#i got him squared away until he can get in to the ER

[ramp-it-up]

Mood

Call Me Captain When I…| Captain. My Captain

Summary: You and Steve were “special” friends. Until something that happens on one of your training missions puts Steve into a mood.

Word count: 2.7K

Pairing: Early CATWS era Captain Steve Rogers x SHEILD Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. S MUT! Early CATWS Steve, talk of hurt, ambush, implied assualt. Angsty, moody Steve, Steve with the urge to kill for you, possessive Steve, Steve pining for reader, idiots in love, Dom Steve, fuck buddies to relationship, fluff, Captain and Sir kink, dirty talk, edging (but not quite), begging, body worship, nipple play, raw p in v, female receiving oral, emotional sex.

A/N: This can be seen as adjacent to the fic Call Me Captain When I..., but can be read as a stand alone. I was in a mood when I wrote it, so here we are.

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------

After you checked yourself out of the hospital against doctor’s orders, Steve Rogers steamed as he waited for you to get out of the shower. He wanted to be in there with you, but decided to give you some space, and give him some time to cool down.

The fact that you were standing at the visitor’s entrance, in your hospital gown and combat boots as he drove up to sit with you, was the latest thing to get him riled up.

When he saw you, he parked in the fire lane and got out of his car, hands on his hips as he questioned you.

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

He eyed the bandage on your forehead and the one on your cheek, fingers trembling as he brushed his thumb over your bruised face.

The rage had not subsided for him over the past three days. 

Even after he and Sam beat the medivac to the scene and transported you to the best ER in the area.

Even after he was assured that you were ok by the doctors at the hospital. 

Even after you protested that he was overreacting when he set up a security detail at your door headed by Sam. 

Even after he’d found who did this to you and… well, seeing you bruised countenance again reignited his emotions.

He wondered how you got around Sam who was posted up. But then, your cunning and skill was a big part of how he felt about you. So was your kindness, intelligence, and beauty.

But you didn’t know exactly how Steve felt about you. And perhaps he didn’t either. Until you were ambushed on a routine training mission with your troops.

You lifted your chin and squared your shoulders as Steve shook his head. 

“I’m fine, Captain. I want to go home. I’ve been in the hospital for four days. And on the training mission for 10 days before that. I was due to be discharged in the morning anyway.”

You looked up at Steve. He couldn’t resist those eyes.

“I want to rot on my couch, sleep in my own bed.”

Steve grunted his assent, although the thin line of his lips indicated his displeasure with you.

“How’s your head feel?”

You met his eyes and focused, if only to prove how healthy you were.

“I’m fine, Steve. I just want to go home.”

Steve stared at you, wanting to just take you into his arms, but not doing it. Then, he stared around the parking lot, scanning the perimeter for anyone watching.

“Get in.”

He moved next to you and picked up the plastic bag that had your belongings in it, and put his hand on your back to guide you toward the sportscar.

“But my ride...”

Steve looked down at you as his jaw clenched, the blue fire in his eyes threatening to burn you.

“Get in before I take you over to that bench and spank the hell out of you, Lieutenant.”

You swallowed a gasp and grew warm at the threat.

“Yes Sir.”

You climbed into the passenger seat and sat back as Steve buckled you in, then waved at Sam, who’d come running out of the hospital just as Steve drove away.

You were along for the ride of this mood of your superior, friend, and fuck buddy Captain America, Steve Rogers.

—-

You stood before Steve, wrapped up in your soft, fluffy white robe that he had put into the dryer to warm up and left on the hook on the door of the shower. It was such a sweet gesture that contrasted his cold, harsh demeanor on the way to your place.

You felt as if you were about to be punished, but you didn’t care. You were exhausted. And just a little bit spooked. But that last part was lessened, because Steve was with you here in your quarters. You looked at him, wanting to ask him to stay, but you didn’t.

Steve stalked toward you, and you noticed that he was barefoot, which seemed to indicate that he wasn’t going anywhere soon. You smiled as you dragged your weary eyes up to his face. You decided to go for it.

“Are you staying?”

Steve grunted at you again.

“Just try and get me to leave you alone.”

His deep bass rumbled through you, and you whimpered, despite the fact that he wasn’t even touching you. Something seemed off as he moved toward you, pulling you closer by the tie on your robe.

“I’ve been riding on the edge of insanity ever since that day.”

Steve’s hand was in your hair, gently massaging the exposed scalp between your braids as his eyes took careful stock of your face.

You were shook.

“I’m okay, Steve.”

“I’ve got to see for myself.”

All he wanted to do was to take inventory of you, his rough fingers moving over every inch of your naked body to make sure that every bit of you was okay. He’d almost lost you and was experiencing an almost feral urge to consume you. You could feel the guilt radiating off him.

“Steve. No one could have known. Shit, I’m head of intelligence and I didn’t know.…”

Steve put his finger to his lips, and then yours. He gently stroked your cheek as he kissed you tenderly, carefully.

“Why do you always taste so good? Like you smell. Like sweet coconut…”

He leaned in to kiss you again, groaning as every gentle stroke of his tongue was met with a bolder one of yours. The passion increased until he pulled away and leaned his forehead against yours. You could tell that he was holding back. 

What was wrong with him?

“I know that no one could have known that the mission was a trap. But I feel like I should have.”

His hands moved from your neck, to your torso, down your belly, to the juncture of your thighs. He was sitting on your bed as you stood before him, warmed by the shower, but goosebumps raised on your flesh and your nipples formed into tight peaks as he examined you.

“I’ve never felt the urge to kill as much as I did when I tracked them down. It only took a day and a half to find them, and then a day and a half to get close enough to… “

Steve stopped short of revealing what happened to the people who hurt you and just looked into your eyes. The fury you saw as he looked up at you was chilling, yet arousing. You wanted to ask what he did to them, but you couldn’t. You just looked at his hands to find evidence that you knew wouldn’t be there because of his super soldier healing.

“Steve?”

He didn’t respond to you, just continued to stare at your most intimate parts.

“Captain-”

He looked up at you then.

“What I said at the hospital earlier. I-I have a serious desire to give you a good and proper spanking for almost losing your life, although it wasn’t your fault.”

You started to laugh, but he was serious. The look in his eyes was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

“I can’t give you up. I can’t.”

You shook your head.

“Steve, I’m fine-”

He pulled you to him by your thighs, his large hands grabbing you, gently but firmly, and bringing your crotch close to his mouth. He looked back up at you.

“I know we’ve never talked about this, but…You are my anchor.”

You ran your hands through his hair as his breath tickled your clit.

“I had the barest control while Sam and I were flying to get you, and only a small bit more when I learned you were okay. And now I have to verify that you are ‘fine,’ as you say. I need to see it with my own eyes, feel it with my own hands, taste it ….”

The unspoken part of that statement caused you to shudder as he went back to examining you, His hands moving down your legs, while listening for any sounds of discomfort from you as his skin slid along yours with a gentle but firm pressure, then standing up and depositing you on the bed as he examined you to the soles of your feet.

He placed one of your feet on his pelvis, next to what you’d discovered was his rock hard cock housed in his jeans, and one foot in his hand, beginning to massage it. Steve knew how a sensual foot massage made you wet. He grunted in response to your whimpers, but only turned you over as he examined the back of you.

Steve palmed the globes of your ass and pulled them apart, and you could feel his eyes at the crease of you for a full minute. Then, his palms slid upwards to your spine, smoothing over each vertebrae as he moved up to the back of your neck.

He was on the bed now, between your legs, and pulled your hips up to meet him as he gently circled your neck with his fingers, bringing you up slightly as his other hand rolled and pinched your stiff nipples. 

“How do you feel?”

His gruff whisper, full of need and at the shell of your ear elicited a groan and caused you to roll your hips on his rock-hard erection.

“Steve.. I… Please!”

You incoherently pleaded for more as you moved against the stiff fabric of his jeans, making a mess there. Steve looked down and rolled his eyes, his hand rubbing your ass as his palm itched to smack it.

“Mmmmmm. You have no idea how much I want to give you this cock. But you need rest.”

You reached back and slapped your own ass, pulling on your asscheek to enable him to push deeper between your legs to feel how wet you were.

“We also need to talk…”

Steve shuddered at the sensation of you rutting against him, and with every gasp and moan from you his control was dwindling. 

“I need it Sir. Please, Captain…”

“Fuck. Maybe just one orgasm. Then you can rest.”

You leaned down to give him that arch and he licked his lips. His cock was in full control of him now.

“Best idea ever, Captain.”

His hand moved to your core, and his fingers were instantly soaked with your arousal.

“Jesus. Looks so good.”

Steve’s dick throbbed and he gritted his teeth against the wave of lust, yet he stood up and took off his own clothes. He watched your empty pussy clench around air and he had to taste it. The minute his lips were wrapped around your clit from behind was the moment you started keening for him.

“God, yes….right… fucking…right there!”

Steve carefully inserted a finger into your cunt as he suckled your clit, trying to be gentle. You bit your lip as he pulled off and started to withdraw his finger slowly.

“So soft for me. But so tight.”

He watched your face as he added another digit, causing your eyes to squeeze shut and your mouth to hinge open as you worked your hips on his hand for some relief.

Your eyes popped open and you blinked rapidly, but he didn’t speed up to the insistence of your hips. When he curved his fingers and found that bundle of nerves inside, pressing gently, you broke apart as he stroked over and over again.

 "I–God. I'm going…" 

You bowed your body, and Steve watched in awe while your pussy clamped around his fingers.

“Oh yeah. This was what I needed to see. Give it to me.”

Steve rolled his thumb over your clit to extend your orgasm. You open and completely out of control, with no thought of hurt or danger, was the sight that he loved.

 And he wanted to make you do it again and again.

“Jesus, you are beautiful. I want to...” 

He was fisting his cock and watching your wet, creamy folds as he squeezed your ass for a better view.

“Want more. Please!” 

“Hmmph,” He grunted. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

You leaned over again and presented yourself to him, giving him a view of your fingers working your clit and sliding inside yourself. 

“Fuck me, Captain. Please…”

Steve actually whimpered. His cock was drawn to you magnetically.

“Are you sure…?”

“Need it.” 

Steve cupped your ass harder and guided his cock to your slick, heated cunt and groaned.

“Oh shit. You fucking own me.” 

Your eyes widened in shock, and then you looked over your shoulder, locking onto his gaze. You relaxed, causing Steve to sink deeper inside you. You both hissed and Steve’s eyes closed. 

“I’m never leaving. Could stay inside you forever. Wanna see that beautiful face.”

Steve grabbed your leg and shifted you down and around, maneuvering you onto your back. His eyes raked up and down your form as his hands found your hips and drew you closer to him and his cock deep inside you again. He leaned down and captured your lips in a heated kiss as you arched your chest against his. 

You dug your nails into his shoulders, his name a chanted mantra between kisses. With each slide and retreat of his stiff cock in your slick channel, both of your groans got louder. Steve’s gaze occasionally dipped to where you were joined, watching his cock slide in and out of you. You arched your back again, and he dipped his head to draw one of your nipples into his mouth. 

"I. Yes. Harder. Oh God. Oh my God." 

Against your nipple he muttered, "Let me hear you. So good.”

But he didn’t fuck you harder like you asked. Your response was to tug on his hair, and Steve chuckled around the flesh of your breast. 

“I love the sounds you make.”

You moaned loudly, very wet now and very frustrated. The sound of the slick squelching of your act was such sinful music. Steve groaned, his jaw ticked tight from holding back.

“Please!”

But Steve just continued at the same languid pace.

“Later, when you’ve rested, I have plans for these babies,” Steve flattened his tongue and licked around both areolas. 

“Gonna lick, bite, kiss, fuck them. Be rough.”

You shuddered as he leaned up and blew on them, causing your nipples to draw up into hard peaks again and your pussy to shudder around him. Steve leaned up and stared at your breasts as they bounced with each thrust and he shook his head as his pace faltered. You clenched around him again and he spoke, his voice broken.

“I know you’re close. Feel so good around me.”

Steve looked into your eyes as he snapped his hips, and your mouth went wide again as he worked his hand between you and found your sensitive clit. 

Your eyes crossed as your slick walls clamped around his cock and milked him. 

"That's it. Cum for me. I'm so addicted to the sight." 

With three more pumps, Steve was coming apart, his control falling away. Another orgasm rolled through you and you tightened around him once more, causing a groan from Steve as you rode out the wave. 

“Holy fuck.” 

He kissed you again, licking into your mouth as he continued to thumb your clit. Good Lord, it was impossible to think at all when he did that. You were a whimpering mess as you begged him again.

“Please Captain. Give me your cum, Sir. Cum inside me.”

Steve buried his head in your shoulder as he sped up incrementally, his cursing muffled against your skin. You rolled your hips to meet him, making him groan again. You turned your head to bite, then whisper in his ear.

“I’m gonna cum on your thick cock again. Just fuck me. A little harder. Just three more pumps and I’m there. Pretty please, Sir.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist as Steve finally let go and gave you three hard, deep pumps, but as you predicted, he could not stop there.

Steve cursed and fucked you hard, stroking at the devil’s pace for at least a dozen more times, roaring as you stiffened and clamped down on his cock as you came.

“G-g-g-geeez! Fuck!”

Steve was a drooling, practically sobbing mess as the forcefull spray of his cum shot against your cervix, so much so that it leaked out almost immediately. Steve stopped and watched the sight, gasping, mouth open. Then, he looked back up at you.

“Everything about you, about us is so damn perfect. Especially this. We almost lost it. I love you, Libby.”

Your heart surged with emotion, finally understanding what had gotten into him.

“I love you too, Steve.”

You smiled and wiped the tears that were forming at the corner of Steve’s eyes as he softened inside you. 

“Shhhhh. Steve. It’s okay. I’m okay. Let’s take this one day at a time. Right now, we both need to sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Steve nodded and sank down into your arms as you held onto your super soldier and rocked both of you to sleep.

——

Read Captain. My Captain.

If you liked it, hit Reblog! 😊

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Heart-Stopping

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Surgeon!Female!Reader

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: fluff

Summary: After a ten-hour surgery, all you want to do is go home and be with your husband. When he comes into the ER needing surgery, your entire world is turned upside down.

Square Filled: "Oh, don't worry, this blood isn't mine." (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You trudge out of the OR into the scrub room to clean your hands and arms. The surgery you were just in lasted an atrocious ten hours. You’ve gone for more, but this was so tough since the patient’s heart kept arresting and her blood vessels were so friable that it was hard to do any kind of stitches. Still, you managed to get her fixed and stable enough to be transferred to the ICU.

All you want to do is go home to your husband and cuddle until you fall asleep in his arms. He understands your job and how you can’t always be home with him. He’s in the FBI so he has the same demand even if he’s doing work that’s completely different. The reason your marriage works is that you two make it a point to call each other every day, plan an at-home date every week, a date anywhere that’s not your house every month, and have a small vacation every six months.

He’s your rock and you don’t know what you’d do without him in your life. He’s your biggest supporter and the love of your life.

You’re scrubbing away the sweat and grime from your hands when your pager goes off. You grab a microfiber towel and dry your hands before checking the pager. 911 ER. You toss the towel away and run out of the room hoping you can get to the ER in time. There is a patient who needs your attention and might die if you’re not there. It amazes you that you have so much energy after a surgery like that and maybe it’s because of the silent promise of saving as many people as you can.

You push the double doors open that lead into the ER and look around to see if you can spot the patient that needs you.

“Dr. Y/N! I need you to know that everything is okay…”

You can’t hear anything your resident says because all you’re focused on is your husband lying on a stretcher covered in blood. Your entire world comes crashing to a stop. You’re a very skilled heart doctor but it feels like your own heart is going to stop at the thought of your life without Spencer in it. His coworkers, Derek and Emily, are by his side without blood on their clothes.

“Y/N!” Derek grabs your shoulders and snaps you out of the silent panic you’re in. “He’s okay, I promise he’ll be fine.”

“What happened? Spencer!”

You rush over to him, and he grabs your hand gently.

“Oh, don’t worry, this blood isn’t mine,” he mumbles.

“What happened?” you ask Derek and Emily.

“There was an accident. He tried to save our victim and got caught in the crossfire. She’s right behind him.”

“Y/N, we’ll take care of him.”

You turn to see your chief of surgery and your best friend who has a determined yet empathetic look on his face. You can’t take care of your husband because he’s your husband so the only person you trust to take care of him is the chief.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Don’t let him die, please.”

“We go it. Go to Trauma One!”

Spencer is wheeled to the first trauma room just as the victim comes in right behind him. She, you can help. Spencer is wheeled into surgery to fix an injury on his leg while the general surgeon and neurosurgeon take the victim to surgery. If there is anything to be done on her heart, they’ll call you in. You’re stuck thinking about Spencer instead of being in surgery to take your mind off it. You leave Trauma Two and walk over to Emily and Derek who are talking to each other.

“What happened to him?”

“There was a car accident, the car the victim was in. They skidded on a patch of ice and the car slammed into a tree, ejecting the victim out of the windshield. Spencer was the first to her which is how he got all of her blood on him. Another car came around the corner and didn’t see the crashed vehicle, and they collided with it, sending shrapnel into Spencer’s leg. He lost a lot of blood on the way over here.”

“Shit,” you whisper with tears in your eyes.

“He’s going to be okay. You have a talented team of doctors here.”

“I know,” you nod.

There is no choice but to wait for Spencer to get out of surgery. When he is, they take him to a private room where you can sit with him. It takes twenty minutes for him to come out of the anesthesia, but he’s still pretty loopy from it.

“Hey, baby, how are you doing?”

You take out your stethoscope and check his heart and lungs, relief clouding your head when you don’t hear anything bad about it.

“Doctor… I need… I need some… some flowers.”

“Flowers? For what?”

“My wife. Her birthday is this weekend, and I want to get her flowers.”

Your heart swells happily at his little confession. He knows how much you love getting flowers. They brighten up even the darkest of places.

“It’s very important, please.” He rolls his head to the side and looks at you through hooded eyes. He doesn’t seem to recognize it’s his wife right in front of him. “I need you… Can you write her a card for me?”

“What do you want it to say?”

“I love her. Her eyes are pretty. She makes me so happy. Just say that.”

“Okay,” you grin with tears in your eyes.

Spencer’s eyes close and you sit next to his bed. You grab his hand and kiss the back of it, content with staying just like this until he wakes up.

x

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“You look upset?” Rogers’ voice startles you. You sit straight and rub the stitch from your forehead. How long has he been there? 

“Do I?” You wonder.  

Three days in this place, sifting through scraps and musty old receipts, and it’s starting to bleed through. Oh, don’t think of the blood. You grip the desk and shift in the chair. 

“I guess,” he shrugs. “Something wrong? I can get you a different chair.” 

“Chair, uh?” You look down, “no, that’s fine. Actually, I think I’m probably almost done.” 

“Good,” he says.  

He crosses his arms and turns on his leather sole. He starts to pace. He does that a lot. If he’s not sat in the arm chair or disappearing to wreak havoc out of sight, he’s there, walking back and forth. Back and forth. Combing his fingers through his hair, waving his hand in a wordless argument, moving his lips silently. Even if you hadn’t witnessed it that first day, you could tell he’s a man with a lot of pent-up anger. 

You go back to tallying it all up. Your stomach somersaults as you hover the pencil along the columns and review the numbers. Honestly, you are done, you just don’t know how to say what you need to. To tell this man what you discovered. 

“You’re breathing heavy again,” he stops and turns to you, “what’s the matter?” 

“Asthma?” You lie. He grimaces. 

“You got something for that?” He asks. 

“No...” you look away guiltily. “Alright, I don’t have asthma,” you wiggle the pencil nervously then tap your nose without thinking. What are you doing? You still it and put it down. “I’m done, okay, and, er...” you suck in air through flared nostrils, “you gotta promise you’re not going to freak out.” 

“Freak out?” He echoes as if the concept is absurd to him. 

“Yeah, because it’s not good news.” 

“Spill it,” he steps closer to the desk. 

You lean back in the chair and look up at him. A shank of his dark hair slips past his ear and the sheen of silver strands on his chin catch the light. His jaw squares under his thick beard. 

“Okay, but like just remember that it’s this Warren guy...” You clasp onto the armrests as you talk. “Oh boy, right. I’m not sure how to say it...” your eyes skitter back and forth. When you look back to him, that vein is bulging in his head. Just say it before he explodes! “He stole. A lot of money. And he actually hid it quite well but... yeah, I can show you--” 

“Amazing!” He claps and his face lights up. You flinch and your eyes go wide. Huh? He looks almost happy. 

“It is?” You flutter your lashes as the fog fades away from the edge of your vision. 

“You did it,” he said. “Get up. You gotta tell the boss.” 

“Huh? Me? You can’t--” 

“You’re the one who knows numbers. Grab the book, let’s go,” he commands. 

You don’t dare disobey. You grab the ledger and stand so abruptly, the chair snaps on the axle. You give a sheepish smile and scurry around the desk. 

He waves you out of the office. You’re all too happy to oblige at the realisation that you’re close to being out of here. He takes you down the hall and stops you at that same door. He knocks and waits until he gets an answer from within. 

He ushers you in ahead of him and shuts the door with a heavy click. That man, Buck, or Bucky, or Barnes, or whatever he wants to be, sits behind his desk. He is just as unimpressed as the last time you saw him. 

“Steve,” he greets the other man. 

“Go on,” Rogers nudges you with his knuckles. “Tell him.” 

You hold the book up in front of your chest and sway, “may I?” You nod towards the desk. 

Barnes gestures to the empty space and you approach. You put the ledger down, flipping it to face him. You turn the pages back and start at the beginning. 

“So, I was going through it all. This Warren guy. You see, here are the expenses, then--” 

“I don’t need the exes and ohs, doll, just get to the business,” he insists. 

“Right, I know you’re a busy man so I wouldn’t want to waste your time,” you chuckle nervously. “Alright, well,” you stand straight. Your head feels bubbly. “He stole a whole bunch money!” You say it a bit more chipper than you mean too. “Oops, well, not that it’s a good thing but...” 

Barnes’ eyes narrow and his chin ticks. You gulp and chew your lip. Shoot. 

“Sorry, don’t be mad. It wasn’t me, you know, I just added it up and--” You rock backwards and tip.  

You’re saved from hitting the floor as Rogers catches you and puts you back on your feet. He keeps hold of you, an arm across your back and his other hand on your shoulder. Barnes watches with unyielding derision. 

“Holy hell, she got something going on in her head?” Barnes asks. 

“She’s fine.” Rogers insists. “Look, Buck. We figured it out. You got everything you need to off that guy.” 

“Off... you’re going to kill Warren?” You squeak. 

Barnes gives you a sharp look and you seal your lips. Why did you say that? Your vision pulses and the colours blur. You feel yourself tilting and your head falls back. You slip into darkness to the shallow noise of your own breaths. 

When you wake again, you’re in a car. Rogers’ car. It’s dark and he’s silent. You look over at his shadow as he drives. You don’t recognise the streets outside the windows. 

“Noooo,” you sit up and pull on the handle as panic course through you. “Nooo, please, don’t kill me--” 

“Hmph?” He grunts and grabs your arm, pulling you back against the seat. “Sweetheart, if I was gonna kill you, you wouldn’t be awake right now.” 

“Oh god, so you would?” You screech. “I don’t know anything. Consider it all forgotten. Out of my head... oooh, my head.” 

“Calm down. Have some water,” he points to the cupholder. Your water bottles firmly in it. “Boss is happy. You did a good job.” 

“Oh, okay, right. Yeah. I’m a good accountant,” you say. You cringe and take the water bottle. You uncap it and clear your throat. “I’m sorry.” 

You drink deeply as he keeps his foot on the gas. You feel a bit better. You put the water back and wipe your hands on your skirt. 

“Um, Mr. Rogers?” You eke out. “Where are we going? You don’t have to say but I’m just asking.” 

He snorts quietly, “gotta pick someone up. You just stay quiet and don’t move.” He pulls up in front of a house. It looks like a really normal one. “Can you do that without passing out?” 

“I...” you look between him and the window, “I’ll try.” 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

august 2024 episode of octavinelle + 4koma update

You know the drill by now!

Spoilers for the 4koma and the Episode of Octavinelle chapter 12 below the cut. As a reminder, the Episode of Savanaclaw won’t be updating again until winter.

🫵 THERE THEY ARE…

THE SMOOTH CRIMINALS…

The poses in this opening page are so good; Leona sat all lax like a boss who knows who’s large and in charge, Ruggie leaning against the chair and swinging the keys to the vault around on one finger… The posing perfectly captures their personalities and roles in relationship to one another.

Once again, Azul makes many fantastically desperate and despair-filled expressions this installment 😭

Falling to his knees???? Laying flat on the floor??? Man is UNMATCHED when it comes to theatrics.

I like this shot of Azul and Leona’s gazes lining up; it really helps give you the sense of two rivals sizing each other up.

(Side note: you can also tell how much painstaking detail the artists went through to include their eye makeup in these close-ups. Hats off to them for the extra effort, it looks great!)

… WHY DiD THEY hAvFTA mAkE HIM So smUGHERE 💀

damn i wish i was that stack of contracts

… I mean what

sorry

Sorry

SORRY

I got distracted there, what were we talking about again????

AYO they always make Leona casting King’s Roar look so darn cool in the manga 😭

My favorite panel in this sequence has to be the one with the text bubbles. He looks so nonchalant and a little stern as he speaks the chant… The shadows on his face add a lot to the atmosphere of it!

This chapter is the part where Leona gets to sanding Azul’s hard work away! Look at how beautifully drawn Azul’s reaction is ✨

The particle-y effect of the contracts melting into sand is nice 😌 It feeds Azul’s tears… Tasty meal…

MOU YADA IN MANGA FORM IS PEAK

lmao Azul for real threw a tantrum, flailing his limbs and everything 🤡 Love that even Leona and Ruggie have NO idea how they should respond to this.

Oh no, here comes the OB…

The anguish Azul’s experiencing is really coming through. He’s sweating so much and his entire face is so. Er… for lack of a better term, twisted.

I think seeing the blot leaking out from each of them helps to illustrate that they’re truly being overwhelmed and consumed by their own inner darkness. It’s sad to see 😔

We cut back to Yuuta and co. squaring off against the twins!

I wanted to point out and comment on these parts with Jack. He’s not a character that I usually pay much attention to, but I gotta commend him for fighting back so hard and trying to shield the picture even when he’s clearly got no chance of winning. Jack bearing his fangs at Floyd with pupils contracted… 🫶 Very good and loyal pupper! I get the Jack appeal now, lol

I LOVE THIS

It reminds me of the similar Azul-Leona framing earlier in the chapter, though with a different context. I like that this shows how the twins are in sync and coming to the same terrible conclusion.

Not long after, they rush to Azul’s side—which makes me think that these two worry for his wellbeing 😭 THEY DONmT SAY IT OUT LOUD BUT THEY CARE

Oh yeah, here it comes… OB Azul has arrived!! 👀

I MEAN YEAH it’s not good for his health, but I’m so hyped for the battle and flashbacks to his childhood! Baby!Azul shall NOT escape our sight…

The 4koma this month centers on Jack, Vargas, and others (Jade, Kalim, Deuce) talking about using transformation magic for racing.

dhejeveiwhwuow I would say more, but I actually didn’t find this 4koma that remarkable. It’s a generally the boys chatting about animals and their different activities they excel at.

[kilojulietsierra]

Thinking about Jack and Night Shift:

- Bridget is Jacks work wife/mother hen of the night shift. She has known Sam and Jack since forever and when they were new to Pitt she invited them over for family dinners. She’s a mom of boys so she’s never phased by the night crowd

- like how the day shift had bets in the ambulance, the Night Shift has a running tab of how many objects are found or inserted throughout the week.

- Sam came in one night with a ruptured appendix and needing surgery. Emery found out and she threatened the resident saying do not kill my best friend. Jack will kill you first I will revive you and I will kill you again.

Bridget is Jacks work wife/mother hen of the night shift. She has known Sam and Jack since forever and when they were new to Pitt she invited them over for family dinners. She’s a mom of boys so she’s never phased by the night crowd

- Sam had been nervous at first. Her and Jack weren’t really “peopley people” but she knew getting this job had been huge for Jack. So they went when Bridget invited them to dinner.

- She’s glad they did.

- Back when they were still new to town and living in an apartment with facebook marketplace furniture going to dinner at Bridget’s was sort of a treat.

- She was a good cook. Her husband had been a Pittsburgh firefighter for nearly 30 years, working his way up to battalion chief, and their three boys were a riot.

- It didn’t take long to figure out why nothing phased Bridget.

- It also didn’t take long for her to figure Jack out. Keep him busy, step in and save him from the crying parents and spouses, let him work, throw the kids in the deep end and let them sink or swim. She also figure out quick what his good days and bad days looked like.

- Bridget liked being on his shifts, they got shit done. The longer he worked at PTMC the more he loosened up and they enjoyed each other’s dry sense of humor and sarcasm.

- Bridget liked Sam, saw right away she was exactly who Jack needed and vice versa.

- She was proud of the two of them for everything they’ve been through.

- It was bridge had suggested that Sam try to get hired in the Pitt, but she was a sure thing for the VA job. Sam did let Bridge convince to come on as a PRN.

- Jack and Sam needed the money and the Pitt needed good nurses.

- Bridget and Dana both encouraged Sam to go for the charge nurse opening at the VA. They’d both been listed as references on her resume.

like how the day shift had bets in the ambulance, the Night Shift has a running tab of how many objects are found or inserted throughout the week.

- personal note: I worked an ER front desk in my early 20s and can 100% confirm that we played bingo on event weekends and other shenanigans.

- Shen had started the virtual bingo cards in his intern year.

- When Jack found out and cornered him in a triage room Shen quite literally thought he was about to die. Jack stared him down for a long hard minute and then with a straight face pulled out his phone. “What’s the buy in?”

- It’s a game that’s gone on for years.

- It’s $20/card. The round lasts a month or until someone gets a bingo. Whichever comes first. Winner takes the pot.

- For an extra $20 you can also buy into the “blackout round”. It’s only ever been one once. Since the game started. It was Parker her first year on night shift.

- What are some of the squares you ask? The basics like a runway dildo or vibrator, lost condoms. 3D printing and DIY silicone molds certainly…. added a level of… creativity. The more usual suspects: remotes, phallic shaped fruits and vegetables, electric toothbrush handles, etc. it gets worse from there. Lightbulb, action figure, balloon (inflated/deflated), Bluetooth speaker, non phallic shaped fruits/veggies, hotdog, mannequin parts, panties, shampoo bottles, crystals, beer bottle, harmonica, ice cream scoop, dog toy, a gear shift (bonus points for fire department involvement), anything with a hobby lobby sticker.

- The longer the game goes the more absolutely batshit it gets.

- Myrna is allowed to play.

- She threatened Shen to get in on the action, he went to Jack for help and his attending just chuckled, said “Work the problem.” And walked away.

- She won once and Parker is convinced Myrna rigged it. Somehow…

- It’s rumored that nightshift keeps a storage tote of the “treasures” but nobody has ever located it and night shifters do not snitch.

- Gloria caught wind of the game once and brought it up to Jack at the next attendings meeting. His response; a scowl and “you really think I’d let stupid shit like that happen on my shift?”

- Was he at that time in possession of a bingo card one remote away from $380? Maybe. Maybe not.

Sam came in one night with a ruptured appendix and needing surgery. Emery found out and she threatened the resident saying do not kill my best friend. Jack will kill you first I will revive you and I will kill you again.

- she called Jacks cell first but he didn’t answer. Not a big deal. She called the desk phone and was grateful it was Bridge that picked up. “Hey it’s Sam. Can I talk to Jack real quick?”

- “What’s wrong?” His voice is calm but he knows that something is wrong. They have that rule. No calls at work unless it’s an emergency. Sam gets right to the point, “think it’s my appendix. Still don’t feel good, now I have an elevated temp, sweating, lower right quadrant is painful” “ruptured?” She’s quiet, Jack can picture her mentally assessing herself again, “maybe, I’m not a doctor how should I know” Jack sighs, “babe” he hears her chuckle and then wince. “Can you make it in or do I need to send a rig?” He says it like he had any say in how FD ran their ambulances. But he knew people.

- Sam parks in visitor parking and walks in through the ambulance bay. She’s wearing a pair of sweats and one of jacks hoodies, she’s drenched in sweat and bent over in pain. When Jack sees her she smiles, “hey baby, guess what?” He quick steps to her and grabs her, “it went didn’t it?” “Yep, pretty sure” she groans as he picks her up “think I’m gonna be sick” “bridge? The nurse calls back “eights open, page surgery?” “Yep”

- Jack does the exam, Shen appearing out of nowhere “what do you need boss?” He says it to Sam, not Jack.

- Walsh is one of the surgeons on call when Sam comes in, but she’s in surgery. How she found out what room she was in is a mystery to this day but she made one of the techs call down “how long can she wait?” Is the first thing she says. Jack doesn’t seem phased, “she’s next in line” “who’s cutting?”

- The OR doors swing open because yes Walsh scrubs in just for this moment. “Walsh, what the fuck are you doing?” She ignores the other surgeon and circles the table, eyes locked on Sam’s vitals “you’re letting an intern cut on my best friend. The fuck do you think I’m doing here?” “It’s an appy Walsh, he’s perfectly capable. You did plenty of them your first year” Walsh ignore her former attending to make eye contact with the intern “do you know who Dr Jack Abbot is?” He nods “well this is his wife, and if anything, any-thing, goes wrong. He will kill you.” “Walsh!” “Then I’ll ask him to bring you back, because he can, and he will if I ask, and then I’ll kill you myself.” “Walsh!” “Slowly. Painfully.” “Walsh!” Em made eye contact with the intern “and I’ll enjoy it” “Walsh! I will remove you from this fucking OR” her eyes swing to the attending just as hard “would you like to try that idea out?”

- Emery is in the recovery suite when Sam came out of anesthesia. “Oh god, I always knew you’d try to steal my organs one day” Walsh smirked “I left you the important ones, quit complaining” “how’d it go?” Jack appeared through the door. Walsh begrudgingly admitted, “they did a good job i guess” Sam grinned, still groggy “don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get to cut me open one of these days” Jack walks to the other side of the bed, kisses his wife on the forehead and smooths her hair back “don’t encourage her baby”

[solargeist]

"What are you even doing here?" Grian grabbed Martyn's shoulder and dragged him to the side into an alley way.

"Don't worry. It's a rescue mission. We're here to rescue you!" Martyn let himself get yanked off the main square full of other Watchers. Grian was fully aware that there was no way the Watchers didn't already know that there was a Listener out and about in their streets.

"Rescue mission? We?"

"Yeah? Me and Jimmy mostly, but Pearl managed to get her hands on the uniform." Martyn says with pride, giving the outfit a little spin for a very stunned and disbelieving Grian. "Not sure about the holes in the back though. Seems like an odd design choice from such a conservative group."

"It's for your- our wings-" Pearl knew about Grian going to this Warcher conference. He had been formally invited to attend and even speak on some topics that he and the Watchers still agreed on. He was almost sure that this was Ather's idea. An olive branch of sorts.

Of course, Pearl would cause trouble about this.

Grian took a deep breath and raked his hands over his face as the Listener thought about his words. "Oh. Oh! That's what these are for then?"

To both his horror and amazement, Martyn leaned own and hiked up the skirt of his stolen uniform. There was a bag that was hidden by the long fabric. He undid the zipper and pulled out the cheapest wings Grian had ever seen. The elastic tool was caked in more glitter than there really had any deserving right to be on an article of clothing. Grian genuinely thought the rubber bands used to hold that thing to anyone's back would cause them to snap.

"Who gave that to you?" Grian really couldn't hide the almost horror from his voice.

"Jimmy said he had Heard Warchers have wings, right? I geuss he picked these ones out."

Grian wanted to rip his scalp off his head. "Of course."

"Don't worry." Martyn said again, trying to sooth as he put his bag away and attempted to put the wings on. "Like I said, I'm here to rescue you. We'll get you out of here in no time!"

"I am here of my own volition." Grian felt himself say distantly as he watched Martyn struggle to get the bottom of the shawl unbuttoned without taking the whole thing off. "I- Martyn that isn't going to work."

"Course it will!" He said cheekily. "Besides, I'm sure they won't even notice you gone. You don't have to pretend to want to be here."

Grian took a deep breath before stepping forward, undoing the back button that kept the shawl flat agaisnt a Watcher's back over their wings. He helped Martyn slip the restrictive cords over his arms before getting them situated back into the long sleeves.

"Okay, Look, I mean, look, Martyn. I can't leave just yet. I actually got somethings to do before we go."

"Do you have to?"

"Martyn, I was Invited here."

He pauses. "You were?"

Grian rolled his eyes. "For a Listener, you are very bad at paying attention."

"What do you expect me to do right now then?"

Grian stepped back and tried not to look at the glitter on the wings. "I geuss you walk beside me and we pretend I don't know you while I do all of the talking until we can both go home."

"Why are you here willingly on a Saturday?" Martyn asked, baffled.

Grian suppressed another eye roll. "I'll explain later, as of now... well, lunch starts in half an hour. I hope you can actually can pretend to be mute and only listen, er, Listen for now. Because if you cause any problems, I'm not gonna come back for you."

This was a lie and theh both knew it, but Martyn folded his arms and looked down at Grian. "Sure. Fine. Whatever."

"Good. Let's to. Keep your mouth shut, Martyn." The two stepped out of the alley, the taller 'Watcher' following behind the shorter.

-Lunar, who is typing this out on a new phone and is having a fucking nightmare of a time doing it

they are so ridiculouS

[loverofwhump216]

A Man and His Dragon

Summary: Stoick and Thornado reunite

Halfway through the flight back home, Hiccup noticed the gang was being followed. He took out his spyglass and turned around to get a better look at who was behind them. Roughly fifty yards away were four familiar shapes. The dragon rider just smiled and faced forward again, thinking, Dad's going to love this.

As the gang landed in the town square, cheers erupted in celebration of their latest victory. Hiccup dismounted Toothless and handed the King of Dragon's egg off to one of the hatchery hands. "Keep this safe until the Wing Maidens arrive. They know someone who can care for the egg."

The hatchery hand took the egg and headed to the caves.

"Hiccup," a voice called out from the crowd. Hiccup turned toward the voice and saw Gobber pushing past everyone, grumbling at them to make way.

"What's wrong, Gobber?" Hiccup asked, feeling his heart drop.

"You need to head home. It's your father," Gobber replied.

The Rider didn't wait for an explanation and broke into a run towards his house, Toothless and Astrid hot on his heels, er, heel. He had forgotten all about the four figures that were following them and hadn't bothered to warn the villagers. He needed to see his father.

Hiccup burst through the door, fearing the worst as a million thoughts ran through his mind. The fears melted away almost immediately when he saw his father sitting up in his bed, awake. Gothi was tending to him, removing the many bandages.

"Dad?" Hiccup asked, hoping his eyes weren't playing tricks on him as he stepped over to the bed.

"It's okay, Hiccup," Stoick said, his voice just above a harsh whisper. He placed his hand on Hiccup's shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. "Everything is okay now."

Hiccup was at a loss for words. His knees felt weak as exhaustion and relief washed over him. He sat down in the nearby chair.

"Gothi, can you give us a minute?" Stoick requested looking over at the elderly healer.

Gothi gave a small bow and left the house to give the Haddocks their privacy.

"How are you feeling, Dad?" Hiccup managed to ask.

Stoick rolled his shoulders as if he were getting ready to stretch. "A bit sore, but this is nothing compared to when Gobber and I were trapped on an island full of wild boars and no weapons. That was a bloody mess; I barely made it out with my arm intact."

The younger Haddock gave a small chuckle. It was a story he had heard a million times, and he looked forward to hearing it a million times more.

"Gobber told me you had to leave on an important mission," Stoick said. "Tell me what happened. Were you successful?"

Hiccup smiled. "Yeah, yeah we were." He told his father about how they went to Vanahiem, chased after some flyers in order to keep the place a secret, and how they found the final Dragon Eye lens. He spoke of what went down on Dramillion Island. He left out the part about almost getting impaled with a harpoon; that was a story of a different day. When he finally got around to what happened on Berserker Island, he lit up as he remembered the four followers. He quickly finished the story, leaving out several key parts.

".... And Helga took the eggs down to the Hatchery cave to wait for the Wing Maidens," Hiccup finished.

"I think you skipped several parts," Stoick quipped. "But that's okay. You can tell me later. For now, help me get up. A chief shouldn't be laying in bed for to long."

Hiccup obliged, seeing no sense in arguing. Besides, how else was he supposed to show his father the four followers, who were surely here by now?

Leaning heavily on his son, they stepped outside only to be met with a dragon standoff. Skullcrusher was guarding the Haddock home, roaring at four Thunderdrums. Toothless stood between the dragons, doing what he could to stop the foreseeable bloodshed.

It took Stoick a minute to register what was happening, but when he looked into the eye of the older Thunderdrum, everything fell into place. "Skullcrusher, stand down," he ordered his dragon. "They mean us no harm."

Skullcrusher obeyed but clearly wasn't happy about it. He stomped over his stable and laid down with a smokey grunt. Toothless followed the grumpy dragon and butted his head against his. This seemed to help the Rumblehown calm down a bit.

Stoick pushed off of Hiccup and limped forward toward the older Thunderdrum. "Hello, old friend," he greeted in a wistful tone as he helped out his hand. The Thunderdrum stepped forward and rested his snout against the chief's open hand.

"Thornado," Stoick gleefully boomed as he got down his knees and embraced the dragon as best as he could. Thornado nuzzled in, purring loud enough to shake the ground around them. The three younger Thunderdrums took this as permission to start pouncing on the duo.

Despite how sore he was, Stoick couldn't help but laugh. His old dragon had come back and brought the kids with. After a while, the younger dragons stopped their playful attack and gave Stoick and Thornado some much-needed space.

Hiccup stood to the side and just watched as the pair reconnected. Astrid came up next to him and placed a kiss on his cheek. "You knew they were coming, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Hiccup admitted. "I meant to tell you guys when we landed, but Gobber kind of interrupted me."

"You can make it up to me later," Astrid teased. "Roast boar and a shoulder massage."

Hiccup threw his arm over her shoulders. "Anything for you, mi'lady. But for now, I think we need to keep on these guys."

Stoick lay flat on his back as Thornado just rested his head on his former riders chest. Both content to be together again.

[enigmalynne]

Life at the Breaking Point: Love, Duty, and a Deadly Confrontation in the ER

Title – Life at the Breaking Point: Love, Duty, and a Deadly Confrontation in the ER Pairings – Jensen x Reader, Jared x Madison Word Count – 8,526 Warnings – mentions of shootings, beatings and violence, inaccurate police scenarios, hostage situation JAcklesverse Square – “I thought I lost you forever.”

He's a SWAT team member at the Sheriff's Office, and she's a doctor at St. David's Medical Center Emergency Room. They met at Jared and Madison's wedding, becoming fast friends with a longing for more that the other knows nothing about.

Those feelings come screaming to the front of his head and heart when Jensen hears about a shooting at the hospital where Y/N works, where she's held hostage at gunpoint. Will he be able to remain professional, or is his love for this doctor going to make him do something crazy?

Y/N was sitting at her desk, typing notes from her last patient, when she heard the popping sound. She didn’t think anything of it at first since the emergency room faced the highway and cars backfired all the time, but when she heard the succession of pops a second time, she lifted her eyes toward the glass doors heading outside. 

“What was that?” one of the nurses asked as she walked by. Y/N kept her eyes on the glass doors and listened intently for the sound again. When she heard it the third time, it was louder, closer to the entrance. She knew what it was immediately. 

“Oh, God,” she muttered, eyes going wide. She swung her head toward the nurses standing nearby. “Get as many people and patients out of here as you can. Get them to the elevators and send them up at least three floors.” 

“What?” a nurse asked. 

“Now!” Y/N shouted, grabbing the phone in front of her. “Go!!” The women were startled and started running into action. With a quick punch of numbers, Y/N’s voice went over the intercom for the entire emergency room. 

“Code Red! We have a Code Red in the emergency room!” she said, looking behind her to ensure people were moving. “Code Red in Emergency!” 

Suddenly, the front doors to the emergency room were kicked open, glass breaking and metal bending. The mechanism that makes them slide open sparked and broke, causing them to stop working. Y/N ducked her head to make sure none of the glass got close to the desk area she was at.

“Someone get over here and help me!” a furious voice shouted. Y/N looked toward the entrance of the ER to see a man standing there, holding another man who looked like he had been shot. He had a gun in his hand, and Y/N instantly knew he was the one firing the shots outside. 

“You!” he growled, pointing the weapon in Y/N’s face with furiously narrowed eyes. She immediately lifted her hands in a show of surrender despite her fear. A few nurses and an orderly nearby froze when they saw the weapon. 

“You. You a doctor?” he asked. Y/N nodded. 

“Yeah, I’m a doctor,” she responded. 

“Good. You help him. If he dies, you die,” the man said. Y/N nodded again, swallowing back her terror. 

“What… what happened to him?” she asked carefully.

“What does it look like happened to him? He was shot, you dumb bitch!” the guy shouted. Y/N flinched. “Now help him, or you’ll be shot next!” 

“Can you take the gun off us long enough for us to help him? Please?” she asked timidly. The guy gave her an incredulous look, but she continued. “Just put it away until we get him into a room and get him help. You can keep it on me the entire time I’m working on him, but for now, I need you to put it away so we can focus,” she begged.

The man glared at Y/N before looking back at the man he was carrying. He looked back at the doctor before nodding his head and slipping the gun into his jacket pocket. Once it was out of sight, Y/N moved.

“I need a gurney here! Now!” she shouted, causing a flurry of action. The two nurses ran up while the orderly dashed off to find a gurney. Y/N helped the nurses assess the injured man as best they could and lifted the wounded man onto it once the gurney showed up. As it rolled away, stats started to be shouted out.

“Gunshot wound to the abdomen, no exit wound. We need to get him intubated.”

“Trauma 2 is open; make a hole, people!”

“Blood pressure is low; pulse is thready; he needs a transfusion; get me two units of O-Neg!”

“Someone get surgery on the phone, let them know we need a room now!!”

As they were running into the trauma room, the gunman followed along close by. 

“What’s his name?” someone asked. 

“Mark,” the gunman said. “His name is Mark.”

“Count of three, people… one, two, three,” Y/N said, and the group moved the victim onto the bed. The activity kicked up a notch as a third nurse jumped in to assist by putting leads on his chest and turned on the monitors nearby, causing beeping and tones to start in the room over their talking.

“Mark, can you hear me? I’m Doctor Y/N,” she said, checking out his eyes. Y/N continued to assess the injury as one nurse cut the clothing off him and another put an IV in his arm. More information is being shouted around, causing the gunman to watch in confusion. 

“Mark, if you can hear me, squeeze my fingers,” Y/N said, putting two fingers inside his left hand. When nothing happened, Y/N frowned, shaking her head. Suddenly, alarms went off around them.

“He’s flatlining!” 

“Someone get the LUCAS!” Y/N shouted. One of the nurses ran off to grab the machine while Y/N and the other nurse got the man ready. “Get that bag ready!”

“C’mon, Mark, don’t do this to us,” Y/N muttered as the three women got the machine into place. As the nurses strapped Mark’s arms into place, Y/N set the machine and once cleared, it began compressions. 

“Start breathing for him,” she snapped at one of the nurses. Every twenty compressions, a nurse squeezed the bag connected to the vent in his throat to provide air into his lungs. The gunman watched with wide, panicked eyes. Just then, the surgeon, Benny, walked into the room.

“What d’ya got?” he asked, his Creole accent thick. The gunman was startled and pulled his gun back out of his pocket, having forgotten about it while watching the work being done to his friend. Y/N noticed it and tried to hold the man’s arm down. In frustration, he yanked his arm free and whipped the gun across her face, causing gasps from the nurses in the room. 

“Whoa,” the surgeon shouted, stepping forward to stop the attack but freezing when the gun was pointed at him. Y/N was on the ground, a hand on her now bleeding head. 

“Back off,” the gunman growled. 

“Stop!” Y/N shouted roughly from the ground. “We have to get him into surgery if you want us to save his life!” The gunman glanced at her on the floor, then backed up at the people in the curtained room. 

“She’s right,” one of the nurses explained. “He was shot in the stomach, and there isn’t an exit wound. The bullet is still in his stomach somewhere, and we have to get in there, get it out, and stop the bleeding.”

“Look, man, if you want to save his life, you have to let us work,” Benny said, his hands placatingly. He’s already on the LUCAS, which means he’s already close to death. The more time we waste here, the less of a chance he has.” 

The gunman reached down and grabbed Y/N by the hair, pulling her up. Once she was on her knees in front of him, he placed the gun on her temple. The other people in the emergency room whimpered at the movement, including Y/N. The gunman looked back up at Benny expectantly.

“I will kill her if he dies,” he said. “Now, go.” Benny glanced down at Y/N’s tear-filled face before turning and giving orders to the nurses. The three pulled the gurney toward the elevator and made the move to the surgical floor. There was a momentary pause where the quiet took over, then the gunman dragged her up to her feet and shoved her ahead of him so they could walk back into the waiting area.

“You’re coming with me, Doc,” he said, keeping his weapon aimed at her head, his hand still gripping her hair. Y/N swallowed back a sob, tears still running down her face. “Get up.” 

Attention all units: shots were fired at St. David’s Medical Center Emergency Room, with an unknown number of shooters, at least four victims.

Jensen was finishing up some paperwork in his vehicle when the call came over the radio, causing him to pause and listen to the report. St. David’s Medical Center is where Y/N worked, a woman he met at Jared’s wedding a few years ago. Throwing his car into drive with lights flashing and sirens blaring, Jensen peeled out of the parking lot he was sitting in and headed toward the hospital as fast as he could. 

When Jared told him he was proposing to Madison, a schoolteacher he fell in love with after meeting her at a law enforcement appreciation day, he couldn’t have been happier for the man. Jensen had seen Jared through many failed relationships because he was a law enforcement officer, and he hated seeing his friend discouraged. As a man from a big family, Jared always imagined having a wife of his own with three or four kids running around. When Jared and Madison met, Jensen could see the instant connection. When Jared asked Jensen for help picking out a ring a year later, he couldn’t have been happier for his best friend. 

During the planning process, he, the best man, met the maid of honor, Y/N. The emergency room doctor was the complete opposite of Madison. While both girls were outgoing, friendly, and energetic, Madison was more sophisticated and genteel, whereas Y/N was a bit more wild and carefree. Jensen had no idea how they became best friends until he saw them hanging out together, and their personalities blended perfectly. 

The two spent much time together helping the bride and groom prepare for a storybook wedding, laughing and making fun of the couple. They connected instantly and even gave a joint toast at the reception. They have remained friends ever since, though if Jared had his way, they would have been a couple since the end of the wedding. 

Jensen arrived at the hospital quickly and jumped out of his SUV, eyes scanning the building. He popped open the back and unlocked the case that held his rifle. He pulled it across his chest and slid some extra magazines into the slots on his bulletproof vest before closing the hatch, locking his car, and running up to where the rest of the deputies had taken point. Once he got to a safe location, he knelt and aimed at the front of the hospital. Five minutes later, Jared Padalecki came up beside him.

“Mads called me on my way over,” Jared said quietly. Jensen glanced over at him, but Jared’s narrowed eyes never left the front doors to the emergency room. “Y/N’s working today and isn’t answering her phone.”

“Fuck,” Jensen cursed under his breath. “That means she’s in there and probably one of the hostages.”

“Yeah.”

“Ackles! Get over here!” a voice shouted from the Incident Command Center bus. Jensen popped up from where he was and ran over.

“Yessir!”

“I understand you have a solid understanding of this hospital, including how we can contact someone inside,” Lieutenant Singer said. Jensen nodded.  

“Yes, sir, I do.” 

“You’re coming with me, Doc,” he said, keeping his weapon aimed at her head, his hand still gripping her hair. Y/N swallowed back a sob, tears still running down her face. “Get up. The rest of you get moving. If you can walk, walk up front,” he growled. The remaining nurses, techs, and patients who could move did so quickly with their hands up in surrender. With the gun pressed to Y/N’s head, the hostages knew they had to obey the gunman’s orders.

“Look,” Y/N started, stumbling as she tried to keep up with the man dragging her by her hair. “We have sick patients in the ER right now. There are injured people just outside the doors; they need medical attention. Please, you have to let us help them, or they could die.” 

“I can’t do that,” he said quietly. The man cocked his weapon, causing Y/N to inhale sharply and the people nearby to cry out. Once they were in the waiting room in front of the ER, he ordered the hostages to line up. When they didn’t move, he shouted. “Line up against those fucking windows, now! Or someone else will get shot today!” Everyone rushed to line up against the windows, sobbing echoing through the now-empty waiting room. 

The gunman glanced out the front doors, catching sight of the flashing lights, and cursed under his breath. Looking around, he ordered two of the hostages to stand in front of the shattered doors. They scampered to do his bidding, glancing at Y/N as they went by. The gunman continued to drag her with him, his fist tightening in her hair. Y/N whimpered, wincing at the pain in her scalp.

“Why don’t you tell me your name, huh?” she said suddenly, trying to get him talking. 

“I’m not telling you my fucking name!” he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. Y/N flinched, her hands starting to shake as she held onto his hand in her hair. The gunman aimed his gun toward the ceiling and fired a round, the sound echoing around the emergency room, causing people to scream. 

“Any more dumbass questions, and the next one will be in your head, understand?” the gunman growled. Y/N nodded as well as she could with his grip on her. Suddenly, a phone on the main desk rang. The gunman growled as he shifted his gun to one of the nurses standing by the windows.

“YOU! What’s your name?” he asked a young brunette in bright pink scrubs who was crying. She whimpered loudly before swallowing hard. 

“Ma… ma… Maggie,” she stuttered. 

“Well, ma, ma, Maggie…” he said, mocking the girl. “Answer the fucking phone and get rid of whoever it is.” Maggie nodded, rushed over to the desk, lifted the receiver, and placed it to her ear. 

“He… hello?”

“This is Lieutenant Singer of the Travis County Sheriff’s Office. Is everyone okay?” 

“Yes, sir.”

“How many hostages are in there with you?” 

“Um, well…” 

“Hang up the fucking phone!” the gunman shouted, causing Maggie to flinch and whimper. 

“See if you can get him on the phone,” Singer said calmly. Maggie looked over at the gunman and held the phone out to him. 

“It’s the police. He says he wants to talk to you,” she said, her voice slightly whimpering. The gunman dragged Y/N with him as he stalked over to where the nurse sat, snatching the phone out of her hand. 

“No one here wants to talk to you, asshat!” he shouted into the phone. The gunman then yanked the phone and threw it against the wall. 

When they heard a gunshot inside the hospital, tensions grew in the parking lot where police were set up. Singer tried to reach them on the phone to ensure everyone was okay, but it ended in a dial tone. Roman was using his binoculars to investigate the emergency room through the glass doors in front of the building.

“Roman, what can you see?” Singer asked. 

“Looks like most of the hostages are in the lobby, lined up in front of the windows. He’s got one by the hair,” Roman responded. “He’s trying to make it hard for anyone to get a shot off through the glass.” Singer cursed under his breath, realizing sniper work was not an option. 

“He knows what he’s doing,” he muttered. Jensen stood nearby, his AR-15 aimed at the hospital. He kept his green eyes locked on the front of the hospital, watching for movement. 

“We got intel,” a voice said over the radio. “Shooter is Andrew Clarkson, age 32. Has a long rap sheet, mostly petty theft and small crimes, but recently, he’s been picked up on a few drug charges. Don’t know why he’s decided to hold the ER hostage, but this would be his first major crime with a firearm.” Jensen shook his head, glancing at Singer. As he was about to open his mouth and say something, a man started to walk into view.

“Suspect is coming to the door; he has a hostage with him,” a voice echoed across the radio. Everyone lifted their weapons and aimed as all eyes faced the entrance to the emergency room, including Jensen. The gunman shoved the broken glass door aside with his foot, dragging someone with him. The gun pressed to her head gave everyone pause. He yanked the hostage forward and hid behind a brunette dressed in blue scrubs; his hand fisted into her hair as he shoved her in front of him. Her hands gripped his, her pale skin tear-stained and bruising as she tried to control her breathing. 

When Jensen realized who the hostage was, fury burned viciously in his veins. 

“That son of a bitch,” Jensen growled.

“Get back!” the gunman shouted, pressing the gun into Y/N’s temple. “Get back, all of you!” 

“Let her go, Andrew,” Singer said into the mouthpiece of a megaphone. The gunman, Andrew, grew angrier, yanking at Y/N’s hair. The cry that came from her was like ice down Jensen’s spine. Jared glanced at him from the corner of his eye, ensuring the man didn’t do anything stupid. 

“All of you just stay out of the way, and no one will get hurt,” Andrew shouted. Then he smirked. “Well, any more hurt than they already are.” 

“What is it that you want?” Singer asked. “Maybe we can help in some way.” 

“What I want is my brother to survive, and if this here bitch doctor and that surgeon friend of hers upstairs do the job right, he will,” Andrew spit out. “That ain’t none of y’all business, so go about your way and let me handle this.” 

“You know we can’t do that, Andrew. You’ve shot four people already. You have an emergency room full of doctors and patients in there being held hostage,” Singer shouted, shaking his head. Jensen was starting to get twitchy, Jared noticed. 

“Hey, take a breath,” Jared muttered quietly. “You aren’t going to help her going in halfcocked.” Jensen shot him a furious glance. “I want her outta there too, but we must use our heads here.” Jensen took a deep breath and adjusted his grip on his rifle. He studied the man who was holding Y/N hostage, her cries of pain infuriating him as he watched Andrew drag her back into the emergency room.  Once they were out of sight, Jensen and Jared lowered their weapons, but not without sounds of frustration. 

“There’s gotta be some way for us to get in there without being detected,” Jared said, looking up at the building. Jensen shakes his head. 

“They already have guys working on going in from the roof,” he said with frustration. He turned and looked at the sign in front of him pointing the way to the back of the building. Noticing the directionals, he had a sudden thought. 

“I have an idea,” Jensen said, looking at Singer. “Emergency rooms typically have a back entrance when they must take people from an ambulance. It’s different from where the public comes in, so they don’t get traumatized. I’m betting our perp doesn’t have that back entrance covered.” 

Jared catches on to what Jensen is saying, snaps his fingers, and points. 

“Right! Some of us could go back and sneak in that way while you have the rest of SWAT coming down from the roof,” Jared said. Jensen nodded.

“Make it obvious we are coming in from the rooftop; get him distracted so he isn’t aware of us coming in from the back. We sneak in, take him by surprise, pin him down, and it’s all over,” Jensen explains. Singer looks at Jensen with narrowed eyes, then nods slowly. 

“Alright, let’s do it. Pick three more to go with you. The rest will go up,” Singer said. Jensen turned to Jared, bumping fists. 

“You in?” Jensen asked.

“Always.”

“Awesome. Go get Seb and Jake; meet back here in five.” 

Jared turned and jogged off to pull the two men away and get them ready to go around the back. Jensen looked back over to the front of the hospital and took a deep breath. Hang on Y/N, we’re coming.

Andrew and Y/N made their way back into the emergency room, the sound of muffled sobs echoing around the room. Andrew shoved Y/N away from him, causing her to stumble and fall. She landed hard on her knee before collapsing against one of the sets of chairs put together. The chairs were loud as they scratched along the floor, moving as Y/N slammed into them. 

She moaned quietly, her hand going to her head to rub her scalp as she looked over to where Andrew was now pacing the floor in agitation. Y/N wasn’t sure what would happen next, but she knew things were about to get nasty.

Jensen and his team slowly made their way around the back of the emergency room, running in time with each other, their weapons held at the ready. The helicopter carrying the rest of the SWAT team was flying above them at the same time, making it evident that the sheriff’s office was about to drop deputies onto the roof to make their way down. Jenson glanced up at them once as he made his way around.

Once the back doors came into view, they slowed down to walk so they could see around the corner without drawing attention to themselves. Jensen signaled for the men to pause while he made his way over to the doors and glanced in. It was quiet; the only noise came from machines tracking heart rates and other vital information from patients left behind.

“Just as I thought, no one is back here,” he muttered quietly. “Okay, Seb and Jake take the far end. Jay, you stick with me.” The men nodded their heads in agreement before moving toward the automatic doors. As they quietly swooshed open, the team silently moved forward. Each man made their way through the curtained area of the emergency room, checking on the patients who were still in beds with machines hooked up to them. A few of the patients who were not unconscious saw them moving and were startled by the sudden appearance of a law enforcement officer. The deputies made movements for them to keep quiet.

“Stay here, and don’t move no matter what you hear. We’ll come back and get you out,” Jared whispered to a young couple who sat terrified next to their elderly mother. They nodded frantically, fear radiating off them. Jared then got on his radio, messaging the deputies out front that there were innocent people in the emergency room beds, forgotten and left behind by the gunman. Once the front lobby appeared, Jensen held up a hand to stop them. 

From where he stood, he could see Andrew pacing in front of the desk where a nurse was sitting. The hostages were still lined up against the windows. He didn’t see Y/N anywhere but knew she had to be there somewhere. 

“Will someone answer that fucking phone already?” Andrew shouted. The nurse at the desk suddenly shot up from her seat and ran over to a different desk to grab the ringing phone. She spoke into the receiver momentarily, then held it to her chest. 

“It’s surgery. They want to talk to Doctor Y/L/N,” she said. Andrew spun around, stalked over to some of the chairs in the waiting area, and bent down. It wasn’t until he stood up that Jensen realized it was Y/N. She must have been on the ground. Andrew dragged her to stand by her arm and shoved her over toward the phone. 

“Answer the phone. Find out about Mark,” Andrew growled. Y/N stumbled toward the desk and took the phone from the nurse. She kept her back to the gunman; from her expression, Jensen saw that whatever news she was getting wasn’t good. Jensen glanced at Seb and Abel, giving them hand signals to move forward slightly but low to the ground. His gut was telling him this was about to get ugly. 

Y/N hung up the phone slowly and turned to face Andrew, the gunman. Her eyes were filled with tears and sorrow for the man standing before her. His gun was being held on her, and she knew when she told him the update she was most likely going to get shot herself. 

“Well? What did they say?” Andrew asked angrily. 

“Andrew, you have to understand; Mark was already in a bad place when you first brought him in…” Y/N started.

“What are you saying? Are you telling me that my brother is dead??” Andrew asked incredulously, causing Y/N to whimper and startle. Tears slowly started to make their way down her cheeks as she swallowed thickly. 

“He had already lost a lot of blood before you got here… and then there was an infection that started where the bullet wound went in. Moving him around with the bullet inside him did a lot of damage, too,” Y/N explained, her voice choked with tears. “We sent him up on the CPR machine, remember?”

As Y/N was explaining what happened, Andrew’s arm with the gun was drooping slightly. She thought maybe she was getting him to understand, and he would not shoot her, so she continued explaining.

“Benny did all he could to bring him back, but it was just too much for his body to handle. He died twenty minutes ago. I’m so sorry, Andrew,” Y/N said.

The next moments happened very quickly, causing panic and confusion. Andrew looked back at Y/N, lifted the gun, and fired at her. Y/N flinched, which moved her to the right, which caused the bullet to just graze the skin of her temple instead of embedding itself into her skull. The strike still caused her to fly backward and hit her head on the desk behind her, then crumpled to the ground. 

All four deputies who were in the emergency room saw what was about to happen and opened fire on Andrew, hitting him in the chest and taking him down. This caused chaos among the other hostages in the waiting room area. Jensen moved up to kick the gun away from the dying suspect as his fellow deputies moved forward with him as backup. 

“Jake, stay with this guy. Seb, see if any of those nurses are stable enough to help him. Jay, take the rest of the hostages to the back. I’m going to check on Y/N,” Jensen ordered his team before moving. He didn’t stop to hear them answer. Instead, he leaped over a counter and moved to where Y/N was crumpled on the floor. Just as he reached her and started to roll her over, Jensen was quickly pushed out of the way.

“I got her, Jen,” a doctor named Chris said, pushing him aside. He then rattled orders to three other people next to him, lifting her onto a gurney that appeared out of nowhere. “I need a CT scan on her head; I wanna find out if that bastard did any permanent damage!” he heard as they ran down a hallway and into an elevator.

Jensen stood and watched as they rushed her off and away from him, startling slightly as Lieutenant Singer set his hand heavily on his shoulder. Once she was out of sight, he turned and looked at Singer, then nodded before walking to rejoin his team. An investigation would be conducted on the shooting of a suspect. They would need his weapon to interview him, and he would be put on administrative leave until everything was completed. Until then, however, they had a hospital full of people and a petrified emergency room. 

Y/N sat on her couch dressed in a pair of old pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt wrapped in an old, soft blanket as she stared into nothingness, thinking about what had happened that day. 

Her hair was damp from the long hot shower she had taken earlier, during which she drained the hot water tank and stood under the spray. She was pretty sure Madison, who rushed over to the hospital once she was able to get in, was sitting outside the door the entire time. Once she left the bathroom, Madison took one look at her red eyes and held her for a long time before gently braiding her hair back. 

Y/N had two butterfly bandages holding the small cut on her temple closed, the bruising darkening as each hour passed. The bump on the back of her head was sore but not visible, thankfully. She didn’t have a concussion, but she would have a headache for a while. Thankfully, the CT scan showed no permanent damage to her head or her brain. She’d just be bruised up and sore for a while.

She had a hard time grasping that she went in for a typical 24-hour shift at the hospital only for her day to end in the middle of a hostage situation slash shoot-out that should have killed her. A bullet was aimed directly at her head. A shudder of fear ran through her for the hundredth time that evening, causing her to close her eyes, take a deep breath, and attempt to calm her nerves. Tears once pressed against her eyelids, and she struggled to hold them back. She wasn’t ready to fall apart yet.

Madison had lit one of her favorite candles after hustling her into the shower, so the room smelled of apples and cinnamon, but it wasn’t giving her the comfort it usually did. Her relaxation playlist on the Alexa speaker wasn’t either, despite it being her usual after-shift routine. Something was missing, and she couldn’t put her finger on it yet. 

“Here,” Madison said as she sat beside her on the couch. Y/N’s eyes dropped to the mug of coffee in her hand. “I know you’re not allowed any alcohol with the painkillers you’re on, so I figured coffee was the next best thing.” With a small smile, Y/N unwound her arm from around herself with the blanket and carefully took the mug with a shaky hand. 

“Thanks, Mads,” she whispered. She held the mug and sipped the coffee between her hands, enjoying the sweetened warmth filling her. “You used my salted caramel creamer.” 

“This was a good reason to splurge, I figured,” Madison said with a shrug. “You should try to eat something. I can order pizza?”  Y/N shook her head slowly.

“I feel like if I eat something, I’m going to throw it up,” she said quietly. A knock at the door startled her, causing her to wince after. Madison glanced at the door, then back at her friend. 

“I’ll get it. You stay here,” she said, standing. Y/N nodded, then sipped from her coffee once again. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth, listening carefully to Madison making her way to the front door. 

After taking Andrew down and getting Y/N help, it took Jensen and the rest of the SWAT team longer than expected to clear the hospital. Then, he had to go back to the office and hand over his weapon until the investigation into the shooting was completed. It was a long, tedious process that included an interview with internal affairs and a meeting with the chaplain. When he was finally done for the day, he decided to shower in the locker room so he could just head straight over to her place. 

He was grateful that Madison showed up at the hospital to care for Y/N while he was still working. Given her injuries, there was no way she was going to be able to drive home, and she really shouldn’t have been left alone after what happened. The few times he texted Madison to check on Y/N, her responses weren’t encouraging, which only solidified his decision to go over and check on her in person.

He wasn’t surprised she was struggling. While Y/N was trained to handle a crisis, being held at gunpoint wasn’t exactly in the job description of an emergency room doctor. That was more his world, one he never wanted to introduce her into. Once Jensen was cleaned up, he left the sheriff’s office, stopped at his favorite Chinese food place to grab some takeout, and headed to Y/N’s place. 

When Madison answered the door, Jensen frowned slightly. He expected Y/N to answer. 

“Hey, Jen,” she said, smiling sympathetically at him. She stepped aside to let him in the condo. Jensen looked down the hallway before turning back to the woman with concern on his face. 

“How is she?” he asked quietly. Madison locked the door and turned to face him with a shrug. 

“I think she’s still in shock right now. She was crying a little earlier, but she keeps stopping herself from doing it now. I think she’s going to break down when it all hits her,” Madison said. “She’s been quiet, which isn’t like her. I’m really worried.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Jensen said with a sigh. “Thanks for sitting with her until I could get here.” 

“Hey, don’t thank me. I would have been here regardless,” Madison waved off his thanks.

“Why don’t you head out of here? Jared should be home by now, and we’re on administrative leave until the investigation into the shooting is done. I know he’d love to see you right now,” Jensen said, giving the woman a tight hug. 

“Are you sure?” Madison asked, returning the hug. 

“I’m sure. I’m not planning on going anywhere; I got her,” Jensen nodded. 

“You’ll call me if you need anything?” Madison asked, pointing at him. Jensen smiled gently. 

“Yeah. I’ll call if we need you,” he agreed. Madison nodded as she led the two into the living room where Y/N was sitting. 

“Hey, Y/N, Jensen’s here,” she said with a smile. Y/N was resting, the coffee cup forgotten as it sat on her table; her head was in her hand, her arm leaning on the arm of the couch, and her eyes closed as her breaths remained steady. Her fingers pressed into her hair, rubbing slowly against her scalp in a light massage. Madison stepped closer to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. Y/N startled slightly, lifting her head to face the two. 

“You okay?” she asked, and Y/N smiled slightly, humming. Jensen studied the woman, frowning slightly. He’d never seen her look so defeated before. Even earlier, with a gun pressed to her head, she looked confident and strong. Right then, she looked... broken. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jensen said quietly. Blue eyes looked up at him, and after a moment of stillness, a small smile made it across her tired face. 

“Jensen, hey,” she said softly, causing him to smile gently at her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were here.” 

“It’s okay. I brought dinner. You okay with Chinese?” he asked, holding up the bag of Chinese. Y/N’s eyes dropped down to the bag of food he had in his hand, and it didn’t smell all that appetizing.

“I’m not that hungry,” she said, looking back at him. Jensen smiled softly at her, setting the bag down. 

“I’ll make a deal with you. You have some soup and maybe a little lo mein, and I won’t bug you about it the rest of the night. Doesn’t have to be a lot, but it has to be something,” he said, kneeling in front of her. Y/N frowned, looking back at the bag of food with a sigh. 

“Soup counts?” she asked, returning her eyes to Jensen. He nodded. 

“Soup counts,” he repeated. 

“Okay,” she whispered, nodding slightly. Clearing her throat, she tried to speak louder. “Yeah, okay. I’ll get some plates.” She unfolded herself and stood, making her way toward the kitchen. Madison stepped aside to let Y/N by, using Jensen’s shoulder for balance as she made her way. Jensen stood once she was passed. The two friends then watched her walk away before Madison threw Jensen a look. 

“I know. I promise I got it,” Jensen said, raising a hand before Madison could say anything. “Jared is waiting for you at home. Go.” Madison nodded and walked into the kitchen behind Y/N. 

Jensen started pulling the food out of the bag and setting the boxes on the coffee table. When Y/N returned from the kitchen carrying the dishes and flatware, Jensen stood and took the items from her. 

“What would you like to drink?” Y/N asked quietly. “I have some beer and soda. There’s still some coffee left that Madison made.” Jensen smiled softly at her and gently guided her to sit. 

“I know where everything is. Why don’t you get comfortable, and I’ll grab us some sodas?” he said. She thanked him and sat back on the couch, pulling one of her blankets around herself. Jensen walked into the kitchen and pulled two sodas out of the fridge. He carried them back to the living room, setting them on the table while watching Y/N as she stared out the window. Jensen sat down next to her and reached an arm behind her. 

“Hey,” he muttered quietly to get her attention. Y/N turned and looked at him, blinking away the distant look in her eyes. “Tell me what you need.” 

“I’m fine,” she said, dropping her eyes and sighing. “I’m just…” she started. She trailed off and shook her head. 

“Just what?” Jensen asked. Instead of answering him with words, she simply shifted her body to face him and ducked her head so she could lay it on his shoulder. Jensen pulled her closer to him, moving her legs so they laid over his and he could cradle her against his chest. This allowed him to start running his hand up and down her back. After a bit of silence, her hushed voice caught his attention.

“I keep thinking about what we could have done differently,” she muttered quietly. Jensen frowned. “I knew there was nothing we were going to be able to do to save his brother just by examining him. He waited too long to get him to us. I was able to get him to put the gun away long enough for us to try, but when we had to pull the LUCAS out… Surgery was a long shot, but we needed to try?” 

“Yeah,” Jensen muttered under his breath, his voice rough. 

“But then we were waiting, and things just got…” she trailed off again, shaking her head. “Nothing I was saying to him was making a difference. I knew it was only a matter of time before his patience wore out and he was going to start killing people. Then, when we got word that his brother died… I just knew.”

“You knew what?” he asked softly. 

“That he was going to kill me,” she replied. Jensen’s arms tightened around her.

“What you did in that hospital, keeping your head… talking to him like you did… that was exactly right. It was the right thing to do,” Jensen explained. Y/N shook her head, her eyes downcast.

“You did everything right, sweetheart,” Jensen reiterated.

“Then why did he still try to kill me?” Y/N asked after a moment of silence. Jensen sighed heavily, his heart hurting badly for this woman in his arms. 

“Because sometimes, even though you did the right thing, the bad guys don’t care and still react violently. Sometimes they just want to hurt others like they were hurt,” he said quietly. Y/N’s eyes started to fill with tears once again, against her will. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, tears breaking free and running down her cheeks. 

“I know you didn’t,” he reassured. 

“Those people he killed didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know.”

“I was trying to help him; I wanted to save his brother.” 

“I know you did.” 

“I tried to save him; we all tried to save him…” 

“I know,” Jensen said, hushing her as she began to cry earnestly. “You did everything you could, and it’s not your fault. Andrew should have realized that. You’re safe now, and he can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let anything hurt you anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she sobbed. 

“It’s okay, don’t apologize. I’d be worried if you weren’t upset,” Jensen said, pressing his lips to her temple. He held her close as she cried herself out. When finished, she lifted her head and wiped her eyes, glancing at the man who held her close.

“Better?” Jensen asked, wiping the tears from Y/N’s face with the thumb of one hand. Y/N nodded a little, sniffling a bit. “Let’s eat.” 

“I’m not that hungry,” she admitted. 

“Hey, you agreed to try. It doesn’t have to be a lot, but you need to put something in your stomach,” Jensen said, cradling her head. She lifted her sad blue eyes to meet his tender green ones. 

“Okay,” she muttered. 

“Okay,” Jensen repeated, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He then reached over to the food and grabbed two of the Styrofoam containers with soup in them. He carefully opened the lid of one of them and handed it to her. She smiled gently and sipped the soup. 

“Let’s find something we can watch on TV, okay?” 

Jensen didn’t want to leave Y/N alone; she wanted to stay in case she needed someone or something. She argued, saying she’d be okay, but he knew better. As they watched television, Y/N fell into a doze on Jensen’s shoulder while clinging to the blanket around her shoulders.

“Do you want to watch another episode?” Jensen asked, looking over at her. “Y/N?” That’s when he noticed her closed eyes. A gentle smile fell across his face as he watched her sleep. Moving carefully, he lifted her into his arms. The blanket wrapped around her fell away as he carried her across the living room, down the hallway, and into her bedroom. Thankfully, her bed was rumpled from a nap she had taken earlier, so he could lay her down and cover her with the sheet and comforter she had there. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“Good night, beautiful,” he said quietly before leaving the room. 

With an arm behind his head, Jensen was dozing on the couch as he rested on a few of Y/N’s throw pillows. Y/N’s scream had him leaping and running to her bedroom. He opened the door he had closed earlier to find her sitting in bed with one hand pressed to the side of her head. She seemed to be trying to get away from something or someone, Jensen thought as he watched her sob. He frowned as he walked into the room and calmly hushed her.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Hey, hey, hey, shhhh…. It’s okay. You’re safe,” he muttered.

“He’s gonna kill me,” she bawled, shaking her head and then whimpering. He was sure she was in pain with how she was holding her head. 

“Okay, okay, come here,” Jensen said, pulling the blankets back. She launched herself into his arms once she was free of the blankets. He caught her with a soft ‘oof,’ the weight unexpected, but once he had his arms secured around her, he sat on her bed.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, his heart aching for her. He situated himself so his back was against the headboard, and Y/N rested against him. She ended up in his lap, her legs straddling his hips while her head rested on his shoulder with her face pressed into his neck. Jensen wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, gently placing a hand on her head and massaging his fingers against her scalp. Her tears ran down his neck to his shirt, causing him to pull her closer. 

“I’ve got you,” Dean said gently. “I won’t let anything happen to you ever again.” Without moving her from against him, he reached down and grabbed her blanket and wrapped it up in it, offering warmth and comfort. Once he was happy with how they were situated, he turned his head and kissed her forehead. Having her in his arms like this, with her crying, was wrecking him.

“God, Y/N…I thought I lost you forever,” he whispered against her, her sobs quiet but intense. He knew she didn’t hear him; it wasn’t for her. His heart screamed at him, hurting at how this could have turned out. It took a long time for her to calm down, and Jensen held her and rubbed her scalp the entire time. Once her sobs subsided, the room was quiet, aside from a sniffle here and there. They remained like that for a long time.

“I thought I was going to die today,” she muttered, her voice clogged with tears and terror. Jensen tightened his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer. He turned his head to press his lips against her temple and closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotions that raged inside of him. 

“He’s dead, right?” she asked worriedly, pulling her head away so she could look at him. Jensen looked over her face, noticing the bruising on her temple had gotten worse. The bandages and wounds on her delicate skin practically glowed in the dim light of her bedroom. He gently brushed a few strands of hair sticking to her cheek from the tears behind her ear as he nodded slightly. 

“Yeah,” he grunted, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Yeah, he’s dead. He’s not going to hurt you again.” Y/N nodded slightly, looking down. “Hey. You’re safe. I promise. I’m here and won’t let anything happen to you.” Y/N nodded her head before laying back down against his shoulder. Jensen cradled the back of her head with his hand, holding her there, resting his head on top of hers gently. 

“Thank you for saving my life,” she whispered after a long silent pause. Jensen shut his eyes against another onslaught of emotion, swallowing hard. He pulled his head back to look at her. 

“You’ll never have to thank me for that,” he said, eyes studying the woman in his arms. “When I saw him come out with you, I almost shot him right then. I never want you to be in a situation like that again.”

“You gonna become my bodyguard?” Y/N asked, a bit of humor creeping into her voice. 

“I don’t think you understand, Y/N. You’ve become the most important person in my life,” Jensen explained. Y/N lifted her head to stare at him as he spoke, her wide eyes watery. Jensen stared back at her, more severe than he had ever been with her. “I was so angry when I realized that you were in there with that maniac. I wasn’t going to stop at anything to get you out of there safely, and when you got hurt…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Jen,” Y/N whispered. Jensen shook his head, his own eyes getting misty. The following words were out before he could stop himself.

“If anything were to happen to you… I don’t know what I would have done. I’m so in love with you, Y/N. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and that asshole almost took you away from me,” he explained, resting his forehead gently against hers. Y/N’s breath caught at his admission. 

“Jen… I love you, too. I think I have for a long time now,” she admitted. Jensen pulled back and stared into Y/N’s eyes, searching. Once he found whatever he sought, he gently pressed his mouth to hers in a passionate but modest kiss. Y/N tried to deepen it, moving her hands to his neck and fingers to his hair, but he pulled back.

“No. Not now,” he explained gently. Y/N frowned, hurt. “You’re hurting and need to take some painkillers. I know your head hurts you. And honestly, I just really want to hold you for a while. I almost lost you. I thought I lost you.” 

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” Y/N asked timidly. Jensen nodded her head.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” he said quietly. Y/N nodded. “Where are your pain medications?” 

“They’re right here,” she said, facing her nightstand. She picked up one of the three prescription bottles sitting there, and Jensen took it. He opened it and shook out one of the large pills into her open hand. She then reached over for the bottle of water to swallow down the pill before taking the prescription bottle and setting both back on her nightstand. 

“Let’s get some rest, beautiful,” Jensen whispered. Y/N nodded as she laid her head back down on his shoulder. After a while, the two adjusted their positions so that they were lying down instead of sitting up against the headboard. 

That was where Madison found them the following day. She smiled wistfully as she called out to Jared and waved him over to the doorway to Y/N’s bedroom. There, lying in her bed, was Jensen with Y/N curled beside him. Her head was still on his shoulder, her hand gripping the shirt he had on tightly. Jensen wrapped his arm around her waist, the other cradling her head against him, his face turned toward her as his lips pressed to her forehead. The two onlookers smiled softly at the two. 

“She must have had a bad night,” Madison whispered, leaning against Jared.

“It’s nice to see them finally together, too,” Jared muttered quietly, kissing Madison’s head. 

“Wonder how long till we are planning their wedding,” Madison gleefully whispered as she closed the bedroom door. It was quiet for a long moment, then…

“We’re gonna elope if I have anything to say about it,” Jensen whispered, smirking. 

“We’ll do it at one of those tropical resorts in the Caribbean. It’s still kind of eloping, but I still get to dress up, and we still get pictures and flowers and shit,” Y/N said under her breath as she snuggled against him. Jensen tightened his arms around her, pressing a kiss against her forehead. 

“Okay, I like that idea better,” he sighed. 

“This is why I’m the smart one, and you’re the pretty one,” she replied with a soft giggle. He huffed at that comment. 

“You’ll pay for that later. Go back to sleep.”

“Kay.”

[nicedeviledhamrightthere]

if i fall

Summary: Neal gets hurt during a case and his found family checks up on him. He's not used to that.

Words: 1.9k

Notes: This fits in at the end of the episode "The Original", and fulfills the square "broken ribs" for my hurt/comfort bingo card and also "regret/guilt" and "tricky" for my White Collar bingo card which puts me at a bingo! Zero plot, just some found family feels. Super simple, written over the course of two discord sprints.

===============================================

Marble everywhere. Peter stepped over the mess carefully, crumbled bits of brown and beige dust crunching beneath his shoes. The sculpture is ruined. Decimated. Nothing but an indoor landslide. Peter didn't mind that much, he didn’t care for it in the first place and proof or not...he trusted Neal when he said it was a forgery. Nothing on the floor means anything to him except Neal and he’s slow to get up, favoring his right side when he stands. Peter watched him press one arm against his chest, discretely feeling out the source of obvious pain before correcting himself and forcing his features into something that reads as neutral. He made a show of catching his breath, and it was hard for Peter to tell if he was actually hurt or if he was playing it up to give their suspect another charge for his dance card.

Neal isn’t exactly a Federal Agent but it’s still assault.

“You okay?” Peter asked and Neal nodded quickly. He would never say otherwise anyway. Peter watched as Neal crouched to pick up the scroll, carefully controlling his features as he bent down, coming up totally preoccupied by the forger’s signature. Peter missed the way Neal held his breath, and anyone else watching might think he was just nervous that he’d destroyed a multi-million dollar sculpture.

Neal was not concerned about that in the least. He was certain that it was a fake that had been destroyed. A half-ton of marble that caught his fall without doing a thing to cushion the blow. His chest hurt, every breath screaming agony. He wasn’t sure he was a good enough con man to get away with this injury but he was going to try.

“We’ve got him,” Peter said, patting Neal on the back. He held firm even though he wanted to squirm away from the rough display of affection. “A little unorthodox, baiting someone into breaking their own work by making them want to kill you...but I’ll give you points for creativity.”

Neal winced and nodded. He might not put this tactic in his repertoire after today. “Thanks Peter.”

“You in the mood for a celebratory drink? First case won for the new ASAC and it’s about as high-profile as it gets. Can’t help but put us in her good graces for a while, huh?”

Neal glanced around the room and shook his head. He only wanted one thing: to go home and lie down. He didn’t trust the new ASAC and he didn’t care about being in her good graces. He did care about the deepening pain in his ribs that time was doing nothing to alleviate.

“Rain check.”

“Yeah. Sure...okay. Have a good night, Neal.”

Peter watched Neal leave helplessly, hoping that he was alright. He wouldn’t push, though. Pushing only made Neal bristle and retreat. All he really knew was that if it had been him that fell full force on top of a hunk of marble, he’d be on his way to the ER.

By the time Neal arrived home, he was barely taking full breaths in. Every single movement made his chest ache like he’d just been attacked with a sledgehammer.

“Neal,” June called as he ascended the staircase slowly. He tried to look casual and was glad for the brief respite provided when he stopped to talk with her. “Would you have dinner with me tonight?”

He thought it over. What he really wanted was to pour a large glass of wine and lie in bed, not moving a single muscle until morning. But June looked so hopeful and he’d put her off now three or four times for various reasons, none of which seemed important now.

“Absolutely,” he replied in spite of himself. “What time?”

“Seven. I’ll have it brought upstairs, we can eat on the roof. It’s supposed to be crystal clear tonight, not a cloud in sight. I do love getting to see the stars.”

Neal nodded, glad not to have to use the stairs again if nothing else. “That sounds wonderful.”

June had several employees who brought the meal up in pieces, multiple courses spread over an hour of conversation. She never once asked him if he was alright but he could tell she was thinking it, she was watching him closely. Every move he made under scrutiny. The looks she was giving him, the fact that she’d had dinner brought up to him...he hadn’t lifted a finger all night.

“June,” he said finally as dessert was laid before them. “Did Peter put you up to this?”

She feigned offense for a moment, but quickly let the guise drop. “He was worried about you.”

“And you?”

“I think you got hurt today, but I think you’re alright. Are you alright?”

“I am pretty sore but I’m alright.”

“You’re a tough cookie. Eat your dessert. That always helps.”

“Thank you for checking on me.”

Truth be told, he still wasn’t used to having people around who cared about his well-being. He’d been so many people over the course of his short life and he was so lonely. June sitting beneath the clear night sky, eating a meal with him, it was as close to heaven as he thought he might ever get. He hadn’t exactly earned his way into the pearly gates, but he finally had people who loved him and wanted to keep him around.

People who cared that he might be hurt.

“I’m not checking on you, I’m having dinner with a friend,” she replied with a soft smile. “If I happen to notice that you got hurt today, that’s hardly cause for all of this trouble.”

Neal said goodnight to her after a final glass of wine and made his way to bed. June’s call to Peter did nothing to assuage his guilt at letting Neal leave without insisting he be checked out. Why had he? Any one of his agents and he wouldn’t have taken no for an answer, it was protocol, there was paperwork, but not with Neal. Not for a CI. But that only served to make him feel worse, and more than that...he felt responsible.

“Hon,” El said as she lounged in bed. Peter was brushing his teeth. “He’s okay.”

“June said he’s obviously uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable isn’t dying, but if you’re so concerned why don’t you go check on him?”

“He could have a broken rib, a punctured lung…”

“That seems unlikely. He ate an entire meal with her.”

“He would never say so. He’s so used to doing things on his own, El. He’s practically been alone his entire life.”

“I know. You’ve told me.” She smiled and put her book down, knowing that her husband wasn’t about to let this topic drop. He would have to talk his way through it, reason out the pros and cons, come to his own decision after so much back and forth. Her job was only to wait it out.

“Did I tell you he grew up in WITSEC?”

“You did.”

“I can’t imagine. From what I understand, his mother was...not much of a mother. He was on his own so young, it’s hard for him to ask for help.”

“Well don’t make him ask then, hon. Go over there.”

“And do what, exactly?”

“I don’t know Peter. Just go check on him. Make sure he doesn’t have a punctured lung.”

“Now you’re making fun of me.”

“No, I’m just…” she started but he leaned down and gave her a kiss, stopping her in her tracks. “Call me if you need help.”

What he found was Neal sitting hunched over an easel, great pulsing colors gashed over the canvas. The door was unlocked, not uncommon but it still made Peter a little wary.

“Hi Peter,” Neal said quietly, setting his brush down. He didn’t turn toward the other man, just sat still. Moving would have given him up, and frankly, he just didn’t want to deal with the pain of movement.

“You’re hurt.”

“Yeah,” Neal admitted. “It’s worse than I thought.”

“Do you need to see a doctor?”

“No. No doctor.”

“Alright. Can I help?”

At that Neal made the effort to turn in his seat and Peter could see the pain in his features. “You could open that bottle of wine for me. I’ve tried twice but I can’t.”

“You need some pickles or a jar of jam opened too?”

“Nevermind.”

“No, no, I’ll get your wine open. I presume you intend to self-medicate.”

“Something like that.”

“May I see?”

“If you get the wine open and pour me a glass, you can do whatever you want.”

The cork slid out with little effort, and Peter poured the glass a little heavy before handing it to his friend. Neal took it gratefully and sipped. It was not a small sip, but not quite a gulp. He wasn’t that bad yet.

“So, this an original Neal Caffrey?” Peter asked, leaning forward to examine the painting.

“It wasn’t supposed to be, but…”

“I’m not much of an art connoisseur but even I can see this is a painting of pain.”

“Well, when you try to paint with broken ribs…”

“Let me take a look.”

Neal sat still while Peter lifted his shirt and gently ran his fingers along mottled splashes of bruised ribs, pressing slightly where he thought the most damage might be. “This is gonna hurt for a while.”

“How long?” Neal asked, and Peter saw a flood of innocence and a little fear in Neal’s eyes. He shrugged.

“A few weeks, at least. It shouldn’t be so bad after a copule days, but you’ll want to be careful. I should probably…”

“No. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you Peter. You’re going to bench me.”

“It’s for your own good, and for everyone’s safety.”

“Please Peter. I don’t want to be stuck at my desk.”

“How about the van? There are a few stakeout requisitions on my desk. You and Diana can sit in the van, but you have to promise you won’t do any of the leg work until you’re feeling better.” Peter paused, trying to get a read on Neal while his defenses were still down. Before he started formulating a plan. “And I can tell if you’re lying to me. You know that. I let you get away with things more than I should, but I always know.”

“I know you do.”

“So why try?”

“Because it’s fun. And I don’t know who I am if I don’t.”

Peter smiled and pulled Neal’s shirt back down before walking toward the freezer to find an ice pack. There wasn’t much in there, but he did have a malleable gel pack so Peter brought it out and placed it against the worst of the bruising. He held it there for a moment, before Neal managed to lift his arm and place his hand over the ice.

“Thank you.”

“You should go lay down. I’ll close up.”

“Yeah...okay…” Neal whispered, staring at his angry canvas. It did look like pain. He didn’t mean to paint that, he’d been going for something a little less personal but lost it after the first missed stroke.

“Take tomorrow off,” Peter said as Neal shuffled stiffly toward the bed with his ice pack pinned to his side and a glass of wine in hand.

“Okay,” Neal said. Peter felt awful pushing him aside, and even worse that he wasn’t arguing much.

“If you have Italian roast...I’ll stop by for a cup of coffee on my way in. We can discuss the plan for you coming back.”

“I always have Italian roast, Peter.”

Peter grinned. “I know. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Peter…” Neal groaned, trying to get into bed. “Thank you for checking on me.”

“Of course.”

[twoidiotwriters1]

Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Love it when characters go "No❤️" -Danny Words: 2,802 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Rewrite The Stars' -by James Arthur & Anne-Marie

XXXIII: I Wanna Hold His Hand So Bad It Makes Me Look Stupid

They climb a service platform to take a break from waddling through freezing water. "Gather round, children," Leo manages to light himself on fire after his third try. "Nothing like a blazing-hot Leo to warm you up! Ara knows it better than anyone," he winks at her playfully.

Lester stutters an insult but scoots closer just like Meg. Ara stays put, getting enough warmth from where she's seated. Leo liked to joke that she wouldn't notice she was burning until it was too late because his kisses were simply that hot, but now she has the need to reach out and see what happens. Ara sinks her hand into the flames. One, two, three—

"Ow!" She pulls her steaming hand out and blows on it.

Leo shuts off the blazes. "Did you just stick your hand in?"

Ara blushes. "I was testing something."

"I know I call you bombón sometimes..." he teases her.

"Shut up," she rubs her hand.

"Hey, Apollo," Leo moves his attention from her, which proves he's a merciful soul. "That was nice work back there."

"Which part?" He scoffs. "The drowning? The screaming?"

"Nah, man—how you collapsed that brick wall. You should do that more often."

"That was Ara's idea," he mutters, pulling pieces of plastic from his coat. "And as an annoying demigod once told me, Gee, why didn't I think of that? I've explained before—I can't control those bursts of power. Somehow, in that moment, I found my godly voice. Perhaps Ara's power bounced off of me—"

"You saved me," Meg's voice quivers. "I was going to die. Maybe that's why you got your voice back."

"Yeah, I'm always at my best while trying to save the people I love," Ara smiles innocently, but she knows this is flustering Lester.

"Well, I'm glad you weren't crushed to death, Meg," he tries to play it cool. "Anything broken?"

"Nah. I'm good." She lightly pats her ribcage.

"Are you sure?" Ara insists gently. "That was some nasty hug you got, I've got ambrosia in my bag if you need it?"

"Well, fine, if it'll shut you up," Meg snaps, giving in way too easily.

Ara opens her plushie bag, pulling a small square of ambrosia. "Thank you."

"Why are you thanking me?" Meg huffs. "You're the one helping me."

"For letting her help you," Leo explains. "It's what makes her happy."

"It does," Ara agrees.

"Now, wouldn't you agree it'd be super cool if she could do it forever—?"

"That's enough of that," the girl reaches over and holds his chin affectionately, Leo leans in almost purring at her touch.

Meg looks at Ara, then at Leo, her gaze turning a little shy. "You guys are cute together."

Leo's smile falters for a millisecond, then he replaces it with the faux mirth he's so good at manufacturing. "Aphrodite herself chose me to be her man. That's just how cute we are, like matching salt and pepper shakers."

Ara smiles too, but it's thin. "She didn't choose him, she chose Paris for Helen—it's a long story, you don't wanna hear it."

"Got it," Meg eats the piece of ambrosia in a single bite.

"You two are handling Ara's situation quite bravely," Lester speaks. "Not many partners would react the way you're doing, Valdez."

"Er, how am I reacting, exactly?" Leo fidgets with scraps he's pulling from his tool belt.

"Well, you don't seem sad about the likely chance that you'll grow old and die while Ara stays the same. Good for you for deciding to enjoy her company for as long as it's not weird. Because it gets weird, believe me. There's a reason why young godlings stay away from mortals—"

"Thank you, Lester," Ara intervenes with a less affectionate tone. "That's enough of that."

Ara glances at Leo but the boy pretends to be focused on his tinkering, though she can see the steam rising from his ears.

While Lester and Meg take the lead to hear what's being said in the throne room, Ara and Leo linger at the back. He leans in and nudges her shoulder. "Why didn't you tell them you broke up with me?"

"I didn't break up with you, I just said it was the wisest thing to do and that we should do it—but you said no, so now I don't know what we are," She mutters under her breath. "Now be quiet!"

Leo's expression takes a moment to shift from confusion, but when it does, the smile that he gives her makes her entire body tingle. "I think that means I'm still your boyfriend."

"Not if I stop calling you that."

"Ay, Hefesto dame fuerzas," Leo rolls his eyes. "Sunshine, you've got a vice grip on me, alright?" to bring his point home, he grabs her by the waist and tugs her closer. He lowers his voice to speak close to her ear. "We've played this game before and I'll never be above chasing you."

"...We know where the Waystation is now."

Ara and Leo freeze, the words hitting them like a slap across the face. 

"Yes, yes. Old Union Station," Commodus scoffs. "But Cleander searched that place several times before and found nothing."

"The Waystation is there," Lit's voice insists. "The tracking devices I planted on the griffins worked perfectly. The place must be protected by some sort of magic, but it won't stand up to a fleet of blemmyae bulldozers."

"Fine. Yes. But I want Apollo captured and brought to me in chains! The naming ceremony is tomorrow. Our dress rehearsal is, like, right now. When can you have the Waystation destroyed?"

"We need to scout the defenses. And gather our forces. Two days?"

"TWO DAYS? I'm not asking you to cross the Alps! I want it to happen now!"

"My gods, he's a huge baby," Ara grumbles. 

"Tomorrow, then, at the latest, sire," Lit decides. "Definitely by tomorrow."

"Hmph. I'm beginning to wonder about you, son of Midas. If you don't deliver—"

"Please say you'll kill him," Leo mutters, tightening his grip on her waist. "Please, be good for something at least once, Toilet man..."

"Leo, you're squeezing me," Ara protests. Though he's not really hurting her and it doesn't bother her at all.

The boy looks at her and smiles. "Yeah, I am," he leans in. "What did Lester say about enjoying you...?"

An alarm blasts off making them stumble away from each other. "Incursion at the front gates!" Lityerses calls out in anger. "I will deal with this, sire. Never fear. Guards, with me!"

Ara sneaks up to Lester and Meg. "You think Emmie and Jo got tired of waiting?"

"Unlikely—hush!" Lester pushes her back gently when Commodus speaks again.

"Alaric."

"Lord?"

"I think your time is approaching. I grow impatient with my prefect. How long has Lityerses had this job?"

"About a day, my lord."

"Seems like forever! As soon as he's dealt with this incursion, I want you to kill him."

"Yes, lord."

"I want you to wipe out the Waystation tomorrow morning at the latest. Can you do that?"

"Of course, lord."

"Good! We'll have the naming ceremony immediately afterward in the colosseum."

"Stadium, my lord."

"Same difference! And the Cave of Prophecy? Is it secure?"

"I have followed your orders, sire. The beasts are in place. The entrance is well guarded. None shall gain access."

"Lovely! Now let's go try on our racing outfits for the dress rehearsal, shall we? I can't wait to remake this city in my own image!"

"Gods, he's worse than Nico," Ara makes a face, listening to the heavy steps going farther away.

"Now," Lester pushes himself out of the sewer with the others following suit.

"Tomorrow morning?" Meg starts pacing, examining the throne room. "We gotta warn Jo and Emmie."

"Yeah," Leo scowls. "But we stick to the plan. First we find the captives. And that Throne of Whatever-It-Is—"

"Memory." Ara and Lester correct him.

"Yeah, that. Then we get out of here and warn Jo and Emmie."

"It may not help," Lester says anxiously. "I've seen how Commodus remakes a city. There will be chaos and spectacle, fire and wholesale slaughter, and lots and lots of pictures of Commodus everywhere. Add to that an army of blemmyae bulldozers—"

"Apollo," Leo made a time-out gesture, looking at Lester as if he were talking nonsense. "We're gonna use the Valdez method on this."

"What's the Valdez method?" Meg asks frowning.

"Don't overthink it," Leo explains. "It'll just make you depressed. In fact, try not to think at all." He looks at Ara, conveying a message just for her. "You get to enjoy life more. You can even handle your girlfriend's immortality far easier than most that way."

Meg looks between them once more, fully convinced by his logic. "'Kay."

Leo smirks at the young girl. "See? Easy! Now let's go blow some stuff up."

Lester and Meg move along. Ara speaks under her breath, visibly annoyed by the fact that she's blushing. "This won't work."

"That's what you think," The boy winks, immensely pleased with himself as he presses a hand on her lower back. "Move along, bombón."

Meg uses chia seeds to navigate the place. They run into a cleaning lady and Lester uses his singing to make her turn back and leave. "Nice one, Apollo," Leo praises. Ara has noticed that Leo has been praising Lester more, and she can't help but suspect it has to do with her, though she can't connect why.

"It wasn't hard. That tune is wonderful for inducing short-term amnesia."

"Would've been kinder to hit her over the head," Meg taunts him.

"Oh, come now! You like my singing."

Meg replies by punching him in the stomach. "Come on."

"Ow." He responds, following obediently.

A blemmyae is there keeping guard in the next hallway. "I got this," Leo tells them. And just like that, he walks forward and waves at the creature with an ample smile. "Hello! Lovely day! How are you?"

The blemmyae stops and stares at him. "I'm fine. I don't think you're supposed to be here."

"Really?" Leo continues to walk, still smiling. "Thank you!"

Ara feels weirdly proud of his performance. "See that, Meg? Perfect use of fake it 'til you make it." Meg grumbles, but she also looks like she wants to smile.

"You're welcome," the guard continues. "Now if you'll please raise your hands."

"Like this?" Leo lifts his hands and throws white-hot flames at the blemmyae.

They don't cause much damage, and the guard is still able to talk through his earpiece. "Post twelve, I've got—"

Meg goes next and slices up the blemmyae like butter, leaving a golden layer of dust on the ground. "Post twelve, please repeat." Requests a tiny voice in the earpiece. Lester picks it up. "False alarm. Everything is hunky-dorky. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Daily passcode, please."

"Why, certainly! It's—" Lester tosses the earpiece to the ground and stomps on it.

"Smooth," Ara teases him.

"Hunky-dorky?" Meg makes a face.

"It sounded like something a blemmyae would say."

"That's not even the right expression. It's hunky-dory."

"A girl who says goddy is correcting my language."

"While those two fight, would you keep a lookout while I take care of this door, my love?" Leo asks sweetly at Ara, abusing the usage of pet names now more than ever just to press her. "There's gotta be something important in here."

Ara stands with her back turned and watches Meg plant seeds in the middle of the hallway. "Meg, what are you doing?" Lester tilts his head.

"Chia."

"I can see that, but..." He leaves the sentence unfinished, not understanding the girl's actions.

"They wouldn't last any longer in my hand," Meg explains. "Everything alive deserves a chance to grow."

Ara watches her intently, no longer having that chance. She could feel it in her bones, in the way her skin shredded to give way to a newer one that would not stretch or wrinkle. The girl decides then and there that if it's not in the cards for her to grow old, then she'll work hard so everyone around her finds a comfortable place where to do it for her.

"Yes!" Leo pushes the door open. "Who's the best?"

"Me?" Lester blurts out wistfully, then pouts. "You didn't mean me, did you?"

"It's never you, buddy," Ara nudges him forward.

They enter the room and find the prisoners, one of them she recognizes. "Kowalski!"

The girl gets up and presses her palms against the same spots where Ara placed hers on the enclosure's glass. Her expression is one of concern mixed with hope, and Ara sees her mouthing the words "General" and "Glad you're here".

"Madre de los dioses," Leo whispers in horror behind her, examining the room.

Ara spots the two rail-thin demigods huddled close to each other in a cell, and another boy at the far corner that for a moment confuses her because, for a split second, Ara thinks he's Beckendorf.

"Gods Almighty," Ara says dryly. "When I get my hands on Commodus..."

"Them first," Meg walks past her and cuts an almost perfect circle on the glass keeping the two demigods, then they try to move but they're too weak. Ara steps forward and follows Meg inside, pushing her Octopus off one shoulder and searching for her squares of ambrosia. 

"There we go..." she feeds them gently. "Eat slowly..."

Leo releases the hunter by melting the glass, and she jumps out grabbing the hammer Leo left behind while trying to figure out how to break into the cells. "More weapons, I need more weapons..."

"Um, I got a screwdriver, a hacksaw, and... I think this is a cheese cutter."

"What are you, a tinkerer?"

"One of the best you'll meet, Ko," Ara turns and smiles at the girl.

The girl gifts Ara with a huge smile. "General Jackson..." she swoops all the tools Leo is offering and then walks up to Ara, kneeling in greeting. "I knew you'd come. We've been expecting you for days."

"Stand up, soldier," Ara gets up too. "I'm here."

"I was told you are escorting Apollo," the girl looks back at the kids that came with her. "Is he here?"

"I'm Apollo," Lester says.

"Right," Kowalski eyes him a moment before turning her attention to Ara. "The rest of the Hunters should be on their way. I was the nearest to Indianapolis. I decided to play advance scout. Obviously, that didn't work out so well for me." She scans Ara from head to toe, her expression changing from concern to intrigue. "General, you look..."

"Yes, don't mention it," Ara brushes it off. "There were some intruders a few minutes ago by the gates, I think your sisters are here."

"We need to leave, then," the hunter turns to help Meg with the boys. "Quickly."

"Prisoners should never be treated this way," Lester says indignantly.

"Oh, they weren't denied food," Ara's friend explains. "They've been on a hunger strike. Courageous... for a couple of boys. I'm Hunter Kowalski, by the way."

"A Hunter named Hunter?" Lester raises a brow.

"Yeah, I have heard that a million times. Let's free the others."

The next in line is a dracaena. Ara hesitates to release her but Kowalski steps forward. "She's friendly. We shared a cell last night until the guards separated us. Her name's Sssssarah, with five s's."

"Of course," Ara turns to the creature. "Hi."

Up close, the guy Ara thought was Beckendorf looks way older than Beck and also better groomed. Even though he's wearing a loincloth only, he carries himself with the dignity Ara only sees in experienced demigods, and his eyes, dark and calculating, make her think of Nico.

"Not that one," the dracanae tries to stop her from releasing him. "Too dangerousssss."

"Lady, we need dangerous friends," Leo raises a brow.

"Yessss, but that one fought for money. He wassss employed by the emperor. He'sssss only here now because he did ssssomething to anger Commodussss."

"All the more reason to free him," Ara says, unable to tear her gaze away from the demigod. He's not Greek or Roman, but from a totally different world. She can feel it. "Leo?"

"On it, babe." Leo sets him free and Ara notices the way Lester's soul light is bright as he stares, practically gaping, at the stranger. 

The young man steps out, towering over all of them, and Lester hurries to speak. "Hello. I'm the immortal god Apollo. Who might you be?" 

When he speaks, his deep and imposing voice gives Ara a shiver. "I am Jimmy."

"A noble name," Lester says in awe, "worthy of kings."

"Apollo, get over here," Meg calls, having no interest in the stranger.

Ara offers to shake hands with the older boy. "It isn't of any relevance to you, I think, but my name is Arae and I'm the General of Olympus. I look after Greek and Roman demigods, but I can help you too."

Jimmy eyes her a moment before shaking her hand and testing her grip. "You're strong."

"And useful to you," she smiles. "So let's play nice, alright?"

"Ara," Lester calls. "Georgie's here."

The girl leaves Jimmy and approaches the last cell. She and Lester enter together carefully to avoid startling the young girl, who's the same height as Ara, which disorients her a bit.

"Apollo." The girl giggles, her hair is cut off in different chunks which doesn't help to make her seem less insane. "You and the dark. Some death, some death, some death." She looks at Ara and smiles. "Pantodýnamos. You don't get to choose."

"Right," Ara gulps. "Lead the way, Lester."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

plane to paris: part two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: angst, after effects of the plane crash

Summary: In the aftermath of the plane crash, you’re fighting for your life inside your own head while Spencer is fighting to stay positive in the hospital. You want to stay where it feels safe, but you know you’d be leaving behind a lot of people if you do. What choice do you make?

Square Filled: horror au (2022) for @criminalmindsbingo (previously @spencerreidbingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

The only light inside your bedroom comes from a flickering candle on the dresser. The rest of the room is shrouded in darkness, making the shadows dance on the wall. You’re sitting cross-legged on the bed watching the flame dance. The bedroom door opens and Spencer walks in with a solemn look on his face.

Despite that, you give him a smile. “I was wondering when you were going to come.”

“We should talk.”

“About what?”

“You need to go back.”

Your smile slips from your face, but you don’t move from the bed. You should have known he would talk you out of staying here. You turn back to the dancing flame.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. It’s easy.”

You shake your head and will the tears away. “I want to stay here with you. Please don’t make me leave.”

Spencer sits on the edge of the bed. “I’m not real, Y/N.”

“I don’t care.” Angry tears roll down your cheeks. “I still can’t leave. I’m not ready.”

“Okay. We’ll sit here together until you are.”

Silence befalls the two of you. You know the timer is ticking. You only have so much before you have to make a decision. Stay or leave? Succumb to the darkness or walk into the light?

The hospital doors slam open as Spencer rushes inside. The plane was found. Both parts. More than half of the occupants were found dead, with only a few in critical condition. The survivors were taken to the nearest hospital while authorities scavenged the wreckage as best as they could to figure out if the gunmen were among the dead or if they escaped.

Half of the team is already here, and Spencer rushes over to them with wild hair and wrinkled clothes.

“Where is she?”

The ER is in chaos. Doctors rush to help the survivors, with residents and interns running around gathering as many supplies as they can. Spencer doesn’t know who survived, as the names haven’t been released, but he’s hoping that your name is among them. You can’t be dead. He refuses to come to that conclusion until he sees your body.

The Coast Guard are still fishing bodies out of the ocean to send to the ME’s office. Those names were released as soon as they were identified, but your name wasn’t among them. You’re in one of two places: this hospital or at the bottom of the ocean.

“Tell me she’s here. Tell me she survived,” Spencer pleads.

“We don’t know,” JJ says.

Spencer stops an intern when she passes him, and he looks down at her with begging eyes.

“Is there a Y/N here? Is she one of the survivors?”

“I don’t know, sir. All I know is one of the gunmen is here. He’s alive. They’re working on him right now.”

“So, he gets to live and all these people get to die?”

The intern doesn’t answer. She slips away and resumes her job duties. JJ pulls Spencer in for a hug to try and comfort him, even though it doesn’t work. He won’t be calm until he knows where you are and if you’re safe. He doesn’t know what he’s gonna do if you died on that plane, scared and alone.

You open the photo album of your and Spencer’s memories. He’s standing by the window looking out into the darkness. If it was possible, the room got darker and the flame got dimmer. The candle is burning fast. Time is running out. You run your finger down the precious memories before flipping the page.

“It’s getting darker outside,” Spencer says.

You sigh. “I need more time.”

“You might not have it.” He walks over to the candle and studies it. “You have to go back.”

You ignore him and look at the pictures on the page. One of the photos is of you and Spencer in the library. He wanted more books to complete his collection, so you’re following him around with a stack of books in your hands. Penelope took the picture right as you tipped your head back and laughed. He has a loving smile on his face as he watches you.

Another photo is of you two in the park playing chess. You have a look of concentration on your face. You were laser-focused on trying to beat him, and he sat across from you with a knowing smirk on his face. He won that game as he does every game, but it was cute of you to think you could beat him.

You flip to the next page and sigh sadly. I’m scared. What if… What if things aren’t the same?”

“Nothing will be the same,  but that doesn’t mean it has to be bad.”

You look back down at the photo album, doubt in the back of your head. You know you have to leave but you can’t find it in yourself to get off the bed.

Luck is on Spencer’s side. Your name is among the other survivors that came to the hospital. That doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet. You’re in critical condition. You’re hooked to a bunch of machines that measure your vitals, and they’re not doing too good. There is a tube down your throat to help you breathe since you can’t do that on your own. You’re deathly pale, with all the blood seemingly drained from your body.

You might be broken, but you’re not dead. Yet.

Your mother and sister immediately flew from Paris the second that Spencer told them what happened, and they haven’t left your side since. Your mom holds your sister in her arms as they cry for you, and Spencer sits next to you by the bed. He has your cold hand in his, and he rubs the back of your hand with his thumb.

The monitors beep steadily, but your vitals are slowly tanking. You’re dying. His shoulder shakes in grief, and he pushes your hair away from your face.

“I’m right here, darling. I’m right here. You’re not alone.”

The darkness has crept inside the bedroom now. There is nothing you can see outside the window. The corners of the bedroom are so dark that they could be gone for all you know. The candle is almost used up. Time is nearly out. The flame is only but a flicker now. If you choose to stay, all you have to do is let the darkness seep into the rest of the room. If you choose to go back, all you have to do is leave the room. Open the bedroom door and walk out.

You can’t seem to make yourself move.

“Y/N.”

You thought Spencer left. Wait, that’s not Spencer’s voice. You turn to see your father standing in the middle of the room. He died when you were thirteen. A car accident. He was the best damn father you could ever ask for, and he was taken from you too early.

“Daddy,” you cry.

You run right into his arms, and he hugs you tightly.

“I’m right here, baby.”

“I don’t know what to do,” you cry.

“Yes, you do.” He pulls away from you and wipes your tears away. “You know exactly what to do.”

“I don’t want to leave. I’m scared.”

“I know you are, but there are people waiting for you, like your mom and your siblings and Spencer.”

“What if I mess it up again?”

“Then you get up, brush off the dirt, and try again.” You look at the bedroom door that’s wide open, a silent invitation. “I can’t choose for you, but I want you to know how much I love you. I’m very proud of the woman you’ve become.”

Spencer left to get some coffee for your mom and sister since he couldn't sit there and do nothing. He’s on his way back when he hears your monitors beeping like crazy. He runs into the room and his heart plummets at seeing your vitals tanking. You’re dying. Your mom and sister are crying and trying to comfort you as best as they can.

“No, please don’t go,” Spencer begs to himself. “I’ll go get a nurse.”

He runs out of the room to get a nurse for some help, and she runs back to the room with him. He stops short when he sees your eyes wide open. You’re coughing on your breathing tube. You’re awake. Your vitals are still bad, but they’re stronger than they were minutes before. The nurse jumps into action and removes the tube from your throat.

You moan in pain and roll your head to the side, and your mom cries tears of happiness. She and your sister lean down to hug you softly, and you lean your head on your mom’s shoulder since you can’t hug her back. You’re still so weak.

“I’ll be back with the doctor,” the nurse says and leaves.

Spencer walks to your side and cries in relief.

“Spencer,” you mutter.

“I’m right here.” He grabs your hand and rests his forehead on yours. “You’re safe now. I’m right here.”

“I didn’t… I was so scared,” you cry softly.

“I know. I’m here now. You’re safe.”

You don’t have any long-term brain damage, and your vitals seem to be slowly coming back up. All you need is rest. Your mom and sister leave to call your brothers to give them an update since they can’t be by your side right now.

When they return, they see Spencer curled up to your side on the bed, his hand intertwined in yours, your head on his chest, both of you asleep. Recovery is going to be a long road, but you know you’ll make it because Spencer is right by your side.

x

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[maplegyu]

SADDLE UP FOLKS!!! MAPLE IS GONNA DO WHAT SHE DOES BEST: YAP

let me start by saying... kae is the sweetest letting me yap about my fiyero!mingyu agenda and just how much i loved the wicked movie... but kae is also superhuman???? LIKE HOW DID YOU COME UP WITH RIGHT AWAY UR ACTUALLY MAGIC!!!!

ALSO THIS DEDICATION WHAT IF #MAPLECRIES!!!!!!

okay (lmm voice in non-stop) LET'S GO!

disclaimer: these were all immediate reactions i copy-pasted from my notes app HAHAHAHA

🪄

FIRST OFF LISTENING TO THEE SONG WHILE READING!!!! WHAT IS THIS FEELING IS MY ULT ENEMIES TO LOVERS SONG!!!

Ok so right off the bat!!!!!!

I LAUGHED SO HARD ALREADY GOD I LOVE MINGYU HIMBO MOMENTS

This convo gOD!! this is peak!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fiyero energy 😭 this was both so funny and what is this feeling (pun intended) bUTTERFLIES???? gOD kicking my feet and squealing at the flirty banter

You shoot him a glare. He flashes you a winning smile.

SO BANE OF MY EXISTENCE CODED ughhh ik this is bridgerton but this is the jbailey cinematic universe and we're all just living in it

His hand darts out until his fingers are wrapped around your wrist. Not to bruise or control, just to draw your attention to all your exaggerated movements.

OH U BET THE SPARKS WENT OFF FOR ME

"You still can't cast a half-decent Alarte Ascendare charm—"

"And your voice cracks whenever you try to hit the high note in Dear Old Shiz—"

THE HP SHOUT OUT 😂 NOT MINGYU COMING FOR THE VOCALS 😭😂

You loathe Mingyu, and Mingyu loathes you.

OR DO YOU????

As you pull the plug on your short-lived brainstorming session, marching off towards your dormitory with a dramatic flourish, Mingyu can't help but revel in the feeling. He feels like he just ran a damn marathon, all from spending twenty minutes of bickering with you.

Odd as it may seem, Mingyu has never felt so alive.

THIS IS AS MR. DARCY/ANTHONY BRIDGERTON AS IT GETS

KAE I HOPE U NEVER GET TIRED OF ME SAYING I LOVE U MOST ARDENTLY!!! COS HOLY SHIT THIS PART IS WHERE I AM BEWITCHED BODY AND SOUL!!!!!!!!!! (i'll never stop quoting these when appropriate)

okay but me as reader: *saves all his pics*

UM ALSO THE "ITS ONLY HALFTIME" PLS TELL ME THAT WAS A HADES REFERENCE

“It was your idea,” you point out. “So you start us off.”

Ah. Mingyu knows you’ll tear him a new one if he tells you the truth, which is that he didn’t really think he’d get this far.

He was fully prepared for the two of you to disagree until the deadline, or to perhaps start groveling at Madame Morrible’s feet for a new partner.

With this half-baked idea, though, the two of you are more likely to have to see this affair to completion.

“Right.” Mingyu squares his shoulders, eyeing the flowers atop the table. “I suppose we could, er, start with some basic curses.”

There’s a Cheshire cat-like grin on your face that Mingyu doesn’t like one bit. He steels himself for the blow, which inevitably lands in you saying, “You have no idea what we’re supposed to do.”

JUST SOMETHING ABOUT THIS WHOLE SCENE WAS SO YUMMY TO READ???? IDK IF ITS WEIRD TO DESCRIBE IT THAT WAY???? BUT IT WAS SO SATISFYING FOR ME FOR BOTH PARTIES!!!!

"Blah, blah, blah,” you drawl. “Ethics, insight, got it. But application? What about that, Kim?”

Mingyu has to bite back a curse from slipping past his lips. You’re so infuriating. He wants to wipe that smug look off of your face, though he isn’t exactly sure how he might go about that just yet.

“Maybe you want to contribute something,” he grumbles, his lower lip jutting out in an almost-pout. “I already came up with the idea of the project, sweets.”

CAN YALL KISS ALREADY DAMN!!!!!!!!!

There's nothing Mingyu hates more, really, than the reminder of just how good you are. The two of you were academic monsters to begin with, though you had your respective strengths and weaknesses. Mingyu excelled in theories; you dominated practice.

— but Mingyu is only half-listening.

I loved reading this part!!! Something about it made me so proud of them? like that is my power couple your ozness!!!!!

His eyes keep flitting to your quivering fingertips. His own hands twitch in his lap.

It’s a sudden feeling. It’s a new feeling.

Mingyu never thought he’d care for you, and yet here he is with his aborted attempt to reach out, to soothe, to comfort.

OH GOD HERE WE GO ITS HAPPENING

[REDACTED REACTION ONLY KAE CAN SEE]

I FFUCIKMG SCREAMEEDDDDDD

I WOULDVE BEEN LIKE I LOVE U TOO

HELLO??????????? TA[redacted] IS INSANE 😭😭😭

Someplace else— with someone else— the electricity crackling between the two of you might have been sexual tension.

- that someplace: maplegyu and xinganhao's discussions HAHAHAHA

At the last moment, he clenches his hand into a fist and draws back.

I hope u know this is what i imagined!!!!!!!!!!

Everything from "It's because it's you." until "Right. That adds up." was a rollercoaster of emotions. THIS IS ALR ANGST FOR MAPLE

“Thank you,” you say.

Plain, simple, unadorned. No explanation. It could be grace for the water. Grace for the break. Grace for the partnership. Mingyu doesn’t know, doesn’t care. He’ll take what you have to give.

His mind tries to conjure the perfect response, one that might have you feeling the same way that he is. No problem or you’re welcome or it’s just me, sunshine.

What he eventually settles on is an exhale of “Always.”

IM NOT OKAY I WAS NOT BREATHING GOD THIS WAS TOO GOOD I LOVE HIM I LOVE THEM

Mingyu loathed you in theory, but in practice? Well.

IM GONNA PULL MY FUCKING HAIR OUT

WHY THE FUCK DID I GASP OUT LOUD THIS WAS IN THE SUMMARY FUCKIN HELL

edit: it was not in the summary! MY GASP IS VALID!!!!!!

OKAY WELL CAN I EXPECT PART 2 NEXT YEAR???????? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

unadulterated loathing! 🪄 mingyu x reader.

madame moribble's sorcery seminar has space for only two students this semester. you're forced to make a case for yourself with the one person you despise the most: kim mingyu.

★ shiz university students!mingyu x reader. ★ smau with some fic work. word count for the fic: 2,800~ ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: modern shiz university, inspired by wicked, academic rivals, forced proximity, use of pet names, feelings realization/denial. cussing/name-calling in the spirit of bickering. this only draws from the setting of the wicked, so the given plot (i.e. wicked witch) doesn't exist here; prior knowledge of wicked is not necessary to understand the story. title is from what is this feeling. ★ footnotes: wrote this in one deranged sitting, but this is an early christmas gift for my favorite gyuldaengie, @maplegyu! 🎁 not quite the fiyero!mingyu agenda we have, but still in the same verse. ilysb. ♡

Mingyu has spent the better half of his years in Shiz going toe to toe with you.

It's to be expected, really. The two of you are the brightest of your age, tearing through your academics with ruthless precision. He always raises his hand in class. You can recite book passages word for word.

Both of you are hard to ignore, and neither of you are about to back down.

This application for the coveted Sorcery Seminar is yet another curveball that you two must navigate. You would think that after the disastrous Life Science group work in freshman year— or the Runes incident in sophomore year— that the higher-ups would know better than to force you and Mingyu into any sort of proximity.

But Madame Morrible seems intent on getting the last laugh, and Mingyu will go down swinging, if he must.

That doesn't mean he can't have a little fun, though. He shows up at the Quad at exactly five in the afternoon, making his leisurely way towards you. Everything about him is seemingly perfect. His pressed, navy blazer. His coifed dark hair.

Even the way he carries himself— practically swaggering to where you're waiting, less-than-amused— has people making way for him.

"Why the long face?" Mingyu asks sweetly in lieu of a greeting.

Your answer is curt, bordering cold. "Nothing."

Youch. "Ice queen," Mingyu mumbles under his breath as he settles onto the bench next to you.

You shoot him a glare. He flashes you a winning smile.

This was the nature of your 'relationship', or admitted lack thereof. It was a push-and-pull of Mingyu getting on your nerves every so often, of him testing how far he can draw it out before you crack.

You had your moments, though, where you could also drive him up the metaphorical wall. Like this afternoon, for instance.

You talk over him more than once. You shoot down every single idea he proposes. And you keep shifting restlessly— prompting your knee to bump into his, your elbow to hit his ribs.

When you accidentally step on the tips of his shoes in your animated, passionate denial of his nth concept, Mingyu has had just about enough.

His hand darts out until his fingers are wrapped around your wrist. Not to bruise or control, just to draw your attention to all your exaggerated movements.

"Could you stop that?" he hisses, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "I swear to the Wizard, I'm going to come out of this meeting battered and bruised."

You coo at him in retaliation, your voice sickly sweet. "Aw, what is it? Gyu-Gyu of Gillkins can't handle a little roughhousing?"

Oh, it's like that? Mingyu lets out a derisive huff before dropping your hand. You give him the small concession of scooting a bit further down the bench, putting some much-needed distance between the two of you.

Mingyu's not about to let your little jab slide, though. "You talk big game for someone who goes running in the other direction whenever there's a spider around," he says wryly.

Your response is defensive, sending the two of you shuttling down your typical back-and-forth. "That was one time! Might I remind you that you once thought river fairies were mayflies?"

"Bringing up stuff from freshman year, huh? I vaguely recall you mixing up Bunbury and Bunnybury for years—"

"You still can't cast a half-decent Alarte Ascendare charm—"

"And your voice cracks whenever you try to hit the high note in Dear Old Shiz—"

"Okay, enough!"

Mingyu presses his lips tight in a poor attempt to hide his smirk. Your expression is positively murderous, contorted in one of sheer annoyance.

No, annoyance is too light of a word, too generous of a feeling. Your flushed face and Mingyu's jackhammer pulse are not mere products of some petty vexation, some harmless flirtation.

It's unadulterated loathing. True, deep loathing; total detestation.

You loathe Mingyu, and Mingyu loathes you.

As you pull the plug on your short-lived brainstorming session, marching off towards your dormitory with a dramatic flourish, Mingyu can't help but revel in the feeling. He feels like he just ran a damn marathon, all from spending twenty minutes of bickering with you.

Odd as it may seem, Mingyu has never felt so alive.

Even though you don't say it, Mingyu knows you think his idea is good.

He can see it in your acquiescence, in the way you let him run his mouth just a little more. He wants to preen over getting this little upper-hand, no matter how insignificant it may be. The two of you are working on something he suggested.

You can call him all the nasty names in the book, but your begrudging acceptance is like a trophy to him.

It's why he's so cheery as the two of you reconvene to flesh out the project. You're benevolent enough to let Mingyu wax poetics about cursed objects being integral to Oz's landscape, though you keep him from rambling when he tries to position himself as the more brilliant one between the two of you.

"Don't get cocky," you warn as you lay out the material you'll be working on for the day.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Mingyu shoots back, though he does give in and shut up for once. He's not about to push his luck. It's only half-time, after all, and he has a whole lot more of winning to do.

The two of you had agreed on flowers. For a moment, neither of you do anything about the assortment of blooms laid out on the desk in front of you. It takes Mingyu a beat too long to realize that you're looking up at him.

"What?" His free hand— the one not holding his practice wand— reaches up to his cheek. "Is there something on my face?"

The unamused glare you give him almost makes him chuckle.

"It was your idea," you point out. "So you start us off."

Ah. Mingyu knows you'll tear him a new one if he tells you the truth, which is that he didn't really think he'd get this far.

He was fully prepared for the two of you to disagree until the deadline, or to perhaps start groveling at Madame Morrible's feet for a new partner.

With this half-baked idea, though, the two of you are more likely to have to see this affair to completion.

"Right." Mingyu squares his shoulders, eyeing the flowers atop the table. "I suppose we could, er, start with some basic curses."

There's a Cheshire cat-like grin on your face that Mingyu doesn't like one bit. He steels himself for the blow, which inevitably lands in you saying, "You have no idea what we're supposed to do."

He scrunches up his nose in an expression of mock displeasure. "We're going to show off practical knowledge of enchantments," he rattles off. "Provide insight into the ethical implications of magical creations. Equip sorcerers with problem-solving skills necessitated by—"

You cut into Mingyu's tirade with a dismissive wave of your own wand.

"Blah, blah, blah," you drawl. "Ethics, insight, got it. But application? What about that, Kim?"

Mingyu has to bite back a curse from slipping past his lips. You're so infuriating. He wants to wipe that smug look off of your face, though he isn't exactly sure how he might go about that just yet.

"Maybe you want to contribute something," he grumbles, his lower lip jutting out in an almost-pout. "I already came up with the idea of the project, sweets."

Anyone else who might've been on the receiving end of Mingyu's pet names might have swooned. You always bristled, acting like he had uttered something vile.

Today, you remain perfectly unperturbed, content to have Mingyu squirm as you roll up the sleeves of your school blouse.

"Watch and weep," you say, your wand poised over the flowers.

There's nothing Mingyu hates more, really, than the reminder of just how good you are. The two of you were academic monsters to begin with, though you had your respective strengths and weaknesses. Mingyu excelled in theories; you dominated practice.

In some alternate universe, the two of you might have been an unstoppable duo. As it is, though, Mingyu can only hope that your fragile truce will hold long enough to secure you both that class slot.

He tries his darndest to keep his awe at bay as you mumble incantations. The curses you leave on the flowers seem to be mostly minor.

The daisy's leaves begin to flutter like propellers. The carnation starts to rapidly change colors. The rose goes through a constant process of wilting and rebirth, the dried petals pooling on the table with each cycle.

When Mingyu steals a glance at you, he notices the sweat beading your temples. Magic took a lot out of a person, and to cast three spells in a row was no joke.

"First, we should do a magical construction analysis." Your voice is a little tighter, a little more strained. Probably from the exhaustion. "And then a de-cursing process. Strategies and techniques for reversing or neutralizing the curse."

You go on to talk about how your demonstration for Madame Morrible should go— something about a live reversal or containment of a curse, and a detailed explanation of their findings— but Mingyu is only half-listening.

His eyes keep flitting to your quivering fingertips. His own hands twitch in his lap.

It's a sudden feeling. It's a new feeling.

Mingyu never thought he'd care for you, and yet here he is with his aborted attempt to reach out, to soothe, to comfort.

In between piles of schoolwork and preparations for the demonstration, Mingyu hardly has any time to notice the shifts in your relationship. You don't seem any the wiser, either, which is saying something. You tended to have a better emotional quotient than his overdramatic self, anyhow.

But there are shifts. Small changes in the day to day that are imperceptible to the less-discerning eye.

The two of you remain cutthroat in the classroom, drawing your peers' ire with your relentless rivalry. Behind closed doors, though, there's something more akin to… civility?

Mingyu wouldn't dare call it friendship. He's not that naive. He just knows there's an ounce of kindness, now. Some self-imposed restraint, some begrudging respect.

As the two of you move on to executing more complicated curses, the changing dynamic bears down in the most glaring ways.

"Enough."

The word comes out as a wheeze, but Mingyu injects it with just enough authority to have you pause. You don't look any better than he does. You're folded in half, your hands resting on your knees as you try to catch your breath.

The spell that neither of you could conjure just yet involved a hand mirror and an ancient curse. So far, all the two of you have managed is to make the mirror sing.

"Let's— take a break," Mingyu offers.

Your response is to be expected. "I don't need a break. I need to get this stupid curse right."

A muscle in Mingyu's jaw jumps. He stares down at you with a look of sheer incredulity, and you only return his glare with a defiant one of your own. Someplace else— with someone else— the electricity crackling between the two of you might have been sexual tension.

Alas, Mingyu knows it's nothing more than your shared animosity.

… Right?

He breaks the silence with a mumble of, "I need a break. Give me five minutes."

Honestly, Mingyu could keep going. He thinks he has it in him to try and cast the spell a couple more times, but he's willing to look weak if it means getting you to pause.

You don't even have a snappy retort or a smartass insult to his declaration. All you give is a jerky nod of your head before you lumber off towards the nearest chair in the otherwise-empty classroom. A peculiar expression flashes across Mingyu's face as he watches you walk, almost like every step that you take is an effort. You miss the look in favor of practically collapsing on to one of the desks.

"Wizard Almighty," Mingyu cusses lowly. He reaches your side in a couple of strides, though he pauses with his hand hovering over your shoulder.

At the last moment, he clenches his hand into a fist and draws back.

"Is this seminar class really worth dying for?" he muses, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

"I'm not— dying," you choke out. "I just need— a—"

There's an edge of exasperation in Mingyu's tone. "You need a break. It's just me. You can admit that."

Before you can shoot back, Mingyu wanders off to his backpack. He digs through it for a moment before he can procure his water bottle, which he wordlessly places onto the desk you're on.

You give a quiet sound of appreciation before uncorking the bottle and taking a long swig. The rehydration seems to invigorate you in the slightest, enough for you to straighten to your full height. Mingyu holds back on teasing you over the way you've emptied his drink.

The first words you say after you've caught your breath are "It's because it's you."

Mingyu's eyebrows knit together in confusion. He tilts his head to one side, looking every bit like the confused puppy he's often likened to. "Pardon?"

"You said— I can admit that I need a break, because it's just you." You place Mingyu's water bottle down, your hands bracing the edge of the desk as you speak. You're looking up at Mingyu, but you're not quite looking at him. It's like your gaze is fixed on something just beyond his line of sight, and it hits him that you're avoiding his gaze.

You clarify, "I didn't want to admit that I needed a break to you."

His immediate reaction is to protest. To laugh and call you stupid, to question your faulty logic. But when Mingyu's lips part, the insult at the very tip of his tongue—

He finds that his words are just out of reach.

Because, for better or for worse, he understands where you're coming from. The two of you have exploited each other's weaknesses, have poked and prodded holes into each other's defenses. Why should this be any different?

There's an inexplicable twinge in Mingyu's chest. A tangible, physical tightening, over the spot where his heart is.

He had wanted it to be different. He doesn't know why, but he thought that this might make things different.

Instead, he manages to push out a heatless, "Right. That adds up."

Neither of you say anything for a while. The five-minute break stretches into seven, then ten. Right before the fifteen-minute mark, you say, "I think we should call it a day."

Mingyu— who has spent the past quarter of an hour trying to untangle his thoughts— jumps at the suggestion.

"Definitely," he says a little too enthusiastically. "Yeah, yeah. Let's… tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow. Same time?"

"Got it."

You gather your things and begin to make your way out of the classroom. Mingyu moves a little slower, not wanting to have to prolong any conversation if the two of you were to leave together.

He thinks he'll never have an answer to the question clanging in his mind until you pause halfway out of the door.

"Kim Mingyu."

He freezes in the middle of adjusting his bag strap over his shoulder. "Hm?" he hums, trying his best to act noncommittal even though his entire posture is already defensive in nature.

The sight of it seems to amuse you, because the ghost of a smile tugs at your lips. It's not a smile that you've ever given him. He's seen it in the corner of his eye, witnessed you dole it out to underclassmen and friends. And maybe he's always been a bit envious, a bit desperate to be on the receiving end of it.

Now that he is, he feels like he just got punched in the gut.

"Thank you," you say.

Plain, simple, unadorned. No explanation. It could be grace for the water. Grace for the break. Grace for the partnership. Mingyu doesn't know, doesn't care. He'll take what you have to give.

His mind tries to conjure the perfect response, one that might have you feeling the same way that he is. No problem or you're welcome or it's just me, sunshine.

What he eventually settles on is an exhale of "Always."

He wants to kick himself for it. Who the hell says 'always' to 'thank you'? a chiding voice screams in the back of his head. What does that even mean?!

He winces outwardly. Your smile widens slightly, just enough to throw him off balance once again.

And then you're gone, your footsteps echoing down Shiz' hall, leaving Mingyu with the answer.

Mingyu loathed you in theory, but in practice? Well.

He's so caught up in trying to unpack his realization that he nearly misses the quiet ping of his phone in his pocket.

[dodgerkedavra]

okay I think I waited patiently enough for someone else to ask that I get to ask another...I wanna know about the dronarry plans 👀👀👀

This is the general vibe LOL!!!

Harry stares at Ron in the corridor outside Courtroom 1, the croissant he ate on the way sitting like a stone in his belly. He's sweating like he's about to be sentenced to Azkaban, not sworn in as a Junior Auror for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Ron looks back at him, his freckles tinged a sickly green.

Otherwise, he looks good in red.

"It's just cold feet, yeah?" Ron's voice wavers.

The answer is yes. The answer is, they haven't spent a year training to back out at the last second. The answer is, Ron and Harry decided to become Aurors in school, and that's what they're going to do. Hermione's out there waiting in the audience. Ron's mum and dad. All his siblings but Fred, and George has spelled his twin's face onto a jumper and is wearing it for the occasion.

They can't disappoint jumper-Fred.

Harry opens his mouth. Before he can speak, a voice rings in his mind, clear as a bell.

Hermione's voice.

That's the sunk-cost fallacy, Harry.

Fuck. What is Harry doing? What are they both doing?

"Actually, I don't want to be an Auror." Harry says it fast, because they're walking out in--Merlin, fuck, less than a minute. "I can't, Ron. I'm--" He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm out. I'm leaving."

"What, now?" Ron's eyes are the size of dirigible plums. "You're going to make a run for it?"

"I'm going to walk," Harry shoots back.

"What about your uniform?"

"They can have it." Harry strips off his outer robes, only to find more of the uniform beneath. The jacket. The trousers. He fumbles for the buttons. Shoves off the trousers. Even his socks were assigned to him by the DMLE, so he takes those off, too.

He's down to pants and an undershirt when Ron says, I don't have to do this in a wondering tone.

Robards' assistant sticks his head out the door. "Weasley? Potter? You're up."

"Fuck off!" Ron shouts, and throws his uniform jacket into the man's face. "You can have our support but not our lives!"

Harry breaks into a run, his heart soaring, and Ron chases after him, stumbling out of the rest of his uniform.

They run until they're in the Ministry atrium.

They run until they're out on the pavement.

They keep running.

That evening's Prophet has a full-colour photo of Ron and Harry sprinting away from the Ministry in their pants, laughing their arses off.

It takes them two weeks to hunt down building they both like and buy it with some of the money from Harry's vaults.

It takes them three days after that to put out a shingle with the name of their new curse-breaking agency.

The sign has been out for twelve hours and seven minutes when the door opens. Harry and Ron are standing behind the counter, frowning at a book on curse-breaking.

"Fuck," Ron says quietly.

"Fuck," Harry agrees, under his breath. He's not totally sure how to run a curse-breaking business, come to think of it, but he honestly thought they'd have more time before they got their first customer. He lifts his head and tries to project confidence. "Hello, and welcome to—"

The rest of the sentence shrivels up and passes out in his mouth, because it's not a customer, shoulders squared and face set.

It's Draco Malfoy.

He drops an enormous leather-bound book on the counter between them. It lands with a thump, a cloud of dust that Harry hasn't gotten to yet rising from the wood.

"Malfoy," Harry squeaks, then clears his throat. "What do you—er, how can I help you?"

"I want a job," Malfoy says, each word crisp in his posh accent.

"What, here?" Ron indicates their shop.

Malfoy's eyes go to Ron, then come back to Harry.

"Here." His tone is definitive. "At your shop. With you."

[frozenwolftemplar]

Writer's Month Day 21: At a Bar

Fandom: None

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,066

Summary: Once again, I didn't have any ideas, so once again Calliope and Libby are back, this time seeking out inspiration in, well, I think you can guess.

+++

Too-raucous laughter stampeded out the door with all the force and heedlessness as a herd of panicked steeds, so thick with alcohol that Libby very nearly had the impression it was an actual drafter shoving up against her along with the escaping firelight.

From where she was surreptitiously coiled around her neck, Calliope wrinkled her nose distastefully as she caught the scents of whisky and rum as cheap as it was hard (ugh, common drink; give her a martini any day). “Did you have to choose this bar?” She sniffed as Libby carefully picked her way through the jam-packed establishment.

“It’s the most popular one in town,” Libby replied, gathering her skirts to preserve them from a mystery puddle (oh joy...). “Besides, it was *your* idea to go pass time in a real bar to find inspiration for today’s tale. If I want to ‘get a sense’ of a bar, this is the best one.”

Calliope puffed a disgruntled cloud in response but said nothing, simply joining her mistress in scanning the bar in search of a seat, preferably an isolated one (she was not an ignorant muse; what few believers were left in this age would become the wrong sort of excited at the sight of her glorious self). “What about there?” She indicated a friendly looking stool with her claw, tantalizingly empty, blissfully quiet, and-

“Oi! Timber!”

-reduced to splinters courtesy of the hiccuping factory-man who’d just collapsed on top of it, much to the rowdy amusement of his fellows.

“...Or not.”

“Keep looking,” Libby said, edging away from the bunch as a second grease-smeared worker toppled over and landed on his fellow. “There has to be a good seat somewhere.”

“Hi! Wench!” A lad with foam caught in his stubble patted his lap and leered over at Libby as she reflexively whipped her head towards him. “I’ve got a seat for ya right ‘ere, love!”

“Oh! Uh....n-no...” Libby stammered, taking a step back as his friends laughed riotously. “I- I wouldn’t want to trouble-“

“Come now!” He crowed. “No trouble at all for a bonny thing like you! And even if it were, you could always make it up to me later!”

A scalding blush rushed up her neck, hectic to match her pulse, as the laughter and- oh dear Mirah- offers of seats grew. “Er...”

“You’re being too nice,” Calliope hissed. “Say ‘no’ like you mean it!”

“No, thank- OH!”

“Don’t thank him!” Calliope’s voice, buried under the din, was sharp as the nip she’d just dealt to Libby’s collarbone. “Just *leave.* And be haughty about it.”

For a beat Libby stayed rooted where she was, a pheasant unable to fly in the face of a shotgun’s barrel, until a second, sharper nip spurred her to action. Sticking her nose in the air, Libby obediently pivoted on her heel and strode towards the back of the tavern, ignoring the whoops and mocking cheers that ensued when the illusion of hauteur was ruined when she stumbled over her feet and nearly splashed into Mystery Puddle Number Two.

Calliope grumbled as she dig her claws into Libby!s neck lest she slide off and land in said puddle (how crass could humans be?). “You are a terrible protege. You call that a rebuff?”

Libby huffed. “You’re my muse for writing, not flirtation.”

“I could be both.”

“NO!” That ‘vacation fling’ story still hadn’t been scrubbed from her consciousness.

“There you go! That was perfect!” Calliope flicked her tail in self congratulations. “I’m such a good teacher.”

Libby elected to not comment on Calliope’s pedagogical prowess beyond an eye roll (let it never be said dragons were patrons of humility. Quite honestly, that was the *only* useful thing she’d learned from her since her arrival, descriptions of past dragonish flames and lengthy lectures on the best sugar to purchase or the most fetching color to compliment her scales falling squarely in the category of ‘things she could live without knowing.’ Just then she just spotted an empty stool in a safe (i.e. deserted) corner and made a beeline towards it before any falling factory men or bona fide creeps could materialize. Fortunately, the fates showed her a mercy; the stool remained free, the corner remained isolated, and in a blink it was hers. Finally.

“Alright then.” LIbby took out a pad and pencil, flipping to a blank page. “Let’s get observing. The sooner we find a story, the sooner we can get out of here.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and a fight will break out,” Calliope mused, surveying the bar and privately wishing she possessed Polyhymnia’s gift of throwing her voice so she could help usher one into existence.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and one won’t.” LIbby tossed back, watching with distaste as the barkeep cut someone off by pitching their inebriated self out the door. “Besides, would Hugo really want to heat about something like that?”

She waited for Calliope’s usual retort about the Dark Lord having the taste of a dung beetle, but none came.

That’s odd, she thought. Calliope shared her goddess’s passionate dislike of Hugo and never missed a chance to disparage him. She hadn’t slithered off; Libby could still distinctly feel her scales, slightly rough and as warm as a chestnut in a muff, laying against her skin. So...why the silence?

With a mix of curiosity and concern, Libby glanced down to where Calliope was tucked inside her collar. Instantly, the former sensation was overwhelmed by the latter. For around her neck, sapphire eyes stared wide and horrified at something overhead, there was a minute tightening of claws, and the heartbeat fluttering against her throat thrummed quick and anxious.

Dread creeping into her veins, Libby followed Calliope’s gaze, craning her neck, and gasped.

There, protruding from the wall behind them, was a row of mounted dragon heads. Scales dull with death glinted in the light from the hearth, not with inspiration or pleasure, but with a hollow artificiality that caused Libby’s stomach to turn. With dust coating their horns and necks stiff with an enforced elegance that was but an imitation of Nature’s, they watched, affectless glass eyes holding no commentary or judgment or snap of life such as shown by the creature around her neck, only a diluted, warped reflection of the buzz of the bar.

“Again,” Calliope’s whispered, an uncommon rasp in her voice, “Why did you have to choose this bar?”

[tathrin]

The ending of the book:

“Your people been in touch?” he said.

“No. Yours?”

“No.”

“I think they’re pretending it didn’t happen.”

“Mine too, I suppose. That’s bureaucracy for you.”

“And I think mine are waiting to see what happens next,” said Aziraphale.

Crowley nodded. “A breathing space,” he said. “A chance to morally re-arm. Get the defenses up. Ready for the big one.”

They stood by the pond, watching the ducks scrabble for the bread.

“Sorry?” said Aziraphale. “I thought that was the big one.”

“I’m not sure,” said Crowley. “Think about it. For my money, the really big one will be all of Us against all of Them.”

“What? You mean Heaven and Hell against humanity?”

Crowley shrugged. “Of course, if he did change everything, then maybe he changed himself, too. Got rid of his powers, perhaps. Decided to stay human.”

“Oh, I do hope so,” said Aziraphale. “Anyway, I’m sure the alternative wouldn’t be allowed. Er. Would it?”

“I don’t know. You can never be certain about what’s really intended. Plans within plans.”

“Sorry?” said Aziraphale.

“Well,” said Crowley, who’d been thinking about this until his head ached, “haven’t you ever wondered about it all? You know—your people and my people, Heaven and Hell, good and evil, all that sort of thing? I mean, why?”

“As I recall,” said the angel, stiffly, “there was the rebellion and—”

“Ah, yes. And why did it happen, eh? I mean, it didn’t have to, did it?” said Crowley, a manic look in his eye. “Anyone who could build a universe in six days isn’t going to let a little thing like that happen. Unless they want it to, of course.”

“Oh, come on. Be sensible,” said Aziraphale, doubtfully.

“That’s not good advice,” said Crowley. “That’s not good advice at all. If you sit down and think about it sensibly, you come up with some very funny ideas. Like: why make people inquisitive, and then put some forbidden fruit where they can see it with a big neon finger flashing on and off saying ‘THIS IS IT!’?”

“I don’t remember any neon.”

“Metaphorically, I mean. I mean, why do that if you really don’t want them to eat it, eh? I mean, maybe you just want to see how it all turns out. Maybe it’s all part of a great big ineffable plan. All of it. You, me, him, everything. Some great big test to see if what you’ve built all works properly, eh? You start thinking: it can’t be a great cosmic game of chess, it has to be just very complicated Solitaire. And don’t bother to answer. If we could understand, we wouldn’t be us. Because it’s all—all—”

INEFFABLE, said the figure feeding the ducks.

“Yeah. Right. Thanks.”

They watched the tall stranger carefully dispose of the empty bag in a litter bin, and stalk away across the grass. Then Crowley shook his head.

“What was I saying?” he said.

“Don’t know,” said Aziraphale. “Nothing very important, I think.”

Crowley nodded gloomily. “Let me tempt you to some lunch,” he hissed.

They went to the Ritz again, where a table was mysteriously vacant. And perhaps the recent exertions had had some fallout in the nature of reality because, while they were eating, for the first time ever, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.

No one heard it over the noise of the traffic, but it was there, right enough.

Have s2 playing in the background again and once more am thinking about the significance of misdirection, especially 3-and-1 tricks.

Across both seasons we have three versions of it mentioned:

three babies that appear to be the same but one has an antichrist in it

three lengths of rope that appear to be the same but one has more length to it

three cowrie shells that appear to be the same but one has a hidden caraway seed

With every variation of this trick, the key is to get the person watching to follow the wrong thing from the beginning. If God is the one playing three-card monte with the universe, she made everyone pay attention to the Antichrist: Heaven, Hell, angels, demons. And when they picked the card, the day the Antichrist came into his power, it turned out they'd all been looking at the wrong card the whole time.

Now, apply this idea to the three seasons. All three seasons are three-card monte. We're all looking at the wrong card.

[luveline]

this early dancing (1/2) | sirius black x reader

Sirius turned the camera on your faces. You rested your cheek against his arm and smiled shyly, happy to see his handsome grin.

“Stop hiding. We need a good one to look back on,” he said seriously.

“We take photos all the time,” you argued.

“Indulge me.”

summary blindly in love with your best friend Sirius you find yourself sharing a room with him on a group holiday to the seaside. it wasn’t ever going to go any other way [11k]

warnings fluff, smut, marauders era, mutual pining, idiots in love, she/her pronouns used for reader, fem!reader

With your head sticking out the window of James Potter's people carrier you felt like you were flying, face tilted up to the sun to soak in the seaside warmth. You couldn't be far from the Potter cottage now, having played passenger as peacefully as you were able to for hours now whilst the boys took turns driving.

"Moons," Sirius said from behind the wheel. Remus lifted his eyes from the book he was fighting to read in annoyance - you hadn't left him alone since the trip had begun, and only with your head out the window had he managed to return to his well worn novel.

"What?"

"Pull her back in, would you?" he requested, nodding his head towards you. Remus' warm hand grabbed blindly at the short sleeve of your t-shirt until you conceded and sat flat again.

"Pull her?" James muttered from the front seat, tired from driving the first half of the road trip. "I barely know 'er."

"That 'barely' works," Lily complained from his side, though she wiped the hair from his forehead tenderly.

Marlene booed from behind Remus, which had her seat mates Dorcas and Mary laughing jovially. Emmeline took no notice of any of it at Remus' other side, also reading.

"I don't care how you do it, get her down," Sirius said in concern.

"She's down," you assured him.

"Lovely Y/N will live to see another day," Mary agreed, low voice soft and lilting.

You blushed from all the attention and shimmied down.

"She's embarrassed!" Marlene cooed, reaching over to pinch your shoulders.

Sirius peaked in the rear view mirror and grinned. "Don't be embarrassed, but please leave the dog like activity to me."

"If that's a sex joke, I don't get it," Emmeline said.

"And who does that surprise?" Remus muttered.

You laughed behind your hand, boiling now from the heat. You couldn't help from fidgeting, pulling the fabric of your shirt away from your sticky chest, concerned you looked a sight. Not that the other members of your troupe looked any better; Remus fought a good fight but ultimately didn't look as unbothered by the heat as he acted. James was openly complaining about the sun from the front seat, arguing that he should be allowed to sleep in the relative darkness of the back.

"Too bad, Pots," Marlene said, pressed up against Mary and Dorcas. Only the cool safety allowed them to maintain friendly contact without melting, you knew, and felt very jealous.

"We earned these seats fair and square," agreed Dorcas, legs thrown over your seat, sandal clad toes poking in between you and Remus.

"You cheated! No way can somebody win rock paper scissors 23 times in a row," James said conspiringly.

"Prove it."

You quite fancied that she'd cheated too, though you knew better than to give James any fuel for his fire. Sirius, despite the many years of friendship, had not learned this lesson yet, and so he said, "She definitely did."

"Thank you! Thank you, Pads," he leaned over Lily's arm to grasp his best friend's arm, "my bro."

"Ew, ew, ew! They're getting gooey!"

"They can't help their love," Mary said to Dorcas, patting her arm. "Don't give them too much shit for it."

Sirius leaned his head down to kiss James hand and almost crashed into an oncoming car.

"Lily! Tell your boyfriend's boyfriend to keep his eyes on the road!" Dorcas roared, sandals twitching.

You leaned forward to press your hand at the back of Sirius' neck. "Watch the road, loverboy."

"You got it, sweetheart," he said, eyes obediently on the journey ahead.

Determined to ignore the pleasure that shot through you at the sincere pet name you ran your fingers through the raven hairs at the back of his neck and noted how it was damp with sweat. You pulled the bobble from your wrist and pushed up onto your feet as tall as you could manage, neck craned against the roof of the van to pull his hair back from his face delicately until it was in a moderately neat ponytail at the back of his head. You made quick work of the bobble and tucked the piece you'd missed behind his ear.

"Thank you," he said warmly. Then, "Put your belt on, idiot."

You scratched the skin behind his ear lightly in acknowledgement, a silent you're welcome between you both, and sat back down.

James soon fell asleep against Lily's shoulder. She held his face to her chest tightly and kissed his forehead. You made yourself look away to study the book in Remus' hands.

Remus said something to you and you missed it, attention monopolised by Sirius' soft singing along to the radio. "Hmm?" you asked him, blinking.

"How's your car sickness?" he asked.

You smiled dismissively at your friend's concern. "Fine. Better if I don’t look down for a while.”

He nodded. You went back to your silence and found your stomach turning quickly after that, punished for trying to read while the van rocked. You pushed your face out the window again, eyes on the quick-approaching sea. It was a stunning blue, sunlight blinding you as it bounced off the waves. You squinted and held your hand up uselessly.

"Here," Sirius said, hand reaching back. He was offering his sunglasses to you through the gap.

"Thank you," you said. His finger danced a quick line over your hand, his own silent you’re welcome, and then he was back to driving.

You loved most about your friendship with Sirius the things you didn't have to say. You weren't sure when the scratching had begun, only that it had, and that the slither of intimacy drove you insane.

Pushing his sunglasses up your nose you turned back to the view. The lenses helped dull the bright light of the waves nicely but they did nothing for your best friend; Sirius was as golden as ever. You found him difficult to look at, sometimes.

"How far are we now?" Lily asked quietly, hand in James' hair.

"Not far," Sirius murmured, voice sending tingles through your chest, "and then our summer can really begin."

You gulped a breath of fresh air and willed the nausea away, not fully confident it was car sickness after all. Remus nudged you with his elbow. "You want a polo?"

You laughed weakly. "No."

"Might make you less ill."

"I'm alright."

He huffed like he didn't believe you. You were amazed at his ability to keep his eyes on the page and unwrap a polo mint for you at the same time. He pressed it into your hand. "Eat that, dove."

You smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

"Welcome."

You sucked on the mint and twiddled your thumbs. You wished you would've put your camera around your wrist rather than in your suitcase. If anything you could've been taking sneaky pictures of the back row for you and Sirius to pick over later - you were sure Marlene was dating Dorcas. Sirius was sure it was Mary. James swore up and down it was Dorcas and Mary where Remus shrugged and said it was nobody's business. Lily definitely knew and wasn't telling. Alice probably knew because Lily knew, and Emmeline was about as oblivious to it all as she was everything else.

You didn't know who was snogging who but you knew for certain it wasn't you.

Sirius caught your eye in the rear view mirror. "What're you eating?"

You bit the polo between your teeth and bared it to him.

"Working?"

You nodded.

"Alright. Let me know if you want to pull over."

"Fuck off! If we stopped every time Y/N gets sick we'll never get there," Marlene protested, and then, "Hey! Stop fucking pinching me."

"Be nicer," Mary said softly.

"You first."

"We don't need to pull over. I'm fine."

"Better we pull over then have the car smell like sick all day," Dorcas argued.

"Guys," you were almost begging now, desperate for the attention to be on somebody else, "I won't be sick."

"You won't be," Remus said firmly.

"Aim for Moony's lap," Sirius advised.

-

No sooner had the people carrier pulled onto the Potter cottage driveway had you thrown the door open to keel over by the front garden grass. You were breathing heavily in an effort to overcome the sinking feeling, more than relieved to finally be on solid, unmoving ground. You could smell salt and clay on the breeze, the sun-warmed grass soft under your feet.

Sirius came up behind you, pushing his hand over the skin between your shoulder blades.

He didn't say anything. You'd played these parts before: disapparation made you feel sick, too, and the floo, and brooms and trains and planes - it all made you sick to your stomach. You could barely withstand a piggyback.

You swallowed a heave desperately.

"If you need to be sick, be sick," Sirius said gently.

You wanted to tell him to fuck off, suddenly and unfairly infuriated with him. His hand felt like a poker on your shoulders and you wanted to shrug out from underneath his touch. You recognised that was insane and not an appropriate reaction to your best friend comforting you and so you let him rub what was intended to be a soothing path up past your shoulders and then down to the bottom of your back.

You could hear Lily cheering about the sunset. You could see the pink purple sky out of the corner of your eye and worried you were missing an extraordinary picture.

"Alright?" Sirius asked, noticing your stillness.

You stood up, nodding. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and shook you about, squeezing. "God, I'm sorry. You really can't handle it, can you? Poor girl."

You relaxed under his arm and let him steer you to the cliffside overlooking the beach where everybody else had gathered. The sky was a shock of cherry pink at the horizon melting up into a deeper purple. You felt your lips part at the sight. No matter how many photographs you took of the sky on your shoddy camera, it never looked like the real thing.

You and Sirius looked at each other and grinned. Your eyes darted from eye to eye, pupils wobbling, and Sirius pulled his arm away, patting you on the shoulder.

"Where's your camera? That'll be a nice one to commemorate our first night here."

You retrieved your camera from the boot and noticed Alice and Frank's car pulling in.

"Perfect timing!" you called to them, grinning. "Group photo."

Your friend's all piled in for the photograph. The girl’s gathered in the middle, Alice with Frank on one end and Lily on the other. James was pressed tiredly to Lily's side whilst Sirius had wrapped his arm around the exhausted boy's shoulder. Remus was begrudgingly pulled into the throng of women in the middle.

"Alright, guys. Say cheese," you said, raising your camera.

"Hey! It has a timer, doesn't it?" Lily protested.

"Set it up on the birdbath, love!"  James called.

You rolled your eyes but did as they asked. With the camera ticking you rushed over to Sirius' side, who pushed you in between him and James and stretched his hand back over your shoulder. He smelled familiarly of his cologne.

"Big smiles!" Lily said loudly.

You smiled wide. The camera flashed brightly and then everyone was laughing and rubbing their eyes.

"Merlin, that's bright," Emma whined.

Remus patted her shoulder in sympathy and then walked off, leaving her blindsided. James sat down heavily on the grass and complained he'd never drive again, and he certainly wouldn't be helping get the things from the car. Lily sat down with him in solidarity. They both laughed roaringly at everybody else's indignation and refused to move until everyone had put their things away. You stayed outside, trying to catch photographs of the sky while it still looked so lovely. When James and Lily weren't looking you took a quick photo of their dark outlines in the grass, both their hair splayed around them, heads inclined toward each other, hands twined.

You finally walked over to the car to gather your things, gravel crunching under your canvas shoes. They’d already been taken in. You frowned and let yourself into the cottage. All the lights were on and Remus was talking very crossly from the landing upstairs.

“This is a holiday,” he was saying pointedly, “I will not be sharing a room with you, Pads. I won’t sleep.”

“I know I’m handsome but you don’t have to stay up and watch me,” Sirius sniffed. You stopped halfway up the stairs to listen to them argue.

“You snore! You know you do!”

Sirius winced. “A good friend would pretend not to notice.”

“A good friend would release me. Please, Pads.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do!”

“Sleep on the sofa?”

“You’re being an absolute wan-“

“Room with me,” you said easily, ascending the last few steps.

Remus frowned. “I wouldn’t force him on you, Y/N.”

“I snore too,” you said, shrugging. “Won’t notice.”

Having a room to yourself had been the one game of rock paper scissors you’d managed to win between the girls with no partners (as far as you could tell).

Sirius was looking at you strangely. You backtracked. “I mean, if that’s alright. I can get changed in the bathroom and I’m an excellent roommate, and-“

“It's alright. It’s brilliant, actually. Thanks, sweetheart.”

You smiled brightly. “That’s okay. Wouldn’t want poor Remus to suffer you.”

Sirius frowned. “What’s with everyone’s vendetta against me? Am I such a terrible roommate?”

“Yes,” James called from the bottom of the stairs. “God awful.”

“Right,” Sirius said solemnly, pulling his wand from his back pocket. James cringed backwards.

“Let’s not make any hasty decisions.”

“Trust me, I’ve been thinking about this one.”

You pointed Sirius’ wand up at the rafters and giggled madly when they turned a fluorescent yellow. "What happened to our no magic holiday?"

James squawked. “That would’ve gone garishly with my lovely skin,” he said, preening like a bird. Lily rolled her eyes and patted one of his lovely brown shoulders in mock comfort. “There there, babe.”

Sirius was half pouting at you. “He deserved that one.”

“He didn’t. You’re all cranky from driving. You’ll be besties again at breakfast.”

“Make that brunch,” James called.

Marlene called down something in response that you missed as Sirius shut the door behind you. Your room was big enough to fit two single beds with room to waltz between them, soft white bedding atop raglan furnishings set in a neutral tan room with an en suite bathroom, it was nicer than your room at home. You set your wand and camera down on the nightstand and sank into the marsh softness of the mattress, sighing.

Sirius did the same in his respective bed.

“You okay?” you asked him, peering over your shoulder at his languid form. He stretched his hands over his head, shoulder muscles moving underneath his graphic t-shirt. You bit your lip and watched him indulgently.

“Tired. Are you still feeling poorly?”

You shook your head. Though he didn’t turn to look you assumed he’d sensed it, as words didn’t pass between you again for a while.

“You really don’t mind rooming with me?”

You fiddled with your bracelet. It was a simple chain, gold-plated with a small piece of green jade at the centre. Sirius had gifted it to you for your birthday and you hadn’t taken it off since.

“I don’t mind.”

“It’ll be fun,” he decided.

“Like a sleepover,” you agreed.

“Exactly.”

Where had this awkward space come from? You suspected you were imagining it, so afraid of revealing your fondness for him that you were now hesitating to talk to him. You didn’t trust yourself sometimes to idle in his company. How maddening that a confession rooted itself at the front of your mouth, always waiting for you to get too close, to feel too loved.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

He turned toward you so sharply you spooked yourself, scared you’d said it out loud.

“Picture?”

“What?”

“Let’s take a picture. Me and you.”

Your smile crept up slowly at the corners. You shuffled across the bed to make space for him and he filled it, strands of his hair tickling your face as he settled. He grabbed your camera from the bedside table and struggled through its workings until it was green and ready to go, moaning about how you could possibly get along with such muggle-like contraptions. You knew he was grumbling for the sake of it and that in reality he liked your magic camera just as much as you did. It was brilliant, really, you could take loads of photos before it got full and with a simple spell you could look through them projected onto the wall like a small television.

Sirius turned the camera on your faces. You rested your cheek against his arm and smiled shyly, happy to see his handsome grin. You thanked god that you could veto whichever pictures you wanted because as long as Sirius was pressed up at your side smelling like sweetness and himself so sharply it made your heart ache, smiling like he wanted to be nowhere else, you’d look like a lovesick fool in every photograph.

The flash blinded you.

“Is there a setting that doesn’t jeopardise our eyesight?” Sirius inquired.

You buried your face in his arm and giggled.

“Stop hiding. We need a good one to look back on,” he said seriously.

“We take photos all the time,” you argued.

“Indulge me.”

The way he said it - you smiled with teeth and didn’t complain.

-

When you woke up Sirius was still asleep. You moved to lie on your side so you could watch him breathing, tracing the rising and falling line of his chest, the hair he'd left in your bobble the night before, his soft sleep shirt peeking out where the duvet had slipped in the night time.

You could hear the clinking of dishes and easy conversation echoing up the stairs, followed swiftly by the smell of frying bacon and eggs, the sweeter scent of pancakes hot on its tail.

Sirius made a sound in his sleep. You reached your hand out over the gap despite being yards too far to touch him, lining your hand up with his head and pretended you were smoothing the soft strands of ebony hair from his face, tucking it behind his ears. You'd kiss his forehead afterwards, breathe in the smell of his hair or tuck your face in the nook of his shoulder, slot yourself by his side like you belonged.

There was a sound of smashing glass and a shock of laughter that made you both flinch, rousing Sirius awake. You let your hand fall to hang over the side of the bed, fingers an inch from the hardwood floor.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes and stretched, turning flat on his back. You copied him, pulling the blankets up over your nose.

"Y/N," he said softly, words warped by a yawn, "you awake?"

"Yes," you whispered, aiming for casualness and missing by a mile.

You turned your head and he was looking at you with a happy, tired smile. You smiled back and then realised he couldn't see it.

"Do you want to shower?" he asked you.

"I showered after you fell asleep."

He sat up and hunched over, hair falling in his face, necklace slipping out from under his shirt to dangle in the space between his chest and his legs. It was a chain with a thumbnail sized circle of silver hanging from it. You suspected it was engraved but had never had reason to get a good look, and were too shy to ask.

He scratched his face, his two days stubble. His hands looked funny without a ring or two, you'd never seen them early enough in the morning to catch him without them.

You pushed the duvet down and stared at the ceiling as he got to his feet and scrounged through his bags for clean clothes and his towel. You'd already shoved your toiletries in the bathroom last night.

"You want to go eat?"

You shook your head. "I'll wait for you."

"I'll be fast."

"Take as long as you want."

You should not have said that, you realised, twenty minutes later with a rumbling stomach and Sirius nowhere to be seen. You'd whipped up to get changed in case he'd been as quick as he promised, worried he'd walk in on you starkers. Lily had pronounced the first proper day had to be a beach day, so you'd put on a bikini top and simple white t-shirt with short sleeves and a pair of shorts over your bikini bottoms.

You picked at the seams of your crisp denim shorts and wondered if you should be wearing a skirt, no doubt like Lily and Alice would be. Marlene was likely naked or close to it, Mary would wear a sundress, Dorcas did as she liked and Emma might show up in a hazmat suit.

You pouted and leapt to your feet, rushing for your bag. You'd packed a beach cover up and so you might as well wear it rather than feel insecure in your shorts. You unbuttoned them and pulled them off, kicked them under your bed for now.

The bathroom door opened before you'd located the cover up. You looked up like a deer-in-headlights and Sirius was looking at you too, but he didn't look nearly so bashful. Obviously - there was no need. You were going to the beach and he was bound to see you in your bikini eventually, and still you felt naked as the day you were born.

You smiled fleetingly and crouched down to ruffle through your bags for the wrap skirt. It was plain and black, simple enough that you didn't feel as though it would garner much attention. You pulled it on and then found your sandals and put them on too.

Sirius hummed appraisingly. "You look nice."

"Thanks," you said warmly, cheeks heating, "you look nice too."

And he did, lean thighs showcased by a pair of dark swim shorts and a white cotton vest that hugged his chest keenly. You almost matched.

He'd tucked his necklace back under the fabric. Your bobble was loose around his wrist, hair curling and wet dripping on his maddening shoulders. He'd trimmed up his face but still had a shadow like he usually did. You wanted to run your hands over his face and feel the dark stubble under your fingers so instead you cleared your throat and whispered past him to the bathroom to freshen up.

You came out smelling much nicer and feeling cleaner, face all softened up by cleanser and moisturiser.

"You have sunscreen?" you asked him.

"Nah. Greek doesn't burn."

"Greek does get skin cancer," you said pointedly, pulling your shoulder purse open to check you had what you needed.

Sirius pushed the door open and held it for you, beaming down at you. "If I let you put it on me will you stop scowling?"

You relaxed your face. "I'm not scowling."

He'd tilted his head back and laughed at you all the way down the stairs.

James was at the stove, brown skin speckled by white powder. You laughed at the sheer amount of flour he'd managed to wipe up his own face.

He was on the defensive quickly. "Laugh it up! No pancakes for either of you," he said, pointing his spatula at you both. Sirius scoffed in indignation.

"Am I to be punished for everything she does?"

James nodded pensively. "Indeed."

Lily was sitting on the countertop near the sink. You sidled up to her side and opened a glass fronted cupboard to retrieve a glass to fill with water. She had a piece of toast in one hand and pushed your hair flat with the other.

"I love your skirt," she said.

Her's wasn't so different to your own, you thought, and then realised that was the joke. Her long legs were outfitted in a black wrap skirt that didn't so much hide her blue bikini as it accentuated it. She hadn't bothered with a shirt, which you applauded.

"Thanks, babe," she said.

"Such a pair of tits shouldn't ever be hidden. Ti's the true tragedy they must be encased at all," James agreed.

"What is this character you're doing?" Sirius spluttered. "You ridiculous man!"

"I doth not know what you mean."

You smiled to yourself and sat down next to Mary, who was looking pretty as a picture in her lilac sundress. She'd styled her twists into a half bun that showcased her pretty face, her dark skin glowing in the morning light. You felt a shoot of jealousy and then grimaced at yourself. There wasn't any need to be jealous - your friends were gorgeous and so were you.

Still, you found yourself ogling Mary's clear skin reverently.

"You're glowing," you complimented her, pulling a bowl of fresh fruit towards you, no doubt Mary's doing.

"Thank you! I got this new serum with almond oil that makes me really soft and dewy, and it smells really good too."

"Yeah?"

"Mm, from Boots. Oh, you want coffee?"

"No, thanks," you said at the same time as Sirius said, "You're a godsend, Mary."

Mary smiled brightly, lifting the pot of coffee towards his outstretched mug. "I know."

He sipped at his coffee with his hand on the back of your chair. You tried your best to ignore this and found yourself on ends anyways, wondering what the back of your head looked like.

He stole fruit from your plate and wouldn't back down, even when you started fighting back with your fork. You'd almost speared him when Marlene walked in with Dorcas looking dazed behind her, grinning. "We're ready."

"I'll grab Remus and then we'll go," James said, untying his apron. There was a naked square where it had been, and he looked down at it frowning. "After I change my shirt."

"Thanks for the pancakes," Emma called after him.

"You're welcome. At least somebody appreciates my efforts," James said from the bottom of the stairs.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Get a load of him. Makes breakfast and now he's Saint Lucy."

You smiled up at him. "He can be whatever he wants if he's making pancakes every morning. Though Saint James has a terrible ring to it."

Sirius wiped the corner of your mouth with the tip of his index finger. "Wasn't he beheaded?"

You shrugged, biting back a laugh. You didn't know why you were smiling so wide but Sirius was, and his beatific grin was contagious.

"I hope you aren't planning to execute my boyfriend," Lily said, jumping down from the countertop. Her red, smooth hair moved in a sheet behind her.

"Don't think of it as an execution, Lils."

"An exoneration," you suggested.

"A freeing."

James pushed into the kitchen with a knackered looking Remus at his side. "I've saved you so many pancakes, Moony, you wouldn't believe it. You'll be fed for days."

"Thank you, James," Remus said, rubbing a hand through his depressed hair.

"Eat up, darling boy," Sirius said loudly, "you look as though you're on the edge of death."

"I might have slept too well," he admitted sheepishly.

Sirius looked at him then and all his care melted into outrage. "Your hubris befalls you."

"Did we all decide to speak like this today or did I miss the memo?" you asked, more to yourself than anyone else.

"T'was not a decision! T'was a calling from the heavens," James piped in, looking much cleaner in his new vest and open button-up.

"T'was a twottish calling," Marlene said, laughing. This sent peels of laughter through the room and after a good chuckle, eventually everyone was smiling and ready to walk down to the beach.

Why you'd all waited to go together was a mystery, it was hardly a five minute walk down the path from the cottage cliffside before you were breaking out onto a gorgeous white stretch of sand kissing clear blue waves.

Sirius and James had carried the picnic basket between them. Lily had the cooler. You'd deigned to carry the blankets and towels and refused anyone's help, almost tripping over a piece of driftwood. You let the linens fall into the soft sand and felt the grains of it sink into your open sandals, wiggling your toes.

Your camera bounced at your chest as you traipsed over to the cooler, searching for something cold to hold against your head. It had been noon by the time everyone was ready to head out and so the sun was already making itself known, beating down on your shoulders.

"It's gorgeous," Lily said brightly.

"We'll have a bonfire tonight," James said.

Marlene laid a towel out and put her stereo, her prized possession, down on it carefully. She clicked a button and set the volume low, and the beach was suddenly alive with the hum of The Rolling Stones.

You and Lily spread the biggest blanket out away from where James had begun forming a rock circle for the barbecue and sat down on it with matching peaceable expressions, soon joined by Emmeline and Remus. Mary, Dorcus and Marlene set their towels up at the edge of the blanket and were quick to begin sunbathing.

Marlene was likely going to burn herself to a crisp trying to tan. Lily pulled the brim of her sunhat down and began slathering sunscreen over her pale legs, her stomach and chest.

"James!" she called, "come do my back, please?"

He perked up like an excited puppy. "Oh, Lilykins, you charmer."

"If I'd asked anyone else you would've sulked all day."

"Yes I would've. Now stay still, I need to get your beauty mark."

"Mole."

"Mole, whatever. Most marks on you are pretty, I get confused."

You looked down and made yourself busy covering your skin similarly in sunscreen, bringing your knees up to massage the cream into your legs and feet. You'd just managed to get your arms when a shadow was towering over you.

"What, Sirius?" you asked.

He smiled impishly. "You gonna get my back too?"

The comment made you giggle nervously. "In the event the sun could even reach your back then sure, I'd get you."

He crouched down. "You haven't rubbed it in properly. Let me," and he was touching your face, mouth so close you felt his exhales on your eyelashes. He spread the sunscreen with his thumb in a broad swipe across your cheek. "You don't think you're going overboard?"

"There's nothing overboard about protection."

"No glove, no love," he agreed under his breath.

You batted his hands away. "Grow up. Go help James make his firepit."

"Yes ma'am."

-

Later, you were wading through the shallows, full of barbecued foods and sparkling cider and trying not to get pushed over. The others had insisted on playing chicken and you were watching from a distance. Lily and James were the winning team, closely followed by Lily and Sirius when James got sand in his eyes.

Emmeline from atop Remus' shoulders pouted and called for justice. "Lily is obviously too good. We're never gonna win."

"Fuck you, Em! I'm at least half the team,” Sirius said, offended.

Remus tightened his hands on Emma's calves, who was wobbling as she shook her head. "The common denominator is Lily."

Lily was calling and laughing. "Quite right!"

"Sweetheart, I know you don't like chicken, but it's for a better cause, Sirius said, turning his determined gaze on you.

"Wha-" He bent down, ushering Lily off his shoulders, and you understood what he meant. "Sirius, no."

"Come on! I'll do your dishes all week."

He usually did them anyway.

"It'll make me sick."

"It won't!"

You began protesting again and he trudged towards you, big hands on your arms. He looked particularly handsome, damp and sun-kissed, eyes big with happiness and smiling like you were something good. "Get on my shoulders, Y/N."

"Fine. Just one,” you gave in, pulling your shirt off. You tossed it in the direction of your towel and set your begrudging eyes on his legs, sulking.

"Good sport!" James cheered, flat on his back stoking the small fire.

Sirius led you out into the deeper water and knelt down so you could climb over his shoulders. Once seated he got to his feet, eliciting a terrified moan from you. You grasped onto his neck tightly with your face smashed into the back of his head.

His grip was unfailing on your thighs. "Relax… I won't let you fall."

You loosened your headlock incrementally.

"Good girl. How we feeling?"

You felt a shot of pleasure at his words, and then with horror recognised that your crotch was literally at his neck.

"Y/N?"

"Great. Good. Let's do this shit," you declared, hands precarious at his neck.

He laughed and turned you to face the others. "That's my girl."

-

Having defeated everyone who tried to beat you at chicken, you and Sirius were very obviously feeling closer to each other, and it was infuriating everybody.

"We get it! You're good at chicken! Shut the fuck up!" Remus complained, book flat on his chest to glare at Sirius, who had been lamenting your victory with his shoulder pressed to your shoulder.

"So bitter," Sirius said suavely, running his hand up Remus' sand crusted calf, "somebody sounds a little jealous, Remy-poo."

You crinkled your nose and shook the crisp packet in your hand, looking for a nice one. James leaned over your shoulder to grab a handful and you let him, smiling at your friend. He had Lily's head in his lap and looked as blissful as a man could look.

"I hope you aren't talking to me, Remus," you said, feigning hurt. Usually he could be tricked into being his softie self but he was really quite irritated by Sirius' gloating.

"Get fucked, Y/N."

You laid your head on Sirius' shoulder, your hand on his thigh. He dug through the crisps and offered you a flavorful looking one before stealing some for himself. You knew you were pushing it - this was bordering the platonic boundary - but, high on victory and your friendship, you couldn't help yourself from cuddling up to him.

He didn't seem to mind anyhow, making conversation overtop your head as easy as breathing. You stretched your arm out blindly searching for your camera until you found it, clipping the lense cover off. You clicked the camera on, zooming in on your leg against Sirius'.

"Nice legs."

"Testing," you told him, though you hadn't been.

You twisted around to take a photograph of Lily and James, who didn't protest, Remus with his head on Mary's thigh, who did. You got a wide shot of Frank, Alice, Dorcas, Marlene and Emma playing cards before zooming into Marlene, who was leaning back on one arm, a cigarette dangling between her teeth. She took a lazy drag and laid her hand of cards out flat. "Read 'em n weep, ladies."

Dorcas groaned. "Right, I'm done. Anyone else wanna watch a film?"

"My brains fried," Alice said, nodding.

"I want my pyjamas. And a shower. Not in that order," Lily said.

Soon everyone was getting to their feet and groaning. "I have sand in places sand shouldn't be," Emma said morosely, helping you gather the sheets.

"The boys'll stay for a kick about?" James said, looking between his mates.

"No cheating this time, Prongs," Remus started.

James held up his hands. "Scout's honour."

"You didn't get in scout's, mate. Brownie's honour, at best," Frank said.

A headlock ensued. Sirius jogged over to you with his rings in hand, "Have these for me?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"Sweet," he said, kissing you on the cheek. "Shan't be long. Quick, get back before the gnats come out!"

You looked at his rings in your hand, warm still, and felt heat rise to the tops of your ears. Lily threw an arm around your shoulder and you were off up the lane. Marl had already thrown the door open, letting in the summer breeze to break through the humid heat kept in the house while you were gone. Lily rushed upstairs to catch one of the showers, citing a deep rooted annoyance at the sand in her bikini top.

You went into the kitchen and put your purse and Sirius' rings down on the countertop and started putting things away, binning everyone's leftovers and setting the plates in the sink. You'd spelled away the crumbs and food and was about to get to the dishes, hot water running and sleeves pushed up when you realised you weren't wearing your bracelet.

Your heart skipped.

It took a moment to sink in. You looked at your blank wrist in bizarre confusion, turning your hand like it might be hiding. No such luck. You scoured your eyes over the kitchen and spotted no signs of it, hand moving up to push against your forehead.

You walked out the way you came and traced the hall, the porch. You ran up the stairs two at a time and burst into your room, nosing through your bags, then did the same in the bathroom. Your chest felt tight as you stood there, walls white and blinding.

You stumbled back into the bedroom and Sirius was in the doorway.

"What's wrong?" he asked instantly.

Your eyes darted to him and then back to your bedroom floor. "My bracelet. I can't find it."

"When'd you have it last?"

"This morning. Definitely before we went to the beach."

You paled.

"Doll, don't worry-" he started, worried by your expression. You moved past him before he could finish and fled down the stairs for your purse in the kitchen. You'd looked through it once, but it didn't make sense - maybe you'd taken it off to play chicken? Unlikely. You never took it off, not ever.

"D-" Sirius was again cut off by you, eyes widening as you tipped your purse out on the kitchen floor. You picked through the contents, despairing.

"It's not here," you murmured.

Sirius was by your side. "Have you summoned it?"

You shook your head, laughing bitterly, "I put anti-spellwork on it after James turned it into a snake."

Sirius laughed and then smarted, clearing his throat.

"Right. Sorry."

Your eyes filled with tears. You looked at the bright kitchen light and willed them away.

"Hey," he said softly, moving into your eyesight, "don't cry, bub. I'll get you a new one."

You blinked, moving your head left to right like the movement might stop the overwhelming emotion. "Sirius, I want that one."

He bit his lip, pulling his hair. "Alright. Get your shoes back on and we'll go look down on the beach, yeah?"

Sirius pulled his jacket on and pulled his wand out with a Lumos at the tip, eyes steadfast to the ground as you walked. "What's it look like?"

"Sirius-" you began, feeling a little hurt.

His smile came up on one side. "Kidding, kidding. Can't forget the damn thing if I tried. You've only worn it since we were seventeen."

You rolled your eyes, momentarily forgetting the task at hand. "You know any metal-detecting spells?"

"You'll be lucky, it's made of plastic."

You chuckled weakly.

He grabbed your shoulder, digging his thumb into your skin. "Hey, don't worry about it. We'll find it. And if we don't, I really will get you a new one."

"I - it's not like that. It's special. You gave it to me, you know? It's like," you cut yourself off.

"What?" he asked, grinning smugly.

You kicked sand under your shoe. You were almost at the beach now, the tide having moved far out. You only hoped your bracelet wasn't somewhere in the waves, never to be seen again.

"Y/N?"

"It's like my piece of you."

You peeked out the corner of your eye at his expression which had gone slack at your confession.

"Right. Right," he picked up his pace incrementally, "let's get digging. We'll shovel the whole beach if we have to."

And you did, looking through the hills of sand until the sky was darkening and the sun was a yellow beam across the ocean, a multicolour spectral that splashed up your skin and drenched you in pinks and orange.

Sirius was similarly sky stained and on his knees, digging around where you'd been sitting again.

"It's alright. Let's just go back."

Sirius shook his head. "I'm gonna find this bracelet, babe."

You hugged yourself.

"Seriously, Black, let's go home. It's pointless."

Sirius ignored you, crawling over to the firepit. "Oh," he said. And then, "Found it."

He held it up between pinched fingers. "Not so pointless, as it turns out."

You couldn't believe your luck - his luck - couldn't believe it was there to find. Sirius staggered to his feet, legs completely covered in sand. You almost threw yourself at him, pushing him back with the force of your hug, wrapping your arms around his waist and then pulling back to accept the bracelet. He wrapped his own arms around your neck, holding you.

You basically danced in his hold. You stole your arms back to put the bracelet back on.

"I have great taste," he said quietly, arms still at your neck.

You laughed, really laughed, felt your chest heave with the force of it, and then you lost any and all sense of reason, any self preservation, looking at Sirius' handsome face. He was looking down at you all homespun and glowing with the sunset at his back and you couldn’t have stopped yourself from kissing him if you tried.

It caught you both by surprise. He made a small sound in the back of his throat and stilled. You pulled away quickly, still laughing (albeit scared to death) and he brought one hand up to the back of your neck to bring you back in.

His kiss was warm. He tasted of fruit juice and…

"Have you been smoking?" you asked, mouth poised over his.

He stopped short, moving the hand that was cupping your neck to your cheek. His eyes were brilliant, pupils dilated.

"No?"

"I think you have. You know those things are going to kill y-"

He kissed you again. His lips were firm, pushing down with enough force to make you retreat a step. He followed, kissing and kissing. You broke it off to finish scolding him, heartbeat in your ears.

"You'll get cancer. Is that what you want?"

He shook his head in disbelief, hand smoothing the side of your face twice quick.

"Why are you so obsessed with my having cancer?"

"Because you purposefully take stupid risks and don't think about the consequences!"

"Fucking hell," he said, chuckling, eyebrows high.

His laugh was contagious - you were so tiffed with him and so happy about the bracelet and so hot where his arms were wrapped around you, burning at his bare hand on your face. You pecked the corner of his mouth and then the other. "Idiot," you breathed.

He caught you while your mouth was still open.

You realised suddenly that you were kissing your best friend, your favourite person in the world, who you'd been half in love with since you met and more and more every day.

He was kissing you back. He was leading.

His tongue was in your mouth.

You pulled away to question him, planning on asking him what he was even doing, why was he kissing you back? He should've pushed you away, and why was his hand at your lower back? Why was he touching the naked skin there like you were something precious?

He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead on yours.

"Is it bad that I kind of like you calling me names?"

"It's terrible," you said, pushing up, mouth a millimetre from yours. When he leaned down so that your lips were touching, you hesitated coyly. "Anything else you like I should know about?"

He pushed his fingertips into your waist and smiled when you squirmed.

"Quite like your bikini," he murmured, kissing you chastely, "worse," he moved down to kiss your jawline, "I like what's underneath it."

You laughed in surprise. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"Careful," he said, punctuating the warning with a nip.

His fingers found the bow tying your bikini top shut. He tugged at one of the ties gently. Maybe he was waiting for your permission, or protest, or something, but you could only stand with your chest heaving with excitement and trepidation both. Slowly, he drew the tie open. The seconds stretched, you could barely look at him where he was unblinking, unflinching. It sprung undone, and his hands moved to the one at your neck. He was even slower the second time around, gaze heavy-lidded. Your faces were close enough that you were breathing in the others exhale, stealing air from his parted lips.

The fabric was slipping away, and suddenly Sirius was pressing you flat to his chest, hugging you tight. You frowned in confusion as he manhandled you to be where he'd been standing seconds ago, bare chest against his shirt. Frank and Alice were at the edge of the sand, holding hands. Alice gave you a knowing look.

"Wh- hi, guys!" you shouted, maybe too loudly.

"Sorry, we were coming for a walk! Didn't realise you were already down here!" Frank called, laden with innuendo.

Sirius had turned his head to laugh but was covering your naked chest by standing in your path. "That's alright, Y/N here was just cold. In fact…" he slipped his jacket off, stuffing your discarded bikini top deep into the pocket. He wrapped it around your shoulders and zipped it up, hands uncharacteristically shaky.

He stepped away from you casually. "We came to find her bracelet."

"D'you find it?" Alice asked curiously.

You pushed the sleeve of your borrowed jacket down and held your wrist up, "Sirius found it."

"Brill," Frank said.

“Yeah, we were just leaving,” you said. “Ssssssso, we’ll get out of your hair.”

You laughed and nodded, agreeing with him as Sirius steered you towards the couple and then past them. "See you in a bit, lovebirds," Sirius shouted over his shoulder.

The walk up to the house was clearly nervous.

"Thanks," you told him, embarrassed, "not sure how many people I can deal with seeing my tits before it's a problem."

"Don't mention it," he said. He didn't sound quite like himself. You bumped his shoulder with yours.

"Is… is everything okay?"

He came into himself a bit then, as if he were shaking off a layer of dust. "Can't believe Longbottom cockblocked me," he said, and winced. "Not that-"

"Who said he did?" you asked lowly.

He looked sideways at you and then down at his shoes. He smiled.

-

Sirius held his index finger against his lips, opening the front door to the Potter beach cottage as quietly as he could. You nodded, a picture in his jacket. Each time he remembered you were wearing nothing underneath he had to take a moment for himself and breathe a ragged inhale. He flicked his eyes to the evening sky before pushing open the door.

The floorboards were thankfully silent. The stairs didn't groan. He was halfway up with you flush to his back when James said, "Sirius?" from his room.

Sirius opened his mouth, unsure whether to answer. You shook your head despairingly.

He shut his mouth. You both stood silent on the stairs, staring at each other with his heart in his throat. James didn't call again, and so you finished creeping up the staircase and then across the landing. He ushered you into the room first and then followed behind, shutting the door. He stood there for a moment, listening.

When he turned back you were cleaning up the contents of your purse from the floor hurriedly. He peered down at you, the big light stretching his shadow and leaving you in darkness. You zipped your purse shut. Looking up at him from this angle, he could see a triangle of your chest. He offered his hand and you took it. Pulled to your feet you wobbled, wavered, looking at him like you wanted to touch him and weren't sure you were allowed.

He rested his hands on your shoulders in what he hoped was a placating gesture. Your smile was sweet and soft as he traversed down your sternum to fiddle with the zipper on his jacket, pulling it down an inch and then up half, down another inch.

"Sirius…" you whispered, reproach in your gaze.

He tilted his chin up proudly. "Sweetheart."

"Are you gonna mess with me all night?" you said, words tinged with anxiety. He laughed at your neediness.

"Maybe I will… I've been known to play with my food."

"Gonna eat me?"

"Gonna try," he affirmed, pulling the zip down steady.

You went to take the jacket off and he stopped you.

"Keep it on, won't you?" It didn't sound much like a question.

He didn't think about it - didn't second guess himself. He spread his palm flat over your breast and took your beaded nipple into his mouth, mouthing your breast in a heavy kiss. Your hand went to his hair so gently he almost felt sorry for being rough. Almost.

He moved to your other breast and felt his chest burn when you giggled breathlessly. He learned the curve of your waist under his calloused hand, kneading your softness.

He took your nipple between his teeth very gently and tugged. Although you made no sound, your hold in his hair tightened which told him everything he needed to know, abandoning your hip to pay special attention to your tits. He smiled at the goosebumps spreading over your body.

You made a sound like a hiccup. His dick jumped where it tented his shorts.

Determined to catch any similar sounds he returned to your perfect mouth, guiding your face to his. He pressed his other hand against his cock and prayed you didn't look down just yet.

You were eager and attentive, trying to get as close to him as you could, hands roving his chest. He walked you backwards into his bed, didn't think about the sand covering you both until it was ruining his sheets. He broke the kiss to retrieve his wand and you chased him. He allowed you a quick peck and then pulled his wand from his pocket, expunging the sand, locking the door and muffling the room from between your legs. Then he set aside the damned thing and pressed his knee between your thighs, pushing your head down into his pillow.

And how many times had he envisioned this?

You, warm and ethereal, laid out in his bed.

Himself, breathing fast and desperate and willing to do anything you wanted.

You pushed your cheek into his pillow shyly and grinned, squinting from how wide you were smiling. He smiled back, not as wide or openly, but hopefully enough.

"You sure you wanna do this?" he asked you quietly, running his hand over your hair.

"Mmm… you'll have to be more specific," you whispered, words so quiet he had to lean down to hear them.

He kissed your cheek, lingered there.

"Gonna make me say it?" he said. He was going for sexy, obviously, but with you affection tinged every word, had them rolling off of his tongue pleased and covered in sweetness like dark honey.

"I might do," you whispered, tone taking on a similar fond-sticky quality.

He ran his knuckle down from your temple to your jawline and then back up, touch soft. He flitted underneath your eye before flattening his hand to push his fingers underneath your ear, pad of his thumb poised over the very top of your cheekbone. He marvelled at how his hand fit perfectly in the space there like it had been made to rest against your skin.

"You're very quiet," you murmured, pupils wobbling.

"'M thinking," he murmured in turn, punctuating with a broad sweep of his thumb.

"'Bout what?"

His other hand smoothed over the soft flesh of your abdomen sinking down, down to the elastic of your bikini bottoms. They were tied in the same fashion as your top had been, and he delighted in the slow unravelling of the bows at each hip.

"'Bout how I'm gonna make a mess of you," he said, drawing a line down your now-bared centre. Your chest moved up sharply and didn't come back down until he'd found your entrance, already leaking slick. He spread wet up your front, circling your clit until your breath caught.

"There you are," he said, laughing.

"It's not funny," you protested breathlessly.

He pushed down a tad roughly, listening intently for your quiet moans. "It feels funny."

"That's my line."

He rolled his eyes, edging your entrance with the tip of his fingers. "Tell me if this feels funny, sweetheart."

He pushed his index finger past little resistance, already coated in your arousal and working more out of your warmth. You shuddered underneath him, reaching out to grab his hand for some comfort. He took your wrist in his other hand and held it away from your cunt. He checked your face to see how you were taking and felt a smugness like no other at the evident pleasure smudging your features, lips parted delicately and eyes shuttering closed with each thrust inward. He increased the pace and added his second finger, scissoring them inside you to spread you open.

He didn't intend on making you cum yet, really, having wanted to get you properly ready by murmuring sweet nothings and worse, promising things he wasn't sure he could give but was determined to try. "How's that feel, baby?"

"Good," you said shyly.

"Good? Just good?"

"Feels really good," you confirmed, panting at his uptick in speed and renewed pressure on your little bundle of nerves.

"Gonna make you feel so good," he promised, "gonna get you all messy, get you ready for my cock. That okay?"

"Yep," you said tightly.

Your legs were twitching - not a full shake but enough to tell exactly how it was going to go. He took his fingers from your cunt and pulled back further to push your knees up, spreading you wide in front of him. He used his left hand to stimulate your swollen clit and his right to finger fuck you in quick bursts.

It was wonderful to watch, your face swimming in pleasure and your eyes getting all wet and glassy, too timid to meet his gaze.

"Hey, pretty girl," he said, forcing you to look at him, "hey, baby. You look so fucking cute, yeah? Don't you?"

Your eyebrows creased, distracted by his attentions on your sensitive cunt.

"Tell me how you look," he ordered.

"Sirius…"

"Go on, tell me how good you look. I'll reward you, I promise."

You shook your head.

"You won't?" he paused attending your clit and took big, slow strokes, curling his fingers to drag down your walls. Your thighs wobbled.

"Just tell me, baby," he said, voice faux pleading, "tell me all about how you look and I'll make you cum."

You whimpered at the unfairness of it all and he felt a little sorry for you, but not enough to let you out of the deal.

"I look… nice." You bought into his game.

He grinned proudly, pressing his thumb back against your clit as though he might begin again, but didn't.

"C'mon, you can do better than that."

"I look cute."

He nodded appraisingly and started slow circles. "And what else?"

You stuttered over your words, stubborn in your own diffidence but desperate. "I look pretty."

"Pretty," he hummed like he was chewing it over. "You're more than pretty. Gonna look so fucking beautiful all covered in my cum too, baby, I promise you."

He was trying to relax himself as much as he was you. Trying to convince himself that fucking his best friend that he loved, loved unthinkingly as the pumping of blood in his veins, the thrumming of his magic beneath his skin, was the right path. And what did people say? Sometimes the easiest path was the path of least resistance? He couldn't resist you, he knew that much. So, selfishly, he made you cum. Selfishly, he cooed as you moaned. Selfishly, he spread his hand across your trembling tummy. Maybe it was the wrong decision, but Sirius Black fancied himself a selfish man, and so he was going to fuck you silly, should you allow him.

You were recuperating, blinking bashfully, wetting your bitten lips. He leaned over you to push his hands behind your shoulders and lift you into a sitting position, stealing a quick kiss. When he broke it you looked dazed as ever.

"You okay?" he asked.

Your dazed expression cleared with his voice. You nodded, catching your breath with your hand pressed to your cunt. He laughed madly when you touched yourself and jumped, ticklish.

You glared at him.

"Don't be like that," he chastised, taking both of your hands into his, tugging your arms towards him.

You squeezed his fingers likely without thought and climbed up onto your knees, almost as tall as him, "I'm not being like anything," you said, climbing up into his lap, wet pussy sliding against his aching, clothed cock, knees either side of his thighs.

He pulled your arms around his neck to relieve his hands and push down his shorts, freeing his cock. He pumped, feeling your arms tighten as you spotted his length.

"Ah," you said weakly.

"You ready?" he asked, guiding his cock underneath you to tease your hole, gathering wetness to palm over his length.

You didn't answer, instead lowering yourself onto his cock slowly. He kissed your shoulder, tasted the salt of the sea on your skin as you stretched around him, gasps like a sweet song in his ears. Hands on your hips to alleviate the effort it took for you to hold yourself upright, he steered you up and down until you were confident enough to do it yourself. You were slow, and he wouldn't rush you, but fuck if he didn't want to lay you out flat and ruin you, pound into you until you were a wet-eyed mess. Still, you worked his cock, moaning as the stretch turned to indiscriminate pleasure.

He grabbed your neck, not rough enough to hurt but certainly not gently, straightening your head up to meet his gaze, though the sight of you watching his cock spread you open was tantalising, mouth a small o-shape.

"Taking me so well," he praised.

You tried not to show how his words affected you. He was determined to make you, fucking up into you as you came down, relishing in the startled delight clouding your face.

"How's my pretty girl feeling?" He followed your hips with his own, dragging his cock against your walls. "How's my pretty pussy, all full?"

You looked like you might burst into tears and dug your face into the side of his neck, tightening your arms. He took this in stride and kissed the top of your head before grabbing a hold of your hips and fucking fast into your heat, moaning at the feeling of your cunt contracting around his throbbing dick.

"Yeah, you know, don't you? This cunt," he said into your hair, "this cunt's all mine now."

You'd gone so quiet he worried for a split second he'd gone too far, until he felt your lips at his neck, mouthing. He didn't have to see you to know what you'd said soundlessly.

All yours.

His fault for goading you, he realised, groaning so raggedly he felt his chest burn. He fucked up into you until he thought even a muffliato wasn't enough enough cover the sounds you were making, unrestrained and half-sobbing in his lap.

He slowed, let you drop so you were seated with his cock inside you as deep as it could go, which was a different agony, and pulled your face from the crook of his neck.

"Awww," he sympathised, rolling his hips as he wiped the tears from your face. "You're okay."

You nodded, bringing a hand up to wipe your face yourself, hands half covered by the sleeve of his jacket.

"It's not too much, is it?" he asked, bringing his hand to the small of your back, pushing leather into your skin and leaning back to really focus on finding your sweet spot.

You pouted jokingly as if to say what do you think? and then laughed, the movement prompting little flecks of water to jump off of your lashes. It was a sight he thought he would remember for the rest of his life, your pleasure driven tears and your cock drunk laugh, tits half sheltered by his old leather jacket.

You took his leaning back as an opportunity, spreading your fingers against the trail of hair at the bottom of his stomach to encourage his back flat onto the mattress. He laid down curiously, head close enough to the edge of the bed that his hair draped over the end. You anchored yourself to his tummy and didn't ride him so much as you squirmed, the head of his cock rubbing against your sweet spot, goosebumps breaking out across your body. You whined, pleading sounds that had him probing your clit, searching for your second climax. You protested his actions, grabbing his wrist and holding it to his breastbone, leaning down so your cunt was flush with his crotch, pelvis' sliding into one another bruisingly as you grinded, faces inching closer and closer as the sensation weakened your resolve to be in charge. He felt his own resolve weakening in turn.

Escaping your clutches he pulled your chest flush to his with only the head of his dick inside you, to which you grumbled, rocking down. He frowned himself and wrapped one arm under your armpit and over your shoulder blades, the other across your back.

"Don't do me in," he blurted, steadying your movements.

You raised your eyebrows at his panic amusedly. "You gonna cum in me, lover?" you asked teasingly.

He kissed the skin left of your mouth, strokes haltingly slow. "Don't do me in," he restated, softer. "Please."

Your lips parted as he dug into your soft spot, mouthing your cheek before tucking you into his front, hugging you tenderly as he opened you up slowly with his cock. He sped up, testing what he could handle and savouring your keens.

The sound of your whimpering was his last straw, pulling out of you quickly, cock throbbing in his hand. You searched for his mouth and kissed him, once and then twice, chaste and slow and loving kisses that made him want to serve you up starlight on a silver platter.

Then you climbed off of him. He let you go reluctantly, watching as you settled in a W-shape near his pillows, breathing hard and neatening up his jacket so your tits were fully out.

"Do your worst," you told him.

He blinked, pushing up onto his elbows, cock twitching at the skin under his belly button.

"What?"

"'Gonna look beautiful covered in my cum,'" you quoted him, something bright in your eyes.

He crawled over to your quivering body, hand already milking his cock. He kneeled so he was hovering over you and you leaned back into his pillows, sweaty and rugged. He thought you looked the prettiest he'd ever seen you, hands tugging roughly at his cock, lubed by your slick.

"You're beautiful," you whispered gingerly, eyes skipping up his chest to alight on his mouth, his nose, his eyes. You smiled, eyes heavy.

He came down your front, pearlescence dripping down the swollen curve of your breasts and gathering at the slade of your chest, white rivulets that shone in the golden sundown. He'd barely finished when he was kissing you passionately, trying to convey his thoughts with his rough hand on your silken face, his undue mouth, trying to push the depths of his devotion into his soothing fingertips beneath your eye.

He broke the kiss begrudgingly, struck with an idea.

"Where's your camera?" he asked, forehead resting on yours.

"Huh?"

"Let me take a picture of you like this."

You didn't need much convincing, a beatific beam dancing across your kiss red lips. He scrubbed his hand down your cheek before he hastily pulled his shorts up and retrieved the camera from where you pointed, messing with buttons he didn't hope to understand until the camera was blinking and aimed at your smiling face. He zoomed out just enough to catch his jacket and your messy chest in the photograph.

"Pretty," he said, more to himself than you. Your chest heaved with his praise. "Say cheese, lovely girl."

You shot up a peace sign and he chuckled so suddenly he thought he'd never breathe right again.

thank you for reading!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

read part two here

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