love feels like a rodeo, knows just how to take control.

When I'm vulnerable, he's straight-talking to my soul,

Conversation overload, got me feeling vertigo.”

When the door clicked shut, the silence was deafening. David turned to her, his gaze burning with a mixture of frustration and something she couldn’t quite name. “You didn’t need to say anything.”

“Yes, I did,” Kith replied, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her.

Their eyes locked, unspoken words hanging heavy in the charged air. The space between them felt narrower, the tension almost tangible—a dangerous dance of what could be and what shouldn’t.

The hallway seemed to close in around her as Kith trailed behind David. The air was thick, oppressive, and her emotions churned dangerously close to the surface. She wanted to scream, punch something—or someone—but her hands only trembled at her sides.

David slowed, glancing over his shoulder before pausing to let her catch up. “Don’t let them get to you,” he said, his voice softer than she expected.

“Easy for you to say,” she shot back, her frustration slipping into her tone. “You’re used to it.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her fully, his expression hardening. “And you think I like it?”

“I think you don’t care,” she said, her voice trembling with unfiltered frustration.

David stepped closer, his dark eyes boring into hers, their usual teasing glint replaced with something raw and unwavering. “I care,” he said, his tone quiet but firm.

He studied her for a moment longer, his jaw tight as though holding back words that might unravel them both. Finally, he exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his dark curls, a rare gesture of unease breaking through his composed facade.

“You should’ve let me handle it,” he muttered, his voice quieter now but brimming with restrained emotion.

Kith’s hands trembled slightly, but she clenched them into fists. “I don’t need a shield, David. I need to prove I belong here.”

“And what if proving it gets you killed?” The words came out harsher than he intended, and regret flickered across his face almost instantly.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” she shot back, her tone biting but laced with fragility beneath the defiance.

“Barely.” He stepped closer again, his presence overwhelming but not unwelcome. “You don’t get it, do you? They’re not going to stop until you break or—”

“Or what?” she challenged, tilting her chin up defiantly.

He hesitated, his gaze softening as he searched her face. “Or until they convince you that you’re not enough.”

The words hung heavy between them, raw and unfiltered. They struck a chord deep inside her, one she had fought tirelessly to silence.

“I won’t give them that satisfaction,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “I did just fine after everything that happened.”

“I wouldn’t exactly use the word… ‘fine,’” he said, his lips twitching in almost-amusement.

David took another step closer, close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him. His voice dropped lower, almost a murmur. “You shouldn’t have to fight this hard to prove your worth, Kith. Not to them. Not to anyone.”

Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard, the proximity making her heart race in ways she couldn’t control. “And yet, here I am.”

His gaze lingered, tracing her features as though memorizing every detail. For a moment, it felt like the world outside the hallway didn’t exist—no superiors, no impossible missions, just the two of them standing on the edge of something unspoken.

He enveloped her in his arms, as if he could make all the doubts and fears inside her burst and go away. His lips lingering on her forehead.

“Are you somebody who can go there? ’Cause I don't wanna have to show ya”

Before either of them could speak, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, shattering the moment. David stepped back, the charged air dissipating like a burst bubble, and Kith let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

The door creaked open, and Felonia entered, her sharp gaze flicking between them. Her expression was tired but tinged with amusement. “You guys alright?”

“No,” David said quickly, his voice a little too casual as he straightened. “What is it?”

Felonia raised a brow but didn’t press. “They won’t be back for a while, so we have the night to rest.”

David nodded, his usual composure snapping back into place like armor.

“Cause training season’s over.”

Kith stayed rooted to the spot, her mind a whirlwind of unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings. As they started walking down the corridor, she couldn’t help but glance at David. His expression was unreadable, but his hand brushed hers briefly—a fleeting touch, but enough to send a jolt through her.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind her that whatever existed between them wasn’t one-sided.

Her breath hitched, the intensity of his gaze pulling her in like a magnet.

“Why do you care so much?” she whispered, hating the vulnerability in her voice but unable to keep it hidden.

David’s hand brushed hers again, this time lingering a fraction longer, his touch light but electric. “Because someone has to,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

His words sent a ripple through her chest, cracking through her defenses with startling ease. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words tangled in her throat.

As they walked in silence, side by side, the space between them felt impossibly small, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down like a storm waiting to break.

After a much-needed hot bath and a few days of rest, the team gathered in Mikael’s office. The air was thick with unease as Mikael flipped through the file on his desk, his coldly calm demeanor unwavering. When his gaze landed on Kith, it softened—barely, but enough to be noticed.

“This one will test your resolve,” Mikael said, sliding the file across the table. “A series of disappearances tied to a remote church. Reports suggest…” He paused, his eyes flicking to David, “…that the cult is moving again.”

Kith stiffened at the mention, her pulse quickening as dread curled in her stomach.

David immediately stepped closer to her, his jaw tightening as his protective instincts surged. “What do they want with her now?” he asked, his voice low and edged with danger.

“This isn’t about Kith,” Mikael replied firmly, though his tone carried an unspoken warning for David to control his temper. “Not directly, anyway. But the possibility of overlap cannot be ignored.”

Felonia, leaning casually against the wall, broke the tension with a wry remark. “Sounds like a cozy reunion. Hope you’re ready, Kith.”

Kith managed a small smile, grateful for Felonia’s attempt to lighten the mood, even if it did little to ease the knot in her chest. “I’m ready,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

David exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

She glanced at him, their eyes meeting for a brief, charged moment before Mikael’s voice cut through the air.

“Somnus and Furious will oversee this mission closely,” Mikael said, his tone hardening. His disdain for his superiors was subtle but evident in the slight tightness of his jaw. “I expect nothing less than perfection.”

David’s gaze darkened. “Of course, they’d swoop in now to take credit for the mess they ignored.”

“Watch your tone, David,” Mikael warned, though there was a trace of amusement in his voice.

David smirked but didn’t respond. As he moved to leave, his hand brushed against Kith’s arm, a subtle but reassuring gesture.

“I hope it hits me like an arrow

Someone with some potential”

The hallway outside Mikael’s office was quiet, save for the soft click of boots against polished stone. Kith stayed close to David, her mind racing as she processed the assignment. She knew what it meant to face the cult again, even tangentially. The memories it stirred were ones she tried to keep buried.

“Don’t overthink it,” David said, his voice low as they walked.

“Easier said than done,” she replied, her lips tightening into a thin line.

He stopped just outside the doors leading to the garage and turned to her. “It’s not going to be like last time, Kith.”

“How do you know that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, but his tone was firm. “Because I won’t let it be.” Hir arms casually sneaking around her.

Felonia’s voice broke through the moment. “You two coming, or should I give you more time to stare meaningfully at each other?”

David rolled his eyes, gesturing for Kith to follow. “Let’s go, Little Witch.”

The engine hummed softly as the car navigated the rain-slick streets. The rhythm of the windshield wipers matched the tension inside the vehicle, steady but relentless.

Kith sat beside Felonia in the back seat, her thoughts heavy with what lay ahead. Every now and then, her gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, where David’s reflection met hers. His expression was unreadable, but his presence grounded her in a way she couldn’t explain.

Felonia, ever observant, broke the silence with her usual bluntness. “You two should just kiss already and save the rest of us the agony of enduring your will-they-won’t-they nonsense.”

Kith’s face burned as she sat upright. “Felonia!”

David, entirely unbothered, glanced back with a lazy grin. “Jealous, Fel?”

“Of you? Please.” Felonia smirked, leaning back in her seat. “Just figure it out before one of you explodes.”

Kith huffed and crossed her arms, glaring out the window. But David’s low chuckle slid under her defenses, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

“Noted,” he said, his voice rich with amusement.

As the car slowed, the mood shifted. The joking dissipated like fog in the morning sun, replaced by a sharp focus. David straightened, his shoulders tense.

When the car stopped, he turned slightly to face Kith, his expression serious. “Stay close to me. I mean it this time.”

“I don’t need—”

“You need your independence, I know,” he interrupted gently, though his tone left no room for argument. “But if I lose sight of you for even a second…” His dark eyes locked onto hers, burning with intensity. His hand touched her face briefly. “I’m not letting anything happen to you, Kith.”

The car doors slammed shut in unison, the sound sharp in the cold air. The church loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the overcast sky. Its ancient stone walls, cracked and weathered, seemed to lean inward as if guarding their secrets.

The faint sound of chanting drifted through the air, sending a chill down Kith’s spine. It was barely audible, but it clawed at her senses, stirring memories she wasn’t ready to face.

David stayed close, his movements deliberate and protective, his body taut like a drawn bowstring. Felonia led the way, her sharp gaze sweeping the area.

“This place reeks of desperation,” Felonia muttered, her voice low and biting. “They’re hiding something.”

“They always are,” David replied, his tone clipped.

Kith followed, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt David’s presence like a shield at her side, his protective energy both comforting and stifling.

Inside, the air was thick and suffocating, heavy with an unseen pressure that seemed to press down on them from all sides. The chanting grew louder, echoing off the cold stone walls in rhythmic waves. Kith pressed a hand to her temple as her head swam.

David noticed immediately, his hand brushing her elbow. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered, though her voice betrayed her uncertainty.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

Felonia moved ahead, her dagger glinting faintly in the dim light. The source of the chanting loomed just beyond a massive, rotting wooden door.

She paused, glancing back at the group. “Ready?”

David’s eyes flicked to Kith, his jaw tightening as his hand instinctively rested on his weapon. “Let’s get this over with.”

The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room. Figures cloaked in red knelt in a circle around a sigil carved into the stone floor, its grooves filled with blood that glistened ominously in the candlelight. The flickering flames cast eerie, distorted shadows across their hooded faces, making them appear otherworldly.

The chanting stopped abruptly as the group entered, the air thick with tension. Slowly, the figures rose to their feet in unison, their movements unnervingly synchronized. One of them stepped forward, their face hidden beneath their hood.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” the figure rasped, their voice distorted and inhuman, echoing unnaturally in the enclosed space.

David stepped in front of Kith without hesitation, his body a solid barrier between her and the threat. “Funny, I was about to say the same to you.”

The figure tilted its head, as if scrutinizing him, then turned its attention to Kith. She froze as their gaze seemed to pierce through her, heavy and invasive. Her stomach churned with unease, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.

“You,” they said, their voice dripping with malice. “He remembers you... He wants you.” The figure moved a step closer, their presence oppressive. “He’ll come back for you….”

Kith’s breath caught, the words striking her like a physical blow. Memories she had fought to bury clawed their way to the surface: the rhythmic chanting, the cold stone floor beneath her, the overwhelming scent of blood, and the suffocating terror.

David’s expression darkened, his grip tightening around his weapon. His voice was a low, dangerous growl. “You don’t get to look at her.”

The figure laughed, a hollow and echoing sound that sent a shiver through the room. “You can’t protect her from everything, demon.”

“Watch me,” David said, stepping forward, his movements deliberate and controlled, like a predator stalking its prey.

Before the figure could respond, Felonia’s dagger sliced through the air, embedding itself in their chest. The force knocked them back, their body convulsing as an unnatural scream ripped through the room.

The silence shattered as chaos erupted.

The cloaked figures surged forward in unison, their movements unnaturally fast, blurring as they closed the distance.

David reacted immediately, grabbing Kith and pulling her behind him as his blade flashed in the dim light. The first figure lunged at him, their hands claw-like and unnervingly long, but David sidestepped effortlessly. With a fluid motion, he slashed upward, severing the arm cleanly. The figure dissolved into black smoke with a guttural hiss.

“Kith!” Felonia shouted, tossing a blade her way. “You’re not sitting this one out!”

Kith caught the weapon, her fingers trembling but tightening around the hilt. She had no time to think before one of the figures came at her, its movements jerky yet impossibly fast.

The figure swung at her with unnatural strength, but Kith ducked, narrowly avoiding the blow. Instinctively, she lashed out with the blade, the tip catching the figure’s side. Black ichor spilled from the wound as the figure howled, collapsing before dissolving into a cloud of mist.

She barely had time to process what she’d done when another attacker was on her.

David’s blade whirled in a deadly arc as he took on two figures simultaneously. One clawed at him, but he deflected the attack with his forearm, his blade finding its mark in their chest. As they evaporated into smoke, the second came at him from the side. David turned sharply, driving his knee into their torso before finishing them with a precise slash to the neck.

His eyes flicked to Kith, catching her hesitation as she faced her second opponent. “Good!” he called out, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Now keep doing that!”

Kith glared at him briefly but focused on the figure in front of her.

Felonia, meanwhile, was a blur of efficiency. She ducked and spun, her twin daggers slicing through cloaked figures with surgical precision. Her movements were almost dance-like, each strike calculated.

One figure tried to grab her from behind, but she twisted, driving her blade into their gut before kicking them away. “Pathetic,” she muttered, her lips curling into a smirk.

Kith’s second opponent lunged, their claws slashing the air inches from her face. She stepped back too quickly, stumbling over the uneven stone floor. The figure seized the opportunity, charging at her with startling speed.

Panic surged, but she gritted her teeth and swung her blade upward. It struck the figure’s shoulder, slicing through their cloak. The figure screamed, and for a moment, its hood slipped back, revealing a twisted, half-decayed face. Kith recoiled, her stomach lurching, but she pushed through the fear and stabbed again.

This time, the blade sank into the figure’s chest. It let out a final, unearthly screech before dissolving into smoke.

David dispatched another opponent with brutal efficiency before turning to check on Kith. His eyes swept over her, catching her shaking hands as she steadied herself. “Kith!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the din. “You’re doing fine! Stay sharp!”

Her chest heaved, but she nodded, gripping the blade tighter.

As the last few figures closed in, David and Felonia moved as a unit. She threw a dagger that struck one in the leg, dropping it to its knees, while David finished it with a downward slash.

The final attacker went for Kith, its claws outstretched. She braced herself, heart pounding, but before it could reach her, Felonia’s dagger sailed past, embedding itself in the figure’s throat.

It collapsed, the room falling eerily silent as the last of the black smoke dissipated.

The sigil on the floor pulsed faintly, the blood within it bubbling before evaporating into the air. Moments later, the carvings grew dull, leaving only scorched marks behind.

David turned to Kith, his expression unreadable as he took her in. She was breathing heavily, her hands and knees trembling as adrenaline coursed through her.

“You did well,” he said softly, stepping closer. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of her auburn hair from her face.

“Don’t patronize me,” she replied, though the words lacked venom.

His lips quirked into a faint smile. “I’m not. You’re tougher than you think.”

Felonia interrupted, her tone brisk and no-nonsense. “Save it for later. We’ve got bigger problems to deal with.”

David shot her a look but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached down to help Kith to her feet, his hand lingering on hers a moment longer than necessary.

“We’re not done here,” he murmured, his dark eyes locking onto hers.

“I know,” she replied, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

“I need someone to hold me close, deeper than I've ever known Whose love feels like a rodeo, knows just how to take control”

Fel’s boots echoed faintly down the stone corridor as she exited the chamber. She muttered something about needing to call Mikael, dragging her dagger lightly along the wall as she disappeared into the shadows. Despite her tough demeanor, Kith suspected Felonia had intentionally left to give them a moment alone.

Kith remained rooted in place, her breath still uneven as she processed the chaos that had unfolded. The weight of it all bore down on her, leaving her unable to move just yet.

“You’re staying?” David’s voice broke the silence, low and smooth but carrying a trace of concern.

She looked up to find him watching her, his broad frame silhouetted against the flickering candlelight. That look—piercing yet unreadable—always left her feeling exposed, as though he could see every thought she tried to bury.

“I just need a minute,” she admitted softly, her voice betraying her exhaustion.

David nodded and stepped closer. “Take all the time you need.”

He didn’t leave. Instead, he leaned back against one of the cracked stone pillars, his sharp eyes never leaving her.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” she said, trying to sound indignant, but it came out tired.

“I’m not babysitting,” he replied, a slow, teasing grin spreading across his face. “I just like the view.”

She rolled her eyes, but despite herself, a small smile tugged at her lips. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re stalling,” he countered, pushing off the pillar. His boots crunched against the ash and debris scattered across the floor as he walked toward her.

Her back met the cool surface of the altar before she realized she’d taken a step back. The ancient carvings pressed against her palms, their sharp edges oddly grounding.

“You’re too tense,” David murmured, stopping just a breath away from her.

She raised an eyebrow, trying to deflect. “And you’re too close.”

He didn’t move, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes again. “Am I?”

The tension between them was electric, thick with unspoken words and a shared vulnerability neither could fully deny. Kith’s pulse quickened, her breath catching as David reached up, his fingers brushing lightly along her jawline.

“This place,” he began, his voice a low rumble, “it’s heavy. But you? You’re… light. Even when you don’t want to be.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected softness in his words. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

His smirk was faint but genuine. “I could never insult you, Little Witch,” he said, his hand still cradling her face.

Her retort died on her lips as he leaned in, his other hand resting against the stone beside her. The heat of him was intoxicating, his presence a mixture of danger and comfort that both unsettled and grounded her.

“We shouldn’t,” she whispered, though her voice betrayed her resolve.

“Probably not,” he agreed, his tone low and unhurried, “but here we are.”

When his lips met hers, it was as though the world beyond the stone walls ceased to exist. The kiss was fire and defiance, a breaking of the tension that had simmered between them for too long.

Kith’s hands found their way to his shoulders, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if to anchor herself. David’s arm slipped around her waist, pulling her closer. The weight of the altar against her back grounded her, but the heat radiating from him set her senses alight.

“This is reckless,” she murmured against his lips, though she didn’t move to pull away.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he replied, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine.

Kith let out a soft laugh, her forehead pressing against his as they both caught their breath.

“You’ve been running from this since the moment we met,” David said, his voice quieter now but no less intense. His hand on the stone slid down to lightly rest against her hip. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Her heart thudded against her ribs, his words stirring something she wasn’t ready to name. “I’m not running,” she whispered.

“Then stop pretending,” he challenged gently, his lips brushing hers again, softer this time, almost hesitant.

For a few stolen minutes, there was no war, no mission, no cult to dismantle—only them. Kith felt her walls cracking under the weight of the unspoken, the connection between them raw and undeniable.

David pulled back just enough to look at her, his expression unguarded for once. His hand lingered at her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked, his voice hoarse with restraint.

“For once,” she whispered back, her fingers trailing down his arm, “I’m not thinking.”

He exhaled a soft laugh, his forehead resting against hers. “Good,” he murmured, stealing another quick kiss.

The ancient carvings beneath her hands seemed to hum faintly, a reminder of where they were. The altar, the mission, the shadows beyond the door—all of it lingered on the edge of her awareness, but for now, she let it fade. The stone altar felt almost alive beneath her, its energy mingling with her own, amplified by the connection between them. For David, it was more than desire; it was worship. In that moment, she wasn’t just human—she was everything.

“I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“You’ve thought about us?” she whispered, her voice unsteady, her breath catching.

David’s lips curved into a sly grin against hers, the heat of his breath sending a shiver down her spine. “Every night, Little Witch,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You’ve been bewitching my thoughts since the moment you walked through the agency’s door.”

His hands gripped her hips firmly, his thumbs tracing small, reassuring circles that sent her pulse racing. “Ever since that day in the corridor…” His words trailed off as his lips pressed softly against her neck, lingering just long enough to leave a mark, a silent claim. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

Her breath hitched as a quiet confession spilled from her lips. “Me neither,” she admitted, her voice barely audible but filled with raw desire.

David’s gaze snapped to hers, the flickering candlelight catching the intensity in his dark eyes. For a moment, it felt as though the room, the mission, the world itself had faded away, leaving only the two of them.

Her body leaned into his touch, her resolve melting under the weight of her emotions. For once, she didn’t hold back, letting herself be fully present in this moment. Her body, her soul, completely ready to be taken, to be his.

Time seemed irrelevant, but the faint sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor dragged them back to reality.

David was the first to pull away, though his hands lingered at her hips, his touch grounding her even as he exhaled heavily. His lips were swollen, his usually composed demeanor replaced by a rare, crooked smile that carried a hint of triumph. “We’re definitely in trouble now,” he said, his voice laced with satisfaction as he reached for his suit.

Kith’s laugh was soft but unsteady, her fingers brushing lightly against his jaw as if to confirm that this wasn’t some fleeting dream. “You think?”

Before he could respond, Felonia’s voice sliced through the air like a whip, echoing from the corridor with sharp, unimpressed authority. “David! Kith! If you’re done with whatever unholy nonsense you’re doing in there, Mikael is about five seconds from sending someone to fetch you. And trust me—none of us want that.”

David groaned, his smirk slipping into an exaggerated eye roll.

Kith bit her lip, fighting back a laugh as she shook her head. “We should—”

“Face the music?” he interrupted, pulling her close for one last lingering kiss.

When he pulled back, his expression softened, his thumb brushing tenderly over her cheek. His voice dropped, low and steady. “Whatever comes next, we’ll handle it.”

She nodded, her heart still racing, but there was a new steadiness in her resolve. Together, they adjusted their disheveled appearances—straightening clothes, brushing off ash and dust—before stepping away from the altar. Kith’s gaze lingered on the ancient carvings, a flicker of something unreadable in her hazel eyes before she turned and followed David out.

The moment they stepped into the hallway, Fel was waiting, leaning casually against the wall with her arms crossed. Her sharp gaze scanned them, her raised eyebrow conveying all the judgment they deserved.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” she said dryly, her tone hovering between exasperation and amusement. “Mikael’s waiting, and Somnus and Furious are already sharpening their claws.”

David shrugged off her critique with ease, sliding an arm around Kith’s waist as they walked past her. “Let them try. I’ve always enjoyed a good fight.”

Kith rolled her eyes but leaned into him, finding unexpected comfort in the casual way he held her. Despite everything—the mission, the tension, the unknown waiting for them—she felt steadier now, like she could face anything with him at her side.

Felonia fell into step beside them, her boots clicking rhythmically on the stone floor. Her sharp gaze darted between the two of them, suspicion and amusement mingling on her face. “You two are insufferable, you know that?”

David’s grin widened. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Fel.”

“Shut up, David,” she shot back, though her lips twitched as if holding back a smile.

The trip back to Astrea was calm but taut with tension, the silence in the vehicle punctuated only by the hum of the engine. Kith sat beside David, their hands brushing briefly before she let hers fall away, her thoughts already racing toward what waited for them.

Felonia kept her eyes on the road, her expression unreadable, though Kith could sense the gears turning behind her calm exterior.

David broke the silence first, his voice steady but light. “What’s the over-under on Furious losing his temper within the first five minutes?”

Felonia snorted. “Generous estimate. He’ll last two, tops.”

Kith smiled faintly but said nothing, her focus on the horizon as Astrea’s towering silhouette came into view.

When they arrived, the weight of the mission returned, heavier than before. Kith took a deep breath, her fingers brushing against David’s arm for the briefest of moments before falling back to her side. His eyes flicked to her, offering a reassuring nod.

Whatever awaited them beyond those towering doors—Mikael’s cold disappointment, Somnus’ manipulative games, or Furious’ fiery condemnation—she knew they’d face it together.

As they stepped inside, the faint warmth of David’s presence beside her was enough to remind her that, for the first time in a long time, she didn’t have to carry the weight alone.

#this is my first published fic so please be nice #David please marry me #rc david #not tagging properly cause im scared of people #i was listening to this music non stop and got inspired

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